The women and the warlords coaaod-3

by Hugh Cook

  A little further upstream, the travellers found a strange construction by the riverside: a fiat-topped mushroom made of the same star-burning stone. They all gathered round it. Yen Olass touched it gingerly; it was cold, and twice her height. She picked up a rock and started hammering it, trying to break some off. She was convinced that now was her chance to get really, really rich. But the mushroom refused to chip, break or shatter.

  'Having fun?' said the deserter Saquarius.

  'Shut up,' said Haveros, who did not like deserters on principle. 'Or I'll have fun with your face.’

  Saquarius turned on him.

  'I bet On the ugly one,' said the pirate Toyd.

  'Which one's that?' said Draven.

  They laughed. The two Estar boys, Shant and Mation, sniggered in sympathy, not because they were amused but because they wanted to take on themselves something of the glory of the rough-striding pirates. Haveros and Saquarius turned on them.

  'Soldiers against pirates?' said Yen Olass. 'Chonjara would love this.’

  'He'd place his bets at random,' said Quenerain. 'It'd be all the same to him.’

  Shant made a joke in his native Estral, and Mation laughed. Haveros, who had enough Estral to know the comment was obscene, cuffed him round the head.

  'Enough of this,' said Draven. 'Let's have a look at this thing. Up you go, Yen Olass.’

  'I can't!' said Yen Olass. 'It's much too high.’

  But Haveros and Draven boosted her up, making a rising step out of their linked hands. Yen Olass clambered onto the top, which was slippery and solid. And somewhat curved. She wondered if it was a stone phallus, the relic of some ancient fertility rite. It glistened in the streaming rain.

  'What can you see?' said Draven.

  'Nothing much,' said Yen Olass. 'There's not much of a view. Except… if you really want to know, you're losing your hair.’

  Draven clapped his hand to his head, then withdrew it, looking partly angry, partly sheepish. Yen Olass laughed.

  'Stop clowning around,' said Haveros. 'Can you get inside?’

  'No,' said Yen Olass.

  'Can you get it inside youself?' said Quenerain. 'Who knows?' said Yen Olass. 'What's your expert opinion?’

  'You'd have more of a chance with that thing than you would with a man,' said the princess. 'You'd have to pay a man to do as much as rape you.’

  'I don't know about that,' said Yen Olass, looking down on her. 'I had to fight off half the army once. Not like you, spreading your legs and-’

  'That's enough, both of you,' said Haveros, sharply.

  'Did you hear the way she spoke to me?' said Quenerain. 'The ugly little strumpet ought to have her scalp ripped off.’

  'Any more trouble and I'll batter the pair of you,' said Haveros.

  He was the leader. He was ashamed that he had dishonoured his leadership by almost coming to blows with Saquarius, embarrassed that two women had used their diplomacy to prevent the fight, and annoyed that those same two women should now start arguing with each other for no reason at all. Quenerain was his lover, but he was in no mood to grant her special favours, even so. The combination of shame, embarrassment and irritation made him fierce.

  'Let's horse horse,' said Haveros, in Eparget. Then, this 222

  pungent saying being entirely untranslatable, he said in Galish: 'Get going.' Then, in Estral, pointing the two boys up the river: 'Go!' Then, to Yen Olass: 'Get yourself down from there.’

  'How?' said Yen Olass.

  'Jump,' said Draven. 'We can pick up the pieces.' Yen Olass snorted. She grabbed hold of an overhead branch.

  'Careful,' said Resbit.

  'Tree,' said Yen Olass. 'Drop me in the dirt and you'll get yourself ringbarked.’

  She had just learnt about ringbarking in the last few days, from the soldier Saquarius, of all people.

  She swung herself down, hand over hand, sprays of raindrops shaking loose as the branch lurched beneath her weight. Then she dropped the last little bit, and brushed a few fragments of bark from her hands.

  'Onward,' said Haveros.

  And on they went. They were so wet by now that they hardly noticed when the rain eased. Just before they halted to rest at mid-morning, the rain stopped, but the sky was still encumbered by everlast cloud. They had no food to spare for a snack; instead, they squatted amidst the trees, resting in silence.

  Yen Olass watched Jalamex kneading water from Quenerain's hair. The princess liked to have people waiting on her, and had more or less managed to coerce Jalamex into being her servant. She had tried to get Yen Olass to do things for her, too – 'Grease my boots, serf – but had failed. Yen Olass took the attitude that here they were all equal, fugitives struggling to preserve their lives. So she had refused the princess – but saw no need for Quenerain to be rude to her. Surely Quenerain could have tried to make friends. At times, Yen Olass had almost liked her.

  Quenerain saw Yen Olass watching her, and gave her a look which meant 'One day I'll have you underfoot.' Yen Olass put her little finger to her tongue, which in Gendormargensis was the ultimate gesture of contempt; the princess looked away, pretending she had not seen.

  At that moment, Yen Olass felt very homesick. She remembered Gendormargensis and her room in tooth 44, Moon Stallion Strait. She remembered her cat Lefrey. She had been so comfortable there. But that was long ago and far away. Now she was here, in the evergreen forest north of Lake Armansis, squatting on a soggy mass of decaying leaves which, in time, would mulch down to earth. No sound but the talk of the river and the drip-drop-thrup of water filtering down through leaves. That's another thing about trees: when the sky stops raining, the trees don't.

  'Yen Olass,' said Resbit.

  Yen Olass started. She had been drifting away, allowing her own thoughts to take her away from the world, bearing her away like a river.

  'What is it?' said Yen Olass.

  Resbit had a snail on her hand. Very delicately, it eased its tiny speck-black eyes out to the limits of their tubes. Fascinating. Yen Olass watched as it began to migrate across cold wet female skin.

  It didn't get very far.

  Yen Olass reached out, pinched the snail between thumb and finger, crackled its shell, picked away the pieces then bit the snail in half. She chewed it with determination rather than enjoyment, giving the remaining half to Resbit, who accepted this love offering with a smile.

  Then they sat together in the forest, shoulder to shoulder. Yen Olass let her head lean against Resbit. She closed her eyes. She wondered about the Rovac warrior, Elkor Alish, who had coupled with Resbit. By day or by night? Had he tasted her? Had he touched her… there? Or there?

  That was strange to think about. A man and a woman. Yet it happened. Thousands and thousands of times. Entire tribes and nations peopled that way. And for every moment of swordslaughtering glory, nine months of myth and darkness, years learning to crawl, to walk, to talk…

  Did men ever think about that when they hacked each other with swords, making themselves heroes? Somehow, Yen Olass doubted it. She wondeed what it was like to be a man. She found it hard to imagine. Men had no sense of proportion.

  Yen Olass remembered Lonth Denesk and Tonaganuk killing each other in the Enskandalon Square in Gendormargensis. Two old men hacking each other to death with axes when they should have been at home keeping themselves warm under featherdown quilts. With cats. And bread. Spread with honey from honeycombs – very thick honey with bits of wax in it which you could chew.

  Men were always fighting, and for what purpose?

  Tick,' said Resbit.

  'A spider?' said Yen Olass, who was not afraid of them, but did not favour them.

  But it was not a spider, but a dung-drab caterpillar which haci fallen from the trees onto Resbit's knee. Yen Olass wondered if caterpillars were edible, and decided not. She had squished a few in her time, finding them green or yellow inside. This caterpillar, unaware that it was in danger of immediate demolition, was elongating and contracting, sliding
its body forward. Yen Olass intercepted it with a stick; it climbed aboard, and she lofted it into the air then set it down on the ground.

  There.

  She had known the caterpillar would climb aboard the stick. She knew how to manipulate it, but that took her no closer to understanding what it was like to be a caterpillar. Similarly with men. As an oracle, she had learnt how to teach reason to men who were proud, vain, arrogant and unreasonable, but she had never understood why men were the way they were. She knew a man hates to take advice from a woman. That was why the Sisterhood had developed the apparatus of Casting Board and Indicators – so that an oracle would appear to be only a mouthpiece for the apparatus, rather than a voice in her own right. But why did men hate women to be their equals?

  Yen Olass knew she could be much more interesting as a person in her own right than as a slave, a thing, an object. Yet she knew most men would prefer her as a slave. She understood that the drive for power and mastery was responsible. Yet she could not understand what made power so attractive.

  Maybe it was…

  'Time to move,' said Haveros.

  'Must we?' said Quenerain.

  That complaint did not deserve an answer, and did not get one. They set off again, with Yen Olass still thinking about her problem.

  Maybe fear was the answer. Maybe men struggled for power because they were afraid. Afraid of losing. Afraid of being conquered. Afraid of other men. But then, what about the Lord Emperor Khmar? He was a man. And it was hard to believe he had ever been afraid of anything. He was not afraid of death. Was not even afraid of the sickness that was killing him.

  Yen Olass was still thinking when she was distracted by a vaporous sun which briefly emerged between the clouds, shining down briefly on the abrupt geography of jagged pinnacles and sheer-faced bluffs they were now traversing. Then the clouds closed in again.

  They began to encounter strange trees with shining green bark and variegated leaves of orange and grey. Yen Olass, standing knee-deep in the river, plucked an overhanging twig. Yellow sap came out, reminding her of caterpillar guts; there was a sharp, bitter smell which clung to her hands. The strange trees clustered together in their own encampments by the river; the rest of the forest was the same monotonous evergreen as ever.

  While she was still wondering about the trees – did they ever bear fruit, and, if so, could you eat it? – a rivercastle came in sight. Haveros called a halt, and signed them into the trees. They perched precariously on ground too steep to walk on. They waited. Watching. Listening.

  The river was piped through the castle, spilling out through culverts on the downstream side. The castle was a low, squat building with one open doorway facing downriver. It seemed to be made of polished grass-green jade. It showed no sign of wear, but the low-lying roof, which was flat, was littered with dead leaves and branches.

  'It's empty,' said Draven to Haveros, in Ordhar; Yen Olass saw the suspicious looks his fellow-pirates gave him when he used this language which they could not understand.

  'All right then,' said Haveros. 'Let's move in.’

  The others had soon decided the castle was abandoned, but Haveros – a good hunter, and a dangerous quarry – had allowed himself plenty of time to make his mind up. The pirate Mellicks, eager to see if there was any loot, pushed on ahead. Haveros let him go, happy enough to see someone else brave the way into what might well be a potential deathtrap.

  Mellicks had scrambled up to the doorway and disappeared through it by the time the others drew near.

  'Stay back,' said Haveros quietly, advancing. 'What's inside, Mellicks?’

  There was no answer. Peering inside, Haveros saw a low-roofed chamber. Up close, he could see the castle rock was filled with stars, just like the phallic mushrooms they had encountered earlier in the day. The glow of multicoloured starlight illuminated the chamber, where Mellicks stood, looking round disconsolately.

  'Nothing,' said Mellicks, giving a belated answer to the question Haveros had asked.

  'We can go in then,' said Haveros.

  That was all there was to the castle – this one vast room above the river, with the one doorway leading into it. And, in the centre of the room, horse-length oval strips of metal spreading out from a grey metal disk.

  'What's that?' said Draven.

  Haveros tried to pick up one of the strips of metal. It refused to budge by so much as a shadow-width. There were strange characters graved on the metal: the smooth-flowing cursive characters of a language of abstractions created without reference to birth, death, flesh, bones,

  blood, buildings, cities, war, horses, ploughing, barley, rice, tin, gold, sunlight, coal, flowers, grass, trees.

  The strange writing reminded Yen Olass of the characters written on the ceramic map she had stolen from the War Archives complex, Karling Drask, to satisfy the scholarly lusts of the text-master Eldegen Terzanagel. That writing, she knew, had been in the High Speech of wizards. Was this the same? She tried to picture the map and the writing that had been on it. The general outlines came to her – and the shape of some of the pieces that had been missing after the map got damaged – but beyond that, nothing.

  'We could stay here,' said Quenerain, looking around.

  'Where will the servants' quarters be?' said Yen Olass.

  'Right by where the whores are quartered,' said Quenerain, stabbing her finger in Resbit's direction.

  Toyd saw where she was pointing, and looked at Resbit significantly. Resbit shrank into shelter behind Yen Olass, who did her I-killed-my-first-man-at-the-age-of-twelve routine; Toyd, who had never heard it before, was suitably impressed. Then Haveros shut them all up: he had had enough.

  'We can't stay here,' said Haveros. 'Chonjara won't be far behind.’

  'You don't really think that,' said Quenerain. 'Otherwise you'd be driving us on much faster.’

  'You're none of you fit to go much faster,' said Haveros. 'In any case, Chonjara can't travel too quickly. He'll be held up a long time at that gorge, putting scouts on top of those rocks to find out if we're waiting up there.’

  'Why?’

  'In case we drop stones on his head.' 'And why didn't we?’

  'Because it's just the thing he'd expect me to do.' 'And instead…’

  'We're going up the river, then we'll double back and slip past him. Of course, he expects me to do that, too.

  There's lots of things he expects me to do. Split our party in half and try for east and west. Leave a rearguard to try and hold him up. Wait myself, to try for his head when he camps at night. He's right, too. I might try any of those things. Whatever I do, I won't disappoint him.’

  Yen Olass was disgusted at this kind of talk. She knew Chonjara as a violent, hot-headed man capable of immense amounts of rage and hate. If he was a dog, you would put him down and think yourself well rid of him. Yet here was Haveros, speaking of his enemy as if there was some special understanding between them. Almost as if they were friends.

  'Who says he's chasing you?' said Yen Olass. 'He might only be after the pirates. He might have turned round and gone back home.’

  'He came up the Hollern River hunting me,' said Haveros. 'And it's me he's after now. He knows I'm here. The Melski never caught him, so we can guarantee he caught some Melski. He'll have found out where we went. He's good.’

  Haveros seemed positively proud of his enemy.

  'A pity we don't have more people on our side,' said Mellicks, trying to shift the grey disk at the centre of the oval strips, in case it was a trapdoor to a treasure dungeon.

  'We've got Lord Alagrace on our side,' said Haveros. 'When he gets back from Skua, he'll bring Chonjara to heel. You can't go whoring through the forest with a thousand men, not to settle a personal feud – not when you've got a siege to fight. With any luck, Alagrace will take his head.’

  'From what I've heard,' said Mellicks, 'your Lord Alagrace doesn't sound like the world's greatest gift to leadership.’

  'He'll get reinforcements from Skua wh
o haven't been tainted by mutiny,' said Haveros, watching Mellicks kicking the grey disk in disgust. 'Officers, too. By now, Chonjara's people will be finding out the fun's over. Not many women up in this neck of the woods – unless you fancy a Melski bitch.’

  'It's been known,' said Mellicks, sagely.

  He stepped onto the grey metal disk, and the oval horse-length metal strips folded up into a flower-bud, trapping him before he could scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  'Mellicks!' shouted Toyd.

  Draven swore, Haveros drew his sword and Quenerain screamed. Everyone crowded round the metal bud. Except for Yen Olass, who fled to the doorway, terrified, thinking that any moment the stars would go out and some drop-door or sliding stone would block all chance of escape.

  To her relief, she reached the open air safely. She squatted down just outside the doorway, while the others thumped on the steel bud, hacked at it, tried to pry the metal petals open, and shouted words of hope and encouragement in case Mellicks could hear them. Then, slowly, they gave up, and drifted outside: Resbit first, then Jalamex, the boys Shant and Mation, the deserter Saquarius, then the pirates Toyd and Draven.

  Only Haveros, with Quenerain kneeling at his feet, remained to watch the steel bud.

  'We're not going to get him out,' said Draven. 'We'll have to leave him.’

  'Leave all of them, that's what I think,' said Toyd. 'We can travel faster on our own.’

  'We'll do better with Haveros.’

  'What? Mucking through the jungle till we fiddle our way through to his darling Lord Alagrace? What kind of law will they give us then? A close shave with the knife, that's my bet.’

  'Haveros guarantees our safety,' said Draven.

  'Ay, so you say.’

  'I've lived with these people.’

  'Yes, when your shipmates died. How did that happen?' 'As I've told you,' said Draven.

  'Ay. As you've told. As I've heard. Wait till we get to the Greater Teeth. You'll be telling some more then.’

  'The truth makes the best story,' said Draven. 'That's why I'm sticking to it.’

  Yen Olass, listening, wondered exactly what Draven had told his comrades. She remembered the interview with Khmar: one pirate dying at the hands of the Lord Emperor himself, a second killed by bodyguards, then a third knifed by Draven.