Shardik Page 10

  "That girl had some sense," he said at length. "No bear for her."

  Kelderek, who had been hoping against hope that he might be proved wrong, felt a dreary disappointment, an anguish like that of a man who, having been robbed, reflects how easily all might have been prevented; and a sense of personal betrayal by one whom he had admired and honored, which he knew better than to try to express to the Baron. Why could Melathys not have asked him to help her? She had turned out, he thought sorrowfully, like some beautiful, ceremonial weapon, all fine inlay and jewels, which proved to have neither balance nor cut.

  "But where has she gone, my lord? Back to Quiso?"

  "No, nor to Ortelga, for she knows they would kill her. We'll never see her again. She'll end in Zeray. A pity, for she could have done more than I to persuade the girls to go home. As it is, we've simply lost a canoe; and one or two other things as well, I dare say."

  They began to make their way back beside the brook. The Baron walked slowly, jabbing with his stick at the turf, like one turning something over in his mind. After a time he said, "Kelderek, you were watching me when I first looked down into the pit yesterday. No doubt you saw that I was afraid."

  Kelderek thought, "Does he mean to kill me?" "When I first saw the bear, my lord," he answered, "I threw myself on the ground for fear. I--"

  Bel-ka-Trazet raised a hand to silence him.

  "I was afraid, and I am afraid now. Yes, afraid for myself--to be dead may be nothing, yet who relishes the business of dying?--but afraid for the people also, for there will be many fools like you; and women, too, perhaps, as foolish as those up there," and he swung the point of his stick toward the camp.

  After a little, "Do you know how I came by my pretty looks?" he asked suddenly. And then, as Kelderek said nothing, "Well, do you know or not?"

  "Your disfigurement, my lord? No--how should I know?"

  "How should I know what tales are told in the pothouses of Ortelga?"

  "I'm something of a stranger to those, my lord, as you know, and if there is a tale, I never heard it."

  "You shall hear it now. Long ago, while I was still little more than a lad, I used to go out with the Ortelgan hunters--now with one and now with another, for my father was powerful and could require it of them. He wanted me to learn both what hunting teaches lads and what hunters can teach them; and I was ready enough to learn on my own account. I traveled far from Ortelga. I have crossed the mountains of Gelt and hunted the long-horned buck on the plains southwest of Kabin. And I have crossed to Deelguy and stood two hours up to my neck in the Lake of Klamsid to net the golden cranes at dawn."

  They had reached the lower end of a pool into which the brook came down in a little fall something higher than a man. On either side extended a steep bank, and beside the pool a melikon stretched its trim, crisp-leaved branches over the water. This is the tree that the peasants call "False Lasses." The bright, pretty berries that follow the flowers are unfit to eat and of no use, but toward summer's end their color turns to a glinting, powdery gold and they fall of their own accord in the stillest of air. Bel-ka-Trazet stooped, drank from his hands and then sat down with his back against the bank and the long stick upright between his raised knees. Kelderek sat uneasily beside him. Afterward, he remembered the harsh voice, the slow turning of the stars, the sound of the water and now and again the light plop as a berry fell into the pool.

  "I have hunted with Durakkon, and with Senda-na-Say. I was with the Barons of Ortelga thirty years ago, when we hunted the Blue Forest of Katria as the guests of the king of Terekenalt and killed the leopard they called the Blacksmith. That was King Karnat, who was almost a giant. We were merry after the hunt and we weighed him against the Blacksmith; but the Blacksmith turned the scale. The Barons were pleased with the part I had played in the hunt and they gave me the Blacksmith's eyeteeth, but I gave them to a girl later. Yes," said Bel-ka-Trazet reflectively, "I gave them to a girl who used to be glad to see my face.

  "Well, it's no matter, lad, what I've seen or known, though I sit here bragging to the stars that saw it long ago and can tell the truth from the lies. By the time I had become a young man there was not a baron or a hunter in Ortelga who was not eager and proud to hunt with me. I hunted with whom I would and declined company that I thought too poor for the name I had made for myself. I was--ah!" He broke off, thumping the butt of his stick on the grass--"You have heard old, wrinkled women round a fire, have you, talking of their lovers and their beauty?

  "One day a lord from Bekla, one Zilkron of the Arrows, came to visit my father with presents. This Zilkron had heard of my father in Bekla--how he drew the best hunters about him, and of the skill and courage of his son. He gave my father gold and fine cloth; and the heart of it was that he wanted us to take him hunting. My father did not fancy this soap-using lord from Bekla but, like all the flea-bitten barons of Ortelga, he could not afford to refuse gold; so he said to me, 'Come, my lad, we'll take him across the Telthearna and find him one of the great, savage cats. That should send him home with a tale or two.'

  "Now the truth was that my father knew less than he supposed about the great cats--the cats that weigh twice as much as a man, kill cattle and alligators and rip open the shells of turtles when they come ashore to lay their eggs. The plain truth is that they are too dangerous to hunt, unless one traps them. By this time I knew what could and could not be done and did not need to prove to myself that I was no coward. But I did not want to tell my father that I knew better than he. So I began to think how I could best go to work behind his back to save our lives.

  "We crossed the Telthearna and began by hunting the green-and-black water serpents, the leopard killers that grow to four or five times the length of a man. Have you hunted them?"

  "Never, my lord," replied Kelderek.

  "They are found by night, near rivers, and they are fierce and dangerous. They have no poison, but kill by crushing. We were resting by day, so that I spent much idle time with Zilkron. I came to know him well, his pride and vanity, his splendid weapons and equipment which he did not know how to use, and his trick of capping hunters' talk with tales he had heard elsewhere. And always I worked on him to make him think that the great cats were not worth his while and that he would do better to hunt some other beast. But he was no coward and no fool and soon I saw that I would have to pay some real price to change his mind, for he had come of set purpose to buy danger of which he could go home and boast in Bekla. At last I spoke of bears. What trophy, I asked, could compare with a bearskin, head and claws and all? Inwardly I knew that the danger would still be great, but at least I knew of bears that they are not constantly savage and that they have poor sight and can sometimes be confused. Also, in rocky or hilly country you can sometimes get above them and so use a spear or an arrow before they have seen you. The long and short of it was that Zilkron decided that what he wanted was a bear and he spoke to my father.

  "My father was of two minds, for as Ortelgans we had no business to be killing bears. At first he was afraid of the idea, but we were far from home, the Tuginda would never get to hear and none of us was pious or devout. At length we set off for the Shardra-Main, the Bear Hills, and reached them in three days.

  "We went up into the hills and hired some villagers as trackers and guides. They led us higher, on to a rocky plateau, very cold. The bears, they said, lived there but often came down to raid farms and hunt in the woods below. No doubt the villagers had learned something from the bears, for they too stole all they could. One of them stole a tortoiseshell comb that Zilkron had given me, but I never found out which was the thief.

  "On the second day we found a bear--a big bear that made Zilkron point and chatter foolishly when he saw it moving far off against the sky. We followed it carefully, for I was sure that if it came to feel that it was being driven, it would slip away down one or another side of the mountain, and we would lose it altogether. When we reached the place where we had seen it, it had disappeared, and there was nothing to
do but to go higher and hope to get a sight of it from above. We did not see it again all that day. We camped high up, in the best shelter we could find; and very cold it was.

  "The next morning, just as it was getting light, I woke to hear strange noises--breaking sticks, a sack dragged, a pot rolling on its side. It was not like fighting, but more like some drunken fellow stumbling about to find his bed. I was lying in a little cleft like a passage, out of the wind, and I got up and went outside to see what was amiss.

  "What was amiss was the bear. The Beklan lout on guard had fallen asleep, the fire had burned low and no one had seen the bear come shambling into the camp. He was going through our rations, such as they were, and helping himself. He had got hold of a bag of dried tendriona and was dragging it about. The village fellows were all lying flat, and still as stones. As I watched, he patted one of them with his paw, as much as to tell him not to be afraid. I thought, 'If I can get up on some high spot, where he can't reach me, I can wait until he is clear of the camp and then put an arrow in him'--for I was not going to wound him in the camp, among men who had had no warning. I slipped back for my bow and climbed up the side of the little cleft where I had been sleeping. I came out on top of the rock and there was our fine friend just below me, with his head buried in the bag, munching away and wagging his tail like a lamb at the ewe. I could have leaned down and touched his back. He heard me, pulled his head out and stood up on his hind legs; and then--you may believe this or not, Kelderek, just as you please--he looked me in the face and bowed to me, with his front paws folded together. Then he dropped on all fours and trotted away.

  "While I was staring after him, up comes Zilkron and two of his servants, all set to follow. I put them off with some excuse or other--a lame one it must have been, for Zilkron shrugged his shoulders without a word and I saw his men catch each other's eye. I left them to make what they cared out of it. I was like you, Kelderek--and like every man in Ortelga, I dare say. Now that I had come face to face with a bear, I was not going to kill him and I was not going to let Zilkron kill him either. But I did not know what to do, for I could not say, 'Now let us all turn round and go home.'

  "My father, after he had heard Zilkron's story, asked me privately whether I had been afraid. I tried to tell him something of what I felt, but he had never actually encountered a bear and merely looked perplexed.

  "That day I bribed the leader of the villagers to guide us in such a way that it would look as though we were after the bear, but actually to take us where we were unlikely to find it. It was nothing to him--he merely grinned and took the price. By nightfall we had seen nothing more and I fell asleep wondering what I should do next.

  "I was woken by Zilkron. A full moon was setting and frost was glittering on the rocks. His face was full of triumph--and mockery too, I fancied. He whispered, 'He's here again, my lad!' He was holding his big, painted bow with the green silk tassels and hand grip of polished jet. As soon as he was sure I was awake, he left me. I got up and stumbled after him. The villagers were huddled behind a rock but my father and Zilkron's two servants were standing out in the open.

  "The bear was certainly coming. He was coming like a fellow on his way to the fair--trotting along and licking his lips. He'd seen our fire and smelled the food. I thought, 'He has never come across men until yesterday. He does not know we mean to kill him.' The fire was burning bright enough but he did not seem afraid of it. He came clambering over a little pile of rocks and began nosing round the foot. I suppose the cooks had left some food there.

  "Zilkron laid a hand on my shoulder and I could feel his gold rings against my collarbone. 'Don't be afraid,' he said. 'Don't be afraid, my lad. I'll have three arrows in him before he has time even to think of charging.' He went closer. I followed him and the bear turned and saw us.

  "One of Zilkron's men--an old fellow who had looked after him since he was a child--called out, 'No nearer, my lord.' Zilkron flapped his hand behind him without looking back and then drew his bow.

  "At that moment the bear stood up once more on his hind legs and looked straight at me, his head inclined and his front paws one over the other, and gave two little grunts, 'Ah! Ah!' As Zilkron loosed the string I struck his arm. The arrow split a branch in the fire and the sparks flew up in a shower.

  "Zilkron turned on me very quietly, as though he had been half-expecting something of the sort. 'You stupid little coward,' he said, 'get back over there.' I stepped in front of him and walked toward the bear--my bear, who was begging a man of Ortelga to save him from this golden oaf.

  "'Get out of the way!' shouted Zilkron. I looked round to answer him and in that instant the bear was down upon me. I felt a heavy blow on my left shoulder and then he had wrapped me about and was clutching me against him, gnawing and biting at my face. The wetness and sweetness of his breath was the last thing I felt.

  "When I came to myself, it was three days later and we were back in the hill village. Zilkron had left us, for my father had heard him call me coward and they had quarreled bitterly. We stayed there two months. My father used to sit by my bed and talk, and hold my hand, and tell old tales, and then fall silent, the tears standing in his eyes as he looked at what was left of his splendid son."

  Bel-ka-Trazet gave a short laugh. "He took it hard. He'd learned less of life than I, now I'm his age. But that's no matter. Why do you think I sent my servants back from Quiso and came here unattended? I will tell you, Kelderek, and mark me well. As you are a man of Ortelga, so you cannot help feeling the power of the bear. And every man in Ortelga will feel it, unless we see to it--you and I--that things go otherwise. If we cannot, then in one way or another all Ortelga will be set awry and smashed, just as my face and body have been smashed. The bear is a folly, a madness, treacherous, unpredictable, a storm to wreck and drown you when you think yourself in calm water. Believe me, Kelderek, never trust the bear. He'll promise you the power of God and betray you to ruin and misery."

  Bel-ka-Trazet stopped and looked up sharply. From beyond the top of the bank a heavy, stumbling tread shook the branches of the melikon so that a perfect cascade of berries tumbled into the pool. Then, immediately above them, there appeared against the brilliant stars a huge, hunched shape. Kelderek, springing to his feet, found himself looking up into the bleared and peering eyes of Shardik.

  12 The Baron's Departure

  WITHOUT GETTING UP or taking his eyes from the bear, Bel-ka-Trazet groped in the water behind him, picked up a stone and tossed it into the darkness beyond the bank. As it fell the bear turned its head and the Baron stepped quickly into the pool, wading under the cascade and into the narrow space between the curtain of falling water and the bank behind. Kelderek remained where he was as the bear once more looked down at him. Its eyes were dull and there was a trembling, now in the front legs and now in the head itself. Suddenly the creature's massive shoulders convulsed. In a low, sharp voice, Bel-ka-Trazet said, "Kelderek, come back here!"

  Once more the hunter found himself without fear, sharing, with spontaneous insight at which he had no time to wonder, the bear's own perceptions. They, he knew, were dulled with pain. Feeling that pain, he felt also the impulse to wander blindly away, to seek relief in restlessness and movement. To strike, to kill would have been a still greater relief, but the pain had induced an insuperable feebleness and confusion. He realized now that the bear had not seen him. It was peering, not at him but at the slope of the bank and hesitating, in its weakness, to descend it. As he still stood motionless, it sank slowly down until he could feel upon his face the moisture of its breath. Again Bel-ka-Trazet called, "Kelderek!"

  The bear was sliding, toppling forward. Its fall was like the collapse of a bridge in a flood. As though through the creature's own dimmed eyes, Kelderek saw the ground at the foot of the bank rising to meet him and lurched aside from the suddenly perceived figure of a man--himself. He was standing in the water as Shardik, with a commotion like that of shipwreck, clawed, fell and rolled to the edge of the poo
l. He watched him as a child watches grown men fighting--intensely, shockingly aware, yet at the same time unafraid for himself. At length the bear lay still. Its eyes were closed and one of the wounds along its flank had begun to bleed, slow and thick as cream, upon the grass.

  It was growing light and Kelderek could hear from behind him the first raucous cries in the awakening forest. Without a word Bel-ka-Trazet stepped through the waterfall, drew his knife and dropped on one knee in front of the motionless bulk. The bear's head was sunk on its chest, so that the long jaw covered the slack of the throat. The Baron was moving to one side for his blow when Kelderek stepped forward and twisted the knife out of his hand.

  Bel-ka-Trazet turned on him with a cold rage so terrible that the hunter's words froze on his lips.

  "You dare to lay your hands on me!" whispered the Baron through his teeth. "Give me that knife!"

  Confronted, for the second time, by the anger and authority of the High Baron of Ortelga, Kelderek actually staggered, as though he had been struck. To himself, a man of no rank or position, obedience to authority was almost second nature. He dropped his eyes, shuffled his feet and began to mutter unintelligibly.

  "Give me that knife," repeated Bel-ka-Trazet quietly.

  Suddenly Kelderek turned and fled. Clutching the knife, he stumbled through the pool and clambered to the top of the bank. Looking back, he saw that Bel-ka-Trazet was not pursuing him, but had lifted a heavy rock in both hands and was standing beside the bear, holding it above his head.

  With a hysterical feeling like that of a man leaping for his life from a high place, Kelderek picked up a stone and threw it. It struck Bel-ka-Trazet on the back of the neck. As he flung back his head and sank to his knees, the rock slipped from between his hands and fell across the calf of his right leg. For a few moments he knelt quite still, head thrown upward and mouth gaping wide; then, without haste, he released his leg, stood up and looked at Kelderek with an air of purposeful intent more frightening even than his anger.