The Ancient Enemy (30 page)

"All that stuff about the monkeys not having a culture, you can forget it. They have culture, and it must be quite an interesting one."

Filek's eyebrows rose at this. The admiral was certainly stepping over certain lines. If the priests were listening, they could put him to the questions at once.

"How could you be so sure? These places they inhabited might have been built by higher beings, men like ourselves. The monkeys have merely taken them over as shelters."

"So the priests have been saying. But they put up a helluva fight, and we took a lot of casualties. Lots of arrowheads in our men, is that right?"

"Lots."

"Which means the damned monkeys are bright enough to use a bow, and presumably smart enough to make one. You see, they must have culture of some sort."

"Well, I will let the priests make that determination. 'Tis the business only of the Great God." Filek hoped that would be enough to see him to safety, if the conversation was being eavesdropped by a red top hidden in the walls.

"Oh yes, He Who Eats will take care of us all, but these monkeys are more than the priests thought they were, that I can guarantee you."

Filek shrugged.

"Take a look at this." The admiral took up a roll tied at both ends. He loosed the bows, and unrolled a very finely made mat. Filek was struck by the immediate beauty of the design, limned in very strong line and executed in bold colors. Large chickens with a wild sense of glee about them were dancing alongside oversize beetles on background of green wheat. It was all made of straw and similar fibers, but it was stunning work, and Filek sat back and stared at the admiral with his mouth open.

"This is work of the monkeys?"

"It came from the city, along with lots of other stuff like it. This is a really good one, what do you think?"

"It's beautiful. It's incredible, I've never seen work so fine."

"What do you think they'd fetch back in Shasht?"

Filek's eyes boggled. Among the cognoscenti, work like this would fetch fabulous sums. "Hundreds of gold pieces, at the least."

"Heh, heh, I'm going to bet that quite a lot of these things are going to find their way back to Shasht, despite the priests' best efforts."

Filek stiffened.

The admiral had noticed.

"Calm your nerves, Biswas. No red top can get close up here without my knowing about it."

Filek shifted uncomfortably. "This is amazing work. And you say there is more?"

"Oh yes, there are lots and lots of mats like this, plus carpets and tapestry work that is just as good. There are wood carvings, too, very realistic work, as good as any you'll see in Shasht."

"This is amazing. Such artistic heights in such humble creatures."

"Heh, heh, might make it hard to stamp them out completely, eh?"

Filek swallowed hard. This mat with these delightfully wicked-looking chickens was the work of creatures that he and the admiral were cheerfully eating.

After a moment, he began to feel distinctly queasy.

He made it to the rail, but only just in time.

When the first round of meetings and talks finally ended, Thru and Nuza fell asleep on a corner of the floor of the taproom of the Sonf tavern. Their sleep was haunted by terrible dreams in which piles of heads appeared again and again. In those piles they saw the faces of friends, parents, brothers. They awoke many times, and clutched each other in the dark for comfort.

When the dawn's light finally broke over the Land, they pulled themselves to their feet. It was a grey morning, with clouds covering the sky.

Nuza looked out the window while Thru admired her. Her beauty never failed to cheer him. The smooth workings of her muscles, her amazing natural grace.

"There are carts all over the street," she said. "Everyone's packing to leave."

She turned back to him; their eyes met and they nodded, each understanding the situation. Sonf was probably going to be attacked that day.

"Better find out what's been happening," said Thru, pulling up his trousers.

They had hot tea and a biscuit in the taproom and learned that in the night scouts had reported that a large column of men had set out from Tamf the previous evening and were camped on the road to Sonf. Everyone was leaving at once while the King organized his small force into some kind of pattern. Harassing parties went out to find the flanks of the advancing party of men.

Carts and donkeys were already rumbling out of Sonf onto the roads heading east. The folk of Sonf were determined not to be caught like those from Tamf. The stories and rumors were terrifying.

Hob found them while they were still finishing their tea.

"I have messages for both of you."

For Thru there was a brief note from Toshak, who wanted Thru to accompany him immediately on the trip to Dronned. Most of the Tamf mots were going that way.

Nuza received a small scroll sealed with her family's ringseal. Her hands were trembling as she broke it and unrolled the scroll.

Then she lifted her head up with a sob. Thru's heart sank for a moment.

"They live, oh thanks to the Spirit, they live. They are in Lushtan, in the Farblows."

"Thank the Spirit."

Thru wrapped her in his arms, overjoyed at this news.

And then the chill thought ran through him. He and Nuza were about to be torn apart. The Farblows lay in the opposite direction from Dronned. Nuza's face crumpled as she understood. Her joy evaporated so instantly that he thought his heart would break.

"Oh, my love, to be without you will be hard, I don't know how we'll manage."

Thru felt a crushing stab of fear. This could be the last time he ever saw her, and the light would go out of his life. But he could not refuse to go with Toshak.

Nuza's family, it turned out, had been very quick to abandon Tamf when the ships entered the bay. Her father, Cham, had had a powerful premonition of disaster, and had the whole family and all the animals on the road within the hour. They headed south and east, chooks and all, for Lushtan, where Cham had relatives. His wariness had saved their lives, for they were well ahead of the enemy columns that set out after Tamf had fallen.

The troupe was splitting up. Also going south were Gem and Serling, while Hob was going north with Thru and Toshak. Saying farewell was terribly hard. Letting go of Nuza was dreadful. He felt as if he were drowning while he waved to her until she was a tiny dot down the road. Then he turned back with leaden steps to the tavern to wait for Toshak to finish a final round of meetings.

He sat there in the taproom and stared blankly at the wall. There were some youngsters who had heard that he was Seventy-seven-Run Thru Gillo and wanted desperately to speak with him, but when they saw him with his face like stone and his vacant eyes they passed on and said nothing.

Would he ever see his Nuza again? Ever kiss those lips and stroke that soft fur? If he lost her and survived, if they defeated the invasion, then he would be left to live alone, and he didn't think he could stand that. It would be worse than death in some ways.

Toshak appeared at last, free from meetings, with his hat on his head and his pack and bow on his back. He was eager to be off at once. Thru picked up his own things and joined him. Hob appeared with a donkey carrying panniers of food and water.

"Nuza has gone to Lushtan, to join her family. Gem and Serling went with her." Toshak's face fell. "Ah, Nuza, I will miss her. Gem and Serling, too. Our happy family has been torn apart."

He stood there for a moment, then with a decisive snap of his bushy eyebrows Toshak shrugged it all aside.

"We have to face the future, my friends. There is much to do and little time available. Dronned by morning, think you can do it?"

"That's thirty-three miles, a pretty good hike," said Thru, stretching his legs carefully.

Hob chuckled. "These donkeys not going to be too happy, but we can keep them moving."

"The moon will be full tonight. We'll be able to see the track."

"We will do our best, then."

They marched until the sun set, whereupon they ate bread and rested. When the moon rose they set off again and walked on trails over the moors of Sheud.

As they walked Toshak spoke of the things the folk of the Land would need to learn. The arts of war had become foreign to them.

"This enemy is very strong, very mighty. There is no possibility of compromise with them. It is us or them; one of us must fail. They have trained long and hard as well and have experience in war. We have a long way to go to catch up."

"We outnumber them," said Thru. "There are just those forty ships."

"In a way that is an advantage to them, because our population is vulnerable and has to be guarded."

"Our folk can retreat inland."

"Only so far, and then they come to the mountains."

Big Hob grunted at this. "So we fight with our backs to the wall. That makes us better, because we cannot afford to lose."

Toshak allowed that there was truth to this.

"Also in our favor is that we know the Land well. Ours will be a war of ambushes. His numbers are limited. We must make them more so, a constant attrition of his strength has to be a priority."

Thru nodded, the outline was becoming clear.

"Our people are going to get very familiar with hunger," said Toshak grimly.

"Without bushpod and use of the seapond it will be impossible to prepare thread and cloth," Thru added thoughtfully.

"Our folk will have to raise more sheep and use wool."

"And we will lose the fishing."

"That is true. What lies ahead of us will be hard, very hard, but we have no alternative."

The hours went by in a moonlit dream while their legs kept them moving, ignoring fatigue and sore feet. Somewhere along the way the first light of dawn cracked the far horizon.

Soon they came up the south road, with the coastal dunes on their left and the city walls ahead. They entered by the south gate and made their way through the city to the Guild House. Toshak left messages there for several important citizens of Dronned. Then they went on to the Laughing Fish, where they took breakfast and hot tea.

Sitting in the Laughing Fish Tavern brought on a host of memories for Thru, and he found himself contrasting the difference in the times.

Dronned had received full warning. The city's own folk had fled, while mots from all over the Land had gathered for the King's muster.

Toshak was finishing his mug of hot tea when a message was brought to him. He showed Thru and Hob the royal seal before he broke it, all three heartened to know that King Belit was awake to the need for haste.

Before this, Thru had only viewed the exterior wall of the royal palace of Dronned. Now he was welcomed through the huge black double doors and ushered down a very large passageway by a brilby wearing the royal colors. More doors opened, and they entered a large room carpeted in green, with a great tapestry depicting the founding of Dronned covering the walls. At the far end on a dais sat the throne under a banner bearing the four black crows of Dronned. The King, however, was sitting at a table in the corner poring over maps of the border regions between Dronned, Sonf, and Tamf. Still in his night robe and slippers, King Belit sipped a cup of guezme tea. On a bench nearby sat an Assenzi, dressed in black. Thru guessed that this was Melidofulo, the resident Assenzi of Dronned.

The King was apprised of Toshak's arrival by a young secretary. The King whirled around and raised his arms in welcome.

"Ah, very good. Welcome back to Dronned, noble Toshak."

Toshak stepped forward and bowed, then handed the King a message.

"From King Rolf, Your Majesty."

King Belit nodded with a frown.

"Thank you for coming so quickly." The King broke the seal and scanned the message, then handed it to the secretary.

"I will reply. Bring quill and scroll."

Belit turned back to Toshak and the others.

"And let me welcome your companions, Hob there, the fellow who catches Nuza the acrobat. I've marveled at your catches many a time."

Hob bowed, obviously pleased to have been recognized. The King turned to Thru.

"And you are Seventy-seven-Run Thru Gillo. I saw you play for your village team some years ago, defeating the Laughing Fish for the championship. You were good with the bat that day."

"Your Majesty, you are very kind. That was a grand day, and I will always treasure it."

"Yes, indeed, such glory comes to few of us." He sighed and laid a hand on Thru's shoulder. "But these days are very different and we have a war to win. Unfortunately we have never fought a war before. If it was a ball game, then I would have far more confidence, especially with Seventy-seven-Run Thru Gillo in our ranks."

The King turned back to Toshak. "Yes, my friends, I understand well what we will have to do. But Melidofulo is not so sure."

They all turned to the Assenzi, who rose from his bench and approached them. As he came Thru felt a wave of calmness go through him. Those eyes, so huge, so wise, they must hold some answer to this madness.

"You come from Tamf?" he said after a little nod to each of them.

"Tamf has been destroyed. What's left is being dismantled by the men."

"Ah, the men," said Melidofulo, ignoring Toshak's news of Tamf. "Can we be sure that these creatures are really men?"

They exchanged a look. Indeed, what evidence did they possess, other than old Haloiko's firmly voiced opinion? There had been no communication with the raiders, that was for sure.

"We can only go by what they looked like," said Toshak. "They conform to everything we have been taught. They have long hair, and long fur on their faces. They are not mots or brilbies and certainly not kobs."

"You have seen them yourselves?"

"Yes, we fought them at the barricade and in the streets."

"Ah," Melidofulo looked down, his jaws moved angrily. "You admit there has been fighting?"

"Oh yes, Melidofulo, fighting and much slaughter. First, at Bilauk, on the Creton coast, we found the entire population dead. Their bodies gone, their heads piled on the jetty."