The Three Lands Omnibus Part 51

"How did it come about that the murdered man happened upon the Jackal?" asked Peter. He was busy trying to mop up a wine drop that had fallen onto the precious fabric covering his couch.

"For the most part, we know little about such killings, but in this case we were fortunate," replied Lord Alan. "I have recently sent out a new spy, and while he has not yet become one of the elite who sees the Jackal without his mask, he was able to locate the Jackal's lair one night, and thus was witness to the murder of this poor fellow. It seems that the Jackal had chosen the empty home of a man who was out of town on business, and a neighbor became suspicious at the midnight activity. This neighbor would have done best, of course, to alert the soldiers, but he was certainly brave, creeping up to the house with not even a dagger to protect himself."

Lord Carle reached out and poured himself more wine from the black marble pitcher. "And did he remain brave once the thieves had captured him?"

"Surprisingly so, yes, and that is what makes this such a tragic story. The Jackal a who was, alas, masked on that night a at first tried to persuade the man to turn a blind eye to the presence of him and his thieves, at least until the Jackal could move his lair. Now, this man was a Koretian, but unlike many Koretians, he had a great love for lawful order, and he did not hold with rebels who creep around at night stirring up trouble. So he boldly told the thieves that he planned to report them to the soldiers. He said this despite the fact that he was in a room full of brutal and beweaponed men."

Lord Carle grunted. "I have known brave Koretians, but few that would defend the law of the Chara. It is a pity that this man died."

"The pity is in the manner of his dying. But I am getting ahead of my story. According to my spy, the Jackal then forced the man into another room and interviewed the man alone for several hours a threatening him or torturing him or whatever the Jackal's methods are."

"Or perhaps trying to persuade him to join the thieves, as some of your spies were persuaded," suggested Lord Dean, his expression carefully innocent of all malicious intent.

"As you say, Lord Dean," responded Lord Alan with an amiable nod. "At any rate, the Jackal failed to destroy this man's loyalty a and here is the part of the tale that turns my stomach. Rather than simply kill the man quickly, as any decent Emorian would have done, the thieves turned this into a lengthy, protracted affair, parading the man around the room and making various speeches about why they were killing him and so on. They even went to the length of binding his hands, though, as I have mentioned, they were murdering an unarmed man."

"And the method of execution?" asked Peter. His finger was running over his dagger sheath, but his eyes were now firmly fixed on the governor.

"The Jackal stabbed him through the heart, which is at least a humane death, but there is apparently a reason for that as well. My clerk has turned up information about a superst.i.tious legend connected with the Jackal G.o.d a something to do with goats, I believe, but I couldn't quite follow what he was saying. At any rate, it seems that this man who calls himself the Jackal has adopted the method of murder preferred by the Koretian G.o.d. Otherwise, I am sure, he would have found a far more painful way of killing his victims."

The room was silent but for the echo of the governor's soldiers drilling outside in precise order. Peter, reaching vaguely forward to put down his gla.s.s, balanced it on the edge of his table, and the gla.s.s shattered on the mosaic tiles below.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Alan," said Peter. "I did not mean to mistreat such a beautiful and precious item."

Lord Alan waved his hand in the air, either in graciousness or to prevent a blood-fly from landing in his wine gla.s.s. "It is a small matter, Chara. I received these gla.s.ses as an inheritance from my grandmother, but the cups are fragile, so I have gradually lost most of them over the years. Would you like another gla.s.s?"

Peter shook his head. His gaze drifted from the governor to Lord Carle and finally rested on me. Lord Alan, following his gaze, turned to me and said, "I know that you have been Emorian for many years, but I am sure that you heard stories of the Jackal when you were a boy. Can you give me insight into why the Koretians would support such a bloodthirsty man?"

Lord Carle, I saw, was watching me with narrowed eyes. I said in an impartial voice, "When I was a boy, I did not hear stories with as much detail as you have just given us, Lord Alan. But I suppose that if you were to ask a Koretian what made him obedient to the hunting Jackal, he would say that the ways of the G.o.ds are mysterious."

Lord Alan smiled with all but his eyes, which remained watchful. "I am glad you have told me that. I imagine it must be an important fact, and it makes me regret that I have not learned more about the local religion over the years. What do you think of Andrew's idea, Chara?"

"I fear that I too am ignorant of religious matters," said Peter. "But I do have one circ.u.mstance in common with the Jackal, and that is that I must place some of my people under the high doom. I have no doubt that many of my subjects over the years have been mystified by how I act when I wear the Pendant of Judgment. So, while I am fascinated by the story you have just told, I am forced to agree with Andrew that the true nature of the Jackal remains a mystery."

Lord Alan's smile disappeared for a moment, but the next moment he was cheered as Lord Carle began giving his opinion of the terrible weather in Koretia.

"Did you mean what you said about the G.o.d, or did you simply not wish to answer Lord Alan?" Peter asked.

We had returned from dinner and were standing in the Chara's guest chamber. I helped Peter to remove his sheathed dagger as I said, "I'm not sure. The story he told was certainly disturbing, and it makes me wonder about the motives of the Jackal. But I can't help but feel that the governor, or his spy, is looking at the Jackal through a mask whose eyeholes are too small for him to see the full view. Something is missing in what he told us, something that might better explain who this man is. As to whether he is a G.o.d ... Well, I believed so as a boy, and as Lord Alan says, it's hard to abandon old customs."

Peter undid his belt and collapsed onto the couch. "Staying in this palace has made me regret one old custom the governor holds to," he said. "I refer, of course, to his decision to build a palace with tiny windows in a land where the slightest breeze can mean the difference between life and death. I'm thinking of spending this hot night on the balcony. Will you join me there?"

"Gladly," I said, "if you don't think that the governor would be shocked that your servant is spending the night in your outdoor sleeping chamber."

"He doesn't seem very shocked by you, does he? He was quite friendly to you tonight." Peter watched as I silently began to gather up the luxurious cushions and blankets that covered the bed. "Putting aside for the moment the mysterious Jackal, what do you think of our equally mysterious governor?"

"I think," I said precisely, "that he doesn't like Koretians, no matter what he may say about their n.o.ble qualities. This makes me wonder why he was so friendly to me tonight."

"Yes," said Peter, reaching down to touch the alabaster legs of the couch. "Of course, I'm used to watching my subjects try to befriend you in order to persuade you to tell them my secrets a a device I would have thought they would have long since realized was futile. Lord Alan, though, seems to have a special talent for congeniality. I spent much of this afternoon listening to him tell me how much he loves the Koretians. Later, I overheard him telling Lord Carle what barbarians the people here are. And from what Lord Dean has reported to me, it seems that the governor has already guessed that my High Lord is interested only in political expediency and has conversed with him in that fashion. This alone would be enough to worry me, but my breath was taken away tonight by Lord Alan's ability to satisfy all three of us at once. I suspect that we are dealing with a dangerous man."

"I wonder what his true face is under that mask?" I asked.

"If you're right in thinking that he hates the Koretians, then he may be most himself while talking to Lord Carle. As for Lord Carle, he has reached the pinnacle of happiness in finding someone who will talk to the end of time about the barbarity of this land."

I made no reply. Instead, I gathered up the blankets and cushions, and then went out to the balcony to arrange our beds. Peter followed me there and leaned over the bal.u.s.trade, looking out at the darkened city. From this vantage point we could peer over the palace wall and into the market area. Seeing Peter scan the view, I came over to stand by him.

"John's house is over there," I said, pointing to a rooftop that was nearly hidden by the surrounding houses.

"John," murmured Peter, and I wondered whether he would refer to their confrontation that afternoon. But all that he said was, "How long has he been married?"

"He didn't say. It can't have been very long; Ursula looks as though she has recently come of age. I was surprised to see that John had a wife. When he was a boy, he used to talk as though he would never marry."

"I suppose that it's easy to change one's mind on such a topic." Peter pushed back a forelock that had become plastered against his sweat-wet brow. "And in these matters, a great deal depends on finding the right woman. It appears that your blood brother has been lucky in that regard."

"You think so?" I was feeling the heat around me, warm and comforting like a childhood blanket. Distantly I remembered the cool air of Emor, the chilling breezes that blew through the windows even in the middle of summer.

But all that seemed far away. "What did you talk about with Ursula?" I asked.

"Oh, this and that. We found that we had more in common than I would have thought. Her mother died in childbirth and mine while I was still in the nursery, so we both grew up without any women in our lives with whom we had strong ties. I've always considered women to be a mysterious race; it was pleasant being able to chat with one for a while. It took my mind off my problems with the Jackal."

As though on cue, a cry drifted faintly across the city, cutting through the sound of the cicadas. It was a thin, hoa.r.s.e, and chilling sound, like the desperate cry that a dying man might make. I saw Peter's hand travel swiftly to his side before he remembered that he was unarmed. He asked abruptly, "What is that?"

"The jackal," I said. Then, at his sharp look, I added, "No, not the G.o.d; the G.o.d is always quiet. That sound comes from the animal which the G.o.d is named after. It hides by day and hunts by night, in packs or pairs or alone. It feeds on the dead."

"So," said Peter quietly. "The Jackal has named himself well. I wonder who the hunting G.o.d is hunting tonight." Without saying anything more, he turned and left the balcony.

I lingered where I was, staring down at the uneven rows of houses and the horizon-bound sea of trees beyond. The cicadas sang without pause, like an endless rush of waves, and I felt starting within me a pain. As yet, the pain had no name, and I instinctively knew I did not wish to name it. I turned away and walked rapidly back into the Chara's chamber.

There I found Peter talking to a Koretian man.

"This is the spy whom the governor mentioned tonight," Peter told me. "He tells me that, as Lord Alan had hoped, the Jackal has moved his lair to somewhere in the city."

"Where, I do not yet know," said the man softly. "But I have received a summons from one of the thieves to visit the Jackal tonight, and then I will find out. Lord Alan had asked me to try to discover the true ident.i.ty of the Jackal, but since I have not been able to do so, he has decided to have his soldiers attack the lair. The thieves have managed to slip away in such situations before, but they may not be able to do so here in the crowded city, where so many people can note their movements. I have promised to send the governor news by night's end if I can."

"It is brave of you to undertake this task," I said.

The spy smiled and nodded his thanks. "You are Koretian-born, sir, so you will understand the difficulty I had in deciding where my loyalties lay. But if the Chara were to end his rule here, this land would dissolve once more into terrible war. I hope to do what I can to help prevent that."

"So the governor may give us news of peace by tomorrow," said Peter. "That would be a welcome change."

The spy said, "Peace is what this land needs more than anything. Even the Jackal would agree with that."

I woke with a start the next morning. Opening my eyes, I found that I was sitting straight up as Peter gripped my shoulders and stared gravely at me. For a moment, all that I could see through the lingering traces of fire was the Chara, the vengeful ruler of my people's enemy. Then Peter slid back, resting himself on his haunches and regarding me silently. The present returned to me like a rush of cold water, and I buried my face in my hands.

After a minute, I looked up and said, "I ought not to have slept beside you this night."

"It's nearly dawn in any case." Peter's golden hair was tousled and dark with moisture. The dawn air could almost be called cool, but several hours had pa.s.sed before either of us had been able to sleep in the heavy, heated air that we found even on the balcony.

I pulled back the light silk sheet I had thrown over myself the previous evening and said wearily, "I don't understand why I continue to have this dream. I've found my blood brother alive; I thought that the nightmare would end."

"I thought that it would grow worse," said Peter.

I looked over at him. He was sitting on the floor of the balcony, peering between the bal.u.s.ters at the ground below, where the soldiers were outdoing the birds with their boisterous calls to one another.

He met my eyes finally. "I didn't want to take you on this trip, Andrew. I knew that it would be hard for you, returning as an Emorian to Koretia. And now you've found your blood brother, and your loyalties are torn even more, like those of the spy we met last night."

"I made my decision long ago," I said. "You are the one I chose as my master, and John understands that."

"That doesn't make it any easier for you." Peter ceased looking down at the ground and slid himself around so that his back leaned against the bal.u.s.ters. "Curse those soldiers. They woke me long before your dream did, what with their clattering and shouting... . Andrew, I didn't want to pain you by bringing you here, but I very much need your help. I can't rule the Koretian people without knowing what is best for them, and I can't know that without understanding who they are. You are the only one I know who can tell me a unless I were to meet the Jackal himself, but that will never happen. I like to dream of the Jackal and me meeting under a peace oath, negotiating peace terms as one ruler does with another. But I cannot negotiate with a rebel; that would be as though I signed my approval to his law-breaking deeds. The Jackal and I will never come face to face unless he is my prisoner, or I am his. Therefore, you are my amba.s.sador to and from the Jackal, showing me what sort of man he is."

Peter's face glowed on one side with the early light. Behind him, the land still lay mostly in shadow, dark and quiet before sunrise. I said, "Chara, you know that I would do anything for you; I would give you my life if you wanted it. I'm not sure I can help you with the Jackal, though. I've never understood the G.o.ds, not like John does, and the G.o.d taken human form baffles me. I don't know whether, if I met him, I would raise my hands in worship or whether he would prove to be an ordinary, vulnerable mortal."

"Well, if John knows the G.o.ds, then it is to John we must go for answers. That is what I don't like about this business: sending you to your blood brother as a spy." Peter slid forward onto his knees and began folding up the blankets. "I hope that our ever-friendly governor doesn't curse me when his slaves tell him what we have done with his precious Emorian cloth, placing it on this dirty balcony. I need the governor's good will today, for I'll be spending several hours going through his doc.u.ments, trying to find the clue that will help me sort out what to do in this land. And I suspect that if the governor has miraculous information that would help me, he'll want to keep it to himself. It will be a tedious task, reading doc.u.ment after doc.u.ment, and you would be better occupied going down into the city and discovering what you can from John."

For once I allowed the Chara to be his own servant. I stood up and leaned over the balcony railing, seeking out a small breeze that had managed to crawl its way into the city. The streets below had begun to stir with activity: the stall-keepers were opening the market, the taverns were taking in a few early customers, and the traders wound their way between the shops. I asked, "Couldn't Lord Dean help you find what you need?"

"Lord Dean is always trying to take my decisions into his own hands. I'm not saying that he's disloyal, but he doesn't like following my orders, and he would make an easy tool for the governor to twist. I've had enough of my spies corrupted without having to place a council lord under the high doom for disobedience. While here, I will seek the a.s.sistance only of those I can absolutely trust, such as yourself." Peter pushed the blankets through the doorway into his room, and then came to join me by the bal.u.s.trade. Looking out, he said, "It's a beautiful view. I'm glad that I overcame the governor's objections to my taking the one guest chamber that has a Koretian-style balcony. Shall we see whether Lord Alan's cooks have begun their work? Afterwards, we can go our separate ways."

When we reached the presentation chamber, we found that we had been preceded by Lord Dean and Lord Carle. Lord Carle was addressing the High Lord with raised voice. As we entered, the council lord broke off, staring at me with a furious expression. Then he bowed to Peter and said, "If the Chara will excuse me," before leaving the room in a rush.

"Has Lord Carle encountered a new form of Koretian barbarity that he dislikes?" I asked.

"I think that Lord Carle has left because he would prefer to give his opinion on Koretian barbarities to Lord Alan rather than the Chara," replied Lord Dean dryly. "The governor's free-servant just brought us news. A man was found on the palace grounds this morning, stabbed through the heart."

Peter was mute a moment before saying, "The spy?"

"The governor doesn't seem to have much luck with his spies. The soldiers who found the body believe that the spy was not killed on the spot, but that the body was brought here from elsewhere. A bold move, even for the Jackal. But the Jackal may have had a bold purpose to his move. The body was found under the Chara's own balcony."

Peter reached out and poured himself the last of the Emorian wine from the night before. "Well, then," he said, "I have narrowly missed my one opportunity to meet the Jackal. I suppose that this is the Jackal's way of sending me a message."

"It may be that the message was intended for the governor, whose room is close to yours," said Lord Dean. "But it isn't a comforting thought to know that the Jackal and his thieves were prowling the grounds while we were peacefully asleep. It is possible that the Chara ought not to have come to Koretia."

"It is possible that you are right, and it is possible that you were right when you told me this back in Emor. I am here now, though, and the best I can do is try to ensure that I do not become the Jackal's next victim." Peter stared reflectively into the air as he swirled the final golden drops of wine in his gla.s.s. "I am not going to give up the only room in the palace that allows air in. If the Jackal did not try to kill me last night, I doubt he will try to do so tonight or the night after. But to allay the fears of you and Lord Carle, I will ask the governor to post guards at my door and under the balcony."

"Just be sure that the guards aren't in the pay of the Jackal," said Lord Dean. "The Jackal often does his dirtiest work from within."

Peter put his gla.s.s down abruptly and stared at the pitcher. "He failed to succeed in corrupting the governor's new spy, anyway. Whatever this Jackal is, it seems he cannot respect another man's loyalties. If the spy's murder was a message intended for me, I doubt I will have much to say to the Jackal in the future."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Dawn had broken by the time I reached John's house. Dodging in between two boys who were carrying an armful of dead hens to a merchant's shop, I made my way to the door and knocked.

Ursula answered my knock. She had a blanket tossed over her body, and I caught a glimpse of her shift under it. I stepped backwards and said stiffly, "I did not mean to wake you and John from your sleep. I will return later."

Ursula shook her head, gazing at me from under sleep-sanded eyelids. "Come in. John will be glad to see you this morning." She held the door open wide. After a moment's hesitation, I stepped in.

The house was empty but for Ursula. She stepped into the sleeping alcove, drew the curtain, and said from behind it, "John has been out since before dawn. We heard a rumor from a neighbor that there had been a murder in the city, so John went to see whether there was any truth to it." Faintly, through the outline of the curtain, I saw her abandon the blanket and reach for clothes. I hastily unshuttered the street window and seated myself there with my back to the curtain.

Ursula emerged soon after, dressed and holding in her hand a pitcher of wine and two cups. "Do you still like wild-berry wine?" she asked. "I've heard that all the Emorians think it tastes like poison."

"I told the governor last night that I disliked it, so that he would not doubt my loyalty as a true Emorian. But while my loyalty is sworn to the Chara, I fear that my body has never agreed to my oath. I hate Emorian winters, and I still love Koretian wine."

Ursula laughed and poured the wine for us before curling herself into the windowseat, opposite to me. Beside us, we could see the early-morning carts rattling over the stone-studded dirt path, on their way to the market.

We watched the city people for a while before Ursula said, "John and I talked once of going to live in Emor. He thought it would be easier for me there a that not so many people would hate me. And I was curious to see what life there was like. But John has his work here, and he wasn't sure it would be any better for me in Emor than it is here."

"He was probably right about that," I said. "Most Emorians hate Koretians just as much as most Koretians hate Emorians. In any case, it would be hard for you to become accustomed to life there."

Ursula tilted her head, a strand of black hair falling over her pale cheek. "Was it hard for you? I know that you love the land now, but you came there as a slave, and that must have made it hard for you to like the Emorians."

I watched with half an eye the familiar tapestry of city life: a small girl accompanying her mother to the market, laden down with a woven blanket that her mother intended to sell there; two small boys challenging each other to a dagger duel, and then looking cautiously around to ensure that adults were standing nearby who would stop them if they fought too hard; an Emorian soldier watching the boys' play with a look of disapproval.

I said, "When the soldier first took me prisoner, I tried to kill him a not only because of what he was doing to me, but because of what he had done to John and my mother. I think I will never hate anyone as much as I hated that soldier. Later I tried to kill the slave-seller to whom the soldier sold me. Then that man sold me to another slave-seller, and I tried to kill one of the seller's a.s.sistants. After that- After that, I decided to wait until I was a man and then take my vengeance."

Ursula was listening carefully to me, but she had dipped her head so that her hair covered her eyes. I had carefully kept all bitterness from my voice, but now, staring at her bowed head, I continued more gently, "Then, one day when I was older, I tried to run away from the master I'd been sold to. I was caught and beaten, and I think I would have died from that beating except that the Chara convinced his father to buy me. So my life was saved. About a year ago, I did something foolish that could have cost me my life, and again the Chara came to my rescue. But even if he hadn't done these things, I would remain oath-sworn to Peter because of who he is."

Ursula had gradually raised her head as I spoke. Now her face brightened and her hands burst forth into the air. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like your Chara. At first I thought of him only as a mighty conqueror who had done much harm to Koretia, but he spoke to me as though I were an old acquaintance instead of a common half-Koretian girl. He seemed like any other man I have known when he talked of how hard his life was when he was a boy, and how much your friendship meant to him. It was only later that I remembered he was the ruler of an empire and could execute any man or woman under his care. It was as though I had been talking with a G.o.d."

"Emorians don't regard him as a G.o.d," I said, "but he is the man who wears the face of the Chara, and that amounts to the same thing in the end. I know that the Koretians think the Emorians are impious because we don't have priests or goat-sacrifices or G.o.d-masks. But we do have the laws of Emor, and they are reverenced as much as any G.o.d could be. The Chara is the embodiment of the law. His task is to make sure that Emor's law is upheld, and he must do this at any cost, no matter what the pain to him or anyone else. If he went against his duty, it would be a kind of blasphemy to us. And that's hard for Peter, because he isn't a G.o.d but just an ordinary man."

Ursula considered this, her face turned to watch the pa.s.sersby. Then she said with a sudden fierceness, "No one should have to bear that kind of burden. It isn't fair when the G.o.ds ask that of men."

So distant was she in her thoughts that I reached out and touched her hand lightly. She turned then with a smile, as though I were a lover calling her name. "But he has you as a friend. At least he isn't lonely."

"I don't know whether he is." I leaned back quickly to my side of the windowseat, keeping my eyes fixed on her. "I suppose I know the Chara as well as anyone does, but even to me he is something of a mystery. He's like the Jackal that way."

"The Jackal." Ursula sighed. "I think the Jackal should just talk to the Chara and bring about peace in that way. They're both wise masters a I'm sure they could find an answer to Koretia's troubles. I told John this once, and he said he doubted that the Chara would be interested in speaking to the Jackal because the Chara believes him to be a rebel rather than a G.o.d. But now that I've spoken to the Chara myself, I think John is wrong. I'm sure the Chara would be glad to speak with anyone who wanted to talk with him."

I had a sudden memory of Peter, standing a while before, speaking lightly his words of anger. This image halted my thoughts long enough that, before I could reply to Ursula's words, the door opened and John entered.

He paused at the threshold as he saw me. He was wearing his night-dark tunic again, but as before, he bore no weapon. Slung over his shoulder was his satchel; he turned to hang this on the wall. "You're awake early."

"As are you, it seems," I said. "Ursula told me why you were out."

John glanced my way, and then turned his attention back to the satchel.

"Did you find out whether the rumors were true?" asked Ursula. "Was a man killed last night?"

John walked over to the table nearby and put his fingers lightly on the pitcher, tilting it so that he could see the purple-red liquid inside. "Rumors are still winging their way around the city. It's hard to say what happened."

He did not look up as Ursula came over to his side. But as she placed her cup of wine in front of him, he smiled at her. "I'm very hungry. Do you think you could persuade that crotchety laying hen of yours to give me an egg for my breakfast?"

"I will go whisper pretty words to her," said Ursula. "Some bread is left from yesterday if you'd like that."

As Ursula went into the garden, John walked over to the food box. Ignoring the knife sitting there, he tore off a chunk of bread from the hard loaf and brought it back to the table. He sat down in front of the bread, stared at it, and then picked up Ursula's wine instead and began sipping it.