Return to Eddarta

by Randall Garrett

  “It doesn’t matter now,” I said. My voice sounded distant to me.

  “What? But you wanted evidence—”

  “I’ve found it,” I said. “Enough to convince me.” I handed her the final drawing.

  She put the book down and accepted the paper, but she searched my face for a moment before she looked at it, puzzled. “It is Tinis.” She shook her head. “Rikardon, I don’t understand.”

  I rubbed my face with my hand, trying to clear my head of the shock I felt.

  “Gharlas’s uncle was a good artist,” I explained. “See, this portrait of Horinad, how much he looks like Pylomel? That tells me that the boy had a gift for accuracy.”

  “So this portrait of Tinis probably looks like Tinis, is that what you are trying to say?”

  She was still groping, and I was recovering, so I put it as clearly as possible.

  “Tinis is alive,” I said. “He lives in Raithskar, under the name of Ferrathyn.”

  I tapped the sketch.

  “I think we found a motive for a Supervisor to want the Ra’ira for himself, don’t you?”

  19

  Tarani was furiously busy for the next two days. We returned from Gharlas’s house barely before noon, and she rushed off to Lord Hall for the “educational” meeting with the Lords. That lasted until nearly midnight, and the next day was an endless round of conferences—with each of the Lords, with some of the Harthim landservants. Each family owned all their resources in common, and the distribution of wealth was handled by the Lord. Tarani took an intense course in Lord City politics and economics on the second day.

  The morning of the third day was spent in preparation for the ceremony that would install Tarani in her new position and give everybody an excuse for a roaring party. Tarani wished out loud that she had brought the black outfit from Raithskar, but then she found some out-of-style gowns in a closet somewhere. She called me into our suite to help select one for her, and while I was there, the seamstress arrived.

  Tarani tried things on, and the seamstress and I offered opinions. Tarani more often sided with the seamstress, but I didn’t mind. I was glad enough to be able to spend some time in Tarani’s company, regardless of what I was doing. Finally the choice was made—a deep red gown with a full hem and openwork sleeves.

  It needed alteration, of course. The seamstress was an older woman with a competent look about her. It was hard for me not to laugh at the look on her face when Tarani sat beside her, picked up a needle and thread, and started work on one side of the hem.

  “I do not doubt your skill, Rena,” Tarani said. “But I know how little time there is. I can do only simple things, but if my hands can free yours for the more delicate work, I am willing to use them.”

  “I—uh—thank you, my Lady—uh—Lord—uh—High Lord—”

  Tarani dropped her work and stared at the woman. “Rena, you remind me of a problem. Being addressed by my title—which I do not have officially yet, by the way—feels rather awkward to me, especially when two women are sewing on the same dress. It is a problem that may occur often. Would you be comfortable calling me by my given name?”

  “You mean—uh—no, ma’am, it would not be proper.”

  “A title is necessary?” Tarani asked, musing, and only slightly poking fun at the competent old lady. “Then, will ‘Lord Tarani’ do?”

  A smile lit the lined old face. “Yes, that sounds right, ma’am. Lord Tarani.” She tried it out.

  “You don’t need me any more, do you?” I asked.

  Tarani looked up at me and smiled. “Always, my love, but not for this particular task.”

  I headed for the door, stopping to press my hand against the back of her neck. She arched her back, returning the pressure.

  I spent the rest of the morning walking around the Harthim enclosure, becoming familiar with its layout. I wandered into the barracks area, where I was greeted with a mixture of surprise, welcome, and suspicion. One of the welcomes came from a man I regarded as an old friend—Naddam, the man who had been in charge of the Lingis mine before I had been “impressed” as his replacement.

  Naddam was drinking faen when I walked into the common room at one end of the barracks, and he choked and sputtered when he saw me. I clapped him on the back, laughing.

  “May the fleas bite Harthim where it hurts!” he swore. “You can’t be the new High Lord’s ‘companion,’ can you?” He did not wait for me to answer; he had already put two and two together. “Well,” he said. “Well, that must be some kind of a record, friend—Lakad?”

  “Rikardon,” I said.

  “Rikardon, then,” he repeated laughing. “From the copper mines to Lord Hall in less than four moons. A record, I’d bet on it.”

  The other guards watched us warily, and I invited Naddam to walk with me a while. I told him what had happened after he left the Lingis mine. He was not happy to learn about the slave escape system that had been run from his mining camp, without his knowledge. He was glad to learn about Tarani’s plans for reform in the mines, to reduce the work level to provide punishment, but not exhaustion.

  He had heard about our arrival on sha’um, and who I really was, and he was curious why Keeshah had not been around at the mine. I told him about the sha’um and the Sharith, the mating cycle that had deprived me of Keeshah’s company, and the special bonding that had brought his mate out of the Valley. He was intrigued, and touched, I thought, by the story.

  “I have a favor to ask, Naddam,” I said.

  “Ask it,” he said.

  “No one else in Eddarta knows this yet, but Tarani and I are going to have to leave Eddarta again.”

  “Soon?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “Tarani is making her own preparations, leaving instructions, coordinating projects, that sort of thing. I expect she is setting up some kind of method of communication.

  “But all those are her preparations. I have faith in her judgment; I would trust anyone she chooses to trust. But I’ll feel better if there is one person I, personally, can rely on to keep us informed of what’s going on here, while we’re in Raithskar.”

  “So—what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to find a maufel who has been to Raithskar,” I said. The bird-handlers could not guide or direct a message bird to a place they had never seen. “There has to be one. And I’ll find one in Raithskar who knows Eddarta. All of this is just in case,’ you understand. I’ll be more comfortable knowing that if some emergency does occur, I’ll have a fast, direct way to find out about it.”

  He squinted at me. “But you’re not expecting an emergency?”

  I laughed. “No, not at all. Really,” I added, fending off the skepticism that was so evident in his stance.

  “Well, whether you are or you aren’t,” he said, “of course I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  All the fuss over the gown had been in aid of finding something to wear to the party. For the ceremony, which the Lords called a “naming,” Tarani was well prepared. The white tunic with its embroidered emblem—a little more ornate than the embroidery on the tunics of the other Lords—had been fitted to her on our first day in Eddarta.

  All the Lord families gathered on one side of the doughnut-shaped hall, crowding together to get a clear view of the portable platform which had been set up across the entryway to the Council Chamber. All the Lords stood on the platform, with Tarani standing regally tall at the center of the row.

  Hollin stepped foward and gave a speech about the duties of the High Lord, and each of the other Lords spoke a ritual testimony of respect and group spirit. Their litany did not, I noticed, include a promise of obedience. In theory at least, Lord City itself was an autocracy, run by a specific group of people.

  Tarani had a set piece to say, and she delivered it with solemn sincerity. She gave a short speech—mostly gratitude for acceptance of a stranger, and a wish for tolerance of her learning period. She did not mention our plans to leave the ne
xt day.

  The ceremony was short and the Lords were replaced on the platform by the musicians. The party started.

  The next morning—not too early—Tarani dressed in desert tunic and trousers, and it felt like I could release a breath I had been holding for three days. Our travel packs were in our suite, and Tarani packed some extra clothes into hers.

  She picked up the drawing of Tinis and studied it for a moment.

  “I know I have never seen this man,” she said. “I mean, of course, an adult version of this boy.”

  “You haven’t,” I said. “I saw him while you were in Raithskar, but always while you weren’t available to meet him.”

  “Let us assume that Tinis—or Ferrathyn, I should say—has the true Ra’ira, and sole access to its power. Why would he terrorize Raithskar with uncontrolled vineh?”

  “That may be just a side issue,” I said. “After all, he is only one man, and has to rest sometimes. It’s just not possible for one man to control … all … those …”

  I had been reclining on the pallet. I propped myself on my elbow.

  “What are you thinking?” Tarani asked me.

  “I’m thinking about vineh,” I said grimly. “About animals that suddenly acquired a talent for complex strategy.” I slammed my open hand on the floor beside the pallet. “I saw it, but I didn’t!” I growled. “Remember the vineh that went after the cubs, in the fight? They killed one cub, but they weren’t hurting the other two—because Ferrathyn told them not to.

  “That talk of vineh acquiring some Gandalaran characteristics through long contact with more intelligent minds works logically, up to a point. I can believe that vineh could plan an ambush, or that they could analyze an opponent and attack at the weakest point. But what they did with the cubs was not possible for animals. They might have attacked and killed the cubs, because they were weak enemies—comparatively, that is.

  “The vineh used those cubs to destroy the effectiveness of the other enemies, and that requires an intuitive jump: ‘I care for my young, and if they are endangered, it is a distraction from everything else; therefore, threatening the young sha’um will disturb the adult sha’um.’ That is not learned behavior, it is rational thought, and I cannot believe a vineh’s mind could have come up with the idea—on its own.

  “To answer your question, I believe Ferrathyn has simply let the vineh run free—except when he has a job for them. Even then, he may control only a select few, the natural leaders.”

  Tarani had listened in silence.

  “Then it is Ferrathyn we owe for the death of the lost one,” she said quietly. She folded the portrait of Tinis and placed it in her travel bag.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Tarani straightened up and crossed the bedroom. At the parlor door, she turned back to me.

  “I sent for some people,” she said. “This is how I choose to prepare Eddarta for my absence. Please do not interfere.”

  She crossed the parlor to the hallway door, and I came out from the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  “We are here, as you requested, High Lord,” said Hollin when Tarani had opened the door. She stepped back and Hollin, Zefra, and Indomel came into the room.

  It’s a good thing she warned me to stay out of this, I thought, settling into a chair in a corner. I wouldn’t have Zefra and Indomel in the same room, ever again.

  Each of the people registered surprise when they saw the way Tarani was dressed. She had taken care to stand out of the sight of anyone else in the hall, and now she closed the door.

  Hollin I would describe as “solid.” He had size, and weight, and middle-aged good looks, and slow mannerisms that gave him an air of steadiness. The few times I had been within earshot of him, he had been giving clear directions or well-considered opinions, and he impressed me as already being committed to support of Tarani.

  He looked uncomfortable in the presence of Indomel.

  “Thank you for coming,” Tarani said. “You have guessed that I depart today on a journey. You three are the only ones who are to know where I have gone, and why. Hollin, I know this will put you in a difficult position among the Lords, but I require your consent to secrecy.”

  “You have it, gladly,” he said. “It must be a matter of extreme importance.

  It’s a damn good thing she warned me to stay out of it, I thought, as I watched Tarani open the small box and take out the Ra’ira.

  She told them the whole story. The only thing she held back was the fact that she and I were both human-Gandalaran blends. She covered that in her description of our encounter with Gharlas, saying only that we had discovered that we had a kind of natural immunity to compulsion.

  She told them about Tinis too—now known as Ferrathyn.

  “I am convinced,” she said, with the faintest possible smile flashed in my direction, “that Tinis has the real stone. He also has command of hundreds of vineh, possibly with the capability to control an army of people. From what we learned of him in the All-Mind, he has a great capacity for anger. Would anyone doubt that his anger is aimed at Eddarta?”

  Three people shook their heads. Hollin was pale.

  “Regaining control of the true Ra’ira has become more than merely a task to which Rikardon and I are committed, to which we feel destined. It has become an imperative defensive measure for Eddarta, to which I am newly committed, and to which I feel destined.

  “I must leave today for Raithskar, and I cannot say when I shall return.”

  Nobody had bothered to sit down. The three of them woke from the near-trance induced by Tarani’s story. It was Indomel who broke the silence.

  “High Lord,” he said, with a tone of contempt carefully calculated to be tolerable, “I understand why you have chosen to tell Hollin all this. He is an able administrator, and would have been my choice for so sensitive a matter.”

  Well, live and learn, I thought. The kid does have some good sense.

  “And Zefra,” Indomel continued, “is your mother, and it is fitting that you share confidences with her. But I—I, sister, am your opponent and your enemy. Why am I here this morning?”

  “You and Zefra,” Tarani said coolly, “are here for identical reasons. Hollin will have all he can do to keep the Lords working toward the goals we have outlined, without having to be concerned about the two of you. You are ambitious, each of you—for different purposes, in different directions, yet you are alike in this.”

  Zefra sputtered with outrage; Indomel smiled.

  “One, I wanted you both to know that this”—she tossed the stone—“is worthless, so you will not kill each other trying to get it, after I leave.”

  This time, Indomel laughed out loud. Zefra crossed her arms tightly against her chest and snapped her mouth shut.

  Tarani was not blind to her agitation.

  “I would do this more gently, Mother, if I had the time; I have already explained that there is too little time as it is.

  “You two,” she said to them, “are the key to the Lords working well with Hollin. I know that you each have established contacts, owed favors, and the like, within the families. If you wanted to undermine my position during my absence, it would be easy for you.

  “I want you to confirm my position,” she said. “Squelch rumors of abandonment, encourage belief that I will be back, that my commitment to Eddarta continues. If you work your contacts in my favor, Hollin’s job will be much easier.”

  “Why would we do that?” Indomel asked. “Why, in particular, would I do that?”

  “Because it is the price of your remaining in Eddarta,” Tarani said. “You must agree to two conditions, or I will leave orders for your transport to the Lingis mine.”

  I think everybody except Tarani gasped.

  “You will be given no duty,” she said, “but you will be kept isolated, with a special guard of six men—more, I hope, than even both of you could control through compulsion at one time.” She smiled. “You will be in comfortable quarters, I shall see
to that. But you will be living in the same quarters.”

  After contemplating the Lingis vision for a few seconds, Indomel growled: “What are your terms?”

  “First, that you use whatever influence you have only to support me and the programs I have initiated.”

  Zefra spoke up first. “Agreed, daughter,” she said sweetly, all trace of her agitation vanished. “I would have done so in any case.”

  “Indomel?”

  The boy walked away from the others, turned back, shrugged. “Agreed,” he said. “The second term?”

  “You must each give me your promise that you will not use your mindgifts in any way during my absence.”

  Zefra flinched, and Indomel laughed.

  “Ah, that hurts, does it not, Mother? A vow to support your daughter does not restrict you from trying to destroy your son—is that why the first condition pleased you so?”

  “Indomel,” Tarani snapped, “do you agree to the second term?”

  The boy straightened his face. “Yes, I agree,” he said. “And I am as little happy with it as Zefra.”

  “Mother?”

  Zefra glared at her son for a moment, then sighed and relaxed. “Agreed.”

  “Hollin, I hold you witness to their acceptance of those terms, and appoint you as the sole judge of their compliance or violation. You are empowered to implement the Lingis arrangement at any time you deem it necessary.”

  Hollin only nodded, looking a little awed.

  “Meanwhile, remove the guards from their rooms. They shall live in this house as part of my family, not as my prisoners, as long as they meet the stated terms.”

  “All understood, High Lord,” Hollin said.

  She sighed heavily.

  “Then all is done, and I may go. Goodbye.”

  She hugged her mother, touched Hollin’s shoulder, but offered Indomel no gesture. He looked surprised, and then he smiled. “I begin to believe, sister, that your tenure as High Lord will be an interesting time.”

  END PROCEEDINGS:

  INPUT SESSION SIX

  —I withdraw our minds from the All-Mind, and now mine from yours… .