days. Pounding through towns and villages as if Torak himself were
snapping at your heels attracts attention, though, so father took the
back roads and country lanes instead, and he didn’t crowd his horse.
Autumn’s a nice time to travel, though, so I didn’t really mind.
Trees tend to show off in the autumn, and a brisk wind fills the air
around you with color.
We finally reached Darine, sold father’s horse and Darion’s cart,
and took ship for the Drasnian port of Kotu.
I don’t like Kotu. I never have – probably because of the perpetual
reek of the fens that hangs over the town like a curse. Moreover, I
find the intricate scheming of the Drasnian merchants of Kotu very
tiresome. If a Drasnian owes you money, he’d rather die than pay
you without devising some way to profit from the transaction.
I rather hate to admit it, but I’d missed my father over the years.
He has all manner of character defects of which I soundly
disapprove, but he is an entertaining old rascal, and there’s an almost
brutal practicality about him that I’ve never been able to duplicate.
The idea of burning Darion’s shop to the ground would never have
occurred to me. Maybe I’m too much of a sentimentalist.
Father and Darion got on well together. Darion had the good
sense to listen to the Old Wolf’s advice, and father approved of
that. I’m quite sure that Darion had some reservations about
changing trades in Kotu. For Darion, it was the furniture that was
important, not the decorations on it, so becoming a wood-carver was a
definite step down in his view of things. Father cut across the
objections with characteristic directness. ‘Wouldn’t you say that staying
alive is more important than some obscure sense of artistic
integrity?’ he asked.
That more or less stifled Darion’s objections.
Father remained with us in Kotu until we got settled in. He
dragooned us into changing our names and concocted a hair-dye
which, incidentally, didn’t work – to hide the tell-tale lock in my
hair, and then he left. My father’s a walking legend, and no amount
of disguising himself or assuming false names will ever hide his
true identity for very long. It was safer for all of us after he moved
on.
Selana gave birth to a son the following spring, and Darion
rather shrewdly, I thought – broke with tradition by giving his infant
son a Drasnian name rather than a Rivan or Sendarian one. The
child’s name was Khelan, and that jarred my sense of the way things
ought to be just a bit. Looking back over the centuries, I can only
think of two other times when a local name was appended to one
of Iron-grip’s descendants. Anonymity’s all very well and good, I
suppose, but really
It was not long after Khelan’s birth that a voice came to me during
the night, and this time it wasn’t mother’s voice.
‘Are you awake, Pol?’ father asked me.
‘I am now,’ I replied. ‘What’s afoot, father?’
‘I’m at the Arendish Fair, and I’ve just had an absolutely fascinating
discussion with Ctuchik.’
‘What’s he doing at the Arendish Fair?’
‘Looking for you, actually. He yearns for your company.’
‘And he’s eavesdropping on you right now. Very clever, father.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Pol. I know how to keep him from hearing me
~when I do this. Don’t get any ideas about moving back to Sendaria for a
~,wile. Sendaria’s mine right now.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Ctuchik’s got an underling named Chamdar. He’s moderately gifted,
and Ctuchik’s nailed him to my backside.’
‘That’s ross, father.’
I’m just a plain-spoken country boy, Pol. I say it the way it is. Chamdar’s
going to be as close to me as my shadow. Ctuchik’s convinced that I know
where you are and that I periodically drop in on you. Chamdar’s following~
me in order to find you.’
‘What’s this got to do with where I choose to live?’
“You’ve been detected in Sendaria from time to time, Pol, so Ctuchik
considers Sendaria to be your natural habitat. I’m going to play a little
game with Chamdar for a while, and I don’t want you cluttering up the
playing field.’
‘Why not just kill him and get him out of the way?’
‘I know this Chamdar and what he looks like. I’d rather have a familiar
face on my trail than a total stranger. I’ll lead him around Sendaria until
he gets to know every back lane and country crossroad in the whole silly
kingdom – intimately. He’ll be so sure that you’re still there that the Alorn
kingdoms won’t ever cross his mind. just give me some room, Pol. I’ll keep
Chamdar out of your hair.’
‘Don’t you have better things to do?’
‘Not really. What you’re doing is only slightly less important than the
cracking of the world was. This is my little contribution to your task.’
Then he gave vent to an evil-sounding chuckle.
‘What’s so humorous?’
‘I’m going to have a lot of-fun with this, Pol. I think that if you listen
very carefully, you’ll be able to hear Chamdar’s howls of-frustration many
many times over the next several centuries. Just stay out of Sendaria, and
I’ll guarantee your safety.’
‘Where are you going now?’
‘I think I’ll lead Chamdar to Tol Honeth for a while – give him a taste
of luxury before he has to start living in gutters.’ He laughed again.
‘Ctuchik’s been kind enough to provide me with a tail. just to show him
what I think of it, I think I’ll drag it through the mud for a while. Sleep
well, Pol.’
That’s my father for you.
VO Mimbre
PART SIX
*CHAPTER29
Although father made light of Chamdar’s arrival in the west, he
obviously took Ctuchik’s underling very seriously. Chamdar was
no ordinary Grolim driven by fear and mindless obedience. He was
shrewd, ambitious, and very clever. In some respects he was even
more dangerous than Ctuchik himself.
Looking back on the early years of my task, I’m forced to concede
that my preoccupation with Sendaria and its people had lured me
into a grave error. I’d been unwilling to set aside my previous duty
when I’d accepted my new one, so I’d always chosen to conceal
Iron-grip’s heirs inside Sendaria’s borders. That had simplified
things for Ctuchik’s Grolims by narrowing their field of search. After
a few years they knew that they didn’t have to look for me in
Arendia or Tolnedra, because I was always in Sendaria.
Father peremptorily corrected my mistake by banishing me from
the place I loved. I looked upon the four and a half centuries I was
forced to live in the Alorn kingdoms as a period of exile, but I did
learn to ignore national boundaries during those interminable years.
I still yearned to return to Sendaria, though. I’d invested a large
part of my life in that land and even though I no longer ruled the
nation which had grown out of my former duchy, I still liked to be
In Place to deal with anything that might possibly start to fall apart.
Duties can sometimes be very much like a pair of comfortable old
shoes, We’re reluctant to put them aside even when we have new
Ones.
Although I wasn’t really at ease in Kotu, Darion and Selana were
Young, and they soon adjusted to life there. Their newborn son had
a Drasnian name, and their costume was now Drasnian. Fortunately,
personality isn’t like costume. You don’t put it on and take it off. Deep
down where it really counted, Darion and Selana were still Sendars.
Darion didn’t swindle his customers, and Selana didn’t involve
herself in the backbiting and scheming of the neighborhood ladies.
Drasnians are obsessed with social status, I’ve noticed. The trait may
even have its source in Dras himself. Bull-neck never let his brothers
forget that he was the first-born of Bear-shoulders. Drasnian ladies
frequently try to elevate their own social status by bringing down
the current social lioness – usually by inventing clever lies about
her. Selana chose not to participate, and she made that very clear.
For some reason, not one neighbor lady ever tried to entertain me
with gossip. Isn’t that peculiar?
Oddly, considering the fact that this was Drasnia, the strict
morality of Darion and Selana raised them in the eyes of their neighbors
far more than any amount of scheming, swindling, or spiteful gossip
possibly could have. Despite their behavior, it seems that Drasnians
do respect decency.
That line of thought raises an interesting notion. Could it possibly
be that our itinerant Prince Kheldar, the thief who always has a
well-planned escape route out of every town in the world firmly in
mind, is secretly ashamed of his outrageous behavior and that a
hidden yearning for honesty and decency lurks somewhere deep
down in his grubby little soul?
On second thought, though, probably not.