Part 31 (1/2)
Sometimes he wondered about the consequences of another Baxendala. More often, he worried about those of victory. Fora decade, antic.i.p.ation of this war had colored the Tervolas' every action and thought. It had become part of them. After the west collapsed, what? Would s.h.i.+nsan turn upon itself, east against west, in a grander, more terrible version of the drama briefly envisioned in the struggle with Mist?
And sometimes he wondered about that eldritch lady. She had given up too easily.
For the well-being of s.h.i.+nsan? Or because she wanted him to play out some brief, violent destiny of his own before renewing her claims?
Neither Tran nor Lang had unearthed any nostalgic sentiment surrounding Mist, but in this land, with its secrecies, sorceries, and conspiracies, anything was possible.She would have to be eliminated. Merely by living she posed a threat.
Tran returned from the Roe basin, where he had been watching the progress of a curious war. He brought some unusual news.
”It's taken me years,” he enthused, bursting into Tarn's apartment still filthy from the road. ”But I've got Chin. Not enough to prove him your enemy, but enough to nail him for insubordination. Acting without orders. Making policy without consulting the Throne.”
Lang arrived. ”Calm down. Start from the top. I want to hear this.” He gave Tam a wicked look.
O s.h.i.+ng nodded.
”The war in the Roe basin. Chin is orchestrating it. He's been busy the past couple years. Look. Here. He's been skipping all over the west. Chaos followed him like a loyal old hound dog.” He offered several pages of hastily scribbled report.
”Lang? Read it. Tran, watch the door. Chin's out of town, but he and Wu are getting like that.” He crossed his fingers.
Lang droned through Tran's outline of an odd itinerary. There were numerous gaps, when Chin's whereabouts simply hadn't been determinable, but, equally, enough non-gaps to d.a.m.n the Tervola for violating his emperor's explicit orders.
They fell to arguing whether action should wait till after the western campaign. O s.h.i.+ng felt Chin would be valuable in that.
Tam dogged the relations.h.i.+p between Wu and Chin, wondering if, for so slight a cause, Lord Wu ought to be put to the question....
They forgot the door.
Lang's eyes suddenly bulged.
O s.h.i.+ng looked up. The moment at the Hag's hut flashed through his mind.
”Wu!” they gasped.
TWENTY-ONE: The King Is Dead. Long Live the King
The lean, dark man came like a whirlwind from the north. Horses died beneath him.
Men died if they tried to slow him. He was more merciless with himself than with anyone else. He was half dead when he reached his headquarters in the Kapenrungs.
Beloul let him sleep twelve hours before telling him about his wife.
He hardly seemed to think before replying, ”Bring Megelin.”
The boy was his father reflected in a mirror that took away decades. At nineteen he already had a reputation as a hard and brilliant warrior.
”Leave us, Beloul,” Haroun said.
Father and son faced one another, the son waiting for the father to speak.
”I have made a long journey,” Haroun said. His voice was surprisingly soft. ”I couldn't find him.”
”Balfour?””Him I found. He told me what he knew.”
Which wasn't strictly true. Balfour had answered only the questions asked, and even in his agony had shaded his answers. The Colonel had been a strong man.
All during his ride Haroun had pondered what he had learned. And he had planned.
”I didn't find my friend.”
”There is this that I cannot understand about you, my father. These two men.
Mocker and Ragnarson. You let them shape your life. With victory at your fingertips you abandoned everything to aid Ragnarson in his war with s.h.i.+nsan.”
”There is this that you have to learn, my son. Into each life come people who become more important than any crown. Believe it. Look for it. And accept it. It cannot be explained.”
They stared at one another till Haroun continued, ”Moreover, they have aided me more than I them, often when it flew in the face of their own interest. For this I owe them. Question. Have you ever heard Beloul-or any of my captains -complain?”
”No.”
”Why? I'll tell you why. Because there would be no Peac.o.c.k Throne for anyone, even El Murid-may the jackals gnaw his bones-if s.h.i.+nsan occupied the west.”
”This I understand. But I also understand that that was not your motive for turning north when you were upon the dogs at Al Rhemish.”
”One day you will understand. I hope. Tell me about your mother.” Pain marred his words. His long love with the daughter of his enemy made a tempestuous epic. Her defection seemed anticlimactic.
”That, too, I try to understand. It is difficult, my father. But I begin to see.
Our people bring sc.r.a.ps of news. They draw outlines for a portrait.”
Eyes downcast, Megelin continued, ”Were she not my mother, I would not have had the patience to await the information.”
”Tell me.”
”She means to forge an armistice with the Beast. She went to your friend, Ragnarson. He sent her.”
”Ah. She knows my anger. My other friend vanished. She knew I would swoop on the carrion at Al Rhemish. She knew I would destroy them. They have no strength now. They are old men with water for bones. I can sweep them away like the wind sweeps the dust from the Sahel.”
”That too.”
”She is his daughter.”
”The head understands, my father. The heart protests.”
”Listen to your head, then, and do not hate her. I say again, she is his daughter.
Think of your father when you think to judge her.”