by Andre Norton
“Then,” I said slowly, “when I returned the holdings to Allitta—did I put her at risk?”
This I did not want to believe. Ravinga shrugged.
“Who knows? So far no shadow has reached towards her.”
I studied her calm face. As ever, when in her presence, I felt that she was far more than she appeared. Though she ever wore merchant robes and very little jewelry, still, in any courtly assembly, she would be at ease with the nobility, even with the Queens.
“No shadow shall!”
Murri raised his head; there was a growl from him. As ever he had caught my thought. But, almost as I finished speaking, I knew that my promise might be a vain one. If I might not even be able to protect myself, how could I promise safety for another?
“The Progress will be a test perhaps as great as the Ordeals. And those I faced successfully. Has Allitta not already been drawn into part of this danger? She must have your protection.”
“This is why you have summoned me?” She was abrupt as if she were preparing to leave.
“Yes—but now there is a far more important reason. Will you join the Progress?” I did not know how I would explain adding Ravinga to our company but I was sure that if she agreed, her advice would mean more to me than any weapon.
Ravinga did not reply at once, rather she continued to view me as if I were a doll over which she had labored and she was not certain I was complete.
“Do not judge yourself so poorly.” Thought reading? Was I so poor in self-confidence that I displayed it openly? “There is this, Hynkkel: any one of us can rise to a challenge if we believe that we can. You are Emperor with the Essence’s blessing or you would not be here. So—be Emperor in truth!”
“The Wise One is right,” Murri had risen to his feet.
“But,” I kept to my need, “will you ride with us?”
For the first time she smiled and I saw the Ravinga I had always respected.
“It was in my mind when I came here. Yes, I shall come. Now, is there any other need?”
“Dolls!” I settled back among my cushions with some of the same relief I had known when one of the ordeals was behind me. “Gifts for the Queens. However, I have another purpose—I wish all to understand that the Sand Cats can be friends, that they are no longer to be hunted. I can utter decrees. I have already done so, but these are only words. We know the Kottis to be more than friends. Sand Cats may not share our homes but they have loyalty and their thoughts can reach those they accept as friends.”
Ravinga leaned a little forward, her face alight with interest. “Yes, oh, yes,” she said softly. “For each Queen a subtle gift, unlike any given before. A cubling, life size, wearing a collar to match the Queendom to which it will go. It will enchant—”
“Will you have time?” I asked.
She laughed. “Oh, August One, this has been anticipated. The cublings already wait within one of my safe cupboards. The Essence seems to have given me foresight. They will be ready—as shall I.”
Two promises, and I was sure she would keep them both.
The Outlaw camp:
The rock island on which the rebels had established their camp had been thoroughly explored before Shank-ji had made his decision to hold it as a fortress of sorts. From the volcanic realm of Azhengir several recruits had been drawn. Two were expert workers in metal and now they were inspecting weapons, making sure all were in battle condition. Algae had been harvested from one end of the pool and pats of it were being dried. There was much drawing of trails on rock surfaces, each warrior who could adding sections of the Outer Regions over which he himself had hunted.
Shank-ji spent much of his time on one sentry peak. There had been no more messengers from the Plain of Desolation. None of his scouts sent to the Queendoms had yet returned. Waiting made him irritable and then uneasy. He still had not made up his mind about the offer from the mysterious Dark One the man-rat served. There was in him a foreboding concerning this new player in the game. Though the rats had not been seen since the monster had ridden away, the four-footer killers could have brought down any of the scouts.
Valapa was the end goal of any campaign. If that were in his hands—hand—he rubbed his wrist stub—he could rest secure. The guards there—very few of them had ever faced rats. They had grown slack over the years—that he knew from his own observations. There were also ones there who would openly welcome his House banner.
The usurper was in control of the resources of the Empire. That did not mean much outside of Valapa. The false Emperor could demand services and supplies from any Queendom. However with the distance between each nation and Valapa, his orders could be easily delayed. There had come news that the Queendoms were building up their own armies, needing more protection against the new rats—New rats—He rubbed the scar tissue braceleting his wrist. It might be where there was one man-rat there would be others, an army of them to control the four legged ones?
Already the recruitment in the Queendoms attracted warriors with a taste for battle away from the trail guards. Sooner or later the caravaners would demand a service few could supply. With the Caravans unable to tie the Queendoms together there would rise anger against the Emperor.
The barbarian could not even swing a sword properly. Surely he had planted that double damned archer who had been the cause of this! Once more he rubbed the scar.
The Outlander could not know the secret Haban-ji held. Too bad his father had never had the guts to really explore the Vurope holdings. Or had that tale just been another rumor? There were always enough of those floating around the court.
Well, if Haban-ji had not had the fortitude to uncover secrets, his son seemed to lack courage to make up his mind—sooner or later he must decide.
Close to sunset—time for the night patrol to ride. This time he was going to take command. They could not reach the Plain in one night, but uneasiness rode him. He wanted to see if any trace could be found of the trail the Man-rat must have used.
In the great palace of Valapa:
Queen Yuikala signaled the maid to close her massive jewel chest. She had been inspecting every one of its crowded trays, choosing from them with particular care. No, the child must not be overloaded with glitter; that was for an older woman who desired to attract attention. Simple, but of course, rich as was only fitting for her granddaughter.
Diamonds discreetly set—those would be necessary for one from Valapa. However there was a triple necklace of rainbow moonstones—very rare in the Outer Regions. Also clear crystal hairpins, cut in the form of stars, set in silver—very proper for a maid just come into heat.
She looked the girl who sitting not far away. “Very suitable. You will wear the robes you have been shown. Most of the guests will appear in colors—silver and white will make you more visible. What is the matter with you, girl? You have shown little interest in this. Have you no gratitude? Any maid should be dazzled at such jewels and robes.”
Berneen’s hands were tightly clasped as if she did not want to touch clothing or jewels. She shivered though she wore the usual heavy court robe, one into which she had drawn as if it were a sheltering cave.
“Yes, Grandmother,” her voice was hardly above a whisper, “You have been most generous—”
“Girl, sit up! Stop acting as if you were being scolded! I have been most patient, full aware that your raising has been against you. Your foster mother is noble, certainly, but she is not aware of court procedure. I blame myself that I left you too long in that place which is hardly better than a produce farm.”
But it was safe, Berneen thought, and House Mistress Faterine had been kind, even when she had been so busy with the management of the estate that she never seemed to have time for Berneen. There had not always been strangers about watching her, as she was sure they did here, thinking her clumsy and ignorant.
Now Grandmother had put on her expression of exasperation again. She would talk and talk until Berneen’s head ached. They would bring out all those st
iff robes and bundle her into them and string the jewels on her, Grandmother making critical remarks all the time the maids were busy.
However Grandmother had stopped speaking and was just staring at her. Berneen did not want to raise her head and look back, but something made her do it.
The Queen picked up the large mirror by its handle and thrust it at the girl. Somehow Berneen caught it safely before it slipped through her fingers.
“Look!” The Queen demanded. “Screw up your face in that fashion and no one will find you attractive. Look, I say. You must will a smile on your face when it is necessary.”
There was a threat implied in that. Berneen shivered and tried for a weak quirk of lip which she hoped would satisfy her grandmother.
Yuikala threw up her hands. “You have a fine future before you; more than half the court will envy you. Oh, go to Hanlika and practice your steps for the ball!”
Berneen made her curtsey and thankfully left. She was not going to be freed, of that she was sure. Indeed she would be at the frightening ball. But she did not understand yet what was expected of her and there was no one she could ask.
The Queen expected that some surprising event was going to place her, a shadow of a proper court lady, into some high position. But what—and how?
She did not return to her own chamber nor did she seek out the stately court advisor as she had been ordered. Instead she slipped out into the private garden. Once more she reached the bench where the Emperor had found her. He had seemed to understand. She remembered clearly his admission that he also felt ill at ease here. If she only had a brother like him, or some close House relative. To dance with a person who was not critical but wished her well—that would take away much of her fear. Only wishes very seldom came true—at least Berneen had found it so.
CHAPTER 12
At the Outlaw camp:
The night was clear—for now. Each day the time of storms grew closer. That fool on the throne is risking his Progress. Was he doing it deliberately, hoping to buy time before he had to visit the Queendoms, in which he would face trouble? Shank-ji led the troop part way along the caravan trail but when that angled away in the direction of Kahulawe he kept them riding ahead.
This was open territory with none of the slickrock islands showing, though here and there were lone, sand worn peaks. If they kept on they would reach the edge of the Plain of Desolation. The puzzle of how any living thing could use that as a base teased him.
This talk of an August Other who ruled there—He had never been one to go stirring up dust in any record room. If there had been such a one troubling the past of the Outer Regions surely there should be some memory of him. Yalan—his thought brought a picture of the age-touched face of that capable warrior who had taught him skill with arms and had always been his shadow since he had become a man.
Shank-ji slowed the pace of his oryxen and spoke to the rider behind him. “Pass the word for Yalan.”
In all this band the veteran was the one he could trust the most, yet he certainly would not allow even Yalan to know of the Dark One’s offer—not yet.
“Yalan reporting,” the other rider had come up before they had advanced further.
“Ride with me. There is something I would know.” He was choosing his approach with care. “You rode in the Emperor’s army when it still was an army—” he accented that, well aware that Yalan was contemptuous of the so-called warriors of this day. “Was there talk in the early days concerning a Dark Lord who threatened the Outer Regions?”
“Talk, yes. But it was forbidden. Haban-ji decreed that it was not to be mentioned. But that was when he first won to the throne many years ago.” The veteran answered promptly.
Shank-ji was startled. That his father had given such an order was strange. The reign of Haban-ji had been a quiet one. Of course there had been the usual feuding among the Great Houses—Vurope, for example, had been stamped out. But such struggles among themselves had gone on for centuries. War—a war which would threaten all of the Queendoms—it was surely waged before Haban-ji had passed the ordeals and won to the throne. His father’s family had been of Valapa and the interests of the Emperor had been mostly engaged in the affairs of the Diamond Queendom.
“That must have been very long ago?”
“True, Commander. It was just before the great drought when balances had to be made.”
That was something Shank-ji did know. It was a time when the Outer Regions suffered greatly. The old and the weak young were put to sleep. Most of the Houses, great and small had a quiet private place, a plaque listing names that were honored on certain dates but otherwise were not mentioned. It could be that a war would be wiped out of mind by the later horrors of water failure.
“Was this dark lord given any name? From which Queendom did he rise?”
“No name. That too must have been forbidden. Tradition has it that my father’s father’s grandsire fought then. The Lord was said not to be of the our land; he came out of nowhere and perhaps went to nowhere. Commander, that strange one who came to us—” Yalan was quiet; he might have overstepped some bounds and Shank-ji would be angry.
His leader did not answer at once. His indecision still gnawed at him. Finally he did the best he could to explain in part, not wanting Yalan to believe that he would be angry with him for daring to mention the messenger.
“There are bits and pieces—I must learn what I may before I can be certain. But your memory has helped greatly and I am indebted to you.”
The dunes, which had made their path a weaving one at first, were subsiding. Though they had not suffered a storm near their own isle, there must have been one here, one hard enough to sweep the ground level. The flat feet of his mount, intended for traveling the ever-shifting sand, were thudding on a harder surface. Shank-ji tried to see what was causing the difference. Rock—rock over which sand shifted.
In his tracking over the sand lands before, he had never come across its like. It stretched ahead almost in the form of one of the roads of Valapa, a far more enduring one than those. He drew Yalan’s attention to it but the veteran did not show surprise.
“Many times storms clear such. There was a company of keepers of old knowledge which my squad once guarded as they went about hunting remnants of the past. It was the opinion of one of them, a dried up, wooly witted one from Twahihic, that such were roads of a very ancient time. Most of his fellows laughed at him behind his back.”
They continued to follow the trace until Yalan said suddenly, “Commander, this leads in the direction of the Plain of Desolation.”
Shank-ji pulled his mount to a halt. “Which is a way not to be taken—at least not now.”
At his command they angled east, coming again to where dunes made one more comfortable by their familiarity.
Allitta:
I had not held my House Rule so long that I had a large wardrobe. And I could not see riding forth in court robes. So I viewed all the garments maids pulled from chests and tried to foresee what demands might be made during the coming journey. I could only believe that the role of Companion might make such choices difficult. Time and time again I questioned my agreement to this wild venture. We were going against all which was considered correct.
I must prepare myself to face what was nearly immediately before me. Of course I could not share with any of my household what lay ahead—only that I would make one riding forth on the Progress. As Head of the House of Vurope, that could be expected. My Steward listed the supplies for such a trip as well as what must be done to assure the smooth running of the estate while I was away. I retired to my cushion couch at night very glad that now only Kassca shared my chamber.
Ravinga had sent a message by her kotti Wiu that she also would be with us. I sighed with relief. To have her near was a blessing from the Essence.
Most of the day of the Farewell Feast was spent in preparation for that event. I slept late, lulled by Kassca’s purrs, and ate food a maid brought, the fruit that was a treasu
re of Valapa and an algae cake spread with shaved meat.
There was a bath of perfumed water. My hair was washed likewise, to be dried with scented towels. I had never completely surrendered myself to the skills of the maids before and now they were eager to show what could be done to render one into the semblance of a high noble woman.
I had chosen to wear an outer robe of cream, one somewhat lighter in weight, as I well knew how the heat would render any heavier one a burden as the night progressed. The jewelry I chose had the customary diamonds of Valapa. However those were small, set in the eyes, and in frames around miniatures of Sand Cats rendered in fine enamels so matching in color the fur of the real cats that one could believe that was real fur stiffened by some skill. I added a wide necklace, earrings heavy enough to pull rather painfully on my ears, broad wristbands and a girdle.
My hair was dressed in coils, held by pins, each bearing a Sand Cat’s head. However I dismissed the contents of the many jars and bottles made to enhance one’s lips, paint longer one’s brows, and produce the proper mask for a courtly occasion. I also waved aside the perfumes which were offered, much to the dismay of the two maids. At last I sent them to order my carry chair and was safely alone.
Hurriedly I got out the small box Ravinga had given me. When I opened it fragrance wafted out stronger than the perfumes I had refused. I sat with the crystal charm in my hands and then, with an effort, managed to put the chain about my neck and work the whole under my clothing into complete hiding. The empty box was dropped into a painted bowl on the window shelf.
“House Lady—” The summons came from outside the door curtain just as Kassca leaped up to the shelf and curved her body in protection for the bowl.
The maid Ruffine stood outside. Her eyes widened as I came out. She drew back, raising her hands in a new salute.
“House Lady—what joy! The Essence is with you!”
