Black Jade (101 page)

At this Atara came over to me and grasped my hand. In a clear voice, she told me, 'If you and Kane
go
after the one who pursues us, I see your deaths.'

Atara's face turned toward me as she tried to fight back her fear, and I saw our deaths, too. And I said, 'I don't care!'

'No, Val,' she said to me as her hand tightened around mine. 'You
must
care. And you must live.'

Master Juwain nodded his head at this. 'There is a great deal at stake here, beyond our lives or even the life of Ea.'

At that moment, Alphanderry stepped out of the shimmering air and said to me, 'I would rather sing while you play the flute than wail at your funeral.'

Bemossed, I saw, stood near the cart taking in every word of our debate. His large, luminous eyes held much doubt, and he seemed at once both restless and calm, innocent and wise.

'I have seen too much death, Valashu,' he said to me. 'Is there no other way?'

I squeezed the black jade of my sword's hilt so hard that my hand hurt. I said, 'Not so long as Morjin lives.'

'Is there no way, even for him, other than murder and war?' I shook my head at this. 'You're a dreamer, Bemossed.' 'You have called me the Maitreya as well,' he said. 'Should I not then dwell in dreams?'

He brushed back the curls from his gentle face, which came alive with a deep light that seared into me. Then he looked from me to Kane. Something inside my fierce friend seemed to soften. And Kane said to me, 'There is a time for fighting and a time for fleeing. Even if we
could
come within striking distance of Morjin without him smelling us out, which we couldn't, what do you suppose would happen then, eh? King Arsu would send Lord Mansarian and his damn Red Capes after our companions, and they'd hunt them down.'

'Likely they will hunt us down anyway as soon King Orunjan meets up with King Arsu,' I said. 'If anyone should tell of us, Morjin will come after us with the whole of King Arsu's army.'

That is a good argument for going quickly, as Maram has said. We will have a lead - let's keep it and lose ourselves in the mountains.'

Estrella gazed at me with a look of utter simplicity and a question in her eyes that cut into me like the keenest steel: Why kill at all unless killing was inescapably thrust upon me? She had a way, I thought, of showing me my soul. 'All right,' I finally said. I sheathed Alkaladur, and put it back inside the cart. 'Let us then flee, as fast as we can.'

But with our heavy cart and our horses yoked to it, we could not set anything like a rapid pace. We needed to find a wood where we could abandon the cart, and with it our disguise as players, but it would be folly to do this too close to King Arsu's army.

And so we continued our journey back up the road. The wind blew steadily out of the north, cooling the sweltering valley of the Iona River. We turned east at Orun, which stank of rotting wood and oily fish, and we crossed over the Black Bridge into the rich bottom land on the east side of the river. A few miles farther on, we left the road to strike out along back lanes more or less straight for the Khal Arrak pass through the mountains. It would be more difficult to ride cross-country through field and forest, but easier to throw off anyone who might pursue us.

Amid rice bogs and swarms of mosquitoes, we soon came upon a village of a few dozen mud huts called Tajul. We had no intention of stopping in this ugly place, but the sight of our cart, painted with such eye-popping colors, drew the curiosity of the few villagers not at work in the surrounding fields.

One of these, a thick-bodied man with a shock of curly hair and a grizzled beard, called out to us: 'Good players! Have you any medicines? My son is sick, and could use something for his pain.'

Though he might once have been tall, he stood all hunched over as if crippled with some disease; all his movements seemed to torment him. He wore a tunic of good silk, belted with a piece of thick leather chafed in a way that suggested it might once have borne a sword. He gave his name as Falco and said his son had been kicked in the belly by a mule.

Master Juwain asked him, 'Is there no healer hereabouts who can help him?'

Falco shook his head at this. 'We had a good one, Jahal, but he left our village last year.'

He spat into the street, and I suddenly knew that Jahal had not left the village of his own will, but had been taken away.

At the grave look that fell over Falco's face. Master Juwain said to him: 'I have had some practice tending our troupe's wounds. May I look in upon him?'

Though we all wanted urgently to go on, Falco said that he would be honored to offer us refreshment, and Master Juwain climbed down from his horse - and it seemed that there was no help for breaking our flight in this poor village. Falco invited all of us to come inside his house - all of us except Bemossed, who stayed with the cart. Falco opened the door to his house, and we entered its large, single room. I immediately noted the scabbarded sword mounted above the polished teak mantle. There, bending in front of the fireplace, his eldest daughter hurried to get some water boiling for coffee.

Across the room, his son lay in bed, and his wife sat in a chair by his side, holding his hand. Falco presented her as Nela, and then smiled at his son as he said, 'And this is Taitu, named for the old king.'

Taitu, I saw, could not have been more than fifteen years old. I thought him a handsome lad, though it was hard to tell for his smooth face was all contorted in pain. He lay flat out on his back, and wore a pair of silken trousers but no shirt. A livid bruise marked the brown skin near his navel, and his belly bulged out almost like that of a pregnant girl.

Master Juwain went over to him, and sat on the edge of the bed. He gently touched his hand to Taitu's belly, which caused Taitu to gasp in agony. Master Juwain then pushed against Taitu's skin, and Taitu's head snapped back as he let loose a terrible scream.

'Stop it!' Nela cried out, holding on to Taitu's spasming hand. 'Let him be!'

Master Juwain took his hand away and looked at Falco. And Falco said, 'He's dying, isn't he? I've told him he must prepare for death.'

I could almost feel Master Juwain's hand burning to take out his varistei and hold it to Taitu's belly. I felt the ache in his throat as his voice grew clear and deep, but held no hope: 'I'm afraid the blow fractured your son's spleen. Perhaps other organs, too. He is bleeding, inside. If there are any potions to stop it, I am unfamiliar with them.'

'But do you at least have a balm?' Nela asked us, mopping the sweat from Taitu's forehead. 'Something strong - I don't want him to suffer.'

Without a word, Liljana moved to go back outside and prepare for Taitu a tincture of poppy. But then the door suddenly opened, and Bemossed stood limned in the light pouring in from the street.

Falco stared at the black cross tattooed into Bemossed's forehead, and he called out, 'What is the Hajarim doing here?'

At first, Bemossed made no response to this, in words. He stood quietly looking down upon Taitu. I marveled at the change that had come over him. His face shone like the summer sky after the wind has blown heavy clouds away.

And then, without doubt or hesitation, he said to Falco, 'I can help your boy.'

I sensed that Falco trembled to call him a liar and order him from his house. Instead, he stared at Bemossed as if dazzled by the sun.

'Let him help,' Nela said to Falco. She gazed at Bemossed as a desperate hope bloomed inside her. 'Let him try.'

'All right,' Falco finally said. He crossed the room and shut the door behind Bemossed. He looked at his daughter, and then at his wife. 'But let no one tell that we allowed a Hajarim into our house.'

Bemossed went over the side of the bed opposite Master Juwain. He smiled down upon Taitu as if to reassure the boy that every-thing would be all right. Then, as gently as a butterfly settling down upon a flower, he laid his hand on Taitu's belly. Taitu gave no cry of alarm, nor did he writhe in anguish at Bemossed's touch. He only gazed into Bemossed's eyes, even as Bemossed gazed at him. There came a flash, as of lightning out of a perfectly blue sky. It hung in the air above the bed in a blaze of glorre. Bemossed's hand seemed to channel this splendid fire deep into Taitu's belly. I felt a hot, surging new life stream through Taitu's insides. It seemed incredibly sweet and bright; I sensed it seeking out ruptured blood vessels and filling them up, making that which was broken beyond repair perfectly whole.

After a while, Bemossed took his hand away from Taitu and smiled at him again. We all watched in amazement as the boy's swollen belly began to shrink, like a waterskin being emptied. As the same time, he began sweating profusely; it seemed that the volume of blood filling his belly was being passed out of his skin as water.

'Mother,' Taitu said, looking up at Nela. 'It doesn't hurt any more!'

Nela tried to force out a 'thank you,' but she could barely speak against the sweet anguish choking up her throat.

'He will get better, now,' Bemossed said to her, 'Keep him in bed for the next day, and give him no food but much drink.'

Falco could not restrain the tears filling his eyes. He could not keep himself from grasping Bemossed's hand and calling out, 'You saved him! It is a miracle!'

Bemossed began to protest that all life was a miracle, and that this was only another of its workings. But Falco cut him off, saying, 'When I rode with Lord Mansarian, I heard a rumor that a Hajarim had healed his child, but I never really believed it until today.' Falco crossed the room to the mantel and picked up the bottle of brandy that sat there. He said, 'We will drink to miracles - and my boy's life. Daughter! Fetch glasses, that we might celebrate!'

As his daughter hurried to carry out his command, I wanted to make our excuses and leave the village as quickly as we could. But something in Falco's manner stayed me. I said to him, 'You rode with the Red Capes?'

'I did,' he said. He seemed not to care whom he admitted this to. 'For two years, until we trapped a band of errants near Sagara. They deserved death for assassinating Haar Dyamian, and who was I to speak against it? But Ra Zahur, the priest who rode with our companies, demanded that we also crucify fifty men and women from Sagara, in retaliation. I
knew
the Sagarans - knew that they'd had nothing to do with the errants who murdered Haar Dyamian. And so I had to speak out.'

Falco's daughter gave out small glasses, and he filled them with banned brandy. 'To life!' he called out. He nodded at Bemossed. 'To those who bring life instead of taking it!' Then he tossed back the brandy in one quick swallow, and refilled his glass. He waited for us to drink, too, before continuing his story.

'I've always spoken too freely, or so my Nela tells me.' He raised up his glass toward his wife. 'And so Ra Zahur recommended to Lord Mansarian that I be whipped and discharged for being too lenient with the enemy. The enemy! These were blacksmiths and potters in Sagara who were no more assassins than is my own son. They were Hesperuks, and Haralanders at that - our own countrymen, or so I said. But it didn't matter: Ra Zahur said that I should be whipped, and so I was.'

Falco downed two more glasses of brandy, and said, 'The dragon teeth tore the meat out of me, and made of me a cripple. I was lucky that Lord Mansarian took pity on me, and gave me a little gold so that I could buy some land and make a living for my family.'

Maram, who had matched Falco drink for drink, said, 'I hadn't heard that Lord Mansarian spared anyone pity.'

'Lord Mansarian to a hard man, it's true,' Falco said. 'But then, he's had a hard time of things, and few harder.'

'How so?' Maram asked, taking the bottle from Falco and refilling Falco's glass.

'You haven't heard? I thought everyone knew the story by now.'

With an obvious pride and longing, he recalled the days when Lord Mansarian had been the greatest warrior in the north to take up arms against the King. But finally, the King's men had hunted him down, at the estate of Lord Weru above Avrian, where Lord Mansarian had hidden his children. On the day the soldiers and priests came for him, the mother was away, seeking a healer to cure their daughter, who had the consumption. Falco gave the girl's name as Ysanna. The whole family had been thrown into a dungeon - the mother and Ysanna, too, when they returned. Then Arch Uttam came up from Gethun and ordered the children crucified before Lord Mansarian's eyes - all except Ysanna. Arch Uttam said that he had no liking to put a sick girl to death. So he gave Lord Mansarian a choice: Lord Mansarian's remaining daughter would be spared, her mother, too, if Lord Mansarian admitted the error of his ways. He had only to take the Red Dragon into his heart.

Falco seemed close to tears as he told us, 'Some say that Lord Mansarian was reborn that day.
I
say that he died, the best part of him. And if the crucifixion of his children drove the nails through his heart, what
he
did then turned him to stone. For freely, it's said, with his own hand, he crucified Lord Weru and his family -even the children. Then, with Arch Uttam and the other priests attesting the oath, he swore loyalty to King Arsu. Since then, there is no one who has slain more errants in the King's name.'

With that, he turned his head to spit into the fire.

I clapped him on the arm and said to him, 'Perhaps it's good that you no longer ride with the Red Capes.'

'Perhaps,' he muttered. 'But some of my old companions were good men, once. I know that many of them feel as I do, even if they say nothing.'

'Why do they still ride with Lord Mansarian, then?'

'What choice do they have? To desert and be hunted down? To see
their
children crucified? Then, too -'

'Yes?' I said, squeezing his arm.

'It takes more than courage to rebel. They must have at least a little hope. If a leader arose such as Lord Mansarian once was, or if Lord Mansarian, himself. . .'

His voice died off as he looked into the fire. And then he muttered, 'But, no - after what happened at Avrian, that's impossible now.'