The Three Lands Omnibus (2011 Edition)

by Dusk Peterson

  He reached upward at that moment with his dagger-hand to sweep his hair out of his eyes. His fingers were curled slightly inwards. I caught a flickering sight of his palm: it was black and rugged.

  The sharp intake of my breath caught John's attention away from the city. He followed my gaze and said, "That happened years ago. I burnt myself on a fire that I built for a god."

  I said slowly, "A sacrificial fire?"

  John looked back at me steadily, his silence his only answer. I said, "You must have needed a great deal of help from the god in order to make such a sacrifice."

  "It was for a friend of mine. An Emorian soldier had stabbed him, and he was in danger of dying."

  I remained without words a while, thinking that it was just like John to fight the Emorians, not with weapons, but by sacrificing his own flesh. Then I asked, "Did you reach Valouse?"

  "Brendon, my trader friend, was halfway to the city when I met him. We came back together and took a room for the night along the way. Brendon needed the rest. He travelled on to the city this morning, but I rode up to the priests' house to see whether you had left yet." John kicked his mule forward. Ahead of us, Peter looked back to see where I was before he turned back to continue his conversation with Lord Carle.

  I asked, "Did Brendon tell you how things were in Valouse?"

  John made no immediate reply. We had wound our way down onto a broad avenue that cut through the trading district – must have been cut through in actual fact, I realized, looking at the haphazard arrangement of the houses around us. As John swiftly turned his mule out of the path of a division of soldiers, I saw that the Chara had stopped his horse and was speaking to the leader of the soldiers. We continued to ride forward slowly as John said, "It was very bad in Valouse. Brendon lost his home; he was lucky to keep his life. He said that the soldiers were not taking prisoners."

  John said nothing more, for Peter had wheeled his horse around and come over to us. The Chara nodded his greeting to John before saying to me, "I've just talked to Lord Alan's subcommander. He says that the governor went to Torrid Springs in Central Koretia last week to enjoy the waters, but that he is expected back this morning." Peter sighed and added, "The governor has a long ceremony planned for our arrival. It will take most of the day, I expect. He has invited our servants, but it will be a formal occasion." His hand rested lightly on his dagger hilt as he awaited my reply.

  "Then I will be able to escape the torture," I said. "I will find some other way to entertain myself, no doubt."

  "I thought, if John had the time, that you might spend the day with him," Peter said, and looked with a questioning expression at my blood brother.

  John replied, "I would certainly like to spend time with Andrew, though I may have business to do later this morning. It is kind of you to allow him the time free."

  "Well," said Peter, turning his horse forward, "of course we Emorians usually keep our servants chained in a dungeon, but we do allow them out on occasion. I will let the governor's palace guards know that you are expected, Andrew. Return whenever you are ready." Without looking our way again, he spurred his horse forward.

  John followed him with his eyes, and then turned his mule off the avenue onto a side street. As I followed him through the dark, narrow alley, he asked, "Why won't you be attending the governor's ceremony?"

  "Only free-men are allowed at Emorian ceremonies," I said, "and I don't have a weapon to show that I'm a free-man."

  "Couldn't you borrow one from Lord Peter?" John asked. The street grew more narrow and began to be crowded with children playing in the dirt. John slipped smoothly from his mule and began guiding it carefully through the games; I followed suit. My nose was beginning to recognize the smells of my native land: wild-berries set out on windows to dry, blackroot nuts being roasted, and the green scent of leaves from the saplings that always seemed to take root in the roads.

  After several minutes, I said, "I had a dagger once. I tried to kill Lord Carle with it when he was unarmed. After that, I decided it would be better not to carry a weapon."

  I kept my eyes on the road, dim beneath my feet. The dry dust rose up in protest at each step I took. When I finally looked over at John, he was smiling.

  "You've changed," he said. "You always wanted to be dagger-mounted when we were young, and that worried me. Some people like to fight, and some people fight because they have to, but it always seemed to me that fighting was to you like drink is to a weak man. Put a weapon in your hand, and you wouldn't be able to keep yourself from using it, no matter who was your victim. That could be good in the right circumstances, but dangerous in the wrong ones. I'm glad that you've acquired the vision to know yourself so well."

  He stopped at a lean-to attached to a house. Pulling the door open, he led his mule into a tiny stall that another mule already occupied. With some difficulty, I managed to squeeze my horse inside as well. John had started to unload his pack from his mule when a voice said, "When are you going to build a new stable, John, so that you can welcome your guests in a manner befitting your station in life?"

  A brown-bearded man stood in the doorway. His clothes were tattered and covered with soot, and a red stain was making its way through the cloth that bound his right arm, yet he smiled affably at us.

  "I didn't expect to have two guests at once," replied John, knotting his mule's rein around a post. "Did you find the soldiers' supply-keeper?"

  "Yes, and he has an extra room, so there's no need for you to crowd me into your house." The man stepped forward into the dark stable and said to me, "You must be a friend of John's."

  "This is my blood brother Andrew," said John. "I didn't have time to mention him to you last night."

  "You had no time to mention anything to me, for I was too busy telling you of my adventures." The man scanned me quickly, obviously trying to ascertain my land loyalty, and then gave me the free-man's greeting. "Are you the blood brother who disappeared into Emor so many years ago? John has mentioned you before."

  "And I venture to guess that you are Brendon," I said, returning the greeting. "I was sorry to hear about your home."

  "Ah, well," said Brendon, scratching his forehead beneath the ragged brim of his hat. "Possessions are a curse to a trader in any case. I've always wanted to be able to travel from town to town without having to worry that the Jackal's thieves have set up their lair in my house during my absence."

  "The governor will no doubt be sure that the Jackal was in Valouse last night," said John.

  "If the Jackal had been in Valouse, he would be dead now," said Brendon tersely. "The tales say that the Jackal barely managed to escape the flames when the capital was burned fifteen years ago, and on that occasion he was unable to stop the carnage. I imagine that the god knew better than to come to a town where he could do no good. Even the Jackal can't solve all of this land's problems. Trade has become very bad. . . . Speaking of bad trades, your supply-keeper friend has managed to convince me to trade a bale of cloth for five of his wife's dinners. Can you advise me on how to escape from this deal?"

  John looked at me apologetically. "Thus goes the life of a trader – I am no sooner home than I must talk business. Andrew, I don't want you to fall asleep listening to my advice on the price of linen cloth versus the value of wool cloth. Let me settle you inside, and then Brendon and I will go off and have a drink in a tavern for a short while. You look as though you could use strong sustenance, Brendon." He guided us outside, shut the stable door, and opened the door to his home.

  It was a small house, unusually dark for a Koretian building, with only the broad window facing the street and a little window in the back door that overlooked the garden behind the house. The first thing I saw as I entered was the hearth, placed not in the middle of the wall in symmetric Emorian fashion, but off to one side. Over the hearth hung all seven masks of the gods. The rest of the room contained the usual clutter of chests, cooking implements, a table, and two benches. At the far end of the house stood a sle
eping alcove with its curtain drawn.

  I had seen this in the time that it took the three of us to step inside the house. The rest of my observation was cut short as a young woman rushed forward and flung herself into John's arms.

  He held her tight for a moment as she buried her face in his shoulder. I heard her whisper, "You have been gone too long." Then something made her look up, and she stared at me.

  She was a year or two into womanhood, about a decade younger than John. Her hair was black and her eyes were dark, like that of all Koretians. But the eyes were set into a face that was paler than my own, and I realized that she must be the product of one of the informal and unfortunate unions that inevitably result when soldiers are stationed for long periods in a foreign land.

  She smiled at me, but in a tentative fashion. That fact, added to the peace I was feeling once more in John's presence, caused me to give her one of my rare smiles. Immediately her face lit up, and she turned to look at John inquiringly.

  John laid his hands on her shoulders, slowly turning her to face me. Looking down at her face as he stood behind, he said, "Ursula, this is my blood brother Andrew."

  I saw the shock go through her like a bodily blow, and her face grew as white as the stones of the Chara's palace. John was still watching her and gently gripping her shoulders as though he were holding her up. Some emotion welled up inside her so great that it seemed that in the next moment it would explode. She took a step forward, heedless of John's hands, which fell away. The hint of a shout or a smile appeared on her face as she whispered, "But this is wonderful. You are—"

  As she spoke, she took another step forward. She was within reach of me now, and still walking. I had not noticed that my smile had faded, but she stopped suddenly like a tame creature who has reached the limit of its leash. Whatever great emotion had been about to explode died out, as though cold water had extinguished it.

  I noticed this because I had become accustomed in Emor to reading expressions. But this was not something, I think, that anyone else would have noticed, for in the next moment she smiled as she said, "You are alive! After all these years, you have returned home to your blood brother. I'm so glad to meet you. How did you find John?"

  John had come forward. He touched Ursula briefly on the shoulder, looking down at her shining face, and then turned his back to us as he placed his pack on the table. He said, "Andrew came knocking at the door of the priests' house just as I was about to leave. I nearly walked into him."

  Ursula laughed. "It's as though you had been sent by the god, Andrew. How is it that you were able to return to Koretia?"

  John still had his back to us. I saw him bringing out the same items he had unpacked the night before: the clothes, the food, and the satchel. A small roll of white bandage material emerged as well. I looked at the half-breed girl, thinking that she of all people must hate the Emorians, but I found it oddly easy to make my confession to her. "I am a free-servant in Emor, and my master has come to Koretia on business. I did not believe that John was still alive, or I would have visited Koretia before."

  Brendon was in the process of tossing his hat onto the table beside John's pack. I saw his eyes flick my way; then he handed John the satchel he had been reaching for. Ursula did not seem disturbed. She said over her shoulder, "I told you that he would find his way back here in the end, John. You needn't have made those long trips to Emor."

  John did not reply; he was beginning to pull papers from his satchel. I said quietly, "You went looking for me?"

  "I knew that I wouldn't find you. But I had to try."

  He still had his back to me. I saw from his arms that he was tugging at one of the papers that must have caught itself in the satchel. I took a step forward to see what was in his face. But my path was blocked by Ursula, who skipped forward another step toward me and said, "The first time he visited, he went to the Emorian capital and saw the Chara's enthronement celebration. He said that it seemed as though everyone in the Three Lands was there. Did your master go? It would be strange if you and John had been in the same city at the same time."

  "The Chara!" Brendon struck his forehead with the heel of his palm. "I'm a fool, John. Not only did I not listen to your news, I didn't give you my own. The Chara is here."

  "Here in Koretia?" Ursula bounded to the table and leaned toward Brendon.

  "I heard that rumor too, before I entered the priests' house." John closed the satchel and walked over to hang it on a hook by the hearth. "Do you suppose there's any truth to the story?"

  "There is if your supply-keeper friend is to be trusted. He said the soldiers were saying that the governor expected the Chara to arrive soon."

  John picked up his pack and carried it to the sleeping alcove, leaving it lying next to the curtain. "Perhaps we will see him when he enters the city, then. I expect that he'll be accompanied by an impressive array of troops."

  "I thought the Chara never left his palace!" exclaimed Ursula. "I'd love to see him when he travels through the city. Andrew, have you ever seen him?"

  "My master is a lord living in the Chara's palace," I said carefully, "and the Chara often walks about the palace. I have seen him many times."

  "What is he like? John has seen him only once."

  "Ursula," John said with a slight note of warning. "Andrew is our guest. You ought not to quiz him in this fashion. Andrew, please be seated. Ursula and I seem to have lost our manners as hosts."

  I took the windowseat he offered. Brendon had already seated himself on one of the benches and was staring at the wine cask against the opposite wall with a reflective look. I said to John, "You saw the Chara?"

  John smiled. "I saw a voluminous black cloak that the onlookers claimed was the Chara. I was in the crowd at the enthronement celebration when the Chara stood at the east palace gate to greet his people. Like Ursula, I thought the Chara never left the palace, so it seemed my one chance to see him."

  "Do you suppose he'll speak to the Koretians while he's here?" Ursula asked wistfully, skipping around the table to take hold of John's waist. "I'd very much like to hear him."

  "So would I," John replied. "I doubt, though, that he will leave the governor's palace, not with Koretia on the edge of war. The Chara has probably come to advise the governor on what to do here."

  "Well, if I saw the Chara, I'd know how to advise him," said Ursula, her voice rising with passion. "I'd tell him to free Koretia. That's all he needs to do."

  Brendon laughed. "Ursula, if you saw the Chara, I know just what you would do. You would begin by scolding him and end by sympathizing with him for all his troubles."

  Ursula lifted her chin. "I am Koretian. The Chara is my enemy. I wouldn't sympathize with him for the way he has oppressed us."

  "Enough," said John. "Ursula, please bring out wine for a peace offering to Brendon. He needs it." He came over and sat by the trader. "Show me that bandage."

  "You wrapped it yourself. Why do you need to see it again?" Brendon tried to edge away from John, but halted as John gripped his left wrist.

  "Because I know how you take care of yourself. It is courage to die of a wound gained in battle, but folly to die of one that has been infected through carelessness. Now, sit still." John reached out and began with painstaking care to unwrap the strip of cloth on Brendon's right arm. He looked up, and his eyes met mine. "This isn't much of a homecoming for you, Andrew."

  "It feels very much like home," I said. "Matters were always a-broil when I was living in Koretia."

  "More so now." John paused a second as Brendon flinched; John had reached the wound. Then, ignoring Brendon's wince, he tore away the cloth that was sticking to the wound. "It looks fine at the moment," he reported.

  "It's just a flesh wound, I tell you."

  "You would say that if the soldier had cut you to the bone. But you're right this time." John began binding the wound with fresh bandaging, saying, "You have the cunning of the Jackal, Brendon, to escape from that horror with only a flesh wound." />
  "I call it luck. If I'd had a family to defend, like most men there, I'd be meat for the soldiers' table now."

  "Yes." John's eyes drifted upwards to Ursula as she placed a cup of wine in front of Brendon.

  She said, "I was going to give Brendon some nuts, but it has been five days since you promised to take me to the market, John, and I'm about to fight the rats for their food."

  "You'll have to wait a short while longer, I'm afraid. Brendon and I are about to set off to the tavern and sort out some of this—" He waved his hand toward the business papers strewn on the table.

  "Oh, John!" Ursula shook herself with frustration. "It won't take long for me to get what we need. Can't I go on my own?"

  "No. I'm sorry." John began gathering the papers into a pile without looking up.

  Ursula was silent. I said, "I can take Ursula to the market. I'd like to see what the new one looks like."

  John looked over at me. With barely a pause, he said, "Thank you; that is kind of you. That will allow Brendon and me to do our business here, as I don't think our favorite tavern would appreciate having a wounded man bleed all over the customers. May I show you something before you go?"