To the High Redoubt

by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

  “No,” he said, still watching the owl that had returned to the broken wall of the ancient monastery.

  Chapter 12

  If Surata had shown the slightest trace of shame or embarrassment, Arkady could not have endured it. He regarded her warily as she curled up beside him and pulled the blankets over them. “Do you want to say anything to me?” he asked.

  “I have said it to you, better than I can in words,” she said gently, touching his cheek.

  “After that, no avowals of love?” He wanted to sound worldly but even he knew he was being petulant.

  “You had that long before we were born.” She smiled with such exquisite tenderness that he was almost unable to look at her.

  “Surata…what”—he slipped his arms around her, holding her in the curve of his body—“what if I’m not what you think I am?” It was so hard to ask her, for he was staggered by what he had discovered. “You see me…”

  “I see you as you are, Arkady-champion. I could not see you any other way.” She sounded very tired.

  He could not argue with her, but he had to warn her. “I might not be that…admirable.” He moved her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck as if to make up to her for saying such things.

  Sighing, she turned her head, resisting the lure of sleep. “It isn’t a question of what I see, but of what is there. I don’t know what you see of me, but it is…more than I can know, most of the time. Your limits are not as stringent as you think they are. Doubtless the same is true for me.”

  “Your gifts…”

  “…Yes? They are not the same as yours, but that is why there is so much we can do, and do together.” She kissed the air near his cheek. “We have a very long way to go. Tana, then Sarai, and on to Khiva and Samarkand.” She was quiet, then said in a very small voice, “If you are willing to go. I shouldn’t have assumed that you—”

  Arkady put one hand on her shoulder and very, very gently shook her. “Why would I not? Fine sort of champion I’d be, if I refused.”

  “You are a fine champion,” she said, trying not to yawn.

  “And you are the finest guardian any champion ever had.” He held her until he knew she slept, and only then did he relax enough to doze.

  The next day they ferried over the river Dnepr, pausing on the far side for the rest of the day and the night.

  “We will have to buy more supplies in Tana,” Arkady decided as they sat together that night. “Another ass or a mule. I don’t know how much longer the gelding can keep up this pace if we don’t lighten his load.”

  “Do you intend I should not—”

  “You ride with me; that’s certain. But if we’re going as far as you say we are, we will need another ass and more supplies. And a change of clothes, at least. I don’t want to see this acton again once I buy another.” He patted the garment and shook his head at the scuffed brigandine. “All our clothes are worn, and if there is hard country ahead, we must plan for it.”

  “You know what’s best to do,” she said. “I can’t advise you. You’re the soldier. And you’re not blind.”

  “Ssh.” He took her hands in his. “Don’t, Surata.”

  She took her lower lip between her teeth. “I didn’t mean that as you think I did. It’s not you. I am…bitter with myself.”

  “Surata, you’re my guard, my weapon against an enemy I can’t begin to recognize. If you…if you lose heart, what will I be able to do on my own? Nothing.”

  She could not dispute this. “There is not much chance. You admit that.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried to pull her hands away from him, but he would not release them.

  “You’ve made me your champion, and for that, if no other reason, I must try, with you or without you. You know I am worse than helpless against the Bundhi if I must face him alone.” He looked at her, measuring the emotion he read in her face. “Oh, Surata, with you, there is a chance that I will reclaim my honor—”

  “You never lost your honor,” she corrected him.

  “You may not think so, but when I am in despair, I fear that the Margrave Fadey was right to cashier me as he did. You know what it is to have such fears; you have them now, when you anticipate meeting the Bundhi again.”

  “He is searching for us. I know the feel of him and his men, and I know.” She broke his hold on her hands but only to pull him closer. “If they were to do anything to you, I—”

  “I know,” he cut in. “That’s my one worry, as well, that something might harm you.”

  She gave an unsteady laugh. “Well, what are we to do, then? You’re determined to save me from myself, and I want to do the same for you.”

  “Would abandoning your…quest save you or me from the Bundhi?” He asked it calmly, the same way he would have asked one of his lieutenants what the strength and disposition of an enemy force was during a campaign.

  “No,” she said, her manner growing somber. “Sooner or later, he would have to seek me…us out, and then…there would be no choice.”

  “So if we have any advantage at all, it is in making that decision for him, taking the battle to him rather than waiting for him to come to us.” He looked around the room the landlord had given them. “From everything you’ve said, doors and bars and walls are not enough to keep him out.”

  “He can strike out at us from the other place.” She was thoughtfully silent. “Since you sensed you with me, you have changed, Arkady-champion. You speak of us as…as…”

  “As a unit?” he suggested. “You’ve made the same change. He moved away from her so that he could take stock of what was in their saddlebags, which he had dropped in the corner. “I don’t know what happened then, but…we are different than we were.”

  “Yes,” she said, seeming a bit distracted. “Do you think we should ask the landlord where to buy another ass, or should we go to the center of Tana and see what’s offered there?”

  Arkady took his most bracing tone. “Better to ask the landlord. We’re too foreign, and that would be an invitation to scoundrels to try to foist poor animals and supplies on us.”

  “You’d know the difference,” she pointed out.

  “But there would be delays while we established that, and we might bring attention to us that would not be wise.” He patted their pouch of gold. “The landlord can aid us if we provide the proper incentive, and he might be less willing to boast of it if he has something to lose for his trouble.” He pulled his tunic out of the largest of the saddlebags. “I think that when we have the new animal and a good pack saddle for it, that we should find new clothes, with no lice, that are not so—”

  “—So obvious,” she finished for him. “That would be wise. The agents of the Bundhi are looking for foreigners, not ordinary travellers. What they see in the other place cannot be disguised, but here, at least, we can confuse them for a time.”

  “Perhaps we should buy the clothing in Tana, where it will not be so much noticed,” Arkady mused. “The less that can be traced the better. Don’t you think?”

  “I’d agree,” she said, and though it was apparent that her attitude was still troubled, she was no longer expecting defeat.

  “Then tomorrow, livestock and then on to Tana.” He gave her a quick hug. “Don’t forget that I am helpless in this fight without you, Surata.”

  “I won’t,” she vowed.

  The next day, Arkady bargained and haggled with two different traders and in the end, gave up the ass and two gold coins for two strengthy mules and their tack. It took the better part of the afternoon to purchase the rest of the supplies and another hour to find bags and sacking to carry it all, but by the time he came back to the inn, he was satisfied.

  “First thing in the morning, off we go to Tana. There are no merchants leaving from here, but there may be some on the road,” he said, determined to be cheerful. “The mules are satisfactory—they’re a bit larger than the ass, and clever. I think mules are born clever.” He lugged the rest of his purchases into their room and descri
bed them in detail to Surata.

  “I wish there was more I could do,” she said when he was through. “If I had been bought as a slave, not as you bought me, but as others are bought, what would have happened to me, once the buyer got tired of the novelty?” She shook her head. “That was what the Bundhi intended should happen.”

  “Are you always so gloomy when you’ve been cooped up all day?” Arkady asked. “Because if you are, then I’ll be sure we keep moving once we leave here. Since you’re the only person I can talk to, I’d like it better if you were not so downcast.” He flipped the end of her braid. “Tomorrow, Surata, tomorrow we start our hunt.”

  She smiled, but there was no real delight in her face. “Tonight, Arkady-immai, do you want to take the chance to…spy on the Bundhi, in the other place?”

  “Yes,” he said with conviction. “Do you think that…”

  “What?” she asked when he did not go on.

  “That we could be exposing ourselves too much by searching for him?” He paused, then added, “Mind you, I want to go to the other place. I think both of us would find it…refreshing. It would make us feel less alone.” He reached out and touched her face very lightly. “I…miss you, Surata.”

  This time her smile was more genuine. “And I miss you, Arkady-champion. You’re right.”

  It was late when the inn at last fell silent, and Surata wakened Arkady from his half-sleep. She did it with kisses, most of them so soft that they could hardly be felt. Her lips grazed the scar over his right eyebrow, then brushed his eyelids.

  “Keep doing that,” Arkady whispered.

  “I am your slave, Arkady-champion,” she replied, her mouth becoming more emphatic.

  “God, how long did it take you to learn how to do this?” he asked as his body quivered with pleasure and anticipation.

  “Years and years and years,” she murmured, her tongue tracing out the Centers of the Subtle Body.

  A little later, he gasped. “They were worth it.”

  “I think so,” she said, sliding onto him.

  Arkady brought his head up in alarm. “This isn’t right to—”

  “Hush.” She kissed him, pressing him back beneath her.

  The protests faded from his thoughts as he reached up to fondle her breasts. He had done so many things his priest would disapprove of, one more could make no possible difference, especially one so sweet as this. He felt the current between them, a tingling in his chest, his lips, his spine, his groin, and sensed a similar awakening in her. He tossed his head and lifted his gold-and-iron mace before mounting his red sorrel stallion.

  This time, the other place was more sinister than it had seemed before. The colors that swam and faded were more acidic in their tinges, and Arkady had to quell the finger of dread that pressed on his throat.

  “Take care,” the mace warned him. “Your fear is nectar to the Bundhi and he will be drawn to it as you are drawn to good food.”

  Once in the saddle, Arkady took the time to be certain that he had all the equipment he needed, and was distressed that he could find no shield.

  In the next moment he was clad in the same light scale armor that had appeared before. “If you need a shield, you will have it. For the time being, the armor and the mace will be sufficient,” Surata told him.

  “Where is the Bundhi, do you know?” Arkady asked, turning as much as his saddle would permit. He saw nothing but fluctuating light and shifting shapes that made no sense. “How am I to go through this, where there is no…footing?”

  “You don’t need footing. Just go,” Surata said through the armor. “The horse is the same as the lights. So are we.”

  “What are we looking for?” he asked, growing annoyed at the uncertainty of it all.

  “The Bundhi maintains a bastion in this other place, where he can retreat from his enemies in the daily world. It does not change much, since he uses it for shelter. It is a fortress on a high crag, a fortress made of bamboo.” The last repulsed her and the scale armor clicked and rang with her feeling.

  “Bamboo—like the staves?” It was a guess, but a sensible one and he knew when he asked it that he was probably right.

  “It is made of those staves. They have the same habits here that they do in the daily world, and…they are very dangerous. They can sense the presence of…food.” She became quiet.

  “What do I do?” He still felt at a loss and she did not appear to know how to aid him.

  “Set your horse in motion. You are looking for the Bundhi and agents of the Bundhi. That is all you need to think of. The rest will come.”

  It seemed ridiculous to go about a hunt in this way, but Arkady did as his armor told him and tried to picture the Bundhi as he had seen him through Surata’s eyes and memories. He was startled to see his red sorrel raise on his hind legs and then start off through the constantly changing shapes.

  “Remember, the Bundhi is also looking for you,” the mace warned.

  “I won’t forget it,” Arkady promised, wondering if he would recognize the presence of the Bundhi when and if he came across it. What was this sorcerer that he would employ so many disguises?

  “It is part of the destruction he desires,” Surata explained as the mace. “Nothing is accurate, and that leads to doubts and to illusions.”

  “But this is an illusion, isn’t it?” He moved his arm to indicate all of the insubstantial forms around them.

  “No, this is the nature of the other place. When it appears to be a solid thing, that is the illusion,” she said.

  “My horse? My dragon? My gryphon?” He found it difficult to speak.

  “Oh, they are real, in the way of this place. They are real because they come from you. A stone that contains a jewel is only a stone until the jeweler touches it. And when it is a jewel, it is still a stone.” The mace swung in his hand. “Arkady my champion, you must not resist the duality of what we are. That will only rob you of your strength.”

  Ahead—at least, Arkady thought, in the distance in front of him—there was something that appeared to be a stretch of desolate land. The patterns of light grew more cohesive and took on the appearance of rocks and scrub. The whole world appeared empty. “What is this?” he asked, disliking everything he saw.

  “It is where we are going. We are seeking out the Bundhi where he has his stronghold. Across that waste, there are mountains, as barren as the moon, and they are where the Bundhi has made his redoubt.”

  The red sorrel shook his head, snorting and stamping his feet. He had slowed his pace, and now he resisted going further into the parched landscape that had developed around them.

  “He’s edgy,” Arkady said, patting the red sorrel’s neck to give him some reassurance. “There must be something he’s aware of that bothers him.”

  “This place would bother anyone or anything,” Surata said, her voice not entirely calm. “This is very dangerous now.”

  “Why?” Arkady asked.

  “Because this is the Bundhi’s land, and everything here is part of him. Nothing comes here that he does not know of it.” The mace twitched. “Arkady my champion, be very cautious, for anything might turn against you.”

  “There’s nothing here,” he pointed out, rising in the stirrups and shading his eyes against the glare of the sun. “There are mountains, but they are a long way off. If the Bundhi is in his stronghold, he cannot know we are here.”

  “This is part of his stronghold. This place, all of it, is part of his redoubt. Everything originates with him. Don’t be fooled by what you see here.” The scale armor grew heavier to add to his protection.

  Arkady shook his head. “You’re worried over nothing. Even if it is as you say, the Bundhi cannot be aware all the time of what transpires here.” He gave the shaft of his mace a pat.

  “He has agents for that,” she snapped. “Go very carefully. Your horse can stay above the ground, not that that would help for long.”

  “Stay above the ground?” he repeated, laughing in spite of h
imself. “He can do whatever you wish him to do. But if you want him to act unlike a horse, you will have to concentrate all your attention on that, and not on what is around you.” This came from the armor, which rang softly with her voice.

  “But—” Before he could go on, he saw the ground ahead of him shimmer and shift. Out of the flat and empty plain, something rose up, a massive cliff of loose rocks that tumbled toward him as the ground gaped open. A rock struck his arm, and at once a shield took the place of the mace. His helmet became a helm; greaves covered his lower legs.

  “Get away!” Surata shouted to him, her voice almost lost in the rattle of the avalanche that poured down on them.

  “How!” Arkady yelled, tugging on the blankets that covered them. His upper arm ached where a bruise was already forming. Surata lay atop him as if shielding him with her own body.

  “Arkady-champion!” she cried, her hands moving over him as if searching for damage. There was nothing amorous about her now.

  “I’m…all right, Surata,” he said as he tried to take stock of himself. “My arm, that’s all.”

  “What’s happened to it?” she demanded, her urgent, gentle fingers trying to discern the injury.

  “A bruise. How can I be bruised here, if I was struck there?” He felt mildly disoriented, as if he were slightly drunk, or had not slept enough.

  “Injury is injury,” she said brusquely. “Come, we must leave here. Now. Before his agents can follow where we have gone.”

  “It’s…the middle of the night!” Arkady protested as he watched her get to her feet and feel for her clothes. “For God and the Angels, Surata, what are we to do at this hour?” He felt so sleepy, and the thought of moving was wholly unwelcome.

  “They will be here. They will know where we have gone. We must not let them find us, or we will never get to the mountain stronghold in this daily world, let alone in the other place.” She had already pulled on her embroidered boots with the upturned toes and was now slipping into her underdress.

  “Surata,” he complained.

  “Arkady-immai, you must hurry. We haven’t got much time. Get up, for the love of…your soul,” she pleaded, pausing to stare in his general direction. “You’ve seen what the Bundhi can do in the other place. He can do many things in this daily world through his agents and his abilities. Please!”