Sebastian of Mars (16 page)

I found myself paired with Darwin in a
shallow depression overlaid with a sturdy but light covering of
stiff reeds, vines and branches. We lowered it upon ourselves and,
if we lay on our bellies, we could out through a narrow slit.

Time passed slowly as we waited. For a while
neither of us spoke, but rather studied the landscape before us,
which provided a partial view to the west blocked by tufts of
vegetation and one large junto tree.

Finally, when it became apparent that our
pursuers had not yet arrived, and the night sounds of crickets and
cawing birds became tiresome, I asked, “Darwin, who made all these
hiding places? Surely you didn’t construct them all.”

“No. Many of them were here already, to guard
against pirate raids and the like.”

“Why didn’t your family use them when the
F’rar attacked?”

Still studying the available horizon, he
answered, “There was no time. The F’rar came during the night, like
lightning. They used airships. I was lucky to get away.”

“And your family?”

Now he looked at me, his near albino features
barely visible in the deep darkness, and said, matter-of-factly,
“Dead. There is a pile of bodies in a pit behind Seven Town, which
the F’rar dug and then covered. Everyone is in there. My mother and
sister, too.”

He looked out through the slit again.

“I lost a sister, too,” I said quietly.

Again the ghostly features turned toward
me.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Sebastian.”

“I knew that. But who are you? I heard the
fat one, Radion, call you King.”

“For now you can just call me Sebastian.”

The ghostly features turned back to the slit,
and I saw him stiffen.

“I don’t hear –” I began, but he hushed me
curtly.

“They’re coming.”

And then I did hear, a distant wash as of
many boots tramping through dust, and the snort of horses which
grew and grew in volume. And then they were among us, scouts first,
passing like wraiths, some with lamps to study their way, which
threw fitful shadows here and there.

And then came the army, for it must be that,
a terrible roar of rhythmic marching–

“Get all the way down,” Darwin hissed, and I
did so, in time to feel the tramp of feet on our stiffened covering
which continued, by my count, for twenty minutes. There was only
one pause, when I heard a distant shout of “Halt!” followed by
muffled discourse between two voices, one of them shouting, the
other clearly subservient.

“But you said–!” one voice insisted, and in
answer the other said, “I thought . . .” and then the rest was lost
to me. Then came a scream, single and piercing, and then silence.
The feet above us moved slightly, side to side, as if impatient or
uneasy.

Then the roar of a single voice: “MARCH!”

The feet moved on, and then, eventually, were
gone.

At Darwin’s urging we stayed in the hole for
another half hour, though before them I heard some of the gypsies
emerging. “Fools,” Darwin hissed, and made me stay where I was.

“Lucky fools,” he spat as we finally emerged,
to see the gypsy caravan fully engaged and ready to travel.

Radion approached. “There you are! I was
beginning to worry!”

Miklos appeared beside him, laughing, and
picked little Darwin up. “The little fish is a hero!”

“You should have stayed in your holes longer.
They may have had trailing scouts.”

Miklos stopped laughing and held Darwin at
arm’s length, studying him.

“The little fish is right,” he said, setting
him down.

“There were no trailing scouts,” Radion said.
“Our own scouts reported that.” He looked down at Darwin and then
smiled. “But you are right,” he said.

“Will we travel tonight?” I asked.

“Yes,” Radion answered. “I want as much room
as possible between ourselves and that army. We will travel
tonight, and all day tomorrow.” He brightened. “But hopefully we
will meet our brothers, then.”

“Who?” I asked.

Miklos laughed and began to speak, but Radion
held his paw out for silence.

“We have brothers everywhere,” he said
cryptically, and then motioned for the caravan to move.

I sat with Radion again, with little Darwin
between us, and as we set off we approached a lone figure who
looked to be sleeping, curled up on the ground in the dark. But as
we passed it I saw that it was a F’rar soldier, dressed in red
tunic and black slick boots, his own scabbard empty, his own sword
thrust into his middle and out the back, his paws locked around the
hilt as if, even in death, trying to draw it out.

W
hen we finally
stopped the next day, in late afternoon, it was from wariness, not
weariness. Radion, after becoming increasingly dour throughout the
day, threw up his hand as we reached the throat of a deep valley
between two steep bluffs.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“We should have met up with them by now. At
least their scouts.”

His own scouts had been bringing negative
reports for hours, and he now studied the two high bluffs ahead of
us, and the land between them. The mountains in the distance were
noticeably closer, looming in the distance like cool, mighty, tall
and silent gods. I could almost feel the chill of their icy summits
now. And just behind them, peeking like a sullen giant, the frosted
caldera of Mount Olympus.

Darwin asked, “Where did these people
live?”

Radion looked at him in surprise. “They are
nomads, like us. They are led by our little brother, Jamos. He is
not a fool. If anything, he is smarter than Miklos and I combined.
He will be a better teacher than Miklos in swordplay.”

Darwin himself was studying our surroundings,
and nodded sagely as he listened.

“Was he subject to betrayal?”

“Never!”

Darwin said nothing, but climbed down from
the wagon, as others were now doing.

“What will we do?”

“I don’t know,” Radion said. “Jamos was to
take us through the mountains. But now . . .”

Miklos joined them, and they began a spirited
discussion.

I climbed down and stretched. It felt good to
have my boots on the ground once more. Already cook fires were
springing up along the line of the caravan, as we hadn’t eaten more
than jerky in nearly a day.

I looked for Darwin, but he was nowhere to be
found. But then the scent of roasting fowl caught my attention, and
I wandered down the line in that direction, toward Tyron , drawn by
hunger and a need to learn more about his use of spices.

The meal was a good one, and I could even
claim to have contributed to it, and near its end, when I began to
belch with gratitude, as was the gypsy custom, I thought again of
Darwin.

He was not at any of the cook fires, as I
expected. I thought perhaps he had gone off to a quiet spot to curl
up and sleep. I searched under the wagon and in them, but he was
nowhere nearby.

And then I saw a distant small white figure
being led back to camp by one of Radion’s scouts.

I met up with them as they reached the gypsy
leader, just finishing his own meal. He stood, wiping his mouth
with a paw, and let out a long, low belch of his own.

“What’s wrong?” he said to the scout, who
held the protesting Darwin by the arm, giving him a good shake now
and then.

“I caught him behind the right bluff, trying
to dig a hole! He had a long stick and was turning over the soil! I
tell you, he was trying to hide!”

“Is that so?” Radion asked the little fellow.
“Were you trying to hide from us?”

“No. I found them,” he said simply.

“Let him go, Nikko,” Radion said to the
scout, who instantly obliged.

Darwin rubbed his arm. “You hurt me,” he said
to Nikko. There was a savage look in his eyes.

Nikko laughed, and wiggled his fingers in
front of the boy. “Perhaps I will
eat
you!” he laughed.
“Since you think that’s what we do!”

“Stop this foolishness,” Radion ordered. To
Darwin he said, “Tell me what you were doing.”

“I told you: I found them.”

“Who?”

“Your brother and his people. They’re buried
behind the right bluff. Just like my mother and sister.”

Radion stared at him,
and then said quietly, to Nikko, “Get Miklos. We will see if this
is true.”

I
n short order our
party, which had grown to most of the camp, made its way to the
spot Darwin indicated. They had proper tools with them, and soon
the pit had been uncovered, revealing the bodies of nearly a
hundred gypsies.

Radion fell to his knees in front of the hole
and wept. “Jamos! My little brother! How could this happen!”

He banged his paws on the ground, while
Miklos, his face suffused with cold fire, stood beside him.

“When do you think this happened?” he
asked.

Nikkos climbed up out of the grave, giving
Darwin an odd look as he did so.

“Days.”

Miklos nodded. “And no doubt who did it?”

Nikkos shook his head. “We found F’rar
trinkets and weapons in the hole.

“Give them a proper burial,” Miklos ordered,
and Radion, recovered, stood beside him.

“Our brother is dead!” he said.

“Yes,” Miklos
answered, his visage still locked as stone. “And he will be
avenged.”

T
he ceremony was a
simple one, with individual graves replacing the mass one they had
suffered. This was not the elaborate Moon Ceremony of One and his
people. They were nomads, with no homeland, and would be buried
with honor where they had fallen. Even their brother Jamos was
accorded no more honor than the others. They did not own the land,
but used it while alive, Radion explained, but now the land owned
them and used them. It was a fair bargain, and every gypsy expected
it in the end.

“And now we must talk, my King,” Radion said
to me, after the ceremony. He drew me aside, away from the others,
and sat across from me. He showed none of the superiority of our
earlier meetings – in fact, I was uncomfortable with his inferior
attitude.

“You must understand something,” he began.
“There is only one thing more important to a gypsy than allegiance,
and that is blood. It is the only thing, by gypsy law, that can
allow a man to break his solemn oath. And this is what I must
do.

“My brother must be avenged. My brother and
I, and my people, must find the F’rar who did this thing, and pay
them in kind. There can be no discussion.”

He looked embarrassed, and looked at the
ground for a moment. His deep voice had taken on a measure of
sadness that made it sound funereal. “It is for this reason that I
cannot take you through the mountains, as I promised One.”

“I will go with you,” I said.

He shook his head. “This is not possible. I
vowed to put you in a position to infiltrate the F’rar, and I will
do that. This vow I cannot break. It would have been easier for you
if I brought you across the mountains so that you could mingle with
their rear elements. What I must now do is bring you to the
outskirts of Robinson City and leave you there. My scouts tell me
that it is well stocked with F’rar stragglers at the moment.”

“Then this is what we will do,” I said,
trying to make it easy for him.

His eyes found mine. “I don’t think you quite
understand, my King. Your task will be harder.”

“Then I will do what needs to be done.”

“I will not forget this.”

I gave him an ironic smile. “And you see?
Your fortune telling cards were wrong. We will part ways, and you
will still be alive.”

He didn’t smile. “When my task is done, I
will find you again. And then we will see.”

“I have much to thank you for, Radion.”

He suddenly fell to the ground, and took my
paw in both of his own. “My King! I have lost a little brother, but
I feel as if I have been given one in return!”

I was touched, and
didn’t know what to say. He looked up into my eyes and vowed: “When
Jamos is avenged, I will return to you.”

“I
will go with
you,” Darwin said.

“You must stay with Radion and Miklos. You
will be safer with them.”

“I don’t want to be safe. I want to help my
King.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “You heard my
conversation with Radion?”

The slightest of smiles came to his lips. “I
was not four feet away, hiding. It is the kind of talent you can
use. And besides,” he boasted, “I can help you with your cooking,
whatever that’s for. I’ve been hiding close by during your lessons
with Tyron.” He shrugged. “I will follow you anyway. No one here
can stop me.”

I considered this. “You must realize, Darwin,
that we will be going to a dangerous place, and that we must
pretend to be F’rar.”

He nodded.

“And you must also realize that if we are
caught they will torture us, or worse.”

Again he nodded.

“And still you want to come with me?”

“If I stay with
Radion,” he explained, “I will get to see the F’rar who murdered
his brother, and my family, brought to ground. I could tell by the
signs I found that they are the same. But if I stay with you I may
get to see the whole F’rar army destroyed. This is what I want. And
besides,” he added, “you’ve already used the word ‘we.’ Which means
you’ve made up your mind that I can come.”

I
was not surprised
to learn that only Miklos would accompany Darwin and me to the
outskirts of Robinson. Radion and the rest would begin the track
the F’rar who had murdered Jamos. This meant an imminent parting. I
went up and down the caravan, saying good-bye to my gypsy friends,
and was surprised at the outpouring of emotion. Many cried, and
clutched my paws and kissed them, or gave me huge bear hugs before
kissing me on either cheek.

“Miss you!” the thin cook Tyron, always at a
loss for words, cried, dropping his wooden spoon to embrace me.
“Good student!” He fumbled something into my tunic, explaining,
“Spices.”