A Triumph of Souls (44 page)

“Oh my delight,” one uncle declared upon looking at her, “you do look like you’ve had a time of it!”

“I am not the same person I was when I was taken from here, Bennrik,” she replied stiffly. “Things changed, and I changed
with them.”

“But you are home, back in the bosom of your family and your people, and that is all that matters.” Duke Lewyth rose from
his modest seat of power to gesture grandly at the outlandish quartet of foreigners who stood together and formed an exotic
island in the midst of the rejoicing throng of aristocrats and courtiers. “And for that we have these stalwart, brave strangers
to thank!” Smiling graciously, he nodded at Ehomba.

“Have you anything to say to the people of Laconda on this joyous occasion, sir? Any words you might care to speak will be
received with gratitude and appreciation.”

It was Simna who spoke up, raising his voice above the general clamor. “You have to understand, noble sir, that my friend
here is no orator. It is more in his nature to…” He halted as, to his considerable surprise, Ehomba not only stepped forward
but mounted the royal dais to stand opposite
the Duke and next to the Visioness Themaryl. He did not bother to raise his hand to quiet the crowd, but instead simply began
speaking in his usual calm, measured tone.

“I vowed to the dying Tarin Beckwith of Laconda North to return this woman to her home and family. This I have done.” As he
spoke, he ignored the Visioness’s sullen, unyielding scowl. “My obligation to him is at last fulfilled.” Turning to her he
asked simply, directly, and utterly unexpectedly, “Now that I am free of any responsibility in this matter, I would like to
know what it is that
you
want.”

She gaped at him. For an instant she thought that the tall, singular southerner was taunting her, making fun of her condition.
But in spite of herself she had come in the course of the long journey back to Laconda to know him at least as well as any
of his odd clutch of companions. In all that time, she had never seen him taunt, or ridicule, or mock anyone. Was it possible
that the query was an honest one?

She did not have to meditate on a reply. Nor did she hesitate. “I want to go back to Ehl-Larimar.”

Ehomba nodded. Below, surrounded by celebrating, unwitting Lacondans, a dreadful realization was dawning on a profoundly confounded
Simna ibn Sind. Hand on sword hilt, he began backing toward the nearest door.

To say that Themaryl’s family was not pleased by her pronouncement was to understate the matter rather severely. Their vociferous
objections to her announced departure manifested themselves in the form of clutching hands and the subsequent arrival of alarmed
troops. Bearing in mind that these were her own people, Ehomba and his friends perpetrated as little violence as possible
in the
course of fleeing from her homeland. Despite the destruction of the sky-metal sword, the herdsman still had its oceanic counterpart
and his walking spear to scatter the hostile. Where those uncommon weapons proved inappropriate to the task, he commanded
the contents of his seemingly bottomless backpack.

The
Grömsketter
was unavailable to take them back, having embarked on an expedition up the Eynharrowk from Hamacassar, but they eventually
managed to make contact with the crew of the legendary oceangoing three-master
Warebeth
. News and stories travel fast on a river, and her captain had heard of the exploits of Ehomba and his companions. For a few
of the remaining pebbles in the herdsman’s possession, he agreed to carry them westward back across the Semordria, a body
of water with which Simna, at least, was becoming all too familiar.

The pall that had hung over the fortress of Ehl-Larimar’s supreme ruler vanished at the announcement of her return. A downcast,
disbelieving Hymneth greeted them in his private quarters. Unarmored, trembling so violently he could hardly rise, he embraced
the woman he had never expected to see again. Smiling reassuringly, she rested her head against his and gently stroked the
side of his misshapen, elongated face.

In the course of his difficult and less than exemplary life there had been much that had intrigued Hymneth the Possessed,
and even more that had infuriated him, but he had rarely, if ever, been as bewildered as he was now.

“You brought her back. You crossed half a world to take her away from me, and then you brought her back.” From beneath inhuman,
bony ridges he stared at Ehomba, his confusion palpable.
“Why?”

“I fulfilled my obligation to a dying man. Once I had done that, I was free.” The herdsman nodded at Themaryl. “She has a
good heart, and became less overbearing during the course of our return to her homeland. Though under no formal obligation,
I felt obliged by circumstance to grant her one request. That request was to return here.”

Hymneth pulled slightly away from his restored consort. “This will not change me, you know. I am still Hymneth the Possessed,
lord of the central coast and of all Ehl-Larimar. Supreme ruler of this part of the world.”

“I know.” Ehomba smiled enigmatically. “I can only hope that you will now do a better job of it.”

With that, Etjole Ehomba and his friends departed that naturally blessed but ill-governed province and once more made the
difficult trek back to Doroune and the eastern coast. There they waited until they made contact with an especially bold captain
and crew who agreed to attempt a crossing of the Semordria to the southeast, in hopes of landing their well-paying passengers
not in the delta of the Eynharrowk, but somewhere nearer a certain small southern coastal village.

When Hunkapa Aub announced that he was remaining behind, regretful farewells were exchanged. While Simna delivered himself
of effusive praise and a few obligatory coarse jokes, and the black litah growled diffidently and offered up a sociable paw,
no words were exchanged between the shaggy sorcerer and his dark, lean counterpart. Simna knew that much passed between them,
even if only by glance and gesture, that he was not a party to. Nor, frankly, did he want to be. As for himself, he chose
to remain with Ehomba, reminding him yet again of his
promise to reward a certain itinerant herdsman with wealth and fortune.

And so it was that after adventures too many and tortuous to mention, the three remaining travelers found themselves put ashore
at the trading town of Askaskos, from which it was but a moderate and easy journey north to the last, small village on the
southern coast. To Ehomba, the look on the face of his wife as he appeared outside their house was worth more than all the
knowledge he had accumulated in the course of his travels, and all the riches he might have claimed. His children, grown since
last he’d seen them, clustered close, Nelecha gripping his waist so tightly that it impacted his breathing.

Mirhanja and the other villagers extended a ready and grateful country welcome to the comrades of their wandering son. There
followed several days of celebration and feasting, during which Simna ibn Sind in particular proved highly voluble on the
subject of their many extraordinary exploits.

It was during one such evening feast, while Simna grandiosely held forth on the difficulties of crossing the wide and perilous
Semordria, that Ehomba confronted the black litah. Belly full, half asleep, the big cat ignored the attentions of the young
children who giggled into his mane and toyed with his tufted tail.

“What will you do now?” Ehomba asked him. “Compared to the distances we have covered together, it is not so very far to the
veldt where first we met.”

“Not so very far, no,” Ahlitah responded. “But far enough. Haven’t thought much about it. I have trouble thinking when my
stomach is full.”

Nodding, the herdsman sat down beside the noble head.
“The domesticated herds of the Naumkib are extensive and require constant vigilance. This is because the hills where they
graze are full of predators. One such as yourself would be a welcome ally to those who must spend long hours watching over
them.”

The litah considered. “You saved my life, but I no longer owe you. The debt is repaid in full.”

“More than in full,” Ehomba admitted readily. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of happy feasting and
tolerating the children’s antics, until the litah spoke again.

“Among these predators that trouble you, are there cats? Cats like me?”

Ehomba’s expression was grave. “Too many to count. Lionesses and she-cheetahs, leopards sleek of flank and smilodons long
of tooth.”

“It is a long way to the veldt.” Ahlitah growled uncertainly. “You would trust me to guard your flocks and not devour them?”

His chin resting on folded hands as he watched the nearby celebration, the herdsman shrugged. “I have trusted you with more
than a cow these past many months. Besides, those who stand watch over the herds also share in their bounty.”

“And I would still be free to leave at any time, to run when the need overcame me?”

Ehomba glanced over at his massive, clawed companion. They had been through much together. “I would not ask of another that
which I could never ask of myself.”

The litah snorted. It was his way of saying little while saying much.
There came a morning when Simna ibn Sind confronted the other companion of his journeys well to the north of the last house.
While admiring the supple play of cloth against the bodies of the young women who came to draw water for the day’s activities,
the swordsman hesitated at first to speak his mind.

* * *

“Come, my friend,” Ehomba told him. “Something is troubling you.”

“Hoy, I don’t want to insult you, bruther, or the hospitality of your friends, which has been all that a man could ask for.”

“And yet you are not content,” Ehomba observed sagely.

“It’s not that the food isn’t good, or the accommodations unsuitable.” The swordsman struggled to find the right words, then
finally decided to plunge ahead. “It’s just that I’ve spent my life trying to avoid places like this, Etjole.” He made a sweeping
gesture. “Maybe this is enough to satisfy a cat, but I don’t belong here.” He took a deep breath. “Also, there’s the little
matter of some treasure you’ve kept promising me. I knew when I first met you that you had access to some. I thought you were
searching for it yourself. Then I believed you when you told me that it could be found in Ehl-Larimar. The only reason I’m
here now is because I’ve kept on believing you.” His tone and expression hardened.

“I’ve put myself in death’s way for you more times than I care to count, bruther. Now I expect some reward.”

Ehomba gestured at the sharp-edged mountains, the quiet village, the pristine air and peaceful surroundings. “Is this not
reward enough for you? Were not the adventures we had treasure enough?”

The swordsman did not reply directly, but instead
grinned while briskly rubbing the thumb and forefinger of his right hand against one another. Ehomba sighed. “There is no
treasure here, Simna.” He squinted up at the cloudless, impossibly blue sky. “Would you not like to go for a walk on the beach
instead?”

“Listen to me, Etjole! You promised me that—“ The shorter man halted his nascent tirade. A wide, sly grin spread across his
weatherbeaten, sun-scoured face. “A walk on the beach? By Goulouris, long bruther, I’d be happy to take a walk on the beach.
I’d nearly forgotten about the beauty of the beaches above your village.”

There were children playing at the water’s edge when they arrived. Ehomba’s daughter was among them, and he tried his best
to explain to her the reason behind the comical antics of the funny man from the far north who threw himself on the shore
and rolled about wildly, laughing at the top of his lungs while throwing fistfuls of pebbles up in the air and letting them
land on his face and body. Eventually, the teary-eyed swordsman rose and began to gather some of those pebbles. Laughing Naumkib
children helped him, delighting in his joy and praise when they handed him a particularly large or bright pebble.

Simna ibn Sind spent a pleasant and gratifying morning at the seashore, collecting pebbles until his backpack was half full.

“I’m not a greedy man,” he told Ehomba when he was sated. He hefted his pack higher on his shoulders, and the weight of diamonds
within clinked as they shifted and settled. “This little is enough for me. I’m going to go home and buy myself a small kingdom.”

Ehomba regarded his friend gravely. “Are you sure that is what you really want, Simna? To own a small kingdom?”

The swordsman hesitated, his smile fading. For a long moment he stood there, listening to the waves roll in to rustle the
beach of diamonds, to the music of children playing, the chatter of merapes on the rocks offshore and the cries of seabirds
and dragonets. Then he looked up at his tall friend and grinned anew.

“No, long bruther, I’m not sure that’s what I want—but I am going to give it a try.”

Ehomba nodded sadly. “Come into the village with me and we will arrange for the supplies you will need. I can give you some
directions, and an introduction to a certain helpful monkey you may meet.”

Simna left the following morning, the herdsman escorting him as far as the fifth beach north of the village, where the fog
began.

“If you’re ever in the far northeast,” the swordsman told his friend, “seek out the khanate of Mizar-lohne. That’s my homeland,
and I’ll settle myself somewhere nearby.” He grinned one more time. “There are always kingdoms for sale thereabouts.” He sighed
ruefully. “Who knows? Perhaps I might make another journey to find Damurasese.”

“You have been a good friend, Simna ibn Sind, and a boon companion.” One last time, Ehomba put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Travel well, keep alert, and watch where you put your feet. Keep looking, keep searching, and perhaps one day, with luck,
fortune might smile upon you and you might find Damura-sese.”

The swordsman nodded, started to turn to go, and then paused. The sun was not yet high and it fell in his eyes, making him
squint. “One last thing, Etjole. One thing I
must ask.” He moved closer so he would not have to squint as hard. “Are you, or are you not, a sorcerer?”