Noman (19 page)

He woke and opened his eyes and, for a moment, was still half in dreams. Then he saw Morning Star.

"Star?"

"Hello, Seeker."

"Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me."

He looked happy to see her. He rose and unrolled his badan and threw it over his shoulders.

"Where have you come from?"

"I've been in Spikertown," she said.

"Spikertown. Of course." She saw his expression alter as he remembered. "How's the Wildman? Is he still beautiful? Does he still do that cry of his?"

Morning Star understood him well enough. He believed she was still in love with the Wildman. She wanted to tell him it wasn't so, that it was all over, that it had never begun; but pride kept her silent. He loved Echo now. Morning Star would not let it appear that she had come begging for love he no longer had to give her.

"Yes," she said. "He still does his cry. He's still beautiful."

"And always will be."

Seeker had an odd look on his face as he said this, which Morning Star didn't understand. Always before she had been able to read people's colors; but now her gift was gone. She felt clumsy and stupid.

"And you, Star? Where are you going?"

"I've come to find you."

"Me! Why?"

"I'm only a messenger. There's someone special who wants you. He's sent me to find you and bring you to him."

"So what?" said Echo sharply. "Why should he go just because he's sent for?"

"Who is he, Star?"

"He's a kind of a leader. You don't know him."

"A kind of a leader?" Seeker took in the children clustered round her. "They came with you?"

"Yes."

"This leader. He has followers?"

"He has thousands of followers."

"Thousands! So who is he? What does he do?"

"He calls himself the Joy Boy."

Morning Star then did her best to pass on all that the Joy Boy had told her, though she knew that the one thing she could not pass on was the gaze of those dark liquid eyes and the sound of that soft penetrating voice.

"He told you he's come to make men into gods?"

"Yes."

"How will he do that?"

"He calls it the Great Embrace. When it happens, there'll be no more separation. We'll all be one in joy."

Seeker was listening now with concentrated attention.

"It will be a large gathering?"

"Immense."

"When is this Great Embrace to happen?"

"Very soon, I think."

Seeker thought for a moment more. Then, "Take me to it," he said. "You're right, Star. This is what I've been sent to do."

"Let's go!" said Burny, tugging at Morning Star's hem. "I'm hungry."

"Can I ride the animal?" said Libbet.

"I want to hold the pretty lady's hand," said Deedy.

"Where is this gathering?" Seeker asked Morning Star.

"Follow the road south. You can't miss it."

"Come, then," said Seeker. "I don't want to arrive too late. Not a second time."

He strode away towards the road. Echo mounted Kell. Morning Star followed with the children. She was surprised by Seeker's sudden urgency, and puzzled by what he meant when he said, "This is what I've been sent to do."

She held the little ones' hands and Libbet walked stoutly by her side, but in a little while Seeker and Echo were out of sight. Morning Star walked on steadily and held her head high, not wanting the children to know how close she was to tears. He had left without a word of farewell, without a backward glance, as if she were nothing to him.

And I am nothing, she thought.

Then she remembered the waterfall.

The stream carries us all away.

This is not a trial of god. This is a trial of man's faith in god and of my faith in man.

I watch from the next room, through a doorway that is always left open. I can pass through that doorway, but beyond the threshold I am a child again. I go in ignorance. All that I once knew is to be learned again.

I can give my noble warriors no help or guidance. This is their trial. I have planted the seed. Now let it grow as it will, and we shall see what we shall see.

I have given them secret friends. I have given them secret enemies. There will be failures. There will be suffering. But if one man among them dares to seek the truth to the end, in all its terror and wonder, I will know that my experiment outlives me.

That is all the immortality I ask for.

T
HE
W
ILDMAN WAS UNABLE TO SLEEP ALL THROUGH
the night after his meeting with the Joy Boy. The rhythm of the stamping dance still surged in his blood, he could still taste the oranges and lemons in his mouth, and most of all, he shivered to remember the spasm of joy.

All of us have felt what it's like to be god, the Joy Boy had said. We call it joy.

When morning came, he knew that he would go back; and the decision made, he slept at last. He woke late and found he had a keen appetite. He ate an immense breakfast of pancakes and bacon and stewed apple, and then called a meeting of the spiker chiefs.

"Bravas," he said to them. "All my life I've been told I'll come to a bad end. So all my life I've done what I pleased. Now, today, it pleases me to leave you and go my own way. I've decided to join the crazy people. I've laughed at them. Now you can laugh at me."

None of his men laughed.

"Could be that the crazy people are all being fooled," he said, "and I'll be fooled along with them. But could be they all end up as gods. I say that's a risk worth taking. And no one gets hurt but me."

It was as simple as that. When he'd spoken, he strode out of the big tent and mounted Sky and set off down the main street of the big spiker camp. As he went, riding slowly, men came out of their tents and followed him in a raggle-taggle procession. More and more spikers joined the march as they passed through the camp, and they drew in their wake a train of women and children and baggage wagons. When the Wildman reached the limits of the camp, he turned round on Sky to bid farewell and found that almost his entire army had come with him.

A slow grin spread across his golden face.

"Heya!" He raised both hands high above his head and sang out, "Do you lo-o-ove me?"

"Wildman!" they cried back. "Wildman! Wildman!"

So it was at the head of a great spiker army that the Wildman rode into the Joyous. When the Joy Boy came out to meet him, the Wildman said with a grin, "I'm back, and I've brought a few friends."

"The more people, the more joy," said the Joy Boy. "You're all welcome."

But a little later, to the Wildman alone, he said, "You bring new danger."

"What danger?"

"Travellers joining us bring news every day. The news is that the Orlans are on the march. Their new Jahan has sworn to seek out the spiker army and destroy it."

His plump face still smiled as he spoke, but his voice was grave. The Wildman rose to the challenge at once.

"Let them try!" he cried.

"Softly, my friend, softly," said the Joy Boy. "This is a beautiful opportunity. We must use it."

"I'm not afraid of Orlans!"

"Nor should you be. I will arm you with a weapon against which they will be helpless."

"What weapon?"

"What else but joy?"

"Joy? I'm to fight them with joy?"

"It will be the first battle in which the enemy will be defeated by joy. And then they will be the enemy no more. They will join us. They too will share the joy."

The Wildman gazed at the Joy Boy in disbelief.

"Is it possible?"

"Of course. If you have chosen joy, why should not they?"

"But how?"

"I will tell you."

Caressa rode at the head of the Orlan army, her luxuriant black hair streaming behind her, her breastplate glowing in the sun. Beside her rode Sabin Jahan, in whom she had full trust, together with her captains, seasoned veterans of many a campaign. Behind them, formed up once more in their old companies, rode more than a thousand warriors,
the finest fighting men in the world. The Orlan army that had swept out of the north under Amroth Jahan had been ten times bigger, but Caressa Jahan's followers still made a formidable force. And who was there to stand against them? Here and there some pockets of axers, but they had no organization. The Nomana were scattered and showed no signs of using their powers to bring order to the land. So that left the spiker army. Caressa knew that if she could draw the spikers into a decisive battle, she could break their power for good.

Then the Wildman, their leader, would be defeated. He would be led before her, his hands tied, a helpless prisoner. She would have him at her mercy. What would she do with him? She thought she might cut off his long golden hair. Then she thought it would be enough to have him kneel and kiss her hand. Then she thought how fine it would be to show him mercy and set him free.

No, she told herself, her mouth curling into a smile of anticipation. I'll not set him free. I'll keep him for myself. I'll have him follow behind me on a chain, like a pet dog.

Ahead she saw her scouts riding back from a forward reconnaissance. From the eager speed with which they rode, she knew they had news.

The lead scout pulled up with a dramatic flourish and trotted by her side.

"Enemy sighted, Excellency."

"How far?"

"Less than an hour's ride."

"Do they know we're coming?"

"Yes, Excellency. They're drawn up in battle formation, Excellency. Many thousands, Excellency."

"So big!"

"But not fighters only, Excellency. Women. Children. Cattle. Chickens."

"Chickens!"

"And their weapons, Excellency. We saw none."

"They conceal them?"

"No doubt, Excellency."

Caressa rode on in silence, pondering this strange information. Some trick was being prepared, but what? She could only guess that the spiker women and children had joined the army because the Wildman hoped to inspire pity. Not many warriors would charge unarmed women and children. If so, was it a cover from behind which the fighters would draw their swords and launch a surprise attack? Or had the Wildman already conceded defeat?

"You saw their leader?" she asked the scout. "The one they call the Wildman?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"How did he seem?"

"Happy, Excellency. Laughing."

"Laughing, was he? We'll see if he's still laughing when I've finished with him."

But inside herself Caressa felt a secret glow of pride that the Wildman was happy and laughing. That was how she remembered him, always fearless, always beautiful. She spurred her Caspian to a canter, suddenly impatient to have the Wildman there before her. She longed to see the look on his face when he recognized her. He would be shocked. He would be proud before her and pretend he cared nothing for her new rank and her fearsome army. But he would respect her.

The Orlan warriors broke into a canter behind her; and so the great mounted army rode up the last hill.

The spikers were waiting for them. When the Orlans appeared over the ridge, the Wildman was more than ready. His army, if such a ragtag assembly could be called an army, had their orders. Soon now they would learn if their unorthodox battle plan would prove successful.

The Orlans approached in company order. The Wildman was impressed. The new Jahan, he saw, had restored discipline. There were large numbers of them—a further tribute to the authority of the new leader. It was not hard to pick out the Jahan, riding in the front rank, flanked by senior captains; but at this distance he could make out no details. He presumed the new warlord was one of the sons of the old Jahan.

When the enemy was within shouting reach, the Wildman raised his arms high above his head, and the entire great mass of spikers began to sing. Not a battle chant, not even a roaring drinking song. They sang a lullaby.

"
Little baby, don't cry
Now the shadows are creeping
See the stars in the sky
Now it's time to be sleeping...
"

***

A sweet song carried on the breeze in waves of gentle melody across the dry land to the Orlan army.

The advancing warriors heard the lullaby and looked round at each other uncertainly. The line wavered. The Wildman signalled his people again. Still singing, the spikers began to move forward, their arms now raised above their heads and swaying from side to side.

"
Ferry softly cross the water
Where the moonlight is gleaming
Float away down the river
To the ocean of dreaming ...
Sail to sleep, little baby,
Little baby, sail to sleep...
"

The Orlans had now come to a complete stop. The spikers continued to advance as the lullaby drew to a close. The Wildman then stepped out in front of the line and spread his arms wide and called to his people.

"Do you lo-o-ove me?"

They shouted back, all waving their arms together.

"Wildman! Wildman! Wildman!"

He shook back his golden hair and laughed in the sunlight. Then he turned to the Orlans and cried out loud.

"We lo-o-ove you all!"

The spikers took up the cry.

"We love you!"

The Orlans stared back across the space that separated the two armies, waiting to be told what to do.

The Wildman now strode forward alone to meet the new Jahan. He came with his arms extended as if to offer an embrace. Halfway across the space between the two armies, he recognized Caressa beneath her Orlan battle dress.

"Princess!" he cried with a joyful smile.

He ran to her and swung her down off her horse and seized her in his arms.

"Heya! What a beauty!" he exclaimed, gazing at her with open admiration. Then he kissed her. Then he looked at her again, his golden face bright with happiness.

"I love you, Princess!" he said.

Caressa had lost all control of the situation. From the moment the spikers had begun to sing, she hadn't known what to do. Now, in the Wildman's arms, all she could think was how she wanted him to kiss her again.