Voidfarer

by Sean McMullen

  Yvendel was quite probably the most erudite scholar I had ever met, and Wensomer was the most powerful surviving sorceress on the continent, but Lavenci was actually the most intelligent of the three by a very large margin. I must have dozed for a time, and when I awoke, there was brightness at the top of the lightwell in the ceiling. Wensomer and Lavenci were having a targetry competition at a carving on the wall, Wensomer with little fire castings, Lavenci using table knives. Yvendel was stretched out with a lute and singing something about false lovers in Larmentalian.

  "Ladies, it is dawn and I must go," I announced as I got up.

  "But you were going to sleep here!" exclaimed Lavenci, then she glared at Wensomer. "You kept all that banter going all night deliberately!" she exclaimed accusingly.

  "I did not! I was getting to know my long-lost brother." Wensomer and Lavenci got up a lot less steadily than I had, and Wensomer held up some of her sister's hair for me to kiss before giving me what I thought was a somewhat more than sisterly kiss on the lips.

  "I'll stay with the exodus until I can do no more good, or until the Lupanians attack," I announced to Lavenci. "After that I shall return here."

  "Within two days we shall no longer be in this place," said Madame Yvendel.

  "Then how can I find you?" I asked.

  "Will Wallas be staying?" asked Lavenci.

  "Yes."

  "Then I shall have him check the laneway beside the Lamplighter at dawn and dusk every day. Just be there then, he will find you and lead you to us." By now Madame Yvendel was on her feet and meandering across in my direction.

  "Danolarian, I'm sorry that... er, I destroyed your career with ... Wayfarers," she managed as she stood swaying before me. "I've got gold, somewhere, for you. Make up, for you, that is."

  "None required, ladyship," I said, genuinely uninterested. 'The world is dying, careers and gold no longer matter."

  "Young Darric, hard to believe. D'you not miss, er, palaces, lovers, wealth, power?"

  "No. I fled from them, and I would never go back, even if they still existed. I do not want to become like my father."

  "Neither do I!" agreed Wensomer, draping herself over me. "Took a lot of orgies to prove it, too."

  Madame Yvendel clapped her hands smartly.

  "Bid your goodbyes and be away, everyone, I must talk with the young inspector before he leaves."

  "No!" snapped Lavenci. "/ want to see Danolarian after you are done."

  "Then I shall take him to your room. Now go."

  Madame Yvendel seemed to pull herself together surprisingly quickly once we were alone. I surmised that she had been feigning drunkenness.

  "Lavenci is a romantic girl, not wildly hedonistic like Wensomer," she said.

  "Please, never hurt her feelings. I ask that as her mother."

  "Madame, I have already gone to great lengths to protect her."

  "So I have noticed. People say I am rather too liberal, in fact many would say I am downright immoral, but I love my daughters. Lavenci's soul is vulnerable. She's like me, she tries to be in control all the time, so most of her lovers have been spotty, chinless tossers, nothing people who could never inspire love. She thought Laron was another of those when she seduced him, and she got a wonderful surprise when she learned how thrilling a bold, chivalrous, honorable lover could be. The trouble is that Laron ... has problems. He has seen too much for too long. He's an old man's mind in a young man's body.

  'Then she met you, and for those few days that you courted her I heard nothing else but Danolarian stories. She wanted her first night with you to involve perfumed sheets, a gown of Cathenir silk, soft lights, romantic music that she had composed for you and you alone, the feel of your body against hers for all of the night's hours, then awaking in your arms. She wanted to walk out into the streets of Alberin with you, proudly holding your hand. She has never done that with anyone else, take my word on it, and she says nobody has yet seen her totally naked. Her bedroom is still waiting for you, perfumes, gown, candles, lute, songs, and sheets not yet slept between by any other man."

  "Madame, please. I am not sure I can take much more of this, it is very upsetting."

  "Ah, my apology."

  "I must go soon."

  "Do so, and with Fortune's blessing."

  "Er, but may I have one last question answered?"

  "Ask."

  "Did someone else hang in Pelmore's place?"

  "Is this a trick question?"

  "No."

  "I have no idea," she said with a shrug. "The directant of Wayfarers told me that you would not relent, and that the execution would have to go ahead."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I would not lie to you, Danolarian, take me at my word. I may not be well behaved, but I am honorable. Come now, time for you to pay Lavenci a visit." I was left at a door with a white fist clutching lightning bolts painted on a black background sprinkled with stars. I knocked, and little tendrils of enchantment swirled about my fist, presumably checking who I might be. The door opened of its own accord.

  Lavenci was standing in a room jammed with hangings, trinkets, amulets, carvings, statues, and lanterns. The dark blue Diomedan carpet on the floor was so thick that it was like walking in grass, and incense that I recognized as a now rare Torean type was thick on the air. Lavenci lay down on a vast pile of cushions that might have been a bed. The door closed itself behind me.

  "You wished to see me?" I asked, feeling somewhat intimidated. Lavenci glided into an upright position, although she swayed slightly as she stood before me.

  "I wish I could say you were the first to enter this bedchamber," she said as she removed a clasp pin from her neck. "Still, I can say that Laron was my only other guest here, and that I banished him from this place because of you."

  "Lavenci—"

  "Listen, please! No man has ever seen me completely naked, Danolarian, not even Laron. I always finished undressing beneath the bedcovers, or in total darkness. All I have to offer you is the sight of my nakedness, but even the constancy glamour cannot stop me doing that. Look upon me, Danolarian, and—" Suddenly there was a scream from outside. Lavenci and I rushed out, and I drew my glass sword as we approached an open door at the end of the corridor. The little room was furnished with things that looked as if they did not quite fit in anywhere else, it was the sort of room set aside for guests. Madame Yvendel was kneeling beside a bed, upon which Azorian was lying. Wensomer arrived behind us.

  "He is quite cold," said Madame Yvendel in a distant, hollow voice. "He must have died early in the night."

  Lavenci fainted into Wensomer's arms. With Azorian dead, my life force could not be altered to mimic that of a Lupanian. Lavenci and I were still barred from each other by the constancy glamour, with no chance of escaping it. Worst of all, with Azorian also died our world's only Lupanian ally. Lavenci did not revive before I left, but at least this allowed me to kiss her lightly on the lips. The constancy glamour only worked on conscious people, and I wondered how many women had drugged themselves asleep so that they might share a bed with some lover.

  "When she awakens, swear on your honor as my sister that you will tell Lavenci that you saw me kiss her," I said when Wensomer presented herself for her turn.

  "Little brother, I swear."

  "And within a minute of her waking up, not ten years hence."

  "Damn. All right, I swear, I suppose."

  "Swear definitely."

  "All right, all right, I swear!"

  Chapter Eighteen

  EXODUS FROM ALBERIN

  People were already pouring along the streets as I emerged into daylight. I hurried through laneways littered with dead or comatose bodies until I reached Hill Gate, where a mighty crush of people, carts, wagons, and carriages had built up. A militiaman took me aside to a rope ladder over the city wall, when I told him

  that I was one of the Wayfarers charged with keeping order outside. While actually standing on the wall, I took a moment to survey the countr
yside. To the south and north of the city it is all flat, open coastal plains, but the foothills of the Ridgeback Mountains began only a mile from Hill Gate. Given the choice of flat, open country as far as the eye can see, and the shelter of nearby hills, forty-nine out of every fifty citizens were opting for the hills. In the streets and square behind Hill Gate was a solid, writhing mass of refugees, while outside was a ragged column of drab, dusty despair that extended as far as the turn at Tower Hill.

  I descended the rope ladder on the other side of the city wall, then hurried away, parallel to the column of refugees. Because I was carrying nothing more than a pack with a waterskin and some dried meat, I moved quickly over the ploughed fields and through the ripening crops growing there. The fleeing citizens were not totally without order, but then there were only a hundred of us Wayfarers and militiamen to keep order among over a hundred thousand refugees. Thus what order there was might be described as minimal in the extreme. Fifty mounted militiamen had been sent on ahead to clear the road of outlaws, so the rest of us were left to try to keep order and minimize deaths in the torrent of desperate humanity that was pouring northwest for the hills. I recognized Costiger about half a mile from the walls, and decided that here was as good a place as any to join the column. Andry was with him, and it soon became clear that we had no hope of keeping any sort of control, and that all that we could do was break up fights, and drag the fallen and injured clear of the road. The more aggressive of the refugees tried to attack us or order us about, and during the course of the morning I killed two and survived a dozen fights. The speed of the column was such that it covered about one mile every hour, but we Wayfarers stayed where we were. Everyone was burdened with all they could carry, and as they got farther from the city, more and more was being discarded into the fields. My water ran low, even though I was drinking sparingly.

  Commander Halland arrived sometime after noon, with five of the mounted militia. He was riding beside the column,

  back toward the city, and was leading a prisoner whose arms were bound. Upon seeing Halland I called out and asked what conditions looked like ahead of us. He dismounted, removed his helmet, and ran his fingers through his hair.

  "There are horsemen lurking about in the hills, watching," he said, keeping his voice down. "Some are outlaws, waiting for a chance to strike at the refugees and take some plunder. We've spent the morning riding down and killing the slowest of them. They were not the only ones watching, however." He reached into a saddlebag and drew out a surcoat of blue that was stained with dust and blood, and bore several cuts. At the center of the chest was a large orange starburst of six rays with two tiny white stars to either side. There could be no more universal symbol of Lupan.

  "You—you took this from, er, a man?" I whispered.

  "Yes, but his horse, armor, weapons, clothes, all were from Juriar Province. There were three of them, keeping their distance. We gave chase without realizing who they were, just to drive them off. This rider's horse trod in a rabbit hole and went down, we would not have caught him otherwise. I had him bound, and had to gag him too. He was raving about the gods from Lupan who were here to conquer us, and cast down the defectives and degenerates from Empress Wensomer's rule."

  "She reigned over the three most peaceful and prosperous years in Greater Alberin's history," I pointed out.

  "Which was not to the taste of some folk, apparently. The Lupanians are recruiting humans, and there are some very willing recruits out and about."

  "And you say they are watching the exodus?"

  "Yes. I suspect that our people are marching straight out into the hands of the invaders and their minions."

  I took off my helmet and flung it to the ground, then rubbed my face in my hands. By now several other militiamen and Wayfarers had gathered around to listen. Among them were Andry, Costiger, and Riellen.

  "Well what are we to do?" I demanded of nobody in particular. 'There are tens of thousands left in the city, all trying to get out onto this road and flee. We can't force them back, not even with ten times our numbers."

  "I thought to deliver this character to the acting regent for questioning," said Halland, with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of the prisoner. "My plan is then to ride ahead and destroy a bridge. What do you think, Inspector?"

  "Why bother, Commander?" I replied. "Every bloody carpenter and stonemason in the city is in that crowd, they would have it rebuilt faster than you had knocked it down."

  "But on the road these people will be starving in very short order," said Andry. "Thousands will be dead by this time tomorrow from accidents, attacks from outlaws, and fights among each other. They must go back to Alberin."

  "But in a few days the Lupanians will be back, and the city will be a death trap," I pointed out.

  "Inspector Scryverin, with respect, you fought back in Gatrov, and brought down a tower," said Costiger. "They don't sound all that tough."

  "Oh aye, but Gatrov was still destroyed, and more cylinders are arriving daily."

  "So what do we do?" demanded Andry.

  "Well I think the oppressed and suffering people have had enough!" cried Riellen.

  "I agree, Constable," responded Halland, "but it's what to do about it that's got me floundering. Perhaps we should destroy the bridge at the Redstone Gorge, then station what cavalry and archers we have on the other side to stop the crowd rebuilding it."

  "You would fire on our people?" asked Andry, aghast.

  "It's for their own good!" retorted Halland.

  'That makes us no better than the Lupanians and oudaws!" I shouted.

  "Then you give the orders!" Halland shouted back, ripping the field command sash from his shoulder and flinging it at me.

  "We should recruit a field militia from the crowd and use them to keep order," suggested Andry.

  "While the crowd does what?" demanded Halland.

  I sank to the ground as they argued, my head in my hands. We were beaten, there was nothing more certain than that. We had no strength, no plan, no advantage, and certainly no control. This was anarchy, on a road into the wilderness. Everyone was frightened, and all that they could do was run. We had

  been deserted by our rulers, and now we were fighting among ourselves. Sounds washed over me: the bells and gongs ringing out back in the city, the wailing of children, curses, cries, screams, the rumble of wagons, whips cracking, the tramp of boots, desperate shouts that "The Lupanians are coming!," and through it all, the forlorn, piercing cry:

  "Brothers! Sisters! People of Alberin! Why are you fleeing? Are you going to let the alien imperialist tyrants take Alberin without a fight?" I put a hand to my eyes, took a particularly deep breath, then stood up, straightened, and looked around. About a hundred feet away was a small, thin figure standing on an overturned cart, waving a lightweight fencing ax in the air. I bent over, snatched up Halland's command sash, and held it high.

  "You give me command, I'll take command!" I shouted, and those around me immediately fell silent. "Halland, ride across the fields to Riverside Gate, take this traitor to the palace, then report back here. The rest of you, drag the fallen from the road, and keep the road clear of discarded goods. Our objective will be to keep people moving for the hills with the best speed they can manage."

  "But—" began Andry.

  "Silence! Our objective is to save whatever few we can. If the number is but one out of a thousand, then that is what we shall do. Halland, put your prisoner on a horse to make better haste, and leave your men here to help until you return. Well? You have your orders! Obey them!" My father was suddenly alive again, and men were saluting smartly and hurrying to do what I had said. My heart sank. The hand was on my shoulder, and I dared not look down to check whether the foot was a cloven hoof. It was too late, I had done the one thing I swore I never would. I had taken charge. Only a miracle could save me now, and only an even greater miracle could save the world. I took Costiger by the arm.

  "Constable, go get Riellen off that cart and
give her my orders," I said, pointing to the tiny, gaunt, gesticulating figure. "We shall drag the fallen off the road, and we shall keep the others moving. Nothing else!"

  "Yes sir."

  I turned away from them and got to work. A heavily overloaded woman fell only yards from me, and a man begin to kick her and shout curses. I pushed my way over, spun him around, punched him in the face, then pushed him away. It took at least a minute to drag the woman through the press of the crowd, and as I pulled her clear I saw that the prisoner was being hoisted onto a horse and tied into the saddle. Andry staggered clear of the crowd with what looked like a trampled bundle of cloth over his shoulders. Again I became aware of the thin but strident voice.

  "If you flee now, you only put off slavery!" Riellen was shouting to the weary and frightened procession of despair. "Slavery for yourselves, and slavery for your children. The children who look to you for protection, for shelter, for leadership!"

  "Ya can't fight thunderbolts, lady!" called a mud-spattered man who had moved aside from the crush. He had four children with him, but no wife.

  "The Lupanians may fight with thunderbolts, but we can fight back!" cried Riellen. "A snake cannot use a battle-ax, but a snake can still slay a warrior. Rats do not have crossbows, but it's hard to kill a rat with a crossbow. People of Alberin, the Lupanians are sweeping all before them because our stupid, unelected kings send armies to fight them. That is not the way! We must lay traps for them, harass them, give them no peace, slay their servants, and burn whatever they might capture. We will fight for Alberin, but we will burn Alberin if they take the city. The free voters of Alberin can never be beaten!"

  By now I had pushed my way through the scatter of refugees who were using Riellen's oratory as an excuse to stop for a rest. I suddenly realized that among them was Costiger.