Shardik

by Richard Adams

  Tan-Rion considered.

  "He could still have come by that emblem honestly. In his case it might be no more than a token to prove who he was working for. Nobody knows what strange people may have been reporting direct to General Erketlis or carrying his messages these last few months. Suppose, for instance, that Lord Elleroth made use of this man while he was in Bekla? When is General Erketlis expected to return, have you heard?"

  "Not until the day after tomorrow, sir. He got wind of a big slave column on the move west of Thettit-Tonilda and heading for Bekla; to reach it in time meant some very hard going, so the general took a hundred men from the Falaron regiment and said he'd do the job himself."

  "Very like him. I'm only afraid he may try that sort of thing once too often. Well, at that rate I suppose we'll have to keep this man until he gets back."

  "I suggest we might ask Lord One-Hand--Lord Elleroth--to see him, sir. If he recognizes him, as I gather you yourself think may be possible, then at least we shall know where we are, even if the man doesn't come round enough to tell us anything."

  After a few more fruitless questions to Kelderek, Tan-Rion, together with his two soldiers, conducted him out of the house and up on the town walls. Here, walking in the spring sunshine, they looked down upon the town on one side and on the other upon the huts and bivouacs of the camp in the fields outside. The smoke of fires was drifting on the breeze and in the marketplace a crowd was gathering in response to the long-drawn, stylized summons of a red-cloaked crier.

  "Must have made his fortune since we came here, eh?" said a sentry on the wall to one of Tan-Rion's soldiers, jerking his thumb to where the crier below was already climbing on his rostrum.

  "I dare say," answered the soldier. "I know I've done well enough out of him. He hangs about our place and offers to pay for anything we can tell him."

  "Well, just be careful how much you do tell him," snapped Tan-Rion, turning his head.

  "You bet, sir. We all want to stay alive."

  They descended from the wall by a flight of steps near the gate at which Kelderek had entered the town the night before and, passing through a square, came to a large stone house where a sentry stood before the door. Kelderek and his escort were taken to a room which had formerly been that of the household steward, while Tan-Rion, after a few words with the captain of the guard, accompanied that officer through the house and into the garden.

  The garden, green and formal, was shady with ornamental trees and shrubs--lexis, purple cresset and sharp-scented planella already opening its tiny, mauve-speckled flowers to the early sun. Through their midst, murmuring along its gravel bed, ran a brook channeled down from the reservoir. Along the verge, Elleroth was walking in conversation with a Yeldashay officer, a Deelguy baron and the governor of the town. He was gaunt and pale, his face haggard with pain and recent privation. His left hand, carried in a sling, was encased to the wrist in a great, padded glove of birch bark that covered and protected the dressings beneath. His sky-blue robe, a gift from the wardrobe of Santil-ke-Erketlis (for he had reached the army in rags), had been embroidered across the breast with the corn sheaves of Sarkid, while the silver clasp of his belt was fashioned in the stag emblem. He walked leaning on a staff and those beside him carefully suited their pace to his. He nodded courteously to Tan-Rion and the guard commander, who stood deferentially aside, waiting until he should be ready to hear them.

  "Of course," Elleroth was saying to the governor, "I cannot tell you what the commander in chief will decide. But clearly, whether the army remains here and for how long will depend not only on the movements of the enemy but also on the state of our own supplies. We're quite a long way from Ikat"--he smiled--"and we shan't be loved up here much longer if we eat everybody out of house and home. The Ortelgan army are in the middle of their own country--or what they call their own country. I dare say we may decide to seek them out and fight them soon, before the balance begins to tip against us. I can assure you that General Erketlis has all this very much in mind. At the same time, there are two excellent reasons why we should like to stay here a little longer, provided you can bear with us--and I assure you that you would not, in the long run, be losers. In the first place, we are doing what we intended--what the enemy supposed we could never do and what we could not have done without help from Deelguy." He bowed slightly to the baron, a heavy, swarthy man, showy as a macaw. "We think that if we continue to hold the reservoir, the enemy may feel driven to attack us at a disadvantage. He for his part is probably waiting to see whether we shall stay here. So we want to look as though we shall."

  "You are not going to destroy the reservoir, my lord?" asked the governor anxiously.

  "Only in the very last resort," answered Elleroth cheerfully. "But I'm sure with your help we shall never come to that, shall we?" The governor replied with a wry smile and after a few moments Elleroth continued.

  "The second reason is that we are anxious, while we are here, to hunt down as many slave traders as we can. We have already caught not only several who hold warrants from the so-called king of Bekla, but also one or two of those who do not. But as you know, the country beyond the Vrako, right across to Zeray and up as far as the gap of Linsho, is wild and remote. Here, we are on its doorstep: Kabin is the ideal base from which to search it. If only we can gain the time, our patrols will be able to comb out the whole of that area. And believe it or not, we have received a reliable offer of help from Zeray itself."

  "From Zeray, my lord?" said the governor incredulously.

  "From Zeray," answered Elleroth. "And you told me, didn't you," he went on, turning with a smile to Tan-Rion, who was still waiting nearby, "that you had information about at least one unlicensed slave trader who is believed to be either beyond the Vrako at this moment or else making toward it from Tonilda?"

  "Yes, my lord," replied Tan-Rion. "The child-dealer, Genshed--a most cruel, evil man, from Terekenalt. But Trans-Vrako will be difficult country to search and he might very well give us the slip, even now."

  "Well, we shall have to do the best we can. So you see--"

  "Any news of your own trouble, my lord?" broke in the Yeldashay officer impulsively.

  Elleroth bit his lip and paused a moment before answering.

  "I'm afraid not--for the time being. So you see," he resumed quickly to the governor, "we are going to need all the help you can give us; and what I would like to learn from you is how we can best feed and supply the army while we stay here a little longer. Perhaps you will be so good as to think about it and we will have a talk with the commander in chief when he returns. We sincerely want to avoid making your people suffer, and as I said, we will pay honestly for your help."

  The governor was about to withdraw when Elleroth suddenly added, "By the way, the priestess from the Telthearna island--the wise woman--you gave her a safe-conduct, as I asked you?"

  "Yes, my lord," replied the governor, "yesterday at noon. She has been gone these twenty hours."

  "Thank you."

  The governor bowed and went away through the trees. Elleroth stood still, watching a trout that hung on the edge of the current, motionless save for the flickering of its tail. It darted upstream and he sat down on a stone bench, easing his hand in the sling and shaking his head as though at some thought that preoccupied and distressed him. At length, recalling Tan-Rion, he looked up with a questioning smile.

  "Sorry to bother you, sir," said Tan-Rion briskly. "Yesterday evening one of our patrols brought in a wandering Ortelgan who kept talking about a message to or from Bekla. This morning we found this on him and I thought best to come and show it to you at once."

  Elleroth took the stag emblem, looked at it, started, frowned and then examined it more closely.

  "What does he look like, this man?" he asked at length.

  "Like an Ortelgan, my lord," replied Tan-Rion, "spare and dark. It's hard to say much more--he's pretty well exhausted--half-starved and worn out. He must have had a very bad time."

&nb
sp; "I will see him immediately," said Elleroth.

  38 The Streets of Kabin

  AT THE SIGHT OF ELLEROTH KELDEREK'S MEMORY, by this time half-restored--like the safety of a swimmer whose limp feet, as he drifts, have already touched bottom here and there; or the consciousness of an awakening sleeper whose hearing has caught but, who has not yet recognized for what they are, the singing of the birds and the sound of rain--cleared as immediately as the misted surface of a mirror wiped by an impatient hand. The voices of the Yeldashay officers, the starred banner floating on the walls above the garden, the cognizances worn by the soldiers standing about him--all these assumed on the instant a single, appalling meaning. So might an old, sick man, smiling as his son's wife bent over his bed, grasp in a moment the terrible import of her look and of the pillow poised above his face. Kelderek gave a quick, gasping cry, staggered and would have fallen if the soldiers had not caught him under the arms. As they did so, he struggled briefly, then recovered himself and stood staring, tense and wide-eyed as a bird held in a man's hand.

  "How do you come to be here, Crendrik?" asked Elleroth.

  Kelderek made no reply.

  "Are you seeking refuge from your own people?"

  He shook his head mutely and seemed about to faint.

  "Let him sit down," said Elleroth.

  There was no second bench and one of the soldiers ran to bring a stool from the house. As he returned, two or three of the guards off duty followed him and stood peering from among the trees, until their tryzatt ordered them sharply back to the house.

  "Crendrik," said Elleroth, leaning toward him where he sat hunched upon the stool, "I am asking you again. Are you here as a fugitive from Bekla?"

  "I--I am no fugitive," replied Kelderek in a low voice.

  "We know that there has been a rising in Bekla. You say that that has nothing to do with your coming here, alone and exhausted?"

  "I know nothing of it. I left Bekla within an hour of yourself--and by the same gate."

  "You were pursuing me?"

  "No."

  Kelderek's face was set. The guard commander seemed about to strike him, but Elleroth held up his hand and waited, looking at him intently.

  "I was following Lord Shardik. That is my charge from God," cried Kelderek with sudden violence and looking up for the first time. "I have followed him from Bekla to the hills of Gelt."

  "And then--?"

  "I lost him, and later came upon your soldiers."

  The sweat was standing on his forehead and his breath came in gasps.

  "You thought they were your own?"

  "It's no matter what I thought."

  Elleroth searched for a moment among a bundle of scrolls and letters lying beside him on the bench.

  "Is that your seal?" he asked, holding out a paper.

  Kelderek looked at it. "Yes."

  "What is this paper?"

  Kelderek made no reply.

  "I will tell you what it is," said Elleroth. "It is a license issued by yourself in Bekla to a man called Nigon, authorizing him to enter Lapan and take up a quota of children as slaves. I have several similar papers here."

  The hatred and contempt of the men standing nearby was like the oppression of snow unfallen from a winter sky. Kelderek, hunched upon the stool, was shaking as though with bitter cold. The scent of the planella came and went, evanescent as the squeaking of bats at twilight.

  "Well," said Elleroth briskly, getting up from the bench, "I have recovered this trinket, Crendrik, and you have nothing to tell us, it seems; so I can resume my work and you had better return to your business of seeking the bear."

  Tan-Rion drew in his breath sharply. The young Yeldashay officer started forward.

  "My lord--"

  Again Elleroth raised his hand.

  "I have my reasons, Dethrin. Surely if anyone has the right to spare this man, it is I?"

  "But, my lord," protested Tan-Rion, "this evil man--the priest-king of Shardik himself--Providence has delivered him into our hands--the people--"

  "You may take my word for it that neither he nor the bear can harm us now. And if it is merely a matter of retribution that is troubling you, perhaps you will persuade the people to forgo it, as a favor to me. I have certain information which leads me to conclude that we should spare this man's life."

  His mild words were spoken with a firm directness which plainly admitted of no further argument. His officers were silent.

  "You will go eastward, Crendrik," said Elleroth. "That will suit us both, since not only is it the opposite direction from Bekla, but it also happens to be the direction your bear has taken."

  From the square outside could now be heard a growing hubbub--murmuring broken by angry shouts, raucous, inarticulate cries and the sharper voices of soldiers trying to control a crowd.

  "We will give you food and fresh shoes," said Elleroth, "and that is as much as I can do for you. I can see well enough that you are in poor shape, but if you stay here you will be torn to pieces. You will not have forgotten that Mollo came from Kabin. Now understand this plainly. If ever again you allow yourself to fall into the hands of this army, you will be put to death. I repeat, you will be put to death. I should not be able to save you again." He turned to the guard commander. "See that he has an escort as far as the ford of the Vrako, and tell the crier to give out that it is my personal wish that no one should touch him."

  He nodded to the soldiers, who once more grasped Kelderek by the arms. They had already begun to lead him away when suddenly he wrenched himself about.

  "Where is Lord Shardik?" he cried. "What did you mean--he cannot harm you now?"

  One of the soldiers jerked back his head by the hair, but Elleroth, motioning them to let him go, faced him once more.

  "We have not hurt your bear, Crendrik," he said. "We had no need."

  Kelderek stared at him, trembling. Elleroth paused a moment. The noise of the crowd now filled the garden and the two soldiers, waiting, looked at one another sidelong.

  "Your bear is dying, Crendrik," said Elleroth deliberately. "One of our patrols came upon it in the hills three days ago and followed it eastward until it waded the upper Vrako. They were in no doubt. Other news has reached me also--never mind how--that you and the bear came alive from the Streels of Urtah. Of what befell you at the Streels you know more than I, but that is why your life is spared. I have no part in blood required of God. Now go."

  In the steward's room, one of the soldiers threw back his head and spat in Kelderek's face.

  "You dirty bastard," he said, "burned his mucking hand off, did you?"

  "And now he says we're to let you go," said the other soldier. "You damned, rotten Ortelgan slave trader! Where's his son, eh? You saw to that, did you? 'You're the one that told Genshed what he had to do?"

  "Where's his son?" repeated the first soldier, as Kelderek made no reply but stood with bent head, looking down at the floor.

  "Didn't you hear me?" Taking Kelderek's chin in his hand, he forced it up and stared contemptuously into his eyes.

  "I heard you," mouthed Kelderek, his words distorted by the soldier's grip, "I don't know what you mean."

  Both the soldiers gave short, derisive laughs.

  "Oh, no," said the second soldier. "You're not the man who brought back slave trading to Bekla, I suppose?"

  Kelderek nodded mutely.

  "Oh, you admit that much? And of course you don't know that Lord Elleroth's eldest son disappeared more than a month ago, and that our patrols have been searching for him from Lapan to Kabin? No, you don't know anything, do you?"

  He raised his open hand, jeering as Kelderek flinched away.

  "I know nothing of that," replied Kelderek. "But why do you blame the boy's disappearance on a slave trader? A river, a wild beast--"

  The soldier stared at him for a moment and then, apparently convinced that he really knew no more than he had said, answered, "We know who's got the lad. It's Genshed of Terekenalt."

  "I
never heard of him. There's no man of that name licensed to trade in Beklan provinces."

  "You'd make the stars angry," replied the soldier. "Everyone's heard of him, the dirty swine. No, like enough he's not licensed in Bekla--even you wouldn't license him. I dare say. But he works for those that are licensed--if you call that work."

  "And you say this man has taken the Ban of Sarkid's heir?"

  "Half a month ago, down in eastern Lapan, we captured a trader called Nigon, together with three overseers and forty slaves. I suppose you'll tell us you didn't know Nigon either?"

  "No, I remember Nigon."

  "He told General Erketlis that Genshed had got the boy and was making north through Tonilda. Since then patrols have searched up through Tonilda as far as Thettit. If Genshed was ever there, he's not there now."

  "But how could you expect me to know this?" cried Kelderek. "If what you say is true, I don't know why Elleroth spared my life any more than you do."

  "He spared you, maybe," said the first soldier. "He's a fine gentleman, isn't he? But we're not, you slave-trading bastard. I reckon if anyone knows where Genshed is, it's you. What were you doing in these parts, and how else could he have got clean away?"

  He picked up a heavy tally-stick lying on the steward's table and laughed as Kelderek flung up his arm.

  "Stop that!" rapped the guard commander, appearing in the doorway. "You heard what One-Hand said. You're to let him alone!"

  "If they will let him alone, sir," answered the soldier. "Listen to them!" He pulled a stool to the high window, stood on it and looked out. The noise of the crowd had if anything increased, though no words were distinguishable. "If they will let him alone, One-Hand's the only man they'd do it for."

  Sitting down apart, Kelderek shut his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. A man may by chance overhear words which he knows to have been spoken with no malice toward himself, perhaps not even with reference to his own affairs, but which nevertheless, if they are true, import his personal misfortune or misery--words, perhaps, of a commercial venture foundered, of an army's defeat, of another man's fall or a woman's loss of honor. Having heard, he stands bewildered, striving by any means to set aside, to find grounds for disbelieving the news, or at least for rejecting the conclusion he has drawn, like an unlucky card, for his own personal fortune. But the very fact that the words did not refer directly to him serves more than anything else to corroborate what he fears. Despite the desperate antics of his brain, he knows how more than likely it is that they are true. Yet still there is a faint possibility that they may not be. And so he remains, like a chess player who cannot bear to lose, still searching the position for the least chance of escape. So Kelderek sat, turning and turning in his mind the words which Elleroth had spoken. If Shardik were dying--but Shardik could not be dying. If Shardik were dying--if Shardik were dying, what business had he himself left in the world? Why did the sun still shine? What was now the intent of God? Sitting so rapt and still that at length his guards' attention wandered and they ceased to watch him, he contemplated the blank wall as though seeing there the likeness of a greater, incomprehensible void, stretching from pole to pole.