Shardik

'Come on, come on,' muttered Shouter, 'before he kills the mucking lot of us. Move, that's all, move.'

Of themselves, the children could not have walked a hundred paces, could not have sat upright on a bench or stripped themselves of their verminous rags. Lame, sick, famished, barely conscious of their surroundings, they yet knew well enough that they were in the hands of Genshed. He it was who had the power to make the lame walk, the sick rise up and the hungry to overcome their faintness. They had not chosen him, but he had chosen them. Without him they could do nothing, but now he abode in them and they in him. He had overcome the world, so that life became a simple matter, without distraction, of moving, by his will, to the end which he had appointed. The will of Genshed, animating to the extent necessary to its purpose, excluded hope and fear of anything but itself, together with all import from other sights and sounds – from recollections of the previous day, from the evident terror of Shouter, the curious absence of Bled and the body of the little girl floating among the trepsis at the edge of the pool. The children were hardly more aware of these things than were the flies already clustering upon the blood of Lalloc soaking the ground. It was not for them to know the times or the seasons which Genshed had put in his own power. It was enough for them to do his will.

Kelderek, shuffling downhill among the trees, could feel no more than the rest. 'The child is dead,' he thought. 'Genshed killed her. Well, such things have become commonplace among us; and by that I can be certain that my own wickedness has completed its work in me. If I had any heart left, would I not cry out at this? But I want nothing, except to avoid more pain.'

The body of Bled was lying half-concealed in the undergrowth. It was surrounded by signs of violence – trampled earth and broken branches. The eyes were open, but in death the manic glare had left them, just as the limbs no longer retained their feral, crouching posture. It was these which had increased Bled's apparent size, as a live spider is magnified, in the eyes of those who fear it, by its vigilant tension and the possibility that it will run, suddenly and very fast, on its arched legs. Now, Bled looked like a spider dead – small, ugly and harmless; yes, and messy too, for one side of his head had been smashed in and his body was limp and crumpled, as though crushed in the grip of a giant. Along the left side his jerkin was torn open and the exposed flesh was lacerated by five great, parallel scratches, wide apart and deep.

Had he been even more feverish and weak, Kelderek, of all men, could not have failed to recognize the tracks about the corpse. Faint they were, for the ground was covered with moss and creeper, but had they been fainter still he would have known them. The boy's death, he realized, must have been recent, not more than two hours ago, and in this knowledge he motioned the children to silence and himself stood listening intently.

There was, however, no silencing Shouter as he flung himself to the ground in superstitious terror. Genshed, coming up with Radu chained to his belt, could hardly drag him to his feet.

'Mucking hell,' wept the boy, struggling. 'I told you, didn't I? It's the devil, Genshed; come for the lot of us I I saw it, I tell you, I saw it in the dark-'

Genshed slapped him across the face and he fell against Radu, who stood still as a post, staring sightlessly before him as Shouter blubbered and clutched at his hands. Kelderek, who felt it more than likely that Shardik was within hearing, watched Genshed to see whether he would pay any attention to the tracks or recognize them for what they were. He expected that he would not, and Genshed's first words proved him right.

'Looks like some animal got him,' said Genshed. 'Serves him right, eh, hiding and then trying to bugger off before daylight? Here, pull yourself together, Shouter; I'm giving you a chance. I'm being good to you, Shouter. There's no devil, you're just a silly little bastard, it's Ikats you've got to look out for. We got to be quick now, see? You get out there to the left, far as you can go, that's where they'll be coming from. If you spot any coming, get back to that rock down there on the bank – the one with the crack in it, see? – I'll be there. If you feel like giving yourself up to the Ikats, don't try it. They'll hang you off a tree before you can squeal. Understand?'

Shouter nodded and at another push from Genshed slipped away to the left, taking a line parallel to the bank of the Telthearna, which was now in sight below them, the inshore water green with reflections of the overhanging trees.

Downhill, each throb of the pulse a stab of pain behind the eyeballs, hand pressed over one eye, links of chain cutting into the wrist, vision blurred, so hard the effort to focus sight. Stumbling downhill; a sound of weeping, like a girl's; that must be an illusion. Don't weep, Melathys; dear love, don't weep for my death. Where will you go now, what will become of you? And did the soldiers ever reach Zeray? A message – but he'll never leave me to the soldiers, he'll kill me himself. Lord Shardik – after all, I shall the before Lord Shardik – I shall never'know the great purpose for which God required his death. I betrayed him -1 meant to kill him. Melathys on Quiso, Melathys playing with the Baron's sword. We couldn't expect mercy, a common man and a girl thrust into things too high for them. If only I'd listened to the Tuginda on the road to Gelt Saiyett, forgive me now; I shall be dead within the hour. If the little girl could die, then so can I. This cruel man, it was I that made his work possible, it was I that brought Lalloc and his like to Bekla.

Downhill, don't slip, don't drag on the chain. The sun must have risen, dazzling down there on the inshore water, glinting under the trees. How the pain runs up my hand from the wounded finger. I misled hundreds to misery and death; and the Tuginda could have saved them all. I was afraid of Ta-Kominion; but it's too late now. It's Radu, it's Radu weeping, Genshed's broken him in the end. He'll live to murder other children, he'll be across the river when the soldiers find the little girl in the pool. Did you see it, God? Do you see what children suffer? They used to call me Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. Why did You manifest Lord Shardik to a man like me, who only betrayed him and defeated Your purpose?

The undergrowth grew thicker near the river. As Kelderek stopped, hesitating, Genshed overtook him, his bow held in one hand while with the other he gripped Radu by the shoulder. He had gagged the boy with a piece of rope. Radu's head had fallen forward on his chest and his arms were hanging at his sides. Genshed began moving through the undergrowth towards the river bank, gesturing to Kelderek and the children to follow him in silence.

Kelderek stepped out upon the bank. The sun glittered in his eyes across the water. He found himself immediately above a little bay, a half-circular inlet surrounded by a steep bank perhaps twice as high as a man. All round the verge, to a breadth of two or three paces, the undergrowth had been cut back to make a path which, on either side of the bay, led down to the water's edge. A few yards to their right, squarely across this path and half- blocking it, stood the tall, cloven rock which Genshed had observed from the forest above. On their left, moored to the bank at the upstream corner of the inlet, lay a canoe, with nets, spears and other tackle strewn aboard. There was not a soul to be seen, but some distance beyond the canoe could be glimpsed, through the trees, a cluster of huts, from some of which smoke was already rising.

'Mucking hell!' whispered Genshed, casting a quick glance round among the trees, 'Easy as that!'

From the forest there sounded suddenly a loud, fluting call, almost human in its consonantal clarity. A moment afterwards a swift flash of purple and gold darted through the trees. It was a bird, so vivid in the sunlight that even the famished, feverish children stared in wonder.

'Kynat!' called the bird, 'Kynat chrrrr-ak! Kynat, Kynat will tell!'

Glowing like an alchemist's fire, the saffron undersides of its wings alternately revealed and hidden as it flew, it circled the little bay, hovered a moment, spreading the flanged gold of its tail, and then alighted on the stern of the moored canoe.

'Kynat will tell!' it called, looking, alert and bright-eyed, towards the emaciated wretches on the bank as though it had indeed come with intent to carry its message to them and to none else.

Kelderek, hearing the call, looked about for the bird, but could make out nothing but swirling greys and greens, stabbed thiough with the golden shafts of the sunlight. Then, as it called again, he saw the courtyard in Zeray, and Melathys leaning out between the shutters. Even as he watched, she faded, and he seemed to see himself shuffling away through the dark woods, while his tears, falling as though from cliff to cliff, disappeared at last into an extreme darkness older than the world.

'Kynat will tell!' called the bird, and Kelderek, coming to himself, saw it perched close above the water and Genshed standing with bow bent and arrow drawn to the head. Sudden and clumsy as a charred log falling in the fire, he lunged forward: the chain tautened and he fell against Genshed in the act of loosing. The deflected arrow slammed into the stern of the canoe, causing it to rock and turn at its mooring, so that ripples followed one another across the pool. The bird, opening its amazing wings, rose into the air and flew away down the river.

'Four hundred meld they fetch!' cried Genshed. Then, rubbing his left wrist where the loosed bow-string had whipped it, he said very quietly. 'Oh, Mister Crendrik, I must keep a little time for you, mustn't I? I must do that.'