The Right Hand of God (67 page)

Leith spun towards the owner of the voice, a broad-shouldered man wearing a blue sash, who looked for all the world like the Captain of the Instruian Guard. His manner, however, was much more peremptory. 'Well? Do you have an explanation?'

His mind a blank, Leith sputtered: 'I was sent—'

'No matter! Unless your orders came from the Lord of Bhrudwo himself, you can forget them and come with me. The cursed clerks haven't given me enough prisoners, and the two I had digging the latrines are too bruised to carry on. Carrion!' He laughed at his joke, then poked a finger in Leith's chest. 'So guess what you'll be doing for the rest of the day, my boy!' And he hooked a broad finger in the top of Leith's jerkin and dragged him along the grassy path after him.

Thus the Bearer of the Arrow spent his imperilled afternoon alone in the Bhrudwan camp disposing of their waste. Though it was possibly the most unpleasant task he had ever done, he silently gave thanks for his luck, for none would approach him. His bib was no longer yellow, and his boots, well... From time to time his overseer came to check on his progress, and after the obligatory grumbling and stick-waving would move off to attend to other business. Leith's hands blistered, but he remembered the image of Stella attempting to climb the stairs in the Hall of Meeting and tried to disregard his pain.

Just before sunset Blue-sash the overseer came over to where Leith had started yet another hole. 'Time for you to go,' he

growled, but there was a degree of respect in the voice. 'You've been a good worker. Would you like me to sign your form?'

'No!' Leith said sharply. What form? He forced himself to relax. 'No - I come for you to sign later. First this hole I finish, then sign form.'

The overseer shook his head at this stupidity, but what happened to the fellow if he was outside his area after curfew was none of his concern. 'Very well; come and see me when you are ready. There'll be extra pay for you.'

Leith smiled at the man until he had seen him off, then lowered himself into an extra hole he had dug, and pulled the cover over it. Noisome as it was, he would remain undetected until it was no longer necessary.

He waited patiently until night set in, spending the time wondering how his disappearance had been received. He'd not thought that part of it through. He only hoped that no one would decide to invade the Bhrudwan encampment for his sake. Then there would be more numbers

. ..

And his parents would worry. He had not thought about them either. Already they had suffered far too much, with the loss of their elder son. As had Kurr.

He needed more time to reflect on the old farmer's story. As incredible as it sounded, it rang true. Hal's feyness, his giftedness, had come from somewhere other than the unremarkable North March of Firanes. Just who could the father have been?

As he began to think, an image, two images, flashed through his mind.

He handled this new piece of the vast puzzle with fear and trembling. Twin images: Stella limping up the stairs, crippled down her right side, no doubt as a result of the mistreatment dealt her by the Destroyer. Hal limping across a stonefield, crippled down his right side.

Could it be? But what had Kurr said about Tinei? She had been mistreated also. What had he said? Leith couldn't remember, though something told him the knowledge was vital. One piece more and I'll unlock everything.

He pulled his mind back from the brink. It was time to try out the idea that had been taking shape ever since the evening he spent in the Hall of Conal Greatheart. If the idea did not work, well, it was a long walk back to camp, and this fearful risk had been all for nothing. He took a deep breath, and was unable to stop himself glancing at his right hand, empty as it was.

Tonight he was not the Arrow-bearer. Tonight, if he was right, he did not need to be.

You spoke to me in the Great Hall of Fealty, he said to the voice in his mind. I didn't have the Jugom Ark with me then.

'True. And I spoke to you many times before you found the Jugom Ark in the first place. ' So the fire-dream I had in Foilzie's basement?

'Was not just a dream.'

I suppose I should thank you. Though I'm not sure what I'm thanking you for.

'As for that, think carefully on what you dreamed about. ' Fire? I didn't realise the Gift of Fire would be packaged in a vision like that. Tell me, how many people might have been saved if I'd learned to harness it earlier?

'You're not thinking carefully enough. What does fire do?' It bums . . . oh.

'Yes. The Fire of Life burns away the accumulated hurts and habits that stop people living. It doesn't add anything; it subtracts. It heals by drawing out poison. It is not a weapon. No one could have taught you to use the Arrow as a weapon. '

But - surely the Most High used it as a weapon!

You, of anyone, should know the Most High can use anything. But even the Destroyer could use the Fire to heal himself, if that was his true desire.

But why didn't the Fire heal me?

'Remember when you and your brother used to play in the bedroom back in Loulea? You shut the door so you could immerse yourselves in your private world. It didn't take long for the room to grow cold, did it? In the same way, the Fire burns brightly in one room of your mind, giving you the strength, for example, to command others. Would the Leith I knew a year ago have been able to do this? Yet some of your other rooms are still cold.' Leith laughed, an incongruous sound in such a place. Still, the same old Hal. Still speaking with the voice of truth, still always right.

'So you have realised that the voice is of the Fire, not the Arrow. What else have you realised

?'

That 1 don't need the Jugom Ark to operate in the realm of Fire. That those not of the Fire can hold the Jugom Ark, though they cannot use it, because they do not have the inner flame. That they no doubt have their own inner strength, based on some other element. That the Arrow burns people of the Fire, those who have not received the Fire of Life, because it is like the Fire falling, burning away the realm of the flesh, as Kroptur would say. That the Jugom Ark is as Phemanderac said in the beginning: just a symbol. That I have been doing the healing, the illusions and all the rest by myself from the beginning. That I can continue doing them even without the Arrow;.

'And so?'

And so I can press ahead with what I plan to do without the Jugom Ark.

The voice laughed. 'You've been listening too long to your brother. We'll make a mystic out of you yet. Now go to it! You don't have much time remaining. And here's a word for you: do not be surprised if it turns out a little different than you envisage. More than one person stands to gain -or to lose - from what you do tonight. '

Must words of the future always be cryptic?

'They are as clear as any other words, but only with hindsight. Go, Leith!' There is never enough time to ask you about everything I want to know, Leith sighed as he pushed the cover away and eased himself out of the hole.

Full night lay on the Bhrudwan camp. The overcast above glowed silver where the moon-sliver hid. A few torches marked the entrances of officer tents, and in the distance the camp was ringed with watch-fires. That, and the pale glow from within an occasional tent, was the sum of light for Leith to avoid. He focused his mind, imagining he reached out for the Jugom Ark—

—and immediately he could feel, as he had known he would, two other sources of Fire in the encampment. One large, burning with a flame at least the equivalent of the Jugom Ark, the other much smaller, enclosed somehow as though fenced by pain. He smiled with satisfaction, then turned to face the flames, which both lay in the one direction. O Most High, what if they're together?

He set off through the camp. The sources of the Fire were at the southern end, fine for their escape but dangerous now. How had Hal made the net he'd used to cover the Falthan army?

No matter. He didn't need it; he was practically invisible. The danger was in the noise he might make, not in being seen.

He stepped lightly across the cool grass, already coated with the dew of a spring night. Off to his right stood a large tent: flickering light inside projected grotesque silhouettes on to the woven walls, and the murmur of conversation came clearly across the intervening space, punctuated by gusts of laughter. Not there, no Fire there. Beyond the large tent he crept, slinking from darkness to darkness, making no noise. It was like being back in the Great North Woods, hunting foxes with his father; mustn't make noise, mustn't be seen. Down another long path, small tents to the left and right, gentle snoring coming from some, no sound at all from others. Make a deviation to avoid two men sitting outside their tent by a small fire, dicing and drinking together. Head for the tent at the end of the path. Draw nearer, nearer, still nearer: this is the one!

A thought crossed his mind. If I can sense the Destroyer, can he sense me? He hoped the Undying man was not also unsleeping.

Leith flitted across an open space in front of the tent, looking left and right in case someone approached - and almost ran straight into a black figure standing impassively, arms folded, as though waiting for someone. At the very last moment he threw himself to the side, landing heavily on the ground and winding himself on a tent peg. Glancing up, his heart seemed to lodge in his throat. The black figure had turned to face him, arms still folded.

'I can hear you,' growled a voice, 'but I can neither see you nor sense you. Come out, that I may determine your kind.' The head seemed to be focused on a point somewhere behind him.

The feet moved slowly forward: they came to within two paces of where Leith lay trying to pant out his hurt without making a sound.

He cannot see me. Why? Is he blind? Are the shadows too deep? But the edges of Leith's cloak gave a faint silver gleam. Why can't he see me?

Gradually the youth edged his body away from the black figure, crawling spider-like on hands and feet, his back just off the ground. Fast enough to avoid the feet still moving forward, slow enough not to make noise.

'Why can I not sense you?' the man said in the sort of snarl that Leith associated with the Maghdi Dasht. But this man- sounded too frightened to be a Lord of Fear. 'What manner of man are you? Where have you gone?' He turned to face Leith again, but seemed not to know he was there. Pale moonlight illuminated his cruel features, now distorted by panic. What had happened to make them so frightened? As he watched, the features composed themselves and the figure stepped back to where he had been standing.

He thinks he imagined hearing me, Leith realised.

An hour passed before Leith was able to fully compose himself. The tent peg had drawn blood, leaving a bruise just under his ribs. He was dizzy with relief that he had escaped, but his head filled with questions, confusing him. Finally he felt ready to examine the tent, and this time he watched carefully for any other guards.

It was without doubt the tent of the Destroyer. He remembered it clearly from the surrender at Vulture's Craw: the silver-on-sable device, the silk sides, the elaborate flaps now closed. He circled around it. One source of the Fire - by far the greater - he found in the main part of the tent, with the smaller source in a small annexe. Clearly Stella was housed in the annexe, but he would have to pass by the Destroyer to rescue her.

The probability he would be caught became a certainty

in his mind. The Undying Man would know what he had in his possession, would squeeze what knowledge he had out of his head, would harm him like he had harmed Stella. He had watched her try to climb the stairs . .. Nearly his heart failed him, and nearly he turned and made his way quietly out of the camp. But she climbed the stairs in his mind still, and he could not leave her here if there was even the smallest chance she could be rescued.

Breathing shallowly - to reduce noise, Leith told himself, and not because he was afraid - he approached the door of the tent. The black figure stood not ten paces away, looking down the grassy path that led into the centre of the Bhrudwan encampment. He can't see me, he can't see me, Leith repeated under his breath, trying to make it true. Cautiously he opened the flap and slipped through.

Farr delivered the news of Leith's folly to his parents as soon as they returned to Instruere.

Mahnum simply closed his eyes and sighed once, but his face seemed to close up as though he had reached some kind of limit and wanted to receive no more bad news. Indrett staggered, dropping to one knee, and her eyes filled with tears. 'Why?' she sobbed. 'Why would he do such a thing?'

The Haufuth told them what he thought Leith was doing. Kurr nodded his head in agreement, but Indrett stepped right up to the old farmer as though she wanted to strike him. 'No!' she declared. 'He has accepted his responsibility as the Arrow-bearer. He would not leave us here so lightly!'

Axehaft held out the Jugom Ark, which burned brightly. 'He is alive still. Look! If he were to die, the flame would die with him.'

Phemanderac had said nothing, but his pallor had changed

to grey. 'Right, you are right,' he said quickly, trying to persuade himself. 'The Jugom Ark is linked to him. We will know if he is killed or captured by the nature of the flame.'

'But what can we do?' Indrett cried, her anguish undisguised. 'We could - we could take the Southern army and break him free!'

'No, we could not.' The Saristrian admiral was firm. 'The risk of defeat is too great if we act without careful planning. We could end up leaving Instruere, and therefore all of Faltha, exposed to the Destroyer. Are you suggesting that we gamble thousands of lives to save one?'

'Yes!' Beside herself with grief, Indrett ground out her reply. 'Yes! He gambled his life to save ours!' But those gathered around her bowed their heads, and she knew no attempt would be made to rescue her son.

'Curse the day you were ever found!' she screamed, then snatched the Arrow from the hand of the startled Fodhram leader and slammed it point-first into the table. There it stood, quivering slightly, flame burning as brightly as ever. A dozen faces turned to Leith's mother, whose own face registered the enormity of what she had done. Then all eyes went to her hand, which she held out, palm up, to reveal no burn.