Mara and Dann (42 page)

‘Don't worry, no one is going to touch anything of yours, seeing what you can do.'

‘Good. And why did he call me “princess.”'

‘It's a way of flattery. When they want to soften me up they call me “prince.”'

Here they sat seriously, eyeing each other, because of things that were not being said.

‘Are you going to start talking about precious children and mysterious plans?'

‘I could, but I've got more urgent things on my mind.'

‘But there is a plan that involves Dann and me?'

‘Not a plan. Possibilities. And I think you'd better know I am not interested.' He amended this. ‘I am not the one who is interested.' A pause. He added, ‘And I don't see much point in your being interested yet, because you are so very far away from any place where it matters. Far in time,' he emphasised. ‘And far in travelling – hundreds of miles.'

‘Well,' said Mara, having taken all this in, ‘it seems to me that being Prince and Princess, all that kind of thing, isn't much use – not living like this.'

‘I agree. And I want you to know that in my opinion the time has long gone past when it could be of any use, or of any interest. And now, can you go on with your story?'

She went on. When she got to the bit where the Hennes soldiers appeared he asked question after question. What had they worn? In what condition were their uniforms? What were the colours of the shoulder straps? What was on their feet? Did they look well fed? Were they dusty and dirty? How many were there?

She was able to answer in detail. ‘And they carried weapons I know aren't of any use.' She described them. ‘The Hadrons have them.'

‘Why do you say they aren't of any use?' She told him. ‘They aren't obsolete. They are copies of something very old. Very old. Some Hennes
soldier with a talent for that kind of thing saw a weapon from an ancient museum. He thought out how to replicate it. Not exactly of course. We don't have that technology. But they do work. Most of the time. At first the Hennes army had the advantage, but then we got the thing too. So we are exactly balanced again. All that has happened is that many more people get killed and wounded.'

‘How do they work?'

‘They shoot out bullets. We make bullets. You put the stuff we make matches from into a hole and light it and the bullet is shot out.' He was silent, and grim. ‘I was taught at school that only five centuries after the ancients discovered how to make this kind of gun the whole world was in the grip of a technology that made them slaves. Luckily we don't have the resources or the people. Not yet, anyway.'

There was so much information here, and she only understood part of it. She cried out, ‘Last night you promised I will have lessons.'

‘Language lessons first.'

‘There's always something else first.' And then, seeing his grave, uneasy look, she cried out passionately, ‘You don't know what it's like, knowing you're so ignorant, not knowing anything.'

‘I thought you said that in Chelops you found out you knew more than they do – about certain things, anyhow.'

‘That's not saying much. And I did know more – but what I really knew more about was not the kind of thing I want to learn. I know about how to stay alive. And they don't. When I look back now they seem to me like children…' And now she was weeping. She put her head down in her arms and wept. She felt Shabis's hand on her shoulder. It was a kind hand, but it was also a warning.

‘That's enough, Mara. Now, stop.'

Slowly, she stopped. The warm pressure on her shoulder stopped too. She lifted her head.

‘You will begin the language lessons tomorrow. Today I want you to do something for us. You will tell the officers your story.'

‘How can I? I don't speak Charad.'

‘Most of them know some Mahondi. I would like them to know more. You will have to speak slowly, and don't use any long words.'

‘I don't know any long words.'

‘Now don't start crying again.'

‘Why only the officers?'

‘Do you want an audience of ten thousand?'

‘You have ten thousand soldiers?'

‘In this part of the country, ten thousand. Over in the West, under General Chad, ten thousand. In the North, twenty thousand – that is, centred on Shari. To the East, keeping the Hennes in their place, ten thousand.'

‘How many people live in all of Charad?'

‘Most people are in the army.'

‘Everyone, in the army?'

‘As you know wars are hard on the ordinary people of a country. We found that all the young men were coming to us, begging to be taken into the army. Then the women. We make most of them soldiers or they work for the army in some capacity. You see, with us they get clothed and fed. Soon we found there were parts of Charad that had no ordinary citizens left. The war had been going on for twenty years. Their fields were destroyed, and their animals taken. Soon Agre was all army. Many of them have never seen a fight, or even a raid, or seen a Hennes.'

‘What you are saying is that the whole country is a kind of – tyranny.'

‘That's about it.'

‘Who is the ruler? You?'

‘There are four of us generals. We rule. And we rule well.'

‘And are the people protesting?'

‘Indeed they do.'

‘So what happens then?'

‘What did you do to the poor lad who was going to steal your money?'

‘What do they want? If they want a change, what is it?'

‘Sometimes we wonder – we four. They call us The Four. They are fed. They are well fed. They are safe.'

‘And soon you will have your truce with the Hennes. Are they also in the army?'

‘No. They have a large, discontented civilian population. Mara, you will get lessons, I promise you. And now we are going to the parade ground. There will be a thousand officers there.'

‘You expect me to address a thousand people?'

‘Why not? You'll manage all right. If you begin now, you should be finished with your story by midday. Don't dwell on the personal aspect. I want you to tell them about the changes in the climate, about how the animals are changing, the scorpions and so on. Describe the setup in
Chelops. Tell them about the River Towns. Some of the soldiers came from there, as refugees. Tell them about the shortages of food – all that kind of thing.' He was smiling, and pleased with himself – or her. ‘My soldiers are the best educated in Charad.'

How much she liked and admired him then! And she felt so very much at home with him. And yet he was not like the easygoing, friendly, smiling people that she was sure had been all that she had known in her early childhood. And he was not like Juba, and certainly not Meryx, whom she was seeing now in her mind's eye smiling at her, his gentle, charming smile, which faded as she looked, Goodbye Mara, goodbye – as he turned and went. This man had been a soldier for twenty years, and he never made a gesture, or a turn of the head, or of the body, he never took a step that did not fit exactly into some pattern he had been taught. And yet this discipline of his was nothing like the horrible sameness of the Hennes.

They walked through the flat, low army buildings to where they could see the officers marching on to the parade ground, all the same in their brown, baggy uniforms. The dust spurted up under their stamping feet and drifted about among their legs and began to settle as they came to a stop and stood at ease. She looked for Dann and at last saw him, unfamiliar to her as one of this mass of men, standing in a bloc of ten. She smiled at him, and he nodded, slightly, keeping his face soldierly severe.

Now she could see so many together, she felt uneasy again: they were Mahondis, most of them, and yet not. She thought that if you took any one of these men in front of her by himself, then you would think, Yes, a Mahondi, but perhaps not the best-built or most good-looking one I've seen. But take fifty of these, and put them beside fifty of the real Mahondis, then the difference would be seen at once. But what difference? It was not easy to see.

Shabis signalled and she began talking. She was on a little wooden platform, looking down at them. It was quiet, and she could make herself heard. What was hard for her was, because they were soldiers, their faces kept immobile, she did not know how interested she was keeping them. But from time to time Shabis nodded at her to go on, when she hesitated. Then, after about an hour, she ended with a minute description of the Hennes soldiers on the river bank, and when Shabis asked them if they would like to put questions, one after another raised his hand and it was the Hennes they wanted to know more about. Only later were the questions about drought and the River Towns.

Walking back with Shabis she asked him if there had ever been a famine here, and if so, was this why the Agre people seemed like poor copies of the Mahondis. He said that he believed there had been, but a good long time ago, and then answered her real question with, ‘But when their children are born, they are not like us. Not really. At first you think that this is a Mahondi baby, and then you take another look.'

‘So what happened? Why?'

‘Nobody knows. Why are those scorpions you told me about, and the spiders and lizards, changing?'

They sat on opposite sides of the trestle table and were served the midday meal. There were cooked vegetables, and meat. She told him she had hardly ever eaten meat, even in Chelops. She would get used to it, she said, but a slab of muscle from some beast, brown on the outside and still red in the middle, made her think of Mishka and Mishkita and the milk beasts of Chelops.

He said that in these parts it was easier to feed people with meat than it was to grow enough vegetables. There were large herds of meat animals, and a good part of the women's army were appointed to look after them. These were hardy animals who thrived even when fodder was short, and they only needed to drink once a week. Now, the Hennes grew vegetables well, but were not much good with animals. If only the Agres and the Hennes could agree on a truce, there could be much beneficial trading.

Then he said that he was going to leave her, because he was going on reconnaissance.

And she said, ‘But first, I have something really important to ask. Do you know what my name is?'

‘Didn't you say it was Mara?'

‘Why was it so important for me and Dann to forget our real names?'

‘Surely you know that there were people out looking for you, to kill you?'

‘Is that all it was?'

‘Wasn't that enough? You do know that all your family were murdered?'

‘Yes.'

‘As it turned out, the other side are all dead too. So you and Dann are the only ones left of the Mahondis of Rustam.'

‘It's so sad, not knowing your real name.'

He was silent for a while. ‘Sad but safe. What's wrong with Mara? It's
a very pretty name.' And now he got up, seemed ready to leave. ‘Shall I take your brother Dann with me on reconnaissance? He seems quick off the mark – as you are. Perhaps you'd like to be a female soldier? They are very good.' But seeing her face, he laughed and said, ‘No, but you would be a good soldier. Don't worry. I'm going to train you to be my aide. I need one. And you get the point so quickly.'

She said, and it was with difficulty, being stubborn, when he sounded so light-hearted and friendly: ‘We are going North, Dann and I. When we can.'

‘And what are you going to find there?'

‘Aren't things better there? Is that all just a dream?'

And, exactly like Han, he said, ‘It depends where you find yourself.'

Then, seeing her face, he said, ‘Mara, what are you expecting? What are you dreaming?'

In Mara's mind were visions of water and trees and beautiful cities – but these were rather misty, for she had never seen a city that was not threatened – and gentle, friendly people.

‘Have you been North?'

‘You mean really North? North north?'

‘Yes.'

‘I was brought up in Shari and then for a time at school north from there in Karas. But I've only heard about real North.'

‘Is it true that there is a place up there that has…where you can find out about…I mean, about those old people, those people who knew everything?'

‘Something like that. So they say. I have friends who have been there. But you know, Mara, my life is here. I must confess I have moments when I wish I lived somewhere easier. And now I'm off.'

And Mara sat on alone for a while in this room, his room, and then went into the one she slept in, and walked around it and looked carefully at the rock pictures. Those had been a more handsome and a finer people than she had ever been able to imagine. Shabis was good-looking, and his face was intelligent and good – but these people…She thought, If one of them walked in here now I'd feel even more of a clod and a lump than I usually do. Everything about them was fine. The clothes they wore were not just pieces of cloth sewn together with holes for arms and head, for that after all was the basic pattern of every garment she had ever seen. Even trousers were two lengths of cloth slit and sewn for legs, and tied at waist and ankle. These clothes the ancient
people on the wall had worn were cunningly cut, with pleats and gathers and folds, and sleeves set in so cleverly she found herself smiling as she looked. And the ornaments in their ears – long, narrow ears – were so intricately made…But the dulling of paint made it impossible now to see the details. And the rings on the long, thin fingers, and the necklaces…What a brilliant show they must have made, a crowd of these – what had they been called? What did they call each other? They were a brown people, a warm, light brown, with long eyes made longer by paint, and smiling mouths, and thin noses, and short brown hair, held with circlets of – it looked like gold. And they had lived in this city – for now Mara knew that these army buildings had simply been put down in a space between miles of ruins – a city of houses that had had many layers, eight, or ten, and…But who knew now how long they had lived here? How had they lived? Scene after scene showed them dancing, or sitting around low tables eating, showed them with their familiar animals, dogs, like the ones she remembered, and others like her little pet Shera, whose gentle licks on her cheeks she could feel even now, and birds, brightly coloured, flitting about. There had been a river, perhaps the same one she had travelled on, and there were boats so large that each had on its deck something like a small house, where people sat and amused themselves. Servants – slaves? – brought food on platters, and drinks in coloured cups. There was nothing here of what she had seen in the Rock Village ruins: lines of people tied to each other by the waist, or by chains around their necks.