by Andre Norton
Pulling herself up from the cushion nest she went to the great round of the window, set to look out to the stars and the Outer Regions now so far below. Sweeping aside the curtains she examined the frame, finding at last a hidden catch.
The windowpane, huge as it was, gave a fraction more and then stuck. Yuikala pushed and it swung out a fraction. Sounds of traffic, music and life broke the peace in the chamber.
She stood for a long moment. To have to depend on another was something she never relished. But now there was no other answer. Returning to the lounging cushions she pulled at one until she could force her hand within a seam and bring out an oddly shaped container the length of her middle finger, carved from the point of a yaksen horn.
A cork was set in place, sealed with a gum that had dried as hard as the horn. She inspected that stopper carefully, then held the horn to her ear and shook it. Yes, the contents were intact.
Relaxing again on the cushions she sat slipping the vial back and forth in her fingers staring at the curtain now billowing towards her as the rising night wind swept through the chamber.
She did not have long to wait. The curtain shifted even more as a man in a plain jacket, void of badges, came through, landing on the floor and raising a hand in salute.
“There is something I must know?” Yuikala gave him no greeting, only a question.
“There is much. First—one that our leader was depending upon has betrayed him, left his service to take oath with the Emperor—his brother whom he has always so damned. Whether that one has talked we do not yet know.”
She dug the point of the horn into her hand. How much had the Barbarian learned from that turncoat?
“The one of Vurope found the House Mate of Hrangle dead.”
Yuikala slammed the point of the horn into the edge of the cushion beside her. But perhaps that could be twisted to bring the slut into suspicion.
“And—” she prompted when he did not continue.
“That which was stored there was found by her and given to the barbarian.”
The Queen was on her feet. “And by what ill did that occur?”
Her visitor took a step back towards the window. That question had been delivered as sharply as a spear thrust.
“I ask you—how came such a stupid act?”
“The House Mate believed—at first—the story you told her. But—” He licked his lips, tried not to look at her directly, yet was held by her furious gaze. “The Kottis—they attacked. One was killed. She had opened a hiding place before the Kottis warned her. She fought; one of the Kottis went in the storage place. I tried to reach what must have been within. The Kotti there—” He held out his right arm. Around his wrist and right arm was wound a thick white bandage, a splotch of red across it.
“The Kotti would not come out. What lay behind it could not be reached. There were sounds outside. It was necessary to get away as soon as we could. With a dead Kotti, and perhaps another soon to die—as well as the House Mate—we slammed the secret place that no comer might find it and fled.”
“So the Barbarian—may the Essence curse him—living and dead—has what will profit him most. You are a broken sword, Kalikur. Get out of my sight lest I, too, wish to deal with a tongue which might wag too much. Think of what you must do to climb out of the pit you have dug for yourself.”
He left in no small haste. Rage darkened her face. That she might indeed kill him she did not doubt. The horn vial—she could not risk another bungler—care—always care.
Allitta:
I sat watching Hynkkel-ji pace up and down the room. And I was remembering—not the horror which had been wrought here, but something else. Hynkkel’s coming, the strength of his arms about me—and how I had not wanted him to let me go. But such feelings were against all I had ever known. One might be a friend, a co-worker at some action, with a man. I shut my eyes so I could not see him, shed of his over robe, frowning, treading heavily as if on a trail. I had not come into heat—I could not have. Had Ravinga’s gem bought me to this?
And Hynkkel—I slid my hands up my arms. Almost I could feel his grip. What—what would it be like to—He stopped directly before me.
“There are too many secrets. But this I know must be done. It is my duty to hold our find, to discover its meaning. Also, we cannot keep to the slow pace of the Progress. All that baggage we must carry, all the courtiers to be nursed along—I must make the rounds of the Queendoms as quickly as I can. Messages do not have the power that my appearance will have. Therefore we shall leave behind both courtiers and much of the baggage. I shall announce this tonight.”
“There are many who will be angry,” I said. “We”—did he intend that I was not to be left behind?
Hynkkel-ji:
I dispatched messengers. Twice Allitta reminded me of those we must be sure would travel with us. But the formation of the Progress within a Progress gave me an odd sense of some burden lifted. That round of ceremony which had nettled me from my crowning faded a little. The fact that I had forced into the open a secret which might be the salvation of the Outer Regions gave me some of the satisfaction I had known in the past when I had worked with a yearling pa-oryxen until the mount would answer to the lightest touch of the reins.
Those I had summoned to the Palace came and I stated my will. It might be that inwardly they cursed me, resented my orders, but they listened. They left understanding there would be no changes in the new plan.
Always I was aware of Allitta, Kassca dozing in her lap. I resolutely pushed away the teasing memory of her in my arms. How could that seem so right? We were playing a game; there was no possible reason that it would become a reality. Our bodies would not—should not respond. Allitta was not in heat—my response to her must be aroused by the talisman Ravinga had given her to start this.
My father was the last to come to me. When I outlined what was necessary, he nodded. “This is no time for ceremonies,” he agreed. “Travel light—travel fast. And time must serve us and not we it. Though there is this also—they speak of you as a barbarian; this will give them more to gabble about.”
“They will always do that. But what must be done I shall do despite them.”
He was studying me oddly. “Do not be sure that you stand so alone. However, let the gabblers repeat their tales. This I can do and shall. Give me back my general’s standard. I shall build such an army as we have not seen for tens of tens of seasons.”
That he could do this I was very sure. The army had been his life and he had suffered when it had been disbanded, the remnants coming to be trail guards.
Suddenly Allitta stepped nearly between us. She held out a sheet of parchment from the stacks on the table behind us. There were only a few lines but they had been hand printed very darkly to catch the eye at once. That she had been able to produce it so quickly was one of her own secrets.
I showed it to my father. At his nod I went to the table. Taking up one of the tiny balls of malleable clay I pressed it hard against the page and used a roller to make it stick. The brilliant red splotch was in turn pressed by my ring, leaving stamped on the clay my device. Having written my name below, I handed the commission to my father.
All men are never equal in talents. I was not warrior born, though at need I could handle some weapons. However my talents were otherwise—I was not yet certain what they were. What I had given my father was what he had built his life upon, and trust was what we now exchanged.
In the Palace at Kahulawe:
The Diamond Queen consulted the mirror. “Tis well done, Luvania.” She no longer studied her reflection but turned her head to observe the waiting Lady who had just anchored the high, fan shaped crown firmly.
“Highness, as always, you shall be envied.”
Yuikala laughed. “A nice speech to sustain one, Luvania. We have been many seasons together. Your skills have served me well. I trust you now as I do no one else. How many of my secrets have you locked in your mind?”
“Highness,
how many have you shared with me?”
Yuikala turned entirely away from the mirror. “Many past counting. This night I share one more.”
From the table before her she picked up the sealed horn. “Luvania, there is one who has disputed the Will of the Essence, who has wounded me, not in body, but in my spirit. He must have the guards about him weakened so that he may be dealt with. Was not your mate slain by the Sand Cats? Is the Essence now pleased that wild beasts be made free of our cities, dwell in our houses?”
The lady, first in Yuikala’s service, was very still. There was no change in the blankness of her features. Yet that very stillness answered the Queen.
“You are very deft, Luvania. I know how well you can act upon occasion. This beast, now in favor, will be at the feast. There is ever a bowl of water within its reach.” She held out her hand palm up, the horn lying across it.
“Can you be deft enough at the farewell feast? Cleanse the court of this filth which has been forced upon us.”
The woman said nothing as she stared down at the vial on the Queen’s hand.
Then she whispered a name. “Nitaota.”
“A warrior of great bravery, a hunter of great skill. It is for you to collect his blood price.”
Luvania still looked only at what the Queen held. Then she moved slowly—it was at last in the hand she pressed against her breast, as if she clutched some amulet of power.
CHAPTER 21
Allitta:
The feast was no time for rejoicing. I was sure most of those attending were wishing to be elsewhere. Hynkkel-ji’ s choice of those to ride out on the greatly reduced Progress at dusk on the following day had been very arbitrary. Many of the original company were grievously hurt by their omission or seething with indignation. Certainly among the latter were both the Queens who had every right to be considered of first importance. The Sapphire Queen sat at Hynkkel-ji’s right and Yuikala to his left. By my own choice I was beyond Alompra. Behind Hynkkel Murri had taken his place. Standing a little apart were various servants. As usual on the Progress Yuikala was so attended, by a woman I knew had been long in her service.
As one of the servants bearing trays of food passed, she shifted her position to allow more room. So doing she somehow tipped Murri’s water bowl. The Waiting Woman went down on her knees at once using one of her own floating scarves to dab at the spilled water. The Diamond Queen scowled at her as a refilled bowl was brought.
Yuikala’s woman seized the bowl hunched forward a little on her knees to present it humbly to Murri. The Sand Cat sniffed at the water.
His head snapped up, he was on his feet, a rumble of growl sounding. At the same time Hynkkel slammed his seat back, was out of it to stand by Murri, one hand on the cat’s head.
“What would you do?” he demanded of the woman.
Her face was darkly flushed. Spittle sprayed from her distorted mouth as she screamed. “False one! Blasphemer! To bond with that creature of the dark! The Essence never intended man to aid beast. Blood—let blood wipe out blood debt. May the Dark swallow you both!”
She now brandished a sleeve knife. As she aimed it at Murri, Hynkkel deftly brought down his staff of state on her wrist. She screamed as the knife fell from her hold.
I alone, save Murri himself, caught Hynkkel’s plea.
“Brother, do not take battle price from this she—”
“The she calls for death. But this is not the place or time. Remove her lest I be forced to—”
The woman continued screaming, calling on all about to aid her in slaying this bloodthirsty beast. Guards moved in. She fought wildly against all those who would lay hands on her.
Yuikala suddenly stood before her servant. She raised her staff of office and brought it down viciously on the other’s head. Then there was sudden quiet as the woman collapsed. Hynkkel gestured, and the guards half carried, half dragged her toward the nearest door. Most of the guests were on their feet. Yuikala spoke to the Emperor.
“I appeal to you on behalf of one who has always faithfully served Valapa. At this time two seasons ago, her mate was torn apart by a Sand Cat. She saw what was left of his body and the horror shadowed her mind for a space. Her assault this night is my fault. She had seemed to recover so well that I believed she was herself again. I will see that she is cared for, carefully watched until we return to Valapa where she can have treatment—away from the court.”
“If, Highness, you assume responsibility for her and take her back with you, no more will be said,” he answered.
Yuikala’s face lost all animation. In spite of the heavy mask of powder, paint, and her wealth of jewelry, she might been one of the weathered desert trail markers, sometimes found in the oldest traveled parts of the Outer Regions.
“You are compassionate, August One.” The words were as hard as her face.
Her sister Queen hastened to sooth the feasters; reassemble the courtly façade to cover memory of the wild scene.
However, that any could settle back into silence, no matter how practiced in etiquette they were, I did not believe. The wild ranting of the servant had carried another message. Such an accusation must have fermented a long time. Without the death Yuikala had mentioned there had been many other slayings caused by the now forbidden hunting.
The feasting did not last long and I was eager to be able to discover just what had been attempted.
Within the Chamber assigned to Ravinga:
Ravinga was repacking her luggage. It might well cause trouble that she had been one selected to accompany the shrunken Progress Company. When she had mentioned this, Hynkkel had quickly disagreed. He was insistent that he needed her knowledge. She was also sure that her talents might well be needed in the days to come. Having discarded all she reasonably could, the rest was repacked to be sent back with those returning to Valapa.
She had no sooner finished when Murri entered with his usual silent tread. As he reached her side he opened his mouth to drop something before her. A vial only, finger length and carefully stoppered though the age-darkened wax bore signs of recent opening. She studied it as she might a written message.
“It has been resealed—” she commented, “but still dangerous as you carried it. Whence came it?”
“From the hand of a waiting woman out of Valapa.”
She ran her finger across the seal, which did not move at her touch. Murri continued with his account of what happened.
“Stupid and clumsy,” she commented. “Yuikala can not be pleased.”
The doll maker rummaged in the small pack, which held her most private possessions, drawing out a short rod of crystal. Using it as she might a pen she drew the sharp point slowly around the edge of the stopper.
A thin mist arose. First it was gray and then a watery red—a tinge that suggested blood, finally a deeper hue, as if the heart of a fire. The color flickered, swirling along the rod.
Murri watched with deep concentration matching hers. That flickering now fell into a pattern. Ravinga’s lips moved, though she did not speak aloud. Then she jerked the rod away, and raised her head to look at the Sand Cat.
“This we must keep between us, Desert Lord.” She did not lay finger on the vial but drew out a bag of woven fiber. Again she reached into her pack and withdrew a box, snapping it open. From this she pinched some powder, so strong in odor that it overpowered the customary fragrance of the chamber. Into the amulet bag went the vial and then the powder. These she tightly fastened with strands of her own hair to form a safe packet.
“It is sass.”
Ravinga agreed. “Even so. They were indeed stupid if they overlooked that you could identify it at the first sniff. At least when we leave we shall use eyes and nose well. Sass requires time and rare ingredients. However, Murri, watch every shadow, for any one willing to risk the use of this is not easily defeated.”
She stowed the packet away in one of the side pockets of the large bag.
Hynkkel-ji:
At least, since it ha
d been made plain that we marched at sunset, we were allowed privacy to rest during the day. Allitta withdrew into a small alcove at the side of the chamber, having put her baggage together without summoning a maid, and curled up with Kassca on the cushion lounge.
I also prepared for rest, dismissing all servants. But sleep was elusive. Murri had informed me that what had been added to his water was a potent poison and we must be watchful for fresh attack of one kind or another.
As I lay in the darkly curtained room, I was drawn into another state of consciousness. All who live in the Outer Regions are taught from birth that when one is faced with burdens more of spirit than of body, there is a way of seeking aid from a source outside ourselves.
Striving to put all that had happened out of my inner mind I invoked that power which, if my need were a rightful one, would give me an answer.
We never stand alone—for we are all woven into one—land, sky, rock, sand, animals—man is only a part of the whole. Thus, shutting my eyes, and seeing only darkness, I made my call. The Will of the Essence had brought me into this rulership. With humility and patience I stated my need, waiting for any answer that might come.
The darkness I had drawn in about me began to lighten into a kind of grayish veiling. Within that moved darker shadows.
The shadows never entirely became clear, though they indeed wore faces, a few of which I knew. Allitta passed and behind her Ravinga. My father and another appeared for the space of a breath—my brother. All of them gazed at me, but none of them spoke. Allitta again—and Ravinga—and Murri.
Now the mist changed—sand—sand filled the air, hiding the shadows then suddenly disclosing them, only to hide them once more. Storm—Sand—I struggled to deny the threat of sand.
Except for the clouded scene I was denied any further answer from the All-knowing. Outer Regions—I concentrated on a single problem. The mist cleared; I looked upon the golden plaque, now faded—the gems dulled—what I had held fresh and untouched only a short time ago.