Kavin's World (12 page)

I have never sought solace in wine, except on rare occasions; this time, I wished only to dull the clarity of the hideous picture Bren had brought. I was sickened by it, and I wanted to wash away the taste with strong wine.

For me, Dorada had died, all over again. The image of the land overrun with monstrous antmen was a second death; the earlier loss, when we had sailed away from the emptied land, had not been half the shock of this.

For this there could not be sufficient vengeance, I thought. The wine moved hotly within me, and I sat, staring at the swinging lamp, listening to the slow creak of cordage and timbers as my
Luck
rode at her anchors.

Why
should I
be the one to bear this evil, I thought, with a sudden flush of self-pity. A hundred princes of the folk before me, and all, all had lived their lives out, in comparative peace. Throughout the centuries, we of Dorada had farmed our lands, fished in our seas,
worshipped
our gods. An unambitious people, perhaps; our wars were only to beat off or punish sea-robbers, or to aid an ally in other lands. We had made no conquests, taken no subject nations; our wealth had been made by our own hands.

Other nations… the High King of Meryon could not be as free of evil as Dorada, nor the Mazainian Empire. I poured another cup, deciding that there was no justice anywhere, and that the gods were cheating merchants.

So, from anger to near-weeping to deep anger I floated on the wine-flood.

Thuramon said I was a law to myself, one whom the gods laid heavy burdens on, because I was free of their laws. Was it for my sake that humble folk had died in Dorada? If the gods hated me, why slay weavers and fishermen?

That pale wench spat upon me, in the name of her Great Goddess.
The Goddess, indeed.
She, who decreed the orgies of spring and of the harvest, to have her priestess maiden still.

Like her, indeed, to give a bride and withhold the marriage.
I mooned awhile upon the subject, my thoughts growing murkier as the wine grew stronger. Sense began to vanish, but the image of Samala’s fair hair and pale face floated before me, clearer still.

I rose, a little unsteadily although the ship rode well; making my way to the deck, I roused a man, who slept there.

“Go… go and get the… priestess, Samala.” I told him. “Tell her I wish to speak with her, now.”

A little later, she entered the cabin, where I still sat near the wine jar. I heard the door open, and I sat contemplating the swinging lamp, my booted feet spread out before me. I did not turn at her voice.

“My Lord Prince.”
It was a pleasant voice, and soft.

“Ah,” I said, “Lord Prince, indeed. Well, then, my lady Samala.”

“You wished to speak with me, my lord.”

I swung round to look at her. She was still in that gray robe, her hair loosened down her back. Her eyes were calm, regarding me with that same infuriating, noncommittal look. The wine said she was very beautiful.

“All these days we have shared a ship, and I’ve heard no word from you,” I said.

“You did not send for me.”

I bit my lip, staring hard. “I did not send for you. Should I have? Are you mine, or not?”

“No woman is any man’s,” she said, still calmly. “That is the law.”

“New laws,” I said, lurching to my feet. I moved toward her, and stood looking down at her.
“My laws.
There’s one lord aboard this ship, and… make what laws I like.
Now, you, for instance.
Pledged to me.
Broken that pledge, have you not?”

“The priestess may call any man she wishes to her, when she wishes, when the Goddess so commands,” Samala said, still calmly. Her eyes were round, with terror I thought, but her self-control was marvelous. She did not even edge toward the door. Thoughtfully, I reached behind her, and dropped the bar which locked it.

“I’m minded to take the Goddess’s gift, tonight,” I said. “Death reigns in Dorada. The Goddess is overthrown there. Here, my Tana-luck is goddess, and my Luck tells me to take what’s mine, while there’s time.”

“The Goddess is not overthrown, anywhere,” Samala said. “And if you take me, Lord Prince, remember…”

But I swept her into my arms, and brought my mouth, wet with wine, down on hers. She did not resist, but she gave nothing back; and when I freed her lips, she only stared at me, wide-eyed.

Still holding her in one arm, I swept the other across the curtained niche which held the small statue of Tana, opening it wide.

“A gift for Tana!”
I said. “
Your
gray Goddess, with her long-spaced festivals… ha! My Luck gives us a special festival, tonight!”

And so, after so long, I celebrated my bridal night, defying all the ancient law of my people, who hold rape to be vilest of all crimes.
For what I did was little better than that.

Yet, in my drunken pleasure, I had a moment of terror, quickly passing; and then another moment, when it seemed to me that though Samala still resisted, her resistance was no longer real. And at the last, when she lay weeping, I felt still a third strange feeling: pity.

But I fell soddenly asleep, and when I awoke, she was gone. It was morning, and the anchor was being raised; we were setting out again, east and north.

As I bathed my aching head, a grim thought struck me; what if the wench had drowned herself? Hastily, I flung on a tunic, and went up; but I had no courage to go to the cabins midship to seek her. Something told me she was well enough; besides, Isa was there, with other women, holding conversation with Bren, where he lay on a pallet on the deck. As I came near, she looked up, and smiled at me, warmly and openly; I could tell she knew something of what had happened, and accepted it.

I went to her, and kissed her; she responded, winding her arms about my neck. Then, stepping back, she turned toward Bren, taking my hand.

“He has told us all,” Isa said solemnly. The other women were looking white-faced at the tale, while Bren propped himself on an elbow to greet me.

“Your Luck was with me, Lord Prince,” he said, with a weak grin. “I’ll be well enough to hold a sword again in a day or two. Where are we sailing now?”

“East, east and north,” I said, glancing at the distant line of rocky crags along the shore. “With this wind, we may reach a land fit to rest in, within another week or two.”

“A new Dorada,” Bren said, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I do not know if it will be a new Dorada, lad,” I told him.
(“Lad,” indeed, and he five years my senior!
But my gray hair made me say it.) I dropped Isa’s hand, and walked toward the rail, to study the currents moving by and to cast a quick glance at the filled mainsail. I turned and leaned back against the rail.

“Water was all our need, and you led us to that,” I said to Bren. “Luck, indeed. We’ll need it.”

Day after day, we forged steadily on, in fresher and more easterly winds each day. Three times I saw Samala, on the deck; each time she bowed her head in greeting, her face as cool and unmoved as though nothing had happened between us. She left me puzzled, a little angry, and not without a shade of guilt.

Isa was as warm and loving as ever, and yet, she seemed to draw away from me in a subtle way I could not name; also, I saw her often with Samala. They seemed very close now. When I mentioned it, Isa said that Samala knew a great deal about the art of childbearing and delivery; and that it was good luck indeed to have one so competent near by for the time to come.

“For the rest, my lord,” Isa said, quite innocently, “Samala says that when you have need of her, she will come to you.”

“Oh?” was all I could bring out, amazed.

“She bears you no anger. How could she?” Isa looked at me and giggled. “Lord, I was also a virgin; do you remember?”

I remembered, and laughed with her; and for a while it was as though the weight lifted from me.

The old directions were correct. Each point we passed checked against them, and one day we saw the marshes along the shore, where that river was said to be, and the other markings. We steered closer, and I scanned the wide plain of reeds for signs of the canoe-men. There were none as far as I could see. I determined that we could fill every water cask, if the river was indeed behind that marsh; and more than that, bowmen could bring fresh game to help our rations. I saw flights of birds, among them duck, and my mouth watered; we had eaten much salted beef of late.

So once more the ships hove to, lying close together in the broad channel. Boats were lowered, and assembled in a small flotilla, while crews and passengers who had not spoken together in many days exchanged loud calls. Bren, now on his feet, and Caltus, whom I valued, both came into my boat as we prepared to go to the shore. And to my surprise, another boat came close, and one oarsman gestured at me with a bow, as he pulled with one hand. It was that hairy old devil, the chief called Kakk Marag, still with us, it seemed.

What was more, he’d learned to speak, though not well; as we drew together, he leaned toward me.

“You big one, hey,” he said, grinning broadly. “Listen, I-you talk like you, yes, yes. I knock on head for you. You many good one, you; let fool-boy live, send good woman help he. You not eat
he
. I serve you, much.”

I gathered he was grateful, a most surprising idea. I did not bother to point out that his son and he lived only because I had almost forgotten I had them about. Nor did I mention the occasion on which I had ordered their deaths, and how by simple accident the matter had been foregone. If the barbarian wanted to think of me as a merciful man, he might do so.

I grinned back at him, and dismissed his protestations with a lordly wave of the hand. Lately, I noticed how easily such gestures came to me; a certain mysterious something teaches a man how to look like a proper prince once he’s become one.

The old goat had a certain skill with the bow, I recalled; and then, uneasily, I hoped his gratitude was real, and that only ducks would be his mark today.

Then, we pulled away, and rowed for the green shoreline.

Once among the reeds, we were lost to sight by those on the ships, while we could see the ship’s masts, but that was all. We moved slowly, searching, until one man called out that he had found a current. Then, along a narrow path, we came into the river itself.

It was a broad, slow stream, still salt where we had entered, winding out of sight toward the west. All our boats now fell into line, rowing steadily upward, as we tasted the water occasionally. Then, after a while, it freshened more and more. Finally we halted to fill the casks.

The banks were not so swampy here; tall grass, on a plain, surrounded us. Parties of us went ashore, while a guard remained behind in the boats, and the hunt began.

This was no pleasure hunt; this was most serious slaying, and we worked at it hard. I saw bird after bird fall to old Kakk Marag’s shots, while I missed oftener than I liked, and bit my lip in envy.

Finally, I found his workman-like shooting too difficult a competition; I called Caltus, and three others, and the five of us went farther into the tall grass, hoping to find an easier game. I had seen marks near the water’s edge, which might have been small hoofprints, and I hoped for deer of some sort.

We went forward, pushing through the grass until it grew shorter and we could see about us. The land was an open plain, with here and there small clumps of twisted trees; it seemed to stretch to the horizon, all the same look. Then, I saw four small deerlike creatures leap from cover, and run, within easy arrow shot; and all together, we let fly.

Mine went down, with a clean stroke through the neck; and Caltus brought one down, too. A third arrow took one in the flank: the beast fell, but rose again and limped on.

Cursing our unhorsed state, I ran after it with the others; the hunt laws forbid leaving a cripple to run. It went on, just ahead of us, nearly a mile and then, staggering, it fell. We came up to it, puffing and wheezing.

The creature was smaller than a deer, with two straight horns; a buck, we found, and dead now. But there would be good meat here, and the one who had slain it set about making it ready to carry. As he did so, I stared about me.

The village was nearly hidden in the grass, and we had come upon its low stockade, nearly under our noses. It was a collection of mud and wattle houses, half under ground, and even so, small as kennels. And there was not a sign of life about it.

“Beware,” Caltus said, seeing it as I did. “Remember the poisoned spears spoken of in that book, Prince?”

“If there were any spears, we’d have them in us by now,” I said. “I’ll see what’s here.” And I went forward, into the place.

It was as silent as a grave, which I found it resembled in other ways. Each low hut contained bones; the bones of men, women, and children, all of tiny size; the largest could not have been bigger than a ten-year-old boy. Each lay in composed posture, on mats; some with their weapons and shields, some seated near what had once been a cooking fire, in which broken pots still lay. All the bones were yellowed with time; whatever it was had
happened
a long time ago.

We stood in the dead village, silently looking around us, a strange chill over our spirits.

“What could have done this?” Caltus asked; and I bent over one small pile of bones, to look more closely.

“Neither arrowheads, nor broken bones,” I said, straightening up.
“Some poisonous vapor, in the night?”

“Disease,” Caltus said, but it was obviously not that either.

We left very hurriedly, took up our kill, and hastened back to where the others waited. With their own meat, we went on back, seeing other deer as we walked, all too far to shoot. There seemed to be no carnivorous animals to prey on the creatures, which struck me as strange. The deer seemed aware of us as a danger; maybe that was only instinct, of course. But where there are deer, there are usually great cats, wolves, other beasts of prey. And here there were none.