Authors: Kim Hunter
mount up behind him. Together they rode homeward. Captain Kaff was ill. There was an epidemic in Zamerkand. A sudden summer plague was sweeping through the city, carrying off hundreds of people each day. It was not necessarily a killer plague some victims recovered but it was highly infectious and it took away two in three of its victims. One only had to be in a room with someone who was falling ill of the plague to succumb oneself. A mere breath was enough. To protect herself, her courtiers and her advisors, the queen had sealed off the Palace of Birds. Chancellor Humbold was on the inside. When that great man heard that Soldier was close to returning, and would arrive any day, he was incensed but frustrated. There was nothing he could do about it. He certainly was not going to leave the sanctuary of the palace and go abroad in the streets to find an assassin. The virulent disease frightened him as much as it did anyone else. Nor was he going to meet secretly with Kaff, who was at that moment sweating and turning in a fever on his own bed. Besides, the Captain of the Imperial Guard was delirious and utterly useless to him. How had that infernal Soldier managed to carry out his mission without being killed? Faeryland, the mountains of the gods, the land beyond the hanging valleys: he had traversed all these and still he survived to return? It did not seem possible. And all their plots - those of Humbold himself and of Kaff - had come to nothing. Soldier was indeed a dangerous man. It had been foolish of Humbold not to kill the newcomer the moment he had been brought to the city by the hunter. Nothing to be done about it now, muttered the chancellor to himself, staring out of one of the high windows down on the city streets. At least he did not complete his quest. The queen is still as mad as she ever was, and that leaves me in control. Down below him there were poor people, staggering around in various stages of the disease. Some had fallen, died, and were rotting in the gutters. In the beginning death-carts had gone through the city, but now there was hardly anyone-around now who was well enough to gather up the corpses. The red pavilions had moved up country, away from the danger. The Carthagans would never have entered the city to do that kind of work anyway. They were warriors, not physicians or morticians. Across the gardens, on the other side of the tower from which the chancellor viewed the city, was the Palace of Wildflowers. It too was shut tightly up, but for a different reason. The Princess Layana had gone down with the plague just yesterday and to protect her staff she had ordered everyone except her personal maid to leave the main premises. She had sent them to the gazebos and garden rooms below, where they could isolate themselves from her and the outside world. Humbold knew all this because, having seen the yellow plague flag raised above the princesss palace yesterday evening, he had called down to Layanas servants as they came from the building. So, the princess may soon be dead, which will remove some of Soldiers protection. The queen will not be so interested in him once Layana is dead. The heros return might still yet be turned into the heros funeral. Rats were everywhere in the streets below. They had emerged boldly from the sewers, once the populations attention had been diverted by the plague. There was plenty to eat, too. A plethora of rotting corpses supplied the rat population with abundant food. They thrived. They procreated. Humbold had an army of servants killing those creatures which tried to climb the walls of the palace. Since many of the towers were fashioned from obsidian, the surface was very slippery and it was not an easy business for the rats to enter. In any case, the food was below, in the houses and alleyways, not inside the palace. Only the actively curious attempted to scale the walls. Well, mused Humbold, sighing, there is nothing to do but wait now. Its galling that the outlander might be entering the city any day now, but he still has to face the plague, which has no favourites. It was a comforting thought. Once the plague had begun Uthellen and the witchboy were forgotten. Their jailer was first among the sick and died within three days, leaving no one to attend to the prisoners. Although they were safe from the plague in the dungeons, they starved. Finally, the bird Uthellen had come to know as Soldiers raven came and picked the lock of their cell with its beak. Uthellen in turn let out the other prisoners and left them to swarm out into the city streets, where many of them caught the plague and died within a week. She and the boy left the city. They went to the forest and found their old campsite. There they remained. It was a safe place, away from the ghastly stink of death and disease. We must remain here, she told her son, until Soldier returns. Yes, Mother. The boy regarded Uthellen with eyes devoid of emotion. She was his protectress and he did as she bade him do. There was no love in his expression. She saw this and it grieved her, but she knew that her son was a wizard and did not have human sentiment. There was no harm in him towards her, no malice. She was simply the woman who had carried him for nine months in her womb, and who was now his devoted defender. She knew the world and its ways, while he was still a novice, and she would keep him safe. Kaff rolled and turned in his bed in the guardhouse, attended by faithful Imperial Guards. His determination to live was apparent by the strong fire in his eyes. Captain Kaff was not about be to carried off like some weak girl by an illness he regarded as an affront to his manhood. He now had a metal hand, a silver one, which flashed in the light every time he moved his right arm. Even in his fever each flash reminded him how much he hated Soldier, and that he had a score to settle with the outlander.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Soldier and Spagg rode through the long avenue of severed heads outside Zamerkand. They were astride the horses they had first set out on. Soldier had found the beasts wandering near the village in the valley of the growing-shrinking huts. Gaezors steed was left on top of the plateau, to find its own way back to the manor. Perhaps it never would? There was plenty of lush grass to eat along the river bank, now that the snow had gone, so the creature would not starve. It might simply run wild. Now that they had knowledge of them, the two travellers had managed to avoid the trolls on their return journey. They rode north of the river, keeping a wary eye out for hunting-parties. No troll raiders were seen however, and the pair were able to pass through the region without having to run or fight. It was just as well: they were both on the point of exhaustion. When they arrived at Zamerkand there were no new heads on the stakes. The old ones were skulls now, with little flesh on them. And the gates to the city were wide open. No guards could be seen. The raven was sitting on the rump of Soldiers horse, dispensing his usual wisdom. Where are the red pavilions? asked Soldier, of the raven. Have they fled the plague? Wouldnt you? replied the black bird. At that point Spagg halted his horse. I think Ill go an stay with my cousin. Hes got a farm a little north of here. No sense in riskin life and limb by going into there while the pestilence is about. Jugg will be pleased to see me, Im sure, now that Ive got a bit o gold. Soldier nodded. I cant blame you. Why dont you come? asked Spagg. You dont want to risk gettin the plague. Juggll put us up, both. If he wont let us in the house, we can sleep in the barn. No, you go on, Spagg. Ive got to see my wife. I hear shes very ill. Thats what I mean. Shell give it to you. Soldier still declined. He thanked Spagg for his company on the journey. He said Spaggs services had been invaluable. Do me a favour though, Spagg grunted in reply. Dont ask for me next time you want to do somethin like this? The market trader then left. Soldier spoke with the raven. There dont seem to be any guards about. Theyre all sick - or scared to death. Is everyone indoors? Most of the sensible ones. Soldier rode through the gates. The streets were indeed deserted, except for flies. There were flies everywhere. And shadowy shapes which scuttled between the rotting corpses. Rats, murmured Soldier. Feasting. He rode through the cobbled bailey, then along an alley into a public courtyard. Still he encountered no people. If the city were attacked now by an enemy, we wouldnt stand a chance. The raven replied, What self-preserving nation would want to attack a plague city? The bird then bade Soldier farewell for a time and flew off in search of its own food. Soldier did not like to dwell on what the raven was going to eat. He had already guessed. Soldier dismounted and led his horse through the streets. It defecated, the dung falling on the stones. Soldier noticed that there was no fresh manure stuck between the cobbles. And weeds had begun to grow in grubby corners. The doors of houses he passed were covered in crudely-painted red markings which he guessed were symbols to do with ritual and enchantment: to keep away the plague. Though of course, he told himself, they may have been put there by the citys administrators, to inform others how far the plague had progressed inside each individual house. He, being an outlander, would have no idea. Soldier reached the Palace of Wildf lowers. Again there were no guards outside the building. He took his horse to the stables at the rear, found some hay, and left it in a stall to eat and drink from its trough. Soldier then passed through a bower in the palace gardens and entered the palace by way of the empty kitchens. Once inside he went straight to the main hall and ascended the stairs. Drissila met him halfway up. Your lady is sick, she said to him. You had better leave until she is well again. Stay somewhere else. At the inn perhaps? Or better still, outside the city walls. I must go to her, said Soldier, passing the maid-servant on the stairs. She will be in need of company. She is out of her head with fever. Shes burning up and I must keep her cool. The disease is still infectious. In any case, she needs no one. You especially are not welcome. He was surprised to hear this. Have I done wrong? What have I done? Youll find out. Drissila continued to descend the stairs, leaving him staring after her. The maid-servant had a bowl of vomit in her hands and it was beginning to stink the place out. He could see she wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. Soldier continued up the stairs. He found the passage to the Green Tower. Once he reached Layanas boudoir he paused outside the doorway. Why was she angry with him? Was she never satisfied? He had surely cured her of her madness? The queen would be none too happy with him, he was well aware, but surely Layana appreciated his efforts? He had been through much - to the very edge of the precipice, and looked over into the valley of death yet she was still acrimonious? He then heard a low moan and his true feelings flooded to the fore. I want her to live so much. He entered the room. On the far side stood the four-poster bed, swathed in black muslin curtains, which wafted back and forth in the cool breeze from the open windows. Soldier strode over to the bed and stared. He could see the pale form of his beloved, stretched out, covered only by a thin cotton sheet. No details were visible to him through this dark diaphanous screen, so he could not tell how far the illness had progressed, or whether she was out of danger or not. He could smell the rank sweat which soaked the bed and could just make out her hair, brushed into a fan shape over her pillow (Drissilas work, no doubt) but looking damp and lank none the less. The foul stench of bile and vomit pervaded the whole room. Her breath was shallow, faulty. He felt something wrench at his heart. Oh, how thin and wasted she seemed, even through the screen of cloth! He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he was here and would look after her, make her know that he loved her and wanted her to live more than anything else. Soldier reached out to draw back the black muslin. Dont touch it! The command came not from bed, but from behind him. It was Drissila, back with jar of large black spiders. Leave it. Its there for a reason. No direct light must go into her eyes. She will be blinded otherwise. The eyes of plague victims are very sensitive to the light. Im sorry. I did not know. What are they for? The spiders? They must bite her. Their poison is beneficial in the healing process. Soldier shuddered. Are you sure? Drissila looked at him as if he were a five-year-old. This is Guthrum, where I was born. I know a few things. Its taken me a day and a half to collect these spiders. She added with some pride. I knew just where in the cellars to find them. Everyone is after them at the moment. Ill stay and watch. You should not even be here. You will catch it. You are here. I had the plague when I was ten. I am immune. You, on the other hand, are an outsider. If you catch it, youll surely die. You have no natural defence against such pestilence. I shall stay, said Soldier, determined. Captain Kaff did that and look what happened to him. He caught it within three days. Now hes fighting for his own life, and all for nothing really. Soldier simmered. Kaff was here? He sat over her bedside, administered poultices, wiped her brow with a cool damp cloth, just as you are no doubt thinking of doing, if youre so foolish as to wish to risk disease and death, replied Drissila. But I wont let you. One man has already caught the plague from her. I wont permit another one to do the same. Soldier almost envied his rival. Layana and he shared the plague together! So, Kaff had watched over Soldiers beloved as if he had been the husband and lover. Was nothing sacred in this land? Damn the man, growled Soldier, in great pain, may he rot in some dark, unknown place and may his soul go swiftly and surely to the worst side of the Otherworld. In the meantime, remarked Drissila, matter-of-factly, I must feed your lady some watered soup. If youre staying you can sit over there, on that tall chair. I must slip between the folds of the curtains and assist my mistress. Drissila carried out her duties, while Soldier sat and watched. He could not help himself calling to Layana once. She turned her head slowly in his direction, but he could not see her expression through the folds of the dark muslin. Then once more her head was laid back on the pillow and she drifted into sleep. Soldier sat in the chair all that day, and the following day too. He remained in or near the room for a whole week. Drissila made sure he got fed. When he realised she was doing all the cooking he took his turn in the kitchen, making soup and broth. Has she passed the worst? asked Soldier of Drissila, every hour of every day. Will she live? One day Drissila was able to nod to this question. Soldier almost collapsed with relief. The servants were ordered back into the house since the infectious stage was over. Ofao returned. And the guards and cooks. Soldier went to Layanas boudoir. The muslin curtains were drawn. She was sitting up in bed. When he entered the room she turned at the sound of his footsteps and glared at him. The sight of her face made him stop halfway across the room. My dearest lady, he cried, delighted. Your scars have gone! Your face has been healed! Your loveliness has been restored, I am so happy for you. You did this, she said, in a strangely bitter tone. You must have asked for this instead of pleading for my sanity. You preferred the shallow choice of a beautiful wife instead of a sane one. Was that it? Gould you not stand the jibes of your fellow warriors in the red pavilions? Did they call me a freak, a deformed creature? And did they call you a fool for marrying me? So, you decided, when you had the wizard at your beck, to smooth the wrinkles in my skin, instead of smoothing the distortions of my mind. How base you are! He was stunned by this reply. You - you still suffer from your madness? Of course. Just before I fell ill I woke with my face restored, but my head full of demons. I have nothing in my heart but hate for you, Soldier. How foolish I was to trust a blue-eyed outlander, someone who came from nowhere. I should have stuck to my own kind. All you want is a wife youre not ashamed to be seen with, instead of one who would be sane enough to share your life. Youre like all men. Why dont you go back into nowhere again. I dont want to see you. Leave my room. Go away from here. She covered her face with her hands and began weeping. This is partly your fault, he said, recalling his words to the wizard. I asked you to be cured of the affliction which distressed you. You must have been more concerned by your looks than the state of your mind. She paled under his words. Also, said Soldier, unhappy beyond measure, what of the deadly brigandine, bearing your crest? I know of no brigandine. She was telling the truth, he could see that. They stared at each other in frustration, neither able to tell the other that they were relieved to see their loved one alive and out of danger; neither able to declare that the only thing on their minds for the past few months had been the life of that loved one. If one had broken down at that moment, the other would have done too, and they would have fallen into each others arms sobbing and confessing: but each had an iron will and kept their true thoughts, their true feelings, locked within. Soldier stamped, distressed and angry, from the room. He wanted to explain that when he had asked for her affliction to be removed, he had not even been thinking of-her scars, only the troubles of her mind. He had no idea that the wizard would restore her beauty rather than her sanity. It had not occurred to him to make the distinction. Now his journey had all been in vain. The queen would be angry with him, and Layana believed him to be a false lover. Surely that oaf Kaff would win her from him now? He shouted, as he crashed down the passageway. Have I risked my life, and that of another man, to be shunned like this? Drissila came out of another room and stared at him mildly. You men, she said, you think all women are only interested in their looks. He opened the palms of his hands. Drissila, please believe me, I thought I had cured her madness, not rid her of her scars. Well, be that as it may, neither I nor you can convince her of that now. I hear the queen is none too pleased with you, either. Youd better lie low for a while. You can sleep in the North Tower. I wont tell anyone youre there. Thank you, Drissila, he said, from the depths of his despair. Youll tell me when to show myself? Shortly after this conversation, however, Layanas madness visited. Still very weak from having suffered the plague, Layana was worse than usual. Drissila made the mistake of telling Soldier of this development, and he left the North Tower. Soldier insisted on staying in the Green Tower with his wife, to try to assist her at this most distressing time. She rejected him completely. Three times during the first night she crept up to his couch, intent on murdering him. Each time the scabbards song woke him. He was able to wrest the weapon from her hand. She must have had a dozen daggers concealed about the room and knew exactly where to find them. If I dont kill you now, she hissed, I shall poison you later. Youll never be safe near me. Youll die in terrible agony. On the third attempt, after putting her back in her bed, he went outside the room. He found the balcony at the end of the passageway and went out into the cool air, to stare at the night stars. Utterly miserable, he noticed that the red pavilions had returned. He could see the ochre tents in the light of the moon. How he yearned for companionship at that moment! Perhaps he should leave, he told himself, and join his friends in the pavilions. Velion would have stories of battles fought to tell him. And he, in his turn, could recount his adventures into the land of gods and fairies. It was but a fleeting thought, a wish that relieved his feelings for only a short time. He knew he had to stay with Layana, at least until this bout of lunacy had left her. Poor Layana. How useless he had been as a husband. He had given his best and his efforts had brought him not love, but hatred. A man needs love of some kind. He needs someone who believes him to be best. He needs a sign from the world that there is someone in it that regards him above all others. While he was standing there, something dark and monstrous moved in the depths of the city. Soldier frowned and gripped the balcony rail. For one instant it seemed the earth had turned over. Then it was over and all