by Lori Martin
“Excellent,” Temhas commented. “Was that my bowl or yours?”
CHAPTER 21
The Mendales took the passage and part of the Second Hill. Surprised a little by the first strong Lindahne resistance, they had regrouped and tried again; this time was far easier. Even the First Hill fell. They had been unprepared for the determined defense of the Nialian women, who stood before the temple ready to die. They were priestesses, not professional archers, but the toll they exacted was heavy. When the Hill’s men lay bleeding or captured they picked up the fallen swords and fought hand to hand. At the end they used stones and flaming branches against the never-ending line of Mendale soldiers. The Mendales were shaken by their fanaticism and respectful of their courage. They would not be taken prisoner; the very last refused to surrender, and was put to death. The victors had been planning on destroying the temple of the primitive Lindahne goddess. Instead they passed it by, and gave the women honorable graves beside it. The reign of Inama’s successor had been short, and of all her followers only one remained, hidden in disgrace in a dark house.
The protecting shield over Marlos-An was gone, replaced by a menacing shadow. The Mendales would soon march on the palace.
From the far side of the valley Temhas could see the streaming hordes, fleeing east from the invaders. He rode toward the gleaming marble, a white mouth vomiting scurrying black ants as figures poured from the doors. The green of the bengrass had turned to brown. He rode closer, and plunged into the chaos.
“Take it down gently! Gently!” A councilor shouted up at several servants, who were trying to lower a heavy chest from an upper window. On all sides carts were being loaded with baskets of food and wine, and packcases of clothes.
Temhas dismounted and led his horse through the crowd, shoving forcefully when necessary. He had recognized the councillor as Seani. She had conducted the truth-seeking. He pulled up his hood and hoped that in her distraction she would not know him. He had let a beard grow in.
“Councilor, what’s happening here, please?”
She turned just enough to give him a look of disbelief. “Have you been at the bottom of the unending Sea, young man? We’re evacuating.”
“I just came from the Third – we’ve had no news.” He saw that she had little thought to spare for him, and felt safe enough to ask another question. “Where is the queen?”
“Under lock,” she said grimly, her eyes still fixed on the chest as it swayed from the windows. “And may the gods damn Sillus to eternal agony for it.”
“Just like that? No one’s going to help her?”
Seani turned and gazed at him for the first time. He waited. “You’re Boessus’s son, aren’t you? I thought you were Sillus’s man.”
“No.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No? Now that’s rather remarkable ... But you can’t blame the squads, you know, for supporting him.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know much about people, young Temhas, if you don’t know their fear. The Mendales were – and are – breathing down our necks. The king is dead, the queen is captured, the relas has disappeared – on her exile, I suppose. There’s no royal family to guard any longer. This palace itself is a worthless monument. Sillus was there, strong, in command, ready to lead them against the heretics. What choice did they have?”
“And the council will support him, too?”
“As long as we have to.” Her face clouded. “My duty right now is to get these people out of here, and as many of the state treasures as we can. I won’t have them in Mendale hands.” On the word, the rope slipped, and the chest crashed to the ground. Documents burst out of the split sides. The jewel-studded sword of King Laita lay on the ground. Seani gritted her teeth. “Get that up and into the carts! Hurry up! I’ve got to get back to my squad.”
“It’s not right,” he said.
“Gone in for morality in a big way, have you?” she asked with contempt. “You listen to me. We’re at war. The important thing now is to drive them back and defeat them. If we win, then will be the time to argue among ourselves, and I intend to be the one to challenge Sillus’s claim to the Chair. I’ve got any number of accusations to bring against him. But that’s only after we win.”
“Councilor!” a man shouted from a doorway. “Councilor, we need your help!”
Seani went toward him. Temhas shouted her, “And if we lose?”
Smiling ironically, she flung the answer back over her shoulder. “Then it won’t matter, will it?”
He spent the day riding up and down the swarming lines, as the people were organized into an eastern-flowing stream. Young girls, clutching their small possessions, careened into chattering children; horses shied and reared; old women muttered about the last war, when they had won; men shouted for their servants. If he stopped to ask a question, the tale was always the same: the army’s retreating. The heretics will be in the palace any moment. There’ll be a last stand before the other Hills, still untouched, and the invaders will be driven from the valley. But first, the civilians fled.
Who leads the army?
The new king, some said. That Sillus, said others. They didn’t care. They were fleeing.
Councilors too old for war, or away from their squads like Seani, directed the evacuation. Temhas noticed one group far to his left that seemed unwilling or unable to move. When he came closer he saw that it was composed of young children, most of whom were crying and shouting or both. Their guardians – men and women unfit either by age or health to be in the army – were trying to coax or force them into wagons. A councilor Temhas did not recognize was directing; he looked tired and angry.
“I want to go home,” sobbed one little girl, who looked to be five years old. “I want my mother!”
“She’s not here,” a woman answered, lifting her into a crowded cart. “You have to go where it’s safe now.”
“I want my mother!”
“She’ll be coming back soon,” the woman said, not unkindly, but she kept the girl in the cart by force. Then she bent down and lifted in another small figure, who struggled and kicked her legs.
He had been among them all day, a part of the madness; for the first time in his life he felt a kinship with them, sharing their worry, hearing the thought that bit at them: Escape! Escape! It was as if they were all like these children again, buffeted by the wind and crying for safety. In a dream he approached and grabbed the screaming child, and together they set him in the wagon. “Where are they all from?” he asked.
“Thank you,” she gasped. “I’m getting too old for this kind of thing. Where are they from? All the Five Hills, that’s where. We’re evacuating them to the Fourth, where they can sit and wait for their parents to come home. Pray to the gods they get back safe.”
Another group of children, more docile than the first, was led to her by a breathless young man, his heavy limp giving the reason for his civilian status. “Get these in, can you, Heila?”
The woman began to lift in the newcomers, like so many sacks of grain. Still in a half-trance, Temhas continued to help her.
“Where are their parents?”
“Gone to war, where else?” Heila paused to hug one blond toddler, who beamed at her. “In you go, sweet. What was I saying? Oh yes. These children all have both parents in the army – fathers in the squads, mothers archers. And most of them have no other relatives to go to. The queen, Nialia bless her whatever’s happened to her, had a home-house set up for them. We were doing fine until the evacuation orders came through.”
The carts were loaded.Temhas began to drift away.
“Here now!” Heila shouted after him. “Why aren’t you in the army?”
He mounted his horse, preparing to go back. As he did he passed a full cart near the front of the line. These children were a little older, and quiet. They had caught the fear of the adults.
Suddenly one small boy jumped to his feet, clinging to the wagon’s side. “Temhas! Temhas!”
He lo
oked, and his vision faded. The general sorrows became personal again. “Proseras and Wintern, Baili, how did you get here?”
Baili leaned far out over the railing, and several of his companions protested as he stepped on them. “My brother joined the army!” he shouted. “And Tutor went back to her family, so he left me here. But I don’t want to go to the Fourth!”
“Why not?”
His soft brown hair fell forward into his eyes, and he pushed it away with a grubby hand. “I want to see Pillyn! My brother wouldn’t let me stay with her because there was nobody guarding the house. She cried when I left.”
“I’ll bet she did,” Temhas said grimly. “But you have to go to the Fourth, so your brother will know where you are when he gets back.”
Baili’s voice quavered. “”He’s not coming back. They were afraid to tell me, but I heard Heila say so to somebody. He’s dead. He was in the Third Squad when the Queen was captured. He died fighting for her.” The small chest took in a manly breath. “He was very brave.”
“Move out!” shouted the councilor. “Get these carts rolling!” The horses sprang forward.
Temhas leaned over and hauled Baili out just as the cart began to move. The other children shouted. Clinging to the saddle in front of him, Baili gasped, “Will you take me home?”
“I’m taking you to Pillyn,” Temhas said. “Hang on tight!” He turned the horse sharply and galloped along the outskirts of the crowd, taking the long way back. Eventually he was forced to cross the lines of evacuation, threading in and out carefully. Baili looked on, wide-eyed. Hours later they were out of the main activity, and Temhas had not said a word.
Baili asked uncomfortably, “What were you doing by the carts?”
His rescuer did not reply at once. Then he said, “Who is the god of Wisdom, Baili?”
“Proseras, of course,” the boy answered. He felt shy; Temhas had never paid any attention to him before.
“And do you know what the god said was the first business of a man, when the mortal asked him?”
Baili reflected, trying to remember the story. “To gather?”
“Yes,” said Temhas. “First to gather knowledge, and after, to act.” The feet of the tired horse fell heavily on the ground. He added, “And now I’m going to act.”
When Baili arrived, Pillyn found her tongue. They spent a full day closeted in her room, chattering (“To gather knowledge, that’s what he said.” “Temhas quoted the Book? Temhas?”) and crying together for their dead. Pillyn was sitting on the bed propped up against the pillows, with the boy sprawled out at the foot, when Temhas banged on the door. He came in without waiting for a reply.
“Dalleena and Lilli are leaving,” he said without preamble. His sister looked down and did not answer.
Temhas continued, “The refugees are leaving the First and Second, and that means they’ll be coming here. All the estates around us are taking people in. We’re gotten away without so far because of the – because the house is in mourning.” He paused. “And disgraced, I suppose. But they won’t be observing these little courtesies for long. That’s why Dalleena’s going, before someone finds her.”
He waited.
Baili ventured, “Will there be a lot of people?”
“I think so. Pillyn, listen to me. I’m telling you this because I want to know if you’ll be all right alone.”
Her eyes snapped up to his face; she was startled into speech. “You’re leaving me? You’re going with her?” It was an accusation.
“Imagine,” Temhas said to the room. “She actually talks. How can you say I’m leaving you when you’ve been acting as if I were dead?”
She glared.
His shoulders slumped. He moved closer to the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be this way with you. I’m the only family you have left.”
She said, “You never cared about family.”
“She’s got me,” the boy put in. Pillyn hushed him.
“Maybe, but – ” He couldn’t explain. He seemed to be always one step too late, feeling guilt only at the truth-seeking, feeling loyalty only after their deaths, feeling compassion only after his countrymen fled past him. It was hard to learn to leave behind selfishness. He said abruptly, “I’m going into the army.”
She sat up straighter. “I thought you meant you were going with –”
“I didn’t say that. I said they were leaving, and I’m joining the soldiers. That means you’ll be alone here when the refugees show up. You can help them and they can help you, but I won’t go if you’re afraid to handle it. Are you?”
“I don’t understand you,” she burst out. “I don’t understand anything you ever do!”
“That’s nothing. I usually don’t either,” he said, and he managed a grin. “Will you be all right?”
“Yes. I don’t need you.”
“Fine.” He ignored the tone. “I’ll be back when I can, whenever things are settled.”
“And if the Mendales come here, and the roof’s burned over my head?”
He wasn’t used to being responsible, not even for himself. Just in time he stopped his anger, and took a few paces around the room. Then he said, “You know you shouldn’t blame Dalleena for the way things turned out.”
She withdrew again into silence.
“I know you have a right to blame me for some of it, but even I won’t take on all of it, and you certainly can’t put it on her head. She didn’t see where it would all lead, Nialian or not. And I didn’t know –” He stopped. When he finished he was speaking to himself. “I’m beginning to think we never really realize what our actions will lead to. We’re so – unconscious.”
Baili fidgeted. Temhas turned to go. “We’ll all be leaving in the morning. Don’t bother saying farewell, if it hurts you.” The door slammed.
Pillyn jumped up and went to the doorway, put her hand on the knob, pulled it back, hesitated again, and finally flung herself back on the bed. She burst into a storm of tears.
“Pilla?”
“Leave me alone!” she sobbed, and pushed his hands away. Another shout got him off the bed, and several more persuaded him to leave altogether. He left her to her misery.
Pillyn cried with self-pitying abandonment. Her deeper tears of genuine grief had already been shed; this hysteria was for herself. She rolled onto her back and tried to cling to her hatred, but she had never had much practice in it. Against her will she thought of Dalleena, also without her family and with no place to go, also without Rendell. And if you want to see other people’s troubles, she thought, just wait until the refugees come here.
But why is Temhas going to war? Anyone his age should but he never bothered before. He sounded like Father. I shouldn’t have let Father go, but I couldn’t stop him. Talking about “owing” it. Does Temhas think he owes something?
I wonder if he cares about me at all. He said he wouldn’t leave if I was afraid to be alone. Afraid! Of course I’m afraid! She cried harder.
It took another hour or so to overcome it. The temptation to wallow in her unhappiness and self-righteousness was strong, but in the end it was against her nature. When dawn came she had had little sleep, but she had made up her mind.
All of the sounds were coming from the kitchen, echoing off the walls. She peered around the door.
Dalleena and Lilli were filling leather cases with food and Temhas was helping them pick and pack. Baili was on the floor petting one of the dogs.
“... won’t last, but if we pack this in spice it should keep awhile,” Lilli said.
“Temhas, are you sure we’re not taking too much?”
“There’s plenty of stock for the time being,” he said. “There’s no point in worrying about later. And you two certainly need provisions. I don’t suppose either of you can hunt?”
Dalleena laughed. Lilli said, “No. Apparently I don’t know how to do anything useful. Nothing felt more secure than being at court. It’s all I deserve anyway. What did I ever do to earn the food put in front o
f me every day?”
“You took care of me. Can you hunt, Temhas?”
“A little. But my only real talents are sticking to a horse and holding my wine. Both self-taught.”
“We’re going to starve to death,” Lilli said, as matter-of-factly as if she were predicting the weather. “Simply starve.”
“Not if we pack enough,” Dalleena answered. “And we’ll learn how to hunt – we’ll have to. Just as we’re going to build a boat.”
Lilli grunted in disbelief.
The baby would be born in the woods, Dalleena’s plans went. When it was strong enough and they had put a solid boat together – probably in the spring – they would dare to try it: to cross the Valtah, and find out what was beyond. Lilli considered it the onset of madness.
“Did you find anything in our library?” Temhas asked.
“Yes, quite a bit. That reminds me, we have to pack all these scrolls too. There are some on the Valtah’s currents season-round, and a few on shipbuilding that were intended for the fishermen on the Seacoast. But I think we can adapt them.”
“So if we don’t starve, we’ll drown.”
“Do you have a better idea? Do you want to wait here for Sillus or the Mendales to catch us?”
“No.”
“Well?”
“All right. I’m going with you, aren’t I?” She stuffed in another piece of fish.
“Don’t make it too heavy,” Dalleena cautioned. “We won’t be able to carry it.”
“I told you you could take our horses,” Temhas said.
“We will, up to the woodlands But I don’t see how we can bring them in. For one thing, the growth will be too thick, and for another we won’t be able to feed them. If we leave them they might be able to find their own way home.”
This provoked another discussion. Temhas refused to take sides. Pillyn came completely into the room and halted.
The boy on the floor saw her first, “Hey,” he said in surprise. Dalleena turned. The conversation died.
Straight to Dalleena, she said, “I want to come with you.”