Shardik (43 page)

Nevertheless there remained, not only in Bekla itself but also in several of the towns in the western provinces, influential men who regretted the Heldril victory. It was
these
that
Kelderek
had sought out and put into local power, the bargain being that they should support the war in return for a revival of the unrestricted slave trade. This policy he defended to his own barons - some of whom could remember slave raids on the mainland country near Ortelga fifteen and twenty years before -
partly
as one of ‘needs must’ and
partly
by emphasizing that the country was not being laid open to a totally uncontrolled trade. A fixed number of dealers were granted licences each year to ‘take up* not more than their permitted quotas of women and children in particular provincial districts. Where a quota of able-bodied men was granted to any particular dealer, a
fifth had to be surrendered
to
the army. There were,
of
course,
no
troops
to
spare to see that these consents, were not abused and enforcement had to be left to the provincial governors. To all who complained of what he had done, Kelderek had one answer - ‘We will restrict the slave-trade again when the war is over, so help us
to
win it.’

‘Many of those who get taken up as slaves are local ne’er-do-wells and criminals
that
the dealers buy out of the jails,’ he had assured the barons, ‘and even of the children, many would otherwise have been neglected and ill-treated by mothers who never wanted them. A slave, on the other hand, always has a chance to prosper, with luck and ability.’ Han-Glat, an ex-slave from God-knew-where who was now in charge of
the
army’s pioneering and construction troops, gave powerful support to Kelderek, letting it be known that any slave under his command had as good a chance of promotion as a free man.

The profit from the trade was high, especially as it became known that Bekla once more had a state-protected slave-market with a wide range of goods, and agents from other countries found it worth their while to travel there, pay the market dues and spend their money. Despite his arguments in defence of what he had done - the best argument being the public accounts — Kelderek found himself keeping away not only from the market but also from the streets by which the slave-consignments commonly came and went. For this he despised himself; yet setting aside the involuntary pity which he knew to be a weakness in a ruler, he had also the uneasy feeling that there might be in his policy some flaw which he was not seeking over-hard to detect. ‘The kind of disrupting, short-sighted expedient that one might expect to occur to a common man and a barbarian,’ the former Heldril governor of Paltesh had written, in a letter resigning his appointment before deserting to Yelda. ‘Does he think I don’t know as well as he that it’s an expedient?’ Kelderek commented to Zelda. ‘We can’t afford to be benevolent and generous until we’ve captured Ikat and defeated
Erketlis
.’ Zelda had agreed, but then added, ‘And equally, of course, we can’t afford to alienate too many of our own people, even if
they
‘re not Ortelgans. Be careful it doesn’t get out of hand.’
Kelderek
felt himself like a man in dire need who takes care not to probe too closely the specious assurances of an affable money-lender. Though inexperienced as a ruler, he had never lacked common sense, and had learned early in life to distrust fair appearances and any prize that came too easily. ‘But when we have taken Ikat,’ he told himself, ‘then we’ll be able to cease these shifts and hand-to-mou
th methods. O Lord Shardik,
bring us one more victo
ry!
Then
we will put an end to the slave-trade and I will be free to seek nothing but your truth.’ Sometimes, at the thought of this great day, the tears would spring to his eyes as readily as to those of any enslaved child at the memory of home.

27
Zelda’s
Advice

Kelderek looked about him at the shadowy, cavernous hall - as grim and barbaric a temple of blood as had ever housed the trophies of a tyranny. Because of the dimness of the light from above, torches, fixed in iron brackets, burned continuall
y, and these
had discoloured
the
brickwork and the stone columns with irregular, cone-shaped streaks of black. In the still air the thick, yellow flames lolled hither and yon, sluggish as lob-worms disturbed in winter-dug earth. Now and then a spurt of resin flared sideways or a knot exploded with a crack. The smoke, eddying in the roof and mingling its pine-scent with the smell o
f the bear, seemed like the rustl
ing sound of the straw made visible. Between
the
torch-brackets, panoplies were fixed to
the
walls — short-swords and car-flapped helmets of
Bel
ishba, the round, leathe
r shields of Deelguy mercenaries and the spike-and-ball spears which Santil-ke-Erketlis had first brought north from Yelda. Here, too, was the ripped and bloody banner of
the
Chalice
of De
parioth, which Ged-la-Dan himself had taken two years before at the
battle
of Sarkid, cutting his way through the enemy’s hurdle-palisades at the head of twelve followers, not one of whom had remained unwounded at
the
fight’s end. The Canadiron of Lapan, with its serpent’s head and condor’s wings arching to stoop, stood wreathed with vine-shoots and red blossom, for it had been brought to
Bekla
as an enforced (
though
dubious) surety for the loyalty of Lapan, by hostage-priests who were permitted to continue its rites in attenuated form. Along the further wall, domed and yellow in the torchlight, were ranged the sku
lls of enemies of Shardik. Little
they
differed one from another, save in the patterns formed by the grinning teeth; though two or three were cracked like old plaster and one was faceless, mere splinters surrounding a jagged hole from forehead to jawbone. The shadows of their eye-sockets moved in
the
torchlight, but
Kelderek
had long ceased to pay any attention to these unburied remains. To him, indeed, the display was tedious — nothing more than a sop to the vanity of
subordinate commanders in the field, one or another of whom would from time to time claim that he had killed enemies of rank and hence deserved the distinction of presenting the skulls to Shardik. The girls kept
them
in trim, oiling and wiring, as once they had busied themselves with their hoes on the Ledges of Quiso. Yet for all the accumulated mementoes of this victory and that (thought Kelderek, pacing slowly down the hall and turning at the sound of a sudden, plunging movement behind the bars), the place was still what it had always been - disordered, impermanent, a repository rather than
a
shrine: perhaps because the life of the city itself had become that of
a
base behind an army, a society with few young men and too many lonely women. Had not Shardik been better served among the scarlet flowers of
the
trepsis beside the pool, and in
the
dry, twilit forest whence he himself had first stepped forward to offer him his life?

‘When a fish is caught and lies in the net,’ he thought, ‘one sees the lustre dying slowly out of its scales. And yet - how else to eat
the
fish?’

He turned once more, this time at the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor. The gong of the clock near the Peacock Gate had not long struck the tenth hour and he had not expected Gcd-
la-Dan’s arrival so soon. Zilthe
, older now, but still trim, quick and light-stepping, came into the hall, raising her palm to her forehead with the smile of
a
friend. Of all the girls who had come from Quiso or had since entered
the service of Shardik, Zilthe
alone possessed both grace and a light heart, and Kelderek’s sombre mood softened as he returned her smile.

‘Has Lord Ged-la-Dan come so soon?’

‘No, my lord,’ replied the girl. ‘It is General Zelda who wishes to see you. He says that he hopes the time is convenient, for he needs to speak with you soon. He did not say so, my lord, but I believe that he wants to see you before General Ged-la-Dan arrives.’

‘I will go out to him, said Kelderek. ‘Watch by Lord Shardik -
you or anoth
er. He must not be left alone.’

‘I will feed him, my lord — it is time.’

‘Then put the food in the Rock Pit If he will go out there for
a
while, so much the better.’

Zelda was waiting on the sun-terrace that ran along the south side of the hall, his dark-red cloak drawn close against the chilly breeze.
Kelderek
joined him and together they walked across the gardens and on into the fields lying between the Barb and the Leopard HilL

‘You have been watching with Lord Shardik?’ asked Zelda.

‘For several hours. H
e is disturbed and fretful.’

‘You speak as though he were a sick child.’

‘At these times we treat him as such. It may be nothing - but I would be happier if I were sure that he is not sick.’

‘Perhaps - could it be-‘ Zelda paused, but then said only, ‘Much sickness is ended by the coming of summer. He will soon be better.’

They rounded the western shore of the Barb and began to cross the pasture slope beyond. Before them, about three quarters of a mile away, lay that part of the city walls that ran uphill to encircle Crandor’s eastern spur.

‘Who’s that fellow coming down towards us?’ asked Zelda, pointing.

Kelderek looked. ‘Some nobleman - a stranger. It must be one of the provincial delegates.’

‘A southerner by the look of him - too dandified for any northern or western province. Why is he walking here alone, I wonder?’

‘He’s free to do so if he wishes, I suppose. Many who visit the city like to be able to say that they’ve walked entirely round the city Walls.’

The stranger came on, bowed graciously, with a rather affected sweep of his fur cloak, and passed by. ‘Do you know him?’ asked Zelda.

‘Elleroth, Ban of Sarkid - a man about whom I’ve found out a good deal.’

‘Why? Isn’t he safe?’

‘Possibly — possibly not. It’s strange that he should have come himself as delegate. He was with
Erketlis
in the Slave Wars — in fact he’s been a noted Heldro in his time. There’s no particular reason why he should have changed his ideas, but all the same I was advised that it would be safer to leave him alone than to try to get rid of him. He has a lot of influence and standing with his own people, and as far as I can learn he’s never done us any actual harm.’

‘But has he helped us?’

‘Lapan’s been fought over so much that it’s hard to say. If a local ruler takes care to keep in with both sides, who’s to blame him? There’s nothing known against him except his record before we came.’

‘Well, we’ll see what he has to offer us at the Council.’

Still Zelda seemed hesitant to talk of whatever had led him to seek out Kelderek, and after a little Kelderek spoke again.

‘Since we’re talking of the delegates, I ought to mention
another to you - the man you re
c
ently
appointed as governor of Kabin.’

‘Mollo? What about him? By the way, that man is staring after us -
1
wonder why?’

‘Strangers not uncommonly stare after me,’ replied Kelderek with a faint smile. ‘I’ve become accustomed to it’

‘That’s it, no doubt. Well, what about Mollo? S’marr Torruin of the Foothills recommended him - ‘says he’s known him for years. He seems an excellent man.’

‘I’ve learned that until a short time ago he w
as a provincial governor in Dee
lguy.’

‘In De
elguy? Why did he leave?’

‘Exa
ctly
. To take up his patrimony of a small estate in Kabin? I’m inclined to doubt
it. Our present relati
ons with Deelguy are strained and difficult - we don’t know what they may be intending. I wonder whether we ought to risk this appointment of yours - we might be walking into a trap. A knife in the back from Kabin would be bad just at the moment.’

‘I think you’re right, Kelderek. I knew nothing of
this
. I’ll speak to Mollo myself tomorrow. We can’t afford any risk in Kabin. I’ll tell him we’ve decided that after all we ought to have a man with special knowledge of the reservoir.’

He fell silent again. Kelderek veered a little downhill to the left, thinking that by thus seeming to commence their return he might loosen the baron’s tongue.