The Steel of Raithskar (16 page)

We weren’t so different, after all, Thanasset and I. And he was trying to understand me in the terms of my own world, even as I had needed to know about the All-Mind to understand Thanasset better.

I resolved to be as honest with Thanasset as I could. I had to mislead him, at least to the extent of allowing him to believe that my world
was
a part of his history. But I wanted his friendship, and I wanted that friendship to be based on truth. As much of the truth as he could accept.

“I received my training as a fighter because I had to oppose a group of people who intended to conquer all the existing territory.”

“And did you succeed in preventing that conquest?” Thanasset asked.

“That one, yes. But fighting continued for most of my life, for various reasons and in different areas. I took a less active role in these later wars, training other fighters and making sure our own borders were well defended.”

Thanasset was nodding. “Yes, that agrees with the few records I have found of the time before the Kings. In spite of later abuse of the power he claimed, Zanek is often given credit for ending a period of continual, debilitating conflict between neighboring territories.”

“Zanek was the first King of Gandalara?” I asked.

“Yes, it was he who united the Walled World. Led by the Riders, his armies reached out from the shores of the Great Pleth and first demanded, then won, the tribute and allegiance of city after city, until all of Kä was ruled by Zanek.

“For a long time Gandalara rested in peace. Zanek and his sons ruled wisely. But life became harder as the years passed and the Great Pleth diminished. The Kings began to demand greater tribute as their own fields failed to support Kä.”

“Was that when Raithskar sent the Ra’ira to Kä?”

Thanasset looked at me sharply, but what he said was, “Yes. And it was shortly after we sent that single great prize to Kä that the Kings began to demand a different kind of tribute—slaves.

“Raithskar was spared that degradation because we had a more important gift—water. Our craftsmen built a carrier pipe to transport our clear, pure water to the great city, and that was considered tribute enough.

“But from everywhere else in Gandalara, slaves poured into Kä. They worked a few years—some only a few months—and then they died from the hardship and were replaced.”

“That must have been shortly before the kingdom fell.”

“Why do you say that?” Thanasset asked me.

“Because in my—time, men could not bear to be slaves. And any ruler who was dependent on slaves eventually became so weak that the slaves could break free of his rule. Did that not happen at Kä?”

“No,” said Thanasset, with an odd flat note in his voice. “The slaves did not resist.”

“Then—?”

“It was one of the Riders, the King’s own elite guard, who destroyed Kä.”

“Serkajon.”

“Yes. The Riders were honorable men who served the Kings with absolute loyalty as long as they believed that their rule was good for all of Gandalara. But Serkajon knew—” Thanasset hesitated, searching for words—“he realized that the Kings were no longer ruling Gandalara; they were exploiting it. So he took the Ra’ira.”

“Which had become a symbol of power?”

“Yes,” agreed Thanasset. “When he brought it out of Kä, home to Raithskar, the Kingdom collapsed. The Riders came after Serkajon, of course. But he talked to them, explained what he had done and why, and they never returned to Kä. Instead they settled in Thagorn and kept their own traditions, in the hope that they might someday serve another king worthy of their loyalty.”

“The Sharith,” I said, remembering the conversation with Balgokh at Yafnaar. “Something was said about a ‘duty’ that is paid by the caravans.”

Thanasset sighed. “They claim the right of tribute. To them, they are still the King’s Guard, and entitled to a measure of support from the rest of Gandalara—even though there is no king, and hasn’t been for hundreds of years. If it’s not paid willingly …”

“They attack? That must be why Gharlas was hiring guards. Balgokh said that Gharlas planned to bypass Thagorn.”

“Did he?” Thanasset asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I woke alone in the desert. I don’t know what happened to the caravan.” I wasn’t counting the corpse.

“Well. I regret what has happened to the Sharith. The Riders had a high and noble purpose when they settled in Thagorn. They deserted Harthim, the last King, because he used Gandalara for his own profit. Yet now—it seems to me they are doing the same thing.”

“Is there no connection at all,” I asked, “between the Sharith and the house of the man who once led them?”

“No. And I believe that Serkajon knew it would be this way when he elected to stay in Raithskar. It has been a kind of exile, really, though there was purpose in his choice, too. Yet every generation since Serkajon has contained a Rider, in spite of the expense of maintaining a sha’um in the city.”

“Were the Riders also the Supervisors?” I asked.

“Often,” Thanasset answered. “But not always. In some generations there were two and three sons. Only one boy in a generation felt the call of the Valley of the Sha’um, and it happened sometimes that the other sons had the skills necessary to act as a Supervisor.”

“So the family of Serkajon has continued to lead—in Raithskar, if not in Thagorn.”

“True, and I have never doubted Serkajon’s choice. But I wonder what the Sharith would be today if Serkajon had gone to Thagorn. I have a strong memory of what they were. I mourn greatly for what they have become.”

“They still ride,” I said. I realized how important Keeshah had become to me. Even then, standing here and talking to Thanasset, the great cat was a comforting presence in the back of my mind.

Thanasset smiled at me. “True. It is a great honor to be chosen by the sha’um. Since they are still being chosen, there is still value in them.”

He sighed, and went on more briskly. “I have answered my own question. We have not progressed. In Eddarta, those who claim the kingdom also claim the rights of kings. They keep slaves there still, starving and terrified tribute from the nearby provinces, which need Eddarta’s water.”

When Thanasset spoke of slavery, I thought about the vineh. My first impulse was to think of them as slaves, but as I remembered how they had looked, one moment docile and the next fierce, and how they had all three attacked their—what would you call it, their “keeper”? When I remembered the entire incident, I was glad that I hadn’t mentioned the vineh in connection with Thanasset’s discussion of slavery. They might be dressed like people, but I was sure they were not. They were work animals that happened to look like people.

“And we may not have ‘wars’,” Thanasset was saying, “but we honor and maintain the martial tradition. A man’s sword is part of his family’s history, to be passed on to his son at the proper age. The bronze sword you were wearing has been in our family for generations. Twice, when it became too damaged to be useful, it was melted and reforged.”

I was beginning to understand why I felt guilty about leaving the dead man’s sword out in the desert. I resolved to retrieve it someday, if I had the chance.

“Boys learn to fight more eagerly than to read, and compete regularly in training games. As men, they carry swords daily, with the implied purpose of defending their cities against attack.

“Granted, Raithskar has more reason than most cities to need such a force of fighting men—for the few times when the vineh have gotten out of hand, and,”—he barked a laugh—“for the protection of the Ra’ira. But I always thought it pointless and backward-looking, especially since I considered the Council sufficient security for Raithskar’s treasure.

“That was another problem between my son and myself. He excelled in the games, especially in personal combat, and I could never appreciate that as much as he would have liked.”

Thanasset looked at the sword on the wall. “When I was a boy, I learned fighting skills because it was required, but I never struggled to be the best.
My
father told me that in all other ways I was worthy of Serkajon’s Steel, but my lack of interest in our fighting traditions made him withhold it from me.” He reached out a hand to trace the outline of the portrait. “And it was Markasset’s enthusiasm for that, above all else, that made me feel
he
was unworthy.”

He stood there for a moment, lost in thought, then abruptly shrugged off the mood.

“Well, back to the subject. No ‘wars’, as I said, but personal frailty and violence still exist. Every city has its rogueworld and its share of dishonest merchants, murderers,” —he made a wry face—“and thieves. No, we haven’t really progressed. How very sad.”

“If you really believe that, Thanasset,” I said, “you’re wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only that you shouldn’t believe that it’s a sad thing. It’s a natural thing. People are like that. The trick is to learn to handle things so that the sort of people who want to take advantage of others have to work at it.

“Raithskar took the first step when Serkajon brought back the Ra’ira. Now, there may still be slavery in Eddarta and forced tribute to the Sharith, but here in Raithskar you live peacefully with only the violence of individuals to contend with. And it seems to me that Zaddorn has that pretty well under control.

“
My
world was torn with war and full of fear.” Suddenly I wanted to stop talking. My throat tightened up, but I went on, saying things I had always known but had never spoken. “Terrorism and greed were the watchwords of my time. The world had learned to be cynical. To be trusting was to be a victim. To be fair was to be foolish. Virtue and corruption were at constant odds. Honorable men had to fight to be recognized, and still were doubted by other honorable men.

“I am not saying that I was personally unhappy in my world, Thanasset. I wasn’t. But in Raithskar I don’t feel so pressured and defensive. Sure, Zaddorn may believe that you and I have committed a dishonest act. But he suspects that only because something—mistakenly—leads him to believe it, not because he naturally suspects everybody’s motives. And when we prove him wrong, he will accept that proof and trust us as much as he did before all this happened.

“You asked if people had ‘progressed’ since my time, Thanasset. I can’t really judge that. But I will tell you this—I believe that people are more naturally honest in Raithskar than in my world.

“I have never met a more honorable man than you are. Whatever brought me into Markasset’s body, I am proud to be known as your son.”

Thanasset stared at me, no less astonished than I at what I had said. I have never been one to confuse sentiment with emotion, and I know that that moment might have been one of the most emotional of my two lives.

But it was interrupted.

There was a loud banging on the door, followed just a bit too soon by Milda literally running down the front stairway to open the door. Illia fell through, sobbing, and Milda caught her around the shoulders. Illia reached out toward me, saying “Markasset” over and over again, until Milda shook her into silence.

“Now,” Milda said, when Illia was under control, “I saw you running up the street as though Keeshah were after you. If you’ve got something to say, say it!” This was not the sweet old lady I had met earlier and loved almost instantly—this was a woman made of iron! And I still loved her.

Illia looked over at me. “They’re coming after Markasset.”

“What?” asked Thanasset. “Who is coming after him?”

“Zaddorn,” she wailed, and I noticed that though she had all the human reactions of weeping, there were no tears. They would have been a waste of water.

“What
happened
, girl?” Thanasset demanded.

Illia calmed down, and twisted gently out of Milda’s grip to walk across the floor of the large room toward us.

“Zaddorn sent a guard command group out after Gharlas’s caravan.”

“It couldn’t have gotten back already!” I said. My computation of their travel time wasn’t completely accurate, of course, but given the caravan’s head start …

“How did you know about them?” Illia asked, looking at me sharply.

“The Chief Supervisor told me earlier today,” I answered. “Anyway, does it matter?”

“It matters,” she said. “A maufa just arrived with a message for Zaddorn. The guard group didn’t catch up with the caravan—they met it on its way back to Raithskar. Or, rather, they met what was left of it. Two men and a vlek. The Sharith got the rest.”

Maufa?
I was asking myself, then a memory surfaced.
A trainable bird, like a pigeon, that carries messages! That must be what I heard in those cages when the posse passed me. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, Markasset?

Thanasset grabbed Illia and turned her toward him. “What are you implying about my son?”

“
I
‘
m
not implying anything, sir. But the men from the caravan said that when the Sharith attacked, Markasset—not by that name, of course, but Zaddorn figured out who it was—was nowhere to be seen. They’re saying that your son was a Sharith agent, but now Zaddorn has some complicated theory about Markasset and the Ra’ira.” She turned to me, her eyes pleading. “I know you didn’t steal anything, Markasset. But your position as guard—why weren’t you there when the Sharith attacked?”

She was hoping for a reasonable explanation. So was I. I was thankful when Thanasset interrupted again.

“What is Zaddorn going to do?”

“He’s on his way here right now,” Illia said. “He has legal grounds for putting Markasset into confinement on a charge of failing to perform a contracted service. But I know he’s convinced that Markasset stole the Ra’ira.”

O
boy. And if I’m in the hoosegow …

“Father, I have to go.”

Thanasset nodded. “I know, son. But not like that,” he added, indicating my pantless blue tunic. “Take the time to dress properly.”

“Where are you going?” Illia asked.

“To Thagorn. If the Ra’ira was on the caravan, it’s in the hands of the Sharith now. Whether or not they were involved in the theft—” I glanced at Thanasset, who shrugged. It had occurred to both of us, I was sure, that the Sharith could have the same motives we had early attributed to Eddarta. “I couldn’t say. But the trail leads there, and I can’t follow it if Zaddorn is sitting on me.”