Chapter Thirty-Six

On the afternoon of their fifth day on the road, Eliot and Renard approached the path leading to Cloud Mountain. In the distance, they glimpsed a few riders and carriages heading in the direction of what they assumed to be Aiqos, also travelling away from it.

“Good to see the guards still here,” said Renard as the guards’ camp into view.

Getting to their feet, the quartet of guards quickly donned their red coats and black tricorns. Two of the four men, hands resting on the hilts of their still-sheathed swords, walked forward a few paces, and stopped.

“State your business,” said the closest.

“My name is Renard Quintrell, Bertran Quintrell is my father. This is my good friend, Eliot Severin.” He held out a letter. “My father’s letter explaining our presence here.”

The guard first studied the seal before breaking it to read the letter.

“Riders approaching, sir,” called one of the guards.

A contingent of tall-folk, flanked by their guards, drew closer.

Eliot’s curiosity as to why the tall-folk were heading in their direction, away from the Mariosha Road, was disrupted by the cat.

Clearly agitated, the cat kept repeatedly pushing itself against the bars of the cage as it called out. The pack horse was getting equally agitated, backing away, pulling against the reins tied to Fordel’s saddle.

Eliot quickly dismounted to get a better hold on it, trying to calm the horse and the cat.

Then Renard exclaimed.

Eliot turned to see Aridai staring at him, his expression one of complete surprise, and Eliot’s heartbeat began to race.

Aridai’s stare swivelled to the cat. “You, you have, he is here?” About to say more, he instead shook his head and dismounted. Striding to the cat, he spoke in the tall-folk language.

Eliot, struck speechless at the sight of the one he knew to be his uncle, fumbled to undo the cage.

The cat all but leapt into Aridai’s arms, purring heavily, butting its head against his chin, rubbing against his cheek.

With tears in his eyes, Aridai met Eliot’s wide-eyed gaze, and smiled.

“My lord,” said Renard, “the cat belongs to you?”

Eliot finally found his voice. “You-you’re the one Jack stole from?”

Aridai’s brows drew together. “You know of the thief, Jack?”

Both nodded as Eliot said, “We knew he’d stolen from the tall-folk on Cloud Mountain, but we didn’t know it was you.”

“We thought you lived in Aiqos,” said Renard.

“I used to until. No matter.”

“Is your purpose here to return Master Aridai’s cat?” asked another tall-folk who’d urged his horse forward.

“Yes, my lord,” said Renard. “And his dagger and harp.”

Aridai, still visibly surprised, and the tall-folk then conversed in their own language before he turned, again, to Eliot and Renard. “Fate is, indeed, strange. We were journeying to Mariosha to speak with the authorities there to allow us to question the one called Garlon, the name the thief gave to me when I questioned him. My intention was for him to explain his actions, and to return what his man had stolen. But here you both are, returning exactly that.

“We have decided it is now pointless for all of us to journey to Mariosha. Instead, I will go with the guards to bring the thief back to answer for his actions, and the harm he caused my wife. But first, I will return to my home, and I invite you to join me.”

As he went to his horse, and to speak with the others, Eliot and Renard exchanged astonished looks.

“This doesn’t seem real,” said Renard softly.

Eliot shook his head. He’d been handed a gift of speaking with Aridai, to ask about his father, his tall-folk family, but the thought, inexplicably, left his stomach tense.

The two tall-folk guards who would accompany Aridai were invited to share the guards’ camp until Aridai returned for the journey to Mariosha, and Eliot left the pack horse with the guards.

Eliot and Renard walked their horses up the wide path, following Aridai on his much larger horse; the cat had settled on the saddle in front of Aridai.

The trepidation Eliot felt faded as he took in his surroundings. Noticing fresh animal droppings, he heard pattering, snuffling sounds of unseen animals, as muffled grunting emanated from the undergrowth, causing Fordel to flick his ears back.

The hum of insects merged with melodious birdcalls, underscored now and then by the crunch of twigs under the horses’ hooves.

Eliot scrunched his face, flailing at the spider webs trailing over him.

“Look,” said Renard, pointing to tufts of cloud winding through the trees. “Is that the reason for the mountain’s name?”

“Yes,” said Aridai. “Further up, past my home, larger clouds cover much of the trees.”

“The air feels cooler,” said Eliot, “but we haven’t been travelling long, have we?”

“It may surprise you to know how far up we are already,” said Aridai. “See there?” He pointed to a high branch of a tree to the side. “Beautiful, is it not?”

Wide-eyed, they stared at a long-tailed, bright yellow bird, which appeared to be observing them.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Renard quietly. As they rode past, he tilted his neck back to stare at the lofty trees, some of the trunks girdled with leaves, others entwined with thick vines, or clad in moss.

Although shadowy under the occasionally creaking tall trees, shafts of sunlight speared through the canopy, lighting up dust motes and forming pools of light on the path and glimmering on the leaves.

“Master Aridai,” said Renard, “do you know how Jack managed to get to your home each time?”

Glancing back, the tall-folk said, “At first, I thought he came up the path as there is no other way up the mountain. But when I discovered the guards, I realised he must have found another way.”

Renard frowned. “I don’t understand. There are guards posted on the Mariosha Road as well, but none of them reported seeing Jack or the men he travelled with.”

“It is a mystery,” said Aridai. “But when I have him and I question him, I have no doubt he will reveal all. Ah, here we are.”

A timber and stone house came into view, smoke curling from the chimney. Horses in the paddock whinnied, and their horses answered.

The cat leapt down and went trotting ahead of them.

Eliot was gripped with a sudden urgency to tell Aridai he knew the tall-folk was his uncle. “Master Aridai, wait. I have to, there’s something I.”

Aridai was about to dismount but turned his horse around to face Eliot.

Eliot’s gaze darted about, his mouth suddenly dry.

“What is it?” said Aridai when Eliot remained silent.

“I know.”

Blinking, Aridai raised his brows.

“Mother told me. I know about Father, I know you’re my uncle.” The words came out in a rush and not in the way he wished.

Aridai’s eyes gradually widened. He opened his mouth but said nothing.

Swallowing hard, Eliot said, “I’ve only known a few weeks, since–”

“That is good,” whispered Aridai. “Very good. No more pretence, no more secrets.” The corners of his tear-filled eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Warmth radiated through Eliot, and he returned his uncle’s smile.

As Aridai dismounted, a male tall-folk came striding out of the barn, followed by two younger males.

Aridai spoke to them in their own language. Their confused expressions smoothed out as, one by one, their gazes went to Eliot who was in the process of dismounting.

The cat came trotting back and went to the older male, reaching up to place its front legs on the male’s leg. He leaned down to pick it up, a wide smile on his face.

“Eliot, Renard.” Aridai extended his arm towards them. “This is my brother, Arodi.”

“Welcome,” said Arodi. Like his brother, his silver-streaked black hair hung just past his collar. “We were mystified when we heard horses. But to see such welcome guests, a most pleasant surprise.”

Both bowed, and it was Renard who said, “Thank you, my lord,” when Eliot hesitated, not sure if he should use the term ‘uncle’ just yet.

Aridai, standing in the middle of the younger males, put his hands on their shoulders. While both wore their long hair braided, only one had a moustache, while the other had a beard and moustache. “And these are my sons, Magen and Mahol.”

Again, Eliot didn’t dare speak, not knowing what to say, and was thankful for Renard replying straightaway.

“The Maker was smiling on us today,” said Aridai to his brother and sons. “Our company had stopped to check with the guards at the base of the mountain, and there stood Eliot and Renard. I could not believe my ears when I heard Reuven calling out.”

“Ah,” said Renard. “Is that–”

“Yes.” Aridai reached out to stroke the cat, still in Arodi’s arms. “That is his name.”

A small frown furrowed Eliot’s brow, it was so like his father’s name.

“You were bringing him back?” said Arodi.

Renard nodded, nudging Eliot with his elbow.

“Yes, yes, my lord,” said Eliot. “And the harp and dagger also. We had no idea the tall-folk who lived on the mountain was, um, Master Aridai.”

“We discussed the matter,” said Aridai, “and the company has returned to Aiqos. There seemed little point in all of us travelling to Mariosha. We will stay tonight, and journey there tomorrow.”

“To get the thief who hurt Ama?” said Mahol, the one with a beard and moustache.

Aridai nodded. “That has not changed, he must still answer for what he did. Now come. We have kept our guests standing out here long enough.”

“Wait,” said Eliot. “The injury, your mother’s injury, that was caused by Jack?”

Magen and Mahol nodded.

“Is she badly hurt?”

“Her arm is broken,” said Aridai, “but is mending. Come, come inside.”

As he led the way to the door, it opened to reveal a young female tall-folk in a long burgundy tunic, and calf-length skirt. She exclaimed then called out over her shoulder. Noticing the cat, she hurried out, her face wreathed in smiles.

The cat jumped down and walked around her, repeatedly winding his body around her. Laughing, she crouched down and made a fuss of him.

Aridai was about to speak when an older female came to the door, followed by another.

By now, Eliot’s heart was pounding so hard, he struggled to breath evenly. Were all these people related to Aridai? Were they all related to him?

Both females had their hair wrapped in saffron-coloured cloth wound around their heads, and the one in front had her left arm in a sling.

Aridai laughed. “Welcoming you into my house is not such an easy task, it would seem.” He put his arm around the female with the injured arm. “This is my wife, Sela.”

Eliot stared, and quickly bowed when Renard, yet again, nudged him, this time not so subtly.

“And her sister, Sherah. We are lucky to have her here, with her herbal knowledge and healing skills.”

She smiled. “Where else would I be but with my sister?”

Eliot finally managed to speak. “Your injury, my lady.” His expression hardened, anger jostling with regret. “I should, I should have tried harder to stop him then–”

“How could you have known this would happen?” Sela’s gentle voice only made Eliot feel worse. “How could any of us have known?

As the silence lengthened, the young female stepped forward and said something to Aridai.

He jerked his head back and stared. “Oh, forgive me.”

She clicked her tongue, but her smile made a lie of her supposed annoyance.

“This is my favourite niece, Vashti.”

“My daughter,” said Sherah.

“Your only niece,” said Vashti.

“Exactly,” said Aridai, grinning. “Now, Eliot and Renard, come in, come in.”

“Yes,” said Sela, “join us. Let us eat.”

“We will see to your horses,” said Magen, “then join you.”

Thanking the brothers, the pair stepped over the threshold, and Eliot glanced at Renard as his friend squeezed his shoulder. Renard smiled and nodded, and Eliot was glad for his supportive presence.

Even if no one had led the way, the two young men would have found their way to the kitchen simply by following the piquant scents.

A large table, the colour of tree bark, patterned with dark striations, dominated the room. Two partially covered pots burbled on the stove as if in conversation, curls of steam wafting up to the ceiling. The aroma of baking bread, one of Eliot’s favourite smells, hung in the air.

Vashti added more bowls and plates to the table as Sherah lifted away the door to the oven and removed the bread using a flat, wide ladle. Sela peered into one of the pots, conversing quietly with her sister in their own tongue.

Having washed the travel from their hands and face, Eliot and Renard joined the family at the table, and Eliot smiled when he noticed the cat, Reuven.

Perched on a stool near the fire, the feline watched Vashti intently as she continued to prepare more food. Every now and again, she’d place a morsel on the stool between his paws, which he would swiftly gobble up before fixing his gaze on her once more.

The women served the menfolk first, and Eliot, his eyes closed, breathed in the mouth-watering smell of the stew in his bowl. Despite his lingering nervousness, he was ready for a hot meal after days of cold meats on their journey here. He raised his brows and paused, a spoonful of the stew hovering before his mouth.

Renard had made an agreeable moaning sound. Swallowing, he said, “Mistress Sela, Mistress Sherah, this is unlike any stew I’ve ever tasted. It’s better than any stew I’ve ever tasted.”

The sisters exchanged surprised but pleased looks. “It is a traditional dish,” said Sela, beaming.

“It is similar to the stew you have in Mariosha,” said Aridai.

“But so much more.” Renard dipped a piece of bread in the stew.

“That is only because you have never tasted it before,” said Sherah. “Surely your household cook prepares delicious meals.”

“She is a splendid cook, no doubt, but she’s never served anything quite like this.” Without a pause, he glanced at Eliot. “Do not say a word when we return.”

Placing his hand on his heart, Eliot solemnly swore silence.

The tall-folk laughed, and Sela said, “There is plenty more to satisfy a hearty appetite.”