“Master—” croaked the queen. She would have fallen but for the emperor’s arms.
The lupal projection of Phu-si-Yantong writhed in my bedchamber. What forces he was employing to overcome or bypass the sealings placed there by Khe-Hi-Bjanching I could not know; but the lupal projection wavered as sand wavers on a stream bed, as the mirages dance in the burning deserts.
An arm lifted. Clawed finger pointed. The queen screamed as though tormented with red-hot pincers.
The emperor shouted, an agonized bark of pure horror.
I saw the tableau hold for a heartbeat; then the sorcerous image of the wizard shimmered and faded and I thought I heard the distant sound of golden bells, tingling and tinkling in a dream, fading, dying, gone.
“Dray!” gasped the emperor.
His face looked gray in the patch of lamplight, gray and filled with a horror so great he could barely stand.
The woman slumped in his arms, the white dress strangely loose.
He turned her so I could see her face.
Queen Lushfymi — so glorious, so darkly glittering, so regal with beauty and voluptuousness — hung slackly on the emperor’s arm. Phu-si-Yantong had smitten her with chivrel. Her white hair straggled in brittle strands, her shrunken face bore a spiderweb of cracks, the wrinkles destroying all the purity of that face. Spittle slobbered from brown and leathery lips.
Hideous, a hag, Queen Lush whimpered feebly and clung with skeleton arms to the Emperor of Vallia.
The decaying smell of her stank in our nostrils.
Nineteen
Vondium Burns
The moment of doom for Vondium the Proud could no longer be delayed.
The day dawned with a particularly brilliant flood of jade and ruby lights, pouring in commingled beauty from the Suns of Scorpio. But this day would see the end of the empire, the death of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people, the enslavement of hosts, the shedding of blood to stink rawly into the shining benign sky.
We did what we could for Queen Lush. An aged crone, trembling, shaking, her white hair brittle as dried leaves, she gasped with the effort of breathing, her eyes filmed, her mouth slack and drooling. The devil-cast chivrel had not much longer to run for her. Old before her time she was doomed as the Empire of Vallia was doomed.
The emperor was stricken.
“My strong right arm,” he said, clasping his head, his strong handsome face ashen. “Stricken down — torn from me when I needed her most”
I was torn, also, at sight of this great and puissant emperor in these straits. I had little cause to care for him save only that through him I had been blessed with Delia. He had ordered my head off — had banished me — I do not to this day know whether he hated me or merely tolerated me. Certainly from time to time, when he recollected, he showed he appreciated a little the services I had rendered him. But now all that was mere tawdry tinsel. The empire was doomed, Vallia was rent asunder and Vondium burned.
The manner of the burning was strange, for we could seethe boiling black smoke clouds from one section or another of the city rising into the bright air, and then they would dwindle away and die. Fresh smoke would rise elsewhere and we would hear the distant clamor of mobs, and then the smoke would die away. Chuktar Wang-Nalgre-Bartong had the explanation.
“The mobs burn and loot, led by the Lornrodders, and someone else is putting out the fires to preserve the city. And, I think, seeing we have had no sight of the Hamalian skyships, it must be the Hamalian army.”
That made sweet sense. Phu-si-Yantong had no wish to preside through his puppets over a destroyed city. He was methodically taking control. His men were putting their new house in order. Only the imperial palace and the great kyro and the webwork of surrounding canals remained to be taken. It seemed the Hamalese high command was in no hurry.
Two probing attacks were made and were flung back with ease but not without loss to us. We had the remnants of the Crimson Bowmen, a handful of Chuliks and Khibils, a few Rapas and Fristles, mercenaries all, and the Pachaks. Of artillery we were woefully short, having but five pieces, two catapults and three varters. Of cavalry we had the two squadrons of totrixes and they were in sorry case. At the first real attack despite our determination to fight we would be overwhelmed.
Kov Lykon Crimahan told the emperor: “You must flee the city, majister. There is no other way to preserve your life.”
“And where should I flee?”
A babble of voices answered this, all proffering different destinations. I felt the ugliness in me. In these circumstances I would not care to chance any of the provinces on the main island and even, dare I say it, even Valka might not offer any sanctuary from the avenging hosts determined to do away with the emperor.
“If only,” said that great man now so shrunken, “if only the queen could advise as she used to do.”
I turned away in disgust. To go to Lome now would be to go to certain destruction. There seemed but one thing left.
I said, turning back and barging through the excited, gesticulating group: “You had best flee to Zenicce. My enclave of Strombor will welcome you.”
“I cannot—”
“Here they come!” bellowed a Deldar, leather-lunged, and we turned to the walls to repel the third attack. This time the Hamalese put in more weight, ready if we did not resist to charge home, but prepared to melt away under opposition and to let us stew a little longer. They played leem and ponsho with us.
“The confident cramphs!” snarled Jiktar Laka Pa-Re. He was wounded, a long glancing slice in his left biceps — his upper left biceps. The Hamalese were shooting crossbow bolts at anything that moved along the battlements of the palace. We had lost the kyro and had been driven back over the first of the canals. “They do not use their catapults—”
“No. Their masters do not wish to deface the palace. The place is beautiful and priceless. They fight for it, just as we do.”
The Crimson Bowmen could outshoot the crossbowmen of Hamal; but their numbers were small and dwindling. Of the mercenaries with us I fancied we could rely on the Chuliks and the Khibils. As for the Rapas and Fristles and few oddments of other diff races, most of them would be gone by nightfall, slipped away to loot a little and then either hire out elsewhere or — or what else? Was not that a mercenary’s life?
As for the Pachaks, until they released themselves from their nikobi, which they would not do and lose honor, they would fight to the death.
Many voices among the emperor’s rump of advisers lifted in favor of flight. The Pachaks could be discharged, their nikobi satisfied, all the others could be let go. The Crimson Bowmen might stay or leave as they willed; their Chuktar kept them screwed tightly down; but. . .
Of the people I knew in Vondium I fancied few if any would be left. Bargom of The Rose of Valka had friends along the cut and he and his family should be away to safety along the canals. The city lowered under shifting palls of smoke through which the suns struck lurid gleams of crimson and jade. The incessant nibbling attacks continued against us; men fell.
More than once I had to warn the emperor in strong terms not to expose himself too freely on the battlements. By this time we had withdrawn into the palace and taken up our positions along an inner ring of fortifications, for we were too few to man the entire cincture of walls. I remembered the way he had thirsted to get into fights before. This time the outcome might not be so jolly.
“I am fighting for my empire.” He said this with a fine fierce air.
“Oh, aye? Your empire is gone, emperor. Vanished, blown away like thistledown. You imprisoned your friends, spurned those who would help you, embraced the bosoms of your enemies—”
He rounded furiously on me, and I relented, and said: “At least you let them go before it was too late. But if they were with us now — Lord Farris, Old Foke, Vad Atherston, all the others who would serve you loyally—”
“I know, I know! They were put away from me through the wiles of the queen. I know. But she repented
and has she not paid the price?”
I nodded. I found I felt a great sorrow for Queen Lush.
They say speak of the devil. We looked up as an airboat flew sluggishly toward us from over the city. It staggered in flight and black smoke streamed back, so I knew the voller had been shot at with fire arrows. She made some kind of landing on a high aerial platform and the guards brought down the Lord Farris — and with him — Delia.
She looked gorgeous in her russet leathers, strapped about with rapier and dagger, striding limber and free, her brown hair magnificent under the suns. After she had embraced me she said: “Dayra?”
I touched my scratched face reflectively; but the gesture meant nothing to Delia. She regarded me gravely.
“I have seen her, my love. She is well. But there is a very great deal to tell. Can you not persuade your father, the stubborn old onker, to abandon the palace and fly to safety?”
“I will speak to him. But he never forgets he is the emperor.”
“Not any more he isn’t.”
Greeting the Lord Farris kindly, for he was a great-hearted man, I broke the news of Queen Lush’s personal tragedy. Delia touched her lips, lightly, and looked down.
“I felt she was a bad influence — many of us did. But this — will she live long?”
“Not long, I judge. She looks as though she is passed two hundred and fifty years old.”
Delia shivered.
The emperor greeted his daughter, and was polite to Farris, which amused me. The old devil tried to make amends.
It was useless to look for relief. We could expect no succor in the shape of an aerial armada. From Valka was only silence. Delia said that Delphond slumbered, which did not surprise me. As for the Blue Mountains — when I told her the news her brows drew down and her eyes took on that dangerous look that indicated someone was in for it in the neck. But nothing could be done there. And Strombor — well, we faced an army of Hamalese, plus the multitudes of irregulars and the factions, all whipped into frenzy by false stories, rumors, bitter animosities fanned by Phu-si-Yantong. We were isolated.
“The Empress Thyllis has prepared long for this,” said the emperor. “She takes her revenge upon us Vallians.” He rubbed his fingers together, absently, and then gripped his rapier hilt. “If only the queen were in full health, blooming like a rose — if only she were herself.”
So, looking at Delia, I said: “She might be — it may be possible.”
Delia shook her head; but her father rounded on me.
“Well? What mean you? Spit it out!”
“I promise nothing. But—” I tried to look at Delia; but she would not meet my eye. “I must go to my Valkan villa here in the city. When I return, we will see what may be done.”
“Dray—” said Delia.
“I know,” I said. “But even though I am an onker of onkers, it was you who made me go down into the pit — and more than once — to bring the famblys out.”
“I remember.”
“You cannot venture into the city, prince,” said Farris. “The place swarms with looters and rioters, and Hamalians putting them down. Anyone out there — everyone out there — is a foe.”
“I’ll fly.” I made up my mind. “And I’ll use your flier, Jen Farris. The one I stole from Udo is a fine craft and will serve the emperor.”
Before I left I took Delia aside. “Look, my heart. Make sure your father does nothing foolish while I am gone. I have warned him, and I think he understands. The flier is a good one and will carry you and him, as well as Farris, if a little cramped—”
“And you!”
“Oh, aye. I’ll be back. Count on that.”
The flier carried me sluggishly over doomed Vondium. For the most part the place was deserted, with stray bands of looters and rioters thieving and burning and parties of Hamalian soldiery attempting to preserve the city — to preserve it for Yantong. That truly mighty city, once proud and sublime in its confidence, lay now enthralled under the cloak of oppression. No vollers offered to stop my progress and I began to think that the absence of Hamalian skyships indicated they might be engaged somewhere over Vallia in a last supreme struggle with the Vallian Air Service. Farris would rage that he was denied that final proof of his devotion to his Air Service.
The Valkan villa was abandoned but I guessed its unkempt appearance had deterred looters. Going through those dusty halls and corridors gave me a shivery feeling; I remembered the circumstances of my last departure from here. That was prophetic; too late to realize that now. The keys were in the wall niche and the iron-bound chest opened easily and disgorged household linen and the scuffed old water bottle. This I fastened securely to my harness.
The dusty smell of the villa would have depressed me but there was no time for self-indulgence of that sort. Once we’d put Queen Lush to rights I’d make the emperor take the flier and leave Vondium. The little craft would take him and the queen as well as Delia and Farris. . . As to whether or not I would go I was not decided. To be a wanderer on the face of Kregen, hunted, outlawed, whose destruction was avidly sought by powerful and greedy men, cruel in their strength, this was a fate of the most profound abhorrence. I fancied I knew what Delia would say.
All the animals of the villa had been released and I assumed Shadow had trotted off with them. I felt the strongest presentiment that I had not seen the last of that superb zorca. My thoughts rattled on as I sprinted across the open space for the flier. My splendid enclave of Strombor in the city of Zenicce lay to the eastward on the coast of the continent of Segesthes. There the emperor and the queen might recuperate while Delia and I planned our next steps. We could gather the exiles. There were still men loyal. Lord Farris was one. Even Lykon Crimahan, despite the malice he felt toward me, was loyal. Maybe, now we had lost our estates in Vallia, much of his resentment of me would be finished, for he had his evil eyes on Veliadrin — along with plenty of other nobles of the eastern coast.
The voller took off sweetly enough and carried me perhaps half an ulm toward the palace. Then she went into a steep nose dive and only luck and a thick skull saved me. I went pitching out and into a canal, splashing, spouting water, flailing for the bank. The flier sank with a bubbling gurgle. From now on the journey back would be on foot. Well, on my own two feet I have tramped a fair old bit of Kregen.
I set off, and I loosened the longsword in the scabbard. The way was barred in a couple of places by the detritus of fallen buildings. Naghan the Mask’s fine new theatre had been gutted, I was sorry to see. The temples looked unscathed. A party of looters tried to loot my equipment; but half a dozen of them having lost blood and other inward essentials, the rest ran off shrieking.
An arrow past my ear heralded the attempt of the Hamalese army to detain me. But there were only ten of them, a strong audo, a section or so, and after three casts of my Lohvian longbow the others decided in prosaic military formula to retire to reform and seek fresh orders. They were wise — the seven who thus lived.
The going became a trifle tougher as I neared the palace and ran into the rear echelons of the besieging forces. There are usually ten audos in a pastang, ten sections in a company, and the Hamalese, notorious for the severity of their laws, organize tightly. Crouching down by a brick wall I stared out at the backs of the Hamalese. The swods and their officers moved about with the sure confidence of men approaching victory in their own time. They kept busy. I saw the glitter of their helmets and weapons, the panoply of their appearance, the square shapes of their shields. I chose my point with some care.
A pretty little flower-bowered bridge spanned a canal ahead and the Hamalese swod set to guard it hefted his stux, the throwing spear, at the poise. He whistled a cheerful little ditty I had heard many times in Hamal: When the fluttrell flirts his wing, and there was no passing him without question.
A fight would alert his comrades. So taking up the refrain at the point where the fluttrell flyer, discovering the buckles of his clerketer have parted and the saddle is slidin
g down the big bird’s back, claps his hands over his eyes — always raises a laugh, does that, among flyers — I marched up with a swing. The swod eyed me and the stux lifted. He could punch a hole in a kax with that, at close enough range.
He shouted: “Llanitch! Halt! Stand you still, dom.”
His shield bore the painted devices of the Twenty-ninth Regiment of Foot. I waved a friendly arm and bellowed: “Where away are the Fifteenth of Foot, dom? By Krun! This place confuses me even more than Ruathytu. What I’d give to be strolling through the Ghat Gate to the Jikhorkdun of the Swods.”
At my familiar mention of places in Ruathytu he eased up. He should not have done so, of course. I reached him, still chattering on about Ruathytu, capital of Hamal, which I then knew better than Vondium, mentioning certain lively and low dopa dens, and smilingly took his throat in my hand and choked — only a little. I held him upright and propped him against the flower-drenched bricks of the bridge. I leaned his stux against his lorica. With a merry quip about the sylvies at The Stux and Mirvol, I saluted him and tromped on, turning down by the canal, and after a scything glance showed none of the swods cared about me, ducking down into a hedgerow of a private garden. The hedge let me through, not without a scrape or two, and I belted across the lawn and so through the house. Using houses and gardens I worked my way up the avenue, having passed into the engaged zone of the enemy.
No one had taken alarm. That swod would recover with a sore throat. His Deldar would scream at him; what his Hikdar would say would flay him; and when the Jiktar commanding his regiment spoke to him — well, I felt sorry for the swod, believe me.
Pressing on toward the palace, darting across side roads, crossing canals and all the time keeping out of sight, I wormed close to the edge of the great kyro. A few murs more. . .
Three Hamalian reconnaissance vollers flew over the palace in wedge formation. They kept their eyes on us from time to time. From a propped-up varter a couple of bolts were let fly from the battlements. The Hamalians, trailing bright flags, flew on unconcerned.
Captive Scorpio Page 21
