Gods of Nabban (67 page)

Spears were cast down as if wind swept through a field of ripening oats. Ripples, spreading. Lords and officers, too.

The sun was dropping towards the hills over the river. A rider—she raised her visor to be recognized, a woman of the stables in the armour of a Daro banner-lord—pallid and her left arm resting awkward over her lap, reins in her right hand. “My lord!” she called shrilly. “Master Yuro! Holy one! Lady Lin says, she holds the landing and the ferry, and the commander of the western tower's surrendered to the prince. They didn't put up much fight across the water at all—thought Dan had all the army of Choa with him.”

“Lai Sula?” Yuro demanded.

“No, my lord.” Remembering Yuro's rank now. “There's a Lai Acen commanding; only a banner-ranked.”

“Tell Y—the captain-general to take charge here,” Ghu said. “Thank you. Yuro, round up the lords and officers who've surrendered. Isn't there any command here? Can't they signal a retreat, a surrender? They're lost and they don't all know it, and they're still dying. It's a damned tavern fight.”

Yuro snorted. But it was like that, the disorder. No one to cry out, enough. “Drums,” he said. “Have we taken their drums, any of their runners?”

Some of his people scattered, presuming the question a command. It was over here, about them, but up and down the village and beyond, no. Like a fire, breaking out renewed. Fewer and fewer though.

“Have all the houses and the station searched,” Ghu said. “There's a priest somewhere, remember, who gave these people hope of our coming. Find him, Yuro, please. Ahj—Ivah.”

They gathered a large enough party around them to move with impunity now, and where they went, the fighting faltered.

“The banner of the god,” he heard.

Drums broke out behind them, signalling something. A call to throw down arms, Ahjvar guessed. Niaul had lost his easy flowing stride, moved halting, stiff. Bruised, but no worse than that beneath his battered armour, Ahjvar could hope.

Ivah, coming towards them, her lightly-armoured grey blood-spattered but moving unimpaired. Archers of Alwu in their hundreds swept up around her, and others, mounted banner-ranked with the god's ribbons and the badges of Alwu. Dwei Ontari's folk. Ahjvar had not sheathed his sword. He urged Niaul ahead, barring their way to Ghu. Riders spread themselves out to either side of him, a pitiful handful to throw against Ontari's companies.

“These are true,” Ivah called, and one rode forward, lifting her snarling mask. She bowed. Dwei Ontari's niece, Dwei Baya.

“Holy one,” she said. “My uncle is dead, for his treachery. I don't say you're the god of this land. I don't say you aren't. I say my family will keep faith where they have given it, and Prince Dan is still our lord, and he has given his oath to—at the least—a man there is no dishonour in following, whatever his birth.”

She looked ten years older than when she had challenged them on the road from Swajui.

“Why?” Ghu asked. “Dwei Ontari served Dan so long, so faithfully. Why now?”

“You, my lord. Daro Korat's stableboy. He despaired of the prince at the end, when he gave up all command to you and was willing to follow you down the river, thought him witless and broken in the mind, to find his god in a Dar-Lathan bastard, forgive me, his words. He said we could never return to imperial favour but we might yet hold Alwu as princes. He offered you to Lai Sula, you and the southern manors of Alwu, in return for the north.”

Ghu bowed gravely. There didn't seem much that could be said.

“I give you my sword,” she said, and held it out across her hands. “And my life, if you will, for my uncle's betrayal.”

“Prince Dan needs both,” Ghu said. “He'll need this river crossing held against anything else that comes from Numiya. He'll need Alwu held for us, for the old Kho'anzi—Dan's mother's aunt, isn't she? He's over the river. Leave your companies to Lady Ivah just for now; take your household folk and go over the river to Dan, with my blessing. Let him know that you, at least, have kept faith.”

She bowed, signalled her people, and rode on. Ivah spoke a few words and some of her archers went with Lady Baya, to see she wasn't challenged on her way, Ahjvar supposed.

“Lai Sula's dead,” Ivah said. She sounded exhausted. “We shot him unknowing. They told me just now—the prisoners. They're telling the truth. There'd been rumour going around—Lai Sula killed two soldiers just this morning for repeating it—that the heir of the gods was bringing his death. He thought it was prophecy. It might only have been a whisper the priest started to break his nerve, I think. So when their own trap was sprung against them, he panicked and fled with his tent-guard.” That was her weariness showing, certainly, the Grasslander term translated. As if for a moment she lost her Nabbani. “A coward,” she added dispassionately. “He was very young.”

So many of them had been. But maybe that was his age.

Ghu was watching Ivah gravely. “Mulgo Miar?” he asked.

“I—destroyed his link with the devil. He was dead already. He was—sent to take me back to them. To Buri-Nai, I suppose. To Jochiz. The devil is Jochiz.”

Ghu said only, “Ah.” Gave her a long, long look, and a grave nod. “I'm glad you're still here, then.” Turned Snow away. “We have the field, I think. Don't we? Ti-So'aro is dead. I think—I have lost too many folk here. Ahj?”

“We need to stay,” Ahjvar said, though Great Gods, he did want to ride away.

“I know. Come down to the river. I need to hear it.” He glanced back. “Go to Captain Lin, Ivah. She may have wizard's work for you, and she'll know where she wants the archers of Alwu. We need scouts sent out, far out. The empress is somewhere, and if wizardry can't find her, human eyes may.”

Changing tongues: “Ahj, you wish we were home?”

“Where's home?”

Ghu shrugged. “Stone and water,” he said. “Sand Cove. I miss the sea, you know. I think—I'll always miss the sea. Come with me to the river, now.” He pulled his helmet off, shook flattened hair free. He looked exhausted, drained of life. Godhead burned him up like he was only fuel for a fire, the oil, not the lamp. Find the river, yes. Ghu seemed to need it as much as food or sleep.

They didn't make it, of course. The blue banner betrayed them. Yuro needed the holy one. Yeh-Lin needed the holy one. The surrendered and captive banner-lords of the Lai needed the holy one, and most of all the dying, their own and the empress's, needed their god, to see him and hear him and touch him, to take his blessing to their road. It was past the middle night, well past and there was a greying in the east, their far-too-mortal god stumbling, his voice faint, gone to single words like a child, before Ahjvar was able to persuade him away, pull him down just anywhere, lee of some unburnt hut, to sleep still armoured as he was, with his head pillowed in Ahjvar's lap.

He didn't mean to sleep himself. Woke to sudden assault and seized—only the page Kufu, shaking frantically at his ankle, afraid to touch the holy one even in his urgency. Strong sunlight in his face, back against a clay-plastered wall, Ghu rolling sleep-dazzled to his feet and the dogs racing up, bristling.

Ahjvar rocked upright, snatching up his sword and dropping the boy, who had yelped in terror and was still trying to stammer out words regardless.

“
What?
”

Kufu repeated himself, “Captain Lin says, the empress. An army. Here, already.”

CHAPTER XXXVI

Yeh-Lin had taken over the courier station as her headquarters. They found her in the dining hall with the commanders. Surviving commanders. Ti-So'aro's was not the only face missing. He did not see Gar Sisu, the prince's wizard. Yuro was there, though, and Prince Dan, armoured but still keeping to his oath to carry no weapons, with Lady Dwei Baya at his side; Ivah, a number of imperial commanders and Daro retainers . . . one tall, bald old man dressed for rough labour in hemp trousers and smock, but Ghu, for all the gravity of the summons, broke into a sudden smile.

“Awan!”

The man squinted and thrust his head forward shortsightedly, but Ghu was crossing to him, a hand raised to silence Yeh-Lin a moment. He took the old man's hands.

“Shouja Awan! You fed me, when I was travelling south. Years ago.”

The old man tilted his head, frowned. “Holy one . . . ?” And laughed. “You! I do remember. Fed you? I caught you thieving from the offering-box of the shrine.”

Ghu shrugged. “You were the only one who ever did. And you cuffed my ear and fed me.”

“That boy.” The priest shook his head. “Like a lost fawn, my poor blessed wife said. All eyes and bones and silences. She wanted to keep you and fatten you up a bit before we let you go, but you were gone the next night. I wouldn't have known you, but . . . your eyes haven't changed. My lord.”

“I think I was far from the only runaway you sheltered.”

Awan shrugged. “I did what seemed necessary.”

“Nabban!”

“Yes.” And Ghu wheeled on Yeh-Lin. “Buri-Nai.” Among those grim men and women, in dirt-dulled black armour, he did not look anything that had ever been fugitive and thief. He was wolf, not fawn, and even Yeh-Lin gave him space. Only the old priest, Awan, seemed not to feel the tension. He picked up a bowl he had set aside at their entry and, squatting with his back against the wall, returned to eating soup.

“I was blinded to her. Nabban, I swear I—”

“
Don't
swear. I believe you. I didn't—call it see, I didn't see her either. I didn't feel them moving over the land.” Very softly: “I should have. We knew they were coming. I was . . . listening, for her.”

“I searched for her. I sent scouts so soon as we had Lai Sula out of the way and they are taken and dead, all of them, Nabban, every man and woman. And this morning at last I saw. I couldn't count. Twenty thousand, thirty, three rivers of men. Numbers hardly matter—ten, twenty, thirty.” Praitannec, then. “It is Jochiz Stonebreaker, as Ivah says. Sien-Shava. He holds his hand over them like a god, greater than a god. Greater than I, at any rate. Nabban, what will you do?” Nabbani once more. “If we move now, abandon the dead unburied, we might with the rafts take some—maybe all, this folk over the river. Though the current is stronger, here. Cross, and then raise the river against her? Hold till what strength is in Shihpan can come to us? She must have gathered all the imperial soldiery of the central provinces, and how she moved them so—”

“Does it matter? We did not see.”

He stood head bowed. No one spoke, till at last Yuro stirred. “Two-thirds of Lai Sula's people are wanting to swear their oaths to the holy one. Do we take them, or leave them to reinforce her, or—” He shrugged.

“My folk,” Ghu said. Looked up, looked around them all. “You are all my folk. All the folk of Nabban. We never did come here to fight her. We came to hold the north safe against Buri-Nai while I went on to meet her and what governs her. I go on, as I meant to.”

“She's not going to forswear her delusions for your sake,” Yeh-Lin said.

“You'll get yourself killed,” Yuro said flatly. “You'll never persuade her to acknowledge you, or to change how she rules.”

Ghu shrugged. “We'll see. Get over the river. All who will, all you trust. Hold there. I leave them in your hands, Captain Lin.”

“Great Gods, Nabban, you are mad, I did say so. Ahjvar, tell him.”

Ahjvar just shook his head.

“You are not going without—”

“I need you here, Lin. I leave all in your hands. Do you hear me? All.”

“I'll ride with you, my lord,” Prince Dan said. “I'm not much use here—”

“No,” Ghu said. “Thank you, Dan. But no. I don't think there is—is anything anyone else can do.”

Ghu bowed to them all, turned and walked out from the rising voices. Ahjvar strode after him, spun to glower at Yeh-Lin when she would have followed.

“No.”

She grabbed at his arm, but he caught her wrist before she could and they stood so, blocking the door. She didn't try to twist away.

“Break whatever link Jochiz has with the empress.” She spoke Praitannec, low and intense. “He can't reach into the land without her, he surely can't. Kill Buri-Nai and whatever of her command you must to stop that army and put Dan on the throne.”

“If Ghu asks it.”

“Cold hells, Ahjvar, what use is a damned assassin if you leave him to walk into her hands?”

“Nabban's champion,” he said. “Nabban's sword. Nabban's damned priest, a dead woman called me. I am not anyone's assassin. Do as he bids you.” He turned her loose and she swung round on the watching commanders.

“As our young god says, then, and Old Great Gods be with him and us all. We cross the river and hold Choa. Get the wounded over first and mix what we can of Lai Sula's supplies in with them. Zhung Ario, if you would look to that . . .”

He left her driving them, her words riding over argument, and they were anyway too overridden to rally much of one. No one else had any action to offer. Flight or surrender . . . no one voiced it.

He overtook Ghu halfway to the horse lines, caught him and turned him face to face. He knew that look, fey and dark and vision-drowned.

“Why?” he demanded. “Yeh-Lin's right. The empress isn't going to listen. She's not Daro Korat or Ti-So'aro, looking for her god. She thinks she is that. You're not even a rival for the empire, in her mind. You're someone who's stolen what should be hers alone—the worship of her folk. She'll simply kill you.”

“If I don't try, she kills all these who've followed me. That, I see. Inevitable.”

“They could scatter and run . . .”

Ghu shook his head. “All these dead here, still unburied. Do you hear them?”