by Laurence Yep
The old man had a cheerful, wheezy laugh. “I’ve so much help today that I feel like a lord myself.”
Sulu collected four cups from the shelf, under the old man’s supervision. When they returned to the hearth, they found the prince had already hung the full kettle on a hook over the fire. “Set them here.” The old man squatted and slapped his palm against the stone where the flowers already lay. When Sulu had done so, the old [166] man nodded his thanks and then glanced at the prince. “Are you trying to reach Kotah?”
As if it were a familiar routine, the prince began to break off the tops of the flowers and crumble them into the cups. “Yes—before Rahu can catch us. Now there’s a real horror of an emperor for you. He wants the days when a lord could flay a peasant for laughing too loud.”
Puga gathered the dry flower stalks and threw them into the hearth fire where they flared instantly into flame. “But at least people know what deviltry to expect. They never knew what new madness your father would try.”
The prince dusted off his hands. “The more I learn about modernizing Angira, the more impossible it seems.”
Despite his pain, Mr. Spock struggled to speak—as if what he had to say was very urgent. “There are many worlds where change has been accomplished peacefully,” he said in a weak voice. “Merkat is a thriving member of the Federation now and yet, not very long ago, it was at the same technological level as Angira.”
The prince rested his elbows on his knees and slowly hid his face in his hands. “I would like to help my people, but they need an emperor as strong as my grandfather was—not a fool like me.”
In the meantime, Puga had opened a pantry of wood so old, it almost shone like gold. Sulu couldn’t help noticing how empty the shelves had been; and yet Puga had recklessly filled a bowl with fruit and little buns until the pantry itself was empty.
Puga brought the bowl over to them and placed it proudly in front of them. “Child, if I’ve learned one thing after all these years, it’s that someone has to begin to do the right thing sometime.”
[167] The prince looked up. “Even if he’s only a weak clown?”
With a rag wrapped around his hand, Puga lifted the kettle from its hook and poured the water into the cups with well-practiced flicks of his wrist. “You know my brother served as a Hound in your grandfather’s time.”
“Yes, so Bibil said.”
Puga set the kettle to the side. “Well, before the battles, your grandfather would vomit with fright, but you’d never know it from the tales nowadays.” He grasped the prince’s arm. “This is the stuff of heroes right here.” He let go of the prince and slapped his own arm. “And this is too. Heroes are simply ordinary people doing their duty.”
“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” the prince said awkwardly.
“Do more than that. Keep it in your heart,” the old man urged. And then, picking up a cup of tea, he took one of the smallest buns from the bowl. Lifting the bun almost ceremoniously, he bit into it to show them it was safe. And then he took a sip of tea. “There, now please enjoy yourselves.”
With the remaining water in the kettle, the old man cleansed Mr. Spock’s wound and then applied a poultice before he bandaged it. It was only when he had finished tending to his guests that Puga spoke with the Prince about events within the valley and of what little the old man knew of the outside world. And though Mr. Spock and Sulu tried not to eat too much, the old man insisted that they have more—as if it were now a point of honor with him.
“No stranger ever left my house hungry,” he insisted, and the prince nodded his head for them to take more.
[168] After several hours, the prince was softly telling the old man about his travels with Bibil when they heard the knock on the door.
“It’s me,” Urmi said. “Open up.”
“Coming,” Puga shouted and tried to rise, but he sat back down. “Ah, these old bones just don’t quite work the way they should.”
“I’ll do it.” The prince rose quickly and went to the door, unbolting and opening it. Urmi had changed from her robes to a soropa of homespun cloth and a cloak of some wool-like material. “Is it time to go already?” he asked Urmi.
“Yes.” Urmi was careful to keep her voice under control. “To the stables. Mumtas was more persuasive than I was.”
“Urmi,” Puga said angrily, “they’re our guests.”
“I tried.” Urmi slapped her sides helplessly. “But you can’t expect me to go against the Committee no matter how foolish I think they are.”
The old man’s nostrils widened and he glared at his granddaughter. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he said furiously.
“Orders are orders,” Urmi tried to argue.
“Yes?” Puga suddenly thrust his hands up toward the prince. “Please help me up.” When he was on his feet again, the old man limped toward the pallet in one corner. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Schami shoved past Urmi. “But you aren’t a prisoner and you aren’t in the militia, old man.”
“Then I just joined one of them. Take your pick.” Puga gathered up a blanket. “I intend to see that these offworlders are taken care of.”
“Urmi?” Schami appealed to her for help.
[169] She shrugged. “You ought to know my family by now. We each do what we think we have to.”
Lord Bhima sat in the lee of a rock, contemplating the nude corpse of Lord Tayu. The peasants had simply left it exposed so that the carrion lizards had been savaging it. He would have liked to order the sinha to build cairns for Lord Tayu and his men, but Lord Bhima could not afford to tip his hand just yet.
It was a sorry ending to an already sad tale. Lord Tayu’s family had been a fine, old house that the emperor had ruined in his own madness. And, Lord Bhima reminded himself grimly, it had been an ugly story that had been repeated in far too many other places on this world.
He stared at the corpse to harden his own resolve. As monstrous as the massacre had been, what the emperor had done to their world had been even more monstrous. Future generations would judge the righteousness of their cause.
Once the sun set, Angira could become bitterly cold. He noticed, however, that the dozen sinha made a point of ignoring the cold as they waited for his orders. He studied his young charges and decided that they really thought they were the same stuff as the heroes of the old legends.
They were young, he told himself, and allowed such madnesses. But try as he might, he could not remember a time when he had been quite that mad. Still, they had performed superbly, running through the badlands like so many lean hunting hounds. Even now, despite a night and a day of double-timing, they seemed ready and even eager to push on.
[170] The young lieutenant slipped through the rocks, followed by a second warrior. “I have great news,” he announced proudly. “The offworlders are in the valley. And the prince must be posing as their bodyguard.”
Lord Bhima stood up, trying to stamp the circulation back into his legs. “How do you know they are down there?”
“We caught a peasant. The fool was supposed to be mounting sentry duty against bandits.” The lieutenant gave a contemptuous chuckle. “But we had no trouble sneaking up on him. He almost died of fright.”
Lord Bhima frowned. “Did he say what village they were in?”
“Yes”—the lieutenant was a bit slow to add the last word—“Lord. It wasn’t his village, but he’d heard it was Guh.”
That had been Bibil’s old village. Lord Bhima gave a contented grunt. “Then the prince probably is with them, but in disguise. Were the offworlders treated as captives or as guests?”
The lieutenant hesitated as if slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know, Lord.”
“Didn’t you think to ask the peasant?” Lord Bhima glared.
“We were trying to persuade him to tell us that, but he died at that point.” The lieutenant drew himself up to attention. “I take full responsibility, Lord.”
Lord Bhima drew his heavy eyebr
ows together angrily. “Just how were you persuading this peasant, Lieutenant? At dagger point?”
The lieutenant looked at Lord Bhima defiantly. “It is against the law for a peasant to take up arms. This whole valley must be a nest of rebels.”
[171] “There are bandits all around.” Lord Bhima found himself shouting in outrage. “They might just be defending their homes, you fool.”
“Lord!” The lieutenant stiffened indignantly.
Lord Bhima curled his fingers around the hilt of his sword. “There are over four thousand peasants down in that valley. If they are only protecting themselves, we do not want to turn that many peaceful, honest folk against us and our cause. That is your first mistake.”
The officer swallowed, not liking the look in Lord Bhima’s eyes. “Yes, Lord.”
Lord Bhima decided with a certain smugness that his skill with a sword was enough to intimidate even a brash young sinha. “But even if they are organizing for a rebellion, our prime objective is to capture the prince, not exterminate rebels. That is your second mistake.”
“Lord, I will make amends.” The young officer started to pull out his dagger to plunge it into himself.
Lord Bhima knew that the lieutenant had been working himself up to this moment. The sinha were not only as strong and healthy as fine hunting dogs, but they were also just as predictable. However low the officer might hold Lord Bhima, his sense of duty would drive him on to one final conclusion. And so Lord Bhima’s own hand was ready to draw his own sword from its sheath.
It was as simple and fluid a motion as it was deadly. Years of practice had compensated for his loss in youthful reaction time so that no one in all of his years had ever been quite as fast as Lord Bhima.
And yet, despite all those unbeaten years, there had always been a certain doubt tightening his stomach that [172] perhaps this time he would find himself overmatched. It lent a certain fear and excitement to the moment when he reached for his sword.
It was almost as if he was matched not against some real opponent, but the Lord of the Shadows himself in some fleshy disguise. The Lord had come to claim him many times and there had always been that fraction of a second when he had felt his own life balanced on the edge of his sword, ready to tip one way or the other. And his confidence had not been helped any by the ease with which Rahu had knocked him out. Was it a fluke or was Lord Bhima truly slowing down?
But then, when he knew he was going to win again, he had felt an immense relief rushing through him and a sense of release that he had beaten the Shadow Lord once more.
And though the stakes were not nearly as high this time, it was still interesting to watch the young officer’s eyes widen in surprise and fear as Lord Bhima whipped out his sword and brought it down in a quick slash, halting the edge just above the lieutenant’s wrist.
Lord Bhima was still the swordmaster. The lesson had not been lost on either the lieutenant or his men.
Lord Bhima could not help smiling in satisfaction as he raised his sword. “You will die when I say so. Not before. This is neither the time nor the place for me to find a new second-in-command. That is your third mistake.”
The lieutenant bowed his head with genuine respect now. “My life is in your hands, Lord.”
Lord Bhima sheathed his sword. “Well, it can’t be helped. Make his death look like the work of Lord Tayu’s men out for revenge. Strip the corpse and mutilate it. Then we’ll move on.”
[173] “Lord, we would have no trouble sneaking into the valley,” the lieutenant countered. “They’re nothing but mud-footed peasants pretending to be warriors.”
“Sneaking into the village isn’t the problem. The real trouble will come when we try to escape with our prisoners while an entire valley rises up in arms.” Lord Bhima smiled patiently. “It will be far less risky if we let the prince and his friends come to us. And I know the perfect place to trap them.”
The lieutenant’s tone was guarded. “But if they’re prisoners, Lord, shouldn’t we go after them?”
“The prince may be a fool, but his friends aren’t. They managed to get him away from the palace, didn’t they?” Lord Bhima reminded the lieutenant. “I don’t think it’s likely that a bunch of peasants will be able to hold onto him. But in the remote event that they do, we can always come back and carry out your original idea. But for now, let’s take the easier course.”
The lieutenant nodded obediently. “Yes, Lord.”
“So ready the men.” Lord Bhima watched with satisfaction as the lieutenant sprang to obey him now. Things, he decided, were shaping up nicely after all.
Chapter Eight
The breath of the animals steamed the air within the stable. And unfortunately for them, the long-haired creatures not only looked like large goats but smelled like them as well. And even after several hours, Sulu had still not gotten used to the smell. As he sat keeping watch, he wondered if he would ever adjust to it. He huddled in his robe, which he and the others had elected to keep wearing because of the cold.
He was about to wake the prince to take over when Sulu heard the thud outside the stable. He touched the sleeping prince and the old man. Then he looked toward Mr. Spock, but Mr. Spock was already awake. He motioned Sulu to move out.
Puga held up a fist as he whispered, “I was fairly good with these when I was a boy.”
“Your family’s given enough for us,” the prince said softly.
“My son wasn’t the only fighter.” Puga held onto the side of the stall to pull himself erect.
[175] “I wish I had half your heart,” the prince said as he helped the old man up.
They were waiting in a semicircle before the doorway as the door opened slowly, but it was Urmi with a pack of food and a water sack on her back. “Hurry. We have to put as much distance as we can between the valley and ourselves.”
The prince glanced at the guard sprawled out on the ground. “But what made you change your mind?”
“I never changed it.” She shut the door carefully behind her. “I only pretended to go along with the Committee so I could arrange our escape.” She added with a sniff, “I think you all might have trusted me a bit more.” She included her grandfather in her resentful look.
The prince covered his embarrassment by fussing with his robe. “Well, suspiciousness is as instinctive for an Angiran as breathing.”
She opened her cloak and drew three swords from the sash-end of her soropa. “I gave a promise to my uncle, after all.”
But at first the prince refused to take a sword from her. “I absolve you of that promise.”
Urmi swung both the pack and water sack onto the floor. “I had this nice little speech all prepared, so let me finish it. But even if I hadn’t promised Uncle Bibil, I think I would have helped you. It’s been a short journey but a hard one and I’ve come to know all of you.” She looked from the prince and Sulu to where Mr. Spock still lay. “I’ve been thinking ever since Mr. Spock took that spear for me. Maybe there’s something to what he says after all. And if that’s true, maybe there’s some use to the prince too with all of his offworld ways.”
[176] “You would still be in the minority,” the prince said.
She leaned forward urgently. “I’ve seen what a good heart you have. You risked your life for servants and I can’t think of any other claimant who would do that.” She nodded to him. “I think even with a short stay, you’ll do more good in the castles of Kotah than penned up in some village stable.”
The prince examined his own sword. Urmi had bound the ribbons and bells tightly with a rag so that they couldn’t make a sound. “But you’ll be defying the Committee?”
“They mean well, but they can’t see beyond the walls of our valley.” Urmi handed a sword to Sulu. “And, anyway, I’ve a mind of my own.”
“You’ll be an outcast,” he warned.
“Then perhaps I’ll learn about the glass cage the prince spoke of.” She raised one shoulder and then let it drop. “At any rate, my mind’s ma
de up.”
“Stubbornness seems to run in your family.” The prince nodded his head first to Urmi and then to Puga. “And I’m grateful that it does.” He rounded on his heel. “Well, since Urmi wasn’t able to steal a cart, we’ll have to rig up a stretcher for Mr. Spock.”
Mr. Spock raised a hand. “No. You’ll travel faster without me.”
“Nonsense.” The prince tested some of the poles that formed one of the stalls. “I wouldn’t think of depriving myself of your company. Whom would I tease?”
Mr. Spock’s voice sounded strained. “I will recover faster if I can remain here. Don’t be afraid to leave me behind. I’m of far more value as a live hostage than a buried corpse.”
[177] “But can we take the chance that they’ll be that logical?” Sulu asked.
The corners turned up slightly on Mr. Spock’s mouth. “Farmers are far more cautious than princes and romantics.”
Sulu swung anxiously around to Urmi. “Would the Committee kill Mr. Spock?”
She shrugged. “Even they wouldn’t be that foolish.”
“Maybe I should stay with you then.” Sulu started to hand his sword back to Urmi.
“One of us must survive to report to the Enterprise,” Mr. Spock managed to rasp. “And the probabilities of success will increase if we separate.”
“But—” Sulu began to protest.
“That is an order, Mr. Sulu.” Mr. Spock closed his eyes for a moment as if he had to concentrate all his energies on fighting the pain.
“Come, Sulu.” The prince picked up the pack and water sack. “I promise you that we’ll return at the first opportunity.”
“You will return when it is most convenient and not before,” Mr. Spock insisted firmly. He pursed his lips for a moment as if he was undecided whether to go on or not. “I do not know what Your Highness’s decision will be, but whatever your choice is, it will have important repercussions for Angira. I do not want to be a factor when you make that decision.”
“How do you know I’ll change my mind?” the prince asked.
Mr. Spock managed a slight smile. “I have frequently observed that people say one thing and then do something quite different.”