The Second God

by Pauline M. Ross

  And because I hadn’t the excuse of childhood any more, I got on with doing what had to be done, taking Sho and Pay to Kingswell. I was so heartsick at losing both Ly and Arran, I had no mind to linger a single moment longer than necessary at Lakeside, so we flew, with the ever-present Kalmander in attendance. I suppose I should have taken them by road, but the prospect of waiting sun after sun for a suitable escort to arrive, and then the long, dreary journey with bad roads and inadequate inns, held no appeal. Sho and Pay promised not to try to escape, and since I now had the power to compel Pay if she resisted, I didn’t think Sho would take off without her. He seemed bereft, poor boy, quite lost without Jes to direct him, and hadn’t an ounce of defiance left in him.

  Yannassia greeted the new arrivals with her usual unflappable poise. She bemused them by receiving them in full state in the middle of an assembly, surrounded by the nobles and scribes and mages and visiting dignitaries and all the other elements of her court. Pay was bewildered, and said not a word, but Sho looked around at the richness of the furnishings and the glittering jewels and gold with great interest, and responded readily to every question.

  They settled in well and were suspiciously docile. I’d expected trouble from them, but there was none. Yannassia had found an interpreter, who was Clan herself, and the three of them got along as merrily as a bonfire. I watched them from wherever I was, for it all seemed too good to be true, but I couldn’t fault their behaviour.

  As for me, I was thrust back into the centre of court life. There were meetings and assemblies and grand dinners and celebrations, as if Dellonar wasn’t under hostile occupation and we weren’t on the brink of another war. Kingswell had panicked mightily when we’d been under attack by the Clanfolk, but Dellonar was so distant that few had even heard of it, beyond a few merchants who traded with the coastal towns. This time, they felt, the war would happen far, far away and Bennamore would be unaffected, apart from a few families whose son or daughter had marched off to fight. I wished I could be so sanguine. For once the Dragon God had sated his lust for expansion to the south, surely he would start to look west? And if our troops were depleted to help the Port Holdings, we would be very vulnerable.

  “Axandor is already at Shannamar, and will begin the march east soon,” Yannassia said, when we had a quiet moment in her private sitting room. “The Port Holdings will arrive at Dellonar by sea, and our troops on land, and it is imperative everyone arrives at the same time. Ly’s lions will be invaluable to help us co-ordinate. How soon will they be on hand?”

  I stretched out in my mind, searching for them. “A sun, maybe two, before they reach Shannamar. From there, the Speaker may send them wherever needed. Is he expecting them?”

  “We sent word by fast rider as soon as we knew. And interpreters. We do not have many here who speak the Clanfolk’s language, but enough. I hope the message arrives before the lions, otherwise there will be panic, and that is not what any of us need at this time.”

  “I told Ly to be sure they know to stop at the boundary stones. He will translate if necessary.”

  “Hmm. It would be easier if these people could write. We could give them letters of introduction, then.”

  That made me smile. “A lion rider doesn’t usually need to be introduced.”

  “Ha! True. Ah Drina, so much that is new for me to get into my head. And here is another one, a new kind of fruit which is supposed to be very tasty in cakes. Try one.” She pushed the plate towards me. “These little ones here. Torthran likes them, but I think they are quite nasty, personally. Cakes should be sweet and sticky, made with honey and fruit, not with this sour stuff.” She heaved a great sigh. In public, Yannassia was as serene as ever, but when I saw her informally, I thought she was worn with worry.

  “You’re looking tired,” I said. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

  She smiled. “I am supposed to ask you that, remember? When did our roles reverse? But you are right, I am not coping with this very well. If I am honest, I would have to say that I did not cope very well with the last war, either.”

  “You were ill,” I murmured.

  “I was pregnant, which is not an illness,” she said crisply, with a hint of her old fire. “Although it was a particularly troublesome pregnancy. But we muddled through the war anyway, thanks to you. Will we muddle through this one, do you think?”

  “What does Axandor think?”

  “Axandor is supremely confident, naturally.”

  I laughed. “Yes, it was a foolish question. What do Axandor’s commanders think?”

  “That the numbers favour us, but it will be a hard fight to clear Dellonar. We cannot use Ly’s war-beasts, for they are not well suited to towns, but we should prevail without them. After that… who knows? It is unlikely that the entire golden army will stand still to be slaughtered, or surrender, so no doubt they will retreat to Rinnfarr Gap and Greenstone Ford. But we need not pursue them. Our only commitment is to Dellonar, and the other Port Holdings.”

  “And if they regroup, and decide to turn their eyes on us?”

  “Then we will defend our borders, as we have always done. We will have Ly’s war-beasts to aid us in that. I have informed the Icthari of our plans, too, but I do not depend on them honouring our treaties. They have problems of their own with the Vahsi moving into their territory.”

  “They’re not terribly organised, either,” I said. “I wouldn’t like to rely on them even turning up in time for a battle.”

  She smiled at that. “Fortunately, we have adequate defences without their aid. I do not believe the golden army can threaten us.”

  “And yet we will never be truly safe while their god lives. Where is he, do we know?”

  “No.” She frowned. “The watch post was abandoned, and Flenn was occupied bringing the former hostages back safely, so no one has been keeping an eye on Greenstone Ford, to see who goes in or out.”

  “And Sho’s summoning drew all the beasts away, so we could get no information from them. He could be anywhere.”

  “Flenn is there now, but he has to fly back here to tell us anything. Is there any way you can communicate with him?”

  “No. He’s not Clan, and not mentally bonded with his eagle. I can see through the eagle’s eyes, but that’s all.”

  “Well, there is nothing to be done about it until Ly’s lions get there. How is Ly, dear?”

  “He’s fine. Still flying west.”

  I didn’t have much to say about Ly, being very cross with him for leaving me so abruptly. Even understanding the necessity, I resented being stuck with the Sho problem, while Ly was as free as a wild eagle. He’d stopped at the castle for a sun to talk to the elders again, but then he’d flown on, the tamed lands around the inland sea giving way to forest and then desolate, empty hills with no sign of settlements at all. Each night he made camp, hunted and cooked for himself, washed in a nearby stream, and then slept under the wide sky. There was a contentment about him that upset me. He was so self-sufficient. Whenever I contacted him, there was a burst of pleasure in his mind, but I’m not sure he missed me much.

  Yannassia must have guessed some of this, for she didn’t press me. Instead, her voice softened. “And how is poor Arran bearing up?”

  But that just made me cry. Arran was my rock just then. Whenever a meeting or assembly became too tediously full of endless army reports on horses lamed or spears broken, I could amuse myself by taking my mind somewhere else entirely. Ly’s eyes gave me endless views of hills and forests and emptiness, which was almost as dull, and he was often too distracted to talk much. I felt I was interrupting him. Arran, however, never minded being interrupted. He was always there, always happy to talk to me, for he had nothing else to do but doze the hours away or pace about his tiny cell, six paces one way and four the other, taking care to avoid the night bucket in the corner. He’d knocked it over twice, before he’d got the measure of his surroundings. He seldom initiated contact, not wanting to disturb me, but he was always d
elighted when I called to him.

  In one meeting, when the nobles were whining about some shortages or other, as they did all too often, he responded even more eagerly than usual. “You will never guess what I have done – I have a tame rat! I can make it move where I want and see through its eyes. I have been watching the guards, in case they let slip any useful information. Are you pleased? There is so little I can do, but I want to help if I can. Do you think it a clever idea?”

  “Yes, very clever. Can you—?”

  My awareness snapped back to the room, the polished table, the ring of faces staring at me. One man in particular was glaring at me, red-faced.

  “I beg your pardon, Honoured Lord. What did you say?”

  “I do not see why I should repeat everything for your benefit. We are about to embark on a war, in case you had not noticed, Most Powerful, and the least we can expect from you is a little of your attention.”

  Before I could answer, Yannassia cut in sharply, “The Bai-Drashonor has many calls on her attention just now, all of which are vital for the progress of the war. Which is more than can be said for your concern about pig slurry. Please do not repeat it. Ask the mages to deal with the problem. We will move on to the next item, if you please.”

  The following sun, Arran was in low spirits. “My rat was spotted by one of the guards, and killed,” he confessed. “I am working on another one, but I shall have to find a safer place for her to watch from. Not that the guards talk about anything interesting, only their female conquests and how much they can drink and how good they are with a sword.”

  “Can you send a rat along the corridors, so that you can work out the layout? Just in case you are ever able to escape? And what about the kitchens? There will be rats there, too, and the talk might be more useful.”

  “Oh – that is a good idea. I will try. It is good for me to have a project to work on.”

  But the following sun, in the middle of a reception for the Icthari ambassador, I heard Arran’s voice, urgent in my head, tinged with fear.

  “Drina! Drina! They are taking me somewhere.” Then, the merest thread in my mind, “Is this it? Is this the end?” A long pause. “I love you, Drina. Goodbye, my little flower.”

  37: A Little Chat

  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Perhaps I squeaked in terror, for Yannassia was at my side, brushing aside nobles and high-ranking guests.

  “What is it? What has happened? Tell me the worst.”

  “Don’t know yet,” I managed to get out.

  “Is it Arran?”

  I nodded. Looking through his eyes, I saw that he was in a dark, narrow corridor. Ahead, a torch flickered, and I could see the backs of several guards walking ahead of him. Behind, heavy footfalls suggested several more, with another torch, judging by the shadows. It was hard to see much, because Arran was blinking rapidly, and then he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the brightness of the torches.

  Seeing his surroundings steadied me. I had no idea what these people had planned, but would they keep him locked up for so long and then execute him? Especially when no one had yet moved against his captors. I thought furiously. “Um… maybe it’s an interview?” I said. “Trying to get information from you, maybe.”

  His fear receded, replaced by a degree of optimism. “Oh, you think so? That makes sense. Or just a flogging, or something.”

  The calmness with which he spoke wrung my heart. My poor Arran! Floggings and interrogations and whatever else these savages could dream up, and then, in time, pieces of him hacked off. Although they would have trouble with that, I kept reminding myself. He was hard to hurt now.

  They were climbing stairs, bare stone so that the sounds of scuffing boots and creaking leather echoed. Arran moved so slowly that the guards ahead of him began to leave him behind. A wider corridor, still bare stone, and more stairs, up and up and up. I lost count of the number of flights. Arran began to flag, weakened by poor food and lack of exercise, no doubt.

  Another corridor, much the same except laid with woven matting. A door held open by one of the guards, his face impassive. Arran followed the other guards through into a long, narrow room, with no furnishings except a small table and four wooden chairs. Then an inner door, and beyond that a different world altogether.

  “Drina? Are you watching this? What do you think this place is?”

  It looked like a room in a remote inn. Plain wooden furniture, simple matting, painted walls. At one end of the room, a table with a settle and a couple of chairs. At the other, a bed low to the ground. A couple of doors in the far wall – a water bucket room, perhaps, and a closet. The windows had shutters, but no curtains. And bars across them. There was a smell of fresh paint and sawdust. It looked to me like a new, improved prison cell, but I didn’t want to raise Arran’s hopes too much. It might still be no more than an interrogation room.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s wait and see what they do.”

  Only a couple of guards had gone in with Arran. Now one of them beckoned him towards one of the two doors in the further wall. Opening it, I caught a glimpse of shelves. A closet, then, and the shelves were stacked with neat piles of clothes. The guard waved an arm as if to say, “Look at all this.” He said nothing, though, not realising that Arran would understand him.

  Then the other room, and it was a bathing room, with a small water bucket room beyond. The guard opened valves above the bathing tub and hot water gushed out, filling the room with steam, then he pointed first to Arran and then to the tub. Arran laughed out loud.

  “Drina? You see this? I am getting to bathe. At last!”

  “Thank you!” he said to the guard. “Thank you very much.”

  The guards disappeared and a door slammed. Arran checked the main room. Empty.

  “They have gone. Is this where I am to live now? Never mind. Even if it is only temporary, this is wonderful. Hot water, clean clothes – I shall enjoy it. No blade to shave with, but I suppose nothing is perfect.”

  “Remember that there may be hidden peepholes in the walls,” I said, mindful of the smell of sawdust. “They could be watching you at any time.” Then I had a thought that made my heart race. “Is there a mirror?”

  “On the wall there. Why?”

  “I should like to see your face.”

  “Oh. Oh, sweetheart.” Grief washed through his mind, and for a moment he didn’t speak, busying himself with the water in the tub, adjusting the valves. Then, very quietly, he said, “The mirror is misted up – from the steam. Maybe another time?”

  “Of course. Enjoy your bath.”

  When I became aware of my surroundings again, the first thing I saw was Yannassia’s anxious face. She had managed to get me out of the assembly chamber, for we were standing in a small ante-room, with only Torthran and the bodyguards.

  “He’s fine, he’s fine, it’s all right,” I babbled, relief overwhelming me. “They’ve moved him to a new room, with windows and a bathing tub.”

  “Oh.” Her expression lightened, but with a continuing hint of anxiety. “That is good – I think? They would not bother if…”

  “If they were planning something worse? No. But I wonder why they kept him in that dark place for so long, and now they’re treating him almost like a guest.”

  “Softening him up,” Torthran said. “He should take care, especially if any of the guards try to befriend him.”

  “That’s a good point,” I said. “When did you get so cynical, Torthran?”

  “I have a brother in the Elite specialists. This is what they are taught to do with a prisoner – treat him badly, to see if he breaks that way. If not, switch to better treatment and try to befriend him.”

  “Long ago, before we were civilised, we tortured people to break them,” I said.

  “And then they would tell you whatever you want to hear, just to make the pain go away,” Torthran said. “We stopped using torture because it was ineffective, not because we chose to be civil
ised.”

  “Are we civilised?” I murmured, and then laughed at the speed with which Yannassia’s brows snapped together. I raised my hands in surrender. “All right, all right, that is a discussion for another time, when we have the leisure to be philosophical. I will warn Arran to be on his guard. I know well enough how vulnerable he might be to a little flattery and gentle treatment.”

  “Anyone would be, in his situation,” Yannassia said. “But he knows all our plans for the coming campaign.”

  “No, he knows nothing,” I said.

  “But he watches through your eyes, does he not?”

  “He could do, but we agreed that he wouldn’t during the war planning meetings. The less he knows the better.”

  “Ah.” Her eyes gleamed. “Excellent. And I suppose he can always switch to Ly’s head if he needs to.”

  “Which would give him a fine view of treetops and bare hills,” I snapped.

  Yannassia patted my hand in sympathy. “He will be back soon, I have no doubt.”

  I wished I could be so sure.

  ~~~~~

  Barely two hours later, Arran’s voice was in my head again. “Drina? I have company.”

  I was making my way to the planning room, but I ducked into a side room to be private while I looked through Arran’s eyes. I knew at once that we were in trouble. The company was not a guard or even one of the golden army, but the Dragon God himself. Trimon. And he was alone.

  “See if you can find out something about him,” I said. “But be very careful what you say, my love. Very, very careful.”

  “I know.” But he sounded so miserable, I wanted to hug him. My poor Arran, the least astute in diplomacy of all Yannassia’s extensive family, and it had never been more important for him to be on his guard. I hoped he knew no vital details of the planned spring campaign, but he knew there was to be one, and he probably knew the date, too, and we’d talked often enough of what would need to be done. I could only trust him not to give too much away.