Sheri Tepper - Singer From The Sea

by Singer From The Sea(Lit)

"You could see it?"

  "Oh, yes. From inside walls, very clear. So, Shah puts powder in glass of wine, gives wine to Old Friend. Old Friend drinks."

  "What happened?"

  "Oh, ho, here is this old man who got silly in head, no more mind than harpta. Here is old man who can't follow orders. Here is old man two hundred tiresome years old. Here he is, needing woman's blood every day or so, but he is no use to anybody. What you think happened?"

  "What should I think?"

  "What happened was, after Old Friend drinks, Shah talked to him, na, na, na, na. Time went by, then Shah asked him, 'You all right, old friend?' Ha! Old Friend did not answer. Only blinked, very, very slowly. Then Shah tried to lift Old Friend's arm. Stiff. Like wood. Then Shah called guards and they picked him up, chair and all. They took him away."

  "Where? How?"

  "Listen, I am telling you. So, from inside walls I watched, I followed. They went out palace gate, across desert, to that building out there."

  "The one with all the guards and the sand shutters?"

  "That one, yes. I could not go to building, no cover for me, but I watched, and after time, they came back without Old Friend. So, Old Friend stayed in building. Then, I waited, listened while Shah talked to minister about other old men also tiresome, also due for 'accident.' Whatever powder is, is not P'naki."

  "P'naki!"

  "You think P'naki is to stop plague. No. Real P'naki is long-life stuff. What you call P'naki in Haven is just... nothing. Distraction."

  Aufors thought this over. "What did they say killed him? More avalanches? More wild beasts?"

  "No. Nothing so strange. Next day, in throne room, Shah makes sad announcement. Poor Old Friend took P'naki not blessed by Shah. Pity. Poor Old Friend is dead. Same happen to anyone taking P'naki not blessed by Shah." She put down the bottle and hefted Dovidi over her shoulder, patting him until he burped loudly. When she offered the bottle again, he seized it and sucked strongly. "Later I see Old Friend out in front of palace, in chair, people poking him, whispering about what happens when people take P'naki Shah did not bless."

  "I see. Once the old guy is no longer in a position to help the Shah, he'd rather give the good stuff to some other old guy. And at the same time, he warns them off trying to get the good stuff by themselves."

  "You say very accurately. Oh, very accurately."

  They sat for a time in companionable silence, broken when Aufors reached out a hand to touch his child, still suckling.

  "He seems to like that stuff."

  "Good. I have nothing else to try, so it is good he likes this."

  "So, what now?"

  "What now? Well, night is over, so we cannot go now. So we wait until night comes again. Then if baby is all right, not crying, not fussing, we go through burrow to place near wall. Danger will come, so refuge

  tells us, from Shah's men, but Shah cannot get back with all his men for another day or two, so this should be easy. Then we go out malghaste gate, and away. Like Tenopia."

  "I heard about Tenopia. Seven days ago, Genevieve ran off, like Tenopia, right?"

  "Good role model," said Awhero, with a gap-toothed grin. "We go south, where Genevieve is, most likely."

  They waited. Awhero offered tea. Aufors got out his food pack and offered bread and dried meat. He went through his pockets, saw that the second lichen specimen was dry, crushed it to powder, wrapped it a bit more securely, and returned it to his breast pocket. The flat packet made no bulge. He could not even feel it through the fabric.

  "You got that P'naki where women's bodies were, right?" asked Awhero, "You could sell that for fancy price on another world. What will you do with it?"

  "Test it," he murmured, without explaining what it was. "See what it's made of, chemically."

  When they had eaten, they napped, and when Aufors awoke, the little light that had seeped down the stair was gone. They prepared for their journey in moments. The boy carried a light pack. Awhero carried the baby inside her robe. Aufors carried his own pack, mostly food and water, plus his weapon, locator, and glasses. Awhero said he looked quite dirty enough to be true malghaste.

  They went up the stairs to a slightly higher network of tunnels, one that led through the walls of contiguous houses, dropping here and there to go under an alleyway.

  Awhero stopped, listening. "People out there," she said. "We'll go around."

  "The place near palace," suggested Kamakama. "Where I lost them yesterday."

  They went around, a longer way, farther down, coming up at last to a place where torchlight fell in from a high, barred window.

  "Two turns right," whispered the boy. "It opens in alley near palace. Then we have to cross little way to get to malghaste gate."

  They found the narrow notch behind a buttress at the end of a blind alley, the way blocked by a tumble of trash that, remarkably, hung all together and swung away on silent hinges when pushed from behind. They oozed through the hole, Aufors in the lead, then started for the alley entrance. Directly across from it was a malghaste gate, marked by the dung-bucket that hung above it. They waited at the alley entrance. Nothing.

  They went out into the open area where a sudden, blinding light fell upon them from all directions and a stentorian voice bellowed:

  "Halt! Stand where you are! Be silent!"

  "I thought you said the Shah couldn't get back so soon," cried Aufors to Awhero, under his breath. He had no chance to say more, for he was struck violently on the head with the butt of a weapon.

  "We said, be silent," roared the voice. "You are the prisoners of the Ares Expeditionary Forces."

  * * *

  The Shah and his army arrived at the marae late in the afternoon, coming up over the rise beside the river to look across its empty bed.

  "We shall attack," said the Shah, impatiently.

  "Seemingly there's no need," drawled the Marshal. "The gates are open."

  The Shah peered near-sightedly. The gates were indeed open. Almost reluctantly, he urged his horse forward, the others following across the dry river bed and up the hard packed surface beyond. The army shuffled after, gathering in a wide arc outside the gate where the bell loop hung almost in their faces. One of the officers grasped it and pulled, only to let out a howl and throw himself away, wildly waving his arm.

  "Thorn!" he cried. "Black thorn."

  "Fool," muttered the Marshal. "Look first. Think first. This could be a trap."

  "Saelan," the Shah breathed. "Take some men and go in."

  The minister paled, bowed, turned to select half a dozen companions, none of whom seemed eager. They slid through the open gate and disappeared inside while the others shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. After a lengthy wait, the minister reappeared.

  "No one here," he said in a voice that did not disguise his relief.

  The Shah did not wait, spurring his horse almost over his minister and riding down the tall hallway into the atrium beyond. The doors from there were too low to admit a mounted man, and he dismounted, his annoyance plain at having to do so. On foot, the Shah was far less prepossessing. As his feet hit the ground, the others in the group crouched slightly, walking with knees bent beneath their robes. They were well aware of the Shahs mood, and no one wanted to incur his wrath by towering over him. Following his minister, with the Prince and the Marshal trailing behind, the Shah made a circuit of the refuge.

  They found nothing, no water, no furnishings. The storage of all move-able items had been quite successful. The false panels that shut off the storage areas had been capably designed. They did not look or sound hollow. The water taps were in recesses that had been sealed off with a few hastily laid mud-bricks. Even the lantern that had lit the atrium was no longer there. The garages were empty of vehicles. Only a lingering smell of lubricants and cleansing agents betrayed the fact that work might have been done there within recent times.

  The kitchens were cold, their pantries empty. The only signs of life in the place were the purple-leaved tre
es in the atrium, and they did not long withstand the Shah's fury. He had them chopped down and burned as fuel to warm his dinner. While the Shah ranted and roared, the Marshal went out onto the desert, selected a few dozen men to serve as sentries, and posted some well out upon the dunes and others upon the walls while the horde itself was directed to bivouac around the refuge.

  "Thoughtful of you," said Ybon Saelan, from the doorway. "I was about to do that myself."

  "It could still be a trap," rumbled the Marshal. "Is this the place the Shah thinks my daughter escaped to?"

  "He claims to believe so, Marshal. Your daughters' belongings, however, were found on the trail to Zimmi oasis, far from here. I think it unlikely she escaped to anywhere or reached any place of safety."

  "Someone alerted these people," the Marshal opined. "Someone told them we were coming."

  "Well, we did not muffle our drums, did we. We marched out in full array in the light of day, and as we have rested in the heat of the day, it has taken us almost three days to get here. We know the malghaste use messenger birds. We think they also use drums to send messages. All in all, we chose to eschew surprise, so they've had time to flee to the ends of the earth..."

  He was interrupted by a shout from one of the sentries. The man, who stood in the last of the light atop a dune, was pointing toward the southwest. The Marshal left the minister and ran to the dune, where his motion became more flounder than forward. Nonetheless, his struggles brought him to the top of the dune in time to see a dozen or so dark figures disappearing into a valley away to the southwest, toward the coast. When he returned, the minister had been joined by the Shah himself, and by the Prince.

  "I'd say they were people from here," said the Marshal. "Heading south-westward, at some speed. They got warning of Your Effulgence's intent and simply departed. From the looks of the place, I'd say it has never been more than a way-station. A camp. Unless there's a hidden well, they have to carry water in, which means they can't use it for protracted periods."

  "They intend to hide in the mountains," grated His Effulgence. "I won't have it! We'll go after them."

  "I wouldn't recommend it," said the Marshal, unthinkingly.

  "Cut that man's tongue out," said the Shah, staring at the Marshal. "Who is he to recommend to the Effulgence of the World, the Divine Sun, the Glory of the Galaxy?"

  "My apologies," cried the Marshal, suddenly aware of acute danger as he fell to his knees. "My desire is to protect Your Effulgence from harm, and there could be harm waiting in the mountains."

  "There is truth in what he says," murmured Ybon Saelan. "We are only trying to protect you, Great Sun. The Marshal is well known in Haven as a superb tactician. We should not dismiss his words, no matter how insolently uttered."

  "No harm waits," said the Shah. "What harm can befall a god? Am I not a god? Do I not warm the worlds with my rays?"

  "Certainly. This is true," said Ybon, bowing deeply.

  The others had sense enough to say nothing.

  "If he is such a great tactician, he can no doubt foresee any danger," murmured the Shah, with a piercing look at the Prince. "You know him. Can't he foresee danger?"

  The Prince turned his head slightly, painfully, as though something had rusted in his neck. He said unwillingly, "The Lord Paramount trusts the Marshal greatly, Effulgence."

  "Well then, so will we. We will go into the mountains, in pursuit of our prey, and the Marshal will foresee any trouble in time to warn us of it. If he does not and we come into danger, we will kill him."

  The Marshal bowed low in apparent acceptance while the Shah contented himself with sneering in his general direction.

  * * *

  Aufors, meantime, along with Kamakama, Awhero, and the baby, was sitting on the floor of the palace entryway, waiting to be questioned by the Aresian officer in charge, one Terceth Ygdaleson, youngest son, so the guards had said, of Ygdale Furnashson, the Chieftain of Aresia. Aufors, head bent forward between his knees, was still dizzy and bleeding from the wound at the back of his head. Still, he could hear Awhero clearly enough as she murmured to him:

  "They will ask why you have weapons. You will say you have weapons to protect us from wild animals in southern mountains, where we are going. They will ask why we are going. You will say the Shah is angry with all malghaste, and we must flee before he returns. We did not go with others for baby was sick. Your name is Taipa, which means 'be silent.' You are my son and only child. Kamakama is an orphan I am fostering. The baby is not yours, or mine, just a baby I am caring for. Understand?"

  Aufors nodded slightly, even the tiny motion enough to set up waves of nausea and pain. They had taken his pack and his weapon. Well, there was nothing in the pack to identify him. The weapons were ones the malghaste might have stolen from the Mahahmbi. The locator was an exotic item, but it and the glasses might have been traded for. The few items of clothing were anonymous. Other than that there were only food and water. Awhero carried food for the baby. The boy had nothing suspicious on him. He took a deep breath and concentrated on finding the pain. If he could find it, trace it to its source, he could cope with it, a trick an old warrior had taught him. "Concentrate on where it starts, and you have it trapped," he had said. So Aufors concentrated upon the back of his head, a certain spot, perhaps as wide and long as the first joint of his thumb. All the pain was in that one spot. He had it trapped. It could not spread from that one spot...

  * * *

  "You!" Someone jerked his head up by the hair. Pain exploded across his eyes. The nausea billowed up, uncontrollably, and he vomited across the man's boots.

  "For the... What in hell!" The guard drew back a boot to kick Aufors, only to be stopped by Terceth himself, who jerked him roughly away.

  "Men don't heave for the joy of it, Obrang! He's been hit on the head."

  "Bassid didn' stop when I tol' im, Prince Terceth."

  "Obrang, you can't get information from an unconscious man. I've told you that before!"

  The man went away cursing, to clean his boots, while the other knelt before Aufors and offered water. Aufors shook his head. "It won't stay down," he murmured.

  "Rinse out your mouth at least," said the other. "So you won't stink so when you answer me."

  Aufors did so, turning slightly to spit in the place Awhero had just moved from.

  "Now," said Terceth. "Who are you, the three of you?"

  "My mother," said Aufors, gesturing weakly with an elbow, concentrating on the words he used, trying to sound like Awhero. "That's her foster son, Kamakama. She's taking care of baby for one of her friends, I don't know who. My name's Taipa."

  "You're what? A citizen of Mahahm?"

  "No." Aufors tried shaking his head, quickly giving up the effort. "We're malghaste. Ah... servants. Ah... untouchables. We carry out shit."

  Terceth thought about this. "The town's almost empty? Did you know that?"

  "Yes. Shah went out. He took most all men. Our people went then. Only few of us left. Baby was... sick so we waited to go. We got left behind."

  "Why is everyone leaving? Except the women, young children, and babies, that is. And a few old men."

  "Shah, he's on rampage. He wants to kill all... malghaste. He says we are traitors. It's not true. We don't know why he's saying so."

  "The women don't seem to understand the language we're speaking, but you do. We learned both Mahahmbi and Haven-tongue, but the women don't seem to understand either one."

  "They do," Aufors said. "But they aren't allowed to speak it. Women evighaste. Dirty. Can't use men's words without making words dirty. If they talk Mahahmbi, they have tongues cut out. They're afraid."

  "Umm," hummed Terceth. "I don't suppose you'd care to tell me where you got the weapon, and what it was for."

  Aufors raised his head, fixed the officer with an innocent stare. "Stole it from Mahahmbi palace. Stole food for baby, too."

  "That's right, sir," said one of the men standing by. "We almost caught somebody coming out o
f a storeroom there yesterday. There was baby food all over the place."

  Aufors sulked, "Need food for baby, need weapon. We travel all alone. Animals are fierce in mountains. Must have protection."

  "Did the others all have protection?" Terceth asked in a suspiciously neutral tone.

  Aufors risked shaking his head, very gently. "Not many had weapons. But there are very many many of them. They can make loud noise, wave torches, frighten animals away. Old woman doesn't count, so only two of us, boy and me. Not enough to frighten."

  "So, if the Shah wants to kill you all, where is he?"

  "Malghaste camp place south of here. He went there. To kill many malghaste. We need to go before he comes back."