“Now don't scowl so, Forollkin,” said O-grak, “or you'll tempt her to go back on her royal word. You won't lack for company with your silver-tongued brother, your charming Forgite, and an angry snake to talk to.”
Ignoring the interested stares of O-grak and his men, Forollkin kissed Gwerath briefly on the lips before he allowed her to be escorted to the second ship.
“Now,” said the Khan, “for your homecoming.”
*****
The ships of Oraz hugged the coast of Az for three days but on the fourth they sailed out round the island of Gant, for the straits were impassable. The fire giant was angry and strove to reach his rival more fiercely than ever. O-grak told his prisoners that such an eruption was thought to signify that the Goddess had left the temple and was walking unseen through her lands.
“And is that a good omen?” Forollkin had asked.
“With a goddess, who can tell until after the event?” Smiling, O-grak had gone on to talk of the mysteries of women, with no encouragement from anyone but Gidjabolgo.
As the Khan had foretold, Shageesa did disturb the prisoners but it was only the worst of many noises. They were separated from the main part of the hold merely by the thickness of a hide curtain and the guards were always close, so they had no real privacy. For the first time Forollkin began to feel the grimness of their captivity. Kerish seemed to need no reminder. He spent hours by Shageesa's cage, watching the serpent fling herself against the bars, desperately trying to find a weak place. It was some time before Forollkin realized that Kerish was not mesmerized by the snake but simply aware that the noise would cover a whispered conversation, even when their guards were only paces behind.
At the first opportunity, he asked why Kerish had wanted Gwerath to stay with O-grak's wife. Shageesa thrashed against the door of the cage and Forollkin flinched, but the bars held.
“I want them to be friends,” murmured Kerish. “The Khan's wife could be a valuable ally.”
Forollkin snorted. “She's too meek to hiss at a butterfly. What use could she possibly be?”
Kerish's eyes remained fixed on the furious snake. “Also, she needs help and comfort.”
“And there was I,” exclaimed Forollkin, “foolishly thinking that it was us who needed help!”
Kerish smiled wearily. “Perhaps we're beyond it. Helping Neeris may do us no good, but at least it shows we still have some freedom of choice.”
*****
A high wind that night caused the three ships to anchor in a cove on the eastern coast of Gant. Since they would be there until morning, O-grak gave permission for the Galkians to be escorted to the second ship to fetch Gwerath.
The Princess of the Sheyasa was seated opposite Neeris, playing a board game which she had quickly mastered and was now winning for the third time in succession. The Khan's wife dropped all pretense of concentration and urged Gwerath to tell her more about Seld. The Princess moved a piece shaped like an axe towards the bridge built by her opponent across the neighboring square, and was describing the absolute power of the Queen of Seld, when she was interrupted by familiar voices.
The curtains that divided Neeris's quarters from the rest of the hold were drawn back, and as the messenger from the Khan entered, Gwerath glimpsed Forollkin and Kerish standing just outside. The messenger was speaking in Orazian but before he had finished Gwerath was on her feet.
“If my cousins have come to fetch me, I'm ready to go . . . that is, if you'll let me, Neeris.”
The Khan's wife murmured something that Gwerath took for acquiescence. In a moment she was through the curtain. Forollkin smiled and opened his arms. Kerish looked away and noticed Neeris shyly holding back the curtain to watch the reunion. Her face was in shadow but the crimson bracelet glittered on her thin wrist.
Kerish made a courtly bow. “Lady, thank you for looking after our cousin.”
Neeris nodded mutely and would have let the curtain fall between them but Kerish said hastily, “Gwerath could never be entirely unhappy on a ship. She has grown to love the sea. In my travels I have come to like it less and less. It even disturbs my dreams now . . . you look as if you understand.”
“I hate the sea,” whispered Neeris.
Kerish stepped a little closer. “Were you born inland?”
“Yes, in the mountains, the Mountains of Zarn.”
She was leaning forward now, light attacking the defensive lines of her taut face.
“Do you still miss the mountains?”
She nodded and he smiled encouragingly. “What is it that you miss about them? The splendor of silence? The snows that can't be marred? The astonishment of spring?”
“Oh, all of that. The towers of Azanac remind me a little of my father's valley in winter, when the world is shut out by storms, but inside everything is safe and warm and spring is coming.”
“But on Az you are not certain of the spring?”
“Spring never comes there,” whispered Neeris.
“Then perhaps you should walk to the next valley to find it,” answered Kerish. “The high route may not be as impassable as you think. I should like you to see the mountains above Galkis in spring . . . but of course, if Viroc falls and the Khan marches north to burn the Golden city, you will.”
“There is always war,” said Neeris dully.
“Not in every land or in every age. Still, you have reminded me that even if the city falls, the mountains I love will remain. There is comfort in that.”
He bowed again and was astonished by the intensity of the pleasure mirrored in her sudden smile. Then Forollkin was offering his formal thanks. Neeris murmured something and let the curtain drop.
As they were rowed back to O-grak's ship, Gwerath talked scornfully of the dull life of Neeris and her women and their ignorance of the world, until Kerish asked, “Why does she make you so uncomfortable?”
Gwerath frowned and then answered readily enough, “I suppose because she is so like me. Like me as I was in Erandachu. However could you have borne me?”
“We didn't.” Forollkin smiled affectionately. “You were thoroughly exasperating.”
`I loved you even then,' said Kerish but not aloud.
The next morning Gwerath declared herself unable to endure the stuffy hold and she and Forollkin went up on deck, escorted by two guards. Gidjabolgo spat at the mention of fresh air and curled up again amongst the cushions. Through slitted eyes he watched the Prince kneeling by Shageesa's cage. Kerish was still dressed in the green Galkian tunic with the heavy collar gleaming at his throat. He did not appear to notice his guards retiring to a discreet distance as O-grak approached and he jumped as the Khan sat down beside him.
“In Oraz, women say that if you look at a snake too long it will change hearts with you.”
“And do they say whether it has happened to you?”
“To the noble and generous Khan of Orze? No.” O-grak thrust his blunt fingers through the bars to caress the angry snake. “I am as renowned for the lavishness of my bounty as for my courage. The poor and the oppressed flock to my halls.”
“And with such a reputation comes power?”
“It does indeed.”
Kerish sat back on his heels and studied the Khan, lingering over the black mane kept long in defiance of custom, the careless splendor of his jeweled weapons, the strength of his ugly hands, the large, disquieting eyes . . .
“I see now,” began Kerish, “that in Galkis you behaved to match our false ideas of what a barbarian chieftain would be like.”
“True enough. The thought seems to upset you.”
“No.” Kerish's good hand had strayed to the uncomfortable collar at his neck. “But I was thinking that only condemned men are spoken to with such frankness.”
O-grak withdrew his hand from the cage and gave the Prince his full attention.
“Only your own stubbornness, or if you like, your scruples, could condemn you. If you are to be Emperor, we will need to know each other very well.”
“It seems unlik
ely that the rulers of the Five Kingdoms will agree to your plans for me.”
“They will listen to the conqueror of Viroc,” said O-grak calmly. “Do you think I have worked all my life to build this precious unity in vain? My nephew will do as I suggest and Oraz will pour out its share of the plunder until the other Princes are convinced.”
“Cil-Rahgen did not appear to take to your plans very eagerly.”
“He snaps at what he is too stupid to swallow,” growled the Khan, “but he has gone to fetch an army from Chiraz.”
“O-grak, there is one flaw in all your reasoning. You don't understand how small grievances can swell to fill a whole man and turn him against you. You take no offence at what I say. No doubt you would think it a waste of effort, but other men would be angry. Khan, I think you will fail because men are too small to fit the world you want to make for them.”
If O-grak was shaken by the intensity of Kerish's words he showed it only in the seriousness of his reply. “What you say might be true in other lands. Here, our constant wars have prevented even the small in spirit from ignoring the long shadows. Death has always stood too close, and that has shaped my people in ways the Galkians cannot understand.”
“But you want to take them out of the shadows?”
“I mean to make my people the balance between darkness and light. Prince, will you help me?”
“When you ask me for the third time,” said Kerish, “I will tell you.”
As the Khan withdrew, Gidjabolgo stirred amongst the cushions and opened one eye.
“Forollkin believes now that you never for a moment considered the Khan's offer.”
“But you know me better . . .” Kerish smiled bitterly. “If you were in my place, would you accept?”
“Of course,” said Gidjabolgo promptly, “but my motives would not be of the purest.”
Kerish got up from the cage and stood for a moment looking down at the Forgite. “Will you play for me, Gidjabolgo?”
When Gwerath and Forollkin came below, they saw Kerish huddled like a sick child among the cushions. Gidjabolgo sat beside him, singing of a young merchant who had never returned from the icy voyage to Dorak. The guards were listening and even the snake had ceased her struggles and lay in limp coils as if she had finally accepted the reality of her cage.
*****
The island of Vaish rose uncertainly from the muddy waters of the estuary that constantly eroded and replaced its shores. In that desolate and shifting place, only one thing had seemed permanent, the boundary of the Galkian Empire running across the island.
After the first great Battle of Viroc, the Empire had kept its lands west of the Jenze, but one concession had been made to Oraz - that Vaish should never be inhabited. Its only town had been abandoned to the encroaching dunes, but the temple of Imarko, that stood on the boundary itself, had always been maintained by priests who returned every night to Viroc. A great statue of Imarko looked out towards a temple of Idaala built on the Orazian side of the island, for the Men of the Five Kingdoms also counted Vaish as a holy place.
As the prisoners joined O-grak and his bodyguard in one of the longboats, Kerish asked why that was.
“It is the place where Zeldin the Betrayer last spoke to our Lady,” answered the Khan curtly.
The river between Vaish and Viroc was treacherous with shifting sandbanks, and too shallow for the Khan's galleys. The best channel was close enough to Viroc to be within range of the archers and catapults stationed on its walls. Still, Jerenac had few ships to guard the Jenze so O-grak thought it safe to transfer most of his household into longboats for the short row to the Orazian camp. The galleys went on by a longer route, sailing down the west coast of the island to a safe harbor below the temple of Idaala. The supplies would be off-loaded there and dragged overland to the camp.
As the six longboats rowed down the Jenze, they were constantly challenged by small Orazian craft, patrolling the river. Each time, O-grak roared his approval of their vigilance and the men of the patrols would beat their swords against their shields to welcome the Khan and honor the shrouded Soul Boat that was towed by the last two longboats.
One of the sea-fogs so common in the estuary hid all but the glimmer of Viroc's great ramparts but O-grak smilingly reminded his prisoners that if they should think of jumping overboard to swim for Galkis, his men were excellent shots.
Within three hours, they had reached the camp. Raised on a promontory jutting towards Viroc, the sombre tents of Oraz seemed like a pack of animals, waiting hungrily for the next attack. The standard of the Prince of Oraz flew highest, but he had stayed in Zoanaxa, entrusting the command to his uncle. O-grak pointed out with childlike satisfaction other flags, already rimed with salt, belonging to contingents from Mintaz and Gilaz. `Soon the shores will be darker still with the ships of Chiraz and Fangmere', thought Forollkin, `and then what chance will Jerenac have?'
The boats were beached and the prisoners splashed ashore with their guards. O-grak was met by his second-in-command and there was a long pause while news was exchanged and orders were given.
“So. we're standing on Galkian soil at last,” murmured Gidjabolgo.
Kerish's attention seemed fixed on the sea-birds wheeling overhead but Gwerath saw Forollkin wince.
“No,” O-grak was saying, “I will keep the prisoners close to me. Prepare a tent and choose your best men to guard it.” He turned to Kerish. “For the moment, Prince, you had better come with me. If the little barbarian went straight to the women's quarters, it might save her some distress, unless she's as much of a warrior as her clothes pretend.”
“I will go with my cousins,” answered Gwerath proudly. “Test my courage however you like.”
The Khan laughed. “Not your courage, just your stomach.”
He turned back towards the camp and Gwerath and Gidjabolgo soon had to trot to keep up with O-grak's great strides. Kerish kept his eyes fixed on the Khan's broad back and ignored the stares and muttered comments of warriors from Oraz, Gilaz and Mintaz who crowded the camp's main thoroughfare. He was remembering their entry into another camp, as his uncle's prisoner. Kerish almost smiled at the thought that he felt far more akin to O-grak than he ever had to Tayeb.
The Khan's tent was pitched on a hillock overlooking the camp and behind it lay the charred ruins of the temple of Imarko. The great statue remained but as the prisoners came closer, they saw that the head had been struck off, and something was dangling from the outstretched arms.
Gidjabolgo wrinkled his nose. “A handsome gibbet, but it makes the carrion smell no better.”
From the tattered robes that clung to the swaying corpses, Forollkin guessed they had been priests of Imarko.
“A sight to gladden the Men of Fangmere,” said O-grak, “if no one else.”
“Is this your gentle conquest, Khan?” demanded Kerish. “How are the tongueless to beguile their conquerors? Is it only a surfeit of our blood that will sicken your people of slaughter?”
“I told you that the worship of your Foremother would be forbidden,” answered the Khan. “The Men of Fangmere hate her with a righteous anger and those who call on her name will be silenced. Weigh up what she is worth and die for her if you choose, but don't accuse me of dishonesty.”
It was a subdued group of prisoners that O-grak entertained in his tent with strong wine and florid descriptions of past campaigns. At last an escort arrived to take them to their quarters in the northern part of the camp.
Once they were alone, in a tent encircled by guards, Forollkin's anger and bitterness broke out. Kerish bore the brunt of it, until even Gwerath exclaimed, “It's not Kerish's fault that Galkis is in such danger. You're talking to him as if he was O-grak!”
Forollkin was instantly penitent. “I'm sorry, Kerish. I'm talking through you, not at you.”
The Prince was sitting with bowed head, the collar digging into his hunched shoulders.
“Say what you like. I don't care.”
Forollkin kne
lt by his brother. “No! Whatever happens to the rest of us, you have to go on caring about our quest. That's just about the only thing I'm still sure of.”
“In which case, may I point out,” said Gidjabolgo rapidly, “that there's food on that table and a pile of skins to sleep on. Keep up your strength and see what chance brings us. “
“Surely we needn't despair yet...” began Gwerath.
Kerish looked up with a curious smile.
“It isn't that. I'm not defeated yet. But I am afraid of what I may have to do to gain victory.”
*****
The parley between the commanders of the forces of Galkis and Oraz took place just after dawn on the east bank of the Jenze, two miles below Viroc. Three longships of Oraz set out from the camp. Two stayed in midstream, filled with armed warriors, but in the third only the men who guarded the Galkians had daggers hidden under their cloaks.
As they approached the shore, O-grak apologized for having to bind his prisoners' arms and hood their faces. “As a soldier, Forollkin, you will understand that some caution is necessary.”
“And I trust that you understand,” said Forollkin icily, “that there could be no question of treachery on Lord Jerenac's part.”
O-grak nodded. “Like me, he might wish to seize an advantage, but your Godborn laws bind him closer than he knows.”
“And what happens, Khan, when you wish to seize an advantage?”
“If it is important enough to my people, I will break any kind of promise,” said O-grak calmly, “but never without some warning. If my enemies are too stupid to heed it, they'll die unmourned by me. But don't be afraid, Forollkin, if I were to kill an unarmed ambassador my own people would curse me. Their `barbarian' honor is your safeguard, not my honesty.”
The boat crunched against shingle and through the wispy fog the Galkians saw that their landing-place was a village, badly damaged by enemy attacks. The people had fled. Only half-starved animals still wandered amongst the ruined houses but above the charred portico of a small temple flew the Imperial Banner. To Kerish it was like rediscovering some cherished childhood toy. The golden starflower moved him but he couldn't remember why it had once meant so much.
The Seventh Gate (The Seven Citadels ) Page 7