The Singing by Alison Croggon

Author:Alison Croggon [Croggon, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780670072385
Publisher: Camberwell, Vic. : Penguin/Viking, 2008.
Published: 2009-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

THE HOLLOW LANDS

* * *

Nor was such love often seen, as that between Saliman and Hem; for each held that to lay down his life were a small price for the other's good. As the reeds standing in the river, they bowed side by side before the gentle breeze; as broad oaks in the forest, they resisted the fierce tempest together; nor did one ever fail the other in his promise. Truly he is blessed, who rejoices in such a friend!

From The Tale of Saliman, Maerad of Turbansk

XII

ARDINA

"THIS is hopeless," said Maerad. Her gaze swept, smoldering with irritation, over the lonely, bare hills of the Hollow Lands. "I swear the Nameless One himself sent this rain. Curse him. Curse him and blast him."

Cadvan, who was, with great difficulty, attempting to light a fire in the face of the biting wind, looked up. "There is no doubt that the Nameless One is a powerful sorcerer," he said mildly. "But I think this weather has nothing to do with him. Such floods have happened before—not for a long time, I grant you—and we were about due for another."

"It's mightily convenient, all the same," said Maerad darkly. "How do you know he hasn't called out the rain clouds just to get in our way? If we ever get the better of him, I'll sentence him to an eternity of numb fingers and wet clothes. It would serve him right."

Cadvan laughed, and then was silent as he tended a flame that had finally caught, cradling it carefully from kindling to wood. Maerad turned her back on the Hollow Lands, and concentrated on helping him to build the fire until at last they had a healthy blaze. Then they prepared an unappetizing but sustaining meal, consisting mainly of hot bean gruel and turnips pushed into the coals to roast. Once the meal was over, Maerad sighed and stretched out her hands to the flames.

They were huddled under a rock formation that made a natural shelter. Underneath the ground was dry, and there was even a little protection from the shifting wind. The horses, unsaddled, wandered close by, cropping the turf, their backs hunched miserably against the cold.

"What are we to do?" said Maerad, returning to her earlier grievance. "We're going in exactly the wrong direction, I'm sure."

Cadvan studied her face as she stared frowning into the fire. "We have two choices. One is to wait for the floods to subside. The worst of it will probably be over in a few days at most. Or we can try to go around them, although my wager is that if the Imlan has flooded so badly, the Aleph will perhaps be worse. And we have no way of knowing if the Milhol is any better. We might be hemmed in by flooding to the north as well, once we leave the hills."

"We don't have time."

"No. But they are choices we have, all the same. At the moment, the south is barred to us. My best guess is that we try to head east, bearing south toward Desor.

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