Shardik (27 page)

‘God be praised!’ cried
Kelderek
, clapping his hands together. ‘I knew it was His will!’

‘It was Rantzay, my lord, who brought him back,’ said
the
girl, staring up at Kelderek as
though
even now afraid. ‘We came upon him at noon, fishing in a stream. He lay down near
the
bank and we dared not approach him. But after a long time, when it seemed
that
there
was n
othing to be done, Rantzay, with
out telling us what she intended, suddenly stood up and went out into the open where Lord Shardik could sec her. She called him. My lord, as I live, she called him and he came to her! We all fled in terror, but she spoke to him in a strange and dreadful voice, rebuking him and telling him to return, for he should never have come so far, she said. And Shardik obeyed her, my lord! He passed by her, where she stood. He made his way back at her command.’

‘God’s will indeed,’ said
Kelderek
with awe, ‘and all that we have done is right. Where is Rantzay now?’

‘I do not know, my lord,’ said Zilthd, almost weeping. ‘Nito told us we were to follow Lord Shardik and that Rantzay would overtake us. But she did not, and it is many hours now since we last saw her.’

Kelderek
was about to send She
ldra up
the
valley when a challenge
and answer sounded from further along the road. After a pause they heard footsteps and Numiss appeared. He, too, was exhausted; and did not ask Kelderek for leave to sit before flinging himself to
the
ground.

‘I’ve come from beyond Gelt,’ he said. ‘We took Gelt easy - set it on fire - not much fighting but we killed the chief and after that the rest of ‘em were willing enough to do what Lord Ta-Kominion told ‘em. He talked to some of ‘cm alone and I dare say he asked them what
they
knew about Bekla - how to get there and all the rest of it. Anyway, whatever it was -‘

‘If he gave you a message, tell me
that
,’ said
Kelderek
sharply. ‘Never mind what you heard or suppose.’

‘This is the message, sir. “I expect to fight the day after tomorrow. The rains can be no later and now the hours are more precious than stars. Bring Lord Shardik no matter what the cost.” ‘

Kelderek
jumped up and began pacing to and fro beside the cage, biting his lip and smidng his clenched fist into his palm. At length, recovering himself, he told
Sheldra
to go and find Rantzay and, if Shardik had been drugged, to bring back word at once. Then, fetching some brands to start a fire, he sat down by the cage, with Numiss and the two girls, to wait for news. None spoke, but every now and again
Kelderek
would look up, frowning, to mark the slow time from the wheeling stars.

When at last Zilthe started and laid a hand on his arm, he had heard nothing. He turned to meet her eyes and she stared back at him, holding her breath, her face half fire-lit, half in shadow. He too listened, but could hear only the flames, the fitful wind and a man coughing somewhere in the camp behind them. He shook his head but she nodded sharply, stood up and motioned him to follow her along
the
road. Watched by Neelith and Numiss they set off into the darkness, but had gone only a little way when she stopped, cupped her hands and called, ‘Who’s there?’

The reply, ‘Nito!’, was faint but clear enough. A few moments later
Kelderek
caught at last the girl’s light tread and went forward to meet her. It was plain
that
in her haste and agitation she had fallen - perhaps more than once. She was begrimed, dishevelled and grazed across the knees and one forearm. Her breath came in sobs and they could see the tears on her cheeks. He called to Numiss and together they supported her as far as the fire.

The camp was astir. Somehow the men had guessed that news was at hand. Several were already waiting beside
the
cage and one spread his cloak for the girl across a pile of left-over planks, brought a pitcher and knelt down to wash her bleeding grazes. At the touch of the cold water she winced and, as
though
recalled to herself, began speaking to Kelderek.

‘Shardik is lying insensible, my lord, not a bowshot from the r
oad. He has been drugged with th
eltocarna - enough to kill a strong man. God knows when he will wake.’

‘With theltocarna?’ said Neelith, incredulously. ‘But-‘

Nito began to weep again. ‘And Rantzay is dead - dead! Have you told Lord
Kelderek
how she spoke to Shardik beside the stream?’

Zilthe nodded, staring aghast.

‘When Shardik had passed her and gone, she stood for a time stricken, it seemed, as though, like a tree, she had called lightning down to her. Then we were alone, she and I, following the others as best we might. I could tell -
I
could tell that she meant to
the
, that she was determined to die. I tried to make her rest but she refused. It is not two hours since we returned at last to the edge of the forest All the girls could see her death upon her. It was drawn about her like a cloak. None could speak to her for pity and fear. After what we had seen by the stream at noon, any one of us would have died in her place; but it was as though she we
re already drifting away, as th
ough she were on the water and we on the shore. We stood near her and she spoke to us, yet we were separated from her. She spoke and we were silent. Then, as she ordered, I gave her the box of theltocarna, and she walked up to Lord Shardik as though he were a sleeping ox. She cut him
with
a knife and mingled
the
theltocarna with his blood: and then, as he woke in anger, she stood before him yet again, with no more fear than she had shown at noon. And he clutched her, and so she died.’ The girl looked about her. ‘Where is
the
Tuginda?’

‘Get the long ropes on the cage,’ said
Kelderek
to
Baltis
, ‘and set every man to draw it. Yes, and every woman too, except for those
who carry torches. There is no ti
me to be lost. Even now we may be too late to reach Lord Ta-Kominion.’

Less than three hours later the enormous bulk of Shardik,
the
head protected by a hood made fro
m cloaks roughly stitched togeth
er, had been dragged with ropes down
the
slope and up a hastily-piled ramp of earth, stones and planks into the cage. The last bars had been hammered into place and
the
cage, hauled in front and pushed behind, was jolting and rocking slowly up
the
valley towards Gelt.

20
Gel-Ethlin

It could surely be no more than a day - two days at
the
most -thought Gel-Ethlin, to
the
breaking of the rains. For hours the thundery weather had been growing more and more oppressive, while rising gusts of warm wind set the dust swirling over the
Bekla
n plain. Santil-ke
-
Erketlis
, commander of the northern army of patrol, being taken sick with the heat, had left the column two days previously, returning to the capital by the direct road south and entrusting Gel-Ethlin, his second-in-command,
with
the task of completing the army’s march to Kabin of the Waters, down through Tonilda and dience westward to Bekla itself. This would be a straightforward business - a fortification to be repaired here, a few taxes to be collected
there
, perhaps a dispute or two to be settled and, of course, the reports to be heard of local spies and agents. None of these matters was likely to be urgent and, since the army was already a day or two behind time fo
r its return to Bekla, Santil-ke
-
Erketlis
had told Gel-Ethlin to break off as soon as the rains began in earnest and take the most direct route back from wherever he happened to find himself.

‘And high time too,’ thought
Gel-Ethlin
, standing beside his command banner with the falcon emblem, to watch the column go past. ‘They’ve marched enough. Half of them are in no sort of condition. The
sooner they get back to rain-se
ason quarters the better. If
the
stagnant water fever hit them now they’d go down in cursing rows.’

He looked northward, where the plain met
the
foothills rising to the steep, precipitous ridges above Gelt. The sky-line, dark and threatening, with cloud hiding the summits, appeared to Gel-Ethlin full of promise - the promise of early relief. With luck their business could be dec
ently
cut short in Kabin and one forced march, with
the
rains and
the
prospect of home-coming to spur
them
on, would see them safely in Bekla
within
a couple of days.

The two Beklan armies of patrol -
the
northe
rn and the southern -customarily remained in the field throughout
the
summer, when the risk was greatest of rebellion or, conceivably, of attack from a neighbouring country. Each army completed, twice,
a roughly semicircular march o
f about two hundred miles along
the
frontiers.

Sometimes detachments saw action against bandits or raiders, and occasionally
the
force might be ordered to make a punitive raid across a border, to demonstrate that Bekla had teeth and could bite. But for the most part it was routine stuff - training and manoeuvres, intelligence work, tax collection, escorting envoys or trade caravans, road and bridge mending; and most importa
nt of all, simply letting themse
lves be seen by those who feared them only less than they feared invasion and anarchy. Upon the onset of the rains, the
northern
army returned to
winter in Bekla, while the south
ern took up its quarters in Ikat Yeldashay, sixty miles to the south. The following summer the roles of
the
armies were reversed.

No doubt
the
south
ern army was already back in Ikat, thought Gel-Ethlin enviously. The southern army had
the
easier task of
the
two; their route of march was less exhausting and the dry season was less try
ing a hundred miles to the south
. Nor was it only a question of work and conditions. Although
Bekla
was, of course, a city beyond compare, he himself had found, last winter, an excellent reason - in fact, for a soldier, a most time-honoured and attractive (if somewhat expensive) reason — for preferring Ikat Yeldashay.

The Tonildan contingent, a particularly sorry-looking lot, were m
arching past now, and Gel-Ethl
in called their captain out to explain why the men looked dirty and their weapons ill-cared for. The captain began his explanation - something about having had
the
command wished on him two days ago in place of an officer orde
red to return with Santil-ke-Erke
tlis - and while he continued Gel-Ethlin, as was often his way, looked him sternly in the eye while thinking about something completely different.

At least this summer they had not had to go trapesing over
the
hills of Gelt and into the backwoods. Once, several years ago, when he was still a junior commander, he had served on an expedition to the south bank of the
Telthearna
; and a dismal, uncomfortable business it had been, camping a
mong the gloomy forests, or com
mandeering flea-ridden quarters from some half-savage tribe of islanders living like frogs in the river mists. Fortunately the practice of sending
Bekla
n troops as far as the Telthearna had almost ceased since their intelligence reports from the island - what the devil was it called? Itilga? Catalga? - had become so regular and reliable. One of
the less ape-like barons was secretl
y in the pay of Bekla and appar
ently
the High Baron himself was not averse to a little diplomatic bribery, provided a show was made of respecting his dignity and position, such as they were. During the rece
nt summer marches Santil-ke-Erke
tlis had received two r
eports from this place. The
first, duly passed on to headquarters at Bekla, had resulted in instructions being returned to the army that once again there was no need to send troops into inhospitable country so far afield. It had, in fact, contained nothing worse than news of an exceptionally widespread forest fire that had laid waste the further bank of the
Telthearna
. The second report had included some tale of a new tribal cult which it was feared might boil over into fanaticism, though the High Baron seemed confident of keeping it under control. Bekla’s reactions to the second report had not yet found
their
way back to the northern army, but anyway, thank God, it was
now too late in the season to th
ink of sending even a patrol over the hills of Gelt. The rains were coming any day - any hour.

The officer had finished speaking and was now lo
oking at him in silence. Gel-Eth
lin frowned, gave a contemptuous snort, suggesting that he had never heard such unconvincing nonsense in his life, and said he would inspect the contingent himself next morning. The officer saluted and went off to rejoin his men.