Aram inclined his head. “You are wise, my friend. You see things exactly as they are, and I am stronger for having your friendship as well.”
Borlus continued to gaze at Aram for a moment longer and then turned to the small cub that sat behind him, nudging the little one to come forward.
“This, Master Aram, is my son.”
Aram held out his hand slowly. After sniffing at the stranger, the cub opened his mouth and began to gnaw on Aram’s gauntlet. Aram laughed.
“What is his name, Borlus?”
Borlus hesitated. “His name is – his name is Aram, like your name.” He looked at Aram closely. “Does this offend you, master?”
Aram grinned at the little bear, chewing contently and fearlessly on his metal glove. “Offend me? No, Borlus; it is a great honor.” He ruffled the fur on top of the cub’s head. “Hello, little Aram, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
He looked toward the rear of the chamber. “And there is another.”
“Yes.” At Borlus’ urging, his mate, a small rust-colored female named Hilla came forward, shadowed by another small bear, cream-colored and shy. “My mate, Hilla, you know. This is Simma, my daughter.”
This little one hung close to its mother, preferring to study the strangers from a safe distance. Aram acknowledged Hilla and indicated Ka’en. “This is the woman who will be my mate, Hilla. Her name is Ka’en.”
Ka’en bowed slightly. “Hello, Hilla.”
“Mistress Ka’en; I am pleased to meet you. Borlus has often been concerned that Master Aram is alone so much. We are glad that you have come. You will grace the valley.”
They went out into the sunshine of the small meadow that stretched alongside the stream, to the southeast of the bluff. For the next two or three hours, Aram and Borlus played with little Aram and with Simma – who was finally coaxed into accepting the presence of these tall strangers – and Ka’en and Hilla sat on the grass and visited. Thaniel and Huram grazed contentedly. The afternoon passed peacefully and pleasantly.
Finally, Aram decided that it was time to take their leave and return to the city. As they mounted and said goodbye, Aram looked down at the small family and then met Borlus’ eyes. “If you ever wish to live inside the city, my friend, you and your family are always welcome.”
Borlus laughed quietly, a low rumbling sound. “It is a kind offer, master, but we prefer these hills. There is food here and there is peace.”
Aram nodded. “If that peace is ever broken, Borlus, I will expect you and your family to come inside the walls for safety.”
“You are here, master. How will the peace ever be broken? But thank you – I will remember.”
“Farewell, my friends.” Aram said, as the horses turned down the valley. “We will return to visit you whenever we can.”
“Go in peace, Master Aram, and Mistress Ka’en.” Borlus answered earnestly, and Hilla echoed his sentiments.
On the trip back to the city, once they reached the wide road leading south and the horses traveled side-by-side; Aram again leaned over and reached for Ka’en’s hand. He still felt anxious over their morning’s conversation, but Ka’en seemed to hold no ill will, smiling at him tenderly as she extended her hand.
“What do you think of Borlus and his family?” He asked.
A wistful look entered her lovely eyes, but her smile remained. “I like them. Hilla is clever and intelligent. The cubs are adorable.” Her gaze lifted and swept over the hills around them and the open valley to the south. “They live like the Maker intended all to live – in peace and plenty.”
She went silent for a moment and her smile failed. When she looked back at him, it seemed to Aram that sudden anger smoldered just beneath the surface of her placid exterior. “Manon would destroy that, wouldn’t he?”
Aram nodded. “He will destroy their life if he is not stopped, even if it is done by a peripheral rather than a direct action on his part. What he did to the wolves long ago proves it. I saw wolves devour their own kind as if it were a natural thing to do before I wrested mastery over them away from Manon. He is evil, Ka’en, and everything that he touches is destroyed – and he means to touch the whole world. Then, if Kelven is right – he will try to take the stars.”
“What does he want from us, Aram? What will enslaving our people accomplish for him?” Ka’en turned her head and looked back the way they had come. “How could he possibly profit by the destruction of something so beautiful, simple, and innocent as the lives of Hilla and her children?”
He squeezed her hand tightly, making her look at him. “Do you want to know what I really think? Can you bear to hear it?”
After a moment’s hesitation, in which she searched his eyes, she nodded. “I think so.”
“It will do me good to talk of it. I’ve never had anyone –” He went silent for a moment and let his gaze sweep around the green valley before bringing it to rest on her face. “Understand, Ka’en, that I don’t know the truth of any of what I am about to say; it is only conjecture – my suspicions based on what I have heard and seen. Even the gods fret over Manon’s true intentions, and I can’t know more than they.” He glanced southwestward toward the city as they dropped down out of the hills and entered the valley proper. The sun was slipping toward the spine of the great black mountain; the afternoon was lush with the smells and sounds of a day in full spring.
“I don’t think we matter to Manon, Ka’en, other than being an obstacle to his ambitions that must be removed or conquered. Or perhaps he thinks our kind will somehow be a useful bargaining tool in the pursuit of those ambitions.” Aram looked up into the deep vault of the heavens, wonderfully blue and cloudless. “What he really wants is out there, where the gods live. I think that what Manon really wants is control of the larger issues – as well as the undiluted respect and obeisance of the rest of the gods.”
He looked over at her and his green eyes grew narrow and hard. “I even suspect that he may desire to depose the Maker Himself and sit on the throne of power. I believe that he means to rule the universe.”
Ka’en shook her head slowly as she gazed back at him, wide-eyed. “Then why are you fighting this battle? Why not the gods – or the Maker Himself ? Why would they let you fight their battles for them?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, Ka’en. I’ve asked that question myself, of others.” He sighed. “And perhaps the answer to that question would put the lie to everything I’ve just said. Maybe it is us that Manon wants. Maybe he is just settling an ancient score with our kind. Perhaps he is simply petty, after all.”
“Still,” she persisted, “why wouldn’t the gods help?”
He reached up and patted the hilt of the sword that rose above his left shoulder. “Joktan says that they already have. The rest is up to me – to us.”
“Joktan says –?” She frowned at him. “Who is this other Joktan?”
He looked at her sharply, angry with himself for once again forgetting that his experiences were quite unique and very different from those of everyone around him. He hesitated before answering, wondering what she would think of his claim to speaking with the dead. But there was nothing else for it, only the truth. “He is my ancestor, Ka’en. There is no ‘other’ Joktan.”
“You have a living ancestor?”
He shook his head, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “No, not exactly. He is the same Joktan who faced Manon long ago in the last great battle. He is still here but not really alive.”
Her eyes grew wide and troubled, as if their conversation had just entered ground upon which she did not want to tread. “Then how do you talk to him?”
“I don’t know how it works, Ka’en.” He sighed again, and pulled Thaniel to a stop. He turned to face her. “But it’s something that you might as well know about, among other things. I want no secrets from you, Ka’en.”
Then, sitting in the fading afternoon by the gentle river with the warm sun filtering through the trees, he told her all that he knew of the
ancient times – all those things that Florm had related to him. He explained about Joktan, and about why he wouldn’t leave the earth without being avenged upon Manon. Finally, he admitted to spending the waning days of winter in the company of his dead ancestor. He even told her about the gold. When he had finished, her lovely eyes were wide with wonder, but he could see in them that she believed him. He smiled wryly.
“So you don’t think I’m crazy – or a liar?”
She returned his smile. “I know that you’re not crazy, my love. What you’ve told me explains much about you that so many wonder about. And,” her smile became coy, “you don’t lie, remember? You told me so this morning, in no uncertain terms.”
It was the first time that day she had mentioned their difficult conversation of the morning; it made him glad to hear her talk of it with such ease.
He grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I needed to hear it. And thank you for telling me all of this.” Then her demeanor turned serious and she frowned. “So then, as far as Joktan is concerned, you are simply the agent of his revenge?”
He smiled gently. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters. This is our life he is trifling with.”
“No.” Aram shook his head firmly. “It doesn’t matter, Ka’en. Manon will destroy or enslave us, anyway, if he can, and must be stopped – whatever Joktan’s interest in the matter. And I promise you that no one will trifle with our life, or any decision that I make.” His smile returned. “You should know that I am not easily influenced – a fact, I am certain, that troubles both Joktan and Kelven. Like I told you this morning; what I do, I do for you – and for us. If in the course of events Joktan is avenged; well, then, good.”
“And the gods will not help us?”
Before answering, he spoke to Thaniel and Huram, starting the horses moving once again down the valley road, and then looked over at her. “I told you, my love – Kelven has already helped as much as he could.” He frowned a moment, remembering Bendan’s visitation in Borlus’ grotto, and then he spoke quietly, as if to himself. “And evidently Ferros is more interested in things than he seems.”
Ka’en raised a tapered finger and pointed skyward. “But what about them out there?”
Aram shook his head. “They have their own problems. Manon, evidently, is ours. And we will have to deal with him.”
She went silent then, watching him to see if he would continue, but he wanted to enjoy her company for the remainder of the ride back to the city without diluting the time by the discussion of such dark, serious matters. He smiled gently and reached over and took her hand and they passed back down the valley in silence as the sun slid toward the mountain.
It was a peaceful scene that awaited them when they turned the corner by the four pyramids and went up the avenue toward the city. The sun fell behind the mountain as they went toward it. Deer grazed on the slopes beyond the ruined gardens off to their right while, opposite them, scattered across the rolling grassy knolls that stretched toward the south, hundreds of horses moved slowly, their noses to the lush ground.
Songbirds flitted in the thicketed trees and brush, preparing to settle for the evening and doves cooed from the shadowed orchard. The nearness of Ka’en lulled him and the menace of Manon seemed far away. For a brief moment Aram felt the tantalizing urge to believe that the peaceful scene before him would last and expand undisturbed without the need for any violent actions on his part. If he would leave Manon alone, Manon would ignore them, and he and Ka’en could administer life in the valley as master and mistress, an oasis of calm and beauty in a dark, sinister, and troubled world.
But then he shook himself back to reality. Manon’s strength, though not yet at the height of potency and concentrated far away over the rim of the world, still grew daily. And it grew toward one end – the subjugation of all life. There would be need for violence on his part; worse, there would be the need for him to go away from Ka’en – no doubt for extended periods of time, before the vision of peace before him could be sustained.
They released Thaniel and Huram to graze and went into the great hall to sup with Mallet, Wamlak, and Jonwood. Findaen, Timmon, and Nikolus would not return before the following evening or perhaps the day after that. They laughed and talked with the men of Derosa, though Aram noted that the ease with which they had once spoken to him had been replaced, irrevocably, by cautious and respectful deference.
Some of it, he knew, was the result of an understanding that he would marry their princess, thereby becoming their liege; but most of it was due to the fact that the world seemed to revolve around this fierce, dark-haired man, the spawn of ancient kings. He had done things they could not fathom, gone places only described in legend, and had talked with gods.
When the evening lengthened, Aram and Ka’en went out and walked the great porch, watching as the stars came out of hiding and crowded against the black canvass of the night. He put his arm about her shoulders as the night grew cool.
“Where shall I sleep?” He asked.
She leaned back and looked up at him. “In your bed, of course. Where else?”
He looked into her eyes, lustrous, dark pools reflecting the stars like so many tiny jewels. “Where did you sleep while you were caring for me?”
“In the chair opposite the bed. It’s quite comfortable and will continue to suit me just fine.”
In the darkness, she could not see the frown that creased his forehead. “Is it appropriate for us to share a room, now that I am on the mend?”
“No. But these are unusual circumstances.” She was quiet a moment. “I could stay in the hall with the others.”
He shook his head. “I’ll do that. You will have my room – and the bed.”
“No, Aram, please.” She shivered and he drew her closer. “The tower room is at the upper end of the city. I don’t want to be that far from you at night. This is no time to worry about my virtue. I’ll stay with you in the tower – you on the bed, and me in the chair.”
He thought about it for a time, listening to the night birds and insects. After a while, he laughed quietly and turned her around; they walked toward the front of the city. “There’s a room off the great hall, to the right, toward the avenue. I’ll bring the bed down and put it in there – that room will give you privacy. I’ll sleep on the chair just outside the door. You will be safe, I will be near, and your virtue will be secure.”
She snuggled deeper into the curve of his arm as they walked. After a moment, she said without looking up, “Let’s talk with my father as soon as possible – ask him to grant an early wedding.”
“Yes,” Aram answered quietly, the nearness of her body setting his flesh afire, “let’s do that.”
Eighteen
They spent the next day wandering the streets, fulfilling Aram’s promise to show her his city. Aram was as astonished as Ka’en at the unearthly beauty of some of the mansions that lined the avenues. He’d never really viewed the city as a place to live, but rather as a fortress to defend; consequently, he had never taken the time to admire its many lovely interior structures, concentrating instead on its exterior defenses.
Many of the buildings were, in fact, damaged, apparently during the course of the ancient struggle between Manon and Aram’s ancestors. But all in all, the damage was fairly slight, due both to the fact that the city was carved from the sturdy rock of the mountain, and also because the city was abandoned early on, for strategic reasons. Once the humans had gone, lashers and gray men had no further interest.
There was one mansion in particular on the second level, situated in a broad space on the right side of the avenue with an overgrown garden in an interior courtyard, and an unobstructed view from its veranda and many windows of the city below and the valley beyond. The walls of this mansion were carved with ornate patterns in the stonework that lined its many arches, doorways and columns. The columns that held up the arches
and ceilings were carved with a motif of an encircling leafy vine, laden with bunches of small, round fruits, with which Aram was unfamiliar.
Ka’en, however, recognized them at once. “Grapes.”
“Grapes?” He frowned at her and she laughed, glad to be his teacher.
“Wine is made from them.” She said. She wandered out into the overgrown garden and went to the wall, where she looked out over the valley. Turning around, she studied the house and its weedy courtyard with a critical but approving eye. Then she met his gaze with a smile.
“This is my house.” She said.
He looked slowly around and nodded. Though he’d never noticed it before, it was one of the finest dwellings in the city. “I’ll get to work as soon as possible – make it livable.”
“No.” She came over to him and laid her cool fingers upon his arm. “It can wait for now. But when – when we can live here in peace, this will be our house.”
“You have a good eye, my love.” He answered. “This is a fine house. I had never really looked at it before.”
She laughed, and it was a delightful sound to his ears, full of joy, free of anxiety, happy. “I can believe it, my darling. Findaen is right – you are a splendid barbarian, but a barbarian nonetheless.”
He watched her laugh at him and smiled at the sight of it. “Well, I’m sure you will remedy that soon enough.”
Her laughter trailed off, though her smile remained, and she shook her head. “Oh, no, my love; I will never seek to change anything about you. I love you as you are.” She looked around, her eyes shining. “And I love this place.”
Sudden pride surged in him as he watched her. “Well, then, it is yours. Here is where we will live – someday.”
They wandered the house a while longer, Ka’en talking excitedly of what she would do with each room, and Aram watching her with mounting happiness until finally he grew hungry enough that he drew her away and down to the great hall where she made a large pan of potatoes for him and the others.
Kelven's Riddle Book Two Page 28