Anderson, Poul - Novel 18

by The Winter of the World (v1. 1)

  “I think so.”

  “The problem of supply—It’ll be winter.”

  “Each will pack his or her own food. A load of pem- mican will keep a person going till there’s freedom to hunt—after victory, on the way home.”

  “If there is victory______ Donya, I can’t read the future. I’ve no plan beyond capturing Arvanneth. Not yet. Afterward ... I don’t know.” He leaned back against his workbench and gripped its edge hurtfully hard. “You can probably match or outmatch the numbers in Sidfr’s host. But can you outfight them? They have what’s more than their guns and body armor. They have the training of soldiers; they have the spirit. If their lancers charge us, can we make a thousand Rogaviki pikemen stand shoulder to shoulder? I think not. I think they’ll complain of the smell, and move apart, and die fighting as individuals—very bravely, yes, but still dying.”

  “The bravery matters more than the death,” she said low.

  Anguish took him. “Donya, do you mean to be there?”

  “In the second contingent? Of course. What else? That is, if the enemy has left Hervar.”

  “I don’t want you killed! Listen, come south with me.

  She gave him a shocked stare. “What?”

  “When I leave here, come along. You and ... and whoever you wish.... It’ll be none too safe, but it will be less mortally dangerous than guerrila war and at last a pitched battle against the whole amy, if you’ve survived that long.”

  “Josserek, what are you saying? I can’t go. I’ve overstayed myself here as is. Hervar’s beset!”

  “Yes, yes,” he argued quickly, “and I realize you hate to leave your kith there. But you can help them, oh, hugely better if you help me. Think. I—my Seafolk, the Arvannethans—we need someone who understands the Northfolk, really understands them, what they can and cannot do. Someone they look up to, whose counsel they’ll follow. And who also has experience with the civilized races. That’s you. I doubt if a Rogaviki alive is better qualified for ... for staff and liaison ... than you. And we make a good team, we two. Don’t we?” He braced himself. “Donya, you must. It’s your duty to Hervar.”

  He waited for her answer, in a silence which his heart made noisy, while the jade eyes searched him. Was that pain which he saw on her face? When she did speak, her voice was huskier than before and not wholly level.

  “I think best we talk about ourselves, dear. Come outside.”

  The Rogaviki are the Children of the Sky.

  She took his hand. Hers was warm and hard. Mutely, they walked forth. The Station trees soughed and cast unrestful shadows, for a wind blew, from the west but touched by cold already moving southward.

  Her stride matched his. Soon they were a mile off.

  The signs of man became a grove, a few glimpsed buildings, a dusty patch of harvested cropland, huddled in front of Thunder Kettle crater. Everywhere and everything else beneath heaven was the prairie. Waist-high grass billowed from beyond the world’s rim. Its myriad greens were paling now, it shone almost silver. The wind smelled of it and of sunlight. Blackbirds in their hundreds rode the booming air. Red patches on their wings and thin sweetness of their cries made on-and-off flashes across distance. High above them, unbelievably white amidst blue, passed a flock of swans.

  When Donya finally spoke, Josserek was glad to keep walking. It helped ward off the chill without and within him. She looked straight before her, and he thought he could hear in her voice what will, even courage, the words demanded.

  “Darling friend, I feared this would happen. There’ve been times past when an outlander and a woman of ours grew close ... had more than a little sport. The ending was never good. Go from me before too late. For now I can only hurt you.”

  He locked his gaze onto her and forced out: “Are you afraid I resent your husbands, and this might grow worse? No. I would, well, I’d certainly like best to keep you for myself alone. But—” He chuckled harshly. “You give me so much when we’re together, I doubt if any single man can give you enough.”

  She bit her lip. “What have you in mind?”

  “Whatever lets me stay with you for always.”

  “It’s impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Josserek, I do care for you. You’ve been a gallant comrade, a bewitching talkmate, and, yes, a fine lover. Do you suppose I’d not take you into my family if I could?”

  He sighed. “Oh, I know I can’t become the perfect plainsman. I’m starting too late in life. But I can learn what I must.”

  The amber head shook. “You can learn everything, I’m sure, except that. The soul born into you is not Rogaviki. You’ll never think as we think, feel as we feel. Nor will we ever sound the mystery in you. It’s been tried, I tell you, over and over through centuries, marriage, adoption, joining a kith, settling among foreigners. And it’s never worked. It can’t. We go crazy, crowded too long. Likeliest we end by murdering somebody. And you, any outlander can’t spend more than a year or two with us. His loneliness—his passion growing till he has no wish except for the woman, while she shies off from being hoarded by him—oftenest at the last he kills himself.

  “I’ll not see that happen to you. Go your way when I go mine, and we’ll each bear off a happy memory.”

  Through a rising tumult, he croaked, “I’m not giving up. And you’re not a quitter either. Let’s keep trying, anyhow, searching for ways.”

  Her pace faltered. She cast him an alarmed glance. “Do you mean to come along back to Hervar?”

  “No, I can hardly do that, can I? But you’ve got to come along to Arvanneth. Let me explain in detail, practical piece-by-piece detail, how badly we need you down there. What are you here? An extra fighter. Yonder, though—”

  She cut him off by stopping. Awhile she stood, stared down into the grass which streamed around her in the wind, clasped him tight. Then she squared her shoulders, took both his hands in hers, met his look, and spoke steadily:

  “This by itself shows what a river sunders us. You think I can choose what I do. But Josserek, I cannot. My kithland is invaded. I must go help defend it.

  “You’ll say, if I came here, why can’t I travel on to where I may be more useful? I can simply reply, first, I’ve not let on to you how hard this trip was. Without my husbands to strengthen me, and I them, we couldn’t have done it. Between us, reason overcame wish. The same is true, in whatever way for each, of those who came with us. We’ve even kept a layer of mirth. For, after all, we knew this wouldn’t last long, just till we’d passed our word, and later given you time to make your preparations, when you said you had a plan. And besides, though this isn’t Hervar, it’s at least Northland. It’s enough like home that the sharpest edge is blunted, of being away from home in a day of danger.

  “To go on, into alien country—I can’t. None of us can. Kiths whose territories aren’t yet profaned, aye, men and women of theirs can join ou. And they will, eagerly, to forestall the violator. I’ll find advisors for you among them.

  “But myself to leave, no, I cannot, and again, I cannot.”

  “Why not?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “What makes us breathe?”

  Like a thunderclap, the answer came.

  “Josserek!” Concerned, she laid arms about him. “Are you well?”

  I’ll have to think further. Maybe I’ll find I’m wrong. O gentle Dolphin, grant that I’m wrong.

  “It’s all right,” he mumbled.

  “You’re wan. You feel cold.”

  He rallied. “I’m disappointed, naturally. Uh, do you, uh, suppose you can stay here till I leave?”

  “How long?”

  “I ought to finish my farspeaker in two or three days. Then I’d best spend another two or three using it, to make sure the message gets through.” Vary the not- quite-certain frequency. Allow for atmospherics. Stall for time with you, darling; love makes liars of us all. “Meanwhile, shouldn’t we send couriers out, to bring in those companions for me that you
mentioned?”

  “Right. I can wait... maybe a week, though the rest of my party may start back sooner. Hope gives strength.” Donya came to him. “And each night will be yours, dear, only yours.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Strange was it to be once more on a ship. When Josserek trod from the stateroom lent him, the salt wind, its skill through rigging, creak of timbers and tackle, swoosh and smack of waves, deck rolling underfoot, were like a transfiguration of himself.

  His half-dozen Rogaviki men scarcely seemed to recognize him, either. He was clean-shaven now, his dark hair bobbed, and had discarded their woolens and leathers for sailor’s duck. They had been exchanging smiles and gestures with the crew, but remained uneasy in this environment. Whitecaps ran beneath a murky wrack; spindrift stung; the land from which a whaleboat had fetched them was a smudge on the northern horizon.

  “The admiral will see me,” Josserek said. “Do you wish to come, Fero?”

  “Aye,” nodded the trader from Valiki kith who was his chief guide and counselor. “What about the rest of us?”

  “M-m, you know how civilized leaders are. Anyway, lads, most of you’d not follow what was said; and all we’re really going to do at this stage is swap reports.” As Fero accompanied Josserek in the wake of a cabin boy who had brought the invitation, the Killimaraichan asked, “Are your quarters comfortable?”

  “Well, interesting, shall we say,” Fero replied. “But road-weary though we are, I doubt we can sleep down below in such clutter of bodies. Can we lay our bags out here?”

  Josserek glanced around. The Pride of Almerik had a merchantman’s capacity, besides guns which were suited to a ship of the line. “I’m sure you can. Plenty of space, and we’ll doubtless have you ashore long before any action happens.”

  Admiral Ronnach received them in his office. He was of the Derrain tribe, like Josserek; but that created no bond between them. What did was the service whose blue jacket and golden flying fish he wore. “Greeting, gentlemen,” he said. “Please be seated. Ah ... I suppose Rahfdian is our common language? ... Cigars? ... How was your trip from, from the place where you sent us your call?”

  “Hard riding,” Josserek said. No words could hold the sweep of immensities they had laid under hoof. It had been necessary for them to cross the Jugular, evading patrols from Imperial outposts, and continue east nearly to the Wilderwoods before they dropped south through sandy coastal lowlands. No fixed point of rendezvous would have been safe where Arvannethans dwelt.

  “Well, we did grow a bit nervous, sending the boat in day after day and finding nobody,” Ronnach admitted. “Too many unknowns in this business for my taste.”

  Josserek tautened. “Sir, what’s the status of it at present?”

  “Embryonic, I’m afraid. Radio messages have been acrackle between here and Eaching. You realize they’d be happy enough there to see Imperial Rahfd racked back a few notches—provided this doesn’t cost them a war. Hence everything was to be unofficial, and still the Seniory wants a good deal of information and explanation before it lets us do much. We’ve gotten some agents ashore, a transmitter secretly assembled in the city, litde else.”

  Josserek nodded. “I expected no better.” I did allow myself to hope, for Donya’s sake. But— “Probably I’ll have to be my own field operative, as well as serving on your staff and fighting our superiors at home and the gods know what else.”

  Fero listened silently. In his cougar eyes was no real comprehension.

  Rain raged until torrents down the streets of Arvanneth washed summer’s filth and autumn’s torn-off leaves into the canals. Casiru’s windows showed the Lairs seemingly deserted, each house and inn and hideaway withdrawn behind blankness, Hell Cloister barely a shadow above their roofs. But this room was snug, plum-colored velvety, bright with lamps, crystal, and silver, sweet with incense.

  The vicechief of the Rattlebone Brotherhood leaned back, inhaled from a dream weed cigarette, trickled the smoke out slowly across his dried features, and murmured, “Yes, an epic adventure you’ve had. But I fear I myself am not cut out to be the hero of an epic. Such tend to die young and messily.”

  Josserek shifted in his own chair. “Would you rather go on as you are, hunted and harassed, till the Empire’s constables root out the last of your kind?” he growled. “Coining in on the Newkeep road, I saw scarecrows in the fields that I heard were made from the skins of condemned assassins. It sounded messier to me than sword-death.”

  “But failed rebels will perish still more inelegantly,” Casiru pointed out. “Thus far we haven’t suffered past endurance in the Lairs. The occupation forces are too small, too preoccupied elsewhere, for more than sporadic raids on us. They seldom catch anybody worth catching. Our worst problems spring from loss of Guild patronage.” .

  “That alone will strangle you.” Josserek leaned forward. “See here, I’m showing you a possibility of the very alliance with Northfolk and Seafolk that you hoped to make. I’m not asking you to commit yourself this day. Obviously you can’t. In fact, my side will want a reasonable assurance of success before moving. I’m one of several persons who’re opening discussion with the various elements in the city that must reach agreement and coordinate their efforts—else an uprising really would be nonsense. Can’t we, you and I, explore these matters together? And then, if you find any promise in them, can’t you make further contacts for us?”

  “It will take time,” Casiru warned.

  “I know,” Josserek said rather grimly.

  “But ... yes, on those terms you do interest me.” Casiru beamed. “You shall be my welcome guest.”

  Ercer en-Havan, Holy Councilor for the World, set in the robe of his Gray order, upon a marble throne carved so long ago that hollows were worn in back and seat, and fingered the smoke crystal sphere he wore as a pendant, whose engraved map showed coastlines and Ice boundaries strange to the charts today. The chamber around was austere and curtained. Josserek had been led there blindfolded. He knew merely that it was somewhere in the Crown Temple.

  “You will understand,” rustled the Wiseman’s voice, ‘T receive you for no other reason than that the word you wormed to me through intermediaries merits further inquiry. Perhaps I do but lead you on, drawing forth information, before I have you arrested and turn you over to the Emperor’s inquisitors.”

  “Of course,” Josserek answered straight-faced. “And for your part, sir, you understand I’m just a messenger, and those I speak for do not themselves represent the government of Killimaraich. Routine intelligence operations have turned up evidence of, hm, prospective disturbances of the peace in your dominions. Invasion and insurrection are both conceivable. We think Eaching would not disapprove if we lent our good offices toward minimizing the damage. But this is for you to decide.”

  “I confess to wondering why you do not take your findings to the Imperial Voice.”

  “Well, your Wisdom, we thought the Council of the Wise could best judge our news and what to do about it. And is not the Council part of the Imperial government of Arvanneth?”

  “Yes, thus goes the designation.... You hint at a movement to overthrow the Emperor’s forces here and proclaim a restored sovereignty: a movement which hopes for aid from Northland barbarians and, ah, Sea-folk adventurers.”

  “That’s right, your Wisdom. Whether this succeeds or not is no business of Killimaraich’s, directly—though I might remind your Wisdom that it’s never recognized Radfd’s annexation of Arvanneth. We do believe there’s no way to stop the attempt, and your best course is to prepare to exercise some control over events.”

  “For example, by making preliminary arrangements with other sectors of society to form a—ah—”

  “I suggest you might call it a government of national liberation, your Wisdom.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “A coalition, at least. Sir, if my principals can help reduce bloodshed by acting as intermediaries between the different factions, they’ll be happy to try.”

>   Ercer stroked his fork beard. “More attractive might be an offer to prevent the Imperial Captain General from bringing his army downriver should this coup succeed. Arvanneth has outworn many conquerors. These are no different. A few decades, a few centuries— However, one’s personal death is for eternity.”

  “Well, your Wisdom,” Josserek began, “as I told you, it happens we know a little about what the Northfolk are doing.”

  None had news of Donya for none were from Hervar nor could any be while Sidfr kept his headquarters at Fuld. Presently Josserek gave up asking among them. With Fero, he drew aside Targantar of the Luki kith, who was the nearest they had to a leader.

  The hunters waited in their tens of hundreds. Few showed to any single eye, for they were widely spread in the Swamps of Unvar. Leafless trees and brush, dry reeds upthrust from frozen meres, still gave concealment, especially on a day like this, when snow tumbled through dim gray light, thick, wet, muffling the land in colorless quiet.

  “Are you sure the whole band is collected by now?” Josserek asked.

  Targantar shrugged. “No,” he answered. “How could I be? But I’ve ample reason to suppose it.”

  He described the courier system which had developed among the Rogaviki, rather than having been organized by any particular group, for war purposes. That it had appeared was not remarkable, given the character of that people. It was mainly common-sensical. He had become the person to whom everybody sent information, and from whom at last went the word that set them traveling: simply because Donya had spoken at length with him, his wife, and his co-husbands about this, at Thunder Kettle Landmeet. He knew roughly how many had gone south, converging on this area according to advice which Fero sent. And he knew that several times that number were poised to move into the central Jugular Valley, whenever they heard from their allies. A network of standby messengers and remounting posts waited ready to inform all their camps at gallop speed.

  “Can you abide here a few more days, unbeknownst?” Josserek went on.