The Redemption of Althalus (74 page)

“You’ve got a very cynical way of looking at the world, haven’t you, my friend?” Althalus noted.

“I’ve looked deeply into the hearts of my fellow men,” the burglar replied eloquently, “and to be honest with you, I’d rather look into a cesspool.”

“You just raised an interesting possibility, though,” Althalus mused. “If we were all to put on green robes, or maybe blue ones, and then go out and tell all the peasants that we speak for some
new
God—or better yet, a very
old
one that people have forgotten about—we could pull off exactly the same hoax these Red Robes have. It appears that there’s money to be made in religion.”

“I think I’ve got just the God you want,” the pickpocket said with a broad grin.

“Oh?”

“What about Dweia?”

Althalus nearly choked at that.

“She
was
the Goddess of Perquaine a few thousand years back, you know,” the pickpocket explained, “and her temple still stands in the center of Maghu—except that the Brown Robes have sort of usurped it. If I’m not mistaken, there’s still a statue of her back in some dusty corner of the temple. She’d be perfect for your scheme.”

The long-nosed burglar laughed delightedly. Then he struck a pose with one hand lifted aloft as if in benediction. “Gather, O my children,” he intoned in a rich, oratorical voice, “and lift your voices in prayer and song to Divine Dweia—the once and future Goddess of fertile Perquaine. Beseech her, O my brethren, to return and cast out the unbelievers and return our dear Perquaine unto the glory of the past.”

“Amen!” the pickpocket said fervently, and then he howled with laughter.

Althalus was trembling violently when he left the tavern.

“So
that’s
it,” Dweia said when Althalus told her of what he had learned in the thieves’ den.

“That’s what, dear?”

“Ghend’s crowding the edges just a bit. The priests of Daeva in Nekweros wear scarlet robes.”

“Then this peasant revolt goes a little deeper than a hoax by a group of opportunists, doesn’t it? It’s an effort to convert the peasants to the worship of your brother.”

“It’s not impossible, Althalus. Ghend hasn’t had too much luck with conventional wars. Now he’s trying to mix social revolution with religious controversy.”

“He’s cooking up a very strange stew, then.”

“Indeed he is, love. I’m not sure how he plans to pass Daeva off as the friend of the masses, though. Daeva’s even worse than Deiwos when you start talking about sheer arrogance. I think we’d better get Albron’s wedding out of the way in a hurry so that we can get back to Maghu before all of Perquaine catches on fire.” Dweia looked at Eliar. “We’ll use the doors to get all the wedding guests to Albron’s Hall.”

“I don’t think the weather’s going to cooperate, Emmy,” Eliar said dubiously. “If we made the trip on the ground instead of through the House, it’d be the dead of winter before we reached my Chief’s Hall. It might help if you could stir up a blizzard or two.”

“I’d really rather not. Those glaciers are starting to melt, and I don’t want to tamper with that. Tell the others to mention ‘unusual weather’ and ‘a very mild winter’ every so often. That should cover our tail feathers.”

“How’s Bheid doing?” Eliar asked.

“About the same,” she replied. “He’s still wallowing in his guilt.”

“How long does he think he’s been here?”

“He’s not really sure. He’s starting to mix real time with House time.”

“That’s a novel term, Em,” Althalus noted. “I sort of like it, though. ‘House time’—yes. It gets right to the point, doesn’t it?”

“I’m glad you approve, pet.”

“Let’s get started, then,” Althalus said to Eliar. “The sooner we get your Chief married, the sooner we can go back to Perquaine and spoke Ghend’s wheel.” He grinned. “That’s starting to turn into my favorite hobby,” he said.

Eliar and Althalus joined the others in the foothills of Arum, and then their “resident hero” smoothly led them through a door into a corridor in the north wing of the House.

“You’re getting better and better at that, Eliar,” Sergeant Khalor observed. “I knew exactly what you were doing, and even then
I
couldn’t tell precisely when we stepped through that door.”

“Practice, my Sergeant,” Eliar replied modestly. “If you do something often enough, you’re bound to get better at it.”

“Where are we going to come out, Althalus?”

“Just a few miles south of Chief Albron’s Hall. Emmy wants to get this wedding out of the way so that we can concentrate on that revolution in Perquaine. Oh, I almost forgot, we’re supposed to act surprised at how mild this winter is. We’re coming home about six weeks before we possibly could if we actually had to cover the real distance, so it won’t be as cold as it should be, and there won’t be as much snow piled up as everybody’s going to expect.”

“I’ll practice my look of astonishment,” Khalor said drily.

“I’d really like to introduce you to her, Andine,” Eliar said earnestly to the tiny Arya the next morning at the breakfast table in Albron’s Hall. “One of these days before too much longer, she
is
going to be one of your relations, after all.”

“I think you’ll like Eliar’s mother, Andine,” Chief Albron said. “She’s a beautiful lady.”

“Why doesn’t your mother live in the village, Eliar?” Gher asked curiously.

Eliar shrugged. “My father built the cottage just outside of town, and I don’t think the idea of moving’s ever occurred to my mother. She says it’s where she belongs.”

Chief Albron sighed. “It’s one of the great tragedies of our clan,” he said sadly. “Eliar’s father, Agus, was one of the greatest warriors in our history. He and Khalor were almost like brothers.”

“Yes,” Khalor agreed. “We were very close.” There was a kind of flatness in the way he said it that seemed strange to Althalus.

“If I had any kind of literary talent, I could pen an epic romance about the first meeting between Agus and Alaia—that’s her name, of course,” Chief Albron said.

“It’s a beautiful name,” Leitha noted in a very sad tone.

“Indeed it is,” Albron agreed, “and it’s quite clear that Agus was Eliar’s father. It was Khalor, I think, who introduced them. I happened to be there at the time, and I’ve never
seen
anything like it. No sooner had they laid eyes on each other when it became obvious that they were both hopelessly in love. Wasn’t it, Khalor?”

Sergeant Khalor nodded, not even bothering to speak.

“We haven’t intruded on Alaia,” Albron continued. “I think she’s still in mourning.”

“Well, not entirely, my Chief,” Eliar said. “She’s always glad to see me, and she doesn’t send people away when they come by the house.”

“I think I’d like to meet this lady myself,” Astarell said. “Why don’t we all pay her a short visit and invite her to our wedding?”

“What a splendid idea,” Albron said enthusiastically. “Eliar, why don’t you and Sergeant Khalor go tell your mother that we’ll be paying her a call? It wouldn’t be very polite if we all just showed up unannounced on her doorstep, now would it?”

“We’ll go tell her right now, my Chief,” Eliar replied enthusiastically. Sergeant Khalor, however, looked just a bit gloomy.

———

Alaia’s cottage was a small, neat structure built of carefully squared-off logs, and it had a steeply pitched shake roof. It stood a short distance outside the village that was tightly clustered around the walls of Albron’s stone fortress, and there was a small garden outside the kitchen door.

Eliar’s mother was a fairly tall woman in her late thirties. She had chestnut-colored hair, and her eyes were a deep, deep blue. “She’s gorgeous!” Andine murmured nervously to Leitha.

“I noticed that, yes,” Leitha replied.

“Do I look all right?” Andine asked with some slight apprehension.

“You’ll do just fine, dear,” Leitha assured her. “Don’t be nervous.”

“She
is
Eliar’s mother, Leitha, and I
do
want her to like me.”

“Everybody likes you, Andine. You’ve got
tons
of adorability leaking out of every pore.”

“
Will
you stop teasing me, Leitha!” Andine exclaimed.

“Probably not, no. It’s my favorite hobby.”

Alaia greeted the leader of the clan with a formal and very graceful curtsy. “Chief Albron, my house is honored by your presence.” Her voice was rich and full.

“It is we who are honored, Alaia,” Albron replied, bowing.

“And this is my Andine, Mother,” Eliar introduced the Arya of Osthos.

Alaia’s smile was rather like the sun coming up. Probably without even thinking, she held out her arms to the tiny girl.

Andine ran to her, and they embraced warmly.

“My, aren’t you the tiny one?” Alaia said fondly. “Eliar told me that you weren’t very big, but I hadn’t expected you to be quite
this
small.”

“Would it help at all if I stood on my tiptoes?” Andine suggested.

“You’re just fine the way you are, Andine,” Alaia told her. “Don’t change a thing. Eliar says you’ve undertaken the chore of feeding him.”

“It’s my life’s work now,” Andine replied.

“It’s a very large chore for one so small.”

“I try to stay ahead of him, Alaia. I’ve found that if I always have food in my hand ready to pop into his mouth, I can keep him from eating the furniture.”

They both laughed and looked fondly at the young man.

“I think we need to talk, Althalus,” Leitha suggested. “There’s something you should know about.”

“All right. Is it urgent?”

“Probably not, but let’s go talk about it right now, shall we? It won’t really take very long, and I don’t think we’ll be missed for a bit.”

“You’re being cryptic again,” he said as they quietly left the cottage.

“Don’t be such an old grouch, Daddy,” she chided him.

They crossed Alaia’s small garden and entered a grove of towering trees near the river gorge.

“All right, Leitha,” Althalus said, “what’s bothering you?’

“Sergeant Khalor’s very uncomfortable, Althalus.”

“Are you saying that he doesn’t like Eliar’s mother?”

“No, just the opposite. He and Alaia had been ‘walking out together,’ as the saying goes, before he introduced her to Eliar’s father, Agus.”

“Oh?”

“You heard Chief Albron’s description, didn’t you? When Agus and Alaia met, it was one of those ‘love at first sight’ things. Khalor’s very perceptive, and he immediately saw what was happening. He loved Alaia—and still does—but he and Agus were as close as brothers, so he hid his feelings and stepped aside.”

“This is one of those gloomy stories, isn’t it?”

“It gets worse. After Agus was killed in some meaningless war down in the low country, Khalor thought there might be room for some hope, but Alaia was absolutely crushed by her husband’s death, and she’s been in almost total seclusion for all these years. When Eliar began to train for his life as a soldier, Khalor sort of took him under his wing. If you pay close attention to them, you’ll probably notice that they’re more like father and son than Sergeant and Corporal.”

“Khalor
does
sort of look out for Eliar, now that you mention it. Does Alaia have any feelings at all for Khalor?”

“She thinks of him as her oldest friend, but I caught a few hints from her that it might go just a bit further—
if
Khalor would just relax a bit.”

“That’s
all
we need right now!” Althalus growled. “I think I’d have been happier if you hadn’t told me about this, Leitha.”

“I’m trying to keep your tail feathers out of the soup, Daddy,” she told him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a situation that Dweia might find
very
interesting, don’t you think? And if you neglect to bring it to her attention, she might be a little put out with you, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t have
known
about it if you hadn’t dragged me out here and told me this sad little story.”

“Why, Daddy,” she said in mock astonishment, “you didn’t think I’d keep any secrets from
you,
did you? Then, of course, if I hadn’t told
you,
it might have been
my
tail feathers that’d get dunked in the soup. I love you dearly, Daddy, but not
that
much. Now that I’ve handed it to you,
you
get to take care of it. Aren’t you proud of how sneaky I can be?”

“I’d really be a lot happier if you’d drop this ‘daddy’ business, Leitha,” he said plaintively.

She gave him a sudden, stricken look, and then she began to cry, burying her face in her hands.

“Now what?” he demanded.

“Leave me alone.” She sobbed. “Go away, Althalus.”

“No, Leitha, I won’t do that. What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were different. Go away.” She continued to sob.

Without even really thinking about it, he put his arms around her. She struggled just a bit, but then she wailed and clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

She was obviously too distraught to talk coherently, so Althalus reluctantly decided to do it “the other way.”

Leitha’s thoughts were chaotic as Althalus very gently intruded into her awareness.

Stay away! Stay away!
she pleaded silently.

“No, I won’t do that,” he said aloud, still searching.

A myriad of her memories from the village of Peteleya in Kweron flooded over him, and her overwhelming loneliness cut into him like a knife. Despite her “gift,” Leitha had grown up in almost total isolation. Her father had died before she’d been born, and her mother had been insane—not raving mad, perhaps, but “strange.” The other children in Peteleya had been about half afraid of Leitha and her uncanny-seeming ability to know what they were thinking, so she’d had no real friends as a child, and she’d grown up in nearly total isolation.

And in fear. The shadow of the harsh-faced priest, Brother Ambho, still hung dark and menacing over all her memories, his lustful hatred of her growing stronger with each passing year. Her attempts to avoid him had been fruitless, since he’d followed her wherever she’d gone, and the dreadful image that crawled through his imagination had filled her with terror, a terror that had virtually erased her ability to think or to act.