Therian hadn’t moved, still glowering, arms folded. He looked around and saw me standing where I had been, near the cooled fireplace, and alone as before. I looked around but everyone was going back to what they had been about before, preparing for the day, cooking food, whatever.
Looking around again, I saw two cowled heads through the trees. Erst and Reckter were walking back into the clearing. They pushed their hoods back, looked around, and saw Therian and I, standing alone, and they came toward me, frowns creasing their faces.
“What has happened? We heard some noise and felt something like panic or terror. We thought the worst, that a breach had been crossed. What is it?”
I explained that as I had been looking around the clearing, Therian had made an entrance and attempted to help me find a spot at someone’s table. It seemed unlikely anyone would do so now, after the disturbance, but he had meant well, I offered.
“He is well-meaning but impulsive. His generosity is matched by his temper, so he is a good friend and a worse enemy. He has no enemies here, to speak of: impetuous youths mistake him for a worthy quarry (not always by mistake) or bargains with our people become contentious (not uncommon). He has always been here, even before I was. No one else knows him as well and I don’t feel I do.”
“I don’t think any harm was done. Some broken branches and upset beds, but it was more heat than light.”
“You will have a seat at our table. We would have made the arrangements earlier, but we felt the need to walk out and confer. It was as well we came back when we did. Come.”
The two led the way back to the hut where I had slept, and I realized they were lodging not far away. We passed through a doorway into a much larger dwelling. The front room was larger than both rooms of mine and there was a room behind that I could just make out. There were some people back there, perhaps preparing food.
There was a table close to the floor with some fruit arrayed on a tray in the center, a pitcher and some more carved wooden cups. A stack of trenchers was at one end with some rough loaves of bread, plainly fresh: I could smell their yeasty freshness.
There were some cushions ringing the table and Reckter motioned me to take my place at one. Erst took a seat, carefully folding himself up at the head of the table, and Reckter took the place to his left. I took the right. I reached for the pitcher, looking at my hosts for a signal. They both nodded and proffered their cups. I filled theirs and mine, and with a silent acknowledgment, I took a deep draught. It was a mixture: I could taste sweet milk, honey, and some fruit flavors. The color was indescribable, other than it was dark. It was very substantial and I was wary of drinking too much of it.
Footsteps approached from behind me and more food was brought in. A platter of eggs in the shell, steaming hot, some meats of some kind, and a tray shallow dishes of some kind. These turned out to be sweet butter, soft cheese, and fruit conserves. The trenchers were distributed, and I recognized Anatha and the boy who had served us the previous day, but she gave no sign of recognition. They retired as soon as the meal was begun, and we all ate in silence for some minutes.
The door flew open, creating a small gust of wind that blew the length of the table, rippling hoods and sent crumbs skittering along.
“Well? You found a table, did you?” It was Therian, now a more manageable size, standing in the doorway. He took a step inside, and looked over the food, nodded his approval, pulled a trencher off the pile, and dropped onto a cushion next to Reckter. I could see that subtlety was not something Therian understood: the very act of sitting at the table made every item on it skip an inch into the air, as well as nearly jolting us all off our cushions. He reached out and helped himself to everything but the meat, and drank off two tumblers of the milk and honey mixture straightaway.
Once he had served himself, we three resumed our breakfast and made a good job of it. Very little was left and I had a feeling that if we sat for any length of time, Therian would see to it.
“I trust you found a place to rest your head? These two didn’t leave you to your own devices?”
I nodded, wary of the big man’s jocular tone with the other two who seemed far too sober and deliberate to consider leaving anything to chance.
A wide smile creased his face. “I know them well enough, you needn’t fear I speak out of turn. I was surprised to see you unattended this morning. Some say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and I agree every morning. Until midday when dinner looms.”
“Ignore the prattlings of our guest, friend Angstrom,” Erst said softly. “He knows us well enough, as he says. I am not at all sure terrorizing the village was a wise move and as you see, it got you no closer to a meal.”
Therian just smiled even more broadly, and took a bunch of some small fruits, strung on a vine, pulling off each one and popping it into his mouth with great enthusiasm. Reckter had said nothing so far, being content to let the other two gently spar. He looked at Erst, and it was plain they were conversing silently. Left out, I looked once more at Therian, who seemed to be watching the others closely. Perhaps he had the power of listening to their thoughts as well.
His eyes narrowed a bit and he cocked his head, then looked back at me.
“No, I cannot read their thoughts or take part in their communications, nor than they read mine. But I can read faces well enough. I’ll let them explain themselves in their own good time.
“So, they found a place for you. Good. And you sat in the circle, I take it. I hope it wasn’t too bad. I know feelings are running high and Erst’s plan — to bring someone in from the other side — was seen as too risky. Not the most trusting folk here. Things have happened to sour them on the folks on the other side — your people — and they feel like their leaders here should be doing something. But when they do something, not everyone likes it. Good thing leader don’t care so much about being liked. I’m glad I’m not part of this band. They were easier to be around before they got frightened of what they don’t know. And that wouldn’t be so bad if they were prepared to learn about the things that these strange things that scare them so. But they want things to be as they always have been, impossible or not.”
“Ah, I talk too much. These two can tell you more and better than I can. It’s their problem, not mine, unless they make it mine. We all hope that doesn’t come to pass.” I could see a hardness pass over his face with his last words and took note. This was not someone to trifle with, if I had any questions on that score.
“Tell me more about your experiences in the world I come from.” I wanted to know more about that, as clue to why everyone here was so afraid or angry. And I was having a difficult time with wordless conversations, especially as they concerned me or where I came from.
“Hmm, that’s a tall order. I’m not sure you know what you’re asking. I was traveling in your world when your cities were villages, when your people traveled by all manner of conveyance, from sailless ships to flying machines. But I won’t bore you with a lot of ancient lies. They’re true enough but you may not believe ’em, so calling them lies is perhaps a truth.”
“I went across a few months back, at the request of these nabobs here. They were wondering about the ground-shaking and other ruckus you people were causing. So I slipped across and sniffed around. I was a dog, if you must know, and you saw me, like as not. I saw you at any rate, meeting these dusty fellows with their rock-cracking and tunnel-making, taking them into the ground, looking over the stuff they brought up from below.
“I would stay behind and listen to them and they trusted you but didn’t like you. They took it personally, a lot of them, that their tunnels and piles of rubble weren’t going to make them rich.
“You see, they don’t realize this has all been done before. These hills have been sifted, rifled, and picked clean. There never was much here and what little there was is long gone, back to the cities or across the seas. It’s a dream they are digging for, an illusion that turns to rocks, dust, and the smell of the infernal stuff they use to make those holes.”