Wizard's Funeral (17 page)

road for civilization. She shook her head, emphatically. Not without my name. As you wish. Soldier took one last look around, at the press of hopeless people in the square, then left by one of the long, narrow alleyways. On the way out he passed a surprised sentinel. He could see now that the figure was a mechanical creature, made of inanimate moving parts. Nevertheless, the sentry spoke to him, Youre leaving? Without your memory? Without your name? I never heard of such a thing. Soldier smiled, grimly. I didnt know who I was before I entered, so this terrible place of forgetfulness has no influence on me. Lucky man. Perhaps. It was a long walk across the sands. Finally, he was back with his relieved friend and the camels. That was foolish. You might have been trapped in there, Golgath said, after Soldier had recounted his experiences. Then I would have had to come in to find you. Now that would have been foolish. They struck camp, still arguing, and went on their way westwards. During the afternoon, they looked back, and saw the tawny sands sweeping over the city. Gradually the desert climbed higher up the enticing turrets, now like the shining fingers of a disappearing hand, until the topmost pinnacles had sunk beyond trace. The lone and level sands stretched far away into the distance, with nothing to break their monotony. All that remained on the surface, like the tracks of small desert creatures, were the patterns left by the sighs of the prisoners. They were crouched behind a sand dune. Down below them, in a shallow depression in the landscape, a long ribbon of laden camels stretched back to the horizon. A caravan, Golgath said. Nothing to fear. How do we know that? They might have guards. They might be hostile. Oh, theyll have guards all right, but they wont be bothered about us. Theyre just as afraid of hostile tribes as we are more so, since they have a great deal to lose. Look, theyre stopping. I think theyre camping for the night. We could go down and get a meal there. I think those merchants are Samanites - a gentle people, interested only in making money and becoming rich and fat. Down below the high dune the tents were being unfolded. Huge, black, sprawling affairs with a complexity of poles and guy ropes. Still, those raising them seem to be practised to the point of ease. Within a half-hour all the tents were up and there were fires going, pots boiling. People were calling on each other as neighbours in a new place do. Shall we make ourselves known to them? asked Golgath. Soldier was dubious. Is it safe? Nothings safe, my friend. You going into the city of forget-fulness wasnt safe. I can smell good cooking. Im going down. All right. The two men stood up and their camels, grumbling because they thought they were on the move again, also rose. Soldier led his two beasts down the slope of the dune, sinking to his ankles in the fine sand. He heard a shout go up and knew that they had been seen. Soon a young boy was racing towards them. Breathless, he arrived just behind his grin. My father asks that you take tea with him. Golgath said, Inform your father that we should be honoured. What is your family name? My father is called Maalish and I am Bak-lan-Maalish. Son-of-Maalish, explained Golgath, in an aside to Soldier. Then to the boy, Where shall we wash our hands? There is a bowl outside the tent, of course, laughed Bak-lan-Maalish. Of course. We shall be with your father directly. The boy scooted off, half-a-dozen of his friends now with him, the girls squealing, the boys yelling. The two men washed their hands in a copper bowl on a tripod, just outside the entrance to the great tent. Then they were shown inside by a veiled woman. Once within, the comfort was apparent. There were carpets everywhere. Not a speck of sand to be seen. For Soldier it was like being in a quilted house. Tapestries hung from the walls of the tent. Scented candles burned, lighting the dark interior. It was not exactly cool, especially with a fire going in a hearth of stones, but it was not like being under that cruel furnace of a sun. A young man sat in the corner playing soft music on a stringed instrument. Another, older, man was carrying brass trays with cups, from one recess to another. There seemed to be a hundred rooms in the tent, all hidden by discreet flaps. Welcome! Please sit down. The words had come from an unveiled woman sitting next to a middle-aged man. They were both handsome people, with broad faces and wide mouths full of good teeth. The man started to pour some tea into the cups from an exotic-looking pot, when he suddenly looked up. Oh do you take sugar? No, not me, said Golgath. Soldier, who had never drunk tea before, didnt know whether he did or not. He too declined. When he tasted the tea, it was very mild, and he was glad not to have it sweetened. My first taste of tea, he said. Its very refreshing. The woman seemed astonished. You do not have tea where you come from? Golgath took it on himself to explain. There is tea in Zamerkand, but most people drink watered wine, or ale. Otherwise, they make do with water. Theres nothing wrong with water, said the woman. My name is Petra, and this is my husband Yun Maalish. This is my caravan. Im transporting sandalwood, silks, woven gold and silver and other goods to Sisadas. Soldiers scabbard suddenly sang out. He leapt to his feet and drew his sword. At the same time there appeared from out of the many folded recesses of the tent several armed men. They crowded around Soldier in a half-circle, threatening him with their weapons. Golgath remained seated, still sipping his tea. We are alone, Golgath said to the woman. We have no interest in your caravan or the wealth it carries. It would be a gross insult to the gods if you were to cut down two innocent men while they were enjoying the hospitality of your tent. Often, she said, a band of brigands will send one or two of their number, pretending to be travellers, to our tents to spy on us before they attack, usually just at sunset. I know. I know your ways and your fears and the tricks that are played against you. I have been here before, many times. My friend has not. He has a magic scabbard, which warns him of danger. Thats what you heard. Naturally, he believed he was about to be cut down, which is why he leapt to his feet. I repeat, you have nothing to fear from us. We are two travellers alone, seeking a woman the wife of the Soldan of Ophina, Moona Swan-neck. Do you have any knowledge of her whereabouts? We would be most grateful. We can pay. Soldier, on hearing these words, sheathed his sword and sat down with his back to the armed men. At a signal from the woman they melted into the shadows of the dark tent. Yun turned to his wife and said, Are you sure? I think theyre telling the truth. So long as youre sure. He went back to sipping his tea, which Soldier noticed had stained his fair beard brown. Then, to Soldiers astonishment, Yun took a short piece of tarred rope from within his garments and, putting it in his mouth, lit it from one of the candles. He sucked on this, drawing smoke into his lungs. Then he smiled and nodded at Soldier, having noticed his expression, before exhaling a cloud. Not tea, nor tobacco? Tobacco? This. He held up the smouldering piece of rope. Its made out of a herb. It tastes good. Do you want to try? Soldier shuddered and shook his head. Not I. I will, said Golgath, taking the lighted weed. He drew a lungful of smoke and coughed. Its been a long time, he explained. Petra said, I have heard that Caliphat-the-Strong has Moona Swan-neck held captive in his desert fortress. Are you going to rescue her? Yes, replied Soldier, lifting his head. It is our quest. Yun said, What if she doesnt want to be rescued? Soldier looked shocked. Of course she will. Shes the wife of the soldan. Perhaps the soldan beats her? Perhaps she does not love the soldan? Perhaps she loves Caliphat? Perhaps she is now with child? Galiphats child. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Soldier did not know what to say. Will you force her to go with you? asked Petra. No yes - I dont know. Youre confusing me. I think I shall hope shes angry at being abducted and willing to return. Yun said, One can always live in hope. A meal was then brought, consisting of goats meat, camels-milk yoghurt, green cucumber, cheese made from dogs milk, eggs, desert partridge and crisp, fried rock beetles. They ate their fill. Then came milk and honeycombs, and spiced hot apple juice. The front of the tent was opened for this feast and they watched the sun go down behind some distant dunes. Sunset, said Golgath, tearing at a partidge leg. No raiders falling on you from out of the gloaming. True. Perhaps tonight, while we sleep? replied Yun. If they do, Soldier said, we shall be fighting them alongside you, you can be sure of that. The cold night came in and the flaps came down. Soldier and Golgath were shown to separate compartments in the tent, in which there were blankets. Soldier felt good. He had eaten and drunk well, he was comfortably tired, and it was not long before he drifted into sleep. Sometime later he felt someone slip beneath his blankets. He was horrified to feel a naked female form. Worse, it was not some single woman they had sent to him. It was Petra herself. Do not be alarmed, she whispered in his ear. It is our custom. My husband expects it. He sat bolt upright, wondering why his scabbard hadnt warned him of this attack. He could feel Petras soft breasts against his side. He was not unmovable. There were ominous stirrings in his loins. He needed to act quickly and decisively. I am not available. Please, if this must be done, go to my friend. Im sure youll find in him a willing partner. I have a wife. Most men do, and I have preferred you. Would you insult me? Your hostess? No, no, he groaned. You are a beautiful woman. I wish with all my heart that I could, but I cannot. My wife she is not as understanding as women like you. I am not good at keeping such secrets. We both believe in fidelity. She especially. I must stay faithful. She will flay you? To the bone. Ah, a jealous one. I understand. Petra left him. As she went out of the compartment, she asked, How do you help one spurned in love, in your land? We comfort them with apples. She frowned and he realised she had got the wrong image. Its just a saying. We make an alcoholic beverage from the juice of apples. We get them drunk. Ah! She understood. Shortly after she had gone, another naked form crept into his bed. Soldier groaned. Please, who is it this time? Why me, said the surprised voice of Yun. Who was it last time? Soldier was bolt upright again. What are you doing in my bed? Yun stroked Soldiers cheek. Why, isnt that obvious? he asked, smiling. Please go, now. You insult me. Im sorry. In some quarters it is death to insult a man. Im very sorry. Im married. So am I. But - I dont like men - not in that way. Yun clucked and shook his head gravely. Yes, I had heard there were such people, out in the civilised world. How bizarre. Well, I shall go to your friend. Hes not so handsome, but perhaps hes not so picky. No no, cried Soldier, alarmed. He was not so sure that husband and wife actually knew of each others infidelities, despite what Petra had said. Why dont you stay with me for a while. Ah, thats better. I mean, just to talk. Talk? We talked during tea. We talked about everything that I know there is to talk about. What else is there to say? Well, we didnt touch on philosophy. Bugger philosophy. You wont stay then? Soldier felt he had done all he could to prevent a scene. You might like to discuss the angel Ithuriels Spear, the slightest touch of which exposes deceit. I think my wife has it locked in a closet somewhere and while Im asleep she uses it on me ... Yun yawned. Good night. He left. Soldier listened for a while. There was no following ruckus. Finally, he dropped off to sleep again, while the camels snuffled and snorted just on the other side of the tent wall. Ixonnoxl left his mother and went out into the desert alone. Wary of eagles and hawks, who might have been sent to spy on him, the boy wizard climbed a mountain and sat on a high ledge for seven hours. In those hours he contemplated the vast spaces within his mind, travelled through them, gathered strength from his own self. He garnered knowledge left him by his ancestors, wizards from different times, different worlds. He entered into the world of animals and selected the wiles and cunning of certain beasts, the trickery of man, the sureness of women, the vision of birds, the many and varied talents of snakes and lizards who were closer to the earth than any other creature. He sought the secrecy of the stones, as he would look for the understanding of wood, the lightness of fire, the power of water, the cryptic nature of air. He became closer to the nature of the mountain on which he was sitting, in an effort to discover the psyche of earth. After seven hours he descended from the clouds. Back at sea level, Ixonnoxl went up to a boulder and without fear he plunged his fist into the centre of the large block of granite. It entered smoothly. He held it there for a few moments, then pulled it out as one might withdraw a sword from a pumpkin. It came as easily as if it had been buried in soft mud. Now he was master of the rocks of the earth. He had control over them. Tomorrow he would climb a great oak and seek to understand it through its leaves, its great trunk, its networks of roots. Gradually, slowly, all things would reveal themselves to him, if he should be graced with enough time to avoid a confrontation with the enemy, his sire, his father, rogue wizard and destroyer of Good. Soldier woke to see a faery lift the edge of the tent, enter, and steal a drink from a bowl of milk standing by the centre pole. Hello, Soldier said, to the squat figure. The spriggan started, stared, and then grinned a grin with a mouth encircled by milk, the white froth clinging to his whiskers. Werent you at the wizards funeral? I was indeed I witnessed you stealing a moon-apple. Ah well, replied the goblin, you know us faery folk, always stealing something or other. Wont that milk go off now? The goblin looked down into the bowl in his hands, knowing it would, simply because one of his kind had drunk from it. Yes, its turning. Might as well finish it off then. The goblin looked up again and smiled. Might as well. He drank the bowl dry and put it down by the pole. Night then. Night. The goblin made his exit.

Chapter Seventeen

The last of the Drummonds was knighted by the king for his services in the war against the invader. He had been granted land rights all along the border and now commanded a sizeable army of villeins and vassals. Now that he was a powerful man, having the kings ear between his thumb and forefinger, other lesser knights came to his side. Some came because they thought they could further their ambitions. Others because they had nowhere else to go to. But the vast majority came because they knew of the knight Drummonds enmity towards the knight Valechor, and they too had scores to settle with this man, who was also powerful and commanded many other knights. The king did not intervene in such squabbles. If one knight killed another, so be it, as long as the laws of chivalry were not blatantly broken, as long as the fight was moral and just. Men will hate men. Knights will find other knights who drive them to kill through ambition, jdalousy, envy or revenge. All these were good reasons for one knight to destroy another. The kings family motto Lave Well, Hate Well, Serve God, Fear no Man was universal throughout the land. Thus, all along the border, the families and clans knew that Drummond was back with vengeance in his heart. Valechor had slaughtered his family, a massacre out near Madmans Stones on the Black Moor, where Drummond blood had all but a drop drained into the peat ditches. This, for the murder of a bride, who had been herself a Drummond and had fled the clan to wed a hated enemy. Slain in her marriage dress of white. Left to stain the snows of the wood, her halo of flowers clutched in her pale fingers like a ring of hope, her eyes wide and wondering, the love in them faded to a dead rabbits stare. And this was the cousin! This surviving Drummond. This was the man who had led her into the woods, promising to take her to her lover and husband-to-be, the knight Valechor. Instead, leading her to her brothers, who waited with drawn swords, and slew their only sister for a traitor. They who had merely pulled each others hair in the nursery when they were angry with their sibling now had murderous weapons to hand, and the unspeakable was done before it could be prevented. Afterwards the blame was cast. Not the bride, nor the brothers and cousins who took her life, but the man who had bewitched a maiden with his beguiling talk of love. Valechor. Border-bastard. Land-stealer. Church-burner. Or if not him, his father. Or if not his father, his grandfather. All alike, that family. Drummonds had suffered over the centuries. It was true that in return they had fired stacks and barns, killed the odd villein, stolen horses and cattle, but all the border clans did that. It was a way of life, a way of death. But to draw a maiden forth, take her from her family not by force, but with silken words and reins of gold. Who could stomach that? Not a Drummond, that was sure. Drummonds looked to their own. But now now a Drummond held hands with the king as he walked through his palace gardens. Now a Drummond laughed at bad royal jokes and received the monarchs rough kiss on his cheek (and felt the queens bejewelled toes wriggle between his thighs under the banqueting table). Now a Drummond slept with fine foreign ladies, the captive wives of barons and earls, instead of greasy kitchen wenches. Now a Drummond could take a fine beautiful princess for a bride, wed her, bed her, take her for his own. Drummonds had risen in the world. This Drummond, recently a knight, could command men not necessarily of his own family. Now a Drummond could lay in wait for a Valechor, in a wood, and fall on him with sword and fire, and not be charged by the law or rebuked by a higher authority. Now, now, now God and the angels stood legitimately witha Drummond. Stand on the oak boughs, ordered the knight Drummond, they will be through here in an hour or less. Fall on them from the trees. Give them no chance to escape. No quarter. No mercy. In an aside to his best knight, He had me whipped once, flayed in the market-place, now I shall tear the skin from his back and use it for my war banner. Thus it was done. Valechor, weary with a recent battle against coastal raiders, trudged with his knights and attendants along the narrow path through the wood. Screaming creatures fell out of the trees, dropping on those below. There was great confusion. Blood flowed, limbs were severed, screams of another kind rent the air. Valechor fought with fury, not knowing the name of his enemy or why he had been attacked in his homeland. He fought until all his knights lay dead around him and there was nothing to stay for. Still on his black steed, his foes having been unable to unhorse him, he rode back along the darkening track, towards a town which bore his name. Drummond was incensed. He kicked at the bodies on the ground. These are not the corpses I wanted to see. These were merely in the way of the one I wanted. Now he has slipped out of my grasp. The next time it must be a full battle, armies on both side, and an agreement that no man leaves the field until either a Valechor or a Drummond holds the heart of the other in his fist. So it was stated, so it was agreed. Drummond then saw to his own dead, and found to his utter horror and dismay his new bride, lying with the other corpses. A fiery warrior-princess, she had secretly donned armour to assist her husband in the destruction of his mortal enemy. A dagger, with Valechors own crest on the pommel, protruded from the eye-slit in her visor. Valechors terrible crimes against the Drummonds had increased by one. He had slain Drummonds bride. Drummond fell to the earth, his face in his hands, weeping for the loss of one he had truly loved. That dark-haired, dark-eyed girl from foreign shores had been snatched from him by that bastard son of a bastard father, Valechor.