Lord of Lies ec-2

by David Zindell

  He, at least, the great Ishkan Bear, did not hesitate to stare straight at me. In his grim, old eyes was a promise that he would do what I had asked of him only if I did what he had asked of me.

  'King Waray,' I said, finally turning to the gloating host of this feast, 'will you meet with the sovereigns of the Free Kingdoms?'

  King Waray's polite face hid the most savage of smiles as he told me, 'Perhaps, Lord Valashu. But let it be as King Hadaru has said.'

  Now only King Mohan remained to query. This I did. And he told me, 'Win the championship, and we will see about the conclave.'

  As it had now grown late and the lance-throwing competition began early the next day, many of those present began saying their good-nights and returning to their respective encampments. More than a few knights walked up to my table to wish me well. Their words of encouragement were sincere, and yet they were proud men who would yield before me only if I truly outfought them.

  At last, King Kurshan returned the Lightstone to me. I stared at this simple cup that held the light of the bright stars above. I remembered too well how I had fought and killed many men to gain it for the Valari. And soon, at dawn, I would have fight many Valari, if not quite kill them, so that the cup might be preserved for my quarrelsome people and an alliance be forged. It seemed yet another strange turning of my fate.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, to the sound of trumpets blaring in the cool morning air, I rode forth with Maram and the others of our incampment in our columns of whinnying horses and watchful Guardians, and we made our way toward the Tournament Grounds' main road. There our company had to pause while long lines of Lagashuns and Taroners passed before us. King Kurshan, resplendent in his diamond armor and blue surcoat showing a great Tree of Life, led his men past the Sword Pavilion and then on to the fields reserved for the long lance. King Waray and the more numerous Taroners followed them in a brilliant stream of flapping banners and knights displaying their emblems: gold bears and white wolves, crossed swords and sunbursts and roses, and many others. We of Mesh — and my Ishkan knights — joined this great procession. We paraded west more than a mile to the area given over to lance throwing. There we joined the companies of Waashians, Atharians, Anjoris, Ishkans and Kaashans who also converged there. An open pavilion, covered with a great red cloth, held the stands where the Valari kings and other luminaries would sit and bear witness to their knights' feats of arms. Other stands, lower and uncovered, adjoined the pavilion on either side, and these were already full of the many townspeople of Nar who had arrived before dawn. They had come in such numbers that most had to take seats on the grass beside the stands or keep to their feet in hope of being able to see what occurred before them.

  On fields of grass still sparkling with dew, many targets had been set up in a long line running north and south. The targets were nothing more than open circlets of wood attached to poles planted in the ground. And the lance-throwing competition was a very simple, if very difficult, one: knights would spur their horses and gallop towards the targets, loosing lances at set intervals in hopes of seeing theirs pass through their circlet, eight inches in diameter. A long blue line, parallel to the line of targets, had been painted across the grass at a distance of ten yards. Any knight failing to loose his lance before reaching this line, or failing to transfix his target, would be eliminated. Those who succeeded would advance to the next round and would ride toward the next line, the yellow one, at a distance of twenty yards. And so with the orange line ten yards farther out and the white one beyond it. Any knights who remained in competion after riding at the red line at fifty yards would then ride at each other.

  'And that,' Maram said to me as we made our way toward the staging area with Asaru and Yarashan, 'is the very part of this competition that makes no sense.'

  'How so?' I asked him. I reached down to pat Altaru's neck, and my great black warhorse whinnied with excitement.

  'Think of it, my friend. A knight such as you, or I, against all the odds, succeeds in a practically impossible feat. And his reward is having to face another knight throwing a lance at him.'

  'But the lances are blunted,' I pointed out.

  'They're not blunt enough. They can still crush a windpipe or an eye. It's happened before.'

  'You worry too much.'

  'And you worry too little. I'll never understand you Valari!'

  I noticed him gripping his lance with his sweaty hand; the two diamonds of his ring sparkled in the early light. I said, 'Perhaps you should understand us then, since, as you have said, you are now one of us.'

  I clapped him on the shoulder and then rode over to Sunjay and Baltasar. They were two of only twenty Guardians who would be competing in the tournament; the rest of our companions would carry out their duty while they watched from beside the stands. With Asaru and Yarashan and the forty other knights of Mesh who had journeyed here before us, the number of my countrymen casting their lances that day would be sixty-two — sixty-three if Maram were counted as riding for Mesh.

  The other Valari kingdoms fielded similar numbers of knights. We assembled in the staging area, Meshians with Meshians, Taroners with I Taroners, and so on. But when it came time to line up for our ride toward the targets a hundred yards away, we took our places according to the drawing of lots and not by our respective kingdoms. Once, long ago, the tournament had been a proving ground where each Valari kingdom tried to gain pre-eminence. But for many centuries, the competitions had been dedicated only to the proving of an individual's prowess: that a knight might gain glory and thereby demonstrate the magnificence of the One's most glorious creation.

  While the judges took their places near the targets across the field from us, the first wave of knights was called to line up. This they did to the cheers of the thousands of people in the stands behind us. Each knight turned his mount toward his distant target; as it happened, Maram and Yarashan, with Skyshan of Ki, were three of these. And then the heralds gave the signal for them to charge. And fifty knights, in their polished armor and surcoats hearing their bright emblems, urged their mounts across the field. They quickly gained speed as one whole line of knights; it marked a man for shame if he sought advantage in a slower charge and lagged behind the others. Across that hroad field they thundered, past the long red line at fifty yards, and soon crossing the white line at forty yards, and then the orange and yellow lines. The boldest of the knights — and Yarashan was one of these — reached the blue line first and cast their lances first. But moments later the other knights caught up and cast their lances as well. The judges held up flags to proclaim the knights' success or failure A white flag signified that a lance had sailed smoothly through its wooden circlet; a black flag denoted a miss. And red was the flag of disqualification, indicating that hit or miss, a knight had loosed his lance after crossing the blue line. It seemed a great, good omen for the success of the tournament that in this first wave of knights, only white flags were raised to herald their prowess.

  'Well, that wasn't so bad,' Maram said to me, as he and the other knights of the first wave rejoined us in the staging area. Both he and his horse were covered in sweat. 'There's no danger at these distances at least — unless you fall off your horse and break your neck'

  I was called up in the fourth of the ten waves to ride toward the blue line. At the heralds' signal Altaru leapt forward as if he understood deep in his bones the task that must be accomplished. Knights on their mounts to either side of us galloped toward the targets, too. Wind whipped into my face and fought its way between my helmet and sweat-soaked hair. I felt Altaru's huge hooves beat into the ground and churn it up in clumps. His great body was heavy with muscles that bunched and exploded with a tremendous power. For a few glorious moments, my horse and I moved together across the field as if we were a single beast encased in a shining black hide and diamond armor, fused together in our purpose and in our love. Hundreds of pairs of eyes transfixed us like lances, for Altaru would not suffer any other knight or
rider to outpace him, and he insisted on taking the lead in the charge. And so we were the first of this wave to reach the blue line. Seconds before Altaru crossed it, I set my boots in my stirrups ind loosed my lance; the thrust of Altaru's hindquarters and the perfect coordination of his body with mine helped me. I had never been particularly good at this act. But I watched with a wild joy as my lance sailed cleanly through its wooden circlet.

  Nearly all the knights of this wave were successful as well. But young Sar Eshur of Waas, who had never been tested in a real battle, waited a moment too long to cast his lance and was disqualified. So it went with a few other knights in the succeeding waves. By the time all five hundred and thirty-three of us had charged the blue line, thirteen knights had been eliminated by such fouls while another nine missed their targets altogether.

  The next rounds, marked by their respective lines at ever greater distances, took an increasingly greater toll. More knights were eliminated at twenty yards and many more in their ride toward the orange line at thirty yards. At forty yards, I missed my target while Maram fouled. He complained that the trampling of so many horses preceding him had nearly obliterated the white line so that he couldn't see it. It saddened me that I had come so close to riding toward the last line, the red one, and thereby gaining a chance to point at this competition. Maram professed to share my disappointment, but I sensed that he was really quite pleased with himself for lasting longer than most of the other competitors — and avoiding the dreaded riding of knight against knight.

  We met in the staging area with the other Meshians to watch this climax of the day's feats. Only four knights faced the red line successfully, and these were Asaru, Yarashan, Lord Karathar of Lagash and Lord Dashavay. I watched this last famous knight ride slowly among the other Waashians in their part of the staging area. He seemed a perfectly proportioned man and more handsome in face than even Yarashan. Although he couldn't have been more than forty years in age, his hair showed streaks of white along with the battle ribbons tied there. His emblem was white lion on a green field; around his neck he wore the gold medallion of championship that he had woo at the last tournament.

  At last the heralds blew their trumpets, and Lord Dashavay rode out into the field to face Asaru. They charged each other, loosing their blunted lances at each other as they pleased, lord Dashavay managed to catch Asaru's lance on his triangular shield; with perfect inning, he waited until Asaru was unbalanced from his cast, and then aimed his lance so that it sailed straight and caught Asaru's shoulder with a loud clack of wood against diamond. The judges awarded the victory to Lord Dashavay. Asaru congratulated him, and rode back to join us. 'Lord Dashavay is a great knight,' Asaru said as he pulled off his helmet and wiped his sweating brow. 'Three years ago I rode against him as well, and his skill at the lance has only grown.'

  By the time that Yarashan and Lord Karathar rode out to face each other, the sun was low in the western sky. Lord Karathar quickly vanquished Yarashan as everyone expected, and then Yarashan lost again to Asaru in the fight for third place. In the culminating battle, Lord Karathar and Lord Dashavay charged each other three times before Lord Karathar succeeded in casting his lance straight against Lord Dashavay's chest. It missed his throat by an inch, and Maram looked at me in silent reproof even as the many people in the stands cheered Lord Karathar and hailed him yet again as the victor of the first competition.

  'Five times he has won the lance throwing,' Yarashan complained. 'He'll have to die in battle or of old age if anyone else is ever to prevail.' While the judges awarded points — ten for first place, five for second, and three, two and one for third, fourth and fifth — all the knights who had competed that day made a procession and rode past the pavilion where King Waray and the other kings were seated. He bowed his head to honor us. Then he called forward Lord Karathar, Lord Dashavay, Asaru, Yarashan, and Sar Tarval of Athar, who had won fifth place. He presented each of them with finely made lances bearing gold plaques that told of their feats. I pressed Altaru through the mass of men and mounts in front of the pavilion so that I could congratulate my brothers. As I clasped hands with them and tested the balance of their new weapons, I noticed King Waray looking at me as if to ask when it would come my turn to be honored.

  'Ah, that was a day,' Maram said to me as we rode back to our encampment near the woods. 'I'm ready for a long glass of beer.'

  'You did well,' I said to him.

  'I did, didn't I? So did you. But not quite well enough to satisfy King Athar. Or King Waray. Did you see the way they looked at us?'

  'Tomorrow is wrestling. We'll do better.'

  'You'll do better, my friend. I'm afraid I've never wanted to practice much at that particular art.'

  'That's because you've been too busy wrestling with Dasha Ambar and the other ladies.'

  As our horses walked along the Tournament Grounds main road Maram eyed a beautiful silk-seller hawking her wares in a stall and then a haruspex at another who smiled and beckoned him closer. He turned to glance at Behira riding with Lord Harsha behind us; he sighed and said to me, 'And that is a better exercise of my talents.'

  'You could excel at wrestling, if only you'd apply yourself. It's said that practice makes perfect.'

  'No, no, my friend, practice makes only broken bones. When I was a boy, I smashed my knuckles wrestling my eldest brother. And, by bad chance, my cousin dislocated my jaw and nearly gouged out my eye. And the truth is, I'd rather look down and find a woman in my arms than some strange, sweating man.'

  I smiled because I shared this particular sentiment. The next day we gathered with all the other knights and witnesses in the great Sword Pavilion, which also housed the wrestling competition. There Maram and I, with the knights of Mesh, faced those of Taron, Ishka and the other kingdoms; we also faced each other. It was a long day of grappling with opponents: locking arms and trying for choke holds and throws, as well as strikes with knuckle, elbow and knee at the body's various vulnerable points. By the noon meal break, many knights had been eliminated from this savage competition and too many suffered from various injuries: jammed fingers and crushed noses; boxed ears and popping joints and concussions.

  My brothers and I sought sustenance to endure the coming rounds, and so we walked into the area to the north of the Sword Pavilion, where a small city of stalls and kiosks was laid out along narrow lanes. As I was eating cherries with Asaru and Yarashan at one of the fruit sellers' stalls, Lord Harsha and Master Juwain hurried through the crowds straight toward us. Lord Harsha, his hand on the hilt of his sword, limped up to me and asked, 'Have you seen Sar Maram?'

  I looked past a hatter's stall at a line of vendors preparing roasted pheasants, mutton joints and other sizzling viands. I said, 'He told me that he was off to look for a slice of cherry pie.'

  'That's not all he's looking for, it seems,' Lord Harsha said. He went on to explain that Behira had caught him exchanging whispers with a beautiful woman from Lagash, and she feared that he had made an assignation. 'My daughter is very worried — and so am I.'

  Yarashan, eating a cherry almost daintily as if he didn't want its juices to stain his fine face, let loose a little laugh. 'You'd do better to worry that Maram doesn't find his pie. How that man can eat! Hes likely to stuff himself so full that he won't be able to compete this afternoon.'

  'If he doesn't present himself soon,' Asaru said, looking up at the sun, 'he'll miss the next round and be disqualified.'

  My brother held a plum to his puffy, split lip as if its coolness might soothe it. I rubbed my sore elbow, which had been pulled straight and nearly bent back the wrong way. Master Juwain looked at us with all the compassion he could summon, for he had spent all morning tending such injuries — and much worse. And then he said, 'Disqualification might be exactly what Maram seeks.'

  'That would be a pity,' Yarashan said. 'Who would ever have thought that he would do so well? Vanquishing five fine knights, and him taking hardly a scratch.'

  In fact, one of Maram's oppone
nts that day had managed to jam a fingernail into Maram's eye, leaving him with a rather serious scratch that Master Juwain had been able to treat only with difficulty. 'Let's look for him then,' I said. 'He can't have gone very far.' 'Unless he's gone back to the Lagashuns' encampment with that woman,' Lord Harsha said. 'But why don't we hope for the best and at least try the pie-sellers first?'

  Without waiting for agreement, he clamped his hand around his sword again and pushed off into the crowds. I positioned myself close to him, while Asaru, Yarashan and Master Juwain hurried after us. As quickly as we could, we searched around the stalls of every pie seller, baker and pastry cook in that area of the Tournament Grounds; knowing Maram as we did, we also searched amongst the beer-sellers, vintners and brandy kiosks — to no avail. And then the first warning trumpet sounded from the Sword Pavilion behind us.

  'Surely he'll hear that and make his way back to the competition.' Asaru said.

  'If Sar Maram is doing what it seems he might be doing,' Lord Harsha said, 'he'll be hearing other trumpets — calling him to his doom.'

  So saying, his eyes narrowed, and he drew forth his sword a few inches so that its steel caught the light of the sun.

  Finally, following an intuition that flashed through my mind, I led the way toward the edge of the kiosks in that area. And there, at one of the dice stalls, we found Maram standing before a table and casting a pair of cubical, carved bones. A pile of coins was heaped up on the table before him. Many people stood watching him — and his pile of coins — as if they hoped his luck would hold and would magically be bestowed upon them.

  A sigh of relief broke from Lord Harsha's tight, old lips as he beheld this sight. But Asaru was less forgiving. He stormed up to Maram and said, 'Didn't you hear the trumpet?'

  'Ah, what trumpet?' Maram asked, shaking the yellow dice in his huge hand.