Reave the Just and Other Tales (48 page)

Yet now they stood against the traveler and my nag, their pikes crossed and clenched between them in righteous trepidation.

“Halt!” one of them called in a voice which may have quavered.

The stranger sat my mount with an air of authority. “What is the meaning of this indignity, fellow?” he responded. “I am Sher Urmeny. Benedic is my home. I am known here. Admit me at once.”

I was near enough to hear him. Nevertheless I believed for a moment that I had mistaken his reply. He could not be such a fool. I was indeed known here. In another moment, he would be answered with mockery.

But he was not. “Still you must halt, Sher,” the guard retorted. His voice gathered the force of duty. “We are commanded to apprehend you. Your offenses have displeased the Thal, Sher Urmeny, and you must appear before his judgment.”

For the space of several heartbeats, I stopped in dismay. The pikeman had called the stranger
by my name?
He could not see the truth? I felt as though the hard dirt and stone of the roadway had lurched beneath my feet, causing me to totter for balance. I beheld my usurper and the guards, the gates and the wall, distinctly in the heavy light of the sun—and yet they appeared to dissipate as I stared, sacrificing their substance to moonshine and guesswork. I almost expected them to become mist and disappear before me—mirages cast by heat and thirst, and by nothing else that I had ever known.

Nevertheless the man on my nag dared disdain. “This is unjust,” he countered sternly. “I am ignorant of any offense. Why is the Thal displeased?”

His mode of address daunted the guards. Attempting hauteur, the one who spoke achieved mere surliness as he stated, “If you are ignorant of your own actions, Sher Urmeny, you will be reminded of them before the Thal. Dismount, and we will convey you there.”

Without warning, I staggered out of my immobility. This was intolerable! That man claimed my name—and the Thal pikemen
acknowledged
him? Did they mean to visit the Thal’s—and Sher Abener’s—
displeasure
at me upon his demented head? His madness had overtaken them as well as himself.

“Fools!” I cried. My parched throat permitted only a harsh croak, but I gave it what vehemence I could. “Has the sun baked your wits? Have you been bedazzled?” Unsteadily I hastened forward. “I am Sher Urmeny. I am
known
to you!

“
That
is a madman.” My arm trembled with indignation as I indicated the traveler. “I am clad in sweat and grime, and close to death from thirst, but
I am known to you!
”

The man I had rescued paid no heed to my protest—indeed, he appeared not to have heard it—but both guards turned from him to regard me balefully. The one who had yet spoken addressed me.

“Have a care, fellow,” he pronounced. “This man has been apprehended, it’s true—but he’s no wandering caitiff to be insulted by the likes of you. He is a Sher of Benedic, and holds a respected place among us. Be off, or we will cast you to the outer middens. Seek alms elsewhere. Beggary and destitution are unwelcome here.”

This reproof shocked me so entirely that I halted my advance and closed my mouth. Because I could not comprehend what I had just heard, my mind shied from it. Staring aghast at the guards and my pretended self, I thought of nothing except the surprising revelation that Benedic repulsed the ruined and the poor. I had not known our Thal ruled so. I had always conveniently believed that the gates and opportunities of the municipality were open to all who came this way.

By some means I could not explain, the stranger appeared to solidify himself against the guards. His tone assumed an ominous hue—a color of warning. “Nevertheless,” he vowed, “I will not dismount for men who perform such duties. Attend me to the Thal if you must, and I will answer his displeasure. But do not pretend that you compel me.”

Seconding its rider, the nag arched its neck regally and stamped its hooves as though the decrepit, broken-gaited beast had been bred to battle.

Although they sneered at me, the guards blanched visibly before my usurper. They must truly have credited his assumption of my name. Together, they bowed. “As you wish, Sher Urmeny,” said the first, nearly fawning where but a moment earlier he had been peremptory. “If you will ride between us, we will escort you.”

The man inclined his head in condescension. Proud as a suzerain, he rode my mount through the gates into Benedic. Quickly the guards took their places at his sides, but he ignored them.

They appeared to forget me at once when they turned their backs—why, I did not know. Yet forget me they did. Although they had warned me away, they did not close the gates against me, or give any sign that they noticed me as I followed.

The lunacy of my circumstances frightened me more with every stride. Bloody of foot and broiled of body, I lurched after my horse and my name, as lost in what transpired as this eerie traveler had been in the lbendwey’s spate. I had no recourse but to follow, however. My need for a mount remained unaltered. And I had received a blow which seemed to compel me.

That the stranger claimed my name was merely madness. He did not know the peril it conveyed. But that the guards who knew me
believed
him—ah, that was the stuff of dismay and nightmares. It shook me to my heart, chiefly because it seemed to remove me from existence, depriving me of substance entirely, but also because it implied theurgy, a glamour to confuse the senses of the pikemen. And theurgy could not stand against necromancy.

If the stranger’s power to assume my place held, he would suffer harm meant for me.

I found that this appalled me as much as the loss of my identity. It reft me, not only of my name, but of my value to myself.
I
had refused Sher Abener’s demands and incurred his wrath—I and no other. If the consequences fell upon the stranger in my stead, my refusal was diminished to the point of triviality.

Even Tep Longeur’s plight had not so thoroughly effaced the worth of my life.

Despite my helplessness to direct events, I must somehow persuade my usurper to give over his charade before he reached the Thal’s estate, or he would find himself at Sher Abener’s mercy.

Fearing each step I took, I clutched at any hope I could conceive. Perhaps my usurper’s glamour would fail before more sophisticated witnesses. If we encountered someone acquainted with theurgy, that individual might pierce and dispel the confusion. Then my name would be restored to me—and I might be able to reacquire my horse.

Thus we passed along the benign avenues of Benedic, the roadways and prospects I had loved throughout my life—he on my mount, the Thal’s guards beside him, and I wincing behind them, so weary and worried that I could hardly keep my feet out of the nag’s droppings.

At first, we passed only a few streetsweepers, a day laborer or two, the occasional artisan abroad in the municipality to procure or fulfill a commission—no one who might meet my need. Soon, however, I saw ahead of us a new test of the stranger’s power to displace me. A sterner test—or so I imagined hopefully. Along the avenue came an open phaeton bearing none other than Sher Obalist and his lady. They knew me well, for they were my neighbors. Their grounds edged mine on the less propitious side of my villa. And they employed a theurgist to entertain, advise, and defend them. Surely they were familiar with the arts and actions of theurgy.

From their route and the time of day, I concluded that Sher and Sharna Obalist were homeward bound from one of the racing festivals at which our Thal celebrated his latest steeds. If so, it was apparent that Sher Abener’s enmity and my flight had not altered ordinary events in Benedic by so much as a shrug.

I reacted without forethought. To the extent that I was still capable of sane intent, I considered that I might help penetrate the stranger’s glamour if I acted promptly. With as much dignity as my damaged feet permitted, I rushed ahead of my usurper and his escort in order to accost Sher Obalist.

His garb and that of his lady confirmed that they had indeed come from the races. On another occasion, I might have taken a moment to compare his raiment with mine—and to congratulate myself upon my better taste. Now, however, the contrast was all to his advantage. Sweat-and road-stained as I was, I compared unfavorably with his grooms and lackeys.

Plump and portentous, he peered out from his phaeton as though he were uncertain of what he saw. Unfortunately, his regard was fixed, not on me, but on the stranger. He might have been unaware of my presence.

Bowing politely to my usurper, he pronounced, “Sher Urmeny,” like a man who felt constrained to deliver unpleasant tidings.

The stranger bowed in response, but did not speak.

I made an attempt to intrude between them. “Sher Obalist.” Although dust and thirst threatened to choke me, I forced words from my abused throat. “Sharna. You must help me.”

His lady noticed me before he did. Her gaze dropped to mine, and at once a look of fright disturbed her lacquered countenance. Around her eyes and mouth, the paints and polishes which concealed her years cracked as she shrank back into her cushions. One hand clutched urgently at her husband’s forearm.

The Sher turned a perplexed frown toward her. He seemed unable to see me until she pointed me out. When he had followed her trembling indication to its target, however, he noticed me at last.

His expression became a scowl of disapproval. Jowls quivering, he commanded, “Stand aside, fellow. You have come between your betters. Here is Sher Urmeny, and I must speak with him.”

Even in my unbalanced state, I observed that he did not refer to me as “my esteemed neighbor, Sher Urmeny,” as was his custom. No doubt his familiar fulsomeness had been cooled by the knowledge that the Thal was displeased with me.

“No, Sher Obalist,” I insisted with more ardor than he was accustomed to hearing. “You must speak with
me. I
am Sher Urmeny.

“Gaze upon me closely,” I urged. “You will see that I speak truth. That man”—I flung an unsteady accusation toward the stranger—“is a charlatan who seeks to impose upon your credulity.” Certainly he failed to resemble me in any particular.

When the Sher did not respond—did not in fact appear to comprehend what I said—I appealed to his lady, with whom I had often flirted out of courtesy, dissembling personal distaste. “Sharna. You know me. You know—”

My supplication went no farther. Without warning, one of the guards dealt me a cuff to the ear, which caused me to stumble against Sher Obalist’s near horse and then fall, tumbling like refuse to the roadway.

I did not lose consciousness, despite my exhaustion. I heard what passed above my head. To some extent, I retained my sight. However, the capacity for movement deserted me entirely. If my neighbor’s horses had stepped on me, I might have been unable to cry out.

Sher Obalist’s voice reached me through a clamor of pain. “Such a fellow has no place here,” he informed the guards indignantly. “He must be ejected from Benedic.”

“He will be, Sher,” one of them answered. “We will return for him when we have conveyed Sher Urmeny to the Thal.”

“See that you do so.”

“You wished to speak to me,” the stranger interjected mildly. He betrayed no interest in my condition.

Disconcerted, Sher Obalist huffed, “Indeed. So I did.” Apparently he could not at first recall what he had intended to say. “That is”—with an effort he mastered the disturbance of his thoughts—“I meant to express my concern, and that of my lady.” He patted the Sharna’s hand as though to console her. “The Thal’s displeasure is severe. It must be appeased. But I trust that you will answer the difficulty for the benefit of us all.” His tone suggested the reverse of this pious sentiment. “And indeed of all Benedic,” he concluded portentously.

I wished to inquire, And how shall I accomplish this miracle of resolution? By necromancy? However, my throat and tongue declined to obey me.

“Fear nothing,” my usurper responded. His confidence was pleasant to hear. “I will repay my debts.”

“Then I will wish you good fortune, Sher Urmeny,” said my neighbor. His relief was evident. Doubtless he was pleased that he had found means to break off the exchange before the pretender on my nag thought to request his support or assistance. At his command, the phaeton rolled into motion.

The supposed Sher Urmeny and his guards resumed their progress toward the Thal’s estate. I was left alone and derelict in the road, still unable to shift my limbs or raise my head.

For a moment or two, I could not imagine why I should trouble to rise. The stranger’s glamour sufficed to baffle even experienced observation. Wrapped in mystification, he proposed to replace me before the Thal—and Sher Abener. Well and good. I would be spared the Thal’s displeasure—and Tep Longeur’s doom.

In other ways, my continued endurance from this day to the next had become purely conjectural. I had not the smallest idea how I might achieve it. But even if I perished of thirst or exposure before the wounds on my feet turned to putrefaction, I would not go to my death with Sher Abener’s grasp upon my soul.

While the guard’s blow still throbbed in my head, I was content. As the pain receded, however, images of Tep Longeur intruded on my thoughts. In memory, I saw him turn a gaze tormented by horror and disgust toward my ineffectuality. Again I heard him say,
Urmeny, it’s your place to help us.

He had addressed his appeal to me, not to the impostor in my place.

Here again, I found that my usurper had diminished me grievously. He had imposed himself between me and my own actions. I did not suffer the possession Tep Longeur experienced. Nevertheless I could no longer choose what I did—or what was done in my name. I could only watch while another Sher Urmeny made choices and accepted hazards which appalled me.

To be so entirely deprived of myself filled me with a horror and chagrin which compelled me to my feet. Groaning, I pried my battered flesh from the roadway and stumbled after the stranger. The matter had become more urgent to me than my simple need for a mount. I had grown desperate to recover my name.