Elephant Thief

by Lia Patterson

  Lord Rhys rode Gwynt and gradually narrowed his circles. The beautiful grey mare snorted in dismay at Hami’s closeness, but her rider patted her neck, all the while talking to her in a low, loving voice.

  “You can do it,” I heard him say, “my brave beauty.” The mare flicked her ears back at him, but at the same time kept a wary eye on Hami.

  Slowly and with endless patience he continued to trot around the elephant, keeping an even tempo and getting ever closer until finally he brought Gwynt to a stop only a few paces away. The mare’s grey coat was dark with sweat, but she stood there reassured by her trust in her rider.

  “Good girl,” he murmured and stroked her neck.

  Me, he ignored completely, and briefly I was tempted to have Hami trumpet and ruin all his hard work, but how could I frighten such a beautiful creature? Sudden anger took me at the care he expended on training himself, Gwynt, his men – and all to excel at killing. Was that what their mothers had wanted for their sons? And what about the mothers of the Sikhandi soldiers? It was all so senseless! Words my father had quoted to me during his final illness sprang to my mind.

  I stepped up to stand at Lord Rhys’s stirrup. “I have a poem for you.”

  He blinked in surprise. “What?”

  I opened my hands wide as if to give him a gift. “These lines the poet Barzin said upon visiting the battleground of Sagh Pass.” I took a deep breath.

  Cicadas calling, sere grass

  shrouding warrior bones.

  Dreams blown away by the wind.

  Gwynt started, but at once Lord Rhys controlled her. “Arisha…”

  “Think on it,” I said and left him there.

  * * *

  I sought refuge in a walled-off garden behind the kitchen that I had noticed the previous day. Though only small, it was a place of growing things, lovingly tended and to my mage senses brimming with life. An old man was weeding the vegetable beds in a leisurely manner, but he ignored me and let me sit in peace on a stone bench in a sunny corner.

  Slowly the tension drained out of me. All the green, growing things, waking from winter’s sleep, were like a balm to my soul, soothing me. A net of life surrounded me, woven from uncounted threads: plants, insects, small animals. Each link was fragile, a tiny life so easily snuffed out, yet the whole was stronger than anything we mere humans could devise. It was a world that knew nothing of war or politics and would continue on its course unchanged, whether Aneirion or Sikhand claimed ownership.

  As a Wood mage, this was the world that concerned me. Some schools of philosophy even claimed that the other world – that of men – was an illusion and true freedom lay in ignoring it. Well, if it was an illusion, it was a very good one! And one that despite myself I cared very much about.

  Perhaps too much? I sat on my small, sunny bench and tried to cultivate the detachment suitable to a mage, but it was no use. For good or for worse, I cared about the world and the people in it.

  When the sun had passed its zenith, I left the garden to check on Hami. Lord Rhys must have finished training his horses, for the courtyard was empty again. From a passing servant I elicited the information that he was in consultation with some of the visiting lords, so I borrowed some oil from Cerwen and spent the rest of the afternoon grooming Hami and making sure his skin was clean and supple. He loved the attention, and the work took my mind off my concerns much better than trying to meditate on detachment.

  Upon finishing, I leant back against the trunk of the tree and admired the sky, deep and luminous except for a few feathery clouds. Above us, on the Eyrie, a gold and blue banner streamed out in the wind, lit by the westering sun. The view from up there would be splendid, I suddenly thought, and give an excellent idea of the lay of the land. So after seeing Hami settled with another pile of food – the elephant seemed determined to make up for the short rations of our flight – I slipped away.

  Nobody stopped me, and when I asked the way, some villagers pointed me to where a road snaked up the back of the hill. This side was less steep than the part overlooking the town, but the ground still dropped off sharply. A superb defensive position Lord Rhys had called it and I couldn’t help agreeing, toiling up the hill. Finally the road levelled off and led up to a gatehouse set in a tall stone wall, beyond which I caught a glimpse of the ruined tower. At the foot of the wall a group of men were busy digging a ditch and threw me curious looks as I stood there panting from the climb.

  Once I had caught my breath, I passed through the arched entrance to find a large, level space beyond. Scaffolding enclosed the walls on this side, and the sounds of hammering and the sharp ring of chisel on stone filled the air.

  “Lady Arisha!” somebody called.

  Surprised I looked round, to find Wynn standing next to a small hut set against the wall. He was rubbing down Gwynt with a bushel of grass and waved to me cheerfully. “Have you come to look at our new castle?” he asked. “Isn’t it splendid?”

  That moment the bit of sackcloth serving as a door to the hut was pushed aside and Lord Rhys emerged, accompanied by another man. I started, unaccountably feeling like a child caught in some mischief. Was there no getting away from the man? I had thought him still busy with his consultations. Would he accuse me of spying again? But though he frowned at the sight of me, he said nothing.

  Wynn beamed with pleasure. “This is going to be the biggest fortress in all of Aneirion. Isn’t that great?”

  Lord Rhys’s companion, a rotund man with his short blond hair sticking out in wisps corrected him. “Not just the biggest, Wynn, but the most advanced!” He gave me a benign smile. “You have come to look at the plans, my lady?”

  “Well…”

  He didn’t give me any chance to answer. Instead he spread a roll of paper he’d been clutching on a makeshift table. “I’m in charge here,” he announced, “this will be my masterpiece.”

  I still felt embarrassed about intruding, but my curiosity got the better of me. Stepping closer, I studied the plans. They showed massive walls enclosing an inner courtyard in an irregular, oblong shape. The whole northern half was taken up by a keep, with the existing tower in one corner overlooking the drop to the village.

  The man began to wax enthusiastically about curtain walls, arrow slits, crenellations and other technicalities, to which I nodded politely, which he took as further encouragement. He leafed through the papers, showing me details of a large central hall in the keep and the rooms beyond. While his clothes were faded and stained, he handled the plans with meticulous care. Every line was drawn precisely.

  A curious round shape caught my attention on one of the papers showing the interior of the keep. “What is that?” I asked, pointing to the circle, which seemed out of place amongst all the rectangular rooms.

  “Oh that,” he answered with a shrug. “Those are the Sikhandi baths. Lord Rhys insisted on them.” Obviously he thought them a superfluous luxury and instead drew my attention to the ingenious way the castle would draw its water supply from a spring issuing from the rock and the cisterns meant to store it.

  I raised my eyebrow at Lord Rhys, and he actually coloured. “We do learn from the Sikhandi when it’s worth our while,” he said.

  So this was going to be his seat, just as he had told me? The castle certainly deserved the term, but I wondered if it would be able to withstand a skilled Sikhandi mage. Yet how to say so without offending the master builder?

  “Have you got experience in countering Earth magic?” I finally asked diplomatically.

  The master builder huffed. “I don’t hold with magic. Cheating is what I call it!”

  I felt obscurely guilty for my talent, denied most people. Rhys meanwhile began to roll up the plans. “The castle need not withstand any magic.”

  “But –”

  “If the Sikhandi besiege us, we have lost already, for evasion and attrition are the only way to deal with them. No, the Eyrie is for later.”

  Later? What exactly did he have in mind? “Surely this
will take a long time to build?” I asked.

  The master builder sighed. “We’ve started on the walls, but lack manpower at the moment.” He threw a reproachful look at Lord Rhys. “I need more men to clear the courtyard of rubble and start to repair the tower.”

  “I know, Dillan,” Lord Rhys placated him. “But first I need to win a war.”

  That seemed to be insufficient reason for Dillan, but that moment the two were called away for a consultation with the foreman, who needed to know where to put up the next bit of scaffolding.

  Leaving Wynn with the horses, I wandered across the large grassy field and tried to picture the castle that would one day rise in this spot. Somebody had laid down lines of sawdust to show the extent of the walls, an impressive sight. As the master builder had said, boulders littered the area of the future courtyard and I could not help thinking how easily I could clear them with Hami’s help. He had become adept at hauling things around in the logging camp. Yet that would hardly further my escape!

  Close up, the tower showed signs of a fire long ago, but the black soot stains were faded and the building had been repaired enough so a lookout could climb to the roof where the banner flew in the wind. Lizards like tiny green jewels flitted away between the cracks of the stones and a pair of rooks regarded me curiously from where they sat on the branches of a bush.

  I found a place where I could clamber up onto the rocks and look down on the village. The view was breathtaking. Before me stretched the gently rolling lowlands; woods, fields and grassland looking like an enormous quilt of greens and browns from this height. The setting sun glittered on a lake north of us and traced the river flowing out of it. Perhaps on a clear day I might even see the sea?

  The hammering behind me had ceased, and the only sound came from the wind soughing through the grass growing between the rocks. A hawk gave its hoarse cry high above me. I took a deep breath of the clear air and stretched out my arms. Up here, the soul could take wings.

  “Please don’t do that,” somebody said behind me.

  I jumped and at once found myself steadied by a firm hand on my waist. “Arisha! Take care.” Lord Rhys pulled me back a step.

  My heart hammered in my breast. “Heavens above, do you have to sneak up on people like that?”

  “I didn’t mean to startle you, but you shouldn’t stand so near the edge. Remember, you’re not a bird!” He released me.

  I had regained my composure. “I know that. I was merely admiring the view.”

  He leant back against a boulder. “Well, admire it from where you stand. Or better still, sit down.”

  The man liked to order me around! Just to make a point, I obediently sat down on a patch of grass, but with my feet dangling over the precipice. Lord Rhys knew exactly what I was doing and regarded me steadily, until I felt myself colouring. However, he let it pass.

  I wondered if he would mention the poem I had quoted at him earlier on. Not that there was much to add to Barzin’s words in my opinion. But Lord Rhys seemed quite content to just stand there and take in the view.

  “I’m not surprised you want to build your home up here,” I observed, searching for something to say, “it’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is.” He looked out over the lands and the wind played with the feather in his hair.

  I watched him surreptitiously, once again struck by the quiet power of his personality. He had a way of drawing people’s attention by his mere presence, like a lodestone. I remembered the way he had looked at me the night before – and here I was, all alone with him. Yet surely the unsettling experience had been caused by tiredness, letting my imagination run away with me.

  “I’ve talked to Pellyn,” he said suddenly, “…about last night. He has promised to remind his mother that you have guest rights.” Was that meant as some kind of apology? In that case he needed to practice harder! Yet I had a feeling it was the best I would get.

  I shrugged. “Ah well, it just goes to show that lammergeyers have sharp talons.”

  He laughed out loud. “I think that this time the intended prey got the better of them.” He gave me a grin. “Apparently Lady Enit is not in the best of moods. It seems somebody invented another verse to your song, involving a pretty blond girl and her ogre of a mother.”

  “Oh!” I couldn’t quite hide my glee. “It wasn’t me.” Regretfully…

  “I know. Actually, from the dismal quality of the rhyming, I suspect Wynn.” He looked out over the view. “Anyway, they won’t ask you to sing again. It’s bad for morale. Even Pellyn has realised as much.”

  Had that soured their relationship? Yet in any case there seemed to be an unspoken rivalry between the two men. “Will that cause you difficulties?” I asked. “Cerwen said the lords are here to swear allegiance to you.”

  “Oh, he’ll swear the three-fold oath,” Lord Rhys answered with complete insouciance. “He’s still wriggling, but he can’t afford to keep back when all the others give their allegiance. In fact, by coming here he’s put himself right in my hands.” He gave a predatory grin. “I have him now.”

  Poor Lord Pellyn, I could almost feel sorry for him, for clearly he was outmatched.

  Lord Rhys seemed to read my mind. “He had his chance of defeating the Sikhandi,” he said with a chopping motion of the hand. “It didn’t work.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you know? After Glynhir, he rallied the remaining leaders and met Prince Maziar in battle. The fool!”

  Though the events had taken place only a few years ago, I only had a very sketchy idea of what resistance there had been to the Sikhandi invasion and felt rather ignorant. “What happened?”

  “What was to be expected: he was routed.” His mouth set into a grim line. “You do not meet a Sikhandi mage in battle with no preparation, regardless of numerical superiority. It was a disaster.”

  More blood on our hands. Sometimes all the dead felt like a heavy burden that I had to bear personally. “You were there?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

  However, he shook his head. “No, I didn’t make it back in time. But I picked up the pieces afterwards.” He sighed. “It has taken me all this time to whittle down the Sikhandi forces and assemble enough properly trained warriors to finally be able to meet them.”

  Not knowing what to say, I turned my head to look out at the view again. The setting sun cast long shadows, as if darkness was reaching out for the lands below. I had come to like these people, I realised: Taren exchanging extravagant compliments with Cerwen, Kestrel with his gentle hands, cheerful Wynn and even Lord Rhys, who had treated me honourably. I didn’t want to see them killed! But at the same time I thought of the people I knew back at the Sikhandi camp, with whom I had spent the past year. My friend Yasaman and her husband, the simple soldiers posted north to this foreign country, even Prince Bahram: none of them were evil. If only there was a way to stop this conflict, but what could a single woman do? I had never felt so helpless before.

  “You know, it’s funny,” Lord Rhys said suddenly, “in a way the Sikhandi did us a favour by invading.”

  “A favour!”

  He indicated the tower behind us. “A neighbouring clan burnt down the place, back in my grandfather’s time. The grandson of that man will never do so again.”

  “You killed him?” I asked, puzzled.

  “No!” He took a step towards me. “Don’t you understand? He was one of the first to swear allegiance to me. There will be no more raids from him.”

  “I see.”

  He began to pace in the small space and I had to crane my neck to follow him. “The Sikhandi have united us,” he said, “but there are other threats. The Northlanders have long plundered our coast and the fen people in the east bear us little love. And of course always the Khotai. We need to counter these threats, but in order to be able to do so, we first have to deal with the Sikhandi. There is no other way.”

  Why was he telling me all this? It almost seemed as if he felt the need
to justify himself. But why to me?

  With a sweeping gesture he encompassed the view. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I agreed cautiously, not sure why he was repeating something I had already acknowledged. What a strange drift the conversation had taken.

  “It’s all mine, Arisha, and that’s only the beginning.” A gust of wind swept around us, making the eagle feather in his hair dance. “In three days’ time, my writ will run all the way to the sea.” He took a deep breath. “One country, one people and no more quarrels between us.”

  Suddenly I understood the breadth of his vision. It was like a punch to the stomach. “You want to be king,” I whispered.

  “Yes.”

  As simple as that. King of Aneirion where previously there had only been warring chieftains and shifting alliances. “Do the other lords know your plans?” I asked, my mind still reeling.

  He flashed me a white grin. “Not yet. They need a little more time to get used to the idea.”

  I didn’t doubt for a moment that he would accomplish his dream. Though he didn’t strike me as an ambitious man, Lord Rhys would not let anything stop him if he considered it the best for his people. King! Another thought hit me: a king needed a queen. Involuntarily I pictured Owena presiding over his castle. She would make a pretty queen. Still, of what concern were his plans to me, I would be long gone by then.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.

  He paused in his pacing and seemed at a loss for an answer himself. “I…”

  I rose to my feet and tossed back my hair. “What if I run to Lord Pellyn and tell him about your plans, will he still swear allegiance?”

  “You won’t, Arisha.”

  Annoyance rose within me at the absolute certainty in his voice. Of course I wouldn’t tell tales to Pellyn, but the man knew me far too well. “I’ve never given you leave to use my name either!” I snapped.