Shardik

by Richard Adams

  The Tuginda moaned, her face twisted as though in pain. He crossed to the bed and knelt to support her with one arm around her shoulders.

  "Rest, saiyett. You are among friends. Be at peace."

  She was speaking, very low, and he put his ear to her lips.

  "Shardik! To find--Lord Shardik--"

  She ceased, and again he sat beside her.

  His love for Melathys, he knew now, had lain dormant in his heart from the first. The girl on the terrace, her great, golden collar glinting in the flame-light; the girl who had played, immune, with the point of the arrow and the edge of the sword, as a goddess might play with cataracts or lightning; who, uninstructed and unquestioning, had divined the importance of his coming to Quiso--this memory had never left him. Of his admiration and awe for her he had certainly been conscious, but how could he, the ragged, dirty hunter who had fallen senseless to the ground for fear of the magic of Quiso, possibly have suspected, then, that desire also had sown its seed in his heart? To desire a priestess of Quiso--the very thought, entertained, was sacrilege. He recalled the events of that night--the anger of Bel-ka-Trazet, the bewitched landing on Quiso in the dark, the crossing of the swaying bridge over the ravine, the sight of Rantzay and Anthred walking among the glowing embers, and, weighing heavier than all, the burden of the news which he bore. Small wonder that he had not dwelled much upon the nature of his feeling for Melathys. And yet, unregarded, as though germinating its own life independently and alone, deep below his consuming preoccupation with Shardik, his cryptic love had taken root. In his pity for Melathys, he now realized, there had lain an unrecognized satisfaction in finding that human weakness had its part even in her; that she, like any other mortal, could stand in need of comfort and encouragement. Lastly, he recalled the night when the High Baron and he had discovered her flight. "That girl had some sense," the Baron had said. At the sardonic words he himself had felt not only resentment, but also anguish that Melathys, like the golden berries of the melikon, should have proved worthless, have drifted away with the river, to be seen no more. And yet another feeling he recalled which had come into his heart--and how, he wondered, could he possibly have failed to perceive the significance of this?--a sense of personal loss and betrayal. Already, even at that time, he had unconsciously begun to think of her as in some sense his own and, though strong then and confident in his own integrity, had felt neither contempt nor anger at her flight, but only disappointment. Since that night, neither she nor anyone had betrayed him so thoroughly as he had betrayed himself. If she had wept for forgiveness in the graveyard, what was his need?

  He thought, too, of his unforced chastity in Bekla; of his indifference to both the luxury at his command and the outward grandeur of his kingship; of his continual sense that there was some truth that he still lacked. The great secret to be imparted through Shardik, the secret of life which he had never found--this, he still knew, was no figment. This he had not confused with his unrecognized love for Melathys. Yet--and now he frowned, puzzled and uncertain--in some mysterious way the two were connected. With the help of the second he might, perhaps, have succeeded, after all, in finding the first.

  Just as the Tuginda had warned, the conquest of Bekla had proved to have nothing to do with the truth of Shardik, had served only to impede the search and hinder the divine disclosure of that truth. Now that Shardik was lost forever, he himself had awoken, like a drunkard in a ditch, to the recollection of folly, while the magic girl among the bowls of fire had become a disgraced fugitive, familiar with fear, with lust and violence. Error and shame, he reflected, were the inescapable lot of mankind; yet still it comforted him to think that Melathys too had a part in this bitter inheritance. If, somehow, he could save her life and bring her and the Tuginda to safety, then perhaps he might at last beg the Tuginda's forgiveness and, if Melathys would consent to come with him, journey far away and forget the very name of Shardik, of whom he had proved himself so unworthy.

  Hearing Melathys call from beyond the courtyard, he went out and unbarred the door. The girl's news was that Farrass and Thrild, those followers of the Baron whom she herself felt were most to be trusted, were ready to speak with him if he would go to meet them. Asking Ankray to make the journey once again as his guide, he set out to cross Zeray.

  Despite all that he had heard, he was unprepared for the squalor and filth, the sullen, half-starved faces peering as he went by, the miasma of want, fear and violence that seemed to rise out of the very dirt underfoot. Those whom he passed on the waterfront were hollow-cheeked and gray-faced, sitting or lying listlessly as they stared out at the choppy water racing down the midstream channel and the deserted eastern shore beyond. He saw no shops and no one plying a trade, unless indeed it were a shivering, potbellied child with a basket, who waded knee-deep in the shallows, stooping and searching--for what, Kelderek could not tell. Upon arriving at his destination, like one awaking from a dream, he could recall few details, retaining only an undifferentiated impression of menace sensed rather than observed, and of hard glances which he had found himself unwilling to meet. Once or twice, indeed, he had stopped and tried to look about him, but Ankray, without presuming in so many words to warn him, had contrived to convey that they would do better to keep on their way.

  Farrass, a tall, thin-faced man, dressed in torn clothes too small for him and carrying a club at his belt, sat lengthwise, with one foot up, on a bench, looking warily at Kelderek and continually dabbing with a rag at an oozing sore on his cheek.

  "Melathys says you were the Ortelgan king of Bekla."

  "It's true, but I'm seeking no authority here."

  Thrild, dark, slight and quick-moving, grinned where he leaned against the window ledge, biting a splinter of kindling wood between his teeth.

  "That's as well, for there's little to be had."

  Farrass hesitated, reluctant, like everyone east of the Vrako, to ask questions about the past. At length, shrugging his shoulders like a man deciding that the only way to have done with an awkward job is to get on with it, he said, "You were deposed?"

  "I fell into the hands of the Yeldashay army at Kabin. They spared my life but sent me across the Vrako."

  "Santil's army?"

  "Yes."

  "They're at Kabin?"

  "They were six days ago."

  "Why did they spare you?"

  "One of their principal officers persuaded them. He had his reasons."

  "And you chose to come to Zeray?"

  "I fell in with an Ortelgan priestess in the forest, a woman who was once my friend. She was seeking--well, seeking Bel-ka-Trazet. She's lying sick now at the Baron's house."

  Farrass nodded. Thrild grinned again. "We're in distinguished company."

  "The worst," replied Kelderek. "I want only to save my life and the priestess's--by helping you, perhaps."

  "How?"

  "That's for you to say. I've been assured of death if I fall into the hands of the Yeldashay army a second time. So if Santil accepts Bel-ka-Trazet's offer and sends troops to Zeray, it's likely to turn out badly for me unless you can persuade them to give me a safe-conduct out of here. That's the bargain I'm hoping to drive with you."

  Farrass, chin on hand, looked at the floor, frowning and pondering, and again it was Thrild who spoke.

  "You mustn't overestimate us. The Baron had some authority when he was alive, but without him we've less and less. We're safe ourselves for the time being and that's about as far as it goes. It's little regard the Yeldashay would be likely to have for any request we made of them."

  "You've already done us a good turn," said Farrass, "by bringing news that Santil's at Kabin. Did you hear whether he ever received the Baron's message?"

  "No. But if he thinks that there are fugitive slave traders this side of the Vrako it's quite possible that Yeldashay troops have already crossed it. Whether or not, I think you should send him another messenger at once, and at all costs try to hold things together here until you get an answer."


  "If he's at Kabin," replied Farrass, "our best hope, though it may not be yours, will be to go there ourselves, with Melathys, and ask him to let us go on to Ikat."

  "Farrass here never really believed in the scheme for Santil to come and take Zeray," said Thrild. "Now the Baron's dead I agree with him. The Baron would have had the place ready to offer--we haven't. We'd do better to get out now and go and meet the Ikats at Kabin. You must understand our position. We don't pretend to keep law and order. A man in Zeray is free to murder and steal as long as he doesn't become so dangerous that it's safer for us to kill him than let him alone. All but a few of the men in this place have committed some serious crime. If they were to learn that we'd invited Ikat soldiers to come and take the town, they'd up and go for us like cornered rats. It's not worth our while to try to carry on with the Baron's plan."

  "But there's no wealth in Zeray. Why do they kill and steal here?"

  Thrild threw up his hands. "Why? For food, what else? In Zeray, men starve. The Baron once hanged two Deelguy for killing and eating a child. In Zeray, men eat caterpillars--dig mud-skapas out of the river to boil for soup. Do you know the gylon?"

  "The glass-fly? Yes. I grew up on the Telthearna, you know."

  "Here, at midsummer, the swarms cover the river inshore. People scoop them up in handfuls and eat them thankfully."

  "It's only because those of us who supported the Baron know that we must either keep together or die," said Farrass, "that none of us has so far tried to take his woman. A quarrel among ourselves would mean the end of all of us. But that can't last. Someone's bound to try soon. She's pretty."

  Kelderek shrugged his shoulders, keeping his face expressionless.

  "I suppose she can choose for herself when she's ready?"

  "Not in Zeray. But anyway that problem's solved now. We must set off for Kabin and she'll come with us, no doubt. Your Ortelgan priestess too, if she wants to live."

  "How soon? She's in a high fever."

  "Then we can't wait for her," said Thrild.

  "I'll take her north when she recovers," said Kelderek. "I've told you why it's impossible for me to go to Kabin, either now or later."

  "If you went north you'd wander until you were killed. You'd never get through the gap at Linsho."

  "You said I'd brought you good news. Isn't there anything you can do to help me?"

  "Not by staying here. If the Ikats will listen to us, we'll try to persuade them to send for your Ortelgan priestess, and you can try your luck with them when they come. What more do you expect? This is Zeray."

  45 In Zeray

  "THE DAMNED COWARDS," said Melathys, "and the Baron not forty days in his grave! If I were General Santil I'd send them back to Zeray and hang them on the shore. They could perfectly well hold this place for six days. That would be more than enough time for someone to get through to Kabin and come back with a hundred soldiers. But no, they'd rather run."

  Kelderek stood with his back to her, staring out into the little courtyard. He said carefully, "As things are, you ought to go with them."

  She did not answer and after some moments he turned around. She was standing smiling, waiting to meet his eyes. "Not I. It's seldom indeed that a second chance is offered to someone as undeserving as I. I don't intend to desert the Tuginda a second time, believe me."

  "If you reach Kabin with Farrass and Thrild you'll be safe. Once they're gone you won't be safe here. You must think of that very seriously."

  "I don't want safety on those terms. Did you think that what I said at the Baron's tomb was hysterical?"

  He was about to speak again when she went to the door and called for Ankray.

  "Ankray, the Baron's men are leaving Zeray for Kabin tonight or tomorrow. They're hoping to reach the army of General Santil-ke-Erketlis. I think you should go with them, for your own safety."

  "You're going, then, saiyett?"

  "No, Lord Kelderek and I will be staying with the Tuginda."

  Ankray looked from one to another and scratched his head.

  "Safety, saiyett? The Baron always said that General Erketlis would be coming here one day, didn't he? That's why he sent that young fellow Elstrit--"

  "General Erketlis may still come here, if we're lucky. But Farrass and the rest prefer to go now and seek him wherever he is. You're free to go with them and it will probably be the safest thing to do."

  "If you'll excuse my saying so, saiyett, I doubt it, among those men. I'd rather stay here, among Ortelgan people, if you understand me. The Baron, he always used to say that General Santil would come, so I reckon he will."

  "It's as you like, Ankray," said Kelderek. "But if he doesn't, then Zeray's going to become even more dangerous for all of us."

  "Why, sir, the way I see it, if that happens, we'll just have to set out for Kabin on our own account. But the Baron, he wouldn't want me to be leaving Ortelgan priestesses to shift for themselves, like, even with you to help them."

  "You're not afraid to stay, then?"

  "No, sir," answered Ankray. "The Baron and me, we was never afraid of anyone in Zeray. The Baron, he always used to say, 'Ankray, you just remember you've got a good conscience and they haven't.' He usually--"

  "Good," said Kelderek, "I'm glad that's what you want. But do you think," he asked, turning to Melathys, "that they may try to force you to join them?"

  She stared at him solemnly, wide-eyed, so that he saw again the girl who had drawn Bel-ka-Trazet's sword and asked him what it was.

  "They can try to persuade me if they like, but I doubt they will. You see, I've caught the Tuginda's fever, haven't I, which shows that it must be very infectious? That's what they'll be told, if they come here."

  "Pray God you won't catch it in all earnest," said Kelderek. He realized with a blaze of passionate admiration that, despite all she knew of Zeray, her decision to remain, taken with delight rather than determination, was affording her not fear, but an elated joy in the recovery of her self-respect. To her, the appearance of the Tuginda in the graveyard had seemed first a miracle, then an act of incredible love and generosity; and though she now knew the true story of the Tuginda's journey, nevertheless she still attributed it to God. Like a disgraced soldier whose commander has suddenly called him out of the lockup, given him back his arms and told him to go and retrieve his good name on the battlefield, she was soaring upon the realization that enemies, danger and even death were of small account compared with the misery of guilt which, against all expectation, had been removed from her. Despite what Kelderek had seen at the Baron's tomb, he had not until now believed that all she had suffered in Zeray had caused her less grief than the memory of her flight from Ortelga.

  The Tuginda seemed no better, being still tormented by a continual restlessness. As evening fell Ankray remained with her, while Melathys and Kelderek used the last of the daylight to make sure of the locks and shutter bars and to check food and weapons. The Baron, Melathys explained, had had certain sources of supply which he had kept secret even from his followers, either he or Ankray going now and then by night to bring back a goat or half a sheep from a village up river. The house was still fairly well supplied with meat. There was also a good deal of salt and a certain amount of the rough wine.

  "Did he pay?" asked Kelderek, looking with satisfaction at the haunches in the brine tubs and reflecting that he had never expected to feel gratitude toward Bel-ka-Trazet.

  "Chiefly by guaranteeing that the villagers would not be molested from Zeray. But he was always very ingenious in finding or making things we could trade. We made arrows, for instance, and needles out of bone. I have certain skills, too. Every postulant on Quiso has to carve her own rings, but I can carve wood still better now, believe me. Do you remember this? I've taken to using it."

  It was Bel-ka-Trazet's knife. Kelderek recognized it instantly, drew it from the sheath and held the point close before his eyes. She watched, puzzled, and he laughed.

  "I've reason to remember it almost bet
ter than any man on Ortelga, I dare say. I saw both it and Lord Shardik for the first time on one and the same day--that day when I first saw you. I'll tell you the story at supper. Had he a sword?"

  "Here it is. And a bow. I still have my bow too. I hid it soon after I reached Zeray, but I recovered it when I joined the Baron. My priestess's knife was stolen, of course, but the Baron gave me another--a dead man's, I dare say, though he never told. It's rough workmanship, but the blade's good. Now over here, let me show you--"

  She was like a girl looking over her trousseau. He remembered how once, years before, having built a cage trap for birds, he had found a hawk in it. There was no market for hawks--the factor from Bekla had wanted bright feathers and cageable birds--and, having no use for it himself, he had released it, watching as it flashed up and out of sight, full of joy at the recovery of its hard, dangerous life. Having walked through Zeray that afternoon, he now believed all that he had been told of sudden, unpredictable danger, of lust and murder moving below the surface of half-starved torpor like alligators through the water of some fetid creek. Yet Melathys, who had better reason than any to know of these things, plainly felt herself in a state of grace so immune that they had for the moment, at all events, no power to make her afraid. It must be for him to see that she took no foolish risks.

  The Tuginda still lay in her arid sleep; a sleep comfortless as a choked and smoking fire, of which she seemed less the beneficiary than the victim. Her face was passive and sunken as Kelderek had never seen it, the flesh of her arms and throat slack and wasted. Ankray boiled a salt meat soup and cooled it, but they could do no more than moisten her lips, for she did not swallow. When Kelderek suggested that he should go out and find some milk, Ankray only shook his head without raising his eyes from the ground.