The Ancient Enemy Page 4

  "We shall do one temple a day. Each one has its own distinct personality. We shall meditate at the end of the day. I hope that you will enjoy them as much as I always have."

  "Why did they put them on top of the hills, Utnapishtim?" wondered Meu.

  "It's quite simple; the views are wonderful. Folk lodge in Lushtan or White Deer and make day trips to the temples for the views and the contentment that comes with seeing them."

  With this prospect before them they went on along the base of Lushtan Hill until they reached the little town of Lushtan itself. The river there formed a wide bottom that was perfect polder land, making Lushtan a rich town, famed for its high-quality cloth, woven from waterbush fiber.

  Market Street was lined with rug merchants and emporia that sold both cloth and tailored clothing. There was a strong feeling of prosperity in the air.

  The Assenzi knew Lushtan well. He took them down a side street to a stables run by an old mot retired from the clothing trade.

  "Hail, Master Utnapishtim," said this individual, getting slowly to his feet.

  "And hail to you, old Trumble, and how goes business?"

  "Ah, I cannot complain. My donkeys see work enough. Folk are coming in record numbers this year. The festival of flowers will be spectacular."

  "Then we are only just in time. I hope the oil is ready. I would like to set off for Lushtan Hill tomorrow."

  "Aye, the weather promises to keep fine right now. And old Trumble has procured your oil, six jars of finest Ajutan lamp oil."

  "And the donkeys?"

  "I have three fat beasts who have been sitting around for a week without work. They will be loaded and ready in the morning."

  "Excellent," said the Assenzi.

  "Old Preeter has been up on Lushtan Hill since last moon. He sent word that all was ready for you."

  "Excellent news, Trumble. And how is your wife?"

  "Old Malerri has the shaking foot, Master Utnapishtim, but her eyes are still clear, and so is her mind."

  "Has she tried valerian root for the shaking foot?"

  "She has tried everything, Master Utnapishtim. It is just our age, I'm afraid. The aches and pains of growing old."

  "Please convey to her my good wishes for her health. She should try the valerian root and soak the feet in warm water."

  From Trumble's comfortable office they went on to the oldest inn, the Rose, which was a rambling hostelry of many rooms set out around a central yard.

  Two rooms had been set aside for them, and they were shown upstairs at once. They had a good dinner in the inn's parlor, then went outside to watch a troupe of tumblers and jugglers called Nuza and Her Magnificents. Nuza herself was a fantastically supple and agile mor wearing a scarlet costume. She began the proceedings with a series of rolls and somersaults, ending in the arms of a big brilby who caught her and held her high. She finished with a flourish and a round of applause from the audience.

  While the tumblers and jugglers took a break, the great swordsmot Toshak gave an exhibition of his skills. Thru watched in awe as Toshak leaped, whirled, and dodged while his sword ran like a ribbon of gleaming steel through the air around him.

  Toshak offered his customary challenge at the end of his performance. Anyone who wished to have a bout with him would be welcome to try him in the morning at the town's Game Tree.

  Thru chuckled to himself. He was working on the sword kyo, but so far Master Sassadzu had refrained from the slightest praise. Sword kyo was difficult; the standards were set very high. Failure was commonplace. Thru had yet to find the good form in sword kyo.

  Now the jugglers worked the crowd, keeping a dozen balls whirling in the air above their heads. They finished to more applause, and then Nuza came out for a finale that involved her producing a series of fantastic leaps and somersaults into the arms of the big brilby.

  A youngster came through the folk sitting out in the yard of the inn with a hat, seeking contributions for the troupe.

  Thru and Meu tossed in a penny apiece, and Utnapishtim gave a shilling. The crowd was still applauding the performance, and the sound of coins chinking into the hat continued.

  Nuza was a beauty, and with her grace and strength she completely captured Thru's attention. He and Meu chuckled together at how totally she had entranced them.

  The troupe withdrew to more applause, and musicians took up their instruments to play the lilting music of the Farblow Hills. Thru noticed that Uzzieh Utnapishtim was apparently very taken with the wild, skirling music and was beating his palm on his knee. There was a great deal he did not understand about the ancient Assenzi.

  The next morning they loaded the donkeys, two jars of oil for each of the Lushtan animals, plus food and supplies for themselves on their own donkey, and set off up the narrow road to Lushtan Hill by the seventh hour.

  It was a wildly beautiful morning, with occasional clouds scudding past above the verdant hills. The scent of the wild hedonias rose sweetly from their groves.

  "Did you ever think you'd come this far?" said Meu, as they trudged up the stony little road behind the donkeys.

  "I used to dream of traveling, but I never thought I'd come to the Farblows."

  "I never thought about traveling. I thought I would just grow old in my village. Marry a village mor, celebrate the holidays with everyone else, and grow old working the polder."

  "Well, you still can. You will return to your village won't you?"

  "I will, but after seeing this beauty, my heart will never be still in my old village. I will need to travel again."

  "Perhaps that is why they send us to Highnoth. So that there are some folk who do travel and don't settle down, keep the blood moving."

  Meu chuckled at this absurdity.

  On they went, and in time they grew tired and their step less lively, but the Assenzi never seemed to tire and where he went, so they were bound to go.

  They came over the brow of the hill at last. The donkeys were getting very slow and stubborn, and the sun was slipping down the sky toward the far horizon. Off in the east the slopes of the Farblow Hills were glowing in the red afternoon light. The shadows between the hills were dark and purple.

  Ahead, quite close by, they saw the temple, the top of the portico rising above the small trees on top of the hill.

  "Hanging Falls Temple, my friends," said Uzzieh Utnapishtim. "A magical place. And remember what I told you of our friend Preeter."

  "We remember, Utnapishtim."

  With a full portico of a dozen pillars and a wide stoa, Hanging Falls was the largest of the Farblow temples. In the summer it had a full-time keeper, old Preeter, who pruned back the vines, swept the rooms, and set out bowls of water in the public rooms with a freshly cut vineflower floating in the center. He also undertook more serious tasks, like the ongoing rebuilding of the southwest corner of the chancel, which had become dilapidated in recent centuries.

  The white-marble pillars glowed softly in the sun's light, but the rooms beyond were pools of darkness.

  A cheerful voice suddenly called from round the back.

  "Hold on, I'll be with you in a moment..."

  There was the sound of movement in the vines. A few moments later a big fellow with the thick skin of a kob came shouldering through the tangles. As soon as he saw them a broad smile split his brown leathery face.

  "Welcome to Hanging Falls."

  "Dear old Preeter, how are you?"

  "Utnapishtim! Is it really you? How good it is to see you again. You have not come down to the Farblows in years."

  "I know, I know, Acmonides has done the Farblows for many years. I've had other duties, you see."

  "Well, welcome back. As for myself I'm not in too bad shape, though I've been better, too. But the Spirit knows I have little to complain about. The work here goes well. Master Graedon will be most pleased with my progress. I have the new stone lintel in place, and I'm bracing it just now."

  "Oh, excellent. The last time I was here you had only just begun repl
acing the stone."

  "It has taken years longer than I expected, Utnapishtim. It was very hard to get the stone cut properly."

  "My old friend, you have worked as hard as any of Graedon's folk."

  "I thank ye, Master Utnapishtim, for I know those are kind words."

  The Assenzi turned to the young mots.

  "Here are Meu and Thru, a hardworking pair. They foolishly agreed to accompany me here and have now walked hundreds of miles as a result."

  "Ha, hah, that's always the case with the Assenzi. Join them at your peril!"

  Thru put his hand into the huge kob paw and prayed he got it back in one piece. The big hand that shook his was surprisingly gentle though.

  The donkeys were unloaded, and a jar of oil was taken into the temple to fill the lamps, twelve of which were lit when darkness fell. Thereafter at each hour a lamp was extinguished until dawn, when the last three or four would be blown out together after a short prayer for the new day.

  Thru walked the donkeys upstream a short ways to a place where they could drink while Meu moved the remaining jars of oil to the cache. Old Preeter moved around the rooms with his dipper filling the lamps, and the Assenzi sat in silent meditation in a corner of the stoa.

  When the donkeys were watered and fed and the oil placed correctly in the cache the two young mots stood together on the steps. There was still time left in the day for them to climb the steps to the viewing platform at the rear of the temple. Utnapishtim was deep in meditation, and they did not want to disturb him.

  "Let's look at these views then," said Thru with a nudge toward the stairs.

  Purple-clawed shadows were cutting deeply into the glowing faces of the hills as the light turned ruddy with sunset. Hawks circled overhead, while in a far-off glen deer browsed before dusk. In the shadowy valley directly below, the first lamps were being lit in Lushtan town.

  Thru absorbed the intense beauty of the scene. He loved this land, and blessed the Spirit for its existence.

  He and Meu stayed out there until the sun was gone, lost beneath a riot of red-and-purple clouds in the uttermost west.

  Preeter invited them to join him in his small quarters at the back of the temple. Outside he had a small terrace, and together they broke bread and sipped from a jug of fine suffio wine. After a meal of olives, cheese, and bread they accompanied the Assenzi to the stream, where they bathed by moonlight. Then they repaired to the meditation gallery. Utnapishtim read from the Book, the lesson from "Early Summer Month." They invoked the Spirit and drew it into themselves as they began the careful breathing of the meditation technique.

  Later Thru stood above the chasm where the falls disappeared in a ghostlike curtain of mists and felt the Spirit rising in him. It was everywhere around him, moving in all of them, living in everything in some mysterious way. The world was interconnected, everything depended on everything else, and the Spirit governed all of it. This epiphany held him for several minutes, until the rising mists brought the heady scents of life and a wave of emotion so strong that his chest hurt for a moment. Briefly he gave thanks to the Spirit for the beauty of the world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The days in the Farblows proceeded with a satisfying rhythm. They rose with the temple bell, said prayers, and had breakfast before descending to town, where they fed the donkeys and loaded more oil. From Lushtan they worked north at first, provisioning Basking Ridge and Purple Stone Temples. Then it was the turn of the small hills of Bern and Capeter before they moved up to White Deer to take care of the eastern hills. These temples were both smaller and farther apart. To supply them they took only two donkeys and four jars of oil.

  As they moved eastward the country became wilder. There were few farms and little good land for polder. Away in the northeast loomed the magnificent Drakensberg and due east were the Barataks, a range of mountains almost as impressive.

  After Sunset Temple and Far Horizons they came to the very last, Rock Fall Temple on Hex Hill. It was a long hike but not terribly steep. Up they went on the narrow rocky trail and at last came to the square building, with no portico and only the simplest narthex and interior chamber. Seven stone steps lead up to the entrance, which was of plain stone.

  After unloading the donkeys they stepped into the narthex, the entranceway to the main chamber, and immediately noticed a busy hum coming from the oil-storage chamber.

  "That sounds like trouble," said Thru, pointing to the door.

  Meu pulled the door open and immediately the hum grew much louder. Thru started backing toward the temple entranceway. The Assenzi was outside, examining the facade of the temple for cracks. Meu scrambled back from the door to the storage cache. The hum continued to increase, and a few dark insects flew into the narthex.

  Meu and Thru took to their heels.

  "Wild bees!"

  Accompanied by the donkey and the Assenzi, they ran across the clear space in front of the temple and took shelter in the trees.

  "How are we going to get them out of there?" said Meu, after they'd got their breath back.

  "There's a ventilation slit in the wall above the the storage chamber. That must be how they're getting in and out," said Thru, after a careful study of the temple walls.

  "We'll have to smoke them out," said Meu. "Get some leaves burning and throw them in there."

  "Is there anything in there that might catch fire? Like oil residues, perhaps?"

  "Good question young Thru," said the Assenzi. "It won't help us to burn the temple down just to get rid of some bees."

  "But we can't just leave them there. Nobody will be able to use the temple all summer."

  "True. They must move. I will meditate upon the problem." The Assenzi went up into the narthex to study the situation, then he went out onto the western terrace.

  After a while Thru went back to the narthex entrance. The bees had settled down a bit. He sidled in closer and nudged the door shut once more. There was a slight increase in the hum, but it soon died away. The bees preferred that door to be shut.

  They could coexist with the bees for a while, but unless they wished to concede the oil-storage locker to the invading swarm, they would have to convince the insects to leave. Thru wasn't looking forward to that. Domesticated bees were used to the intrusions of the beekeeper, and they still reacted with a few stings. Wild bees were something else again and likely to put up a furious resistance.

  "I've always been uneasy around bees. It runs in my family," muttered Thru. "My father stopped keeping them. He didn't have the knack of minding them. He got stung too often."

  "Uneasy?" replied Meu. "How about terrified? My mother would not let my father keep bees even if he wanted to. She was petrified of them. I am, too. We always buy our honey."

  "Well, we'll have to do something about them, terrified or not."

  Thru and Meu filled the lamps. At dusk they lit a lamp on the western terrace. The sun had just finished setting in splendor in the west, outlining far-distant hills in gold as it sank from view.

  They ate bread and olives with a little cheese and pickled vegetables, then laid themselves down to sleep on the gallery floor. The bees had not bothered them in the slightest—as long as they stayed away from the door to the oil-storage locker.

  The Assenzi, however, sat on the floor near the oil locker and went into a meditative trance.

  Thru awoke in the night and found the Assenzi was still there, still meditating.

  He went back to sleep, and in the morning the Assenzi had moved to the eastern terrace and was watching the sunrise in tranquillity. Then, without ceremony he got up, entered the temple, and opened the door to the storage chamber.

  Taken by surprise, the young acolytes watched with horror. There was a sudden loud roar from the bees and Thru and Meu put their hands to their mouths, expecting the worst. But the roar dwindled suddenly and died away to a gentle sort of hum after the slender old Assenzi entered the oil cache.

  The bees remained quiet, and Thru and Meu exchanged a
look of astonishment. No howls of pain erupted from the oil locker, and after a minute or so Utnapishtim backed slowly out of the storage cache draped in a dark mantle of bees. The hive had swarmed out behind its queen, who had landed on his chest.

  Wearing a shroud of bees while others flew around his head, the Assenzi walked slowly past the astonished Thru and Meu and out to the forest. There the queen left him with a sudden darting buzz and was immediately surrounded by the swarm, which lifted off with a roar of wings and departed through the trees.

  Utnapishtim gave a slow shrug to his shoulders, as if adjusting bones as old as the mountains themselves, then he turned around and slowly walked back to the temple.

  Thru and Meu stared at him wide-eyed. Then Meu got up and brought the Assenzi a cup of cool water from the cistern.

  "Thank you, Meu, that was thirsty work."

  "Are you all right, Utnapishtim?"

  "Perfectly well, thank you. That nest was very cooperative. The bees are much beset in the wild, as you know. Honey will draw many predators. It leads them to prejudice against all creatures I'm afraid."

  "Did they not sting you, Utnapishtim?" said Thru.

  "No, young Thru, not one sting. I had given the nest to understand that its hive was in a dangerous place, and pledged my help in their relocation."

  Thru and Meu exchanged a blank look. Given the nest to understand? He had spoken to the bees, and they had understood him? Assenzi magic, it was clear to both of them.

  Still in awe at the Assenzi's calm handling of the bees the two young acolytes carried the jars of oil to the cache. The bees had left behind their hive, still filled with honeycomb, and they took the honey and ate it on their bread for breakfast. It was delicious.

  Afterward they loaded the empty jars from the oil cache onto the donkeys and headed back down the trail to the valley below. The weather continued mild and sunny, although there were clouds far off in the east toward the Barataks.

  The donkeys, overjoyed at being freed from the weight of filled oil jars, were eager to get down the mountain to the feed bag in the stables. They made good time.