“You—!” said Valona. “But you are the man who said—”
“And you are a princess, too,” I said, half-laughing, wishing to tease her. “Jaezila and you are friends? That pleases me.”
“We have been through many adventures together, Jak and I,” said Jaezila. “He is a blade comrade. I rejoice to see him alive, for I thought he had given his life to save me and — and another. He will give praise to all the gods that Jak lives. She looked at Valona and, I admit it now for I felt it then, I felt a pang — just the smallest, most unworthy feeling — that if you wished to compare the two girls, then Jaezila far outshone Valona. And this was a base and vile thought.
Before any more could be said in this tangle, Nath the Retributor hurried across. With him strode a giant of a man — an apim — with a strong bulldog-like head and massive jaw, a warrior who wore armor and carried four swords. This impressive fighting man was introduced as Hardur Mortiljid, Trylon of Llanikar. I judged him true to his appearance. He bowed formally.
“I am here as escort to the Princess Majestrix of Vallia, bearing a warrant from Klanak the Tresh.” Klanak the Tresh was Orlan’s cover name, and I felt relief that he had the sense to continue to use it still. We weren’t out of the wood yet. The Lahals were made, and then Hardur said to me, “I give you my thanks, horter, for the gallantry of your fight against the Sabals. They are news from the devil, by Harg!”
“The princess is unharmed,” I said. I still felt this enormous glow of delight, so I could add, “All the princesses!”
Jaezila laughed. No one else appeared to consider the remark worthy of comment, the fact being that my brand of humor is often considered odd even by the phenomenally peculiar standards of Kregan humor. But Tyfar, Jaezila and I shared our own idiosyncratic laughs together, and the suns were warmer as a consequence. Erndor, the slim Vallian who had tried to spit Tyfar and had then thrown a brick at him, came over. Kaldu, Jaezila’s retainer, hovered. Nath the Retributor coughed and cleared his throat. A ring formed with the mingled parties all staring at those in the center, the lantern light falling upon cheekbones and glittering in eyes. I stepped back. The moment approached.
The expectant silence fell oddly into that place of ruins. It trembled invisibly, yet was real, perfectly apparent to everyone. Nath stared at me in puzzlement. I looked back, waiting. And then — of course, onker that I was! — I saw the cause of his embarrassment.
He could not know how things stood between Lela and me. He didn’t know that the Star Lords, by hurling me between the stars, had prevented my knowing my own daughter, as Lela’s dedication to the SoR prevented her from knowing me. So we all stood about like loons when Nath and the others expected father and daughter to fly into each other’s arms.
Valona was quite clearly keyed up. She glowed with excitement, staring about. What it would be — to have two daughters who flourished lethal steel claws!
Hardur Mortiljid slapped one of his swords up and down in the scabbard. He looked down at Nath.
“Well, by Harg, Nath! These Vallians are odd folk!”
Valona glanced up at Hardur.
Nath said, “I will—”
Erndor stepped forward.
“An explanation is owed you, Trylon Hardur, and you, Nath the Retributor, as to you all. If you will allow? We Vallians may be somewhat different from other folk, but in this, the vicissitudes of cruel fate have parted the Emperor of Vallia and the Princess Majestrix for many seasons. For very many seasons.”
The crowd nodded as though perfectly understanding the blows of fate, and the oddness of folk who were not Hyrklese. I looked expectantly at Valona. She stood alertly, waiting... At her side Jaezila stared at Erndor, and then she looked away, searching among the crowd, and coming back again to gaze upon the Vallian. Valona remained bright-eyed and vivid, almost hopping with excitement.
Erndor went on, “So that I do not think one would recognize the other—”
At that revelation, and never mind the blows of fate, the crowd’s shocked oohs and aahs were fitting comments on not only the conduct of Vallians, but the way a father had allowed so terrible a degradation of his relationship with his daughter. Even though they did not know of the Everoinye, I felt that censure deeply. I was just about to do something very foolish when Valona began to step forward. Jaezila took her arm and held her, and then my blade comrade said, “So there is no mystery here. Nath the Retributor, if you would kindly do the office of introducing the Emperor of Vallia, the Princess Majestrix will be in your debt.” She smiled.
Valona sucked in a breath, and Hardur looked down his nose. The crowd fell silent. I did not move but looked at Valona. Nath was slow.
“Well, Nath the Retributor,” said my blade comrade, Jaezila. “The Princess Majestrix is waiting. Is he not here? I would not be surprised. He never seems to be at hand when I need him. Whereabouts is my father skulking now?”
Chapter sixteen
I Stake My Life on the Truth
The world of Kregen went up and down and over and over three times and I was clinging on her for dear life with bleeding fingers to stop being hurled off into a black void of insanity.
Jaezila!
Lela?
And then, the mind does work in strange ways in fraught moments like these, I thought, So Tyfar will be my son-in-law — if all goes as nature intends. Deuced odd!
I felt like a man turning a corner and being blown back by a sea wind gusting past force ten. I struggled to get a breath. Nath the Retributor, all smiles, was saying, “He is here, majestrix, standing here. Now you have explained, of course, of course. These things happen in imperial families.”
He was, I am sure, quite unaware of any sarcasm.
“Here is Dray Prescot, Emperor of Vallia! Lahal, majister!”
Jaezila looked at me.
Dayra had looked at me, I recalled with anguish from our first meeting, with loathing and contempt. How would my eldest daughter regard the father who kept on disappearing?
She was beautiful, yes, she was her mother’s daughter, regal, commanding, impish — and now a frown dinted in between her eyebrows, and her lips drew down, and her eyes regarded me with a look I just could not fathom.
“Him?” she said. And, then: “Jak the Sturr — my father?” And, then: “He is a blade comrade, Jak, a friend, one who would give his life for me, as I for him, as we have proved. But — the Emperor of Vallia?”
“Jaezila—” I said.
A struggle was going on within her. She had not expected this thunderclap of a revelation. No more had I, by Zair!
But I was over the wonder now. This glorious girl was my daughter Lela. And the magic was — we were blade comrades!
What a splendid contrast to my dismal confrontations with Dayra, who was Ros the Claw!
And of course, Dayra was not evil, only misguided. Now I had an opportunity to talk to Jaezila — Lela — and discover more about Dayra, and find ways for reconciliation. Lela would know about her sister, there was no doubt about that. I confess to a most beautifully euphoric feeling bathing me in wonderful sensations.
Jaezila brought all this down to earth with a thump.
“Whatever my blade comrade has told you, and however much I love him, he is Jak, and not the Emperor of Vallia. I know. I own I am disappointed, for he would have been a good father to me.”
“Jaezila,” I said. “I mean, Lela—”
“It’s not going to do you any good. By Vox! I’ll see no harm comes to you. You know that. But the good of Vallia is in this, Jak, and even you cannot jeopardize that.”
Just as Princess Lildra stepped forward to have her say, she was pushed aside by Hardur Mortiljid. The giant’s face exhibited every indication of bursting. His eyebrows drew down, black with thunder. At his side Nath the Retributor was already drawing his sword. Other men crowded up.
“I stake my life on the Princess Majestrix!” bellowed Hardur. “She has spoken. This man is an impostor. Seize him up!”
&nbs
p; Well — I was slow. But I felt as though I’d been hit over the head with a sandbag. They had bonds around my neck and wrists and ankles even as I tried to reason with Jaezila. She looked distraught. I could imagine her anguish.
“Jak!” she called over the hubbub.
The crowd pushed and shoved around us; I was dragged along, shoved up against a stone pillar and the ropes wound round and around pinioning me to the ancient stone. I felt a damned hard edge jabbing me in the back and it was nothing. I couldn’t believe all this. Princess Lildra was shouting, but in the uproar her words went unheeded. These people had found a spy in their midst, and mob law was about to run its course.
“Kill him now! Spy!”
“No, make him tell his secrets!”
“Zigging Hamalese rast!”
Jaezila was tall, but Hardur overtopped her as he overtopped most people. Even Jaezila’s savage retainer, Kaldu, looked a trifle shrunken as he stepped up to clear a space for his mistress. They were forming a ring around the pillar to which I was bound, and the noise and confusion brought fresh mobs running up from the camp. Lantern light splashed bloodily upon the stones, and the moons tinged the scene with rose and gold. A tiny night breeze blew and the scents of moon blooms filled the air. And I was like to bid good-bye to all this exotic world of Kregen.
Lildra looked flustered and, not so much frightened as overwhelmed. Hardur with his giant stature and giant voice dominated events, and his bellows drowned more rational thought. But I thought. I thought that Jaezila, my blade comrade, worked for Hamal. She might not be my daughter Lela. She disowned me; might not I therefore disown her? We would remain comrades, for the bonds between us were not to be broken lightly — and even this business which was very far from light would not sunder my feelings for her, or hers for me, I was confident. Perhaps, as a spy for Hamal, she had wormed her way in and under the guise of the Princess Majestrix of Vallia, worked a mischief against my country?
I looked toward the knot of chiefs, and they were arguing in their more elegant way, as the mobs were yelling and caterwauling, in their more vehement fashion. They wanted my skin, all of them. No doubt of that, by Vox!
Jaezila was shouting up at Hardur, fierce, like a tigress: “I love that man! If you harm him I will surely kill you!”
“But he is a spy for Hamal! He knows our secrets!”
Lildra screamed, “He is a hyr-paktun and he rescued me and he cannot be the emperor! But — but I do not want him killed, whatever he may have done!”
Nath shouted, “Klanak the Tresh vouches for him—”
“He can be deceived.” Hardur boomed out. “I say kill him now, out of hand, as you put your foot upon a filthy rast that infests a dunghill.”
I bellowed across, “You’d get a mucky foot, then, Hardur!”
And Jaezila laughed.
By Zair! If she was not my daughter, how I longed for her to be Lela!
Using his height and lungpower, Hardur bartered away at his central point — killing me with all dispatch — in an attempt to convince Princess Lildra. He was a loyal man, if a trifle prone to blustering pigheadedness, and even in his passionate anger he saw he could not just top me in defiance of Lildra’s wishes.
The wrangling went on, brute force against sentiment, common sense against sentimentality. If you catch a spy, you have to do what he expects will be done — sometimes. Nath was in a quandary, for he quite liked me and had had word from Orlan; yet my detractors were violent and persuasive. If the argument broke down the middle and it was party against party, we had the outnumbering of them, true. I did not think Hardur Mortiljid was a man to worry over that.
In the uproar and excitement I felt a soft touch on my arm, twisted up around the pillar. I said nothing. A voice whispered. “Make no sign. The Princess Majestrix bids me free you. I still wonder if I should have clawed you before you jumped down the trap.”
My bonds fell away at the back and were held up so that while I was free the ropes would not betray me. Barely moving my mouth, I said, “My thanks, Valona. Would you believe I had thought you were my daughter?”
A soft amused snort, and: “You are a splendid paktun, no doubt. But an emperor? Ha! No one has seen me and they will not see me go. Give me four heartbeats to get clear or we will land the Princess Majestrix in trouble. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Valona had crept from the shadows at the back, unseen. If I betrayed her by leaping free now, Jaezila would also be suspect. Perhaps they would turn on her. Was she Lela? And these were Hyrklese. Perhaps, they would think, this whole affair was a plot on the part of Hamal. It was very likely.
A fleeting succession of shapes passed before the rosily golden face of She of the Veils. For a small moment the moon silhouetted a group of flyers, winging down. Then they winged swiftly on. I looked toward the arguing crowds. Soon the tinder would light and they’d turn ugly. Time to depart. I would go with great regret. I own to a fondness for my own skin; I hungered to talk to Jaezila again, and to satisfy myself she was my daughter, as I was in no doubt I could convince her I was her father, given the time denied us so far. But if I yielded to that almost overpowering temptation, then my fondness for my skin would be set at naught; they’d chop me, for sure.
Valona had placed the severed ends of the bonds in my hands and I held them taut. When I cast them away and leaped from the pillar I would be seen at once. The hue and cry would begin. Maybe I would not depart. Running away was foreign to the nature of the Dray Prescot who had adventured over the face of Kregen, even if it was tending to feature more and more with the Dray Prescot who, in these latter days, shouldered the burdens of empire. By the stinking left nostril of Makki-Grodno! I damned well wouldn’t run away! I knew what I’d do, and by Zim-Zair, I’d do it quick!
I threw the ropes away and belted like a hellhound for the arguing group around Jaezila. I could convince her — I would convince her. If she was not my daughter, if she was a Hamalese spy, then we were both done for. I cast aside all doubt. Jaezila was Lela, and both our lives hung on the truth of that.
Instantly I was seen. The hullabaloo started, with yells that the mad paktun was trying to assassinate Lildra, murder the Princess Majestrix, disembowel Hardur and decapitate Nath. I pelted on. Someone hurled a javelin and the stux flew past. On I raced, dodging and ducking, leaping idiots who tried to fling themselves at me. I ran with my hands empty and open, arms up, trying to indicate that, being unarmed, I could not hurt anyone.
Any Krozair of Zy, any Khamorro, would know the lie inherent in that, but it was all I could do.
“Jak!” yelled Jaezila.
“Jak!” screamed Lildra.
“You’re running the wrong way!” Jaezila started at me, yelling, and I could see she was choked with laughter. By Krun! What a girl!
Hardur Mortiljid whipped out his sword. Like him, it was big. He rushed. His first swing was designed to part me along the middle and I swerved and hit him on the nose — I had to jump — and hurdled over his falling form. Then I was up to Lildra, who looked distraught, and Jaezila, who looked ready for a fight.
“If you are Lela,” I shouted, “as I truly believe, then I have things to tell you that will show you I am—”
“Your back!”
I dodged and the javelin whistled past.
“Don’t stand jibber-jabbering, you great fambly! Run for it!”
“I’m not in the habit of running — well, only recently—”
Nath stood back, eyeing me, and his chiefs were suddenly holding back the mobs, bellowing with authority at them. Hardur staggered up with his nose streaming blood black in the moonlight.
“Slay him, you rasts! Strike him down!”
“He is unarmed, Hardur!” roared Nath. “Let the Princess Majestrix hear him out!”
“My thanks, Nath—”
“He may fool her. He will not deceive me!” And Hardur launched himself headlong.
The breathing space I had gained would be gone if Hardu
r were allowed to overpower them again. I reached up and back and, bending forward, ripped my longsword free. The superb brand gleamed in the light of the moons. I spread my fists on the grip and faced Hardur. He did not check but came on in a gusty rushing charge, yelling a wild whoop, his sword swinging.
“Leave him to me!” bellowed the Mortiljid.
The first blows were delivered with skill and strength, but the Krozair brand deflected them with ease and I leaned to the side and twisted my hands over and so laid the flat against Hardur Mortiljid’s head. He fell down.
For an instant a complete silence enveloped the mobs. Into that silence the massed beat of wings brought a rushing note of urgency. Saddle birds landed in flurries of wing-feathers, sending up the dust. Agile men leaped from the saddles. A voice shouted.
“Now what tomfoolery are you up to, father? What’s he playing at now, Lela, for the sweet sake of Zair?”
And my lad Jaidur strode forward, very wroth, to confront me.
Chapter seventeen
The Rebellion Falters
We rode hard for Huringa in a jingling, determined cavalcade, with a screen of aerial cavalry winging ahead. We were the Revolution. On our banners glowed the light of coming victory. With us rode Princess Lildra, who would be Queen Lildra. On we rode, confident, bursting with pride, and if we were vainglorious there seemed every reason for that fatuous state.
You cannot have everything in life. Useless to think that wishing will make it so. Everyday reality doesn’t work like that. Wish fulfillment does happen, of course — after a deal of damned hard work and luck and the ability to ride with the punches or to come to terms with emotional situations you thought impossible. As for power fantasies, they are for the crippled, and as most of us are crippled in one way or another, ought to be put to a responsible therapeutic use.
Jaezila was Lela.
That was the wonder.
Jaidur, being my raffish, feckless young tearaway of a son, was here in Hyrklana stirring up as much trouble as he could for Hamal. Unable to buy fliers, he had had a hand in the burning of a few of the factories. And he knew somewhat of Spikatur Hunting Sword.
Rebel of Antares Page 17