Chapter 18
As Feranc closed the door behind a bewildered Antyr, Ibris sat down again by the fire. He beckoned Feranc over and indicated the chair opposite.
'An act of wisdom or folly, Ciarll?’ he asked.
'I think his wolf seduced you,’ Feranc replied. Ibris laughed and raised an admonishing finger. ‘You're too perceptive by half, Ciarll,’ he said. ‘But I know that wolf about as well as I know you, which is to say, quite well, and not at all. Now answer my question.'
'It was an act of judgement,’ Feranc said.
Ibris growled disparagingly. ‘Don't you start playing the courtier with me,’ he said.
Feranc smiled broadly. It was a sight that probably only the Duke ever saw.
'It was an act of judgement,’ he repeated. ‘And probably a sound one, but whether wisdom or folly, only time will tell.'
Ibris's eyes narrowed. ‘You're as evasive with words as you are with your sword blade when you want to be,’ he said. ‘What would you have done then?'
'Not have had myself made Duke in the first place,’ Feranc replied. Then, before the Duke could offer him any further reproach, his manner changed, as if his brighter nature were afraid to be seen abroad for too long.
'How is the ground under your feet?’ he asked, using the Duke's own question to Antyr.
Ibris leaned back in his chair and folded his hands quietly across himself. ‘Shifting and uncertain,’ he replied sombrely. ‘Not through all the battles for the succession; not through all the innumerable wars and skirmishes with the Bethlarii and their allies, have I ever felt so unsure, so beset. Is it old age catching up with me, Ciarll?'
'No,’ Feranc replied simply. ‘Old age merely slows the thinking a little, but the quality's better. It seems that we're being attacked by forces we've never known before, and it's unsettling, not to say frightening. But your judgement about the Dream Finder is almost certainly sound.'
Surprise suffused Ibris's face. ‘You accept these ramblings with considerable equanimity for a rational man, Commander,’ he said.
Feranc avoided his gaze briefly. ‘It's the nature of my training,’ he said, almost reluctantly. ‘To see what's there, and to see it and accept it for what it is. That is the action of a rational man.'
'Your training?’ Ibris said quietly but expectantly. It was the first time that he had heard Feranc make any reference to the time before he had come to Serenstad. Feranc, however, ignored the invitation to amplify the remark and remained silent.
'What have you seen then that you're so certain of my judgement?’ Ibris went on, regretting the passage of the moment.
'I've seen a Bethlarii envoy skulk into our land like a spy, in itself a profound change from their normal behaviour. I've seen at his shoulder the spectre of the threat of war on a scale that hasn't been known in generations. I've seen him behaving in a manner which virtually asked for his immediate execution and which gives us a grim measure of his religious fervour. Then I've seen the man I chose to help in his battle to bring order and civilization to this land seek the aid of a drunken practitioner of a strange and perhaps fraudulent art, and I've seen both Duke and Dream Finder transformed by their meeting; the latter especially. Now I hear that this same Dream Finder has been drawn to Menedrion, a fact even more improbable than his being sought by you.'
Feranc's delivery was flat and almost terse, as if he were a junior officer reporting intelligence to his seniors. He continued.
'The Bethlarii have turned towards the darkness of the primitive certainty of their religion. In your doubt, you've sought aid from a Dream Finder. Both actions lie beyond reason; they come as a response to something deep inside the human spirit. I've learned enough through the years to know that my head will tell me when to use my heart, and my heart will tell me when to use my head, and that while I'm prepared to use both I'll perhaps both survive and retain my sanity. I accept your judgement that the Bethlarii threat and the dreams could be related, perhaps deriving from some common source, and that being the case we must tend our Dream Finder as we'd tend our arrows and our pikes and our siege machines, even if we don't know what to do with him.'
There was a long silence.
'You never cease to surprise me, Ciarll,’ Ibris said eventually. ‘I'd have thought to get the sharper edge of your tongue for this last deed at least.'
Feranc raised one eyebrow quizzically but did not reply.
'Would you care to conjecture on the nature of this common source?’ Ibris offered.
Feranc shook his head. ‘I've seen … and felt … many strange things in my journeyings. Enough to know that sometimes the only thing that can be done is to wait and see what happens and then accept the reality of events no matter how divorced from reason they seem. Only thus can we gain the knowledge that will give us our defence. We're like the natives who must once have faced the first arrows.'
'That's not much consolation,’ Ibris interrupted. ‘They probably lost.'
Feranc smiled slightly. ‘A bad analogy,’ he said with an apologetic shrug.
'But apt, perhaps?’ Ibris replied.
Feranc moved his hand palm downwards across himself in a cutting action as if he had nothing further to add. ‘Analogies are for teachers and storytellers,’ he said. ‘We deal with reality directly. At best, your decision about Antyr may prove crucial at some unforeseeable time in the future. At worst, the palace has another mouth, or rather, pair of mouths, to feed. And they'll do no harm. From what I've found out, Antyr fought well enough when he had to, bravely even. And so far in his life, he's been more of an enemy to himself than anyone else.'
'He's not afraid to speak his mind,’ Ibris added with mild indignation.
Feranc smiled again. ‘He'll need to with you as a “client',’ he said. ‘He'd have been counting his bruises from the palace square stones by now if he hadn't defied you when you accused him of breaking the law. I said he was changing. Personally I'm getting to like him. Underneath his doubts I think he's very sound.’ He paused reflectively. ‘There's certainly more to him than meets the eye. And the wolf's beautiful.'
'Seduced you too, did he?’ Ibris said.
Feranc's smile broadened again. ‘If you'll excuse me, sire. I have duties to attend to,’ he replied.
Ibris nodded. ‘I'll join you in a few moments, Ciarll,’ he said. ‘I need to think a little.'
Feranc stood up and bowed.
As he reached the door, Ibris clicked his fingers. ‘Ciarll,’ he said, his brow furrowed. ‘Some time tonight or tomorrow tell Menedrion I need to speak to him. And make sure that Antyr's being looked after properly before you go back, will you? Rooms and procedures etc.’ He tapped his mouth thoughtfully. ‘And that Aaken pays him for last night and makes proper arrangements for a stipend,’ he added. ‘You know how “forgetful” he can get about such matters when it affects the palace purse.'
'Yes,’ Feranc agreed, not without some feeling. ‘He can be a very zealous guardian of our coffers at times.’ Then, in an echo of Tarrian's own observation, ‘Antyr could well starve to death in this place if we're not careful.'
Ibris nodded. ‘Him starving is one thing,’ he said. ‘That wolf starving is another.'
As Feranc quietly closed the door, Ibris turned and stared again into the flickering landscape of the fire with its black cliffs and crags, and its clefts and fissures glowing red and scorching yellow under the touch of invisible winds. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and allowed the fire to fill his vision.
Smoke swirled hither and thither, sparks rose and scattered up into the blackness of the chimney or tumbled in cascades into the depths. Spurts of flame burst out angrily. The more he looked, the more intense and complex became the activity.
Where can such frenzy come from? he thought as he glanced at the unburnt coals at the edge of the fire, black and lifeless; just so many dull, inert stones, their appearance not giving the slightest indication of the forces bound within.
* * * *
Once again, Antyr found himself following a servant in a daze. He and Tarrian had been taken from one office to another and had their names and needs noted by one officer after another. At each stage they had been treated with increasing deference, especially after a brief intervention by Ciarll Feranc at one point, but Antyr was in no mood to notice.
