The Usurper (55 page)

Chapter Fifty-One

“Let us in! Let us in!” screamed Viviana, pounding on the stockade gate, outside the compound of Ingeld on Tenguthaxichai.

“Please! Please!” wept Alacida.

“We are cold!” cried Viviana.

“Give us clothing!” cried Alacida.

“We are hungry!” cried Viviana.

“We fear a beast is about!” cried Alacida.

It may be recalled that it was a dark, cold, stormy, windy night when Abrogastes entered the hall of Ingeld. It may also be recalled that the princesses had made known their disinclination, after what must have been a painful interview, to remain any longer the guests of Drisriaks. “Let us go!” had cried Viviana, to which request Alacida had readily and earnestly assented. To this request, as it may also be recalled, Abrogastes had acceded. “Well, then,” he had said, “let us release them.”

Shortly thereafter, at the hands of several willing Drisriaks, armsmen of Abrogastes, the clothing of the princesses had been torn from their bodies, and they had been conducted, stumbling, from the hall, bent over, the hair of each in the rude, tight grasp of a Drisriak armsman, their head held close at his right hip, a familiar leading position for slaves, but scarcely for princesses.

At that time it was still pouring, with a chill rain, and the yard was a sea of mud.

The gate in the palisade was opened, and the princesses were thrust outside. Viviana, we fear, fell. But she was soon again on her feet, and, followed by the weeping Alacida, sped into the darkness. The ground around the palisaded compound was cleared for something like a hundred yards on all sides, a military precaution to make a surreptitious approach difficult, and to provide defenders, on the catwalk behind the palisade, with a clear range of fire. In a few moments the girls, panting, and muddied, particularly Viviana, had made their way through the downpour, and reached the trees of the surrounding woods. It was quite dark. There was, at that time, no light at the palisade. There was, however, an occasional flash of lighting, which suddenly illuminated the terrain, the palisade in the distance, the falling rain, until the darkness fell again, accompanied by closer or more distant rumbles of thunder.

In the woods there was some shelter from the rain, but, given the ferocity of the storm, and the time of year, less than might have been desired. Leaves and branches can only sustain certain weights of rain, until they bend or turn, and the water spills to yet lower branches and leaves, and so on. Eventually much of the water, directly or indirectly, reaches the ground. Too, as it was late fall in this latitude of Tenguthaxichai many of the nearby trees were rather denuded of leaves.

“We have escaped!” announced Viviana, holding her arms about herself, shivering.

“To what, dear sister?” moaned Alacida.

“We can hide in the forest, no one will be able to find us,” said Viviana.

“They may not want to find us,” said Alacida.

“They will not do so,” said Viviana. “Rejoice, dear sister, we have escaped.”

“We did not escape,” said Alacida. “They put us out!”

“We will hide ourselves in the woods, until we are rescued,” said Viviana.

“We will not be rescued!” said Alacida. “No one knows where we are. There are thousands of worlds. Supposedly our absence has not even been made publicly known. It seems plausible, as the handsome, barbarian prince said, that ships remain in their housings. Why should they not? Where would they look for us? The empire must wait for word from our captors, issuing demands for ransom, or such. What else can they do? Surely resources essential to the defense of the empire cannot be randomly and extensively expended, perhaps for months, for years. It would be absurd, insane, inconceivable, suicidal. Indeed, some attempt in force to rescue us might result in our end, either in the attack or at the hands of our captors. We must return to the hall, and beg for admittance!”

“Never!” cried Viviana.

“We will die here, of cold and hunger,” wept Alacida.

“As princesses then,” said Viviana, “as princesses of the royal blood!”

“You think either to be rescued, or that the barbarians will relent,” said Alacida.

“We are prized, we are needed,” said Viviana, “by the empire, by the barbarians.”

“The empire does not need us,” said Alacida. “There are others who bear royal blood, as well, a hundred cousins!”

“The empire will seek us out,” said Viviana. “They dare not risk our mating with barbarians.”

“If we are destroyed,” said Alacida, “either in some massive attack by imperial ships or by the barbarians, it need not be concerned in such a matter.”

“Surely the barbarians need us,” said Viviana, shivering, “to further their vulgar, daring schemes.”

“We are no good to the barbarians, if we are not cooperative,” said Alacida. “The emperor and the senate would never recognize a forced marriage. If we do not accept these suits, we are useless to the barbarians. Do you not understand? They put us out. They will seek other stratagems. It is nothing to them if we should die in the woods!”

“Surely not,” said Viviana, shuddering, holding her arms about herself.

Suddenly branches, scattering chill, drenching water, shook about them, a torrent of wind, from the north, swirling through the crowded, dark trees.

“These are not men of civilization,” said Alacida, “sensitive and courteous, attentive and understanding, trained in etiquette, shaped by convention, who would never dare to let a free woman be displeased or uncomfortable. These are not like the men we know, not men as you think men are. These are barbarians, honestly self-seeking men, unapologetic, determined men, men of enterprise and will, men of decision and deeds, men of the hunt, of the battle, of the ax and sword, men who loathe the empire, and would not care if it perished in flames, men who despise such as we, and, if they cannot get from us what they desire, would view with equanimity our perishing in the woods.”

“Surely not!” moaned Viviana.

“I am cold!” said Alacida. “I shiver. I am soaked with rain. My eyes sting. My feet hurt, from dried leaves, branches, and stones.”

“We must be brave,” said Viviana. “We need only wait a moment. The barbarians will come to fetch us, and beg us to return.”

“I see no light at the palisade,” said Alacida. “I see no opened gate, no lanterns moving through the night, searching for us.”

“Be of good cheer, sister,” said Viviana. “Take heart. The storm abates. The sky is no longer riven. Lightning has fled. Thunder is faraway.”

“The wind is incessant, and cold,” said Alacida. “It has claws of ice. They clutch at me. The night is dark. I freeze.”

“Hold your arms about yourself,” said Viviana.

“I am,” said Alacida.

“How am I to know?” asked Viviana. “It is dark.”

“I would give all my jewels for a blanket,” said Alacida.

“Do not be foolish,” said Viviana. “The least of your jewels would buy a hundred blankets.”

“I am hungry,” said Alacida.

“Certainly you would not have had us consume the simple barbarian provender put before us this noon?” said Viviana.

“You would not let me,” said Alacida.

“Served by half-naked barbarian slaves,” added Viviana.

“Some, I fear, were women of the empire,” said Alacida.

“Surely not,” said Viviana.

“They were forbidden to speak,” said Alacida.

“Fittingly, as they were slaves,” said Viviana.

“It is dark, and I am cold,” said Alacida.

“The rain is less,” said Viviana.

“I am hungry, terribly hungry,” said Alacida.

“When the storm is done, and it is light,” said Viviana, “we can search for food.”

“When the storm is done,” said Alacida, “other things, as well, and it need not be light, may search for food.”

“Other things?” said Viviana.

“Yes!” said Alacida, weeping.

“Do you see any light at the palisade, any lanterns?” asked Viviana, anxiously.

“No!” said Alacida.

“Where can they be?” asked Viviana.

“Inside, warm, feasting,” said Alacida, bitterly.

“I, too, might part with a jewel, a small one, for a blanket,” said Viviana.

“Perhaps we should petition readmittance,” said Alacida.

“No,” said Viviana. “They will soon emerge, searching for us. And then, after a suitable interval, we may, if it seems proper, and lest they be too distraught, permit ourselves to be found. They may then conduct us within, contritely, in dignity and honor.”

“These are not men of civilization,” said Alacida. “Think! These are barbarians, and we are women, only women.”

“Royal princesses!” insisted Viviana.

“Women, only women,” said Alacida. And sweet, dark-haired Alacida, who had feared she might not be superior to sex, trembled, and pondered the apparent fact, that, whatever might be its import, women were different, very different, from men. Once, when she was very young, only a girl, with her chaperones, in the vicinity of a market, in Telnar, she had heard a man remark that women were property. Later the same day, she had eavesdropped on slaves, she standing in the street, in her girl's robes, outside a street-level, barred window, that of a market dungeon, and listened to the girls within, possibly to be sold that afternoon. She had not heard them lamenting, as one might expect, their degraded status and impending fate, wearing their informative, debasing placards on a slave shelf, but rather, eager and delighted at their impending sale, they clearly welcomed and celebrated their propertyhood; they found fulfillment and reassurance in their status as vendible, meaningless objects; they wanted nothing else; they scorned freedom; they wanted to be what they were, properties, the properties of men; they had experienced the slave's freedom and joy; now they wished nothing else; they wanted to be purchased and owned, by a fine, kind, strong man, one severe and uncompromising, but understanding and nurturing, one who would master them with perfection, wholly, one before whom they would be, and know themselves, slaves.

“The storm is over,” said Viviana. “We shall wait here until morning.”

“We may be dead by morning,” said Alacida.

“Surely not,” said Viviana.

“I am stiff with cold,” said Alacida. “I can hardly move.”

“Perhaps,” said Viviana, “as the rain has stopped, we might venture a bit into the clearing, merely to see if we might be hailed, and invited within the palisade.”

“It is too dark,” said Alacida. “They would not see us.”

“There is no light at the palisade?” said Viviana.

“No,” said Alacida.

“What shall we do?” asked Viviana.

“Let us approach, and call out, while we have the strength,” said Alacida.

“Certainly not,” said Viviana. “That would be unthinkable.”

“Sister!” cried Alacida.

“What?” said Viviana, startled.

“I heard something, there!” said Alacida.

“I heard nothing,” said Viviana, “and, if you are pointing, I cannot see where you are pointing. It is too dark.”

“Listen!” said Alacida.

“I hear nothing,” said Viviana.

“It is quiet now,” said Alacida.

“It is the wind, stirring the leaves,” said Viviana.

“Only now?” asked Alacida.

“One supposes so,” said Viviana, uneasily.

“The leaves are wet, flat, thick, carpeted,” said Alacida.

“So?” said Viviana.

“Something stirred the leaves,” said Alacida. “And it was not the wind.”

“We are alone,” said Viviana.

“I do not think so,” said Alacida. “Be silent, please, dear sister.”

“It will not be light for hours,” said Viviana.

“There!” cried Alacida. “I heard it again, closer!”

The vi-cat, like the princesses, was quite possibly hungry, that it should emerge from its den in such a muddy, half-flooded terrain, particularly as, with its long, rough tongue, it tends to keep its fur dry and groomed. To be sure, we do not know that, that it was hungry. It may have emerged from its den simply because of curiosity, having detected, with its unusually acute hearing, unusual sounds. The vi-cat does tend to be a curious, investigatory animal.

The vi-cat is a common form of life on several of the Telnarian worlds. It is not known to what world it is native, as that knowledge, if it was ever possessed, at least by Telnarians, was lost long ago. Varna, Tangara, Terennia, have all been suggested, even Telnaria itself. What is known is that, in historical times, the vi-cat was introduced into several worlds, usually to cull flocks and herds, sometimes on game worlds. Too, the interaction of prey and predator obviously favors certain features in both, for example, in a prey animal, alertness, width of peripheral vision, acuity of smell, fleetness, and such, and, in the predatory animal, a binocular focus in vision, teeth, claws, stealth, strength, swiftness, and such. Too, on some worlds the vi-cat was apparently introduced as being an animal worthy of being hunted by emperors, when emperors were concerned with such things. The vi-cat, too, is a favored arena animal. Whereas most vi-cats are found in the wild, some are bred for various purposes by rational species. On the other hand, dogs and wolves are more easily trained. It is not unknown for even a domestic vi-cat, with several generations of domesticity behind it, to turn and attack its Master without warning. The vi-cat has its place in the literature of several worlds, figuring in proverbs, fables, folk tales, and such. Among the Otungs, as we learned earlier, the pelt of the white vi-cat is assigned some symbolic significance, being regarded as appropriate, for example, for the cloak of a king.

At this point, we suppose the vi-cat in the vicinity of the princesses, here in the vicinity of the compound of Ingeld on Tenguthaxichai, was, at least initially, more puzzled than aggressive. Surely encountering two soft-skinned young animals of an unusual species, the human, in the forest after a storm was not a frequent occurrence within its experience. It might also be noted that, whereas the vi-cat, if sufficiently hungry, will attack anything, even a
torodont
, its customary prey is what we might call “the fleet ones,” and not the human. Too, perhaps the vi-cat, if pondering a charge, was somewhat distracted not only by the unusual nature of the possible prey objects but by there being two. Which would it first attack? If it attacked one, it would presumably lose the other. An analogy, though one not all that profitable or convincing, would be the value of schooling amongst certain forms of fish. For example, a single fish may be easily detected, and easily pursued, and often seized, but if it is flickering about in a shimmering swirl of similar fish, it is much more elusive. A similar problem seldom occurs, incidentally, with a land predator, such as the Persian lion, the vi-cat, the Megarian leaper, or the fanged
ort
. This seems to be for two reasons, first, the difference between land and marine predation, such as differences in size of the prey group, the type of movement involved, and the attack dimension, which, for the land predator is simpler, and more one dimensional; second, differentiation amongst prey animals. Fish in a school seem much the same, but in a herd or flock, some animals are likely to be slower, weaker, older, sicker, more isolated, and such, and, statistically, these will be most at risk. While the vi-cat was possibly puzzling the matter out, it had tended to approach the two princesses in the typical fashion of the vi-cat, low, tail nervously lashing, a quick forward movement, then stillness, then another quick forward movement, and so on, until, of course the charge. It seems clear that it was at least two of these short, quick movements which Alacida had heard.