On the afternoon of the fifth day they were camped by the river, Tash went off looking for a better place to fish. ‘There are more good fish in this river,’ he told Josie. ‘I can tell. But they have learned that I am here, and there is so much water for them to hide in.’
‘Good luck, Tash,’ she called after him, and settled down to listen dozily to the sounds of the river.
The kinds of sounds a river makes, as I am sure you know, are the kinds of sounds that make you more conscious of the fact that your bladder is full, and after she had lain resting awhile this outweighed Josie’s desire to keep laying there doing nothing. ‘Bother,’ she said, and got up and walked a little ways away from the stream. Once Josie was further from the stream she could other sounds. There was the crunching of undergrowth underfoot, branches being pulled back and let go: the sounds of someone approaching. Could Tash be back already? No, he had gone upriver, and the sounds were very clearly coming from downriver.
Josie hastily returned to the camp. There was no way to hide their things before whoever it was came this way- before they came this way, for there were two separate pairs of feet. They sounded to Josie much more like men than beasts. And they were very close, the sounds they had made as they approached muted by the swollen river.
‘Hail!’ called a voice. ‘Is someone there?’ It was the first voice of a man Josie had heard since the death of Yustus. It had the gruff, confident tone of the kind of man who lives his life out of doors doing things that do not need a lot of artful thinking or book-learning, but a great willingness to take risks and an easy sort of halfway-decent competence in all manner of practical things. It was the kind of voice she had heard often when she was growing up, and it instantly made her feel smaller again, more like the girl Josephine Furness and less like Josie, Mistress of Telmar.
‘Hail!’ called Josie back, trying to sound strong and confident.
‘Why, it’s a maiden!’ the voice said with some surprise, drawing nearer. There was some broad male laughter. ‘And a northern lass, if my eyes do not deceive me. What possessed you to journey in these wilds, northern lass?’
The two men had walked up swiftly since Josie had admitted her presence, and now stood with her at the edge of the patch of sandy ground where she had made camp. She could smell the stale breath of men who eat a great deal of meat and are not particular about cleaning their teeth, and their sweat, and an oil rather like the oil they had used back home for oiling saddles.
‘I am travelling through,’ said Josie. ‘My companions- companion and I.’
She felt it would not be a good idea to volunteer too much about who she was and where she was going.
‘Why, that is the very thing we and our company are doing,’ said the man who had spoken. He laughed again. ‘Where are you bound? It might be we could travel together.’
‘I would rather not say,’ said Josie.
‘Is something wrong with your eyes?’ asked the second man. He had a more cunning, thoughtful sort of voice that reminded Josie uncomfortably of the magician Yustus.
‘I am blind,’ said Josie.
‘That is a great pity, lass,’ said the first man. ‘That means you cannot see the handsome face of Arishan here. He is accounted a great beauty back at home.’
‘Tell us of your companion,’ said Arishan. ’Is she a northern maiden, like yourself?’
‘No,’ said Josie. ‘He is a man. A big, strong man.’
‘There is just one bed made here,’ pointed out the man named Arishan in his unpleasant oily voice.
‘My companion is my husband,’ said Josie.
‘A fortunate man he must be, to have such a courteous and well-formed wife,’ said the first man.
‘I cannot see any man’s clothing among your things here,’ said Arishan. ‘I hope your husband has not deserted you.’
‘No, he will be back very soon,’ said Josie, starting to feel rattled.
‘Well, we can wait for him, then,’ said Arishan. ‘It will be good to make his acquaintance. No doubt he will see we mean no harm, and feel free to tell us where you are bound.’ He sat down heavily on the bed of blankets that Josie had arranged.
‘Sit down a while, lass, and be hospitable,’ said the first man. ‘There is no need for us to stand here as if we were two watchmen questioning a thief.’
With great reluctance Josie sat down on the opposite side of the ashy firepit from Arishan. The first man plunked himself down next to her.
‘Well,’ said Arishan. ‘We can think of something to do to pass the time until your husband returns.’ Josie could hear him getting something that clattered out of his pockets; a cup and dice, from the sound of it. ‘Do you like games?’
‘No,’ said Josie, shaking her head.
‘I have never seen a girl as white as you, lass,’ said the first man. ‘Are you a Narnian?’
‘No,’ said Josie.
‘Just as well,’ said the man. ‘I have heard it said that Narnian girls look fair enough in most of their parts, but are as dark and hairy as an ape in their nethers.’ He laughed again, and Josie furrowed her brows in anger. ‘I expect your husband could tell us the truth of that, eh, lass?’ He slapped a hand like a slab of salt pork down on Josie’s thigh in an insolent and inappropriate way.
‘You should go,’ said Josie, angrily trying to get to her feet, but the man grabbed her roughly and would not let her.
‘Or we could check for ourselves,’ he said, clutching Josie around the middle and chuckling as she kicked futilely. The smell of stale sweat on him was vile.
‘Let me go!’ said Josie, trying to command like the Mistress of Telmar, but sounding shrill and panicked even to herself.
‘Rozek, stop scaring the girl with your rough talk,’ called Arishan. ‘Put her down.’
‘She’s wriggling too much,’ said Rozek.
‘Stop it,’ said the second man in a voice edged with steel. Grumbling, Rozek tossed her to the ground. Josie gathered herself together and sat with her arms and legs curled up protectively, waiting for a chance to make her escape.
‘We have to do this properly,’ said Arishan, in a voice that made Josie’s skin crawl. ‘We cast lots to see who gets first go at the girl. Odd or evens?’
‘Evens,’ growled Rozek. ‘Best out of three.’
Josie heard the cup rattling, and the dice turned out. ‘Six and three,’ said Arishan.
Was that the sound of someone approaching? It was hard to hear noises in the wood over the sounds of the river. Josie strained her ears.
The cup rattled again. ‘Six and one- look upon them and despair,’ said Arishan, with a horrible glee.
‘Bugger,’ said Rozek.
Yes, someone was definitely coming. Josie leapt to hear feet while the brigands were distracted by their dice and charged off towards the noise. ‘Tash!’ she called out. ‘Tash!’
She slipped on an uneven patch of ground and tumbled, scrambled to her feet and ran forward, and then she was suddenly almost trampled by a pony ridden by someone who was not Tash. The pony was as alarmed at nearly trampling her as she was at nearly being trampled. The rider did something vicious to it and it stood still, breathing heavily.
‘Rozek? What’s this?’ called the angry voice of the rider. It was a higher pitch than the voices of Rozek or Arishan, but sounded no less masculine and rough.
‘Found this lass,’ said Rozek, who had given chase and was now catching up. He grabbed hold of Josie’s arm. ‘Says she’s out here with her husband, but won’t say where they’re going.’
‘So you thought you’d chase her all over the wilderness? Orders are to bring any strangers straight to the commander. You know that. ’
‘We were waiting for the fellow to turn up,’ said Arishan, walking up more slowly and somehow sounding reasonable even to Josie’s ears.
‘Yes, and what do you think he’ll do if he comes back to find two louts like you pawing his woman? Whip out his sword first and ask questions later, and he ends up dead and we don’t learn a damned thing from him. Or, more likely, he kills you two and gets clean away, when we’d have him at twelve to one if he had to track you back to the camp. Are you completely stupid? Settle down, you.’ He said this last to Josie, who was struggling to wrench her arm free from Rozek’s grip.
‘I’m fortunate you showed up to deal with things properly, then,’ said Arishan drily. ‘This man may not exist at all. There are only woman’s clothes here.’
‘Shut up,’ said the rider. ‘Get up behind me, lass. Rozek, put her up behind.’
‘She’s blind, Karasp,’ said Rozek, lifting up the struggling Josie like a sack of oats and putting her on the back of the pony.
The rider made a contemptuous noise at the other brigands. ‘Hold on tight,’ he told Josie.
‘Please, can’t you just leave me here?’ she asked, reluctantly putting her arms around the man’s chest. ‘My husband-‘
‘Sorry, lass,’ said Karasp. ‘Orders are to bring any strangers to talk to the commander. Orders these fools seem to have forgotten. Hold on. If you fall off you’ll bash your head in, like as not.’
‘I have ridden before,’ said Josie. Through her fear of what might happen with these coarse men, she felt a pang of melancholy. She had used to ride double with Gerry almost every day.
The pony took off through the woods at a brisk trot for a good twenty minutes, with enough twistings and turnings that Josie was not at all sure which direction they were from the river. Josie could hear the crackling of a fire, and the sound of a good many horses and men – the dozen the rider had mentioned seemed to be about the right number of each. Her arrival had caused quite a stir, from the voices she could hear as she climbed down from the back of the pony. It was obviously completely unexpected to find a girl in the wilderness, with her pale skin adding an additional thrill of exotic detail. Without ado, Karasp hustled her into what seemed to be a large tent. The hubbub outside suddenly dimmed, and she could smell perfume and roast poultry, rather than just wood-smoke and unwashed man and beast.
‘An interesting find, Karasp,’ said a voice. It was probably the least unpleasant voice Josie had heard yet from a man in this new world, a strong resonant voice she could imagine reading from the Bible on Sunday mornings. It sounded friendly enough on the surface, but Josie could tell there was something unyielding and implacable beneath. It was, in a way, an even more frightening voice than Arishan’s. ‘Who is this young lady?’
‘Arishan found her by the river,’ said Karasp. ‘About half a league upstream. Apparently she’s blind. She says she’s travelling with her husband, but hasn’t said where they’re bound. Arishan said there were only woman’s clothes where she was camped.’
‘I see,’ said the commander. Josie could hear him stepping closer to her, and knew she was being scrutinised.
‘Young lady, my name is Ormuz, and my companions and I are bound on a voyage of discovery,’ he said in a friendly tone. ‘To make a long story short, word has come to us in a distant land that the mage of Telmar is dead and his slaves flown, so the treasures of Telmar lie open to be taken by anyone. Such a chance comes only once in a lifetime, if that.’ Ormuz paused, and added in the same friendly voice, as if he was an old friend of the family being introduced to Josie in her mother’s parlour. ‘You see, I am quite open about who I am, and what my business is. If you could do me the honour of replying in kind, in as much as you are able, it would be a fair and courteous act.’
‘I,’ said Josie. ‘I am not able to tell you my business.’
‘That’s too bad,’ said Commander Ormuz. ‘Karasp, fetch a seat for our guest, and something for her to eat. I will get her something to drink myself.’
Karasp found something like a camp-stool for Josie and she reluctantly sat down on it.
‘If you are not free to tell me your business, perhaps you would be good enough to tell me your name?’ Josie could hear the commander getting bottles and cups from a chest, pouring out two drinks.
‘My name is Miss Furness,’ said Josie.
‘Like furnace?’ said the commander. ‘It is a curious name, but not an ill-favoured one. I know of no place in the world where it would be customary to name such a fair lady after such an instrument of smoke and fire, but the world is large. Here.’ He pressed into Josie’s hand a largish tumbler of something that smelled rather like sherry. ‘You must have had a hard time of it. Drink.’
Josie warily took a sip and found that it almost immediately warmed her right through.
‘It must be very difficult travelling in these lands without being able to see,’ said the commander. ‘Your husband must be very brave and resourceful, to bring you on such a journey. Set it down there Karasp, yes.’ The brigand Karasp set a plate with some kind of roast bird on it down next to Josie.
‘He is,’ said Josie.
‘You are a fortunate woman,’ said Ormuz. ‘Though to look at you, you are hardly more than a child. Have you been married long?’
‘A few months,’ said Josie.
‘Arranged, or a love match?’
‘Love,’ said Josie.
‘And your husband takes you away into the very deepest wilderness? I am beginning to sense an elopement.’ The brigand Ormuz chuckled softly and lowered his voice, as if he was letting Josie into a secret. ‘Did your father take unkindly to your attachment to this man? You so young, and he such a reckless adventurer?’
‘No,’ said Josie. ‘It was not like that.’ The sherry – or whatever it was- made her feel less like a poor captive, and more like the bold Josie, Mistress of Telmar, who she wanted to be. Imprudently, she took another sip.
‘Still, yours must be a fine story,’ said Ormuz. ‘I am looking forward to your husband’s return, so I can see for myself who has won your heart and led you into such dangerous wilds so far from your family and home.’
Josie let this pass. She did not want to be asked any more difficult questions about Tash, and was feeling bold, so she changed the subject. ‘Your men were horrible- that Arishan, and Rozek. They were going to – to rape me. They were rolling dice for me.’
‘I am sorry, Miss Furness,’ said Ormuz, sounding stern and concerned. ‘Rest assured, they will be punished. Not to excuse them in any way, but I am afraid I had to cast my net rather wide in order to put this expedition together, and a few of my men are unsuited for civilised company. When your husband arrives, I will have them flogged in his presence.’
‘Good,’ said Josie. She took another drink of the almost-sherry, and found to her surprise that the tumbler was empty.
‘You should let me go,’ she said. ‘Back to my camp. Tash- my husband- will be unhappy if he does not find me there.’
‘I am sorry, Miss Furness,’ said Ormuz. ‘In light of what you have told me about the scoundrels in my employ, I am inclined to keep you here where they cannot cause you any more trouble. I hope you do not mind. May I refill your cup?’
Josie did not actually say she did not want her cup refilled, so in a moment she found that it had been, and she could not help taking another mouthful. She was feeling quite warm through now, and very brave and queenly.
‘He will not be pleased to find me here,’ she said. ‘It would be better for you if you brought me back.’
‘I am sure he will be displeased,’ said the commander apologetically. ‘But I will explain everything to him, and I am sure he will understand.’
‘Oh,’ said Josie, taking another drink. She supposed what the commander was saying made a kind of sense.
‘I am glad you like the wine,’ said Ormuz. ‘I had it from a caravan near Teebeth. I have carried it a very long way, hoping for an appropriate guest to serve it to.’
‘Thank you,’ said Josie. ‘It is rather sweet.’ She tasted the inside of her mouth. There was some subtle flavour in the wine that she recognised, but could not place exactly, a bitter but not entirely unpleasant undertone.
‘Tell me,’ said commander Ormuz suddenly, in a sharper voice. ‘What do you know of Telmar?’
‘Nothing,’ said Josie. ‘Well, nothing besides that there was an evil magician there who commanded ifrits, who was the last of the men of Telmar who had been turned into beasts by Aslan long ago.’
‘That is the story that the wise tell in my country, as well, Miss Furness,’ said Ormuz. ‘Where did you hear this tale?’
‘A gazelle told me,’ said Josie.
‘A gazelle!’ Ormuz laughed. ‘Tell me, Miss Furness- would you be surprised to hear that the place Telmar lies no great distance from here?’
‘No,’ said Josie. ‘I mean, yes.’ She was starting to feel a little lightheaded.
‘No, indeed,’ said Ormuz. ‘Perhaps a week’s journey north of here. Perhaps even less. According to the tales I have heard, we are almost there. We go to seek its treasures. Does your husband, or whoever you are travelling with, perhaps go to seek the same thing?’
‘No,’ said Josie. She set her face in a way that was meant to look proud and defiant. She felt suddenly as if the tent was spinning around her.
‘I feel dizzy,’ said Josie. She set down her tumbler, which was empty again.
‘Perhaps you drank the wine too quickly,’ suggested Ormuz. ‘If you are not used to it, it is easy to do. Just answer my question, and then you can lie down and rest until your head clears. Are you going to Telmar?’
‘No,’ said Josie.
‘Are you certain?’ said the commander. His voice was close now, smooth and unyielding and implacable and not friendly at all.
‘I won’t let you have it,’ snapped Josie unreasonably. Her voice sounded blurry and odd to herself, so she repeated her words. ‘I won’t let you have it.’
‘I am in the habit of having whatever I want,’ said Ormuz, with a chilling calmness. ‘I should not be so confident if I were you.’
‘It is mine,’ said Josie angrily. ‘I am Mistress of Telmar. We defeated the magician, and we can defeat you.’ She went to stand, and found it more of a struggle to get up than she expected.
‘You are mysterious, that is certain,’ said Ormuz. He took her arm and dragged her to her feet. ‘I do not suppose there is one part of truth in twenty of what you have told me. And there is some power to you, I can see that. But enough to hold Telmar against my company? I think not.’
Ormuz was leading her deeper into the tent. She felt something soft beneath her feet, and struggled to keep her balance. ‘Let me go,’ she said angrily, jerking her arm away from him. He let her go, but she found she could not stand alone, and slumped to her knees on what seemed to be a pile of blankets.
‘So you have already reached Telmar?’ said Ormuz. ‘How many are there of your company? Tell me more of this husband of yours.’
‘He is strong and brave,’ said Josie. ‘We will stop you.’ At least, that is what she meant to say, but her voice did not obey her, and she was not sure what she ended up saying.
‘I am still in doubt as to whether you have a husband at all,’ said the brigand leader. He grabbed Josie’s ankle and pulled her leg out so that she fell backwards on the blankets. Feebly, she tried to get up, but she could do no more than raise herself on her elbows. She could feel the warmth of whatever had been in the drink filling her veins, filling her bones, making her slow and soft as before it had made her rash and heedless. ‘Your insolence has made me angry, Miss Furnace,’ said Ormuz.
‘We will stop you,’ Josie tried to say again, but her mouth would not obey her.
She could smell Ormuz close to her face now, rank animal sweat beneath his perfume. ‘I may have given you too much, too fast,’ he was saying. He made a little noise to chide himself. ‘There is probably no point asking you any more questions tonight, but there is time enough to teach you not to be so insolent, before your wits flee you entirely.’
Josie felt the loathesome touch of the brigand’s hands on her legs, shoving her skirts upward. She wanted to curse the brigand and claw at his eyes, to drive her knee up between his legs and kick him viciously, but could only mumble at him and flail feebly.
‘What lovely white skin you have, Miss Furnace,’ said Ormuz. ‘It is a shame you cannot see yourself, but I suppose that saves you from vanity.’
Tash, Josie tried to call out. Tash, help me! Tash, Tash, Tash! ‘Tash,’ she managed to say, in a strangled whisper.
‘You little Narnian whore,’ Ormuz growled, in quite a different voice than he had used before, with no smoothness in it at all.
Tash and Josie made their camp again on the banks of the big river, where the air was filled with the scent of fresh water and flowers. Josie was exhausted. She was not used to travelling for so many days in a row, even though she had been carried a great deal of the way, and it had been more of a strain than she realised to travel with Blackbriar. The dog had been a constant reminder of how she was shirking the duty laid upon her by the Lion god, and just how anxious this had made her, and how weary being anxious had made her, she had not realised until they had parted ways.
Josie felt good to be on the way back to her home in the Valley of Telmar, grim and dreary though it might be. But at the same time it was nice to be here, in the more open lowland country with its sunshine and strawberry-smelling flowers and raucous songbirds. And it felt very good to be able to talk freely with Tash, and touch Tash whenever she wanted, without worrying about what Blackbriar might think.
Josie and Tash had both decided, without having to say anything, that it would be good to stay by the side of the river for a few days to rest. ‘A holiday,’ Josie said. ‘It will be like a holiday for a few days.’ She felt pleased and comfortable to have seen Blackbriar safely on her way to the human countries. She felt like things were turning out the way she wanted them to, and that she was finding a way around Aslan and the prophecies he had troubled Tash with. It was a good life in this world, since they had gotten rid of the Sorceror: far better than the prospect of being an unwanted burden – practically an orphan – in a strange cruel country and far, far better than the horrible world Tash had come from. So they had made their camp by the side of the big river, and Tash caught fish – the fish were very nice here, Josie thought, even better than the ones Tash caught from the pool in the Vale of Telmar -and they picked shoots of sweet grasses and the sorts of flowers that you can eat to stretch out the supplies they had brought with them. They took a bit of getting used to, but were more like salad things than anything that grew in the Vale of Telmar, and Josie realised how much she had missed fresh greens living in the castle.
The first night they were there Tash gathered rather a lot of fallen wood, and they built a cheerful fire to cook fish on and sit around afterwards.
‘You have not told me any stories of your world for a long time,’ said Tash.
‘I suppose I haven’t,’ said Josie. She felt like you doubtless do when someone asks you of a sudden to tell them a story, and you instantly seem to forget all the stories you have ever known.
‘The ones you told me before seemed to have many useful things in them,’ said Tash. ‘Maybe there are things in the stories that can help us now, since we seem to be tangled up in so many different stories.’
‘Well, I can try,’ said Josie. ‘Well, there were once a group of people by a river, like we are, and one of them was a girl who was younger than me, who was there with her big sister. They had been out on little boats on the river, rowing – do you know what that is, Tash?’
***
‘Yes,’ said Tash, remembering the rafts rowed by slaves that he had seen once, gliding across the broad grey lakes of his own world, and thinking how useless he had been then.
‘And it was a hot afternoon, and rather dull, so this girl was rather bored. Her name was Alice. And she wandered away from her big sister and the other older people who were talking about uninteresting things, and then she saw a rabbit run by. And it would not be very interesting to see a rabbit run by, except for two things: it had a pocket watch – that is a sort of instrument like some of the ones in the castle, which has a little hand that moves around and around and shows what time of day it is – and it was talking. It said: ‘Goodness me, I’m late.’ So Alice got up and ran after it, because this was mysterious, and followed it into the hole it had gone into. It was larger than ordinary rabbits, so Alice could fit in its hole without any trouble. And as she went along, it got steeper and steeper, and then she was falling through the air. She kept falling and falling, and though she was frightened at first, it went on so long that she stopped being frightened, and even fell asleep, and thought that maybe she would keep falling all the way through to the other side of the world.’
Josie went on with the story of Alice as well as she could remember it, and the images that formed in Tash’s mind were as much of Ua as of the world he was in now, since he had never been to Josie’s world and did not know what it was like. He did not like to think of Josie or Nera going off alone and having dangerous adventures, and those were the only two images of human girls he had in his mind, so he imagined Alice as one of his thalarka sisters. A nicer one than any he had in real life, of course. Thalarka did not cry, but the struggling to remain undrowned in the tears cried by the giant Alice was a scene Tash could well imagine from his own world. He was very taken with the idea of ‘unbirthday presents’ – even birthday presents were a strange and wonderful idea, imagining them as if they were a thing that was on Tash’s world. When Josie got up to the bit with the Queen of Hearts it was very easy to imagine the tyrant as one of the High Commanders of the javelin-women of the Overlord, with long spikes on her armour and a voice that commanded obedience.
‘You do her voice very well,’ said Tash, admiringly.
‘Pfah,’ said Josie. ‘I don’t want to command anyone’s head to be chopped off.’ But she still sounded rather pleased.
The water of the river was too cold to stay in long, but was fresh and bracing, and each morning the first thing they did was throw themselves into it to wake themselves up. Then they would splash each other, and Josie would shriek, and afterwards they would lie side by side on a broad rock in the sunlight until they had quite dried off. The third morning they did this, Josie rolled over onto Tash, who was almost dry, and warmed quite through by the sun.
‘This is a better world, Tash,’ she said, using him as a pillow.
‘It is much better than my world,’ Tash agreed. ‘Even if there are sorcerors and people to tell us what to do, they do not just make us do it, like they did on my world. And the food is much nicer.’
‘And we are together,’ said Josie, rubbing her hand over his chest. ‘I miss people from my world – but the ones I miss most were gone before I left. I am glad I found you.’
‘I am glad I found you,’ said Tash. ‘I do not miss anyone.’ The smell of Josie and the closeness of her to him were beginning to work on Tash, like they always did. His hands began to play along Josie’s back, from her feet all the way up to her hair, lingering longest at her neck and the backs of her knees.
Josie kissed his throat. ‘I don’t know if we can stay together forever,’ she said. ‘But nobody knows that, do they? Maybe something will happen to drag us apart, like we were pulled into this world, or maybe it won’t. But I intend to stay here with you as long as I possibly, possibly can.’ She stretched up and kissed Tash’s beak then, boldly running her tongue where Tash could easily have bitten the tip of it off. Tash ran his hands over his wife’s cool skin and inhaled the smell of her, but his thoughts were still disturbed: he could not help thinking of what he had read, or dreamed he had read, in the Books of Tash, and of what he had heard from the Lion Aslan.
Josie seemed to be able to tell that he was distracted. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told him. ‘Nothing is foretold, dear Tash. Not really. We can make our own lives on this world.’
‘It-‘ said Tash. ‘It is possible.’ But he was not convinced. This Aslan was like the Overlord of this world, after all, and sooner or later, he felt in his bones, the story of Tash would end up with him being sacrificed to the greater glory of someone.
‘I know what the Lion said, Tash. I know what Blackbriar said. But we have not done what he wanted, and nothing horrible has happened, has it?’
‘No,’ said Tash, playing with Josie’s hair. It looked so splendid in the sunlight, so much like the very shiniest of the metals that the men of Telmar made ornaments with. Josie was right. Nothing horrible had happened yet. Maybe it wouldn’t; or maybe it would, but not for a long time.
‘You smell so very nice, Tash,’ she murmured. ‘Oh.’
‘You smell nice too,’ said Tash. It was a strange yet now familiar smell, the smell of Josie, and it made things stir and tumble inside him. She seemed so much like the Mistress of Telmar today, Tash felt: she was a wild and triumphant thing, and she wanted to be touched with a demanding insistence.
‘Tash?’ said Josie, and her voice was more breathless than usual, and very bold, and like she sounded when she was going to tease him, all at once. ‘Husband Tash?’
‘Yes, my Josie?’ said Tash.
‘I am yours forever and ever,’ said Josie.
And there was no doubt that she was really and truly the Bride of Tash.
***
Nothing important happened to Josie and Tash while they were camped by the side of the river, except for the thing that happened at the end of their time there. If that thing had not happened, they would have always remembered that place happily, for they were happy together there. I like to remember Josie and Tash being happy together, and wish I could tell you that they lived happily ever after; or that they lived happily together for a long long time without anything bad happening to them, until the time came for Tash to make a choice between the two Books of Tash, many many years later. But I am afraid I can’t. This last little bit has all been just stalling – which has probably been obvious. I could have just written ‘They went back to Telmar the way they came,’ and then gone on with the next chapter.
It had rained steadily for the rest of the week, and when it was done the stream below the castle was high and the land was terribly muddy, so it had not seemed the wisest time to travel; and it was some weeks after that Josie finally made up her mind that she had to see the dog Blackbriar safely to the other side of the great river.
Then Josie had to figure out what to take on the journey, which is the sort of business that can be done in great hurry if necessary, but can expand to take up a great deal of time otherwise, especially if the journey is one that does not have a date set for departure, and is one that one is nervous about going on at all. The part of this figuring out that took the greatest amount of time was something that Josie did not speak with Tash about at all: deciding whether or not to take one of the magic apples. She did not want them in case they suddenly decided on the journey to seek to become immortal, but in case of some grievous accident. She knew from what Yustus had said that the apples could heal any hurt or sickness short of death, and there were any number of horrible things that could possibly happen to them on a journey through the unknown wilds. She thought of at least a dozen of them, imagining them all too clearly. At the end Josie decided that she would bring one of the apples, and fetched it up from the secret chamber while Tash was out hunting. She wrapped it up very carefully in a bit of silk and put it in the bag with her clothes.
So one day when spring was well advanced Josie, Tash, and Blackbriar left the castle of Telmar, leaving the parts of it they lived in shut up against the weather as well as they could. Josie had ended up bringing rather a lot of things for the journey, but Tash could easily carry enough for half a dozen travellers.
‘We don’t really now how long we will be,’ said Josie, picking up the bag with the apples. She gave Tash’s legs a hug. ‘It will be alright,’ she said – to Tash, or to herself, she was not sure. Then she patted Blackbriar’s head, as if she were an ordinary dog, and took Tash’s hand for the walk down the hidden path to the stream.
The three travellers followed the stream out of the valley as best they could, skirting the edge of the gorge and picking their way downhill through the rumpled country to the south where Josie and Tash had not been before. Below the gorge Josie realised how grim and dreary the vale of Telmar had been, and how much she had gotten used to living there since the Ifrits had brought her there. It was immediately a more fragrant sort of country beyond the valley, more alive with birds and beasts, and had a less closed-in feel. Besides the cypresses there were other sorts of trees – a good many willows along the streambanks, for example, and poplars in the hollows – and instead of an endless roof of forest and an endless floor of dry needles underfoot there were a good many meadows, where sweet-smelling flowers were growing thickly. There were bulbous things that Josie thought to be a sort of crocus, and drooping bell-shaped flowers that smelled a very little like strawberries, and wild roses whose few flowers had a desperate and intoxicating perfume.
It was difficult at first, but day by day Josie grew stronger. Tash still carried her a good deal of the time, though she walked beside him on the flatter ground, hand in hand. Blackbriar mostly ran off ahead to scout the way, running back to rejoin them every five or ten minutes.
‘I do wish you had stayed a woman a while longer,’ Josie said to Blackbriar as they walked along, in one of the moments while the two of them were walking alongside. ‘It would be so much easier to talk. But I suppose it must have been very horrid for you.’
Blackbriar agreed with a lick: that it would have been easier, or that it had been very horrid, Josie was not sure, and she scampered away again into the undergrowth before Josie could ask.
In the damp spring weather Josie found it a good deal more unpleasant sleeping out of doors than it had been in the desert with the gazelles; at least, she would have found it more unpleasant if it had not been for Tash. He was large enough and feathery enough to fold himself around her in a way that kept her comfortable enough in all but the nastiest weather. It is fair to say that all through this journey Tash and Josie thought mostly about each other. They were travelling through a pleasant country, filled with the sounds and smells of life, and each day brought something new, and their future was an uncertain and frightening thing; but they had both already been through so many uncertain and frightening things, and come through to find each other – so they clung to one another, and did not want to stop touching one another, and drank in the presence of the other like a thirsty man drinks water. If I were to write down what they said to each other it would be very dull. They were in love, and so they were impatient of everything else, and selfish in the selfless way of people in love, and they would have been very irritating to travel with. Perhaps Blackbriar was irritated, but if she was, she never showed it. Dogs are very forgiving.
Each day the travellers heard many dumb beasts, and every morning they woke to a cacophony of birdsong, but they did not meet any men or talking beasts in five days of travelling. They could rarely go in a straight line, for although there were no terribly steep mountains or gorges in the country below the Vale of Telmar the whole of it was rumpled like a blanket, with thick woods on the high parts and streams with boggy edges on the low parts. The river that had stopped Blackbriar on her last journey was still swollen, and the broken boles of trees cast up on its banks showed where it had been higher still, but Tash was large enough and strong enough that they crossed it without difficulty.
Tash and Josie did not discuss what they would do when they were camped on the other side, although this was far as they had agreed to go before they left Telmar. Instead they sat around the fire – they had stopped early and gathered deadwood along the banks – and talked about trivial things while they ate fish that Tash had caught in the river, and did their best to be as cheerful as possible as if their life together would never end.
‘We’ve been very lucky so far,’ said Josie, tempting fate, as she threw the last bony bit of her fish into the bushes. ‘It hasn’t rained, and we haven’t seen any sign of fierce beasts. And certainly not giants,’ These were creatures that Yustus had described to her with great relish, in telling her what might happen to her if she ran away, and Zardeenah had confirmed most of the evil magician’s stories. ‘They are probably only a long way away from here.’
‘I will keep you safe,’ said Tash. They reached out to take each other’s hands.
‘I wish Blackbriar could talk,’ said Josie. ‘I am sure she could tell us all sorts of stories.’
Tash curled up around Josie to keep her warm, and Blackbriar slept at their feet, and the cheerful little fire they had made slowly burned down until it was a tiny ruby of light in the middle of the forest.
The next morning they kept on southward, leaving their camp behind before the sun had cleared the horizon. Beyond the big river was flatter country, and a more open woodland, with a great many deer who took off at their approach. They made good progress through this country for a morning and an afternoon, and were about to make camp in a meadow that smelled of rosemary when Blackbriar became very excited and led them off to a low hill nearby.
‘There is a hole in it, and a little field of torn earth,’ said Tash.
‘Someone’s garden,’ said Josie. She knelt down and crumbled a bit of soil between her fingers, feeling very nervous. Could they have already come to a land of men? She had not thought they could be so close.
‘There’s a bit of curtain hanging down inside the hole. It is too small for me to get through, though you probably could, Josie. Someone is coming out.’
‘Someone certainly is coming out,’ said a surly, prickly kind of voice, and Josie could tell at once that it was the voice of some kind of talking animal. ‘Who are you, and what do you want?’ the newcomer asked suspiciously.
‘I am Tash,’ said Tash, stepping back a few steps as the stranger emerged from his home.
‘I am Josie,’ said Josie. ‘And this is Blackbriar. We were just travelling through, and we thought we would stop and ask if you had any news.’
‘Well, I’ll be,’ said the hedgehog – for that is what he was, a talking hedgehog who stood a bit higher than Josie’s waist walking on his hind legs – ‘Twenty years, whelp and boar, I’ve lived in this place, and you’re the first folk I’ve ever met who said they were ‘just travelling through’.’ After a rather long pause, as of someone who was not at all used to making introductions, he told them who he was. ‘My name is Shoab, son of Amidanab.’
Josie thought the hedgehog smelled rather like pipe tobacco. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said.
‘I also am pleased to meet you,’ said Tash.
‘Likewise,’ said Shoab shortly. He sniffed the air dubiously. ‘I know a dog when I see one, and a Daughter of Helen, but what sort of creature are you?’ he asked Tash.
‘I am a thalarka,’ said Tash. This answer seemed to satisfy the hedgehog hermit, for he just said ‘hrm,’ and made no further comment.
‘Has anyone at all been through here?’ asked Josie. ‘A month or so ago?’
‘Funny you should ask that,’ said Shoab, in a slow suspicious kind of voice. ‘Or maybe not so funny. That’s the news you’re asking after, I suppose. Yes, a month or so ago there were some peculiar travellers through here. I was out digging of an evening, and I heard a crashing and a running through the country, of a big creature, no two, no three big creatures who were heedless of who might hear them. I kept quiet and I kept downwind until they were long gone, but when I looked in the morning there were footprints near the water hole where I planted the apricot tree: big pawprints of great cats, and big hoofprints of a deer a good deal larger than the ones who live around here. I’ve never seen cats like those in these parts – at least not for years, since that pair of leopards came up this way during the drought. And travelling together with a deer like that, stands to reason they would be talking animals, and not dumb ones. Would you be on the trail of them?’
‘After a fashion,’ said Josie. ‘I mean, yes.’
‘Then you are on the right path,’ said Shoab son of Amidanab. He stood there regarding them, chewing something that had been packed in his cheek before. ‘Three strange travellers then, and then three more this morning,’ he said, talking more to himself than to them, and then belatedly remembering his manners. ‘You look to have enough common sense that you won’t complain at me calling you strange, Miss. We don’t get many – any – of your kind in these parts.’
‘I don’t mind,’ said Josie. ‘Why do you live out here all alone? Isn’t it dangerous?’
‘Not so dangerous if you keep quiet and keep downwind and don’t meddle in other folk’s business,’ said the hedgehog, answering the first question. ‘They’re simple rules, but a lot of folk can’t seem to get the hang of them.’
‘I’ll try to remember them,’ said Josie. ‘Is it far to the lands where men live?’
‘I don’t rightly know,’ said Shoab son of Amidanab. ‘It’s like I said already. I’ve heard the rumour of Sons of Frank around here a few times, but you’re the first Daughter of Helen I’ve seen or heard of in these parts. So if you’ve come far from where you live, you’re probably a long way from any of those lands.’
‘Thank you,’ said Josie. ‘I guess there is still a long way to go.’ She gave Blackbriar a pat. ‘Can you tell us how to get to this water hole?’
The hedgehog nodded. ‘That I can, Miss. Just over that rise there, and then over the next one, and you’ll find the water hole where I planted the apricot tree. You can stay there, if you like.’ He chewed whatever he was keeping in his mouth thoughtfully. Strangest thing is, I thought that apricot tree had upped and died on me over the winter; but that morning when I went down and saw the footprints, there were new buds on it.’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Josie. ‘You’ve been a lot of help.’
‘Good day,’ said Shoab son of Amidanab, with an air of finality.
***
The hedgehog hermit had given them a last suspicious look and vanished back behind his front door curtain. When they had gone a little distance Tash looked back, and saw him peering after them from around the edge of the curtain. It was like how he probably would have looked, thought Tash, at some strange procession passing through his village, when he was a child on Ua.
‘I expect he has quite an interesting story, to have come out here all by himself and lived alone for so long,’ Josie said, when they were well underway again.
‘He did not seem like he would tell it,’ said Tash.
‘That’s true,’ said Josie. She shook her head. ‘Imagine living all alone like that for twenty years.’
‘I would not like it,’ said Tash.
This was true; but Tash had also been favourably impressed by Shoab son of Amidanab the hedgehog. He could not have said exactly what it was, but there was something in the hedgehog’s manner, in his audacity in living all alone, that appealed to Tash. He would hate to be without Josie, of course – it was only when he was with her that he could forget what he was, and the fate that had been foretold for him – but the thought of not being told what to do by anyone, of being able to stop and look at whatever he liked for as long as he liked, to never be sent off by people stronger than him to pick grith in the fields, or be sacrificed to the Overlord, or to do some quest no one would ever thank him for, was an awfully appealing one. To be unimportant and unnoticed and able to do what he liked: that would be splendid. To do it with Josie there as well, that would be the greatest joy he could imagine.
***
They found the waterhole that the hedgehog had spoken of, and touched for themselves the flowers on the little apricot tree. It was probably a coincidence how it had sprung back into life, Josie told herself, just as Aslan had gone by. But she did not believe herself. The waterhole was only a muddy little pool, but it had an air of peace and goodness about it. Probably, the way this world worked, the apricot tree really was a miracle, and Josie could not but help thinking of Bible stories, of Aaron’s staff sprouting almond flowers and Jesus cursing the fig tree.
Blackbriar hung well back at first, as if nervous of this place where Aslan had been, but after a little while she came up to wander around Josie like a tame dog.
Tash waded out into the pool and splashed water over his head, churning up the bottom.
‘We should get some water, first,’ chided Josie. ‘You will make it all muddy.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Tash, and stopped his splashing. ‘It is good here. It is warmer than the river was. You should come in.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Josie, and busied herself pulling out the bedclothes and setting them up next to the apricot tree, where the smell of the flowers was strongest. They smelled sweeter than almost any flowers Josie had smelled before, and had a faint feeling of the same frightening good magic that she always felt in the hidden room of the castle. Or maybe that was her imagination. It was strange to think of the statues that had stood for so long in the hidden garden, like Tash, coming to life and running to this very pool. She wondered what would have happened if she had tried to bring them to life herself, as Tash had once suggested. Maybe she would have been swept out on this journey long ago.
Blackbriar nosed down to the pool’s edge, and Josie heard quieter splashing than Tash had made.
‘It is very nice, Josie,’ said Tash, a little plaintively.
‘All right,’ said Josie at last. She did feel dreadfully sticky with dried sweat after the day’s walking. ‘I guess there is no hope for it not being muddy now.’ She stripped off her clothes and joined her husband and the dog in the pool. Her feet squelched deeply into the mud
‘It is warmer than the river,’ admitted Josie. ‘I don’t think I am likely to be any cleaner when I come out than before I went in, though.’ She washed the sweat from her face, and did her best to do something with her hair, which had grown very disorderly on the journey.
‘I wonder about the leopard and the deer,’ said Josie. ‘What they are like. What their story was. They must have been more or less nice, or the lion wouldn’t have bothered to turn them back from stone. I wonder how they came to Telmar, and what they did to get turned to stone, and what they are doing going off with the lion – Aslan – now.’
‘That is a lot of wondering,’ said Tash. ‘I know what it is like. There are so many things to wonder about.’
‘I guess there are things we just have to accept we will never know,’ said Josie. ‘God knows there seem to have been a tremendous number of them since I came here.’ She sighed, and ducked her head under the water again.
Josie’s thoughts shied away from the quest that had been described to her. The quest still hung in midair, neither abandoned nor accepted. They had travelled further than they had meant to travel with Blackbriar; maybe they would just keep travelling, without ever making a decision, and would end up doing what the Lion wanted, travelling with Blackbriar all the way to the lands of men. Or maybe they would decide to turn back: now, or tomorrow, or the day after, or at the border of the land of men, however many weeks from now that might be. Josie really did not know what she would do. She thought of the apricot tree, and she thought of the fig tree that had been cursed in her own world, and she thought about what might happen to Tash in the lands of men – the men whose ways were not so unlike those of the gazelles, the men who bought ifrit girls as wives.
Josie felt one of Tash’s hands on her leg, underneath the water, and a current of exaltation that was by now familiar ran through her body.
‘Blackbriar, why don’t you scout about?’ she said. ‘There may be interesting things around here.’
Obediently, Blackbriar paddled out of the pool and shook herself dry, then darted away into the undergrowth.
A morning’s walk beyond the pool brought the three travellers by way of a long gentle slope to the top of a hill where Tash set Josie down. The wind blew strong in their faces as they stood side by side, bringing the scent of distant places, fine dust and leaves that reminded Josie of the gum trees of home.
‘It is all empty and blue beyond,’ said Tash.
‘Empty and blue?’ asked Josie. She could not smell anything like the sea, and the air was dry.
‘There are no more trees, and it is very flat, and goes on and on until it is all blurry and fades into the clouds. There are beasts moving out there, very small and far away.’ Tash sounded impressed.
Josie thought of Moses looking out from Mount Nebo at the Promised Land. This was different, though; this was not the place they had longed to go all their lives and were now forbidden to enter, but somewhere quite different.
‘It sounds like it will be an easy enough country to travel on in,’ said Josie.
The dog was already eagerly pressing to move on, running forward and then back to make hopeful sounds back at Josie.
‘There is something that could be a tower, a long way off in the direction the sun rises,’ said Tash.
‘This is as far as we go,’ said Josie, not knowing until she had said the words that she would say them.
‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Tash. ‘It might not be a tower.’
‘Dear Blackbriar,’ Josie called to the dog, who came up and nuzzled at her ankles. ‘We will leave you to seek Aslan from here. It looks like a nice flat country to travel in, without any rivers.’
Blackbriar wagged her tail as if she were a tame dog, but only for a moment, and then stood there panting uncertainly at Josie.
‘We must part here,’ said Josie sadly. ‘I am not ready to go to the lands of men.’
Blackbriar bowed her head, and but did not leave. She nosed about Josie’s legs hopefully.
‘No, this is far enough,’ said Josie, squatting down to pet the dog. ‘Good luck on your journey, dear Blackbriar. I hope you will find what you seek, and restore your people. I hope we will meet again. I expect everything will work out, and we will meet again as well.’
Blackbriar licked Josie’s hand, then padded over to Tash with a pretended carelessness. He put down a hand, and she licked it as well.
‘I hope everything will be good,’ said Tash awkwardly. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Maybe one day we will meet again,’ said Josie.’Goodbye, Blackbriar.’
‘Arf,’ said Blackbriar. She did not leave at once, but after a few more moments of hopeful waiting trotted off down the stony hillside to the south. Josie listened to the clicks of her claws on the stones until she could hear her no more. She felt an enormous sense of relief.
‘Goodbye’ said Josie softly. She took one of Tash’s handa.
‘What are you thinking of, Tash?’
‘Those places. All the other places,’ said Tash. ‘The worlds are so very large and interesting.’
‘The smell of the new country makes me want to go there, too,’ said Josie.
‘There must be a way,’ said Tash.
‘We will visit many places,’ said Josie, kissing Tash’s hand. ‘Together.’ She kissed it again. ‘One day.’ They stood there for a long moment feeling the dusty gum tree wind on their faces.
‘Home?’ suggested Josie.
‘Yes,’ said Tash warmly. ‘Let us go home.’
***
As Tash turned his back on the blue vastness, he saw in a small patch of sandy ground nearby great footprints, like the ones he had seen in the walled garden after the earthquake. The footprints of a lion, leading south. And a fear and a sadness and a horror hid all his happiness from him, like a cloud passing over the sun.
Blackbriar sniffed. ‘I can’t smell anything,’ she said mournfully.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Blackbriar’ said Josie. ‘Well, I have met you, but I’m pleased to meet you in this shape and learn your name. You will catch your death of cold sitting on the floor like that – can you come with us to the rooms we were in before?’
Blackbriar sniffed again. ‘I don’t like this,’ she said.
Tash stepped towards Blackbriar to help her off the floor, and she shuffled away from him in alarm. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Josie. ‘Tash can help you.’
‘I can,’ said Tash, helpfully.
‘Do you think you can you get up and walk?’ asked Josie.
‘I will try,’ said Blackbriar, and before Josie could get close enough to be of any help Blackbriar had thrust herself up to her feet and was teetering precariously.
‘Hard,’ she said, in what was almost a bark, keeping her balance with a great deal of effort.
‘Here, let me help,’ said Josie, taking the woman’s arm. Tash in turn hovered at her side, anxious to catch Josie if Blackbriar fell and pulled her down.
‘Tricky,’ said Blackbriar, taking her first tentative steps. By the time they had covered the short distance to the magician’s old rooms she was walking about as well as a newly-weaned thalarka. They sat her down on some cushions in a more or less human manner, where she sat with her mouth open staring at everything curiously with her new human eyes. Josie fetched her a dress, which she managed to put on with considerable difficulty.
‘This is very strange,’ said Blackbriar.
‘We are starting to get used to things that are very strange,’ said Josie. ‘Tash is trying to hand you a cup of water; you should take it.’
Blackbriar took the cup warily and awkwardly, not used to having hands, and Tash backed away to crouch by where Josie was sitting.
‘We have done this magic so I can tell you my story,’ said Blackbriar. ‘So I should do that.’ She shook her head like she was trying to get something out of her ear. ‘I sound so very strange.’
‘Please,’ said Josie.
‘Well,’ said Blackbriar, rearranging herself on the cushion so she was curled-up on top of it in a more doglike fashion. ‘My ancestors were wicked, so they were cursed by the Lion and turned into dogs and pigs. This was in my mother’s mother’s mother’s time. They deserved their punishment, because they were wicked, but now we are not wicked, I don’t think. We dogs don’t have much to do with the pigs. We have always lived in this valley where we were first made, both us dogs and the pigs. The wicked magician and his ifrits have always been cruel to us, for as long as we can remember. Maybe he hated our ancestors who were like him. Most of us are stupid because our ancestors bred with dumb animals, but enough of us are clever enough that we still remember where we came from. I always knew I was cleverer than the others – I could think more clearly and connect things that the others could not connect. But I did not know how different I was until you came here. You human girl and you creature were things that were different from anything I had smelled before. Even as we ate the flesh of the wicked magician who had been our enemy for so many years, I was thinking of you. For I remembered a story that everyone else has forgotten, a story told by one of the oldest who is dead now, an oldest who was clever like me. This one told me that we stay in this valley, even though there is little food and the wicked magician is cruel to us- was cruel to us- because one day the Lion will have pity on us and make us talking beasts, if we stay in this place where he can find us. And this one told me that even as when we were turned into beasts, there were two humans from far away who came with the Lion, there will be two humans from far away who will come here when the Lion comes, or maybe before, and their coming will be the sign that we will be delivered. So I went to the leader of the pack, and said to him, even though one of these ones who has come is a creature, it seems like he might be a kind of human, so might it be that these two are the ones who are foretold? But he said no, we are not meant to be talking beasts, that is just a tale for pups. And I would not have quarrelled with my pack, but accepted all that the leader of the pack said, except that I met a wild cat in the forest. It was in a tree when I came by it in the easternmost part of the valley, and it spoke to me, not like a talking beast, but in the way of speaking without words that we dogs have with each other, as if it were a dog rather than a cat. It said, you are right, Blackbriar, the Lion is coming to deliver your people and make new what he made before, and these two are the ones who were foretold, and they can help you to speak and walk among the talking animals of the world and not slink in the shadows. And I said, how do you know these things? But it would not tell me. And I said, how do you know my name, and what is your name? And it said, I know everyone’s name, and you already know my name, and then I was sure that it was the Lion in the guise of a cat. But it went away before I could ask any more questions. Then I did quarrel with the others of my pack, because then it was not just my thinking that you two were the ones foretold, but the words of the cat who was actually the Lion saying you were the ones foretold. So I drew nearer to you when I could, Josie, and tried to tell you of my trouble.’
Blackbriar’s story did not come across in quite the same way as it is written here as it was told by Blackbriar, for she had an itchy spot, and having been a dog very recently she tried from time to time to chew at it, but she could not reach, so instead would twist about so as to rub it against the cushion.
Blackbriar went on. ‘Now I have listened to all that you have said near me, and I do not understand. Is the Lion coming back to make us into talking animals? What am I meant to do, and what are you human girl – Josie – and you creature – Tash – meant to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Josie. Truthfully, but not entirely so. ‘His plans are hidden from us.’
‘I know he has been here again,’ said Blackbriar, in her mournful doggy way. ‘But he did not stay. After the earth shook I followed him and the beasts who were with him across the land for four days, but he did not stop. I gave up when I came to a river that I could not cross. With your help, I could cross it.’
‘We thought this food would help you,’ said Tash. ‘We could feed the magic food to the rest of your people, and then they would be changed into men, too.’
‘I do not mean to sound ungrateful,’ said Blackbriar. ‘But I would much rather be a talking dog. This is a very awkward shape. I am sure my people would not like to be men. The story I was told was that we were to be talking animals.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Josie. ‘I do not think it such a bad shape; but then I guess I wouldn’t. You will quite like it when you have figured out how to use your hands properly, and walk properly.’
‘If you say so,’ said Blackbriar, lowering her head as a dog would do to show Josie was the boss.
‘Which way is this river?’ asked Josie.
‘It is to the south,’ said Blackbriar. ‘The stream that flows through this valley joins a greater water, then a greater, then reaches it. I went back and forth it for a day but it was big with snowmelt and I could find no place to cross. But the Lion and the great creatures who were with him crossed it easily. Why did he not stop to talk with me again? Why did he not make my people new, like he said he would? Do you think we should be punished longer?’
‘I don’t think you should be punished at all for what your ancestors did,’ said Josie. ‘I know- I know Aslan wants us to go to the lands of the men that lie to the south, and take you with us. I expect there is something that we are supposed to do there, before your people can be changed into talking animals.’
‘That is what I thought,’ said Blackbriar. ‘But that is what I do not understand from listening to your talk. Why did you not take me and go after the Lion?’
This is the question that is the problem at the heart of Josie’s story, and is one form of a question that is as old as God and created beings. I will explain as well as I can here what Josie could have said, even though she did not say it. Why did she set out so readily at the say so of the gazelles on a quest to meet Prince Margis, and not return to this same quest once she was free of the magician Yustus? The first reason was just that it was much more difficult to do so. She would be travelling no longer with four companions through a friendly country that they knew well, following their directions, but would have to find her own way through a wild and unknown land with companions little less ignorant than herself. The second was that she had become more fearful of what the men of this world might be like, both on her own account and on that of Tash, since she had spoken with Yustus and Zardeenah, and lived so long at the whims of the evil magician. The third, and a very great reason, was that she had fallen into a strange love with Tash, and that she knew very well without having to have it prophesied that if she left this place and went to the human lands this love would be impossible and they would be separated. And the fourth was what Miss Miles had muttered as she closed the door at the very beginning of this story, which was that she was a wilful girl, and having found her feet in this new world was overproud and no longer content to be ordered about. But Josie could not very well say any of these things to Blackbriar.
‘We need to keep the secrets of this place out of the hands of wicked men,’ said Josie. To her own ears she did not sound as if she really believed it.
‘If you say so,’ said Blackbriar, bowing her head.
‘We will still do what we can to help you,’ Josie promised.
They showed Blackbriar how to pick up food with her hands and eat it, and she admitted that hands would be very useful once she got the hang of them. ‘These are a very poor sort of teeth, though,’ she said. Josie helped Blackbriar to bathe, and to comb her hair after a fashion. ‘It is a mess, I am afraid,’ said Josie. ‘You may have to cut it short and start again.’
‘If you say so,’ said Blackbriar.
Blackbriar did not want to sleep in the magician’s rooms, so they made her a bed in the empty chamber where she had slept the night before as a dog.
***
‘I don’t see how we can keep eating the pigs here anymore, if they used to be people,’ said Josie to Tash, when they were curled up together that night. ‘Ugh’.
‘If you say so,’ said Tash mournfully.
‘You sound like Blackbriar,’ said Josie. ‘Of course we can’t eat them, if they are descended from people. We will just have to find something else to eat.’
‘There are not so many deer, and they are harder to catch,’ said Tash.
‘We will just have to get by,’ said Josie firmly. ‘It makes me feel sick, thinking I have been eating pigs whose great-great-grandmothers were people.’
Tash said something like ‘if you say so’ in a small muttering voice.
Josie decided to change the subject. ‘I never imagined that the magic food would turn Blackbriar into a woman like that. I have never known such magic – well, not since you were turned back from stone.’
‘I am so glad that you turned me back from stone, and I did not stay stone another thousand years, and miss you,’ said Tash.
Josie snuggled up against him and kissed the soft skin at his throat. ‘Me too, dear Tash, me too.’
‘What are we to do with Blackbriar?’ she mused, after a moment. She shifted, rearranging herself against Tash’s chest. ‘I don’t see how we can’t help her. But we don’t have to go all the way to the human lands; we can see that she is kitted out properly, and help her across the river, and stop before we get to the places where men are.’
‘She can go herself now that she is a woman,’ said Tash. He sounded nervous to Josie. She was nervous herself. It was not just a matter of deciding one way or another, once and for all: there would be one decision, and then another, and then another, and maybe they would all be like they seemed to be in recent days, complicated decisions with no easy or comfortable answers.
‘But she doesn’t know anything about being a human,’ said Josie. ‘She will need help. At least at the beginning. And maybe, maybe that will be enough.’
‘Maybe,’ said Tash. But Josie did not think he believed it. She thought he did not believe there was anything he could do to escape the words of Aslan, telling him that they were destined to be separated.
‘We don’t know that there is really destiny,’ said Josie. ‘It seems to me it is just the Lion deciding one way or another, and if you do something different, he can always decide a different way again.’
‘That’s not what he said,’ Tash said gruffly.
Josie decided to change the subject again. She ran her hand over Tash’s chest. ‘You feel dry,’ she said. ‘Does it itch?’
‘Not as much as it used to,’ he said. ‘It is better now that the weather is warmer and I do not spend so much time by the fire. But I did not have a bath today.’
‘We could go and have a bath now,’ said Josie, turning so that her body was pressed against Tash’s side and throwing one leg over him.
‘That would be good,’ said Tash.
‘Or, in a few minutes,’ said Josie, kissing his neck again. She slid her foot back and forth, and Tash began to hiss softly and hold her tightly to his chest, and she gave herself up to being a female creature.
***
When they awoke Blackbriar had turned back into a dog, and when Josie put another piece of pickled turnip in front of her she only turned her head aside.
‘I suppose she said all she wanted to say,’ said Josie. ‘And she really did not like being a woman.’ She petted Blackbriar. ‘And I suppose too, this means it is more complicated to turn them back than we thought.’ She found that she was crying.
‘Don’t cry, Josie,’ said Tash, picking up the unresisting girl. ‘You will figure out what to do.’ He held his hand against her tears, and once again felt that strange tingle through the whole of his body.
‘We will figure out what to do,’ said Josie, and kissed him. ‘Together.’
‘Yes,’ said Tash. ‘Together.’
Dark street. Wet cobbles. The rain stings where it hits my face – there’s a touch of ice in it – so I keep my hat pulled low and my face angled towards the street. Even with my eyes turned down I can see Father’s feet trudging ahead of me, splashing through the puddles. I wonder if his feet ache as much as mine. You wouldn’t think it from his swinging step. I’m so tired and cold I can barely manage to trudge, but he swings his arms and whistles softly to himself, an incongruous tune that sounds like springtime.
“Nearly there, Nipper,” says Father, and he looks back at me and smiles. I’m glad he’s smiling because it means he’s pleased with the work we’ve done tonight. Pleased with the coins jangling in his pocket, and pleased with me for climbing in that high narrow shop window and letting him in the back. I don’t smile back, because I’m wet and miserable. The scraps I stuffed in my worn-out shoes are no proof against the water washing in through the holes. My arms ache from climbing and my hands are scraped and icy. The rags they’re wrapped in don’t seem to make much difference.
The other reason I don’t smile is because I don’t like him very much. Not anymore.
His name is Neddie Binks. I know he’s not my father, although he has me call him that for the sake of what he calls pathos. In one way he really is my parent, because he’s the only one who looks out for me. He’s all I’ve got, even if he’s sometimes a surly cur, too ready to fly into a temper. I still remember the day I first saw him. I was trying to steal bread off a baker’s cart, thinking the baker was looking the other way, when a big hand came out and grabbed my arm. The baker swung me up and shook me until my eyes rattled. “Thief!” he yelled, looking around for a constable, “Dirty thief!” and he kept shouting, shaking me in between for good measure.
I thought I was a goner, but then Ned was there. He strode up saying: “Tommy, you wicked little bleeder,” looking as angry as a rich man with well-fed morals. I looked around, bewildered, thinking he’d mistaken me for someone – thinking crazily that maybe there really was some other kid there – and while I was looking away he belted me around the side of the head, hard enough to send everything blurry and reeling. I was crying and trying not to cry, trying to stand up straight, while he apologised to the baker and gave him some money, cuffing me every now and then for effect. And, the strange thing was, even though I thought I’d given up caring about stealing, when Neddie Binks started talking to me like that the guilt stabbed through me, a sharp pain in my chest, and I saw a sad lady’s face in my mind, a pretty lady with golden curls and dimples. “How could you, Darian?” she said, and then Neddie took my arm and hauled me off and she was gone.
It took me a while to realise I had exchanged one captor for another.
“If you’re going to steal something, scrapper,” he hissed as he hauled me off, “you have to learn to do it right. I was watching you, and you were hopeless. Your eyes were on the damned bread nearly the whole time. A whole cavalcade of angels could have pranced by in the altogether, blowing on their curly horns, an’ you wouldn’t have noticed.”
So he offered to teach me, not that I had a choice, because, as he was ready to point out, I owed him big.
When Neddie Binks is cheerful, the world is a wonderful place. Everything is painted in luxuriant colours, like a fair or a parade or a bonfire. It’s embroidered with fantastical figures, like rich people’s clothes or the furniture you can see through their windows. Doesn’t matter if it’s snowing or sleeting, his crooked smile is as good as a roaring fireplace when he turns it on you, and you’d do anything, nearly anything at all, for a word of his praise. But when Neddie Binks is miserable, when things don’t go his way, everything is bleached and grey like swollen dead rats frozen in the gutter. The same wit that makes him say things about angels and ancient gods and long dead heroes becomes his dark and twisted master, and if you say the wrong thing, or worse still, are the cause of his displeasure, you’re liable to find yourself stripped naked, tied to a statue and flogged, left out on a snowy window ledge with no way to get back in, or forced to dress in girl’s clothes and used to bait wicked old gentleman into dark alleys. Neddie Binks likes humiliating people when the gloom takes him.
Lately, he’s been in shadow more than sunshine and I’m beginning to think of running away.
But not today – today we’ve scored big, and Neddie Binks is high as a hawk, despite the wind and the icy rain. I follow him to the place where we’ve been squatting – a half ruined house, partly burned down. It’s leaky and draughty, but after outside it feels like paradise. There’s a fireplace we can use, if we have money for coals. Tonight there’s money, and there will not just be a fire, Neddie promises, but sausages and cheese, toasted bread and beer. I try to smile, but I can’t manage. I’m too cold, too tired, too exhausted with living on the knife-edge of Neddie Binks’ moods.
“What’s up with you, Darian?” asks Neddie Binks, looking up from where he’s lit the fire, and I blink at him. He never calls me Darian. It’s always scrapper or nipper, Jimmy ,Tommy, Johnny or spinner. He’s regarding me with seriousness, something that’s foreign to both his usual kinds of mood. “You’re not getting sick, are you?” He face crinkles with concern, making me feel guilty for thinking of running away.
“I dunno,” I say. “I’m just tired. Tired and cold.” I huddle close to the tiny scrap of flickering fire, watching it struggle against the damp of the desolate fireplace. My hands are shaking and they look very blue in the unsteady light.
Something he sees in my face seems to make him worried. “Don’t worry, Darian,” he says. “You’ll feel better once you’re warm and dry with a bit of hot stodge in you. Tell you what,” he continues, “you did a good job tonight – the lion’s share of the work, even – so why don’t you wait here and look after the fire, and I’ll go get us some things and bring ‘em back.”
Neddie Binks might be a sadistic bastard with a twisted sense of humour, and he might be a thief and a scoundrel, but he always, always keeps his word. Unlike some blokes I know he would never say a thing like that and then wander off down the pub for a few drinks and not come back.
“Alright, then,” I say.
“Sit tight,” he says cheerfully, and he hangs his blanket over my shoulders and goes back out into the rain, leaving me wondering how I could possibly think of leaving.
But he’s not gone long before the trouble starts.
It begins with a shout and then the sound of running footsteps. I freeze motionless by the fire, suddenly icy both inside and out. More shouting. “Stop! Hold it!” More footsteps, slipping and slapping on the slick cobbles.
I know what to do. Neddie Binks has taught me well. “Don’t wait around for them to catch you,” I hear his voice echo in my mind, like he was right next to me. “If there’s trouble, go and hide. Pick one of our holes and burrow into it, like you were a snake or a rat or a rabbit, and don’t you move until the next day, no matter how quiet it seems.”
So I leave the fire, and I’m halfway out the back door into the lashing night when an anguished cry rings out, followed a long age later by something softer, a fading inhuman gurgle. The pursuing voices reach a crescendo and then fall into a concerned lull through which one carries clearly, snatched through the wind and rain. “…stolen goods…he had a confederate…search the house…”
Out in the yard it’s tangled and sodden. The ruin of a more badly burnt house looms next door. When it’s daylight you can see how the fire nearly took out the whole row. Someone’s been clearing the collapsed cellar, and tonight it’s become a great sucking hole in the mud, surrounded by steep piles of earth and ash with brown water pooling at the bottom.
The searchers seem close behind me and I scramble down behind the pile of earth. They’re fast and lively, and I’m weary and slow as lingering death. My legs aren’t working. My feet slide haphazardly. I’m too cold to climb the leaning fence, too tired to dart off like a sparrow into the streets, so I look for a place to hide, but there’s nowhere that will do. Then, struck by desperate inspiration and Neddie Binks’ words, I kneel down and dig a burrow in the side of the largest earth pile. The outside is caked into a hardening shell, but inside the mingled ash and dirt is dry and loose, easy to shift. I throw myself into the tunnel I’ve made for myself, drawing Neddie Binks’ blanket in with me. I reach up and claw at the ash and mud above the entrance, pulling it down to gently cover me, hoping that it will be soaked quickly by the rain to blend with the rest. I pull down one armful, then another, and then suddenly it all comes down heavily in great thumping clumps, and I come down with it, slammed hard into my blanket by an unforgiving hand.
The sounds of the world recede. The rain is gone. The cries of my pursuers are left behind, abandoned in the world far above, lost and meaningless. I struggle, but there is no struggle. My limbs are pinned where they were thrown, held fast in the earth’s grip. The blanket thankfully covers my face, but there is no air, none at all. There is no chance. As I fight my impossible battle, a rhyme runs cruelly through my head, a song Neddie Binks sang when his mood was blackest.
Sally, gonna buy you a brand new bow,
(Today O, today O)
Ribbon so red for your hair of snow,
(Coming down today, O)
Sin’s long arm will drag me down,
(Today O, today O)
Lawmen circling all around.
(I’m coming down today, O)
My feet are slow but my mind is clear,
(Away O, away O)
There’s just one road away from here,
(Going far away, O)
Sally don’t know so she won’t cry,
(Away O, away O)
And I’ve got no wings to help me fly.
(Going far away, O)
Lay me down on an earthen bed,
(Below O, below O)
Cold wet clod beneath my head,
(Way down far below, O)
In close-drawn darkness I shall lie,
(Below O, below O)
Sod and stone shall make my sky.
(Way down far below, O)
Poor man’s clothes shall be my shroud,
(Below O, below O)
No fine-spun shirt to keep me proud,
(Way down far below, O)
No copper coin to cap my eye,
(Below O, below O)
No holding hand to help me die.
(Way down far below, O)
No preacher man to tell sweet lies,
(Below O, below O)
No hypocrites extemporise,
(Way down far below, O)
No steady shoulders bear my bier,
(Below O, below O)
No mourning maiden sheds a tear.
(Way down far below, O)
Take my burden, take my woe,
(Away O, away O)
Sally, dream of me while I go,
(Going far away, O)
Bones of silver cleanse my crime,
(Away O, away O)
Sally, don’t wake me ‘fore my time.
(I’m going so far away, O)
It’s not raining any more.
The walls of the ruin soar above me, rising crisp and clear in the cold night air, a silhouetted stairway of broken brick. The sky beyond is dark and gleaming, pierced by a million pitiless stars. A tree hunches by the jagged wall, skeletal winter branches reaching down in a gesture of summoning.
An impossible figure, a tiny gentleman death, skeletal face shining beneath its top hat, mounts the wall. It is absurd and yet completely solemn. It pauses to beckon to me, its macabre figure mirroring the outline of the tree.
It waits with inexorable patience.
I know I must climb, I must climb out of here, up the jagged wall. I must swim away into the pool of the sky’s reflection and then I will be free.
Aronoke strode along the hallways of the Jedi Temple, his bag slung over one shoulder and his new lightsaber clipped at his side. He had taken care to choose a weapon similar to the one he had lost, but it was more slender and a paler shade of yellow. Aronoke wondered what colour the blade of his own lightsaber would be, if he ever finally travelled to Ilum to craft it. Blue like Master Altus’s he hoped, but he knew that the choice was not merely aesthetic, nor entirely left to chance. The colour bore a relation to a Jedi’s skills and his role within the order. Jedi like Master Altus and Master Caaldor, who were active agents in the field, wielded blue blades. Jedi whose roles were scholarly or diplomatic, like Master An-ku and Master Insa-tolsa, had green lightsabers. Yellow lightsabers, like the one he carried now, were typically the weapons of Jedi who were highly trained in combat and tactics. These were only guidelines, Aronoke knew. Any Jedi might be called upon to act in any capacity.
The quartermaster who had assigned the weapon had also told Aronoke its history. It had belonged to a hapless padawan who had fallen to his death in an elevator shaft.
“Tochar would be pleased that you chose his weapon, Padawan,” Master Gondramon had said. “He would not have wanted it to remain unused and forgotten in the vaults of the Temple. Be certain that you take time to meditate on the crystal before you use it – it is important to establish a strong connection through the Force. Tochar would not wish you to suffer a mishap due to your unfamiliarity with his lightsaber.”
Aronoke nodded and assured the quartermaster that he would take due care. Within himself he was confident – this was the second lightsaber he would wield that was not of his own creation. Master Caaldor had overseen his attunement to the previous weapon, and he was certain he would have no difficulties with this one.
Aronoke reached the elevator banks that led up to the landing bays maintained especially for the Jedi Temple’s use and thumbed the controls. Only the most important vessels, ships on missions of extreme importance to and from the Temple, docked up there. The Triphonese Griffon was awaiting the departure of the expedition to Zynaboon, and Aronoke was on his way to board it. Master Caaldor would be along later, having been detained by last minute discussions with the Jedi Council. Aronoke had to smile, thinking of the sour expression on his Master’s face as he told Aronoke to go ahead without him. Poor Master Caaldor had gone through a great deal of both danger and bureaucracy on his difficult padawan’s behalf, but it was the bureaucracy that seemed to irk him most.
“I assume I would be correct in addressing Padawan Aronoke,” said a voice, interrupting Aronoke’s stream of thought and making him jump. These days Aronoke was usually well aware of everyone in the immediate vicinity, a result of his sensitive Force senses, but he hadn’t noticed the stranger’s approach, distracted by the peaceful lull of the Jedi Temple and his own thoughts.
The person who addressed him was a Jedi Master of a race Aronoke had seen infrequently. He was very tall and slender with long arms and legs, although much of his unusual height could be accounted for by his extremely long and fragile neck. The pale hairless face seemed to be fixed in a permanent and somewhat inane smile.
“Excuse me, Master, I did not notice you there,” Aronoke said. “Yes, I am Padawan Aronoke.”
“Excellent, excellent indeed,” said the Jedi Master. “I have wished the opportunity to meet with you for quite some time, and my greatest desire has been to involve you in my research program – but unfortunately my requests were overlooked by the Jedi Council due to more important demands upon your time.”
Aronoke could not help but feel uneasy at the strange Master’s manner. He was not at all familiar with quermians – he thought that’s what the long-necked alien was – but this alien’s mood was unusually transparent. It was obvious he was annoyed with the Jedi Council. Aronoke was not sure what he should say, but was saved from deciding by the elevator’s arrival.
“I’m sorry, Master,” said Aronoke, “but I don’t have time for discussion right now. I’m about to leave on a mission, and expected on board ship immediately.”
“There is no need for delay or apprehension,” said the quermian comfortably, as they both stepped into the elevator. He had to duck his long neck to fit through the doorway. “I am also departing for Zynaboon. My name is Master Quor.”
Aronoke smiled frozenly.
“We shall have plenty of time for discussion during the voyage,” continued Master Quor cheerfully. “I was hoping there may even be time for me to undertake a little research along the way. Most of my experimental equipment is too bulky to bring on a journey of this nature, but I have brought several of the more portable pieces, certainly enough to make a studied preliminary examination of you.”
“Ah,” said Aronoke, feeling acutely uncomfortable. During his early days in the Temple, he had found the speed of the elevators disconcerting. Now he found himself wishing that this one would hurry up. “What sort of research?”
“You are a unique and valuable bioengineered specimen,” said Master Quor enthusiastically. “Really it is almost criminal of the Jedi Council, and certainly most repressive of my genetic studies, to withhold you in this way. I am an expert in the study of the biocron and suspected your relationship to it ever since the scans of your interesting tattoos were placed in my hands. Unfortunately the Jedi Council considered your removal from the Jedi Temple to be of greater importance than the uninterrupted continuation of my research.”
“I’m sorry, Master Quor,” said Aronoke. “There were more reasons than just my training that led to me being sent into the field early.”
“Yes, yes,” said Master Quor. “The attempts to manipulate you and so forth, but had you been made my Padawan, as I requested, you would have been kept safely free from harm in the scientific annexe where the majority of my work takes place. It is on Coruscant, but removed from the Temple and quite autonomous.”
“I see,” said Aronoke, swallowing firmly. He found himself very glad that the Jedi Council had not chosen Master Quor as his master.
“Do you?” said Master Quor. “I think you underestimate your own importance, Padawan Aronoke. As a bioengineered force-sensitive – a being created for a very specific purpose – your genetics doubtlessly hold major insight into the nature of the biocron. You may well be capable of manipulating that artefact in ways that no one else could. Dissecting these mysteries is the centrepiece of my research, and you are key to its success!”
Aronoke stood staring at him. His mouth had dropped open slightly. “Dissecting?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t believe a dissection of yourself to be necessary, though doubtlessly it would prove very interesting,” said Master Quor lightly. “The Jedi Council would certainly not condone it, and besides, you have far more potential as a living specimen. No, the most profitable approach would be an evaluation of your abilities and physical nature through sampling and experimentation.”
The skin on Aronoke’s back crawled.
“I don’t know if I can help you, Master Quor,” he said hastily. “My time is not my own. Master Caaldor has his own duties, and as his padawan it is my place to assist him.”
“Of course,” said Master Quor. “But a contribution need not take up much of your time.”
Just then the elevator reached its destination and the door slid open. Aronoke took refuge in exiting and strode off quickly towards the Griffon’s dock, but Master Quor matched his pace, keeping up easily with his long legs, continuing speaking without pausing to draw breath.
“A reproductive program, for example, would be very valuable indeed, and need not remove you from other duties! I’m certain that if you stated your willingness, that the Jedi Council would agree to an exception to the ridiculous exemption on reproduction insisted upon within the Order. You are physically a fine Chiss specimen, young, certainly, but mature enough to be capable of sexual reproduction – a virile and healthy adult.”
“I don’t think the exemption is ridiculous,” stammered Aronoke, stopping to stare at him, shocked. “It follows the precepts laid down by the Jedi Code.”
“Oh, it certainly can be recommended in regard to the vast majority of individuals,” said Master Quor heartily, his voice booming loudly along the hallway. “But in special cases such as yours, the scientific benefit of obtaining multiple genetic offshoots in the form of your offspring, preferably with a varied assortment of suitable force-sensitive partners, far outweighs the personal benefits of celibacy.”
Aronoke’s face burned. Despite his efforts to control his embarrassment, he was quite sure it had turned deep purple. He started again along the hallway, head down, attempting to hide his confusion.
“I believe there is even a force-sensitive Chiss female within the Order,” said Master Quor brightly. “Perhaps her assistance might be obtained.”
That could only be Master Bel’dor’ruch, Aronoke realised, nearly choking at the thought.
“What do you know about the biocron?” he asked hurriedly, hoping to distract Master Quor away from the topic of reproduction.
“I am willing to share what little technical data I have obtained,” said Master Quor eagerly, “although I imagine one of your limited education would have difficulty understanding it, due to its necessarily complex nature. In truth, although I have gathered what information I can, both through research and the reports of Masters such as Master Altus and Master Skeirim, the biocron inherently remains a mystery. What is obvious is that it is no ordinary artefact. It is immense! Powerful! Ancient! So ancient we have no idea who created it. Galaxy-spanning! Properly I should say “they”, since the biocron is plural – there are potentially dozens of biocrons spread across the galaxy, separate, but connected in a complex network that holds invaluable insight into the nature of all living things and their connection to the Force!”
Aronoke nodded. The boarding hatch of the ship was not far ahead of them, and with it, he hoped, there would come release from Master Quor’s solitary company and this extremely uncomfortable conversation.
“Your help could make all the difference to our understanding,” said Master Quor earnestly. “You, Padawan, have the power to change everything – to forge knowledge from ignorance – merely through your willingness to assist.”
“I don’t know,” said Aronoke. “I don’t like the idea of experiments.”
“Very few of them need be painful,” Master Quor hurried to assure him.
“I doubt there will be time on board the ship,” said Aronoke evasively. “I have a new lightsaber and it’s important that I spend spend considerable time attuning to it.”
“It need not take up much of your time.” Master Quor’s tone was almost wheedling. “For a beginning, I merely wish to speak with you, to ask you a few questions.”
Aronoke took a deep breath. He desperately wanted to say no. Master Quor made him acutely uncomfortable, with his open discussion of experiments, bioengineering and reproduction, but he knew that if he did so, he would be allowing his fear to control him.
“I suppose a few questions would be alright,” he forced himself to say.
“Excellent! Excellent!” chortled Master Quor. “I shall prepare my interrogation immediately!”
They had reached the hatch, and Aronoke and Master Quor were greeted by a member of the Jedi Corps who welcomed them both aboard. Aronoke was worried that Master Quor would follow him about the ship, in order to continue their conversation, but fortunately another Jedi, a tall wiry zabrak with a mottled face and stumpy horns, arrived just then.
“Master Quor and Padawan Aronoke,” he said smoothly. “I am Padawan Tolos, Master Temon’s padawan. Master Temon would like to speak with you on the bridge, Master Quor, at your earliest convenience.”
“Then I shall attend him at once,” said Master Quor, and he glided off, much to Aronoke’s relief.
“We haven’t met before,” said Tolos to Aronoke. “I hear you’ve had a rather interesting time of it. Shall I show you to your cabin?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Aronoke. At least he could hide from Master Quor in there.
“Let me take your bag,” said Tolos, picking it up from where Aronoke had set it down.
The Triphonese Griffon was a larger ship than any Aronoke had previously travelled on. It was easily ten times the size of the XL-327 and looked very new. It was crewed by Jedi Corps members, who seemed cheerful and competent in the execution of their duties. Tolos pointed out some of the features as they passed, and Aronoke was pleased to see that there was both a meditation chamber and a training room for practicing lightsaber combat.
“I’ve heard Master Quor takes some getting used to,” said Tolos sympathetically, as they walked along. “He’s not a typical Jedi, but supposedly very brilliant in his own way. Master Temon says the Jedi Council tolerates his eccentricities in light of his impressive research results.”
“He’s certainly rather direct,” said Aronoke. “He wants me to be part of his research program, and I really would rather not.”
“I can see that would be unsettling,” said Tolos, “but Master Quor is not your master, is he? You have no requirement to agree to his requests, unless your master says you should. I would not consider complying with the requests of another master without first consulting Master Temon.”
“That’s true,” said Aronoke, relaxing a little. “It’s just that his research does sound important.”
Tolos shrugged, unconvinced. “If it was that important, surely the Jedi Council would have sent you to him already,” he said easily. “But you should ask your Master’s opinion. If he thinks Master Quor’s work has merit, than perhaps going along with some of his suggestions will cause you no harm. Master Temon told me that although Master Quor’s manner is abrasive and peculiar, he’s still a Jedi. He said Master Quor’s actions are dictated by the path of the Jedi Code, even if his opinions are somewhat extreme.”
“I suppose so,” said Aronoke. He wondered what Master Altus thought of Master Quor – surely they knew each other, since they were both interested in the biocron. He had already noted Master Caaldor’s opinion of him.
“You seem to think a lot of Master Temon,” he ventured.
“Oh yes,” said Tolos rapturously. “He’s such a marvellous Jedi. He’s so in tune with the Force and he has an exemplary mission record, so we always get sent to interesting places, like Zynaboon. And then there’s this ship.”
“This is Master Temon’s ship?” asked Aronoke, impressed.
“Well it belongs to the Jedi Order of course,” said Tolos primly. “Jedi don’t have personal possessions – but it’s assigned to Master Temon, yes.”
Aronoke could not help but compare the Griffon to the XL-327. Master Caaldor’s ship had been small, old and dingy compared to this one. It did have its advantages though, Aronoke thought. It was more comfortable and private somehow, than this pristine new one, and would attract a good deal less attention. Also, the Jedi Council would keep very careful track of an asset like the Griffon, with its considerable crew.
“Where’s your master?” asked Tolos when they reached the door of Aronoke’s cabin.
“He’ll be arriving soon,” said Aronoke. “He was called away at the last minute by the Jedi Council.”
“Ouch,” said Tolos. “That will make his embarkation somewhat hurried, if we’re to keep to our departure window. I’ve never met Master Caaldor – he’s rather old isn’t he?” he asked.
“He’s not that old,” said Aronoke, defensively.
“Oh don’t get me wrong. Older Jedi Masters have a very important role to play in the Order. Who else would impart the most valuable wisdom to us? It’s just I’ve always felt glad that Master Temon is younger than most of the Jedi Masters who take new padawans,” said Tolos airily. “It’s nice to have a Master who spends a lot of time in the field and is so active in his habits.”
Aronoke was left with the impression that Tolos imagined Master Caaldor would limp in at the last moment before take off, out of breath and wheezing with the support of two walking sticks.
When Master Caaldor did arrive, it was very shortly before take-off, and he was immediately spirited away to the bridge to consult with the other Jedi Masters. Aronoke did not see him for several hours, by which time they were well on their way out of Coruscant, heading to the jump-off point that would lead them towards Zynaboon. Their course had been the subject of some debate, Aronoke found out later. Since Zynaboon was an Imperial world, approaching it in the most direct manner was best avoided. Aronoke didn’t fully understand the complexities of the spaceways yet – most probably he never would – but as far as he could tell, the Jedi had planned a sneaky back way in, which would be less likely to be detected. Once again, they were posing as Free Traders, although Aronoke had not been issued any disguise as yet, since he had been instructed to remain on board the ship.
“Do you think we’ll find him?” Hespenara asked, leaning on the table of the common room where the padawans had gathered, leaving their masters to their planning.
Aronoke nodded. “I think so,” he said confidently. In truth, he felt certain it was going to happen. He had not tried to locate Master Altus – he was awaiting their arrival on Zynaboon and Master Temon’s say so – but the connection between them felt like a blazing conduit in the Force, just waiting to be opened.
“I can understand that you’re concerned,” said Tolos. “I know how I would feel if anything happened to Master Temon. I’m glad he’s so competent at dealing with dangerous situations, so I’ve never had to worry.”
“What concerns me,” said Hespenara quietly, “is what they’ve done to him. I’m certain he’s alive. I think I’d know if he were not, but what if he’s not himself anymore? What if he’s… changed?”
“What do you mean?” asked Tolos. “Changed in what way?”
“We can expect him to have changed physically – to be held prisoner for such a long time would have ill effects on anyone,” said Hespenara. “But what worries me more is if he’s changed mentally. I mean… what if he’s not really himself any more?”
“Not Master Altus,” said Aronoke firmly. “He’s stronger than that. When I saw him in my vision, he was still himself. I was certain of that. He was in pain and battling with negative emotions, but I know he was winning.”
“You have visions?” asked Tolos, looking impressed.
Aronoke shrugged awkwardly. “That’s why I’m here – I saw where Master Altus was being held prisoner during a vision I had during my padawan exams.”
“That was quite some time ago,” said Hespenara.
“Try not to worry, Hespenara,” said Tolos kindly. “These fears can only lead to darkness of the spirit. Master Temon always says that we can not change what has already come to pass. The best we can do is to forge boldly ahead and do our best to help now. As Aronoke has said, Master Altus is powerful, both in the Force and in his faith, and he will have done his best not to fail either us or himself by succumbing to his enemies.”
“You’re right of course,” sighed Hespenara. “I know I shouldn’t let him down by letting my fears affect me. I just hate all this waiting.”
“There are things we can do to help pass the time,” suggested Aronoke. “I, for one, need to practice with my lightsaber, and so do you, Hespenara, since yours is new too. Maybe you would like to spar with me.”
“We can take turns,” said Tolos agreeably. “There’s also an advanced drone system on this ship that I’m sure you’d like to try out. Master Temon says it’s the best one he’s encountered.”
Hespenara did not seem particularly enthusiastic, but she allowed herself to be persuaded. Aronoke did his best to push aside his own fears – about Master Altus, about Master Quor, and about the biocron – and allowed himself to be distracted by the task of distracting Hespenara.
Tolos had been right about one thing – talking to the Jedi Council had worn Master Caaldor out. It had also not improved his mood. When asked about the meeting he grunted and said that Aronoke need not worry himself about it – it was only bureaucracy and more bureaucracy, layers upon layers, like frosting on a particularly unhealthy cake.
“They merely wished to be certain that their instructions will be obeyed to the letter,” he added grumpily. “If they wished me to act so inflexibly, they might as well have assigned a droid in my place.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” said Aronoke, dismayed. He remembered what Tolos had implied about older Jedi, and thought that Master Caaldor did seem particularly tired. Perhaps having a padawan as difficult as Aronoke was especially trying for someone of Master Caaldor’s advanced years. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“If there is, I’ll do it myself,” snapped Master Caaldor, giving Aronoke a shrewd look. “Is there something you specifically wish to discuss, Padawan? If not, I’m certain you can find something to keep yourself occupied with on a ship as well-equipped as this one.”
“It’s Master Quor.”
“Oh? Met him, have you? I thought he would have made himself known by now. And what did you think of him?”
Aronoke shuffled his feet. “He’s rather alarming,” he admitted, “and he seems very determined that I should be part of his experiments.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” asked Master Caaldor.
“I’d really rather not,” said Aronoke. “He seems completely obsessed with his research and not very Jedi-like in some ways. But he is obviously very clever, and his work does seem important, and it could possibly reveal something useful about the biocron or about me.”
“So what are you going to do?” asked Master Caaldor, regarding Aronoke astutely as he propped his feet up on his desk and leant back in his chair.
“I agreed to answer some of his questions, but nothing else as yet,” Aronoke said. “I wanted to ask your opinion of him before I decided anything else.”
“I concur with your opinion as you expressed it,” said Master Caaldor. “I think you are capable of handling Master Quor on your own, Padawan. If he harasses you beyond your capability to cope, then you may come to me again. Otherwise, proceed as you see fit. The matter is entirely in your hands.”
“Yes, Master.”
Aronoke found himself wishing that Master Caaldor would take control, rather than allow him responsibility for himself, yet he also felt glad that his Master allowed him such freedom. He knew that deciding for himself was important, that Master Altus would have asked the same sorts of questions. But sometimes being told what to do was more comfortable, because you didn’t have to take the blame if everything went wrong. Because it was easier to be convinced that you were doing the right thing.
Aronoke couldn’t help but wonder what Master Temon’s response would have been if Tolos asked him a similar question.
“Zynaboon!”
Master Temon’s gesture was grand, his arm flung wide to encompass the enormous viewscreen that curved seamlessly around the walls and ceiling of the bridge. The screen was filled with a clouded planet painted in myriad shades of blue. The three padawans were clumped together directly under the display, staring up at it in wonder.
“Is there any land at all?” Tolos asked, while Aronoke stood in awed silence. This world was the complete opposite of Kasthir. Knowing it was a water world, even seeing pictures, had not prepared him for the reality of seeing it splayed above him.
“No,” said Master Temon. “There are settlements built on platforms, but those only float on the surface. The planet consists almost entirely of water. Even the ocean floor is largely composed of ice, formed by immense pressure, tens of miles beneath the surface.”
Aronoke suppressed a shudder. From his vision he knew that Master Altus was being held prisoner somewhere right down on the ocean floor. The thought of travelling down there was alarming.
“You come from a desert planet, don’t you?” asked Master Temon kindly. “A place like Zynaboon must be very strange to you.”
“I didn’t even know such places existed before I came to the Jedi Temple,” Aronoke admitted, feeling beads of sweat break out upon his forehead.
“Well, there is no need to concern yourself,” said Master Temon. “We have brought equipment that can withstand the greatest pressure, including a submersible vehicle that can carry us down as far as we need to go. It will not seem very different from being in space.”
“Don’t worry, Aronoke, Master Temon is never wrong about these things,” added Tolos. “I’m sure we will be fine.”
Aronoke noticed Master Temon’s face tighten slightly, the first hint of any displeasure he had seen him display.
“Have you finished that laundry yet, Tolos?” he asked his padawan abruptly.
“Ah, no, not yet, Master.”
“Well you had best go and do that now,” said Master Tolos smartly, and Tolos made a respectful gesture and hurried from the room, looking chastened.
Master Temon turned smoothly back to Aronoke and Hespenara as if there had been no interruption. “You must excuse Tolos,” he said gently. “His confidence has always been somewhat lacking. He still has a lot to learn.”
“As we all do, Master Temon,” said Hespenara.
Aronoke could see why Tolos idolised his Master. Master Temon was difficult to fault. A dark-haired, handsome human, he was as tall as Aronoke himself. He seemed to be everything a Jedi should aspire to be: calm, competent, wise, a natural leader and strong in the Force. Aronoke had seen him practicing with his lightsaber, and knew that no matter how long he trained, he would never be as good as Master Temon.
“Did you train under Master Squegwash?” Master Temon had asked, when Aronoke took his turn in the practice chamber. “I think I recognise that technique.”
Aronoke blushed. “Not because I was an advanced student,” he said at once. “I never got past Level Five. Master Squegwash helped bring my skills up to scratch, because I was being sent out into the field early.”
“You’ve done very well to learn so much so quickly,” Master Temon said, “and at such an advanced age. I also trained under Master Squegwash and found him to be a very exacting teacher. I’m afraid I got on the wrong side of him more than once, but the training he gave me has always proven invaluable.”
Aronoke smiled. Master Temon was also likeable. Despite all his accomplishments, he was neither arrogant nor a show-off, which was just as well, since he had Tolos to do that for him. Aronoke knew Tolos’s bragging was a failing. The zabrak would need to overcome it if he were ever to become a fully fledged Jedi. Since Tolos was older than Hespenara and had been a padawan for many years already, he was running out of time. Aronoke recognised too, that Tolos’s hero-worship of his master was not so different from how he himself felt about Master Altus. Except he didn’t blab about it all the time.
“What happens next, Master Temon?” Hespenara asked now.
“We will choose a place to land,” said Master Temon. He turned to Aronoke. “Your senses may prove helpful in choosing our destination, Aronoke. Do you think you can sense anything of Master Altus’s location from here?”
“I don’t know,” said Aronoke, disconcerted. He had imagined being on the planet’s surface before making any attempt. “But I’m willing to try.”
“You must not overdo things,” said Master Temon firmly. “It is enough even if you only can tell that he is still on Zynaboon. If you are unable to locate him more precisely, or even at all, we will simply land and see what information we can find out from the Kroobnak. You will be able to try again later, so it is important that you do not overtax yourself at this early stage. I am under strict instructions from Master An-ku to bring you back safely.”
“Yes, Master Temon,” said Aronoke.
“Is there anything you require to make the attempt?”
“No,” said Aronoke. “Just a quiet place to sit. And someone to sit with me and watch over me.” He looked over at the green girl. “Will you do that, Hespenara?”
“Of course,” said Hespenara.
“Master Quor has some equipment that measures how Force-users connect to the Force, which has proven useful in assisting seers in the past,” said Master Temon. “I suggest, if it doesn’t bother you too much, that you allow him to run his scanners in the background. It will give him some data on your sensing abilities and allow us to detect if you are in danger of becoming overextended.”
“As long as Master Quor isn’t in the room,” said Aronoke. “I’m afraid I find him very distracting.” Despite his agreement to answer the quermian’s questions, Aronoke had found every excuse to avoid Master Quor thus far.
“I’m sure he can operate his equipment from the chamber next door,” assured Master Temon, smiling. “There need only be a few sensors placed upon your head.”
“Then I would be foolish to refuse,” said Aronoke, trying hard to smile back.
“You’re very young for such a responsibility,” said Master Temon understandingly. “Not in terms of your physical maturity, but in your experience as a Jedi. You need not worry, Aronoke. You are doing very well. Everything becomes easier in time, and given more practice you will find all those things that seem of such great concern now will become more bearable as you progress.”
“Even Master Quor?” asked Aronoke, smiling more convincingly.
“Master Quor makes many people feel uncomfortable, Padawan. But yes, even Master Quor.”
“Master Altus met regularly with Master Quor,” said Hespenara, smiling too. “But he always seemed glad when the meetings were over.”
Aronoke smiled properly, thinking of the green man, but sobered abruptly, remembering anew the purpose of their mission.
“I’m ready to try whenever you wish, Master Temon,” he said resolutely. “I expect the sooner I do it, the better for our mission.”
“I will have the chamber prepared,” replied Master Temon. “It should not take long.”
Aronoke felt very pretentious sitting in the centre of the chamber preparing for his attempt. He sat in a fancy reclining chair, a loose strap looped around him so there was no chance of falling out. Hespenara sat in a plainer chair, a comfortable distance away. Did all seers use special chairs, Aronoke wondered. It was strange to be acting in the official capacity of one. He suddenly felt helplessly out of his depth, unequal to the task ahead of him. I’ve never been trained, he thought nervously. What if I do it all completely wrong, and everyone can tell, because of Master Quor’s machines?
How does that matter, he chided himself in turn. No, I haven’t been trained, so it’s hardly my fault if I make mistakes.
This was for Master Altus. This was what he had wanted to do for so long, ever since he had been an initiate and first reached out to find his missing mentor. Distance means nothing, he reminded himself. Trust in the Force.
The Jedi Corps technician finished sticking the last sensor on Aronoke’s head and stepped back.
“All ready to go, Padawan,” he said cheerfully.
“Thank you, Baltus.”
“You’re comfortable with this, Aronoke?” asked Master Caaldor, stepping into view. “If you’re not, we can easily go about things another way.”
“I’m fine,” said Aronoke. “If I succeed, it will be quicker and safer than trying to find out the information by other means. If I fail, I can try again later.”
“Very well then,” said Master Caaldor. “But take your time and be careful. Remember you can stop any time you feel you need to.” He fixed Aronoke’s eyes sternly with his own for a moment, and Aronoke knew that his master was reminding him of the last time he had tried to sense a Jedi, and the near disastrous result.
“I will, Master,” said Aronoke. “I have all of you to watch over me this time. I’ll be fine.”
Master Caaldor nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Good luck,” said Hespenara.
Then everything was still and quiet. Hespenara’s eyes gently shut and her breathing slowed. Aronoke was grateful for the reassurance of her presence as he began his own meditative routine, struggling for calmness amidst all the excitement. He made himself relax, using the simple techniques he had been taught. Deep slow breaths. He visualised a peaceful safe place, where his mind could wander freely, and began a repetitive slow recital of the Jedi Code. He felt tension draining from his muscles like fluid. All his uncertainty left him, blowing away like loose sand in the wind. He was good at this. It was easy.
When Aronoke felt completely balanced, he fixed Master Altus in his mind. Not just the green man’s image, but the sound of his laugh, the shape of his smile, the tone of his voice. The puzzled expression in his eyes when Aronoke had first encountered him. His effortless use of the Force to enhance his speed and strength, to move objects with a casual gesture. His patience in teaching Aronoke the earliest Jedi principles. His sadness when he first saw Aronoke’s back. His kindness in bringing sweets for Aronoke’s clan mates. His willingness to eat strange tentacular food. His loyalty in keeping Aronoke’s secrets. And most importantly, those steady blue eyes boring into Aronoke’s own, demanding his surrender that day on the Kasthir sand.
With those things predominant in his mind, a cohesive memory of all the things that made Master Altus who he was, Aronoke reached out towards the great blue bulk of the planet, searching down in the deep dark water.
And was immediately drawn into a gentle green vortex.
It was not like he was sucked forcefully away. It was not especially frightening or overwhelming, but it was completely unlike anything Aronoke had ever experienced before. If anything, it was most like Kthoth Neesh’s overly familiar caress, imposing herself upon him in such a way that he did not care to resist.
That was not a very Jedi-like sensation. It was all wrong.
He made himself resist, but the vortex did not react. It was merely there, flowing inexorably around him, drawing him down to the surface with persistent gentle fingers, like Kthoth Neesh might, were they back in the Quebwoz jungle, alone and free from obligations…
Aronoke felt his body react, somewhat to his embarrassment. He lost focus, lost concentration, and was left sitting in his chair, uncertain of how much time had passed.
“Is everything well, Aronoke?” Master Temon’s voice spoke over the communications system.
“Yes,” said Aronoke. “I’m fine. I just lost focus. It’s…stranger than I expected.”
“Do you wish to stop now?”
“No, I’m just getting started. I would like to continue,” said Aronoke, glad that his robes were so concealing.
A pause.
“Very well, we accept your judgement.”
He closed his eyes, reaching for calmness, and was pleased to find it returned with little effort. His body relaxed, relinquishing itself to his control. Once again he fixed Master Altus in his mind and reached towards the ocean, more determinedly this time, attempting to ignore any outward influence.
Green tongues ran across his skin. Kthoth Neesh, Ashquash.One demandingly sought out his ear. Green hands ran their fingers through his hair and across his face, probing his mouth. Skin touched his skin, in forbidden places. Being flayed as a child, strapped to a bench naked. The Kasthir biocron from his vision. His lightsaber burning through a pirate’s body. The smell of burning flesh. All these sensations and memories weaved in and out of his mind, but Aronoke endeavoured to ignore them, seeking only one thing.
Master Altus? Master Altus, where are you?
He seemed to call, to search, for ages, confounded always by the backdrop of the surging green montage, so unJedi-like in nature.
Then finally a thready certainty came to him. It was not like his visions, not crisp and clear, but more like a static-blurred communications’ signal, faint but recognisable. Master Altus was there, very far away, very deep beneath the Zynaboon sea, and he was still alive.
But his exact location was impossible to discern, hopelessly buried by the green images and sensations that assaulted Aronoke’s mind.
Aronoke opened his eyes and pushed himself upright. His body felt stiff and cold, like he had been sitting still for a long time.
Nearby Hespenara stirred and looked over at him.
“Aronoke?”
“He’s still there, Hespenara, and he’s still alive!”
Hespenara looked profoundly relieved. “I knew he was,” she said.
Then the doors opened and the Jedi Corps technician hurried forward to free him from his chair.
“He was in some sort of hibernation trance,” Aronoke explained to the group of Jedi afterwards. They had insisted that he refresh himself first, which was just as well, since he had needed to visit the hygiene facilities rather desperately. “I couldn’t tell where he was, I’m afraid, not even what hemisphere of the planet. Only that he’s deep below the ocean somewhere, and that he’s still alive, but not conscious.”
There were more questions then. Master Quor had a plethora of them – how had the trance felt? Was it different than usual? In what way was it different? Aronoke tried to answer his questions calmly, but felt himself growing more tense with each one.
“I’m sure Aronoke can answer the remainder of your questions once he has had a chance to rest, Master Quor,” said Master Temon firmly.
“Of course, of course. But-”
“Besides, I am interested to see the results of your scans,” continued Master Temon smoothly. “Surely you have gathered enough data to begin a preliminary analysis?”
Master Quor was instantly distracted. “I will begin at once, Master Temon,” he said, and abruptly left the room.
“Get some rest, Padawan,” said Master Temon. “We will proceed to the planet’s surface and begin our investigations there. I daresay we will have need of your services again shortly.”
“Well done, Aronoke,” said Master Caaldor, and Aronoke knew he was not only talking about the information about Master Altus.
Then he was also gone, and Hespenara and Aronoke were left alone in the conference room. Aronoke felt uninclined to move immediately. He was exhausted, which was strange, since he had done nothing besides sit in a chair for the past twelve hours.
“It’s good news,” said Hespenara, still sounding nervous. “Jedi can hibernate to withstand situations that are too difficult to otherwise survive. To put themselves beyond the reach of their enemies. Master Altus spoke of such things to me once, but I have not learned enough to attempt it.”
“He will be alright,” said Aronoke firmly.
“Yes,” agreed Hespenara, but she did not sound convinced. She was sitting very stiffly, but then suddenly seemed to take stock of herself and rather forcibly relaxed.
“Thank you, Aronoke,” she said, smiling and taking his hand. “I know seeing isn’t easy – it comes at a price. Thank you for trying to help Master Altus.”
“How could I do anything else?”
The Triphonese Griffon made a hasty descent to the Zynaboon surface shortly after Aronoke’s revelation, spending as little time in the atmosphere as was safe. Aronoke did not pay much attention to the details, but there was much talk aboard ship of the Griffon’s shielding capabilities allowing it to make a faster than usual landfall. Or waterfall, in this case. Everyone was required to assume crash landing positions for the final impact, and Aronoke was glad that he was lying down in bed, for it was rather rough. Then there came a very odd sensation indeed – a swaying and rolling – and he realised that the ship was being moved about by water. Aronoke was glad that he didn’t suffer from any kind of travel-sickeness, because if he had, he was certain that the swaying motion would have made him very ill indeed. He wondered how awkward it would be to move about the ship, but his apprehension was needless. After a few minutes, the ship steadied as it sank deeper in the water where the motion was gentler and the ship’s stabilisers could control the movement more efficiently.
He turned over and went back to sleep.
He had slept perhaps a total of eight hours before he was awoken by a chime at his door.
“Yes?” he answered sleepily, thumbing the communicator.
“Padawan Aronoke?” came Master Quor’s resonant, enthusiastic voice. “If you have rested enough, I would like to meet with you in my laboratory. Some of the results from my scans are complete, and would benefit greatly if you could explain your experience from your own perspective.”
He sounded tentative, almost apologetic, and Aronoke felt almost sorry for him.
“Of course, Master,” he made himself say politely. “I will be there as soon as I’ve had breakfast.”
Master Quor’s laboratory was a small room, next to the chamber Aronoke had used for his sensing attempt. It was very clean and white, and there were many interesting machines mounted on the walls and on benches. Aronoke could detect more than one interesting source of Force power amongst them. It made sense, of course, that machines that measured fluctuations in the Force would have to be Force artefacts themselves.
“I’m very pleased you have come, Padawan,” said Master Quor, waving Aronoke to the only other chair in the room, a high, long-legged stool obviously designed for quermian use. “As you can see, these are the readings we took yesterday of your attempt to locate Master Altus.”
He gestured to a nigh incomprensible list of numbers displayed on a viewscreen. “If we examine the alpha and beta-wave components of your midi-chlorian activity- ” he gestured, and the mass of numbers was replaced by a bouncing, incomprehensible line, “-there is nothing unusual, but if we examine the remainder of the emission components, which we would usually consider background noise – a different picture emerges!”
Triumphantly Master Quor pushed some more buttons, and another graph appeared below the first. It was also a squiggly incomprehensible line. Aronoke could make nothing of it, save that it seemed very different from the first, a dense zigzag with occasional dramatic peaks of activity.
Master Quor waited expectantly.
“I’m sorry, Master Quor,” said Aronoke, “but I have had very little education in science. Perhaps you could explain what these graphs mean?”
Master Quor seemed pleased to be asked and launched into a convoluted explanation of the various units displayed on the axes and how they related to Aronoke’s use of the Force, but Aronoke was quickly lost in the complicated terminology. Master Quor came to the end of his explanation without Aronoke feeling he understood any better.
He shook his head. “But what do the graphs tell us?” he asked, bewildered.
“But it’s obvious, Padawan!” said Master Quor, looking as pained as he could with his perpetual grin. “This top graph demonstrates your use of the Force to achieve your desired goal – in this case to find Master Altus. You can see that the pattern of your Force usage is very similar to the blue line, which may be considered to be the standard, which suggests that you use the Force to sense things in a manner very like other Jedi do.”
“Okay.”
“There are two main things that are interesting about the second graph,” said Master Quor, staring at Aronoke with his round eyes and speaking slowly and carefully.
He must think me a particularly dull student, Aronoke thought.
“Firstly, this component of a Jedi’s Force use would typically be virtually non-existant. It is usually excluded because it is not significant and doing so reduces statistical error.”
“But this time it is significant?” Aronoke hazarded.
“Correct. The standard measurement is again the blue line in the background. As you can see, your line is far higher. Secondly, this line would usually be straight. If it showed any activity at all, it would follow the pattern of the first graph, although greatly smoothed. As you can see, your graph shows continuous rapid oscillation with occasional irregular event peaks. These rival the alpha and beta components in magnitude, and in some instances, exceed them. It demonstrates a completely different pattern.”
“Oh,” said Aronoke weakly, feeling lost again.
“This means you were involved in another, completely different interaction using the Force while you attempted to find Master Altus,” said Master Quor, solemnly. “It is not only separate – it is performed in an entirely different way. I believe this interaction originates from a source other than yourself, and this graph displays your reaction to it. Of course, the most obvious assumption is that it is the Zynaboon biocron, indicating that you most likely have a capacity to interact with all biocrons, not merely the one on Kasthir.”
The green montage, the strange sensations – Aronoke had assumed that they could only be a side-effect of his proximity to the biocron. Master Quor needed all these machines and graphs to determine that?
“Does it affect everyone that way, or only me?” he asked.
“A good question,” said Master Quor approvingly. His hands rattled over the controls, bringing up other, different graphs. “These are the results of scans I performed upon myself and Padawan Tolos this morning, while we performed simple sensing tasks. As you can see, neither of us demonstrate the peculiar effect you do. With your permission, Padawan, I would like to replicate these simple tests upon you. If you continue to demonstrate the same unusual patterns, we can assume it is most likely your unusual connection to the biocron that is responsible. Of course, to be absolutely certain, we would have to perform the same tests on you again in complete isolation of the biocron, if such a thing is even possible.”
“It would be the same sort of thing as yesterday?”
“Some sensors and a simple guessing game. It need not take long,” said Master Quor hopefully.
“Very well then,” said Aronoke, thinking that Master Quor wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t talking about reproduction or bioengineering. He didn’t completely understand the graphs or Master Quor’s explanations, but they did seem very interesting.
“Excellent! I’ll have the test chamber prepared at once! While the technicians make everything ready, perhaps you can relate, Padawan Aronoke, exactly how you felt and what physical sensations you experienced just before you woke up the first time, when you lost focus.”
He pointed to a particularly dramatic peak on the second graph.
Aronoke blushed fiercely, remembering what else had dramatically peaked just then.
‘We might not have to worry about being tempted to turn people into stone,’ said Josie. She held up the two halves of finely-made ivory wand that she had found in a drawer in the magician’s bedchamber. It had been a hidden drawer with a very cunningly hidden catch, and she felt very pleased that she had managed to find it. ‘Is this the one that turned you to stone, Tash?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Tash, looming up behind her in a comforting warm way. As she handed him the fragments, she could tell how nervous he was. ‘It could be,’ he said dubiously. ‘Or it could be another one. I did not get a very good look at it.’
‘Don’t worry, Tash,’ she said gently. ‘Nobody’s going to turn you back to stone.’
‘I know,’ said Tash.
How melancholy he sounds, Josie thought. She had become quite good at telling the moods of his strange unmusical voice. She supposed he must be thinking of the past, and all the horrid things that had happened to him. ‘I expect it is the one. If he could have turned me to stone and back again easily, I expect he would have, to save himself the trouble. This must have been important, to have been kept in such a well-hidden place, and we have not found any other wands.’
‘But we haven’t found the apples, either,’ Tash said. ‘So the most secret places of the magician are still secret. From us.’
Josie almost told him about the apples then, since he was so clearly ill at ease. But she paused too long thinking of what to say, and Tash turned away. ‘I am itching. I’m going to bathe.’
‘I wonder how it was broken,’ said Josie softly, putting the pieces of the wand back in the drawer.
Another improper habit Josie and Tash had gotten into was the habit of sitting at the side of each other’s baths and chatting. Josie had not complained the first time Tash had walked in on her bathing – after all, he was naked all the time, and did not seem to think anything of it – and it was another of those liberties which, once taken, cannot be easily taken back. So when Tash went to the great tiled pool that was heated by some artifice of the ifrits to soften his itchy thalarka skin, Josie followed, and sat on the edge of it dabbling her feet.
‘Are you thinking about Nera?’ she asked softly, after they had sat their silently together for a few minutes.
‘No. Yes. I don’t know,’ said Tash. There were splashings as he immersed himself further.
When Josie thought of it, it seemed that Tash had been out of sorts for a few days. Some sadness had gotten hold of him. God knew their future was uncertain enough that it was easy to get stuck in gloomy thoughts. Or maybe he was getting ill. He had been indoors a lot since winter began, with the air too dry from the fire making his skin itch, and there might well be any number of things in this world that disagreed with him.
‘Do you feel well?’ she asked him.
He sat up with a great sloshing of water. ‘I think so.’
Josie decided to change the subject. ‘It was good to get out yesterday. That dog was peculiar though, wasn’t it? If I didn’t know better, I would almost believe it was a talking dog.’
‘It didn’t talk,’ Tash observed.
‘Yes,’ said Josie, splashing a little water at Tash with her foot. ‘I know that. But it didn’t behave at all like the dogs usually do. It seemed like it wanted to tell us something. I thought for a moment it was going to lick my hand. It was close enough that I could feel its breath.’
They had gone outside the castle that day for the first time in a few weeks. It had been a day that was warm enough to give them hope that winter was turning to spring, and the stones along the river were entirely free of snow, while the rest of the forest had a slushy dishevelled appearance. Even though Tash had not caught a pig, and there had been little in the way of nuts to gather, they had been glad to get outside for a time. Then there had been the dog.
‘I just had the peculiar feeling it was trying to tell me something, but it didn’t know how,’ said Josie. ‘Maybe it isn’t from around here, and came into the valley from somewhere else.’
‘It looked like the other dogs,’ said Tash.
Josie supposed Tash was right, even as she splashed him again. Except for acting in such a strange way it had been exactly like all the other wild dogs in the valley, the ones that Zardeenah had said were descended from the men of Telmar who had been transformed by Aslan.
‘Do you think maybe it can think, like a regular talking animal, and is trapped without being able to talk? That would be terrible.’ She shuddered a little at the thought. ‘Maybe next time it will be there again, and we could figure out what it wants.’
Tash was vaguely drifting off again, Josie could tell, not paying any attention to what she was saying. It was probably just as well, she thought, since the dog was not turning out to be a cheering thing to talk about either.
‘Tash?’
He did not say anything in return, so she splashed him once again. This time, he responded by grabbing her ankle and pulling her irresistibly into the water.
‘Hey!’ she said, spluttering. ‘Why did you that?’ Beneath her feet she could feel Tash’s powerful legs, and her blouse floated up around her armpits.
‘I’m sorry, Josie’ said Tash meekly. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I was just trying to distract you,’ said Josie. ‘You seemed sad.’
‘I’m better now,’ promised Tash, unconvincingly. Josie began to clamber out of the bath.
‘Why don’t you bathe with me?’ asked Tash. ‘There is plenty of room.’
‘It wouldn’t be right,’ said Josie, sitting herself back on the edge.
‘Why?’ asked Tash.
‘Because, you are a boy, and I am a girl.’ She felt her cheeks warming.
‘It is strange for me to think of you as a girl, because you do not speak women’s language,’ said Tash. ‘You are simply Josie. You are not like the girls of the thalarka.’
‘You are not like the boys of my people, either,’ said Josie, truthfully.
‘Do you wonder,’ said Tash after a moment, in what seemed to Josie a plaintive way. ‘That maybe the speaking magic has got it wrong? All we know is that the word I say as ‘girl’ in my language does not fit me, but fits you, but maybe it is the other way around. Maybe we are both the same kind, or two of four kinds that are completely different, and the magic language has gotten confused.’
‘That-‘ said Josie, and paused. She did not know for sure that Tash had any of the particular attributes that she knew men to have. He did not seem to have any of the attributes that women had. Maybe he was right, and they were just two completely different sorts of creature, and it was ridiculous for her to feel the way she had been feeling. But short of asking Tash to describe himself, which she could not bring herself to do, she had no way of knowing. She pulled her knees up to her chest, since it was cold sitting around in soaking wet clothes. ‘Maybe you are right.’
‘I do not know, but it could be,’ said Tash. ‘You look cold. You should come in the water.’
Jose laughed. ‘My dunking seems to have cheered you up, anyways. No, I will go and get dry, and see about making tea.’
‘Yes, Josie,’ said Tash.
***
Tash watched Josie go, casting long distorted Josie shadows on the tiled floor. He wanted to be with her all the time, to see her and smell her and touch her, but he did not think it wise to tell her this. He hoped his friend was not displeased with him. He had not meant to be bothersome, and had told the truth when he said he did not know why he had been out of sorts. Things just seemed more irksome than they usually were. He found it hard to sit still, and the castle seemed close and stuffy: the trip outside the day before should have made this better, but it had only made it seem more like a cage when they were back in. If he had been you or me he would have thought that all the horrible things that had been done in the castle of Telmar, and all the foul magics, had seeped into the stone of the place and poisoned its sprit, and he would have been right: but Tash did not think this. For every acre of the world of the thalarka, where he had come from, had been filled with cruelty and evil magic for thousands of years.
‘Don’t be foolish, Tash,’ he told himself. ‘This is the best place you have ever been in, and there is no reason for it to change, so you should be happy.’
But there were other people on this world, he recalled, and this castle was a splendid thing to have. They needed to be ready to defend this place if anyone came to take it from them. To take it from Josie, Mistress of Telmar. He would feel better if they had found the wand for turning people into stone. Or something else that was powerful and magic. He did not like the dog that he had pretended not to be interested in. It was something new, coming when they had everything sorted out, and might be the first of other new things that would upset everything. If he saw the dog when Josie wasn’t looking, he would chase it away, he promised himself.
‘Maybe it is more foolish not to worry about things changing,’ Tash said to himself, letting himself sink back into the water, resolved to hold on to what he had with all that was in his power.
***
That night Tash held Josie close, and played with her hair with one hand, and rubbed her arm with another hand, sometimes up to the shoulder, and rubbed her leg with yet another hand, sometimes up to the top of her thigh. His hands did not do these things as if he were making love to her, but only every now and again, because he wanted to feel the Josieness of her and keep her close to him. But Josie felt herself warming all over, and swell in hidden places that she could not name, and she let herself be patted by Tash’s almost-human thalarka hands until she started to tremble, and then she suddenly twisted out of Tash’s embrace.
‘This won’t do, Tash,’ she said.
‘What?’ said Tash, not so very puzzled.
‘We should not be doing this.’
‘Because you are a girl and I am a boy?’ said Tash.
‘I don’t know if it would matter what we were,’ Josie sat up and smoothed out her nightdress. ‘We should not be doing this sort of thing at all, unless we were betrothed.’
‘Could we be that?’ asked Tash, hopefully.
‘No,’ said Josie. ‘You would have to be human, and I would have to be a good deal older.’
‘Oh,’ said Tash. This did not seem fair; but then, very little in the universe ever had.
‘I ought to sleep at a distance from you. There are enough blankets to keep us warm in this place.’
‘I will help you,’ said Tash, submitting to his fate. He got up uncomplainingly and began to help Josie set up another bed of blankets on the other side of the fireplace.
‘I will do what you say,’ said Tash, when a cosy bed of blankets had been made for Josie at the other side of the room. ‘But it is only because we are not that thing, and not because you wish me to go?’
‘Of course I don’t wish you to go,’ said Josie. ‘You are my true friend.’
‘Thank you,’ said Tash. ‘You are my true friend also.’
When they had said goodnight to each other again Tash settled back down, feeling reassured by Josie’s promise. He would go out the next day and try hunting again, he told himself, and bring back a pig for Josie, and they have as much roast pork as they could eat. He felt the warmth that Josie had left in the blankets and drew comfort from the animal smell of her, the smell that had once been so strange and was now so familiar.
Josie lay uneasily in her still cool new bed, feeling bad for pushing Tash away. The way he had accepted his rejection made her feel worse. She did not want to lord over him as Mistress of Telmar, but be his friend and companion on whatever strange adventures they were to have in this world.
‘Tash?’
‘Yes, Josie?’
‘There is something I have to tell you.’ She sat up again.
‘The apples – I know where they are,’ she said. ‘They are in the hidden chamber, preserved by the same magic that preserves the other things there. I saw them when we went down there.’
‘Oh,’ said Tash.
‘I hope you will forgive me, dear Tash. I was worried about telling, because, well, I suppose if I tell the truth I did not yet trust you entirely. But now I trust you entirely.’ And as she said these words she knew they were true.
‘It is good,’ said Tash. ‘The more secrets of this place we know, the stronger we will be.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ said Josie.
‘It was right of you not to tell me until you were sure,’ said Tash.
‘Thank you, dear Tash,’ said Josie. She felt uncomfortably that Tash was just accepting whatever she did because she was Josie, Mistress of Telmar. And she still felt just as breathless and excited as she had when she had wriggled out of Tash’s arms. She lay as still as she could and tried to think of calming things that were not warm and strong and scented of jasmine.
‘Josie?’
‘Yes, Tash?’
‘I am glad that we will be together.’
‘Me too,’ said Josie.
‘I would not like ever to be apart from you.’
‘I would not like ever to be apart from you, either,’ said Josie, turning over.
I suppose this means that Tash and I are betrothed after a fashion, she thought, when she considered what they had just said to one another. It was a very awkward thought, but not an entirely unpleasant one. Holding it in her mind and considering it from different directions she eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Josie’s foot was much better. She had always recovered quickly from cuts and scratches, and she seemed to recover even quicker in this new world. After breakfast she set out with Tash to find the lock that fit the ruby key.
Tash described each room as they came to it, led Josie to the more interesting bits, and looked at any shiny objects that attracted his attention, while Josie carefully felt over the walls, bookcases, chests, and anything else that might conceal a keyhole.
‘He would not want to keep it very far from himself,’ said Josie, feeling impatient and irritable after an hour of searching. ‘So we probably won’t have to go far.’
The hidden door was in fact in the magician’s bedchamber, whose walls were covered with a great deal of elaborately carved panelling. Some of them depicted scenes featuring the woman from the statue in the garden – at least, Josie expected it was the woman from the statue, from Tash’s description – vanquishing various enemies or gesturing grandly, and it was one of these scenes that hid the keyhole. It was the third time Josie had gone over that particular bit of panelling, and she was just about ready to give up and move on to the next room.
‘Imagine putting it just there,’ thought Josie, blushing. ‘What beasts those men of Telmar were.’ She did not call to Tash , who was in the next room clattering the glassware on the bookcases . For some reason she could not explain was already quite sure this was the keyhole that fit the key. Making a sour face, she put the key in and managed to turn it after a bit of wriggling about.
Josie tugged hard on the end of the key, and the whole panel, which went almost to the ceiling, swung open on silent hinges.
‘Here it is,’ she called to Tash.
There was a crash as Tash swept something fragile from the bookcase in his haste to join her, and a moment later he was at her side, peering through the open doorway. The air beyond the panel had the feel of a very large inside space, rather than a little room.
‘It is just a place for hanging garments,’ said Tash, disappointed. ‘There are some robes in bright colours, and some boxes on the floor- maybe there is something interesting in one of them.’ He crouched down and Josie could hear him rummaging in a space that was rather too small for him.
‘It feels like a large room,’ said Josie.
‘No, it isn’t – oh, you are right. Behind the curtain it goes on. There are stairs.’
‘May I?’ asked Josie, and limped past Tash. Sure enough, two sides of the little dressing room were proper stone walls, one was the panel they had swung aside, and the third was a stairway going down, behind a heavy damask curtain. Josie took a few steps down the stairs without thinking; when she did stop, and thought about what she was doing, she felt oddly like she was being pulled through some resistant substance. She felt that there was something fascinating down the stairs, something that she ached with a kind of homesickness to get to. At the same time there was a resistance, like she was trying to wade through waist-deep water, or walk against a strong wind; if she let her feet move idly of their own accord, it was hardly noticeable, but if she thought about taking a step, it made it nearly impossible to go forward.
‘Wait,’ said Tash. ‘It is dark. I will find a light.’
‘Alright,’ said Josie. But she did not end up waiting. She took one step, and then another, down the staircase, and when she heard Tash’s voice again it was quite a way above her.
‘Josie?’
‘Down here,’ said Josie. ‘It is safe.’ She was surprised how safe she felt. The feeling that she was pushing against something had gotten stronger and then abruptly stopped, replaced by a kind of cheerful crispness to the air. It did not smell any different from the air above, but she felt she could breathe more easily. It was as if there was a good magic down here, a good magic that was being held back by the wicked magic of the men of Telmar, and she had just moved into the atmosphere of the good magic from the atmosphere of the wicked magic.
‘Like I have just come out of a stuffy room, instead of going into a cellar,’ she thought.
Long before Tash had returned the wall on one side of Josie had dropped away, and she ran the fingers of her right hand lightly along a balustrade of stone. The stairs were curving gently around the edge of a round room that felt as big as a country hall- big enough to have dances in- and it was filled to the brim with what she was thinking of as good magic. She took a few deep breaths of it.
‘There is something powerful here,’ said Tash, reproaching her. ‘You should not have come alone.’ She could smell the smoke from the lamp he held.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. She took one of his hands. ‘But it feels like something powerful and good, doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Tash.
‘You have to admit it does seem dreadfully like a treasure chamber,’ said Josie.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Tash said there was something in the middle of the room, which was also where the sense of good magic felt strongest to Josie. It was a round dais big enough for a string quartet to play on, surrounded by something like an altar rail except in one place where there was a gap, with steps leading onto the dais.
Tash eagerly forged ahead, peering at things. ‘What are those? Armour for humans, I think. There’s something at the top of the steps, in the way. What is it?’
‘’It’s a wooden box,’ said Josie, feeling the curve of the unpolished wood. There was a lid on the box, but it did not fit snugly, and when she sniffed the air she could smell the unmistakeable scent of fresh apples.
‘Apples,’ she said, very softly. ‘There are apples in it.’
A sudden fear came over her. There might be good magic here, but she had never thought of what good magic would really be like. It was a terrible wild good magic, a magic that would think nothing of using her for some greater good, that would weigh her hopes and desires no more than the hopes and desires of a billion billion other beings. It would use her as its instrument until she was blunt and broken, she felt; she would have done good, far more good than she would ever have done on her own, but she would still be broken at the end of it.
Tash had clambered over the railing in another place while Josie examined the box and was exploring the dais. ‘There are two suits of armour, very shiny ones. Maybe one for both kinds of human? And here is a table with food and drink. It’s very strange, it seems perfectly good.’
‘Don’t touch it,’ said Josie.
‘I won’t,’ said Tash obediently. ‘Oh, and there are two shields here, with pictures of lions on them, and some swords. I can feel the magic, Josie; it’s a kind of magic that keeps things from decaying, I think, everything seems perfectly new even though it must have been down here a long time.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Josie.
‘And there is a – yes.’ Tash climbed back over the railing and joined Josie where she stood a few paces back from the dais.
‘What was in the box?’ he asked.
‘More food,’ said Josie. ‘Kept perfectly good by magic, like you found.’
‘Are you sure you want to go? There is so much, and we have not found the wand, or the apples.’
‘We can come back here any time,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I think there is something wrong with the lamp, anyway.’
Even as she left, Josie felt the same homesick longing to remain in the hidden chamber, nearly as strong as the fear that drove her away from it. It was the same as when she had first heard the name of Aslan, the name she could still not bring herself to say aloud.
***
‘They didn’t seem at all the things the men of Telmar would have made, so I expect it is from when the Lion was here,’ Josie told Tash, when they were sitting comfortably upstairs again. Tash had not felt the magic of the treasure chamber as strongly as Josie, only enough to make the experience feel even more splendid and adventurous. Even the climb back, when the lamp had given out and Josie had had to guide him up the stairs, had been a great adventure. He had seen magic do so many terrible things in the past few days, and it was cheering to see magic used to do things that were beautiful and useful instead.
‘After he turned the people here into beasts, he must have left these things behind, with the good magic to preserve them. Until the next bit of his story.’ Josie looked very wise and regal as she said these things, Tash thought.
‘What use would a lion have for armour and weapons? And human sorts of food?’
‘Maybe the two suits of armour are for two heroes who are supposed to come here. And the food could be magic food that they are supposed to eat, or give to someone else. In the stories the gazelles told, the Lion would be there to explain it to them, so it would make sense. I don’t know much about this Lion, but if he did leave those things there I think we should leave them alone. Yustus seemed to have left them alone. I think he was probably afraid to touch them.’
Tash considered this. If this lion god was even a very little bit like the Overlord Varkarian, it would be foolish to meddle in his plans. That must be why Josie had wanted them to leave, before they could accidentally disturb anything.
‘You think it is dangerous,’ he said. ‘I think so too.’ He took one of her hands and rubbed it to show how much he agreed with her.
She nodded, ‘We can look there again, and maybe if we are in desperate trouble there is something there we can use, but I think we should leave that place alone.’ She retrieved her hand to do something with her hair. Tash watched admiringly as she arranged it away from her face and tied it back.
‘This is the first real sign of good magic that we have seen ourselves here, though,’ Josie said when she was done. A note of uncertainty came into her voice. ‘Maybe we should make plans to travel to this Prince Margis who the gazelles wanted me to see, who I was trying to get to before.’ She bit her lip. ‘But, he is supposed to be coming here. Maybe the gazelles were wrong, and I’m not meant to warn him away from this place, but meet him here.’
‘Then it would make sense for all the magic things to be here,’ agreed Tash.
Josie sighed. ‘You’d think, if we were part of a prophecy in a fairy tale, it would be explained to us so we knew what to do.’
‘Do you think I am part of the prophecy too?’ asked Tash hopefully.
‘I don’t know that is something to wish for,’ said Josie, smiling at Tash. ‘I get the feeling it is like being a tool – in a prophecy you are just an instrument for someone else to use, without caring how you feel about it.’
Tash bowed his head and drooped his arms, just a little. ‘That is what life is, I thought.’
‘Poor Tash,’ said Josie, taking one of his hands in two of hers.
‘I still wonder where those apples of immortality are,’ Tash wondered aloud.
‘Oh,’ Josie said slowly. ‘They’re around here somewhere. I’m sure we’ll find them. Now,’ she continued more briskly. ‘You were going to tell me your story.’
Tash supposed he could. She had told him all of her story, after all, and he would have to tell her about Nera sooner or later.
‘I was always told I was useless,’ Tash began, and recounted his story very much as you have read it here.
‘Oh, Tash,’ said Josie when he had finished, putting her arms around his neck. ‘It is too terrible. That poor girl. Don’t worry, it will be better now.’ And she kissed his beak again. Tash thought again how strangely pleasant she smelled.
***
The next few months were the nicest months of Tash’s life. The fresh food soon ran out, but there was plenty of stored food of the kind that keeps practically forever. Josie became quite good at cooking in the old-fashioned clay ovens in the kitchen of Telmar, and everything they had to eat was very much nicer than pickled grith. The air was too dry, but Tash could have hot baths every day, as often as he liked. They found early on a way down from the castle to the forest that only involved clearing a few brambles away and breaking through one rather poorly bricked-in doorway, so they could go down every now and again. Tash found he had a talent for hunting the black pigs that roamed in the forest, and the wild dogs learned to give them a wide berth; they gathered nuts and fruit and wild onions, and there was a deep pool downstream of the castle where they could catch delicious silvery fishes. On these trips they formed a fair idea of the place they were in. On three sides the valley where the castle lay was bounded by high country- not terribly high mountains, but tall enough to be dusted with snow long before the valley floor. On the fourth side it fell away downward in a tumbled way, with no very great obstacles as far as the limits of their expeditions, half-a-day’s Tash walk from the castle. The stream began in a waterfall some distance to the north of the castle, looped around it, and then a little way below the fishing pool descended steep rapids into a gorge. All of the valley was thickly overgrown with cypress trees, with no clearings of any size. The traces of whatever fields and roads the men of Telmar once had were entirely effaced by time.
Tash and Josie made these trips more seldom after the first snow fell, but then there was exploring of the castle to be done: it had been the living place of scores of the men of Telmar before they became so deplorably wicked, and although much of it was half ruined – roofless and overgrown with weeds – there were no end of intact halls and passages to explore, with secret underground passages and doors that had been locked for generations.
So Tash had an abundance of things to find out about, and felt himself to be abundantly useful in helping Josie, whose life he had saved: Josie, who trusted him with responsibilities, and shared all she had with him, and touched him kindly, and became more pleasing to his senses day by day, and never once said that he was completely and utterly useless. He did not complain that she did not want to visit the hidden room with the magic food and the suits of armour again, for she was after all Mistress of Telmar, and he felt joy in doing what she wanted.
It would not be quite true to say that these months were the nicest of Josie’s life. There had been many uncomplicated months of her life before her family’s troubles had begun, and even months afterward that had not seemed particularly noteworthy at the time, but in hindsight now seemed perfect, and she thought back on those as the happiest months of her life. She had of course at first been almost dizzy with joy at not being a prisoner of the wicked magician any more, with a horrible fate creeping closer day by day: but that sort of happiness never lasts as long as you think it will.
Josie had all she needed in the castle of Telmar. She was safe, and comfortable, and her memories of home had faded so that she hardly ever thought about Gerry, or her mother, and did not feel sad. She almost never quarrelled with Tash, who treated her with affection and respect, but she did not like keeping the secret of the apples from him. She knew in her bones that it would be wrong to use the apples, and she knew in her bones that Tash was different from her in this way, and did not have this same knowledge. Sometimes she would open the secret panel with the ruby key, but never went further than the first few steps, where she could just start to feel the call of the good magic. Josie had a nagging feeling of guilt that she was going down the wrong path and was somehow not doing something she was supposed to be doing.
Then there was the other matter with Tash. She had allowed herself liberties with him at the beginning that she would never have allowed from a boy, thinking of him as a kind of talking animal. And it was true, she supposed, that he was. But he was the only one of his kind of creature here, and she was the only one of her kind of creature, and when he touched her she had begun to feel so particularly a female sort of creature. He had first curled up around her to keep her warm, and to comfort her, and she had welcomed him. He would be terribly hurt if she were to insist that he stop now. But the habit of sleeping together was one that she knew had become wrong, as she became more aware of his maleness, and she often spent the nights in an agitated state, half enduring and half enjoying his embrace. Being blind, Josie had a very sensitive sense of touch, and her touch had been starved for the feel of living things: it felt so very good to touch someone, to be touched in return. So she had let Tash’s unknowing hands stray to places she would have driven a human boy’s hands from with furious blushes.
‘He is devoted to me in his way,’ Josie told herself, sternly. ‘He is as fine a friend as any I could ask for, and the only friend I have in this world. It would not be fair to push him away because of things that I feel, because I am confused. It is complicated, but life is complicated. It would be just as bad if a Prince had rescued me. Worse, because though he would know where the bounds of proper behaviour were, they might not be at all the same here as in Australia. And being a Prince he would probably be used to people doing whatever he wanted to regardless. And furthermore, he would expect me to be grateful – which I would be – and happy to be lorded over – which I wouldn’t, instead of being as accommodating as Tash is. I expect he would probably expect me to marry him straightaway, like in the fairy stories.’ These were the sort of things Josie told herself.
So Josie was troubled, but she let things keep on going the way they were going. Much more trouble is drifted into in such a way then ever results from people boldly charging in and doing something recklessly wicked.
There was no time for witty rejoinder after that – Aronoke was kept busy firing shot after shot into the whirling mass of drones as they swooped down towards them. Jark Tander was blazing away beside him. It would have been easier if he still had his lightsaber, but he only had a blaster, and Hespenara was weaponless.
“We’ve got to retreat!” yelled Jark Tander, as they were driven back by a cascade of blaster bolts. The drones’ blasters were not powerful, but so numerous that they posed a serious hazard. “If we get inside and close the hatch, we should be safe!”
“But what about Master Caaldor?” Aronoke shouted back. “If the drones can’t get to us, they might all attack him.”
“Sorry, son, but that might have to be his own lookout,” the free trader said. She swore as a blaster bolt singed along one arm. “We’ll all be cooked to crispy corellian fritters if we stay here!”
“Fall back,” said Hespenara. “I’ll see what I can do!”
“No!” protested Aronoke. “Not by yourself!” But the green girl shot him a confident smile and he found himself hesitating. Hespenara stepped forward, reaching out with her arm. She stood there a moment, calm and focussed despite the deluge of blaster fire passing closely around her. Then she swept her arm across, and several drones smashed sideways, crashing into others and sending them tumbling. Another gesture and more drones fell. Aronoke looked on enviously. He had never been very good at alteration, but Hespenara was obviously talented – perhaps not surprisingly, since she had trained under Master Altus.
But for every drone Hespenara smashed aside, another swarmed in to concentrate its fire on her.
“Get back,” Hespenara called urgently. “Get under cover. I can’t hold them much longer.”
Aronoke ducked through the hatch while a few more drones were flung aside, and then Hespenara was dodging through after him.
“That’s all I can manage for now,” she gasped, “but we’ve got to hold so Kthoth Neesh and Tarric Gondroz can get in here!”
“They’d better hurry,” snapped Jark Tander. The drones were swooping and diving, firing ever more accurate volleys through the opening.
“There they are!” Hespenara pointed at two figures cowering behind some trees on the riverbank opposite. Aronoke could see Tarric Gondroz’s strange long face and Kthoth Neesh’s pale one close together. “I don’t think the drones have spotted them yet, but there’s no way for them to get through!”
Beyond the drones, Aronoke could see Master Caaldor in the distance, his lightsaber flashing brilliantly.
“We could run a distraction,” Aronoke suggested.
“But what?” Hespenara stared at him blankly.
“I’ve got just the thing,” said Jark Tander, and she ran back into the depths of the cargo bay. “Be ready to help your friends inside.” There was a roar as an engine surged into life. Aronoke leapt hastily out of the way, as a squat, rugged hover vehicle surged past him and down the ramp. It was a platform, a converted cargo lifter, doubtlessly used for the hunting trips Jark Tander had mentioned.
“Cover me,” ordered Jark Tander, following it out a short distance. She held a remote control unit in her hands.
Aronoke followed her out, focussing on shooting more drones. He missed many more times than he hit, but the constant fire kept the spheres darting from side to side, interrupting their firing pattern. Every now and then Hespenara gestured and drones were swept sideways.
The hover platform shot down the ramp and along the river bank, and sure enough, more than half the drones wheeled to follow it.
“Quickly, now!” Hespenara yelled to the pair in the forest.
Still concentrating on shooting, Aronoke had the impression of Kthoth Neesh and Tarric Gondroz closing rapidly, slithering a little in the sticky mud, and then the narakite was by his side, taking the blaster and firing with a deft aim that Aronoke could not hope to emulate.
The hover-platform did not stop; it swerved wildly across the muddy riverbank, gathering speed, and careering towards where Master Caaldor was pursuing Bolar Dak around the bounty-hunter’s ship amidst a cloud of drones. The Jedi was trying to get in melee range, while the bounty hunter was frantically using his jump jets to stay at range, firing tremendous bolts of blaster energy all the while. If even one of those shots hit, Master Caaldor would be atomised, Aronoke thought nervously.
“Incoming from your one-eighty, Master Jedi,” yelled Jark Tander.
The platform careered straight at Master Caaldor from behind, and for a moment Aronoke thought he hadn’t heard, that it was going to barrel into him, but at the last instant, without even looking back, Master Caaldor leapt nimbly into the air and landed neatly atop the platform. As he was carried forward towards the bounty hunter, he made another impossibly agile leap, swinging his lightsaber, not at the huge blaster rifle, which Bolar Dak was desperately trying to swing around in time, but at the armoured figure’s other arm.
Bolar Dak crashed sideways, screaming, as Master Caaldor’s lightsaber sliced neatly through the control panel mounted on his left armoured cuff. An instant later, the drones stopped dead and began raining out of the sky, like overripe metallic fruit.
Aronoke didn’t see what happened to Bolar Dak then, because he was busy avoiding the falling drones, but when he looked back, the bounty hunter was lying motionless on the riverbank, and Master Caaldor was striding towards Jark Tander’s ship.
“Well, that distraction went better than I expected,” Jark Tander remarked. “Lucky you Jedi are all that everyone says you are.” She wrestled with the remote controller and the platform began to return to the ship, at a much steadier pace. “We’d best get out of here quickly though. Bolar Dak might have alerted his allies.”
A few minutes later, both the hover-platform and Master Caaldor were safely aboard, and Jark Tander was at the ship’s controls.
“You have my thanks for your timely interruption, Jark Tander,” said Master Caaldor, taking a seat in preparation for take-off. “That bounty hunter was surprisingly dexterous.”
“Anything to get this unexpected mess over with more quickly, Master Jedi,” growled Jark Tander, weighting the last two words accusingly, but Aronoke could see a gleam in her eyes that belied her sharp tone. “Full throttle for Coruscant?”
“Yes, please.”
Jark Tander’s ship, the Irrevocable Accolade, was not well equipped to handle passengers on intragalactic journeys. There were only a few cabins, and like on the XL-327, these had to be hurriedly converted from store-rooms to accommodate everyone. Conditions were crowded and hardly private.
Nevertheless, after coming out of hyperspace, during the long descent towards Coruscant, made slow by the sheer volume of traffic coming and going, Aronoke found himself sitting alone in the tiny dining area with Kthoth Neesh. Hespenara and Master Caaldor were meditating in their separate cabins, doubtlessly considering what they were going to say to the Jedi Council when they arrived, while Tarric Gondroz was in the cockpit with Jark Tander, watching the approach of the planet on the viewscreen.
“I never thought I’d be landing on Coruscant,” said Kthoth Neesh, swirling her protein shake around in its cup. “It’s not the sort of place narakites usually go, on account of Republic security being a bunch of anal gravity-wells with long memories.”
Aronoke laughed. “I don’t know if I’ll have time to show you around,” he said reluctantly. “It will depend on what the Jedi Council says. They might be annoyed with us for not doing what we were supposed to.”
“They can’t be too angry, can they?” asked Kthoth Neesh. “After all, you found Hespenara, saved her from being a garden ornament, and found out all that stuff about those other Jedi masters.”
“We also put ourselves out of communication, directly disobeyed instructions, and lost a ship,” Aronoke pointed out.
“Oh, well if you put it that way.”
“What are you planning on doing now?” Aronoke asked. He couldn’t imagine that the Jedi Council’s plans would extend to Kthoth Neesh, Jark Tander or Tarric Gondroz. At least, not beyond asking them a few questions.
“Well, I’m not planning on hanging around on Coruscant, that’s for certain,” said Kthoth Neesh easily. “Jark Tander’s agreed that Tarric Gondroz and I can tag along for awhile. Make ourselves useful. I guess I’ll see where that goes, and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll probably go back to the narakite fleet.”
“Back to Captain Krondark?” asked Aronoke sceptically.
Kthoth Neesh made a rude noise. “Not after that skiving freakweasel went off and abandoned us like that. Not that I can’t understand why he did it, and not that I might not do the same thing myself in his position, but I’m not stupid enough to put my neck in the laser-guillotine a second time running.”
“Are you going to visit Ashquash while you’re here?” Aronoke asked. He was looking forward to seeing his ex-roommate again, but the situation between him and Kthoth Neesh made it more difficult. He had experienced that same attraction to Ashquash. It was very confusing, and should his obsession with Kthoth Neesh come to light, Aronoke didn’t know how he would go about explaining it to her.
Kthoth Neesh looked awkward too.
“I know you’ll probably think I’m an awful coward,” she said hesitantly, “but I think I won’t.”
“Why not?” asked Aronoke. “It would mean a lot to her.”
“I know,” sighed Kthoth Neesh. “But if I stay aboard ship there’s no need for me to pass through customs. I don’t think my papers would hold up well to inspection. And then…Ashquash is becoming a Jedi, like you. You aren’t even supposed to have family. Having me turn up now, is only going to confuse things. She might not want to see me.”
“I don’t know about that,” countered Aronoke. “Most Jedi know where they came from. Who their families are. It’s really hard, not having that to fall back on. It’s like you’re always hovering, with nothing beneath your feet. I think knowing she had a sister and who that sister was would be a great boon to her.”
“Mmm. Maybe. I’ll think about it,” said Kthoth Neesh evasively. She leant a little closer to Aronoke. “You know, being a Jedi isn’t really your only chance.”
Aronoke opened his mouth to protest, but she laid her small white hand on his chest, silencing him with a look.
“You shouldn’t automatically believe what they say. You’re not the same as all those other Jedi. You weren’t raised in the temple since you were a little kid. You’re different.Who knows what you can and can’t do?”
“I know I’m different, but-” Aronoke began, but Kthoth Neesh pushed him in gentle admonition.
“Just hear me out. There’s lots of other things you can try, and if you ever change your mind, decide that it isn’t what you want after all, or if, say, they kick you out for dragging your poor old Master into too much trouble, you should remember to look me up. You can always find word of me with the narakite fleet.”
She looked up at him earnestly as she spoke and her hand was toying with the lapel of his robe. “I’ll miss you,” she added in almost a whisper.
“I’ll miss you too,” Aronoke answered uncomfortably.
“I tell you one thing,” said Kthoth Neesh more mischievously, leaning close, looking up at him. Her face was no more than a foot away. Her hand stroked his chest gently through the fabric of his robe. “I wish that imperial scout hadn’t come back just then. Things were getting interesting.”
Aronoke flushed deeply. He picked up her hand and gently but firmly removed it.
“I know, I know,” Kthoth Neesh said, laughing, blushing herself. “I’m just teasing. But keep that image in mind, Padawan, should you find yourself looking for a new direction.”
It was an image that would return to him far too often for comfort, Aronoke thought, a source of many nights of sleepless meditation. It was just as well that he and Kthoth Neesh were to be separated. She was far too tempting.
“I have to do things this way, Kthoth Neesh,” Aronoke said. “I promised I would. I swore an oath. To Master Altus, who saved me from Kasthir. I promised I would try and follow the path of the Jedi Order, in exchange for taking me with him. If I break my word so easily, then I’m no better than Captain Krondark.”
“You were just a kid,” Kthoth Neesh snorted. “And you have given it a try, looks like to me.”
But Aronoke was shaking his head. He knew he hadn’t tried hard enough, that Master Altus would be disappointed if he did something as stupid as running off with Kthoth Neesh. Not to mention what Master Caaldor, who had put such trust in Aronoke and his visions, would think.
Kthoth Neesh sighed. “Well, keep it in mind, anyway,” she said, a little sadly.
“I will. I could hardly forget,” said Aronoke.
Two years spent on Coruscant hardly made it his homeworld, but to Aronoke, it felt like coming home. It all seemed so smugly familiar. Master Caaldor was not pleased to be back. Aronoke knew his Master had no fondness for the city planet, preferring less populated and bureaucratic environments. He felt he should dislike Coruscant too, by way of solidarity, but he could not bring himself to feel that way. He was looking forward to seeing the Jedi temple again, to meeting his clan mates once more, and Coruscant felt safer now than it ever had before. He was an old hand at navigating the crowds at the spaceport. He was used to the distracting flicker of the advertising holos, well-acquainted with the great diversity of sentient species who came to visit the seat of the Republic senate, and unperturbed by the swarming traffic and the vast depths that yawned between the immense monolithic buildings.
Armed additionally with the information that Master Skeirim was a traitor, Aronoke felt that his enemies weren’t as threatening anymore. Were no longer so mysterious. It made sense, didn’t it? Master Skeirim was interested in the biocron, Aronoke was connected to it in some strange way, and so Master Skeirim was almost certainly the one who had sought to manipulate Aronoke during his time in the Jedi Temple.
The only problem with this theory, tidy as it might be, was that Master Skeirim hadn’t been present when some of those things had been happening. He had been off betraying Master Altus and then pretending to look for him. Also, Master Skeirim had limited influence, whereas Aronoke’s harasser had demonstrated an ability to manipulate events that marked them as someone with considerable power.
Could it be that Master Skeirim was part of a conspiracy? Or were there several separate enemies that sought to use Aronoke for their own ends?
And what were those ends?
It was typical, Aronoke thought, that every answer only seemed to open up more questions.
The Jedi Council was intimidating enough when you had been obedient and obeyed all their instructions. It was more so now, Aronoke thought, as he followed Master Caaldor into the circle of Jedi Masters in the big council chamber deep within the Jedi Temple. It was the same room he had entered when he had been fresh off Kasthir, dressed in Master Altus’s old robes. The robes were still in Aronoke’s bag, carried safely through his various adventures, but too small for him now, at least in length.
Amongst the circle of Jedi Councillors, Aronoke could see faces that he recognised: Master An-ku, of course, with her fierce striped togrutan face and towering horn-tails. Master Rosfantar, who had rescued Aronoke, Draken and Ashquash from the heights of the Jedi Tower and had been nice enough to cover for them. Master Nethlemor, the overseer of examinations. Master Belor, who had argued that Aronoke should not be allowed another chance to become a Padawan. Master Kordu-molh the stuffy duros, and a handful of others with whom Aronoke had only had incidental contact with. The vast majority were unknown to him – a panoply of faces and races, both holographic and solid – but all regarded him and his Master with unpleasantly intense scrutiny. Aronoke swallowed his nervousness, squared his shoulders and did his best to remain calm. These were only Jedi, he told himself. They were nowhere near as scary as Careful Kras.
“Master Caaldor,” said Master An-ku, who was acting as chair, “and Padawan Aronoke. I am pleased to see you intact.” Her tone made it clear that this was something of a surprise. “Padawan Hespenara, I am glad indeed, as I’m certain we all are, to have you returned safely to us, after all that has befallen you.”
Aronoke almost smiled, remembering his first impression of the word befallen.
“I believe you have important news for us,” Master An-ku continued, her stony glare settling on Master Caaldor.
“Yes, Master An-ku,” said Master Caaldor, completely unconcerned by her displeasure. “Padawan Hespenara has information regarding the whereabouts of Master Altus, and the circumstances of his and her own disappearance.”
“Very well. However, I would like to begin with your own activities, and since this matter appears to concern your Padawan to a high degree, perhaps he would outline recent events to us. Please, Padawan Aronoke, tell us what has eventuated since you and Master Caaldor left the Jedi Temple, not so many weeks ago, on what was intended to be a journey to Illum to craft your lightsaber.”
Master An-ku’s glare remained on Master Caaldor a long moment before she switched her scowl to target Aronoke.
“Yes, Master An-ku,” said Aronoke uncomfortably. He had expected to stand at his master’s side, making the occasional observation when called upon to do so, but it seemed Master An-ku had other ideas. “Much of what we did has nothing to do with why we have returned so quickly now.”
Master An-ku made a dismissive gesture.
“Where should I start?” Aronoke asked, uncertainly.
“Start at the beginning, from when you left Coruscant,” she said.
“Yes, Master.”
Aronoke went through the story of his short career as a Padawan, stumbling a little at first, but quickly gaining momentum. He kept carefully away from personal topics, such as his attraction towards Kthoth Neesh, and attempted to put the best light on certain of Master Caaldor’s decisions, such as why they had chosen to not go to Illum, and why they had placed themselves out of contact of the Jedi Temple.
The Jedi Council dwelled annoyingly on the early, peaceful mission on Erebor-3, and Aronoke had to struggle with his patience while fielding their questions. He knew he should give this matter due attention, that the potential discovery of something that increased the chance of force-sensitivity was an important matter, but every minute he spent talking about Erebor-3 was another that Master Altus spent in captivity, and Master Skeirim’s perfidy went unchecked.
He was relieved when he was finally allowed to continue on to their more recent adventures, to Hespenara’s rescue, the encounter with the Sith, and their eventful escape from Quebwoz. But even now, the news Aronoke most wanted the Jedi Council to hear was delayed; Master An-ku carefully directed his narrative, confining him to events he had experienced himself. Finally, when he had finished, there was silence for a few moments, as the members of the Jedi Council digested the information he had related.
“You were promoted to Padawan and sent out of the Jedi temple early for your own protection and in order to continue your training with less disruption, is that not so, Aronoke?” Master An-ku asked.
“Yes, Master An-ku, and also to protect Ashquash.”
“It seems strange then, that Master Caaldor should suddenly choose to take you into a dangerous and unpredictable situation on Quebwoz,” commented Master An-ku.
“Master Caaldor didn’t choose by himself,” protested Aronoke. “He believed that I had been granted visions through the Force for a reason, and that ignoring those visions was just as dangerous as following up on them. He asked me what I wanted to do, and he held by my decision.”
He was surprised to see that some of the Jedi Councillors nodded when he said this, as if they agreed with Master Caaldor’s decision, while others, including Master An-ku, looked stern and disapproving.
“And do you think that was a wise course of action, Padawan?” she asked.
“How can I think otherwise, Master An-ku?” said Aronoke. “Hespenara is here because of that decision. The risks we took, the material possessions we lost, how can those compare to the value of her freedom?”
“Yes, we are all relieved that Hespenara has been returned to us,” said Master An-ku, “but the situation could have turned out far differently. As it is, you have lost a ship, a Jedi lost her life attempting to assist you, and you may well have caused diplomatic difficulties by breaking the Republic’s treaty with Quebwoz.”
“It’s not just Hespenara, herself, Master,” said Aronoke. “It’s the information she carries. We now know where Master Altus is being held captive, and also…”
“Yes, I will ask Padawan Hespenara to relate her own story, Padawan,” interrupted Master An-ku crisply, “but first I would like you to answer one last question: do you consider that Master Caaldor has shown adequate concern regarding your safety during your travels with him?”
“Yes, of course, Master An-ku,” said Aronoke stalwartly. “I would trust Master Caaldor to look out for me under any circumstances.”
“I see,” said Master An-ku. “Your loyalty to your Master is certainly commendable. I believe that is all we require of you at this time, Padawan Aronoke. You may go. Report to the medical bay and have your injuries seen to.”
Aronoke gave the Jedi Council a respectful half-bow, and was escorted outside by a formally-robed attendant.
It was difficult to retire quietly without knowing what further discussion was taking place, to go meekly to the chambers assigned for his and Master Caaldor’s use. The style of the guest chambers was familiar – Aronoke had often visited Master Altus and Hespenara while they stayed in the Jedi Temple. They were designed for habitation by a master and padawan and were not especially large, but they were comfortable, and Aronoke spent some time tweaking the settings to how he thought Master Caaldor would like them. Then he sent a message to the medical bay, obediently setting an appointment as per Master An-ku’s instructions.
That done, he forced himself shower and rest. He would have prefered to exercise, to help settle his mind, but his leg still ached dully. As he settled into one of his favourite meditative positions in his own chamber, Aronoke sighed. It would be difficult calm himself enough to reach a proper meditative state. His thoughts were in turmoil.
Aronoke knew Hespenara would tell the Jedi Council everything, that she was as determined to see Master Altus rescued as he was. Of course it was unlikely that the Jedi Council would decide that Aronoke should go and rescue him, but Hespenara was Master Altus’s padawan, so surely she would get to go along. It was her duty, after all.
Aronoke felt a sudden pang of jealousy, much like he had once before. It was not fair! Hespenara was Master Altus’s padawan, she got to travel with him everywhere, to learn from him, whereas Aronoke would never have that opportunity.
It was ridiculous to feel that way, he knew. Firstly, Master Altus himself would disapprove. Secondly, Hespenara was his friend, whom he had been so glad to rescue. Thirdly, Aronoke had his own master, to whom he owed a great deal. A master who had allowed him to pursue his visions, despite the trouble it might land them both in. A master whom he both liked and respected. To wish he had a different master was the worst sort of disloyalty.
It was not important, who got to rescue Master Altus. The Jedi Council would surely choose whoever was most suitable for the task. As long as he got rescued, and was returned safely, that was what mattered.
But they had failed before, and it was my vision, Aronoke thought doggedly. No one rescued Hespenara either, until I took matters into my own hands. Is that what the Force is trying to tell me? That I have to be part of all these events? Or am I just being stupid, wanting to rescue Master Altus myself, because I want to impress him? Because he rescued me?
But it was more than that, Aronoke knew. He could not do anything else, not where Master Altus was concerned. It was something that didn’t fit within the Jedi Code, friendship that went a step too far. Not an attraction, certainly not an obsession like Aronoke had felt towards Kthoth Neesh, but something deeper, emotional and intrinsic. A platonic dedication that Aronoke was helpless to oppose. Jedi Code or no Jedi Code, Aronoke knew that he would do anything in his power to help Master Altus.
Sighing again, he settled back to try to calm his mind, to cleanse it of his impatient anticipation of Master Caaldor’s arrival, hopefully with more news.
As it turned out, Master Caaldor had not yet arrived by the time Aronoke’s medical appointment came around, so he had to depart without learning anything new. It was with some impatience that he departed, striding quickly despite his limp, as if hurrying would make it over more quickly.
When he arrived in the medbay, he was met by D-2J399, the medical droid who had always overseen his medical treatment.
“Hello, D-2,” said Aronoke, pleased to see the familiar droid. He still did not like medical examinations, but the pang of unease was merely a discomfort, no longer a source of fear. He knew he would have felt differently if it had been a different droid.
“Greetings, Padawan Aronoke. It is a pleasure, as always, to administer to your health concerns. You will be glad to know that my data banks have recently been updated regarding medical treatment specific to your species.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” said Aronoke, bemused. “I’ll be in even better hands than before.”
“Strictly speaking, my grasping and manipulative appendages are not hands, Padawan Aronoke, but a discussion of structural terminology is not my primary goal at this juncture.”
“This won’t take long, will it, D-2?” Aronoke asked. “I’m in something of a hurry.”
“It is most likely that your assumption is correct, but the error margin of my estimate is considerably higher prior to complete scanning. My preliminary scans have detected that you suffer from extensive, if superficial, tissue damage, and some underlying structural injuries that are of greater concern. Please remove your garments and step in front of the scanner.”
Aronoke complied.
“The injury to your left patella and the underlying bone and muscular structures is more extensive than I initially estimated,” said the droid. “It is advisable that you undergo treatment in a kolto tank. As one is available, I advise that this should be performed immediately.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” said Aronoke evasively. He was still limping, but he thought his leg was getting better. Being sealed in a kolto tank meant he wouldn’t find out what the Jedi Council decided for days!
“The nature of the injury is such that without treatment, the probability of repetitive strains and subsequent weakening of the joint is as high as 38.57%,” intoned D-2 solemnly.
“Urgh,” said Aronoke. That did seem a considerable risk.
“You are also suffering from extensive contusions, abrasions and burns, which although minor and healing well, will almost certainly result in some scarring if treatment is withheld. Are you willing to undergo treatment?”
Aronoke hesitated. It seemed likely that the Jedi Council would take immediate action in regard to rescuing Master Altus. If, by some slender chance, Aronoke was a part of those plans, he might be left behind if he was in a kolto tank when the others left.
But if he didn’t take the treatment, they wouldn’t take him anyway, because he was still injured.
You’re being foolish, trying to second-guess everything, Aronoke told himself firmly. Just stop it.
“Alright, D-2, if you think it’s best,” he said reluctantly.
“Very well, Padawan Aronoke, I will have the tank prepared at once,” said D-2. “If you will go through the door on your right, we will prepare you for immersion.”
Waking up in the tiny green world of the kolto tank was not one of Aronoke’s favourite moments. There was a rising sense of panic at being submerged, held in check by a heavy lethargic calmness. It was like fighting an impossibly heavy green blanket with your arms tied. Then full consciousness came flooding back, with a decisive clarity that swept the feeling of helplessness away. When he opened his eyes he could see a distorted view of the chamber beyond the glass, with blurry figures moving in it. Someone tapped on the curved surface, and then a face was pressed closely against it. Aronoke could recognise Draken’s cheeky grin. Someone was with him, further back, a pale green-tinged blur that Aronoke’s Force senses immediately recognised as Ashquash. Knowing that they could see him far better than he could see them, he waved. There was more activity, and then Draken and Ashquash were gone, doubtlessly shooed from the room by a medical droid.
A few minutes later, Aronoke was dressed and striding out to meet them. He felt better all over, fresh, awake and ready to deal with anything. His knee felt good as new and his limp had vanished. He hadn’t realised how bad he had actually been feeling, how many of his injuries he had been controlling, until now, when they were gone.
“Aronoke! You’re looking so… grown up,” said Draken, bounding up to meet him. Ashquash was following at a distance, dignified and quiet. Her calm demeanour hid an inner turmoil that Aronoke could not help but detect, for it spilled out everywhere, through cracks in her control. Gladness, uncertainty, hope, fear…
“I hope that’s not a bad thing,” said Aronoke mildly.
“What happened to your hair?”
Aronoke ran a hand absently through his very short hair, still scarcely more than a finger-width high and patchy in places.
“I made a stupid mistake and got caught in an explosion,” Aronoke explained. “While we were rescuing Hespenara from the queb.”
“I can’t believe you actually got to go and rescue her!” exclaimed Draken enviously. “You’ve only been a padawan such a short time and already you’ve had more adventures than most people get to have in a whole life time!”
“It’s just the way things worked out,” said Aronoke.
“Where’s your lightsaber?” Draken looked about Aronoke comically, as if expecting the weapon to miraculously appear somewhere.
“I don’t have one at the moment,” Aronoke explained. “We ended up not going to Illum, because Master Caaldor thought it was too predictable, too likely to be anticipated by my mysterious enemies. I was using another one for a while, but I’m afraid I lost it in the explosion.”
“Lost it? Already? You don’t even have your own lightsaber and you’ve lost one already? That might be some sort of new record!”
“I’m pleased to see you, Aronoke,” said Ashquash with a flicker of good humour, pushing the irrepressible Draken aside. “We heard you were back, and wanted to come and see you earlier, but they put you in the kolto tank before we had a chance.”
She looked so small, Aronoke thought with relief. So young. It was like she was back to being his kid sister. Looking at her just now, with Kthoth Neesh fresh in his mind, he couldn’t imagine feeling the same way towards her as he had when he had left. And yet, she was there, demandingly present in the Force in a way that other people, even people he knew well, like Draken or Master Caaldor, were not.
“How are you doing, Ashquash?” he asked. “Have things been better since I left?”
She nodded, a little hesitantly. “At first, not so much, but now it’s getting better.”
“No more attacks?”
She shook her head, reluctantly.
“Kthoth Neesh came to see me yesterday,” she said, overtly changing the subject.
Draken stared at her, puzzled. “Kthoth Neesh?” he asked.
“She did? That’s great!” said Aronoke, surprised. “She said she didn’t know if she would. She was worried about her papers not getting her through Republic Security.”
“Kthoth Neesh?”
“The Jedi Council wanted to speak to her, to ask her some questions,” explained Ashquash. “About what happened when you found her. About what happened to her narakite friend who got pushed out an airlock. Since they brought her here anyway, and granted her an amnesty for her past actions, she asked to see me, and in consideration of the unusual way I left home, the Jedi Council agreed.” Ashquash paused, biting her lip, and for a few seconds the look in her eyes was intense, like she wanted to absorb as much of Aronoke as she could. “It was very strange to see her,” she admitted slowly. “Strange, but also good. I feel better about myself, more confident. Able to move on more easily and focus on becoming a Jedi.”
“Well, that’s good!” said Aronoke. “I’m glad she was brave enough to come and see you. She was worried about how you would react.”
“Brave enough to see me?” snorted Ashquash. “She’s as tough as wampa claws! I expect I would have turned out like that too, if I hadn’t been stolen away,” she added wistfully.
“You are like that,” put in Draken. “Kthoth Neesh?” he prompted hopefully.
“I was scared of you, when I first saw you,” admitted Aronoke, smiling. “I remember thinking I wasn’t going to let any kid, no matter how tough he was, push me around, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to manage.”
Ashquash smiled, enough so that it dimpled her face attractively.
“Master Skeirim told me there would be others like me, others who had come from unconventional situations to train at the Jedi Temple, but I didn’t believe him. Not until I met you.”
Aronoke’s heart fell at the mention of Master Skeirim. It was suddenly obvious that Master Skeirim’s defection could not be anything but acutely painful to Ashquash, even if its revelation was completely necessary. His face must have revealed something of these thoughts, because Ashquash’s smile was instantly erased to be replaced with uncertainty.
“What?” she asked urgently. “What’s the matter? Has something happened to Master Skeirim?”
“We found out something from Hespenara when we rescued her,” said Aronoke reluctantly. “She and Master Altus were meeting with Master Skeirim on Zynaboon when they were captured. They were all together when they were attacked by Imperials and were taken prisoner.”
Ashquash’s face went through several changes, flicking from worried to confused and back again in rapid succession.
“But… Master Skeirim wasn’t a prisoner,” she said slowly. “He was at the Jedi Temple no more than ten days ago. He’s been here often, since Master Altus disappeared.”
“I know,” said Aronoke heavily. “Master Skeirim wasn’t taken captive, and he didn’t report anything about what had happened either. He was even assigned to try to find the others afterwards, and never said a word to the Jedi Council about where they were. He made certain no one would find them.”
He didn’t voice his suspicion that Master Skeirim had played some part in drugging Ashquash, but the implication was there, hanging in the air between them, heavy and almost tangible.
“No!” cried Ashquash. “Not Master Skeirim. He wouldn’t do a thing like that! There must be some mistake!”
“I don’t think there can be,” said Aronoke grimly. “It fits together – he worked with Master Altus, they were both interested in the same things. Obviously there was some rivalry between them that no-one knew about. I’m sorry,” he said, more gently, reaching towards Ashquash’s shoulder to try to comfort her.
But Ashquash flinched away.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, vehemently, her eyes flashing. “Master Skeirim saved me from the slavers, brought me here to the temple! He’s a good Jedi. He can’t be a traitor! You’re wrong, Aronoke. It’s a lie!”
She ran from the room, nearly bowling over an orderly droid who was coming in to see what the disturbance was about.
“I’m sorry,” Aronoke apologised to the droid. “We didn’t mean to make so much noise. We’ll leave at once.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told her,” he muttered to Draken as they strode out of the medical bay. “Should have left it to the Jedi Council to send someone to break it more gently.”
But the younger boy was shaking his head.
“It’s better this way,” he said wisely. “The truth is more important than hurt feelings. You’re her friend and her clanmate – she trusts you to not cover up unpleasant things just to protect her. She’s shocked and angry now, but not really at you. I expect she’ll come to see you again once she’s had time to think things through. I just hope she doesn’t decide to run away.”
“Draken,” said Aronoke solemnly, “you sound awfully like a Jedi.”
Draken clapped him chummily on the shoulder. “That’s because I am one, son, and don’t you forget it! Oh, and one more thing?”
“Yes?” Aronoke paused, expecting more insightful revelations into Ashquash’s reaction.
“Who in the nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine great constellations of Ribor is Kthoth Neesh?”
Master Caaldor was not in his quarters when Aronoke arrived back, and when he did return, several hours later, he looked tired and introspective. His face cleared when he spied Aronoke in the common area of their apartment.
“Ah, Padawan,” he said. “It’s good to see you up and about, and in good time, too. Everything back in the right place, I hope?”
“Yes, Master,” said Aronoke. “I feel much better. What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” grumbled Master Caaldor. “Nothing right now, besides endless discussion in regard to the information we brought back. You’d think our course of action would be obvious, but if there’s anything a committee is good for, it’s for finding endless ways around the obvious.”
He sounded frustrated.
“Master An-ku expressed a wish to see you as soon as possible,” he added. “You had best make an appointment with her immediately.”
“Yes, Master. They are going to go and rescue Master Altus, aren’t they?
“Oh, yes. Preparations are underway. The debate is mostly regarding the possible diplomatic repercussions of sending Jedi to a world controlled by the Sith Empire.” He regarded Aronoke with a slight frown, as if evaluating what he saw. “Tell me, Padawan, what are your wishes – do you wish to be a part of the rescue operation, or are you content to leave the matter in the hands of others?”
“I’ll do whatever you and the Jedi Council decide is best, Master,” replied Aronoke primly. He had resolved that he had to act obediently, since he couldn’t trust his judgement – not where Master Altus was concerned. He would adhere to the Jedi Council’s decision, no matter how painful it was.
“Yes, I’m sure you will,” said Master Caaldor, looking mildly amused, “but that’s not what I asked. If you were the one responsible for making the decision, what would you do?”
“I’d go myself,” said Aronoke promptly. “I know I can find him, especially now we know where to start looking. No one else has been able to, and there’s been plenty of time to try.”
“I thought you’d say that,” said Master Caaldor. “I’ve done my best to persuade the Jedi Council that your visions are of utmost importance in this affair – that you are an integral part of this stream of events, and interfering in your destiny is even more dangerous than letting things run their course.”
“Do you think they’ll listen, Master?”
“I don’t know,” said Master Caaldor. “Certainly if Master An-ku has her way, you’ll be taken out of my hands and locked back up in the Jedi Temple, padawan or no.”
“Surely not, Master,” Aronoke objected, but Master Caaldor’s eyes were fixed sternly upon him.
“I’m afraid so,” he sighed. “Hespenara has voiced Master Altus’s suspicions that you are connected intrinsically to the biocron on Kasthir, that the images on your back are a map to its location, and it seems that these theories are revelations to the Jedi Council as well as to us.”
“He didn’t tell them anything.” Aronoke was not surprised. He knew that Master Altus was dutiful, but he would not reveal secrets passed on to him personally, in confidence. Only Hespenara knew, because she worked so closely with him, and she had been part of the matter from the beginning. He remembered the green man’s aversion to paper work and his dislike for bureaucratic processes, things he had in common with Master Caaldor. He also remembered how Master Altus had encouraged him to keep the markings on his back secret.
“You should try to conquer your fear, of course, Aronoke, but I think you are right to be cautious.”
“I am?” said Aronoke, surprised. He had thought his fear about his back was a failing. Something to be ashamed of.
“Yes. I believe you should trust your instincts to keep those markings hidden. I think it might prove important.”
“I am not sure I always felt this way about them though, Master,” said Aronoke reluctantly. “When I was small…the first time…I did not even know they were there.”
“Nevertheless, your instincts are trying to protect you,” said Master Altus. “And while you should try not to be afraid, there is no harm in taking note of the warning they present to you.”
Master Altus had always treated the things Aronoke told him as secrets, not to be written down. It was one of the reasons why Aronoke trusted him so absolutely. Master Bel’dor’ruch had commented on Master Altus’s secrecy, Aronoke remembered, although at the time he had been too overwhelmed regarding the revelation of his back to pay it much heed.
“Your Master Altus recorded in his report that you were being provoked. His words indicate that he recognised that there was a reason for this happening and did not question that it was valid, but he did not see fit to record exactly what it might be.”
Aronoke could feel the heat rising in his face, a side-effect of the old shame and fear that were rising unbidden inside him, when he realised where this conversation was leading.
“Now Master Altus has disappeared as well,” said Master Bel’dor’ruch pointedly. “He has obviously met with a disaster great enough to overwhelm even one of his power and experience. I can’t help but think that these things are potentially related.”
Master Bel’dor’ruch had been right, Aronoke thought to himself. It was all related to the Biocron, and through it, to Aronoke himself. But surely…
“Master Bel’dor’ruch must have reported her findings to the Jedi Council,” Aronoke said, frowning. “She had those scans taken of my back. She said they might help find Master Altus.”
“Yes, they knew about your tattoos,” Master Caaldor said. “But not what the markings meant. There was some speculation, but no real answers. Not until now.”
“Hrm.”
It was an uncomfortable thing, to be the key to such an important artefact. It was almost as though Aronoke was an artefact himself, like the ones in the depths of the Jedi Archives, that Draken had wanted to sneak in and look at when they were both children.
“The Jedi Council are largely of two minds concerning your case,” Master Caaldor was continuing. “Some of them consider that you are too important to be risked out in the field – that you should be kept here in the Jedi Temple safely out of the hands of the Sith. Should the Sith capture you, there is little to prevent them from recovering the Biocron, and they will doubtlessly put it – and you – to unmentionable purposes.”
“And the other half?”
“They are more of my opinion,” said Master Caaldor, smiling. “They agree that you have a purpose in the wider galaxy and that the importance of allowing you an active role outweighs the risk. That is also why the debate is taking so long. But, even as the talking continues, an expedition is being prepared for the rescue attempt. An outright attack on a Sith-controlled world is inexcusable at this time, since we are ostensibly at peace, so it will by necessity be small and secretive. Master Temon has been placed in command, and he will be accompanied by his padawan, Tolos, and Hespenara. Master Quor, who is a researcher with a strong interest in the Biocron, will also be going.”
Aronoke knew neither Master Temon nor Master Quor, but from Master Caaldor’s tone he assumed that there was little rapport between him and the latter.
“And us?” he asked, trying not to feel too hopeful.
“That hasn’t been decided yet.”
“And Master Skeirim?” asked Aronoke. “What’s being done about him?”
“He is currently not in residence at the Jedi Temple,” said Master Caaldor. “He unfortunately left on assignment a short time before we arrived. He has been summoned back to Coruscant to account for his actions.”
Aronoke pulled a face. “It seems unlikely that he will come back voluntarily,” he said. “Surely he’ll make a run for it.”
“Perhaps,” said Master Caaldor, “but perhaps not. You have to remember, Aronoke, that he has followed the Jedi Code his whole life. He may have simply lost his way – one bad decision, one tenacious fear after another, mounting up to direct his course along a path he once would never have chosen. If there remains a great enough remnant of the Jedi he once was, then he will return to us, and otherwise – ” He shrugged grimly.
“He might go to the Sith?”
“He has almost certainly had dealings with them already,” Master Caaldor pointed out. “It is merely another step along an easier, if darker, way.”
“I hope he comes back, for Ashquash’s sake,” said Aronoke. “And yet – that might ultimately be more difficult for her.”
“If he returns, he will be offered a chance of redemption,” said Master Caaldor, “but he will never have sanctioned influence over Ashquash ever again. Of that you can be certain.”
“Good,” said Aronoke, with some relief. “I just hope she’s strong enough to cope with all this, on top of everything else that has happened to her.”
“Her mentors in the Jedi Temple will be alongside to guide her,” said Master Caaldor. “If she can bring herself to trust in the Force, she will make it through these difficulties.”
But Aronoke could not help but dwell upon the roiling emotions he had felt peeling off Ashquash, even before she had learned of Master Skeirim’s betrayal. What would happen to her if she didn’t have the strength to become a Jedi? At least, he thought, Kthoth Neesh had made the important first step of contacting her. If she wasn’t destined to become a Jedi, then the support of her family had to be the next best thing.
“You wished to see me, Master An-ku?”
Aronoke stood in Master An-ku’s office, which was an impressive circular marble chamber with shelves of datacubes and a long, narrow table in lieu of a desk. Imposing stone statues in white and rose-pink, symbolic featureless figures representing the Jedi and their role as peacekeepers in the galaxy, stood at intervals along the walls. An assortment of chairs, both comfortable and practical, completed the furnishings.
“Yes, Padawan Aronoke.” Master An-ku was sitting behind the table in a well-worn way, like she had been there a very long time. She looked tired, Aronoke thought, looking at her more closely. The colourful blue-and-orange stripes across her togrutan face disguised most of the crease-lines that crinkled the corners of her eyes and lined her mouth. Like Master Caaldor, she was older than she looked.
“Please be seated.” She gestured gracefully towards a chair on the opposite side of the long table, and Aronoke perched upon it obligingly.
“I am sure you are aware that Hespenara’s report has caused quite a stir, Padawan,” said Master An-ku heavily. “You have been the source of considerable discussion and dispute.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” Aronoke began, but Master An-ku held up a hand to stop him.
“No, you are not here to be admonished,” she said. “Your master is ultimately responsible for your actions in this matter, and his decisions on your behalf have garnered enough support in the Jedi Council to be approved, despite my own misgivings. You are fully aware of what Hespenara’s revelations mean, should Master Altus be correct?”
“I think so, Master An-ku,” said Aronoke steadily. “I’m supposedly connected to an important Force artefact, or collection of artefacts, known as the biocron. Since I am bioengineerd, it seems likely that I was created purposefully in connection to it, although how, why and by who are as yet unclear. The markings on my back are a map, probably leading to the fragment of the biocron located on Kasthir.”
“This makes you an obvious target for the Sith,” said Master An-ku. “And I believe they are already aware of your existence. It can be assumed that the Sith on Quebwoz was there with the sole intention of taking you prisoner. From what you have said, it is obvious that he wasn’t intending to kill you.”
“That’s true, Master,” said Aronoke.
“There has been considerable debate regarding whether or not you should be sent on the expedition to Zynaboon to recover Master Altus,” Master An-ku continued, and Aronoke’s heart leapt uncomfortably. “Your connection to Master Altus and your success in locating Hespenara makes you the best possible chance the rescue expedition has to find him quickly and recover him subtly.” Aronoke’s face must have betrayed his rising hope, for Master An-ku held up a restraining finger. “However,” she said firmly, “from your visions it also seems most likely that Master Altus is being held where the biocron is located. We have no idea what effect its close proximity may have upon you, or, for that matter, that you might have upon it.”
“I understand, Master An-ku,” said Aronoke, trying to stay calm.
“Nevertheless, it has been decided that you and Master Caaldor will be a part of this expedition,” said Master An-ku heavily, “should you be willing to go”.
Joy rose in Aronoke’s throat, threatening to bubble over into an exhilarated war whoop. It was all he could do to sit still and keep quiet. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so purely happy about anything. Leaving Kasthir had been a dream come true, but it had also been a voyage into the unknown, attendant with its own worries. Passing his exams to become a padawan had been a happy occasion, but he hadn’t wanted to leave the Jedi Temple so soon.
This outcome, he realised, was the only right one. It felt like destiny.
“You will accompany the expedition on one condition,” Master An-ku continued sternly, holding a restraining finger up at him again. “You will assist in attempting to locate Master Altus, but you will remain on board the ship unless Master Temon, who will be in command, instructs you otherwise. There can be no unauthorised escapades this time. Is that perfectly clear, Padawan?”
“Yes, Master An-ku, it is,” said Aronoke, his heart still soaring.
“I can see that there is no question of asking you if you wish to go or not,” said Master An-ku, sounding a little exasperated. “The answer is written all over you. Go and inform Master Caaldor that you are both to depart with the expedition when it leaves, as soon as preparations are complete. You are to draw a lightsaber from the reserves held by the weapons quartermaster, but if everything goes according to plan, you will have no need to use it.”
“Yes Master An-ku. Thank you.”
“There is no need to thank me, Padawan,” said Master An-ku, although her fierce face had softened a little in response to his cheerfulness. “If it was up to me, you would be kept here in the Jedi Temple, safe from harm, at least until we have learned more about the biocron and your role in respect to it. You may go.”
Aronoke stood and bowed formally before departing, but he found it impossible not to walk with a bounce in his step as he hurried back to his quarters, to share the good news with Master Caaldor.
Zynaboon at last! Even if he only got to stay on the ship, it was better than nothing. He would play a part in saving Master Altus, and possibly learn more about the biocron, that strange and powerful artefact that had exerted such an intrinsic effect upon his whole life without him ever knowing.
It sounded like a lifeboat smacking the surface of the sea, Josie thought. She picked herself painfully out of the thornbush where she had been none-too-gently knocked by the ifrits.
‘I’m alright,’ she told Tash, who was anxiously forging into the bush to help her. ‘Just a little scratched. That was well done. Very well done.’ She reached up to Tash, and he pulled her out of the bush and took her into his arms.
‘Thank you,’ said Josie, starting to tremble. It had been so close, but Tash had taken her hint, and she had managed to distract the magician and his minions long enough for him to get the magician’s rings. She was not exactly sure what had happened, but could guess well enough from Yustus’ screams and curses.
‘Are you sure you are alright?’ asked Tash uncertainly.
‘Yes,’ she said, clinging to him. ‘How about you? You are bleeding.’
‘I think it is the magician’s blood,’ said Tash. ‘Excuse me, I need to drink.’ Tash carried Josie to the edge of the stream, set her carefully down, had rather a long drink and washed his face, and picked her up again. She did not say anything during this time. She was scratched and bruised – she seemed to have stabbed one foot particularly badly on a broken bit of branch – but she was happier than she had ever been. There was a long way to go to get to anything that she would have called a safe, normal life before, but she was free of the magician, and her soul danced and sang. In the distance, a wild dog howled a signal to its fellows.
‘I don’t think the ifrits will stay in the castle long,’ said Josie, once Tash had picked her up again. ‘They’ll want to go back to wherever it is they came from. We should go there.’
‘The castle?’ said Tash.
‘Yes,’ said Josie again. ‘Thank you.’ She tightened her arms around Tash.
‘You said that already,’ said Tash.
‘I suppose I did,’ said Josie. She laughed. ‘If this were a fairy tale, I would kiss you now, and you would turn into a handsome prince.’
‘What is kiss?’ asked Tash.
Josie laughed again, and planted her lips on the side of Tash’s broad beak. ‘This.’ It should have been as unsatisfactory as kissing the keys of a piano, but in some curious way it was not. Tash’s beak was like ivory, yes, but warm ivory, and smelt of jasmine, and a trace of magician’s blood.
‘I do not seem to be turning into anything,’ said Tash.
‘I expect you have transformed enough already to last you a good long time,’ said Josie. ‘Besides, this is some kind of real life, and not a fairy story.’
They gave the corpse of the magician, already surrounded by snarling wild dogs, a wide berth. The sounds of the dogs feeding carried a long way.
Josie clung to her strange protector as he loped through trees and clambered over rocks. She was still happy, deliriously happy, but underneath she also felt sick. Yustus had been an evil man, but she had killed him, as surely as if she had dropped him a hundred feet herself. He would be alive if it were not for her. But he would also be alive, she told herself sternly, if Tash had not played his part, and if the ifrits had not exacted their revenge, and if Yustus had not behaved so abominably himself and planned such horrible things for her, and if the Lion had not drawn her into this strange world. They were all links in a chain. Still she felt sick: she could not get rid of the feeling that the magician’s blood was on her head.
‘The castle is up there,’ said Tash. ‘But we have come back to the bottom of the steep cliff. I will go around the bottom of it and see if there is a way up.’
‘I was thinking about that,’ said Josie. ‘Of course there has to be a better way in, since he would have left himself some way to get in and out without the ifrits. But it occurred to me that there might be all kinds of nasty traps that way. So maybe we would be better off climbing up the wall where we climbed down it, since we know that is safe.’
‘Um,’ said Tash. But he was willing enough to follow Josie’s advice.
It was a hard climb, and there were a couple of times when Josie’s heart went into her mouth, but at length they found themselves back in the garden. The wound in Josie’s foot was bad enough that she could only limp painfully about, but it was very nice to lie back on the soft grass in the sunshine. Tash prowled about the garden, exploring.
‘What does the statue in the middle of the fountain look like?’ asked Josie. ‘I could only reach the feet.’
‘It looks a bit like you,’ said Tash. He sounded very weary to Josie, and she was tempted to tell him to sit down and have a rest instead of prowling about. ‘But too tall, as tall as me. And carved as if she was all over jewels. She is holding the head of some animal.’
‘Oh,’ said Josie, rolling onto her front. ‘What sort of animal?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Tash, but he described it to her as looking rather like one of the statues in the garden, the one without the antlers, but with more shagginess to it.
‘It sounds like a lion,’ she said.
‘So that is what a lion looks like,’ said Tash.
‘There hasn’t been any sound of the ifrits at all,’ said Josie. ‘I suppose they must be gone.’
‘I hope so,’ said Tash.
A moment later, in that curious way people have of appearing when you mention them, Josie heard the first faint sounds of distant flapping.
‘Uh-oh, they are coming,’ she said, and then corrected herself, as the sounds resolved into those made by a single pair of wings. ‘One of them, anyway.’
‘Shall we hide?’ Tash asked.
‘Let us find out what it wants, if it is only one,’ said Josie. ‘I am sure you can fight it, and I am sure it cannot carry me away alone.’ It seemed to Josie that they were Zardeenah’s wings, and not those of any of her brothers, as the sound drew closer. She could not have described what the difference was, but she knew it was there. She stood up, and a moment later Tash was standing protectively at her side.
‘Miss Furness,’ called a voice from the sky.
‘Yes, Zardeenah?’ Josie called in return. Zardeenah was not landing, but was circling in the air above them, near enough that Josie could smell the burnt cinnamon fragrance of her hair.
‘We are in your debt, my brothers and I,’ called the ifrit.
‘Yes?’ said Josie, thinking wildly for a moment of three wishes and magic carpets.
‘My brothers think it will amply settle our debt if we leave you as Mistress of Telmar,’ said Zardeenah.
‘But,’ began Josie. She was going to say, ‘But I don’t want to be Mistress of Telmar, I want to go to- to-‘ but she did not really want to go to the place where the gazelles were sending her, to the strange foreign men with their lion god and their prophecies. And the ifrits could carry her, but what about Tash? There was no way they could take him.
‘Indeed, I told my brothers, she cannot rightly be called Mistress of Telmar if she does not have possession of its secrets.’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Josie.
‘She would not find it herself in a hundred years of searching, I told my brothers, despite her magic; but I know the place where it is kept.’
‘But-‘ Josie began again.
‘So this is yours, Mistress of Telmar, she who turns-stone-to-flesh,’ said Zardeenah, and let something drop. Tash almost, but not quite, caught it, and bent over to pick it up from the grass.
‘Thank you,’ said Josie. ‘But I don’t want to be-‘
‘Our debt is finished,’ called Zardeenah from a height as she flew rapidly away.
‘-Mistress of Telmar,’ Josie replied, to empty air.
‘It is a very grand place,’ said Tash. ‘Nearly as grand as the Procurator’s Tower. Here.’ He handed Josie the thing Zardeenah had dropped – a key as long as a fountain pen, carved out of some very hard glassy stone, which was tied to a silken ribbon.
‘The key to the secret treasure chamber, I expect,’ she said, and slipped the ribbon around her neck. She gave a rueful smile.
‘I am sure of it,’ said Tash.
***
Tash liked the look of the red key around Josie’s neck. It made her look more queenly, more like the statue. Surely there would more jewels in this place, and then Josie could be bedecked properly as Mistress of Telmar.
The highest ambition anyone could imagine in the village Tash had come from was to rise high in the service of the Overlord – this had been the way of things for countless generations – so it is not surprising that the dream of not being useless that had come into his head was of rising high in the service of Josie, Mistress of Telmar. He rather liked the statue in the middle of the fountain: the expression on the woman’s face put him in mind of the exultant way Josie had looked, when he had pulled her out of the thorny bush. The severed lion’s head, on the other hand, bore an expression of idiot malice. He supposed whoever carved the head had put it there on purpose, but it certainly did not look like the expression of any kind of god. The woman looked much more like a god.
‘Now, I can go through over there,’ said Josie, pointing almost at the base of the tower. ‘There’s a door. But I think it is too small for you.’
‘Maybe over here,’ said Tash. He had seen already the barred gate that Josie had found impenetrable, and a flagged courtyard beyond it, and thought that he would try his new strength out on it.
It was not easy, but the bars did bend a little when he tugged hard on them, and when he figured out the right way to twist the gate came off its hinges. ‘It worked!’ he said triumphantly.
‘I heard,’ said Josie, smiling at him. She started walking toward the gate in a slow and painful way.
‘Do you want me to carry you?’ he asked.
‘You have carried me enough for now,’ she said. But she did not make any protest when he gathered her up. Beyond the flagged courtyard there were other courtyards, and then a broad flight of steps leading up to heavy double doors. Tash tried these, and they opened with a loud crack, and beyond them was a high-ceilinged stone hall, and after a few more doors and halls and turning they found themselves in the rooms that had belonged to Yustus.
You or I would be pleased enough to find ourselves in possession of the palace of a magician, filled with all the good things that can be provided by magic; but we know of such things through stories, and have some idea of the kind of things we might find. Tash had no idea. He had never imagined such comfortable rooms, or so many good things to eat. There were cushions to sit on that were softer than anything he had thought of, and mirrors where he could see himself outlined as sharply as if here were some other thalarka- very drab he looked in such richly furnished rooms, he thought – and pools of warm water set in smooth white stone where he could soothe his itchy skin, but most of all there was the food. There was every kind of food that the ifrits had fetched for the magician – fresh fruits, and cold roast meats, and honeyed pastries, and other things that Tash had never seen or thought of. Every one of them tasted nicer than pickled grith, and he gorged himself in a haze of joy.
Josie meanwhile had bandaged her foot, eaten more sparingly, and gone to search the rooms for a change of clothes. ‘I know there are clothes for me in the tower by the garden, but it is a long walk back there,’ she told Tash.
When Tash was full enough he looked around for jewels and ornaments, of which there were plenty. There were also plenty of things that were of no immediate use to Tash – probably of no use to him, ever – but which still grabbed his attention, for magicians’ rooms tend to be full of such things. There were vials of evil-smelling oils and spices, leather-bound books of strange ideographs and peculiar pictures, strange implements of glass and nasty-looking metal instruments; curiously shaped knives in polished boxes; other things that looked like they could be used for carving words into wood, or flesh; a fragment of something that reminded Tash uncomfortably of part of the device the old thalarka had used to command the Gnawers.
Josie reappeared in clean garments of a shimmery soft material. Instead of a single long black garment, she had a much shorter green one on top, and billowy yellow things that that clung to her legs underneath. The ruby key looked very splendid indeed, Tash thought, on top of the green cloth.
‘I found these jewels for you,’ said Tash. ‘You will look very splendid.’
Josie took the things he offered, and smiled, but did not put them on. ‘Thank you.’
‘Did you really use your magic to change me back from stone?’ Tash asked cautiously.
Josie grimaced. ‘I don’t think so. Not unless it is like you being stronger, and it is something that happened when I came here. I don’t feel magical at all.’
‘You could try with the other statues in the garden and find out,’ suggested Tash.
‘Hmm,’ said Josie. ‘Not right now, I think. Just in case it does work. If it works, and either of those beasts aren’t talking beasts, or talking beasts that don’t like us, it will be very complicated and unpleasant. And I was just enjoying it being not complicated or unpleasant.’
‘You are right,’ said Tash.
Josie sat down on one of the big cushions with a sigh of relief, and Tash realised that he was also very tired. In the excitement of exploring all the marvels of the palace he had quite forgotten how exhausted he was. He dragged the largest one he could find next to her and plopped himself down as well. It was curious how pleasant she was beginning to smell. He had found the strange animal smell of humans strong and unpleasant when he had fallen into Telmar – that was blood, he remembered with a shock, Nera’s blood – but the more he had carried Josie, or curled up around her, the nicer she had smelled to him.
‘We should find out what that key opens,’ said Tash.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Josie. ‘I don’t want to do anything that might cause more problems.’
‘What do you think it will open?’
‘Well, a door, or a chest, or something. We haven’t found the wand they used to turn you to stone, or the apples of immortality that the magician talked about, so I expect they will be behind whatever it opens.’
‘It would be useful to turn our enemies into stone. Also to be immortal,’ said Tash enthusiastically.
‘Silly, we can’t do those things,’ said Josie.
‘Why not?’ said Tash.
‘It wouldn’t be right,’ said Josie, in an explanation that wasn’t an explanation. ‘It wouldn’t be right for us to turn people to stone, and it wouldn’t be right for us to live forever.’
‘It wouldn’t be right for anything bad to happen to you,’ said Tash resolutely. ‘Ever again.’
Josie made one of those exasperated noises. ‘You’re very sweet, Tash. But like I said, I don’t want to do anything that might cause problems for the rest of the day. Or anything at all, really. Except maybe have some of those sweetmeats. Is there any of the Turkish delight left?’
‘Turkish delight?’
‘Little cubes of soft stuff, covered with powder.’
‘Yes, rather a lot.’ Tash got up helpfully and returned rather too hastily, giving Josie’s new clothes a solid dusting of white powder when the tray tipped sideways. ‘I am sorry,’ he said.
‘Oh, there is no need to be sorry,’ said Josie, laughing. ‘You saved my life. That gives you every right to cover me with powdered sugar if you want.’
‘Does it?’ Tash asked her. This seemed like a curious custom.
‘Well, no, not really,’ said Josie. ‘I just mean it would be ridiculous of me to complain about a little thing like that, after all the big things you have helped me with.’
Tash sat down next to Josie and together they ate rather a lot of Turkish delight. There were five or six different kinds, of different colours and flavours, some with different chewy lumps in them – ‘nuts’ Josie explained – and they were all ever so much nicer than pickled grith.
‘You saved my life too,’ he pointed out, between mouthfuls of rosewater-flavoured Turkish delight.
‘We don’t know for sure,’ said Josie. ‘It might just have been a coincidence. I certainly didn’t set out to turn you back from stone.’
‘You would have, if you had known,’ said Tash confidently.
‘Very well then,’ said Josie, and flicked powdered sugar at him with her fingers.
Tash and Josie let the fire die, and spread the floor with silken blankets to sleep on, since Josie did not want to go back to the tower where she had slept before, and neither of them wanted to sleep in the bedchamber of Yustus the magician, whose bones were at that moment being fought over by wild dogs. Without either of them saying anything they ended up sleeping much as they had the night before, with Tash curled up around an uncomplaining Josie.
‘Good night, Tash,’ she said.
‘Good night, Josie Miss Furness, Mistress of Telmar,’ he said.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, but he could tell she was pleased. He thought, for the hundredth time, that her hair was exactly the colour of fresh grith stalks before they started to turn grey.