by Bob Shaw
Toller braced himself against the wall and made ready to launch himself forward beneath the thrust when it came, determined to inflict some degree of injury on his executioners rather than simply be cut down by them. The hovering sword tip steadied, purposefully, and its message for Toller was that time was at an end. Heightened perception of everything in his surroundings brought him the awareness that another man was entering the hall, and even in the desperate extremity he was able to feel a pang of regret that the newcomer was Prince Leddravohr, arriving just in time to savour his death.…
“Stand away from that man!” Leddravohr commanded. His voice was not unduly loud, but the four guards responded at once by stepping back from Toller.
“What the…!” Chakkell wheeled on Leddravohr. “Those men are in my personal guard and they take orders only from me.”
“Is that so?” Leddravohr said calmly. He aimed a finger at the soldiers and slowly swung it to indicate the opposite side of the hall. The soldiers went with the line of it, as though controlled by invisible rods, and took up new positions.
“But you don’t understand,” Chakkell protested. “The Maraquine lout has killed Zotiern.”
“It shouldn’t have been possible — Zotiern was armed and the Maraquine lout wasn’t. This is part of the price you pay, my dear Chakkell, for surrounding yourself with strutting incompetents.” Leddravohr went closer to Zotiern, looked down at him and gave a low chuckle. “Besides, he isn’t dead. He is damaged beyond repair, mind you, but he isn’t quite dead. Isn’t that so, Zotiern?” Leddravohr augmented the question by nudging the fallen man with his toe.
Zotiern’s mouth emitted a faint bubbling sound and Toller saw that his eyes were still open, frantic and staring, although his body remained inert.
Leddravohr flicked his smile into existence for Chakkell’s benefit. “As you think so highly of Zotiern, we’ll do him the honour of sending him off along the Bright Road. Perhaps he would even have chosen it himself were he still able to speak.” Leddravohr glanced at the four watchful soldiers. “Take him outside and see to it.”
The soldiers, obviously relieved at being able to escape Leddravohr’s presence, saluted hastily before swooping on Zotiern and carrying him outside to the precinct. Chakkell made as if to follow, then turned back. Leddravohr gave him a mock-affectionate slap on the shoulder, dropped a hand to his sword and padded across the hall to stand before Toller.
“You seem obsesse^ with placing your life in danger,” he said. “Why did you do it?”
“Prince, he insulted Lord Glo. He insulted me. And he molested my wife.”
“Your wife?” Leddravohr turned and looked at Fera. “Ah, yes. And how did you overcome Zotiern?”
Toller was puzzled by Leddravohr’s tone. “I punched him.”
“Once?”
“There was no need to do it again.”
“I see.” Leddravohr’s inhumanly smooth face was enigmatic. “Is it true that you have made several attempts to enter military service?”
“It is true, Prince.”
“In that case I have good news for you, Maraquine,” Leddravohr said. “You are now in the army. I promise you that you will have many opportunities to satisfy your troublesome warlike urges in Chamteth. Report to the Mithold Barracks at dawn.”
Leddravohr turned away without waiting for a reply and began a murmured conversation with Chakkell. Toller remained as he was, his back still pressed to the wall, as he tried to control the seething of his thoughts. Despite his ungovernable temper he had taken human life only once before, when he had been set upon by thieves in a dark street in the Flylien district of Ro-Atabri and had left two of them dead. He had not even seen their faces and the incident had left him unaffected, but in the case of Zotiern he could still feel the appalling crunch of vertebrae and still could see the terrified eyes. The fact that he had not killed the man outright only made the event more traumatic — Zotiern had had a subjective eternity, helpless as a broken insect, in which to anticipate the final sword thrust. Toller had been floundering, trying to come to terms with his emotions, when Leddravohr had delivered his verbal bombshell, and now the universe was a chaos of tumbling fragments.
“Prince Chakkell and I will retire to a separate room with Lain Maraquine,” Leddravohr announced. “We are not to be disturbed.”
Glo signalled for Toller to come to his side. “We have everything ready for you, Prince. May I suggest that…?”
“Suggest nothing, Lord Cripple — your presence is not required at this stage.” Leddravohr’s face was expressionless as he looked at Glo, as though he were not even worthy of contempt. “You will remain here in case I have reason to summon you later — though I confess I find it difficult to imagine your ever being of any value to anybody.” Leddravohr directed his cold gaze at Lain. “Where?”
“This way, Prince.” Lain spoke in a low voice and he was visibly quaking as he moved towards the stair. He was followed by Leddravohr and Chakkell. As soon as they had passed out of sight on the upper floor Gesalla fled from the hall, leaving Toller alone with Glo and Fera. Only a few minutes had passed since they had been together in the dayroom, and yet they now breathed different air, inhabited a different world. Toller sensed he would not feel the full impact of the change until later.
“Help me back to my… hmm… seat, my boy,” Glo said. He remained silent until installed in the same chair in the dayroom, then looked up at Toller with a shamefaced smile. “Life never ceases to be interesting, does it?”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Toller tried to find appropriate words. “There was nothing I could do.”
“Don’t fret. You came out of it well — though I fear it wasn’t in Leddravohr’s mind to do you a favour when he inducted you into his service.”
“I don’t understand it. When he was walking towards me I thought he was going to kill me himself.”
“I’ll be sorry to lose you.”
“What about me?” Fera said. “Has anybody thought about what’s going to happen to me?”
Toller recalled his earlier exasperation with her. “You may not have noticed, but we have all been given other things to think about.”
“There is no need for you to worry,” Glo said to her. “You may remain at the Peel for as long as you… hmm… wish.”
“Thank you, my lord. I wish I could go there now.”
“So do I, my dear, but I’m afraid it’s out of the question. None of us is free to leave until dismissed by the prince. That is the custom.”
“Custom!” Fera’s dissatisfied gaze travelled the room before settling on Toller. “Wrong moment!”
He turned his back on her, unwilling to confront the enigma of the feminine mind, and went to stand at a window. The man I killed needed to be killed, he told himself, so I’m notgoing to brood about it. He turned his thoughts to the mystery of Leddravohr’s behaviour. Glo was quite right — the prince had not acted out of benignancy when summarily making him a soldier. There was little doubt that he hoped for Toller to be killed in battle, but why had he not seized the opportunity to take revenge in person? He could easily have sided with Chakkell over the death of the equerry and that would have been the end of the matter. Leddravohr was capable of spinning out the destruction of someone who had crossed him so that he could derive maximum satisfaction from it, but surely that would be placing too much importance on an obscure member of a philosophy family.
The thought of his own background reminded Toller of the astonishing fact that he was now in the army, and the realisation struck him with as much or more force than Leddravohr’s original pronouncement. It was ironic that the ambition he had cherished for much of his life should have been achieved in such a bizarre fashion and just at a time when he was beginning to put such ideas behind him. What was going to happen to him after he reported to the Mithold Barracks in the morning? It was disconcerting to find that he had no coherent vision of his future, that beyond the coming night the pattern broke up into shards�
�� bitty reflections… Leddravohr… the army… Chamteth… the migration flight…Overland…the unknown swirling into the unknown.…
A gentle snore from behind him told Toller that Glo had gone to sleep. He left it to Fera to ensure that Glo was comfortable and continued staring through the window. The enveloping ptertha screens interfered with the view of Overland, but he could see the progression of the terminator across the great disk. When it reached the halfway mark, dividing the sister world into hemispheres of equal size but unequal brightness, the sun would be on the horizon.
A short time before that point was reached Prince Chakkell emerged from the lengthy conference and departed for his residence in the Tannoffern Palace, which lay to the east of the Great Palace. Now that the main streets of Ro-Atabri were virtually tunnels it would have been possible for him to stay longer in the Square House, but Chakkell was known for his devotion to his wife and children. After he and his retinue had left there was complete silence in the precinct, a reminder that Leddravohr had come to the meeting unaccompanied. The military prince was noted for travelling everywhere alone — partly, it was said, because of his impatience with attendants, but mainly because he scorned the use of guards. He was confident in his belief that his reputation and his own battle sword were all the protection he needed in any city of the empire.
Toller had hoped that Leddravohr would leave soon after Chakkell, but hour after hour went by with no sign of the discussion coming to an end. It appeared that Leddravohr was determined to absorb as much aeronautical knowledge as was possible in a very short time.
The weight-driven glasswood clock on the wall was showing the hour of ten when a servant arrived with platters of simple food, mainly fishcakes and bread. There was also a note of apology from Gesalla, who was too ill to perform the normal duties of hostess. Fera had been waiting for a substantial spread and was theatrically shocked when Glo explained that no formal meal could be served unless Leddravohr chose to go to table. She ate most of what was available single-handed, then dropped into a chair in a corner and pretended to sleep. Glo alternated between trying to read in the unsatisfactory light from the sconces and staring grimly into the distance. Toller received the impression that his self-esteem had been irreparably damaged by Leddravohr’s casual cruelty.
It was almost the eleventh hour when Lain walked into the room. He said, “Please return to the hall, my lord.”
Glo raised his head with a start. “So the prince has finally decided to leave.”
“No.” Lain seemed slightly bewildered. “I think the prince is going to do me the honour of staying the night in my home. We must present ourselves now. You and your wife as well, Toller.”
Toller was at a loss to explain Leddravohr’s unusual decision as he raised Glo to his feet and helped him to leave the room. In normal times and circumstances it would indeed have been a great honour for a royal to sleep in the Square House, especially as the palaces were within easy reach, but Leddravohr hardly wanted to be gracious. Gesalla was already waiting near the foot of the stair, holding herself tall and straight in spite of her obvious weakness. The others formed a line with her — Glo at the centre, flanked by Lain and Toller — and waited for Leddravohr to appear.
There was a delay of several minutes before the military prince came to the head of the stair. He was eating the leg of a roast quickfowl, and added to the discourtesy by continuing to gnaw at the bone in silence until it was stripped of all flesh. Toller began to get sombre premonitions. Leddravohr threw the bone to the floor, wiped his lips with the back of a hand and slowly came down the stairs. He was still wearing his sword — another incivility — and his smooth face showed no sign of tiredness.
“Well, Lord Glo, it appears I have needlessly kept you here all day.” Leddravohr’s tone made it clear that he was not apologising. “I have learned most of what I need to know and will be able to finish here in the morning. Many other matters demand my attention, so to avoid wasting time in travelling back and forth to the palace I will sleep here tonight. You will be in attendance at the sixth hour. I take it you can bestir yourself by that time?”
“I shall be here at the sixth hour, Prince,” Glo said.
“That is good to know,” Leddravohr replied, jovially sarcastic. He strolled along the line, paused when he reached Toller and Fera, and produced the instantaneous smile which had nothing to do with humour. Toller faced him as woodenly as possible, his foreboding turning into a certainty that a day which had begun badly was going to end badly. Leddravohr turned off his smile, walked back to the stair and began to ascend. Toller was beginning to wonder if his premonitions could have been groundless when Leddravohr halted on the third step.
“What is this?” he mused, keeping his back to the attentive group. “My brain is weary, and yet my body craves activity. There is a decision to be made here — shall I have a woman, or shall I not?”
Toller, already knowing the answer to Leddravohr’s rhetorical question, brought his mouth close to Fera’s ear. “This is my fault,” he whispered. “Leddravohr hates better than I knew. He wants to use you as a weapon against me, and there is nothing we can do about it. You’ll just have to go with him.”
“We’ll see,” Fera said, her composure unaffected.
Leddravohr drummed his fingers on the balustrade, prolonging the moment, then turned to face the hall. “You,” he said, pointing at Gesalla. “Come with me.”
“But…!” Toller took one step forward, breaking the line, his body a pounding column of blood. He gazed in helpless outrage at Gesalla as she touched Lain’s hand and walked towards the stair with a strange floating movement as though tranced and not really aware of what was happening. Her beautiful face was almost luminescent in its pallor. Leddravohr went ahead of her and the two were lost in the flickering dimness of the upper floor.
Toller wheeled on his brother. “That’s your wife — and she’s pregnant!”
“Thank you for that information,” Lain said in a dead voice, regarding Lain with dead eyes.
“But this is all wrong!”
“It’s the Kolcorronian way.” Incredibly, Lain was able to fashion his lips into a smile. “It is part of the reason we are despised by every other nation in the world.”
“Who cares about the other…?” Toller became aware that Fera, hands on hips, was staring at him with undisguised fury. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Perhaps if you had stripped me naked and thrown me at the prince things would have worked out more to your liking,” Fera said in a low hard voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you couldn’t wait to see me go with him.”
“You don’t understand,” Toller protested. “I thought Leddravohr wanted to punish me.”
“That’s exactly what he.…” Fera broke off to glance at Lain, then returned her attention to Toller. “You’re a fool, Toller Maraquine. I wish I had never met you.” She spun on her heel, suddenly haughty in a way he had never seen before, walked quickly back into the day room and slammed the door.
Toller gaped after her for a moment, baffled, then paced an urgent circle around the hall and came back to Lain and Glo. The latter, looking more exhausted and frail than ever, had clasped Lain’s hand.
“What would you like me to do, my boy?” he said gently. “I could return to the Peel if you want the privacy.”
Lain shook his head. “No, my lord. It is very late. If you will do me the honour of staying here I will have a suite prepared for you.”
“Very well.” As Lain left to instruct the servants Glo turned his large head in Toller’s direction. “You’re not helping your brother with all your running about like a caged animal.”
“I don’t understand him,” Toller muttered. “Somebody should do something.”
“What would you… hmm… suggest?”
“I don’t know. Something.”
“Would it improve Gesalla’s lot if Lain were to get himself killed?”
&nbs
p; “Perhaps,” Toller said, refusing to entertain logic. “She could at least be proud of him.”
Glo sighed. “Help me to a chair, and then fetch me a glass of something with heat in it. Kailian black.”
“Wine?” Toller was surprised despite his mental turmoil. “You want wine?”
“You said somebody should do something, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Glo said evenly. “You will have to dance to your own music.”
Toller help Glo to a high-backed chair at the side of the hall and went to obtain a beaker of wine, his mind oppressed with the problem of how to reconcile himself to the intolerable. The mode of thought was unnatural for him and it seemed a long time before inspiration came. Leddravohr is only playing with us, he decided, seizing the thread of hope. Gesalla can’t be to the taste of one who is accustomed to trained courtesans. Leddravohr is only detaining her in his room, laughing at us. In fact, he can express his contempt all the better by scorning to touch any of our women…
In the hour that followed Glo drank four large bumpers of wine, rendering himself crimson of face and almost totally helpless. Lain had retired to the solitude of his study, still betraying no trace of emotion, and Toller was dejected when Glo announced his desire to go to bed. He knew he would not sleep and had no desire to be alone with his thoughts. He half carried Glo to the assigned suite and helped him through all the tedious procedures of toilet and getting to bed, then came into the long transverse corridor which linked the principal sleeping quarters. There was a whisper of sound to his left.
