***
A short while later, Lord Tanellor returned to his town house and sat at his work table. Choosing his words with care, he wrote on a slim slip of paper. Then he climbed the drafty varteron tower and fitted the message to the leg of his bird. The male sidled up beside the messenger and Tanellor opened the window, let them out.
He watched the pair wing their way into the night sky, diminishing silhouettes against the orb of the moon.
There was no going back now. Aurelan Crossis would soon be on his way and civil war would become inevitable. He prayed to the gods that the inevitable carnage wouldn’t be too great.
***
The Great Plain
Aurelan Crossis couldn’t sleep. The usual night sounds of the camp were not responsible, though. He was used to the chink of armour, the muffled laughter, the cursing, the breathless lovemaking with camp followers, the chorus of farts, the croaking of nightcrawlers, and the hooting of owls. There were few birds that flew at night. He started, spotting shapes aloft, silhouetted against a moonlit grey cloud. Too big to be bats. He reached for the spyglass at his belt.
Four birds crossed in the night sky, one pair heading to Goldalese, while the others winged their way from that direction.
Saptors. What messages do you carry?
Foreboding feathering his heart, he slid shut the spyglass and went back to his tent, resigned to a restive night.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IMPRESS
“Ill news has wings, and with the wind does fly,
Comfort’s a cripple and does not limp by.”
– Romantic ballad: Fiel of Erejhur
First Dekin of Fornious
Underground
Sos was surprised how quickly his sight adapted to the eerie glow of the tunnels. He shrugged off Dasse’s constant complaints about his misshapen elbow, his limp, the poor light, the smells, all of the gods, the king, and the food – especially since everything was accompanied by infernal mushrooms; and the gaunt ghostly features of the Underpeople. Once Sos got used to their appearance, he found the Ratava genuinely likeable.
In a quiet moment when there were no chores – he helped with the clearing of the living quarters and collected water from the thin dribbles that leached through the roof at specific sections – Sos was approached by Kran, K-Kwan’s son, who would not gain the initial letter to his name until puberty or when he performed an honourable service for the tribe.
“M-Sos,” Kran said tentatively, the lad’s brow creased.
“Just call me Sos, not M-Sos… What is troubling you?”
“When you work, you make a strange sound with your mouth – not the sound Mother deplores but something else.”
“Ah, that! I’m whistling.”
“But the whistling hurt Mother’s ears – the sound you make now does not.”
“It is lower down the musical scale so it doesn’t hurt your ears.”
“Musical?”
“Do your people make music?”
Kran moved his head side-to-side. “No, not if what you … whistled… is called music.”
“Do you make a noise, beat drums?”
“Only in alarm, if we are under attack. We also have a scragrak horn to blow to call other tribes to our aid; the sound travels far under the earth.”
Sos cupped his hands over his mouth and whistled, a low melody.
“That is it!” Kran exclaimed. “Can you teach me how to whistle like that, Sos?”
“Of course. But why do you want to learn that?”
“Because it will impress a girl…”
Sos recalled how he’d courted Telicia. He would do anything to attract her attention; sometimes foolhardy things. His heart grew heavy; he wondered if he would ever see her again. True, K-Kwan had offered him hope earlier: “Some of our tunnels go under the three cities. Perhaps we can lead you home, when we forage near there. It will have to be soon, though.” She didn’t elaborate on that observation, instead she’d held up a warning hand, however. “It is dangerous, as I have said. The Nhyrachons inhabit the tunnels under the cities and are far from friendly.”
“I do not feel trapped here, or ungrateful, K-Kwan, but this is not my world. If that is the only route open to me to see my Telicia again, then that is where I must go, no matter what the risk.”
Later, K-Kwan sat beside him and said, “Kran is pleased you taught him how to whistle so it does not hurt my ears.” Her thin lips curved. “Though I suspect I will regret him learning even that before long. Is there no other – no other sound you could teach him?”
“The different collection of sounds, they’re tunes. Yes, I can teach him other tunes, so at least you will hear a variety of them.”
She laid a hand gently on his arm, her touch strangely warm and comforting. “You are good with children, Sos.”
“Thank you for saying so. My wife Telicia wants children, but we cannot afford to bring any into the world yet. We save all the money we can, which isn’t much, and I suspect that she does without sometimes to add to her savings; all in the hope that one day we will be blessed with a boy.”
“Do you not want a girl, then?”
Sos lifted his shoulders. “It does not matter to me, but it would to her. Boys have more freedom and are offered more promise for the future. It is our way.”
“Girls are important to our survival, Sos. We sometimes have to obtain new blood, abducted females to give birth to new Ratava. Are not girls valued where you come from?”
“Oh, yes, girls are precious. They make life worth living. Or so my Telicia tells me!” He laughed.
“It is good to hear you laugh, Sos.” She glanced at Dasse who stood some distance away down a scree slope, scooping water into a cup from the underground lake. “Your friend seems to have a permanent scowl on his face.”
“He is not my friend – merely a work companion. In the past we’ve had our differences, but they seem petty now. He cannot accept this confinement underground. It stifles him.”
“Yet you both choose to work under the ground.”
Sos laughed again, without mirth this time. “Our choices were limited, K-Kwan, if we wanted food in our bellies and we wanted to care for our families.” Remembering the rich choice of fare available at the Kcarran carnival, he rubbed his stomach and mused, “I wonder how the forbidden carnival progresses in the three cities.”
***
First Sidin of Fornious
New City, Lornwater
Watchman Welde Dep stepped out into a new day and was not surprised to find that the carnival still went on in the New City, in spite of the edict. He wasn’t about to cause any riot; certainly there had been fraught moments already. Yet history dictated that this was one of the cities’ most important events, after all, and he was willing to turn a blind eye to its continuance.
He walked among the populace, offering good-humoured rejoinders to the banter he received from stall-holders, jugglers and dancers. He chuckled with the audiences of the political plays and accepted the occasional peach or apple from the foodstuff vendors.
Silk, brocade, wool and linen garments adorned many stalls, wafting in the slight breeze.
He was thankful for that breeze, for it relieved the usual stench of manure that littered the roadways and alleys between stalls. Of course many of them scooped it away for use as fertiliser, but others were not so particular; perhaps they’d been born in a midden.
From time to time, as before, he arbitrated in heated arguments. Good-humour won the day, he thought. Yet he sensed there was a veritable volcano simmering beneath the surface – and its eruption might be at mention of King Saurosen.
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Leather sandals hardly making a sound, lady-in-waiting Fio entered the royal bedchamber, her image captured by a standing mirror. Her complexion was a sombre ochre complexion. She was tall, slim, with big dark eyes, long black hair and thin lips. A small gold ring in her left nostril, a gift
from the queen. Her shapely frame was garbed in a pastel blue chemise that hung straight down from her shoulders, disclosing no waistline.
Dawn light percolated through the gauze curtains that wafted in the breeze.
Queen Jikkos lay asleep, sprawled on the broad bed, her arm dangling, her hand resting on the fur rug. Beside her, King Saurosen snored.
Fio gently shook the queen’s bare shoulder.
Groggily, Jikkos opened an eye, squinted. “What time is it?”
“Dawn, your highness,” Fio whispered. “I have a message for you.”
Easing herself up in the bed, Jikkos eyed Sauri. He was undisturbed by the movement. “Why do you whisper, Fio?”
“The saptor is from Goldalese.”
A messenger bird! “From Jumo Bem?”
Fio nodded, anxiously eyeing the king.
Jikkos swung her legs out of bed, shoved her feet in her jewelled slippers and pulled her nightgown about her. Rising, she hastened across the room, Fio in her wake.
At the doorway, she turned to Fio and offered her hand. “Give me the message.”
As she read it, her vision clouded. This boded ill. Sauri was at great risk!
Fio disturbed her thoughts. “Sergeant-at-arms Bayuan Aco seeks an audience with you, your highness. He is in the ante-chamber.”
“At this hour?” Jikkos screwed-up the message.
“Here, highness, let me dispose of it.”
Jikkos gave Fio the small ball of paper. “I suppose it must be urgent, since he is a devoted palace guard, after all.”
“Shall I show him in?”
“No, you will not. You forget yourself, Fio. No common soldier must see me in my bedchamber.” She cocked her head at her sleeping husband. “Besides, the king would not approve.”
“Forgive me, highness. I should have remembered.”
“Just so.” Jikkos snatched a white diaphanous shawl from a hook on the door and flung it over her shoulders. “Lead me to him.”
***
The Great Plain
When the saptor arrived, Aurelan Crossis was nonplussed. He’d been expecting it, yet had feared it would never come.
Now, here it was, perhaps the onset of the culmination of his long-held dream.
He broke the seal and read Lord Tanellor’s message: “The king will die first Sapin of Fornious.”
That was most appropriate, he thought, for the king to meet his end on the last day of the carnival he had in vain banned.
He read on: “Enter Lornwater on second Sabin.”
At last!
***
Underground
The new day was signified by the group’s sage replacing the measuring lamps in the living quarters with fresh blend. In their thousands, bats scattered from the high rock eaves, flew away to another dark corner. The night had been restless for Sos and Dasse. It seemed as if the earth constantly grumbled (as did Dasse more than once) and rumbled, sometimes loudly nearby, and on one occasion Sos definitely felt the earth shiver beneath him.
His foreboding did not ease on rising from the bed of furs.
He noticed K-Kwan shuffling around the living area, her nictitating eye flashing at dark recesses; one brief investigation resulted in a harsh rebuff from a man and a woman: “Pervert!”
Rising from his bed, Sos approached her. “You seem distraught?”
“I am distressed.” At first, she explained, she was simply surprised that her son Kran was out of bed so early.
“Does he make a habit of it?”
“No, I cannot recall him ever getting up early. Usually, I have to force him to wake up!”
U-Gath, their group leader entered the manderon entrance to the cave. His features were dark, troubled. He was big-boned and might have been handsome once, but now he appeared old, bent and sad. “Everybody is needed!” he barked, his voice strident. “Last night there was a landslide and we fear some of our people are buried alive!”
“Are you sure?” someone asked.
“I am! My Gami is missing,” said U-Gath. “There is no other explanation.”
K-Kwan’s eyes widened. “Gami? Kran has a craving for her… Oh, Kran!” Her lips trembled and she wailed, “I know it, he is lost to us!”
Every available person gathered and followed U-Gath through several glimmering galleries, passing a stone wall with faded images painted on it – animals of an ancient kind, mostly – and finally came to a tumble of rocks, which they clambered down. Sos joined them, and Dasse limped over.
Without a word, doubtless communicating by mind, they began hauling the loose stones on the top and hurling them into the abyss at the base of the scree; after a seemingly long time the discarded stones thudded to the bottom, the sound echoing. The work was difficult and treacherous; anyone could slip and tumble into the chasm.
At moments when he stopped to catch his breath, Sos noted that several searchers placed their foreheads to the fallen rocks. Mind-searching, perhaps? But could they still communicate if the children were unconscious or, gods be forsaken, dead?
His hands were torn and bleeding by the time Sos heard a faint low whistling sound, close to his postion. His heart leaped. “Over here!” He whistled in return.
The whistling response was faint but heartening.
With renewed energy, they all heaved rocks out of the way.
Finally, both Gami and Kran were pulled out, their bodies and breech-clouts covered in fine blue dust, torn and bloody, but conscious and unbowed.
“I knew you would hear me!” Kran croaked, and then burst into a coughing fit.
Sos took one look at Gami, her big saucer eyes never leaving Kran, and he grinned. “I think you’ve impressed your girl.”
***
The royal palace, Old City, Lornwater
Bayuan Aco paced the ante-chamber, his armour chinking as he walked back and forth.
How best to reveal what he had heard? Lord Tanellor was respected and Bayuan believed that the queen held him in high regard.
Will she believe me?
The left-hand double door opened and Fio, the lady-in-waiting entered. “The Queen,” she announced.
Bayuan stopped pacing and lowered to one knee, head bowed. “Your highness.” Then he raised his eyes.
Queen Jikkos seemed to float into the room, her inlaid gold sandals making no sound. Long blonde braids dangled down her back. Her shimmering gold dress draped to the floor, only her painted toes peeking through. The white shawl draped over her bare shoulders was so fine it concealed nothing: her low neckline displayed a snow-white bosom, and a jade pendant dangled in the cleft.
He averted his eyes. “Your highness, I have information of great import. For your ears only.”
Fio fidgeted with a small ball of paper and was about to turn to the door.
But the queen reached out, gently grabbed Fio’s arm and gestured irritably with a hand that displayed a ring on each finger. Her rose-bud mouth curved and she said in a sensuous tone, “My lady-in-waiting will stay. Give me your information of great import, Sergeant.”
He bowed obediently and then embarked on relating all that he had heard between Aurelan Crossis and Lord Tanellor in the Oxor mining shed.
When he had finished, the queen’s gimlet eyes pierced him. “Why would you eavesdrop on one of my nobles, Sergeant?”
“I – I didn’t – it was by mere chance, your highness. I was surprised to learn–”
“As am I,” she stated, though her features betrayed nothing of the kind; save that her high cheekbones took on a flushed aspect.
“I trust I did the correct thing, your highness?”
“Yes. You are a loyal soldier, Sergeant.”
“Loyalty is sorely lacking these days, my queen,” he murmured.
She pierced him with a stern glare. “Speak plainly, Sergeant!”
He lowered his gaze. “I only meant that the king’s edict is openly flouted in the New City…”
Her lips curved. “You are observant, Sergeant.�
� She touched his chin, raised his head. “My lady-in-waiting tells me the same thing. For now, let us not speak of it to the king. He would be most displeased.”
At that moment, the king entered hurriedly, wearing a gaping bathrobe. His eyes showed worry. “What–what’s this, my queen?”
Bayuan detected a hint of distress in the king’s voice.
“I did not wish to wake you, my lord,” the queen explained. “Sergeant Bayuan is here to report on the Oxor mine tragedy and he felt it could not wait.”
“Well, we–we can discuss this after–after you find the spider!”
The queen turned to Bayuan. “Detail men to find the spider.”
“Spider, your highness?” Bayuan glanced at the queen and the lady-in-waiting, and then at the king, whose spider-nevus seemed to pulse on his left cheek.
Were they having a jest at his expense?
Of course he knew about a spider patrol the king had formed when he ascended the throne; it had been the talk of the palace guard: the select men and women were tasked with searching the palace day and night to keep it free from the little horrors.
The king stamped his foot. “The patrol is remiss! Why won’t anyone take my concerns seriously? I saw a damnable spider on my bedroom floor!”
Backing away at the king’s outburst, Bayuan bumped into Fio and she stumbled against the queen.
Fio’s hands rushed to her flushed face. “My pardon, your highness!”
Bayuan noticed that Fio had dropped the screwed-up piece of paper. Hastily, he retrieved it and palmed it. “I will rouse the guard at once, my liege!” He rushed to the door.
“No, stay!” the king barked. “As … as my sergeant-at-arms, you … you can protect me!”
“Protect you…” From a spider? Well, if it was an orb-spider, maybe he had a point. “Yes, sire, of course.”
“Jikki, I want… My queen, seek out the spider patrol…” The king signed to Bayuan. “Come, you can search until the patrol gets here…” He shepherded Bayuan ahead of him. “To my bedchamber – you go in first…”
“Yes, sire.”
***
Underground
Kran’s injuries proved more serious than Gami’s: he had a broken forearm and two bad gashes in his chest.
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