The Women and the Warlords

by Hugh Cook

  'I am a gamos.’

  Silence. Then the captive looked at her, then looked away.

  'Gamos!' said Yen Olass. 'I am a gamos!’

  The captive began to sniffle violently, crushing her face into her arms. Was she having a fit or something? Suddenly, Yen Olass realised the prisoner was laughing. What was so funny? Her pronunciation couldn't be that bad.

  'I am a gamos,' said Yen Olass, starting to get angry. 'A gamos!’

  The captive laughed and laughed and laughed. She was working herself into a state of hysteria.

  'Say stanaba,' said the monster, Hor-hor-hurulg-murg, who had been listening all the time.

  Yen Olass remembered now. That was the Galish word for a female human.

  'Stanaba,' said Yen Olass. 'I am a stanaba.’

  But she still failed to see what was so funny. She knew that, sometimes, nearing the final stages of exhaustion and fear, people will laugh for no reason, sometimes following helpless laughter with a crying jag. That must be what was happening here.

  The captive calmed herself and sat up. Yen Olass took off her helmet, and then introduced herself. Yen Olass Ampadara and Valicia Resbit.

  'Elkordansk,' said Resbit, patting her abdomen.

  'Hungry?' said Yen Olass.

  Resbit said several sentences, in which Yen Olass caught only the word 'boy'. She could scarcely be hiding a boy child under her clothes.

  'What?' said Yen Olass.

  Resbit nursed an imaginary baby in her arms.

  'Child?' said Yen Olass, pointing at Resbit's abdomen.

  'Boy child,' said Resbit. 'Elkordansk.’

  Was she pregnant? If so, this was very confusing, for even Yen Olass knew that a pregnant woman cannot tell the sex of her child. And what was an elkordansk?

  'Eat,' said Yen Olass, pushing the remaining bread and gaplax toward Resbit.

  As Resbit ate, Yen Olass helped herself to a little more, and they began to talk. Neither of them knew very much of the Galish Trading Tongue, which was not Resbit's native language, but, slowly, they began to make sense of each other, helping out language with mime, with imaginary drawings done with a fingertip in the air, and with the occasional astute comment from Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.

  They were really starting to get to know each other when there was a commotion outside. Going to the door of the tent, Yen Olass saw a big crowd gathering some distance away; there was a lot of shouting go on.

  This looked interesting.

  'I'll be back,' said Yen Olass.

  But she lapsed into Eparget as she said it, so Resbit did not know what to think when her new friend disappeared.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Yen Olass managed to push her way into the centre of the crowd, she found a large ugly man, bound hand and foot to a pole. Yen Olass recognized him without any troubled at all: Volaine Persaga Haveros, sometime Lord Commander of the Imperial City of Gendormargensis. A violent argument was going on as to what should be done with him.

  The argument ended when Lord Alagrace arrived.

  'Cut him loose!' said Lord Alagrace.

  Men with knives went to work. They sliced away the ropes and removed the gag from his mouth. Haveros lay in the mud with the rain falling on his face; he looked dazed, stupid. Lord Alagrace looked around. Yen Olass tried to shrink back into the crowd, but failed.

  'You!' said Lord Alagrace. 'Make yourself useful. Give him some water.’

  Yen Olass knelt down and began feeding Haveros some water. As he suckled on the half-empty skin, she wondered, belatedly, whether he would catch any terrible disease, as the Melski monster Hor-hor-hurulg-murg had already drunk from the same water skin.

  Another woman joined Yen Olass. It was the Princess Quenerain. This high-born lady knelt down in the mud and began to massage the captive's hands, to get the circulation going. Ropes had cut deep into the skin, leaving ugly red marks, as if he had been branded.

  'Haveros!' said a voice.

  Yen Olass recognised that voice. It was General Chonjara. A moment later, the general grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her away from Haveros and threw her backwards. Yen Olass landed heavily.

  'Chonjara!' said Lord Alagrace. 'Have you gone mad?’

  But the general paid no attention. He grabbed the Princess Quenerain by the scruff of the neck and pushed her aside. Then he drew his sword and raised it high, to strike the executioner's blow. Haveros lay helpless, waiting.

  'No!' screamed the Princess Quenerain.

  She punched Chonjara in the armpit. Soldiers leapt forward to overpower the general, dragging him to the ground and disarming him. Taken from behind, his sword-arm momentarily disabled by that punch to the armpit, he could do little to defend himself.

  Yen Olass, still lying on the ground -- she judged that was the safest place to be for the moment -- was impressed. She had not credited the Princess Quenerain with enough physical initiative to take on a mouse, far less a warlord.

  Lord Alagrace was calling for order. Haveros was trying to sit up. And Chonjara -- struggling, biting, kicking, swearing, spitting -- was going quite red in the face. How very interesting. Yen Olass propped herself up on one arm so she could get a better view.

  'Are you hurt?' said a man, squatting down beside her.

  She smelt his strength. It was Karahaj Nan Nulador, Chonjara's bodyguard. Although he was pledged to his master, Nan Nulador was not expected or required to assist him against a senior commander like Lord Alagrace -- that would have been treason.

  'I'll live,' said Yen Olass, unable to resist dramatizing her plight just a little bit. She allowed Nan Nulador to help her to her feet.

  Chonjara, giving up the struggle to break free, gasped for air then shouted:

  'Kill the traitor!’

  'That's enough!' said Lord Alagrace. 'A traitor!' shouted Chonjara. 'Standing with the enemy! Kill him!’

  Volaine Persaga Haveros, now sitting upright, turned his head to one side. He vomited. The Princess Quenerain tried to help him up, but he lacked the strength to stand.

  'Behold!' shouted Lord Alagrace. 'The resident interpolator sent to the imperial province of Estar by the Lord Emperor Khmar.’

  'A spy?' said Chonjara, incredulously. 'A spy? Sent here by Khmar? Would the emperor recruit such a man? After what he did in Gendormargensis? Take your filthy hands off me, you whoredog chickenlice!’

  The soldiers holding Chonjara released him.

  'Who told you to let him go?' said Lord Alagrace, more than a little frightened to see his authority so rapidly eroded. 'Seize him!’

  A soldier made a tentative effort to take hold of the general, but Chonjara knocked him aside, and nobody else took up the challenge.

  'Look at that,' said Chonjara, pointing at Haveros. 'That, an imperial servant? That's a drunk. A traitor. Whoring his favour to an enemy power.’

  Haveros croaked.

  'Poisoned,' said Haveros.

  'Poisoned!' said Chonjara. 'Drunk -- that's the word.' Lord Alagrace looked around.

  'Who brought Haveros here? Who carried him here on the pole? You? Then tell us -- how was Haveros taken?’

  'The cavalry took him, sir. He was riding out of Lor-ford, on a horse. Captured, he claimed imperial warrant. Saying what you claim for him, sir. A security marshal gave him some nataquat to keep him quiet.’

  'You hear that?' said Lord Alagrace, turning on Chonjara. 'He's not drunk, he's been doped with nataquat. You hear that? And he told his story before I told it for him. Understand? He's not the traitor -- you are! You've defied my authority. You've defied your superior commander on the field of battle.’

  This was said in a parade-ground bellow. Fear made Lord Alagrace vicious. He was acutely aware that his most senior officers were Yarglat clansmen. In a crisis, there was always the chance they would turn against him -- the last survivor of the High Houses of Sharla.

  Having seen his own authority stolen from him, and his men brought to the point of mutiny, Lord Alagrace was not about to give a
ny quarter now that the power struggle had turned in his favour.

  'Khmar sent this man!' said Lord Alagrace, invoking the power of the Lord Emperor. 'Just as Khmar sent me. Who here disobeys Khmar. Do you? And you? No? Then take him!’

  On his command, men laid rough hands on Chonjara, who put up only a token resistance. Best to finish the business now. Take Chonjara's head, before he could put it together with his cronies and cook up a full-scale rebellion.

  'Traitor,' said Lord Alagrace, addressing Chonjara, 'I find you guilty of treasonous mutiny, and sentence you--’

  'I demand a reading.’

  'And sentence you--’

  'A reading! That's my right! I demand a reading! Bear witness, he denies me my rights! He's trying to have me killed before the truth can be heard! I demand a reading!’

  There was an ugly muttering from the crowd. Lord Alagrace looked around to read the surrounding faces. He saw that if he ordered someone to kill Chonjara, he would not be obeyed. His hand went to the hilt of his sword -- and was restrained.

  'No,' said Karahaj Nan Nulador.

  'As you wish,' said Lord Alagrace.

  Lord Alagrace did not believe the stories that Nan Nulador could crush rocks with his bare hands, but he was glad when Chonjara's bodyguard eased his grip. He shook himself free.

  'You realize,' said Lord Alagrace, quietly, 'this is mutiny.’

  'What law says you can murder him?' said Nan Nulador.

  While Chonjara's bodyguard was not one of the brightest lights in the intellectual firmament, he was not as ignorant as some people took him to be. He knew that Lord Alagrace had no authority to kill a man out of hand.

  'Very well,' said Lord Alagrace. 'The forms will be obeyed.’

  He turned to Yen Olass, hoping she would give him a 158

  quick reading so he could get Chonjara killed. Or, alternatively, perhaps she could find some way to deny Chonjara a reading.

  'Oracle,' said Lord Alagrace. 'This man asks for a reading. Is he entitled to a reading?' 'He is,' said Nan Nulador.

  He was right, and Yen Olass, hearing him, knew that he knew he was right.

  'There is conflict between two parties,' said Yen Olass. 'Even if his guilt is certain, he is still entitled to ask for a reading. Even if sentence has already been pronounced against him, he is still entitled to ask for a reading.’

  Lord Alagrace was displeased. This was not what he had expected to hear. Still, no oracle's reading could alter the outcome, as far as he was concerned: Chonjara was guilty of trying to overthrow his authority. Guilty, and dangerous, and a candidate for immediate execution.

  'Give a reading then,' said Lord Alagrace.

  'I will have to get my nordigin,' said Yen Olass, for the carrier box containing her Casting Board and 365 Indicators was elsewhere. 'It's with the translators' baggage.’

  'You should have it with you!' said Lord Alagrace, allowing himself to unleash some of his anger against this defenceless target. 'So you haven't got it -- do without it.’

  'The Rule does not permit me to,' said Yen Olass.

  She wanted to take Lord Alagrace and shake him. Fear was mastering his judgment. She knew he wanted Chonjara dead straight away. She knew delay would favour Chonjara. But she also knew that delay was a necessary risk.

  'In obedience to the Rule I will go for my nordigin,' said Yen Olass, seeing the danger of Lord Alagrace taking them both to destruction.

  She turned to go.

  'Stop her!' said Lord Alagrace.

  Soldiers barred her way. She turned back to Lord Alagrace and said, her voice cold:

  'In this time of danger, Khmar's oracle urges all parties to follow the forms.’

  She saw Nan Nulador nod in agreement.

  'I must obey the Rule,' said Yen Olass.

  'You're Khmar's Sisterhood in the south,' said Lord Alagrace. 'You can make your own Rule. You'll give us a reading. Now.’

  'What's this?' said Chonjara. 'A reading which isn't a reading? Are you going to have me judged by a dralkosh?’

  Lord Alagrace saw his own error, too late. He tried to salvage what he could.

  'She has Khmar's favour,' said Lord Alagrace.

  'Khmar wouldn't be the first emperor to favour a dralkosh,' said Chonjara, shaking off the men who held him.

  'I am an oracle,' said Yen Olass, raising her voice. 'An oracle, obedient to the Rule.’

  'A runaway slave, and Khmar let you live,' said Chonjara. 'A slave, yet Khmar fed at your table. You poisoned his foodtaster, but you let the emperor live. Why? Because you wanted something from him. You got what you wanted.’

  'She is an oracle,' said Lord Alagrace.

  'You tell us yourself,' said Chonjara, 'she conjures up readings out of nothing. Out of the air itself! I saw the Witchlord! I saw his dralkosh, Bao Gahai! I know that look! You can tell it in the woman's eye! Are we going to let this dralkosh die a virgin? Form a square! Form a square!’

  Lord Alagrace was jostled as excited men formed a square. Yen Olass tried to escape. Chonjara grabbed her by the hair and hauled her back. She hit him, very hard. He slammed a fist into her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her. Then he threw her into the middle of the square, where she went sprawling in the mud.

  'Who fights for the privilege?' said Chonjara.

  He had everything in his favour now.

  'Khmar's foodtaster is alive and well,' said Yen Olass, staunchly, picking herself up from the mud.

  'And I wonder what he paid for his life,' said Chonjara. 'Come on, who fights for the woman?’

  Half a dozen grinning bravos stepped forward. Then a bigger, taller man joined them: Karahaj Nan Nulador. For a moment, Yen Olass allowed herself to hope. She had a champion. He would find a way to save her: somehow. Chonjara had named her as a dralkosh, but she had given Nan Nulador a son, and he would not forget.

  'Nan Nulador,' said Chonjara. 'Get out of there. You fight when I tell you to, not otherwise.’

  Wordlessly, with a glance of apology at Yen Olass, Nan Nulador withdrew.

  So this was it then: the end. She was going to meet the fate traditional for women who get embroiled in the affairs of men: rape, destruction and death. She was going to be fought over, then carried away and mauled and pawed and slavered over and cut open and poked then taken out and stoned to death with rocks battering her bones and her breasts and her head and smashing her face to a pulp, she had seen it done, she knew what happened.

  She saw the possibility of a quicker, cleaner way. Now that she could no longer preserve herself by submitting to the ruling power, Yen Olass chose to die fighting. She spat into her right hand, and closed it into a fist. It was the traditional Yarglat gesture of contempt and defiance, and she had practised it in secret a thousand times when she was playing at being Yarglat of the Yarglat.

  Could she take out Chonjara? She could try -- and if she died trying, it hardly mattered. Chonjara, using all his energies and wit to dominate and control the crowd, had not yet had time to recover his sword.

  'I killed my first man at the age of twelve,' said Yen Olass.

  By dint of long practice, the line came out perfect.

  'You can make a fist, I can see that,' said Chonjara, who, as a general, was not about to compromise his dignity by fighting with a woman. He pointed at one of the bravos who had lined up to contend for Yen Olass. 'Take her!’

  The man stepped forward. Nan Nulador intercepted him and flattened him.

  'Nan Nulador!' said Chonjara.

  'Am I ruled by a dralkosh?' said Nan Nulador, standing over the comatose body of the man he had downed.

  Chonjara hesitated. He could answer yes. He could persuade the crowd to tear Nan Nulador apart. But Chonjara valued his bodyguard; the muscle-mountain was too valuable to sacrifice lightly.

  'By your oath,' said Chonjara, 'I command you to stand back and stay silent.’

  Nan Nulador bowed his head and withdrew.

  'You can command his body,' said Yen Olass, 'but not his
judgment. There's one person who knows Khmar won't be happy about this!’

  There was a murmur from the crowd, and Chonjara was not sure what it meant. He gestured at another of the bravos.

  'You!’

  'So that's the man you choose to face Khmar,' said Yen Olass.

  And the hero hesitated.

  'Khmar will take you and break you at his leisure,' said Yen Olass, addressing Chonjara. 'As for me -- when I piss again I piss on the grave of your sheep-lick shasha father.’