by Hugh Cook
"Fash on-steh!' said Yen Olass, spitting out the obscenity then trying to bite the hand.
So much for her good resolutions.
The man laughed, then sliced away the strips of fibrous bark which a frugal soldier had used instead of rope to tie her to the torture post. Free, she found no strength in her hands to fight with, no strength in her feet to run with. No strength, at first, to stand with. But the man caught her and held her, then said:
'Cut my daughter free.’
A warrior moved to obey. Yen Olass saw that both his cheeks had been cut away, and this helped her remember him: she had seen him last in Favanosin.
The men of the camp now looked up from their gambling, their eating, their drinking, their jokes, their laughing, and studied the small party of strangers which had slipped out of the forest, reaching the prisoners before anyone was aware of their presence.
Silence; settled over the gathering. Then one man advanced to greet the newcomers. Yen Olass, her strength recovering now that bonds no longer restricted her circulation, released herself from the arms of the Lord Emperor Khmar and went to help Resbit. Khmar stood alone, watching the man who approached – a strange figure, his hair shaved off, his body stripped to the waist and smeared with charcoal.
The man halted, and made reverence.
'Greetings, my lord.’
'And to you, greetings, sal Pentalon Sorvolosa dan Alagrace nal Swedek quen Larsh,' said Khmar, freighting every word with sarcasm. 'How do you account for your appearance? Are the High Houses of Sharla once more setting a new trend in fashion for the empire?’
'My lord,' said Lord Alagrace, 'we've been having some… some…’
He faltered.
'Some fun, perhaps?' said Khmar, muscling forward. 'And my daughter was part of this fun? Alagrace, the Red Emperor does not take pleasure in seeing the flesh of his flesh tied to a torture post.’
'Times… times have been difficult.’
'So I understand. Chonjara! Get yourself out here! Now!’
Reluctantly, Chonjara came forward to greet his emperor.
'I left Lake Armansis with fifty men,' said Khmar. 'As you see, I'm here with ten. The green animals are formidable. Three of my survivors are wounded. Have them seen to. Put out perimeter guards. Get your men to work. Rocks and tree trunks. A wall round this place by nightfall. And you – you'll meet my justice later.
'My lord,' said Chonjara.
And Chonjara and Lord Alagrace withdrew, and began to shout orders, to make sure that the emperor's bidding was done.
'You should have them roasted alive,' said the Princess Quenerain, rubbing her wrists, where angry red marks showed where bindings had bitten into her flesh.
'And you?' said Khmar, looking at her, his eyes, glittering beneath his heavyweight brows.
'I…’
'You don't know what to say,' said Khmar. 'And neither do I.' He spat.
'Yen Olass, as Khmar's Sisterhood in the South, tell me: how should I shape my anger?’
'Their nightmares will serve your silence.' said Yen Olass.
Khmar grunted.
'Has your slave been obedient?’
For a moment, Yen Olass did not understand. Then she remembered. On the day they first met, Khmar had given her the pirate Draven as her slave.
'He has served a woman too long,' said Yen Olass.
'Then he can come west with us.' 'West?’
'We have ships at a place called Larbster. I've been with my son in the Ravlish Lands. His idea. We've been talking ports. The people there will give us ports. It will help us win Argan. Alagrace should have suggested it.’
Resbit, speaking in Galish, asked Yen Olass who the strange man was. Yen Olass tried to shush her, but it was no good.
'Who is the young one?' said Khmar. 'A woman of Estar,' said Yen Olass. 'Tell her who I am.’
Yen Olass told Resbit that the squat, ugly, bowlegged man with the filed teeth was the Lord Emperor Khmar, absolute ruler of Tameran.
'Does he want me?' said Resbit timidly.
'What does she say?' said Khmar.’
'She wants to know if…"
'If I want her? Yen Olass, I want to rest.’
Yen Olass was alarmed to hear Khmar speak like this. He had come out of the forest to save her, like the prince in a hero-song, but ever since then his behaviour had left a lot to desire. He should have lashed Lord Alagrace with his scathing tongue until his victim was grovelling belly-down in the dust, begging for mercy. He should have eaten Chonjara alive. He should have lopped off heads and flayed men alive. His fury should be so intsense that he should still be breathing fire. Instead…
She saw he was tired. Profoundly tired. He could imitate the strength and the anger of the man he had once been, but the truth was that his life was failing. He was too sick to be marching through the wilderness, battling with the Melski and disciplining unruly commanders.
Yen Olass organized Khmar into the tent Lord Alagrace had brought up from Lake Armansis. She had boughs cut to make a bed, and had blankets confiscated so the emperor could sleep warm. Soon Khmar was slumbering, with his daughter Quenerain keeping watch at his side, and his bodyuards taking turns to rest and stand guard, talking to each other quietly in Eparget.
Yen Olass talked to the man who had suffered the loss of his cheeks. He told her about their journey to the Ravlish Lands, then about how they had stopped at Larbster Bay, and what they had found there, prompting Khmar to march inland. He told her about their arrival at Lake Armansis, and the fearful discipline Khmar had meted out to the soldiers he found there in arms against each other. She heard of the march north, and how they had captured the pirate Mellicks, learning much by interrogating him.
'What happened to him?' said Yen Olass.
'Khmar sent him south.’
'He was lucky to be left alive.’
'He had offered Khmar life. He said there was a machine here in the north which grants wishes.’
For 'machine' he used the formula 'steel-which-lives', speaking of this ancient evil with distaste tinged with fear.
'Khmar believed him?' said Yen Olass.
'He had yellow eyes. He said he got them by wishing. Khmar chose to believe him.’
'What he said is both true and false,' said Yen Olass. 'There is a machine. It can grant wishes. But lately, it's taken to killing. I don't suppose he told Khmar that.’
'Oh, but he did’
'And Khmar?’
'He chooses to seek out the machine regardless. Our emperor
'He's dying,' said Yen Olass, speaking the truth even though it might be treason to do so.
'Well,' said the man without cheeks, 'let's just say, even Khmar is not immortal.’
'But he's not dead yet,' said a voice.
And, turning, they saw Khmar watching them from his bed of blankets and branches. Yen Olass wondered how loug he had been listening for. The Princess Quenerain whispered something to her father.
'No,' said Khmar. 'Let her stay. Now get me Alagrace and Chonjara.’
***
That evening, there was a funeral for Volaine Persaga Haveros. As the flames caught hold of the funeral pyre, Lord Alagrace and General Chonjara each cut off one of their ears and threw these offerings onto the blaze. Since Haveros had been killed in a fair fight, Khmar saw no reason to punish anyone for his death; instead, he was disciplining Alagrace and Chonjara for the way they had failed him as army commanders.
Both Khmar's victims were amazed to find that the Lord Emperor was going to let them escape with the loss of an ear apiece. They had expected, at the least, to have their feet burnt off and then to be buried alive.
That night, Khmar dismissed everyone from his tent. Everyone but Yen Olass Ampadara. In the morning, Resbit asked Yen Olass what had happened.
'We shared an apple,' said Yen Olass. 'And he gave me one all for myself. But I saved it for you.’
And she gave Resbit the extra apple.
'Will you be empress?' said
Resbit.
'That,' said Yen Olass, 'remains to be seen.’
She worried about what would happen when Khmar reached the wishing machine in the north. Surely it would kill him. Or keep him. She was glad when he decided to stay and rest for another day.
They shared another apple that night, but she knew his strength was failing. He said he lacked the appetite for another march: should he have himself carried? She told him to rest. To wrestle with the wishing machine, one had to be strong, aggressive and fighting fit. If he was not ready to fight, then…
'Then here is where I dismount,' said Khmar. 'I never thought to live forever. I have had a good life.’
They talked together, their voices murmuring late into the night. He told her of his first wife, who died in childbirth, and of his second wife, who eloped with the fair-haired stranger from across the seas, and of his third wife, who met the fate which must not be told to strangers.
The next night, they shared one last apple.
'You will bear a son for me,' said Khmar. 'He will be emperor. A real man and a real emperor. Not like Celadric’
'You have other sons already,' said Yen Olass.
'Chonjara will stand between you and them until rny son is old enough to stand at the head of his own army,' said Khmar. 'Tomorrow, I will instruct him.’
But his voice was grey in the dark. There was no fire left, only ashes. When he slept, Yen Olass called his bodyguards into the tent, and they kept the final watch together, so that there would be witnesses to the death.
Khmar died that night, and Yen Olass said a parting for him. The bodyguards gave her permission to stay or go, as she chose. She chose to leave. The most powerful man left in the camp was Chonjara, her enemy, the one whom she had defeated in combat in front of the army at Lorford, and who had almost succeeded in having her stoned to death as a dralkosh. If Khmar had lived long enough to instruct Chonjara to protect her, he might have obeyed. But as things were, it was best for her to flee.
Under cover of darkness, she roused Resbit. Draven, Lord Alagrace and Jalamex were sleeping in the same lean-to, so they woke as well. Yen Olass explained. Shortly, they were on their way upstream, with sufficient stolen packs, food, clothing, weapons and blankets to guarantee them a good chance of survival in the wilderness.
Yen Olass felt no guilt whatsoever at leaving the Princess Quenerain behind. When Yen Olass had stopped playing at being Yarglat of the Yarglat, and had met Lord Alagrace on the road to Favanosin, the Princess Quenerain had been all for having her put to death immediately – and Yen Olass found it very hard to forgive people who had tried to have her killed.
CHAPTER THIRTY
They chose the river rather than the forest because navigating through a forest at night is a difficult undertaking; with the need for speed, and the promise of pursuit, it becomes nightmarish. They could not go through the forest without leaving footprints and breaking branches; blundering round in the dark they would inevitably be noisy; they might run into a hostile Melski patrol, or walk round in circles, and they would certainly leave a clear trail for the pursuit to follow.
By taking the river they at least had a chance.
They could not go swiftly under cover of darkness, for the footing was uncertain. All of them were periodically dunked in the water when they slipped off rocks, bruising themselves in the process. They did not speak to each other; the only sound was the occasional splash and the murmur of water talking to water.
After hours of slow and painful progress, greyfaced dawn allowed them to see their surroundings and assess how far they had come. Lord Alagrace, who had not marched along this route before, was under the impression they had done very well, but the others knew better.
'We'll have to move faster,' said Draven.
Lord Alagrace yawned, tasting the cool clean early-morning air.
'Eat first,' said Lord Alagrace.
They were all ready to eat, though what they really wanted to do was sleep.
A brief rest, a bite to eat, and they were off again. But Jalamex and Resbit could not push themselves along at speed. They were afraid of the pursuit which they knew would have started by now, but they were also bone-weary after their night's exertions. Rests were needed frequently,
and the rests grew longer. Even so, both Jalamex and Resbit stumbled and fell as the day dragged on.
Lord Alagrace himself was feeling the distance. His left hip ached; the blood sang in his ears. Pausing while Resbit negotiated a difficult section of rock, he closed his eyes. His head nodded down, and he was instantly asleep. He swayed on his feet, woke, blinked, and shook his head. He was too old for this, and he knew it.
Late in the afternoon, they heard a shout behind them. Looking back, they saw a soldier by the riverbank, whooping with triumph. He must be the lead scout for the pursuit: the main body must be close behind him. Mobilized by fear, the five fugitives pressed ahead with speed. Ahead they saw shallows where the water rippled across stones and banks of shingle. Beyond that were two shoulders of rock, each ten times the height of a man, between which water cascaded through a narrow gorge.
When they had first come up the river, they had got here by tramping for one day and a bit of the following morning. This time, exhausting themselves by contending with the river by night, they had not done as well: it had taken them half a night and the better part of a day to get this far.
'We're finished,' said Lord Alagrace, surveying the obstacle ahead.
'We can get through,' said Yen Olass, 'then lose them. Maybe. Come on.’
'I'm not going to give up now,' said Draven. 'Come on, Jalamex.’
Draven led the way, and the others followed. Just before he entered the gorge, Lord Alagrace paused and looked back. He wiped sweat from his forehead then scanned the river. Already twenty men were in sight. And they were closing the distance.
Lord Alagrace turned and followed the others, but, when they had gone a little further, he halted. Draven looked back.
'Go on,' said Lord Alagrace, raising his voice above the buffeting water.
'Giving up?' yelled Draven, with a hint of a jeer in his shout.
Lord Alagrace drew his sword. 'I'll hold them,' he shouted. 'Your life,' called Draven. 'I know.’
'Luck, then,' said Draven.
And with the briefest of bows he continued his retreat, hustling the women along with him.
It was cold in the gorge. A fine, cold spray filled the air. Lord Alagrace coughed. His flesh was aching where he had sliced away his left ear as an offering for the funeral pyre. Looking up, he saw the walls on either side rising almost sheer to the sky. Here the gorge was kinked: any man attacking him would have to come round a sharp corner, seeking footing on smooth boulders drowned in the river-rush. Lord Alagrace had dry footing on larger rocks clear of the current, and room enough to swing his sword.
Lord Alagrace waited, leaning back against one wall of the gorge, for he was weary. He watched intently. His hearing would give him no advance warning: the rumble-roar of the river, jolting through this white-water chute, tumbled echoes from the walls. Beneath the boulders, the water was deeper than a man was tall.
The first man edged round the corner. Lord Alagrace styled his sword in the traditional position known as Waiting Hawk. Seeing him, the soldier started, slipped, and fell. The avalanche of water rolled his body under, forced it into a hollow where the river undercut the cliff, and held it there for drowning.
Lord Alagrace waited, trembling.
Two men peered round the corner. They conferred together. Then the boldest started forward, closing the distance. Lord Alagrace made the feint, slash and legsweep known as Shadow Avoiding Rain. His opponent moved to meet the feint, narrowly parried the slash, then went down as the legsweep hooked his balance out from underneath him. Embroiled in the water, he was swept away.
They came on, then, the heroes, one after another. Hacked, stabbed and gashed, they fell away, and the river took their bodies. Lord Alagrace, panting h
arshly, gasping, sweating, bleeding, took his death-count to nine, and snarled with satisfaction.
He waited for his tenth victim.
Suddenly, a wasp stung his shoulder, burned deep, seared home, driving him backwards. If it had not been for the cliff at his back, he would have fallen. He reached up, clutched the shaft of the arrow which had driven into his shoulder, and broke it off short, so it would not impede his movement.
Looking up, he saw the archer high up on the opposite side of the gorge, perched precariously on minimal footing. It must have taken some delicate climbing to get up there: and supreme skill to shoot from that position. As Lord Alagrace watched, the archer nocked another arrow and began to draw back the bowstring. There was no escape.
Lord Alagrace raised his sword in salute.
The arrow slammed home.
Lord Alagrace fell as if hit by lightning, his senses numbed by a shock which outmastered pain. Swamped by the river, he tried to rise, but could not find his hands. He found himself wedged between two rocks. Sheets of glass rushed over him: the glass was water. With rising terror, he gasped for light, but swallowed water. Pain monstered within his skull.
Then suddenly – easing away without warning – fear and pain were gone. And, for just a moment, Lord Alagrace experienced an access of grace, sufficient to allow him to recall just this:
'… and fix my eyes on horizons far receding.’
Then darkness filled his eyes, and he died.
***
Beyond the gorge, the river widened, and a stream flowing in from the east joined its waters. Further upstream, it narrowed again. A little more tramping, and they came to the first mushroom phallus of star-burning stone. Here they halted: they could not go much further.
Draven took a length of rope out of his pack, and began to make knots.
'What's that for?' said Jalamax.
'A trap,' said Draven.
He did not elaborate. Yen Olass was not interested: she doubted that anything could save them now. Even if they split up and ran in different directions, they were too tired to go far. And Chonjara had brought enough men upriver to split his people into four different hunting parties. Besides, Yen Olass doubted that Resbit could survive on her own. And Jalamex would not go much further unless forced by Draven.
