Part 11 (1/2)
”Cold, Hammeth?” Ylia asked her companion.
”No, girl. I'll manage if you will. Is it much further?”
”Half a day's march to Nadia City yet, I'm afraid,” Ylia said. ”We could rest if you wish.”
The man was extremely old by Tarthian standards, probably three hundred and fifty years old. He wore a snow-cape of _purullian_ fur which the wind whipped about his bony frame and up over his completely bald head. ”I'm sorry, Ylia,” he said suddenly. There were tears in his eyes which the cold and the wind did not explain.
”What for? You came to the cave. You accompanied me here to Nadia.”
”When Retoc the Abarian almost killed the White G.o.d, I fled with the others.”
”If you didn't flee you too might have been slain, Hammeth.”
”Yet you remained behind.”
”He still lived. Someone had to tend him.”
Hammeth's breath came in shallow gasps. He once had been a strong, big man, but the life and the strength had fled his frame when Retoc destroyed Ofrid, a hundred years before. As a wayfarer on the Plains of Ofrid, he had aged in those hundred years. And he had shrunk and shriveled with approaching senility. ”Tell me, Ylia,” he asked, panting, ”is this Bram Forest you speak of indeed the--the G.o.d of the legend? The G.o.d of the Tower come to right the ancient wrongs?”
A frown marred the beauty of Ylia's matchless face. ”At first,” she said with a far-away look in her lovely eyes, ”at first I thought he was. Hadn't he come, suddenly, from nowhere, at the ordained moment?
But then when he did not slay Retoc, when instead he allowed Retoc the use of his whip-sword and was almost slain by Retoc, when he bled like any mortal, when he--” All at once Ylia was blus.h.i.+ng.
”What is it, child?” Hammeth asked.
”Nothing. It is nothing.”
”Ylia. You were the infant daughter of a lady in waiting of the royal court of Ofrid. I was a captain of the Queen's Guards. When Retoc's legions brought their death and destruction, I fled to the wilderness with you. I raised you from infancy. I--” the old man's eyes clouded over with emotion--”you have no secrets from me, child.”
Ylia was still blus.h.i.+ng. But a serene smile replaced the frown on her face. ”Very well, Father Hammeth, I will tell you. There in the cave as I nursed the stranger back to health, as he grew stronger and could move about, as we conversed and came to know each other, I--I desired him.”
Hammeth said nothing. His face was stern.
”Please,” said Ylia, laughing now that her secret was out. ”It wasn't the kind of desire that could make me a candidate for the Golden Ape, but--I desired him. It was a pure, sweet emotion, such as I have never felt before. I wanted him. I wanted to serve him. I wanted to spend my life helping him and ... Hammeth ... Father Hammeth ... loving him.
There, I have said it.”
Hammeth only muttered. They plodded on through the snow, which here was deep and powdery so they floundered sometimes to their knees.
”But a girl shouldn't feel such desire for a G.o.d, so I told myself he was mortal.” Abruptly and for no reason that Hammeth could fathom, Ylia began to cry.
”What is it, child? What is it?”
”He--he fled. He had lost much blood and he was weak, yes, but he didn't even stay to protect me. He fled from Retoc. Is that a G.o.d? Is that even a man who can bring retribution to Retoc? Is it, Hammeth? Is it?”
”Yet you're taking the road to Nadia even as legend says the White G.o.d will take the road to Nadia.”
”Nonsense,” said Ylia, wiping away her tears. ”Someone has to tell the Nadians what really happened to poor Jlomec, that's all. Retoc, Retoc will have them eating off his hand. He'll have them believing whatever he says. They'll never know that he killed a prince of their royal blood.”
”But what can Bontarc of Nadia--or anyone--do against the power of Retoc's Abarians?”