Bell Mountain (The Bell Mountain Series) (12 page)

“We didn’t have our breakfast,” Jack said, “because some big animals were coming straight for our camp.” He described them as best he could. “We never saw animals like that before, and they scared us off. What were they?”

Obst stirred the contents of the pot. “Yes—fierce-looking, aren’t they?” he said. “They live in the forest by day and venture out onto the plain by night. They’re harmless—although I once saw one disembowel a bear that had attacked them. Those claws can kill.

“As to what they are—well, I don’t think anybody knows. Very few people live in these parts. I never saw those animals until a year or two ago, or maybe three, and I don’t know where they came from. They seem to like it here, so I suppose they’ll stay. There is no name for them. I’ve come to think of them as knuckle-bears because they look a little like bears and walk on their knuckles so as not to dull their claws. I’ve grown accustomed to them, and they to me.”

The stew was beginning to smell good, much better than anything I could cook over a campfire, Jack thought.

“Aye, there’s been many a change in the world lately,” Obst said as he stirred. “Animals that no one has a name for, and not all of them peaceful like the knuckle-bears—that’s only part of it. But finding the pair of you in my woods, two children alone, was the biggest surprise I’ve had in a long time. Where do you come from?”

Jack didn’t want Ellayne telling any daft stories that came out of her books, so he tried to get in first with “Up north.” But at the same time he spoke, she said, “Obann City.” He glared at her, and her cheeks reddened.

“Can’t agree on what to tell me, eh?” Obst said. “It shows you have reason to be cautious, and that you don’t quite trust me. Very cautious indeed—a girl trying to look like a boy.” That jolted Ellayne. “You don’t trust me. Well, I don’t blame you for that. Here, your stew’s ready.”

He spooned them each a generous portion in brown clay bowls that had hardened with his fingerprints still on them: an artistic potter he was not. He had no table utensils; Jack had to fish his own out of his pack. But the stew was warm and hearty, and the hermit insisted that they eat as much as they liked.

“I can always make more,” he said. “Here in the forest, I want for nothing. There’s a spring of sweet water nearby, and my snares are never empty. There’s always plenty of food, once you’ve learned how to get it. I’ll stay here until I come to the end of my days.”

“But don’t you get lonely?” Ellayne asked. “Don’t you miss your family and your friends? And just being around other people?”

Obst leaned against his plastered wall.

“We all miss something in our lives,” he said. “Yes—I still miss people. Sometimes I miss them very much. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. But when I lived among people in the city, I missed God. And that was worse than missing people.”

Traveling on horseback, Martis made good time across the empty land. Only it wasn’t as empty as he’d expected.

Unlike the children, he didn’t camp on the hilltops at night. He knew they weren’t natural hills, but all that remained of giant ruins, which more than a thousand years of rain, wind, ice, and the heat of the sun had ground down into the semblance of hills. But he did like to climb them to get a better view of what lay ahead.

No people inhabited this vast land, but he was surprised to find so many animals and birds. These included many kinds he’d never seen before, and he was a well-traveled man.

He knew from reports Lord Reesh had received that the few people living in the Northern Wilds had seen strange animals. No one crossed the River Winter anymore, not even the most intrepid fur trappers. They couldn’t stand the cold winters and the heavy snows, and the fierce beasts that were multiplying in those regions. And this winter, some of the beasts came south, crossing the frozen river. There were tales of huge, fearsome shapes half-seen through the grey curtain of a blizzard. As far as Martis knew, no one had been killed. “Because they ran away too fast!” Lord Reesh said.

These southern plains attracted no settlers, no trappers: people didn’t even cross them. There were no stories coming out of this country. When the Empire fell, God blasted it; and people stayed out of it.

So Martis was surprised to see long-legged birds hunting snakes and rodents in the grass, and animals like mice the size of dogs. Clearly God hadn’t blasted the country forever. From where Martis sat in his saddle, it didn’t look blasted. He wondered what Reesh would say about it. Maybe some settlers ought to be sent here.

Martis didn’t tarry. If the children he sought were still alive, they would cross the empty country until they came up against Lintum Forest, and then turn east toward the mountains. There was no other way that they could go. Any hope he had of picking up their trail would have to wait until he reached the forest. There were people there. Eventually someone would see the children and tell him about them.

He rode on, careful not to overtax his horse.

Before the children could finish their breakfast, it began to rain. You could tell at a glance that it was going to be one of those rains that went on and on all day.

“You won’t want to be traveling in this,” said the hermit. “Unload your donkey while I fix him a shelter where he won’t be too uncomfortable.”

What else could they do? Jack arranged Hesket’s blanket and a few other things so he could sit on it comfortably—and reach quickly under the pile and pull out the big knife, if he had need of it. Outside, right next to the cabin, Obst tied down some little trees to form a leafy canopy under which the donkey could rest without getting too wet. When he came back in, he shut the door but left the windows open.

“I can shutter them if the weather gets very bad,” he said, “but I don’t think it will. This is a spring rain, good for growing things. We’ll keep the fire going and have some more stew later.”

“You must have a very peaceful life, as a hermit,” Ellayne said. “What made you decide to be one?”

“I told you. I missed God.” Obst moved his stool closer to the fire and perched on it. It didn’t wobble. “You’re too young to have felt as I felt. I was a young man then, in the service of the Temple. I used to dream that I might become First Prester one day, by the time I was an old man. Now I’d rather be as I am.”

He told a story that Jack thought much too long and very hard to follow. But his interest perked up suddenly when Obst stood up and laid his hand on something on one of his shelves.

“Do you know what this is?” he said, as the rain dripped off the leaves around the windows. “This is the very Book of Scripture that I took from the presters’ library the day I left the Temple. This is my reason for being in this place. It is my whole reason for being.

“You might say I stole it. That would be true, up to a point. But they certainly weren’t making any use of it in the library, and I doubt they ever missed it.”

“Please, sir—read us some of it!” Jack said.

Obst looked surprised. “What’s this? A boy who knows the Scripture?”

“Oh, I don’t know it at all,” Jack said. “But I would dearly like to hear it. I’ve always wondered what the Scriptures were really like. The prester at our chamber house never read to us from the Old Books. I had a teacher who said I was too young for it.”

“I’m surprised you know the Old Books exist,” the hermit said. “Very well, I’ll read you some.”

He sat down with the heavy book on his lap, and opened it carefully. A musty smell crept into the room. He handled the reed-paper pages delicately.

“
Su spakis Miklen Gotte, Ye schell niht maachen ayn hoos yff braas, butt Ih woll brayken ytt mauger syne coop
,” he read, and a good deal more. Jack thought, no wonder Ashrof said I wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t understand a word. And yet if he closed his eyes and just listened, without trying to make sense of it, he was sure he almost understood it. Understanding lay just out of reach.

Reading the verses aloud did something strange to Obst. He seemed to forget Jack and Ellayne were there. His eyes focused on something that they couldn’t see, and he talked to himself—certainly not to them.

“I have seen the gathering of God’s wrath,” he said. “Winter is colder, and lasts longer. Uncouth beasts walk the earth, and lawless men multiply their numbers; and no crime is too foul for them because they know the end is near.

“The Temple is a house of whoredoms, and the presters think only of filling its treasuries with silver and gold. Do they think that will save them? Will God spare them for their robes of office? They wear white ermine, but their hearts are black with filthiness! Will they stand, when the bell is rung and all else is brought low?”

“The bell!” cried Ellayne.

Obst startled like a man rudely awakened from a light sleep. He stared at her.

“The bell on Bell Mountain—is that the one you mean?” she said. “But that’s where we’re going!”

Jack could have stuffed a mittful of ferns into her mouth, if only he’d been sitting next to her. He gritted his teeth and scowled at her, but she didn’t look at him. Why wouldn’t she shut up?

“You shouldn’t have told him!” he said.

Ellayne’s mouth popped open, but no more words popped out.

“Wait—don’t fight!” Obst said. He closed the book with great care and returned it to the shelf. “You have nothing to fear from me, children. You can be sure I always knew you weren’t wandering around these parts for any ordinary reason.

“Now that you’ve let it slip out, why not tell me everything? I’ve done nothing all my life, since I left the Temple, but study the Scripture. Who better to advise you? It’s raining, you can’t travel—you might as well trust me. For I believe God Himself brought you here to me. You won’t meet anyone else in all the land who’ll say that to you.”

Ellayne, whose face had gone quite pale, looked pleadingly to Jack.

“Please, Jack, let’s tell him!” she said. “Hermits are holy men. He won’t hurt us.”

And where did you learn so much about hermits? snarled Jack, inwardly. In those daft books of yours, I guess! But we’re not in a book. We’re here in this man’s house, and he’s half mad.

“I can at least tell you where the outlaws are, and how to avoid them,” Obst said.

“If you know where they are, then they must know where you are—and they’ve done no harm to you,” Jack said. “Why should that be, unless you’re one of them?”

Obst smiled. “Look around, child. Do I have anything worth stealing? Besides, some of them come to me when they’re sick or hurt. I have the gift of healing. They have no reason to hurt me. And the Most High protects me, even as He has protected you, so far.

“But if you wish to tell me no more about yourselves, so be it. Leave whenever you please. I’ll do you no harm, and help you all I can.”

Jack looked him over, as if a lie might break out like a rash on his skin. He wished he knew where Wytt was. He wished he knew whether to trust this man. Who else could tell them what it said in Scripture?

“All right,” he said. “Tell us first about the beasts. And then we’ll tell you about the bell.”

In the tales of Abombalbap, hermits were always wise and good, true holy men. A few of them could even make miracles. That was why Ellayne wanted badly to tell Obst everything, and was so happy when Jack finally agreed.

But as Jack began to speak of his dreams, and how the mountain sang to him, the rain came down a little harder, and the room inside the cabin became a little darker. Ellayne found herself thinking that maybe they shouldn’t have trusted this hermit after all. He looked like he was intently listening to every word Jack said; but when you looked again, you could see it was more like he was listening to something else that you couldn’t hear. Jack noticed it and stopped talking; but Obst didn’t stop listening.

“Master hermit—are you all right?” Ellayne asked, after several long moments of silence.

His lips moved. Jack got up and came a few steps closer to him.

“I think he’s reciting Scripture,” he told Ellayne. “But it’s in the language of the Old Books. I can’t understand what he’s saying.”