The militia turned out in strength, and battle was joined. The fanatics were prepared to fight. They wanted nothing better than to die for the cause. If others died too, so much the better. Their gossies, howling down the land-octaves, urged them to conquer. They flung themselves forward. The militia did its best throughout a long, bloody day. Then it turned and ran.
So Pannoval bowed to the message of potency and to the new regime. Charfrals were hastily made up especially to be burnt. Those who did not conform fled or were killed.
Those who fled made their way to the open world of Wutra, to the everlasting plains of the north. They went at a time when the snow was in retreat. Grasses grew. The two sentinels kept better watch over the skies, and Wutra himself seemed less savage. They survived.
Year by year, they spread northwards in search of food and a sheltered corner of land. They spread along the Lasvalt River to the east of the great plains. They raided the migratory herds of yelk and gunnadu. And they moved towards the isthmus of Chalce.
At the same time, those ameliorating temperatures were causing a stir among the peoples of the frigid continent of Sibornal. Wave after wave of rugged colonisers moved southwards, down the isthmus of Chalce into Campannlat.
One day, when Freyr ruled alone in the sky, the northernmost tribe from Pannoval met the southernmost part of the exodus from Sibornal. What happened then had happened many times before—and was fated to happen again.
Wutra and Akha would see to that.
Such was the state of the world when Little Yuli left it. Salt traders from the Quzints arrived in Oldorando with news of avalanches and freak happenings. Yuli—now quite ancient—hastened down to see them when they arrived, slipped on some steps, broke his leg. Within a week, the holy man from Borlien was calling, and Laintal Ay was delighting in his carved dog with the moveable jaw.
An epoch was over. The reign of Nahkri and Klils was about to begin.
V • DOUBLE SUNSET
Nahkri and Klils were in one of the rooms of the herb tower supposedly sorting deer skins. Instead they were looking out of the window and shaking their heads at what they saw.
“I don’t believe it,” Nahkri said.
“I don’t believe it, either,” Klils said. “I just don’t believe it at all.” He laughed until his brother slapped him on the back.
They watched a tall aged figure running crazily along the banks of the Voral. Nearby towers obscured the figure, then they saw it again, skinny arms and legs flying. It stopped once, scooping up mud to plaster over its head and face, then ran on with its tottering gait.
“She’s gone mad,” Nahkri said, smoothing his whiskers pleasureably.
“Worse than that, if you ask me. Crazy, high in the harneys.”
Behind the running figure went a more sober one, a boy on the verge of manhood. Laintal Ay was following his grandmother to see that no harm came to her. She ran ahead of him, crying aloud. He followed, glum, silent, dutiful.
After shaking their heads, Nahkri and Klils put them together. “I can’t see why Loil Bry’s behaving like that,” Klils said. “You remember what Father told us?”
“No.”
“He told us that Loil Bry only pretended to love Uncle Yuli. He said she didn’t love him at all.”
“Ah, I remember. So why’s she keeping up the pretence now that he’s dead? It doesn’t make sense.”
“She’s got some clever scheme, with all that learning, you see. It’s a trick.”
Nahkri went over to the open trap. Women were working below. He kicked the door shut and turned to face his younger brother.
“Whatever Loil Bry does, that’s not important. Nobody understands what women do. The important thing is that Uncle Yuli’s dead and now you and I are going to rule Embruddock.”
Klils looked frightened. “Loilanun? Laintal Ay—what about him?”
“He’s still a kid.”
“Not for long. He’ll be seven, and a full hunter, in two more quarters.”
“For long enough. It’s our chance. We’re powerful—at least, I am. People will accept us. They don’t want a kid ruling them, and they had a secret contempt for his grandfather, lying about all the while with that madwoman. We must think of something to tell everyone, to promise them. Times are changing.”