Shadow s-1

by K. J. Parker

  Poldarn tried to move, but he couldn't; the knife point was precisely in position, leaving him room to breathe and nothing more. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his people harvesting steel from the dead, working steadily, cheerfully; they wouldn't be able to help him, they couldn't see that anything was wrong. 'Please,' he said, 'I promise you, I'm going away, you'll never see me again. At least tell me my name.'

  Tazencius smirked at him. 'All right,' he said. 'Your name's Ciartan. But that's only the name you came with, not the one everybody here knows you by. And if you think everybody's an exaggeration, you're wrong. There can't be anyone-well, certainly this side of the bay-who hasn't heard of you. And if I said your name and asked, "Who's he?" you know what they'd all say? "The most evil man in the world," that's what. And they don't know half of what you've actually done…'

  Poldarn breathed in and out, slowly. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked.

  'Easy. Get me out of here.'

  'How can I? I can't move.'

  'Think of something. Didn't I mention, you're the most brilliantly innovative strategist the world has ever seen? Something like that, anyway. Just don't try and get away from me, not till I tell you. The only way I'll trust you is if I know I can kill you with a flick of the wrist; and if I'm going to die, one thing I'll make sure of is taking you with me.'

  'What if I told you I didn't care?' Poldarn said.

  Tazencius shook his head. 'I wouldn't believe you,' he said. 'I know you too well. You'll do anything to stay alive.'

  Poldarn thought about that and realised it was true. He didn't want to die. 'If you kill me,' he said, 'they'll tear you to pieces. You realise that, don't you?'

  Tazencius shrugged. 'It won't come to that,' he said. 'You're going to save me. Like I said just now, you're my guardian angel.' He put a tiny amount of additional pressure on the knife handle, just enough to hurt. 'You're afraid,' he said. 'That much pain's enough to make you afraid of dying. Am I right?'

  'Yes,' Poldarn replied.

  'Another thing I can't forgive, by the way, is that you really do love my daughter. You have the capacity for love, you see; I think that's obscene. It devalues everything. Have you thought of something yet?'

  Poldarn nodded. 'I'm going to ask one of my-of these people to hitch up the horses to this cart,' he said. 'I'll explain that I can't do it myself because of my bad arm. I'll say that you're my friend, you were kind to me when I got stranded here, and I said I'd make sure you got out all right, I'll vouch for you. If I say it just right, casually enough, it ought to work; you don't know these people but they're like that, they trust each other.'

  Tazencius raised an eyebrow. 'You like them, don't you?'

  'Yes,' Poldarn replied, 'I do.'

  'That figures. They're monsters, and so are you. I'm not sure I like this idea. I won't be able to understand a word you're saying; you could tell them something quite different, like the fact that I'm sticking a knife in your ribs, please help-'

  'I won't,' Poldarn replied. 'It'd be too much of a risk.'

  'I think so too,' Tazencius said, 'I just wanted to be sure you did. All right; once the cart's moving, I suppose I'll let you get down. What's to stop you sending your friends after me? The moment I stop prodding you with this knife-'

  Poldarn shook his head. 'I don't wish you any harm,' he said. 'I mean that. All I want is for you to tell me my name.'

  Tazencius nodded. 'And I won't be able to do that if I'm dead, of course. All right, I don't see how I've got any choice; but remember, if you mess me about, I will kill you.'

  Much to Poldarn's surprise and relief, it all worked out as he'd hoped. A man he'd never seen before (but who seemed to know him, as they all did) hitched up the team with a cheerful smile, and stopped to wave as the cart started to roll. Nobody else seemed interested.

  'Can I get down now, please?' Poldarn said.

  Tazencius frowned. He was managing the reins with one hand, holding the knife with the other. 'Not yet,' he replied. 'I want a bit more space between them and me before I give up my only advantage. Of course, if I was in your shoes, I'd be thinking about the fact that once this cart's out of sight of your friends there's nothing to stop me killing you and shoving your body off the cart and down into the ditch. In fact, bearing in mind my position here, it'd make much more sense for me to kill you than let you go. Have you considered that?'

  'Yes,' Poldarn replied. 'But it's not as though I've got a lot of choice in the matter.'

  'You haven't. Just think,' he went on, 'after a lifetime of making choices for other people-Do I like living in this city? Why should I live at all? Would I be better off dead?-now here you are, with no choices whatsoever, no responsibilities, no indecision, nothing. How do you feel?'

  'Frightened,' Poldarn replied. 'And alone. I don't like either of them much.'

  'You'd better get used to it,' Tazencius said, 'if you're really going to go and live among the savages. Imagine what it'll be like, the only human being, surrounded by two-legged wolves. Though I can't think of a better place for you, at that.'

  The cart rolled on. One wheel was squeaking. Poldarn thought of Copis, but he was having difficulty remembering what she looked like. Besides, apparently he had a wife. Children, too? It would probably not be a good idea to ask.

  It was a long time before the cart was out of sight of the battlefield; when the moment came, Tazencius looked at him and frowned. 'Here we are, then,' he said. 'Well, I suppose you could say you've done your good deed for the day.' Something about that remark seemed to amuse Tazencius; he grinned suddenly. 'I don't know if it counts, since you weren't acting of your own free will. But then, that'd go for most of us, most of the time. Still, I don't mind thanking you for saving my life, again. If I don't, nobody else will, that's for sure.'

  'Don't worry about it,' Poldarn replied.

  'Oh, I'm not worried,' Tazencius replied. 'You should be, of course. You do realise that by letting me live, helping me get away, you'll be directly responsible for thousands of deaths, tens of thousands, probably. A whole civil war. You see? Even when you do something good, it turns into evil. Your fault. Like everything.'

  'Everything,' Poldarn repeated. 'Well, I wouldn't know about that.'

  'Your good luck,' Tazencius said, 'at least for now. You know that? The day will come when you do find out, and I'd like to be there, to see your face. I'll be the one sitting on a big cedar-wood chair, my feet level with your head, while a beefy sergeant sharpens a sword on a stone. Till then, you can sweat it out.'

  He squirmed sideways, raised his left foot and kicked hard against Poldarn's thigh, shooting him off the box. Poldarn landed on his bad arm and yelled, and then the cartwheel rolled over the ankle of his good leg. He heard the crack a fraction of a second before he felt the pain rush up through his body, flooding it, like a river in spate. From a long way off, he heard Tazencius whooping with delight-'Yes! Neat trick, huh?'-and then his eyes closed.

  When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was movement. It felt familiar.

  He opened his eyes, and saw Halder's face, looking down at him. 'Grandad?' he said.

  'I'm here,' Halder said.

  Are we on the ship?' Poldarn asked; then he added, 'The Long Dragon. Are we on the Long Dragon?'

  Halder smiled, genuinely warm, like a good fire in the hearth. 'No, son,' he said, 'the Dragon was sawed up for floorboards fifteen years ago; this is the Raven. But you remembered the name.'

  Poldarn nodded. 'I helped you build the Dragon,' he said. 'We sawed the timbers together; me up top, you down in the pit. I was fourteen. The big saw broke, and you had Ginlaugh weld it at the forge.'

  Halder nodded. 'Ginlaugh passed on the summer before last, rest his soul,' he said. 'Now then, can you tell me who'd have the forge now?'

  Poldarn thought for a moment, looking past his grandfather's face at the soft white clouds against a rich blue sky. Although the sun was bright, he was comfortable in the shade cast by the broad grey sai
l. He could hear voices, and although he couldn't quite make out what they were saying, he recognised the tone and pitch; familiar voices, his own people talking to pass the time. The smell of the sea made him want to sing. 'Asburn,' he said, the name slotting into place like a tenon into a well-shaped mortice. 'Asburn, his sister's boy. My age, or a few years younger. Is that right?'

  The old man nodded. 'Welcome back,' he said. 'God, I wish I had a mirror handy, I'd like for you to see your face. You've got that look you always had when you were a kid. First time I've seen it since we found you again.'

  Poldarn laughed. 'It's all right,' he said. 'I can remember. I can remember all sorts of things, right up to-' He frowned. 'Leaving home,' he said. 'On the Dragon, and you stayed home, after you fell out of the pear tree. And that's all.'

  Halder shifted a little; he was sitting on a pile of empty sacks, with his back to the mast. 'That's all you need to remember,' he said, 'for where we're going. Anything that happened back there-' he made a vague gesture, presumably in the direction of land, 'all that, it doesn't matter any more, whatever it was. Where we're going, it's all different.'

  There was something about the way he'd said that. 'Grandad,' Poldarn said (and for the first time he knew that his name really was Ciartan, and that he was going home), 'do I talk in my sleep?'

  Halder looked away. 'Always did,' he replied. 'Bloody nuisance it was, too. Still, nobody's perfect.'

  'Have I been talking just now?' He knew the answer from the way the old man didn't look at him. 'Have I been saying things about-?'

  Halder shook his head. 'Nothing that made any sense,' he said. He was lying. 'Just a load of nonsense, not even in our language. Doesn't matter.'

  Poldarn thought for a moment. 'If you do know,' he said, 'or if you ever find out, will you promise not to tell me? I have a feeling I'd be better off not knowing. Probably we'd all be better off.'

  'I promise,' Halder said. High overhead, Poldarn could see two seagulls riding the warm air currents. 'We won't talk about it any more.'

  'Thank you,' Poldarn said. 'Where's Raffen, by the way? And Scaptey?'

  Halder looked past him again. 'Scaptey's dead,' he said. 'He didn't make it through that last battle. Raffen's here, it's his shift on the tiller.'

  'I'm sorry,' Poldarn said. 'About Scaptey, I mean.'

  Halder shrugged. 'It's been a bad business all round,' he said. 'Just on half of us aren't coming back. Never been anything like it in my time, or my father's, that I can remember. In fact, I'd say finding you again's about the only good part of it. And you know what? Far as I'm concerned, it's worth it. I thought I'd die alone, you see. Never could bear the idea of that.'

  Poldarn looked at him, and saw fear in his eyes: fear of that loneliness, which no longer threatened him; fear of what he'd done-in those eyes, Poldarn could see a reflection, the crazy old woman from Vistock at the moment when the backsabre started to come down. All that was to be expected, it belonged there and was all quite right and proper. Beyond that he could see another fear, dividing the two of them like a wall of ice. Halder was afraid of him.

  'You won't,' he said, 'I promise you.' He started to reach out, to put a hand on the old man's shoulder. Halder evaded his touch, with a small, subtle movement. Somewhere behind them, someone was singing. Poldarn couldn't catch the words, but he knew them already: Old crow sitting in the tall mast-tree, Old crow sitting in the tall mast-tree, Old crow sitting in the tall mast-tree, Of the ship that carried Dodger home across the sea.

  'It's all right,' Poldarn said, nevertheless. 'Everything's going to be fine now, you'll see.'

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  Document creation date: 15.09.2010

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