Lamarchos Page 19

  The milky orbs slid over her, blind but preternaturally knowing. “Shaman.”

  The evil little man sidled around Aleytys, eyes flickering venomously over her before he turned to face his master.

  “What happened to the gahane leaf, shaman?” The marvelous voice lashed at the cringing little creature. Aleytys closed her eyes and indulged her imagination momentarily, smiling as the beauty of the master’s voice charmed her. He spoke again, as sharply as before. “Is she what she claims to be?”

  Aleytys heard the bedding weed rustle as the master shifted position. She opened her eyes. He was arched over the bent form of the shaman like a great wave threatening a shore.

  “I can’t say so soon,” the wretched creature whined. “She must be tested.”

  “How?” Grunting with the effort he settled back on the leather and examined Aleytys’ slender figure, a light beginning to glow behind the milky white.

  The shaman glanced over his shoulder at Aleytys. There was no mistaking the light that shone in those pouchy eyes. He wanted her dead, preferably after suffering great pain. “Gikena be healer, master.”

  “Could she heal one born deaf?” There was a shrill instability about the voice now that puzzled Aleytys, walking a chill up her spine.

  “If this one be true gikena.”

  “Can you make deaf hear?” Aleytys saw in the master’s face a quiver of anxiety.

  She shrugged. “I’ve never done so.”

  “You failed?”

  “No. I never had to try.”

  “You’ll try now. And succeed if you want to live.” He slapped huge hands on his meaty thighs. “Bring the boy Ramaikh.” As the shaman reached the small arch leading from the tent, he snapped, “Wait!”

  The little man fidgeted impatiently in the arch, fingers fluttering the leather doorflaps.

  “Send guards for the woman and the male child brought me this morning.”

  “Master.” The shaman hesitated, frowning, smoldering eyes on Aleytys. “Is that wise?”

  “What do you know of wisdom, viper?” Gargantuan laughter filled the tent, massive, overwhelming, yet with that taint of hysteria that continued to puzzle Aleytys. “Move!” he shouted, the blast literally blowing the little man out of the tent.

  Aleytys seated herself on a pile of hides.

  “Did I say you could sit, woman?”

  “Do I wait for any man’s pleasure to do what I want?” She laughed her scorn, tossing her head to underline her independence. “There. A question to answer a question.”

  There was real interest in his face as he moved blind eyes over her. “You forget your place, woman.” He stressed the last word to remind her of her status in this man’s world of Lamarchos.

  “My place is whatever I have strength to take.”

  “You talk strangely. Where did you find these unnatural thoughts?”

  “I say what many women feel. Only, being what I am, I have the power to do rather than merely feel.”

  “You get before yourself.”

  “No. I don’t need to prove to myself what I am. Only to you.”

  He grunted then gazed down at his bulging stomach, seeming to turn inward to mull over the outrageous things Aleytys had said to him. The silence deepened in the malodorous tent, but the tension between them was held in abeyance. Aleytys studied him openly, unnoticed, wondering what had made him the monster he was, pitying him deeply, awash with curiosity. Born or made? Born? Made?

  The shaman thrust a tall thin boy ahead of him through the door curtains. The boy straightened from his crouch and stood calmly facing the master. There was a strong resemblance between the two males, feature by feature the faces were the same. But the boy had a normal curve to his skull, a thin wiry athlete’s body. He stepped away from the shaman and knelt before the master, his head dipping to touch the floor.

  “This is my son Romaikh. I have protected him from the fate of the maimed till this time. Do you understand me, woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will heal him. This is your test, gikena.”

  “Even if it wasn’t,” she said proudly, “I would heal. It is my nature to heal.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Make him understand he is to lay his head here.” She smoothed her hand across her lap. “And to be still when I touch him.”

  “Show the boy.”

  Mouth pinched into a spiteful line, the shaman led the boy to Aleytys and settled him according to her instructions. When she touched the boy, he flinched, then lay quietly.

  Aleytys touched her fingers to his temples, stroking them gently until he relaxed. Smiling warmly, feeling a surge of maternal tenderness, she cupped his head between her palms. She drew in the power making herself a conduit for its flow. It gushed through her and poured out around and around the narrow head. Not understanding in any real sense, she saw the bony growth that closed his ears, saw the dead shrivelled nerve ends not knowing what they were but recognizing their deadness. In the flood of black water the bony growth dissolved and the endings healed, grew, expanded like the desiccated roots of a drought-caught plant at the beginning of the rains. When the thing was done, she freed herself from the river and gently pulled her hands from the boy’s head. She looked up and met the master’s eyes.

  “Well?” The word was a thundering demand.

  The boy jumped up, clapping his hands to his ears, his face contorted with fear.

  “As you see. He hears. I suggest you keep him apart from all but a few while he learns to cope with this new thing in his life. I suppose he’ll have to learn to speak too.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “You ordered the woman brought here. And the …” She swallowed. “The child.”

  The master turned his heavy head to the Shaman. “Where?”

  “Outside.”

  “Bring them.” When Aleytys heard these words, her body slumped as she blurred out, nearly fainting. She laced her fingers together, straightened her back, stared intently at the archway.

  Maissa came in at a stumbling run, shoved along by a brawny guard. She drew herself erect before the master, her eyes madder than ever, glittering with a hate beyond reason. She stood with a painful awkwardness unlike her usual catlike grace. Aleytys looked from her to the master then back again, suddenly understanding. Maissa was so tiny … she stared blankly, swallowing, swallowing … he had … ahai, he must nearly have split her in half.

  Behind Maissa two guards ducked through the door. One held a bundled small shape that wriggled and wailed. “Sharl.” Aleytys leaped to her feet, her hands reaching for her son.

  Maissa shrieked and threw herself in front of Aleytys, fingers curling into claws.

  The second guard swung his boot brutally, kicking the squalling woman half across the tent. Then he jabbed an elbow into Aleytys’ stomach, knocking her off her feet onto the pile of leathers where she had been sitting. She gasped, struggled to suck in the air that had been driven from her body.

  The master frowned toward Maissa. “You. Black viper. Move from there and the guard will spit you on his spear.” He nodded to the grinning man who moved immediately to stand beside Maissa. She was beginning to hemorrhage, the splotch of blood on her batik spreading like a slow blooming flower. Aleytys staggered to her feet.

  “Sit, gikena. Or the guard will pin you to the leather.”

  Alestys looked with anguish at her baby, then at Maissa. “Let me heal her. The blood …”

  “That one.” The master shrugged his massive shoulders, setting rolls of fat and rippling sagging skin into motion. “Has too much blood in her for her own good. Let the surplus leak out. You claim the child is yours?”

  “Yes. My son.”

  “How’d she get him?” He lifted a meaty hand and jabbed a thumb toward Maissa. “That one.”

  “She was my servant. She stole the baby from me. While I slept.” She spread out her hands. “I must sleep.”

  “Why would she take him?”

  “You don’t nee
d me to tell you she’s mad.”

  “Hunh. What do you say, black serpent?”

  “She lies.” Maissa’s voice was suddenly cool and controlled. She smiled sweetly, sat up, and brushed the fragments of rotted weed from her shoulders. “She’s barren and sought to take my child from me. I was afraid of her and ran.”

  “It happens. How do you answer her, gikena?”

  “The child is mine.” She glared at Maissa. “I doubt if she’s ever had one.”

  “If I decide in your favor, small one, what do you want done with gikena?”

  “Kill her. She’s dangerous alive.” Maissa smiled at him, then pulled her hands down over her small shapely body, invitation rank in her eyes and posture.

  “And if I should decide for you, gikena?”

  Aleytys glanced from him to Maissa and back. “Give her to me she’s my servant. Let her serve.”

  “If she should kill you, what are her services worth?”

  “She wouldn’t dare. I’m not easily killed, master.” She projected scorn at him. “Nor do I give my trust easily after betrayal.”

  “Come here.”

  Aleytys stepped closer to him, straining to ignore the rich aroma of urine, sweat, and years of accumulated filth billowing out from his gross body.

  “Closer.”

  She crawled up onto the leather and knelt beside him.

  One meaty hand closed on her shoulder, pulling her up against him. He bent over her, taking her nipple in his mouth. His tongue licked over the tip briefly, the he began sucking the milk from her breast.

  Aleytyts closed her eyes, struggling to contain her disgust.

  He tongued her breast again, nuzzled the other a minute, then pushed her down on the bed with a quick shove. “Dward, your dugs are dry as a well in drought while this one is heavy with milk. The child is hers.” He closed his eyes and let his hand wander down to touch himself, a smile growing on his face. Aleytys glanced at him then swallowed a newgrown lump in her throat. She began shaking as apprehension chilled her.

  Still fondling himself, lids hooded over his strange eyes, the master said slowly, “Take that dwarf out, tie her so she can’t leave the black wagon. Take the baby also. Put it back in the caravan. The rest of you get out. Not you, woman.” He closed his hand over Aleytys’ shoulder.

  Blood trickling down her legs, Maissa found strength enough to turn and smile maliciously at Aleytys before she ducked through the arch. Aleytys could hear her laughing shrilly as the guards prodded her along.

  Aleytys tried to push the huge hands off her. “I’m gikena. No.”

  Breath whistling hoarsely, hands trembling, face furiously intent, he ignored her protest and drew her onto his lap.

  Chapter VI

  Aleytys slid off the stained leather and stood staring down at the gross bulk of the master as he lay deep in satiated slumber, handsome mouth dropping slackly open, lips vibrating to the hog snores that shook his jowls.

  Should I kill him now? It would be easy and oh, my god, I would like to do it. She looked around the malodorous blood-warm interior of the tent, more like a womb than a place where a grown man lived. No weapons in here. They made sure of that. She spread her hands out and smiled down at them. Except these. She closed her fingers into fists and opened them again. No, with the diadem to help her, she could not be disarmed.

  She sighed. No. It’s too soon. I don’t know enough about these people. Loahn said they change when they enter the lakelands. Like the master is the brain and they’re the fingers of his hand. He’s dying … why …? She shook her head … no … besides, I haven’t got my bolt hole set yet. No use going through all this to get myself killed. And Sharl. Oh god, Sharl. No.

  A waterskin hung from one of the ribs. She unhooked it and splashed the water over her soiled and aching body. Rape, she thought. He didn’t care what I was feeling. A hole. That’s all I was. She shivered. Then glared angrily at the master. Gritting her teeth, she splashed more water between her thighs, trying to wash away the humiliation. I won’t feel clean again until I soak a week in a hot bath.

  She tugged the batik from under the master’s huge leg, not caring whether she awakened him or not. After shaking out the damp crumpled folds she wound it around her waist then kicked through the debris until she found the twisted brooch where the master had flung it. Holding the cloth around her with an elbow she struggled with the silver wires, straightening the brooch as best she could. With an exasperated sigh she shoved the pin through the material and slipped the point under the guard. When she turned, the master’s eyes were open, glowing palely in the dim light. Grunting, he pushed himself upright.

  Aleytys dropped on the heap of leather and stared at him. “What do you get out of that? Poking yourself in me.”

  He looked surprised. “I don’t understand.”

  “I could be any woman.”

  He shrugged. “To arouse, no. After that …” He spread out his hands. “A woman is a woman.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I feel?”

  “A woman is a woman.”

  “I see. Nothing to bother about.”

  He nodded, pleased to find her so reasonable. For a minute Aleytys felt like throwing caution away and attacking him now, gross lump of conceit, then she caught her breath. “Why do you go into lakelands?”

  He pursed his lips, moved them slowly from side to side. After a strained silence he decided to answer her. “It’s time to make a new master.”

  “Because you’re dying?”

  He winced. “You’re blunt, woman. Never mind. Yes. Because I die.”

  “I heal. You saw. Why not let me heal you?”

  His face grew grim and cold. “There are things you don’t understand, woman.”

  “Many things.” She nodded in quiet agreement. “But …”

  “I’m tired, woman. I die because I’m tired of living, tired to my soul of being what I am.”

  Chapter VII

  Maissa growled deep in her throat as Aleytys pushed the curtains aside and stepped into her caravan. Ignoring her, Aleytys walked quietly to the drawer where Sharl lay whimpering fretfully. She lifted him down on the bed where he lay kicking his feet and whining his discomfort. She splashed water into a basin, removed his soiled diaper and bathed his dirty body, healing the small bruises and abrasions while she cleaned him. At the remembered touch Sharl stopped his uncertain wailing and reached for her with waving clumsy hands. Then he began to howl in earnest as certainty returned to his world and hunger demanded satisfaction. Aleytys tickled his stomach, laughing herself as his face reddened with wrath; she pinned on a clean diaper and lifted him to her breast. As he sucked eagerly at the breast, small fists kneading her soft flesh, Aleytys climbed onto the bunk and sat facing Maissa.

  “Well. That was stupid.”

  Maissa pulled at the leather thongs binding her wrists. Animal eyes, shallow and mindless, flickered over Aleytys and then away, conceding nothing.

  “You see where you got us. I have my baby back in spite of you. Soon, I’ll be getting both of us free from these savages. However, as you well know …” She chuckled, smoothing her hands gently, possessively over Sharl’s back. “As you well know, as you are counting on now, we need you to get us off this world. But I’m taking no more chances with you, my friend. If I worked at it, I could probably figure out a way to have one of the traders take me offworld.” Maissa’s eyes glared suddenly, and Aleytys chuckled. “You see. Convince me.”

  Maissa shifted on the bunk, wriggling around so her back was against the wall. Intelligence crept back into her narrow face. “How?”

  “Good question.” Aleytys looked down at the nursing baby; her mouth tightened. She looked up with a jerking abruptness. “You can’t lie to me.”

  Maissa’s face sharpened until she resembled a hunting ferret. “Can’t I?” She giggled.

  “The tea.” Aleytys nodded. “You fooled me easily. But.…” She looked silently at Maissa, searching the unresponsive face. “I
trusted you. But don’t fool yourself. I have no more trust left where you’re concerned, Maissa. If I lose my alertness when you’re around, then I deserve what I get. You can’t lie to me, not when I’m watching for it.”

  Maissa shrugged “So?”

  Aleytys lifted a sleepy Sharl across her shoulder, rubbing and patting his back to bring the air out of his stomach. “Stavver says you keep the letter of your word if not the spirit. Dredge up your sincerity, Maissa. Make me believe you.”

  The small woman met her eyes a minute then looked away sullenly. “Cut me loose.”

  “Not just yet.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Your word you’ll do no more harm to us. Me. Stavver. Sharl. Your word you’ll do what I tell you with no argument. That’s only sensible, by the way. I know a lot more than you about our present situation.”

  “When I’m on my ship I don’t take orders from anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to give any. What do I know about starships? Will you swear?”

  “Since I keep to the letter, as you say, what do I swear to?”

  “Think.” Aleytys settled Sharl back in his drawer. When she straightened, she said quietly. “Mean what you say or I’ll know.”

  “What?” Maissa snapped. She thrust her bound wrists forward. “Do I have to stay like this?” When Aleytys ignored her, she let her arms fall into her lap. “Do you expect me to love you, witch?”

  “No. Simply mean what you promise and stick to it. First, this. You won’t leave us on this world. Sharl, Stavver, and me.”

  “What if I get to the ship alone?”

  “You wait there until we show up. No time limit. Just wait.”

  Maissa licked her lips. She sat staring at Aleytys with blank dreaming eyes. Then she nodded. “I’ll wait. Not that I expect to have to.”

  “Right.” Aleytys closed her eyes and sought the emotion behind the words. Then she looked at Maissa, surprised. “No reservations?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I wonder why. Never mind. Second, this. You will in no way, and I mean NO way, bring harm to Stavver, Sharl, or me before we get to the ship.”