Now Melyúnas had won the loyalty of the Valkari, whose settlement, Valkamet, lay in the most north-easterly region of the Berugwanna, at a great distance from the other communities of Hyûvandri. And he passed to and fro, from Ombros to Valkamet, whenever the conditions of war permitted. If he encountered any Entellári of the guard on the Greenmarch — and he made sure to avoid them if he could — they suspected no ill, for he was the wisest of the Doitherúna and known to all for his constant enquiry into the nature of the world. His actual purpose was to visit his two sons, Groiznath and Prámiz, to see how they were growing and to judge when they should be ready for instruction in the Deep Arts.
Meanwhile Ingos wandered the whole of the Southlands, visiting and cheering the Hyúvandri. He came to the east, and in particular the north-east, less often than the west, where he loved to roam in the green woods and river valleys. Therefore some of the settlements of the Hyûvandri saw Ingos less often than they should have. Here and there a whole generation passed by without seeing him at all. But it chanced one season that Ingos determined to make a thorough circuit of the communities in the east of Thrâyeldim, not overlooking a single one, and for this he knew he would need conveyance, so he decided to call on the help of the Lost Tribe.
By this time the Lost Tribe had divided into three branches, the Eskenári, who chiefly wandered in the east, the Esperári, who preferred the west, and the Estelári, roamers in the south. Ingos went to where the Eskenári were presently encamped, on the great plains of Arkallumis. Here they often resorted in hopes of spending time among the Thendâ, whom they greatly loved. Ingos called upon one of their chieftains whom he knew well.
‘Are there any of your brothers and sisters who are reckoning shortly to make a circuit of the Hyûvanka settlements in the east of Thrâyeldim? For I would gladly go with them and see how all the people are, more especially on account of the lamentable wars of the Giants in the northlands.’
‘Yes, O Father Ingos, there are such. Kovalke and Haigul will fare with you, wheresoever you wish to go. Save one village that they care not to visit.’
Ingos was glad of this, but a little troubled when he heard these last words, and wondered much where it might be.
And so he journeyed with Kovalke and Haigul the Eskenári throughout the east of Thrâyeldim. They went even to the far southern shores where the dark woods crowd the golden beaches, and to the great yellow rivers that flow into the eastern sea. And they visited the fisherfolk, the farmers, the herdsfolk, and all who wrought the things of use and built houses for the people. At length they turned northwards to those who lived in the hill country north of the Berusilwa river.
Then said Kovalke and Haigul,
‘There is a folk who live to the north of this country, on the edge of the dark forest of Nanôr, and they are called the Valkari. We are not welcome in their land, nor are we content in our hearts when we approach their borders.’
‘That disturbs me, my friends,’ said Ingos. ‘And I excuse you from spending any more time in their land than it takes for me to get there. Nevertheless, my task is to go among all the Hyûvandri, and I cannot neglect the Valkari. So, I beg you to convey me to the border of their land, and then you may depart.’
And so, turning from the Giants’ Road, they took a rough track into the deepest parts of the hill country and came at last near to the eaves of Nanôr. That forest was part of the marchland, the Berufarána, separating the Southlands from the northern lands where the Giants’ War was in progress. It was a wild, dark place.
As they came near to Valkamet, the settlement of the Valkari, the horses who drew the wain of Kovalke and Haigul became troubled. They slowed their pace, tossed their heads, and at last reared up, neighing.
‘They will go no closer, Father Ingos,’ said Haigul. ‘There is a power in this land that affrights them.’
Ingos climbed down from the wain, taking his pack with him.
‘Then, my friends, I bid you farewell, thanking you for your company and sustenance through our long journey together.’
Kovalke and Haigul quickly turned their horses and wain around and departed. Ingos advanced towards Valkamet. The track became a narrow well-paved path between high banks, overshadowed by the boughs of dark trees. At the end, a great timber archway stood. It was decorated with clusters of strange white flowers of great breadth and many intertwined strands of some woven substance in many colours, as if to welcome a person of importance whose arrival was anticipated. Just before this archway, a little alley turned aside to the right of the path, and on an impulse, Ingos entered this alley and followed it along the side of the settlement until he reached another gateway. This had a strong door set into the bank that surrounded the village. Ingos knocked with his staff at this door.
The doorkeeper opened it abruptly.
‘Who are you, and what is your business?’
‘They call me old Father Wanderer, Vadu Paityága. I travel the world seeking labour. I can work hard for my keep.’
‘Hmm. There is a strange air about you, Vadu Paityága. But you look harmless enough. Get you into the gardens yonder and cleanse the ûrtirumna beds of weeds. At sundown in the high house there is to be held a great feast for all the clan. Eat while you can. Labourers sit at the lowest table, mind.’
Ingos joined a group of labourers, already bent over their work, too weary to speak or ask his name. From his place he could see in the distance an open space that must have lain behind the arched gateway. To one side of it a huge yew tree spread its gloomy branches. After he had weeded for an hour or two, he looked up and saw that within this space now stood a crowd of men, women, and children, all in long robes of differing colours, mostly dark blue, dark green, or dark brown. They began a slow chant. The words of this chant were in a tongue unknown to Ingos.
A tall black-robed figure was approaching them from the direction of the archway. A party of women, eight in all, came out and began to dance, first circling the yew tree, then swaying as they faced the tall figure from a distance. From somewhere behind them a drum was slowly beaten in time to the dance. Then stood forth a tall woman with long raven-dark hair. She approached the black-robed figure with a great show of reverence, bowing low, and speaking words of welcome that Ingos could not hear.
And thereupon she led him into the village, and out of sight of Ingos.
When the time of the evening meal came, Ingos followed the other labourers to the high house. It was very plain that this settlement, unlike most of the communities of the People of Ingos, was not poor. The hall was well appointed, with dais and embroidered hangings, trestles and boards and benches, and a great fireplace in the midst. It was lit by a multitude of candles, so as to be almost as bright as in the daytime.
Once he was seated at the rough trestle board nearest the doors, Ingos looked up at the principal table on the dais. There sat the dark-haired woman in the central seat, and others clad in similar robes all along the board. And there in the seat of honour next to her was the black-robed figure. His face was lit by the clusters of candles on the table, and Ingos recognized him as Melyúnas, whom he had not seen for many years, not since the Year of Incoming, when he had bestowed the Talyoran on the high mountain top under the watchful eye of Astagant.
When dinner was over, the party of runewives entered, and danced before the great ones seated on the dais. When the dance ended, Melyúnas rose from his seat, smiling and calling to the runewives in words that could not be heard, but were no doubt flattering, for the dancers bowed low to him. And then Ingos saw Melyúnas turn to the Lady, pointing back at the runewives and gesturing. He made a strange motion of his hands before his face, like a bird’s bill opening and shutting, and then put them to his head with the fingers spread, like the antlers of a deer. And the Lady nodded and laughed. Then servants bore great horns of ale and cups of wine to those seated, and they pledged one another with loud mirth.
After some time two youths came from another part of the hall, and approached the principal table, and stood before the Lady and Melyúnas. A labourer seated next to Ingos, who had been slumped with exhaustion on the table, lifted his head and whispered to him:
‘Those fair youths are the sons of the Lady Murnag, you know. They are named Groiznath and Prámiz, and not alike at all, twins though they be. And they do say that he — that great Entelláwa there, that none durst go near — he is their father. But tell no one I said so!’
Then Ingos knew that Melyúnas had won the Valkari to himself and mixed the blood of the Doitherúna, the long-lived ones, with the blood of the Hyûvandri. As he watched, he perceived that Melyúnas was preparing to depart, though the evening was far gone; and he saw that the youths were to accompany him, for packs and bags were brought, and they saluted the Lady Murnag, and at once all three strode from the hall, with more chanting and drumming.
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