The Blood-stained Belt (7 page)

Zaliek
straightened, gave his shoulder a rub, and said, ‘A sling, eh? Ha!
But you're right -- what does it matter, if you defeat your
opponent? We’re soldiers, not professional wrestlers.’ He roared at
the squad, ‘Did he defeat me?’

‘Yes,
commander!’

‘Yes, that’s
right, he did. He used unfair, underhand tactics, didn’t he?’

‘Yes
commander!’ The reply was hesitant.

Zaliek scowled
and rubbed his shoulder again. He bellowed, ‘Maybe you learned a
lesson today! Don’t attack your enemy in the way he expects. Attack
him in a way he doesn’t expect. You got that?’

‘Yes,
commander!’

‘Good! Remember
it and it might save your life.’ Zaliek turned to Sharma and asked,
‘Where did you learn to use a sling?’

‘In Osicedi,
commander.’

‘Osicedi, eh?
Ever killed a man with it?’ Sharma glanced at me warily while
Zaliek growled, ‘I asked you – ever killed a man with it?’

‘Yes,
commander.’

Zaliek eyed
Sharma narrowly and asked, ‘Ever killed three men with it?’

Sharma shot a
glance at me again and then replied, ‘Not exactly, commander.’

‘Not exactly,
eh? Well, let me guess – you knocked some of them down with your
sling and your mate finished them off with a spear. Is that what
happened?’

Sharma licked
his lips, gave me a sidelong glance, and then muttered, ‘Yes,
commander.’

‘And was your
mate by any chance called Jina?’

Sharma gave me
another glance and then said reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘That same Jina
as is sitting over there?’ Zaliek jabbed a finger at me.

‘Yes,
commander.’

Zaliek folded
his arms, scowled, and said, ‘Do you remember the first man who you
killed?’

Sharma answered
reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘He was a big
man with red hair and a thin face with pockmarks, not so?’ Sharma
nodded in reply. Zaliek waved a finger under Sharma’s nose and
demanded, ‘Well, speak up, man! I asked you a question.’

Sharma paused
apprehensively before he said reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander, that is
so.’

‘That’s right!
Now I’ll tell you something that you don’t know – his name was
Selek.’

‘I knew that,
commander.’

Zaliek looked
at Sharma curiously. Then he said, ‘Ah, yes, he wore a disc
engraved with his name, didn’t he?’

‘Yes,
commander.’

‘A disc given
to him by someone called Janali, not so?’

‘I can’t
remember, commander.’

'No? Well,
perhaps you can tell me -- where is the disc now?'

Sharma bit his
lip and glanced at me furtively before he said, 'Jina has it.'

'Ah! Jina, eh?
Now, let me tell you that Janali was Selek's wife. What do you say
to that, eh?’

Sharma
straightened his shoulders and clenched his fists by his sides. He
said firmly, ‘I’m sorry about that, commander. But he was a
Dornite. He was an enemy. He should have left our sheep alone.’

Zaliek snapped
his fingers under Sharma’s nose and growled, ‘And I’ll tell you
something else that you don’t know – Selek was one of my best
mates. What do you say to that, eh?’ With his gaze lowered and his
head to one side, Sharma stood there awkwardly, saying nothing.
Zaliek pushed his face close to Sharma’s and said, ‘And then a few
nights later a Dornite raiding party attacked Osicedi – not
so?’

Sharma replied
in a subdued voice, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘They killed a
few people, didn’t they?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘They killed my
brother, and –'

‘Your brother,
eh? Well, what would you say if I told you that I was one of the
men in the raiding party?’ Sharma raised his eyes and looked at
Zaliek half in bewilderment and half in hostility. Zaliek hissed,
‘What would you do if I told you that I was the one who killed your
brother?’

Sharma
stiffened and looked Zaliek in the eye. He licked his lips,
straightened his back, and then said quietly, ‘I would say, Thank
you for telling me, commander.’

Zaliek stepped
backwards and picked up his sword. He asked, ‘Do you want to settle
it now?’

‘Settle what,
commander?’

‘Do you want to
take revenge for your brother’s death, here and now?’

‘No,
commander.’

‘You
don’t?’

‘No, commander,
I don’t’

I grabbed my
sword and scrambled to my feet, shouting, ‘I’ll do it!’

Zaliek raised
his eyebrows and asked, ‘You’ll do what, Jina?’

‘I’ll take you
on man to man, commander.’

‘Who asked you
to, Jina?’

‘No one did.
But --’

‘Then, damn it,
sit down!’

Clutching my
sword, I shouted, ‘I’m not afraid of you, commander.’

‘Sit down and
shut up, damn you, or I’ll put you in the cells when we get back to
camp.’

‘You killed
Sharma’s brother. If he won’t, then –'

‘Damn you,
Jina, sit down and shut up, or I’ll have you arrested right here
and now.' Zaliek took a step towards me and growled, 'You hear me?
Sit down and shut up!’

Discipline
asserted itself and I sat down, trembling and sweating, still
clutching my sword. Zaliek grunted and turned his attention back to
Sharma. Balancing his sword in his hands, Zaliek asked evenly, ‘You
don’t want to take revenge, eh? Why not?’

‘I’m training
to fight against the enemy, commander. I’m not training to fight
you or anyone else on my own side.’

Zaliek grinned
in satisfaction. He turned to the squad and said, ‘Excellent!
That’s an excellent answer. Remember it in future. Forget about
revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear
thinking.’ He wagged his finger and bellowed, ‘Focus on the task!
The enemy will give you more than enough to think about without
having your mind full of diversions. Remember that – focus and
clear thinking! You got that?’

‘Yes,
commander!’

Zaliek pointed
at me and roared, ‘You – Jina! Have you got it?’

I replied
reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘Good! Like I
said, courage isn’t enough. It’s enough to get yourself killed but
it’s not enough to defeat the enemy.’ Zaliek wagged his finger at
me. Then he turned to Sharma and said, ‘In any case, it wasn’t
me.’

‘Commander?’

‘I wasn’t
anywhere near Osicedi when they attacked it. I’ve never been
anywhere near Osicedi in my whole life. Sure, I knew Selek. He was
a casual acquaintance and not a best mate. And I agree with you
when you say that he should have left your sheep alone. That’s the
closest that I ever came to having anything to do with the
matter.’

Sharma replied
calmly, ‘Thank you for telling me, commander.’

Zaliek jerked
his thumb and said, ‘All right. Now you know. Get back to the
ranks!’ He braced himself and bellowed, ‘Squad! Form up!’ We got to
our feet, dusted ourselves, and swung our swords across our backs.
Zaliek pointed to someone and asked brusquely, ‘You – what have you
learned today?’

‘I learned to
fight dirty, commander.’

‘Fight dirty?
Is that all you learned? Ha! Any mangy street-dog knows how to
fight dirty.’ He pointed to another member of the squad and roared,
‘You – what did you learn?’

‘I learned not
to do what the enemy expects, commander.’

‘Yes. That’s
better! And what else did you learn?’

‘I learned that
we should keep our minds focused, commander.’

‘Yes. That’s
good.’ Zaliek swung his sword across his back and shouted, ‘Right,
you lot! Let’s get back to camp. Keep formation all the way. No
stragglers! Understand?’

‘Yes,
commander!’ We set off at a jogging pace and reached camp just
before sunset.

The camp was
next to the town of Koraina where Vaxili set up a temporary
capital. Koraina was strategically situated close to the border
between Upper and Lower Keirine, protected by hills while offering
easy access to the open, rolling country to the south, which was
the sector that the Dornites favoured for their incursions into
Keirine. Before Vaxili and his court arrived, Koraina was just a
quiet rural town about the size of Osicedi. Now it was a boom town
with facilities and services expanding to provide for both the
regular and irregular needs of the court and the army camp.

At Koraina
regularly I attended devotions at the temple just in case Zabrazal
still had his eye on me. I had felt that way ever since Sharma and
I underwent the cleansing ceremony in Osicedi when I sensed an
active, omnipresent intelligence that scrutinised me sceptically
while chalking up pluses and minuses on the divine scoreboard. I
didn’t want to provide a reason for more minuses to be chalked
up.

At the time
that I joined the army, I wasn’t sure whether the pluses or minuses
predominated on my score sheet. I hadn’t done much wrong but, on
the other hand I wasn’t sure that I had satisfied the priests’
demands of absolute devotion to Zabrazal either. I had given alms
to the poor, performed the annual sacrifice, tried to be truthful,
and stayed away from married women – actually, stayed away from
women altogether, in deed if not in thought – so I should have
toted up a host of pluses. But Zabrazal was unpredictable. The
priests told us that Zabrazal could look into your thoughts and
take offence at even the most fleeting hints of deviance or
disloyalty. In fact, Zabrazal could get steamed up about a whole
number of things that mere mortals wouldn’t think were worth a
second thought. In short, I understood that dealing with Zabrazal
was like walking through a swamp on a dark night knowing that there
were hazards everywhere and wondering when, almost inevitably, you
would blunder into the next muddy hole or even flounder
despairingly in a patch of quicksand.

My regular
visits to the temple had one definitely positive result and she was
named Dana. Although I noticed her right away during my first visit
to the temple, initially she meant nothing more to me than any
other young woman who was attractive enough to be worth two or more
glances. Then, one day, I happened to sit behind her. While the
congregation was reciting the creed, she glanced at her companion
from time to time. I became intrigued by the luminous secret that
her eyes suggested. Like a shock going through my frame, it struck
me that I wanted to meet her. In fact, I wanted to meet her so
badly that the need was like a twisted knot in my stomach. But how?
By Zabrazal, I felt gormless and helpless! Unlike Sharma, I didn’t
have a way with women. I would sooner go on a day-long route march
with a pack weighed down by rocks than approach a woman who took my
fancy. The more I wanted to meet a woman, the more I would shrink
into myself as if I thought that invisibility would do the job for
me. However, even as I shrank with shyness, I cursed myself for
being so damnably awkward and tongue-tied.

Dana was small
of build with a compact body that fitted together all of a piece
and moved with the confident fluidity of an acrobat. Most of all,
what attracted me was her liquid eyes that gleamed luminously
against the setting of her olive skin. The glow in her eyes
suggested that she had a delectable secret that she wanted to share
with whoever was talking to her. As I got to know her, I learned
that the secret was no more and no less than the pleasure that she
took in life itself -- a pleasure so great that it emanated from
her like the warmth of a hearth. She gave it to everyone who came
within her orbit, but for a while – oh, Zabrazal, for a short while
and so long ago, so long ago -- she gave it to me in particular in
her own special way. When I think of it – and only that memory can
rouse me now, nothing else – I wish with the useless poignancy of
old age that I could reverse time and undo my bounded condition by
going way back to when I first sat behind her in the temple. Then
when, instead of bright recollections, the cruel starkness of my
position fills me with bleak despair, I wish that Sharma would send
them right now to set me free me forever from all memory and from
all desire. It will be a most welcome release.

At the temple,
I used to squeeze into the row behind where Dana always sat.
Forlornly, I would admire the way her hair curled at the nape of
her neck, the seashell shape of her ears and the ripple of her
shoulders under the fabric of her cotton tunic. If she turned to
whisper to her companion or to glance around the temple, a pang of
pleasure would dart through me as I got a close-up look at her
profile. I also experienced pangs of guilt, wondering if Zabrazal
was chalking up more minuses against my name whenever my attention
wandered away from the priest and towards Dana. More acutely, I was
embarrassed to think that Dana might be aware of how closely I
scrutinised her in my helpless admiration.

In short, I
wanted to meet her badly – badly, badly, so badly! So help me, I
even considered trying to do a deal with Zabrazal, offering to
accept a clutch of minuses against my name on the divine scoreboard
if only he would arrange for me to meet Dana. However, as it turned
out, Zabrazal’s assistance wasn’t necessary. Dana solved the
problem by approaching me one day as we were leaving the temple.
She said, ‘You’re Jina, aren’t you?’

I managed to
untie my tongue long enough to say, ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Do you know
Kentri?’

My tongue got
tied up again and a flush swept over me so that my palms flooded
with sweat and my forehead began to thump. I must have looked like
an idiot as I stared at her wordlessly because she raised her
eyebrows and said coaxingly, ‘Kentri?’

I muttered,
‘You know him?’ I tried to sound confident but I knew that my voice
sounded squeakier than a fingernail being drawn across a piece of
pottery. I cursed myself silently, tried to get control of my vocal
cords, swallowed and said, ‘Uh – Kentri – yes, he’s in Osicedi – I
mean, yes, I knew him at school.’