Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress XXII
Page 27
"I understand, Captain," Leah said. "Losing a friend and boon companion must be soul-tearing."
Jonna nodded, thinking more on how Leah had never lost anyone close to her. So many fallen over the years, but those in the tontine were the closest. They had been more than sisters. They had been comrades-in-arms. They had shared everything—or so Jonna had thought. How little she had known of Bellarine's and nothing of Freda and Torian's last moments alive. She dared not linger on the courage—or was it fear?—that had guided Torian's hand when she killed Freda. Torian had never been known for blood rage, either, and yet she had refused to slip away when she might have and had attacked, knowing she could never survive. In its way, she had killed both Freda and herself that day. Jonna had never suspected. Always she had thought they died in a rebel ambush. Their bodies had never been found to give testimony to what had happened.
Jonna closed her eyes and lifted the cup to her lips.
"Asenthena," she said softly before downing the wine in a single gulp.
It felt as if she had been hit with a war hammer.
Doubt flooded her senses and more. Ever so much more. But not fear. That was alien to her—to Asenthena. But the pain gnawing at her breast inspired something akin to it. Jonna struggled to decide what she really felt. What Asenthena felt. Not fear. Anger. Hatred at her own weakness, but not fear at the cancer slowly stealing away her life.
Tears ran unabashedly down Jonna's cheeks now. She had not known and Asenthena had never told her. Side by side they had fought and Asenthena had never told her. Why?
Jonna saw the answer inside Asenthena and wept even more. Asenthena had not believed she would react well.
"No coddling," Asenthena said. "That's what Jonna would do. Coddle me, treat me differently. That would be worse than the slow death."
"I wouldn't have pitied you," Jonna gasped out. But what she saw was not fear of that. It was stark panic at the notion of being thought of as less. Asenthena was a warrior, the finest, always at the forefront, always braver and stronger than the rest. She was driven by what Jonna thought of her, now that the others were lost.
"I loved you," Jonna sobbed out. "I could never think of you with pity."
Even as she spoke, she saw how true Asenthena's vision was. If she had known of the cancer she would have behaved differently. Asenthena would not have been an equal but something less, not because of failing strength—never that. Asenthena was always so strong! Jonna felt it deep within, a different power from that of the cancer. The tumor might consume her body but could never taint her soul. It was something else.
"Never give Jonna reason to show her own weakness. Only give courage."
"Can I be so fragile?" Jonna wondered aloud, almost expecting a response. "Did Asenthena not see more in me than a delicate flower? I've fought long and well. Would I have crumpled knowing of my—your—my illness?"
Jonna sat straighter on the bench and told herself she would have never changed how she thought of her friend, and knew she lied. She would have. She had seen comrades distance themselves from the critically wounded to lessen the blow of death. She would never have done that with Asenthena, the last of the cadre, the last of her truest friends. But Asenthena had the clearer vision deep into her soul.
"Jonna will falter at the slow death, even as she squarely faces the quick death of battle. I must never give her that choice. It is my only legacy to her."
"Only?" cried Jonna. "No, no, your friendship! Your—" She broke down sobbing, only to feel a strong arm around her shoulders, steadying her. She drew back, confused with the thoughts and visions of Asenthena leading the assault that broke the Loee spirit and forced them to sue for peace. In the face of such ferocity as shown by Asenthena, the Loee realized they could never prevail.
"You've had too much to drink, Captain. Need some air?" Leah looked at her curiously. Not as a friend. Hardly as a subordinate. There was no pity for weakness, but there was no charity, either. It was as if she was a relic of the past that had tipped and fallen off the shelf to the floor. Not a tragedy since the relic had outlived its usefulness, but still something to be dealt with expeditiously because of what it had meant once.
"I need drinking companions now," Jonna said. She lifted the bottle and sloshed the single measure remaining. So long ago there had been five. Now only she remained.
"Easily done. I'll even buy," Leah said, laughing. She waved the others of her cadre over. They came reluctantly. To drink with their training officer was not right.
"No, I'll buy," Jonna said. "What good is coin if it's not spent wisely on wine?" She moved her bottle to the side of the table, trying not to look at the few ounces left sloshing over the bottom.
The others gathered around the table and accepted the wine brought by the tavern keeper.
Tales were told and bawdy songs were sung but Jonna sensed that Leah, if not the others, wanted an explanation for their captain's hesitation in finishing the wine in the bottle.
"Do you know what a tontine is?"
"A teenaged ton?" guessed one.
Jonna smiled wanly. A joker, like Freda.
"A pact among only the best of friends," Jonna said. She lifted the bottle. "I and four others signed this bottle of wine long ago. The survivor of the group is required to drink it." She sloshed the wine about inside. One draft left. She had sampled magically the dying thoughts of her friends. Only one drink remained—hers.
"So you get to drink to their memory," Leah said. "That's a fine idea."
"I don't drink to their memory but of their memories," Jonna corrected. "I thought I knew them all so well." She shook her head. "Even sharing their last memories, I don't know them as well as I thought." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Perhaps I know myself a little better." Or not at all, came the considered thought.
"Or mayhap it's the wine," Leah said.
"It might be the wine," Jonna said. Her head swam with the memories of her four friends, all so different and yet as one in death now.
"This is a good idea," spoke one of Leah's cadre. "Why can't we do a tontine? The last of us gets to drink free wine!"
They all agreed too hurriedly, Jonna thought. They did not realize what they did. But then, neither had she and her friends.
Jonna looked up and saw the tavern keeper shuffling toward them, clutching an empty bottle with a blank label on it. He said nothing as he placed it on the edge of the table, then pushed it to the center.
"What do we do?" Leah asked.
"Each of you pours an equal amount into the bottle," Jonna said. She watched as they did so. "Then you sign the label."
"In blood?"
"Ink's fine," the tavern keeper croaked out. He dropped a quill onto the table and then produced an ink bottle from an apron pouch. Each in turn signed with a flourish, laughing and jostling. How like it was, Jonna reflected, when she and the others had signed. Closing her eyes for a moment took her back, without need of the wine. She opened her eyes to the five soldiers toasting one another with what remained in their cups. A cork had been thrust into the tontine bottle and within minutes the tavern keeper had sealed it with red candle wax. He left them to place it safely within the sturdy cabinet behind the bar.
"How many bottles has he kept?" Jonna wondered aloud.
"Who cares? This is fun," Leah said. She downed the rest of her wine, clicked the cup on the table and ordered more.
But after the wine was served, Leah edged closer to Jonna and whispered, "Captain, what of the wine remaining in your tontine bottle?"
Jonna emptied the last drops into her cup. She stared into the shimmering surface rippling as the table was jostled by the others. Vague reflections of other times fleetingly appeared and then subsided.
"What of it?"
"You said you drank the memories of those who had died. Asenthena was the last—save for you. You're still among the living."
"The last time I checked I was," Jonna said. Entranced by the blood-red wine in her cup,
she could hardly pull her gaze from it. Patterns formed and died as she watched intently.
"What is it you'll see when you drink? Your own death? Or nothing since you haven't died yet?"
Jonna upended her cup, drained the heady liquid in a single gulp, licked her lips and then smiled as she gently lowered the cup to the tabletop.
"Well, Captain, what is it?"
"You'll see for yourself," Jonna told her. "If you are the last, you'll see."
On unsteady feet, Jonna left the tavern and plunged into the freezing night, invigorated by what lay ahead of her.
The Menagerie
by Sarah Dozier
Traditionally we end the anthology with something short and funny. As we got further into the reading period and I was getting stories that made me go back and check the guidelines to make sure that I had not said that 9000 words was my preferred length, I began to fear that we wouldn't get anything suitable for the last story. (I even wrote one myself, just in case.) Then, the day before the deadline, this arrived—not only short and funny, but from a brand new writer. Her writing professor suggested that, considering she had been reading Ms. Bradley's work for almost eight years, she should write something for SWORD & SORCERESS.
Sarah Dozier is a junior at Texas Christian University, working towards a BA in English and a minor in Theatre. She has been reading and writing, mainly science fiction and fantasy, almost as long as she can remember. When this book comes out in November she will just be turning 21. (Her birthday is on the 15th, so if that turns out to be the release date there will be a huge party in Texas and everyone is invited).
I like her approach to ending a war; I can think of a few world "leaders" I'd love to see it used on.
#
I didn't start the war, but I finished it, so I might as well tell the story. At least this way it might be told correctly.
* * * *
The war started out as most tend to. One king was offended by another at some banquet honoring someone else entirely. The offended one then wanted the other's land as an apology. Scuffles broke out but nothing official, yet. Slowly the kings turned to the use of assassins and magicians. Then the documents were signed and war officially started. That was ten years ago. By now the original argument must have been forgotten.
One of the two kings sent out the call for me. No messenger will ever admit to knowing how to get in contact with me, but all know my inn. My inn and the menagerie next door are well known; most just don't realize who runs it.
King Jereth's messenger reached me in November of the eleventh year and commanded my assistance. Of course my talent is not that easily bought; my reply was "no." A month later the same messenger showed up in my inn seeking refuge. The Black Death Inn and Creature Menagerie has always been a safe haven for all who ask. This time he came with the death count, from both sides. Thousands were dying and more would die. The messenger told me that King Jereth again commanded me to save his people and assassinate the other king. Again, I said no.
About six months after that, the other king, Aramond, sent his messengers asking for the same thing. Kill the other king. Their offers were truly impressive: my weight in silver, then jewels, and finally gold; half the kingdoms; a Prince for a husband or slave; finally, whatever I wanted. People were fleeing both countries and going to neighboring neutral countries, including the one where my inn was located. It was always filled with people from both countries, people who used to live just across the borders from each other. Friends and family.
After seven months of messengers, a child came up to me. He was fleeing from Aramond's country with his mother. His father had been slaughtered for not fighting.
"Daddy said the Black Panther could stop the fighting. Would you ask her for me?"
That was all that was needed. I told the small family that they would have free room and board for the evening. I showed them to my bedroom. I instructed a messenger from each side to return to his king and say I would end the fighting before noon tomorrow.
Aramond's daughter had sent me a message the same day the boy and his mother arrived. The day before Jereth's son also sent me a message. They had somehow managed to meet and fall in love and just wanted the war to end so they could marry. I knew the two kingdoms would be in good hands.
I went to my work room and changed into my tight dark leather pants, old worn thigh-high leather boots, and a soft black cotton shirt which fell to my thighs. A belt on my hip held several pouches of various potions and other items which might come in handy. A harness went over the shirt so that my sword would sit comfortably between my shoulder blades and the hilt would poke out over my right shoulder. The mask was actually a black kerchief to tame my mane of brown curls; it rested low on my forehead giving the illusion of disguise. Two silver webbed bracers fit comfortably on my forearms. Two black opals hid in the webbing; they worked the magic, not I. My black gloves hugged my hands as I walked into the common room of the inn. A hush fell over the whole room as I strode out in my regalia. For the first time in years I was dressed as the Black Panther.
I sent messengers to request that the kings meet me at the edges of their lands in a wood not far from my own inn.
At this point I should tell you about my menagerie. I have some of the exotic creatures that are found all over the world, but most are unique to my little menagerie. I have bears with wings, black unicorns, purple dragons that are the size of cats, cats the size of horses, and many more creatures. Every time I go out on a mission I return with another creature for my menagerie.
In the woods I hid behind a tree and watched the two kings approach each other. They were alone as I requested. I stood, feeling their energies bouncing around the small clearing. I was trying to determine what would become of them. Would the children like them? Would they behave?
"Gentlemen, are you prepared to provide me my payment?"
At that they both began to protest that I had neither completed the task nor specified my payment. They looked at each other. Eyes wide, each realized for the first time that the other wanted him dead.
"No, please. Panther, do something."
"I can't die; I'm not ready."
"My kingdom will fall."
"My child is too young to take over."
They protested, trying to drown each other out.
"My lords, neither of you is going to die just yet. Your children have both spoken to me. They plan to marry and merge your two kingdoms and rule together in peace. Your kingdoms will prosper and grow. People will flock to be part of the growth. New cities will emerge. Your legacy will go on. I am about to make you immortal. You should be thanking me."
They stood looking at me in wide-eyed fear, not sure what was about to happen. Then they tried to run. They always try to run. I flicked my hands and froze them.
* * * *
The next day I was showing some of the children staying at my inn around the menagerie. I showed them the black unicorn and I let them play with the purple dragons. The dragons coiled around the children like cats.
I glanced over at my two newest additions, still in their cages. A winged kitten and a young chimera glared out at me.
"See, my lords? If you learn to behave, you can come out and play with the children."
Kindle books in the Sword & Sorceress series
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress 22
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress 23
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress 24
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress 25
Marion Zimmer Bradley's Sword and Sorceress 26
http://www.elisabethwaters.com
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Copyright
Copyright © 2007 by The Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust
Cover design copyright © 2007 by Vera Nazarian
Introduction copyright © 2007 by Elisabeth Waters
Edra's Arrow copyright © 2007 by Esther M. Friesner
A Nose for Trouble copyright © 2007 by Patricia B. Cirone
Night Watches copyright © 2007 by Catherine Soto
Vanishing Village copyright © 2007 by Margaret L. Carter
Pearl of Fire copyright © 2007 by Deborah J. Ross
The Ironwood Box copyright © 2007 by Kimberly L. Maughan
Bearing Shadows copyright © 2007 by Dave Smeds
Black Ghost, Red Ghost copyright © 2007 by Jonathan Moeller
The Decisive Princess copyright © 2007 by Catherine Mintz
Child of the Father copyright © 2007 by Alanna Morland
Child of Ice, Child of Flame copyright © 2007 by Marian Allen
Skin and Bones copyright © 2007 by Heather Rose Jones
Crosswort Puzzle copyright © 2007 by Michael Spence & Elisabeth Waters
Fairy Debt copyright © 2007 by T. Borregaard
Tontine copyright © 2007 by Robert E. Vardeman
The Menagerie copyright © 2007 by Sarah Dozier