The Saga of the Renunciates Read online

  "-No, damn it, I skipped a verse," she said, breaking off in vexation, then realized it did not matter; no one was listening anyway.

  "Brought by her doves through morning bright, Camilla came, and bowed her head, He ate and drank by mortal light;

  And as his brilliance paled away Into a dimmer earthly day Cassilda left her shining loom:

  A starflower in his hand she laid;

  Then on him fell a mortal doom... "

  "Are the windows accessible by ladders?" asked Gwennis, and Kindra snapped, "They might be, if we had ladders. Next question, but no more stupid ones, please! We have time to kill, but not that much time!"

  "Into the heart of Alar fell, A splinter from the Darkest Hell, And madness raging on him came, He cried again on Zandru's name, And at the darkened forge he made A darkly shining magic blade;

  An evil spell upon it cast... "

  "Devra and Rima, you will stay here, and the moment we come in sight, get moving! Be sure that the guards at the gate make no outcry-" Kindra looked meaningfully at Rima.

  The fat woman laid a hand on her knife, with a grim nod. Kindra said, "Camilla, you ride lighter than any of us; you will carry the child on your saddle. Lady Rohana-no, go on singing! You must be ready to ride close to Melora, to be alert for anything she needs; we shall all be busy enough evading pursuit and dealing with anyone who might come after us."

  Rohana felt a shudder take her, seize her body and shake it like a rabbithorn in the grip of a wolf. Her voice faltered; she tried to cover it with a cough, and doggedly went on, knowing she was garbling the words horribly:

  "He could not see the-something-plan That gave a God to mortal wife, That earthly love with mortal man-

  Should bring to man a-something-life, Camilla fell without a cry – "

  Damn, damn, I've skipped two whole verses again...

  "And Hastur, shielded by her heart, Knew he could die as mortals die... "

  "Lori, you handle the cralmacs; I understand you know how they fight. Those long blades... anything else? Leeanne?"

  "Remember that sometimes the Dry-Towners poison their swords. Don't neglect even a scratch. I've got some ointment that is supposed to neutralize their worst poisons... "

  "Then Hastur son of Light had known, (For so had ruled the Shining Sire When first he left the Realm of Fire)

  Once more his star must burn alone...

  For on the earth he might not reign If he should cause one mortal pain, Or in that hour he must return To the far realms that were his own... "

  "We'll never be readier than now," Kindra said softly. "Finish the damn song, Rafaella, and get your dagger."

  Gratefully Rohana began the last verse:

  "And ever more the cloud waves break, Along the fringes of the lake, And tears and songs still whisper there, Upon the still and misty air... "

  It was an unnerving experience, knowing they were all listening now, but impatient of every note, eager for her to finish. Damn it, no more eager than I!

  "They built a city in the wild, Fit for his rule, the kingly child, And singing of Camilla's doom, They wrought for her an opal tomb."

  She skipped the little postlude and rose impatiently, letting Rafaella put her harp away. Earlier in the afternoon she had packed the few possessions she had brought on this journey into a small bundle. Inside the tent the Amazons moved quickly and efficiently by the light of a single shaded candle, stowing food and necessary belongings in their saddlebags. Rohana watched, keeping out of their way. Devra and Fat Rima moved away toward the city gates, and Rohana felt another shudder take her; their business was to assure that those gates would be unguarded when they came back this way in a hurry, fleeing...

  Don't be squeamish! The guards there are Dry-Towners; they've probably deserved death a dozen times over...

  But they have no quarrel with any of us! There must be some good men among them, who have done nothing more than live as their forefathers have lived for centuries...

  Angry at herself, Rohana stifled the thought. I hired Kindra's band to get Melora and her child away. Did I really believe it could be done without bloodshed? You cannot take hawks without climbing cliffs!

  Kindra beckoned the red-haired woman to her side. She said in an undertone, "I had thought to leave you here with these; but we shall need you, in case your kinswoman must have help-or reassurance. Come with us, Lady, but look to yourself if there is fighting; none of us will have time or thought to protect you, and Jalak's men may think you one of us and attack. Have you any kind of weapon?"

  "I have this," Rohana said, showing the small dagger she carried, like all Comyn women, for personal protection. Kindra looked at it, trying to conceal her scorn. "It would be small service in a fight, I fear. But if we fail-I do not think we will fail, but nothing in this world is absolutely certain but death and next winter's snow-if we fail, at least it will keep you from falling alive into Jalak's hands. Are you prepared for that, vai domna?"

  Rohana nodded, hoping the Amazon could not see that she was trembling. And again it flickered fleetingly through her mind, as had happened more than once during the twenty days she had been in their company, that perhaps Kindra had some small spark of psi power, that she followed Rohana's thoughts a little more than might happen by chance, for the Amazon's hard-boned hand descended briefly on her shoulder; only for a moment, a light touch, and hesitant, lest the noblewoman angrily refuse her sympathy. "My Lady, do you think none of us is afraid? We have not learned not to fear; only to go on in the face of fear, as women are seldom taught to do on our world." She turned away, her voice brusque again in the darkness. "Come along. Nira: to the front, you know the way step by step, we know it only from my Lady's drawings and maps."

  Thrust to the rear of the small group of women, Rohana followed, hearing her pounding heart, so strongly it seemed to her that the thumping must almost be audible in the dusty, deserted streets. They moved like ghosts, or shadows, keeping in the lee of buildings, stealing along on noiseless feet. Rohana wondered where they had learned to move so silently, found she was afraid to speculate. For a panic-stricken moment she wished she had never begun this, that she were safe at home in Castle Ardais, on the borders of the Hellers. She wondered how her children fared without her, how the cousin who had managed her estates after her husband's death a few years ago was dealing with the business, what was happening far away in the mountain country. This was never any place for me. Why did I ever come here? War, revenge, rescue, these are matters for men!

  And the men were content to let Melora pine away and die, captive! She hardened her resolve and stole along at the rear of the little column, trying to pick up her feet and put them down as silently as the Amazons, not to stumble against a chance stone.

  The city was a labyrinth. And yet it was not very long before the women in front of her stopped, drew close together in a knot, seeing across an open, windswept square the loom of the Great House where Jalak of Shainsa ruled. The house was a great squared building of pale bleached stone, glimmering faintly by the light of a single small gibbous moon: a blind window-less barrack, a fortress, the two doors guarded by tall guards in Jalak's barbarous livery. Silently the Amazons turned, slipping through the shadows and along the side of the building. Rohana had heard Kindra's plan, and it seemed to her a good one. Every outside door into a Dry-Town house was guarded; against direct attack at the doors a couple of guards could hold it indefinitely. But if they could somehow get through the small side gateway into the courtyard, make their way through the garden-hopefully deserted, at this hour-and get into the house through the unguarded inside doorways, they might get into Jalak's chamber.

  She had heard Kindra say, through her singing, "Our best hope is that there has been peace in the Dry-Towns for many moons. The guards may be bored, not as alert as usual."

  She could see the guard at the side gate now. Evanda be praised, no more than one. He lounged against the wall; Rohana could not see his face, but she was a telepath, an
d even unsought, his thoughts were clear enough: boredom, dullness, the sense that he would welcome anything, even armed attack, to relieve the monotony of this watch.

  "Gwennis." Kindra murmured. "Your move."

  (When this plan had been put forward, Gwennis had protested, sullenly. "Does it have to be me?" and Kindra had said, "You're the prettiest.") Now there was no protest, the band's discipline held. As Gwennis deliberately scuffed a stone loose against the wall, Rohana felt the Amazon leader thinking, This is the worst moment of risk...

  The guard straightened, alert to the noise.

  He's alert, we can't take him unawares; so we have to get him away from the gate, get him out into the center of the square, Kindra thought.

  Gwennis had swiftly divested herself of knife and dagger, torn her tunic slightly down the front. She sauntered out into the moonlit square, and the guard was instantly alert, then relaxed, seeing a woman alone.

  We are taking advantage of him, yes. Of the centuries-old Dry-Town contempt for women as helpless, harmless chattels. Victims, Kindra reflected bitterly.

  The guard did not hesitate more than half a minute before stepping away from his post at the door, moving purposefully toward the young girl. "Hey, pretty thing-are you lonely? One of the Amazons, huh? Have you got tired of them and come looking for some better company?"

  Gwennis did not raise her eyes. Rohana had heard the argument about that, too. ("I won't seduce him to his death. If he minds his own business he is safe. I won't use a feminine trick.") But the guard had already left his post, and Gwennis' silent indifference to him had provoked his curiosity; he came swiftly toward her, saying, "Ha-caught you without that knife you wear all the time, huh? Now you'll see what it's like really to be a woman. Who knows, you might even like it better. Here, come here and let me show you a thing or two..." He reached for the girl, roughly pulled her against him, spun her around, one hand covering her mouth to stifle a cry... his words broke off in a strangled gasp. Lori's long knife, thrown with deadly accuracy, went straight into his throat. A moment later Lori herself bent over him, delivering a swift, fatal death-stroke to the great vein below his ear. Kindra and Camilla dragged him into the shadow of the wall, out of sight of any chance passerby; Gwennis scrambled up, fastidiously wiping her mouth as if she could wipe away the guard's rude touch. Kindra rummaged at the dead man's belt, found his keys and began to try them one by one in the heavy lock. Locked on the outside, not within. Less against invaders than against the escape of one of his women... The lock was stiff; it seemed to Rohana, quaking in the quiet street, that it creaked loudly enough to alarm the whole town, but after a moment it gave and the door swung noiselessly inward. The band of Amazons crowded inside, shrinking against the inner wall, pushing the door closed.

  They stood in a quiet and deserted garden. Here in the Drylands little grew unless it was planted, except thornbush; but Jalak, tyrant of Shainsa, had spared no expense to create an oasis for himself and his pampered women and favorites. A multitude of fountains splashed, tall trees towered overhead, and flowers grew in lush profusion, with a sweet, damp, rank smell. On silent feet, guided by the sketch Rohana had made after the rapport with Melora, the women threaded their way along the bricked pathway, and paused in the shadow of a grove of blackfruit trees.

  "Leeanne," Kindra whispered.

  As the slender, sexless figure moved away toward, Rohana knew, the chamber where Melora's twelve-year-old daughter slept with her nurse, Rohana found herself wondering incongruously how a neutered Amazon thought of herself. Not as a woman, surely. A man? Some indefinable third thing? She dismissed the thought impatiently. What nonsense to be thinking about now!

  They moved toward the unguarded garden door; a moment later they were actually inside. Rohana, moving now from memory of her rapport with Melora, began to move directly toward the guarded room where Jalak slept.

  Was Melora awake, alert for them, expecting them? All this afternoon she had resisted the temptation to reach out for telepathic contact with her cousin, but now she yielded; reached for rapport, more easily as the long-neglected skill came back.

  -Melora, Melora! And suddenly, in a half-forgotten sensation of blending and merging, she was Melora, she...

  ... She lay silent, facing the wall, every muscle tense and alert, willing herself to relax, be patient, wait... In her body the heavy child kicked sharply, and she thought, with weary patience, You are so strong and lusty, little son, and, Avarra pity me, I have not even the heart to wish you more like to die It is not your fault but your ill fortune that you are Jalak's son...

  Will it truly be tonight? And the guards... how, how? The memory that had been with her, night and day, for ten years now of her foster-brother Valentine, broken, writhing, his fingers cut from his living body, covered in blood, after atrocities too many and too dreadful to think about... Oh, Evanda and Avarra, Aldones, Lord of Light, not Rohana, too...

  No! I must not remember that now! I must be strong...

  Painstakingly, muscle-by-muscle, she forced herself to relax.

  Jalak slept now, deeply: the first, sated sleep of the night. Beyond him she saw, by the dim moonlight from the courtyard window, the pale forms of the two favorites who shared his bed. They, too, slept: Danette-pale, nude, her long scattered hair enfolding her; Garris snoring a little, lying on his back, folded against Jalak's long body. At first this had infuriated and humiliated her to silent tears and passionate rebellion; after ten years she was only wearily relieved that she need no longer share his bed. During these months while she carried his son, Jalak, proud, and as near to kindness as he ever came, had yielded good-naturedly to her plea and allowed her to have a bed of her own, that she might sleep in peace and rest well. For years now she had been freed at night, like other Dry-Town women, from the chains she wore by day; only while she was still a rebellious prisoner had she been forced to wear them night and day. More than once, in that first faraway year, she had flown at his throat... ceasing only when she knew her furious resistance excited, amused, stimulated him...

  Poor Danette, how she hates me, how she gloated when she took my place in Jalak's bed, never guessing how willingly I would have resigned it years ago-and she hates my child worse than she hates me, she knows she is barren. If only I were... I wish Garris no ill, His parents sold him in the brothels of Ardcarran when he was no older than Jaelle... he loves Jalak no more than I ... perhaps less. Cruelly as the Dry-Towners treat their women, there are at least laws and customs to protect women to some degree, and not even such laws protect such as Garris. Poor little wretch...he still cries... How slowly this night seems to pass...

  She stiffened, every nerve in her body alert. What sound was that? The next moment the door came crashing inward and it seemed all at once that the room was full of ... of women? Jalak woke with a bellow, snatching up his sword where it lay ready, night and day, to his hand; he yelled for the guards... a yell that went unanswered. Already on his feet, he yelled again, naked, leaping at the first who came against him; they crowded him against the wall, and Rohana, seeing through her own eyes now-although she shared Melora's thought, Where are the guards?-saw the Amazons force him against the wall, saw him disappear behind what looked like a wall of women, slashing, darting in with their knives; saw the long ripping cut with which Kindra darted in, slashed, the tendons at the back of his knee. He fell, howling, struggling. Danette, wide-eyed, kneeling upright on the bed, shrieked.

  "Garris! Garris! Get his sword! They're only women... "

  "Silence that bitch," said Kindra, and Camilla's rough hands muffled Danette's shrieks with a pillow. Garris sat upright, looking down at the writhing, howling Jalak with an unholy joy. . Rohana caught up a furred cloak from the foot of the bed, wrapped it over Melora's scanty nightgown. "Come-quickly!"

  Guided between her kinswoman and the Amazon leader, Melora stumbled into the hall; her foot slipped in the blood of the guards who had been killed there. Are they all dead? All? Even Jalak's howls had stopp
ed. Dead, or unconscious from loss of blood?

  She saw through the still-open door that Garris had caught up Jalak's sword; Nira whirled, her own sword at the ready, but Garris rushed past them, not even looking at her, disappearing down the hallway, with evidently no thought in mind but his own escape.

  Rohana hurried Melora along, out into the silent garden. It was so silent that it took her breath away; fountains splashed, trees rustled undisturbed in the wind, no sound or light to show that somewhere inside there in the Great House, eight or ten of Jalak's fighting men and perhaps Jalak himself lay dead.

  None but Jalak himself had had opportunity to strike a single return stroke; but that single slash had gone to Nira's thigh and she limped, leaning heavily on Camilla's arm. Lori came and bent beside her, roughly wadding the wound with her kerchief, wrapping it hastily with the belt of her tunic. Leeanne came out of the darkness, carrying in her arms a small form in a long nightgown, barefoot. She set the little girl on her feet, and in the dim light Rohana caught a glimpse of a small, surprised, sleepy face.

  "Mother?"

  "It's all right, my darling, they are my kinswomen and our friends," Melora said in a singing voice; she stumbled, and Kindra put a hand under her elbow.

  "Can you walk, Lady? If not, we can carry you somehow – "

  "I can walk." But Melora stumbled again and put out her hand to clutch at Rohana's arm, thinking, For the first time in a dozen years I am outside that wall with unbound hands. Walk? I could run... I could fly. Hurrying along between them, stumbling, she lost track of where her steps were taking her. Anywhere. Anywhere away from here. Like Garris...Poor little creature, I hope they do not hunt him down for Jalak's murder...

  She felt the knives of pain in her side and back, felt the weight of her unborn child dragging at her, not caring. Free. I am free. I could die now, happy. But I must not die and delay them...