Gravity Box and Other Spaces (16 page)

As she continued to stare, he began to squirm at his own guilt. It was as though she could smell it on him. No matter what he might say to the contrary, she already knew why he had come. The fact that he had not committed this particular crime made no difference. He would have killed one of the animals regardless, in
obedience to his lord for a purpose other than the personal profit those who had done this slaughter sought, but that would mean nothing to the animal or to this woman.

Except that it meant something to him. He was no poacher, not like this. The act repelled him. These people were scavengers, plunderers. As gamekeeper in Catanac he had dealt with poachers, and he had no sympathy. Hunger was not an issue under King Prester. Anyone could receive food in need. Poaching served only to feed the illicit markets that thrived throughout the world.

Yet I came to steal—

His own thoughts would give him away if he did not change her attention.

“How dare you bind an emissary of King Prester?!” he demanded. “You've been through my possessions. You know who I am. Who are you?”

“Fama. Constable of Githira.”

“Constable?”

She straightened. Mindan felt relief as her eyes turned away from him. But then he caught the scent of decay and saw the heap of dead flesh a dozen yards away.

“Which kind are you?” Fama said.

“Sorry?”

“They all have some good reason for it,” she said. “Vital. More important than anything else. Some grind up the horn and add it to their food, thinking it bestows long life and good health. Or they grind it up and take it directly to treat illness. Others burn the horns on altars to their gods, believing the gods will look kindly on them for sending that particular smoke and ash heavenward. A few just collect them. Some think it will bring them love or keep their manhood stout in the act or grant children to the barren. The horns are used to find gold or diamonds or
water or liars.” She looked at him again. “Or are you one of those who thinks the horn will prove virginity?”

“I am not a poacher.”

“So why are you here?”

“I'd be more willing to tell you if I weren't bound. I didn't kill those animals. I found them like that.”

“You're part of the group that did.”

“Based on what evidence? The fact that I was stupid enough to stay behind after the slaughter?”

Fama paced before him then made a gesture. One of the men cut him free. Mindan stood slowly, rotating his arms, easing the cramps. He felt a moment's dizziness and steadied himself on the tree.

“It will pass,” Fama said. “A small taste, not like we use normally. Now, why are you here?”

Mindan was grateful for the disorientation from the drug they had used on him; it masked any signs of his lie. “I'm part of a mission from Catanac to Ethalic. We stopped for the night at an inn just west of your border, a few miles from the ridge pass. Thieves pilfered some gifts being taken to Ethalic. I tracked them here.”

“These were the same who stole from you?” Fama pointed at the carcasses.

“I don't know. I lost the track not long after entering Githira. I picked up this one and thought it might be my prey, but—”

“And you came upon this after the fact.” She walked over to the line of dead animals. “Two, three days at most. There are five of them. You came across the border today, you say?”

“At sunrise.”

“What would you do to the men who did this?”

Mindan remembered his reaction on first seeing the slaughter. He walked toward the ruin, into the stench, the drone of flies, the waste—

“Hunt them with us,” Fama said.

“Gladly.” He said it without guile. It was no lie.

Fama and her men were very good. Mindan studied them as they hurried in pursuit of the poachers, saw how they found and interpreted signs, noted the determination in their faces, their movements, their being. Quickly he understood how close to pain and death he had come in their hands. He began to doubt that he could have completed his task. More than that, he began to doubt he should complete it.

Early the next morning they came to a pond. Fama circled it, careful where she stepped while the others stood back, watching. Mindan saw admiration in the faces of the other men as they patiently let Fama study the ground.

“They're heading due south now,” she said finally. “One day, day and a half at most.”

They moved at a half-run, almost silently. Mindan's legs burned, but he managed to control his breathing, unwilling to show fatigue before these Githirans who seemed not even to have broken a sweat after miles. Fama set the pace, pausing only to verify the trail. Near sunset she stopped for several minutes, studying the landscape.

“Two of them went east,” she said. “Korsig, Nico.”

The two named took off in that direction without a word, leaving Fama, Rajek, and Mindan to continue after the others still heading south. They ran until the light finally failed into darkness. Frustrated, Fama broke off the chase to make camp.

Mindan gathered wood while Rajek built a stone circle and cleared underbrush. Fama disappeared into the night, then returned with three tree otters for the fire Mindan had going. She skinned and dressed them with an expert's ease, spitted them, and laid them across the blaze while Rajek heated water for tea. The three of them said nothing while the meat cooked and the water boiled. When the meat was ready, Rajek cut equal portions for each, then poured the tea.

“So tell me about this mission,” Fama said.

Mindan almost flinched. He was glad of the dark and the flickering firelight that would mask his expressions. “A formal invitation to the Protector of Ethalic to attend the wedding of King Prester's son.”

“Why such a large party for that? I would think a single emissary and his retainers would do.”

“We've been in talks with Ethalic for years over trade issues. It was decided to take advantage of the occasion to send another legation.”

“And the reason the gamekeeper of Githira was sent?”

“Moor tigers. We hoped to bring a breeding pair back.”

She nodded. “You wouldn't want to leave that to the unskilled and inexperienced.”

“No.”

The explanations, as far as Mindan was concerned, had the benefit of being true, even the moor tigers—if he had completed this part soon enough, that was his next task. Everything could be proven.

“And you came after the thieves because—?”

“I'm the best tracker. And I'm not a soldier. The Overseer might take that amiss.”

“King Prester's son,” Fama continued, “is of age, isn't he?”

“Stephen is nineteen this year, yes.”

“A little old to be getting him married, isn't it? Most like Prester have their boys bound to some child when they're barely ten.”

“True. It's been difficult for him.”

Mindan fell into a recitation of the last dozen years of his homeland. Wars—three of them—over borders, a plague that nearly destroyed two of Catanac's closest neighbors, and King Prester's response to seal the borders of Catanac that caused diplomatic difficulties with a score of other countries. The last several years had been a time of rebuilding old alliances, forging new ones, dealing with the problems created by forceful policies that appeared arbitrary and simply offered opportunities for aggression on the part of enemies and the envious.

“Marrying his son has become a question of strategy that beggars my poor imagination,” he said. “Who does he make dynastic cause with that won't do as much damage as good?”

“Who indeed? What was the final choice?”

“Depending on how her presentation at court goes, King Prester is negotiating with Masady.”

Fama looked startled. “That's a surprising choice.”

“There are benefits. Masady is vital. It has good relations with all its neighbors, a good reputation. On the road to Ethalic our ambassador explained all the aspects of such a union that would be to our benefit. I wondered, though, where considerations about the two betrothed came into it. He said ‘As long as the girl's a virgin and Stephen gets an heir off her, there are no other considerations.' Makes me glad to be a commoner.”

“The virgin part may be a problem. Do you know anything about Masady?”

“Some.”

“They are freer among themselves than most would feel proper. They school their girls with the boys. They let them take work outside the households. I've been told some women hold office in the government. As to marriage, it's an open matter, a choice both parties enter into freely. Fidelity is barely an issue. I've heard they put no value on virginity for its own sake. If your king is hoping for one for his son, I am surprised he sought her in Masady.”

“Exaggerations,” Mindan countered. “Even if true among the populace, surely the royal house would take care for its legacy.”

Fama shrugged.

“You sound like you admire them,” Mindan said.

“I'm a woman in a man's work. I'm never displeased when I hear a girl is given leave to be what she wants by her own effort.”

“How did you come to your position?”

“My father was sheriff until he died. I have no brothers, and he presented me to the Overseer as the only viable successor. There was resistance, even so, but I have an affinity for the work, and many of my father's men knew me and knew what I could do. I've held the title for almost eight years now. I have to struggle to keep it every day. Something like this massacre undermines me in the eyes of my liege.”

“Surely he must understand that even—”

“That even a man couldn't do better? Surely he must.” She gave him a wry smile. “But he doesn't. For him I must prove myself twice or three times where a man would only have to prove himself once, if that often. Except it's worse than that. These creatures, the einhyrm, this is the last place they exist. Here should be a sanctuary for them. They've been hunted out of existence everywhere else, but
not here. Here they should be safe. Every time this happens, the herd thins more. They don't breed swiftly. I haven't seen new foals in four years. Rajek?”

“More like six,” he said.

“This is on my head,” Fama said. “I failed to keep these vultures out. I failed to protect the einhyrm.”

“The power of their horn pulls at men.”

“Yes, and if there was any truth to the stories it might seem worth it, but the sad thing is none of it is true. The horns are only that—horn. There is no magic.”

“But—”

“No! We tested it, decades ago. Every trial the horn was supposed to serve, it did nothing. After that, the Overseer decreed Githira a sanctuary. My father was a small boy when the sheriff then traveled the world to find the remaining einhyrm and bring them here. All the good it has done. Men come from all those places, and we have never convinced them of the truth. They slaughter and steal. The worst of them don't even come because they believe the legends. They come for pay.”

Or to serve their king
, Mindan thought. He wondered then how much he believed in the reputed powers of the einhyrn horn. Though it did not matter. King Prester believed.

Mindan finished his tea and stretched out in his bedding. He found sleep difficult.

He woke to his feet being kicked. He saw a shadow against a barely bright sky and heard the sounds of camp being broken. He was on his feet at once, rolling up his doss, collecting his things, preparing to move. He walked
into the nearby tree line to tend to his ablutions, then joined Fama and Rajek. A skin was passed to him.

“Two swallows,” Fama said, “no more.”

The liquid was bitter, but it sent fire through him. Within moments he felt more aware than he had in days.

They set out at a trot just as the light grew bright enough to see signs. Fama picked up the trail with ease, and they ran through the morning, pausing only to be sure of the track. Before noon, Fama smiled.