Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) (38 page)

He stopped a moment. Janela patted his knee. He seemed to take comfort and moved on.

“The ones in chains,” he said, “they put neck irons on, and chained ’em together, then marched ’em off into the forest in groups. I don’t know how many. They kept comin’ and goin’ the whole time I watched. About two hours, was all I could bear.”

“Did there seem to be anyone in charge?” I asked. “A chief? A shaman?”

Quatervals reflected, then nodded. “Over by the oven,” he said, “they had an... altar, I guess. There was a man there they all treated as if he were important. And he was dressed like it, too. He had on a robe, all golden and long. It looked like it was made out of feathers, although I’ve never seen such a bird. And he was bare-legged, with sandals that laced up around his legs all the way to his knees and he had a kind of breech-cloth wrapped about his waist.

“Woven out of every color yarn you could think of and decorated with gold hoops and things hanging off. Above that a breast plate, the ribbed kind, worn over bare skin. And on his head, comin’ out of the high-neck of the robe, he had an animal’s head for a hat. Couldn’t tell what sort but it was spotted and had long fangs.”

Quatervals sighed. “It was somethin’ fierce, I suppose. Although its wearer was the meanest thing I’ve ever seen, so maybe it was lost to me. All I know is I thought of it as a crown.”

“I wonder why we didn’t hear the horn,” I said.

“P’raps,” Quatervals said, “you weren’t meant to. “P’raps it only
calls
to those who’re prime for the pluckin’.”

A long, uncomfortable silence set in, each of us lost in private dread. Janela and I exchanged glances. She nodded, grim, knowing what I was thinking: that sooner or later we were going to have to meet the man in the gold-feathered robe and snarling crown.

* * * *

Te-Date smiled on us the following day. The channel remained deep, and turned away from shore into the middle of the lake. A fresh eastering wind filled our sails and eased our labors. Even the demon\woman markers didn’t seem so forbidding as we skimmed smoothly along for several hours, winding around small wooded islands and vast stands of tall reeds. We could even occasionally glimpse our goal — the thin smear of blue that was the far shore.

I was straining to catch another glimpse of it when I was startled to see a tiny canoe racing toward us, a small figure paddling furiously and shrieking in fear. It was a child, a naked little girl of perhaps eight or ten summers. Her canoe was nothing more than skin, stretched over a fragile frame and so small that there was barely room for the kneeling child, and with so little freeboard the water came within scant inches of the top. The child glanced behind her, shrieked again and plied the paddle with all her strength.

She had good reason to scream — following her was an enormous serpent, swimming effortlessly in her wake. The girl was so frightened she didn’t notice us and before we could shout a warning her canoe struck the side of
Ibis
and flipped over, spilling the child almost into the serpent’s maw.

Without a thought, I grabbed up a spear from the forward weapon’s rack. A few months before my effort would have been for naught and the spear, powered only by my wizened old muscles would certainly have struck weakly, if at all. But now I felt a surge of my new, youthful strength as I threw and the blade struck home with a meaty thunk, transfixing the creature’s body.

The water boiled from the serpent’s death throes, but to our horror we saw no sign of the child. Janela cried out and we saw the girl’s body rise to the surface and float there, unconscious. Out of the reeds came two gaping-jawed lizards, anxious to enjoy what had been the serpent’s intended dinner. Janela plunged over the side and caught the child by the hair. The brothers’ bowstrings twanged in unison and four arrow arced out to intercept the lizards. As they shrilled in agony, Pip and Chons dove in to help Janela lift her small burden.

A few moments later all were back on deck and the crew cheered as the child opened her eyes to gaze in wonder about her, then vomited water.

Pip shook his head, saying, “T’aint right fer a child like this to’ be about without her mother.”

Later, after Janela had tended the child in her cabin, wrapping her in a warm blanket and feeding her a restorative broth, we tried to find an answer to Pip’s unspoken question. What was the girl doing here and where was her family?

At first she was too frightened to say; shivering and shaking her head as if she didn’t understand. I thought it was because we were strangers and therefore suspect but Janela knew better.

“She’s afraid of being punished,” she told me, with a small smile. Then, to the child: “Your mother doesn’t know you’re out here does she dear?”

The girl shook her head, solemn.

“Don’t you want to go home?” Janela asked.

The child nodded.

“Well, how can we take you home, dear,” Janela said, “if you don’t tell us where you live?”

The girl thought about this a moment, then shrugged. She sipped the broth as if she were satisfied with the standoff. The child was a pretty little thing, with a small, shield-shaped face and long black tresses, wet from her adventure in the lake. Janela sat down beside her, toweling her hair and the girl curled up to her as natural as could be, clutching the cup of broth in both hands.

“Will you tell your name, my sweet?” Janela asked.

The child thought again, then nodded. But she didn’t answer.

“Well?” Janela said, gently, “what is it?”

“Shofyan,” the child said, but so low I could barely hear.

Janela stroked her cheeks. “Shofyan,” she repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”

The child nodded, confident this was so.

“I imagine your mother is very worried about you,” Janela said. “She wouldn’t give a little girl such a nice name if she didn’t love her very much.”

“Yes,” Shofyan said, a little louder. “I think she is. Probably.”

“I have a thought, my sweet,” Janela said. “How about if we take you home and tell your mother that we were lost and had no place to go, but then you found us and said we could come home with you and stay for a little while.”

Shofyan brightened. “You mean I saved
you
?” she said.

“That’s right,” Janela said. “You saved us.”

“Let’s go,” Shofyan said, anxious to proceed now that the danger of parental displeasure seemed to have been lessened. “I’ll show you the way.”

And show us she did: wrapped in a blanket and perched on Pip’s shoulders — pointing out the direction as imperiously as the grandest pilot who had ever trod a deck.

Before we reached her village we neared an island surrounded by thick reeds. Shofyan recognized it, brightened considerably and said her home was “only a little farther.” But before we rounded the island six canoes shot out of the reeds. They were large vessels carrying ten warriors each, all armed with heavy bows. Nine of them sped toward us, the warriors’ high-pitched, ululating war cry raising bumps on our spines. The other sped away, no doubt to raise the alarm. As they came closer I saw with amazement all the warriors were women, bare to the waist and with short kilts of soft lake grass, dyed with bright colors and woven into intricate patterns.

I heard weapons scraping out and Mithraik — who was near my side — growled, “We’re in for it, now,” and raised his bow.

I knocked it aside, snapping, “You know better than that! Do nothing until I order it.” He grumbled something but I paid him no mind, for just then one of the women in the lead canoe saw the child on Pip’s shoulders and cried out to the others: “They’ve got Shofyan!”

Their fierce cries became fiercer still. Some raised their bows. But the woman shouted, “Don’t! You might hurt her.”

Before I could act Janela stepped forward, plucking Shofyan from Pip and holding the girl up for all to see.

“We mean her no harm,” she shouted to the woman, who was young and comely, with a small, shield-shaped face like Shofyan’s. The little girl cried out in delight when she saw her mother.

“Look what I found, mother!” she shouted, making a wide gesture that took in our three ships. “They were lost and I found them.”

The lead canoe bumped against the
Ibis’
side and Shofyan’s mother swarmed up and pounced on the deck like a big cat. She showed no fear but stalked over to Janela and plucked the child from her arms. Shofyan threw her arms around her neck, clutching her tightly.

“I’m all right, mother,” she said.

Her mother patted her gently but still glared at us with fierce eyes. Other women were boarding now and although they seemed ready to fight, I signaled for my people to make no threatening gestures.

The child’s mother, assuming Janela was in charge, said: “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Don’t be mean, mother,” Shofyan wailed. “She’s really nice. And I didn’t really find them. Her name is Janela and she saved me. She jumped in the water and killed the snake before it could eat me.”

“Is that what happened?” the woman asked.

Janela shrugged. “It was something like that,” she said. She waved at the rest of us. “The others deserve as much credit as I.”

The woman looked us over a bit disdainfully, as if she grudged thanking mere men.

She turned back to Janela, saying, “I am Taisha, mother of this disobedient little wretch.” She stroked Shofyan’s locks as she scolded her. “I owe you thanks. But I can do nothing without first speaking to Queen Badryia — my mother. It is she who rules the People Of The Lake. You will come with me and see what the Queen decides.” She graced the rest of us with another sneer.” These... men... must stay here.”

I stepped forward. “Forgive me, Lady Greycloak,” I said to Janela in my most obsequious tones — playing to the woman’s assumption that Janela was our commander. “May I accompany you?”

Janela nodded, going along with the act. “Would that be permitted?” she asked Taisha. “This man is Amalric Antero, my, uh, maternal grandfather.”

She winked at Taisha. “Actually, here’s not really my grandfather, but to explain further would tell more about my grandmother’s love life than I’m sure she’d care for me to reveal.

Taisha snickered knowingly.

Janela continued: “He is wise... for a man... also I promised my grandmother I would look after him.”

Taisha hesitated, then said, “If you wish. But only so you won’t have to tell your grandmother that it was Taisha who made you break your pledge.”

Janela thanked her, then turned to Kele who was looking at me with amusement. “This is Captain Kele,” she said to Taisha. “She commands the ship — and these men — in my absence.”

“Greetings, sister,” Taisha said to Kele. “More of our warriors will arrive soon to guard you. But they will do nothing to harm these men if you make certain they do not let their weak natures cause us trouble.”

Kele buried laughter. “Rest assured, sister,” she said. “Not a man here’ll do more’n take a breath wi’out my orders.”

Taisha nodded, satisfied. Behind her I could see dozens more canoes filled with warrior women approaching. They fanned out, ringing the fleet.

“This is good,” she said. “You must come from a wise people to make your men so obedient.” Then she motioned to Janela. “Come,” she said. “Queen Badryia awaits.”

I joined Janela in Taisha’s canoe. We rowed swiftly for a time, leaving the main channel after about a mile and curving around many small, wooded islands. We entered a large lagoon with scores of huge round huts, perched above the lake on towering stilts with rope ladders dangling down for access. The huts, all gaily decorated, had thatched conical roofs with walls made of woven reed that could rolled up to catch the breeze or down for shade or to keep out a winter’s chill. People stared out from their stilted homes as we passed, and I noticed the only males among them were boys or infants.

Shofyan called to some of the children — obviously her favorite playmates — as we paddled by, boasting loudly of her adventures and her new friends. They all laughed and clapped and urged her to visit them soon so they could hear more.

We made for the largest platform — which seemed nearly as big as a merchant ship. The roof of the conical structure that sat upon it was even more colorful than the others and as we drew close I could see the bottom of the platform was painted with glorious scenes of women engaged in many activities: spearing great fish, fighting off attackers — both human and lake-dwelling — or merely in repose — with children playing, or suckling at their breasts. When we came to the ladder dangling under what I guessed was the queen’s home women grasped the stilts to steady the canoe, while others held the rope so we could ascend.

Janela started toward it but Taisha admonished her to wait. “There’s a saying among my people,” she said, “that beauty should proceed the stronger willed.” Taisha grinned at me. “And if you don’t mind me saying so sister, your companion is quite comely — for a grandfather, that is.”

Janela hesitated, then laughed, agreeing. “We have a similar saying,” she said, casting me a sly look. “And I must admit I was surprised when my grandmother allowed Amalric to accompany me.” She nudged Taisha, then whispered in her ear. Taisha’s eyes widened as she whispered, plainly shocked.

“What a waste of good seed,” Taisha said aloud. “How could she permit it?”