At this the young man got up from his place and began to exit, intending this to be seen. Dann quickly went to him, laid his hand on his shoulder, and said, "This is my sister." But with a disdainful movement the youth shook off Dann's hand and went out, shutting the door with exaggerated care.
Brother and sister sat, close, and he held her hand and looked into her face and this — his way of looking — told her how much he had changed, for it was far from the hunted, haunted, close look she knew so well, but a frank, friendly, open examination.
"Shabis sent out spies to find out where you were, but they came back and said you were dead."
She told him where she had been, while he listened. Then he said, "Let's go, Mara. I didn't believe you were dead. I was only hanging around in case you'd turn up."
"But you're a general, how can you just go?"
He got up, laughing, and paced about because he was so full of elation and happiness, he could not keep still. "I'm just a trainee general. And anyway Mara, I don't care about that — do you care about that? No, of course you don't. Shabis likes me — that's the point. He said he thinks of me as his family. But this war — it's stupid. I don't want to be part of it."
He explained the plan — the Agre plan. General Shabis's troops were closing in around the southern suburbs, and General Izrak was trapped. When Shabis had cleaned up in Shari, then his army would make forced marches to the Hennes H.Q. and then take all the south part of Hennes occupied territory. Soon the whole country would be in the hands of the Four Generals. And the war would be over. As Dann outlined these plans, he spoke mockingly, and Mara agreed.
Dann ended, "A trapped boar can inflict nasty wounds."
"Cleaning up," said Mara. "That means a massacre."
"Who is going to weep for the Hennes? Or any of their kind anywhere?"
"The army isn't just Hennes. There are a lot of Neanthes and Thores people too." He was silent. "Why don't you announce an amnesty for the Neanthes and Thores? They were all taken prisoner and made into soldiers."
"Mara, this isn't our problem."
"I don't understand why Shabis agreed to this plan. It's silly. He could have stopped the Hennes getting to Shari."
"He didn't agree. You forget, there are four generals. He was outvoted. He wanted to make a stand well south of Shari. The other three wanted a trap."
"And a massacre." "And a massacre."
"I wish I could see Shabis. He was so good to me, Dann. He taught me so much."
"And me too. But Mara, are you forgetting we were captured? We are formally Agre prisoners. Well you are, anyway. Do you imagine Shabis would just say, 'Oh, you're off are you? Bless you my children.'"
"Why shouldn't he? He might."
"They've put a lot of work into me. They intend me to take Shabis's position when he takes over General Command. They're not going to waste all that."
"What are we going to do?"
"Get to Karas, first." "And then?"
"The frontier with the North Lands. It is a day's march from Karas. Once we're there, we're free."
"First we have to get to Karas." "And that is the most difficult part."
In the street outside there was a sudden tumult of shouting and running feet. The refugees were running past this building too. Dann closed the big windows, so they could hear each other. Mara had never seen windows like those: tall, from floor to ceiling, and of thick glass. She knew about glass, had seen it a little — in the windows of Shabis's house, she believed, but it had been too dark to see well — and here were sheets of glass; and she was thinking that a town with glass in its windows knows it is a safe town, because a single thrown stone can shatter glass. Well, Shari today was learning something very different.
Now Dann and she discussed difficulties. As always it was a question of details, for both knew — how well they knew — that getting one small thing wrong could mean calamity.
First of all Dann was a senior officer and could not be seen just walking off on the road north: that would be desertion. He must have the right clothes on. Then, both he and Mara were conspicuous. Here Dann took her to a wall where there was, she thought, a window beyond which was a tree; but she saw it was a glass that showed a tree which was behind them, outside the windows in the garden. She was longing to examine it, find out — but Dann said, "Quick, we must be quick." They stood in front of this glass, which reflected, and saw how alike they were: tall — Dann must have grown six inches since she saw him last — strongly built but finely made, with shining black hair and great, dark eyes. He was handsome, as she had seen in that first moment of shock; but already she was feeling him as something like an extension of herself, and she needed this little distance put by the glass that showed them to themselves, even if in a confusion of leaves and branches, so it seemed they were standing in a tree, to see just how good-looking he was. And he was smiling at her reflection. "Look how you've turned out," he said. "You're a beauty. You're going to get yourself raped if you aren't careful."
"I nearly was." And she told him what had happened. "But I bought myself off. Do you ever think that we nearly left the gold behind?" "Yes. Often. And how many have you left?"
"Fifteen."
"And I have six hidden. Apart from..." He touched his waist. "When I can get these out safely, I must. They itch sometimes. Meanwhile I'm glad to have them there."
What were they going to wear on that dangerous road?
Now he went to a cupboard and produced Mara's old sack. "I've always taken it with me. Just in case. I didn't really believe you were dead. That wouldn't be like you. And now it's going to save us."
She pulled out the two slaves' robes.
He said, "You've got to get those Hennes uniform trousers off." She pulled them off and stood in the brown tunic, reaching now to her knees.
"You've got to get that off too. People would be curious."
She was shy of him; he saw it, turned around, and she slipped on the old robe that would never be white because of the dust that had dyed it.
There was a knock. Dann went to the door, and opened it a little. A lot of noise came from the hall. He said, "Right, I'll deal with it. Meanwhile, don't disturb me until I say."
"And now we really do have to be quick." He whipped off his uniform and, as he did, said, "Goodbye, General Dann." Was he regretting it? At this last moment was he hesitating? If so, Mara could not see that he did. She caught just a glimpse of naked Dann, not ugly or starved or all ribs and bones or knobbly, but beautiful, he really was so beautiful — and then he had on the slave's robe, and she said, "What a pair of freaks we look."
"Not freaks enough. Get your hair covered." She bundled it into a piece of cloth and tied it tight. He pulled on the woollen cap Mara had kept in her sack. Into this sack he emptied some fruit and bread that had been brought in for General Dann's consumption.
"Water," she said.
"We are supplying water on the route to Karas," he said. "Water and soup, for the refugees." "Which we are now."
"Yes. Quick." This room was on the ground floor, and the windows looked into a little garden, beyond which the refugees were streaming past. Dann took his knife from the discarded uniform, put it into his knife pocket, slid in a little bag which held the coins. She took up her sack, but she had left her knife in the army satchel she had jettisoned. Dann flung open the window, admitting the sounds of shouting and anger, and leaped out, and she followed. In a moment they were across the garden and among the refugees. A sentry who had been idly watching the fleeing crowds saw the two too late, perhaps thought they were refugees who had strayed into the garden, or decided, to save trouble, that he had not seen them.
15
Mara and Dann, each with a sack over a shoulder, were among people who were half running, ten or twelve abreast, along the road to Karas. On each face was a stunned, disbelieving anger. All knew that when they returned to Shari their homes might not be there, would at least be looted and despoiled. Children were crying. Alr
eady people were falling out of the stream to rest a little by the side of the road, unable to keep up.
Outside the town the crowds turned for a last look: smoke was rising here and there. The trapped soldiers, careless, or drunk, or perhaps deliberately, were causing fires. There was a clamour from the besieged town, shouting and screaming but also singing.
The refugees passed through the troops that were on either side of the road, and Dann was trying to make himself inconspicuous, and held his arm across his face, as if shielding it from the sun.
Immediately beyond the town was the first feeding station set up by Shabis for the refugees, serving soup and bread and water.
Mara and Dann waited in line for some water — they had no container — drank as much as they could, and ran on. They were attracting attention because of this vigorous youthful running, and so they slowed to a fast walk. It grew dark, and some people settled for the night near the next feeding station, but most went on. The moon was now at half, but still yellow, and bright, and it illuminated the road. It was easy to walk. In the middle of the night, near a feeding station, the two ate soup and drank from the great jars that stood by the road, each guarded by a soldier. They slept a couple of hours, with a crowd of others, and felt they were reliving old times when they lay down back to back, each facing out, to be alert for thieves.
No thieves, only the restlessness, the weeping, the mourning, of the people, and the crying of the children. It was so noisy that soon Dann and Mara went on. That day's march was easy, because it was a huge, jostling crowd, though more than once someone did look closely at Dann, as if he were recognised. The feeding stations were well placed, and frequent. Now Shari was a good way behind, and whenever they reached a high point on the road, everyone turned to see what they could — but there were only columns of dark smoke, which sight brought forth more tears, imprecations, curses, impotent rage. That night was the same as the last, lit dimly by the shrinking moon, and Mara and Dann slept, but not much, for they could not lose the habit of being on guard at all times. There was one difference. Beside the road had stood a little inn, and Mara had darted in, found a knife in the deserted kitchen, and it was now safe in her robe.
Next day, at mid-morning, they saw Karas ahead, a town smaller than Shari, but pleasant enough. It was where Shabis had been educated, Mara reminded Dann, and said that here somewhere must be the school he had been at.
And now it was necessary to think carefully about what they would buy. It had been easy to feed themselves on the road here, because of the feeding stations, but now every eating place and inn would be crammed with people. They went to a public square and sat down under a tree on the paving. This was made of differently coloured stones, very attractive, arranged to make patterns and pictures. Some of the pictures were of people not unlike the Neanthes. And there were animals they had not seen, too. People were already lining up to drink from a fountain.
What were they going to wear? Dann said that in the North Lands men and women both wore long cotton robes, white or striped, cut loose with long, straight, loose sleeves. This design was to allow air to flow easily about the body, for where they were going it would be hot.
"And it hasn't been hot until now?" protested Mara.
She took out from her sack the blue and green loose dresses from Chelops that had never seemed appropriate at any place since, and which she had to associate with the easy life in the deep shade of the courtyard. They did not seem appropriate now either. Then they looked at the exquisite robes she could not bear to part with — but she replaced them at the bottom of the sack. Then the snake dress, which in this strong sunlight seemed to have lost its colour when she held it up, and looked milky and transparent. The two slave tunics were too short and skimpy. They would have to buy robes for the North Lands, so they could be inconspicuous.
They found a large clothing shop, selling what they wanted. They were called Sahar robes, and they chose two striped ones, in brown and white. The shopkeeper, when he saw the bag of coins that Mara pulled out of her sack, the ones she had snatched from Han on the boat, said he wouldn't accept them.
"But they are still currency," said Dann, with more than a touch of the young General.
The shopkeeper, an old man peevish with age, grumbled and said that he would make a loss when he changed the coins. Eventually they paid twice what the robes were worth. They bought some pieces of cloth. They bought some leather bottles, for water. Then they asked for a place to change.
"Are you running from the police?" asked the old man, but he didn't care.
"No, the army," said Mara.
"What have we done to have all these refugees landed on us?" he grumbled.
"You'll make a lot of money out of us," said Mara.
"I'd rather have peace and quiet. My wife's dead. If they turn up here expecting me to take them in, who'll be feeding them and looking after them? This old fool, that's who."
"It won't be for long," said Dann, "General Shabis has got them surrounded and everyone can go back home soon."
"And suppose they don't want to go back home, but want to stay here, in Karas? That'll be a fine state of affairs."
"They won't want to do that," said Dann, "because Shari is much nicer than Karas."
"Oh, is that so? And what's wrong with Karas, tell me that."
They changed, made sure their two knives were safely in the new robes, and went to look for an inn to rest in. They already knew what their problem was going to be: everyone, despite their miseries and worries, turned to look at them. This was a most striking young couple, and both knew they would earn trouble because of it.
In the inn they ordered a meal, and while they waited Dann, smiling, elated, triumphant, drew as large a map of Ifrik as would fit on to the table top, put a mark for Rustam, one for the Rock Village, one for Majab and one for Chelops. He made thick branchy lines for the rivers, little dots for the River Towns and for Goidel, marked Shari and Karas, and sat with the span of his long fingers stretched wide to cover the distance they had come. The two sat smiling at each other, pleased with themselves.
Dann said, "On that old gourd globe, from here to the Middle Sea was desert. Sand. Sahar. Only one river, Nilus. On the wall map, thousands of years later, no desert, but a lot of different kinds of country. But two big rivers. Nilus and Adrar. Both flow north. Both have lots of little rivers running into them. We are a long way from both of them. Nilus is away to the east and Adrar the same distance to the west. To reach either would be a major effort in itself. There are no rivers ahead of us, I think. The next town north of here is Bilma. Then Kanaz. Bilma is some days' walk from here. I know there are Thores people ahead. A spy told me. And Neanthes."
"And Mahondis? The Kin said that Mahondis were the predominant people all over Ifrik?"
"So where are they all?"
It was pleasant sitting together in this inn, pleasant in Karas, an old trading town, full of travellers from everywhere even when it was, as now, filling with refugees. So crowded and clamorous became this room that they decided to go. They filled their water bottles, bought bread and dry fruit for the road, and Mara took two of the coins off the cord, and hid them in her pocket under her knife: she did not want unfriendly eyes to watch her fumbling for the cord under her gown.
It was a long day's fast walk to the frontier. Inns and resting places close to a frontier are of particular interest to the authorities in every country, and, as the two approached the Inn at the Edge, a large building reddened by the flaring sunset, every sense was alert and they were ready to take to their heels. They had debated whether to sleep outside, under the stars, but they were tired and needed a rest. They believed that they were the first of the overflow from Karas to arrive here. As they walked through a room crowded with travellers, a sharp-eyed woman who was evidently the proprietor watched them, and they knew that not a detail escaped her.
Mara asked for a room, preferably on the ground floor, and at the back, and when she added the ex
cuse "because we sleep badly and need quiet," the shrewd little smile on the woman's face said she heard this request often. Then she remarked that runners from Shari and from Karas were expected. They told her that Shari was under siege, but she knew that already. They saw that she was probably as well equipped with informers as any warlord or city official. "They often have interesting news," said she. "I don't always tell them what they want to know. It depends."
Now was the moment for a coin to appear. The trouble was, Mara believed that a whole coin was too much for what they wanted, which was only a warning if the runners knew about them.
"Can you change this?" said Mara.
The woman's eyes narrowed and glinted: she was certainly not one who did not know what a gold coin was. She took the coin from Mara as if she had been given it, and, resting her two hands on the counter, the coin lying between them, she looked full at Mara and then at Dann.
"Interesting news about the young General," she said. "You'd not think that General Shabis's favourite would run off, in the middle of a war." But she smiled, at Dann and then at Mara. "They are saying it was for love."
She took up the coin, deliberately, and put it deep between her breasts. Then she said, "There are ways across the frontier that avoid the roads and the guards."
Mara fetched the other coin from her pocket, and the woman took it from her.
"You rest. I'll call you if you have to run for it."
In the room she gave them, at the back, with a low window, there were two beds and they looked comfortable, but it seemed too dangerous to sleep. They lay down with their belongings close to them.
Mara thought how sweet it had been, the sharing of the time before sleep, with Meryx, the lazy chat about this and that, the intimacy, and how sweet this would be now with Dann, if their ears were not straining.
"If Shabis caught up with you — would he punish you?"
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