The women and the warlords coaaod-3

by Hugh Cook

  'This is going to be the death of me,' said Lord Alagrace. 'Given the choice, I'd rather have died in Gendormargensis – not in some nameless place like this.’

  'It isn't a nameless place,' said Yen Olass. 'It's called Nightcaps.’

  'Who told you that?’

  'Oh, everyone knows it,' said Yen Olass vaguely.

  'I asked you a question,' said Lord Alagrace, displeased by her offhand manner. 'Who told you that?’

  'A dragon. A little one. His name was Tiz. He was-’

  'That's enough,' said Lord Alagrace, with a sigh.

  He knew he should really have her taken out and whipped to bring her into line, but he lacked the energy to be sufficiently outraged at her misbehaviour. Besides, he still thought it might be possible to use her as an oracle, and if he expected others to accept Yen Olass as an oracle then it was important to refrain from having her beaten like a common slave.

  'Anyway,' said Yen Olass, 'you're not going to die. Not yet, not on a beautiful day like this. What's this? Wine? Here, drink some. Go on. It'll make you feel better. Where did you get it?’

  'The same place as we got those furs you're wearing,' said Lord Alagrace. 'It's loot from the pirate camp.’

  He accepted the wine Yen Olass poured for him, and watched her exploring the rest of his headquarters tent. It was tiny compared to the tent he had at the siege site at Lorford, but it had still taken four men to carry it through the forest.

  'You could have found me better furs than these,' said Yen Olass. 'They smell!’

  'Don't worry,' said Lord Alagrace. 'Nobody's going to notice.’

  'They might, you know. When we kiss.’

  Lord Alagrace took this in silence. Yen Olass was bright, flushed, ebullient and irrepressible. Through all the years in which they had been associated, he had never seen her in a mood like this. In an adolescent girl with a handsome young lover, he would have attributed this mood to sexual excitement; in a mature oracle, it was hard to explain.

  'Have you been drinking?' said Lord Alagrace.

  Yen Olass made a formal bow and arranged herself at his feet. She looked up at him, her face demure.

  'Your oracle awaits instructions,' said Yen Olass, in a cool, formal voice.

  Lord Alagrace suspected that this formality contained its own subtle form of mockery. Somehow, while being chased through the wilderness, Yen Olass had gained a new pride and confidence; her growing ego-strength disturbed and unsettled him. In Gendormargensis, she had obeyed him in all things, and her every obeisance had been sincere.

  'First,' said Lord Alagrace, 'I have to know the truth. Are you pregnant?’

  'How would I get pregnant?’

  'Haveros says you were taken by force by a metal flower.’

  'Is that how it happens?' said Yen Olass innocently. 'With a flower? I always thought-' 'This is a serious question!’

  'The only person who ever said I was pregnant was the Princess Quenerain,' said Yen Olass. 'Are you going to believe a hysterical woman like that? Of course, there's the children's story about Alakin Malakin who got taken by the lily god, but that's-’

  'Don't be impertinent,' said Lord Alagrace.

  Yen Olass bowed her head.

  'I am your oracle. I exist only to serve.’

  Lord Alagrace could not see her face, but he was half-convinced that she was smiling. A small sound escaped her: unless he was mistaken, she was just barely suppressing an attack of the giggles. It seemed that she no longer took him seriously. Perhaps she was in such high spirits because, after days of fear and danger, she thought she had reached a place of refuge.

  'Do you think you're safe?' said Lord Alagrace.

  Yen Olass looked up.

  'But of course, my lord. I was frightened when your patrols caught us in the forest – but only because I thought they were Chonjara's men.’

  'They are.’

  'They are?’

  'They are – or might be. I've tried to order them south. They won't go. They're waiting for Chonjara to return. They want us to face each other. Then they'll decide.’

  'They'll choose their own leader?’

  'It seems so.’

  'There's a simple cure for that,' said Yen Olass. 'Find the ringleaders then kill them. Do it by night. Haveros will help you. If it comes to that, I'll cut throats myself.’

  'If it was that easy, I'd have done it,' said Lord Alagrace. 'I came from Skua with a hundred hand-picked men. I thought that would give me enough steel to put down any mutiny. Chonjara's made a bad mistake, withdrawing hundreds of men from the siege to go whoring through the forest after a few fugitives – or so I thought.’

  'But?’

  'I find him popular,' said Lord Alagrace. 'Though he runs from the true battle men think him a great battle commander. Why should that be?’

  'The greatest power in Argan is the wizards',' said Yen Olass. 'Already hundreds of men have died fighting against them. Your duty demands that you take Castle Vaunting for the Lord Emperor Khmar, even if the siege costs you half the army. You've never wavered in your duty. Isn't it natural for men to see, in you, their death?’

  'But they talk of me as – as a…’

  'They talk of you as a coward. As a weakling. Of course they do. Men want to think themselves brave. So they pretend that they're heroes, running through the forest, killing a few Melski, crossing swords with the occasional pirate, hunting a handful of fugitives. They pretend the warlord who leads them is the greatest commander since time began. Isn't that natural?’

  'But the hundred men I brought from Skua,' said Lord Alagrace. 'They know better. I chose-’

  'You chose your best, then found them no different from the others. Why be so surprised? Here, everything's changed. In Tameran, you could have summoned up a squadron of executioners from Gendormargensis. Here

  'They all have to face imperial justice sooner or later.’

  'Do they? If the wizards can't be defeated, then best to give up now. Tell the army you'll lead all volunteers down the Salt Road to take up service in one of the warmland kingdoms. Or offer them a journey west, into the Ravlish Lands. Maybe that's what they're waiting for.’

  'Are you tempting me?’

  'The real question,' said Yen Olass, 'is different. Are you tempting them? What have you got to offer them? A death outside the walls of Castle Vaunting? The enemy commands fire, and madness. Can we stand against weapons like those?’

  'Nobody's asking you to stand against anything,' said Lord Alagrace.

  'My fate is linked with yours,' said Yen Olass. 'You've got two choices. Promise your men some honey-tongue future. Or else abandon your command – and run.’

  'I won't do either,' said Lord Alagrace. 'I'll stay here and meet Chonjara.’

  'And die.’

  'If that's the way it has to be, then…’

  'I don't want to die!' said Yen Olass.

  'Do you think the world turns on what you want or don't want?' said Lord Alagrace. 'Do you think imperial policy shapes itself according to the whims of an insignificant upstart female slave? Do you think-’

  Yen Olass got up and walked toward the door of the tent.

  'Yen Olass!' said Lord Alagrace sharply.

  She did not stop, and she did not look back. She walked out into the sunlight. Lord Alagrace did not follow, and did not call for guards to bring her back. He had thought of winning some victory over Chonjara by using Yen Olass, in her role as oracle, to manipulate the sentiments of his soldiers. Now he realised that was impossible. Things had gone too far for that.

  He would have to face down Chonjara, or die in the attempt. Which meant that he would probably die. Facing his death, he felt no terror: rather, a sensation of relief. Knowing that he would soon be gone, he turned to the last task awaiting him, which was the composition of his grace notes, which is to say, his death song.

  According to the traditions of the High Houses of Sharla, this composition should by rights have been carved on his tomb. Since
he was going to die in the wilderness, he would be denied a tomb. Never mind. He would write out his grace notes in a fair hand on a piece of wood, and arrange for the words to be burnt with his body on a funeral pyre. Chonjara would not deny him that much.

  Over the next few days, while working on his grace notes, Lord Alagrace set aside time to practise with his sword. He did not want to disgrace himself in combat, and so made the effort necessary to perfect his long-standing mastery of technique and timing. He knew Chonjara's daring, skill and reckless strength would overwhelm him: nevertheless, the fight would not be easy for the conqueror. Perhaps Chonjara would carry away a few scars from the battle.

  Practising, meditating, dreaming and waiting, Lord Alagrace found the words for his grace notes:

  All this I yield: Earth and sky.

  My bones lean down to join my shadow. Breathing out to join the greater air, I let my heart withdraw its labour, And fix my eyes on horizons far receding.

  With the words done, Lord Alagrace had a piece of timber prepared, and inscribed the words on the same in letters large enough for his ageing eyesight to read.

  Now he was ready. But still Chonjara did not return. Meanwhile, patrols were bringing back increasing evidence of Melski activity in the area. For the Melski, destroying the intruders obviously took precedence over the traditions which should have prevented them from entering the Valley of Forgotten Dreams. When two patrols failed to return, Lord Alagrace sent out no further scouting parties. He began to be aware that his position was somewhat tenuous.

  At Nightcaps, there were a mere two hundred men – not very many considering the strength the Melski nation could muster. Chonjara was known to have another two hundred men with him, somewhere upstream, in the north. Another seven hundred or so men were back at Lake Armansis, camping where the pirates had once built their fort. The rest of the army was still maintaining the siege of Castle Vaunting – unless it had been destroyed by wizards in the interim.

  Lord Alagrace called the men together and suggested that they withdraw to Lake Armansis, pointing out the danger the Melski posed. The response of the meeting was that reinforcements should be called up from Lake Armansis, and they should all then push north in an effort to find Chonjara, who might possiblv have been taken prisoner by the Melski.

  Lord Alagrace pointed out that any group taking a message south would have to be strong to survive the Melski danger, which was steadily increasing. By splitting their forces they would be increasing the danger of attack. The meeting finally decided that they would all wait at Nightcaps for another five days, then go south as a body to get reinforcements for a drive up the Valley of Forgotten Dreams.

  ***

  The pirate Draven was in no hurry to go anywhere. He was comfortable where he was. The woman Jalamex had yielded to him once again, and he trusted that no harm would come to him while he was under the command of Lord Alagrace.

  However, the pirate Mellicks did not share such trust, and did not think the five-day wait at Nightcaps would be wise. Confident of his ability to find his way downriver by night – his new eyes gave him amazing night vision – he slipped away by himself one evening. Nobody troubled themselves much over his disappearance.

  Mellicks never made it south to Lake Armansis. He evaded one Collosnon party that was heading north, but later blundered into another – and found himself answering to a very formidable interrogator indeed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Two men were fighting.

  Bored by dull days spent camped by the river, other men gathered round to urge them on, to shout, to cheer and lay bets on the outcome. Disturbed by the noise, Lord Alagrace came out of his tent, and saw immediately what was happening.

  His first thought was of Yen Olass Ampadara. Guessing that she would escape if given the chance, he had assigned men to keep watch over her by day and by night. She might be no good to him as an oracle, but she might have her value if the army renewed its call for the death of a dralkosh…

  Looking around, at first Lord Alagrace could not see Yen Olass anywhere. Then he caught sight of her. She was right in the middle of the crowd, shouting and laughing – and making a bet with someone.

  Lord Alagrace pushed his way into the crowd and stood over the two bruised and bloody men, who were now wrestling on the ground, each seeking a stranglehold.

  'Cut!' bellowed Lord Alagrace.

  The two men took no notice.

  'You!' said Lord Alagrace, pointing. 'And you! Pull them apart!’

  For this task, he had nominated two of the most sober and disciplined of the common soldiers. This was one of the tricks of command he had learnt over the years. Even in an unruly mob, there are usually a few who will obey, and when these accept commands the others will often follow.

  The two fighters were dragged apart, panting and bleeding. They were not seriously damaged. The crowd did not disperse: they were interested to see what would happen now.

  'Since you've got so much spare energy to burn,' said Lord Alagrace, 'There's an experiment I want to carry out.’

  He pointed south. There, the narrow, swift-running surge of the river widened to a shallow flurry of foam as it leapt between boulders.

  'Down there,' said Lord Alagrace, 'in the middle of those rapids, there's a female stone about so big. Her name is Gwenalyn. Go and get her for me. Now! Come on, come on, move yourselves! You should be back by now!’

  The two men raced away, dodging round the occasional tree as they sprinted down the riverbank. They waded out into the rapids, slipped, fell, went over, recovered themselves, got hold of a stone 'about so big', manhandled it toward the shore, dropped it, plunged into the water to recover it, then laboured it back to the campsite.

  Panting, shuddering, dripping wet, they dropped the stone down in front of their audience. By now, everyone else was taking their ease, some squatting down, others sitting on boulders or tree stumps.

  Lord Alagrace got to his feet, stepped forward and nudged the stone with the toe of his boot.

  'This isn't Gwenalyn!' said Lord Alagrace. 'This is Nagala. Don't you know the difference between a girl stone and a boy stone?’

  'So what's the difference?' said the more reckless of the two miscreants.

  'If you don't know the difference between a boy and a girl by now, it's a bit late for me to be teaching you,' said Lord Alagrace. 'All I can say is, it must make for some interesting nights.’

  This quip raised lazy laughter from his audience. Lord Alagrace sent his two fighters back to the rapids to get him the girl stone Gwenalyn. When they came back, lugging the stone along between them, they were clearly exhausted.

  'That's Gwenalyn all right,' said Lord Alagrace, stroking the stone, a fond smile on his face. 'Isn't she smooth and silky? And only eleven years old! Well, boys, I had a really interesting experiment in mind, but you both look too shagged out to help me with it. So put these children back in the river where they came from. No, you don't have to go back to the rapids – just put them in there, they'll make their own way home. Not like that! You're grown men, you can lift a child without any help, surely.’

  The stones went back into the river, the spectators dispersed, and the two exhausted men went to dry themselves off in front of a fire. Lord Alagrace was left to ponder the deficiencies of his own leadership. Even though his troops refused to withdraw from Nightcaps, they had not thrown up their own leader to replace him; the responsibilities of day-to-day management were still his. However, he had spent his time in his tent, producing variant versions of his death song, and dreaming back to days gone by. Waiting for his death.

  But perhaps he was not going to die, at least not this year. Perhaps Chonjara was irretrievably lost in the depths of Penvash. Perhaps he was dead – and if so, it was unlikely anyone else would challenge Lord Alagrace for control of the army.

  Lord Alagrace knew he should get a grip on his people now, and restore discipline. They should work hard, building a stockade to defend against the M
elski. They should have daily weapons drill – Haveros could organize that. Regulations concerning the use of Ordhar should be enforced: it was not good to allow the men to natter away to each other in their barbarous foreign tongues. Maybe D raven's woman should be taken away from him and given to the men for their amusement – that would raise morale. The pirate could always be disposed of if he was foolish enough to resist. That woman Resbit, she could be shared around too.

  Entering the area set aside for latrines, Lord Alagrace saw there was work to be done here, too: the men should be set to work digging some decent pits, and soon, otherwise they would be wading ankle-deep in sewage.

  Squatting over a stinking hole, Lord Alagrace endeavoured to excrete some of the weight lumping inside him, but failed. He was profoundly constipated, and had been for three days now. He tried again, but his bowels were still reluctant to move. He exerted himself. He felt a small pain, dull and localized, down in the lower left quadrant of his gut. Guessing he would rupture himself if he forced the issue, he gave up for the time being. He was getting old, yes. Old man with grey pubic hair. Everything slowing down, seizing up, becoming unwilling and recalcitrant. His spine resented the disciplines of gravity; his bones complained of the weather; he grew tired easily. Lord Alagrace was still meditating on this when he heard voices raised:

  'They're coming!’

  'Who?’

  'Chonjara!’

  Lord Alagrace stepped out of the latrine area, forcing himself to adopt an easy, confident stride. He saw Yen Olass idling south along the riverbank, with Resbit beside her.

  'Yen Olass,' said Lord Alagrace, pitching his voice to carry. 'Here! Heel!’

  Yen Olass obeyed, reluctantly; Resbit came with her. Looking at her, Lord Alagrace knew he had not been the only one to think Chonjara might well be dead.

  Turning to face the north, he watched for the approach of Chonjara and his men. Before long, they came in sight, escorted by sentries who had been guarding the campsite perimeter. There were six of them. Lord Alagrace went forward to greet them. They were all battered, filthy, stinking and tired. They moved like sleepwalkers: they were in the last stages of exhaustion.