The Malmillard Codex (13 page)

Val and Madryn had followed the ragged
gaggle of children to a flimsy old collection of sheds and shelters
on the outskirts of town, just outside one of the minor gates. Val
tried more than once to ask Madryn what was happening, but they
traveled so quickly—and so quietly—that he could not manage it. Now
here they were, in this shabby residence in the middle of a slum,
with a man who acted as if he were a king—and a group of grimy
children who treated him as combination of god and grandfather.

"You need money for your passage, child?"
asked the old man, beaming at Madryn.

Val's mouth dropped open in
astonishment.

"Not now, sir," Madryn replied with a
grateful nod. "My companion has arranged for us to be guards with
the caravan, so our most pressing needs are cared for. Allow me to
introduce him to you, sir. Val—Valerik, sir. Val…this is Llar
Zhan."

The old man gave a stately bow, his hand on
his breast. The man's threadbare jerkin was tucked into dirty
breeches, and a pair of toes showed through the tops of his short
boots, but he acted as if he were doing Val a great honor by
receiving him.

Val gave a clumsy bow in response, hoping
his confusion didn't show on his face.

A vain hope, it appeared; Madryn shook her
head at his expression, and then took pity on him. "Forgive me,
sir. I must explain these strange events to my friend."

"Only if afterwards you both will honor us
by sharing our breakfast," insisted the elderly gentleman.

"It will delight us, sir." Madryn took Val
by the arm and led him outside the musty shack.

"Who are these people?" Val asked as they
settled on a dusty pair of stone steps that led upward to
nowhere.

"In the distant past, there really was a
Llar Zhan, it has been said," began Madryn.

"But you called him—"

"I know," Madryn held up a hand, clearly
outlined in the ever-brightening light of morn. "I said that the
old man's name is Llar Zhan. It is; he is Llar Zhan…in a manner of
speaking. He may well be the hundredth, or the thousandth, of that
name. And there may well be dozens more of the same name spread
about the lands. Llar Zhan is the name given to a master thief, one
who takes on children to teach them that time-honored trade. Some
instructors are better than others, naturally, but all of them are
offered the greatest of respect and admiration by their
students."

"And they're all called Llar Zhan?"

"Every one," Madryn nodded. "The one who
taught me was so old he had forgotten his original name."

Val couldn't be sure if it was the residue
of last night's wine, or this new information, that made his head
feel as it did. "Then you were once a thief?"

"Of course I was a thief," Madryn said, as
if it were the most expected of occupations. "Among other things,
of course. Where did you think I got my money?"

Val shook his head. "I thought you were a
noble, rich, powerful…"

"And now? Now that you've found out I was
once a thief? Does that change your opinion of me?"

"Yes, it does."

Madryn's face fell.

"It increases my estimation…if that was
possible. After all, anyone can be born with money. It takes talent
to steal it."

"Much more than you may realize," Madryn
said, relieved. "It's a pity you were born a slave, Val. You'd have
been a damned good thief."

"Thank you," he said, well aware of the
compliment he'd just received.

A covey of children descended upon them, all
yelling at the tops of high-pitched voices.

"I believe, Val, that we're summoned for
breakfast."

***

"Of course, you must have a servant on your
journey," said Llar Zhan as the children removed empty plates and
bottles with a loud clatter and a distressing resumption of their
eternal squabbling.

"I think not, sir," Madryn replied. "We
travel as caravan guards, you see. Our meals will be provided by
the caravan master's cooks, and we have few possessions save our
swords. Added to that, I'm afraid we have no money to pay a
servant."

"But nonetheless, you will have one," said
Llar Zhan, a twinkle in his pale blue eyes. "And I believe I have
the perfect choice for your needs. Garet!"

A short skinny boy, his face as dirty as it
was possible for a face to be, scampered up and squatted on bony
haunches before the old man.

"Sir?" the boy inquired, grinning politely
at Madryn as to a fellow initiate, and then casting a faint sneer
in Val's direction, as to one undeserving of notice.

"I believe I heard you say that you were
wishing for a bit of travel, to broaden your knowledge, my son?"
said Llar Zhan in his tremulous old man's voice. "Now, what about a
visit to Zamorna? That may well be the perfect thing for you, do
you not agree?"

Garet set his face in a mask of solemn
consideration, careful to keep his delight from showing. He stroked
his nose with a filthy forefinger, and then nodded. "It might be
quite bearable, lord." There was a thoughtful look hidden under the
dirt on his face. "The mistress needs someone to look out for her,
if she insists on traveling with
that
." Garet pointed with
utter disdain at Val's broad chest.

"Then it is settled," said Llar Zhan with a
smile.

"You understand, do you not, Master Garet,
that we cannot pay you?" Madryn asked.

Val wondered why she was even considering
taking this worthless boy with them. Of what possible use could he
be on their journey? Of course, if he knew where they were going,
he decided ruefully, he might think otherwise.

Garet gave a regal nod, as if he were
receiving some worthy gift from a rival potentate. "Payment is an
important consideration in all things, as we well know, mistress,"
he pointed out solemnly, "but often it is not the prime one.
Knowledge, as we all know, is of far more importance. I will
accompany you, I think."

Thus it was settled. Val still could not
determine why Madryn agreed to it, but there was no time for
questions, either that day or the next.

The caravan was readying to leave for
Zamorna.

The yearly
caravan to Zamorna and the Janus Ridge was a long, wandering,
uneven line that stretched across the savage desert. Far above the
long train of horses and cattle and people, a flying wheel of
vultures circled endlessly. Occasionally, one great bird would
spiral downward with a squawk and a flutter of dusty wings,
searching for a tasty tidbit in the rubbish discarded by the
travelers, or examining with a calculating eye the health of the
straining pack animals.

Val shifted in his saddle and peered ahead,
both hands cupped around his eyes to keep out the vicious glare of
the sun. He had a cloth wrapped around his face; it was gritty with
sand and smelled musty and tired. He suspected he smelled the
same.

They had been on the trail for seven
days—seven endless, sweltering, boring, savage days, bracketed by
hot dry nights.

Val saw Madryn cantering towards him on her
borrowed roan gelding. Her narrow brown face, even browner now,
looked foreign to him under her tightly bound turban. The flowing
robes they both wore for protection from the heat swirled about her
as she pulled her horse to a halt beside Val.

"Another twelve leagues to the next watering
hold, or so Garet says," she said with a wry grin, her teeth
dazzling in her bronzed face.

Val was glad to see that smile. Madryn had
managed few of them lately. More than once he'd caught her looking
at him, an unexplainable something—was it fear?—hidden deep in her
expression.

"Why Garet would know, I cannot understand,"
Val shook his head, but returned her grin with one of his own.
"He'd never left Lakazsh, by his own admission. How could he
possibly know where any of the waterholes are, for all his pretense
of knowledge?"

"Yes," agreed Madryn. "Especially when he
spends all his time at the cook wagon, cadging treats."

Back in Lakazsh, when Llar Zhan had wished
Garet upon them, Val had been against taking the boy on the
dangerous journey—especially since he had no idea what their actual
goal might be. A scrawny boy of indeterminate age, Garet was
supposed to be making himself useful to them by brewing their
morning tea, and setting up and striking their tents. Instead,
Garet did no more than he had to, although he had proved useful at
providing their meals, both plentiful and on time. Garet had a more
than decided respect for his own belly, and Val and Madryn received
the benefits of that love.

Val slumped in the saddle, tired from his
long string of near sleepless nights. Madryn rode alongside him for
a while, her violet-gray eyes gleaming like precious stones from
the dirty setting of her face. They were both tired from the
arduous journey, but Val knew he was approaching exhaustion.

The dreams…the dreams of being another man,
had not left him. In fact, they had grown in power and detail; what
little sleep he was able to snatch tormented him.

But his waking hours were another thing.
Ever since Madryn had introduced him to Llar Zhan as 'Valerik'
instead of 'Val', he had noticed that her attitude toward him had
undergone a subtle change. Perhaps it had actually been an ongoing
process—he did not know, had no way of knowing. But Madryn now
regarded him, he thought, as less a representation of someone
else…and more a person in his own right. She spoke to him as an
equal, instead of giving orders and waiting for his obedience. In
the evenings, after the caravan had settled in for its short hours
of rest—for they began each morning well before sunrise, and rested
in the heat of the day—Madryn sat beside him at their tiny campfire
amidst all the myriad other fires. She talked sometimes of her life
before she'd met him, of her time with Llar Zhan, of her enlistment
in the queen's army. Once, on their third night out, she had even
spoken briefly of Lord Valaren Starseeker…

"I'll ride on ahead, see if there are any
signs of water," Madryn said, interrupting Val's reverie. Her rangy
gelding pranced and swerved and she tightened her hands on the
reins, controlling him with unconscious grace.

Val nodded. "See you at supper," he called
as Madryn cantered off.

***

The night was beautiful, as only desert
nights could be, the stars a canopy over their heads and the sands
warm beneath them. Garet had disappeared, doubtless dozed off
already in some more comfortable spot, beside some more inviting
fire. Val could picture the boy curled up like a cat in his pile of
blankets, his shaven head, bristly with new growth, pillowed on one
scrawny but fattening arm.

Madryn had insisted that Garet wash and
groom himself before she'd accept him as their servant. The boy had
protested loudly, but Val could tell it was a halfhearted effort.
Though the boy complained regularly, Val knew he had enjoyed the
bath and having his head shaved.

The quiet and stillness was soothing after a
day of constant riding. Val sighed, wishing he could enjoy it
longer. But soon enough would come the night and the disturbing
dreams that awaited him…

"Tired? I am." Madryn echoed his sigh. She
lay close to him, sprawled on a blanket spread over the warm sand.
Val could feel the heat that radiated from one long leg, so near
was it to his own naked limb. For an instant he wanted to tell her
about his dreams, recount to her the stories he saw when his eyes
closed, as her how true they might be.

But he didn't dare. He had found out too
much about Madryn and Lord Valaren in those misty shores on the
other side of sleep. Knowledge he found more and more difficult to
hide each passing day…knowledge he hoped was not true.

"Long day," Val said at last.

Silence. A shooting star streaked across the
sooty sky.

"Val…we need to talk about…about where I
have to go. I must leave soon, and I don't want you to follow me,"
Madryn said, the words tumbling out, jerky and discordant.

Val felt a chill dancing across his arms;
the hairs rose in protest. He did not want to hear another word. He
did not want anything to break into this odd bliss that he was
feeling, exhausted and disturbed though he was. He wanted to go on
forever, crossing a desert that never ended, Madryn riding at his
side by day, sleeping close enough for him to feel the heat of her
body at night. It was all he wanted, all he would ever want. Even
the dreams were a small price to pay.

No use,
he thought.
I'll never
have what I want.

"Tell me," Val said.

Another falling star bisected the heavens,
falling to a dim death from its brethren on high.

Val wondered if it was feeling the same
things he was feeling now.

"Valaren Starseeker is dead because of me—or
I thought he was, at any rate," Madryn said, her voice as bitter
and bleak as the desert that surrounded them. "I heard that…he was
not as dead as I'd thought. I was on my way to discover the truth
when you appeared before me in the forest that day."

"How did he die?" Val asked, though he knew
the answer. He had seen it acted out in all its gory horror, a
dozen times in his dreams…

Madryn looked
at the man who lay sleeping beside her in the desert sands.

Val had dropped off almost as soon as they
had finished speaking, too tired to remain awake. She was worried
about him. Even more, she wondered about her feelings for this
escaped slave, and especially now, after she told him some of the
things she had done. Told him of Valaren Starseeker and the
struggles she had undergone, resisting that strange and evil lord's
domination, fighting his uncanny powers.

The heat that the sands collected by day
emanated at night through their blankets, making all but the
lightest covering almost unbearable. Val's long, hard body was
nearly naked, the clothes he wore during the day piled as a pillow
beneath his head. The twist of rag about his loins reminded her
irresistibly of the day that she'd first met him.