The Warrior's Tale (70 page)

Book
Three

Orissa

Twenty-Four

All Hail the Heroes

T

he closer the
ship came, the more certain we were it wasn't a trick of the light, or a battle-weary mind. 'It's from home!' Polillo roared, pounding me on the back. Some of us cheered, some of us wept; but all of us marvelled as they hailed us in our
own
language. Oh, how we loved every inch of that ship - from its familiar shape, to the very wood that made it - cut from the fragrant forests outside our city. And the men who hailed us in that lilting, ever-flowing speech of our beloved river, were equally as familiar. We knew the weavers' street where their costumes were made; had complained about the smell of the dye vats that gave their clothes all the sunny Orissan colours. The shape of their beards, the cut of their boots and sandals, even the rings and necklaces they wore - and how they wore them - all sang of home.

Greater joy followed when the captain greeted us and we learned just how far off our charts we were - instead of many weeks, we were only a few days from Orissa. A great weight lifted from our shoulders. Now all our burdens, all our worries, all our trials would be shared by our countrymen. If the Archon threatened us anew, he'd have to contend with Orissans by the tens of thousands. It was no longer solely our burden. We would have the help of our friends, our lovers and our families.

My steps were buoyant as we boarded, battle fatigue falling away as easily as you might shed a light shift on a hot summer night. Our wounded were tenderly administered to; familiar prayers said to ease the passage of our dead, as well as to help heal our own grief over their going. Although the ship was crowded, there were only twenty of us left, so there was
little
trouble finding room. Then, without further ado, we immediately set sail for home. Our two ships were taken in tow - smaller and lighter than the Orissan merchant vessel, it was easier than transferring all our treasure to the other ship, although by now I think none of us cared a hang for the gold. Its price had been far too high.

I shared quarters with Polillo and as soon as we were setded, the captain, whose name was Wazanno, came to make sure we were comfortable.

'You've been gone so long, Captain Antero,' he said, 'we'd given you up for dead.' He poured us each a goblet of the red Orissan wine we'd been without for nearly two years. You could almost taste the sun-drenched vines it came from.

'You were nearly right more times than I like to think,' I said.

'The worst fight of all,' Polillo said, 'was just before you got here. Sea monsters and demons and only the gods know what else attacked us.'

'Is that so?' the captain said. 'You'll have to tell me about your adventures when you've rested.'

Polillo snorted. 'Set aside a goodly amount of time and half a dozen bottles of this wine,' she said. 'There's much to tell. Why, we've sailed nearly half around the world and back. Seen things that'll freeze your pearlies in the telling.'

Wazanno rose to go. 'I'm most anxious to hear your tale,' he said, 'if my duties allow it. I'm a captain who likes his own hand at the tiller, so I haven't much time.'

Then he yawned. 'Forgive me,' he said. 'I've missed a good deal of sleep on this voyage. We've had a lot of trouble getting the ballast right.' He excused himself and was gone.

'That fellow's got the blood of a fish,' Polillo said. 'And half the imagination.'

I sighed. 'He must be one of the new breed my brother's always grousing about,' I said. 'Since the Far Kingdoms opened up there's been a shortage of qualified seafarers. He looks competent enough, thank the gods. Amalric has many a horrid tale to tell of the scrapings he's been forced to take.'

'At least he left the wine,' Polillo said, refilling our goblets.

She toasted me: 'Welcome home.'

And I echoed: 'Welcome home.'

A heroes' greeting awaited when we docked in Orissa. There was music and dancing in the streets; speeches from the Magistrates and a fiery display of magic from the Evocators. Soldiers dressed in their most dazzling uniforms paraded before us, led by General Jinnah -yes, that damned Jinnah - and wonders of all wonders, he gave a rousing speech telling all what great and noble warriors we were -especially me! As I goggled at this cynical twist of fate that had ended with me being greeted by my greatest mortal enemy, Jinnah finished his speech and the military musicians trumpeted a stirring hurrah for us all. Then, as quickly as they'd turned out, Jinnah and the soldiers quick-marched away. As soon as they'd disappeared from sight, the crowds began to melt away and my fellow Orissans wandered off to resume their daily routine.

The whole thing seemed flat, perfunctory. Apparendy, as far as my fellow Orissans were concerned, the war had been over long ago and we were only a bit of not very important unfinished business. I could imagine the tavern talk in a few scant weeks: 'Captain Antero, is it? Oh, yes. You're with the Maranon Guard, or something. Jinnah's girls. Didn't you do something noble and self-sacrificing? Dashed if I can remember
exactly
what it was. I'd buy you a glass, but I'm a tad light in the purse, just now. Come around another time, my good Captain, and I'll treat you to a proper drink.' I didn't feel jealous, or sorry for myself, but shrugged it off, chalking it up it to the treatment all soldiers have suffered throughout the ages. We're the toast of the land when the war drums sound, but they can't get away from us soon enough when peace is restored. Besides, I was too overwhelmed at being home to dwell on it.

I brought the Guard to attention, and, adhering to protocol, turned the formation over to Flag Sergeant Ismet, eager as any of my women to away from this clangour of armour and death, and be welcomed home. But as she leather-lunged the dismissal, and the Guards stamped their boots twice and broke towards the waiting crowd, I called Ismet to me.

'Sergeant,' I said, 'you don't have any family that I'm aware of.'

'I have the Guard, Captain. What more could a woman want?'

Again, I had that flash of wonderment - could this woman truly be the embodiment of Maranonia? I chose my words carefully: 'I merely thought the barracks might be lonely, with everyone off on leave. Would you care to join me as my guest? There's more than enough room, and we Anteros don't seem happy without at least six or seven friends staying with us.'

Ismet looked uncomfortable, and I realized she was having trouble finding words that applied to a situation beyond the military.

'Begging the Captain's pardon, but I'm not sure what loneliness is. Being by myself in the barracks, why, I look forward to it. It gives me a chance to relax, a time to remember who I am, and build up my strength. If I need to talk to someone, there's taverns aplenty outside the gate. When I get tired, I can come back and listen to the silence, although there's always the clatter of arms, the chatter of sentries and the crying of the watch. I wouldn't know what to do, I guess, without that around me.

'The Guard
is
my family. I guess other women need something more. I don't. Maybe
...
maybe it's because of what I came from.' Her lips firmed, and I knew that was the only time I'd ever hear Ismet admit there had been a past before the Guard, let alone what it might've been.

I sought for words to end what was becoming embarrassing for both of us. But before I found the right ones, she said, 'Thanks, Captain, for the invitation. But you don't need an old soldier hanging about when you've got more important things to take care of. Maybe we'll get together and have some drinks and talk about this campaign, if you want. I've some thoughts as to what went wrong, and what we need to do before they send us out again.'

That was Ismet. I said of course I'd see her, and she saluted and was gone.

Polillo and the other Guardswomen were being swept off by friends and relatives to enjoy their long, well-deserved leaves. I searched the melting crowd for my own people, but my heart sank when I couldn't find Amalric. A knot of self-pitying disappointment stuck in my throat. Then I saw Porcemus and my other brothers and their wives coming forward. Dreading their usual cold dislike, I dragged myself to them.

Imagine my surprise when Porcemus threw his arms around me, crying, 'Thank the gods you've returned to us, Rali!' Then he kissed me. I pulled back and saw he was so full of emotion, his eyes were welling with tears.

Then the others crowded in, saying I'd made them so proud, and other inanities - all obviously heartfelt just the same. My brothers embraced me and pounded me on the back and their wives wept and said they'd never known another woman so brave. I was overcome by it all and wept in return, getting all blubbery and snotty.

"Where is Amalric?' I finally managed to get out.

'He'll be so sorry he missed you,' Porcemus said. 'And Omyere as well. They both set sail for the Far Kingdoms not two days ago. We must get a message to them immediately. He's been as worried as the rest of us.'

I had more than my own selfish reasons for wanting to see Amalric. Something had to be done about the Archon - immediately! With Gamelan dead, I lacked a sympathetic ear in high places. Then I spotted a familiar, jaunty figure moving down the street away from us. It was Malaren, one of Amalric's best friends, as well as mine. He'd succeeded his father as a Magistrate not long before I'd marched to Lycanth.

Excusing myself, I broke free of my family's sticky embrace and ran after him. I caught him just before he rounded the corner. 'Malaren,' I shouted. 'Please wait!'

When he saw me, he stopped. A dim smile twisted one corner of his foppishly handsome face.

'My dear Captain Antero,' he said. 'What a joy it is to see you safe after all these long months.' He stuck out his hand to greet me.

I laughed, brushed it away, and gave him a" bear hug. I barely noticed that he seemed startled. 'Why all the formality, Malaren?' I said. 'Last we spoke I was the sister you never had, and we plotted to rid me of Porcemus so you could join the family. Of course, we were both drunk at the time, but I thought you made much sense for a fellow lying on the tavern floor.'

Malaren gave a nervous titter, and returned the embrace - a bit stiffly. 'Yes, uh
...
Rali, my dear,' he said. 'You know that I love you above all others.'

'How've you been you old heartbreaker?' I said. 'Has your wife turned you out yet?'

Another nervous titter. 'Oh, you know us, Rali. We might quarrel now and again. But in the end, my dear, all is forgiven.'

'That's a load if I ever heard one,' I said. 'You're just too quickwitted, or she'd have taken a kitchen knife and made you sing high soprano long ago.'

More tittering. 'How colourful,' he said. Then: 'Now that you're back, you must come and have dinner with us.'

'Have you lost your mind as well as your sense of humour?' I said. 'You
know
your wife hates me. She thinks I've got a secret yen for you.'

'Yes, that's so,' he said weakly. 'Quite true.'

He gave me another stiff embrace. 'Excuse my rudeness,' he said. 'But I really must rush. A Magistrates' meeting, you know.'

I stopped him before he could go. 'Listen,' I said. 'There's another reason I wanted to see you - besides missing your handsome face. A much more important reason.'

I had a grip on his sleeve and he was trying to tug it away without appearing rude. 'Really, my dear,' he said, 'I must be going.'

I was tired and impatient and confused. My temper flared and I wanted to shout at him, tell him that the fate of Orissa hung in the balance. But then my family was catching up to us and I suddenly felt foolish, overly dramatic and limp as an old boodace. I said: 'Please, Malaren! On our friendship, I beg you. Make the time to see me. It is of vital importance, I promise you.'

'Very well,' he said with a sigh. 'I'll send a litter tomorrow afternoon.'

He broke away as Porcemus and the others descended and once again I was smothered in a mountain of unfamiliar familial love.

Malaren didn't send the promised litter the following day, or the next, or the day after. I sent him several messages, each more pleading than the other. He replied to them all with weak excuses, as if he were trying to avoid me. At the same time, my family doted on me as if I were a prized child. They'd taken up residence in Amalric's villa and they filled my hours with all sorts of events and celebrations. Party after party was given in my honour. Food and wine flowed without end. Odder still, many a tempting young woman was trotted before me. Other than Amalric, my brothers had always been disgusted by my sexual preferences; their wives even more so. But in the spirit of their new love, all that seemed forgotten. I was too weary to be tempted, but went along as best I could, relieved after so many years of being an outcast, that my family finally seemed to accept me for what I am. I didn't bed any of the women - there was no desire in me; especially after I asked about Tries and was told she'd married some fellow and had a child a little less than a year old.

I realize, now, I was an emotional volcano waiting to be set off. Whenever I came close to explosion, I pulled back, fearful that I wouldn't be able to stem the eruption. At the heart of it was Gamelan.

It wasn't just because he'd thrown away his life for me - as if that weren't enough. It had been the greatest bravery I've ever known. Here was an old wizard, blinded and stripped of all his powers. It was unimaginable how deep he had to reach to find the strength he'd needed. I'd seen some of the shadow-worlds of magic - if that's what they are. But they were only the depth of a knuckle plunged into a cold, dark sea. He must have gone to the bottom - and beyond - to dredge up the powers to best the Archon. I relived his death and my unworthy salvation night after night, and every quiet moment of each waking hour. Save my mother, I mourned Gamelan as I've mourned for no other; even Otara, or - and I must be honest - my own father.