by NS Dolkart
Speaking of eyes, from what Magerion had heard, nobody knew how Narky had lost his left one. The rumor he’d heard most often was that Narky had given it to his God in exchange for wisdom. Up close, Magerion could see what nonsense that was. He could tell a scar from a blade when he saw one: that eye had been slashed by some enemy, not sacrificed to a God. It had been burned too – it looked a mess. But it was not so recent a scar that Narky could have lost it in the fight against Bestillos. It had been healing for a few months longer than that, Magerion thought.
Narky was clearly uncomfortable with the way Magerion was looking at him, sizing him up. Magerion let it stay that way for a little while, savoring the feeling of power that came from intimidating a high priest. He and Narky would be partners, but he now knew that they would not be equal partners. That was a pleasant surprise.
“Well?” Narky said at last. “Are we going to Ardis, or…?”
“We are,” Magerion assured him. “And I thank you for coming out of Anardis on your own, and not wasting my time. Is this your wife?”
The girl nodded. “Yes, general. My name is Ptera.”
“You moved quickly,” Magerion noted. “Did you smuggle him out of Ardis as a wedding gift?”
Ptera’s lips tightened, but Narky said, “More or less.”
Some of Magerion’s men grinned at this, and his son Atlon actually laughed. Mageris, the younger of Magerion’s sons, did not. He had admired the late high priest of Magor greatly, and had once been given the honor of tracking the Tarphaean islanders alongside his idol. Mageris would obey his father, but Magerion knew it would be a long time before he would forgive him for betraying Bestillos’ legacy. Among his men, his own son was the least happy about his new alliance.
Well, Mageris would have to get over it. Bestillos was dead, and the Tarphaeans were clearly favored by the Gods. Of the forces threatening Ardis, both were led by islanders – the cult of Ravennis by Narky, and the Dragon Touched by his erstwhile companion, whom the people called the Black Dragon. Perhaps Narky would have some insight on how to defeat his former friend.
Magerion waited until evening to tell Narky of his intentions. Let the boy think he was a prisoner. Let him think he would be martyred as the Oracle had been. The memory of this moment might keep him from overstepping himself later.
When the camp was set and a fire burning, Magerion called Narky over in front of his men and told him he was needed. “I have a task for you, before we arrive in Ardis.”
Narky gulped visibly. “Yeah?”
“Yes. My men and I haven’t known your God except through slaughtering His followers, but that will not do now. We will soon be bringing you before the priests of Magor and the full Council of Generals, and we must be better prepared for the task ahead of us. You can help us with that.”
“I can?”
“You can. I have had a vision, a vision that I need you to help me fulfill. These hundred men are my closest kin and most faithful friends. All are loyal to me and will do as I tell them. I want you to teach us about Ravennis, and convert us to the worship of your God.”
The boy’s jaw dropped. For the first time in what felt like ages, Magerion laughed.
30
Vella
Vella spent much of that night crying. It was the terror, the terror and the relief. She had opened up her heart in a way that she had never done before – opened up her heart, and endangered her life.
What would her husband do to her if he learned of her desires? He would probably kill her. Even with Vella’s lineage, nobody would stop him.
She hoped Bandu knew not to tell a soul. She was unpredictable – it was part of what made her so enchanting. It always felt as if she could see through Vella, as if she could look into her and see. But of course, she hadn’t known. She hadn’t known, or she wouldn’t have asked.
Would she? Vella never knew what was going on in Bandu’s head. Maybe she had known, but wanted Vella to admit it out loud.
Oh, Vella didn’t know. All she knew was that she had finally told someone, and she had told the only person who mattered. Her sobs were sobs of happiness. Happiness. And fear.
She was saved, for now, by her husband’s indifference. Pilos didn’t even ask why she was crying, he just lay down and snapped at her to shut up and go to sleep. She tried and failed,
but he didn’t press the issue, just grunted his annoyance and took his own advice. An hour later, Vella was still crying.
What did Bandu think of her? She desperately wanted to know, and to ask Bandu if she felt the same way, but she was too afraid. What if Bandu rejected her? What if she didn’t even understand? One could never be sure from the way she talked. Sometimes it seemed like she was simply letting people’s words wash over her unexamined, while at other times she seemed to understand a good deal more than had even been said.
Vella was too afraid to go back and talk to her. She felt like a coward and a fool, and she tried telling herself that she was just going to go walk beside Bandu while they traveled southward, maybe offer to hold Goodweather for a bit – but her courage always failed her.
It would have been all right had her life been otherwise bearable, but it wasn’t. She and Pilos had consummated their marriage last year, but hadn’t made love since – had never really made love. There was no love between them, and never had been. She resented his treatment, and he seemed to resent her very existence. If he had fallen in love with someone else – and perhaps he had – then she would hardly have felt betrayed, since he had never loved her to begin with. But not everyone felt that way, and Pilos in particular did not do well with humiliation. She hoped, for her own sake, that he never found out.
So she didn’t go to see Bandu, didn’t play with Goodweather or change her, didn’t walk beside them as they moved south toward Ardis. And she lived a week of utter misery.
Then one night she awoke with Bandu kneeling beside her. Vella had slept in her clothes, it being a chilly night, and she stumbled out of the tent after Bandu as hurriedly and quietly as she could. Pilos turned over, but did not wake.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, suddenly realizing that Bandu had Goodweather strapped to her back, atop a traveling pack. Oh God. “Are you leaving? Are you here to say goodbye?”
“No,” Bandu whispered back. “I don’t say goodbye. I want you to go too.”
Vella gasped. Her heart was beating so fast it was starting to feel irregular. It was actually hurting her chest. “You want me to come with you? Where? Who else is going?”
“Only Goodweather.”
“But where are you going? Bandu, we can’t just–”
Bandu caught Vella’s head with both hands and kissed her, longer than it took to make her point. “Just come.”
Vella followed Bandu out of the camp, her head in a blur. There was a watch, but the guards didn’t seem to notice them as they left the tents behind. The moon was high – it couldn’t have been much past midnight. They walked and walked until Vella lost her sense of direction entirely, but Bandu seemed to know where she was going. They came to a stream, which Bandu began to ford before abruptly changing direction and following the current northward – it had to be northward, because Vella thought it must be the same stream that their camp had crossed yesterday evening. Why were they going north? She splashed after Bandu, but they soon turned again – was it eastward?
“Bandu, where are we going?”
“Away.”
“Away to where?”
Bandu didn’t answer, and on they went. How long had they been walking? The moon was a good deal lower than it had been when they started out.
Vella repeated her question. “Away to where?”
“Away from Criton. He doesn’t follow us here. He can’t smell magic like I can, and this is the wrong way for him.”
“But why? Why are you leaving him? Why take me with you?”
Bandu stared into her eyes in the moonlight. “I need your help. And I like you.”
She had to believe that Bandu didn’t just want her help with the baby. “You like me,” she repeated.
Bandu nodded. “I can mate with you,” she said. “I don’t want Criton now.”
The more Vella allowed herself to think, the more complicated this was getting. It wasn’t just the baby, it was Criton too! Did Bandu really love her, or did she just want to punish Criton? Now the thrill was wearing off, and Vella was just terrified. What had she gotten herself into? Why had she followed Bandu?
Bandu kissed her again, but Vella pulled away. “You don’t love me,” she said, and her heart sank as she said it. She knew it was true.
Bandu shook her head. “I don’t know you yet,” she admitted. “You are so quiet.”
“Then why did you bring me here?” Vella almost shouted at her. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Maybe I don’t know you now,” Bandu answered, “but I like you. You like me. You want to be my mate, and I don’t want Criton now, so this is good.”
“No,” Vella groaned, “no, this isn’t good. You’re angry at Criton, but you can always go back if you change your mind, because he loves you. My husband hates me, Bandu. If I go back now, he’ll kill me.”
“Criton wants other wives,” Bandu said quietly. Goodweather stirred with a soft moan.
Vella bowed her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But you didn’t have to take me with you.”
Bandu pulled a strap over her shoulder and began to take Goodweather off her back. “I don’t have to,” she agreed. “I want to. If your husband hates you, why you want to stay? You don’t. You are not happy there. That’s why you come with me.”
She sat down with Goodweather and began to nurse her. Vella sat across from them, grateful to the earth for its stability. Dawn was breaking, and her world was falling apart. And what would replace it? Nothing real, it seemed. Nothing true.
“This isn’t going to last,” she said. “You’re just going to go back to him when you’re done with me.”
Bandu shook her head. “Never. Criton is not a good mate.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll go back.”
Bandu made a frustrated sound. “Why nobody listens to me? I don’t go back, Vella. You want me to say again? I don’t go back!”
She laid Goodweather’s wrappings on the ground and gently lowered the baby onto them. Goodweather had gone back to sleep.
“You don’t even know me,” Vella said. “You brought me out here to be your lover, and you don’t even know me.”
“So tell me about you,” Bandu said. She motioned the ground next to her.
Against her better judgment, Vella joined her. She felt suddenly afraid.
“Tell me about you,” Bandu repeated, but what could Vella say? Where could she start? The whole of her life seemed insignificant now, and when she tried to think of something to tell Bandu, she couldn’t think of anything worth mentioning. She had been with her parents, and then she had been with Pilos. Her childhood had been pleasant, and she loved her parents, but she also resented them for having chosen Pilos, and besides, she didn’t want to talk about her parents or her husband, she wanted to talk about herself! But what was there to say?
Bandu kissed her again, so tenderly it made Vella weak. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, but Vella had no choice in the matter.
The sun rose and they lay down together, exhausted from their walk but nowhere near sleep. Vella tried to let go of her fears and live in the beautiful moment, the moment that she had not even dared to imagine. They kissed and kissed, and then Bandu’s hand found her and Vella gasped, but didn’t stop her. Bandu looked into her eyes the whole time, unashamed of what they were doing and confident, always confident in her power over Vella.
It was too much, too strong. Vella’s head snapped back and she shouted, the fire escaping from her lungs and out into the world. Each cry sent another burst of flames up toward the trees, but Bandu didn’t stop until one of those cries awoke Goodweather. Then she rose and changed the baby’s clothes, lifted Goodweather with one arm, and went back to the stream to do the washing. Vella lay on the ground waiting for them to return, drifting in and out of sleep, feeling more relaxed than she could ever remember. Then Bandu came back with Goodweather strapped to her chest and the washed clothes hanging from a stick, and told her they had to go.
Vella sat up slowly, languidly, savoring her last moments of delicious relaxation. “When are you going to sleep?” she asked.
“Later.”
They walked on, Vella following meekly, not knowing what destination Bandu had in mind. What sort of town would be welcoming to the three of them? Did such a place exist?
Bandu seemed confident that she knew where she was going, so Vella chose to trust her. Besides, the farther they walked, the greater the distance between them and Criton.
After most of a day, they reached a town whose men had pledged themselves to the Dragon Touched. Vella told them that she and Bandu had been sent there to rest, since the army’s pace was too much for them, and she was relieved when their hosts accepted this explanation without too much suspicion. All the men of fighting age were gone, so there was more than enough room for Vella and Bandu. They thanked their hosts for their generosity and lay down in comfort, if not in privacy.
Bandu fell asleep before Vella did, Goodweather cradled in her arms. Vella watched them sleep, her heart aching. Could this last? She wanted to believe that Bandu would never go back to him. She wanted to believe that the two of them could make a life together, that they could care for each other and for Bandu’s child without the angry world tearing them apart. Oh, how she wanted to believe!
31
Narky
Narky could hardly believe his good fortune. Magerion was not here to kill him, to torture him to death, even to humiliate him! Ravennis was executing yet another of His maneuvers, and it was glorious.
Most of Magerion’s men were very amenable to being taught about Ravennis. They learned His ways the same way they might have learned to use a new weapon – with a sort of professional, utilitarian engagement. They asked about the underworld – everyone always did – but they were more focused on the here-and-now. How would their everyday practices have to change in order to accommodate Ravennis instead of Magor? What animals did Ravennis favor in sacrifice?
Narky told them that they could continue sacrificing the same animals as before, so long as they left the eyes for Ravennis. He had grown more comfortable with inventing new practices during his time in Anardis. Nobody would be judging him, he had learned, for the ways in which his teachings might differ from the old Laarnan practices. He was the high priest of Ravennis, and it was assumed that Ravennis spoke through him. If the men of Laarna had worshipped their God differently, perhaps they were the ones who had been wrong. They were all gone now, after all.
Magerion was just as engaged as his men were, listening attentively and asking the occasional question himself. This mass conversion may have been a power-play on his part, but he was still taking it seriously. He had apparently decided that Magor’s defeat was inevitable, and he meant to be on the winning side. While Magerion the man frightened him, Narky was quite sympathetic to this line of thinking.
Narky was relieved that his martyrdom no longer seemed to be a major part of Ravennis’ plans, but he was still nervous about the days to come. The plan was for him to remain a prisoner right up until the moment when Magerion and his men turned on their former leaders. What if their coup failed? What if it succeeded, but Narky was killed in the struggle? Would Ptera take up the mantle of high priestess?
It wasn’t such a bad thought. Ptera might not have the reputation that Narky had,
but she knew as much about Ravennis as anyone, and in some ways her faith was much stronger than Narky’s. She certainly never questioned that Ravennis was a good and moral God, whereas Narky had his doubts on that front. She would make a fine high priestess, if it came to that.
He hoped it wouldn’t. Ravennis might protect him in the land of the dead, but Narky preferred to take his sweet time getting there.
As they neared Ardis, word got out that Narky had been captured, and people began meeting them on the road to cheer Magerion or jeer at Narky, or else just to stare. Narky hated those last ones the most – he wished he knew what they were thinking. Were they worshippers of Ravennis, watching despairingly as their high priest returned to Ardis in captivity? Were they Magor worshippers, come to watch their God’s triumph but suddenly struck with suspicion? Or maybe they were all witless fools, gathering to gawk at the soldiers and captives just for the spectacle of the thing. Either way, he hated their presence.
When they arrived in Ardis a few days later, an enormous crowd was waiting for them. Magerion had sent messengers ahead to tell of Narky’s capture, and people of all ages lined the streets to watch the procession go by. Narky and Ptera had been put in chains for the occasion, and walked with at least three spears pointed at each of them. This was all for show according to Magerion, but Narky was still keenly aware of his vulnerability. The general’s son, Mageris, was one of those with a spear, and it was terrifying to realize that he had the power to kill Narky quite suddenly should he choose to. By the look of him, he was strongly considering it.
Narky had recognized Mageris by his voice as one of the men who had been waiting for the islanders when they got back from their first conversation with Salemis. His father might be a shrewd and ambitious man, a worshipper of whichever God was likeliest to increase his power, but Mageris was a Bestillos loyalist. Narky didn’t trust him.