The Right Hand of God (12 page)

Modahl stood. 'I wish to thank you all for your welcome,' he said, without a hint of irony.

Indeed, he sounded genuinely glad, as though he considered he deserved the anger his son had offered him as a greeting.

He reached into a small pack and drew out a bottle of clear liquid. 'In Sna Vaztha we celebrate the reunion of friends long separated by sharing a special drink. Actually, we celebrate anything with this drink. To be truthful, we drink it even when there is nothing to celebrate. I would be grateful if you would share it with me. Pass it around, and let each one here mix a small amount into their drink. A small amount, mind: it is very strong.'

As he began to talk other conversations dropped away, and gradually the night drew quiet. 'I have heard only a few of the tales of this Company tonight, and yet already I am amazed at what you have done. Nowhere in Faltha were there people like you when I was younger, particularly in places like Loulea. Or, perhaps, people like you were everywhere but not yet called out by the needs of the time. It seems much has changed! I am eager to hear more of your stories, and I have many, many questions for you all. But before 1 begin to ask for your tales to be told, I believe I need to tell you mine.'

'We know your tale, Great One,' Geinor said, deep respect in his voice. 'The greatness we see in your village, as manifested by the Five of the Hand, and in your son and grandsons, is explained by who you are. We of Nemohaim have heard the stories of your journeys, of how you, alone of any of the First Men, travelled through Jangela and the swamps that kill, south to new lands where vast cities are built entirely in the branches of trees, and where in one kingdom the entire capital city is made of solid gold; and how you brought home to Faltha precious metals, rich spices and news of exotic peoples as proof of your journey. We have heard of your exploits in the Borderlands of Rhinn and Bannire; of how you forged a treaty in the Lankangas, uniting warring cities;

and of how, at the last, you were made captive while a general in the army of Haum, defending the smallest of Faltha's Sixteen Kingdoms against greedy Sna Vaztha. You have lived many lifetimes, it seems to us, or had adventures enough for many at the least. Your name is known and revered throughout the Sixteen Kingdoms.'

Modahl laughed, a full, rich sound that seemed to come from deep within his soul. 'The passage of time makes legend of many a person,' he said, 'but twenty-five years ago I was barely tolerated in the Court of Firanes, and hated in many other cities by those I had bested in trade or diplomacy, including Bewray, I must say.' He nodded to Geinor. 'I made powerful enemies in this very City, defying the Council of Faltha a number of times after they ordered me to stop interfering with their rule. My journeys in the Southlands were held up to general ridicule, and at home my wife and child wanted nothing more than for me to retire from my adventurous life and return to them for good.

'Ah, that 1 had! And yet - no, that is a tale best left for the time when he who needs to hear it is ready to listen. Instead, I will tell you of my supposed death, and what happened to me after.

'As my friend Kurrnath said, I went to Haurn because I had for some time been troubled by rumours that Sna Vaztha once again planned to extend their borders by swallowing up their small neighbour, in spite of the treaty I helped them devise. I arrived there at winter's heart to find the Sna Vazthans had taken the capital city of Hauthra and held the king hostage. A small band of brave men aided me in his rescue; but we could not save his family from the stake.

The king was driven mad by the bitter news, and climbed to the top of Verenum Spire, from whence he cast himself to his death.

'Within a month the Sna Vazthans pinned the remnants of the Kingdom of Haurn inside the ruined city of Tor Hailan. Their general agreed to spare the women and children if I would surrender only myself, which I did; but after he made me captive he scoured the city, leaving not one soul alive. Over five thousand were killed, the corpses fed to the wolves. He then carried me off to the Sna Vazthan capital, a trophy of his famous victory against a peaceful nation one-tenth the size of his, and with no standing army.

'What I did not learn until much later was that this general was an ambitious man, and his conquest of Haurn was conducted without the authority of his king, as part of a campaign to win the throne for himself. His king was greatly angered at the news, and was made more so when I supplied an account of the darker deeds done in Haurn, which his general omitted to mention.

'The king faced a dilemma. How was he to rid himself of a famous and well-loved general without risking public wrath and a possible revolt, but at the same time make use of his prized captive, Modahl the Trader? His answer was ingenious. The general found himself enthroned on a chair in a mock ceremony, placed on the thin ice of the Preuse River, and left there to await the afternoon thaw, as my son Mahnum rightly told it. The crowds were told the man on the chair was me. None could approach close enough to tell the difference without risking death themselves. The bells of the great Tower of Inmennost rang when finally the ice cracked and the Robber of Firanes, as I was known to them, disappeared into the icy waters. I cheered along with the crowd, for the man on the chair was responsible for atrocities that should not be perpetrated even on the hateful battlefields of war. I cheered from the king's balcony, for I had not been released,

but rather taken into the old king's service. And there for ten years I was forced to stay.

'In truth I found my time there a great delight, even though my heart was heavy with the knowledge that my king, my friends and my family would all have heard the news that I was dead. I longed to return to them, but as that was not allowed, I threw myself into the governance of the king's affairs. I became the shadow behind his throne, his closest and most secret adviser, and within a few years I was making policy for the most powerful, proud and independent of all the Kingdoms of Faltha.

'Ten years after my capture and enslavement (for that is what it was, however kind), the old king died. In his will he granted me my freedom, and here I reveal my sinful heart, for I was afraid to return home, afraid of what my loved ones would think of me. I took enough food for a week and, with the new queen's blessing, went up into the Aldhras Mountains, the highest in Faltha, there to await the judgment of the gods - or, most likely, death.

'I will not tell you of the great storms that came, of the days I spent in a snow cave by the banks of the frozen Diamant River, nor of my scaling of the precipitous Hauberk Wall. What I will say is, I was rescued from starvation by a mysterious race of people who called themselves Haukl, and taken to their city of Dukhobor on the shores of the ever-frozen lake.'

'The Haukl!' Kurr cried. 'My friend, I do not doubt you, but everyone knows the Haukl are a myth, the bastard offspring of men and the giant she-bears who live on the Roof of the World.

Are you saying the Haukl are real?'

'I am, and I would add that stranger things than the Haukl are to be found within the kingdoms of Faltha. Indeed, one

such wonder bums in the hand of my grandson no more than a few feet from where I sit.

Speak not to me of myths!

'The Haukl are a gentle race, far advanced in the arts of survival. I could not believe the cruel conditions in which they make their home, could not understand how anyone managed to stay alive in the white waste; yet they took me in and taught me their secrets, how to sense the rhythms of the land and align myself to them. For ten years I studied with them, the strangest, most ineffable people I have ever met, including all the races I encountered south of Jangela.

'1 learned that once they were the people of eastern Faltha and western Bhrudwo, and their stewardship extended unchallenged from the Wodranian Mountains in the west to the land of Birinjh in the east. They told me how the First Men drove them from their homes, killing many and forcing the rest into the mountains, there to be starved or frozen to death, so they supposed. Yet the First Men had not reckoned on the hardiness and will to live of the Haukl.'

Te Tuahangata stood, and his body trembled with rage. 'Again and again we hear this story!

The accursed First Men are found unworthy of their own lands, and so come north to steal ours! Is there no end to their evil?'

Prince Wiusago stood and laid a hand on his friend's arm, but Te Tuahangata angrily shook him off.

'You have every right to be angry,' the man from Sna Vaztha said to him. 'I learned far more than I cared to hear about the sins of the First Men from my gentle hosts. One day, they say, they will come down the slopes of their beloved mountains and share the plainlands with the First Men; but not until the First Men have grown, as they put it.'

Te Tuahangata sat down, but growled: 'One day we will come down from the Mist and murder every one of the

First Men. Then will we win back our lands and our lives with honour.'

'That is not how the Haukl see it. They are listening to the mountains, they would say; and when they finally hear the mountains speak, they will descend and live with us. 1 fear for them should they ever leave their secret home. I fear what we would do to them.

'I came down from the high places reborn,' said Modahl. 'I entered the service of the new Queen of Sna Vaztha, consumed with the notion of preparing the way for the Haukl; but I found the courtiers and functionaries self-opinionated, braying their shallow thoughts to those around them as though no one noticed how empty those thoughts were. Though Sna Vaztha has vast tracts of unoccupied land, we could spare none for the land's original occupants. For three more years I served, until I could stand it no longer. I resigned and once again set out for the Aldhras Mountains, but this time the way was closed. I could not scale the Hauberk Wall, and no Haukl came to my aid, though my cries echoed among the cruel peaks. I lived for a year in the wild valley of the Diamant, witless like an animal, eating whatever came to hand, relying on my Haukl-learned senses to survive until I learned something of humility; then returned to Inmennost and begged the queen to let me serve.

'1 served as her Chief Minister for another year, until she learned her representative at the Council of Faltha, the Arkhos of Sna Vaztha, had died suddenly in a terrible incident, an act of sabotage by the Escaignian rebels. Apparently the Arkhoi of Sarista, Redana'a and Deruys died also, according to the official communication we received some time after the event.

This made my queen very angry because, unknown to the Council, the Arkhos of Sarista had sent a letter to loyal Falthan monarchs warning of treachery in Faltha, and named names.

We misbelieved the Arkhos of Sarista - as everyone knows, Sarista has long been our chief opponent in matters of state - but in his letter he named the very Arkhoi who died as the members of a loyalist group working to expose the treachery of the Council. Further confirmation came when a similar letter arrived from our own Arkhos, though by that time it was posthumous.

'In the light of this the queen felt my talents and experience would be invaluable in Instruere, and so appointed me as Arkhos to the Council of Faltha. I left Inmennost no more than four weeks ago, travelling with an Imperative from the queen authorising me to change my mount for a fresh one at every stage of my journey. I doubt the journey has ever been made more quickly. And so, here I am. Treachery I expected, and treachery I found. The Council of Faltha reeks like an open sewer, and its leader is a dark magician not above trying his powers on new members of the Council. But old friends and family members I did not expect to find.

I see that part of my mission here is to atone for the selfishness that drove me to search for enlightenment rather than return to my family.

'So now my story is finished. On behalf of my queen I ask you, bearers of the Jugom Ark and the Hope of Faltha: how may Sna Vaztha serve you?' And with that he raised his glass in a salute, and downed it in one long draught. The Company followed suit, acknowledging the old man's speech, though a few of their number choked on the sharp taste of the liquor Modahl shared with them. He laughed deeply, and poured himself another drink.

* * *

Leith sat quietly and listened to this strange man who said he was his grandfather. His grandfather! The word meant nothing yet; he felt a strange numbness in the place where joy should be blooming. What bothered him was the hurt his father obviously felt. Seeing his own father so angry about the neglect he had suffered made Leith feel better about him: there was no logic as to why this should be so, it hadn't changed what had happened to Leith - and Hal, he remembered grudgingly; and to his mother. Mahnum in his turn had left them alone for two long years, becoming no more to Leith than a wooden carving and the blurred memory of a face.

And something else ticked away inside his mind, connected in some way to the stories of the Haukl he'd just heard, to the Pei-ra and even the Children of the Mist. Something that took root on the quiet days spent sailing the Wodhaitic Sea, something . . . but no matter. Slow and methodical, his mind was; the thought would form when it was ready.

More important by far, at least as Leith saw it, were the questions facing them; issues so important yet so intertwined with politics, danger and death that even now the Company danced around them as though they were snakes rearing to strike. In a City as divided as this one, how were they to use the Jugom Ark to achieve unity and raise an army to oppose Bhrudwo? How had finding the Flaming Arrow advanced their cause? And was Modahl right when he acclaimed Leith as the Right Hand of God?

THE COMPANY ROSE FROM their evening meal, their thoughts already turning towards sleep after a wearying day. Yet each of them knew many hours of debate lay ahead. The Jugom Ark had been brought to Instruere, and there was no one to tell them what to do with it.

Leith held the Flaming Arrow in his upturned left hand. So attuned to him was the talisman, it now no longer mattered how tightly or loosely he held it. No one else could come within an arm's length of the Jugom Ark without wincing in discomfort. Leith had hoped his return to Instruere might signal an end to his stewardship, so he could turn it over to someone braver and wiser than he; but it seemed appointed for his hand and none other.