The Three Lands Omnibus Part 47

Peter's expression darkened, and I saw that he was close to casting judgment upon John. If this happened, there was a good chance that his look as the Chara would surface, and then his ident.i.ty would be revealed. I made a small movement to distract his attention. He glanced my way, and his expression relaxed.

John continued, "I do not mean that the Chara intends to be a tyrant. His errors are the result of his ignorance of Koretian customs and his unwillingness to accept that Koretians do not wish to separate their religion from their public lives. I cannot blame the Chara for wishing to rule this land in an Emorian manner. That merely shows why he ought not to be ruling Koretia."

Peter looked steadily at John, his fingers dipping down into the wine he had not sipped for some time. "Then we come back to the question of who should rule Koretia, and that is a question which must be settled before all others."

I had been reaching over to move the wine pitcher. I nearly spilled it. Peter had that effect on me sometimes. I would think that I knew all that he thought and felt, and then I would discover, without warning, that his thoughts had been in a different place altogether than mine.

That the Chara had been considering granting Koretia its freedom he had never hinted to me.

If John was disconcerted by Peter's leap forward, he gave no sign of it. He asked calmly, "Why do you say that, Lord Peter?"

Peter stood suddenly, walked over to the door, and opened it. I wondered whether he had grown concerned that someone was listening to this conversation a one of the Jackal's thieves, perhaps. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, staring out at the corridor. When he had closed and locked the door and returned to where he had been before, he said, "I am Emorian, and I cannot help but be concerned with laws and with order. I see what I imagine the Chara sees as well: that the Chara cannot simply give freedom to this land while the people are without a ruler and while this land has no courts of its own, no central army, nothing that would keep Koretia from collapsing back into civil war. He must give the government over to a ruler until the Koretians have a chance to rebuild their government, create their own law-system, and choose whether they want this man or another to rule over them. Now, who shall the Chara appoint for such a duty? A n.o.bleman who has supported the governor? I doubt that the Koretians would accept him. The Jackal or one of his thieves? The Koretians would accept this but the Chara would not, because he does not wish to arm the hunting G.o.d. In any case, Emor cannot withdraw its soldiers and court officials immediately, lest Koretia be destroyed, and since it cannot, the Chara needs someone in power who can both bring peace to the Koretians and work in peace with Emor. Where will the Chara go to find such a man?"

John was silent for a moment, his eyes suddenly distant in a manner that made my back tingle at the memory. Then he said quietly, "If I were the Chara, I would seek the G.o.d's command."

"I hope," said Lord Carle from the doorway, "that you are not advising us to place ourselves under the command of Koretian G.o.ds. I would say that one G.o.d at least is busy enough tonight without our bothering him."

I had been surprised to discover that John had made his way through a locked door; to discover that Lord Carle had managed to pick a lock surprised me not at all. Nor, it seemed, did this cause any questions to rise in Peter's mind; his thoughts were elsewhere. Lifting his head suddenly, like a dog scenting danger, he asked, "What is it?"

"Lord Dean and I have been on the roof. You had best see for yourself."

Peter was on his feet immediately, but John was already out the door and racing down the corridor. We followed him to a stairway and scrambled up after him onto the roof.

Many centuries ago, when there was danger of the Daxion army invading the border from either side of the mountain, the priests' house had been equipped with two square lookout towers. One tower lay at the east end of the roof and the other on the west end. The towers were only slightly taller than the roof connecting them. We found Lord Dean standing on the western tower, leaning his arms onto the stone parapet and staring meditatively at the view to the northeast. He did not turn as we joined him at the parapet.

It was twilight, and night's shadow had spread its cloak across the land. To the west of us, the Daxion border mountains were silhouetted against the sh.e.l.l-pink setting sun. To the east, the coastal waters were lit by the rising moon. The war moon a that was what the Koretians called the full moon, because it shone like a silver blade.

Down in the darkened countryside was evidence of the moon's power.

It was a flame, glowing from the dark land like a red star blazing in the night sky, but larger than any star would be. From this distance, it looked like nothing more than a hearth-fire, but since we were far away, it must be something greater.

"Where is that?" asked Peter.

"Valouse," replied John. He was staring at the fire intently, as though he could see what was happening in the streets there. "It is a large town, with its own garrison. Also, the governor has been sending army divisions there for the past two weeks. There have been hints that riots were about to occur, and he wanted more soldiers there to control the Koretians."

Peter murmured, "May your G.o.ds watch over them."

"The soldiers or the Koretians?"

"Both." Peter was silent a moment, as though trying to hear the screams in the town. Then he asked, "How far is the town from here?"

"Lord Peter." The speaker was Lord Dean, turning his gaze for the first time toward the Chara. "It will do Emor no good if we enter into battle now. Our duty lies at the governor's palace, not Valouse."

I did not hear Peter's reply, for at that moment John pushed himself away from the parapet and walked rapidly from the tower. After a moment's hesitation I followed, and caught up with him finally at the eastern tower, staring out at the same view.

From this high up, we could hear no sounds of the night except the occasional cries of the doves settling for the night in the cotes near us, as well as s.n.a.t.c.hes of the raised voices of Lord Dean and Lord Carle as they argued with Peter. I looked sidelong at John. His eyes were calm as he stared out at the burning town, but there was a tightness about his mouth.

He said, "My duty lay in Valouse tonight. That was where I was planning to go."

"Then it's good that you didn't," I said. "You might have lost your life there."

John said softly, "A trader friend of mine asked me to come. He said that he needed my help on some business. I would be at his side now if I hadn't stayed here."

I could think of nothing to say in reply at first, so I glanced over at the western tower, where Peter was standing like an immovable rock as the waves of his council lords' arguments crashed about him. "My master has a strong sense of duty as well. The other lords don't seem to be having much success in convincing him to stay away from Valouse."

"Is he your blood brother?"

I jerked my head back toward John. He was leaning against the tower wall, facing me, and his expression was unreadable.

I said, "Emorians don't have blood brothers."

"That doesn't answer my question."

I looked over at the Chara, still battling with silence the suggestions that he keep himself from danger. Next to me, John waited in similar silence.

Finally I met John's eyes and said, "You are my only blood brother, but Peter is ..." I tried to think of a way to explain what we were to one another, and then settled for the words that, to an Emorian, would be sufficient explanation. "We share the same cup of wine."

John nodded as though he understood. I asked, "How did you guess?"

"He told me himself when he gave me the free-man's greeting. He wouldn't have greeted me in such a way if he hadn't already done so to my blood brother." He waited for me to say something more, and when I did not, he added gently, "I'm glad to know that you have a friend in Emor. Don't be upset about this."

"It isn't that," I said. "I'm only sorry that I didn't tell you myself."

I sensed that John had a reply ready, but he focussed his view back on Valouse before replying. "Andrew, I know that you've always believed me unworldly, but I'm not a fool. I know that your party is here, not only as diplomats, but also as spies for the Chara, finding out what you can about the Koretians and giving away as little information as possible about yourselves. I knew before I spoke to you that those would be the new terms of our friendship. It did not pain me to accept those terms. You are Emorian and I am Koretian, but it doesn't change what we are to each other. If we must keep secrets from each other for the sake of our lands, it will not change the oath we made to be blood brothers, beyond death. Nothing can change that, because our friendship was ordained by the G.o.ds."

I continued watching John's serene face for a while; then I switched my gaze back to Peter. He was speaking in a low voice that did not carry over to where we were. I asked, "What do you think of him?"

John paused a long time before answering, as though his answer was a summary of all that had happened that evening. "I can see why you are friends. He fascinates me. I'm glad to have met him, and I wish that I could talk with him more. I suppose, though, that once you reach the governor's palace, you'll be unable able to leave."

"Peter won't be able to," I said, "but I'll certainly slip out and see you when I can."

"Then come to the market and ask for John the trader. My house lies nearby, and anyone can direct you to it."

He stopped as Lord Carle appeared suddenly at the foot of the short flight of steps leading to our tower. Peter and Lord Dean were following a short distance behind, deep in conversation with one another. Lord Carle said, "Lord Dean has managed to convince your master that the quickest way to bring war to this land would be for an Emorian lord to deliver himself into the hands of the Jackal. I imagine that if your master had had his way, he would be charging up the road toward Valouse right now, waving his sword and acting as vanguard to the army that was nowhere behind him."

Lord Carle paused, and for a moment his eyes slid between me and my dark-skinned blood brother. Then he said coolly, "But since you are, as you have so often told us, a loyal Emorian, perhaps you yourself planned to be your master's army. You would of course have to act like any other Emorian soldier, imprisoning and killing and raping the Koretians. Well, perhaps not raping; I doubt somehow that lovemaking was in your plans for the future."

"Lord Carle." It was Peter, who had carefully placed himself so that his back was to John and me. I could guess that this was because his face had grown cold in the manner of the Chara in judgment, if only from the manner in which Lord Carle turned pale. The council lord turned stiffly to face the Chara. Though he kept from bowing to the man who was now supposed to be a fellow lord, his gaze fell to the ground. Peter said with quiet hardness, "I would like to speak to you privately, if I may."

Lord Carle said nothing, but nodded and walked away. Peter's face returned to normal and he began to follow, but he hesitated and looked up to where John and I stood. John had turned his back on the proceedings, and his eyes were fixed once more on the town.

Peter stepped lightly up the steps, came over to where I stood, and spoke gently to me, as though John were not at my side. "Andrew, he is angry about Valouse, that is all. Don't let this spark your own anger. The last thing that I need on this trip is for you and Lord Carle to cut each other's throats."

I said in a dull voice, "I've tired of fighting him in any case. He has won every battle we have waged since the very first one a as he so kindly reminded me just now. You needn't fear that I'll cut his or any other man's throat on this trip."

Peter began to speak, looked back at where Lord Carle and Lord Dean were disappearing down the roof stairs, and nodded to me, then left.

I turned back to the view. After a minute, John said, "At least there's no breeze tonight. If the winds were up, half this land might burn, but I think that Valouse's moat will be able to contain the flames."

He would not ask me, I knew. Nor was he likely to guess, for only a few outward clues might have revealed my secret shame. My boyish appearance he had already dismissed as unimportant. I had no beard, but I had solved that problem by living in a land of beardless men. The differences to my body were either hidden under my tunic or could pa.s.s as normal; tall men with long limbs are common enough to cause no question. As for my voice, I had long since trained myself to speak in the man's voice that would never come to me by nature.

Speaking in that voice now, in a detached manner, I said, "Lord Carle was my first master. He is a man with a strong belief in discipline and order, and when I originally came to Emor, I had no interest in following Emorian laws or adopting Emorian ways of behavior. And so, since I disobeyed Lord Carle's first command, he had me gelded."

There followed one sound a John's breath swiftly rushing in a and one gesture a his hand curling into a fist. It was, for John, as though he had lifted his dagger and given a shout of rage. He did not look my way but said, with an edge to his voice as sharp as a blade, "The Emorians did that to you?"

"Lord Carle had it done to me. Peter would never have done it."

John was silent a long time before saying, "Perhaps. But your master strikes me as a man who is as interested in laws and discipline as any other Emorian. And the soldiers who are down there in Valouse tonight are no more bloodthirsty than any Koretians. They are simply following the customs of Emor, which say that they must maintain discipline at any price."

I said softly, "You won't tell anyone of this?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John looking my way. "You know that I won't. But it's as honorable as any other war wound. You ought not to be ashamed."

"I'm not," I said, "except when I see the look in the face of a woman who has just discovered what I am."

Many minutes pa.s.sed before John spoke again. Finally he sighed. "Andrew, I must go to Valouse tonight. The fighting will be over before I arrive, but if he has survived, my trader friend will need my help, as others may."

I said, "I suppose that the best that you can do for them is pray to the G.o.ds. The G.o.ds listen to you in a way that they don't listen to the rest of us."

"I wish that that were true," said John, "but I have been praying for peace for a long time now, and it seems further away than ever."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Next morning, as we pa.s.sed through the city gates, we met John again.

I had lingered at the gates as the rest of the party rode forward, because from this vantage point I could see down into the rest of the city. Most of the city was unfamiliar a the fire had cleansed the capital of its past. The houses I had played amidst had been replaced by an Emorian army camp; the streets were in a new pattern, as though a spider had rewoven its web during the night. My eyes sought one of the few remaining landmarks of my childhood: Council Hill, still covered on its slopes with trees, but now capped by a miniature version of the building that was my home. Another palace, another place of imprisonment for Peter.

Something to the side of me caught my eye. It was John, sitting on a traders' mule and gazing upon the city with a strange, tender look. Dark circles smudged the skin under his eyes, and his face was solemn.

He looked over at me and said, "I saw you ahead on the road. I thought I would catch up." He had changed from his priestly robe into the dark tunic that traders wear, but unlike most Koretian men, he bore no weapon. To the left side of his chest, pinned over his heart, was one of the tiny, wooden G.o.d-masks that Koretians wear for protection. The mask was black on black clothing, hard to see even at close range, and I leaned over with curiosity to discover which G.o.d John had chosen to place himself under the care of. It took me a moment to realize that John was wearing a mask that no Koretian ever wore: the mask of the Unknowable G.o.d.

He reached upward at that moment with his dagger-hand to sweep his hair out of his eyes. His fingers were curled slightly inwards. I caught a flickering sight of his palm: it was black and rugged.

The sharp intake of my breath caught John's attention away from the city. He followed my gaze and said, "That happened years ago. I burnt myself on a fire that I built for a G.o.d."

I said slowly, "A sacrificial fire?"

John looked back at me steadily, his silence his only answer. I said, "You must have needed a great deal of help from the G.o.d in order to make such a sacrifice."

"It was for a friend of mine. An Emorian soldier had stabbed him, and he was in danger of dying."

I remained without words a while, thinking that it was just like John to fight the Emorians, not with weapons, but by sacrificing his own flesh. Then I asked, "Did you reach Valouse?"

"Brendon, my trader friend, was halfway to the city when I met him. We came back together and took a room for the night along the way. Brendon needed the rest. He travelled on to the city this morning, but I rode up to the priests' house to see whether you had left yet." John kicked his mule forward. Ahead of us, Peter looked back to see where I was before he turned back to continue his conversation with Lord Carle.

I asked, "Did Brendon tell you how things were in Valouse?"

John made no immediate reply. We had wound our way down onto a broad avenue that cut through the trading district a must have been cut through in actual fact, I realized, looking at the haphazard arrangement of the houses around us. As John swiftly turned his mule out of the path of a division of soldiers, I saw that the Chara had stopped his horse and was speaking to the leader of the soldiers. We continued to ride forward slowly as John said, "It was very bad in Valouse. Brendon lost his home; he was lucky to keep his life. He said that the soldiers were not taking prisoners."

John said nothing more, for Peter had wheeled his horse around and come over to us. The Chara nodded his greeting to John before saying to me, "I've just talked to Lord Alan's subcommander. He says that the governor went to Torrid Springs in Central Koretia last week to enjoy the waters, but that he is expected back this morning." Peter sighed and added, "The governor has a long ceremony planned for our arrival. It will take most of the day, I expect. He has invited our servants, but it will be a formal occasion." His hand rested lightly on his dagger hilt as he awaited my reply.

"Then I will be able to escape the torture," I said. "I will find some other way to entertain myself, no doubt."

"I thought, if John had the time, that you might spend the day with him," Peter said, and looked with a questioning expression at my blood brother.

John replied, "I would certainly like to spend time with Andrew, though I may have business to do later this morning. It is kind of you to allow him the time free."

"Well," said Peter, turning his horse forward, "of course we Emorians usually keep our servants chained in a dungeon, but we do allow them out on occasion. I will let the governor's palace guards know that you are expected, Andrew. Return whenever you are ready." Without looking our way again, he spurred his horse forward.

John followed him with his eyes, and then turned his mule off the avenue onto a side street. As I followed him through the dark, narrow alley, he asked, "Why won't you be attending the governor's ceremony?"

"Only free-men are allowed at Emorian ceremonies," I said, "and I don't have a weapon to show that I'm a free-man."

"Couldn't you borrow one from Lord Peter?" John asked. The street grew more narrow and began to be crowded with children playing in the dirt. John slipped smoothly from his mule and began guiding it carefully through the games; I followed suit. My nose was beginning to recognize the smells of my native land: wild-berries set out on windows to dry, blackroot nuts being roasted, and the green scent of leaves from the saplings that always seemed to take root in the roads.

After several minutes, I said, "I had a dagger once. I tried to kill Lord Carle with it when he was unarmed. After that, I decided it would be better not to carry a weapon."

I kept my eyes on the road, dim beneath my feet. The dry dust rose up in protest at each step I took. When I finally looked over at John, he was smiling.

"You've changed," he said. "You always wanted to be dagger-mounted when we were young, and that worried me. Some people like to fight, and some people fight because they have to, but it always seemed to me that fighting was to you like drink is to a weak man. Put a weapon in your hand, and you wouldn't be able to keep yourself from using it, no matter who was your victim. That could be good in the right circ.u.mstances, but dangerous in the wrong ones. I'm glad that you've acquired the vision to know yourself so well."

He stopped at a lean-to attached to a house. Pulling the door open, he led his mule into a tiny stall that another mule already occupied. With some difficulty, I managed to squeeze my horse inside as well. John had started to unload his pack from his mule when a voice said, "When are you going to build a new stable, John, so that you can welcome your guests in a manner befitting your station in life?"

A brown-bearded man stood in the doorway. His clothes were tattered and covered with soot, and a red stain was making its way through the cloth that bound his right arm, yet he smiled affably at us.

"I didn't expect to have two guests at once," replied John, knotting his mule's rein around a post. "Did you find the soldiers' supply-keeper?"

"Yes, and he has an extra room, so there's no need for you to crowd me into your house." The man stepped forward into the dark stable and said to me, "You must be a friend of John's."

"This is my blood brother Andrew," said John. "I didn't have time to mention him to you last night."

"You had no time to mention anything to me, for I was too busy telling you of my adventures." The man scanned me quickly, obviously trying to ascertain my land loyalty, and then gave me the free-man's greeting. "Are you the blood brother who disappeared into Emor so many years ago? John has mentioned you before."

"And I venture to guess that you are Brendon," I said, returning the greeting. "I was sorry to hear about your home."

"Ah, well," said Brendon, scratching his forehead beneath the ragged brim of his hat. "Possessions are a curse to a trader in any case. I've always wanted to be able to travel from town to town without having to worry that the Jackal's thieves have set up their lair in my house during my absence."

"The governor will no doubt be sure that the Jackal was in Valouse last night," said John.

"If the Jackal had been in Valouse, he would be dead now," said Brendon tersely. "The tales say that the Jackal barely managed to escape the flames when the capital was burned fifteen years ago, and on that occasion he was unable to stop the carnage. I imagine that the G.o.d knew better than to come to a town where he could do no good. Even the Jackal can't solve all of this land's problems. Trade has become very bad... . Speaking of bad trades, your supply-keeper friend has managed to convince me to trade a bale of cloth for five of his wife's dinners. Can you advise me on how to escape from this deal?"

John looked at me apologetically. "Thus goes the life of a trader a I am no sooner home than I must talk business. Andrew, I don't want you to fall asleep listening to my advice on the price of linen cloth versus the value of wool cloth. Let me settle you inside, and then Brendon and I will go off and have a drink in a tavern for a short while. You look as though you could use strong sustenance, Brendon." He guided us outside, shut the stable door, and opened the door to his home.

It was a small house, unusually dark for a Koretian building, with only the broad window facing the street and a little window in the back door that overlooked the garden behind the house. The first thing I saw as I entered was the hearth, placed not in the middle of the wall in symmetric Emorian fashion, but off to one side. Over the hearth hung all seven masks of the G.o.ds. The rest of the room contained the usual clutter of chests, cooking implements, a table, and two benches. At the far end of the house stood a sleeping alcove with its curtain drawn.

I had seen this in the time that it took the three of us to step inside the house. The rest of my observation was cut short as a young woman rushed forward and flung herself into John's arms.

He held her tight for a moment as she buried her face in his shoulder. I heard her whisper, "You have been gone too long." Then something made her look up, and she stared at me.