‹ Prequel: Ninety Days of Water
Status: Active.
Tundra
Chapter VII – Stones – Part II
When the moon drowns in the black night, and narrow eyes turn into the wind; when the summer is gone and the new kit foxes come out, an ill omen for the mammoth riders, snowy as death wrapped in down– that’s when the tundra is at its brightest, gleaming beneath the light of the stars.
I know this land, and yet it is not my own. That much was made abundantly clear by the druids, who sent me home before they would agree to talk to each other in more depth. Reshrin did not accompany me on the long ride back to the nameless school, although all the while I rode, I could have sworn a large eagle flew over me. Or maybe it was an owl?
I made it back to the Tower by morning, when the crows barked harshly, ringing in the dawn. Dawn on the tundra is a phenomenon the equivalent of the aurora, but in orange and blood red. It’s a trumpeting kind of dawn, with brass and streamers, and cloudlets that skate over the whole scene like passing gentry. By daybreak, even our crumbling Tower of the Art could have been a turret on a grand castle in Tyrian City in the south-eastern corner of the world. Black as the night that always found bastion in the nameless school when the light came to burn it away, and charred as the silhouettes caught in the flame of day, the Tower was my home. In it, I would find food, books and peers, if not friends.
Seeking rest rather than sleep, I went immediately to the top of the Tower, where the library grew wildest. There, I found the same Geomancer who was always haunting the maps and charts.
‘You won’t find anything down here,’ he remarked, without turning his back on the map he was hunched over, seated in an old armchair.
‘What?’ I replied. Had he really spoken to me?
‘You won’t find anything down here. The druids, the mammoth people, whatever you want to call them, they don’t write anything down. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? An entire culture of illiterates.’
‘It’s an oral tradition,’ I retorted.
The mage made a suspicious noise. ‘You know what oral traditions are like,’ he scoffed. ‘One person with a grudge or a bad memory and your high king becomes a dung-farmer.’
‘You shouldn’t be so flippant,’ I told him. ‘They’ve been here a lot longer than we have.’
‘And what have they done in that time? Where are their castles? Where are their roads, even? I mean, look at this place. Have you ever seen somewhere so bleak?’ He hesitated, and then, ‘Oh, that’s right,’ he said. ‘You were sent here, weren’t you?’
I was furious, but I did not show it. ‘And why are you here, if you hate the tundra so much?’ I asked him.
‘Oh, I don’t hate the tundra,’ he replied, chuckling in a low voice, so that none of the apprentices studying would overhear us. ‘I just don’t think its people are worth studying. You’ve seen the mammoth people, haven’t you? I’m not sure they’re even human… No, I’m here for the land itself.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’m interested in how the ground moves. Rockslides, earthquakes, that sort of thing. Of course, Firepeak will burn you alive if you interfere with their precious lava flows, and the ground around Blackmouth’s been shaped by so much magic that it’s basically useless, but then of course, you knew that. This is the only place where I can study what I want to study.’
I raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Rocks?’
‘And your project is so worthwhile?’ the Geomancer posed. ‘Your primitives and druids? Is this some Blackmouth thing, where you have to be able to lord it over someone, but you can’t do that to anyone here so you go out onto the tundra to see the mammoth people?’
‘It’s still more relevant than rocks,’ I muttered.
The Geomancer shook his fiery head. ’There’s a beauty to them,’ he said. ‘You know what you’re looking at was created by something older and vaster and more powerful than anything you can imagine.’ He paused, and then said something kinder than I could have expected. ’I’m actually heading out onto the tundra this evening, if you’re interested. There’ve been a couple of subsidences I want to look at.’ Too bad that his generosity was already ruined by the sour moments preceeding.
‘Thank you,’ I managed, ‘but I think I’ll stick with people.’
The Geomancer shrugged. ‘Your loss.’
I know this land, and yet it is not my own. That much was made abundantly clear by the druids, who sent me home before they would agree to talk to each other in more depth. Reshrin did not accompany me on the long ride back to the nameless school, although all the while I rode, I could have sworn a large eagle flew over me. Or maybe it was an owl?
I made it back to the Tower by morning, when the crows barked harshly, ringing in the dawn. Dawn on the tundra is a phenomenon the equivalent of the aurora, but in orange and blood red. It’s a trumpeting kind of dawn, with brass and streamers, and cloudlets that skate over the whole scene like passing gentry. By daybreak, even our crumbling Tower of the Art could have been a turret on a grand castle in Tyrian City in the south-eastern corner of the world. Black as the night that always found bastion in the nameless school when the light came to burn it away, and charred as the silhouettes caught in the flame of day, the Tower was my home. In it, I would find food, books and peers, if not friends.
Seeking rest rather than sleep, I went immediately to the top of the Tower, where the library grew wildest. There, I found the same Geomancer who was always haunting the maps and charts.
‘You won’t find anything down here,’ he remarked, without turning his back on the map he was hunched over, seated in an old armchair.
‘What?’ I replied. Had he really spoken to me?
‘You won’t find anything down here. The druids, the mammoth people, whatever you want to call them, they don’t write anything down. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? An entire culture of illiterates.’
‘It’s an oral tradition,’ I retorted.
The mage made a suspicious noise. ‘You know what oral traditions are like,’ he scoffed. ‘One person with a grudge or a bad memory and your high king becomes a dung-farmer.’
‘You shouldn’t be so flippant,’ I told him. ‘They’ve been here a lot longer than we have.’
‘And what have they done in that time? Where are their castles? Where are their roads, even? I mean, look at this place. Have you ever seen somewhere so bleak?’ He hesitated, and then, ‘Oh, that’s right,’ he said. ‘You were sent here, weren’t you?’
I was furious, but I did not show it. ‘And why are you here, if you hate the tundra so much?’ I asked him.
‘Oh, I don’t hate the tundra,’ he replied, chuckling in a low voice, so that none of the apprentices studying would overhear us. ‘I just don’t think its people are worth studying. You’ve seen the mammoth people, haven’t you? I’m not sure they’re even human… No, I’m here for the land itself.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’m interested in how the ground moves. Rockslides, earthquakes, that sort of thing. Of course, Firepeak will burn you alive if you interfere with their precious lava flows, and the ground around Blackmouth’s been shaped by so much magic that it’s basically useless, but then of course, you knew that. This is the only place where I can study what I want to study.’
I raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Rocks?’
‘And your project is so worthwhile?’ the Geomancer posed. ‘Your primitives and druids? Is this some Blackmouth thing, where you have to be able to lord it over someone, but you can’t do that to anyone here so you go out onto the tundra to see the mammoth people?’
‘It’s still more relevant than rocks,’ I muttered.
The Geomancer shook his fiery head. ’There’s a beauty to them,’ he said. ‘You know what you’re looking at was created by something older and vaster and more powerful than anything you can imagine.’ He paused, and then said something kinder than I could have expected. ’I’m actually heading out onto the tundra this evening, if you’re interested. There’ve been a couple of subsidences I want to look at.’ Too bad that his generosity was already ruined by the sour moments preceeding.
‘Thank you,’ I managed, ‘but I think I’ll stick with people.’
The Geomancer shrugged. ‘Your loss.’