Chapter 23: Secret adventure

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

‘I’m Yern,’ the girl said, and held out her left hand. ‘Who are you?’

Wirrin put her left hand on Yern’s. ‘I’m Wirrin. Nice to meet you.’

Yern scrutinised her for a moment, before nodding to herself. ‘Nice to meet you, too,’ she said. ‘Are you eaten?’

Wirrin managed to suppress a chuckle, that was a particular sort of mistake for a thirteen-year-old to make. ‘I have not eaten,’ she admitted. ‘I was about to set up camp when I saw you.’

Yern nodded again. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Come and join us.’

Wirrin followed Yern into the camp, waving to the shepherds as she passed into the ring of wagons and carts. A couple of people who had left the cooking fires to start setting up tents stopped what they were doing and trailed Wirrin and Yern back out to where the adults were gathered.

Lunch was most of the way finished, the fires banked down to coals for drying and curing leftovers. Taking relaxed turns, everyone around the fires got up or waved Wirrin over to introduce themselves and double check Yern’s work, making sure that Wirrin hadn’t eaten.

None of them introduced themselves in Kolgya, which Wirrin supposed was technically polite, since they didn’t know if she could speak it or not. Everyone offered their left hands. Even some of the older teenagers who had been playing with the kids in the water came over to introduce themselves.

The clan was about a hundred strong, including the kids and a couple of unseasonable babies. Everyone Yern’s age or older had the same scars from their bottom lips across their jawbones. The older teenagers and adults had more scars around their mouths and eyes, precise and decorative. A lot of the older adults, whose scars were fading, had traced over them in henna, which stood out bright orange against the shyolg’s dark skin.

‘In what way are you an idiot?’ Mkaer rumbled, at some point during all the introductions.

‘All the mages I’ve seen have these scars, particularly around their mouths and eyes,’ Wirrin thought. ‘I hadn’t made the connection.’

‘The kolg have always been fond of scarification,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Most marking themselves after Ulvaer and Azavaer.’

The ektshyolg that Wirrin had travelled with in her time in the desert had been far less universally scarred. Some had had little bits and pieces, some had had tattoos instead, more in the Tovant style. Still, Wirrin couldn’t help but think she should have drawn the connection earlier.

The most common designs drew attention to the mouth and extended like rays around the eyes. While everyone was different, everyone had both eyes and mouth scarred. While none of the adults were naked in the winter cool, Wirrin was sure the scars would continue under their clothes.

‘The mages don’t have the same scars,’ Wirrin thought. ‘And I’ve not met any Kolg mages. But what are the chances it’s a coincidence?’

‘Scarification was common in Keredin,’ Naertral burbled. ‘Not as common as in the desert, but common.’

‘These scars around the mouth,’ Wirrin wondered. ‘What do they represent?’

Mkaer laughed like one of Wirrin’s explosive arrows.

One of the cooking fires was banked back up to cook Wirrin’s birds and, despite her insistence that she could cook, she was firmly encouraged into one of the lounge chairs nearby and told not to worry about it.

To Wirrin’s mild surprise, Yern sat in her lap. Not so much to Wirrin’s surprise, the girl immediately started pelting her with questions. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I’m on my way to Fauvat Faulget,’ Wirrin said.

‘What for?’

‘I was hoping to meet some friends from a few years ago.’

‘What friends?’

‘I travelled with Koholshya for a while,’ Wirrin said. ‘One of the ektshyolg clans.’

Yern nodded. ‘We know them. Cousins who want to see the world.’

A wave of muttering spread out to Wirrin’s left.

‘Why were you travelling with Koholshya?’ Yern asked.

‘I like to travel,’ Wirrin said. ‘They happened to be in Hestagal at the same time I was.’

‘How long did you travel with them?’

‘About eight months, I think,’ Wirrin said. ‘From mid-spring to the end of summer.’

‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ Yern frowned, running out of questions.

Wirrin smiled. ‘I did, yes. I haven’t been back for a while, though. It’s not my favourite sort of climate.’

Yern looked down at Wirrin’s clothes and then boots. ‘You like the mountains.’

Wirrin smiled wider. ‘I do like the mountains.’

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A young man with a wide smile, corkscrew curls down past his shoulders, and scars on the backs of his hands, approached Wirrin and Yern from the left. ‘Are you being nice, Yern?’

Yern frowned up at him. ‘I’m being very nice, Taug.’

Wirrin nodded. ‘Very nice indeed.’

Yern waved at Wirrin. ‘See? Very nice indeed.’

Taug managed to smile wider. ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘Being nice is an important part of being a healer, you know?’

Yern frowned harder. ‘I do know that, Taug. You keep telling me.’

‘And what did you tell Herdok yesterday?’ Taug asked.

Yern smiled for the first time since Wirrin had met her. ‘Fautyalgtok vos’havt ovt’hogoll.’

Taug’s quite sincere, disappointed frown was completely ruined by Wirrin's snort and cackling.

Yern looked at her, then back at Taug. ‘Gol eshktek paulgek, holk.’

‘Gat Herdok fautyalg?’ Wirrin asked.

Yern shook her head. ‘Vos vos.’

Wirrin looked at Taug. ‘Olg eshtek paulgek.’

Yern looked from Wirrin to Taug again. Then back and forth again. 'Stop speaking Kolgya,’ she instructed. ‘I’m trying to practice.’

Wirrin nodded. ‘You’re doing very well so far.’

Yern nodded back. ‘Good.’

Taug managed to wrestle his face back under control. ‘Someone said you’d travelled with Koholshya, Wirrin?’

Wirrin nodded. ‘For a few months, a few years ago.’

Taug nodded. ‘Is Wirrin a common name in the South?’

Wirrin shook her head. ‘Vos vos.’

Yern glared at her.

Taug’s grin returned. ‘Paut pautegalk.’ He dragged an unoccupied chair over and sat down. ‘You’re not Wirrin the Southern Adventurer, are you?’

Yern glared. ‘You didn’t say you were an adventurer.’

Wirrin smiled. ‘I’m not an adventurer,’ she said. ‘I’m a traveller. Which I did tell you, if you recall.’

‘Yolget said you hated to be called an adventurer,’ Taug grinned. ‘But if you didn’t want to be called an adventurer, you shouldn’t have told him all your adventures.’

Wirrin grinned back. ‘You know Yolget? A cousin?’ She tried to scrutinise Taug, but whatever resemblance was in the same colour of hair and eyes and skin seemed only regional, and the scars made it hard to be sure.

‘A cousin,’ Taug nodded. ‘Wait, no… distant cousin, I suppose.’

‘What would that be? Aupt’tholgtok?’ Wirrin mused.

Taug shrugged a couple of times, frowned mildly, and shrugged a couple more times. ‘Sure. I don’t like you saying it, though.’

Wirrin smiled. ‘I won’t say it again. Yolget told you about me, did he?’

‘He told anyone who would listen, for three winter meetings in a row. He was so disappointed you’d left before everyone got to meet you.’

Yolget, who had been about fifteen at the time, had basically been Wirrin’s shadow for the eight months she’d spent travelling with Koholshya. He’d loved all the stories she’d told about her travels in Nesalan, and she had to admit that she might have exaggerated some of them for his entertainment.

‘Maybe I’ll get to meet them this time,’ Wirrin said. ‘I was on my way to the hetavatok when I ran into you. Are you not going?’

Yern reached out to put a finger on Taug’s lips as he opened his mouth to reply. ‘Winter meeting is the translation of hetavatok?’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘It’s close enough, yes.’

Yern nodded and removed her finger from Taug’s face, then wiped it on Wirrin’s shirt. Wirrin snorted.

‘We were on our way,’ Taug said. ‘We were already running late. And then we ran into the Thaulgtok out in the sand.’ He pointed in the direction of the proper desert. ‘And they told us we had to go around.’

‘They’re waiting for you,’ Mkaer rumbled.

Wirrin sighed. ‘I was going to cut straight through,’ she said. ‘Could do it anyway, I suppose.’

‘Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gotten on the Thaulgtok’s bad side, from what I’ve heard.’ Taug frowned to himself. ‘Vekthaulgtok? Thaulgtok’s?’

‘Vekthaulgtok?’ Naertral did that pond full of frogs chuckle again.

‘Are you in a hurry?’ Yern asked. ‘Why cut through instead of go around with us?’

Wirrin’s certainty that she would only benefit from telling the shyolg about the Fiends did internal battle with the broad concern that telling anyone about it would cause trouble. She had been hoping to wake Ulvaer before telling anyone about it, and that it would be safe.

‘Are you on a secret adventure of some sort?’ Yern demanded. She grabbed Wirrin’s shirt front. ‘I’m great at keeping secrets and you can tell me anything.’ She glared at Taug. ‘Aushyavt.’

Wirrin almost choked. ‘I’m seeing why people might tell you to be nice, Yern.’

Yern turned the glare on Wirrin, it was quite a good glare. ‘It’s not a secret if you tell Taug, as well.’

Wirrin looked at Taug. ‘Olg gat paulget.’ Then she looked back at Yern. ‘If I tell anyone, I might as well tell everyone.’

Yern leaned in very close, eyes very wide. ‘You should tell me first, so that I can advise you on whether or not to tell everyone.’

Wirrin managed to sustain eye-contact for long enough to impress herself, but not long enough to impress Yern. ‘Alright, sure.’

Yern’s triumphant laugh was adorable. She hopped off Wirrin’s lap and heaved her to her feet. ‘Let us retreat to privacy.’

‘Osga is in the wagon with Herdok and Saush,’ Taug called after them as Yern dragged Wirrin away from the lake.

‘Secret meeting,’ Yern said. ‘We should eavesdrop to find out what they’re planning.’

‘I can’t talk if we’re eavesdropping,’ Wirrin said.

‘You make a good point,’ Yern was forced to admit. ‘Surely they’re planning to go around. Nothing interesting.’

The privacy that Yern dragged Wirrin off to was just off to the western side of the half-circle of carts and wagons. There was no one around, but it wasn’t what Wirrin envisioned when she thought of privacy. They were out in the open.

Yern was fairly vibrating. ‘Secrets,’ she insisted. ‘Tell me secrets… so that I can help you decide whether or not to share with the rest of us.’ For a thirteen-year-old, that was a remarkable amount of restraint.

Wirrin grinned. ‘You sure you won’t tell anyone, if we decide not to?’

Yern nodded furiously, her fists clenched. ‘Og vosht thaulgh.’

Wirrin snorted. ‘In that case.’

Mkaer interrupted. ‘Are you sure about this, Wirrin?’

‘I’ve found some of the Fiends,’ Wirrin said, almost without pause. ‘Two of them so far, and I know where Ulvaer is.’

Yern frowned, disappointed and frustrated. ‘I don’t know what that means.’

Wirrin frowned, disappointed and frustrated. ‘I don’t know the Kolgya words for it.’

They frowned at each other, disappointed and frustrated.

‘The ones the Thaulgtok got rid of,’ Wirrin said, at last. ‘In the Gods’ War.’

Yern’s face lit up, she got taller. ‘Tesholg? The… people of nature?’

‘They were called Outsiders, I think,’ Wirrin said. ‘The Thaulgtok call them Fiends, now.’

Yern nodded along. ‘You found some? Which ones? The good ones?’

Wirrin shrugged. ‘Which ones are good?’

‘Which ones did you find?’ Yern was bouncing on her heels, but true to her word she was looking around to make sure no one was listening.

‘So far Mountain and Poison,’ Wirrin said. ‘And I am quite sure I know where the Desert is.’

Yern flailed her arms and almost fell over. ‘Tegalk Tesholg? Ekvosh?’ Then she froze, turned, and pointed into the sand. ‘Where the Thaulgtok are?’

Wirrin nodded. ‘It’s supposed to be the centre of the desert. But before the war, the desert was much smaller. And doesn’t it just make sense?’

Yern’s frantic energy returned in a spasm of nodding and gesticulating. ‘Of course it would be in the Sand. The centre is trees and stuff, nothing interesting. The old centre was in the Sand.’

Wirrin nodded along. ‘So?’

Yern kept on nodding, gesticulating, bouncing from foot to foot. She paused, scrunched up her whole face like something disgusting had occurred to her, then resumed her frantic nodding and grabbed Wirrin’s hand again.

‘We’ve got to tell them.’