Bronze Magic (Book 1) Page 45

  Waterstone raised his eyebrows interrogatively and Tarkyn nodded reluctantly in reply.

  The woodman continued, “Please, whatever happens, at least give us the chance to sort it out with you first and don’t put yourself at unnecessary risk, for our sakes as well as yours.”

  Tarkyn eyed him sideways. “You sound awfully like a bossy older brother,” he said, not sounding too sure that he liked it.

  “Then you can have a lovely time commiserating with Ancient Oak about it,” replied Waterstone, completely unmoved.

  “All right. All right. Point taken.” Tarkyn rose to his feet and put out his hands to haul the other two up. “Come on then. Back into harness.” So saying, the prince walked with them through the quiet darkness and back into the glare of the crowded firelight.

  s soon as the prince entered the light, Ancient Oak pounced on him. “Ah, there you are. We were wondering where you’d got to.”

  Tarkyn threw a dry look at the other two before submerging himself in the conversation. “What did you want me for?”

  “We think we’ve worked out who might be missing,” said Falling Branch.

  “There aren’t many people unaccounted for. We’ve checked with everyone we can think of. There are only two possibilities left,” continued Ancient Oak.

  “Falling Rain is an obvious possibility,” put in Rainstorm with a shrug. “But the other possibility is Golden Toad’s family.”

  Tarkyn raised his eyebrows. “Golden Toad?”

  “Yes,” said Waterstone repressively before Tarkyn could say anything offensive. “He has a very low, stop-start sort of a voice.”

  “I see.” Tarkyn’s eyes shone with amusement.

  “Anyway, as I was saying,” said Rainstorm, firmly regaining the prince’s attention, “Golden Toad’s family contracted some sort of virus a few years ago which caused them to lose their ability to mind talk. They tend to keep to themselves down around the southern marshes.”

  “How very apt,” said Tarkyn irrepressibly.

  Rainstorm frowned briefly at the distraction but was so focused on what he was saying that he didn’t catch the implication. “So we haven’t been able to contact them to see if they are all right.”

  “So we were wondering…” Ancient Oak began but then broke off looking uncertain.

  “We were wondering, Your Highness,” continued Falling Branch, taking over from him. “If you might be able to use a bird or animal to look for them for us.” When Tarkyn didn’t reply instantaneously, he continued hurriedly. “Not if you think it would be too much of an imposition. It’s just that it will take several days for some of us to travel there and that would be lost time if we could find out sooner.” Tarkyn waved a hand to silence everyone. “Of course I will help if I can. Just give me a minute to think.” He paced up and down a couple of times then stopped. “How far away are these marshes and who has been there most recently?” The prince realised everyone was looking disappointed. “Give me a chance. I’m not planning to send those people back down there. I just need someone to guide my mind.”

  “I know the area quite well,” offered Running Feet. “I’ll help.”

  Ignoring the faint ripple of surprise that ran through Tree Wind’s group, Tarkyn smiled. “Thanks. You’re good at explaining terrain and have a clear eye for detail. I noticed that this morning. Do you know what they look like or what their shelter may look like? I’ll need to know if I’m going to try to recruit a creature of some sort to look for them.”

  “If you can do that, why don’t you just send in an animal to look in the encampment for woodfolk?” challenged Tree Wind, suddenly entering the discussion.

  Tarkyn turned to look at her. Everyone, aware of Tree Wind’s antagonism, waited with baited breath for the prince’s response. “You know,” he said quietly, “when I first entered the forest, I was impressed by your courage and your fighting spirit. Before I understood the structure of woodfolk society, I thought you might be their leader. You are quickwitted and intelligent. Every time you have queried my ideas, they have been sound queries, just as now.”

  “Of course they are,” she replied caustically. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Whereas I don’t,” supplied the prince for her.

  In response, she just stood and stared at him belligerently.

  He surprised her by smiling. “Of course, I don’t. I’ve only been in the woods for a little over a month - and for a fortnight of that time, I was unconscious. You’ve been here all your life. Ask Sparrow. She’ll tell you. I’m hopeless at directions. I couldn’t even tell you where north is at the moment.”

  Tree Wind’s expression became, if anything, more disdainful.

  Tarkyn continued unabashed. “I know nothing about lighting fires, fending for myself, building shelters, recognising animal tracks, hunting, cooking. You name it, I can’t do it.”

  A burble of quiet laughter wafted around the assembled woodfolk.

  “Not only that, but I’m not particularly interested in doing a lot of those things. In fact, I am a constant drain on other people’s resources.” Tarkyn swept a friendly smile around his audience. “Traditionally, that’s what a prince is – a constant drain on other people’s resources. However,” the sorcerer’s voice grew serious, “I do possess skills, knowledge and power that you do not have, Tree Wind. If you will work with me instead of competing with me, I will give you free access to my skills and power. I have already done so with the woodfolk I have been with and I will do so for anyone who requests them for the welfare of woodfolk.”

  Tree Wind still did not reply but was now looking speculatively at him.

  “And in answer to your question, I think that is a very good suggestion; to use a creature to reconnoitre the encampment.” The prince did not give Tree Wind the sole right to decide. He looked around at everyone. “As you all know what you’re doing and I don’t; which should I do first? Look for Golden Toad down in the southern marshes or inspect the encampment, assuming I can do either? You decide and get back to me. I need a glass of wine.”

  A babble of voices immediately broke out behind him as Tarkyn turned away to find something to drink. Autumn Leaves thrust a glass into his hand.

  “Thanks,” said Tarkyn briefly, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

  “You are up to tricks, young Tarkyn,” observed Waterstone with an answering smile. “You are much more capable than that impression you just gave.”

  The prince grinned. “Of course I am, but I don’t need to tell them that. Now they, and particularly Tree Wind, can feel happily superior about some things at least.”

  “What happened to your sanctimonious position about not giving false impressions?” asked Autumn Leaves dryly.

  Tarkyn had the grace to look embarrassed. “Yes. Good point. I could say, ‘But I didn’t tell them any lies’ but as I recall, you said that to me and I wouldn’t wear it.” The prince sighed, “Well, there’s nothing for it. I’ll have to turn back around and explain to them that I’m absolutely superior in every way.”

  “No,” chorused the two woodmen.

  “Anyway,” added Waterstone, “You’re not. So then you would be compounding a false impression with a string of lies.”

  “Well, I can console myself with the belief that they already had a false impression of me as threatening, all powerful and arrogant. So I’ve just replaced it with a new one in which I’m pathetic and helpless.” He smiled unrepentantly at them “Perhaps the two will cancel each other out to be somewhere near the truth?”

  An increase in volume behind them indicated that all was not well. When the prince turned back around, he realised that the discussion had galvanised the woodfolk into two groups, those for and those against him.

  “Ooh dear,” said Tarkyn under his breath to Autumn Leaves and Waterstone. “This could be going better.” He surveyed the crowd. “Well, at least we are clear now on where the lines are drawn.”

  The prince took a deep breath and when he next
spoke, his voice cut sharply through the night air, “Last night I told you that I was not prepared to countenance any debates that are based on politics, rather than on the issues themselves. Yet here we are, clearly divided over a virtual non-issue on the grounds of loyalty.”

  He bent down and picked up a stone. Placing his hands behind his back, he said, “Tree Wind, come over here please.”

  When she hesitated, he said evenly. “That was not a request.”

  Once she was standing before him, he explained, “The hand with the stone in it is the encampment. The other hand is the marsh. One person from each camp, please, stand behind me to make sure I don’t cheat.”As an embarrassed murmur greeted this request, the prince said sternly, “I’m waiting.”

  Once everyone was in place, Tarkyn moved the stones back and forth between his hands behind his back, then stopped. He nodded at Tree Wind. “Choose.”

  Tree Wind’s eyes snapped. “This is ridiculous!”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said the prince. “Nevertheless, choose!”

  Glaring furiously at the prince, she pointed at his right arm. His hand came around to the front with the stone clearly held in it.

  “So be it.” Tarkyn’s angry gaze swept across the crowd before him. “If, at any time in the future, I become aware that the issues alone are not guiding your decision making, then I will have three courses of action open to me; I can withdraw my offer of assistance, I can make the decision myself or I can leave it to chance. None of those strikes me as being outcomes you would prefer.”

  The prince’s eyes narrowed as he contemplated the group against him, “Once I have completed this task, I wish to speak alone to the group who chose the encampment, before any of you leaves. Either tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how long we take. That, also, is not a request.” He looked around until he spotted Running Feet, standing next to Thunder Storm. “Now if you will excuse us, Running Feet and I have work to do.”

  The prince turned on his heel and strode out into the darkness, with Running Feet hard on his heels. Once they were well away from the firesite, the moonlight took over and they found themselves walking through a monochromatic vista of towering trees, dark, hunched bushes and soft grasses.

  Tarkyn let out a long breath. “Skies above, they’re hard work.” He glanced at the woodman beside him, “Thank you for your support today and this evening.” He gave a fleeting smile. “Funny thing is, I actually agreed with the people who were against me. That’s why I couldn’t make the decision. I couldn’t let down all the people who were supporting me. I would have made it if I really had to, but frankly, it doesn’t matter much, one way or the other. So I was quite happy to leave it to chance.”

  Running Feet’s eyebrows twitched together. “So all those people are going to get into trouble for making the right decision?”

  “I will certainly be speaking to all those people who made the right decision for the wrong reasons,” replied the prince dryly. “Whether they get into trouble, as you put it, remains to be seen.”

  “And the others?”

  Tarkyn smiled. “You mean, those who made the wrong decision for the wrong reasons? Since they are not filtering everything I say through a haze of resentment, they will have already understood the error of their ways. At least, I hope so.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Running Feet.

  Tarkyn shrugged, “I don’t know. Somewhere outside. Anywhere really, where we won’t be disturbed.”

  Running Feet stopped and looked around. He pointed to a shadowy space within a large stand of oaks. “That do?”

  For a moment, a sense of unease rippled through Tarkyn. “Can you contact the lookouts? Check that everything is all right?”

  Running Feet stared at him. “I can’t hurt you, you know. I swore the oath.”

  Tarkyn frowned distractedly. “What? I’m not worried about that. It would be pointless for me to ask you to check with the lookouts, if I were.”

  The woodman conceded the point and went briefly out of focus. “All where they should be and nothing to report.”

  “How well would they pick up a threat that was already inside the perimeter?”

  “The threat would have to get past them to get inside the perimeter in the first place,” Running Feet pointed out.

  Tarkyn still looked uneasy. “Twice already, I have known of dangers getting past the lookouts. The first time was a wolf that slipped through while they were watching its mate. The second was when I made it into here.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just had a cold shiver, I don’t know. You’ll just have to be extra vigilant while I’m concentrating.”

  When they had settled themselves comfortably against the trunks of two trees, Tarkyn asked, “Can you recall the encampment?” Remembering Waterstone, he asked, “Will you allow me to share your memory of it? Feel free to edit it as you wish.”

  Running Feet interrupted, “Did Waterstone really let you have free rein with his memory?”

  The prince stared at him, “Who told you that?”

  “Waterstone did, of course. It had to be him, Autumn Leaves or Thunder Storm. No-one else knows.”

  The prince frowned, “So why did he tell you?”

  Running Feet grimaced reminiscently. “I think it was just part of a fairly long-winded warning-off process that he has subjected me to for most of the day in one subtle way or another.”

  “I see,” said Tarkyn. A slow smile dawned as he worked out the inferences. “Yes, he did give me free rein with his memory for some considerable time. Not one of my finest hours. I overused it. Autumn Leaves was very angry with me.” He paused and glanced at Running Feet, “But do not fear. It was always within Waterstone’s control, not mine, if you’re wondering. I just took too much advantage of his good nature. – So, are we going to do this or not? You can describe the encampment in detail instead, if you would prefer.”

  The woodman shook his head. “No. That would be too laborious. If you can receive images, it’s much better this way.” He leaned forward so that his face was close to Tarkyn’s. “Okay. Look into my eyes.”

  We are carefully upwind of the camp. We can hear wolves howling from time to time. There are scores of tall men. Some women. Many men are armed. They are wearing better clothes than the others who look like the travellers we see on the roads through the woods. There are scores of horses roped up inside the encampment. Some are wearing saddles, ready to leave. They have guards posted around the perimeter at intervals of fifty yards. All the guards are carrying weapons of some description. There are tents in the middle of the enclosure. Some men sleep in them. Many sleep under tatty pieces of canvas outside. A weedy young man walks around past the horses to check the chained wolves.

  “That’s the man I saw at the river with the wolf and the riders,” exclaimed Tarkyn. “Sorry. Go on.”

  Running Feet shrugged. “There’s not much more than that really. I didn’t see any sign of woodfolk.”

  Tarkyn frowned, “If they are there, they will be inside one of those tents where we can’t see them. What animal can I use?” pondered the sorcerer.

  “You could start with one of the horses or even a wolf. You would think they would let the woodfolk out sometimes, if they’re in there.”

  “The trouble is that I can’t talk to them. I can only send and receive images. It needs to stay in the present tense, if you see what I mean.”

  Running Feet thought for a minute. “Maybe a mouse? Or a rat?”

  Tarkyn laughed. “The mind boggles. But why not? I’ve used a swallow before and it’s not much bigger than a mouse.” He settled himself more comfortably against the tree. “Ready? Now I am going to have to send my mind searching for a particular little individual. So I need to know where I am going.” He looked suddenly at the woodman and grinned. “You realise I haven’t done this before? Autumn Leaves said you can use people’s memories as maps. So can you do me a quick repeat of your trip between the encampment and here? I’ll just have to reve
rse it.”

  Running Feet’s eyes widened. “That’s a pretty tall order. Not for me, for you. To remember a long route like that backwards when you haven’t even travelled it yourself.”

  Tarkyn grimaced. “Yes it is, isn’t it? Maybe you can take me through it once. Then, as I go back over it, give me verbal prompts to remind what should be coming next.”

  “I know,” said the woodman enthusiastically. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I just take you slowly backwards over the route in the first place? It won’t be hard for me to visualise retracing our steps.”

  “Much better. With any luck I can be actually sending my mind out along the route in time with your image. Don’t take it too fast.” Tarkyn closed his eyes, then realised and opened them again. “Stars. I’ll have to do this with my eyes open if I’m looking at a memory, won’t I?”

  Running Feet considered, “No. I don’t think so. It actually might be easier if I transmit the images to you so that I can change the order of them first.”

  “Good. That will suit me better too,” Tarkyn closed his eyes again. “Let’s go.”

  Slowly with the help of Running Feet’s images, Tarkyn let his mind move slowly out from where he sat into the forest, up over a series of wooded hills, around an open space of heather and gorse, around a huge spread of brambles, through a steep narrow valley and finally into a more open area of woodland. As his mind approached the encampment, he focused low to the ground, looking for the mind patterns of little animals. He could feel the air buzzing with chatter but he couldn’t home in on any one mind. Maybe it’s too far away, he thought. Just as he was beginning to tire, he found himself viewing the forest floor from only inches above as he scurried from bush to bush, looking for seeds and scraps. Gently, the forest guardian inserted a picture of the encampment, then the tents in the middle of it, with a sense of query.