Angus Wells - The God Wars 03 (25 page)

           
Calandryll might have felt
chastened, had the wazir not grinned then, ruefully, and mouthed a foul curse
as his animal faltered where the slope, emptying of trees, angled steeper, the
grass slippery. Instead, he chuckled and cried, "Then I'll not burden you
with more questions. Save one—might we not this night go out to seek the tensai
camps?"

           
"We
might not," returned Ochen, "for you are altogether too vulnerable
and I'd not lead Rhythamun to you. Now, for Horul's sake, leave me be lest I
come to grief and tumble down."

           
Before them, the mist rolled back,
revealing a narrow expanse of valley, a river glittering blue- silver along its
length, alders shining golden beside the water. Beyond, the slope was gentle,
spread with maples and birch, conifers like sentinels along the ridgetop, black
against the azure of the early morning sky. Chazali's scouts climbed the
gradient, halting among the pines to wave the travelers on, and Calandryll
urged the chestnut across the shallow water, heeling the gelding up the rise.

           
Over the crest a wide saddleback
stretched between two low hills, the timber there cut through with narrow
trails, running down the incline to the valley beyond. From the vantage point
of the ridge, a clearing was visible at the roadway's foot, timber cut back
alongside a ribbon of sunlit water, smoke rising in thin streamers, lining the
sky's clear blue with misty grey pennants that swirled and broke on the wind.
They went down the trail, meandering between the trees, emerging on the river,
a ford there, and where it left the water a palisaded village. Chazali's scouts
stood their horses between open gates, men in dun-colored shirts and grubby
breeks standing nervously about them, bowing as the jet-armored kotu-zen came
closer, bowing deeper as they saw the kiriwashen at the column's head.

           
Chazali raised a commanding arm,
shouting for his men to halt and wait beyond the walls as he rode in through
the gates. Ochen followed him, waving the outlanders to come after.

           
Within, Calandryll saw a collection
of rough and ragged huts, all timber-built, with smokeholes in their roofs,
small, overhung verandahs about their sides. From among them watched women and
children, eyes wide and, he thought, frightened, wary and as ready to flee as
the deer in the woods. He thought to see Chazali dismount, and certainly the
village menfolk appeared to stand ready to prostrate themselves to receive the
kiriwashen's foot. Instead, Chazali waved them back, remaining in his saddle as
he unlatched his veil and threw the metal back to reveal his face.

           
"We do not halt here," he
said. "But we shall take supplies, for three days."

           
A man bowed, as if this were a great
honor, though his face was blank, and Calandryll thought that the victualing of
the band must surely be a drain on the resources of the village.

           
The man—the headman, Calandryll
supposed— barked brief instructions and folk began to bustle about, fetching
sacks and yellow haunches of dried meat that were carried out to the waiting
kotu-zen.

           
"You've news?" Chazali
demanded brusquely.

           
The headman bowed again, refusing to
meet the kiriwashen's eyes, and answered, "Three days ago tensai came.
They took two cows."

           
"How many?" asked Chazali.

           
"There were nineteen came
here," the headman told him, "but I think there were more in the
hills. They grow stronger."

           
Chazali grunted, nodded, and said in
a somewhat milder tone, "When the war is finished the patrols will come
back. Do we encounter these outlaws, meanwhile, they shall die."

           
"Thank you, Lord." The headman
bowed dutifully. "May Horul guide your blade."

           
"And may he bless your
crops," returned Chazali. Then, without further ado, spun his horse round
and heeled the animal back through the gates.

           
He wasted no time on explanations,
only dropped his veil in place and waved his men forward, as if the village and
its problems were beneath his considerations, already dismissed. The scouts
were already gone ahead, cantering up the slope, and the remaining warriors
fell into line behind their commander, the outlanders and Ochen at the center
of the column.

           
They topped the rise and saw a
broader valley before them, the trail cutting down through heavy stands of
timber to another river, a second village twin to the other, tiny in the
distance. Calandryll had thought to halt again there, but Chazali led them fast
to the ford, splashing across in great sheets of sunlit silver spray as his
outriders cantered to meet him, reporting to the kiriwashen before returning to
their stations, Chazali maintaining his pace as they cantered on. From the
village gate inscrutable Jesseryte faces watched them go, bland as the sky
above. They did not halt until noon, in a clearing just off the trail.

           
As had become their custom,
Calandryll sat with Bracht and Katya, Cennaire and Ochen, separate from the
kotu-zen. He was somewhat surprised when Chazali approached, bowing formally
and asking permission that he might join them. It seemed entirely unnecessary,
but he nonetheless returned formal invitation, for which the kiriwashen offered
equally formal thanks before seating himself.

           
"The news is not good," he
declared, looking from face to face. "The tensai grow bold. They took food
from both villages, and the headman of the last believes they number forty men.
He thinks they have a camp within a day or two's ride."

           
Ochen nodded, making no comment.
Bracht asked, "Shall you hunt them?"

           
Chazali's answer was a smile, brief
and, Calandryll thought, regretful, accompanied by a shrug. "Not hunt
them, no. Our duty is to reach Pamur- teng. Do they look to attack us however
..."

           
The smile grew fierce, predatory. It
seemed to Calandryll he resembled nothing so much then as some great cat,
anticipating a killing.

           
"Ghan-te is little more than a
day now," said Ochen, answered with a curt nod.

           
Calandryll asked,
"Ghan-te?"

           
"A larger steading," the
wazir explained. "It has an inn, a temple, a market."

           
"And perhaps news,"
Chazali said.

           
THE
settlement lay at the center of a hill-ringed bowl, the slopes all cleared
of timber and terraced, streams diverted through sluices and little dams to
water the levels where gettu toiled, looking up from their labors to watch the
column approach. A wall of tree trunks encompassed the town, rectangular and
set at intervals with watchtowers, breached by great gates banded with metal,
those opening on a narrow avenue that ran into the center. The outriders had
alerted the place to the arrival and folk thronged the avenue and the
peripheral streets that crossed it with geometric regularity. A few wore the
drab earth tones that appeared the uniform of the farmer, but most were dressed
in more lavish outfits, their clothing and its ornamentation suggesting
prosperity. They formed a curious audience as Chazali led his party inward,
riding proud between buildings of two stories height, with long verandahs and
stone chimneys, the woodwork bright-painted, looming tight-packed above the
avenue.

           
The sun was just set, dusk thrusting
long shadows over the ground, and lanterns were suspended all down the way,
setting the black armor of the kotu-zen to glittering, like the carapaces of
huge, exotic beetles. None spoke, only bowed and watched as the kotu-zen rode
past stiff-backed, their masked faces set rigidly forward, looking to neither
left nor right, but only to their leader, as if casual communication with the
inhabitants was beneath them.

           
Chazali brought them to a plaza, a
wide square set with massive flagstones that rang loud under the hooves, walled
by four of the largest structures in Ghan-te, two strung with lanterns, one less
lit, the third dark. Chazali halted before it, and from its construction,
Calandryll deduced this was the garrison formerly occupied by the kotu-anj now
called to the war. Facing it across the square was a more welcoming structure,
its facade painted a brilliant red, the windows outlined with blue, the
verandah hung with vermilion-tinted lanterns. He guessed that was the inn, and
the dimmer building alongside a stable. The fourth, boasting an elevated fascia
decorated with a black horsehead on a background of gold, was surely the
temple.

           
Chazali sat his horse a moment,
surveying the square, then barked a command that brought townsfolk scrambling
forward to prostrate themselves that the kotu-zen might step down. Those most
eager, Calandryll noticed, were the most expensively accoutred, who appeared to
consider it an honor that they be used as footstools. He found a man in an
ankle-length robe of silver-threaded green kneeling beside the chestnut, and
turned the gelding away, springing down before the figure had time to scrabble
on hands and knees to his new position.

           
The man climbed awkwardly to his
feet, frowning, seeming disappointed, then bowed and walked, head lowered,
away. Calandryll took the reins and led the gelding over to where the others
waited with Ochen. The wazir said, "We sleep here this night,"
indicating the shadowy bulk of the garrison. "Likely we shall eat in the
tavern."

           
Bracht asked, "And our
horses?"

           
"The stable." Ochen
pointed absently to the neighboring building, his eyes wandering to the temple,
as if he noted some irregularity.

           
"I thought only the kotu-zen
rode," Calandryll said, and Ochen replied, "Only the kotu-zen may own
war-horses. The other castes are allowed asses or mules. Horses are the gift of
Horul, creatures special to the god."

           
He appeared preoccupied, his
attention on the temple, and Calandryll asked, "Is aught amiss?"

           
"I wonder at the priest's
absence," the wazir murmured, frowning. "Where is he?"

           
"Do we see our animals
bedded?" Bracht demanded, far less concerned with the missing priest than
the comfort of his stallion.

           
"Once Chazali establishes
order." Ochen nodded vaguely, gesturing in the direction of the kotu-zen
who moved purposefully about the square, propelled by the kiriwashen's barked
commands. Some strode, Calandryll saw, to the tavern, others to the stable,
while more entered the garrison building, shouting for lanterns to be brought.
It seemed to him they commandeered townsfolk at random, prosperous-looking
burghers hurrying to obey with ambiguous alacrity.

           
"Leave me your horse," he
offered, troubled by the wazir's uncharacteristic air of impatience. "I'll
see it bedded while you speak with the priest."

           
"My thanks."

           
Ochen wasted no time passing the
reins, hurrying toward the temple, calling his whereabouts to Chazali.
Calandryll took the animal and led it with his own to the stable. The kotu-zen
moved in the same direction, though while they left their horses in care of
townsfolk clearly anxious to be of service, the outlanders looked to their own,
even Cennaire, following their example, applying the brush and ascertaining the
manger held fresh hay, the trough clean water.

           
Those tasks dispensed, they returned
to the garrison, lit now, and bustling with activity as the kotu- zen took up
occupation. The place was dark and simple as the keep, a warren of dim-lit
corridors and chambers filled with the empty scent of desertion, musty and
slightly damp. At ground level was a central hall, a kitchen behind, an armory
dug below, and a bathhouse. Stairs went up to the second floor, that mostly
given over to a single dormitory, individual chambers built around the outer
walls. Townsfolk scuttled, lighting fires, airing bedding, bowing nervously as
they eyed the strangers with open curiosity, the kotu-zen with a curious
mixture of expectation and fear.

           
Chazali took it upon himself to
escort them to their rooms, those humbler, even plainer than the chambers of
the keep: walls of bare wood, a single bed, a chest, no more.

           
"This place was not built with
honored guests in mind/
⁷
he apologized, "but we shall remain
only this night."

           
He bowed and left them. Bracht said,
"Ahrd, but did you see these folk grovel? This is, truly, a strange
land."