Lady of the Star Wind (33 page)

“We’re at a higher altitude,” Sandy said. “Fortunately, we’re going so slowly our bodies will have time to adjust.”

“My grandfather’s capital sits on a plateau high in the mountains,” Rothan told her.
 

“Those of you who grew up there have an advantage, but the rest of us should be fine after a day or so.” She squeezed Mark’s hand. “The human body is very adaptable.”

“Do you think Tresa is done with us?” he asked, smiling to show he was teasing.

Sandy frowned, not answering his grin. “She has a few turns left in the night sky. And we have days of journeying ahead.” Lifting the pouch containing the mirror, she said, “If I ever figure out how to tap into the power of this, even Tresa will give us a wide berth and be tame.”

Two days later, as they toiled up a steep grade, the bad luck of Tresa reached out for them again. Part of the roadway crumbled under the wagon. With a sharp crack that echoed through the mountain pass, the right wheel broke, and the wagon lurched toward the precipice. Luckily, Sandy and Tia had been hiking, not riding, as a few of the bags of spices went hurtling into the void. Khefer maintained an iron grip on Sallea at his side to prevent her from falling while he urged the oxen to drag the cart a few more feet to a wider spot in the road.
 

“Hold the cart, quickly,” he yelled.

Mark, Rothan, and Djed hastened to grab at the wagon’s side, pulling it upright again, although it tilted a bit on the broken wheel. Face white, lip bleeding a little where she’d bitten it, Sallea climbed across Khefer and jumped to the ground, steadied by Mark. She spun on her heel to watch Khefer dismount from the driver’s seat.

Breathing hard, the group stood staring at the wagon. Tia sank onto a convenient rock. “What do we do now?”

Sandy shook her head. “I don’t want you walking any more than you already have, if we can help it.” She shot a glance at Rothan. “She’s in enough physical distress as it is with the pregnancy and the altitude.”

“Can we repair the wheel?” Mark asked.

Giving the reins to Sallea, Khefer gestured at Djed, and the two men edged carefully along the right side of the wagon to examine the spoked wooden hoop. “I think we can probably do a temporary fix, using wood from the cart itself to reinforce the cracked spokes, get where we’re going,” Khefer said.

As he finished speaking, the right rear ox gave a gusty sigh and collapsed onto the road in a heap. Sallea and Khefer both ran to the animal, the latter running his hand over the ox’s heaving flank while Sallea rubbed its forehead and spoke in a soothing tone. Lowing softly, the ox flicked its ears.

Khefer looked at Sandy. “Can you help, my lady?”

“I’m not an animal doctor,” Sandy said, moving to kneel in the dust beside the stricken creature. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

Lakht landed on the wagon with a whoosh and surveyed the downed ox, head tilted, eyes gleaming. Sallea sat back on her heels. Glancing at Khefer, she said hesitantly, “Lakht believes the animal is done.”

Sandy lifted the small scanner she’d been using away from the ox’s side. “I think its heart is giving out.” She ran one hand along the rough coat. “Poor thing.”

“So we fix the wheel and perhaps we lighten the load. We can manage with three oxen,” Rothan said. “I’d abandon the cart altogether, but we have a few days’ march ahead of us, and we need the supplies. Not to mention the issue of my wife not being able to walk so far.”

“I don’t want my problems to cost these animals their lives.” Tia wiped away tears.

Rising, Sandy made quick work of scanning the other three beasts of burden standing patiently nearby. “I don’t detect any distress. They should be fine. I think the one we’re losing might have been older.”

“Yes,” Khefer said, beginning to unbuckle the harness on the downed ox. “I had very little time to pick and choose that night, or I’d have left this one in the city and taken another.”

Mark moved to help Djed with freeing the wooden yoke from the fallen animal and unhooking the rest of the team from the cart. The archer led them up the trail a short way and fastened the reins to a scrubby tree.

Rothan placed a hand on Khefer’s shoulder. “The ox has given good and loyal service, my friend, but we need to make our repairs and move on.”

Mark turned to Sandy. “Can you end its suffering? Something in your bag?”

“I’ve been thinking what I might use,” she said, pushing her hair off her face. “I don’t believe it’s in pain, which is a blessing.”

Sallea held up one hand. “I can do this.” She looked at Khefer. “I will do this, for you. I can see your heart bleeds for the creature, and I want to end the sorrow for you both.” Changing her posture to sit cross-legged, Sallea rested one hand, palm down, on the ox’s forehead and closed her eyes. She chanted almost under her breath in Mikkonite, extending her free hand to Khefer. He wrapped both of his around her fingers and bowed his head. The ox heaved a great sigh and closed its luminous brown eyes, a moment later going still.

Khefer helped Sallea to her feet, arm around her waist, escorting her to a place next to a small tree. Sighing, she leaned against the trunk and slid to sit. “I gave the animal our thanks and told it to lay down its burdens,” she said, voice thready.

Mark brought her the waterskin. “Well done.”

Khefer knelt to assist her with drinking since her hands were shaking. “I owe you, my lady warrior.”

Mark left the two alone and rejoined Rothan and Djed. “Shall we get on with the repairs? We’ll have to modify the harness for three animals now as well.”

Rothan glanced at Khefer and Sallea. “I’ll be glad when this journey is done.”

“Amrell takes the sky tonight,” Sandy said from her spot next to Tia. “As long as we arrive at your grandfather’s home under her watchful scrutiny, we’ll be fine.”

As he started unloading sacks of spice from the listing cart, Mark hoped she was right.

Three days later, Mark faced closed gates, but with a sense of relief tempered by impatience. The large wooden portal in front of him was set into towering stone walls, anchored with metal hinges. Cautionary phrases warning off intruders, he surmised, were painted in red on the surface. Guards stared down from above, bows drawn, arrows nocked, at the ready.

“Is this the only way into your grandfather’s territory?” Mark walked a few paces to the left in the area where the guards had told them to wait, admiring the workmanship of the wall builders. The giant cut stones comprising the walls fit together without mortar. There were no discernible cracks or obvious weaknesses.

“Yes, without going overland for hundreds of miles and trekking through dense jungle,” Rothan answered. “What’s taking them so long?”

“We’ve sent for the officer of the guard,” one archer yelled as Rothan stood, hands on hips, regarding those on the ramparts with a frown. “General Intef closed the borders of our land to all from the north.”

“You’ll be on your way down the mountain within the hour.” Another soldier laughed derisively.
 

“We’ve no need of spices,” yelled a third. “You can leave the women, though.”

Reaching for his sword, Khefer cursed. Rothan held his arm. “Patience. Once we’re inside, out of the world’s view, I’ll make myself known.”

“The louts insult you and your queen,” Khefer said.
 

“These men have no way to know who we are. I’m not pleased by the lack of discipline, however. I’ll have to deal with the issue at the proper time.”

“How are you going to persuade the officer in charge to let us enter? If you don’t want to reveal yourself yet?” Tiring of his scrutiny of the walls, Mark walked to the oxcart and perched on the tail next to Sandy.

“I’m hoping the commandant will be someone known to me. If not, I’ll announce my identity as a last resort.”

A small door set into the great gate creaked open. An officer in a crisp blue tunic and black leather pants, wearing a golden helmet with a blue horsehair crest, marched out, four archers at his back.

“Ah, good. Nemiah.” Rothan recognized the officer. “We trained together.” He moved forward, Mark and Khefer at his shoulders. Djed and Sallea stayed with the oxen and the cart.

“I regret to inform you our borders are closed, merchant,” the officer said, much as his men on the wall had stated, but with more courtesy. “You’ll have to turn those beasts around and retrace your route.”

Rothan pushed the hood of his robe away from his face. “Don’t you know me? We drank enough cheap wine together in better times.”

The officer did a double take, face going white under his tan. He retreated a few steps. “Are you real? Or a ghost?”

“A man of flesh and blood, gods be praised. I don’t want the entire border to know I’m here. Permit me to enter the gate while you send for my grandfather and my mother?”

Nemiah saluted. “Of course, Captain, at once. But we heard you’d died.”

 
“Greatly exaggerated. I doubt you can believe any news coming from the north these days.” Rothan grinned.

 
A few rapid orders from Rothan’s old comrade, and the gates swung wide. Khefer prodded the stolid oxen into motion. The party walked into the border fort, gates closing behind them. At the solid sound, Mark took a deep breath, relieved, knowing he and Sandy had arrived at last in a place where neither Farahna nor her Maiskhan allies could touch them. He glanced over at Sandy, who smiled. His princess had courage to spare, but even she’d been pushed to her limit by their slow oxcart-enabled escape.
 

Nemiah took them to his quarters.

“If you and your party can wait here, my lord,” he said, tone deferential but firm, “I’ll notify General Intef and Princess Sharesi.”

“Have you parchment or a tablet? And a writing instrument? I must send my grandfather a note with your courier.” Rothan gazed at the small desk against one wall. “He’ll be skeptical of this news.”

The requested items were brought. Rothan scrawled bold, intricate characters across the scroll he was given, periodically dipping the quill into the ink. Watching his friend concentrate on the note gave Mark uncomfortable flashbacks to the scene he’d been a reluctant part of weeks ago, in what he felt sure was the Nakhtiaar version of the underworld. After sanding the ink to dry it, Rothan rolled the parchment onto a cylinder, sealing the communication with wax spilled from the candle on the table and the imprint of his signet ring.
 

 
Nemiah took the scroll, stowing it in a pouch at his belt. “I’ll carry this myself. The errand will be my privilege, sir. Can I order the servants to bring you anything while you wait?”

“We ate on the road at the noon hour, thank you. But we’re parched from waiting in the sun outside the gates. Wine would be excellent.”

“Juice or water for Tia.” Ever the watchful doctor, Sandy interrupted the conversation.
 

“At once.” The border officer saluted and left the room.

Tired, Mark sat cross-legged on the floor, leaving the bunk for Tia and Sandy. He’d seen more of this planet, up close and marching across it, than he’d ever seen of any other world in his entire career. The novelty of hiking through the terrain, versus flying over it, wore off early in the trip. As he’d told Sandy more than once during their journey south, what he now missed most from their previous life was air transport. He envied Lakht.
 

“How long till your grandfather gets here?” he asked Rothan.

“An hour, maybe a bit longer. The main city where he resides lies south of the border. I’m glad he’s not on his annual tour of the territory. My appearance will be complicated enough without him being absent.” Rothan laughed at his own understatement. “We’ve one final, brief trek, through the pass and onto the plateau. Have some wine, relax. I think you’ve been on guard day and night without ceasing while we were on the road. Try to tell me there was a single night you slept with both eyes shut.”

“Merely being cautious in case Farahna somehow learned of our escape.” Taking the proffered wineskin, Mark knocked back a long swallow of the wine. “We weren’t in a good position to evade capture or fight off a Maiskhan attack. Not on the open road. Chariots could have overtaken us any time.”

“My oxen did their best.” Khefer’s weary retort came immediately.
 

Mark grinned to take the sting from his criticism. “I’m grateful to the beasts. Doesn’t mean I ever want to see them again. Give me a good saddle horse.”

“True words,” Sallea said, holding out her hand for the wineskin.

She and the men continued the desultory conversation on the merits of chariots versus cavalry, more to pass the time than anything else. Sandy kept watch over Tia, drowsing on the cot with her head pillowed in the Outlier woman’s lap. Sallea sat on the floor beside Khefer, leaning on his shoulder. Finally, Mark heard trumpets blaring from the fort’s courtyard.

Moments later, the door flew open, hitting the wall with enough force to dent the panel. Mark was on his feet, blaster half drawn before he realized the guards streaming in were the advance force of Rothan’s family.

Princess Sharesi entered the room behind the soldiers, a tall, austere woman in fine linen robes and tiers of golden necklaces, her long white hair elaborately dressed with jeweled pins. The resemblance between her and Rothan was unmistakable. As Rothan and Tia embraced the princess, General Intef strode into the chamber. The women were both weeping. Rothan broke free of his mother’s clinging arms and stepped away, saluting his grandfather. “I’ve come home, sir.”