The Godlost Land (78 page)

But that was another question to worry about in time. Dina, what could she be told? Or for that matter Nyma's own sister? Harl had no idea what either of them knew. But he was certain that he wasn't supposed to be adding to their knowledge.

But in any case he didn't really care about that just then. He cared only about the way Nyma felt in his arms. And about the way her beautiful round belly pressed into him. And about how much he wanted to just lay her down then and there and have his way with her. If only there hadn't been a cat watching!

“Come on beautiful. We have to get you home.” Harl helped her on to the wagon and then did his best to make her comfortable on the wooden bench, arranging the blankets and cushions. “Your family will be beside themselves with grief. After all, you've been dead for over a month. It would be best to spare them as much of that pain as we can.”

“Dead?” She stared at him, the word stirring up uncomfortable memories.

“As far as they know. As far as anyone knows. As I knew.”

“No, the cat said I was actually dead.” Nyma wasn't going to let the word pass unanswered. And truthfully he didn't really have an answer for her. Just a guess.

“Maybe not dead but not alive either. Somewhere in the middle, held there almost like sleeping.” But Harl didn't know. He didn't even know if he'd been dead. When it came down to it there was a lot he simply didn't understand. And that in truth he'd rather forget.

“Girl, you died but you weren't allowed to enter the kingdom of death. So did I. So did the village idiot here. What's so hard to understand about that?”

Maynard didn't seem impressed by her concerns. But he never sounded impressed about anything. And all Harl could do was hold her hand and tell her he didn't know. There was a lot he didn't know lately. And Nyma he realised had her own doubts as well.

“And you. What are you going to do in Inel Ison? You have no smithy here. No one knows you and you don't know anyone. Other than that you're a wizard and your kind have become rather unwelcome of late. You would be better off in your old smithy in your old land.”

“I'm not allowed to return to the five kingdoms. My smithy in Lion's Crest is rubble and I may have burnt down the one in the Rainbow Mountains. And I don't care where I live as long as it's with you.”

“I don't know.” She stared at him dubiously, obviously considering all the troubles ahead and everything that could go wrong.

“Oh stop talking foolishness woman! He's claiming his property rights – or had you forgotten?” The wizard spoke up suddenly, interrupting them and making Harl jump. He kept forgetting the wizard was there. It was going to take some time to fully accept that the cat was a dead wizard. And maybe even longer to work out what he was talking about much of the time.

“What?”

“By the gods boy! Did Gallowgood teach you nothing of the customs of the Tree Mothers? They are backwards people. For dryads the only right that matters is the property of belonging. When she said she had property rights she meant that she belonged to you. And you said the same. And with rights come responsibilities. If someone claims to be yours and you accept then you have no choice but to offer them your home and heart.”

“So girl, he is claiming his rights as your property, and you have no choice but to honour them. Aren't you boy?”

The cat made a strange coughing noise which Harl took to be a hint, and while he didn't understand much he understood that. “Maynard's right, I'm claiming my property rights.”

“And they are granted.”

Four simple words, but four very important ones Harl gathered from the way she looked at him and clutched his fingers a little tighter. He still didn't fully understand what property rights were, but he understood enough to know that they mattered to her.

“Thank you.” She didn't exactly seem upset by the idea Harl thought. In fact she blushed a little before he kissed her as they both wanted. But then she turned her attention back to the cat as he lay on the luggage, sunning himself as he looked down on them.

“Your rights are granted, but not that one's.”

“That one” though didn't seem to care. He just stared at her calmly as if she'd said nothing of consequence. Then he yawned, stood up, turned around on the pile of clothing and started making himself comfortable again. It was probably nap time.

“Did the village idiot not already tell you girl? We go together. Wherever he goes, I go. The gods themselves have demanded that. They said someone has to keep the boy out of trouble.”

“But you can thank me later girl. Perhaps with a bowl of stew, and also a good brush down. I'm fairly sure there's a flea making itself at home on my back.” And as if to prove it the wizard started biting at the fur on his back and mumbling incoherently while Nyma stared at him with a vexed look on her face.

“Come on.” Harl flicked the reins to get the pony moving again and then handed them to Nyma. He figured she knew where they were going better than he did, and it was nice to just sit back in the seat with his arm around her and enjoy the ride. “You can tell me all about your family and what I should tell them so that I don't make a fool of myself or make a bad impression.”

“That's easy. Don't tell them about the cat!”

Chapter Seventy Two

It was a warm night even when spring had only just finished, but then Inel Ison was a warm land – far warmer than the Rainbow Mountains. Harl liked that. There might be no snow in winter – he hadn't yet experienced enough winters in the dryad realm to know for sure – but an arcane smith always liked the warmth. He liked the cider too. It was a strange drink for someone used to ales and meads – not that he'd drunk much of either for a long time – but he was becoming familiar with the sweetness. The honeyed wine on the other hand was a drink that was just too sweet for him, even if Nyma and her family seemed to love it. Still, a hot apple cider on a warm night under the stars was not a bad way to end a long day. Even if he had to spend it with his cat.

Of course Maynard would see things differently. Certainly he wouldn't see himself as anybody's cat. He wouldn't see himself as a cat at all. Rather he was a powerful wizard that was stuck in a cat's body which had led to his spells being a little off. If anything was true in his world it was that Harl was his charge – and not a very obedient one. There was a reason why Harl had poured him a small bowl of the honeyed wine. The wizard seemed to like the stuff, and it relaxed him a little. The cat needed to relax. He needed to learn to curb his tongue as well. Before Nyma killed him. Or the rest of her family. Or most of the rest of the village. The wonder of a talking cat had soon worn off.

“Trying to get the cat drunk Harl?” Dina joined him, stepping out of the house where the others were all playing with the baby and dressing her up in pretty clothes and ribbons. Harl loved his baby daughter, but there were still limits – things that a grown man shouldn't do. He wasn't quite sure why Dina had stepped outside though – he'd thought she was quite enjoying herself with the other women. On the other hand, she was quite an irascible sort, and she had grown children of her own, and probably grandchildren.

“I'm not a cat! Or has the senility caused you to forget that Dina. And I'm not drunk!” But he was on his way to his cups. He was even starting to slur his words a little.

“You look like a cat! And you've got fleas!”

What was it about these Circle wizards Harl wondered as the two of them bickered? The only two of the Circle left and both of them were cantankerous and difficult by turns. And both of them were annoying him. They seemed to consider it their purpose in life. Actually he wasn't completely certain why Dina was there at all. She'd come visiting from her own village which was barely half a days walk away, ostensibly to see the baby. But he suspected that she too was really there to check up on him. Just in case he was crafting any more divine weapons. Which was probably why Erislee had come with her as well. They didn't trust him.

He wasn't crafting any such weapons. In fact he was hardly crafting any weapons at all. Since he'd arrived in the village the assembly had decided what he would craft, and mostly it had nothing to do with weapons. In fact the only true weapon he'd crafted was his new great sword, which was every bit as masterful as his last one, but which he wasn't allowed to wear. The dryads disapproved of openly wearing weapons without cause and if someone was foolish enough to do so there would be mention made at the next assembly and reprimands given. He'd already been the subject of a few. Discourteous behaviour was the usual one. But he was simply out of practice at living among others, and he didn't know all the customs of the dryads. Even after twelve months here, “sorry” was his most used word some days.

Still, they had let him build his new smithy, so he shouldn't be too unhappy. And it was quite a pretty smithy too, even if it was in the centre of the village and he couldn't live there. The dryads had a philosophy about that. Work and home should always be separate for some reason. Which meant he was still living with Nyma's family until they were given permission to build themselves a new home somewhere. He wasn't sure how long that would be.

“I have not got fleas! Believe me, I would know if I had.”

“You wouldn't know if you were a flea!”

There was silence after that for a bit. Something Harl was grateful for. He'd been enjoying the peace before they'd started bickering. Maybe, he hoped, it could return for a while. Of course the wizards had other ideas.

“You know I was just thinking.”

“A pleasant change!” Dina quipped. But for once Maynard ignored her.

“It's a year more or less since the fall of Lion's Crest.”

“And?”

“And as a woman and a mother I would have thought you would have guessed the significance of a year. Especially when you heard about Terellion. Gorgon has surely been born and in time she'll surely be ready for her first birthdays. Gorgon is coming up to the age where she'll need to be named formerly by her mother.”

Harl smiled at that. At the thought that wherever he was, if he was alive in some way – or she was as the case would be – Terellion would sooner or later be formally acknowledging his or her daughter's birth name. And with it the fact that he was in fact the child's mother. He wished he could witness that. He would guess that most of the five kingdoms would wish the same.

Everyone had heard about Terellion of course. Once the city had fallen and the details of his control over others had been known his name had become infamous. He had been feared and reviled as few others before him. But then the former demon king's thrall Varrious had come out of a prison built beneath the Great Temple of Artemis with another tale. A stranger tale. A tale about a master wizard who had been transformed into a woman and then had every perversion he had ever committed to others done to him. And a man who if the stories were true, had been left carrying a child as well. A fury's child.

Whether any of that was true or not Harl didn't know. But he did remember seeing Terellion at the end and wondering why he looked like an incredibly ugly woman. And Varrious swore it was true. In fact he was said to be giving detailed accounts for the scribes and keepers of the histories. Now that he no longer had a demon king to serve, he had apparently dedicated himself to making full and accurate accounts of his past crimes. It was an atonement of some sort. But still, the stories about Terellion carrying a child had seemed just too hard to believe. Turning a man into a woman was one thing. Then getting him with child by another woman – that was another. That was magic that no one had. No one save perhaps the gods.

“He's dead. If the baby exists the baby's other mother will have to name her.” Harl thought he should point out the obvious, even though it was a pleasant thought. From everything he had heard of Terellion the thought of him with a gorgon child and formerly naming her as his was very pleasant indeed. It would be better though if the baby ate its way out of him and finally killed Terellion.

“So were both you and I. Death doesn't seem to have the same permanence it once did when the gods are involved.”

Maynard had a point, Harl knew. Things were different when the gods were poking their noses in. Very different. Life and death weren't what they should be. Not that he was going to complain about it.

“Would it be wrong to hope that he had a difficult birth?”

“I don't think so child. As long as the baby's well, and according to the stories the other babies were born healthy.” Dina laughed as she said it. “I remember one woman telling me long ago about her first baby taking twenty hours. Twenty hours of agony. I can't see any reason why he couldn't have endured at least as much. Maybe even forty hours.”

“Maybe an eternity.” Nyma stepped out into the evening air and then walked over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Isn't that typical when the gods get involved? Sisyphus, Prometheus and Tantalus all got eternal punishments.”

She could be right Harl knew, though he suspected no one really knew. But the sages had argued about it and finally come to the conclusion that when the ancient writings had been properly read they didn't mean just a thousand years as some claimed. They meant a never ending punishment. So Prometheus would spend eternity having his liver pecked out each day, Tantalus would spend eternity in Tartarus, and Sisyphus would spend eternity pushing a rock up a mountain. And now maybe, Terellion would spend an eternity in childbirth, even though the child had surely been born. Maybe he would keep giving birth over and over again? And after having been with Nyma as she gave birth to their daughter and seen the terrible pain she had endured, Harl knew that that would be a terrible punishment. On the other hand Terellion deserved it. In fact he could think of no one more worthy.

“Now you.” Nyma became suddenly stern as she turned to him, and he knew that meant he had to do something. “Sirena needs putting to bed, and you have a big day tomorrow impressing the assembly with your glow sticks, so no more cider for you and off to bed as well.”

“And as for you Maynard, that's the last of the wine as well. I can abide a talking cat, but not a drunk one. Especially when the last time you left a mess right through the house.”

“That was fur balls!”

“I don't care what it was, it does not happen again. Dina, please see to it that if he tries to drink any more the drink ends up on him instead of in him.”

“I can do that!” Dina agreed instantly and with a smile on her face.

And she would too Harl knew. Just as he knew that Nyma wasn't really that upset with Maynard. She was just putting her foot down. If she was destined to be a wife and mother than she had decided that the house was to be her bailiwick. And she would not tolerate any dissent. Maynard knew that too, but he was eternally incapable of biting his tongue. Theirs was a relationship that was best described as a work in progress.

Harl stood and followed her into the house, happy enough to do so.

It was a strange thing, but ever since having been filled with the rage of Lyssa and then having lost it, he felt as though a part of his life had ended. He could finally grieve properly for his family and still move on with a new one. And it helped that his daughter's name was Sirena, the name of his sister. It was as though a tiny piece of her still lived on through his daughter simply because of the name. Only time would tell if this new Sirena would sing as sweetly as his sister had. At the moment she was still practising her gurgling noises. But he thought they were beautiful.

The same was true of his thoughts of Terellion and Xin. He still hated them, he probably always would, whether they were dead or alive. Probably millions of others did as well. But the hatred had become a smaller part of his life. He could move beyond it now. But for the longest time he hadn't been able to. It had been his life.

“You know, after we've put the baby to sleep we can spend some time together ourselves.” He whispered it into her ear and then nibbled it a little, knowing she liked it.

“Men! Always only one thing on their minds!” But though she tried to cover it up she was smiling. The same thought was clearly on her mind. It always had been.

“Yes, you.” That earned him a kiss which he happily accepted. He would accept the rest shortly as he did most nights.

“You are determined to get me with child again! And I've only just started fitting in my old clothes again.”

But despite her complaints she wasn't averse to the idea. She never was. Not even after the pain of having brought their daughter into the world. He on the other hand had been – for a little bit. He couldn't stand the thought of her going through that again. But she didn't seem too troubled by it, and she had soon started tempting him back to bed. She hadn't said and he suspected she never would, but he was sure she wanted another baby. Maybe women were actually stronger than men in some ways?

“You have never looked so lovely as you did with that nice round belly. And we can buy you some new clothes.”

“Bribing me with new clothes and thoughts of a pretty belly. You my love have the tongue of a merchant!” But still she was giving him that come hither look that he knew meant he was going to enjoy the night. Very soon.

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After they'd gone Maynard was left there with Dina. He was still sprawled out on the table and thinking about having a little bit more of the honeyed wine – if he could find the strength to get up and then of course provided Dina didn't do what she'd promised Nyma she would. He hated getting wet. It took forever to clean himself up. And the honeyed wine would be sticky.