Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1986 (20 page)

She motioned at the door. “Perhaps you’d better
go.”

“Perhaps so.”

She prodded his back with her eyes as he left. At
his quarters, he stripped off his travel-fouled garments and put on a dark red
Moslem robe and slippers with turned-up toes. He went to the bath and lay for
long minutes in a steaming tub, scrubbing himself thoroughly. The bath
attendant trimmed his beard and cut his hair. Then Wulf returned to his room
and sat on the cushioned bed-shelf. He poured himself a cup of wine, and
thought.

Whatever the Cahena had meant to do with him, she
had not done it. Had not shaken him, defeated him. What would happen between
them now he did not
know,
did not care to know.

The heavy door murmured open. Someone peeped in,
then
came in. It was Daphne, in a long gown of black and
silver, draped close to her plumply curved body. Her hair was bound with a lacy
fillet. She closed the door and the latch fell into place, with a click like a
dagger going into its sheath.

“There, I’ve locked us in,” she said. “I wanted to
see you. I’ve missed you.”

“Will you have a drink with me?” he asked, and
filled a cup. She sat on the shelf with him and they drank. The wine was sharp,
strong. It made Wulf’s nose tingle.

“How do you like Thrysdus?” he asked her.

“We’re getting used to it.” Her eyes crinkled with
a smile. “My father’s busy making swords. Everyone wants a sword now, along with
his javelins. You’ve taught our warriors about the sword, Wulf.”

“I wish nobody needed a sword,” he said. “Fighting
gets tiresome.”

“Yes, doesn’t it?” She drank and put her plump
little hand on his wrist. “What do you need to make you happy?”

“Peace, I think.
For everybody.”

“Maybe a little stir of action now and then?”

Her face was almost against his. He kissed her
mouth.

“Oh,” she whispered.

His arm slid around her of its own volition. There
was nothing under her gown, nothing but Daphne. She kissed him strongly.

“I’ve wanted this,” she said, close to his ear.
“Wanted it since the first day at Tiergal, when you came for your
mail coat.”

He said nothing. For a moment, the Cahena was out
of his angry mind. He put down his cup and slid his hand inside her black and
silver gown. She was made snugly, silkily. She sighed, and she was feeling
inside his robe, too.

Down she sank on the cushions, holding him tightly
to her. He shrugged out of his robe and drew her garment open. Her body was
paler than the Cahena’s body, it was an abundant body,
it
welcomed him. As he covered her, she lifted her loins to his.

It was long before they were finished with each
other.

Afterward, Wulf wondered if the Cahena could know,
she who knew so much. Perhaps she didn’t bother to know, in her preoccupation
with Khalid. As for Daphne, she comforted Wulf. They met again and then again.
She always came to him when nobody would disturb them. She soothed him like
wholesome bread, where the Cahena had stirred him like strong wine.

The Cahena sent for him one evening and received
him alone in her chamber. She motioned him to sit opposite her. “I’ve an
important errand for you,” she said.

“What errand, Lady Cahena?”

No faint whispers in the room, no half-heard music
as in times before. Wulf heard only her voice.

“You know what’s been decided,” she said. “We’ll
make a desert
here,
leave nothing for those invaders
to steal. Carry my orders to Lartius and to Yaunis, out there in the
northwest.”

He frowned. “What if they don’t like those orders?”

“They’ll have to see wisdom,” she said, sternness
in her voice. “I want their towns razed to their foundations, I want their
groves and orchards cut down. Tell them I said so. You heard Ketriazar and
Daris agree.”

Still he frowned. “Ketriazar and Daris are used to
the wild, roaming life. These others are different. They won’t understand.”

“They don’t have to understand.” Her fine teeth
showed. “All they need do is
obey
.” She studied him.
“You’ll obey, too.”

“I’ll go and give them your orders,” he agreed.
“When do I go?”

“Start tomorrow. Is that agreeable?”

“May I take Bhakrann?”

She shook her head. “Bhakrann handles our
exchanges of their officers and gets back ransoms — weapons camels, horses,
gold, and so on. And he watches that line of castles Hassan is building. Take
someone else.”

“I’ll take my man Susi, yes, and Cham. Cham has
scouted all those lands.”

The Cahena nodded permission. “And you go
tomorrow, I say. Will you eat here with me? Talk with me?”

Her voice sounded winning, but Wulf rose and
bowed.

“With your permission, I go make ready.”

She pouted at that. “We should be better friends,
Wulf.”

“I’m your warrior and your errand runner, Lady
Cahena.”

“You don’t call me Daia.”

“How would I dare? Give me leave to go.”

He stooped to kiss her shadow, and went.

At early dawn Wulf and Cham and Susi rode away on
their best horses, leading a pack mule with provisions. Cham showed them a
trail to the northwest, not a good one but plainly marked. There were wells
here and
there,
and occasional hamlets of a few huts
apiece. Sometimes women held important posts in those places, as chieftainesses
and priestesses. When the party stopped for a night, they were gladly
entertained, were sung to and praised as conquerors of Moslems. Wulf told of
the Cahena’s plan to blot out villages and farms, and his hearers listened
soberly but did not protest.

Reaching Cirta at last, they were hospitably
greeted by Lartius, who gave them a fine supper, served by his sketchily clad
maidservants. Wulf set forth the Cahena’s orders of destruction. Lartius
knitted his black brows. “Destroy Cirta? You’d need thousands to do that. Cirta
is a fortress, a treasure city. Cirta has been here for centuries.”

“I’m here to tell you the Lady Cahena’s orders,”
said Wulf evenly. “She wants to deny the Moslems any plunder, any profit or
provision or shelter.”

Lartius shook his head. “If we destroyed our town,
there would still be this height — Cirta’s a natural fortification. Wulf, I
don’t follow your advice.”

“It’s not my
advice,
it’s
the order of the Cahena.”

Lartius munched a fig. “Whose advice is it, then?
Khalid’s?”

“Yes, Khalid’s advice,” Wulf felt obliged to say.
“He points out that Hassan’s followers are mostly new, half-converted Moslems,
who want spoils of war.” He gazed at Lartius. “All right, she’ll be waiting for
your answer.”

“I’ll have to think, it needs thinking,” said
Lartius unhappily.

“Do I take that back for your answer?”

“Yes, tell her that.” Lartius managed a smile.
“Let’s change the subject. Do you fancy any of these nice girls waiting on us?
Pick one for your bedfellow tonight.”

“Thanks, but I’ll leave early tomorrow to visit
Yaunis, and I don’t want to start out feeling jaded.”

“That’s wisdom, anyway.” Lartius clapped his
hands, and a eunuch came to them.
“Show Wulf where he’ll
sleep.”

At dawn Wulf’s party headed westward. They came to
where Yaunis kept his place, a busy village somewhat similar to the Tiergal
Wulf had known. Yaunis soberly heard Wulf’s report on the Cahena’s policy of
destruction.

“I never heard such stem measures,” vowed Yaunis.
“We settled here I don’t know how many lifetimes ago. How can we go wild, the
way she orders?”

“Ketriazar and Daris will go wild,” Wulf reminded
him. “So will the Djerwa.”

“But they’ve always been tent dwellers and
hunters,” said Yaunis. “I’ll have to call in my subchiefs and wise men and
women, hear what they say about this.”

“The Cahena thinks she’s the one to say, about
everything.”

“I’ll confer with my people and send my message to
Thrysdus.”

Wulf led his party back the way it had come. He
reported to the Cahena, who sat with Khalid beside her and tightened her lips
as she heard what Lartius and Yaunis had said.

“So they balk?” she snapped. “Weigh my orders
before they obey? Maybe I should go up there and do the destruction myself.”

“What if they rebelled?” suggested Wulf.

She tossed her head, stirring her black cloud of
hair.

“They wouldn’t dare. I’m their queen. I saved them
from the Moslems and I’ll save them again, in spite of their objections.” She
looked at Khalid. “Would you lead a force to tear them down?”

“I’d obey any command from you,” said Khalid.
bowing
.

“We’ll see,” she said. “Thank you for that news,
Wulf.”

He sought his own apartment. As he entered, Daphne
slipped in behind him. He closed and barred the door. She threw her arms around
him, pressed herself to him.

“Welcome home,” she whispered against his cheek.

Time went on. Bhakrann and his scouts took one
Moslem officer after another eastward to Hassan and brought back weapons and
horses and gold. Bhakrann said that Hassan’s line of forts neared completion
and that new swarms of Moslems gathered there.

“They look like another army of invasion,”
Bhakrann said in council.

“Invasion and plunder,” said Khalid from beside
the Cahena.
“If they find anything worth taking.”

“They won’t,” declared the Cahena. “I’ll see to
that.”

She told Wulf and Khalid and Mallul to stay while
the others left. Stooping above a flicker of fire in a corner of the room, she
whispered rhythmically. She strewed dust from an embroidered pouch on the fire,
which blazed up pale blue. Again she whispered. Finally she turned back toward
the three men.

“I don’t understand,” she said, almost
plaintively.

“You don’t hear your voices?” asked Wulf, and her
eyes glittered at him.

“I know where to turn for counsel,” she said, and
looked at Khalid, who made his graceful bow.

“I know what to do, and I’ll see that it’s done,”
she said. “Are you rested, Wulf? Then go to Ketriazar and Daris. Say that I
order them up yonder to Cirta, to see that it’s laid waste.”

“I’ll go tomorrow,” said Wulf. “I’ll take Susi and
Cham.”

Daphne slipped into Wulf’s room that night, barred
the door, and fairly leaped into his arms. Again she was a solace to him. She
left at
midnight
. At dawn Wulf gathered his party and rode away westward.

He found Ketriazar’s Medusi living in tents,
happily hunting deer and wild hogs. Ketriazar greeted the visitors with a
dinner of big snails stewed in highly seasoned olive oil. When Wulf repeated
the Cahena’s orders, Ketriazar smiled in relish.

“I’ll come with you to see Daris,” he said.

Daris’s people, too, had taken readily to a
tent-dwelling nomad life, and Daris chose his best cavalry squadrons to join
with those of Ketriazar. Almost two thousand strong, these forces rode
northward on a mission they seemed to relish in advance.

Back at Thrysdus, Wulf met Bhakrann. Bhakrann had
been busy returning the last of the captured Moslem officers to Hassan and
bringing back goods and gold for ransom. His first question puzzled Wulf:

“You’ve been out in the west. How are things? I
mean,
did you see any odd shapes or hear any odd noises?”

“Why no, nothing
like
that,” said Wulf.
“Nothing strange.”

Bhakrann shrugged. “Nothing strange in these
parts, either. That’s what’s strange about it. No appearances, voices, little
happenings out of the ordinary. Not even with the Cahena.”

“Not even a glimpse of Khro?” said Wulf, and
Bhakrann glared.

“Didn’t I tell you, don’t say that name?”

“Why not say it?” Wulf flung back. “I know it
means death. But I’m not afraid of death. I’ve been so close to death, time
after time, I could see the flash of hell’s flames. Death doesn’t bother me.
Let death come, any day and any hour.”

Bhakrann’s glare became a blank stare. “You must
be lost in your heart.”

“Don’t bother about my heart, old friend.”

He sat down in his apartment to drink wine. He was
drinking a considerable amount of wine these days. A diffident scratching at
the door, and he went to open it and in came Daphne.

She looked plump and pleasant, caught up in one of
the captured Moslem garments she liked. Wulf smiled down at her.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“What’s usually on my mind?” she asked back, and
flung the garment from her bare body. She was an opulently toothsome sight like
that. Wulf caught her in a hug so powerful that she gave a bubbling gasp.

Quickly, eagerly, they had each other. Wulf
wondered why he did not truly love Daphne for her gladness, her passionate
acceptance of him. He almost forgot the Cahena at the supreme moment with
Daphne — but not quite. The Cahena could never be forgotten.
Never
never.

Crops grew and farmers brought them in for trade.
Word came from Ketriazar about events at Cirta.

Lartius had protested, had resisted. He had
mustered warriors to face Ketriazar and Daris, and there had been a skirmish of
sorts. Two of Ketriazar’s Medusi killed, two of Daris’s Nefussa, and maybe
twenty of the Cirta force. Lartius had retreated up his height to go on the
defensive, and the men of the expedition had gleefully set fire to grain
fields, chopped down big orchards, had laid the land waste for miles around
Cirta. From there they had gone to seek Yaunis, but Yaunis and his people had
left their settlement to live in tents and gather what wild food they could.
Ketriazar and Daris had burned their houses and destroyed their crops, had done
the same thing elsewhere. The coastal territories in those parts, once
pleasantly fruitful, were becoming the desert the Cahena had commanded.

Djalout and Wulf talked about it.

“I can’t publicly challenge her plan,” said Djalout.
“I can only deplore it in private.”

“She’s trying the loyalty of her chieftains,” said
Wulf. “Surely she didn’t make such a move at the bidding of her spirit voices.”

“It was at the bidding of the very human voice of
Khalid.” Djalout stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Once we heard the echoes of
those who spoke to the Cahena. But things are becoming distressingly workaday —
dully logical, don’t you think?”

“Now that you mention it, yes,” said Wulf. “I’ve
missed
a strangeness
in the land, the air. The last really
extraordinary business was at that Tomb of the Christian Woman.”

“Where you destroyed that
Lamia
.”
Djalout nodded. “Has it occurred to you that her destruction may have had its
effect on all this land?”

“She was evil,” Wulf said. “She claimed to know
all about the Cahena, said she influenced the Cahena,
would
eventually see her defeated. I’m glad she’s gone.”

“Something’s gone with her.
All
sorts of strange somethings.
How shall we fare without them?”

“A lot of that depends on Hassan, gathering his new
forces,” said Wulf.

“He’ll come at us again,” said Djalout. “I don’t
pretend to hear prophesying voices, I only observe events. Meanwhile, the
Cahena acts on the advice of Khalid.”

“Do you approve of laying the land waste?” Wulf
asked him.