but it was Alorn enough not to be considered unusual. On the
evening of the eventful day, when Enalla was sleeping and Celane
and I sat by the small fire, he with his infant son and I with my
sewing, he looked reflectively into the fire. ‘You know something,
Aunt Pol?’ he said quietly.
‘What’s that, dear?’
‘I’m really happy about the way things have turned out. I didn’t
really like it in Sendaria.’
‘Oh?’
‘When I lived at the Stronghold back during the war, I got all
puffed up. I lived with King Cho-Ram’s family, and everybody went
around calling me “Your Highness”. Then after Vo Mimbre, you
took us to Seline and made me learn how to make wooden barrels.
I didn’t really like that, you know. I thought it was beneath me.
That’s how Chamdar got his hook in my jaw. That “Rivan King”
business was like an angle-worm waved in Old Twister’s face. If I
did that, Twister wouldn’t be able to help himself; he’d have to bite
my bait. Does Chamdar ever do any fishing, Aunt Pol? If he does,
he’s probably very good. He certainly hooked me easily enough.’
He laughed then, just a bit ruefully. ‘Of course, I’m not nearly as
clever as Old Twister is.’
‘We broke Chamdar’s line, though,’ I told him.
‘You mean you did. If you hadn’t made it possible for me to hear
what he was thinking, he’d have had me on a platter for supper.
Anyway, I’m glad we moved here to Cherek. The people here in
Eingaard aren’t quite as serious as the Sendars in Seline were. Is it
against the law to laugh in Sendaria? Sendars never seem to enjoy
life. If I’d have hung my “gone fishing” sign on the door of the
barrel-works in Seline, everybody in town would have talked about
it for a year. Here in Eingaard, they just shrug and let it go at that.
You know, I go for whole weeks without even thinking about crowns
and thrones and all that foolishness. I’ve got good friends here, and
now I’ve got a new son. I love it here, Aunt Pol, I really do.
Everything I want in the whole wide world is here.’
‘Including Old Twister,’ I added, smiling fondly at him.
‘Oh, yes,’ he agreed. ‘Old Twister and I have this little
appointment. I will catch him one day, Aunt Pol, but don’t start polishing
your roasting pan, because after I catch him, I’m going to let him’
go again.’
Now, that startled me. ‘You’re going to do what?’
‘I’m going to unhook him, unwrap my line from around him and
then slip him back into the stream.’
‘If you’re just going to turn him loose, why catch him?’
He grinned broadly. ‘For the fun of catching him, Aunt Pol. And,
of course, if I turn him loose, I can catch him again.’
Men!
It was during Enalia’s pregnancy that my wandering father went
to Car og Nadrak to follow up on one of those deliberately vague
hints in the Darine Codex, and while he was there, he teamed up
with a Nadrak gold-hunter named Rablek – and would you believe
that they actually stumbled across a sizeable deposit of gold? I’ve
seen my father’s stack of gold bars, and though he’s not quite as
rich as I am, at least I don’t have to worry about his picking my
pocket every time he needs a few pennies for beer.
I sent word to him about Carel’s birth, and he stopped by that
autumn to have a look at his new grandson. Then he and I had a
chance to talk. ‘How did the fishing business work out?’ he asked
me.
‘Probably better than you imagined it would,’ I replied. ‘Every
man in Eingaard drops everything he’s doing when the fish start
biting, and they accepted Celane as a brother just as soon as he told
them about Old Twister.’
‘Who’s Old Twister?’
‘That big fish that got away from Celane the first day we got
here.’
‘The local fish have names?’
‘A quaint custom here in Eingaard. Any word about Chamdar?’
‘Not a peep. I think he’s gone down a hole some place.’
‘I believe I can live without his company.’
‘Don’t worry, Pol. I’ll get him someday.’
‘Now you sound just like Celane. He says the same thing about
Old Twister. There’s a difference though. Celane wants to catch Old
Twister, but then he wants to let him go again.’
‘What for?’
‘So he can catch him again.’
‘That’s absolutely absurd.’
‘I know. It’s what he wants to do, though. Give my best to the
twins. Will you be staying for supper?’
‘What are we having?’
‘Fish. What else?’
‘I think I’ll pass, Pol. I’m in the mood for baked ham this evening.’
‘This particular fish didn’t have a name, father. It’s not like we’ll
be eating an old friend.’
‘Thanks all the same, Pol. Stay in touch.’ And then he left.
Our lives passed quietly and uneventfully in Eingaard. As he
grew more proficient at his hobby, Gelane reached the point where
he caught Old Twister at least once a year, and during the winter
months he’d take food out to that secluded little pool in the
swiftly running mountain stream and feed his friend. I’m certain that
Twister appreciated that, and he probably reached the point that he
actually recognized his benefactor – by his smell certainly, if not by
his appearance.
Enalla had two more children in rapid succession, both girls, so
I had lots of babies to play with.
Old Twister died, of natural causes probably, in the winter of
4801, and given the number of predators and scavengers along the
banks of any mountain stream it’s really rather remarkable that
Celane actually found him. My nephew’s face was sorrowful, and
there were even tears in his eyes when he brought the huge trout
home. He leaned his fish-pole against the side of the house, and I
don’t believe he ever touched it again. Then he sadly buried his
friend near the stone wall in my garden, and he transplanted a pair
of rose-bushes to mark the spot. You would not believe how big
those bushes grew or how beautiful the roses were. Maybe in some
strange sort of way that was Twister’s thanks for all the times Celane
had fed him in the winter.
Late that summer – 4902, I think – something got into the stream
that supplied water to our village. I don’t think it was a dead animal,
because the illness that swept through Eingaard didn’t have that
kind of symptoms. Despite my best efforts, many people in Eingaard
died, and among them was Gelane. My time for grieving came only
later, since there were still those among the sick who could be saved.
Then, after the illness had run its course, I devoted much of my
time trying to locate the source of the infection, but it eluded me.
Enalla and the children had not fallen ill, but the impact of my
nephew’s death was probably even more devastating than a
personal illness ever could have been. There was at that particular time
only one real vulture in Emsat, and he approached Enalla filled with
false sympathy and an insultingly small offer for Celane’s shop.
‘Why don’t you let me handle it, dear?’ I suggested.
‘Oh, would you, Aunt Pol? I can’t decide what to do.’
‘I can, dear,’ I told her, and I did. I visited the tavern that very
evening and advised the local fishermen’s group of the offer and
let them know that I found the fellow who’d made it very offensive,
They took care of the-matter for me, and our local entrepreneur left
town the very next morning – right after I’d treated a number of
cuts and abrasions and set the broken bone in his right arm.
Evidently, he’d fallen down a flight of stairs ~ repeatedly. Small town
justice in Cherek is very direct, I noticed.
We might have left the village after that, but Enalla was reluctant
to leave Gelane’s grave behind, and by now she had many friends
in the village. Carel and his sisters grew up there, and when Carel
was sixteen, the bell rang in my head again. The girl who rang it
was a bubbly blonde Cherek girl named Merel, and we got the pair
of them married on fairly short notice. There weren’t any bars for
windows in Eingaard, and the village was immersed in a deep forest
where there was far too much underbrush for my comfort, given
the inevitable adolescent urge for exploration. Merel was one of
those incredibly fertile Cherek girls who seem to be almost
constantly pregnant. Every couple of years, Carel, who was now the
village carpenter, added more rooms to our house, but he could still
barely keep up. His eldest son, Darion, ended up with thirteen
brothers and sisters.