Rebel of Antares (12 page)
The meetings continued on an irregular basis for the next few sennights, and I did not attend all of them. On the occasions I did attend I was aware of the forward movement of events. It seemed a sound idea to keep myself under cover as much as possible, and I did not venture too much abroad from The Silver Fluttrell and Noran’s villa, and when I did I kept a sharp lookout on the backtrail. I was not followed, was not being spied on. I trusted this happy state applied to all the conspirators.
Ariane’s men were close to the city; much gold had been spent. Noran, although a vad and not the highest of the nobility, a kov, was one of the richest men in Huringa. This, presumably, was the prime reason Ariane had selected him to be her dupe. She oohed and aahed well enough when they were together, but it did not take a sharp eye to see the true situation. He dreamed of becoming the King of Hyrklana. Fat chance!
Almost at the end of planning, for Ariane had matured her schemes for a goodly time, we met to discuss what was to be done with some of the important personages of Huringa who had refused to declare for the usurper to the queen. All they had done was to indicate their loyalty to Fahia, for Ariane had not revealed herself. The list was carefully considered. They came to the name of Orlan Mahmud nal Yrmcelt.
“He must be killed,” said Ariane. She spoke spitefully, her words biting. “He is not devoted to Fahia, I know, but he refuses to aid me. And I have spoken to him. He detests the Hamalese, and would not aid me in my schemes when I am queen.”
Tyfar looked upset. “Is it necessary to kill him? He could be banished—”
“No! Our alliance must be founded on rock, prince. When I am queen and you carry back word to Thyllis in Ruathytu that I will join with her in the glorious conquests, I do not want men at my back who will not support me, men who will work against me and the greater glory of Hyrklana and Hamal.”
“I see that,” said Tyfar. “But I do not like it. I think—”
I put a hand to my mouth. This woman Ariane would ally herself with Thyllis! She would place Hyrklana into bondage to Hamal! Yes, Tyfar would seize on this, as a good Hamalese. He was a prince of Hamal and eggs get smashed making omelettes, and no doubt he fancied Hyrklana’s willing help would tilt the balance in favor of Hamal and thus end the war swiftly. As well it might. Hyrklana might be smaller than Hamal, but the island realm had been untouched by the war raging on the mainland and up north. The people were tough and hardy, certain with weapons, grown ferocious through the constant raiding by the Shanks, the fish heads, from over the curve of the world. My evil dream of bringing Hyrklana into the War was being realized — realized from the other side!
When we rose to leave, my thoughts were still in a turmoil. Noran spoke to Ariane, who nodded. She turned with her wide smile to Tyfar, to whom she was now exquisitely polite, seeing she had lost the influence she might once have had over him through her conduct in the Moder.
“Prince! The time grows nearer. Noran suggests you should live here until we strike. It seems a good plan to me.”
Tyfar nodded agreement, so, perforce, I was to stay, too. Jaezila said she would see about collecting our things from The Silver Fluttrell, and Noran’s majordomo saw about allocating quarters to us. The villa was palatial enough to have housed a regiment or two.
We settled in for the few days remaining. Tyfar was now possessed of an eagerness to strike very becoming in a proud young prince. I racked my brains to think of a way to scupper the plot. The obvious way seemed the best. When Fahia’s guards burst in on my betrayal, I would see to it that Tyfar and Jaezila were safely away. I attempted to leave the villa, acting naturally, but was stopped. The new cadade, a Chulik, explained.
“No one leaves now. It is the vad’s order. Security.”
To have fought my way out might have served, once. I would only betray me, instead of the plotters. This night saw the last meeting. Kov Naghan na Hanak had at last decided to throw in his lot with the conspirators. We need wait no longer, for he brought a strong acquisition of strength. And I decided that I could probably deal more easily with Queen Ariane than with Queen Fahia. I’d let the plot succeed, and then see about stopping this ominous alliance of Hamal and Hyrklana.”
By this time I knew my way around the less-private parts of Noran’s villa. The meeting was to be held in a sumptuous reception room in the heart of the Strigicaw Complex. The room was a mass of crystal. Jaezila had brought all our gear from the tavern, so I could put on a scarlet breechclout, which still made Tyfar frown, and strap up a useful assortment of weaponry. Going down the stone stairs and out under the light of the Maiden with the Many Smiles, fat and pink through scattered clouds, I walked across to the Strigicaw Complex. I did hot feel at all like a conspirator ready to topple a kingdom and install a new queen. Jaezila and Tyfar came toward me as I walked in the light of the moon.
“Jak!” Jaezila’s voice held an edge. “The lady Ariane bids you guard them well tonight. You are to take post at the far end of the colonnade.”
I was surprised.
“Very well. That is some distance from the meeting place.”
“If we do not hurry, we will be late,” said Tyfar.
“There is time,” said Jaezila. “I want to show you something you ought to see, a trinket they have here in a glass case. Come on, Ty! You will delight in it, for it is from Balintol, and then we can go into the meeting. Tomorrow — we strike!”
When one mentions a trinket from Balintol, which is a mysterious place, by Vox, one is always interested. Tyfar looked at the moon, telling the time, and then we went along the colonnade.
“This had better be good, young lady,” said Tyfar. “To keep a revolution waiting!”
Noran’s villa, like any well-furnished palace on Kregen, was stuffed with curios, objets d’art, fascinating treasures from all over the world gathered together through the centuries. We had time to inspect this item Jaezila had marked before the meeting began. The Maiden with the Many Smiles cast down a fuzzy pink light. Shadows burned pink, and the night air smelled sweet. The moonblooms were out. We walked along toward the building that formed an extension to the Strigicaw Complex, and a frightful hubbub broke out at our backs.
Tyfar whirled. We looked back along the colonnade.
“That’s not Kov Naghan,” said Tyfar.
Dark figures ran under the arches, and the sounds of wood smashing told us the door was being broken in. The jangle of steel broke brilliantly into the night.
He whipped out his sword and started to run back, and I caught him by his belt and hauled him in.
“Wait, Tyfar, wait.”
“But—”
Those dark figures ran fleetly toward us. They looked demonic, agile, and the glitter of their weapons struck an edged note of horror.
“We have been discovered by the queen!”
“Then we must fight them!” said Jaezila. Her rapier gleamed liquid silver. She took two paces.
Tyfar put a hand on her arm and looked at me. I let his belt go. “You stop Jaezila, Tyfar, as I stop you. If we have been betrayed, there is nothing more to be saved by getting killed.”
“But my honor—”
“I respect your honor, prince. But my honor says that you will take Jaezila and move back through the colonnade. I will hold them until you reach a good spot.”
I stopped talking then for an arrow spat from nowhere and pierced Jaezila through her left arm. She did not cry out, but she gasped. She staggered. Tyfar caught her and glared wildly at me.
“There, you see!” I cried, annoyed. “Now take Jaezila and go! Do not argue.”
I reached out with the thraxter and flicked a second arrow away. Dodging behind a column, I shouted most fiercely toward Tyfar and Jaezila. “She’s in pain and you dillydally, prince? Where is your famous honor? Save Jaezila —
that
is your duty!”
“But — you — Jak—”
“By Krun! I’ve never met a man who’d argue when a girl needs to be saved.”
I almost thought I’d overdone it. But he scooped Jaezila and ran like a scuttling locrofer, bent above her in his arms, and as he ran he flung back: “I will run and I will save Jaezila, Jak, you may depend on that. But for the sake of our comradeship I will not forget why I ran or who made me run away from a fight.”
So I, Dray Prescot, laughed. In the next seconds my sword crossed with the first of the guards who sought to pass me and rush after my comrades and take them. The steel slithered and scraped. I took the first one cleanly and skipped away and so nicked the second. The third and fourth came on together and tried to sandwich me, whereat I let them come in and then, with the old one-two-hop, avoided them and clouted their heads together. They were Rhaclaws with domed heads as wide as their shoulders. They slumped to the stone floor of the colonnade. One remained, and he came on bravely, so that I dazzled him, and hit him with the hilt.
At the far end under the roof of the colonnade the shadows clustered. I trusted Tyfar would have the wit to keep on running. This was no time to hang around or make a stand. More guards were running up, and the noise from the meeting room smashed into the night air. Ariane’s plot had been discovered and was in the process of being shattered.
There was absolutely no doubt in my mind what the lady Ariane would be doing now. She would follow the same course of conduct as that she had adopted down in the Moder where among the crazed mob she sought only to save herself and refused to aid others. Tyfar had seen that. Only his own code of honor maintained his civility toward Ariane. So now she’d be running and if Naghan the Doorn got himself killed protecting her, well, that was what he was paid for, and Ariane would soon hire a new retainer with a halberd. So I held no brief for her.
As for the other plotters, they must take their chances.
So, with slumbering guards strewing the stone flags of the colonnade, I took myself off. Tyfar and Jaezila were well away by now. Heading for a narrow alley between sumptuous buildings leading to the outside wall, I heard that typical ringing sliding susurration of bronze links above my head. I leaped. The net dropped on me. They are very cunning with metal nets in Hyrklana. The mesh enfolded me as an octopus engulfs its prey. I thrashed about, entangled, and they trotted up and bashed me on the head, just to be on the safe side.
Red for the Ruby Drang
The brilliance of the twin Suns of Scorpio, Zim and Genodras, beat down into the stone-walled yard. The sand strewing the floor was not the silver sand of the Arena, but coarse stuff suitable for a training area where coys were given a few rudiments of the craft before being sent out to face death. About two hundred miserable wights sat or stood about in the heat. I suppose I ought to consider myself lucky I was there at all, arena fodder, rather than lying in some pit with my head tucked neatly under my arm.
A certain amount of guile had been necessary to achieve this end. Using the painful art taught me by Deb-Lu-Quienyin, I had put on a doleful, moronic face and passed myself off as merely a hired guard who knew nothing — as Havil the Green was my witness! — of what went on among the great lords. Victims for the arenas of the many Jikhorkduns of Hyrklana were always needed. As a mere hired guard, who knew nothing, it was not even worth putting me to the question, and with the other guards captured I’d been packed off to the Jikhorkdun.
“Stand up! Stand up! Get in line, you no-good rasts!”
The bulky man with the whip walked along slashing about, and we cowed souls formed up into a long line. At the far end of the enclosure stood four men. They wore armor and carried weapons. Other arena guards were positioned at strategic points. We were all naked and weaponless, browbeaten in line.
As I took stock of what was taking place and the line shuffled toward the four men, I saw that as a coy reached the end of the line he walked to one of the four armored men in rotation, and then went through a doorway at the rear. The four men and the four doorways were marked. Over each door a splash of color stood out vividly in the suns. The four men each wore a colored favor. The line inched along toward the four men and the four doors.
A simple calculation told me that when I reached the head of the line I would, in my turn, have to walk toward the man with the flaunting green feathers in his helmet.
Now, had those feathers been yellow, or blue, even, I do not think I would have cared a jot. I’d simply have walked along and gone through the yellow or blue door. But green! Well, I had long since overcome my irrational, as it turned out, detestation of green. But, for some reason that I did not care to fathom out, I pushed in front of the fellow before me and checked him and so marched smartly toward the man wearing the red feathers. Again, I might in avoiding the green have walked to join the yellows or blues, and I do not think I would have cared. Fate, if it was fate, sent me once again to fight with the Ruby Drang.
“What are they going to do, dom?” said a young Rapa, his beaked face unhappy, his feathers limp.
“You have never sat in the stands?”
“No — I work on my father’s farm, and—”
I said, “Do not lose heart, fight as hard as you can, and die well.” I turned away. I would not make acquaintances, let alone friends, among men marked for death.
The manhandlers with whips and spears — and all wearing red favors — sorted out us fifty recruits who had been apportioned to the Ruby Drang. They went about their work with methodical thoroughness; this they had done many times before.
“You — over here! You — over there!” The whips snapped.
No one ran berserk, trying to escape. We were all too cowed. As for me, I had to bide my chances and stay alive.
“Spearmen, stand there. Swordsmen, stand there. Archers, here.” They sorted us out and, after a moment’s wondering if it might be useful to stand with the archers, I went over to the small group of men who claimed to be able to handle a sword. The managers of the Jikhorkdun had the nasty habit of sending archers up against unpleasant flying animals. Everything was carried out with punctiliousness and yet with an air of boredom, as though mere repetition dulled the alertness of the manhandlers. I knew that was false. One attempt to escape, a single try, and the retribution would be swift, I knew.