Kavin's World (9 page)

“The boy may not walk,” she said. “He will be crippled.”

“Gods, must you read every word I say as sober fact? I give them both to you and to the Goddess, free gifts. There, have I done with them? What else, Lady?”

“A much more serious matter, besides,” she said, and seemed to pause for thought.

“It concerns the Maiden who is Bride, Samala,” she went on at last.

“I thought it would,” I said, biting my lip. “Well, before you’ve another word about her, I say this. She is Bride in name alone; she is Bride, because it was necessary to make me Prince. Bride and Maiden she may stay, till her teeth fall out of her head. Tell her to study weaving and witchcraft, and be her own mistress, because she will not be my mistress, damn it!”

“Good enough,” said the high priestess, and smiled a small cold smile. “I was to tell you something of the same sort from her. But I was also to tell you reasons, if such interest you.”

“I am agog,” I said, and yawned. “Doubtless the fair one does not care for gray hair. Or perhaps she has never seen me arrayed elegantly, as I now am, but only in bloody armor. Perhaps I smell of fish; I was a fisherman and a sailor before I was a prince. Which?”

“Another reason,” the high priestess said. “The Maiden is one with the Goddess, as I am. We see much denied to other eyes. She sees you as you are: selfwilled, half a tyrant already, a prince willing to wade in blood… as you have…”

“Whose blood?”
I roared, stung at last.
“Whose blood?
Whose pretty soft hands cleaned that blood from my armor, at that? Not hers!”

“The Goddess, our Mother, permits men to slay,” she said. “But she does not find it a pleasing sight. From such as take too great a joy in killing, the Goddess looks away. Also, from those who work with the things of darkness, such as only a few women may touch… she turns away. So Samala, who is one with
Her
, turns away.”

“Enough!” Rage rose within me, until I felt the teachings of my childhood, the fear of the Goddess and her servants, melting out of me. These were priestesses, but women first—and not warm, living women like Isa, but canting, prim-mouthed mystery-mongers with no warm blood in them.

I seem to recall saying as much, and perhaps in even less friendly terms.

The priestess listened, her expression changing not a whit. When I ran out of expletives, she merely shrugged.

“You are still a very young man, I see,” she said. “Your rage avails nothing, Prince Kavin. I brought you a message: simply that she will do exactly as you seem to wish, remain with us in the Temple. She will not avail herself of your services, nor speak with you.”

“Avail
herself
of my services?” I snapped. “I am a stallion, to be brought out for service, am I? You may tell the wench that my ‘services’ are not for her decision!” I rose, leaning over the council table, and fixed my eye on the high priestess. I think a demon moved me then, or all the weariness and work of the days before poured out into one irrevocable decision.

“This, then, for you and all yours at the Temple,” I said. “The Great Goddess gave me and mine nothing, neither aid nor comfort. If she turns her face from me, as you say, then do I turn from
her.
With this day, there shall be a new law and a new temple in Astorin and in Dorada. From this day forward, Tana, Kavin’s Luck, shall be Goddess of this city and this land!”

And that infernal priestess only smiled, at which my rage warmed further.

“Smile, then,” I said. “Smile at this. New laws shall be made, in my name only, in the name of the house of Hos-tan, and not in the Goddess’s name. I reign here, alone; I need no Bride from the Goddess. And from this day forward, the house of Hostan rules through my sons and their sons, as in the western kingdoms, so that we need never again ask the Goddess for the right to rule!”

She rose, still unmoved.

“This too was known,” she said. “Rule, then, Prince, and your sons after you… with no permission needed from any. As they do in western lands… sometimes to their sorrow. I go, Prince.”

And she did, leaving me wondering how large a fool I had become.

But I am also stubborn, if not always wise. I had spoken, and I would fulfill. The new way could be made law, little by little. The Doradans already knew how Tana’s power was seen, and none would complain about her setting up.

Then, the matter of sons.
I thought of Isa, and smiled. She would make a mother for princes to come, indeed; a woman worth ten times what any newling priestess was.

But in the days that followed, I wasted little time of anger-born projects; there were too many needed things to do. I worked with my people, from dawn to dusk and after, and not sitting and making edicts, or walking in processions. The processions in which I walked drew nets along the shore, or rode to harvest distant fields that had escaped looting. We rode armed on such occasions, too, because there were indeed stray survivors of the hordes. We met and fought such more than once; and once, indeed, Isa showed her skill with the bow. She rode always with me, now; and when a hairy savage ran howling at her that day, she pinned him neatly with an arrow through the throat.

That skill surprised me, as many things did about the girl. Skill in love’s a gift—none need learn that art if the talent is there already. But riding, the bow, and yet other arts she showed me. These were more than I had expected from a simple slave girl.

Now that she knew our speech, she still told me very little about her past, nor how she had come to be in that market, nor how she knew all that she did. And when I took to questions, she knew too well how to distract my attention to other, more pleasing,
subjects
.

Thuramon, too, seemed to know something about my woman; sometimes, in wine, he’d drop a hint or two. But even drunk, the wizard was a careful speaker. I got no more than hints.

Then winter came, in earnest. Ice cakes floated in the river, and snow covered the black scars on the land. In Astorin we were snug, more so than we had thought to be. There was enough food, not the finest fare, nor any glut of it, but enough so no one starved. Under the gray skies, we went on working, salvaging such vessels as we could from half burned hulks, laying keels for one or two new ones, hopefully, though there was little timber.

But as the cold deepened, work slowed. I was by the fire in the lesser hall of the castle, warming myself, and holding a mug of steaming brown wine. Thuramon, his nose as sharp as ever, entered, and edged closer to the big wine jar on the table.

“Take a mug and a hot poker, good Thuramon,” I said.
“Unless you’d prefer to conjure up another Son of Fire to warm your wine.”

He shuddered. “Prince, I take such dark matters too seriously to jest with them. But about the wine, now…”

It loosened him, I saw.

“Thuramon,” I said. “I have asked you before, in one way or another, and you’ve always evaded. There’s a pledge between us, concerning an enemy who still has no name. Sometimes I think—for what reason I can’t understand—that the matter of our pledge has some connection with the other matter. The matter of the woman, Isa, and whence she comes.”

“I said it once before,” Thuramon grunted over his wine. “You grow wiser every day, O Prince.”

“Not with any aid from you,” I said, looking at him. “Have you also noticed, good
wizard, that
I also grow more short of temper? I have had a curiosity for some time. I’d like to see why you have lived so long, and it may be that a view of your tripes, hauled out a yard at a time…”

“D’you
know
, Prince, I think you may mean that?” he said, peering at me. “True it is
,
your temper grows very short, especially with your friends. I’ve been admiring the white stone image of your Luck, set up in the river garden.”

“Then give her a sacrifice,” I said. “You may become a sacrifice yourself, old man. I want to know certain things, and I grow tired of being put off.”

He poured more wine. “Well, well. I suppose I could, if need be, go invisible… but the wine’s so good, ‘twould show my admirable insides in outline… as your Lordship seems to wish to admire them… hic. Excuse me. What did you wish to know?”

“Begin at the end,” I said. “We’ll come to the matter of Isa’s birthplace later. Tell me the name and place of the enemy I pledged to fight for you.”

“Oh, that.” He sat down, mug in hand. “That will be a story indeed. First, I must tell you certain things which you may have trouble believing; this, as a bottom for the tale. I know you to be well-read, and you have Initiation in the Mystery. But some things, only hinted at here and there, are true.”

“I’ll swallow any word you give me,” I said.

“Good enough. Begin with this. This is not the only world of men. There are others, so many that they have no number. There are worlds upon worlds, some with nothing alive on them, some with men very like
ourselves
, some with strange and swarming kinds of men such as you have never seen.”

“Well,” I said. “I have heard hints of this notion, in one book or another. You mean, the idea that men live on the moons, or on other worlds in the sky?”

“No, not that.”
Thuramon said. “There may be men there, for all I know. But the worlds I speak of are nearer than that. In some strange way, these worlds lie folded one upon the other, like leaves of a lettuce. Yet none may pass from one to the next, though the distance
be
only one step… except through magical gateways, made by art.
Or, sometimes, through gates made by accident, through natural forces.”

“Marvelous,” I said. “But it may surprise you, Thuramon; I find I can believe you. It may be the wine… but go on.”

“Sometimes, men find the way from one world to the next, and lose it again, having no way back. Once, a group of holy men from such a world drifted into our seas; found their way to shore, and began to spread their religion. And yet others, too, did this, many. It seems to me that our world is a kind of crossing place, where many worlds touch, so we receive much more than we give in the way of lost travelers.

“And this enemy,” I said. “He comes from another world, then?”

“Not too hastily, Prince,” Thuramon said. “Not he, but they. There are three. One was a war leader in his own place, but was driven out. He possessed only one thing: the secret of a gate between worlds. With that, he found another, a magician of evil power. Then, they found the third,
who
is not human in any way, but very wise and full of craft.

“Now these three chose this world, out of many they could reach, because here the wit of man had not yet developed great weapons. Here, the sword and lance, the arrow and ax… and only in our time, powder and guns. Could you but know how much stronger the weapons of their place are…”

“Very well,” I said, turning the mug in my hand. “Here are these three, in our world. Doubtless they want it all, to reign as its overlords; that’s the way of such, I’d think. But there are only three. No matter how great their weapons, how will they compel service?”

“They already have servants and slaves,” Thuramon said. “Also, they have another way. They work with pawns… such as those who came upon Dorada. Remember: their cattle died, their grass failed. Then they swept out, on the kingdoms around. But why did the grass fail?”

“I begin to understand,” I said. “They—these three—wish to conquer lands weakened, as we are. They use such others as serve their purpose. And it seems
,
they must have strong magic to work against the growth of grass, to cause herds to die. But I know such spells, and so do you.
Though we’d not use them.”

“They use whatever serves their turn,” Thuramon said.

“I’d still know more. Why are they your enemies in such a special way? And, if I’m to aid you, where do they hold? What strength
have
they, what weapons?”

“They are my enemies because I too come from another world,” Thuramon said, soberly enough in spite of the drink. “In that world, they—or one of them—did me such injury as can never be repaid. They are my enemies because they will end by doing the same evil here, and worse. As for the details… well, now we come to your Isa.”

“Oho,” I said, and kept silent, so he would not stop.

“There is—was—a people, living far from here.
Isa’s people.
It was they who built your ship, who carved that goddess
you
call Tana, your Luck. You saw at once how her features were like Isa’s. That people were destroyed by the three evil ones. All were destroyed, in one way or another. Some live… but not as you would live. A few escaped, and Isa’s folk were such. Now, in the land where those people lived, the three live, with their slaves. They are strong, well-fortified, and protected by black and powerful magic.”

“And I’m pledged to end them,” I said, chuckling. “Could you find no other, Thuramon? Perhaps I should take half a dozen bowmen and seize these villains… or would that be too many?
Oh,
and when would be the best time? High summer, or shall I wait till harvest? I mustn’t be away from my princedom too long.” I laughed, and drained my mug, shaking my head. “What have you trapped me into, Thuramon?”

“I have trapped you in nothing, Prince,” he said. “The gods willed that there should be one who could aid me in this. Both blade and wit will be needed, as well as what magic I may command. More, allies must be sought, yours among kings, mine among wizards, and found, if the gods will. If they do not, then we must do it alone.”

“You’ve not answered the other question. Who will rule Dorada for me while I rush off on demon-slaying?”

Now Thuramon no longer smiled, and in spite of wine, his face grew pale. He stared into the fire, so long I had
need
to repeat my question. Then he answered, in a heavy voice.

“None need rule Dorada. Dorada will be no more.”

“Make no jests with me, wizard,” I said, leaning forward. “Not jests like that.”

“You who fight against the will of gods,” he said, “as you doubtless will always fight. And lose, and fight again. This small victory we won together… it will not save this place. I have seen Dorada’s doom. This very day I made certain. Till now, I was not sure; certain things were hidden from me. But I came here
tonight,
to tell you… build no more in this doomed city. Repair the ships, make ready to flee. Death comes.”