Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [12]
Although Jahdo was sure that he’d never fall asleep, suddenly it was dawn. Wrapped in their blankets, Kiel and Niffa were sleeping nearby; the ferrets lay tumbled in pairs and threes in their straw. Jahdo got up, considered waking everyone, then decided that he could never bear to say good-bye. The night before, he’d gathered into a sack his few pieces of extra clothing, along with his winter cloak and the bone-handled knife his grandfather had given him, and put the lot by the front door. He dressed, pulled on his heaviest pair of boots, and slipped out of the chamber, tiptoeing past his parents’ bed. At the door he stopped, looking out into the gray light brightening on the passageway outside. If he turned round for a last look at home, he would cry. He grabbed his sack and hurried out.
He slithered down the passageway, climbed down the ladder, bolted into the wider street, and nearly collided with Councilman Verrarc. In the rising light Verrarc looked ill— that was the only word Jahdo had for it, anyway. His skin was dead-pale, and his eyes seemed huge, sunk in the puffy shadow of dark circles. Behind him stood two guards, armed, wearing chain-mail shirts under the loose red tabards that marked them as servants of the Council of Five. Even though his family knew their families, Jahdo saw them as jailers.
“There he is,” Verrarc sang out, and he was making some attempt at a smile. “Jahdo, the council does send its official thanks. Do you realize what that means? By taking up this burden of the treaty bond, you do work for everybody—the town, the council, your family—everybody. Why, lad, you be a hero!”
The two guards nodded their solemn agreement. Jahdo merely shrugged. He knew that if he tried to say one word, tears would pour and shame him. And yet, when they reached the main jetty and discovered the entire council assembled to hail the rat boy, Jahdo found himself caught by the moment. Admi himself stepped forward to take his hand and lead him onto the barge, where the town banners snapped and rustled as the mists blew away. The councilmen bowed, the oarsmen saluted, the militia all watched him with awe. Jahdo’s heart began to pound from the honor of it. Maybe he was a hero, after all. Maybe he really did believe them. Maybe he really did want to go.
At the main gates out Meer stood waiting beside his huge white horse. With his staff in one hand he turned his sightless eyes their way and boomed out a greeting as the procession made its way up. The honors evaporated like summer mist from the lake.
“Well, Jahdo lad, are you ready for our journey?”
“Not truly.” The words leapt from his mouth. “Meer, I be scared.”
The councilmen winced and looked this way and that, but the Gel da’ Thae laughed.
“Good. So am I. We’ve every right to be. Neither of us are warriors, are we?”
“So we’re not,” Jahdo said. “I wish we were.”
Meer laughed again and swung his head round.
“Councilman Verrarc? Where are you?”
“Here, good sir.” Verrarc stepped forward. “My men tell me you don’t want the lad to have a pony.”
“Just so. The pack mule and supplies will do us, and very generous you townsmen are, I must say. Jahdo and I will walk, because warriors we are not, only a blind man and a lad, and much more fitting it will be for us to stay on our two feet. And safer, as well. All during my long journey from the trading stations of the east, I’ve been studying to be humble, and, Jahdo my friend, I recommend the same to you. When a man runs the risk of meeting his ancestral enemies, humility becomes him.”
No one seemed to be able to think of fine words to answer those,
“Let us address the gods,” Meer went on, “and beg them for a safe journey as we go about our business. All our doings lie in the hands of the gods, after all.” He flung himself to his knees, bowed his head, and stretched out his arms like a suppliant. “O you gods who dwell beyond the sky, all-powerful and all-seeing, and especially the gods of roads, O you, Tanbala of the North, O you, Rinbala of the South, Thunderers and Shakers, hear our prayer!”
Meer