Scorpio Drums [Dray Prescot #42] Page 5

  “We'd better go to my brothers,” said Lola. She spoke as though going to her brothers was like going to the dentist without acupuncture.

  “No good.” Manting said. “He's known to them.”

  Lindy-ma-Sendiyin said: “Well, where to then?” She had a florid face under the helmet brim and sounded petulant. She'd been the first to follow Tilly at the beginning of our escape.

  Now Tilly perked up. “Let's go to my sisters.”

  “You said she was never fond of us.” Manting gave Tilly a look.

  “She thought you were silly to try to bring back the past, and she didn't like the way I liked you.”

  “Jealousy.” Mul-lu-Manting sniffed.

  “We'd been close, very close. You can—”

  “Oh, yes. Well, then. Wenda!"[3]

  [3 wenda!: let's go! A.B.A.]

  So our forlorn little band traipsed along the moon-shadowed streets, past dark arcades reeking with menace under that towering architecture, until we reached a block not much different from that we'd just left.

  Here, Tilly's sister, Milly, a few seasons older, let us in. From the very first it was apparent that she was more than not fond of the followers of the New Empire of Loh. Still, she brought cakes and fruits and her husband Lanlo the Plump poured wine. The general tenor of the conversation, although formal, reassured me. These two, Milly and Lanlo, were not about to betray us.

  There was no striking family resemblance between Milly and Tilly. The older sister struck me as a person who thought far more about things than the younger. Lanlo was plump, true; he held within himself a strength that had to come from a source of power. I noticed among the cheap decorations of the walls, the flower paintings, the images and the draped shawls, a small oval picture. All it contained was a blue equilateral triangle outlined in yellow, point down. I'd seen that symbol before.

  Lanlo saw me looking at the blue triangle.

  Speaking very quietly, I said: “I see you are a Pilgrim.”

  His miniscule start of surprise was well-controlled. He might be plump; his face was hard enough and his eyes shrewd. “You are a Wayfarer, Drajak?”

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, no. I have met only two Pathfinders, good people both. And I say unfortunately for I have a very great interest in finding my way through the paths to the truths that will unlock the power of miracles and magic.”

  He smiled. “You say ‘will’ unlock. You do, then, believe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yet you say you are not—?”

  “Time, Lanlo, time. It seems I'm always in the middle of something going on, in the thick of things. Like tonight.”

  “Yes. But you must also, then, believe in the New Empire of Loh?”

  This put me in a trifle of a quandary. To cover my hesitation I took another cup of wine from Milly with a thank you. She said: “They will never succeed in bringing back the old Queens of Pain to Loh.”

  Taking a breath I explained my meeting with Mul-lu-Manting and the subsequent events in such a way they seemed natural—and these happenings are not at all unusual on Kregen. “No, I am not committed to a return of the empire. I've not really contemplated that. I am interested in Alternative Magic and what powers for good will come of success.”

  If the Star Lords, in having me protecting Mul-lu-Manting, were indicating they wanted the Empire of Loh to return, then I'd have to go along with that. Arguing with the Everoinye had cost me dear in the past. My most recent conversation with them gave a pointer to future conduct—perhaps.

  “Alternative Magic.” Lanlo spoke the words almost with reverence. “This is what we strive for, so that from a man or woman's own head will stream the power to move mountains.”

  “One day,” I said. I spoke quite sincerely.

  “Oh, yes.” Milly spoke decisively. “Most certainly, one day.”

  Then the others drifted over across the room and we began to sort out sleeping arrangements. We'd had a long day.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter five

  Bright and early the next morning Milly said she had to go out for the shopping. She selected her veil with care. I knew there existed a complex system of color, design and embroidery styles marking off one Lohvian woman's veil from another's. That was one subject of research I had not pursued. These blank-walled courtyard houses were clearly the urban development of the famous walled gardens of Loh. Once I'd imagined that veils and walled gardens, mysterious though they might be, were all there were to the great continent of Loh. That opinion was in process of revision.

  I told Lanlo in a quiet moment whilst the women were all chattering away in the kitchen that the two Pilgrims I'd known were San Ornol Wanlicheng and his disciple—if that was the right word—Xinthe.

  “I do not have the pleasure of their acquaintance, Drajak. We are a thin community spread widely. And new members, although sought, are difficult to find and even more difficult to keep.”

  “So there's no central organization?”

  “Not really. We are able to send messages to those we know through a loose network. And Lisa the Forthright acts as our—mentor, guru, leader?—she is a truly remarkable woman.”

  “Well, San Ornol and Xinthe live in Changwutung. I'm sure they'll be glad to hear from you. Mention me. I think they'd like that.”

  “It will be a pleasure, Drajak.”

  Here, then, were two more people, Lanlo the Plump and Milly, who besides being Pilgrims in search of Alternative Magic, were two more of those pleasant nice folk of Kregen.

  As though to confirm that, Lanlo heaved up a sigh. “We do not hold with this New Empire of Loh, yet we cannot turn them out into the street. The damage has been done. Some way will have to be found for them to escape Shamfrin.”

  These were my sentiments. Thinking that, the thought I'd toyed with recurred. The Star Lords had once been human like me. Suppose they had reached their awesome powers through the study of the Paths, through Alternative Magic? Then suppose some of the Pilgrims succeeded, and others followed the corners through the Paths. Even if the powers they gained were only a fraction of those of the Everoinye, what would be the Star Lords’ reaction? Would jealousy drive them to denying the new Star Lords? Would they destroy them? Or would they welcome them, as new companions in their aeons old designs? I just didn't know, and was most reluctant to guess, by Vox, yes!

  “You look troubled, Drajak. I think it is not as bad as you imagine. We can puzzle a way for these women to leave safely.”

  “The sooner the better.”

  “Assuredly.”

  Without undue emphasis yet not casually, I asked him if he'd heard of an evil wizard called Carazaar. I termed him evil because I'd been told he was evil and he'd certainly done some dastardly things to me.

  “No, Drajak, never.”

  I mentioned the Wizard of Walfarg, Na-Si-Fantong. He laughed. “Oh, yes. Everyone has heard how he was kicked out of Kothmir. Tried to steal a valuable necklace.”

  “And he's not been heard of since.”

  “Not to my knowledge. I'll ask Milly when she gets back from the shopping.”

  The shopping duly deposited in the kitchen, where the women of the brave New Empire of Loh began to prepare the second breakfast, Milly, too, laughed as her husband had.

  “Well, you hear such things in the markets. Quaenci—you know, Lanlo, her husband has the gregarian stall—well, she did tell me there was a rumor this great wizard of Walfarg had gone from Kothmir to Murn-Chem. That is a mortal long way south past the jungles.”

  “Highly unpleasant,” confirmed Lanlo with a shiver.

  I thanked Milly and she went on to tell us that she had contracted with Lop-eared Nath to take us out tonight in his Quoffa cart. “No one will suspect a thing. All he wants is gold.”

  “Um,” I said, and I own I spoke glumly.

  To my surprise the women had gold and silver secreted about their persons. Manting and I, of course, were penniles
s.

  “We have enough,” declared Milly when the coins were laid on her scrubbed table. “As soon as the suns are gone, we move.”

  So that was that.

  Kregans, like Terrans, treasure favorite stories. Many plotlines run along familiar grooves. In this situation where we were trying to leave a city inconspicuously in a lumbering country cart, we were not running from the lord's brutal guards. Oh, no. This was different. The women of the New Empire of Loh were running from the people.

  So that made me more than ever uneasy.

  Milly went on speaking. “And, Lanlo, I saw Naghan the Boorish and told him—”

  “Milly! Milly! How many more times must I ask you—?”

  “Oh, you're too soft! I call that man Naghan boorish because he is boorish! I wish you could work somewhere else. He said he was most annoyed you did not go in to work today. And he was boorish when he told me, may Hlo-Hli Herself afflict him with boils.”

  “Milly!”

  I felt amused by this, and sobered, too, at the reflection of what these peoples’ lives were like in the normal way. Lanlo worked as a cashier in a bakery and he'd taken the day off to assist us.

  The day wore on and somehow we did not all go stark staring raving out of frustration and boredom and waiting fever. Milly had more errands to run in the afternoon. When she returned she confirmed that Lop-eared Nath had his cart ready. Then, turning to me, she added: “You were asking about that fatuous Wizard of Walfarg, Na-Si-Fantong. Well, I made some enquiries.” She looked pleased with herself.

  “Thank you, Milly.” I spoke gravely.

  Whilst I wouldn't actually swear she preened herself as she told me her news, she was in her simple way genuinely delighted she could be so useful to a stranger, even if he was a friend of her empty-headed sister.

  “He did go off to Murn-Chem according to one story. But I also heard that he had one of those flying things that so hurt the old empire. He was supposed to have gone to Notesov. Well, the funny thing is, Nanli the egg-woman and Lorca—you know, Lanlo, him with the huge wart by his nose, has a fish-stall—well, both of them heard from their children only this sennight and what do you think?”

  “I, my dear,” said Lanlo, “cannot imagine.”

  “Well, of course you can't! It's so funny. Well, Nanli's son—you remember, little Tonli, always had big ears—he's gone for a paktun and he was in Notesov and the wizard's not been seen there and they heard he'd gone to Murn-Chem.” She took a breath. “Fancy that! Now, what do you think—?”

  Just about then I think we all got it. Still, Lanlo spoke in his quiet way to his wife, saying: “I've no idea.”

  She was consumed with pleasure at the way she'd told her news. “Well, listen to this! Lorca's son is in Murn-Chem and he'd heard Na-Si-Fantong was in Notesov! There! What d'you think of that?”

  “Remarkable, my dear, quite remarkable.”

  “Stupid wizards,” ground out Mul-lu-Manting. “Don't believe a thing you hear about them.”

  The women of the New Empire of Loh were contemptuous of Wizards of Loh—a frightening concept to the rest of Paz—because they were held partly accountable for the fall of the old empire.

  Tilly spoke up in her bright way. “That means the wizard covered his tracks. He could be anywhere.” She cocked that saucy eye at me. “Anyway, Drajak, what's so special about him?”

  “Well, he's a Wizard of Walfarg for a start—”

  “Fumbling fools!” commented Manting with some bitterness. Anyone would think from her vehemence that the old empire had crumbled away only this minute before her very eyes.

  All this passed the time to nightfall. We ate well and drank moderately. Lanlo insisted I take the loan of a short cape in a fetching shade of violet to cover me up. Truth to tell, the weather was warm enough and I am well used to wandering about wearing only the brave old scarlet breechclout. This fancy cape would serve to make me blend in more with other men wearing short capes. Mul-lu-Manting had taken the opportunity of clothing herself in a swathing robe back at the house before the attack. Her armor, like that of the other women, would mark them out. The women insisted on wearing their armor and swathing themselves in ordinary robes from Milly's wardrobe. Her sister's visit was costing her and her husband dear.

  Tilly's question about the specialness of Fantong had been avoided in Manting's outburst. I did not intend to tell these women that Fantong was seeking to collect nine ruby-like gems. The whole thing was called the Skantiklar. He'd stolen the necklace in Kothmir and everyone laughed at the way he'd been kicked out and chortled over his discomfiture, for the necklace had been recovered. The trouble was, Fantong had removed the one gem he required from the necklace. I knew he had this gem. How many more did he have, and how many more were there to find? There was one in Makilorn he'd failed to get. What did he want the nine ruby-like gems for? Power, I supposed.

  Mind you, then I was interested in Na-Si-Fantong only from an idle curiosity. For one thing, I didn't like his middle name. My own comrade Wizard of Loh, Deb-Lu-Quienyin, a staunch friend through thick and thin, had observed that this Fantong fellow would bear watching. We both could only speculate on the reasons for Fantong's pursuit of the Skantiklar.

  With the decline of the Suns of Scorpio, Zim and Genodras, which here in Loh are called Luz and Walig, we could venture out. She of the Veils, often called down here She of the Blushes, would light our evening way; but until the Twins rose to circle each other endlessly as they circled Kregen, the fuzzy golden-rose light would not unduly discommode us. Lop-eared Nath had his cart ready.

  I thanked Milly and Lanlo the Plump. There was no need to put warmth into my voice; I felt respect and affection for them, representing as they did one of the more admirable aspects of Kregen.

  Then I said: “One last favor. Veils. The women will be seen as War Women without.”

  Milly opened her mouth and Mul-lu-Manting cut in sharply.

  “Had we wished to wear veils we could have walked out as ordinary silly women without trouble.”

  Lola shook her head. “No. We do not wear veils.”

  All the women—including Milly—burned spots of rising annoyance on their cheeks. They were clearly quite capable of sparking off a continuation of an old argument.

  Nola patted her stomach where the rolling pin nestled under her folds of cloth. “We are not Warrior Women in the common parlance. We do not claim to be Jikai Vuvushis. But my rolling pin will deal with a man quicker than a Bowmaid of Loh can shaft him. Ha!”

  Tilly sniffed. “I would have gone for a Bowmaid but Milly—”

  “I was quite right, too! Still, perhaps if I'd let you, you wouldn't have taken up with this lot.”

  Mul-lu-Manting opened her mouth, quite clearly to make some remark that would fuel the row, and it was my turn to cut in sharply.

  “If you women stand here arguing all night we'll never get you away. Now, come on!”

  They all turned their heads to stare at me. So I must have rapped that out a trifle brusquely.

  “Men!” said Nola of the Rolling Pin. And she sniffed.

  We said the remberees and the women made small respectful gestures to the idol of Hlo-Hli in her niche with two dips burning.

  She of the Veils shone down refulgently, and Nath of the Quoffa cart did, indeed, possess lop-ears.

  “Hurry up and get in,” he said in a surly tone.

  “I,” I said, in what I trusted was not a lofty tone, “will walk at the side.”

  “As you wish, dom.”

  The women climbed in the back and heaping straw was piled over them. I made sure good handfuls concealed all the protuberances. The Quoffa with his huge patient face, rather like a perambulating hearthrug, heaved at the shafts and off we went.

  We were not, I had to remind myself, escaping from the local bigwig, whether king or kov. In some of the more insalubrious places of Kregen punishments are handed out that make a rational mind cringe. For allowing prisoners to escape, for instance, a com
mon penalty is for the offender to be castrated and to have his right eye, hand and foot removed. Life after that, to say the least, by Krun, is not to be lightly contemplated.

  As we passed along the street by the light of the moon I had to contemplate the serious possibility that this Lop-eared Nath would betray us. He could sell us down the river for a handful of silver. Consequently, as usual, I marched warily and the drexer could be up and snouting forward into an opponent's guts in less than a heartbeat.

  These confounded cantankerous women! Why, by the Furnace Fires of Inshurfraz, couldn't they wear veils like sensible females here? Then all this nonsense of skulking off hidden in a Quoffa cart wouldn't have been necessary. I tell you, I stalked along in a most foul humor.

  Anyway, was this sniffing madam, Mul-lu-Manting, worth all the bother? The Star Lords quite evidently thought so. They either wanted the Empire of Loh re-created or they wanted it to remain defunct. To the Bat Caves of Gratz with the lot of ‘em! Why couldn't they tell me which way they wanted the monkey to jump?

  Lop-eared Nath hawked up, and spat, and said in a dripping tone of voice: “Nice little lot of shemale flesh there, dom.”

  I said: “I shall not hit you now. If you repeat your filthy remarks you will be thrashed senseless. Dernun!"[4]

  [4 dernun: ‘do you understand?’ Not very polite. A.B.A.]

  He blurted out: “By Hornli! You're damned sharp! I only—”

  “I know what you only, Lop-eared Nath. Shut the black-fanged winespout. And, again, Dernun?”

  He hawked up and spat again. He was only half-looking at me, eyes downcast. Then, reluctantly, he growled out: “Quidang!”

  “Dondo!"[5] I walked on and I made sure I walked a little astern of this flea-bitten Lop-eared Nath.

  [5 dondo!: good! A.B.A.]

  Thinking in these unpleasant ways of the Black Spider Caves of Gratz, and allied unpleasantnesses, like Kov Koronin's Dungeons of Dolor and the Stromicha Senteva's Crushing Bed, I tried to cheer myself up with the reflection that, by Vox, we weren't there!

  Mind you, on Kregen which, as I may have mentioned, is a world of marvel as well as horror, we could well be in far worse case at any moment. So, looking everywhere, I walked on alongside the straw-covered cart where the girls in their armor—and without veils!—huddled.