Lamarchos Read online

“Judging by where they took Leyilli, about two-three hours ride.

  “We’ve been here about half an hour. They coming this way?”

  “I didn’t hang around to see which way they were moving.”

  “So if we stay here, we’re reasonably safe for an hour or so.”

  “Could be.”

  Stavver turned to Aleytys. “We’ve got a problem, Leyta.”

  “You tell me?” She sat down again, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her chin on her knees. “If we don’t get Maissa back, we’re stuck on this world.”

  “Perhaps.” Stavver brooded a minute. “It wouldn’t be easy. We might manage to get on a trader’s ship. I don’t see how right now.”

  “Well. That’s for later. Beyond getting my baby back and freeing Maissa, the Lakoe-heai have a little job for me. Turning the horde.” She rubbed her fingers hard against the firm smooth skin of her forehead. “Given their present feeling about me, I suspect I won’t be allowed to avoid doing what they want.”

  “How the hell.…” Stavver moved impatiently away from the caravan. “He said it and I agree.” He jerked a thumb at Loahn. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “Have I got a choice? Besides, I think I see how to do it.”

  “How?”

  “Miks … sorry, Keon, Don’t you see? Of course you do.” She shook her head. “I have to kill the master. I can do it, you know. That aura isn’t likely to overcome me.”

  Loahn opened his mouth, closed it, looked at Stavver, flung out his hands, turned his back on both of them to stand staring at nothing.

  Stavver nodded slowly. “I see. Think you can manage the killing itself?”

  She leaned back against the wheel, brushing her hand across her face. “No. This will.” She tapped her temple.

  “Your hands do it.” The lines in his face deepened.

  “I know. I’m not trying to duck responsibility.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “NO. I haven’t the skill. You know that. The Rider does. It can do what I can’t.”

  “You’ve decided.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you take a piece of advice from a thief?”

  “Who better?”

  “Find a way out before you commit yourself.”

  She laughed, relief from tension turning her muscles weak. “That I’ll do, Miks, That I promise you.”

  “Since you obviously plan to let yourself be taken, have you considered what will happen to you?”

  “As long as I’m left alive, I don’t care about the rest.”

  “You’ll probably be raped. Can you handle that?”

  She lifted her shoulders, let them fall. “Leave that till it happens. I’ll do anything I have to get Sharl back.”

  He knelt beside her, touched her head with the tips of his fingers. “I wish.…”

  She tilted her head so that his fingertips trailed over her face. “I know.”

  Loahn came back and stood before her. “What now?”

  She stretched and yawned. “Eat, I think.”

  “Tchah! I don’t mean that and you know it.”

  She smiled up at him. “Well, you and my friend … Keon … you two stay here a while, then head north and warn your people the horde is coming.”

  “And you?”

  “With your permission, Loahn, I take that roan of yours and ride out to meet the horde.”

  “No!” He wheeled to face. Stavver. “You were ready to break my back for her less than an hour ago. Don’t let her do this.”

  Stavver snorted. “You try stopping her.”

  “Lahela …” He held out his hands to her. “It’s suicide.”

  “Not quite.”

  “Then I go with you.”

  “That IS nonsense. You’d be killed at sight.”

  He flung himself away, then wheeled back, catching Stavver by the arm. “Tie her up, beat her, do something. She’s your woman.”

  Stavver quietly freed his arm. “Lahela has the right to determine what she does with her life.”

  “A woman! She hasn’t the capacity.”

  “Hah!” Aleytys stood up and brushed the crumbs of earth from her legs. “I know damn well I’d never make it on this world.”

  Stavver chuckled. “Relax, Lee. I’ll cook some meat and fruit for you.” His eyes twinkled as they swept over Loahn’s disapproving face. “By the way, when you decide to break away from the horde, I’ll be waiting to the east of it for you. Think you can find me?”

  “You know I can.” With a forefinger she tapped twice at her temple, then grimaced as the diadem chimed in answer. “I don’t mean you,” she said. “My other talents, Miks.”

  His hand curved around the back of her head, then moved down to her shoulder. Pulling her against him, he said softly, “Make sure of the bolt hole, Lee.”

  “You be careful too, you hear?”

  He laughed, his breath stirring through her hair. “You’ve got the easiest time.”

  “Waiting. It’s hard, I suppose.”

  He looked over her head at Loahn’s face. “Our native friend thinks this reversal of roles is obscene.”

  “He can go sit on a thorn bush. I’m tired of his conceit.”

  Chapter IV

  Aleytys shifted restlessly, glanced up at the glow spot of the sun, then ran her free hand uneasily over her bare shoulders. For the first time she was riding alone on this alien world. The strangeness hit her suddenly like a blow in the stomach.

  The land reeled around her, parts leaping at her in exaggerated clarity, other parts blurring. Her stomach knotted, heaved until she spewed its contents alongside the trail.

  Feeling the absence of a strong hand the roan shook his head vigorously, snapping the reins from her blind uncertain fingers. The gathering of his muscles punched her out of her shock. She snatched at his mind, stiffened him into a rigid statue. Breathing hard she bent forwards and recaptured the reins, swaying as the motion brought back her dizziness. The stallion settled into a punishing walk while Aleytys splashed water on her face and stared deliberately around, mouth compressed in a tight line, forcing herself to acknowledge and accept the otherness of this place.

  Overhead, fugitive patches of blue slipped momentarily through the spiraling streaks of pastel colored bacteria that swarmed across the bowl of the sky, obscuring even the face of the sun. The sun. A single sun, orange, the color of hullu-fruit. A single sun, small and meek. Her birth sun Hesh glittered blue with a cutting light like a steel blade. And Hesh’s sister bride Horli. Horli’s great red bulk covered a quarter of the sky. Here the horizon was closer, surprising her again and again, whenever she forgot where she was, distracted by events or her companions. The horses here made it doubly difficult to realize she was on another world. Horse. One of the beasts that followed man to the stars. When she looked out across the bobbing heads of the team, she might have been home on Jaydugar rather than on an alien world Madar knew how far from home. Until she looked up and saw the sky.

  It hit her now because she rode alone, duplicating her ride under Hesh and Horli, twin suns that would have the hide off anyone foolish enough to ride uncovered. This knowledge etched into her mind, into the unconscious ecology of habit, woke to sudden life as she rode alone under this gentler sun, making her continually uneasy. She rubbed sore breasts and reminded herself that this sun was not Hesh.

  Impatiently she dropped the reins letting the roan speed up. He had a mouth like leather and a stubborn objection to control that defeat after defeat never diminished. According to Loahn he was the fastest animal on his horse-run, with a phenomenal endurance, but Aleytys still had not found a gait that was comfortable for his rider. She shifted in the saddle, groaning softly, regretting her black stallion, left behind when she left home. She bent forward and stroked the muscular neck, its reddish hair softened by the blue-grey bloom that made him a roan. “It’ll be a relief to get captured, boneshaker.” She straightened. “Dammit, horse. When you want a ravening ravisher, t
here’s none around.”

  The roan kept tugging at the bit until her arms protested each movement she made. After a few more minutes of his jolting trot she sighed wearily, swore, spat out the blood from a badly bitten tongue, and wrapped the reins around her fists, pulling him back to a broken-legged walk.

  The rutted dusty road slid backwards under the big iron-shod hooves as the glow spot of the sun slid down the sky behind her and the fuzzy shadow ahead of her grew proportionately longer. Aleytys slipped into the roan’s mind and locked him into the walking gait. Letting out a sigh of relief she wound the reins around the saddle horn and flexed aching fingers, clucking over the deep red pressure marks from the reins. She unhooked the water skin and drank deeply.

  When she lowered the skin she saw two men in the road ahead of her, watching her. They were broad chunky figures, sitting their shaggy mustangs with, a casual mastery. They wore full trousers and copper studded vests. Long hair whipped about savage grinning faces, held out of their black eyes by red scarves knotted about their brows, fringed ends fluttering among greasy black strands of hair. Their full lips were stretched in wide grins that somehow were not at all reassuring to the watching woman. She lowered the skin slowly and hooked the strap over the horn.

  She shook the reins free and forced the animal around. Another rider topped the rise to the left of the road. The roan turned further. Two men sat on their mounts in the center of the roadway, grinning at her. She turned the roan again. On the rise to the right, a sixth rider was a black silhouette against the sky. She finished the roan’s prancing circle and pulled him to a halt facing the first pair.

  “What do you want?” She would not give in to the tremble at the bottom of her stomach. Lifting her head with fierce pride she stared coolly into the savage grinning faces.

  “Come.” One spoke, then kneed his mount so that the animal sidled nearer to her.

  Aleytys backed the roan a few steps. “I’m gikena, fool.”

  He laughed, small eyes almost disappearing in the creases of his flesh. “Liar.”

  “I’m gikena. I heal, but can curse, man of the south. I obey Lakoe-heai.”

  “Hah!” He leaned over and snatched the reins from her. “Obey the master now. Shaman’ll pull your fangs. Gikena!” He shouted with laughter.

  Aleytys glared at him. “Let me go.”

  “Sure. Go with us.”

  “I won’t.” She set her face in an icy mask, pleased with her strategy and at the same time terrified. “I’m on an urgent quest, man of the south. I seek my son and what was stolen from me. I lay geas on you to aid me.”

  He grinned again and brought his hand down hard on the roan’s rump, startling him into a quick trot. The others rode off on whatever errands they were pursuing before she interrupted them.

  Soon she heard a growling muted thunder that brought a vivid memory to her of the placid days following the herds on Jaydugar. They topped a rise and looked down on a black, moving mass that crept across the rolling land at a slow walk. For an instant she saw them as the ugly armor-plated beasts that the nomads lived off, then she’ blinked and pulled the corners of her mouth down, jerked back to reality. What darkened the earth was hundreds, thousands of riders, sex indeterminate from this distance.

  As her captor plunged into the mob Aleytys felt a sense of helplessness and frustration. One person to turn this—this avalanche of humanity? She looked around, curiosity flaring, dominating for a time her growing anxiety. Women as wild and unkempt as the men stared at her, hate strong and cold in their flat weathered faces. Children rode by, sitting bareback on their shaggy little animals, their faces old and evil. She blinked. Not evil, just wild. It was the distortion in her that changed them into small demons rather than the children they were. She turned away.

  With the shriek and rumble of the crude wooden wheels, the multitude of other sounds blending into one vast cacopheny of ear-spliting noise dinning in her ears, beating through her head, Aleytys found it difficult to think, to know what she wanted to do or should do or could do, so she let her tired brain idle, sat slouched in the saddle, hands holding onto the saddle horn, enduring the punishing pitch and roll of the roan’s gait.

  In the center of the mass they came to an impossibly wide wagon whose flat bed clung with equal impossibility to the contours of the land it crept across. The wood was jointed by dozens of flexible leather hinges, each small section mounted on individual wheels so that the whole moved over the land like a multi-legged creature on hundreds of wheels. Around the sides of this monstrous construction was a hedge of swords, edges glinting in the diffused light. Inside the hedge rose a rounded mound the size of a small hill whose outermost layer was pihayo hide tanned with the hair left on so that the mound fluttered with what looked like limp white grass.

  As they rode nearer, the typical stench of the pihayo soured the air. Aleytys wondered how the horde master managed to stand the smell of his dwelling.

  She stiffened as they passed one of the last wagons near the great one. The somber black caravan with its glinting gold and crimson scrollwork confirmed for the first time that Maissa had indeed been brought here. Whether she was alive … or Sharl.… She wrenched her thoughts away as her hands began to tremble and tears hung poised to fall behind her eyelids. Concentrate, she thought. You are gikena. You have power.

  She straightened her back and looked boldly at the pair of guards barring the gate to the master’s wagon. Make them respect you, she told herself … at least … she broke into the argument being conducted in the slurred nearly unintelligible dialect of the horde.

  “I am gikena.” She projected the words with a potent overlay of anger, menace, and power that left both guards and her captor open-mouthed. She slid off the horse and stepped briskly up the crude ladder to confront the startled guards. “Take me to the master.”

  Chapter V

  The stench was incredible. Aleytys found it difficult to think, difficult to do anything but breath as shallowly as possible, blessing the tendency of the sense of smell to burn out fast. She gathered her strength, stilled the trembling of her knees, and snapped her head erect.

  The master was a pallid mountain of flesh perched on miscellaneous hides spread over a spongy mass of some kind of vegetable fiber. Aleytys dragged her eyes back to the master, fighting a continual urge to look away from him.

  He was naked. As grossly male as he was grossly huge. Aleytys suppressed an inclination to gape and contented herself with wondering what sort of woman could receive that bulk into herself.

  Reluctantly she raised her eyes to his face. His head was outsize even for the mountainous bulk that supported it. If he stood his head must nearly brush the rounded top of the tent where the groaning ribs were tied together by a complex knotting of smoke-stained rope, though that point was nearly three meters from the spongy floor. He must never leave this place, she thought. Ahai, Madar! Never to leave this hole! She examined his face again, a tinge of pity overlaying the disgust he raised in her.

  His mouth was firm and delicate, even beautiful, showing a strong tendency toward smiling. His nose was strong, a long straight blade of bone and flesh. His eyes, dark fringed and well-shaped, were milky white without iris or pupil, ostensibly blind, though he seemed to be aware of everything around him. This eyeless sight sent shudders running up her spine, the first intimation of the nature of the horde master. If this creature had power that could swallow hers … she remembered the diadem and quieted.

  His hair was pure pale white, curling closely about his bulging skull. The skull … it swelled out from the gentle, even beautiful face.… like the bottom of a pear turned upside down.… the thick coiling hair masked some of the grotesqueness of its shape, but not enough. Not enough.

  The silence stretched on and on. Aleytys refused to be intimidated, either by her own emotions or by the aura of the man.

  A thin meager figure came creeping around from behind the master, swinging a censer with black, strong smelling smoke po
uring from the holes pierced in the top. Muttering a guttural chant he circled her, throwing the smoke into her face, letting it roll over her skin. She stood, unmoving, a scornful smile mocking his efforts.

  Then the drug began to blur her sight, distort her senses. She swayed. Fought her way upright. Then met the glittering eyes of the shaman, his ferret face wreathed in clouds of the drugs’ smoke.

  Closing her eyes, she fumbled for the black river, fighting back panic as her mind-reach dissolved again and again. Terror was cold … cold … cold … paralyzing. Then she managed to shape Vajd’s mandala of peace, simple, pure, the circling triangles drawing her in and out of the center until terror retreated, faded, was gone. She gathered her forces and sank into the mandala, the stable three-pointed figures swimming past her, calm … smooth … untroubled.…

  Relaxed, calm, quietly sure of her power, she reached again. The black water spilled over her. With an exclamation of triumph she lifted her arms above her head, glorying in the racing current of power caressing her skin, cleansing her body of the greasy smoke, flushing the drug from her system, leaving her mind clear and sharp. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and laughed aloud. “I am gikena!”

  As she faced the horde master with her new clarity of vision, she saw that his facade of power was hollow; it had a rotten dying smell, a taint of decay. Is this why the horde moves? she wondered. Because the master dies? She set the thought aside to pursue later. “I am gikena,” she repeated. She focused cool denying eyes on him. “Out there you have what belongs to me.”

  “All here is mine.” The master spoke for the first time, his voice startling her with its flexible resonant beauty. When she closed her eyes she could see him tall, triumphant, even handsome. Grimly she faced him and rubbed aching overladen breasts to remind herself of her reason for being here.

  “No,” she said firmly, countering his voice magic with her own. “My son is not yours. My servant is not yours. My caravan is not yours. Like all on Lamarchos, master, you dwell in the house of Lakoe-heai. In the name of them I say restore to me what is mine.”