Shardik (36 page)

‘Thank you,’ replied the tall man. ‘He had some reason, no doubt? I know that you will wish to help me if you can.’

Sheldra
flung up her head like a mare troubled by the flies.

‘The enemy in Ikat - General
Erketlis
- General Ged-la-Dan wished to leave everything secure before he set out for Bekla. And now, my Lords, I must leave you - until tomorrow -‘

Almost forcing her way past them, she left
the
garden with clumsy and l
ess-than-becoming haste.

The man with the corn-sheaves tunic strolled on towards the shrubbery by the lake, looking across at the feeding cranes and toying with a silver pomander secured to his belt by a fine gold chain. He shivered in the wind and drew his cloak closer
about him, lifti
ng the hem above the damp grass with a kind o£ stylized grace almost like that of a girl on a dancing-floor. He had stopped to admire
the
mauve-stipple
d, frosty sparkle on
the
petals of an early-flowering
saldis,
when someone plucked his sleeve from behind. He looked over his shoulder. The man who had attracted his attention stood looking back at him with a grin. He had a rugged, somewhat battered appearance and the sceptical air of a man who has experienced much, gained advancement and prosperity in a hard school and come to regard both with a certain detachment.

‘Mollo
!
‘ cried the tall man, opening his arms in a gesture of welcome. ‘My dear fellow, what a pleasant surprise! I
thought
you were in Terekenalt - across the Vrako - in the clouds - anywhere but here. If I weren’t half-frozen in
this
pestilential city I’d be able to show all
the
pleasure I feel, instead of only half of it.’

Thereupon he embraced Mollo, who appeared a trifle embarrassed but took it in good part; and then, holding him by the hand at arm’s length, as though
they
were dancing some courtly measure, looked him up and down, shaking his head slowly, and continuing to speak as he had commenced, in Yeldashay, the tongue of Ikat and the south.

‘Wasting away, wasting away!
Obviously full of tribesmen’s snapped-off arrow-heads and rot-gut booze from
the
barracks of beyond. One wonders why the holes made by the former wouldn’t drain off some of the latter. But come, tell me how you happen to be here - and how’s Kabin and all the jolly water-boys?’

‘I’m the governor of Kabin now,’ replied Mollo with a grin, ‘so the place has come down in the world.’

‘My dear fellow, I congratulate you! So the water-rats have engaged
the
services of a wolf? Very prudent, very prudent.’ He half-sang a couple of lines.

A jolly old cattl
e-thief said to his wife,

(San, tan, tennerferee)

‘I mean to live easy the rest of my life -‘

‘That’s it,’ said Mollo with a grin. ‘After
that
little
business of the Slave Wars we got mixed up in -‘ ‘ When you saved my life -‘

‘When I saved your life (God help me, I must have been out of my mind), I couldn’t stay in Kabin. What was there for me? My father sand-blind in the chimney corner and my elder brother taking damned good care
that
neither Shrain nor I got anything out of the estate. Shrain raised forty men and joined the Beklan army, but I didn’t fancy that and I decided to go further. Arrow-heads and rot-gut - well, you’re right, that’s about it.’ ‘Boot, brute and loot, as it were?’

‘If you can’t steal it, you’ve got to fight for it, that’s it I made myself useful. I finished up as a provincial governor to the king of Deelguy - honest work for a change -‘

‘In Deelguy, Mollo? Oh, come now -‘

‘Well, fairly honest, anyway. Plenty of headaches and worries -too much responsibility -‘

‘I can vividly imagine your feelings on discovering yourself north of the Telthearna, in sole command of Fort Horrible -‘

‘It was Klamsid province, actually. Well, it’s one way of feathering your nest, if you can survive. That was where I was when I heard of Shrain’s death - he was killed by the
Ortelga
ns, five years ago now, at the
battle
of the Foothills, when Gel-Ethlin lost his army. Poor lad! Anyway, about six months back a Deelguy merchant comes up before me for a travel permit — a nasty, slimy brute by the name of Lalloc. When we’re alone, “Are you Lord Mollo,” says he, “from Kabin of the Waters?” “I’m Mollo the Governor,” says I, “and apt to come down heavy on oily flatterers.” “Why, my lord,” says he, “there’s no flattery.”’

‘Flottery, you mean.’

‘Well, flottery, then. I can’t imitate their damned talk. “I’ve come from spending the rainy season at Kabin,” he says, “and there’s news for you. Your elder brother’s dead and the property’s yours, but no one knew where to find you. You’ve three months in law to claim it” “What’s that to me?” I thought
to myself: but later I got to th
inking about it and I knew I wanted to go home. So I appointed my deputy as governor on my own authority, sent the king a message to say what I’d done - and left’

‘The inhabitants were heart-broken? The pigs wept real tears in the bedrooms?’

‘They may have - I didn’t notice. You can’t tell them from the inhabitants, anyway. It was a bad journey at that time of year. I nearly drowned, crossin
g the Telth
earna by night.’

‘It had to be by night?’

‘Well, I was in a hurry, you see.’

‘Not to be observed?’

‘Not to be observed. I went over the hills by way of Gelt - I wanted to see where Shrain died - say a few prayers for him and make an offering, you know. My God, that’s an awful place
!
I
don’t want to talk about it - the ghosts must be thicker than frogs in a
marsh. I wouldn’t be there at night for all the gold in
Bekla
. Shrain’s at peace, anyway - I did all that’s proper. Well, when I came down
the
pass to
the
plain - and I had to pay toll at the southern end, that was new - it was late afternoon already and I duiught, “I shan’t get to Kabin tonight - I’ll go to old S’marr Torruin, him
that
used to breed
the
prize bulls when my father was alive, that’s it.” When I got there - onlv myself and a couple of fellows - why, you never saw a place so much changed - servants by
the
bushel, everyth
ing made of silver, all the women in silk and jewels. S’marr was just
the
same,
though
, and he remembered me all right. When we were drinking together after dinner I said, “Bulls se
em to be paying well.” “Oh,” say
s he, “haven’t you heard? They made me governor of
the
Foothills and warden
of the Gelt pass.” “How on earth
did that come about?” I asked. “Well,” says he, “you’ve got to watch out to jump the right way in a time of trouble - it’s a case of win all or lose all. After I’d heard what happened at the battle of the Foothills, I knew these Ortelgans were bound to take
Bekla
: it stood to reason -
they
were meant t
o win. I could see
it plain, but no one else seemed able to. I went straight to their generals myself - caught ‘em up as
they
were marching south across the plain to
Bekla
- and promised them all the help I could give. You sec,
the
night before the battle
t
he best half of Ge
l-
Ethlin
‘s army had been sent to Kabin to repair
the
dam - and if
that
wasn’t the finger of God, what was? The rains had just begun, but all
the
same, those Beklans at Kabin were in
the
Ortel
gans’ rear as they marched south
. It’s not the sort of risk any general can feel happy about. I made it impossible for
them
to move - took my
fellows out and destroyed three bridges, sent false information to Kabin, intercepted their messengers—” “Lord,” says I to S’marr, “what a gamble to take on
the
Ortelga
nsI” “Not at all,” says S’marr. “I can tell when lightning’s going to st
rike, and I don’t need to know e
xa
ctly
where. I tell you, the Ortelgans were meant to win. That half-army of poor old
Gel-Ethlin
‘s simply broke up - never fought again. They marched out of Kabin in
the
rain, tur
ned back again, went on half-rati
ons -
then
there was muti
ny, wholesale desertion. By
the
time a messenger got
through
from Santil-ke-Erketlis, a mutineers’ faction was in command and thev nearly hanged the poor fellow. A lot of
that
was my doing, and didn’t I let
this
King Cre
ndik fellow know it, too? That was how
the
Ortelgans came
to make me governor of the Footh
ills and warden of
the
Gelt pass, my boy, and very lucrative it is.” All of a sudden S’marr looks up at me. “Have you come home to claim
the
family property?” he asks. “That’s it,” I said. “Well,” says he, “I never liked your bro
ther - griping, hard-fisted
curmudgeon - but you’re all right. They’re short of a governor in Kabin. There was a foreigner there until rec
ently
- name of Orc
ad, formerly in the
Bekla
n service. He understood the reservoir, you see, and that’s more than the Ortelgans do - but he’s just been murdered. Now you’re a local lad, so you won’t get murdered, and the Ortelgans like local men as long as they feel they can trust them. After what’s happened they trust me, naturally, and if I put in a word with General Zelda, you’ll probably be appointed.” Well, the long and short of it was, I agreed to make it worth S’marr’s while to speak for me, and that’s how I come to be governor of Kabin.’

‘I see
. And you commune with the reservoir from
the
profound depths of your aquati
c knowledge, do you?’

‘I’ve no idea how to look after a reservoir, but while I’m here I mean to find someone who has and take him back with me, that’s it.’

‘And is he up here now for the Council, your charming old bull-breeding chum?’

‘S’marr? Not he - he’s sent his deputy. He’s no fool.’

‘How long have you been governor of Kabin?’

‘About three days. I tell you, all this happened very rec
ently
. General Zelda was recruiti
ng in those parts, as it happened, and S’marr saw him the next day. I’d not been back home more than one night when he sent an officer to tell me I was appointed governor and order me to come to Bekla in person. So here I am,
Elleroth
, you see, and the f
irst person I run into is you!’