by C S Marks
Harsha then lowered his voice, speaking the common-tongue. “Your translator is true to his craft, Rogond, yet he was not needed here. If I have perceived certain…facts, there are others who have done likewise. Beware of Asaad! The Ballali will kill the Elves if they feel threatened by them in any way. They will kill you and the dwarf, as well. The name of the man who will guide you is Sundahi. I know him well. He was married to my eldest daughter, and he is a good man.”
A cloud came over Harsha’s warm, brown eyes, and Rogond knew that his daughter had suffered an ill fate. He nodded, casting his eyes downward in sympathy for a moment. “I cannot thank you enough for your aid, Harsha. You and your family are ever the friend of our Company. We thank you for your princely gift of wine, and hope that someday we may assist you. The folk of the Ravi-shan are indeed generous, such that few in the northlands can match them.”
Harsha laughed. “You are eloquent, my good Rogond. Alas that my business takes me elsewhere, or I would invite you to join our caravan. Yet I know you will pursue your brother, though I have no idea where he might be at present. Don’t waste your time looking in Castalan; my folk drove his companions from our midst, and they are not welcome there. It does not do to pick too many pockets.”
Both men rose to their feet, and Rogond bowed once more to Harsha before taking his leave. They clasped hands, sealing their bond of friendship, Rogond being very careful of the old man’s gnarled fingers until he felt the strength in them. This man would live long and well.
“Farewell, and may the Light shine upon your journey. I truly hope you find your kinsman,” said Harsha.
“Indeed, my friend,” Rogond replied. “May you and your family prosper. I shall remember your kind words and your wise advice. Farewell.”
As he went out into the light and made his way to rejoin his companions, Rogond’s thoughts began turning swiftly with the return of fresh air. This was the final day of the Festival—Midsummer’s Day. Before the evening feast he would seek out this man, Sundahi, requesting that he guide the Company henceforth. He would release Sajid, telling him that he was free of any further obligation. If Sajid resisted, Rogond supposed he would have to pay him to leave the Company in peace, but he was prepared to do so.
Tomorrow they would leave the Sandstone and continue southward to the next settlement, now searching for news of the band led by Azori, and a man named Al-amand. It would be good to be free of Sajid, for Rogond had never really trusted him.
The final night of the Festival would see the climax of the celebration of Ujaala, and at midnight there would be fireworks over the city. The Ballali would emerge for the first time since their period of prayer and fasting began, and they would gather together to beg forgiveness for the sins of men, beginning a long period of supplication until midwinter, when the days would begin to grow longer again. This was a solemn occasion, one of the most holy. Asaad would tolerate no interference, for at such times his power was greatest.
When Sajid was brought before him, shaking with fear, Asaad was inclined to disregard him at first. When he saw the resolve in the little man’s eyes, he agreed to hear him. “I will hear you, unbeliever,” he said, “and if what you say pleases me, I will spare your life. If not, if your intent is to be blasphemous or to deceive, I will take your head. Do you still wish to speak?”
Sajid wanted to turn about, but Asaad was essential to the plan, and to his credit he overcame his terror enough to remain. “Very well, then, tell your tale,” said Asaad, as Sajid knelt before him, eyes downcast, two guards with very sharp swords at his back.
He stammered a little at first, but when no one struck him dead and he warmed to the tale, he grew bolder. Asaad listened with interest, and by the time Sajid had finished detailing his plan, the black eyes of the Holy Man were glittering, especially at the mention of the Elves.
Avinashi. So, they still exist, even as I suspected. Yet they are not so fearsome as our people believe, not if this sniveling little villain has traveled with them and lived.
“I only want the northman and his companions to be driven from the Sandstone,” said Sajid, conveniently omitting the fact that Rogond planned to leave of his own accord.
“It shall be so,” said Asaad, regarding Sajid, who was by now prostrate before him with his forehead on the floor. Sajid raised his eyes to meet Asaad’s, but the coldness in them sent a chill through his body, and he looked away.
“Remember, Benevolent One, they must be driven forth tonight, before they have the chance to corrupt your most High Holy Day. I have it on good authority that the Avinashi plan to reveal themselves at midnight—to defile your ceremony. I would never want such a terrible thing to happen, so I have come before you. The Lord of Light has shown me this path that I might make up for my misdeeds.”
Asaad’s black eyes glittered with menace. “Do not speak of the Holy One in my presence, for you are unworthy, and I know you have a dark purpose to your mischief. Your heart is as black as any I have met, yet I will see your plan done and your end achieved. But do not delude yourself! If you remain in this settlement for one moment beyond the exile of your companions, or if you ever return, you will not long draw breath.” As he said these words, one of his henchmen placed a cold steel blade on the back of Sajid’s neck. “If things do not go as planned, and I must slay the Avinashi, I will slay you as well. Your feet are not set upon a righteous path. Get now from my sight, and do not ever speak to me again.”
The blade was withdrawn, but as Sajid rose and looked into the face of this very dangerous man, he beheld a cold, humorless smile that would haunt his dreams to the end of his days.
After Sajid had gone, Asaad called together his most loyal followers. “I have been alerted to the strangers’ intention to defile our midnight devotions. You, my trusted servants, must stand ready to drive the unbelievers forth. None will defend them, for none would stand in my way if they wish to remain alive. The infidels may have had acquired friends and admirers in the Settlement, but few, if any, will be ready to die for them.”
It was essential to the plan that the entire Company be present at the evening feast, which would be held in a large, open area near the fireworks display. For one price, the people could eat and drink as much as they liked, so the night would be festive and merry. Asaad had instructed Sajid to ensure that the Company joined in the festivities, and this would not be difficult, with the exception of Elraen. Neither Asaad nor Sajid had taken her into their plan.
In preparation for departure in the morning, the Company had packed up their few belongings. Fima had reluctantly parted with his two dromadin, for they were young, and he did not know how to properly care for them. He sold them for much less than their true value, which pained him until Rogond pointed out that he had done nothing to earn them in the first place, and so should be thankful for what little gain he had made. This earned Rogond a look that could have melted glass.
The feast promised to be enjoyable, so the Company would attend, but they would take turns standing watch over their belongings. Such festivities made easy pickings for thieves, who would relieve absent owners of their valuables.
Elraen was told that she could join them at any time. “If you wish to come and feast with us, Elraen, please do so. Gaelen and I will watch for you,” said Nelwyn, as Gaelen finished brushing and plaiting her hair. Alas that the evening was so warm, for Nelwyn would have worn her new singlet. Still, they donned their finest garments, hiding their elegant ears with scarves and headbands.
They had been invited to sit with Hari and his family, who had been told all about them and greeted them warmly. Hari had but one wife, and no sons, yet his daughters numbered three. They were lovely young maidens. They stared curiously at Gaelen and Nelwyn, to the displeasure of Fayalah, Hari’s wife.
“You forget your manners! Keep your eyes where they belong,” she admonished them. “Forgive our children, for they will not have met any such as you,” she said. Yet Fayalah’s eyes also roamed frequently
toward Gaelen and Nelwyn, taking in their strangeness, though she was much less obvious about it.
Hari’s eldest daughter, it seemed, was quite taken with Rogond. “They do not understand our tongue, do they?” she asked her father. Hari raised an eyebrow, shaking his head, and the three girls then proceeded to speak among themselves in hushed tones, declaring Rogond to be the most unusually handsome man they had ever beheld. They giggled musically until their mother silenced them with a withering look, informing them that any further unseemliness would banish them from the feast. They behaved with the utmost respect after that.
Rogond smiled, for he understood the message behind the words. Gaelen looked sidelong at him. “Rogond Thaylon, stealer of hearts!” she said with a good-natured smile, earning an affectionate squeeze of her arm.
Fima had offered to take the first watch, remaining in the shelter with Elraen. He had opened one of the bottles of wine sent by Harsha, intending to have a small feast of his own. He had brought plenty of food with him, for he would stand the watch for at least two hours, and his appetite was impressive. Elraen had never trusted Fima, and she would not speak to him, so he sat alone on his soft bedroll, eating and drinking and in general amusing himself. He did not begrudge this duty; he would be back among his companions in time for the fireworks display, since Galador had offered to take the watch at midnight.
Fima continued to drink the very potent wine, and soon found that he was nodding a bit. Well, it wasn’t surprising, as he was warm and content, with a full belly. Perhaps a wee nap was called for; after all, Elraen would alert him if anything went amiss. As it turned out, Fima couldn’t have stayed awake if he had wanted to. Harsha’s wine put him into a deep sleep before he even realized it, his head dropping forward onto his chest, his breath whistling through his fine, white beard.
It was a beautiful, warm evening, and the desert breezes brought with them the scent of high summer. Flowers bloomed around the central well, where the fountains flowed into the marble pool. Elraen’s head lifted into the wind, her body stiffening as she took in the scent of flowers, and…and water! Now that nearly everyone was at the feast, the settlement was very quiet. Elraen crept to the doorway, for she could hear the water flowing from the central well, and her heart rejoiced. She loved water more than nearly anything else, and she had not heard the sound of flowing waters since crossing the river Dessa. Though still fearful, she was also entranced. Without too much hesitation, she left the yurut with only one backward glance at the slumbering Fima, making her way toward the source of the crystal waters.
Only a few people observed her going, and she was shrouded and hooded, arousing little suspicion. When she arrived at the central well, her breath was nearly taken by the beauty of it. She shyly approached the fountain and the marble pool, tears of joy welling in her eyes. No evil thing would dare to intrude upon such a magical place, a haven in the heart of the cruel desert. The flowers were unlike any in her experience. Large, brilliantly colored blooms from the lands near the coast, they had been imported at great expense. Their scent was intoxicating.
Elraen shrugged out of her black shroud and tossed her long hair free. Clad only in silken undergarments, she stepped quietly into the pool, immersing herself in the clear, cool sweetness, feeling all her fears and cares wash away with the soft caress of the water. It had always been so.
She didn’t even notice when the two serving-women, who had been sent to fetch water for the midnight rituals, dropped their long-handled water jugs in consternation and ran to raise the alarm. Apparently, Elraen had committed a sacrilege of the highest order.
She had no idea what she had done, standing waist-deep beneath the fountain, running her fingers through her hair. Her ears were uncovered, though she had lost part of the left one in Tûr Dorcha, but it didn’t matter. It would not have mattered were she a mortal woman, or an Avinasha, or the foulest Ulca to come out of the darkness. She was female, and therefore unclean, and to defile the well on the Day of Ujaalah carried a sentence of death.
News of the catastrophe carried quickly, and the Company wondered why so many had risen from the tables in dismay. Gaelen and Galador looked at each other, sharing a sudden dread. Hari and his family were excited and flustered, and Gaelen grabbed Hari’s arm. “What is it, Hari? What has happened?” He shook his head.
“I am uncertain, but they are saying that someone has defiled the central well—a very serious crime. I could not imagine what would drive someone to such an act. I expect we should go and see what may be done.”
Gaelen was confused. “How does one defile a well? Have they poisoned it, or something? That would make no sense.”
“Nothing so obvious, but all the wells in the city are blessed by the High Holy Man, Asaad, at sunrise on Ujaalah. To defile them, a woman only need touch the water directly. That is why the water jugs have such long handles. Women are never permitted to touch the water—not today!” His eyes grew wide. “Were you not told of this?”
Gaelen and Nelwyn looked at each other in horror, as a sudden intuition took hold of them. Elraen loved the water. They turned to Rogond. “We must go at once! Elraen…we have felt disquieted…there’s trouble. We must fly, or she is lost!” Rogond, who had learned long ago not to question the intuition of Elves, followed them in alarm.
Quite a crowd had gathered around the central well by the time Rogond and the Elves arrived. People were chattering and muttering with dismayed excitement, for they all knew the consequences of this act. Those nearest the pool were staring at Elraen in disbelief. She had withdrawn into the center, and was now looking around with the eyes of a frightened doe. She had no idea of what she had done.
“She is one of our folk…let us through, please…please pardon us. Thank you,” said Rogond, pushing his way through the crowd with the rest of the Company behind him. As he towered over most of the sutherlings, this was not difficult.
Galador’s voice rose over the angry muttering. “Elraen…don’t be afraid. I have come for you. That’s right…come to me now. I will protect you.” Elraen waded toward Galador’s outstretched arms, and he gathered her in, lifting her as Gaelen, Nelwyn, and Rogond did what they could to keep the crowd back. No one had yet drawn weapons, but many of the Ballali had picked up stones from the ground, and one flew without warning, striking Galador’s arm.
“That’s it,” growled Gaelen, and the crowd abruptly fell silent, as they now faced two drawn bows and one glittering blade. The Company surrounded Elraen, shielding her.
“Please, good people, our friend meant no harm,” said Rogond in a clear, commanding voice. “She is not of sound mind, and does not understand what she has done. We are strangers in your land, and do not understand your ways. We will make amends for her mistake, if you will allow it. We do not wish to harm any of you, but if you attack our companion we will have no choice. Please, put down the stones.”
This seemed reasonable to most, but the Ballali were outraged and would not be placated. “She must face judgment, northlander! What she has done is a crime of great severity. The well is now unfit for anyone to drink, and it will be so for many months until our Holy Man can cleanse it of its impurity. She not only touched the water, she dared place her unclean body in it! This, on our Highest Holy Day…we must now use the other wells, which were of lesser purity. She must be held accountable.”
Other unpleasant cries came forth from the crowd. “She is a devil-woman! She has ears like a beast! See the scars on her body? She is unclean and evil…she must die!” Another stone flew at Elraen, but this one was deflected by Rogond’s blade.
Gaelen and Nelwyn were rightfully afraid, but their blood was aroused and their eyes were bright. Gaelen had taken about all she intended to—in the Greatwood, being female was not a crime. Yet she knew to hold her temper, lest she doom herself and her friends. If only I could send this arrow straight to the heart of the next one to speak ill of Elraen…these wretches would not have lasted a day in the depths of Tûr Dorcha!<
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The Company was now surrounded by a throng of black-clad Ballali, several of whom began to surge forward. They thought better of it when they saw the cold look in Nelwyn’s eyes as she sighted down the shaft of her arrow.
“The next one who takes a step forward will fall before me,” she said. “Try it, and see!” No one dared breathe for a moment.
“Step back, my people,” said a soft, menacing voice, and the Ballali dropped their eyes as Asaad himself was carried forward on a litter. “Lower your weapons,” he said to the Company, “for you are outnumbered. This is a matter for debate and judgment. I will hear your defense, and then I will decide. Lower your weapons, or die now.”
Rogond spoke softly to his friends. “They will kill us all at a word from him. Lower your weapons. We cannot prevail here.” The Company did so, but a stone flew from the crowd, striking Nelwyn.
“No more!” yelled Asaad in a voice that could not be denied. This man had power—one could hear it. “The next one who disobeys will be punished. Take the strangers to the place of judgment, and there we shall hear their defense.”
“Shall we take their weapons, Wise One?”
“Naturally. And then set them all in bonds.” He looked into the eyes of the Elves, knowing that he would spare none of them. He had thought to simply drive them out, but now he had an excuse to kill them, for they would not suffer harm to come to Elraen. They would no doubt go down fighting, sharing in her fate.
Gaelen looked directly into the eyes of Asaad, and as she beheld the malicious smile on his face and in his eyes, she knew the truth. They were all doomed…he would suffer none of them to live. She read this as plainly as if he had spoken the words. As his men came forward, she spoke to her friends in her own tongue. “They mean to kill us. If we surrender our weapons, all is lost. There is no hope in debate—he has decided already what our fate will be. It’s time for desperate measures. I will die on my terms, not his!”
