the rise here,’ said Ilkar, pointing up the bank through which a path had been well trodden, its shingle all but covered in mud.
Erienne followed his arm and could see the odd plume of smoke rising into the heavy sky. It was getting very hot again. She felt the sweat prickling on her and had a sudden longing for winter and the cold. Even the rain here was hot enough to bathe in.
The Unknown and Aeb had hauled all of their kit from the boat under the scowling gaze of Kayloor.
‘Let’s get going,’ said Hirad. ‘I can feel rain.’ He shouldered his sack and glared at their elven guide. ‘It’s been a real pleasure.’
‘Respect the forest. Cefu watches you,’ said Kayloor in halting Balaian.
‘It speaks,’ said Hirad.
‘Yes, and so do you,’ said Ilkar. ‘Too much. He’s just giving you sound advice.’
‘Who’s Cefu again?’
‘God of the canopy, Hirad,’ said Erienne.
Ilkar smiled. ‘At least someone listens to me. And remember what I told you before. People will stare at you. They won’t want you to be here. Don’t react; let Ren and me guide you. And Hirad, no staring back.’
‘Me?’ Hirad’s expression was pained innocence.
‘Yes, you,’ said Ilkar. ‘Prolonged eye contact is a challenge. Don’t make it until they accept you. Really. Come on.’
He led the way up the bank, The Raven and Ren close behind him as the rain swept across the river and soaked them yet again. It wasn’t even worth hurrying. They’d learned that much. And at least it discouraged the flies.
Taanepol, Ilkar’s home village, which roughly translated meant ‘town on the river’, was a cluster of approaching two hundred wood and leaf-thatch buildings in an elf-made clearing somehow in total sympathy with the forest around it. Trees overlooked it on three sides, with the fourth largely open as the ground fell away towards the river.
It was not an obviously organised settlement to the Balaian eye because there was no discernible centre or dominating structure. Groups of buildings were gathered loosely around cleared areas in which fire pits sat, tables and benches were arranged, and cooking and hunting paraphernalia lay scattered. Every house had a wide covered porch, roofs angled to take the rain into shallow channels that ran away downhill and back to the Ix.
As they approached, the rain smearing their faces, Erienne thought she could see what looked like a moat along the edge of the village, bridged by lashed-together logs. Ilkar was speaking for all their benefits.
‘There’ll be about five hundred in all here, though at any one time half are fishing, hunting or farming. Or on Balaia mage-training, if they feel the calling. I know it looks a bit jumbled, but like every other village, it was originally settled by one family and has grown as others were accepted and joined.’
‘Why did it happen that way?’ asked The Unknown. ‘Protection presumably.’
‘That’s right. The elves of Calaius have a tribal history no less torn by war than the Wesmen’s. Even so, this is one of the biggest settlements you’ll find this deep in the forest.’
‘So how come you’re allowed to hack down the forest but when we break a twig Captain Miserable has a fit?’
‘Because, Hirad, it’s our land. We were born to it and we husband it. This isn’t wanton destruction. We benefit the forest; strangers destroy it,’ said Ilkar. ‘Like I say, just respect elven beliefs and you’ll have no trouble.’
It was a moat. Dug square, and she could see as she neared that it was the best part of six feet deep and around eight feet wide. Log bridges crossed it in five places.
‘Expecting attack, are you?’ she asked.
‘Not exactly,’ said Ilkar, turning and smiling through the downpour, his black hair smeared on his head. He stopped on the bridge. ‘It keeps our animals in and some of the undesirables out.’
Erienne caught her breath. The moat was lined with an inch or so of water and seemed to be teeming with life. Lizards, rodents, snakes - she could see them all in there - scuttling or slithering here and there or testing the sides of the moat. There had to be dozens of the things in the stretches she could see to either side.
‘It’s hardly going to stop a spider, is it?’ said The Unknown.
Ilkar shrugged. ‘Probably not, but we fill it periodically with a mild alkali. Creatures don’t like it. Then, in the morning, we clear it out and get them back into the forest where they belong.’