Warrior of the Altaii

by Robert Jordan

  He jerked as if I’d struck him, and restrained himself with an effort. I wondered if I’d hit close to the mark.

  “If you’re still alive a few months from now,” he hissed, “I’ll enjoy visiting you, to see what your attitude is then.”

  “I don’t see Ivo. Isn’t he here to see the end of his plan?”

  “His plan? He would say something like that. We’ve no need for his kind here. Soon we’ll have no need for any of you barbarians and—”

  “You talk too much, Stefan.” Another officer, older, with more gold and gems on his armor, came into the courtyard, followed by a dozen guardsmen. “This one is to be delivered at once, as ordered. He’s not to be given lectures on the plans of the Twin Thrones.”

  “I’m sorry, Andrus. He has a way about him that gets beneath my skin.”

  “Control your anger,” said the newcomer coolly, “and obey your orders, else you may find the torturers getting beneath your skin. With flaying knives.”

  Stefan blanched. He made a motion, and two of the guards grabbed my arms. I didn’t resist. If they truly wanted me alive, for whatever reason, I might live long enough to escape. Besides, just because a man should meet his end well doesn’t mean he has to hasten the meeting without cause. I would wait.

  We went deeper into the palace, through the little-used side corridors. Not so much as a single palace servant saw our passage. The light was dim, coming as it did from only every fourth or fifth lamp. There was no need to provide light where there was no one to use it.

  Passing through a narrow doorway, we stopped in bright light. My eyes were blinded after the halls, but when they began to adjust, when only scattered spots still danced in front of me, I saw the woman. She sat facing me, in a chair that was a wooden duplicate of one of the Twin Thrones. I couldn’t give a name to her, but she was one of the Queens of Lanta.

  “Kneel,” Stefan barked.

  I stood where I was. I didn’t kneel to my own king, and I wouldn’t kneel to this spoiled girl. As soon as they saw I wouldn’t obey, the guards began to kick me, and strike with their spear butts. She watched as if it was a show put on for her as my legs were knocked out from under me, and I fell heavily to the floor.

  The taste of my own blood was in my mouth. They hauled me up as far as my knees, but when I tried to rise farther they held me there. Immediately I relaxed, as if the position was of my own choosing. They’d get no satisfaction from me.

  “Well, Wulfgar,” said the queen, “is this how you come to steal wall hangings, or, or”—she seemed to choke on the words—“or other things?”

  Getting no answer she rose and moved toward me, her concealing robes rustling softly. Her fingertips ran down the side of my face.

  “Not as handsome as I could wish,” she said, almost under her breath, “but there are other things. The eyes. So fierce, so free, so untamable.” She sighed heavily, and shook herself as if coming out of a trance. “I knew you were the one, Wulfgar. From the first moment I saw you, in the great hall, I knew you were the one.” She backed away, eyes still fastened on mine. “Take him, Stefan, and have him prepared.”

  The guards pulled me up and led me away, but I scarcely noticed. I was the one, she’d said. Had she, too, felt what I had felt on seeing her and her sister, that our fates were tangled, one with the other? Was that why I was still alive? But what of her plan? Didn’t she know that I had to die for it to succeed? If she didn’t, but learned it, would I be killed out of hand? So many questions, and no answers that came to me. My head would have spun even if I hadn’t been dizzy to start with.

  From the meeting with the queen they took me to a bath, as well appointed as any in Caselle, if smaller. The tiled walls and floors showed flowers and birds, and the ceiling represented the sky, complete with clouds. The sides and bottom of the pool had plants that grow in water, and fish so real I nearly expected one to swim.

  The bath girls, a dozen of them, were beautiful. They wore only armbands, and their hair was cut short to make it easy to dry. They chattered among themselves like birds on a roost. Some of their comments were as graphic as any I’d ever heard on the furs.

  Why I was being given a bath I couldn’t understand, but I’d take it, no matter the reason. On the Plain water can be used for bathing only seldom, and the tub is little bigger than needed for one person. Usually a girl would rub me with oil and scrape away the dust and sweat. I wouldn’t pass the chance to wallow in that much water.

  “Quiet!”

  The girls paid little attention to Stefan’s command. He compressed his lips angrily, but said nothing more. The girls must have served the queen directly. They certainly showed no fear of his anger, and he made no effort to vent it. In a moment, long enough to show that they didn’t do so from fear, they fell silent.

  “These girls,” Stefan said, “will bathe you and prepare you.”

  “Prepare me for what?”

  He went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “You’ll do as they command. They know what to do. You might as well forget escaping from here. There’s only the one door, and crossbowmen will be waiting outside. If you come out before I return for you, they’ll shoot you. In the legs.” He smiled a sneering smile. “You won’t escape that way either.”

  He left, and the guards followed, but a lock clicked in the door behind them. He wasn’t trusting to threats to keep me in. Well, I had no intention of leaving yet anyway.

  I turned to look at the girls. They were lined up to study me as well. They ranged from a short brunette with mischief in her eye to a tall blonde who looked to have the ice of Norland in her veins. One of them cut my hands free with a small knife. Its blade was no bigger than my thumbnail, and it took several strokes to cut through the ropes. I hadn’t really expected a usable weapon left in easy reach.

  “You look very dirty and beaten about,” said a long-waisted beauty with red hair. She ran a finger across my chest and examined it disdainfully. “You appear to have last lodged in a pigsty.”

  The others giggled and watched for my reaction. I stood quietly. Let them have their fun. If they talked enough I might learn something.

  “He must have run away,” said a short girl, “and now he’s being cleaned up to be sold to some rich woman.” They laughed uproariously at that, and she grew bolder. She leaned against my chest and looked up at my face. “Will you be a rich woman’s pet?”

  “I don’t think he can talk,” said another, trailing a hand up my thigh.

  “Perhaps he’s shy,” suggested the tall blonde. “If so, his new mistress will break him of it soon enough, and she’ll certainly have other things for him to do with his mouth besides talk.”

  That caused more laughter.

  The brunette ran her hand along my arm. “He must be a dancer. He’s not nearly pretty enough to be a dancer, but some dealers are putting these brands on and selling them as barbarians.”

  “I’ve had enough of barbarians,” the tall blonde spat. “Having to serve those Morassa is like being given to animals.”

  “Be easy, Maleri,” the brunette answered. “Soon there’ll be no more barbarians of any kind. Besides, this one’s brands look wrong to be a barbarian. I’ve seen the ones they put on the dancers, and they’re not the same.”

  “Not wrong, Tnay,” whispered the red-haired girl. “They’re right.”

  “What are you talking about, Lura?”

  “The brands aren’t wrong,” she said forcefully. “The man who first put chains on me wore brands like these. Do you think I’d forget them?” She stared at me, blue eyes seeming to fill her face. “He’s an Altaii. A Plain barbarian.”

  They all froze where they stood. The girl leaning against my chest trembled and looked as if she was going to cry.

  Well, I hadn’t expected to learn much. I straightened the short girl and walked into the pool. “You’re supposed to bathe me,” I said. “Do it.”

  They came slowly, timidly. All of their brash words were gone, blown away by Lura’s si
mple statement. They brought sponges and perfumed soaps, and scrubbed as if they were scrubbing a fanghorn. Perhaps, to them, there wasn’t much difference.

  Sluicing away the soap I hoisted myself from the pool. Tnay ran to get toweling. She and Maleri dried me, and all the while they shivered. I wondered what stories they’d been told. Did they think an Altaii warrior ate people?

  Without speaking they stretched me out on a table and began to massage me with oils. They were trained well. Their fingers felt out every ache, every tightness, and rubbed it away. It was easy to let my mind drift.

  We have no need of his kind, Stefan had said. Soon we’ll have no need for any of you barbarians. And Tnay had said that soon there’d be no barbarians of any kind. Andrus had threatened Stefan with torture when he spoke of it. That seemed to indicate that there really was a double plot, a plot to use the Morassa to destroy the Altaii, and then, in turn, in some way destroy the Morassa.

  Of course, that might be the reason I’d been allowed to hear of this end to all the barbarians from two different sources, so that I’d believe and act in some way the Lantans wanted. Either way it was typical of the Lantans. Leave a clear-seeming path, but with a trap obvious to all but the most unobserving. Leave a second path, somewhat hidden, with a trap that only one who looked closely could find. And for those very observant ones who found the second trap, leave a third way with a trap that couldn’t be found unless you knew it was there. The only thing to do was find a fourth way, and hope there was no trap there. I’d have to take the problem to Mayra when I escaped. If I escaped.

  “M-master,” said Lura. “The hair on your chest. We must remove it. It’s not of the fashion.”

  I stretched lazily. “No.”

  “But, master—”

  “No. I care nothing for your fashions.” I rose as Maleri approached with a glass flagon. “What is that?”

  “It’s perfume, master. The finest scent from Yagri.”

  “I don’t wear perfume.”

  “Master, we were ordered to perfume you. The hair on your chest wasn’t mentioned. For that we may escape punishment, but the perfume was ordered.”

  “No.”

  “M-master, we m-must,” Maleri stuttered. Her knuckles were white on the flagon, and all of her icy calm was gone.

  “Master,” Lura cried, “if you don’t wear the scent, we’ll be blamed. We’ll all be whipped.”

  “Then suffer your stripes.” I snatched the perfume and threw it into the pool.

  “No! I don’t want to be whipped!” Wailing, Lura grabbed another flask and rushed at me, at the same time trying to unstopper it and fling the contents on me.

  I wrested the perfume from her and sent it to join the other. She gave another scream when I picked her up and tossed her in to join the perfume. For a moment she floundered as if she’d never seen water before, then, coughing and crying, pulled herself out and lay beside the pool. The others huddled around her, comforting her and watching me warily, waiting for the beast to strike again. A fine thing for a warrior. Reduced to frightening bath girls.

  “Are there any clothes here?” I asked gently. “A tunic, or anything I can put on.”

  “No, master,” Maleri said, “there’s nothing.”

  “What about wine? Surely there’s some wine?” They went silent as if at a command and stared at me. Even Lura ceased her sobbing. “Don’t worry. I won’t get angry if you don’t have it.”

  “We have wine, master.” Tnay rushed to fetch it. Her hand shook when she poured.

  She seemed eager for one so afraid. They were all eager. Was it drugged, this wine, or poisoned? The last was unlikely. They’d not go to all the trouble of bringing me here only to poison me in the baths of the palace. Drugs were another matter. But what kind? Mayra could make potions to do ten thousand things, many of them unpleasant beyond belief. But much the same logic followed as with poison. Would I have been brought here merely for that?

  Well, I’d never find out by looking. Tilting the cup up I drained it and tossed it aside. I felt like laughing. The bath girls heaved a sigh of relief when I’d drunk. Now they held their breaths to see what would happen.

  A heaviness crept into my limbs. From somewhere came a desire to sleep. I wanted to laugh again, but it became a yawn. So simple. They wanted me to sleep.

  In some fashion the men outside must have known when I asked for the wine, for I heard the locks in the door even as I started to slide to the floor. It was Stefan, with his guards. They pulled me upright before I could finish falling and pushed me out of the room and down the hall, hurrying.

  I tried to speak. The energy to form words, to think of what to say, was gone. My head was made of iron, and my arms and legs of lead.

  A door opened ahead of us, and we entered apartments, large and richly furnished. There was something about some of the furnishings, something strange, but I couldn’t seem to make my mind focus on what it was. They were only interested in one furnishing, anyway. A bench.

  They laid me on it on my back, for in truth by that time they carried me like a bundle. Straps went around me, enough to have held me rigid if I could’ve moved. Roughly they forced a gag between my teeth, to stop the words I couldn’t say. And then, still saying nothing, they left. In the silence and dim light I drifted into unconsciousness.

  XI

  AN HONOR, AND A COMMAND

  I awakened slowly, with fog swirling in my head. I was still bound to the bench. I tensed in every muscle, strained against the straps, and moved not in the slightest.

  Slowly I realized that I wasn’t alone. The woman who had greeted me below sat beside the bench, watching with eyes like green fire.

  “You’re back,” she said. Her fingers trailed across my chest, pointed nails scratching slightly. “I’m glad the bath girls didn’t shave this hair. It’s almost a shame to have them punished for it. Don’t look surprised, my barbarian. It’s the way Sayene taught me when I was a child. Punish hard when your orders are disobeyed, even in the slightest detail. In that way you ensure that your orders will always be obeyed to the letter. Punish twice as hard when the wishes you haven’t expressed aren’t carried out. In that way everyone will constantly search for ways to please you.” She sighed. “They were told to prepare you in the current fashion, but here you are, chest unshaved, no perfume. It doesn’t matter that I like it. It’s not the way they were told, so they’ll be punished.”

  I didn’t struggle or try to avoid her hands. It would have been useless, bound as I was. She touched me as if I was something new and exotic, something she had to feel.

  “You’re not very pretty, are you, my barbarian? You’re barely even handsome. So why am I drawn to you in particular? Could it be your eyes? Have I told you how they fascinate me? So compelling.” One finger traced its way around my eye as she spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so blue before. Like ice from a glacier, but with a fire burning inside.”

  She stood and moved back. “You can’t know how exciting it is to have a wild male here, after so many tame ones. It’ll be a shame to tame you, my sweet,” she sighed, “but you’re too dangerous to be left wild. Now, however, there are other matters to be taken care of. You’re to be an instrument of punishment.”

  She walked to the wall and pulled a tasseled cord, and I watched, puzzled. For the first time I saw those furnishings that had seemed strange to me. They were things more appropriate to a slave trainer’s pens than a palace.

  The doors opened slowly. Through them came two men, the biggest men I’d ever seen. They were at least a head taller than Orne, and bulkier. Between them they led a woman, each holding one of her arms in a hand that appeared able to wrap twice around it. She was blindfolded with a slave hood, but she wore the long flowing dress of a Lantan noble, with rubies at her neck and wrists. She threw her dark hair back over her shoulder and listened, seeking. She was calm.

  “Well, Leah, are you more, shall we say, agreeable than before?”

 
At the first word the woman stiffened. “Agreeable, Elana? Agreeable? I’ve been kidnapped from the very courtyard of my home, hooded like a slave and brought here to I know not what. And you expect me to be agreeable?”

  “When I command, girl, you’re always expected to be agreeable. And in your case, penitent. Oh,” she said as the woman tried to interrupt, “not for what you just said, though your words were rude for one speaking to her queen. Rather, I speak of earlier, of a few days ago.” She smiled evilly. “When I invite you to my bed you’re to consider it an honor, and a command. You’re to come running, eager to please your queen. You do not send a message declining the invitation.”

  “My queen doubtless knows that I’m to be married?”

  “It makes no difference. Sometimes I send a message to husband or to wife, telling them to send their spouse to me. None refuses. And you won’t either. If I send for you in your bridal bed, you’ll come to me.”

  “Toran will hear of this,” Leah said angrily. “He’s a man of power, my queen, and you cannot dare to anger him too far. He has the ear of the Council of Nobles, and of the generals. He—”

  “He’s out of the city,” Elana said sweetly. “I sent him on an embassy to Caselle. A long one.”

  Leah seemed to shrink. “He’s gone,” she said hollowly.

  “Strip her,” Elana commanded.

  “No!” the noblewoman screamed, but the huge men paid no heed.

  They tore her garments away as if her struggles weren’t happening. They bound her arms behind her. While she writhed and sobbed they held her for the queen.

  Elana stirred the contents of a small pot with a feather. Still using the feather she spread it over Leah’s breasts, not in any pattern, but just as a coating. The woman seemed to realize what it was. She began to scream louder. The queen nodded, and the men turned the woman upside down, holding her suspended from her ankles while Elana finished her painting.

  At last she stepped back. The men set Leah on her feet, and she sank to her knees, sobbing.