The Three Lands Omnibus Part 35

John raised his head slightly, tilting it so that one eye peered up at me. "Actually, I'd been thinking about that today a about how we could find a way to see each other when we came of age. You'd be off travelling with the army most of the time, and I'd be busy offering sacrifices to the G.o.ds, so I thought it would be nice if we had a place all to ourselves that we could stay in whenever you visited the city."

"A house, you mean?" I said idly.

"Well, sort of a house." He leaned back against the wall and looked at me steadily with his night-black eyes.

I grasped his meaning in an instant and halted my roaming. "John! We couldn't- I mean, wouldn't the G.o.ds be angry?"

"Why should they be angry?" John replied calmly. "It's not as though the priests or other people worship here any more. If I were a G.o.d, I'd want my house put to good use rather than have it stand empty year after year. We could fix it up so that this was a chapel where I came to worship. There's a big room at the other end of the house; I think it was both a dormitory and a kitchen at one time, but it would be a perfect place for you to practice your blade-play."

"That's a strange pairing of activities," I said, laughing.

"Well, we're a strange pair. Besides, the G.o.ds are like that as well, both fierce and merciful. Look at the Jackal."

I bit my lip but could not keep a smile from creeping onto my face. "What is it?" John asked uneasily.

"Would you like to meet a G.o.d?" I replied, battling to keep myself from bursting with the news.

"Of course," he said with the serene confidence of a boy who had grown up amidst the terrifying rites of the priests. "Actually- It's silly, really." He began kicking his foot against the floor again.

"No, tell me," I urged.

He turned his head so that his face was shielded from the burning midsummer sky-blaze. His shadowed face turned nearly as dark as his eyes. "Actually, that's why I came here today. I suppose I'm as superst.i.tious as the city folk, but I thought that if the G.o.ds ever visited this land, they'd come here, to their house. I thought maybe my G.o.d would be waiting for me here."

I was bouncing up and down on my toes now, unable to contain my secret any longer. "I know where to meet a G.o.d. I saw one today."

John stared at me, his eyes wide, but without the slightest mote of disbelief on his face. After a moment, he said, "The Jackal?"

I nodded, pleased that he had understood so quickly. "It must have been him a he was wearing the G.o.d's face, just like the stories say. He was dressed all in black and moved as quietly as a mountain cat. I was scared into stone," I confessed unabashedly.

"Did he speak to you?" John asked with a hushed voice.

I shook my head. "It happened in the entrance to the cave. I was just about to travel through our pa.s.sage, because I thought you might be waiting for me there, but I heard somebody coming, so I hid in the pa.s.sage and looked out, and there he was, slipping out of the main tunnel. He didn't look my way, but I suppose he must have known I was there. I mean, he's a G.o.d."

John tilted his head back against the wall and stared reflectively at the smoke-hole in the ceiling, located above where the altar had once stood. "Maybe not," he said hesitantly. "I asked Lovell once why the Jackal hasn't been able to drive the Emorians from Koretia. The Jackal has been in this land for twenty years, after all, and he has the G.o.d's powers. Lovell said he supposed that the Jackal must be limited in the ways he can use his G.o.dly powers, just as the G.o.ds limit the ways in which they interfere in men's lives. So perhaps the Jackal acts like an ordinary man most of the time. If that's the case, he may not have known that you were there."

"Then I'm sure he didn't know I was there," I said confidently. "I've taught myself to be quiet and stealthy a you need to know how to act that way when you're a soldier, so that you can creep up on the enemy. But don't you see? The Jackal has made his lair in the cave! If we went there, we could ask the Jackal to make us his thieves, and we could begin fighting the Emorians now, before we became men."

"But the Jackal has been up north, hara.s.sing the Emorians who have settled in the conquered portions of Koretia," John said, a frown creasing his forehead. "Why would he be here?"

"Perhaps the Emorians are going to attack the capital next," I said in a matter-of-fact manner.

John stood very still, his empty dagger-hand hanging next to his free-man's blade. Seeing his face, I said hastily, "Don't worry a if that happened, I'd protect you. I wouldn't let the Emorians kill you."

"They'd kill other people," said John in a strained voice. "They'd kill lots of people, and if the city was captured, the Emorians would win the war. People are saying that our army can't hold out any longer in central Koretia a that the only reason our subcommander is still fighting is to keep the Emorians from reaching the capital."

"Well, they won't," I said, hastily grasping for words that would rea.s.sure John and prevent him from worrying about the merciless Emorian soldiers. "I heard a trader talking last night who had just come back from the north. He said that our army is continuing to hold the Emorians back and that the Chara is furious, because he has been fighting this war for twelve years now, and his army still can't reach the capital. The Chara thought he had won the war when he killed our King last autumn, but even with no one on the throne, the King's Council has been able to keep the war going. So there's no way that the Emorians will be able to attack the city any time soon."

John's expression eased somewhat, but he said, "The Emorians could cut across the border from Daxis. There are gaps in the mountain range not far from here."

"Daxis won't allow Emor to do that," I said patiently, drawing closer to John to place a rea.s.suring hand on his. John had been standing in the sun all this while, and his skin was moist with the sweat that clothed all of us in the south from spring to autumn. I closed my palm hard over his loose hand, as though I were wrapping my hand around a dagger hilt, and said, "Koretia has an alliance with Daxis that forbids the Daxions from allowing pa.s.sage to the Emorian army. And anyway, we have border guards at the mountain gaps who would raise the alarm if the Emorians came near. So the Emorians can't attack through Daxis from the south or the west, and unless the Chara has suddenly acquired a navy, his soldiers can't attack from the eastern sea-coast. And our army is holding the Emorians back in the north. So you see, we're quite safe from being conquered by that G.o.dless ruler."

John still had misery scribed upon his face, so I added, "I heard a new joke about the Chara."

John smiled tentatively. "Tell me."

"The joke asks: Which G.o.d does the Chara worship? The answer is: Only himself."

John laughed then, a laugh I heard so rarely that I had come to welcome it like a cool breeze on a heat-snared day. He said, "I learned something about the Chara today too, during my lessons. I learned all of his t.i.tles."

"What kind of lesson is that?" I asked, moving to where I could stare through the window to the city below. From this vantage point I could see the haphazard cl.u.s.ter of timber houses jammed into the tight noose of the block-and-mortar city wall. Toward the south end of the city, nearest to me, was the glowing face of the Council Hall, with its cavestone-paved courtyard shining like a gold piece under the sky's fire. Tiny figures moved back and forth over it like dust specks: lords or free-servants or slave-servants, going about their appointed tasks.

"It was a lesson in memorization. Listen to this ..." John drew a deep breath and said, "Nicholas, the Great Chara of Emor and Its Dominions, Judge of the People, Commander of the Armies, Lord of the Marcadian Mountains, Ruler of the Arpeshian Nation, Master of the Koretian Land."

"Master of the Koretian Land!" This infuriated me so much that I jerked out my slingshot and flung a missile wildly through the window at nothing in particular. A bird squawked in protest, but I could see, as it flew past the window, that it had only lost a few of its tail-feathers, so I was not disturbed.

"Master of the Koretian Land." I snorted. "The Chara will never be master to me or any other loyal Koretian, not even if he wins this war. Now that the King is dead, our land belongs only to the G.o.ds. I can't see why Lovell made you memorize such a ridiculous set of t.i.tles."

"I was asking him about the Chara," John said, staring so pointedly at my slingshot that I thrust it back under my belt. "Lovell says that the Emorian council gave the Chara that last t.i.tle this spring in antic.i.p.ation of the end of this war. Lovell thinks Koretia should become a dominion of the Emorian Empire a I wanted to know why."

"May the Jackal eat his dead!" I said, losing hold of my temper entirely. "How could Lovell say such a thing?"

John's breath whistled in. "You shouldn't swear such words," he said softly. "It's not wise to call down the G.o.d's vengeance without reason."

"I'm sorry," I said, instantly chastened, as I always was when John scolded me. Then, wishing to make reparation, I said, "Well, tell me a what did Lovell say?"

"He said that the Emorians would end the blood feuds a that in the conquered areas of Koretia, the Emorians have forbidden men from making blood vows to murder, and because of this, whole families aren't wiped out while fighting each other in feuds."

I creased my brow in puzzlement. "But what about when somebody breaks the G.o.ds' law and refuses to submit himself to his G.o.d's judgment? How can people avenge crimes without taking blood vows to kill the law-breaker?"

John leaned against the window jamb, folding his arms and c.o.c.king his head to one side. The long hair of his boyhood brushed against his shoulder. Already he was talking of having it cut and going through the coming-of-age ceremony several years early. Somehow I had not been surprised to learn that John was eager to become a man.

"That's what I don't understand entirely," he said. "It has to do with one of the Chara's t.i.tles: *Judge of the People.' Apparently, in Emor, the Chara and a few other men working under him are given the right to decide whether men have broken the law and what punishment they should undergo."

"But that's awful!" I exploded. "The Chara isn't a priest a the G.o.ds don't tell him whether their laws are broken. When we take a blood vow to murder, we know that the G.o.ds will punish us if we break our vows or fulfill our vows against the wrong people, but what's to prevent the Chara from punishing the innocent or giving law-breakers harsh punishments just because he doesn't like them?"

"That's what puzzled me," John replied. "Lovell said it had to do with the law a not the G.o.ds' law, but Emorian law. But he couldn't explain to me how the Emorians have laws when they have no G.o.ds. Some day I'd like to learn more about the Emorians. Maybe they're not as evil as everyone says. Maybe our lands don't have to be fighting each other."

"That's-!" I stopped. A look of quiet stubbornness had entered into John's eyes that I recognized well. Knowing that I would not win any battle I now waged, I graciously admitted defeat. "I suppose there must be something good about the Chara and his people, or they wouldn't have conquered most of the Great Peninsula. But Daxis is still free, and so is Koretia, and we'll never let the Chara be our ruler. We don't need his law. We have our G.o.ds, and they watch over us. Like the Jackal," I added, impatiently prodding the conversation back to where it belonged.

"The Jackal," John murmured. I could see the glint of interest in his eyes.

"He'd make us his thieves, I'm sure he would," I said. "Wouldn't that be a treasuresome experience, speaking to the G.o.d and pledging ourselves to his service?"

"I wouldn't want to kill anyone," John demurred. "I'm not sure it's right to kill a man."

"I don't suppose all of his thieves kill Emorians," I said. "Armies have men who don't fight, and I imagine that the Jackal does as well. Maybe he needs doctors to tend his thieves' wounds a you're good at that, thanks to your training."

I could see enthusiasm fighting across John's face in an attempt to defeat uncertainty, so I said, "We could just ask him. If he didn't want us, we'd go away, but at least we would have the chance to talk to a G.o.d."

"Well ..."

In that single word I read a slip into a.s.sent. I leapt toward the door, shouting, "I'll race you to the cave!" Without looking back, I darted from the sanctuary, charged out of the G.o.ds' house, and began running down the northern slope of Capital Mountain, toward the cave entrance.

The impact of my leather sandals striking the forest floor was the softest noise on the mountainside. That sound was cowed into submissive silence by the force of the cicadas' song, the ravens' hoa.r.s.e cries, and the harrowing call of a jackal who had started his night-prowl early.

I pa.s.sed a patrol on the way. The dozen soldiers were sitting on logs, chatting with each other as they ate a mid-afternoon meal. They greeted me in a friendly manner with fingers against heart and forehead, and then continued their talk.

They did not look eager to return to patrolling. I could not blame them. Because it had been centuries since the Daxion army had last invaded us, and since most Daxions who tried to breach the border did so at the gaps on either side of this mountain, the patrol guards' main duty on this mountain was to track the Jackal, who was periodically rumored to make his lair near the city. They might as well track a shadow on a moonless night.

Many minutes later, as I neared the clearing that led to the mouth of the cave, I glanced over my shoulder to see whether John was following. He was close behind, making no effort to overtake me. My brief look nearly caused me to tumble over a log, but with a crow of laughter I jumped over the obstacle, spreading my arms like wings as I soared through the air. Then, in a very few steps, I could see the cave entrance.

Like the rest of Capital Mountain, it was composed of a pale sandstone too soft to be used as building material. The main cavern, I knew, was made of a stone that glowed a soft gold a not through any power of its own, but because of the algae that grew upon it. "Jackal's fire" the algae was commonly called. Yet beneath the algae, the stone was golden as well, and reflected brightly when brought into sunlight. This golden stone had been used to construct the walls and courtyard pavement of the Koretian Council Hall, though it was so hard to remove from the cave walls that most of the glowing stone had been left in the cave where it formed.

I flung myself behind the ridge of rock that partly obscured the entrance on both sides, and then stood on tiptoe and peered over the ridge to watch John run the remaining ground with easy grace. As he reached me, I turned toward the main tunnel. After an eternity of winding, the tunnel would eventually reach the main cavern. But John caught hold of my sleeve and said, "Wait."

"Why?" I asked, trying to pull myself free. Then I saw his face and ceased to struggle.

He said quietly, "I thought about it more while we were running. The stories always say that the Jackal summons his thieves into service. I've never heard of a case where anyone came to him and begged to be taken into his service. The Jackal knows who we are and what we have to offer. If he wants us as his thieves, he'll let us know."

"But you said before that his G.o.dly powers might not tell him everything, so-" I stopped. John had made no protest at my words, nor even moved, but the look in his eyes made me feel uneasy. I said quickly, "You know best about such matters. But couldn't we just watch him?"

"Spy on the G.o.d?" John gave a relaxed smile. "You're braver than I am. I wouldn't want to face the hunting G.o.d with explanations if he caught me in such an act. Come on, let's go to the sanctuary."

I shrugged to hide my disappointment and followed John as he slipped through the boy-sized hole that was hidden in a shadow of the hollowed-out entrance area. The light-truant pa.s.sage that lay beyond the hole was a shortcut to the main cavern, but we rarely used it as such. It was not safe to do so.

The land of Daxis lay to the west and southwest of Koretia, with the Daxions' capital city on the south side of the mountain. The cave a actually a series of caverns that had been carved through the mountain by men long ago a ran north-south from Koretia to Daxis.

Both lands could see the strategic importance of the cave. Both wanted the cave. Various skirmishes had taken place over the centuries to determine who claimed this territory. At present, at least in theory, the cave was divided between the two southern lands of the Great Peninsula, with guards posted in the middle to prevent crossings over the border.

It made no difference. Though the Daxion guards were skilled at keeping back genuine border-breachers, they had a tendency to turn a blind eye to men who wished to slip temporarily over the border from Daxis in order to cause trouble within the cave. As a result, Daxion troublemakers were wont to drill arrows into Koretians that they found in any part of the cave.

The Koretian border guards in this cave, frustrated at their inability to prevent a conspiracy between the Daxion border guards and the troublemakers, were rumored to have called for a larger force of guards at this border. But the attention of the King's Council had for some time been focussed on the far more important border between Koretia and Emor, which was slipping south day by day.

In the meantime, the arrow-drilling continued. So John and I would usually stop halfway down the pa.s.sage in an area that John had christened the sanctuary: a small, round nook, like a bead on the string of the pa.s.sage. It was located directly under a breach between the mountainside and the pa.s.sage, and it therefore received a bit of the sun's light.

It was here I had first met John two years before, on a day when I discovered the pa.s.sage entrance, too small for a man and therefore of interest to no one except myself. Or so I had thought, until I reached the sanctuary. Furious at finding my new hideout claimed, I had offered to fight John for possession of the site, but had been discouraged to find that he both refused to fight and refused to leave. I had therefore taken out my frustration by a.s.serting one of my radical new beliefs a that men, like women, should marry upon coming of age, rather than waiting several years, as was customary.

My efforts to voice-duel with John were stymied, however, when I discovered he held the same view. I was further subdued when I learned he believed this, not because he wished to marry early like me, but because, as a future celibate priest, he was concerned with the welfare of the couples to whom he would minister.

Puzzled by this self-possessed boy, I had accepted his invitation to visit the priests' house. There I found that, while John was well liked by the other orphan boys, he was isolated from them by his priestly ambitions and therefore had no close friends. With the impulsiveness I inherited from both my hot-tempered father and my affectionate mother, I promptly placed John under my care, resolving to protect him against any troubles that might come his way. I explained this resolution to him immediately, not out of pride but so that he would know he had nothing further to fear. He had accepted my proclamation of mastership with quiet submission, but there had been a faint smile on his face I could not interpret.

Now, as we reached the bright, humid area of the sanctuary, John paused at the threshold with the same smile on his lips, and he whispered the words that priests speak to the G.o.ds when asking permission to enter holy ground. I waited impatiently behind him; I honored the G.o.ds, but I was not one to waste my time on customary demonstrations of respect. As the prayer reached its end, I jostled my way past him in order to kneel beside a pool of water that had collected from the morning's rain. Reaching down to dip my hands into the cool relief of the water, I paused to stare at my reflection, which I rarely saw. At the moment that I caught sight of myself, I had been chuckling inwardly at John's determination to worship the G.o.ds wherever he went, so the lines of my face were struggling to contain the laughter that poured out of my eyes and trembled upon my lips. I smashed the reflection in a gleeful a.s.sertion of my power; then I turned to look at John.

He was kneeling beside a small heap of twigs he had taken from a pile he maintained in this place. His tinderbox had been taken from his belt pouch, and he had just succeeded in sparking the flint. The kindle-light fell upon the twigs and started them smoking.

I waited until the tiny blaze was well under way and John had whispered the ritual words above his play sacrificial fire before I said, "That fire is the reason the Emorians haven't been able to conquer our land. The Jackal and the other G.o.ds aren't on the Chara's side; they would never allow the Emorians to win over us."

John, sitting cross-legged beside the fire, cupped his left hand briefly over the flame before s.n.a.t.c.hing it back from the heat. "The ways of the G.o.ds are mysterious, but certainly the G.o.ds must watch over those who seek their protection. The Chara claims he can shield the Koretians against our enemies if we surrender, but the G.o.ds can protect us better than any man. Perhaps the Chara should spend less time fighting and more time building fires to the G.o.ds."

"Or building fires of any sort," I said with a laugh as I drew myself over to his side. "The reason the Chara hasn't won this war is that he doesn't know how to fight properly. What's the use of holding a battle over a town if the Chara leaves the town standing afterwards? Only a weakling would leave a town unburnt after he conquered it. No Koretian could fear an army commander who showed such mercy."

"I don't think they fight with fire in Emor," murmured John. He carefully extinguished with dust the last of the sacrificial flames, and then rose to his feet and stared with bowed head at where the fire had burnt.

I rose too and placed an arm around his waist, saying firmly, "Stop worrying. It won't happen."

John did not look my way. He said softly, "Will you promise me something? If the Emorians attack, and you're not in immediate danger, will you stay at your house? I don't want to have to search the entire city for you."

I gave him a rea.s.suring squeeze before releasing him in order to twirl over to the opposite side of the small sanctuary. "I promise you, I'll stay where I am," I said. "If you get frightened at the priests' house, just come to me, and I'll take care of you."

John raised his head then. "It's not that. It's that people become separated in war. It could take us years to find each other again ... and if one of us died, we'd be separated by death. We might not even recognize each other when we met again."

"That's silly," I said, speaking brusquely to cover my nervousness. "I'd know you even if we met in the Land Beyond."

"Maybe not." John pushed back a forelock of hair that sweat had plastered against his brow. "People change, you know. Maybe one day, years from now, you'll be working in the city as a soldier, and I'll have become a priest who ministers to the Emorians-"

"You wouldn't," I interrupted. "The Emorians don't worship the G.o.ds."

"Maybe they will by then. Perhaps I'll turn up at your door and speak to you with an Emorian accent because I've spent so long with the Emorians, and you won't recognize me as a result. So you'll say, *I beg that you impart to me your name,' and I'll tell you who I am, but you won't believe me because I've changed so much, and since I work with the Emorians, you'll shut the door and refuse to welcome me into your house."

This dreadful little tale caused me to sag into such misery that I had no energy left with which to fight John's vision of the future. Watching my face, John said with the same quiet conviction, "I'll tell you what we should do. We should become blood brothers. That way, we'll always have the marks of our vows to remind us of one another, even if we never see each other again."

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. "You didn't want to do that when I suggested it last year."

"I didn't think the time was right. I believe that you should wait for a sign from the G.o.ds before pledging your blood. You saw the Jackal today, so perhaps that's our sign. Do you remember the words?" He slid the dagger out of his sheath as he spoke.

I nodded eagerly. "Can we swear vows of service to the G.o.ds also? That would make it even better."

John was silent a moment, touching the tip of the dagger lightly with his finger. Then he said, "If we do that, I think we should offer a sacrifice. The G.o.ds have to help us keep our vows, and I don't think it would be right to ask their help with two vows unless we were willing to offer them a gift in return."

I smiled, hopping from foot to foot at the thought of making three blood vows at once. John stared beyond me for a moment, his eyes focussed at the darkness of the pa.s.sage beyond. Then he placed the dagger tip against his right wrist, selected the spot that all Koretians are taught from the moment they are cradle-high, and bit the blade into his arm, digging deep enough to make a scar that would remain. As he did so, he said, "I, John, do swear unto the Unknowable G.o.d and my blood brother's G.o.d that I will show true faith of friendship toward Andrew son of Gideon, protecting him against all harm and helping him to keep his vows. I bind myself with this vow until death and beyond. I further swear that I will do all that lies within my power to bring peace to this land. In token of my willingness to obey the will of the G.o.ds ..."

For the first time John hesitated. Then he said firmly, "I sacrifice unto the G.o.ds my desire to become a priest. If it be their will that I take up some other duty, I will do as they wish."

I stood in hushed silence, watching a flicker of pain pa.s.s through John's eyes as he offered his sacrifice. Then he smiled at me and handed me the blood-stained blade. Cutting into my left wrist with a stoic determination not to flinch, since even John had kept from doing so, I said, "I, Andrew son of Gideon, do swear unto the Jackal G.o.d and the Unknowable G.o.d that I will show true faith of friendship toward John ..." I hesitated and looked over at John, but he gave a quick shake of the head. Unlike the other orphan boys, he had not randomly selected a patronymic, any more than he had randomly selected a G.o.d to serve. I continued, "Toward John, protecting him against all harm and helping him to keep his vows. I bind myself with this vow until death and beyond. I further swear that I will do all that lies within my power ..." I paused. An idea had formed in my mind; rather than give myself time to doubt its wisdom, I finished quickly, "... to bring freedom to Koretia and to kill the Chara." I grabbed John's arm and pressed his wrist against mine so that our blood mingled and our vows were joined.

It was not until after John had gently pulled his arm away that I looked up at his face and realized what I had done. I offered him the dagger, hilt-first, and said, "You don't have to help me with that last part. That's just my own vow."

John looked at the blade without moving. "We'll have to kill the Chara To Be also."

"Who?" I asked, inwardly relieved that I would have help in fulfilling my difficult murder vow.

"The Chara's son, Lord Peter. The Emorians regard him as also being the Chara, since he's the heir."

"So we'll kill him too," I said testily, nonplussed at being burdened with a second murder. "It won't be that hard if we find them together."

"I suppose not," said John softly. "The Chara's son is only a boy."