Farmer, Philip Jose

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by Hadon of Ancient Opar (v1. 0)


  Hadon, numb with the responsibility and the awareness of his ignorance, merely nodded.

  “Minruth can advise you, but he is under no obligation to do so,” Mokomgu said. “However, he is not a man to endure idleness, and he no doubt will wish to give you the benefit of his wisdom and experience. You, on the other hand, do not have to accept his advice.”

  Mokomgu paused, smiled, and said, “You have an advantage at the start. You can read and write as well as any clerk, which is a blessing. We have had kings who were illiterate when they came to the throne, and they died only half-lettered. But we have investigated you, and we find that you, though poor and without funds to hire a teacher, taught yourself the syllabary and arithmetic. That is the mark of ambition and intelligence. Awineth was pleased when she heard that, and so were we. There were some who were not so pleased, since they would like to be at the elbow of a king who cannot read reports but must depend on those who can.”

  “Hewako could not read well,” Hadon said. “What if he had won?”

  “Awineth does not have to accept the winner,” Mokomgu said. “That she did not announce your rejection after the final event means that she finds you pleasing. She likes you and thinks you are very handsome and have the makings of a great warrior, not to mention those of a husband.”

  “What does she mean by that?” Hadon said.

  “Our intelligence service has questioned every woman known to have bedded you,” Mokomgu said. “They all report that you are exceptionally virile. That is not necessary, of course, since the queen may take lovers if she wishes. But she admires you, and she is also pleased that you are good-natured.”

  Meaning weak-natured, Hadon thought. Awineth was used to having her way; his brief meeting with her had shown him that.

  “And what else did your spies find out?” Hadon said. He was beginning to feel quite warm—hot, in fact.

  “That you are a good conversationalist, drink quite moderately, are adaptable, a hard worker, responsible, though still given to youthful pranks at times, able to take punishment if it’s deserved, in short, though only nineteen you have the makings of a fine man. And of a fine king. You are a great athlete, of course, but things are no longer as they were in the old days. Muscles and a strong wind are the least of qualifications for the throne.

  “Awineth is also pleased that you are a devout worshiper of Kho, unlike, I might add, her own father. Though, of course, she was dubious at first about your relationship to Kwasin. But she was assured that you could not help it that you are first cousin to that ravisher of priestesses and murderer of temple guards. Besides, we ascertained that you did not like Kwasin. As who does?”

  “Is there anything you don’t know about me?” Hadon said.

  “Very little,” Mokomgu said.

  Don’t look so smug, Hadon thought. What I was does not assure what I shall be.

  The next day, after a service in the great sacred oak grove high on Khowot’s slope, Hadon was given a ritual bath by priestesses. He was anointed with sweet-smelling balsam oil and dressed in a bonnet of fish-eagle feathers, a kilt of fish-eagle feathers, and sandals of hide from a sacred hippopotamus. Since he was a member of the Ant People Totem, a stylized ant head was painted in red on his chest. He was then marched behind a silent band of musicians to an empty grave along the Road of Kho. Here he was shown his golden crown, placed at the bottom of the grave. He had to jump into the grave, pick it up, and climb out. During this, a priestess chanted, “Remember, though you are king, that all, kings and slaves, must come to this!”

  Then, with the crown in one hand, he walked behind the band, which played loud martial music, while behind him came priests and priestesses, a guard of spear-carrying soldiers, the queen’s chamberlain and his staff, and a crowd of the curious.

  They marched along the road, the sides of which were massed with cheering and petal-throwing spectators. Hadon felt his numbness thawing out in the heat of exultation. At the great gates of the wall of the Inner City, he knocked with his crown, crying out to open in the name of the winner of the Games. The gates swung open, and he walked through and soon was ascending the broad and steep marble steps to the citadel. At its top he repeated the knocking and the demand to be let in, and the citadel gates swung open.

  And presently he was in the enormous high-dome-ceilinged throne room and crying out the set words that Minruth should descend from the throne and allow him to sit upon it beside the high priestess and the queen of the two seas. However, Minruth was not expected to actually give up the throne then. His role was to acknowledge Hadon’s right to the throne. Until the marriage ceremony took place three days from then, Hadon would not officially be the king.

  Minruth, grinning as if he were delighted, answered, and it was then that Hadon realized that affairs were not proceeding automatically. He should have been warned by Awineth’s look of fury and the set and pale faces of the courtiers.

  “Gladly, O Hadon, would I step down from a place which imposes wearisome burdens and the glory of which is more lead than gold. And my daughter desires a young and handsome man, a vigorous youth, to rule with her and to pleasure her, as she has so often told me.”

  Here he looked venomously at Awineth, who glared at him.

  “But what I, the king, wish, and what great Resu and Kho wish are often not the same. And we mortals must bow to the words of the deities.

  “Now, as you no doubt have heard, Hadon, a man has recently come to us from the Wild Lands beyond the Saasares mountains. He is Hinokly, sole survivor of an expedition I sent some years ago to explore the shores of the great sea beyond the Wild Lands on the edge of the world. While you were displaying your heroic prowess in the Games, he came to us, to my daughter and me. And he told us of a harrowing journey, of men dead from disease, from lions and the great nose-horned beast, the bok’ul”ikadeth, from the great gray-tusked qampo, from drowning, and most of all from the arrows of the wild tribes. From arrows which our enemies may use but which Kho has forbidden us to use, much to the disadvantage of her people.“

  “Beware, Father,” Awineth said. “You tread on dangerous ground!”

  “I only tell the truth,” Minruth said. “Be that as it may, the expedition did reach the mighty sea that rings the world in the north.”

  He paused and said loudly, “And on its shore they encountered the great god Sahhindar himself!”

  Hadon felt awe invade his fury. Sahhindar, the Gray-Eyed God, the Archer God. Sahhindar, god of plants, of bronze, of time itself. Sahhindar, exiled god, disgraced son of Kho. And men had seen him!

  “They not only saw him, they talked to him! They fell to their knees and worshiped him, but he bade them rise and be at ease. And he brought out of the trees nearby three people, mortals, who had been hidden there. One was a tall woman, beautiful beyond dreams, golden-haired and with eyes like a goddess, violet-colored eyes. At first our men thought that she must be Labia herself, goddess of the moon, because Labia is golden-haired and violet-eyed, if we can believe the priestesses. Is that not true, Hinokly, did she not look like Lahla?”

  He spoke to a short thin man of about thirty-five who stood on the edge of the crowd.

  “May I be struck down by Kho Herself if I am lying!” Hinokly said in a reedy voice.

  The courtiers around him stepped back, but Hinokly stood calm.

  “And did she not have a name which sounds much like Lahla?” Minruth said.

  “She spoke a strange language, O King of Kings,” Hinokly said. “The sounds of her tongue are weird. But to my ears her name was Lalila.”

  “Lalila,” Minruth said. “Moon of change in our tongue, though she told them that in hers it meant something else. And she claimed that she was no goddess. But gods and goddesses have been known to lie when they come down among mortals. In any event, goddess or woman, she acknowledged Sahhindar to be her master. Is that not true, Hinokly?”

  “That is true, O King of Kings.”

  “Then she is no goddess, Fat
her,” Awineth said. “No goddess would bow her head to a mere god.”

  Minruth, face contorted, said, “Things change! And I find it significant that this woman of divine beauty is the moon of change. Perhaps her name is an omen. In any event, this woman was accompanied by two others—her child, a daughter with the same golden hair and violet eyes as her mother, and a manling named Paga.”

  “Pardon, lord, it is Pag,” Hinokly said.

  “That’s what I said, Paga,” Minruth said.

  Hinokly shrugged, and Hadon, fluent in several languages, understood. The Khokarsan language had no syllable ending in -g, and so the ordinary Khokarsan would pronounce the name according to the rules of his native tongue. There was no syllable such as pa either, open syllables beginning with p being confined to pe, pi, poe. But such a syllable was easy for a Khokarsan to pronounce.

  “This Paga is a dwarf with one eye, the other having been knocked out with a rock thrown by some bitch-tempered woman,” Minruth said, glancing at his daughter to catch her reaction. Awineth merely frowned.

  “He carries with him a huge ax made of some iron that is far tougher than any we have. Paga says that it is iron from a falling star, and he fashioned it into an ax for a hero named Wi. This Wi is dead now, but he was the father of the child, whose name sounds like Abeth. And before he died he gave the ax to Paga and told him to keep it until he met a man who was great enough to receive it as a gift. But the ax is—”

  “Get to the meat of the matter, Father,” Awineth said harshly.

  “We must not displease the high priestess of Kho,” Minruth said, rolling his eyes. “Very well. Sahhindar himself ordered my men to take Lalila, the child Abeth, and Paga to this city. He ordered them, under pain of terrible punishment, to take good care of them and to see that they were received as honored guests. He could not come with them because he had business elsewhere, though he did not say what that business was. But he promised to come here someday to make sure that Lalila and the others were honored. When, he did not say. But what the gods promise, they perform.”

  “And what,” Awineth said loudly, “about the ban of Kho! Would Sahhindar dare return to the land from which his great mother drove him?”

  “Sahhindar said that he was not aware of such a ban,” Minruth said, obviously pleased. “So perhaps the priestesses have not told us the truth.”

  Awineth said, “Beware, Father!”

  Minruth said, “Or, more likely, they misunderstood the oracles. Or perhaps Kho, being a female, changed her mind. She has relented and would see her son walk again among the people to whom he gave such great gifts in the days of our ancient foremothers.

  “But on the way back, evil befell the party. They were shot at by savages with arrows, the arrows which Kho has forbidden us, her chosen people, to use. Our men took to dugouts they found, but the savages killed many from the banks and then pursued them in boats. The boat with Lalila, the baby, and the manling overturned, and the last that the men in the other boat saw of them they were struggling in the water. And of the men who escaped, only Hinokly survived to bring us the news. Is that not true, Hinokly?”

  “The Wild Lands are terrible, O King,” Hinokly said.

  “It is too bad that you must journey through them again,” Minruth said. “But consider yourself fortunate. You should have been flayed alive for deserting the people whose safety was charged to you by Sahhindar. I am a merciful king, however, and after consultation with my daughter it was decided that you should guide the rescue expedition, since you alone know where Lalila is. Or was.”

  “I thank the king and the queen for their mercy,” Hinokly said, though he did not look grateful.

  Hadon’s awe was being replaced by a mounting anger. He did not know exactly what the king had in mind, but he thought he could guess it in general. And he could not understand why Awineth seemed to be going along with her father.

  “What does all this mean?” he cried. “Why has the ancient ceremony been interrupted for this tale, however wonderful it is?”

  Minruth roared, “Until you sit on this throne, you will speak only when requested to do so!”

  Awineth said, “In short, it means that our marriage must be delayed until after you bring back this woman and the ax from the Wild Lands. It is not my doing or my wish, Hadon. I would have you on this throne and in my bed as soon as possible. But even the high priestess must obey the voice of Kho.”

  Minruth smiled and said, “Yes, even the high priestess! An ancient custom may be disregarded When Kho says so!”

  “If I may speak?” Hadon said, looking at Awineth.

  “You may.”

  “Am I right in guessing that I have been chosen to lead this expedition?”

  “You have quick wits, Hadon. You are right.”

  “And I am not to be your husband until I have returned with this woman, the ax, and I suppose, the child and the manling, since Sahhindar has ordered that they also be brought safely to Khokarsa?”

  “That, to my sorrow, is true.”

  “But why have I been chosen? Surely you would not…?”

  “Not I! It was my father who suggested that this be done, and I said no! But then he said that this was no mere matter of mortals, that the deities were involved. And so we journeyed up Khowot’s slope to the Temple of Kho and there we spoke to the oracular priestess. ‘What should we do?’ we asked. ‘What does Kho Herself wish in this business, if, indeed, She wishes anything?’

  “And so we went into the cave where the priestess keeps her vigil, where the dangerous breath of the fires underground issues. And the priestess sat on her three-cornered stool and breathed the fumes, while my father and I, our faces covered with cloaks, sat in a corner on the cold hard stone. And presently the oracle spoke in a strange voice, and a light seemed to fill the cave. My father and I put our hands over our eyes, since whoever sees Kho in Her glory is blinded, and we listened trembling to Her voice. And She said that the greatest hero of the land must go out immediately to find the witch from the sea and the witch’s daughter and the little one-eyed man and the ax. And the hero must not tarry to take his ease with any woman, nor marry nor transact any business. And the voice said that the woman and the ax might bring ill or good or both to the land, but she and the ax must be looked for.

  “She said nothing about your returning, only that the hero must go at once on his quest. Nor did She say anything about Sahhindar.”

  Hadon was silent with awe for a moment, and then he spoke.

  “And when was this, O Queen?”

  “Last night, Hadon. While you slept with the golden crown of the victor in your bed, and no doubt dreamed of me, my father and I hurried up the slope of forbidding Khowot.”

  “But why am I the greatest hero of the land?” he said.

  “That hardly needs answering,” Minruth growled.

  “But you, O King, are the victor of the previous Games, and you sit upon the throne, and you led your soldiers in the taking of the rebellious city of Sakawuru, and you defeated the Klemqaba so severely that they are now giving tribute—at least on the coast—and you it was who slew the ravaging black leopard of Siwudawa with your bare hands. Surely you are the hero of whom the oracle spoke.”

  Minruth stared, and then he burst into laughter.

  “Surely you are cunning, Hadon, and you will someday make a great king. If you pass through the Wild Lands without harm and fulfill Sahhindar’s request, that is. No, Hadon, I am getting old, and my deeds were done a long time ago. And new bright deeds are what figure greatly in the minds of the people and the deities, not old stale deeds. You will find that out someday, Hadon. Perhaps. But do not try to talk your way out of this, as the fable says that the fox did out of the trap.

  “The news about this is being printed now to be shipped out to every city of the empire. And the people of Khokarsa are being informed of this by the criers at this very moment”

  “Then when do I leave?” Hadon said.

  Awineth, tear
s running down her cheeks, arose. “This very moment, Hadon.”

  She came down the steps and held out her hand to him. “Kiss it, Hadon, and remember that you will have all of me when you return. I will grieve for you, but I must obey the voice of Kho, just as all mortals, even queens, must obey.”

  Hadon dropped to one knee and kissed the back of her hand. Then he arose and seized her soft white shoulders and pressed her warm breasts to his and kissed her upon the lips.

  There was a gasp and a murmur from the crowd and a strangled roar from Minruth. But she responded warmly, and then she freed herself, smiling, though the tears were still in her eyes.

  “Any other man would have died on the spot, unless I had said he might take me in his arms,” she said. “But I know that you are the man I love, and that you are worthy of me. So hasten hence and hasten back, Hadon. I will be waiting.”

  “The Voice said nothing about his coming back!” Minruth shouted, but Hadon turned and strode away. At that moment, he felt happy.

  8

  His buoyancy did not last long. By the time he had reached the docks, he was scowling and his face was red. He did not respond to the crowds who cheered him and threw petals at him or tried to break through the guards to touch him. He almost did not see or hear them. He was turned inward and backward to the room which held the throne and the woman out of whom he had been cheated.

  He realized that his thoughts were blasphemous. Though Kho Herself had decreed that he should go out on this quest, he felt that he had been cheated. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was as powerless as the lowest of slaves, as the poorest of the poor, he, the winner of the Great Games, a hero!

  Burning with the fire that freezes, numb with anger, he boarded the unireme waiting for him. He was scarcely aware of the people to whom he was introduced—the captain, the ship’s priestess, and some of his fellow passengers. They must have been awed by his expression and his bearing, because they got away from him as swiftly as they could. And while he paced back and forth on the narrow foredeck, he was not approached by anyone.

 

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