The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2)

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The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2) Page 56

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch


  I laughed, brushed it away, and gave him a bear hug. I barely noticed that he seemed startled. “Why all the formality, Malaren?” I said. “Last we spoke I was the sister you never had, and we plotted to rid me of Porcemus so you could join the family. Of course, we were both drunk at the time, but I thought you made much sense for a fellow lying on the tavern floor.”

  Malaren gave a nervous titter, and returned the embrace — a bit stiffly. “Yes, uh . . . Rali, my dear,” he said. “You know that I love you above all others.”

  “How’ve you been you old heart breaker?” I said. “Has your wife turned you out yet?”

  “Another nervous titter. “Oh, you know us, Rali. We might quarrel now and again. But in the end, my dear, all is forgiven.”

  “That’s a load if I ever heard one,” I said. “You’re just too quick-witted, or she’d have taken a kitchen knife and made you sing high soprano long ago.”

  More tittering. “How colorful,” he said. Then: “Now that you’re back, you must come have dinner with us.”

  “Have you lost your mind as well as your sense of humor?” I said. “You know your wife hates me. She thinks I’ve got a secret yen for you.”

  “Yes, that’s so,” he said weakly. “Quite true.”

  He gave me another stiff embrace. “Excuse my rudeness,” he said. “But I really must rush. A Magistrates’ meeting, you know.”

  I stopped him before he could go. “Listen,” I said. “There’s another reason I wanted to see you — besides missing your handsome face. A much more important reason.”

  I had a grip on his sleeve and he was trying to tug it away without appearing rude. “Really, my dear,” he said. “I must be going.”

  I was tired and impatient and confused. My temper flared and I wanted to shout at him, tell him that the fate of Orissa hung in the balance. But then my family was catching up to us and I suddenly felt foolish, overly dramatic and limp as an old bootlace. I said: “Please, Malaren! On our friendship, I beg you. Make the time to see me. It is of vital importance, I promise you.”

  “Very well,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll send a litter tomorrow afternoon.”

  He broke away as Porcemus and the others descended and once again I was smothered in a mountain of unfamiliar familial love.

  * * * *

  Malaren didn’t send the promised litter the following day, or the next, or the day after. I sent him several messages, each more pleading then the other. He replied to them all with weak excuses, as if he were trying to avoid me. At the same time, my family doted on me as if I were a prized child. They’d taken up residence in Amalric’s villa and they filled my hours with all sorts of events and celebrations.

  Party after party was given in my honor. Food and wine flowed without end. Odder still, many a tempting young woman was trotted before me. Other than Amalric, my brothers had always been disgusted by my sexual preferences; their wives, even more so. But in the spirit of their new love, all that seemed forgotten. I was too weary to be tempted, but went along as best I could, relieved after so many years of being an outcast, that my family finally seemed to accept me for what I am.

  I didn’t bed any of the women — there was no desire in me; especially after I asked about Tries and was told she’d married some fellow and had a child a little less than a year old.

  I realize, now, I was an emotional volcano waiting to be set off. Whenever I came close to explosion, I pulled back, fearful that I wouldn’t be able to stem the eruption. At the heart of it, was Gamelan.

  It wasn’t just because he’d thrown away his life for me — as if that weren’t enough. It had been the greatest bravery I’ve ever known. Here was an old wizard, blinded and stripped of all his powers. It was unimaginable how deep he had to reach to find the strength he’d needed.

  I’d seen some of the shadow worlds of magic — if that’s what they are. But they were only the depth of a knuckle plunged into a cold, dark sea. He must have gone to the bottom — and beyond — to dredge up the powers to best the Archon. I relived his death and my unworthy salvation night after night, and every quiet moment of each waking hour.

  Save my mother, I mourned Gamelan as I’ve mourned for no other; even Otara, or — and I must be honest — my own father.

  I tried to drink myself into a stupor, but each time I reached the cliff where sobriety ends, I hesitated, then put the glass down. I was wary of losing control; why, I couldn’t say. At times I also felt I was being watched — not by my family, although they hovered over me, making certain all my needs were met — but by some unseen presence. At night I had the oddest feeling I was being probed for weakness.

  I didn’t bother telling my family about the Archon and the threat he still posed; loving as they were, my brothers were a weak lot, and overly nervous about magic after the tragedy of Halab so many years ago.

  I also pined for my Guardswomen, who’d been my sole company for two years. All of them were on leave, however, and could not be found. I slipped out alone one night to check at our favorite taverns. Although it was early, Orissa was silent and there were only a few lights showing. As you know, ours is a normally boisterous city, with a rich night life.

  But this particular evening I didn’t even see any rats, or lizards squabbling in the garbage heaps. The only real activity seemed to be at the Evocator’s Palace. A halo of magical light framed the ancient building, more lights blazed on the bottom floor, and there was that odd prickling of the air that comes when the wizards are hard at work.

  There’s the answer, I thought. It must be some religious observance I’d forgotten. That explained why the city was so quiet.

  Still, even during holy days, there’s always some tavern open. At the Avenue of the Bakers I took a shortcut that led to a inn where a ready drink was more important than any gods. But the alley took an odd twist and before I knew it, I came out on the same street I’d started at. I looked around, seeing the landmarks I knew so well. There was the Baker’s Guild Hall, and across from it the warehouse where the millers delivered the flour to feed the ovens in the shops lining the street.

  Once again I struck out down the alley, and once again it curved back to deliver me where I’d started. I started to get frustrated, then shrugged. Amalric has often commented on how false memory can be when you’ve been gone from home a fair amount of time. Very well, I thought, I’ll take the long way.

  I set off down the street, turned at Hogshead Lane where the coopers live and work, and turned a final time at Amalric’s favorite chandlery. Three shops down from it, I found the tavern just where it was supposed to be. I groaned when I saw it was as silent and dark as the rest of the city.

  There’s a board outside the place where the regulars can post messages to absent friends. I saw several fresh notes pinned to it and when I checked I found they were all from my Guardswomen — looking for one another. Among them was one that bore a familiar scrawl.

  It read: “Off to see my mother. Back at the full moon. The Captain will stand a round for any Guardswoman who attends . . . Love and sloppy kisses . . . Polillo.”

  I grinned, knowing the message was for my eyes — and my purse. I noted that the date wasn’t far off. It’d be good to see her again. Feeling much better, I returned home.

  My good mood, however, didn’t last even until dawn. I woke up brooding, with a sense time was running out. I was not kind to my horse as I booted it out of the stable yard and rode to Malaren’s house. The closer I got, the more determined I was to have it out with him. I arrived unannounced and pounded on the door.

  A servant came and tried to say his master wasn’t in, but I pushed my way past, calling Malaren’s name until he emerged blinking from his study. I didn’t bother with his stuttered excuses, but hauled him back into the room, sat him down and spilled out my story. It took several hours. When I was done he looked at me as if I were mad.

  “You want me to repeat all this to the Magistrates?” he asked. “Tell them, that despite all e
vidence, one of the Archons survives? And that I have the word of a woman who has never previously shown a talent for magic, but claims she’s suddenly a great wizard?”

  He sighed, shaking his head in despair. “I can’t allow it, my dear friend,” he said. “It will do your reputation great harm.”

  “Hang my reputation,” I exploded. “I’m sworn to die for Orissa if necessary. Now that she’s facing a greater threat than ever before, why would I fear mere humiliation? I want a hearing, dammit! I demand a hearing before the Magistrates and the Council of Evocators! It is my right and duty as commander of the Maranon Guard to report on my mission. It was by their orders that I was sent. And it was by their orders that all but twenty of us returned.”

  He relented. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll try and see what I can do.”

  I exploded. “You’ll have to do more than try! You don’t seem to understand. The Archon is more powerful than ever. By the gods, if Gamelan, or Amalric were here you’d all be jumping right now.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “Calm yourself, my dear Rali. I’ll see to it immediately.”

  More time dragged by. Then a message came from Malaren. The Magistrates and Evocators had agreed to a hearing. But first they wanted a written report so they could go over it in detail.

  “But first,” I’ve noted, is the favorite phrase of the paper-shuffler and small-minded business folk. Only tax collectors do not use it.

  So, I labored over the report for days, drawing and redrawing my argument until it was absolutely clear. The report went out and, surprisingly, a date was quickly set — the first day of the full moon, which was one week off. During this whole time, my family didn’t say a word about my demands.

  When I warned Porcemus that I’d be stirring things up, he’d only said: “Whatever you think best, Rali.” His attitude was so refreshing it was frightening.

  The day finally came and I prepared myself with extra care. I took a long, sudsy bath. I trimmed and buffed my nails, had my hair redone in a helmet cut, oiled my harness until it shone, polished every bit of metal, and gave my sword an extra stropping.

  When I was fully dressed everything about me gleamed, from the pure white uniform tunic, to my burnished boots. Even my legs and arms, which I left bare, glowed a golden sea- and sun-kissed brown.

  On the way out of the villa, I hesitated, thinking I ought to visit my mother’s garden shrine for good luck. As soon as I went through the gate, I knew something was wrong.

  The garden was usually a pleasant jumble of flowers and trees, but now it was cold perfection. Every stone was white-painted, the grass trimmed nearly to the roots, the trees lined up so exactly that if you stood behind one, the others couldn’t be seen; and the plants and flowers were set in an exact pattern, as if put there by a geometer.

  I stood there dismayed, wondering if Amalric had lost his mind and dismissed our old family gardener who’d been with us since we were children, I noticed the absence of odor of any kind. The air was balmy, but where was the scent of roses and sandalwood and fruit flowers? Also, where there was usually a flock, only a single bird chirped from the trees and I heard the buzz of a solitary insect. I saw no other.

  My steps quickened as I rounded the curve of the path to the shrine. Awaiting me was an even greater mockery. The simple blank stone was gone. As was the rose tree that had framed it, and the charming little musical fountain. Instead, there was a large statue of my mother. Oh, it was exactly like her, and she was a beautiful woman, so I couldn’t call it ugly.

  But there was such an ennobled martyr look about it, that I knew she would have hated it; been humiliated by it.

  I shouted for Porcemus and when he came trotting up I blistered the air. “What have you done?” I demanded.

  “Why, what is the matter, Rali?” he said, startled by my heated tone.

  “Mother’s shrine is gone,” I snapped. “Instead there’s this big ugly thing.”

  Porcemus looked at the statue, gaping stupidly as if seeing it for the first time.

  “Does Amalric know about this?” I demanded.

  Porcemus recovered, and smiled. “Oh, of course, he does. It’s his home, after all.”

  “I can’t believe he’d allow such a thing,” I said. “You must’ve done it when he was gone.”

  “That’s it, exactly,” Porcemus said. He seemed oddly relieved. “We wanted to surprise him. He quite liked it. I’m sorry you don’t.”

  I didn’t listen to another word, but spun on my heel and stalked out, fuming and cursing under my breath. I had the same poor horse as before and expected him to shy away when I stormed into the stable to take him from the groom.

  Instead he took my angry burden quite placidly, making me madder still. I wanted to boot him into a gallop, but realized I’d only be taking my troubles out on the poor beast and merely switched his flanks with the reins. He broke into a smooth run and we were soon away from the villa.

  I calmed myself — there were more important things to face this day. I only hoped the beginning didn’t forebode what was going to happen next.

  An hour later I was ushered into the main chamber of the Hall of Magistrates and was at rigid attention as our city’s rulers came in one by one and took their seats. The hall was otherwise empty — this was to be a private hearing.

  There were seven of them — the full five who made up the Council of Magistrates, plus two youthful appearing representatives of the Council of Evocators. I didn’t recognize either of them. The Magistrates were all men I knew — especially Malaren who gave me a friendly smile when he took his seat near the end.

  Then my heart sank as I saw a maddeningly familiar figure seat himself in the highest-backed chair in the center, which is reserved for one of the Chief Magistrates. It was Jinnah! By the gods, how could that bastard have risen to such high office?

  But there was nothing I could do. I could only trust in the good judgment of the other six men. I steeled myself and began the speech I’d assembled with much care.

  “My esteemed Lords,” I said, “I stand before you in great sorrow. The mission you entrusted me with has failed, despite the most extreme efforts of your beloved Maranon Guard. To accomplish the task you charged us with, we sailed far to the west — farther than any man or woman from these parts has ever gone before. We encountered and defeated savages and other hostile forces. In your behalf, and in behalf of Orissa, we befriended the great peoples of the distant Kingdom of Konya, who await your emissaries to begin trade. They are a rich people, a good people, and will make worthy allies as these new lands in the west open to us. But I grieve to tell you that these successes are nothing compared to our ultimate failure to carry out your orders.

  “The last Archon of Lycanth eluded us to the very end. Only twenty of us returned, my lords. Twenty of all those who set sail two years ago. The only reason I am able to stand here before you today is because of the blood my sister warriors were willing to shed so I could carry back the warning.

  “My Lords, Orissa faces the greatest crisis in its existence. As I speak the Archon is hatching his final plan to humble us, to destroy us. Lord Gamelan, himself — the greatest Evocator Orissa has ever bred — gave his life so I might sound the trumpet. I wish the gods had seen it otherwise and it was he stood before you now, so you could fully realize the peril that faces us. Please, my Lords, know that peace is not yet ours. Know that our greatest enemy still stalks us, and there is little time left before he will pounce.”

  I’d concentrated so hard on my speech I hadn’t noticed the reaction of my leaders. But as I finished and looked into their faces I was astonished to see such blank looks. It was as if I hadn’t said a word.

  At long last Jinnah cleared his throat. He gave me that weasel smile of his. “An excellent report, Captain Antero,” he said. “You are to be congratulated. Let me be the first to say how much I mourn the noble women who gave their lives for Orissa.”

  The other members of the group made dull noises o
f condescension. I could feel my blood rising; anger hammered at my temples. Jinnah raised a copy of the report I’d prepared.

  “We’ve pored over this quite carefully, Captain,” he said. “So you needn’t go into any additional detail at this time. I must say, we were quite alarmed, weren’t me my lords?”

  He turned to the others, who mumbled agreement. Malaren gave a vigorous nod.

  “We were so alarmed we didn’t wait for this hearing,” Jinnah continued. “Rest assured our noble Evocators took immediate action.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank Te Date that something was being done. But my relief was short-lived.

  “Spells were cast,” Jinnah went on. “Spells, I have been assured, of the utmost sophistication. I’m pleased to report, Captain, there is no basis to your grave fears.”

  “What?” I roared, forgetting myself. “What are you saying?”

  Jinnah only raised his eyebrows. “I’m saying, my brave woman, that contrary to your bleak thinking, your mission was a complete success. Your soldiers did not die in vain. Nor did the great Lord Gamelan. The Archon is dead. Thanks to you, Orissa is safer than it has ever been in its history. There is no threat.”

  Can you imagine the nightmare I was trapped in, Scribe? Here was the man who was proof cynicism is the real ruler of this world. His motives in sending the Maranon Guard after the Archon were of the meanest, self-serving kind, and had nothing to do with his concern for Orissa. Those same motives led him to plot against the life of the Guard’s commander — threatening the mission itself. This man, this fool, now held the fate of Orissa in his honors grubbing’ hands.

  “You are making the most terrible error,” I shouted. “Lord Gamelan himself confirmed all I have said.”

  Jinnah smiled, amused. He looked over at the two young Evocators who had the temerity to giggle. “So, you claim, Captain,” Jinnah said. “But by your own admission, Lord Gamelan was blinded and had lost his powers. Also — and I hate to malign the dead — Gamelan was an old man. Far past his prime, mighty and gloried though that prime might have been.” He looked at the Evocators. “Isn’t that so, my Lords?”

 

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