“Grath will find him. We won't lose him.” Menish had to know the answer to those eyes.
Hrangil glared at him.
“You would track him like an animal?”
“I would fetch him back,” he said gently. He would have added that Hrangil should curb his passion until more was known of the man from the Chasm, but he knew Hrangil would only hear such a suggestion as an echo of blasphemy.
Presently the others returned with their kill slung on a pole between Althak and Grath. Drinagish walked beside them with the arrogant swagger of one who had dealt the killing blow. It was a sizable animal and they were pleased with themselves. There would be plenty of meat for their voyage south to Atonir. The Vorthenki were inclined to eat too much fish for the Anthorians’ liking.
“Where is Azkun?” asked Althak.
“He ran away,” said Menish simply. “Grath, we need your woodcraft to track him. Go with him, Althak, he may not fear you. Bolythak, too. Drinagish can parcel this fine kill.” Althak did not ask the question that was written on his face, why did he run? Menish did not answer because he had no answer. Hrangil assumed it was because of Menish’s manner, Menish thought he might be mad, and if he were mad he might even be Gilish.
“That direction, he's not been gone long, but be swift.”
They set off, Althak still obviously puzzled by this development and the other two unquestioning. For them Menish’s brief explanation was enough.
Once they had gone Menish began furiously rubbing his leg, trying to restore it to use. The pain had eased considerably thanks to the fire. He could put his weight on it. But it still ached when he tried to walk.
Meanwhile Hrangil glared at him silently and Drinagish, quite unaware of the tension between them, chattered away blithely about the kill. He was anxious to show his uncle the gaping hole in the pig’s throat. Menish listened half-heartedly while he massaged his leg.
“It was hiding in a thicket, Uncle, barely large enough to cover it. I think I saw it first but Grath pointed it out to Althak, he had seen some droppings a few paces away. Anyway, I rushed in with my dagger, this one, Uncle, you gave it to me yourself.’ He held up a curved hunting knife that Menish knew well. It still dripped blood. “Grath chopped it across the neck but it dodged and he missed it. Althak caught it on the flank with his sword, silly to try with a sword really, but I grabbed it by the shoulder and stabbed it under the throat. I’m covered in blood, of course. Bolythak said it was not the cleanest kill he had ever seen but I don't care. I killed it anyway.”
Menish wished Drinagish were less arrogant. Last year, on his sixteenth birthday, Menish had declared him to be his heir. He had left the matter too long as it was, but the heir had to be a member of the royal house and Menish and Adhara had no children of their own. There were few enough to choose from because the battle with Gashan had almost wiped out the Anthorian royal family. Drinagish was his choice, for better or worse. It would have to be ratified by the clan council in the event of Menish’s death of course, and Menish had until then to make a king of him. He was not entirely pleased with his progress, but not entirely disappointed either.
“Well, since you killed it you will now have to butcher it. I'll not ride into Lianar with a pig trailing in the dust behind us in triumph.”
At that Drinagish looked disconcerted. He did not mind patches of blood on his tunic to show the triumph of his kill, but to be delegated the messy business of parcelling the meat had no attraction whatsoever. It was no use protesting, however. Anyone could see that Menish was in no mood to be disobeyed. Drinagish set about cutting up the pig.
He was almost finished when the others returned. Azkun was not with them.
“You lost him?” Menish was incredulous. His leg was no longer concerning him and he paced back and forth by the fire.
“I’m sorry, Sire,” said Grath. “I came upon a place where he stopped and rested but he must have heard me coming and ran off.”
“Heard you coming? You? What were you doing blundering about like a randy stallion? You can be as quiet as a ghost.”
“I was quiet, Sire, quiet as I can be. I was able to follow him some distance. He made for a stream and I thought he would confuse his tracks in the water.” Grath grinned. “He left a clear footprint on the far side of the stream, an old trick. I spent precious minutes looking for the real path. But there was no trick. He had gone the way of the footprint.
“I followed as quickly as I could and chased him across a hillside. I don't think he knew I could see him. I was trying to force him in Althak and Bolythak’s direction, but he must have seen them and went for the river.
“There was a swiftly flowing torrent, cold as the mountain snows. I tracked him to the edge and… well, he seems to have jumped in.”
“Jumped in?”
“We searched the banks downstream, but there were rapids and then the water ran over a cliff. He either drowned in the river, was crushed in the rapids or he reached the other side of the water before he was swept over the falls. But the water was very cold, Sire. He would not have survived long.”
Althak nodded slowly, confirming Grath’s story.
“Damn!” said Menish. But he did not think Azkun was dead. How could a river kill a man who could stand in dragon fire? This one was made of sterner stuff than that, although he acted like a fool.
If he had survived they could search the wild land for weeks and not find him. Perhaps he could be made to find them instead.
“Grath, you did well. We have other means of fetching Azkun back. See if you can help Drinagish parcel that meat, he is making a foul mess of both it and himself. Bolythak and Althak can gather more wood for the fire. At dusk I want a roaring blaze going that he can see for miles if he is alive.”
Althak grinned and nodded his approval of Menish’s scheme. Drinagish looked disgruntled at the description of his labours, but he accepted Grath’s help cheerfully enough. Menish, deciding that exercise was probably the best thing for his leg, accompanied Althak on his search for firewood. Hrangil remained by the fire. He looked older than he had done this morning.
Their search for wood did not take them far. A fallen tree lay a few paces through the woods.
“You wondered why he ran,” said Menish.
“M’Lord?”
“Of course you did. It was written all over your face. You wondered what we did to make him run.”
“M’Lord, I-”
“Hrangil thinks I insulted him by saying something about Gilish,” continued Menish. He felt that Althak, the only one who was not awed by Azkun, deserved an explanation. “But I don't know. He leaped to his feet suddenly, clawing at his throat and jerking like one in a fit. Then he cried out something unintelligible and ran. Hrangil tried to call him back, but he just ran off.”
Menish paused, wondering whether to ask his question.
“What do you think, Althak? I asked you this morning, and I ask you again. You're the only one who can look at the matter clearly. If he is mad, could he be Gilish?”
Althak stopped breaking off branches from the fallen tree and stared at Menish in surprise.
“M’Lord, I'm hardly a reliable judge of these things. I know little of Gilish. Hrangil-”
“Hrangil would condemn me of blasphemy, the others would give me fables I already know. At least I do not already know your fables.”
Althak hesitated for a moment then spoke.
“I have seen a man take a shaking fit once which sounds like the thing you describe. He was not mad, but a korolith would take his body at times and abuse it. Some tried to make him speak while the korolith had him, hoping for wisdom, but the korolith wouldn't speak. Mostly, though, they were afraid. But after such a fit the man would need rest. He was never capable of running off as Azkun did.”
Menish nodded slowly. He had seen such a fit himself once. But he was not sure that Azkun had suffered the same thing either. Althak was right. He should not have been able to run off afterwards.
“So perhaps he was simply mad, as Gilish was.” Perhaps Hrangil was right. But what could they do with a mad magician?
“If it's madness it's sudden. He's acted strangely since we met him, that's to be expected. But I wouldn't have said that he was mad.”
