Wizard's Funeral (5 page)

mistake. Im with you. Good. I want riders - fast riders. All natural left-handers. Oh, and a dozen archers. Those who can get thirty arrows in the air in a minute or under. And ten warriors from that region of Carthaga Whats it called? Jundra? - those ambidextrous fighters, that go into battle with two swords, one in each hand, and use them like shears. Velion nodded. Right. Now, these left-handers . . . ? Soldier, explained what he wanted them for. She nodded, You never cease to amaze me with your ideas, she said. They called up the troops and went along the line with a sergeant-at-arms. Soldier paired them off with each other and told them to practice their sword-work on each other. He knew what he was looking for: a slight awkwardness in the use of arms. When he saw it he called the man or woman forth and asked one question. Are you naturally left-handed? If the answer was yes, which invariably it was, he sent that warrior aside, to Lieutenant Velion. Soldier knew that in most - if not all armies, left-handers are taught to fight right-handed. For a soldier to fight successfully in formation a spear and sword needed to be worn and used on one side only, otherwise a warrior would tangle with his neighbour. However, if the whole contingent was left-handed, there was no reason why that group should not favour their left side for weaponry. When they had enough warriors, Soldier told Velion to get them accustomed to using their weapons left-handed. Where are you going? she asked. To see my wife, Soldier said. Layana, back in the Green Tower, heard Soldier ask Ofao quietly if his mistress was at home. He actually wanted to know if she was in her right mind. My mistress is well, master, came back Ofaos voice. She awaits you in the White Room. A moment later Soldiers form was in the doorway, tall, lean, with tangled dark hair hanging to his shoulders. My husband! she said, throwing herself into his arms. He kissed her face a hundred times without stopping for breath. Then he hugged her so close it took the breath from her lungs. Oh - oh - I dont know what I would have done if you were ill, he murmured into her ear. I need you so much at the moment. Just at the moment? she teased. For ever and aye, he said, pushing her back so that he could see her more clearly. Your hair smells so - what is it? Rosemary? Jasmine? She laughed. You never were very good with your scents and perfumes. Its musk oil. Of course it is. How are you? You look fine. How beautiful you look these days. Has Kaff been sniffing around here? I ought to kill the dog. Did you send him away? No, hes very good company for me. I know you hate him, but he never tries anything, you know, and I find his conversation interesting and informative . . . Soldier raised his eyebrows. You do? I know a different Kaff. The same. You just dont get the best out of him. You two do nothing but posture like fighting cocks and threaten each other. How can you see what is best in you both? He hates you too, of course, for which I censure him, for you are my beloved husband, and no man who draws a breath do I love more dearly, more devotedly, more passionately. He hugged her again. Oh, how Ive missed you. Show me then, she said, loosening her belt. When they had finished making love, Ofao was summoned with some smoky tea, which they drank slowly. Soldier was lying on the couch with Layana nestled against him. Ive lost the King Magus. I have to get him back. I heard, she said, tensing against the silken pillow. It will be very dangerous. Please take care and return to me. I I wish I could come with you, but . . . But her madness would not allow it. I know. I know. Even if I manage the expedition successfully, the queen has ordered Ordeal by Fire. Now Layana sat bolt upright. What? My punishment for losing the boy. Its only fair. Its monstrous! My husband? Ordeal by Fire? I shall speak to my sister. I shall demand ... Nothing, he interrupted her, soothingly. I have to do this. Thats ridiculous. How how will you do it? Grasp a red-hot iron. I could choose to walk on coals, but my eyes water whenever I think of it. My soles are so tender. I must have been a prince in my former life. Anything less than soft wool against them makes me grit my teeth. I shall grasp the poker with both hands, hold it for the requisite minute, then you shall apply the balm to my poor blistered skin and cool it with your tears. I shall not weep for you, Layana said, firmly. Im not that kind of woman and you know it, but I shall be very angry with my sister. Oh, my dear, it will put your hands out of action for such a long time afterwards. Men who hate you will challenge you to duels, and I know you you wont be able to refuse them. He snorted. Wont I? Just watch me. Do you take me for a fool? When Im better, though, his eyes narrowed, then I shall go and challenge them, and see whos the coward and who isnt. He stroked her hair while they both stared out of the window, at the going down of the sun in a crimson foam.

Chapter Five

Happily for Soldier, Layana stayed well until it was time for him to leave. Velion came for the captain at dawn, leading the left-handed Carthagans. Layana whispered in the lieutenants ear, Look after my man for me you know what hes like impulsive, rash even at times, when it comes to his own safety. Actually, replied Velion, in the same low tones, hes surprising. His actions may seem spontaneous to the rest of us, but he thinks very quickly. But I shall watch his back for you. Hes my good friend. I would do so anyway. Thank you. The raven came back from a long flight and learned that Soldier was leading the expedition. What are you thinking of? cried the raven, landing on the rump of Soldiers mount. Are you mad? The Hannacks are invincible in their own country. Youll be cut to pieces. I made a mistake. I have to correct that. I thought - listen - surely the queen was angry with you? Did she not put you aside in favour of Kaff? It doesnt make sense. Surely Kaff persuaded her that you were unfit for command? Didnt he put himself forward as the best commander of such a mission? The raven seemed amazed that the queen had retained Soldier. I know you dont think a lot of my prowess, raven, but there are others who do the queen is among them, thank the gods. Dont thank the gods yet, cried the raven, flying away. Youll be able to do it in person soon, once the Hannacks kill you. Captain Kaff was at the gates with his contingent of the Imperial Guard. In his right wrist-socket was the claw of an eagle. Its tendons and sinews had been fused to his own, by a physician-magician, and so strongly was it now his own that he could wield a weapon: a dagger or a short sword. The talons were huge and vicious-looking, a weapon in themselves. Riding alongside Soldier, the Captain of the Imperial Guard confessed, I almost think you did me a favour when you cut off my hand - this claw is far superior. Im glad for you, said Soldier, but you cant expect me to believe you hold no grudge against me. Ah, as to that, there is more than one score to settle. I thought as much. However, you will remember I am in command here. I will ask advice but will make my own decisions. I do not believe in committees. My word is law. Any refusal will be regarded as mutiny and the culprit will be hanged on the spot, private soldier or captain. Am I understood? Perfectly, replied Kaff, with composure, I would expect and demand the same, were I in command. Soldier nodded curtly. Thank the gods you are a military man and not a wet fish like that Humbold. I am sure if he were you we should be struggling all the way, with revenge as the only motive. Instead, we stand some chance of success on this mission. I thank you for that, at least. On the third day out they camped at noon just below a ridge. Soldier went up to the spine to view the country ahead and to meditate. His thoughts were on his eternal problem first: who was he and why was he in a strange land? He knew - or had the feeling that there was at least one other from his home world also here. Perhaps there were more? Was that person also ignorant of their identity, as Soldier was? Had they also forgotten their origins? Was there a purpose to the two of them being here? Were they seeking each other out, or avoiding one another? So many questions, and very few answers. Soldier was trying to make himself believe he did not care about his origins or his identity. He had made himself a life on this earth, and if there was another one, why, it could stew in its own juices. But such resolutions only worked part of the time. He was ashamed of the fact that he sometimes lied to Layana. His proclamation was that she was the only woman he loved: had ever loved. It was true that Soldier loved his wife with all his heart, but that other person, the one from the world he could not remember, had loved someone too. She, this unknown woman, was lodged in a remote corner of his being, still a powerful presence. There was only a hazy image which accompanied this feeling: auburn hair sweeping away from a flawlessly pale brow; a slim figure striding along the banks of a burn; hazel-green eyes that bore into his own. But there were mists and shimmering waves of light that distorted these images, took them away from him just as he was on the point of recognising them. And there was still more unidentified hate in his heart than was good for one man. Soldier had brought this hate, this rage, this bitterness with him from that other place. Sometimes it flowered, blood-red, when he was at his most passionate, in bed, in battle. Those who had seen him slaughter the Dog-man, Vau, knew of this vehemence, and were wary of it, not wishing to witness its blooming again. Some terrible wrong had been perpetrated on Soldier, in that other world, and there were those in this world who were paying for it. They were not innocent victims, but they were not guilty of the crime for which they were being punished. At such times Soldiers brain exploded into a red cloud of revenge, and when he came out of it he hardly remembered his own actions. Why cant I just be satisfied with this life, he muttered to himself, grabbing a handful of soil and throwing it into the wind. I have a wife, a position, respect all from nothing. I came here in rags and dented armour and now I am a captain, the husband of a princess, and famous throughout the region for my deeds. Im the mother of a dragon, the adopted father of a wizard the next King Magus no less and most men envy me. Why cant I just be happy with that, and let all those other thoughts go? They may be false anyway. Perhaps I was born here, some quirk of nature with blue eyes. He could not convince himself either way, and so knew he was bound to continue in that same tense netherworld which he alone occupied. Soldier tried to relax. He looked down on the scene below. It was a surprisingly fertile valley, extending into a plain, which lay beneath the far side of the escarpment. Not far away was a farmhouse. The farmer, a big man in the near distance, was at his plough. Two great farm horses followed his commands, as he turned a straight furrow. A thick, worn leather strap went over the right shoulder of the farmer and down under his left armpit, connecting him to his plough. In his left hand were the reins, in his right the plough handle. Soldier was impressed by the mans demeanour - his carriage and motion - and went down to speak. In some way he envied the man his peaceful occupation. Sir, he said, you handle that implement with great skill. The farmer paused in his work. Clearly Soldier had broken into some sort of reverie. The farmer had been rapt in thought in his peaceful world on the frontiers of nature, where mans carving of the worlds surface met the rawness of the wilderness. He lifted his hat and wiped his brow. Thank you, he said. I have been at it from a boy. It would be more surprising if I lacked the talent. The rich, brown furrows of the ploughed fields stretched out ahead of the two men as they both contemplated the work. The earth had been neatly combed. One or two white chalk rocks stood blindingly in the sunlight. A few scattered flints lay over all, glinting where the nodule had been broken to expose the shining blackness. Birds were flocking in: gulls and rooks, mostly, looking for the food turned over by the ploughshare. In the far distance a fox was slinking around the edge, working his way towards a ditch down which he eventually glided like a red phantom, disappearing from sight once again. You seemed lost in thought, said Soldier, when I came upon you? I am a religious man, replied the farmer, quietly. That is, I do not pray to the gods overmuch, but I listen to the voice of the natural world around me. I have my ear to the beating of its heart. I feel the spirit of the land mingling with my own spirit. Its a good feeling. I can acknowledge that it would be hard to be here in these tranquil surroundings and not be a philosopher of some kind. What do you think of war and warriors? You see me? I am a commander. I take lives into battle and return sometimes empty-handed. Do you despise such men and women as me, who seek glory, rather than listening to the song of the earth? The farmer thought hard about this for a few moments. I dont despise you, for I dont know you, or what drives you to seek this glory. I can only say I have no interest in such things. It depends on which inner voice youve been taught to listen to. In all of us there is the voice which tells us to be satisfied with the world as it is, to borrow it for a time to grow our food. There is another voice which tells us to go adventuring, seek beyond the horizons, change the world, try to OUT! it. If you follow the second voice you will no doubt run into conflict. I am on my way to kill men, or be killed, said Soldier. I saw you and envied you. I am jealous of the way in which you meld with the landscape, while I stand out like an awkward projection in my body armour and bristling with weapons. I wished I could be you, I envy you for the things you will see, replied the big farmer, and your experiences in new countries, in new climes, but you have a huge price to pay for those amazing encounters. I could not soak my soul in the blood of others to reach such things, however marvellous they be. The farmer took a skin of water from his plough handle and offered it to Soldier. Both men drank deeply. The farmer wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before he made a confession. Once upon a time, he said, I thought I could change the world. I sought to control things around me too. Listen: I was a young man, wandering the seashore, when I heard the waves moving the pebbles on the beach hundreds and thousands of them each with their own note, striking others with different notes, being of a variety of sizes and types of stone. I thought to myself, Here is the chance to create a wonderful symphony of nature. I went to work. I spent a whole year arranging the pebbles behind a wall of sand, into types and size so that they would give out their notes in some sort of musical order. I wished to create a recognisable melody from their shuffling, a song or a tune which would impress other men with the music of sea and stone. Here the farmer sighed and looked to the horizon. Of course, I did not reckon with the wildness of my player. I had the instrument, all set up, ready to make the right sounds in the right places, but the ocean would not obey me. When I removed the barrier the waves came in at different heights, different strengths, and even changed their direction by the day, the hour, the minute. What resulted was the usual natural cacophony produced by the elements. Soldier was sympathetic. Im sorry for that. I admire the power of your ideas, even if the execution proved impossible. But I did not learn! cried the farmer, throwing his arms into the air. I did the same thing again. I heard the dawn chorus one morning. How beautiful, I thought, but how much better it could be. This time I believed I could control things, since I was dealing with live creatures, and not the random effects created by storms and calms, the unpredictability of the weather. I chose to organise the birds into separate groups, tried to teach them proper melodies - the song thrushes here, the warblers there, the deep-throated geese and others behind but alas, they grew bored, and after a very short time returned to the freeness of nature. They needed that to find their own flow, the joy, the individual creativity. Since then I have never interfered with the tunes of-the earth. Would I make the wind sing to my lesser compositions? No, I am happy to accept what the world has to offer, take its largesse with thanks, and remain under its direction. The two men shook hands and Soldier went back to the ridge. When he looked down again, from its crest, the farmer was back at his plough. Soldier thought, How could such a man fail to be a poet, even if he never wrote a word on paper? A man who caressed the body of the world? A man locked to the earth as tight as any tree? The march continued towards Da-tichett, the home of the Hannacks. Da-tichett was separated from Falyum and Guthrum by two thick ranges of mountains, one a spur of the other. There were hidden passes to find and high saddles to cross. Guthrum had never ruled Da-tichett for very long. There had been periods in history when the Guthrum Empire had included the home of the Hannacks, but it was too remote, too wild and unruly to hold on to without a full occupying army. It could not be managed in the usual way, with governors and nominal troops, for the Hannacks were a bone-headed nation who thought with their muscles, not with their brains. They murdered each other without compunction, so there was not a lot of respect for authority, even though it was backed by the threat of force. They enjoyed force. They enjoyed pitting themselves against it - and were too unthinking to be afraid. Hannacks themselves said that if you ever found a library in Da-tichett, the last Hannack would have already died. The raven came to visit Soldier as he crossed the mountains. Theres still time to turn back. Please reconsider. Your force is too small. Youll be chewed up by the barbarians. Youre a fool, Soldier. Send Kaff in first. Let him take the brunt. Go away, muttered Soldier. Someone will hear you. Oh, I give up. The raven took to the air. The passes were not guarded. Hannacks were sure they would never be invaded again, since the last time they had been overrun they massacred the occupying garrisons to a soul, burned them and everything else the invaders had brought with them, and put the charred human remains on poles up on the summer snowlme of the mountains. These grisly objects were still on show now - charcoal figures of men and women stark against the white snow. They gaped with black mouths. They stared with black eyes. Their thin, crisp limbs snapped like twigs when touched. They moaned in the wind. Agents from a world of fire, they were silent reminders of the ghastly indifference Hannacks showed captives and their families. The troops passed them as they went up and over into a country which was mostly bare of good farmland. It was easy to see, when looking at the sparse soil cover, why the Hannacks were raiders and lived by plundering their neighbours. Soldier felt the fear drift through his column as they passed the-blackened charcoal objects that had once been arms, legs, chest cages, skulls. It was a grim sight. Hannacks were troglodytes. Their cave dwellings dotted the cliff faces which lay down below the heights. They had carved them out of sandstone and limestone. Whitewashed chimneys stuck out at all angles, from the cliff, or the plateau above. In front of the caves were the corrals where they kept their wild-looking ponies. Old fires, most of them spent, dotted the ground like