by Allan Cole
I sighed, picked up the chair and set it in place. "I am sorry for my anger, brother," I said. "Now, I would like your agreement on my plan. To ease your pain, I propose to repay you the value of your slaves from my own pocket." I turned to the others. "Will that suffice?" There were noises of acceptance all around. Porcemus became very friendly, hugged me and apologized and then they all left.
That is how I, Amalric Emilie Antero, became the first to free the slaves in Orissa. It was not a proud moment, for it all still was measured by greed, but at least it was done. I settled back and waited for the reaction. The first was most unexpected. It came from Tegry.
"What have you done?" he thundered.
I was taken aback; slaves do not speak that way to their owners. Then I remembered he was a slave no more. This would take much getting used to, especially with someone I disliked as much as Tegry, whom I had only kept on because of my father.
"Calm yourself, Tegry," I said. "Explain my error, and I will do my best to correct it."
"You... you... Freed me!"
I am sure my expression resembled a gaping fish. "What is wrong with that?" I sputtered. "I freed all of the slaves."
Tegry's eyes filled with hatred. "I have worked all my life to reach my present position," he gritted. "And now it is gone. You have stolen my pride."
"How did I do this? You still have your job, but at a salary. And you are still master of the affairs that were in your domain before."
"I...I... defecate on your salary! I've stolen more in a day, as is my right, then you pay me in eight. As for my position, I now have no authority over the servants. No real authority. You have freed them, you fool. When I order them to work, they laugh in my face if they do not like my manner. Only this moment I took a whip to a stable hand and the bastard had the audacity to rip it from my hand. And then he... He quit. He left. There is no way I can order him back, because he no longer is required to obey."
"You'll just have to adopt an easier manner," I answered. "If you are unhappy with your pay, why, I can raise it. But not eight times. That, Tegry is more theft than is your right. But I'll double it, and we'll let bygones be..."
"No you won't," Tegry shouted. "If I am free, then I will not work for such a man as yourself. I warned your father. But he wouldn't listen. Very well, then, if a stable hand can do it... so can I. Lord Antero, I resign my position. I will be gone within the hour and you will be a sorry man you so abused me." He turned on his heel and stalked out.
Although we did not announce my actions loudly, word spread quickly enough and there was much hot talk about that "crazy Antero" who freed his slaves. But soon others took my side, especially young businessmen, who could see my point about higher profits. Some of them freed their slaves, and then the profit point took on a tone of morality and civic pride.
"They are saying if barbarians like the Lycanthians can allow their slaves to purchase their freedom," Janos reported with much laughter, "then Orissa can certainly go them one better."
"I only hope it hasn't injured your cause," I said.
"Actually, it has improved it," Janos said. "The same people who support me are the ones most likely to free their slaves. So it turns out we are walking hand-in-hand again, as if we were back to our trek." Not that all went perfectly. Hot words turned to brawls now and then. Many owners became angry when they were accosted on the street by former slaves who berated them for not freeing the people in their keep.
Then a public meeting was called at the Great Amphitheater. It was announced a second expedition to the Far Kingdoms had been approved; and there would be public discussion on who would lead it. Once again, Cassini's name was raised. I rode with Janos to the meeting. He dressed himself as a soldier; still favoring the plain light armor, and common sword on his back. But astride his horse, his black beard brushed until it glistened and his big white teeth smiling, he looked like a young king. Outside the amphitheater we were cheered by a large group of angry young men; among them was Malaren.
"Thank you for the greeting," Janos said. "But what is happening?"
"I will tell you, my dear man," Malaren seethed. "They plan to steal the leadership of the expedition."
"Who is they?" I broke in, for Janos was too jolted to ask.
A burly man with thick, calloused hands answered. "Those dogbitten magistrates, that's who." He shouted. I saw the mark on his arm - he was a recent slave. "And the damned Evocators're in on it, too."
"Not all of them," Malaren said. "But there are enough old men and cowards in both groups to give it to Cassini."
I looked at Janos, his eyes steel and his hand reaching for his sword. He looked ready to kick his horse into a gallop and charge the amphitheater. Someone shouted: "We're with you Greycloak!" Others took up the shout. "We'll not let them try and cheat you again." Other voices were raised, and I saw many more had joined us. Among them were lords like Malaren, and common folk, blacksmiths and sailors, and yes, former slaves as well. I felt a great stirring of battle coming on.
Abruptly Janos was all calmness. He raised a hand and there was silence. "We will not behave as rabble," he said. "If you are with me, then come quietly. I want you all to sit together, and I swear that I shall speak for all of you as well as myself."
There were mutters but Janos's commanding presence prevailed; we readied ourselves to enter. I felt a tug at my breeches, and I looked down and recognized a young servant from my household. Her eyes were wide and frightened.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It is Lady Antero," she cried. "Come quickly. Your child is being born."
Her words pierced me. I was torn by the heat of the moment and fear for Deoce. Janos kicked his horse to my side. "Go," he said.
"But... the meeting... the..."
He pushed me, rough. "I can do this. I will need you more later. Now, go!" My wavering broke and I swept the servant girl up on my saddle and raced through the streets for the villa. Behind me I heard a great roaring echo from the amphitheater.
The birthing bed was a horror of blood and pain. Two midwives tended my poor Deoce, and not all their medicines and spells could ease her agony. My daughter was coming, but she wasn't coming easily. Deoce gripped my hand so hard I thought my fingers would break. "I knew you would come," she wept. "They said there was... a meeting. The expedition! But... I knew you would come just the same."
I tried to find words, but they were all puny things beside her pain and faith in me. All I could say was I loved her and I would love her until the sands all washed away to sea. She gave a terrible scream, and I thought I had lost my Deoce forever. Silence... So thick and heavy after that scream I can feel it stifle me as I scratch these words. Then I saw my daughter's head emerge between Deoce's bloody thighs. My wife choked back another scream, and the babe came the rest of the way into the practiced hands of the midwife. A moment later, Emilie gave her first cry. My daughter was born.
"Is she beautiful?" came Deoce's weak voice.
I looked at the bloody little thing, with her eyes squeezed tight shut. She was howling now, angry for being plucked from warm safety. "Yes, my love," I answered. "She is beautiful." And as I watched the midwives clean her, and then wrap her in soft linen to ready Emilie to meet her mother for the first time, I really did believe this so.
* * *
Outside of a war, the second expedition to the Far Kingdoms was the largest force mounted in Orissan history. This would be no private Finding, where a young man could gallop off wherever he chose, with however many drinking companions his father could afford. Destiny was being gambled for and every person in the city wanted a place at the table. Fully two thousand would go: troops, horses and their tenders; officers and their servants; camp followers by the score to pleasure the men; cooks, bakers, armorers, bearers, and the simply curious who had influence enough to get their names on the rolls. By unanimous acclaim, the man who would lead this great force was Janos Greycloak.
"It wasn't much of a fight," Janos said t
hat night. "Cassini never even took the stage, although I saw him waiting in the wings, all blown up with his own importance. He was pacing back and forth rehearsing his acceptance speech. If that wasn't enough of a clue for a poor, dim-witted soldier such as myself, the fact all the men on the stage were our enemies was enough to know that someone had filled pips on the dice with lead." Janos shook his head, still in amazed shock. "As soon as I took my place, the whole crowd began shouting like before - `Janos. Janos.' And all that rot." His teeth flashed, and I knew he hadn't found it "rot" at all. "But this time it much louder and the voices were so furious you had to be a fool not to know there was blood in their eye. Some fellows made so bold as to rush the platform, but fell back when I asked them not to be so rude and to let these worthy gentlemen speak."
Janos gulped down a tumbler of wine, then started laughing. "Oh, I wish you could have been there, my friend," he said. "There's been nothing in your experience quite like it." Janos said Jeneander and his friends held a hurried conference, trying to ignore the boisterous remarks of the crowd. As Janos indicated, nothing like this had ever happened in Orissa, and our enemies were in a panic, flinching under the crowd's abuse as if they were throwing stones instead of words. Someone in the crowd spotted Cassini, and a group charged him; but he managed to flee in time. On the stage a decision was made, but then they began to squabble about who would deliver it to the angry citizens of Orissa. The crowd laughed at their plight, pressing toward the stage again. Then a magistrate gave Jeneander a hard shove, and he stumbled forward, his image cast large by the magnification spell. He stood quaking next to Janos.
"I silenced our friends, and gave Jeneander my best smile of greeting," Janos said. "I put my arm around him as if he were my brother, and I said loudly, so all could hear: `No matter what your choice, my friend, all of here know that you worthy gentlemen have labored long to arrive at your wise decision'"
Janos laughed and took another gulp of wine to ease his throat. "Then poor Jeneander began to speak," he continued. "His first words came out a sort of a squeaky quack, as if a mouse had mated with a duck. But he finally got it out, his knees quaking as if we were standing in a wintery breeze. He said, still in that high voice: `We declare that the leader of the second expedition will be... Captain Janos Greycloak.'
"Well, you couldn't hear a thing after that from all the shouting. But no matter, for no sooner had the good Evocator said his piece, he and the others bolted from the stage as if they were rabbits who'd just had a great vision of a bubbling stewpot." I laughed at the scene he painted until tears flowed. I refilled our glasses and we drank a toast to Te-Date who had so confounded our enemies.
Then Janos turned serious: "I want you to know," he said, "that no matter what follows in our lives, you could never accumulate enough deeds from me to repay the debt I owe you." I made humble, nonsense noises, but my heart was full of joy. I heard Emilie cry somewhere in the house, and then the nursemaid's voice lifted in soft song to soothe her. It had been a most remarkable day.
Janos heard that cry as well, and he smiled. "I know it is not possible for you to come with me this time," he said. "You have too many burdens now. But you should know I will sorely miss you."
"That is kind of you to say," I replied. "But, I know that last time I was so green that I was little real help to you. And now you will have a great army, with many experienced, professional men to advise you."
Janos gave his head a hard shake. "Your one real flaw, my friend," he said, "is you do not realize your own worth. You will be a dangerous man when you do, for you have a natural talent as an adventurer. More importantly, you have the strength of a firm heart and steady vision. Don't bother denying it, I know you well; perhaps in some things better than you know yourself. We are much alike, Amalric Antero. As alike as if we were twins. But you don't have my dark side, thank the gods."
He peered at me, and I saw from the redness in his eyes he was a little drunk. "I swear to you, Amalric," he said, "when I stand in the Far Kingdoms, I will make sacrifice in your honor. And I shall tell the masters of that place that I bring greetings from, my good friend, and twin..." His voice stopped in midsentence, and I saw his head had fallen. I plucked the tumbler of wine from his hand before it spilled, and as I crept out of the room I heard his first, weary snore.
One month later the expedition set forth. Every craft that could be spared had been pressed into service to carry that mighty group to the sea. The whole city turned out to see them off. I stood on a hill near the bend as they passed, and am not ashamed to admit I felt a little regret I was not going with them. But when the last ship had gone, and I turned toward home, I thought of Deoce and Emilie, and my step was suddenly very light.
* * *
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE DARK SEEKER
What I write next is difficult. I would pay almost any price if I could scrape this time from the scrolls of my life. Orissa had been blessed by the gods for years. Our sacrifices had been rewarded many times over: the harvests bountiful; the river quiescent; soldiers victorious; health excellent; and our children obedient. Then the gods called in the debt.
For a short time after Janos left, my life was nothing but joy. I spent every moment of free time - and robbed my business for more - with Deoce and Emilie. My wife was all things to me: lover, partner, advisor and friend. She had a head for business and was beginning to come to the docks with me to help organize the trade to the lands Janos and I had opened up. At home she was the delight of the servants - a much cheerier group now that they had been freed - for she relished diving into the work at hand, fearing no dark corners where cobwebs gather deep. And sometimes she would surprise me at my desk and lure me away to a quiet, leafy bower where me made love as we had in the days of the valley of paradise.
Emilie proved to be as delightful a child as Deoce had predicted. She was a merry little girl with plump cheeks, fair skin, and eyes alive with curiosity. My heart ached when I heard her laugh and the moment she came into my sight she would cry out with delight and hug me with her chubby arms, and my senses would fill up to the overflowing as her laughter and milky perfume overwhelmed me.
"You are clay in her hands," Deoce would tease. "If there was ever a child who was her father's little girl, our Emilie is that toddler. You had best be wary, my dear, or she will become insufferably spoiled."
Of course, all was not blossoms under a spring sun. There were problems: Deoce suffered a sprain; Emilie the colic; and a small cargo from the Northern Lands was lost. Also when Janos set out, he left our enemies behind. For a time, however, they were too fearful to do more than whisper foul charges.
There were things, however, that might have given us warning of what was about to come; but most of us had been lulled into sweet dreamings of the treasures that would soon pour forth from the Far Kingdoms. The Kissing of the Stones had gone badly that season. The criminal the Evocators crushed to bless the harvest was a starveling turned thief, who produced only a slender trickle of blood when he was ground between the two ancient stones. Then we had many days of lighting storms that rent the air with their hot breath and set the dogs and lizards howling. Afterward the dawning sun lit the skies a fierce red and thick black clouds swirled about making ghastly images. The rumors also heated up. There were stories that the second expedition had lost its way several times, that Janos was quarreling with his officers and there was much immoral practicing of black magick whose only purpose was sexual.
And if the tales told on Janos weren't enough, we received travelers' reports that the Lycanthians were all astir, drilling their troops and talking of rebuilding the great wall we had torn down when we defeated them. Still, except for idle tavern talk, we paid little mind but just added it all to the general gossip, such as the odd lights and burning odors emanating from the Citadel of the Evocators. I did ask Rali about this, but her spy could only report that the Evocators were still feuding; except they were keeping their quarrel locked behind thick doors wher
e even her presence would be suspect.
Then the first members of Janos's expedition returned home and put voice and person to the rumors attacking him. They charged he had become a temperamental leader, who took no counsel other than his own and publicly humiliated those who opposed him. They said not only had the expedition become lost several times, but was still wandering about the countryside, losing baggage and treasure and victims to marauding tribes. Most of this was believed to be nonsense, for the people who had returned were notorious sloths and cowards whom we all believed had only gone on the expedition to win easy glory.
Cassini, however, immediately seized this chance, and began making appearances again; berating Janos and doing his best to harm his reputation. His supporters trickled out from under their rocks, and soon he became bold enough to participate in public rites. In fact, he assisted Jeneander in the yearly rain ceremony, tinkling the silver bells that chimed like rain drops, as Jeneander cut the throat of a fat bullock.
The rain came on schedule - but it didn't stop. Hour after hour it fell, and it came so thick you couldn't tell night for day and all over Orissa we huddled in our homes and listened to the heavy drumming on our rooftops. It was a cold rain, and we all had to keep a fire burning constantly in our hearths, and it wasn't long before fuel became scarce. A green mold flourished in the heavy rain, attacking our clothes and spoiling our food. The Evocators rushed about casting spells to rid us of the mold, but no sooner had that been abated, then ants swarmed by the millions, pouring into our houses through every cranny, and driving us all mad with itching as we swept them off our walls, ourselves, and our children.
All these troubles were minor, however, compared to the sudden fright we all had when the river began to rise. There was no one living who had known it to jump its banks, but there were old scars on the hillsides far from its bed that told an ancient tale of terror and destruction. So when the river became a boiling mass of mud and debris that swept away one of the smaller docks, panic gripped the city. After conferring with the Evocators, the Magistrates fetched an evil felon - who had slain his wife and children and then roasted them for a meal - from the cells. The whole city was ordered out and we all made a dreary parade down to the place of sacrifice. We huddled in the rain, miserable and cold, as Jeneander and Cassini - along with a large contingent of Evocators - chanted river-taming spells for what seemed like an eternity.