Sandun was alone with a woman who was now his wife and yet a woman he did not know. How to act? How to behave? This was not a woman he had paid for; she was now legally bound to him, perhaps one day the mother of his children. They stood there in silence, like actors missing their lines, the director having departed the theater, the playwright having handed them a blank script to read from. Strangers from halfway around the world, they had been brought together by the designs of others: kings, house leaders, the lord of Tokolas. Now they stood, alone together, fearful of missteps that might offend for days, months, or years into the future.
Sandun moved close to the woman. She did not shrink away, which he felt was a good sign. He kissed her and then proceeded to remove her clothing. Miri took out her hairpins and let her hair down; it shimmered in the moonlight, long enough to reach below her bare breasts.
Afterward, as she lay in his embrace, breathing in short staccato, he considered the profound truth: underneath the clothing, beyond the words and styles of dress, she was a woman, he was a man, fitted by nature to be a pair and—Sho’Ash willing—to raise children together.
However, in the days that followed, Sandun found there was a distance between them that physical intimacy could not bridge. Miri held herself in reserve, speaking rarely, playing the timbal for hours. She never touched him outside their bed, and he ended up comparing her to Ashala, though he tried hard to avoid such thoughts. The image of Ashala’s cheerful smile, and the feeling of her warm hands on his arm could be not forced out of his mind. He knew it was not fair to judge Miri, but he found insignificant ways—things that attained a curious importance—in which his new wife came up short. He wondered, for the first time, if there was some crucial secret to her life, some life-changing event from her past. Why had she been chosen by House Kirdar to go to Tokolas?
“Give her time,” he told himself. But time was pressing. The departure of the army for the north was in just a few days.
It has been said that happy couples are all alike. Whether this is true is something no man can say. What can be said is that Ako and Russu were very happy together.
In her heart, Russu hadn’t quite believed her marriage to Ako would really take place. Somehow, something would come up. Women in her position never married for love. She kept waiting for the hammer to fall, for her aunt to show up with fifty armed guards or a dreadful order from Lord Vaina that could not be refused. She worked on the wedding preparations, hoping against hope that she would slip through the cracks, that in the confusion of events, her transgression would go unpunished. Day followed night, and her excitement grew.
Would she really be allowed to marry Ako, the most thrillingly inappropriate man she could imagine? A week sped by, and there was no word, no hint that anything was going to be done to stop her. Then another week passed without any threat or sign of impending doom. Russu began to wonder if some move was going to be made against Sir Ako to force him to give her up. But he remained the same: solidly, determinedly, absolutely set on marrying her.
When her aunt’s handmaid showed up at the door more than a week before the wedding and offered to help, Russu sent her off on errands that kept her out of the building as much as possible. Although Russu suspected some sort of last-minute trap, the maid proved useful and obliging.
And now, she was married. It was done. She was wearing a ring on her finger—a Kelten tradition that she was happy to follow—and the servants were calling her “Lady Ako” or “the opmi’s wife.” It was like a dream, and she could scarcely believe that her aunt had come to the Kelten embassy and acknowledged her marriage! Incredibly, and to her lasting surprise, she had escaped her fate, slipped free of the bonds of her birth, and was living a story straight from the songs sung by the poets at court.
However, every gold coin has its reverse. And since she really was Sir Ako’s wife, she had to confront the fact that he was going off with Lord Vaina’s army to fight the Kitran Empire for control over Kemeklos. He might be killed. She might be a widow in less than a month. She didn’t believe that was going to happen, or so she told herself. The gods would not be so cruel as to let her marry for love, only to kill her love immediately thereafter.
Disregarding her comforting beliefs, another part of Russu’s mind kept dredging up stories from Rakeved’s troubled history. Men died all the time in wars—not just in battle but from disease, falling into a river and drowning, wounds that did not heal. Many generals had won battles for Rakeved only to be carried home on wagons, dead from some mischance following the fighting. In fact, she had to admit to herself that the famous warriors usually died heroic deaths; very rarely did they live to a ripe old age.
So on the second morning, as she held her husband close, she said, “Why can’t I come with you north to Kemeklos? Sandun’s wife is going. Why am I being left behind?”
“Because you don’t have a bodyguard of two of the best warriors in the land who have sworn to follow you wherever you go and fight for you. Lady Kirdar does.”
This was true, and if she’d had such a guard, she obviously would never have sworn a life debt to Ako.
“And what am I supposed to do while you are off north fighting the Kitran Empire?” Russu sat up and shook her hair all around her, something she loved to do ever since she was a girl, when her hair finally grew long.
Ako sat up and scratched his chest. “First, you will be in charge of the embassy while we are gone. You will manage the expenses and revenues and make sure Valo Peli’s men are equipped and ready to escort you and Olef out of the city if events go against us.”
Russu tossed her head like a horse, throwing her hair over her shoulders. “I can do that. I was raised to be a princess. Running estates is what we do in Rakeved, while the men are off hunting river beasts and saber tigers or fighting the Murkathaz or the pirates from Kagaya.” She paused and then wrapped her arms around Ako’s thick, muscled chest. “You will come back to me?”
“I will, lambkin. Wild wolves could not keep me from returning to you.” He kissed her gently and then continued. “Second, I want you to learn of Sho’Ash from the priest. You are to be the mother of my children, so you must follow my people’s beliefs.”
Russu lowered her voice and said, “A woman follows her husband in such matters. I will obey.”
Russu felt a sudden shake in Ako’s body. He reached both arms around her and crushed her close. He likes that, she thought. Just a few words, truthful, more or less, and it made him very happy.
“Is there anything else my lord wishes of me?” she said, very softly.
“Nothing else,” he replied, but his fervent kisses and his close attention to her body soon proved the opposite was true.
Russu whispered in his ear, “If my lord plants the seeds, the harvest is certain.”
The next afternoon, Miri’s two cousins, Jay and Ven, came to the embassy and invited Sandun to join them for the “swearing of oaths.” Sandun was curious as to what they meant, so he agreed to follow them and learn the details on the way. Bidding farewell to Miri, he walked with two Rutal-lil down the road to the Temple of Thundering Truth, where they were still living. As they walked along, soldiers in groups passed them, marching west to east or south to north.
“Now that you have married our cousin, you are a member of House Kirdar,” Jay told him.
“We take this seriously,” said Ven. “Hence the oaths of brotherhood.”
“Even for outsiders, people not from Shila,” said Jay.
“Yes, even for them.”
“What do you mean?” asked Sandun. “Am I supposed to behave differently?”
“No. Not really,” replied Jay. “We have to defend you now as we defend our cousin. It is the rule of our order. The king, Olvin, he is foremost, then the folk of House Kirdar, then the people of Shila.”
“Naturally, you have to defend Miri as you would your wife,” Ven said light
ly. “But that is simple for you, since she is your wife.”
“Don’t I have an obligation to defend you as well as Miri?” Sandun asked.
Jay and Ven looked at each other and laughed.
“We are the Rutal-lil! We are the defenders,” Jay stated. “We defend others; people don’t defend us. The Rutal-lil defend their charges. We fight and kill because it is our duty.”
Sandun cleared his throat. “I see what you mean. But tell me something: you are both followers of Eston, or Ekon, as you say?”
“Devoted followers.”
“We try to recite scripture every day.”
“But doesn’t Eston teach—forgive me if my understanding is weak—that killing other people is a capital wrong and to be avoided at all costs?” Sandun had learned a little of Eston’s teachings since his arrival in Tokolas.
“Quite so, but the path of the Rutal-lil is easy to comprehend,” said Jay. “We take on the sin of killing evil men so that others, our family, the people of Shila…”
“So that they will not have to kill,” Ven finished. “We willingly bear the burden of defending Shila for the good of all followers of Ekon in Shila.” They halted, as they were now standing in front of the temple.
“Given the numbers of men I have killed…” Jay lowered his voice and glanced at the temple door, which stood partly open. “There is little doubt in my mind that I will be reborn as some destitute peasant in my next life.”
“Or an animal. A horse or a dog.”
“Till then, we kill to preserve the ultimate good: the worship of Ekon in our land.” Jay spoke with conviction in his voice. “We defend our house with swords and arrows so that they may follow the eightfold path. We save our family from committing sin so that they will be reborn as nobles in Shila, the only land that keeps Ekon’s truths in the very the heart of the nation.”
They waited in the shade, while Sandun puzzled the meaning of their words.
“Though I must admit, our duty makes less sense when there is so much fighting in the world,” Ven said with a hint of sadness in his voice.
“True. Regrettable and yet true,” Jay agreed. “When every man is forced to take up arms and fight or else be killed or be enslaved by the Kitran, our sacrifice has reduced worth. It makes me wonder how anyone can be born human these days, given the burden on so many souls.”
Ven continued Jay’s musing. “In the last hundred years, where has there been peace? Not in Serica nor Shila. Not in Budin or Rakeved. Not at all among the Mikran or the Palahey, and the Kitran and the Gokiran might as well be Triatismas. Where in the world has man been able to avoid shedding blood?”
“There must be places where people lead good lives following the teaching of Ekon.” For the first time, Jay allowed a hint of doubt in his voice. “East of Budin perhaps, or hidden underground?”
Ven whispered conspiratorially to Sandun, “My brother speaks of the Pure Land. It is a fairy tale. Pay him no mind. If there were a pure land, they would send missionaries to us to teach the correct way to live. True followers of Ekon would not hole up like Kulkasen hermits, letting the rest of the world burn!”
Since they had been honest with him, Sandun decided to tell the two men what he thought.
“Sho’Ash tells us that defending justice and defeating evil are good. The righteous who fight against evil gain everlasting life at his side. Slaying the evil to protect the good is no sin at all. That’s what I believe.”
Jay looked at Sandun for a long moment and then shook his head. “You are deeply misguided, Opmi Sandun. I trust Miri will reveal the truth of Ekon’s words to you in the fullness of time.”
“And if not, there is always another life,” Ven said simply.
“Until the day of understanding,” said Jay. “Come, let us go in and swear brotherhood before the priest here. You marry a woman from Shila, you marry her house!” He slapped Sandun on the back.
“Before we go in, I have two things I must tell you.” Sandun chose his words carefully. “First, I have formally been accepted in Valo Peli’s clan, which is located in the Tea Hills almost a thousand tik northwest of this city. The name of his clan is Boethy.”
Jay shrugged. “I know nothing about the Boethy clan, but the Tea Hills are far, far from Shila. Being a member of two clans separated by such an extreme distance is unlikely to cause any conflict.”
“Further, it is said, great men oft join two clans,” Ven related. “Our king Olvin is a blood member of all of the houses of Shila.”
“The second thing you should know is that Lord Vaina is bringing his fourth wife, the Lady Eun, on the expedition north. She in turn has requested that Lady Miri accompany her on the lord’s battleship, and I have agreed as I also am accompanying the army.”
Jay held himself very still for a moment.
“It would be foolish indeed for us guardians to remain behind while Miri and you went north to fight the Kitran,” Jay said stiffly.
“We would be…honored to have you accompany us.” Sandun didn’t know if honored was the right word, but nothing else seemed to fit. Looking at the two Rutal-lil, Sandun wondered if they would now guess at Lord Vaina’s plan.
Ven’s composure cracked, and he suddenly grinned. “Brother! We are going to war!”
Jay slowly repeated the word “yes” three times, each repetition louder than the one before. Then he hugged Sandun in a powerful embrace before turning to his brother and striking him on the shoulder.
“You have no idea how well this fits with our desire!” Jay said, his jaw muscles clenched tight. “Ever since the news was spread around town of Lord Vaina’s army heading north, we have yearned for the chance to match blades against the Kitran reblith. But always there seemed no path for us while we followed our duty.”
“This is a joyful day!” Ven said. “You have opened the door, and we will follow.”
Sandun was surprised and delighted at Jay and Ven’s reaction. In many ways, he thought these two Rutal-lil were like the knights of Kelten. Despite their painted faces and their devotion to Ekon, in their hearts they were warriors, eager to prove their valor in battle. Sandun again marveled at Lord Vaina’s ability to plan future events.
Nearly bouncing up the steps, the two Rutal-lil went into the temple followed by Sandun. Before the high priest of Eston, Sandun stated that he had married a woman of House Kirdar of Shila. Jay and Ven then announced that they accepted the marriage and further they accepted Sandun as a member of House Kirdar through marriage.
The two Rutal-lil went to their knees and touched their heads to the floor in front of Sandun’s feet.
“We swear to defend you from sword and arrow, through darkness and light, till your deaths or ours. In the name of Ekon, purest benevolence, the highest truth, the pathway to the radiant void.”
Sandun raised each one up and embraced them. “We are brothers.”
Chapter Six
Upriver
Afternoon heat beat down on Sandun’s head as he walked away from the last council meeting before the army departed north. Nothing was entirely ready: not the ships to transport the army, not the supplies for the army, not the garrison of Tokolas, not the expeditionary force for Sasuvi. Nothing was ready. Almost every man at the meeting requested a delay, more time to complete preparations. Yet Lord Vaina insisted, demanded, begged, and even wept (a bit theatrically, Sandun thought). And finally, all his advisors and all his generals agreed—it would be done. They would go with what they had and improvise what they lacked.
It was decided! The grand offensive by the governor of Kunhalvar was going to take place. The army parade through the streets was set for the morrow, and supplies and the soldiers guarding the supplies would start leaving the city, heading upriver that very evening.
Minister Momen had collapsed from overwork; at Sandun’s suggestion, Scribe Vellen and a dozen of his colle
ges from the Great Sage Temple were recalled from Hutinin to run the city of Sasuvi. Sandun argued that Vellen, an outsider, would have an easier path to tread in governing Sasuvi and Zelkat province than any other official from Tokolas.
“The Red Swords in Sasuvi will have no preconceived antipathy regarding Vellen and his compatriots. The scholars of the Great Sage Temple have almost legendary reputation, and yet they have done nothing to anyone. This is a rare confluence of circumstances, and we should not waste the opportunity afforded us.”
“But can they be trusted?” said General Kun. “I’ll have to work with these people. Minister Momen and I may not see eye to eye, but at least I know the man.”
“Everyone who has ever met Vellen thinks the world of him,” replied Sandun. “And, as followers of the Great Sage, he and his companions are never going to join with the Red Swords, or the Kitran Empire, nor with Two-Swords Tuno the kingslayer. Vellen may not become the perfect governor, but he won’t betray you.” All the civil officials nodded and murmured in agreement.
Lord Vaina agreed to the change, and the orders were written and sent off, recalling Vellen before the council meeting ended.
As Sandun returned to the embassy, he passed more soldiers than civilians in the streets. Recruiting had gone well: almost ten thousand men had joined the army in the last month, far more than anyone expected. Many men were inspired by the Red Swords, others supported Lord Vaina’s call to arms, and some joined for the money. A few wished to copy the Keltens and asked about becoming opmi of Serica. The result was the northern expedition would still be eight thousand strong when joined with the northern army.
Sandun was acknowledged wherever he went. The transition from being a stranger from a distant land to being famous had crept up on him. He heard wild rumors that a hundred Rutal-lil from Shila were coming to their aid because his new wife was the daughter of the king of Shila. The rumor that made him laugh out loud was that the princess of Rakeved had sought to marry him, but he had given her to his close friend, Opmi Ako. Rumors about the king of Rakeved sending an army through Nakata’an in support of Lord Vaina were generally dismissed but, in these strange days, who knew what might happen?
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