The Riddle - Alison Croggon [115]
“I dreamed,” said Sirkana in the Speech. “When I was ten years old, I dreamed of a great darkness. And my brother Dorn held up a child against the darkness, and the child was made of light. And I knew it was his child.” As Sirkana spoke, Maerad saw the dream vividly in her mind, as if it were her own. “When I was twelve, I dreamed again the same dream, but by then I had the Voice, and this time Dorn spoke and told me who the child was. And again when I was fourteen, and sixteen, always the same dream.
“I told my mother of the dreams. She knew I had the Voice, and she counseled me to tell the headman of the clan, which I did. But I did not tell Dorn until I was sixteen; it was the only thing I kept from him, ever. I feared what he might do if he knew. And I was right to fear. But at last I did tell Dorn, and that night he had a dream of his own, the only foredream he ever dreamed. In his dream a great darkness rose over the land, and he was swallowed inside it. He was frightened, but he said to me that he must learn what it meant. It was after that he left for the Schools of Annar, and I knew I would never see him again.”
“And when you saw me, you recognized me?” said Maerad softly.
“I did,” said Sirkana. “But not with my eyes. With other vision. I have watched for the signs and listened to the songs since I was a young girl. I knew the Chosen would come in my lifetime, and I have been waiting.”
Maerad looked blankly at the wooden walls, which flickered with dim firelight. Since she had entered Murask, she had felt as if she had fallen into a dream herself; the ground seemed to be falling away from beneath her, tipping her into some other world. But somehow Sirkana’s words comforted her, in an obscure way she did not understand; they seemed some kind of recognition. When she looked up, the room was full of light again, and the other Pilanel were looking baffled.
“What were you saying?” asked Tilla. Her voice was a little shaky, and Maerad, glancing toward her, saw she had gone pale.
“Maerad is the One, and she has arrived here, as foretold in the songs,” said Sirkana. “It is the final sign.” She made a strange gesture, touching her closed fist to her heart and then to her forehead, and the others followed suit. “Are we agreed then?” They all nodded.
Agreed to what? thought Maerad. She still couldn’t find her bearings. Everything seemed to have been settled, but she hadn’t asked for anything. She took a deep breath and sat up straight, looking at each of the Pilanel in turn. “I have to find the Treesong, the root of the Speech,” she said. “That is my quest. And I need your help. I have nothing. . . .” She spread out her hands in a gesture of humility. “I don’t even know where to go.”
“Where do you need to go, little chicken?” said Vul. Maerad started at his using Mirka’s term of endearment, and bridled a little. She was not, after all, a child. But Vul’s face was gentle, and she did not think he had intended to insult her.
“I believe I need to find the Wise Kindred. Mirka has the Voice, and she fell into a sort of trance and she said — she said all riddles were answered there. I need to know about the Split Song. It’s all connected.” As Maerad said this, a mocking voice echoed in her head: You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s words, just words. . . .
“There is time to debate all of this,” said Sirkana. “If you need to find the Wise Kindred, then we shall help you. You cannot go there alone: it is a long journey, and a hard one, to the Labarok Isles, even without this early winter.”
She turned to the other Pilanel. “I swear you all to secrecy,” she said. “I do not trust all of our people enough for the news of the One’s return to be widely known. There is peril enough.”
Each in turn, they nodded solemnly, and Maerad felt herself sag with relief. There was, indeed, peril enough.
MAERAD was exhausted after her meeting with the Pilanel. When she returned to her little room, she