“Business letters are just as good. Just skim them to find out what they’re about—he’s likely to be back shortly.”
“This one’s about cloth to be sent I don’t recognize
the name. Here’s one about ships, and this one’s about a quota—-” Adelinda paused, horrified.
“What is it?” demanded Len.
“A quota of slave girls to be taken—or maybe it’s stolen —by the bandits. He apologizes for the last raid having been stopped and promises it won’t happen again.”
“Then he knows about the slavers!”
“If I’m reading this right, he not only knows about the slavers, he sent for them. He says here that only nubile girls are to be taken, to reduce the population of breeders.”
“My God.”
“Is this his idea of protection? Oh, Len, you were right to stop me from accepting his challenge.”
“Look at the rest of the letters.”
“Right. This one’s about cloth again, and fruit trees to be brought from—somewhere. This is a population report. Here’s a letter canceling an order for a team of onagers...
“Wait a minute. Take another look at that population report. If he’s reducing his population of breeders—well, take a look at it.”
“All right. It’s divided by groups according to occupation. Farmers are in this column, weavers here. Over here the nonproductive parts of the population are listed. Old people, babies, and young children—what’s this notation? Thinned, I think. This is a list of deaths. Natural causes, three, night stalkers, nine. This is another list of deaths—no, this verb is in the future tense, I think. That would make it ‘to be thinned.’ That doesn’t make sense. Unless..
Adelinda stopped almost in midword and they stared at each other, aghast. “Unless,” said Len carefully, “the bishop not only knew about the night stalker attacks but encouraged them, in order to cull out useless babies and old folks. Orvet said that the protective symbols on the guardian stone had been overwritten. Who all knows how to write in the Vale?” “Just the clergy. Li-Mun told me that no one else was allowed to learn to write when I talked him into teaching me.”
“That means that An-Shai is a cold-blooded monster. All this talk about protecting people is a lie. The lives of his people mean no more to him than flies do to us.”
“We’ve got to get away!” said Adelinda through pale lips. “If he meant to kill us he could have done it long since. For some reason he has to make us—no, you—admit that he’s the boss before he has us killed.”
“Because it’s all right to have his own people killed, but not others. Once we let him get the upper hand, all he has to do is decide that we’re excess population.”
At that moment the door opened and An-Shai walked in. He halted in amazement when he saw them at his desk, the papers in Adelinda’s hand, both of them pale and shocked. “What’re you doing? Give me that,” he snapped.
“You’ve been having your own people killed and kidnapped by slavers!” blurted Adelinda. To her surprise, the bishop blanched. She had never seen him show any emotion but anger and disdain before.
“You read this! Where did you learn to read?”
“On the ship. How dare you claim to protect and care for your people when you treat them like this?”
Slowly An-Shai went to his desk and sat down. “Sometimes a bishop has to consider the good of his whole diocese. It’s better that a few should be taken away than that everybody should starve.” There was an expression on his face that might almost have been shame. “It’s unfortunate, I agree. A really good bishop should be able to manipulate the population of his diocese by limiting marriages and not have to use such drastic means.”
“Do you have the nerve to claim that you wouldn’t have us killed the same way as soon as you had us under your thumb?” challenged Adelinda.
“I would not,” said An-Shai, steadily. “I have never meant to have any of you killed. On that I give you my word. I will prevail in this struggle between us, Adelinda, and I will care for you and your people for the rest of your lives. Nor will your lives be cut short by any action or negligence of mine.” There was no mistaking his sincerity, but Adelinda refused to accept it.
“Did you give any of those poor peasants the same guarantee,” she sneered, “or did they just assume that they had as much right to live as anybody?”
“They do have as much—or as little—right to live as anybody. An accident or illness may end their lives as much as any plan of mine. The Quadrate God gathers their souls into Himself and cherishes them until it’s time to send them to earth again. And perhaps their next lives will be more fortunate.”
“Is that what you tell them? That they’re lucky to be killed and eaten? You know you’re lying. Dead is dead, with no second chances.”
“You’re wrong, Adelinda. I believe there are second chances.”
“I think so, too,” said Len. “It’s unthinkable that all a person’s soul just evaporates when his body dies. I’m not sure what happens to it, but it has to survive somehow.”
The two men looked at each other and the tiniest flash of masculine unity traveled between them. “Return to your quarters and prepare your scenario,” said An-Shai dismissi-vely.
“I don’t agree to the contest and I won’t abide by the terms,” warned Adelinda.
Chapter 11
“Hsst! Len!” Tobin chunked a rock at the moonlit window above his head. There was no response. “Len! Are you up there?” called Tobin as loudly as he dared. Len’s thin dark face appeared at the grillwork. “Catch!” On the third try, Len managed to snag the weighted rope Tobin tossed up to him. The end securely fastened to the bars, Tobin swarmed up it with an agility surprising in one usually so slow of movement.
“What’s going on? Why are you two locked up?” Tobin panted, seeing Adeiinda’s face beside Len’s in the moonlight.
“The bishop, up to his tricks,” answered Adelinda hastily. “Now listen, Tobin, I want you to take this message to Orvet and Karel. The bishop arranges the slave raids and the attacks by night stalkers and other supematurals. He means to keep us all here for the rest of our lives—which might not be very long. I want the four of you to get out fast, tonight.” Both Len and Tobin made inarticulate sounds of protest. “I mean it. We can’t get out. We’ve tried everything, and if you try to help us you’ll just wind up locked up, too. But leave Red Hawk and Len’s mare. If we can we’ll come after you.” “I can’t hold on much longer,” gasped Tobin.
“Just deliver the message—and do what I say.”
Tobin slid down the rope out of sight. Len untied it and dropped it after him. The prisoners withdrew into their room.
“Why did you tell them to run without us?” asked Len, sullenly.
Adelinda sighed. “It’s the only chance they have. And if An-Shai thinks of it, they are four more levers he can use against me. I’m sorry you’re caught with me, Len. If I knew any way to get you out of this mess I’d do it, and tell An-Shai to do his worst. It worries me that he may decide to quit messing around with contests and tricks and just hold a knife lo your throat. What shall I do, then? I can’t give in to him and I can’t let him hurt you.”
“What happened to one of the farmer folk never worried you before.” Len’s tone was bitter.
“Don’t be silly. I’ve never been in this kind of situation before. I didn’t even know you before I hired you to herd on the mountain pastures. What we’d better do, instead of trading reminiscences, is put our heads together and decide what we’re going to do about this contest.”
“I’m not sure I know what we can do,” said Len, losing his sullen expression.
“Evidently you can shape this overmind into anything you want, if you know how. It must be sort of like a play except that the spectator is the main actor. When he had me trapped in his litde> drama last night, it wasn’t like a dream. The wounds really hurt.”
“They appeared on your body here, too, but the bruise
s formed and the cut healed a lot faster than you’d expect.” “The time seems different, too. It seemed to me that I was gone for hours, but you say it was only a half hour or so to you.”
“That’s right. Can the actor in the play change the script?” “I don’t know. I didn’t try. On the other hand, we know that someone outside the play can reach in and change it, like you did when you called me out. Now what kind of a play would convince the main actor that it’s better to be free and miserable than slave and happy?”
“We aren’t going to be able to change his mind. It’s already made up. The best we can do is demonstrate our point. iMaybe if we..Len’s voice trailed off and he got a faraway look in his eye.
“What? What? Have you got an idea?”
“Well, a simple example—and one we know a lot more about than he does, so it would be easy to make our point— is the difference between a well-cared-for games horse like Dusty and a wild horse.”
“That’s a brilliant idea, Len. It might just work.” They set themselves to work out the details, both contributing their share, forgetting the differences between them as they planned.
Tobin’s message was not well received by the rest of the group. “We’re not leaving without them!” was Karel’s immediate reaction.
“No, obviously not,” said Orvet. “Anyway, where would we go? The bishop is not likely to provide us ships if we run.
“If Adelinda’s right, the bishop has no intention of providing us ships anyway. We’ll have to find some other way to get home,” retorted Karel.
“The first thing is to get Adelinda and Len out of the palace and all of us out of the Vale,” said Tobin.
“No, the first thing is to give the bishop something to think about besides us. From what Adelinda told you, he has been using the supernatural for his own ends. Let’s see how he likes it when the shoe is on the other foot.”
“Orvet! You wouldn’t set night stalkers on these poor people,” protested Ina.
“Certainly not!” retorted Orvet with some asperity. “But there are plenty of less harmful supematurals. And I know some methods of controlling them that His Grace might not know. Ina, come on; I’ll need you. Karel, if you and Tobin could make yourselves responsible for figuring out how to get our friends out of the palace, I’ll take care of distracting the bishop and his people.”
By the time Karel and Tobin had worked out and discarded several impractical schemes for attacking the palace, Orvet was back, bringing with him the most stunningly lovely young woman either of them had ever seen. Lustrous dark hair framed a delicate oval face with huge violet eyes and full, kissable lips. Her form was as lissome as a panther’s, yet ripe and curved. She moved with a liquid grace that hardly seemed to touch the earth. Karel and Tobin goggled.
“Hey,” said Ina’s voice (yet huskier and more inviting than any they had ever heard), “it’s only me. Close your mouths before the flies get in.”
It was Ina. Every detail, each feature was the same as it had been, yet a glamour had been cast over their plain and simple friend that made her a ravishingly attractive woman, the very embodiment of the allure that had entrapped their forefathers into Serinmathusa’s War a thousand years before, when a great civilization had fallen for a sake of a woman’s beauty. Len could have told them the story, but as he wasn’t there, they could only stare.
Ina, obviously startled and somewhat discomfitted by their open admiration, went to her comer and dug out her little mirror, bringing it back into the light of the candle, where she examined her face anxiously. “I don’t look any different,” she said questioningly to Orvet.
“No. The kind of attractiveness you have now is found in the way men perceive you, not what you look like. Oh, you can heighten the effect even further with cosmetics and the right clothes; Adelinda can teach you when we get her out.” He paused and surveyed her; he too was immune to the spell, being a virgin. There was almost pity in his face, and certainly sorrow. “I’ve put a very powerful weapon into your hands, Ina, and one that will make it almost impossible for you to live the normal life that a woman of the farmer folk expects. You can use your allure to destroy men if you wish, or to entrap almost any of them. Often you’ll involuntarily bewitch those you have no desire to attract, and there’ll be no way to avoid hurting them, because there just won’t be enough of you to go around.”
“How on earth did you do this?” asked Karel, finally able to articulate again. Tobin was still staring at her wistfully.
“There was an incubus hanging around. Adelinda was attacked by it last night. I trapped it and killed it, but before I did that I extracted its glamour and invested it into Ina. An-Shai has been using Cho-Hei to try to win Ina away from us; I thought turnabout would be fair play and Ina agreed.”
“Can you undo the spell?”
“No,” said Ina. “I don’t want him to. All my life men’s eyes have slid over me as if I weren’t there. I intend to enjoy being noticed for a change.”
“But, Ina,” said Tobin. “Who will you marry? Any man would be driven mad with jealousy to have a wife that every other man wanted.”
“I don’t suppose I will marry, but that’s no different than it ever was. Before, no man wanted me because I wasn’t pretty; now every man will want me. It’s a definite improvement.”
Tobin failed to look convinced, but Orvet had more progress to report. “Besides letting Ina loose on the male population of die Vale, I’ve freed a swarm of imps that were trapped in a cave, and put a command on them to bother and pester every clergyman in the Vale to distraction. They were quite willing, since it was some bishop of two or three hundred years ago that put them in the cave and they’ve been amusing themselves ever since thinking up things to do to him. They were quite upset to find that he was long dead.”
“What do imps do?” asked Karel, fascinated.
“Well, you know that little things always go wrong at the worst possible time? And that sometimes inanimate objects seem to have a perverse will of their own? That if you ever get an itch in a spot you can’t possibly scratch in public, it’s at the very minute you’re standing in front of a huge audience? Those are imps, playing their little jokes. I think they get their sustenance from the aggravation of human beings.” “That sounds annoying but harmless. Do you think they’ll distract An-Shai enough?”
“Possibly not by themselves, but I have several other distractions developing. I’ve put out a summoning call for several other kinds of supematurals that should keep His Grace busy for quite a while once they arrive. Tobin, how would you like to be a very persuasive speaker?”
“No, thank you! Keep your incubi away from me!”
“Not that kind of persuasion, the political kind. What we need to do is stir up the populace and get them demanding more wages and better working conditions. I have a feeling that the bishop has had his own way for so long that he’s forgotten how much power the common people really have,
if they can be persuaded to act together. What this Vale needs is a really effective labor organizer. How about it?” “That doesn’t sound too bad. What do I have to do?” “There’s not much magic in it. You just have to learn how to appeal to people. I’ll give you some quick lessons and you can go out and start agitating.”
“What about me?” asked Karel, feeling a little left out. “Your role is the keystone of the whole structure, Karel, You have to figure out three things: how to get Adelinda and Ixn out, how to get all of us out of the Vale, and where we go then. You’ll have to find maps or at least talk to people who have traveled where we’re going to have to go. Plan! Prepare! When the rest of us have done our jobs, then we’ll turn to you and expect you to have all the answers. You’ll be in charge then. Don’t let us down!”
To say that Cho-Hei was stunned by the overnight change in Ina would be an understatement. He liked Ina and had not found his assigned chore an onerous one, but he had certainly not expected to find himself falling into an infatuation with her. He looked into
those startling violet eyes—how could he have thought they were an ordinary muddy blue?— and discretion vanished.
Tobin was also enjoying some success. He casually asked some of his pupils in the art of horsemanship why they permitted the bishop to recompense them so poorly for the work they did. “After all,” he said with a fine show of indifference, “if it weren’t for you there wouldn’t be any crops, and the bishop and the priests would all starve. It is you who prepare the ground and plant the seed and tend the crop and harvest it. You’re entitled to a fair share of the rewards.”
“Is that how it is in your homeland?” asked one of his awed hearers. “The farmers get a fair share?”
“It certainly is,” Tobin lied unblushingly. “Our farmers are able to sell their crops to whomever they want for the highest price they can get, and to spend the money however they like. Many of our farmers are able to support families of ten or twelve children.”
This news impressed the farm workers more than the part about the money, which they understood only imperfectly anyway. “We aren’t allowed to have children unless the priests say we may,” said one of them, wistfully.
“Is that fair? Why, I hear the hierarchs are allowed to have as many children as they want, and several wives that they choose themselves. Not to mention the best of the food and clothing. And all of this luxury is earned by your sweat and toil. Rightfully, it should belong to you.”
“The clergy know how to read and write. They can keep track of things. We can’t.”
“In my country everybody learns to read and write. The schools are open to all, and if the parents of a child can’t afford the fees, the public treasury pays them.”
The peasants were disbelieving. “You mean everybody learns to read and write? But most of us aren’t smart enough.” “Nonsense! I learned it, and if I can do it, anyone can. You all know me; I’m friendly but I’m not too bright!” This drew a laugh, as Tobin had intended, and he left them thinking over what he had told them and moved on to the next group. By nightfall, he had successfully spread discontent the width of the Vale and a good third of its length.
Claudia J Edwards - [Forest King 02] Page 16