The Riddle - Alison Croggon [25]
“I need not tell you, then,” said Nerili, “that their presence must be kept secret within the School and must not be made known within the town of Busk, aside from those here, who already know. We cannot tell what spies are abroad, and the arm of Norloch is long. A loose word could forfeit their lives and would cause Norloch to declare us rebels.” She stared around the table, to underline her seriousness. “Well, that is the end of our business.”
She lifted up her arms, as if in blessing, and said, with a sudden wild joy that sent goose bumps down Maerad’s spine, “My friends — you make me so glad. I expected no less from you. No tyrant will crush the heart of Thorold!”
The council ended in cheers.
NERILI acted on the decision with dispatch: the Thoroldian emissaries left the following day. As one was to go to Turbansk, Maerad took the chance to write to Saliman and Hem. She closeted herself in her room and carefully laid paper, ink, and a pen out on the table. She sat for a long time looking at them, without doing anything. She had never written a proper letter before.
At last, with a determined expression, she picked up the pen and began to write. She blotted the first sheet, then tore it up and threw it on the floor. Her second try was more successful. She wrote laboriously, with many hesitations.
To Hem and Saliman, greetings!
Cadvan and I arrived in Thorold safely, as you may know if the bird reached you. We are both much better than when we last saw you.
I was very seasick on my way here, and Cadvan and I had to fight an ondril, which was very big, but we got here safely. Nerili has given us haven, and you will have heard the rest of the news from the emissary.
I hope you have arrived in Turbansk with no harm, and that Hem finds the fruits are as big as the birds said they were. I think of you all the time and miss you sorely.
With all the love in my heart,
Maerad
Writing this note took her a long time. She looked at it critically; her writing was still very wobbly, with none of the sure beauty of a Bard’s hand, and it said nothing that she really wanted to say. She would have liked to tell Hem what Busk was like, to describe its low stone buildings and cool gardens, and its cheerful, generous people. Hem would have been amused by the sea urchins that smelled like old boots. She imagined him laughing, and then imagined him tasting them in his greed. But no good manners would have prevented Hem spitting them out onto the table, no matter who was present.
A terrible ache opened inside her. She longed to be able to tell Hem all these things face to face. A letter was no substitute; it made him seem even farther away.
She wondered whether to try writing her letter again, but couldn’t face it. With a deep sigh, she folded and sealed it, and took it to Elenxi to give to the emissary.
After the council meeting, Maerad felt completely safe in the School of Busk. Everyone in the School now knew of the threat from Norloch, but if it cast a shadow over their enjoyment of life, Maerad couldn’t see it. She discovered the truth of Cadvan’s comment that the only real problem with Thoroldians was keeping up with their consumption of wine: if it hadn’t been for how hard she was working, she would have thought that living in Busk was like being at a permanent festival. After one particularly bad morning, she learned a few survival techniques: thereafter she sipped her wine very slowly and drank lots of water whenever she was out with the Bards.
On feast days, when she didn’t have to do any lessons, Elenxi and his friends would sometimes take her into the town, where they would drink and dance all night in the gardens of the waterfront taverns under the glittering summer stars. Bards were always welcome in the taverns because Bards meant good music, and Thoroldians loved music with a passion.
The people she met in town were just like the Bards: fiery, passionate, argumentative, generous. The Thoroldians’ intensity was not always benign: to Maerad’s alarm, she witnessed a couple