Yen Olass recalled her first days on Carawell, when she'd been renovating Skyhaven. Strangers had dropped by, and, after watching her work for some time – in the beginning, their studied silence had unnerved her – they had ventured to introduce themselves and to assist with a little tactful advice, advice which was always given in that dry, sage, wisdom-of-generations manner which they had brought to such perfection.
Which was how Yen Olass had come to dig forty-seven earthing holes to protect against crawling lightning, to rig up a net over her door at night to entangle any invasive land octopuses, and to crowd the roof with sharpened hnials to ward against garret hawks. All these fortifications had long since disappeared, but on every trip to Brennan, someone was always sure to remind her about them – old Gezeldux would always rise to the occasion, even if nobody else did.
'Mam?’
'What?' said Yen Olass.
'Mam, Quelaquix wants to go out.’
'Then you get up and let him out.’
'I can't.’
'Why not?’
'Can't you see? Vex is sitting on my lap.’
Why did I askt thought Yen Olass.
'Sitting is all right,' said Yen Olass. 'But rumpaging isn't. Especially not in bed.’
'What's rumpaging?’
'What dragons do that they shouldn't.’
'But dragons don't exist,' said Monogail. 'Mam said so.’
'Did she now?' said Yen Olass, skilled by now at extricating herself from these predicaments without getting too deeply entangled in advanced metaphysics. 'Maybe that's so, but cats do exist, so I've got to let Quelaquix out.’
'To go hunting.’
'Yes,' said Yen Olass, 'Hunting a chiz,’
The cat was eager, alert, poised for a big adventure in the dark. That suggested it would be a fine night, and probably a good day tomorrow. If it was going to rain during the night, Quelaquix became an altogether different animal: a profoundly recumbent heap of fur sagging over the floor in a prime spot enjoying the full benefit of the fire.
Yen Olass opened the door, and Quelaquix slipped outside. Looking out into the starlight, Yen Olass saw a dark figure standing watching. She reached up to the lintel and fetched down a gollock, a thick-bladed machete nicely weighted for demolishing a man's face. Sliding outside, she closed the door behind her, slipped sideways and lost herself in amongst the saltwater pines. There she went to ground.
Hiding in the shelter of the trees, she closed her eyes to adjust her vision to the darkness, and listened. Opening her eyes again, she saw the figure moving through the night. Soundlessly. Whoever he was, he must have seen her break for the trees, and now he was coming after her. Stealing a glance over her shoulder, Yen Olass waited. She was ready.
'Yen Olass,' said the man.
Spitting out the breath she had been holding, Yen Olass got to her feet and stalked out of hiding.
'You bastard!' she said. 'You whoredog rat-rapist, how long have you been skulking around in the dark?’
'Give you a fright, did I?' said Morgan Hearst.
'Fright!' said Yen Olass, inserting the gollock between his legs. 'I'll give you fright! How would you like to sing soprano?’
'Not today, thanks,' said Hearst, reaching down to remove the cold steel. 'Anyway, you've got the blunt edge uppermost.’
'For sure,' said Yen Olass. T wouldn't want to hurt a pathetic old cripple unless I had to. What've you been doing out here?’
'Practising,' said Hearst. T have to stay sharp.’
'For what? Is it true what they say – that your, last trip to Sung was to kill a man?’
'My lips are sealed,' said Hearst. 'I'm a professional. Remember?’
'Okay, professional, how did I do?’
'You did well,' said Hearst. 'A regular nightfighter. But I still think you should build a back door.’
'Come and stay for a few days with a few of your braves,' said Yen Olass. 'You could get it done in no time.’
The door opened, and a small figure stood in the doorway illuminated by the glow of firelight.
'Mam!’
'It's all right, Monogail.' 'What're you doing, mam?' 'I'm chasing a chiz.’
'Oh, really? Have you caught it? Can I help?’
'Go back inside,' said Yen Olass. 'It's cold out here.’
But Monogail came racing out into the night. Shouting.
'Gnaar! Dragons! Ah! What? Uncle Hearst!’
'How's my darling?' said Hearst, scooping Monogail into his arms and giving her a kiss.
'Put her down, you lecherous old monster,' said Yen Olass. 'Now come inside – but don't sit on the dragon.’
'Dragon?’
'Not a dragon, mam,' said Monogail. 'A ghost. His name's Vex. He was a dragon once, but now he's dead. You killed him, Uncle Hearst. Killed him dead.’
'Did I?' said Hearst. 'Which one was that? Tell me about it.’
With Monogail clutching his hand and chattering excitedly, he led the way inside.
Morning.
Yen Olass woke, and yawned. The door was ajar. Quelaquix had come in while she was asleep, and was now curled up on top of Monogail. Yen Olass couldn't imagine how her child could sleep with that great lump of a cat on top of her.
Careful not to disturb child or cat, Yen Olass got out of bed and opened the shutters, and looked out to sea. The tide was in, with a brisk wind sending waves surging up the beach.
Going outside, Yen Olass found Hearst practising with his sword. She watched, till his shadow-fighting brought him wheeling round to face her.
'You left the door open,' said Yen Olass sharply. 'Were you born in a tent?’
'No,' said Hearst cheerfully. T was born under a boat. What's the problem, anyway? Afraid of land octopuses?’
He sheathed his sword and came to the door, grinning. He looked strong and healthy.
'What's for breakfast? Vegetables? How's the seaweed growing?’
'It needs nourishment,' said Yen Olass. 'How would you like to be manure? Come on, let's go to the fish- garth.’
As they walked inland, Yen Olass wondered whether to ask Hearst about his business. He was too much a man of affairs to have come here for pleasure. Although most of the Rovac had left the Lesser Teeth two years ago, abandoning all dreams of power in Argan, Hearst remained the leader of a hundred warriors who had chosen to stay in Brennan. With these fighting men and five ships at his disposal, he was rapidly becoming a rich man, daring his vessels past the Orfus pirates to trade for steel in the island of Stokos. He was now building a warehouse, and a big residence for himself made from imported cedar.
The night before, they had talked about Resbit, about the exploits of young Elkordansk, and about Aardun's first birthday. Aardun, son of Resbit and Morgan Hearst, was their second child; the first, the ill-fated Nesh Enelorf, had died of colic a few days after birth. With gossip over, it was time to talk seriously, though Yen Olass could not imagine what Hearst might want.
Inland, amidst the hath grass and the gallows trees, the sward pond lay in the centre of a piece of marshy
