“She has a mouth, hasn’t she,” I said. The officer tried to suppress a smile. Elana flared up, but I cut her off. “I haven’t come to talk with this woman. If she remains, I’ve nothing further to say. I’ll drop the truce staff, and my lances will leave nothing alive here.”
He looked at Elana, a mute appeal in his eyes. Her eyes flashed. For a moment I thought she’d force the issue. Then, wordlessly, she whirled her horse and rode back to the tents.
“What’s your name?” I asked once she was gone.
“Tybert,” he replied, “late a shield-square leader in the Lantan City Guard, now commanding the queen’s bodyguard, what there is of it.”
“That’s not a Lantan name.”
“Mirzan. I’m from Mirza. It’s a small city,” he added with a tight smile, “and there’s little trade except for the export of swords.”
I’d heard of Mirzan mercenaries. That about the swords was like our joke about being simple herdsmen and traders in hides. I smiled politely.
“And your men?”
“Mirzan, Norlanders, Hyksos.” He laughed. “We’ve even a few Lantans.”
I smiled in turn. When his laugh faded I asked quietly, “Then what holds you here?”
He drew himself up pridefully. “My codes, Altaii. I’ve taken gold.”
“I, too, have sold my sword, Tybert, and one thing is certain. When I fight for my people I’m ruled only by honor and the warrior codes. When I fight for gold, there are other considerations. Such as will I be paid? Elana has no treasury to draw on, now. She has nothing but what is in her tents. If you fight, you’re not doing it for gold, for she’s none to give you.”
He mulled it over slowly. There was nothing in his codes to make him fight for someone who couldn’t fulfill the other part of the contract. There was, I knew, allowance for leaving a leader who bungled the operation for which hire was made.
Finally he sighed and nodded slowly. “I fear you’re right about the payment. I’m not certain she’d pay now, even if she could. She seems to think we lost the battle to spite her. Very well, I’ll withdraw with such of my men who’ll follow. I can’t say how many that’ll be, though.”
“That is all I ask,” I said.
“One more thing,” he said. “Who do I speak to?”
“I’m called Wulfgar.”
His eyes widened slightly. “I am honored, Lord Wulfgar.” And backing away he rode back to his men.
I twisted in the saddle and motioned for Orne to come down. He galloped up in a spray of sand.
“They’re leaving, my lord?” he asked incredulously.
“Mercenaries, Orne, and they’ve just been told there’s no hope of payment. Since they probably left their previous pay in Lanta, I doubt many will stay now.”
Tybert finished talking to the men. He rode away from the tents, heading east, and by twos they followed. All of them. I suppose the Lantans among them had discovered new loyalties.
Elana stared after the departing soldiers, then spurred in chase. “Where are you going?” she screamed. “Come back, you cowards! Cowards!”
Dashing to intercept her I swept her from her horse and dumped her heavily to the ground. She glared up at me a moment, wild-eyed, then screamed. Maybe she thought I was planning her death. What I was doing was seeing her again, watching Harald die.
She scrambled to her feet and ran toward her tent. Her serving girls and the noblewomen who attended her stood as if in a trance. Too much had happened to them on this day. They couldn’t accept it all. Their army destroyed. Themselves abandoned. Now their queen ran as if for her life from a barbarian of the Plain. In truth, though, they seemed more dismayed by the departure of their soldiers than by Elana’s fate.
I dismounted and followed her at a leisurely pace. Her robes were made for the grandeur of a palace, not for running, and she made heavy going of it. At the entrance to the tent I caught her, and she whirled on me. A dagger gleamed like a serpent’s fang in her upraised hand.
I caught her wrist, tightened my grasp only a little, and her face went white. Slowly her hand opened, and with a whimper she dropped the blade. Terror filled her eyes. She thought I was going to kill her, but she wasn’t mine to kill.
Forcing her to her knees I pulled the jeweled pins from her hair, shaking the pale blond mass loose around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and caught her lip between her teeth, fighting to regain composure.
“Wait. Listen. It wasn’t my fault. You’ve got to understand.” She seemed to realize she was babbling and began again. “I wasn’t responsible for Lord Harald’s death. You must believe that,” she said insistently. “The Most High ordered it. They commanded it. It was their fault.”
Someone said, “That’s a lie.”
I turned on the women to see who had spoken. All were silent, but one flinched and tried to look away when I met her eye. I pointed at her. “You. Tell me how she lies.”
She looked from me to Elana to me again. “I didn’t—I mean, I can’t—I don’t know—”
Unseen, Orne had walked up behind the woman. Now he buried his ax in the ground in front of her. “Perhaps her tongue will loosen if she kisses the ax.”
She stared at the ax, less than an arm’s length from her, and her words spilled over each other in her effort to get them out. “There was a magic mirror. The Most High appeared on it. They told her not to kill Lord Harald. They said it was too late to do any good by it. They said it was dangerous. But Brecon said they should do it anyway, and she thought so, too. After they left to do it, the mirror melted.” She was on the verge of tears. “It set fire to the tent. Burned it down. And then that awful thing happened to the Sisters of Wisdom. It’s all her fault. If she’d done as the Most High commanded, none of this would’ve happened.”
“What happened to the Sisters of Wisdom?” I asked.
She suddenly looked haggard. “I don’t want to think about—”
“Tell me.”
For an instant she tottered on the edge of disobeying. Then she shut her eyes and began speaking. “The Sisters of Wisdom were in the spell-star. I was watching them. Suddenly Ya’shen looked up. She seemed startled by something. It was only for a second, but before she began the chants again, it happened. Something seemed to pick Sayene up and throw her right out of the spell-star. She landed over a hundred paces away. And Ya’shen, Ya’shen burst into flame. And she screamed. There was another scream from somewhere, and the two of them together were horrible. Please, I don’t want to talk of it.”
“What happened to Sayene? Ya’shen died, but what about Sayene?”
“She was barely hurt,” she said in a resigned voice, “but she wouldn’t even wait for her bruises to be seen to. As soon as she got up she gathered her acolytes and rode away. After that everyone was running. The army, everyone.”
“So you lied to me, Elana,” I said softly. “If you’re going to lie, I don’t want to hear you at all.”
I tore a strip from her robe and, before she could move, wadded it into her mouth. Another strip fastened it there. Her robes weren’t as pretty now that they were ripped. She watched me wrathfully, but seemed to realize the futility of struggle. One more long piece from her robes served to bind her hands behind her, and her belt made a leash and collar.
Elana, held close to my saddle by her leash, watched mesmerized as the other men ransacked the tents and wagons. There was little to find, though, and we left them burning behind us.
I headed straight back for the Ravine. This prize was worth more than being able to report that I’d seen a few more Lantans running. I meant to take her straight to the king.
We kept an easy pace for the women’s sakes, but I fear they didn’t think so. Before we’d gone far their breath came in whistles and gasps. They kept up the steady trot, though. No doubt they thought we’d drag them if they didn’t.
An hour from the Lantan tents we were met by Bohemund. He’d hurried, indeed, to come so quickly. He had fewer than a hundred warri
ors with him. He hadn’t waited to gather more.
“I have a gift for you, my king,” I said. “I found it wandering loose, and I thought you might like to have it.”
Another rider moved up beside Bohemund, and I saw that it was Mayra. She seemed very interested in Elana, but Bohemund looked at her in surprise. “Who is this?”
I couldn’t blame him for not recognizing her. Her hair was plastered to her head with sweat. Her chest heaved violently as she tried to suck in more air through flaring nostrils. Her knees were trembling, and from head to foot she was covered with a layer of dust.
I handed him the leash. “Her name is Elana, and once she was Queen of Lanta.”
He pulled her close and leaned over to peer into her face. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she was too tired to struggle. “Yes,” he breathed and his hand went to his sword.
Mayra put out her hand to stop him. Her gaze was still on Elana. “She must live. When we get back to camp I’ll attune her to you. Our survival is tied to hers.”
“Then she’ll survive in chains,” Bohemund growled under his breath as he turned to ride away, Elana forlornly at his side.
Mayra waited for me to join her. We rode together for a time before she spoke.
“You’ve done it, you realize.”
“Done what?”
“Opened the gates of Lanta with your own hand, captured both the queens, ended ten thousand years of Lantan history and as much or more Altaii history. Your hand has changed this corner of the world so it will never be the same again.”
“I don’t know about changing the world, or even a part of it,” I said, “but I’ve done nothing to the Altaii.”
“You think all will go on as before?”
“Of course it will,” I replied angrily. But I gathered my cloak around me. The wind had died here, but I felt the chill of a wind blowing somewhere.
“Come to me,” she said. “When we get to Lanta, come to me, and we’ll talk.”
And she spurred on ahead, leaving me with my thoughts and that cold wind that no one else felt.
XXXIII
THAT COLD WIND
The first day of the first month of the Year of the Fourth Wind dawned cold in Lanta, in the great square surrounding the palace. I wore a redbear robe around my shoulders, but the cold still seeped through, aided by the winds of change. One by one the men of a handpicked thousand went to Bohemund before the gates of the palace to receive a messenger’s scarf, a scarf of black.
Mayra stood near me, but her eyes were on me, not the ceremony. She seemed worried, but I don’t think she felt the bone-chilling wind that I felt.
We’d returned late to the rim of the Ravine. The cold of night was coming, and fires had been lit against it. A warrior came to Bohemund, the Falcon Banner, symbol of the Morassa people, draped over his saddle.
“A trophy, my king,” he said. “The spirit of the Morassa is in our hands.”
“Destroy it.” There was steel in Bohemund’s voice. “Burn it, bury it in a dung heap, but destroy it. We take no trophies from vermin.”
With a grim smile the warrior rode to one of the fires. The men huddled around it parted to let him in. He trailed the flag into the flames. Tendrils of fire ran up the length of it. In moments it was ablaze. The warrior dropped the burning mass onto the fire, and it was no more than the other ashes.
Songs would be sung about the battle, and this would be in them, how Bohemund wouldn’t deign to accept the Morassa banner, but had it burned instead. He wasn’t interested in songs, though. Other fires burned on the Plain than those to warm men, Altaii funeral fires. Bohemund rode to Harald’s fire and stayed until it burned out and beyond, far into the night.
It was a time of mourning.
* * *
The line continued forward to receive their scarves from Bohemund. Each in turn was given the same injunction. “Deliver the message. Deliver it well.”
Each in turn gave the ritual reply. “I will deliver the message well. None but death shall stop me.” On each man’s lips it had the sound of an oath.
* * *
A few days earlier I’d stood on the Plain, far from the walls of the city. There I was just another warrior, another of those who’d returned from the Great Ravine. All who had left the field alive were there, forming a great circle.
Within the circle stood the youths who had gone into the battle and survived, three thousand of them. None could have survived that place without having performed the acts of bravery required for the warrior brand. One by one they received it.
It’s custom that the youth receive his brand in the presence of those who fought beside him. For that reason we were there, to see them recognized as warriors.
For some reason I could not stop thinking of three thousand more who had crossed the Xandra never to return. Their ferryman’s fee had been high, but they’d paid it.
* * *
Now the leaders of a hundred lances went forward to receive their own scarves. Each had been chosen from many volunteers. Each had himself chosen the hundred lances who would follow him from the thousands who wanted to go. I saw Aelfric among them.
* * *
I’d chosen a palace of my own in Lanta, a palace once owned by a member of the Council of Nobles. It was, I thought, a place to stay when my thousand came to Lanta on its sweep across the Plain. Such was not to be.
The sweeps, the marches—the endless war with the Plain was ending. Every day more and more Altaii arrived at the city, and all had come to stay. The horse herds and the cattle herds had been moved to easy pastures to the east of the city. Altaii lances now held garrisons in towns that once knew Lantan guards. Cerdu and Devia and Asyat sent tribute.
I was sitting in the palace garden scowling at the fountain when Mayra came.
“Look at that,” I said. “There’ve been days when I’d have killed to get that much water for my tents, and here it is being used just for looking at.”
“You haven’t come to me, Wulfgar. I asked you to, remember? We have to talk.”
“There’s been much to do. Arranging for the dirtmen to sell us food. Protection for the caravans. Many things.”
She sighed heavily. For the first time I looked at her. She looked tired.
“It won’t change back, Wulfgar, no matter how much you want it to. It can’t.” She sighed again and motioned to the shadows. Elspeth came out. “I’ve come to talk to you about the future.”
I peered down into the pool of the fountain. So much water.
“I told Che Sen we wouldn’t change. The Altaii will always be the Altaii. Well, we’re changing already. We’re becoming city people, people with walls and buildings and roofs to hold us.”
She was waiting impatiently. “Did you never wonder why I carefully guided you to Elspeth, and talked you into keeping her close at hand?”
“I wondered why, yes, but not the other. And I assumed you’d tell me why when you were ready.”
“Well, I’m ready now. All of your children, Wulfgar, will rise to places of power. All of your children.” She looked at me then in a way that reminded me of how she’d looked in the great hall when Leah let me know she bore my child. “Your children will rule the cities, found empires. Through them you will start dynasties that will change the face of the world as you’ve changed this corner of it. Your descendants will rise to rule for a thousand generations and more. And some of them will complete the change you’ve started for the Altaii, from herdsmen and raiders into empire builders. At certain points, Elspeth’s advice and knowledge will be critical to the future they build, and that of all the Altaii people.”
“The change I’ve started,” I whispered. I rose and walked over to the women. I cupped Elspeth’s chin and forced her to look at me. Her tears ran over the back of my hand. “Do you see what you’ve done with your salvation of my people, salvation that rests on the bow, what you’ve made me do with your ideas of the Altaii settling down? Better we should have fought our way out the
best we could. Better I’d never found you.” I let her go, and she slumped forward, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
“Wulfgar,” Mayra said gently, but I didn’t want her gentleness.
“Mayra, do you realize what you’ve done to me? My people are to become something else, something strange and alien, and you tell me that I and my children and my blood for a thousand generations to come will be the instruments of that change. We were free, Mayra, and you say that we must be chained and my descendants must fashion and fasten the chains. We were free.”
I turned back to the fountain.
“Your debt to me is cleared, Elspeth. Whether you come or not is your own decision to make.”
“I’m sorry, Wulfgar,” she said, and there were tears in her voice.
I didn’t turn. After a time I heard them leave, but I still didn’t turn. So much water.
* * *
It was time for the one who would lead these messengers to receive his scarf from the king. I threw off the redbear robe.
Bohemund waited, the black scarf in his hands. Swiftly he tied it around my left arm, just below the manhood brand. “Deliver the message,” he said. “Deliver it well.”
“I will deliver the message well. None but death shall stop me.” I clasped his hand tightly. “I swear it. By the bones of my father, and my father’s father, and my father’s father’s father, I swear it.”
He gripped my hand back. There were tears in his eyes.
XXXIV
AND SO, WE RIDE
I mounted and took my place at the head of the thousand. Bartu and Orne took their places at my shoulder, Elspeth and Mayra following close behind. We started down the street, away from the palace, toward the gates. Cheering Altaii lined both sides of our route. They hung out of windows, shouting, and waved from the rooftops as we went by. There were even those in the cheering throng who had been loyal citizens of the city. With the shouts ringing in our ears we rode out of the gates of Lanta.
Warrior of the Altaii Page 26
