Gods of Nabban (29 page)

With distance and the sound of the water roaring down a narrow, rocky defile to cloak any shouting, he set her at the foot of a tree and pulled the cloth from her mouth, a knife in his hand for a wordless warning.

Ghu stood looking down on them both and asked, “Who are they?”

The woman cowered back against the tree, licked her lips.

“What's left of Taza village, aren't they?” she muttered. “A Zhung man, aren't you? You should know.”

“But I don't. And I'm no one's man. What happened to Taza?”

“Burnt, wasn't it?”

“Where are all the men?”

“Soldiers took them, didn't they? You lot. General Zhung Musan's soldiers. Labourers for the town, they said, but they won't come home. They never come home.”

“What's Taza?” Ahjvar asked, speaking Praitannec.

“A Daro manor,” Ghu answered, “south of Dernang.”

“They're slaves?”

“Taza? No, serfs.”

“Same thing.”

“No,” said Ghu. “More like Grasslander bondfolk. They're not owned outright—they can't be sold. They're folk of the clan and have a name.”

“The land's not their own.”

“The land is the gods',” Ghu said. “Neither do your folk own the land they hold under their lords.”

“They can leave it. The lords can't wilfully take it from them. They can choose to pass their tenure of it to another. They can choose their heirs. They're free. These aren't.”

“No.”

“These people are starving.”

“Yes. My—Daro Korat was not so hard a lord. A philosopher, Ahj. He did not starve them. But their lives aren't their own, you're right. No rights, except not to be sold, no rights but to their own souls. Not even to live, if they offend their lord. And many lords do starve them, taking all, time and labour and all that the land will give.” Ghu turned back to the woman. “Who are the other two with you, Meli?”

“How d'you know my name? I've seen you before. You're one of the assassins they sent in to spy on Lord Sia, looking for the prince.” But she frowned in doubt.

“No. Who are the other two?”

“Osion and Toi. I don't know about her. She's a pig. She's from the town. Freewoman, I think, at least she claims the Daro name. Lai Toi's a soldier. A deserter. But he's a pig too, and what I'd pay to see his head along the road with the rest—” Her voice took on a whine. “If I help you take him, will you let me go, my master?”

“Not your master. Tell me about Lord Sia and the prince.”

“I don't know anything. They said the prince was in Alwu and came over to Sia, but what does it matter? They're all dead, you killed them all—there's only us left and it's not my fault, Toi made me come with him, him and Osion, into the forest to starve, but we found these witless dirt-grubbers and it's better than being taken as a rebel. Show them a blade and they roll over like a dog. Look, it's Toi you want, isn't it? He's the deserter—he's the real soldier—I'm just a woman. You can let me go, or take me with you, you don't have to give me to your lord. I can—” She licked her lips again, plucked at the neck of her jacket, glanced up at Ahjvar and cringed, tried to smile, straightening her back, thrusting out her breasts.

“Lord Daro Sia, Meli?”

“I only went with him because everybody did. I was afraid. I never spoke against the empress. I never did.”

Ghu dropped down to his heels, face-to-face with her. “You don't remember me, do you?”

She frowned, squinted, rubbed her nose.

“We're not imperial assassins. We're not the empress's men. It was a long time ago.”

“Mother be damned, you're one of Horsemaster Yuro's boys. From the stables. The simpleton. Ghu. You've grown.”

“Boys do.”

“You talk more than you used to.”

Ghu shrugged. “Lord Sia, Meli. You said rebels. He fought his father, the empress, who? What prince? What's been happening here?”

“What's it to you? Everyone thought you were dead, fallen in the river at last. You never ran away on your own, not you—caravaneers stole you, did they? I can guess what for. You always did have pretty eyes.” A glance up at Ahjvar again. “That doesn't look so bad, better than Toi. You his, horseboy? Does he like women, too?”

“He's mine,” Ghu said serenely. “And no, he does not. Not at all.” The corner of his mouth lifted, meeting Ahjvar's eyes. Ahjvar kept a king's guard's impassive face. “Tell me about Daro Sia and the prince, Meli.”

“Stupid horseboy.” Contempt soured her voice. “You always were slow. Who cares about Sia? He's dead and he never was anything to you so don't pretend you care. Toi'll kill the both of you. He's a real soldier. And I can't be bullied by some half-witted—” She flung herself forward and clawed at him, but Ghu was simply not there, rising and stepping aside. Ahjvar jerked her back, struck her face.

“Do that again and I will take your hand off,” he told her, pushing her against the tree, her arm hauled up over her head. He scored a line over the skin of her wrist. “Right—there.” She whimpered as the blood beaded in the knife's wake.

“No, Ahj,” Ghu said gently. Just that.

Old Great Gods have mercy, what was he doing? The rage that boiled in him—it was her contempt for Ghu far more than the futile and childish attack that had ignited his temper. He had barely checked himself from putting the knife in her back.

“Sit down, Meli.”

She sat, shivering, her wrist to her mouth.

“Tell us about Lord Sia and the prince.”

“There's a war. There's been war ever since the old emperor died. War in the south forever, but you know that.” That was meant to be a sneer, but Ahjvar couldn't see why. “Last spring they took all the boys from the villages for the army, not just the usual conscription levy. And Prince Dan tried to make himself a king down in Shihpan. So there was fighting everywhere. And I don't know, some of the provinces were for Prince Dan and some for the emperor, and the headhunters from Dar-Lathi were going to come and kill us all, they said. They said the rebel prince freed the slaves if they'd fight for him. And then the emperor got killed—not the old one that died but the new one. The gods killed him, struck him down for murdering the prophet that said the princess was the daughter of the Old Great Gods and brought the prophet back to life, too. And nobody knew who was emperor any more, but the princess said she was the empress and a goddess too, and she sent for our master to come take oath to her. The Kho'anzi didn't go. He was sick. A fever in his joints.” She glanced up at Ahjvar, cringed. “He didn't want to go. Everyone knew that. Everyone knows the Kho'anzi is a Traditionalist at heart and thinks the gods will come back someday and overturn Min-Jan's laws, make everyone free, which is what Prince Dan was doing, and the empress says the gods are dead and she's the only goddess of the land, so he wouldn't go to her, would he? There's a prophecy going around the markets that the heir of the gods will break the emperors and make the land new. Mad old woman's talk, and the magistrates arrest them, of course, and flog them for madness, which doesn't make sense, if the empress is a goddess, because that's what she's done, isn't it? Broke the emperors. But Lord Sia thought it was true and it didn't mean the empress. He said he would be the sword of the gods in Choa. He thought Prince Dan might be the heir of the gods. So Lord Sia wanted to raise Choa and declare for Prince Dan, and Lord Korat said he was waiting and praying for a sign from the gods, that's what he said. They argued about it, him and Sia. Yelling. I had a friend served in Lord Sia's apartments. He heard. The Kho'anzi and Lord Sia fought about what the gods wanted.”

Then a rush, bitter. “And the old man wouldn't. Our lord could say the gods meant all folk to be free someday, like in the long ago before Yeh-Lin, but he wouldn't see anything changed now. He had to keep everything as it was, because the gods set him over us all and he had to keep us safe, all Choa Province safe, as if he ever could, and he said Prince Dan wasn't the one the gods wanted us to wait for, and he was going to lose his war, and it wasn't the empress either. So Lord Sia called all the folk of the castle one night without his father knowing, and said, who would fight for him and not be a slave, a lot of Traditionalist rubbish about how everyone was born free in the eyes of the gods. And we all went with him, well, a lot of us. Some. All of us who were children with him, and others, too. All fools together. We took Dernang, and the village serfs rose because he said he'd give them the lands they worked for their own and they believed him, and half the soldiers of the province and some of the young Daro lords and ladies too, from the other families of the clan, even banner-lords, and we said we'd have Prince Dan as emperor. We fought the Kho'anzi's officers and the soldiers that wouldn't come in with us, but the old lord wouldn't fight. Locked himself up in the castle and prayed, I expect,” she said in disgust. “So we had the town and we took the courier-stations, and some banner-ranked from Shihpan took the border-posts in the south—Shihpan's all for Prince Dan—and General Lord Zhung Musan came up with an army through Numiya and there was fighting. Numiya was for the emperor in the summer, so now it's for the empress. Zhung Musan's the empress's man. There was a lot of fighting. We were all penned up in Dernang in the end and the old lord closed up the castle—”

“Where was Prince Dan? In Dernang?”

“Stupid, how would I know? Dan was in Alwu. There was some big battle over there and he killed some Tua general, a lady from Numiya, I forget her name. We got a lot of soldiers from that, men of the general's that escaped, and rebels, slaves and serfs from Numiya, useless rabble, mostly, Toi says.” She sniffed. “He should know; he was one of them, an imperial, before he decided he was through with fighting for anyone. They say the prince came into Choa with a picked band to help Sia but I don't believe it. Why would he? And sometimes they said he was in Shihpan and sometimes they said he was still over in Alwu, so they didn't really know, did they? And if he did he was too late. Or he got killed before he ever got to Dernang. I heard that. Whatever. So imperial wizards blew open the gates. They had fire-powder. Smoke everywhere. Toi and Osion and I got away with a couple of others. They're dead. I thought we were going to die too, but we found this lot and they feed us. We protect them, Toi says. We hunt for them, see? The whole town's full of soldiers and there's all tents in the horsemarket, and they patrol all the roads in the daylight, but soldiers don't like the night and they don't come into the forest. Scared of demons.”

“Most of the demons of Nabban died in Yeh-Lin's day. What happened to Lord Sia?”

“Killed in the fighting, killed himself, I don't know. He's dead, anyway. I saw his head along the road. But that was lucky for him. They'd have sent him to the Golden City, otherwise, I guess.” She hunched herself up. “Stupid fool. I believed him, didn't I? I—we all did. Sia talked and it was like he was a priest of the shrines, like he'd come from sitting at Father Nabban's feet to set all right. He killed us all. The gods don't care. Maybe the ones that say they're dead are right.”

“No,” Ghu said.

“The castle held out for a while, but they took it not long ago. The old lord surrendered to them at last, himself to die for Lord Sia's crimes and his family allowed to renounce their name and go to live quiet in exile in Bitha or the colonies or somewhere. He went out to the general and let him put chains on him, and had his banner-lords march out with him and lay down their swords. That's what they say. General Musan lied, though. He sacked the castle, once he had the lord and his banner-lords. Don't know who survived that—I snuck as far as Waterfield market a few days ago and saw one of the girls from the kitchen-gardens there, with a man she called her husband. She said both the ladies, our lord's daughters—their husbands died with Sia—both the ladies and Sia's wife barricaded the keep and killed themselves rather than be taken by General Musan's men, and poisoned their children, and it's only then the house-master opened the door of the keep itself. The general had said they could have all the women once he had the old lord in his hands—”

“Even in this gods-forsaking land that's against every—” Ahjvar began.

“Who cares about that? But they already had our master then without an arrow wasted, old fool, and he's back in the keep in his chains, they say. They'll be sending him to the empress in Lord Sia's place.” Her eyes shifted between Ghu and Ahjvar. “You understand, horseboy? Everyone's dead. The empress's armies'll come up the rivers once the floods ebb and that'll be the end of Prince Dan's rebels in Shihpan and wherever, if he's dead or if he isn't. Don't know why you'd come back, anyway. Go away with your caravan man.”

“Things I need to do,” Ghu said. “You think the Kho'anzi is still prisoner, or have they sent him to the empress already?”

She shrugged. “How should I know? Nothing to me, anyway. Except I think it's Sia's baby, not Toi's. I went with him one night. We all did, us girls from the manor. He said we were all men and women alike, all the same before the gods. Doesn't matter. Nobody's going to make it lord of Daro Clan once the old lord dies. Toi'll probably drown it. Babies cry too much and we might have to run away, he says, if the emperor's soldiers do come into the forest.”

Nasty little wretch. This land was sick. Poisoned with itself.

“Would the Northron take me, too, with his caravan? I always liked you, Ghu. I did. I wasn't one of the ones that threw things. I didn't hit you. I didn't call names, not worse than anyone else. And you can't blame me if I did. You were only a dirty brat in the stables and acting like you couldn't understand plain speech half the time, such a stupid little staring thing. But I did like you. You remember that.”