by Allan Cole
“Yer look like th’ avengin’ angel of the goddess herself,” he said.
“I suppose that’s what I am, Pip,” I said.
Then I clapped him on the back to put him at ease.
“But if I start to spit and scratch my nose like a market witch,” I said, “give me a pinch. We avenging angels have to keep up appearances, you know.”
Pip used a smuggler’s hand mirror to signal Galana. A rapid exchange of light bursts ensued. They were surprised that the King Of Thieves himself was present. A party was sent to fetch us. There were two fine horses for us to ride - Pip’d said he was accompanied by an even more important visitor than himself. But I felt sorry for the old mare who’d put up with the indignity of hauling that dray for so long.
She’d had a long honorable career on the battlefields and I felt mean for insulting her dignity. So I cleaned her up, put on the good saddle and bridle I’d hidden in the dray and mounted her.
She tossed her head and stepped high as we came down the hill. Snorting and proud and dismissive of the lesser four-footed creatures who plodded along with us.
We were led on a complicated route, full of switch backs and stream crossings, using ever bit of cover available. Finally we were at the gates of Galana and they were swinging open.
Four people led the crowd that greeted us.
One was a tall rangy soldier with a dark beard flecked with gray. His face was tanned and lined from many years in the elements. He had the rank tabs of a general.
There was no mistaking that he was Quatervals.
The second person was as tall as the first but so slender he seemed larger. His face was long with a jutting black beard. He had yellow eyes and wore the robes and crown of the Chief Evocator.
He could be no one but Palmeras.
The third - wearing tabs declaring her Captain of the Maranon Guard - towered over even those two tall men. She was nearly seven feet high with an hour-glass figure that carried her armor with ease. She had light brown hair and fair skin and I saw with a shock that she resembled Polillo. Slightly smaller, hair just a little lighter, but they could have been sisters.
I gaped at her, wondering who she could be.
Then my eyes went down.
For clutching the woman’s hand was a small child, made to appear almost like a doll standing next to the giantess.
As soon as I saw her I forgot the others, staring in wonder at the lovely little figure, formed so delicately it seemed only an artist could have made her.
She had porcelain skin framed by dark red hair and she had eyes the color of sun kissed seas.
Amalric’s eyes. Amalric’s hair.
I felt a magical touch like a butterfly’s kiss. I smelled flowers and innocence and coltish curiosity as tender little fingers explored my aura.
I dismounted and the child let go the warrior woman’s hand and came toward me.
We looked at each other. One marveling at the other.
Then I knelt down. “Hello, Emilie,” I said. “I’ve come a long way to see you.”
The child’s eyes widened as if in sudden recognition. She smiled, lighting up the whole world with that smile.
And she turned to the others, saying, “Don’t you know her? It’s Aunt Rali, everyone!
“My Aunt Rali!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EMILIE
I won’t gush about the moment. I won’t grind that grain in Emotion’s mills. I won’t stain these pages with tears in remembrance of that glad greeting. Or tell you that as soon as she came into my arms I felt Emilie was the daughter I never had.
I am a soldier. And a soldier is easily moved to sentiment. I am a wizard. And a wizard is more vulnerable to sentiment’s thrust than you know.
She was the child of a man I never met. My nephew Hermias. But she had the face of the first and only child I ever loved. My brother Amalric’s.
I embraced her. I murmured glad things in her ear. Yet I checked feeling’s gates, because to unleash that flood might prevent me from performing my task.
She had the Power, by the gods! There was no denying the strength hiding in Emilie’s frail body.
I could feel its sorcerous pulse beating under my etherhand. See the shower of sparks it hurled off with my ethereye.
We embraced in this world, touched magical fingers in the next. And I could sense the fear in her. There was also a bursting sense of curiosity that would soon carry her past that fear.
But in these times and in this place I knew she’d be sadly disappointed by what she would find.
For I had no choice but to make Emilie the first recruit in my war against Novari.
The next hours were too complicated to relate clearly. There was a muddy confusion of too many people saying too many things.
Identities were sorted out. The child’s blurted remarks were confirmed by Pip. Double confirmed by Palmeras’ sorcery. And there was a great deal of exclaimed wonderment and unintelligible babble about the miraculous return of Rali Antero.
After so long a siege Galana was eager for an excuse to proclaim joy. They all poured out of the chambers they’d quarried into the hillside for quarters and supply rooms.
Scarce supplies of food and drink were spent in a celebration lasting into the night. Then bonfires were lit and music was played and dances were danced. All out in the open under the stars in defiance of the enemy, whose campfires winked on distant hills and were so numerous that I first thought they were a cloud of mysterious, low-hanging stars.
I felt better when Quatervals said the celebration was loud and joyous enough to curse our enemy with a sleepless night worrying how such spirit was left in an army the leaders said was near defeat.
The whole time Emilie clutched my hand, letting go only when nature presented its rude features. Even then I had to accompany her to the latrine and stand outside until she was done.
When she grew sleepy I carried her to her quarters which were at the end of a long winding corridor cut deep into the hill. I carried her past women with steely hair and steely eyes and swords gripped in big-knuckled fists. Women who’d sworn to Maranonia and taken a private oath as well that she’d live to celebrate the seventh winter of her birth.
Emilie became quite alert when I tucked her in.
“I knew you were coming, Aunt Rali,” she said. She shivered and pulled the quilt tight. “You were in a cold place. The lady showed me. She was very beautiful. But she scared me.
“She woke me up. And said I had to help her wake you up. And then she showed me.”
“What did she show you, my dear?” I asked.
“First you were in a warm place,” Emilie answered. “And you were happy. I saw you with someone. Someone special to you, I think.”
The little girl scratched at the quilt in embarrassment.
“You kissed her... and stuff. And I felt you were happy. So happy I wanted to be with you.
“But then the beautiful lady said that wasn’t really where you lived. That it was a dream. A very long dream.
“And then she showed me. A cold place. Ice everywhere. And a tomb. And you were inside it. Next to that woman I saw you being happy with.”
“Her name is Salimar,” I said. “And she’s a queen.”
Tears welled up in Emilie’s eyes.
“If she’s a queen,” she said, “she should’ve ordered the lady to stop.”
She lowered her head. “I said it wasn’t right to wake you up.
“You were so happy.”
I patted her hand, careful to use my mortal one.
“That’s all right, Emilie,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault. Besides, I was the only one left who could help.”
“Did you see me?” she asked. Eyes as wide as the vistas only caravans witness. “Right after she woke me up that.... thing... that... woman thing... tried to get me. There was fighting. People hurting. And getting deaded. And other... I don’t know... stuff, is all. Bad stuff. Like dreams that are real and can hurt.”<
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Her troubled little face suddenly brightened. “I wasn’t afraid very long,” she said.
She waved a hand and I felt a surge of power.
“Sometimes I can make things go away that I don’t like. So I made them go away. The woman thing didn’t like it. And that made me glad.”
She frowned. “But I still had to wake you up. And make you leave that happy place.”
Emilie looked up at me with those clear sunny eyes. “Can I go there someday?”
I had to answer honestly. “I don’t know, Emilie,” I said. “But I don’t think so. Not for a very long time, anyway.”
“I miss my mother,” she said calmly. A fact being noted, not a complaint. “Was she there?”
“No, my dear,” I said. “She’s probably with my mother. They have a special place for mothers, you know.”
Emilie shook her head. “Just some mothers,” she said. “I know where your mother is. She came once. Palmeras said she was a ghost. But I don’t think so. Ghosts are unhappy. I see them all the time. Your mother wasn’t unhappy. Just worried.
“She came after the beautiful woman made me wake you up. She said not to be afraid. That my Aunt Rali was coming.
“And that your name - Rali - meant hope. Hope for everyone. But especially for me because I was named after her. Emilie. That’s your mother’s name, isn’t it? Emilie?”
“Yes it is, dear,” I said. “And do you know who she was? Besides my mother, I mean?”
“No. Tell me, please.”
So I told her the old familiar story. The one I’d told Amalric with many embellishments over the years. She’d died when he was but a babe - like little Emilie’s own mother. And so the tale needed much repeating to make her real to such a small lonely boy.
I told her about the village of my mother’s birth. The place the panther girl saved, although she’d been spurned by the very people she later helped. I told her about the wise and beautiful woman who was patient with my young fury and guided it to sounder ground. She’d helped me become a woman of note amongst a people who gave our sex small value. I didn’t mention the other - all too adult - yearnings she helped me to recognize as normal. If anything human can ever achieve that state. Emilie was too young, I thought, to stray into the boggy realm of love and sex.
But little Emilie said, “You’re thinking about... gooshy stuff. Like when I saw you kissing... Salimar. You don't have to talk about it. That’s okay. Even if it’s kind of crazy.”
She made a face. “Kissing’s okay. I guess. And gooshy’s okay. I guess. Derlina says I’ll know all about it when the time’s right. And maybe I’ll love a boy best. And maybe I’ll love a girl best. But Derlina says that either way it’s all a big waste of time. And that any time I think about it I should practice with my sword. Because that’s the only friend I’ve really got. And I guess she should know, ‘cause Derlina’s the best soldier there is. Captain of the Maranon Guard.”
Captain Derlina, I gathered, was the giant woman I’d seen who’d resembled Polillo.
Emilie curled a lip. “I don’t think about gooshy stuff very much,” she said. “So I’m not very good with a sword.”
She touched my etherhand and I felt a surge of energy jolt through.
“But sometimes I’m good at other stuff,” she said. “Sometimes I can make bad things taste good. Like when the rations get old and rotten. I make everybody happy when I do that. And sometimes I can make good things bad. Like when Derlina drinks too much and gets crazy. I make her stop. Make the drink taste like - “ and she wrinkled her nose - “a deaded fish.
“I can do other things. But just sometimes. I can make the sun feel cold a little bit.” She sighed. “It’s hard. But I can do it if I want to. I make a shadow. And it’s cold. Then I make the shadow go away. And it’s warm.”
She shrugged. “It’s boring,” she said. “But it makes Palmeras happy. He’s my teacher. So it’s good to make him happy.”
Emilie yawned, the day’s events finally catching up to her.
“Did you really beat the Archons?” she asked.
I said I had.
“And you beat that... woman thing, too. Once before. Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I did. Her name is Novari. You should know that.”
Emilie yawned deeper. “Oh, I know her name. I just hate to say it. I think it gives her... power... when I say it. So I don’t very much.
“Sometimes she looks like a woman. Sometimes like a big bird. And she plays that music. Everybody says it’s wonderful music. But I think it’s ugly. And someday when she’s playing it I’ll reach right out. And I’ll break all of her strings. And then people won’t think she so great anymore.”
Then her eyes closed and she mumbled about this and mumbled about that. And before long the mumbles became a breeze fluttering through her bee-stung lips. And the scent of her breath was innocent milk.
Before I withdrew she whispered out of her child’s dream, “I’m sorry I woke you up, Aunt Rali.”
Derlina was waiting for me outside Emilie’s chamber. She sniffed and knuckled a tear from her eye.
“Couldn’t help but look in, Captain,” she said, voice hoarse.
“Call me Rali,” I said.
She bobbed her big head. “Rali, then. Anyway, I peeked in and saw you and little Emilie. And the poor little motherless, fatherless thing looked so happy to see her Aunt Rali that I just about broke down.”
She dabbed at another tear with a knuckle. There was a sound in the hallway and she swung her head fast. It was only a guard shuffling by so she turned back. Then she looked a little shamefaced.
“I’d take it as a favor from one sister to another,” she said, “if you sort of forgot to mention my weepy spell.”
And she flashed a dazzling smile.
“Recruits call me Hard Hearted Derlina behind my back,” she said. “And I wouldn’t want to spoil my reputation.”
“Your reputation is safe with me,” I said. “I’ve long experience with a person you remind me of very much.
We started along the corridor. Derlina was escorting me to a late meeting with Galana’s leaders.
“I thought I heard you say something regarding that when we met,” she said, brow furrowed. “Polillo, you said. And I said no, I’m Derlina. You’re thinking of the one they made statues of. My great aunt Polillo. Some people say we look alike.”
Her frown deepened. “Usually recruits trying to on my good side, I suspect.”
“You not only look like Polillo,” I replied. “But you sound like Polillo. Right down to the hard surface and soft center.”
Her smile blazed anew.
“Do I now?” she roared, and slapped me on the back with a blow that could’ve felled an ox team, except she remembered her strength and pulled back just in time.
“Sorry,” she said. Then, “Do I really look like my great aunt Polillo?”
“Almost exactly,” I said. “And no one would know better than me. Polillo and I practically grew up together, you know. Signed up with the Guard on the same day.”
“Along with Corais,” Derlina said, nodding. “It was Rali, Polillo and Corais. The greatest three in the greatest class in the history of the Maranon Guard.”
She laughed. The same rich earthy laugh Polillo had. I shivered. It was uncanny.
“You’ve been a hard lot to live up to,” she said. “Don’t know how many women have been cursed as laggards by countless drill sergeants, who said how dare they insult the Maranon Guard with their maggoty presence. Taking up space where the three greatest warriors in history - Rali, Polillo and Corais - once stood.”
I snickered. “In our day,” I said, “we were called the three worst to ever have blackened the Guard’s name. And I must admit that in our green years we broke more heads in Cheapside grogshops than we did on the battlefield.”
“I’ve heard that too,” she said, laughing low. “In some of those very same grogshops. Some of them carry your names. An
d there’s friezes on the walls of your famous battles. And grogstains on the floor the management swears were made by rows you all had right on those very premises.”
“I swear it wasn’t me who broke that cask of wine,” I said. “It was Polillo. On some Guardsman’s head, if I recall. Made the mistake of mooing at her, mocking her cleavage, you know. She was very sensitive about that.”
“I heard she smothered him,” Derlina said. To illustrate she embraced the air with her long shapely arms and squeezed them in against her own ample chest. “Like this. Smothered him against her tits.”
