Lamarchos Page 17

  He set pieces of leathery waybread on two plates then dumped strips of broiled meat beside them. “Aren’t there always, Leyta.”

  It wasn’t a question. She looked at him startled, then smiled involuntarily in response to the sudden grin that lit his worn face.

  “What’s the worst,” he said, handing her a plate.

  She sat down on the steps. “The worst. Hm. I don’t know that yet. It seems they have some other uses for me. Someone’s coming sometime today with information for me that will clear up the confusion in my head.” She began eating.

  “Someone. Sometime.” He settled himself on the step above her, stretching out his long legs, resting the plate on his thigh.

  Aleytys sipped at the tea. “Might be Loahn.”

  “They say so?”

  “No, but it’d make sense. I think Maissa ran into something she couldn’t handle. He’d come back if that happened.”

  “You know him better than I do.” He set the plate down and emptied his mug in one long swallow.

  “It still bothers you.” She shook her head. “I don’t see why.”

  He shrugged, his face rejecting further comment. “Do we wait here or go on?”

  Aleytys stared at her toes. Slowly she wiggled them while she rubbed the palms of her hands over the batik. After a rather strained silence, she said, “No. I can’t just sit here.”

  “Worried about Sharl?”

  “How can I help it? Until I hold him again …” Her hands rubbed restlessly back and forth over the batik.

  “Then I’d better hitch up the horses. Smother the fire, will you?”

  “What about cleaning the plates?”

  “Your problem.”

  As Stavver moved off, Aleytys grimaced at the plates and prepared to scrub the grease off them.

  Chapter III

  “Loahn.”

  Grinning, the young man brought his horse to a prancing halt. The glow from the orange sun struck flickering highlights from his brush of reddish-mahogany hair. “Ayyi, gikena.” He pulled his mount around and held him close to the wheels of the caravan, ignoring his jerking head and dancing sidesteps.

  Aleytys wrapped fingers around the edge of the seat, tightening her grip until her knuckles gleamed yellow under the dark-stained skin. “My baby.…” She croaked. The words were lost in the rumble and creak from the caravan. She closed her eyes, licked dry lips. “Loahn.” Though her voice cracked again on the word, at least the sound was loud enough for him to hear. He leaned closer.

  “My baby, did you see him, is he all right?”

  He nodded. “I saw him. He’s fine.”

  “Ah.” She cleaned back, closed her eyes. “Well.”

  He rode silent for several meters, his eyes searching the low hillocks ahead. “No. Not well, Lahela.”

  “You said …”

  “Oh, the boy’s all right.” He smiled reassurance, sitting casually confident on the powerful roan, controlling it firmly as it shifted nervously about. “The horde is moving out of the south.”

  “Horde.”

  “We need to talk.” He looked quickly around. “I’ve a lot to tell you.”

  “My baby.…”

  “Keon!”

  Stavver frowned. “What?”

  “Stop a minute, will you? Danger ahead.”

  Stavver grunted skeptically, but he turned the team and pulled up at the first flatfish spot beside the road. He glanced at the sky. “Several hours before sun’s at zenith.”

  Loahn leaned forward to pat the roan’s neck. “Much further and we chance running into the horde.”

  “Miks.” Aleytys rested her hand on his arm. “It’s impossible to talk like this.”

  He looked down at her hand. “You’re the one in a hurry.”

  “I know.” She shifted around on the seat. “Loahn, would it matter if we went a bit further. There’s no water here.”

  “About a kilometer ahead there’s a pull-off. Trees. A well.”

  “Miks?”

  “I heard.” He kicked the brake loose and started the horses trotting down trail.

  Half an hour later, a small fire crackled busily with the teapot nestled close to keep the water hot. Aleytys leaned against the large back wheel, sipping at her mug. The three horses moved over the swelling in the ground beyond the trees, cropping greedily at sun-cured grass. Stavver stood beside her, leaning against the caravan, his face remote, chill, the forgotten tea cooling in his mug. Aleytys glanced up at him, then across the fire at Loahn who sat on a rickety bench, back propped against the trunk of a tree whose loose ragged bark rattled like dry paper in the breeze. “You said the horde was coming out of the south. Horde?”

  “Mmm, yes. Leyilli ran into its outriders.”

  Aleytys pinched her lips together, fighting down the fear that ate like acid at her. She put the mug down and shifted onto her knees. Smoothing out a patch of earth, she said, “Loahn, come here. Write the sign for horde.”

  Looking puzzled he came round the fire and knelt beside her. He drew the glyph hesitantly, finishing with a grunt of satisfaction.

  “I thought so.” She rubbed her hand across the lines with a nervous energy that sent a layer of dirt flying out With both men frowning at her in puzzlement, she chewed at her lower lip, staring out across the low rim of the hillock toward the rising waves of ground swells. “That’s the third task,” she murmured. “The third. My god …” She picked up the mug and gulped down the rest of the lukewarm tea. “Loahn, your feeble-minded Lakoe-heai want me to stop the horde. Horde. How many men?”

  Loahn touched her shoulder. “Gikena?”

  “How many?” she repeated impatiently, pushing his hand away. “In the horde. How many?”

  “Men, women, children … several thousand … say … mmm … five or six thousand.”

  “Madar!” She dug in the earth with her forefinger then flipped little bits of dirt into the air. “I’ve got to stop that?”

  “Stop them?” Loahn stood up like a spring set free, glared down at her. “Impossible. One woman? Ridiculous. You must have heard wrong. It has to be a mistake.”

  “Oh no, Loahn.” Her laughter bubbled with shocking loudness into the tense scene. “No. That’s exactly what I have to do.” Ignoring his protests, she stood and leaned against the caravan resting her forehead on her crossed arms, her back to the fire, shutting out both Loahn’s continuing vehemence and Stavver’s sardonic silence.

  Loahn’s hand closed on her shoulder, but Stavver pulled him away. “Let her alone.”

  Loahn glared at the long, thin man. “If you don’t care about her …”

  Stavver slapped him with an open hand and jumped back. “Let it lay, boy,” he whispered.

  His mouth curled in a tight smile, Loahn snarled, “I’m not afraid of you, old man.” His hand went to the hilt of his Karkesh blade.

  Stavver’s lips parted to show his teeth. “Come on, then, boy.” He drawled the last word turning it into an insult.

  Loahn growled low in his throat and circled, then leaped when he thought he saw an opening. Pain flashed through his body as he found himself sprawled helplessly on the ground. Stavver’s face hung over him. Stavver’s laughter mocked him. “Boy …”

  “Stop it, both of you.” Aleytys thrust herself between them. “Talk about stupidity! What are you trying to prove? You. Miks. My god, you know I feel about you. But I don’t belong to you. I don’t belong to anyone. And you. Loahn.” She watched him get stiffly to his feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Me, I’m none of your business. None!” She threw out her hands, exasperated almost beyond words. “Fool! Attack a man who’s forgotten more about combat than you ever learned! Both of you, forgetting you’re thinking, reasoning beings! Acting like a pair of rutting bighorns. I will decide what I’m going to do. I will. Not you, Miks.” She sighed. “At least you haven’t tried to run my life. Thanks. And not you, Loahn. Have you forgotten that Maissa has my baby? Do you think I would abandon him?”
>
  Loahn bowed briefly toward her, then Stavver. “My apologies,” he muttered. Breathing heavily he strode to the fire, wrapped the felt square around the handle and tilted some of the hot liquid into his mug. When he straightened his face was quiet. “Anyone else?”

  Stavver grunted. “Let me get my cup.

  Aleytys said quietly, “Bring mine also, will you, Miks?”

  Loahn filled the cups then went back to the bench. He leaned against the trunk and sipped at the biting hot liquid. He looked at Stavver who stood beside Aleytys. “I don’t like making a fool of myself … ummmm … Miks.”

  “Nor do I. Go easy on that name, Loahn. Too many people know it. Make it Keon. You too, Leyta.”

  Aleytys sighed. “I simply cannot remember to call you that.”

  “Practice,” he said dryly. He sank onto his heels, frowning intently at the ground. Then he lifted his head, fixing a cool measuring glance on Loahn. “We know a little. From Puki. Fill us in on what happened yesterday.”

  Loahn swirled the tea in his mug, looking thoughtfully away from them toward the horses grazing peacefully on the slope beyond the halt. “When I woke that morning … yesterday? Tchah! Yesterday. The two of you were snoring louder than a pair of mating buzz-beetles. The baby was gone and the speaker dead. I got curious. Of course. I went outside to find out what was happening. Leyilli was sitting on the driving seat, reins in hand. I didn’t see the other anywhere. She called me over. Well, I knew she was Firstman of our little group, so I went. She told me you all had decided to send her out first with the stones to get them free while you stayed …” He looked from Aleytys to Stavver, then back at his cup. “While you stayed behind to ward off suspicion.”

  “Plausible enough,” Stavver said thoughtfully.

  Loahn pinched the end of his nose, a sour look on his face. “Yeah. I didn’t argue with her. Not that one. Nothing wrong with my memory. The time she went for me …” He shivered, gulped a mouthful of the hot tea. “Women. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t want a lot of noise because of the stones.”

  Aleytys nodded. “What about Kale?”

  “He came back with’ the other pair of horses. After taking in the scene, me standing there, her with her sweet smiling face, be tied the pair to the wheel of your caravan and climbed into his.” Loahn sighed. “Even without the dead speaker the look on his face was enough to keep me thinking in ways they didn’t want. So I came back and tried to wake you, Lahela. By the time I gave it up, they were gone.”

  “Puki told us.” Aleytys hesitated. “She said you were going after them. She brought us the horses.”

  “Good girl.” He ran his tongue around his lips. “I was going around in smaller and smaller circles. Before I got to biting the back of my neck I decided the best thing to do was follow them, get a line on where they were headed, and get back to you.”

  Aleytys clenched her hands into fists, then straightened her fingers and spread them out on her thighs. “You saw Sharl?”

  “Heard him crying last night Loud and healthy. And mad as hell.”

  “Crying …”

  “He was hungry. She fed him from a bottle. I saw her sitting by the fire with him on her lap.” He grinned. “He’s fine, Lahela. No sick baby would sound like that.”

  Aleytys pressed her hands against her eyes. “Miks, she had a bottle. Milk.”

  He touched her hair. “So she planned it. Relax, Lee. Use your head. She’s taking good care of him.”

  Aleytys pulled her hands down and sucked in a wavering breath. “Go on,” she told Loahn.

  “Not much more to it. I followed until they made camp. She was in some kind of hurry.”

  Stavver chuckled suddenly. “She’s finally found someone who scares hell out of her.”

  Loahn nodded. “Lahela.” He took a mouthful of tea, swallowed, sucked in another, visibly reluctant to go on. After another minute, though, he spoke again. “They only camped three hours, long enough to rest the horses and let them graze a little. They argued a lot I don’t think Leyilli wanted to stop.”

  “Don’t read too much into that,” Aleytys said impatiently. “I told you. She doesn’t like men.”

  He shrugged. “They started on again about an hour before dawn. Right now, she’s only a couple hours ahead of you.” He shook his head as Aleytys jumped to her feet. “Sit down, Lahela. I haven’t finished.” He waited until she sank onto her knees and sat leaning tensely forward wanting him to speak, willing him to speak. “The outriders from the horde came on them about an hour after sun-up. Three men. Kale recognized what they were as soon as he saw them. He dropped the reins, dived into the back, came out with a crossbow, had three bolts through them before they had time to react. He tumbled off the bench, caught one of the horses, slapped the others into a run, and was off to the north like fire rode under his tail. Leyilli’s mouth was still hanging open when another pair came over the hump. They saw the dead, the woman.”

  Aleytys passed her hand over her face, again and again, wiping at invisible flies, staring numbly at nothing.

  Hastily Loahn went on. “The boy’s all right. They take boy babies to raise in the horde.”

  “Ah.” Unable to sit still any longer Aleytys jumped to her feet and began pacing back and forth beside the fire, rubbing unconsciously at her milk-laden breasts. “Loahn,” she said, her voice harsh and staccato under the stress of her emotions. “I’m off-worlder, remember?” She thrust the hair back off her face. “Tell me about the horde.”

  “Bad news.” He sipped at the tea, frowning at the ground.

  “Tell me. Don’t dither, man!”

  “We don’t know much about them.

  She kicked at the damp earth, dislodging a few pebbles. “However little, it’s more than I know.”

  “Hmm.” He licked his lips, glanced briefly at Stavver. “They come out of the south.”

  “So? Where from?”

  “Who knows.” He shrugged. “They come when they will, with no set pattern to their swarming.” For a little while the only sound was the crackling of the fire. “What are they?” He brooded then raised his head, a wry grin wiping the seriousness from his face. “Let me quote. One of our lesser song smiths. Destruction incarnate. A plague of locusts. Demons gone mad. Blowing across the lakelands like fire, killing and being killed, burning and destroying what can’t be burned. We fight them. We kill them by the thousands.” The passion in his words infected his body and he too leaped to his feet and joined her, pacing rapidly beside her. “They keep coming. Overwhelming us with numbers. On and on, city after city. Gutted. Burned. What won’t burn knocked down. On and on until they burst out the other side of the lakelands into the quaking hills, leaving a burnt-out swath behind them where scarcely stone stands on stone, and everything that lived is dead.”

  Aleytys shuddered and broke away from him. She leaned against the caravan and folded her arms over her breasts. “You lakelanders never tried to follow them? To find out where they went or where they came from?”

  Loahn shrugged. “My grandfather, for one. They came last the year after his blooding when he was a wild young savage.” His face turned bland. “Like me.”

  Aleytys dredged up a smile. “So?”

  “He followed them. By the time they crossed lakelands there were only about a hundred of them left. Along with the horde master. They staggered into the quaking hills, looking like qaf smokers in withdrawal. One by one, the last survivors began falling out. He followed a trail of dead and dying. Finally he saw a lot of black smoke. The master’s wagon was burning. In the distance about a score of riders, each one with a captured boy sitting before him, rode toward a cliff that rose like a wall, grey-green stone veined with thick tarry black streaks. They rode into the cliff. One minute there, he said, the next, not a sign of them. Horses, riders, kidnapped boys. Gone. My grandfather said it scared the stiffening out of his bones. Nonetheless he went up to the cliff. It was as solid as any rock he’d ever seen, he said, so he gave it up and came back h
ome.”

  Aleytys closed her eyes, feeling a sour sickness in her mouth and stomach. “All that for no reason except the taking of a few boys?”

  Loahn strolled back to the bench and dropped onto it. “None we know. What reason could there be for the massacre of thousands of your own people?”

  “You said they took boys into the horde?”

  “Right.”

  “What about Leyilli?”

  “They’re not in the lakelands yet.”

  “That makes a difference?”

  “It seems to. They didn’t kill her. They took her with them, she drove the caravan. In the lakelands they would have slit her throat, slaughtered the horses, and burned the caravan.”

  “Then she’s probably dead now.”

  “I don’t think so.” He dug at the earth with his heels. “Since they didn’t kill her immediately. Maybe the horde-master needs a woman.”

  Aleytys shivered. “Miks, what’ll that do to her?”

  “Keon, Lahela.” He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about Maissa. She’s tough and resilient. She’s survived a lot worse than a little rape.”

  “Still.… Loahn. You said they change when they come into the lakelands. How?”

  “Hm. No outriders. They don’t defend themselves. Don’t bother about the wounded, leave them to die where they fall, man, woman, or child. Like there’s a single brain controlling the whole mass of them that considers the dead like falling hairs, worth no more concern than that.”

  “The horde master?”

  “Probably.”

  Stavver broke in. “What happens if the master is killed?”

  “I don’t know. It’s never happened.”

  “Never?” The word was heavy with scorn.

  “Never.” Loahn stood slowly, a spark of anger glowing in his eyes. “We’re not stupid, starman. We’ve tried. Each time we’ve tried. There’s no way to get to him. There’s a kind of aura … something … over the horde. Raiders get caught in it. They stop, fall asleep. And never wake up. The master’s guard slits their throats.”

  Stavver glanced up at the glow spot. “About how far away from us are they?”