The Three Lands Omnibus Part 41

"I'll remember that." He was silent for a long while, and I had begun to wonder whether he wanted me to leave when he asked suddenly, "Have we met before? I felt sure that we had when I saw you earlier. I suppose I must have seen you around the palace, but ..." His voice trailed off.

"It was in the cave."

Even as I spoke, I knew that he would not be able to remember an encounter that had meant so much to me but so little to him. And indeed, for a moment he neither spoke nor moved, so that I began to prepare a longer explanation. Then, with a motion as quick as though his life depended on it, he took hold of my arm and swung me round to face him. This time I took care to lower my eyes, though I could sense him scanning my face.

At last he emitted a slow sigh and released my arm. "Yes, your eyes are what I remembered," he said. "You were the one who ran away."

Something made me say, "It wasn't me who threw the dagger after that. My friend John and I had come across your hiding place by accident."

"Was there another boy there? I didn't see him." He was silent again, and I kept my gaze fastened on a rose-gold brooch pinning closed the neck-flap of his tunic. I had not noticed it before, but I knew that his father must have given it to him, for it portrayed the royal emblem, which can only be worn by the Chara and his heir. When the Chara's son spoke again, his voice was more hesitant than before, as though he was saying something he did not expect me to understand. "I told everybody that I ran after you that day because I didn't want you to reveal our hiding place. But really, the reason was that, when I saw you, I had a strong feeling that the two of us should talk."

My eyes rose then, compelled not by my own will nor even by the words of the Chara's son, but by the same voice deep inside me that had commanded me to stay and look at the boy in the cave. For a long moment we stared at each other.

It was Peter who broke away his gaze and turned back to look out the window, saying, "This is a beautiful view. But why are you standing here in Lord Carle's quarters, where he might find you? And isn't it a late hour to be watching?"

"There are no windows in the slave-quarters," I replied, "and I'm not eager to go to my bed." I paused, and then added, "I have bad dreams on many nights, and I cry out. That wakes the other slaves, and they complain to Lord Carle's free-servant, who tells Lord Carle, and then I'm punished."

The Chara's son murmured, "He ought to give you your own room." He caught the look in my eye, and a smile curled up slowly from one side of his face. "Yes, I can just see how he'd react if I told him that. *Lord Carle, you punish your slave because he has nightmares. Would it not be better to give him his own chamber?' Should I go ask him that now?"

"I would be happy to answer any questions the Chara's son has."

The voice was not mine. For a moment we froze, and I saw the three of us clearly. Lord Carle, standing so close to us that I would have sighted him long before, but for the fact that my eyes were fixed on those of the Chara's son. Peter, his smile on the edge of fading as a barrier slammed down upon his face. And myself, not as quick as Peter to react, discovering what I had not realized while he was speaking: for the first time since I came to Emor, I was smiling.

The Chara's son turned, as smoothly as though he had practiced this move on many occasions, and said in a composed and formal voice, "I am sorry to have disturbed you, Lord Carle. I fear I have also been disturbing your slave, whom I waylaid to learn whether he could give me information on Koretia, as my father wishes me to learn more about that land. I suppose that I ought to have listened closely to what you were telling me just now about not striking up idle conversations with slaves."

Lord Carle's eyes lingered on me, and it seemed to me, for some odd reason, that he appeared more disappointed than angry. Then his gaze slid over to Peter, and I saw that he was looking at the emblem brooch, as though he were contemplating the Chara's duties. He bowed his head toward Peter. "I am sure that the Chara's son has done nothing wrong tonight. I look forward to continuing our conversation again some other time."

The Chara's son acknowledged Lord Carle's bow. Then, without looking my way, he walked away.

Lord Carle waited until he was gone before striking me to the ground.

My head, which had felt dizzy before, grew even lighter from the pain. I stayed where I was, my hand touching the warm blood on my cheek, unwilling to rise only to be struck down once more.

"You never learn," Lord Carle said with dangerous quietness. "I tell you to respect your masters, and the next time we meet, you are chatting with the Chara's son. It is obvious that you have the brains of a Koretian sand-beetle and that I am wasting my breath in using words on you. From now on you will stay in the slave-quarters and do work there. You will not come out of that bas.e.m.e.nt until you have learned how to be obedient to your superiors. That will keep you out of trouble and will prevent you from spending half your time daydreaming in front of windows. Now get out of my sight before I lose my temper with you."

I left his quarters. Then I left the palace.

I had not even reached the city gates by the time the soldiers found me. What I remember clearest after that is standing in front of Lord Carle and telling him, in a voice so numb as to be matter-of-fact, exactly what I would do to him if I were holding a free-man's weapon. He heard me out, smiling the whole time. Then, with a voice as courteous as though he were a trader making a fair bargain, he explained to me exactly what he was going to do to me, and explained further that he would continue doing it until I apologized to him and promised to behave like an Emorian. And I listened without feeling, my face in a mask and my heart in a mask, knowing only that Lord Carle had placed me under the high doom.

Memory is merciful; I have forgotten the rest.

"There. You see what I mean."

The boy's voice broke like an unwelcome shaft of light into my darkness. I was dimly aware that I was lying naked on the cold stone floor of a room with no windows and no lights.

The darkness suited me. I had taken my night sky of blackness, bare even of stars, and wrapped it around me as a s.h.i.+eld from the outside world. That world was nothing to me now but pain.

I felt the voice fall upon me like a whip, and I instinctively gathered the darkness closer, seeking to bury myself in some corner of it which was so secret that I would never have to emerge again. Then something about the anger in that voice spoke to the pain I felt, and I opened my eyes.

They were standing in the open doorway, silhouetted against the torchlight beyond: a boy and a man, both cloaked against the chill of the bas.e.m.e.nt. This much I saw before the darkness drifted over me again. But the cruel light of their voices continued.

"Lord Carle has a heavy hand," said the man. "But if you have learned anything from your lessons by now, it should be that the Chara does not have the power to change everything in this land to his liking. My subjects have the right to discipline their own slaves in whatever manner they wish."

"This is not discipline; it is murder. You heard Henry say that Lord Carle has ordered that the beatings continue."

"Henry also said that Lord Carle has ordered the punishment to stop the moment that the slave apologizes. The slave has not spoken since the punishment began three nights ago. If he dies, it will not be from murder but from suicide."

"Lord Carle wants him to say that he will behave like an Emorian. How can he act like an Emorian when he is Koretian? You said yourself that it would be foolish for the Chara to treat his subjects in the dominions as though they were not alien in thoughts and customs. That is what Lord Carle is trying to do a he is seeking to make his slave into what the slave cannot be."

"Lord Carle may be in error, but it is his right to choose the punishment. The slave tried to escape his master, and disobedience is the gravest crime that any slave can commit."

"But it is my fault that it happened!" The boy's voice was rising in an unaccustomed pa.s.sion. "He tried to escape because Lord Carle struck him down after I had spoken to him a I saw it happen. If anyone is punished, it should be me."

"You have received your punishment here by seeing the price of your mistake. If the slave dies, it will be as much your fault as Lord Carle's."

There was a long silence, and I began to wonder, in the security of my darkness, whether I would no longer be disturbed by the harsh light of their voices. Then the man's voice came again, more quietly. "I say this, not because I enjoy seeing you hurt, but as needful discipline. If the slave dies because of what you did, it will mean the death of only one boy, but some day you will have placed under your care thousands of men and women. This incident may teach you to avoid impulsive actions toward others, and to act only in the formal manner of the Chara."

"Father," said the boy, his voice cold in its conviction, "that is not a lesson I need to be taught."

The man paused before saying, "No, you are right. You are young and you lack experience, but you have already learned much, and some day you will rule this land well. So take this incident, not as a lesson, but as a reminder that the Chara must act without favor to any man. If the law calls for it, you must use the Sword of Vengeance on those you love, and you must use the Heart of Mercy on those you hate. That is why the empire's people will be placed under your care: because you have the strength to do what hurts you most."

The boy, when he spoke again, sounded less sure of himself. "All that you say is true, Father: I must rule with fear as well as love. But I love the people, nonetheless, and it is hard for me to stand by and watch one of them abused. If you cannot interfere because this is Lord Carle's slave, could I not buy his slave from him?"

"You have no money for such luxuries," said the man. "I do not wish to have you making purchases like that until you are old enough to know how to wield money and power and a sword without committing folly in the process. This latest episode does not help to convince me that you yet have enough wisdom."

Again there was a silence, but this time I did not shrink back into my darkness, for a dim light seemed to linger there, as though something were rising over the horizon of my night sky.

The boy said, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Please, Father. I have so little, and this is the only great thing I have ever asked of you."

Some part of me that was beginning to surface out of the darkness was puzzled by this statement, but the man, when he finally replied, seemed to understand what the boy meant. "There has been little I could give you aside from the burden of my t.i.tle. So, if this will make you happy, it will please me as well. If Lord Carle is willing to sell the slave, I will buy him myself, and have him a.s.signed to work in your chamber. You will be in charge of the slave's discipline and may learn from this the challenge of disciplining an empire. It will be your job, though, to convince Lord Carle to sell the slave. I will not involve myself in that matter."

"The laws forbid that you should," said the boy, and I realized that he was not exclaiming an oath but making a simple statement.

"Come, now, I need my sleep, or I will not be able to rise from my bed in the morning. One lesson I hope you learn well is never to keep the people awaiting your word at the Court of Judgment."

Footsteps fell, and then came silence, but I found I could not drag myself back into the darkness that had been s.h.i.+elding me from the pain. After a minute, I opened my eyes and saw the Chara's son kneeling next to me.

I whispered, "Thank you."

He did not reply at once, and as I tried to read his shadowed face, I realized that I had spoken in Koretian. Then he said in the same tongue, "I beg that you impart to me your name."

"Andrew son of Gideon."

The last three words came instinctively to my tongue, though they had been beaten from me during my first months of slavery, when I stubbornly insisted that I still possessed a patronymic, as any free boy would.

The Chara's son showed no surprise at hearing me speak as though I were not a slave; he simply leaned forward. "I am Peter, Lord of the Chara's Palace and Chara To Be." He placed his hand on my arm as though welcoming me into his home, and then let it rest there for a while before saying in a low voice, "Don't worry. I'll return for you soon." He removed his hand, but only in order to pull off his cloak and place it over me.

Once he had gone, I sunk back into my night sky. But it was no longer dark, for the silver disc of a moon had risen over the horizon.

Blood Vow 3 THE LOOK OF THE CHARA.

CHAPTER SIX.

Two hours after Lord Dean had left me gazing at the slave market from the council library, I was looking out of the same window, but my eyes were now on the black border mountains, and a smile was on my lips. I was thinking, not of the land that lay beyond the mountains, but of the night when Peter had joined me at my window vigil.

My thoughts were cut off abruptly by outcries that flooded into the room like sunlight from a window whose shutters have just been opened. Turning my head, I saw the council porter, with mouth agape, standing at the open library door. Behind him, the thirty lords of the Emorian council were shouting amongst each other.

The porter rapidly closed the door to the scene. "Heart of Mercy!" he exclaimed. "I thought I had already checked this room. The High Lord will have me up on charges for this."

I had been sitting atop one of the desks, the only way that I could see through the chest-level window while seated. Now I rose and said, "They've started already? I wasn't paying attention to the time."

"They have, and it's a closed meeting, as planned. Lord Dean sent all of the council officials away except myself. The Empire of Emor will not be wide enough to hide me once the council finds that you are here."

He was clutching the rod of discipline that denoted his office, yet his pale face looked anything but confident. I said in an unperturbed manner, "The fault is mine. I will tell Lord Dean so when I see him next."

Perhaps he had expected me to be as frightened as any other man would be to find himself an unwitting witness to a private council meeting. My deportment, though, must have a.s.sured him. He said in a less ruffled manner, "Thank the wisdom of the Charas that it's you, anyway. I heard Lord Carle say once that the Chara might as well make you a council lord since you receive a report on every meeting from the Chara himself. I will have to escort you out now. Perhaps by the time that this meeting is finished, Lord Dean will be too weary to trouble himself with me."

The council lords were still shouting, and their voices had risen to the point that I could hear some of what they were saying. The porter, mustering his courage, waited until I had joined him and then opened the door into the Council Chamber.

The enormous chamber was dominated by an oval-shaped table, around which the council lords were placed. At the near end of the table was Lord Dean, presiding over his fellow lords; at the far end was the Chara. Since I had seen him that morning, Peter had changed into his everyday, peasant-brown tunic; pinned at his neck was the emblem brooch he usually wore. He could not wear his formal clothes to the Council Chamber, for at its meetings the council served, not the Chara, but only the law of Emor. The Chara was here as the council's guest.

He was younger than most of the lords, but his pose had an ageless dignity, which may have originated from the fact that he was sitting calmly while all of the lords were on their feet, shouting in restless fury. As I stepped into the Council Chamber, the shouts cut off suddenly, as though I had intruded on the pa.s.sionate lovemaking of a newlywed couple.

Peter's eyes flicked over toward me briefly. Then he rose smoothly to his feet, leaned forward to place his palms on the table, and said to the now-silenced lords, "I am the council's servant in matters where the law requires that I defer to you. In matters where I am the master, I am always happy to receive your advice. But you seem to have forgotten in this case that I am coming to you for your advice, not your orders. I am Commander of the Armies, and it is my duty as Chara to go to the scene of battle whenever war arises, whether to bring destruction or to bring peace. None of you has denied that we are on the verge of war with the Koretians. I must remind you, then, that I am not going to Koretia for the sake of my own pleasure, but because the law demands it. Therefore, the fact that I am going is not a matter which the council may dispute."

He waited for a moment to see whether any lord would speak, but the room was silent as the porter and I neared the door to the corridor. Changing from the hard voice of a father exacting discipline to the diffident voice of a son asking his elders for help, the Chara added, "Since that matter is settled, I would appreciate your guidance on how I may best deal with the problem that troubles me most in Koretia ..."

I did not hear the rest of his speech, for the copper doors of the chamber had boomed shut behind me. Ignoring the disconcerted looks of the guards flanking the doors, I ducked under their spears and made my way back down the corridor.

I had intended to return to the Chara's quarters to consult his law books on some questions that remained in my mind. Instead, I found myself lying some time later under the only tree in the inner garden of the Chara's palace, my eyelids closed and ruddy as I tilted my head in the direction of the sun.

I must have slept. My next awareness was of something soft brus.h.i.+ng my arm. I opened my eyes and saw, kneeling by my side, Lord Carle's Koretian slave-girl.

I stood up with a rapidity that must have frightened the girl, for she rose hastily herself and said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir! I just thought that you might have a free-man's weapon that you would be willing to use for me."

The oddness of this speech gave me a genuine reason to pause and take in the girl's appearance, as best I could in the dim twilight. She was about twelve years of age, on the threshold of womanhood as the people of the Three Lands judge such matters, and her skin was much darker than my own. She had been trained as a slave, for she kept her eyes carefully lowered, but had not been trained for long, for she was standing far closer to me than she ought to have been.

My silence lingered long enough for her to add hastily, "My master's free-servant sent me to pick some of the roses on the garden trellis, but I cannot pull them off, for they are too tough. It is not for me to ask such a thing, but I do not want to come back empty-handed, and I thought that if you had a dagger, you might be so very kind as to cut one or two of the flowers."

She stood with one foot slightly behind the other, poised to flee if I treated her as she might expect to be treated after speaking so boldly to a free-man. I had spent fifteen years in the palace, watching as lords plotted against lords, as officials betrayed officials, and as everyone attempted to sway the Chara, so it did not take more than a split second for me to perceive her plan. But I found myself saying, "As you see, I bear no weapon, but I would be happy to help you with the flowers if I can. Where are they to be found?"

She pointed the way to the rose trellis, which was still gleaming white in the dusk-light. I walked down the slope of the small hill on which the tree was planted, pa.s.sed through a gate in the stone wall surrounding the garden, and walked over the narrow perimeter of pavement between the garden and the courtyard walls beyond. There, climbing one of the walls, were the white roses; I reached up to pull a bud from off of the vine.

Looking up at me, the girl said, "Excuse me for asking, sir, but you are Koretian, are you not?"

"I was born in Koretia." I kept my eyes fixed on the rose, which was proving to be tougher to handle than I had expected.

"I heard from one of the other slaves that you were once Lord Carle's slave. Is that true, sir?"

"Yes." I was beginning to wish I bore a free-man's blade; it seemed that I would have no luck pulling the rose out by hand. I sensed rather than saw the girl take a step closer. With a wrench, I pulled the rose out, p.r.i.c.king my finger on a thorn as I did so. I turned, but it was too late; the girl had used the moment to step close to me.

"I was surprised this morning when I heard you talking to Lord Carle as you did, and that was even before I learned that you were once his slave. It must take great courage to address your former master in such a way. I was ... stirred by your bravery."

She took another step forward, brus.h.i.+ng past my hand, so that the rose fell to the ground. I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice saying, "I would hate to see you waste your efforts here, Levina. If you must seduce your way into a new master's bed, I suggest that you take the trouble next time not to squander your skills on a eunuch."

Lord Carle had the sort of voice that demanded attention from his slaves, but for a moment before the slave-girl turned from me, I saw the changing expressions on her face.

First came the surprise. I knew that I could not attribute this solely to my strongly controlled pitch of voice, which had misled more than a few of the palace dwellers. Part of her surprise arose from ignorance. She had no doubt heard back home that a few of the more barbaric Emorians practiced such monstrosities on their slaves, but like most Koretians, she was unlikely to have met a gelded man before. If she had, my boyish appearance would likely have alerted her to what she was facing.

First the surprise; then came the shock, followed by the anger. And then came the expression I had seen so many times in the past fifteen years that it was forever present in my nightmares: the contempt.

Then she turned away with fright to face her master. He took little notice of her, but simply jerked his head in the direction of his quarters. When she had gone, he said to me, "Whatever else you may be, you are not a fool, Andrew, so I am unwilling to believe that you were taken in by that act."

I knelt down to pick up the rose. Without looking up, I said, "I did not want to hurt her feelings. If I had been your slave-girl, I too would have used any means I could to find a new master."

"I have no doubt that you would have." At his tone, I looked up, but I did not rise from where I knelt. Lord Carle continued, "But whatever your own views on the usefulness of changing from master to master, I would appreciate it if you would not give my slaves the opportunity to test the limits of their loyalty to me."

I looked back down at the white rose and touched it gently. As I took my fingers away, I saw that the petals were now stained red. I said, "Then you will have to punish the girl. I am sure that your discipline will work on her."

"It is a pity," said Lord Carle, "that it did not work on you. The Chara might be safer if it had."

I reached out to touch the rose again, my fingers brus.h.i.+ng the velvet petals with restrained gentleness as I said, "The Chara, at least, has nothing to fear from me."

There was a silence so long that I was sure Lord Carle had gone, but when I looked up again, I saw that he was merely waiting for me to raise my eyes. He said softly, with emphasis, "If the Chara is safe, then I am sure that everyone else in this palace is safe. As I said before, you are not a fool."

He left then, but I continued to kneel beside the blood-stained rose for some time.

"I ... am ... dead."

Peter p.r.o.nounced these words with the solemn gravity of the Chara reciting a proclamation, and then flung himself down onto the reclining couch in his sitting chamber.

I moved a vase of white roses onto the table next to him. "Here is your flower arrangement."

Peter grinned up at me. "You always know ahead of time what I need. Have you prepared my funeral oration as well?"

"You ought to have given me more advance notice. You will have to delay dying for a few weeks, so that I can have your clerk write it up for the records."

Peter turned on his side to look at me. His hair was sun-bright in the golden light of the late-night fire beyond him. He was lying near the north wall of the chamber, which contained the hearth, his writing table, and the door to the free-servant's sleeping chamber. I had returned to the window that faced south and was standing by it, pulling some berries from the bowl I had laid on the sill.

"You must have stayed to eavesdrop on the rest of the council meeting," Peter said. "That is exactly what Lord Dean told me. He seemed to think that I could arrange the timing of my own death in the same manner that I issue my commands... . Speaking of council lords, I met Lord Carle on the way here. He told me that he started a conversation with you this evening. He always tells me when that happens, though I have explained to him over and over that it is of no interest to me any more what goes on between the two of you, and that I am sure you and he can behave in a civilized fas.h.i.+on. Nonetheless, he struck me as having a particularly guilty look on his face tonight."

I withdrew my fingers from the bowl and wiped them on a cloth nearby. "Lord Carle only reported to you half the story. Our conversation was a continuation of one we started this morning, when I burst in on his quarters unannounced."