Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series (8 page)

‘No, no! It was but a
passing thought. But perhaps your children will eat with us one
evening?’

‘They are in their beds
by this time Lord. They are still very young. I will introduce them
to you when you are back earlier from your work. Or I could bring
them to see how much you have accomplished so quickly?’

Rhaki’s gathering frown
disappeared. ‘Yes. They would be most impressed, would they not?
Tomorrow I do not cut the stones, but supervise the delivery of
those I cut today. Yes indeed. I would enjoy meeting your children
Hargon. Bring them tomorrow.’

When Rhaki had left
Return next morning Hargon ordered his children to be brought to
him, even the female. He turned from the window as the armsman
closed the door, leaving the children before the table. Hargon
stared at them. All three had nearly white blonde hair and blue
eyes, the female’s eyes such a dark blue as to be nearly purple.
She looked very nervous, a pace behind her older and younger
brothers. Hargon rarely spoke to her, let alone called her into his
presence. He sat at his table.

‘You know there is a
Lord of the northern People guesting here?’

Three heads
nodded.

‘He wishes to meet you.
I will ride out with you later this morning so that you may see how
his building progresses.’

The older boy stared
back at his father, knowing there was more. The female still looked
nervous, and the younger boy’s cheeks were growing pink with
excitement. Hargon sighed.

‘This Lord uses the
power.’

He noticed Bannor’s
frown and was pleased. The boy was astute enough to follow Hargon’s
thoughts already.

‘I will speak truly to
you, but what I say must not be repeated to anyone. This Lord means
trouble for us, not just here in Return I think, but in all of
Sapphrea.’ He paused. ‘I believe this Lord is mad. Whether he is or
no, he is very dangerous. He thinks we are all simple fools, amazed
at his powers. When we visit his place of building, you will not
speak unless he or I address you. But you will show great
admiration for his work.’

Bannor stepped closer
to the table.

‘If this Lord is bad,
why have you let him build here Sir?’

‘If I had refused, he
would have built here anyway. His power is such that he could
destroy Return, I believe.’

Mena put a hand over
her mouth, her eyes round with horror.

‘He could destroy even
you Sir?’ she whispered.

Hargon was rather
surprised and flattered by this evidence of concern. He honoured
her with a faint smile and turned to the six Cycles old
Bartos.

‘This is not a game,’
he cautioned the boy. ‘This Lord could destroy you like that.’ He
snapped his fingers and the boy’s cheeks paled. ‘Now, you will be
ready in two hours from now. You will repeat none of what I have
said to you here, and you will behave as I have
commanded.’

He waved his hand in
dismissal and three blonde heads dipped in respect before the
children turned to leave their father’s presence.

Rhaki sat contemplating
the piles of stone blocks, awaiting the next wagon with its load.
His gaze drifted past them to the rising slope beyond with its
covering of tangled redberry bushes. It must be nearly three
ten-days since he had last gone into the caves. He vaguely
considered the idea of using his scrying bowl to see what went on
in the northern stronghold and Gaharn. He gave a mental shrug. It
wasn’t really worth the bother. And he had an odd feeling of being
observed at times out here.

He had not caught
anyone spying on him, and he dismissed the idea that Hargon would
think to have him watched. It was probably passing herd boys, or
labourers, having a nervous glance over the top of the quarry to
see what the great Lord was doing. Although he dismissed the idea,
he resolved not to enter the caves again until he could do so from
beneath his tower – just in case.

His reverie was
interrupted by the sound of hooves scuffing on the dusty trail from
the direction of Return. He rose and turned as Navan rode into
view, followed by Hargon and an escort of armsmen. Three smaller
koninas stepped along behind Hargon carrying three blonde children.
Rhaki smiled as they reined up in front of his tall
figure.

‘Hargon! A pleasure to
show you my progress!’

He looked pointedly at
the three children.

Hargon dismounted, the
children following his lead. The two younger ones scarcely reached
much higher than Rhaki’s knee he observed in amusement, although
the eldest boy was taller.

‘How are you called and
what ages have you reached?’ Rhaki enquired kindly.

After a quick glance at
Hargon the eldest took a pace forward and bowed.

‘My name is Bannor Sir
Lord, eldest son of Lord Hargon. I am eleven Cycles.’ He indicated
the smaller boy who also stepped forward and bowed.

‘He is Bartos, younger
son of Lord Hargon. He is six Cycles Sir Lord.’

As that seemed to
complete the introductions in Bannor’s opinion, Rhaki asked
pleasantly:

‘And your
sister?’

Bannor looked a little
surprised and glanced once more for his father’s confirmatory nod.
‘Oh that is just Mena, Sir Lord. She is ten Cycles.’

Rhaki’s eyes rested on
Mena thoughtfully. Beautiful eyes she had, although her hair was
cropped as short as the boys’. Ten Cycles old was she? By the time
the tower was complete and he was fully ready to continue his
life’s work, she would be of a suitable age. Rhaki smiled gently at
Mena, noting the blush which coloured her cheeks and then faded to
leave an ashen pallor.

Chapter
Six

Emla was astonished at
how quickly her affection for Ryla had sprung up. She had thought
her an opponent in the Chamber of Gathering, but in the days since
she had brought her to her House outside the city, Emla had formed
a close rapport with the aged Discipline Senior. Although Ryla’s
body was frighteningly frail, as long as she was kept warm she
seemed to be able to work and talk with little need for rest. Emla
found herself being sent, stumbling with weariness, to her bed
while Ryla was still as bright as day.

She had found that Ryla
usually slept for a few hours as dawn broke so Emla used the early
mornings to do the rounds of her household. Once Ryla was installed
in the library, they seemed to work, and talk, and work until Ryla
once again sent the Golden Lady off to bed. They had discovered
several references to the circles in Emla’s library and a few
obscure descriptions of a ‘race of small beings’ who lived in the
north. As Ryla pointed out, all races on this world were small in
comparison to the People.

Kemti travelled between
Gaharn and Emla’s House, bringing notes and comments from Khalim, a
Senior devoted to Ryla and her future successor. Yash had returned
to Gaharn to work with Khalim and had taken over Kera’s quarters in
the Asataria.

On this cold afternoon,
with grey clouds threatening yet more snow, Kera had joined Emla
and Ryla. Kera wore trousers and shirt as Emla did most of the time
now. She was staring out at the bleak gardens and she
shivered.

‘I can’t wait to be on
my way north, but the first few days look likely to be cold
travelling indeed,’ she said.

She returned to the
fireside and looked at Ryla affectionately. ‘At least you’ll get
written reports sent back from me.’

Emla snorted. ‘I’ve
told you – I had no time for making notes or writing
reports!’

Shan came in with the
usual afternoon tray of spice tea and hot pastries before more
could be said. Emla noticed a scratch along Shan’s
cheekbone.

‘Still enjoying your
training Shan?’

‘Yes thank you
Lady.’

Shan thumped one of
Ryla’s pillows a little harder than was strictly necessary before
squashing it between Ryla’s back and the chair again.

‘And what weapons did
you practise this morning?’ Kera enquired innocently.

Shan shot her a quick
glance from beneath her lashes. ‘Wooden swords Lady.’

‘Aah.’ Kera nodded.
‘Even wooden ones have quite sharp edges I believe.’

Shan decided that that
comment required no answer, bobbed to the room generally and
fled.

‘Not fair!’ Ryla said,
trying to remove the newly placed pillow. ‘No doubt the child finds
it hard, not having been used to muscle training and so on, as we
all were from our earliest Cycles.’

Before Kera could
answer, the door opened again and Shan announced:

‘Lord Malesh,
Ladies.’

A figure staggered in,
arms heaped with leather folders and boxes.

‘You surely didn’t
carry all that from Gaharn did you?’ Ryla asked.

Malesh dropped them
onto an edge of the worktable with relief.

‘No of course not. Only
from downstairs.’ He smiled at them all. ‘Khalim thinks these might
hold something of interest.’

Emla and Ryla both
groaned.

Suddenly Emla sat up,
her eyes unfocused, then she went quickly to the window.

‘Oh dear. Kera, wrap
another shawl over Ryla’s shoulders while I open the window for a
minute.’

Rather bemused, Kera
did so and then gaped, as did Ryla, as a tatty feathered black
Merig dropped heavily to the floor. Emla leaned out of the window
then closed it.

‘Your – friend – has
not accompanied you this time, Merig?’ Emla asked in
mindspeech.

The Merig rattled his
feathers into place, walked stiff legged to the fire and hopped up
onto a stool.

‘Not today,’ he
replied, surveying Ryla and Kera calmly.

‘You could close your
mouths now,’ Emla murmured aloud. ‘This is the one who travels
north in the next few days,’ she went on, resting a hand on Kera’s
shoulder.

‘And me,’ Malesh
interrupted.

‘And that one,’ agreed
Emla.

The Merig blinked
several times then drew himself up.

‘Thus begins my
message,’ he intoned. ‘From Gan in the stronghold to Emla: Why did
you send a dozen Kephis?’ The Merig blinked again.

Emla had her hand over
her mouth and her green eyes were dancing with mirth.

‘Is that
all?’

‘Of course not. From
Tika in the stronghold: The Delvers love the Kephis – why not send
more?’ The Merig did a quick shuffle of feathers as though confused
before adding: ‘From Gan: Do not dare. I did not fully understand
that part,’ he explained apologetically. ‘The rest is more
sensible.’

When the Merig had
delivered his messages fully and was preparing to leave, Ryla
asked:

‘Why did the Merigs
never speak with us before?’

The Merig’s head wagged
from side to side.

‘We did not choose to,’
he said simply.

After Emla closed the
window behind the Merig, silence reigned in the library.

Finally she said: ‘But
I did tell you about the Merigs.’

‘Yes,’ said Ryla. ‘But
it is one thing knowing, and another thing seeing.’

Kera headed for the
door. ‘I’ll go and see about the supplies they ask for Emla. Come
on Malesh.’

The door opened again
and Kera poked her head back into the room. ‘Shall I gather more
Kephis do you think Emla?’

Emla laughed aloud.
‘Perhaps not this trip. Gan sounds upset enough with the dozen I’ve
already sent them!’

Kera grinned and shut
the door. Emla knelt beside a crate against the wall.

‘I hope these are what
Nolli wants. Some are serious works but I’ve put in some books of
poetry and songs too.’

Ryla peered over the
table at Emla. ‘Have you put any of the children’s tales in? I feel
sure she’d love those.’

‘I’ll get some copies
made. I only have these myself and I couldn’t bear to part with
them. They will be ready for next time.’

‘Emla, would Nolli mind
if I wrote to her? I feel I know her from all you’ve told me and I
would so like to meet her myself. I thought perhaps she could ask
Kera to write her reply – I remember you said how crippled her
hands are.’

‘I’m sure she would be
glad to receive a personal word from you Ryla. I spoke with her
during the few days I remained in the stronghold, and I believe she
holds far more information than she has so far revealed. It was she
who insisted that I must come back here – I think she guessed the
Gathering would find it difficult to believe what I had to tell
them.’ Emla chewed the end of her pen until Ryla leaned over and
gently removed it from her mouth. ‘Nolli said she suspected there
would be some here too full of self importance and pride to accept
what I would tell them.’

Ryla sighed. ‘Oh to
speak with this Nolli! It is hard to speak clearly in written
words. But at least I will see some of your Dragons Emla. When
should you think they will judge the young Dragon strong enough to
travel?’