The women and the warlords coaaod-3

by Hugh Cook

  So Yen Olass waited for Lord Alagrace.

  When Lord Alagrace finally came down the Yangrit Highway, Yarglat of the Yarglat was waiting for him, and Alagrace of course recognized her immediately. So did Chonjara and the Princess Quenerain, who were all for denouncing her and having her put to death. But Lord Alagrace overruled them.

  As Yerzerdayla had predicted, while Lord Alagrace might have been resigned to death when he left Gendormargensis, death would grow less and less attractive as he approached it. He had not been prepared to raise a finger to help Yen Olass in the north, but, since she had helped herself, he was now prepared to exploit her for his own advantage.

  Pleased to be exploited if it. meant she would survive, 112

  Yen Olass outlined the campaign she had worked out with the help of Yerzerdayla.

  Lord Alagrace should write a report and send it on ahead by courier to the Lord Emperor Khmar. In the report, Lord Alagrace should say that after thinking about the problems in Gendormargensis, he had come to realize that they had all resulted because some high-born Yarglat clansmen had been denied the natural outlet for their energies which should be seen as part of their birthright: war.

  If Khmar was angry with events in Gendormargensis, the line of defence chosen would appeal to him more than any grovelling apology.

  As a footnote, Lord Alagrace could note that a band of women had dared to thwart the Lord Emperor's Lawmaker by denying him the oracle of his choice. However, thinking it would reflect badly on the emperor if his Lawmaker yielded to the Sisterhood, Lord Alagrace had taken the oracle south with him regardless…

  As plans went, this one was shaky. However, it might serve to blunt Khmar's wrath, and Lord Alagrace, who had been unable to think of anything better, drafted the report and sent it on ahead – hoping it would reach its destination, and not be seized by the partisans who were managing to kill one courier in seven.

  ***

  Travelling south, they entered recently occupied territory, and the pleasures of travel diminished. The countryside was restless; as thirty men could not guarantee their safety, they travelled with a hundred. They passed burnt-out ruins, body-pits and crucifixes burdened with bodies.

  The road was passable, with slaves hard at work upgrading it to military standard. In many places, waystones had yet to be erected; it felt strange to travel without seeing those monoliths carved with glyphs proclaiming the texts of the Law. The southerners here were dour, sullen, alien – and, naturally enough, they had been conquered too recently to have learnt Eparget, though some of the people had picked up a few words of Ordhar from the troops.

  In such situations, the command language ran a great risk of contamination. Despite the best efforts of imperial discipline, Ordhar refused to conform to the laws laid down for it, and was forever acquiring souvenirs from foreign lands, developing esoteric slang and allowing bits of alien tongues to be spliced into its fabric.

  It was important that Ordhar be kept pure and simple, for it had been designed as a standard language for all the armies of the Red Emperor, Khmar. Where waystones had been erected, text-masters attached to the conquering armies posted lists of forbidden words, such as 'okaberry', a local word meaning 'rotten' or 'unsatisfactory', and now apparently increasingly used by the troops when speaking of their food, their officers and the weather.

  The common soldiers were contaminated with such words when they slept with the local women, which they found easy enough to arrange, since there was the shortage of food usual in a war-ravaged countryside, and many women were selling their bodies to keep themselves and their families alive. Here there were no tea pavilions and no perfumed silk girls with downcast eyes and smooth-oiled thighs; Lord Alagrace found nothing to tempt him, and abstained.

  While travelling, Lord Alagrace scarcely saw General Chonjara, who preferred to travel in the rearguard. When there had been tea pavilions, Chonjara had never patronized them; he had no taste for silk girls, preferring to slip away and find something else, although Lord Alagrace was not exactly sure what, and chose not to find out. Now that they were in hostile territory, Chonjara sat up late with the soldiers, drinking, singing and telling jokes. This raucous carousing kept the Princess Quenerain awake, so she complained bitterly. Lord Alagrace ignored her complaints, for the princess had not endeared herself to him on this journey; nothing was good enough for her, and she treated every inconvenience of the road and the weather as if it were a personal insult.

  Yen Olass enjoyed the journey. To the south lay danger, but also hope. To the south, too, lay the sea. Every evening she practised the whistle she would use to summon the gaplax out of the water, and imagined how impressed everyone would be when they came trooping out of the sea to line up in front of her. Everyone would eat well, when they got to the sea.

  Occasionally soldiers came to ask for a reading, so Yen Olass begged some paper from Lord Alagrace, and, using his writing brushes, she marked out a Casting Board and made 365 paper Indicators. Though the Sisterhood had withdrawn her right to practise as an oracle, the soldiers were scarcely concerned with the legal issues involved, and, this far from Gendormargensis, there were no other oracles to give her any competition.

  Chonjara's bodyguard, Karahaj Nan Nulador, came to ask about his wife; she had been pregnant when he had said goodbye to her in Gendormargensis, and he was worried about her. He found it hard to sleep at nights. Yen Olass tried to reassure him. Failing, she worked on him with her hypnotic skills, reaching the point where she could put him to sleep with a word, and his worries were gone by the time they drew near the sea.

  Yen Olass now began to get very excited. She regretted the professional dignity which prevented her from pestering people with questions: is it really salty? is it really wide as the cattle plains? are there really waves the size of houses? will there really be whales? do whales really exist?

  But the sea, when they got there, turned out to be a cheat. It was a dull piece of water looking like a narrow lake. Yen Olass rode ahead of the convoy, following the highway down to the waterside. She dismounted, and scrambled over the shore, wrinkling her nose as she caught the smell of the water.

  It did not look very promising.

  The rocks were damp. Green stuff like moss grew on them, and they were very slippery. Yen Olass did her whistle, then waited. Nothing happened. She tried again. Maybe there weren't any gaplax on this part of the coast. She turned over a rock, to look for a male gaplax. To her great excitement, she found all kinds of tiny insects under the rock. But they were not like the gaplax. Some were green and some were brown, and they had claws like a scorpion she had once seen in a book. They scuttled away into hiding. When she tried to grab one, it bit her with its pincers, then held on relentlessly; finally, her eyes smarting, she had to smash it with a rock.

  That made her remember about banging rocks together to call out the gaplax. She pounded stones together – to no effect. Finally, she took off her boots, waded into the sea, and started manhandling some of the larger rocks. But she never saw a gaplax, or even the empty nest of a gaplax.

  Wet, frustrated and disappointed, Yen Olass gave up, and turned back toward the shore. Looking inland, she saw the entire convoy drawn up on the highway, watching her in silent amazement. She put on her foot bindings, put on her boots, then stumped over the stones toward her horse.

  'Have you been enjoying yourself?' said Lord Alagrace.

  'The sea stinks,' said Yen Olass, mounting up.

  Then she galloped off down the road, swearing to herself. Later in the day, when Lord Alagrace caught up with her, he explained that the sea was much bigger than the part they had seen so far, and much cleaner.

  'What?' said Yen Olass. 'Is it only this part that stinks?’

  'All the sewage from Favanosin rides the tides into this fiord,' said Lord Alagrace. 'When we travel over the hills ahead…’

  He told her what they would see, but Yen Olass did not believe him until her horse finally crested the heights, and there
before her lay the sea – a vast plain of pewter stretching away to a southern horizon where thunderclouds black as coal dust were brewing one of the storms that the Pale was so notorious for,

  'Down there,' said Lord Alagrace, riding beside her, 'that's Favanosin.’

  But Yen Olass had no eyes yet for the town: she was still gaping at the sea.

  'If you're impressed by natural phenomena,' said Lord Alagrace, 'then you've got a new treat in store. The Lord Emperor Khmar is down there, waiting for us.’

  He was reminding her of the task at hand, and the challenge that awaited them.

  'I'm ready for him,' said Yen Olass, sounding as confident as she felt – for some reason she always felt more confident when she was riding a horse, lording it over the world beneath her.

  However, when the time came to actually face the emperor, some of that confidence disappeared: this would not have surprised anyone who knew Khmar.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The Lord Emperor Khmar hated living inside buildings. Enclosed by four walls, he became uneasy, disturbed by the dead air, the muted sounds, the diminished contact with the weather. Appreciating the benefits of impressing the populace with his wealth and power, he allowed architects to build him palaces, but he refused to inhabit them; the glorious Retzet t'Dektez in Gendormargensis was empty but for guards and caretakers, as Khmar had never so much as stepped inside it.

  It was, therefore, hardly surprising that Khmar chose to live outside Favanosin, in tents pitched on good grazing land. There he received reports from the commanders trying to sanitize the mountains to the east and the west, and consulted those officers now trying to plan the next major campaign – an invasion of the southern continent, Argan.

  Khmar still had time free to plan a reception for Lord Alagrace, a man he had little liking for; he had saved up some pirates especially, so he could intimidate Alagrace by making an example of them.

  When Lord Alagrace reached Favanosin, he was not immediately invited to present himself to the emperor; instead, Khmar interviewed his daughter, then spent two days closeted with General Chonjara. Only then was Lord Alagrace allowed to approach the imperial presence.

  Khmar's tents were made of leather supported by bamboo poles. They were not utilitarian survival shelters, but impressive pieces of architecture in their own right; a mounted warrior could have entered the main tent without ducking his head. Guarding Khmar's home was a bizarre bodyguard, an indication of the true nature of the emperor.

  Some rulers like to pretend that the exercise of power is an aesthetic enterprise. Approaching their thrones, one enters into an ordered and denatured universe where every care has been taken to exclude any hint of pain or suffering. Khmar needed no such pretences; he travelled light, owning few possessions and no illusions, and saw no need to conceal what he was or how he had come to be what he was. His bodyguards were all veterans who had been crippled or mutilated in battle. Some were minus a hand or an arm, others lacked an eye or a nose, and one – the victim of enemy torture – endured his days without any cheeks, these having been cut away, thus making it difficult for him to drink and impossible for him to chew food in the ordinary way. These bodyguards were tough, arrogant men, confident of their fighting ability; they were armed to the teeth with whips, ropes, bolas, throwing knives, spikes, swords and battle-axes.

  When Lord Alagrace, accompanied by Yen Olass Ampadara, arrived for his audience, he was shown inside by a spearman who stumped around on a peg leg. In the main tent, Lord Alagrace and Yen Olass seated themselves on leather cushions in the presence of guards, scribes and a foodtaster. The two scribes were both legless; the food-taster was blind. There was no doubt that Khmar was a barbarian: but he honoured his obligations.

  As Khmar did not immediately manifest himself, Lord Alagrace and Yen Olass had plenty of time to meditate upon the less pleasant aspects of war – and the possible consequences of Khmar's displeasure. Both were acutely aware that the Princess Quenerain and General Chonjara had been given ample opportunity to poison the emperor against them.

  After they had waited for some time, a young man entered, looked them over, then withdrew. Yen Olass did not recognize him, but Lord Alagrace did: Exedrist, the drunkard. Khmar had four sons, Celadric, Meddon, Exedrist and York; Exedrist lived with his father and served more or less as a messenger boy.

  A little later, Exedrist returned:

  'The Lord Khmar regrets that he will be delayed, but invites you to indulge your appetites while you wait. He recently had the leading citizens of this town barbecued for conspiring to conceal their wealth – would you care for a choice portion?’

  'Thank the Lord Emperor for his consideration,' said Lord Alagrace, 'but we have already eaten.’

  Perhaps Khmar had arranged for one or more people to be cooked alive, and perhaps not; if they accepted his invitation, perhaps they would be served human flesh, and perhaps just pork, but Lord Alagrace, who had both personal and religious objections to cannibalism, did not wish to take chances. Exedrist smiled, and Lord Alagrace realized that Yen Olass had lost much of her colouring.

  'Khmar is not a monster,' murmured Lord Alagrace, as Exedrist withdrew. 'He simply has unusual enthusiasms.’

  Yen Olass, feeling slightly ill, said nothing. However, she had composed herself again by the time the Lord Emperor made his entrance, striding into the tent with an easy, rolling gait.

  Khmar was a squat, ugly, bow-legged man with calloused, muscular hands, big bony fingers and thick, horny fingernails. His dark eyes glittered, hunched in shadow beneath lumbering brows. Scalps dangled from his big skullknuckie belt. A respectful two paces behind came a svelte young man with a cool, calculating gaze. This was Celadric; Yen Olass had seen him before in Gendormargensis.

  'Alagrace,' said Khmar, without ceremony. When he spoke, Yen Olass saw his teeth were filed to points. 'My lord.' 'A good journey?' 'Excellent, my lord.’

  'But you chose lame horses. Yes? Why so slow? Because I was waiting to chop your head off? Believe me, I was tempted when I found out how you were dawdling. Here – look at this. See what they've made of my son.’

  Seizing Celadric, Khmar pulled him forward like a slaver leading an auction piece to the block. Celadric, the ultimate diplomat, remained unruffled, preserving his dignity. At twenty-three years of age, he was already a power in his own right, having obtained port privileges for the empire in Ashmolea, and having successfully negotiated valuable trading concessions in the Ravlish Lands.

  'Seel’

  'He's grown tall, my lord,' said Lord Alagrace.

  'Yes. Tall and beautiful. Like his mother. He gives tentspace to tame poets, who sing the praises of his flesh. Eyes like limpid olives – hands as soft as dead men's cocks. I am my father's son – but my son is his mother's little girl.’

  Celadric shook off his father's grip.

  'As an instrument of state policy,' said Celadric, 'rape has its limitations. Sometimes it's better to teach a foreign power to love us.’

  'Hear him!' said Khmar, showing his scorn.

  'I've succeeded where you've never ventured, and never will,' said Celadric.

  His tone was not one of defiance, but one of certainty; Yen Olass realised Celadric had no fear of his father, and this knowledge comforted her. Perhaps, if something terrible happened, she could threw herself on Celadric's mercy. Perhaps he would help her.

  'Oh yes,' said Khmar. 'Some we must love. And why? Because we can't ride horses over water, that's why. Or so the past tells us. But that changes. Now! We're learning to walk on water, even now. We'll take them. First Argan. Then Ashmolea.’

  'What do we need it for?' said Celadric.

  'Listen to my son!' said Khmar. 'What do we need it for? We need as a man needs a woman. My age must conquer – now! – because his age never will. Isn't that so, Yen Olass?’

  Hearing the Lord Emperor pronounce her own name, Yen Olass flinched as if she had been hit.

  'Why did you run away, Yen Olass?' said Khmar
.

  'Lord Alagrace wanted me to south with him,' said Yen Olass, 'but the Sisterhood refused. When the Sisterhood defies the Lawmaker, surely my duty is to serve the Lawmaker, who holds power as your personal appointment.’

  'Who asked you to play politics?' said Khmar.

  His voice was savage. In his voice, Yen Olass heard the lash, the knives, the spikes. Yen Olass quailed.

  'My lord, I exist only to serve,' said Yen Olass, trembling.

  In her voice was complete and total surrender. She hoped surrender would be sufficient. But it was not.

  'You defied the man who had been made your master,' said Khmar, relentlessly. 'Why? Surely Losh Negis was man enough.’

  'I first met him when we were hunting,' said Yen Olass. 'He prided himself on his skill. Was it wrong to give him a chance to prove it? Was it wrong for me to want a man to hunt me down? Do you think I never looked behind me, in the hope of his dust? I hoped for much, but the way was too easy.’

  Yen Olass was playing the part of one of the archetypal women of Yarglat mythology: the highblooded female who runs and resists in the hope of being hunted down and raped. Khmar was not immune to the appeal of the myth.

  'He was a man,' said Yen Olass, her voice now strong and vibrant. 'Or so I thought. The man to take me. The man to master me. I trembled for his touch. Yet the horizon lay empty behind me.’

  Khmar grunted.

  'You came south. You followed the same road as Alagrace.’

  'Did I make the chase too easy then?' said Yen Olass. 'Should I have gone to east, or to west?' Khmar grunted again.

  'You talk of Losh Negis, but when you get here, it's Alagrace you've chosen as your master.’

  'A woman must have a man to serve,' said Yen Olass. 'Since Losh Negis will not master me to his purpose, I must serve what man demands me.’

  'You are not a woman yet,' said Khmar. 'Just a girl. Perhaps you feared to be made a woman.’

  Yen Olass lowered her eyes.

  'I hoped with fear. I will not say I was not afraid. This filly feared, yet hoped for a stallion. She has not been gratified.’