So I became a seaman and lost for a time my love of secret things, and for all time any desire to look into the ways of warlocks.
Chapter Four
Shallah Sits at Her Loom
A curving wing of shadow raced across the Bay of Shar-Nuhn, dyeing the Purple Waters with dapplings of darkness. High in his pigeon loft, Kla-Noh, Seeker After Secrets, watched with delight as the spectrum of color spread below him. The softly muttering pigeons supplied a quiet music to suit his mood, and he felt his heart lift as he saw, far to the south, a belated bird speeding its way toward his loft.
Swiftly as a cloud it came, and it alighted and entered its nook with a weary air.
“Well, old friend,” said Kla-Noh, “long has it been since you last rested in my aerie. Now what has brought you winging from the south?”
He lifted the bird, feeling its throbbing life hot between his hands as he soothed and fondled it. From its leg he took the small container that bore the message, then he hurried down the steps to his sitting room. To his reading table the old Seeker went at once.
Si-Lun, entering from the terrace, lighted the lamp for his foster father, and the two sat side by side, studying the coded symbols inscribed upon the tiny bit of paper.
“Strange,” said Kla-Noh. “From Lo-Shel, who lives in the mountain fastnesses to the south, has the bird come. Always have I sought word from Lo-Shel, never he from me. Quiet are his ways and his life; strong is his mind, and great his heart. No trouble—and he has known many, living as he does upon the very edge of the lands of men—has ever thwarted his abilities. What can he need of me?”
Slowly he deciphered the message contained in the crabbed symbols. Si-Lun bent closer to see as the words formed, one by one, upon the page beneath the Seeker’s pen. “‘Shallah sits at her loom’,” he read. “Shallah?”
“Wife and heart’s heart to Lo-Shel. Seer and prophet is she, and many other things, yet tender to him and to their children and strong in any adversity.” Kla-Noh thumbed through a worn tablet, seeking for the symbol keys, then wrote again: “‘She does not speak, though the younglings cry at her side. She will not eat. She falls at night across the loom and must be carried to her couch. She looks always at the weave, with horror in her eyes. Come to me, my friend. I have great need’.”
The two Seekers looked each into the other’s eyes. They nodded, slowly, and Si-Lun rose from his chair. “We go by sea or by land?” he asked. “Steep are the anchorages to the far south, yet few are the roads. How go you when you visit Lo-Shel?”
“We must obtain riding beasts. Send Nu-Veh into Shar-Nuhn after supplies, for we will be many days upon the road. Go you to the farm yonder after beasts, and I shall send a winged courier to assure Lo-Shel that we come.”
Swiftly could the Seekers move when there was need, and morning saw them upon the road, mounted upon the sturdy beasts that their neighbor had supplied. Late summer lit the fields with gold upon either hand, and they rode with enjoyment in the balmy air, keeping a steady gait yet never forcing their mounts.
Two days they rode before the mountains rose, a dim blue line across the southern horizon. From the warm comfort of their way they could see, glinting in the sunlight, peaks wrapped in never-melting snows.
“There lies the first pass that we must cross,” said Kla-Noh, pointing. “It is well that it is summer, for in winter the passes lie buried beneath terrible masses of snow. Even now it will be a perilous journey which, without the aid of these strong mounts, might well leave our bones upon those heights with those of many other wayfarers.”
But their pace did not slacken, and as day followed day they came upon the ragged hills that were the outriders of the ranges beyond. As they mounted into the heights, they found a chill growing in the air, and soon they needed the warm clothing that Nu-Veh had packed for them. And still they went up, following roads that were narrow shelves, which twisted their ways up the walls of gorges beside rills of singing water. Great trees overarched their way, bracing green-furred arms across the cold blueness of sky and digging strong toes into the scanty soil between outcroppings of stone.
“Almost,” said Si-Lun, when they had paused to rest the animals, “almost this seems as my birthplace upon the Far Continent. There stand mountains fit to pierce the sky, forests such as these, green waters falling from stone. The sly beasts peering at us from their coverts might be those which I hunted in my youth. This seems a journey into the past.”
“Lo-Shel is to be thanked,” answered Kla-Noh, “for bringing us out into this world of strong stillness. Study and song are well, in their place, yet I would not miss the joy of testing my skill and my will against these uncaring fastnesses.”
Then they went up again, and up, until the clouds closed around their heads and stopped their vision. Yet they moved along the tenuous trails, which now were closed in on either hand by rocky cliffs whose tops were hidden in the drifting mists. They crossed the pass before evening and moved again downward into fir-green valleys.
For more than a week they journeyed thus, doggedly challenging passes clogged with snow, invisible with cloud, perilous with loosened stones. They grew thin, and their beasts also. Altitude and effort took their toll of energy and flesh. But there came an afternoon when they descended a twisting track upon the side of a great beast of a mountain and saw, across a little valley enclosed on all sides by forested ridges, a column of smoke rising in the still, chill air.
“There,” said Kla-Noh, halting his panting mount, “is the house of Lo-Shel. Soon we will shelter again within walls, for which the gods be thanked.”
The valley through which they rode was narrow, following a stream that ran swiftly over a rocky course. Upon either side of the water they could see tilled fields and meadows where kine grazed upon the late-summer grasses. Hands had been busy drawing life from the soil and the plants and the waters. Soon they could see byres for the cattle and tall barns for the winter’s store of hay, which was standing ready for the blade. Yet no human form could they see, though the sun was not over the ridge to the west and some hours of light were left in the day.
The house of Lo-Shel stood at the end of a lane lined with flowering trees, which had dropped their rosy petals into the track. So the two Seekers walked up a way strewn with blossoms, leaving their beasts to graze among the grasses by the roadside. Only the chimney smoke spoke of the presence of living beings, for the windows were blank and no welcoming face looked from the panes of the door.
As Kla-Noh’s tap sounded through the rooms, there came a sudden susurrus of voices, hushed exclamations, then the clicking of feet upon stone flags. The heavy door opened, and a small face looked up at them from just over waist height. Round blue eyes grew rounder, and the little maid lifted her skirts and said, with a matronly air, “Come in, good sirs. My father is within, and I shall call him if you will but wait in the sitting room.”
She scurried out of sight down the passage, and the two Seekers smiled as they sat in comfort, awaiting her return. Instead there came a heavier tread, and Lo-Shel himself hurried into the room. His weathered face wore the print of care as he took Kla-Noh’s proffered hands and said, “Little did I think that you could arrive so soon, my friend. Heavy has been the burden of life these past weeks, and only the promise of your help has given me hope for the present or the future. But you are weary and must rest. Li-Tha! No-Ri! Come and show the Seekers to their chamber, that they may wash and refresh themselves before the evening meal.”
When they had satisfied their host that their comforts had been well attended, Si-Lun and Kla-Noh sat with Lo-Shel privately in his chamber and asked of his trouble.
“This is a strange malady which has stricken my Shallah,” he sighed. “You know that she has ever been a seer of the future and the