I shook my head as I told him, 'That is still not proven.'
'The more you doubt yourself, Lord Valashu, the less others do.'
I looked off at Sar Avram and Shivathar and my other knights up and down the river watering their horses in the Poru's turbid flow. Sar Jarlath, who had come so dose to death in the battle with the Adirii, smiled at me and waved his hand in salute. To Lord Raasharu, I said, 'They might do well to doubt. Much depends on the truth or falseness of that which they call me.'
'The men love you,' he said to me simply. 'They do not doubt this, any more than they doubt that you love them.'
His words pierced my heart like so many swords. My father had once said that leading men as a band of brothers was the greatest of joys - and that leading them to their deaths in battle was the greatest anguish.
'They would follow you, you know,' he said to me, 'even if you weren't the Maitreya.'
I carried this thought with me as we resumed our journey. Most of the time I rode at the head of our columns, exchanging words with Master Juwain. I kept watching Sajagax and his warriors, who rode easily and skillfully ahead of us. The Kurmak, at least, had no love of me or my knights. Perhaps, in their fierce way, they loved or honored Sajagax, for they were all of Tharkat clan, as was he. Certainly they feared him. He had demanded of each of them that they give their word not to fight with my men. It was to this, more than anything, that I attributed the uneasy peace between our two companies.
But the Kurmak continued to fight or contend among themselves. From time to time, a pair of them would shout at each other or break from their ragged formation to gallop across the grass in a race. They shot their arrows at lions and sometimes charged singly toward a pride of them, vying with each other to see who could come the closest before these great beasts either charged them or fled. They whistled and cursed and laughed at each other's jokes. A few of Sajagax's most willful warriors guzzled beer, even during the day, and their loud, brash songs of challenge to the sky frightened the birds away.
Once, as I rode next to Atara, I asked her why she had left Alonia to live with her grandfather among these rude, wild people. And Atara told me, 'We Sarni are violent, it is true. But so it is almost everywhere. On the Wendrush, at least, if a warrior wishes to kill you, he will do so openly and honesdy. We do not plot and scheme or poison each other, either in body or mind. We keep our word and our laws, as cruel as you might think they are. We like singing and dancing. And we love life, Val. Despite what my grandfather said about the flies and worms, if he were forced to spend much time in a castle or some grand house of marble, he would go mad, as would any of my people.'
Later that day, we came to the place where the Poru was joined by the Astu. This great river, fed by the Blood, the Jade and other waters that streamed down from the White Mountains, added to the Poru's flow and swelled it so that the distance from its east bank to the west was nearly a mile. Sajagax and the Kurmak now took to scanning this mighty brown river, and both its wooded banks, for directly across it was the land of the Marituk. Only the bravest and most determined of warriors, I thought, would dare swim their horses and themselves through treacherous currents that had drowned more than one raiding party. The Marituk were such warriors. And so were the Kurmak. When we camped that evening and treated Sajagax to some of the succulent antelope that one of my knights had killed, I overheard Orox begging Sajagax to add a little fun to our journey and strike out toward the west in order steal women, horses and gold.
But Sajagax had not won thirty-three battles and great wealth by being so easily diverted from his purpose. He had given me his word that he would ride with me to Tria, and so ride we did, as straight and quickly as an arrow flies, or so the Sarni like to say. By noon the next day, with the sun like a hot orange fire turning the world into a furnace, we neared the northern bounds of the Kurmak's country. We had to turn a few miles toward the east for here the Poru overflowed its banks, making a mire of the steppe's long grasses and soil. The cause of this, I soon learned, was not any natural configuration or depression of the earth. The hand of man alone had wrought a structure -the greatest on earth - that blocked the river like a dam. And this massive work of granite and mortar was called the Long Wall.
From miles away, we saw it cutting across the steppe like an upraised scar of stone. Towers, every fifty yards, surmounted its endless line of battlements, biting at the sky like teeth to the east and west for as far as the eye could see. Alonian soldiers stood garrison duty in the towers, though few were stationed here, for Alonia and the Sarni were not presently at war. But the Alonians dreaded the Sarni, as they always had. Late in the Age of the Mother, King Yarin Marshan the Great had drawn a line from the southern end of the Blue Mountains six hundred miles east to the Gap in the Morning Mountains. All the lands to the north, he had claimed for Alonia. But the kings who had succeeded him had not been able to hold back the tide of the Sarni's swelling numbers. After nearly a thousand years of war and rapine, King Shurkar Eriades had gained enough power to begin building the Wall along the Line of Yarin. Two hundred years it took for the Alonians to complete it. By 1124 in the Age of Swords, the Alonians thought themselves well-protected against the yellow-haired hordes of the south.
But the Wall had a weakness, and that was the Poru river. Indeed, the original Wall had a break in it a mile wide, for its makers had built it only to the points, east and west, where the Poru overflowed its banks during the spring floods. But the Sarni found that they could mount autumn and winter attacks along the corridors to either side of the Poru when the river went down. A few of these, despite the heroics of the Alonian soldiers defending the corridors, were successful. And so the Alonians labored another fifty years to extend the Wall to the Poru's east and west banks, driving pylons deep into the muddy earth to support its great weight of stone. And still the Sarni had continued their aggressions, building boats and rafts and simply floating their armies down the river into Alonia. And so finally, the Alonians had spent another hundred years - and thousands of lives - planting their pylons into the bedrock beneath the river itself. They then built the Wall out over the river like a massive bridge. Three feet only, during the Poru's lowest flow, separated the base of the Wall from the waters of the river. And when it was in flood or running high, during the spring and the summer raiding season, the base of the Wall was submerged, impeding the river's flow so that spilled over its banks and created a mire three miles wide.
As we drew closer to the Wall, Sajagax halted his horse on a low rise and sat staring at it. A short while later, with my Guardians behind me, I drew up to him, and he said, 'There it is, Lord Valashu. A dunghill made of stone.'
He swept his hand even with the Wall and continued, 'Do you see how it cuts the earth? Like a belt too tight cutting a man in two. The sagosk cannot cross it; neither the hares nor the antelope nor even the lions. The wild horses can no longer run free! Here, where we Sarni are constrained to live, the steppe is open and the grass grows as long as it pleases. And on the other side ... well, you will see.'
Maram, Baltasar, Lord Raasharu and others of our company, gathered around to marvel at this great stone wall. Orox, sitting on his horse near Sajagax, pointed out a place on the wall a quarter mile to the east of us where its gray-green granite had been replaced by a stone pinker in color. He said, 'There is where Tulumar broke the Wall.'
In the year 2057 of the Age of Swords, Tulumar the Great of the Urtuk tribe, with the aid of Morjin, had spread a red substance called relb over the wall and melted its stones to lava. With the Breaking of the Long Wall, as this event was called, Tulumar had led his armies through the huge, smoking hole and had gone on to conquer Alonia and much of Ea.
'I'd break it myself and grind the stones to dust, if I could,' Sajagax said. 'If I had a firestone, I'd burn the whole wall back into the earth.'
Maram, who possessed what might have been Ea's last remaining firestone, shoved his hand down into the inner pocket of his surcoat as he stared at the Wall in sile
nce.
'This is one day,' I said to Sajagax, 'that the Sarni will need neither relb nor firestones to pass through the Wall. Shall we make our way to the gate?'
A few hundred yards ahead of us, across the windswept grasses, a massive iron gate was set into the Wall. Two great, round towers stood to either side of it. The soldiers posted on top of these had seen us approaching before we had seen them. They had hoisted red pennants challenging us to announce ourselves or face a storm of arrows fired by the Wall s archers.
And so, leaving our two companies of warriors waiting behind us Sajagax and I rode side by side down to the Wall. The sally port set into the gate creaked open, and a mail-clad knight bearing a white lion against his green surcoat rode out a lew paces to greet us.
'I'm Sajagax, chieftain of the Kurmak,' Sajagax called out to him. 'Lord Valashu Elahad of Mesh,' I said, presenting myself. I looked back at my knights and added. 'And of the Valari.'
Upon this word, the thick-set knight stared at me in amazement. The sun reflected off the diamonds of my armor seemed to dazzle his eyes.
'Yes, Valari indeed - you must be,' he said. 'But what are Valari knights doing riding across the Wendrush m the company of the Kurmak?'
I did not wish to tell him of my reason for seeking the Lokilani's island, nor that my knights and I bore the Lightstone.
'We are journeying to the conclave that King Kiritan has called,' I said. 'Surely you must have been told to open your gates to any who have been summoned to Tria.'
Lord Halmar, for that proved to be the knight's name, scratched his bearded jaw and said, 'That I was, Lord Valashu. But it was thought that only Sarni would pass this way, if indeed any chose to attend the conclave. What is your business with the Kurmak?'
'Only peace,' I told him, looking at Sajagax. 'We are emissaries of peace.'
Lord Halmar studied my knights spread out on the rise behind us. 'Emissaries bearing lances and swords. And nearly two hundred of you, if my count is right. That is a great many to guard the chief emissary, even if he is a lord of Mesh.'
'These are dangerous times,' I said to him.
'And miraculous times, as well. I've heard that one of the Valari has regained the Lightstone.'
His sharp blue eyes fixed on me like grappling hooks, and would not let go. I held his gaze and said to him, 'We have heard that as well.'
After a few moments, Lord Halmar looked away from me and muttered, 'Very well, then, I will send heralds to Duke Malatam, and he will decide whether or not you may pass.'
On the other side of the Wall, as Atara had told me, lay the demesne of Tarlan, whose lord was Duke Malatam. 'And how far from here is his castle?'
'Two days' ride.'
'Then it will be four days before your heralds return. The delay might well cause us to miss the conclave.'
'I'm sorry, Lord Valashu, but that can't be helped.'
Sajagax finally lost patience and shook his fist at the wall as he thundered, 'It must be helped! I have been summoned to the conclave; and Lord Valashu rides with me. And so does Atara Manslayer, also known as Atara Ars Narmada. If you delay us, Lord Halmar, you will have to explain to King Kiritan why you kept his daughter and the father of his queen from joining him to decide great matters. Now open your cursed gate!'
At this. Lord Halmar paled. I sensed that he was caught in the unenviable position of having to face King Kiritan's wrath or that of his lord duke. 'All right,' he told us, 'you may pass. Call your companies forward and wait here.'
Without another word, he turned his horse and rode back through the sally port, which slammed shut with a loud ringing.
I said to Sajagax, 'It seems he has guessed the nature of the little trinket that we bring to Tria.'
'Indeed. You're not very good at lying.'
'I never denied that we bear the Lightstone.'
'No, but you didn't affirm it either. The truth evaded is a lie.'
So it was. So my father might have told had he been here sitting on his horse in Sajagax's place. I looked at Sajagax and bowed my head to him. I said, 'I don't think you're very good at lying, either.'
'No, I'm not. But then I haven't had much practice.'
Sajagax and I returned to our companies, and we led our men down to the very foot of the gate. There, with the Long Wall towering above us and blocking the sight of half the sky, we waited for the gate to open.
With much shrieking of rusted iron, rattling chains and men shouting, its two doors swung slowly inward. Sajagax led his warriors through the Wall, and I followed him with the Guardians of the Lightstone riding in their columns behind me. Lord Halmar had assembled the entire garrison here, lining up a hundred knights and some four hundred men-at-arms on either side of the road leading north into Tarlan. Only the knights, I saw, were permitted to display their own charges on their shields and surcoats, for that was the way of things in Alonia. The common soldiers, standing stiffly with their long, rectangular shields before them, each wore two badges, one on either arm. The right badge bore the arms of King Kiritan: the gold caduceus on a blue field. And the left badge showed the black saltire and red roses of Duke Malatam. It seemed that Lord Halmar had called up his men to honor us. But as Lansar Raasharu told Lord Harsha in a low voice, it was more likely that they stood ready to do battle with us: 'How can this Lord Halmar be sure that Sajagax hasn't hidden the whole Kurmak horde on the steppe behind us? And that we and his warriors won't fight to keep the gate open?'
Indeed, more than once over the ages, the Sarni had won their way into Alonia through assaults on the Long Wall's gates. Where siege engines or heroic storming of the walls had failed, often bribery of the gates' guards with gold had won the day. But on this day at least, Lord Halmar and his garrison had little to fear, for Alonia and the Kurmak had been at peace for more than twenty years, ever since they had sealed an alliance through the marriage of King Kiritan and Sajagax's favorite daughter, Daryana. Even so, after the last of my knights had passed through the gates, Lord Halmar's men hastened to shut them once again.
The road before us led through a patchwork of canals and irrigated farmland bordering the river. Two men on horses, I saw, were galloping northward along it. I guessed that Lord Halmar must have sent them to alert Duke Malatam that we would be passing through his lands.
Lord Halmar invited us to take refreshment with him in one of the guardhouses built into the base of this side of the wall. But as Sajagax put it, not caring who heard him, 'I've litde liking to set foot inside one of these stone coffins. In any case, we must be on our way'
And so we thanked Lord Halmar for his hospitality and set out down the road after the heralds. A hundred and fifty miles of good roads and peaceful country lay between us and Tria, and I hoped to make this journey in only four or five more days.
Chapter 22
For fifteen more miles that afternoon, we rode north along the eastern side of the Poru. Farms to the right and left of the road had been harked out of the once-open steppe. Instead of grass the Aloniana grew wheat and other grains. An intricate systems of canals carried water from the river and watered these fields, which were broken up into green rectangles and squares. Every half mile or so, we crossed a little bridge spanning one of the larger canals. Sajagax and his warriors hated being forced onto the road in order to make these, crossings -and more importantly, to keep from trampling the fields. And they had nothing but contempt for the men and women who worked stripped to the waist and bent over under the hot sun hoeing and weeding and scattering buckets of manure to feritilize their crops. As Sajagax said to me during a break to water our horses from one of the canals, 'Look at these dirt-scrapers and dung-carriers! They're practically slaves of whatever lord owns this land. They'd be better off if we ended their miserable lives by using them for target practice.'
Here he lifted up his bow and winked at me. Horrified, I placed my hand on his arm and said to him, 'Be strong and protect the weak.'
For a moment, I felt a flame of compassion igni
te inside Sajagax. And then he shook his head even as he shook his bow at the tamed countryside around us. 'They're kradaks like everyone else here and they've no right to live on the Wendrush like real men. We should level all of Alonia and convert it to pasturage for our horses.'
I looked at him to see if he was serious. He was. No wonder, I thought, that we Valari had fought these savage Sarni for three long ages.
And then, just as I had given up all hope for this barbarian with his braided gray hair and fierce mustaches, he surprised me. As we were passing through a village whose name I never learned, he stopped to give a gold coin to a blind woman begging alms. When I bowed my head to acknowledge his kindness, he said to me, ' "Be strong and
protect the weak." It's a hard law you've laid upon me, Valashu Elahad. There are too many of the weak. But that woman could have have been my own granddaughter.'
The Alonians, sad to say, did not return Sajagax's largesse. We made camp that night on a fallow fold of a wealthy landowner. This was a soft and haughty young knight who it seemed had never been to war. Although he did not charge us for pitching our tents on top of his weedy field, he demanded gold for the bread and beef that he wished to sell us - extortionate prices. After Sajagax had heard him out, he nearly put an arrow through his eye. The knight retreated behind the walls of his estate. And Sajagax bent down to plough his tough old hand into the black soil beneath his boots. He held it out before me and said, 'I'd rather eat dirt than pay for that weakling's food. On the Wendrush, we either kill strangers passing through or give them so much meat and drink that they can't move.'
Our dinner that night was more of the tough, dried sagosk that we had gnawed on our journey and the inevitable biscuits that Valari called battle bread and the Sarni knew as rushk cakes. Our breakfast the following morning wasn't much more appetizing. But it was enough to sustain us on a long day's ride through the sun that baked us and a few hours of rain that drenched us and slicked the paving stones beneath our horses' clopping hooves. Late in the afternoon, we came to a place where the road turned west and crossed the Poru along a great stone bridge. On the other side was the town of Tiamar, a square assemblage of sparkling stone buildings from which Duke Malatam ruled the lands of Tarlan. The Duke, however, was not in residence in his palace above the river. With other nobles, he had fled the summer heat of these sweltering lowlands for his family's old castle in the hills twenty miles to the north.
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