by Jean Lorrah
“There will be no need for repayment,” Ashuru replied. “Either you will lead us to victory, in which case payment is trivial, or you will lead us to our death. And no debts can be repaid to the dead.”
“I will take you to Ketu, Lord Wulfston,” said Kamas.
“I will go too,” Tadisha added. “We must move our armies into position against the Savishnon, and we have promised to help you rescue Lord Lenardo. I am well enough to travel. Mother requires much more healing-”
“With the permission of your healers, Queen Ashuru,” Wulfston said, “I will add my powers to speed your recovery.”
“Your help is accepted,” said the healer, “if the queen permits.”
Ashuru nodded; she was growing weaker.
“One more thing,” said Wulfston. “I must question Barak. His wounds ought to be healed by now.”
“You forget his great age,” said the healer. “But you may speak with him when we waken him to give him nourishment this evening.”
Ashuru struggled to stay awake. “What else do you think Barak can tell you?”
“The rest of the story of Z’Nelia,” he replied.
“Then,” Ashuru said, her voice weakening, “I must be here. Tadisha-” She groped weakly in her daughter’s direction, and Tadisha grasped her hand. “Promise me. Make the healers wake me, too.”
Tadisha looked to the healer, who gave a fatalistic shrug. “I promise, Mother.”
Ashuru drifted off, going automatically into healing sleep. If they had had time to spare, Ashuru could have recovered eventually at this rate. But they did not have that time. Wulfston spent the next two hours joining his powers to those of the healer, aiding Ashuru’s body to heal.
That evening Wulfston, Tadisha, Kamas, and Ashuru gathered at Barak’s bedside. The Grioka watched them warily. “What do you seek of me now? I have Told all I know.”
“I think not,” Wulfston replied. “In fact, you lied to us.”
He heard Tadisha’s sharp gasp-obviously one did not speak so to a Grioka-but Barak appeared more fearful than offended.
“You told us,” Wulfston continued, “that after the battle at Johara four years ago, you left as soon as the lava had cooled. I do not think a Grioka would do that. The story was not complete. You would have waited until Z’Nelia either died or recovered. She recovered, and I think what you discovered the next time you were in her presence sent you into exile.”
Barak nodded. “Blood will tell, Lord of the Black Wolf. You will not let me keep my secrets any more than Z’Nelia would. It is true-driven by a Grioka’s need to know the end of the story, I stayed in Johara while Z’Nelia’s spirit wandered… and returned. Once she was well, I sought audience to my sorrow.
“I learned what truly happened on Mount Manjuro, when Z’Nelia released the fire demon. What I did not expect, though, was that Z’Nelia learned my greatest secret as well.
“Z’Nelia had always been a most powerful Mover, with little ability to See. She returned from the land of the dead with her Seeing powers increased manyfold. She Saw my betrayal of her father, many years before.
“It was not long after the Aresh, the Time of Change,” Barak replied to Wulfston’s look of confusion,
“when the first Movers and Seers appeared in Africa. There were several generations of turmoil, as those with powers overthrew hereditary tribal leaders, and some created new tribes. Often these new leaders would then fight one another. There was war, and for a long time little security for anyone.”
“Yes,” replied Wulfston. “That was very much the way things happened in the lands where I grew up.
Only in my father’s generation did some Lords Adept seek peace.”
“Nerius was not your father,” said Barak. “Listen-I will tell you who you are. In your grandparents’
generation there were born in Djahat, the seat of the Zionae before the Savishnon drove them eastward, twin sisters, both extremely powerful Movers. As they grew to womanhood and came into their full powers, it was inevitable that they would both seek the throne-but only one could have it.
“While their father, Nelatu, yet lived and held the throne, both women married men with strong Mover powers, and bore children. Raduna bore a son, and Katalia a daughter. Raduna’s son was a powerful Mover, but Katalia’s daughter showed only the smallest trace of such power, and no Seeing ability at all.
“To avoid a power struggle for the throne of Djahat at his death, Nelatu declared Raduna his heir, and her son Desak after her. He also arranged marriages for his grandchildren. Desak had just passed his initiation into manhood, and was married to a girl who already showed great Seeing ability. But Katalia’s daughter, several years younger than Desak, was betrothed to the son of a distant cousin in whose line neither Moving nor Seeing powers had ever manifested.
“The children were betrothed in the temple of Shangonu, and lived in the palace. They were daily reminded that it was the will of Shangonu that they love one another, and marry when they came of age.”
Barak gave Wulfston a gentle smile. “It appears that they did not forget.”
“My parents?” Wulfston asked. “But how did they come to be slaves in the Aventine Empire?”
“When Nelatu died, the throne passed peacefully to Raduna-but then came the Savishnon hordes.
Raduna and her husband died in the battle for Djahat, and the Zionae were driven eastward, to take refuge in the mountains near Johara. Desak was powerful, but still very young; Katalia and her husband saw an opportunity to seize the throne from their nephew before he came to his full powers.
“At that time, over fifty years ago, I was newly Grioka. I had completed my apprenticeship, learned all the old tales, and was beginning to Tell my own. I watched the palace being built at Johara, and Told the old tales to Desak, who liked me because I was also young, and eager to Tell of adventure.
“Yes,” Barak sighed, “I was young… and foolish. Griokae should stand outside their Tales, never irivolve themselves. Yet when I knew that Katalia was plotting against Desak, what was I to do? He was the rightful King of the Zionae, Nelatu’s chosen heir. I… told him. I earned his gratitude, and his trust.
“And I learned why Griokae must never become involved. Desak pretended he did not know of the plot against him. He invited his aunt and uncle, and his cousin and her betrothed, to a family dinner-where his Seers revealed their plot! Katalia and her husband were helpless, for Desak had laced their food with kleg. He slaughtered them, before the eyes of their daughter and her betrothed.
“The children were, technically, still that: in the next year, both would have undergone initiation into adulthood, and then been permitted to marry by Zionae law. But on that day they were still children, innocent under our law even if they had known of their elders’ plot, which they did not. I knew that, and told Desak so, staying his hand when he would have struck down his cousins as well.
“I persuaded Desak that his position was precarious enough without slaying two defenseless children. Yet he feared the girl, for Nelatu’s blood ran in her veins, and he saw in her or her children a future threat. He wanted the two dead, but would not kill them himself, so he charged their execution to the one man he thought he could trust.”
“You,” said Wulfston.
Barak nodded. “I could not kill them, but I could not allow them to remain in Africa, either. It is an evil thing to sell another into slavery, but it was all I could think of to preserve both those children’s lives and the unity of the Zionae nation.” He smiled sadly. “But Shangonus plans are not to be so lightly thwarted.
The confrontation was merely postponed, for here you are, the son of those two children, returned to fight Z’Nelia for the throne of the Zionae.”
“I don’t want the throne of the Zionae.”
“Z’Nelia will never believe that. That is why she has tried repeatedly to kill you.”
“How does she know who I am, when until now I didn’t know myself?”
“
When she Saw my betrayal of Desak, she knew your parents had survived. And the moment she Saw you she must have known, as I did, who you are. What other pure Zionae, with great Mover’s powers, would come from the northern lands?”
As if out of nowhere, a question formed in Wulfston’s mind. “What is the meaning of Kana la sabenu Z’Nelia?”
Tadisha gasped. “Where did you hear that?”
“On Freedom Island, from a drunken man who tried to kill Chulaika. What does it mean?”
It was Barak who answered: ” Death to the mad witch Z’Nelia.’ “
“I might have known,” Wulfston said. “Tell me the rest of the story. What happened after you sent my parents away?”
“Desak ruled, violently, impulsively-but he kept the lands of the Zionae as a stronghold against the Savishnon. His wife bore him two daughters, but no sons. Although he feared a repetition of what had happened between his mother and her sister, it happened that Z’Nelia had great Mover’s powers, while her sister had none. There was no question as to Desak’s heir.
“He chose for Z’Nelia’s consort a man who was also a great Mover. It was a political marriage, uniting his daughter with the only Mover with the power to be a threat to the royal family. Desak died soon after Z’Nelia bore a son, and her husband in effect ruled the Zionae for some years-until she approached the peak of her powers. Then came the attack of the Savishnon, and her defeat of them, as you have Seen.”
“Z’Nelia’s family,” Wulfston prompted. “Did she kill them?”
“She meant to kill them. In fact, when she returned from Mount Manjuro to Johara she thought she had.
For they betrayed her. Matu-”
“Norgu’s father? Norgu is Z’Nelia’s son?” Wulfston demanded in astonishment.
Tadisha gasped. “Shangonu protect us! If they should ever unite against us-!”
“Unlikely,” said Barak. “Z’Nelia will never trust Norgu again after he turned against her at Mount Manjuro. You see, Matu betrayed Z’Nelia with her own sister. Z’Nelia had grown more powerful than Matu, and he resented it. Their son, Norgu, showed exceptional powers for so young a child. Her sister had no powers of her own, but saw in Matu’s child the chance to gain someone with powers whom she could control. So when he was quarreling with Z’Nelia over who ruled in Johara, she seduced Matu, and became pregnant.
“In the face of the Savishnon threat, Z’Nelia pretended to forgive them, claiming that she would welcome the child her sister carried-her own husband’s child. But when they went to Mount Manjuro, she used her Mover’s powers to topple the faithless couple into the volcano.”
“This was four years ago,” said Wulfston. “Z’Nelia’s sister-can it be Chulaika?”
“That was her name, although it is no longer to be spoken in Z’Nelia’s lands.”
Wulfston looked to Ashuru, Tadisha, and Kamas. “So that is what this is all about! Did you know?”
“No,” said Ashuru. “How could we?”
“They could not,” Barak affirmed. “It was not to be Told. Not only Z’Nelia-Norgu will kill me if he finds out I have told you.”
“Then, since you have told this much,” said Wulfston, “you might as well finish the story. Z’Nelia tried to kill Matu and Chulaika at the volcano.”
“Nbrgu loved his father,” Barak continued. “When Z’Nelia tried to kill him, Norgu turned against his mother, and she pushed him into the volcano with the others. Norgu and Matu together had the power to save themselves and Chulaika, but Z’Nelia returned to Johara thinking them dead. Matu, Norgu, and Chulaika fled west, and found lands for themselves.”
“Chulaika bore Chaiku, and after Matu died she decided to return from the dead to depose her sister,”
Wulfston finished. “Probably Norgu’s growing power made her move now-and drag me into it because she needed someone with strong powers to stand a chance against either Norgu or Z’Nelia. ” He shook his head, all that he had learned too much to assimilate at once. “Before anything else can happen, I am going to Norgu’s castle for Lenardo.”
“I will follow as soon as I can ride,” the Grioka replied. “That is a tale I will have to know.”
“You may ride with me,” said Ashuru. “We will be only a day or two behind you, Lord of the Black Wolf.”
Ashuru followed their progress on the three-day journey to Ketu, either Kamas or Tadisha reporting to her each evening. Wulfston worried that enemy Seers might listen in, but the messages were only of their own journey, no mention of Ashuru’s plan to keep the Savishnon to the north.
There was no further contact from Lenardo. With Norgu back at his castle, the Master Reader was more closely observed, but the lack of contact was another worry.
Letting the army continue toward Norgu’s lands, Wulfston accompanied Tadisha and Kamas on the road to Ketu. He let his Karili friends do the Seeing, only occasionally Reading through them. For all he knew, he could be broadcasting “Come and get me!” to Z’Nelia every time he damped his Adept powers to Read something.
As nothing happened-no attacks, nothing either Kamas or Tadisha could See that seemed suspicious-he was feeling rather self-congratulatory as they topped a hill and came in sight of the trade city.
Traylo and Arlus suddenly stopped, their hackles rising, as they snarled at a patch of brush at the side of the road.
“Lord Wulfston, for Hesta’s sake, will you call off your dogs?”
He recognized the voice. “Zanos!”
A tall figure came out of the brush, a man dressed in a deep-hooded robe, with long sleeves that covered his hands. The fabric trailed the ground, covering every bit of Zanos’ white skin, the hood hiding his head.
But when he faced Wulfston he threw the hood back, revealing the familiar freckled face under the thatch of flaming hair.
But the blue eyes were haunted, and there were lines in Zanos’ face that told of a man driven.
“Where is Astra?” Wulfston had to ask, although he knew that if Zanos’ wife were alive she would be at his side.
“Drowned,” was the curt reply. “Old Huber, too. We both tried to reach her when the ship sank. He was closer. The whirlpool that dragged her under took him along.”
Wulfston instinctively reached out a han’d in attempted comfort. “I’m sorry-” he began.
Zanos shook him off. “I will avenge her,” he replied flatly. Then he eyed Tadisha, Kamas, and their retinue. “You’ve come to get the Night Queen crewmen out of the slavers’ pens?”
“Yes,” said Wulfston, “and then to rescue Lenardo. He’s just two days’ journey from here. Come and meet my friends, and we will tell you our plans.”
They went off the road to where a clear brook meandered through the meadow, and sat and talked as they ate their midday meal. Zanos had been living off the land. He looked gaunt, but Wulfston was not certain how much of that was grief, and how much deprivation. His fair skin was red with sun-and windburn. Under the robe he wore his Aventine tunic, now torn and threadbare. His sandals were also his own, stained with seawater and repaired with rawhide.
“Where did you find a robe long enough for you?” Wulfston asked.
“Haven’t you noticed? The people in this land are very tall, like Sukuru.”
“The Warimu,” Tadisha supplied.
“Yes, of course. Zanos, have you seen or Read any sign of Sukuru or Chulaika? I haven’t.”
“Read?” asked Zanos. He had been braced to use Adept powers ever since they had encountered him.
Now Wulfston felt him drop his defenses to Read him.
“Yes, Read,” he admitted. “Probably at about your level, although I haven’t had the opportunity for training or testing yet.”
“Congratulations,” Zanos told him, but there was no joy in the perfunctory courtesy.
“Zanos…?”
The man’s haunted blue eyes fixed on Wulfston’s. “It was a joy to Read with Astra while she lived. But it became a curse when I suffered her death. She died calling out to me-reac
hing out to me-and I could not reach her!”
The gladiator’s thoughts cut off abruptly. “I will avenge her death, ” he repeated. “But first I will help you free the Night Queen crew. I’ve been into town. The eight white men reported for sale are definitely Captain Laren’s men, but I didn’t know how I was going to break them out of there alone.”
“Zanos,” said Wulfston, “we are going to buy them.”
“You will contribute to the slave trade!”
“We need our strength for another battle,” said Kamas.
“But slaving is wrong!” Zanos protested. “Bah! You people probably profit by it-but Lord Wulfston, surely you want to destroy the slave pens!”
“Zanos, I do not approve of slavery,” Wulfston replied, keeping his temper by recalling that this man had been a slave and would never forget the experience. “But you have to understand that if we call that kind of attention to ourselves in Ketu, we will give ourselves away.”
“You’ve thrown in with them!” Zanos gasped. ‘That’s why they wanted you in Africa-to help them fight this Z’Nelia.”
“There is a war brewing. We could find ourselves friendless, in the midst of a battle in which we would appear enemies to every side.”
Zanos looked down at his hands, then over at Wulfston. “We? You look as if you belong here.”
“Only to you,” the Lord Adept replied grimly. “I am as much a stranger in Africa as you are, Zanos. It is only by chance that I have made some friends. With their help, I’ll have the Night Queen crew free by nightfall. If you will not help, at least do not interfere.”
Their eyes locked. At last Zanos said, “You know where Lenardo is, and I don’t. You are probably right not to call attention to yourself as a Lord Adept. Very well. I will not interfere in your… purchase.”
Because of the impending war, the market for exotic slaves had dropped. Kamas bought the group of eight white men for what Tadisha said was a fifth of what they would have brought a month before.
When Kamas brought them to Wulfston, their feelings were surprise and relief. “My lord, we should have known you’d find us!” exclaimed Telek, the strong, muscular sailor who had challenged Zanos on board ship. “And have you found Lord Lenardo?”