The Enemy of My Enemy (12 page)

“More sons of the exiles are returning from abroad in these days than in any others. This is, basically, a good thing. It was a bad thing that anyone ever went into exile at all. But the good may be swallowed up in the bad if provision for them — other than the personal kindnesses of individuals — continues to be not made. I do not necessarily say —
necessarily
, mind you — that an estate ought to be taken away from a family which has occupied and enjoyed it for two generations, and given to a returned exile whose family had it until two generations ago. Moreover, heirships are often matters of dispute, people often lack documents, not seldom they have only vague notions or sometimes none at all of who, precisely, their forebears were. Nor is it of signal consequence. Do they have the Seven Signs? They do? Enough.”

The older man grew free and eloquent. Now and then he very softly beat the cushions of his palms gently for emphasis. There were, for example, he pointed out, the idle lands, lands which had escheated to the governance for a variety of non-political reasons. Why should not division and choice be made among those for the benefit of, on the one hand, the older, lackland class; and, on the other, the newer, returned exile class?

“It would provide them with funds and income, basic essentials. It would give them interests, lawful and proper interests. Occupation. How can it be gainsaid that a dissatisfied portion of the populace is a dangerous portion of it?

“And there are other possibilities, too. Why might not new lands be opened up? There are legions of leagues of them, where nothing human moves or has ever moved — not even Volanth! Yes, yes: Ah, there’s no shortage of possibilities. The thing is to make a beginning, and in order to do
that
we must make a decision. The Guardians cannot do it alone, you know. Nor could the Lords — assembled or otherwise — not that they would want to. All the elements of governance must be together in this, and the only way to assure that is to make it plain and public that elements outside of the governance are determined. They should be. So I have come to you. So I have come
again
to you. Begin to act. You must do so and you will do so, I must hope.”

So began another sort of work in which to immerse himself. Involved in factionalism and intrigue? He shrugged the thought away. It was perhaps possible that the Guardians were no better than the Lords, but that, too, was worth no more than a shrug. He would distract his mind until, at last, it needed no further distraction; and he would entrench his position here until its roots and its strength went as deep into Tarnisi life as they could go.

Atoral had ceased to come to see him because of his sullenness and coldness during his most moody period. He did not, could not blame her. But now he felt that it was time for him to go to her.

He found her in the golden garden of her small town house; an old-fashioned custom or conceit which she cherished: to have a garden consisting in only plants whose leaves or flowers were gold-colored, so chosen and so situated that the tint stayed dominant in the area in every season of the year. She came up to him gravely but not reproachfully and put her fingers on his hands as she had done that first time and she said, “You will stay some little while with us at least, I must hope.” He took her hands in his and then held her in a light embrace, but did not kiss her.

They walked in slow silence up the shallow steps furred in golden moss, under the branches of trees from which little leaves dropped like a golden rain; they walked back again through the golden buds and golden blossoms, and thus, back and forth and to and fro, he managed to tell her something of the deep, frozen hate and horror which had come upon his heart. “They say, you — all of you — you always say, the Volanth are like animals. And I’ve seen how they can be, and I know it. But I’ve seen the Tarnisi like animals as well. And so I see nothing to choose between them, and it’s made all this land I longed so long for, it’s made it abhorrent and abominable to me.”

She murmured, “Oh, not all of it, not all of us, I must hope.”

With fiercely twisted face thrust suddenly so close to hers — but she did not flinch nor turn aside — he said, “I couldn’t stand to have you near me because it makes me think of your flesh and my flesh — together — and I could not dare to do that and to think of what I saw of flesh and flesh — ” His voice choked. It was as though blood had choked it. And they turned in unspoken consent and they walked again in silence, up and down the golden walks and through the golden shrubbery, until, at last, he knew (and knew she did, too), that he was healed as well as he might hope to be; knew, too, that this was healed enough.

For more than that he might never hope to be healed, unless he was healed of life itself, “that disease whose only cure is death.”

• • •

Now, with his mind so much more at ease, and his position as at least symbolic, representative, of the returned exiles more firm, Tonorosant had time to look around and into other matters.

Lady Losacamant had been guilty of not even pardonable exaggeration when she said that she had “charming granddaughters.” There were three of them, lovely as newly blossoming flowers, and not less lovely were the famous sunken gardens which they graced — though, “lovely” was perhaps too light a word to describe the gardens’ grace and dignity; handsome, they were; rather, even than beautiful. The aery trickery of the golden gardens seemed, in comparison, to be transient and insubstantial — and merely pretty.

At length their grandfather himself, the spare-of-words Lord Losacamant, appeared upon the scene, as Tonorosant had known he would. He greeted the girls with a grave though affectionate gesture, and to his guest was courteous without being curious. There was, after all, not very much of the curious in the visit. They were neighbors of no great distance, the lady had specifically invited him to adventure hither, and if the girls were still a shade too young to be taking lovers, why, they would not be so always or forever. And it might also be said that the two men were or had been comrades-in-arms. Officer and follower.

His lordliness dismissed the girls to their grandmother, who gracefully though nonetheless promptly withdrew with them to the house. Host and guest regarded one another a moment. However reasonable the reasons which Tonorosant had given in his own mind as not only justifying his visit but making it close to commonplace, he could now no longer believe that Losacamant believed in one of them, even for a single moment. There was no challenge in the calm look the lord gave his visitor, nothing of derision or displeasure. It did not even estimate. It did not even announce. It merely let it be known.

The massive blocks of stone which formed the walls of this part of the sunken gardens dripped with moisture which cooled the air as well as nourishing the infinity of green and flowering plants set between them. The turf was both firm and springy. Overhead a palisade of heavy grasses thick as thin saplings arched inward. It was gratefully dim and cool.

Looking at his host’s characteristic walk, which seemed to pronounce without any degree of boasting the existence of the small but muscular body concealed within the robes, Tonorosant wondered if this were typical or merely peculiar — and if the former, if some lesson were not therein embodied.

“My former interests,” he said, at last, after Losacamant had made some polite reference to the subject, “have seemed of less concern and importance to me of late. I think you may understand why, my father’s kin.”

The levy-lord nodded, unsurprised. “Life among foreigners had not prepared you,” he said, “for the facts of war. Although they also lack the Seven Signs, they cannot be compared to those who lack them here … not in all respects.”

“Can nothing be done about the Volanth?”

Losacamant’s eyebrows rose very slightly. “You saw what was done. ‘Nothing?’ ”

“Nothing to prevent its happening again … ?”

“Ah. ‘Again.’ How? A Volanth no more recalls last year than a bird does last week.”

“Then you say, in effect: ‘No. Nothing.’ ”

A slight cant of the head, a slight move of the hand. “Destroy them? It has sometimes been counseled.” He seemed to consider it all over again, and, after a long moment, said, “No.” Another long moment passed. “However … .”

“Yes, august lord?”

“Since you show interest — and it pleases me that you do — the matter is not unimportant … . Go and see my lord Mialagoth. He will have useful words for you, I must hope.” They turned and walked up slowly from the sunken gardens to where the sun was bright and warm.

• • •

Lord Mialagoth’s brows were black and bushy, with here and there a long white hair writhing indignantly — or so it seemed. “What puzzles you?” he asked.

“For one thing, that no particular effort was made to discover the actual murderers of the march warden’s family.”

“What was there to discover? Who could they have been? Tarnisi? Lermencasi? Pemathi? Bahon? They were Volanth! None but Volanth act like that. None but Volanth were there to act at all.”

Tonorosant saw his point, which had seemed so clear to him, escaping, and he tried hard not to let it do so. “Agreed, then, my mother’s uncle, that the murderers were Volanth. I must ask,
which
Volanth? How can we be sure that the ones who committed the actual murder are not still alive?”

Something like a faint spasm passed over the face of Lord Mialagoth. Here he had been, painting leaves at his easel, a task requiring the utmost subtlety — and then came this unsought visitor with his exceedingly unsubtle and intrusive questions. With a brief sigh he lay down his brush. “The best of the light has passed. I will paint no more today.” He rose and faced Tonorosant. “It seems to me that you are suggesting that we proceed as though we are police. I know that they are much concerned with police matters in foreign parts, but it is not our way in Tarnis. I say this not to reproach you, not at all. I say it to make you understand that I do understand your concern. But … .

“Here at Manyponds we have ornamental orchards which were originally set out by my great-grandfather. I have seen it fail but seldom that, just as the fruits begin to ripen, certain birds come and try to feed upon them. Now. My daughter’s son.
It is of no concern to me whatsoever which birds were guilty
. It is in the nature of birds that they try to steal fruit. If ten succeed in doing it today, ten hundred will attempt it tomorrow. Don’t you see?”

“I do. Exactly. So — ”

“So I do not bother directing my steward, ‘Discover the guilty birds.’ I direct him: ‘Drive away the birds. All of them. Every one of them.’ ”

“But — ”

“ ‘But how?’ you are about to ask. At one time we did it afoot, with swords and spears. Now we use more modern methods, although admittedly dependent upon foreign-made devices. I have never been one of those who felt obligated to employ only classical ways in all things. What are the classical ways to those who lack the Seven Signs? If you can think of more effective methods in dealing with the matter, we will all be obliged to you, I must hope.”

So much, then, for the “useful words” of Lord Mialagoth. Of the levy-lords, only Tilionoth was left. Tonorosant found him in his kennels, with sleeves rolled up, directing the preparation of his dogs’ dinner.

“Can you conceive of it, my brother’s brother,” he said to his guest, “that for three whole days the new kennelman had been feeding them raw eggs?
Raw eggs!
And so now I must direct him in the proper fashion myself. Boil them with a small handful of salt, cool them slowly under cool, running water. Thus the shells come off smoothly, easily, leaving no fragments behind. Then cut them into eight pieces — no more and no less. Add pieces of boiled liver of the same size exactly, four parts of liver to one of eggs. Add to this a fifth part of plain bread, also broken up to the same size, crumb as well as crust. Now mix them slowly … slowly … .” He dipped his hands into the mixture and turned it about. “ … slowly. Just that way. It is not difficult. Now —

“Is the broth ready? Let me have it.” He dipped in a finger, nodded his content at the temperature, tasted, nodded again. “Now, see how I pour it … slowly … slowly … . And now allow it to sit for exactly a quarter of an hour, do you understand? In the meanwhile — ”

In the meanwhile they went to visit the dogs, alert and happy animals with long, smooth blue-gray coats, obviously overjoyed to see their master. He greeted them all by name, explained the personalities and good qualities of each, until presently it was time for their dinner, and the kennelman — somewhat subdued, still, by his gaffe in the matter of the eggs — appeared to call them thereto.

“You will stay for our own dinner, I must hope,” Tilionoth said. “I am alone tonight. She has gone to her parents. That is well, of course, that she should do so; still, I feel her absence. It has been quite well with us,” he said, contentedly — then, courtesy rising above the pleasure of personal reminiscence, he said, “But you will not think that this is the only reason (my loneliness) that I ask you, I must hope. There is so much we might talk about … . I have been pleased to hear of your close connection with the right people. You will have heard that my being of the Lords does not obscure my basic attachment to the Guardians.” He let his hand rest lightly upon his guest’s shoulder. Tonorosant murmured the polite and proper phrases. With some effort, he managed not to think too much of the last occasion on which he had seen Lord Tilionoth, or of what he had seen him doing.

After that dinner, almost elaborate in its simplicity, Tonorosant turned the talk in the direction he desired. It was not difficult, the host was no complex person. “Ah, the Volanth,” he said. He reached for a piece of fruit. He ate it. He wiped his fingers. Evidently he felt that he had made what was for the moment at least a sufficient comment.

Tonorosant pressed ahead. “What do you think of the proposition which I am told is made from time to time that the frequent campaigns against the Volanth are wasteful of time and life and effort? — and that some other method should be found — ”