Deep Water (59 page)

I will have to wait to find out.

T
HEGAN CAME WITH
him to his horse the next morning, a great mark of favor. He handed Leof the stirrup cup himself, and said, “Keep me informed.
You are doing well, but don’t forget to keep the officers on their estates up to date. We will be calling the levies in soon
enough, I suspect.”

Leof nodded, feeling like a traitor because his heart was leaping at the thought of returning to Sorn. He was determined not
to betray Thegan, but the image of her, waiting in her hall, that shaft of sunlight gilding her autumn hair, her green eyes
wide and welcoming, made his heart turn over. And there was betrayal, right there, whether he did anything about it or not.

He had opened his mouth to say a formal goodbye when a shriek like a cold demon dying deafened them. Arrow and Bandy’s horse,
Clutch, reared and Thegan stood back, swearing. Leof fought with Arrow and got her under control, but Clutch bolted down the
main street, straight for the harbor.

The shriek came again and this time Arrow stood, feet planted, head down, shaking uncontrollably. Leof looked up. Thegan was
staring at the clear blue sky, his face pale. Leof followed his gaze and saw… something. A ripple in the sky, like a
shadow on water; not quite a cloud, not quite anything.

“Wind wraiths,” Thegan said, tight-mouthed.

They were hard to see, but now he knew what was there, Leof could make out vague figures, misty and curving through the sky,
long arms out as though reaching for the ground. He expected them to pass over the town.

“Where is he?” one of them screamed. The sound scraped over Leof’s nerves and Arrow trembled so hard he thought she would
collapse. He dismounted and went to her head, soothing her. She turned her face into his chest like a child seeking comfort.

“Where is the enchanter who will feed us? Find him!” The voice was neither male nor female; it was high and low together,
as a storm will have a deep voice and yet wuther high at the same time.

Thegan stared straight up at them, his face stern. “There is no enchanter here. Begone! You are forbidden in this realm.”

“Hah!” The shriek rose high and passed the border of hearing, but Leof’s ears still hurt as though the sound continued. “Soon!”
it declared. “He will feed us spirit and body! Find him! Find him!”

The wraiths swirled out over the town, for all the world like hunting dogs looking for a scent. They shrieked and screamed
and laughed so sharply that every dog started howling, or hid in terror, and every horse they passed panicked.

Thegan turned to Leof with sudden urgency. “Quick! Follow them. If they find this enchanter for us, so much the better!”

Leof mounted Arrow, who was still trembling. He bent low over her neck, patting her and murmuring reassurance. Bandy had regained
control of Clutch and was trotting up the street from the harbor.

Thegan watched the wraiths intently. They were gathering around the town’s southern gate. It was hard to see them, but it
looked like there was a local mist there, or a low cloud. Then it disappeared and the shrieking died away.

“South,” Thegan said. He slapped Arrow on the rump and she jumped forward and then began trotting up the slope to the gate.
“After them, Leof! Find me this enchanter!”

Bandy clattered behind them, but Arrow was already picking up the pace. They swept through the gate at a canter and on the
level ground of the cliff plateau Leof urged her on.

She responded to his hands and knees and began to gallop. Not her best pace, but one that she could sustain, if need be, for
some time. He thanked the gods that he’d lost weight recently, having had so little time to sit down for meals and so little
appetite when he did. Bandy was already far behind. Leof allowed himself a fleeting thought of Sorn, and then settled in the
saddle.

He kept his eyes on the horizon, where a flowing mist, a ripple in the sky, showed where the wraiths were flying. As he watched,
they began to veer inland, following a minor road toward the farmlands of Central Domain. This was his chance to catch up
with them. They were following the way the enchanter had taken, and he had clearly kept to the roads. But Arrow and he weren’t
bound to marked routes. They could go cross country and perhaps even get ahead of the wind wraiths.

Leof headed Arrow at a low stone wall and she pricked her ears with pleasure. Like all chasers, she loved the sport and had
missed it in Sendat. She took the jump flying and landed with precision on new hay. Leof couldn’t bother, this time, about
wrecking farming land or crops. Too much was at stake.

“We have to win this one, sweetheart,” he said to Arrow. “This is the chase of chases.”

A
FTER
A
SH HAD
learned the truth about the demons of the Deep, he had been wild to discover his true shape, his animal nature. Now, with
the truth promised to him, he had to wait, and wait, and wait . . .

“I am so hungry!” Flax complained for the sixth time.

“Well, you can always walk out of the Deep and take Cam and go back to Gabriston and eat,” Ash said, annoyed. Flax looked
sheepish.

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Ash added. “You only have to fast until after the ceremony. I’ve got two more
days to go.”

“Stop talking, you boys!” Vine ordered. “We’re trying to sleep!”

Ash and Flax exchanged glances of mutual long-suffering. They were in a group with three other young men who had arrived with
their fathers during the afternoon. Each of them was at a different stage of his journey to the Deep, but each had to fast
the day through before he could go to the appropriate cave and learn what he had to learn. Ash had been through all this preparation
in previous years, but he was about to skip over the last couple of steps and go straight to the final test, the climb to
discover his true shape. For that, he had to fast for three days, taking only water, and staying silent for the last full
day.

The first day went slowly. At sunset, the men disappeared into the caves and reappeared a little while later in their true
shapes. Individually, the boys were chosen and led away. Flax was last. Rowan came for him, with Skink, whose true shape was
a fox. Flax made a nervous face at Ash and stood, half-unwillingly, and began to strip off his clothes. He seemed both attracted
to and uneasy with the Deep, which was not a bad thing, necessarily. Ash just hoped he was trustworthy. Tonight he would have
the demon warnings, the threats about keeping silent, the solemn vows of secrecy. They made an impression, as they were meant
to.

Once Flax was naked, the demons led him to join Ash at the mouth of the cave. Ash patted his shoulder reassuringly. Rowan
the badger led them forward, around the leaping fire, to the first of the chasms, a split in the rock that blocked the exit
from the cave. Black as pitch, it was a couple of paces wide. From below the sound of water thundered up. Rowan gestured to
Ash. He nodded, remembering. This warning was usually given in daylight, when the men could talk. The youngest boys were shown
this cave on their third day in the Deep, to prepare them for the night, which was hard.

“This is the beginning of the Deep,” Ash said, echoing what he had been told precisely. “This is your first glimpse of the
River. This is not the Hidden River, which flows from the Lake for all to see. This is the Dancing River, the Lake’s little
sister. She flows throughout the land, underground, never seen except by us, here, where she reveals herself to us that we
might know who we truly are. She flows from cliff to cove, from sand to snow, binding the Domains as no man ever could, making
this all one country. Our country, given to us by water and fire and never taken away, no matter what the fair-haired ones
think. But beware! The River is not the Lake. She is wild, not tame; she is joyous and terrible; she is lover and she is Death
herself. Beware. Do not betray her, or her punishment will be unthinkable. Do you swear allegiance to the River, to finding
your truth?” Gently, he added, “You don’t have to, but if you don’t you can’t go any further. You’ll just have to wait in
the clearing until morning.”

Flax gulped and glanced back to where the demons waited in the shadows made by the leaping fire. “With them?” He shook his
head and opened his mouth. “I —”

Ash cut in quickly. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. This is for life, Flax. There’s no going back.”

Flax met his eyes, uncertain. “Doesn’t everyone want to know who they truly are?” he asked.

“No. Not everyone,” Ash said. “Some are afraid. Some are so happy in themselves they don’t need it. And some… some think
they already know, and don’t want it confirmed in front of others. Not everyone comes to the true Deep.”

Around them, the men waited patiently. No one moved. Ash could feel the pull of the River, feel its power flowing up from
the slit in the rock. It was a different power to the gods; wilder, happier, more grief-stricken. It
felt
more, as humans feel. The River desired them to go forward. He sensed that desire, the desire to know and be known, to accept
and be accepted, which lay at the heart of the River mysteries. He had always found it irresistible, but Flax was not him.

Flax stared down into the dark, listening. “I swear,” he said suddenly.

As one, the men took in a deep breath and howled triumph to the roof of the cave. It was the sound they had heard the first
night, but this time it buoyed them up instead of chilling them. Ash felt himself grin, and Flax smiled widely, puffing his
breath out in a long sigh.

“Now what?” he asked.

Ash flicked him a glance full of mischief, and backed away. “Now you jump,” he said.

“Over
that
?”

Ash nodded. The howling grew louder and Rowan ran and leaped, high and long, over the black chasm, over the pounding waters,
landing in a crouch and waiting there for Flax.

“You next,” Ash said. “Come on.”

Flax blew out his breath again and then backed up as far as he could go, until the fire was almost licking at his legs. Then
he ran forward and leapt.

It wasn’t a high leap, and for a moment Ash had a terrible fear that he would fall, and he would be left to explain his death
to Zel. I promised to look after him, he thought in a quick panic, but then Flax was over safely and half-collapsed at Rowan’s
feet, panting much harder than he should have been from the jump. Yes, Ash thought, we learn about fear here. Rowan helped
Flax to his feet and thumped him on the back in congratulations.

They went down the passageway and Ash returned to the clearing and settled down to wait. Tomorrow Flax would be taken to within
touch of the River for the first time. The night after that, she would touch him. That was the night that Ash would climb.

All night he tended the fire and tried to ignore his rumbling stomach. The hunger would get worse, he knew. He had seen other
young men go to the climb stumbling, light-headed with hunger. Fasting made the climb more dangerous, but cleansed the spirit
and opened the heart to the River. It was necessary.

As he fed the fire, Ash realized that there was music building in his mind; a complex kind of music which he had no words
for, no way of describing to anyone. He brooded over Skink’s words after he had sung. He had been on pitch. His voice was
true, even if it was horrible. If he could find someone willing to listen, he could share his music at last. But he doubted,
as intertwined patterns of flute and drum and harp and voice ran through his mind, that simple singing could convey what he
wanted. Perhaps this music simply wasn’t meant to be heard by others. Perhaps it was only for the gods.

He resisted the temptation to take out the casting stones and ask. Casting for oneself was notoriously unreliable. But he
decided to ask Martine, the first chance he got.

Because he was determined that there would be a future; that they would defeat this Saker; and he would not be a safeguarder
in that future. Returning to the Deep had rekindled his love of music. He thought about Flax and the beauty of his voice.
But it was the song that displayed that voice, and Flax was only a singer, not a maker of songs. Ash felt that, perhaps, he
might be able to make songs that could rival the beauty of
The Distant Hills.
If he could find a way to teach the songs to others.

The young men came back just before dawn, exhausted, and ate cold meat and greengages and cheese. Ash sat away from them so
he couldn’t smell the food. Then the dawn lit the red rock walls as though drenching them with blood, the men came back from
the caves in their true shape, ate breakfast, and all of them, Ash included, fell asleep in the early morning light.

He dreamt of water, running, endlessly running; of waves that took and carried him away; of Bramble smiling at someone out
of sight; of fountains. Underneath the constant water sounds was music.

O
VER THE POST
and rail fence, around the big willow tree and splashing across the stream, up the slope beyond, around the herd of dairy
cows. The bull took objection to their appearance and put his head down to charge, bellowing defiance. Arrow scrambled out
of the way and leaped over the dry-stone fence beyond. Leof leaned low over Arrow’s neck and grinned. It was like the best
of chases — he felt like he was out alone, leading the field, the way Bramble used to do on Thorn.

Ahead of him the Kill raced, but this was one Kill he didn’t want to catch. He shivered at what might happen if the wind wraiths
realized he was following them. Then he grinned again and urged Arrow on. She was tiring, but her heart was so big that whenever
he asked her for more she gave it.

Leof thanked the gods that he had spent so much time at chases when he first arrived from Cliff Domain. He knew most of this
countryside, had ridden over a great deal of it. It was a mixture of pasture and crops, intercut with many, many streams and
small rivers. One of the most fertile areas of the country, this farmland was the reason Thegan had wanted Central Domain
so badly. Leof thought ruefully of the crops he had trampled since he left Carlion, but it would have wasted too much time
to avoid them. The mixture of animals and crops meant that the fences were frequent and sturdy, and that the ground beyond
them was usually firm and reasonably level — perfect chasing country.