Red Country (14 page)

I did not bother with the water, I did not bother with speech. I thought it at him, in such a frenzy of haste that it tumbled out in one scalding mental flood.

When it was done, I stood dazedly, too drained to move or speak. All I could do, hopefully as a foundered watch-dog, was stare.

His brows had leveled, his face set; but in his eyes, absently, distantly, the imps still danced. After a moment he said with total incongruity, “Oh, dear. Tck, tck. Oh, dear-oh-dear.”

I could not help myself. I collapsed. When the hiccups began, he glanced at me and grinned anew.

“Better than swearing, which this is already past. Come on. That mare's in dire need of watering. So is mine.” He glanced at the fire. “That can burn itself out.” For all his flippancy, he could not have told me more clearly how serious he judged my news.

We found water back in a pool along the Kemreswash. When all four of us had been moisturized, he sat me down in a huge old hisgal tree's shade and said, “Now. . . .”

His questions were rapid, incisive, astute and plentiful. After the last he stared a long time at the sand. Then he stirred, lifted his head, and gave me that gay, careless smile.

“I've told Zam,” he said. “He agrees with me. With you, too. It has to be stopped. But fast.”

I came back, “But how?”

“Reason first,” he said breezily. “Not my strongpoint, but I'm here and Zam's not. There's talk about this wall-flattening, luckily. Else I'd be halfway to Eskan Helken myself. But now, I'll visit your Kastir and try to curl him up with my ‘eloquent tongue.'” Screwing up his face, he flicked out the said tongue in such perfect mimicry of a big wyresparyx lizard that I had to collapse in mirth.

“That's better.” He grinned in sympathy. “I can't do with tragedy queens, even beautiful ones.” I felt my eyes pop. “Lucky you're married and I'm virtuous, or I'd try to cut Zam out. No, don't paw dirt at me.” As if I were an irate Holmyx cow. “When I'm provoked it's worse.”

“Provoked? What do you—” Then I remembered the rest. “What do you mean, cut Zam out? How do you—have you—” I stopped, feeling my very ears go scarlet. Twins, twin brothers, reading thoughts from birth. If they heard other people's thoughts, how could they not share their own?

“Zam is
nothing
to me.” In heat and extremity an echo of that old fury was more than impulse enough. What would he have said, what would he have thought about me? “Oh! How dared he—how dared you—! Oh, you—you—”

His brows snapped down. His laugh was abrasive as rock. “What, you think my brother wasted his time thinking—let alone blabbing—about you?”

“You damn—!” I clawed for traction to rise and caught a handful of pebbles and sand in my fingers, too good a weapon to miss. I hurled it broadside in his face.

Sand and pebbles exploded every which way except back on me. The white flare that scattered them half-blinded me but I caught his lizard-quick roll and lunge before his voice snapped, “Whoa!”

And it was another Command.

“Now don't start foaming and swearing all over again.” He was still smiling, that impish careless, reckless grin, but now there was a diamond-glitter in the mirth. “Told you, I'm worse when I'm provoked.”

It was doubtless more than easy to read my face. His brows quirked up, and then down. “Ah, princess, I warned you. Don't tempt me.” The grin flicked. “Temptation's the one thing I can't withstand.”

At whatever my face said he laughed outright. “Alas, alas, that I lack the time to wait you out, like Zam. If patience
was
what I do.” He held both hands up. “So I'll eat humble pie and release you. As soon as you say you won't do that again.” The brows rose and fell. The wicked smile gleamed. “It's too damn hot for any Arts. Let alone Axynbrarve.”

Then he glanced full in my eyes and the glitter momentarily vanished. “And I'll tell you, once for all, no word-of-an-aedr, but the truth. Zam never said anything about you. To anyone.” For an instant the look was a frown, starkly redoubtable. “How could you think he would?”

His eyes met mine again and held. I had no way to dodge or to resist that air-clear, too percipient gaze.

His mouth relaxed. The amusement revived, a dance like water in the sun. “And you know he wouldn't. Yes, you do know.” He laughed out loud. “But ah, princess, you boil over so beautifully. If I only had more time!”

The Command undid. He had twitched half sideways in the sand, knit ready as a wild thing for any attack, but he held a hand up. “Truce?”

“Oh, you—”

“You don't have time to annihilate me either, princess. Remember? Hethria?”

My face must have replied. When I sank back, he got swiftly to his feet and held out a hand to pull me up.

“Wipe your face. Dust your habit.” Wickedly, he primmed his mouth. “And don't expect me to help with that.”

He was already turning to his horse. Silently fuming, realizing it was true, provocation only made him worse, I went to Vestar. And suddenly recalled the full sense of his plan.

“Wait! How—when—Are you sure you should do this, Kastir's not silly, what if he—”

“Be easy, there's no risk in seeing the man, he wouldn't know an aedr from an elond and couldn't hurt me if he did. We're invulnerable, ma'am, don't you know that?” He was laughing at me again, swaggering with a small boy's impudent innocence. “You ought to, didn't you prove it with Zam? Don't goggle, it's too much even for your looks. You turn into a beautiful frog. And don't choke. If I have to beat you on the back, who knows what else might chance?”

I was spluttering helplessly, reduced yet again to idiocy, aware that his foolery hid a grain of truth. He rolled up his eyes.

“No, I shan't ‘compel' your Kastir to change his mind. Mind's Math too, though you may not believe it, and tampering is not yet a Must.”

He considered me, head on one side. “I get this from Fengthira,” he informed me. “Like my Tck, tck. Zam gets nothing but his stubbornness. Now, you should go back first. Too many questions if we ride in together. Don't want to muddle your beloved's mind. You saw the fire and decided to come back, before—er—it put smuts on your nose.”

My hand flew to the feature in question, and he laughed aloud. “Imsar Math, why did you have to meet Zam first? I'd have teased you to perdition.” Without offer or request for permission, he tossed me up on my mare. “I'll be along presently. Now, charge!”

I still have a vivid image of him grinning up at me, his blue robe sharp against the gnarled gray hisgal trunk and the dun tussocks and umber water and his sweaty gray mare. Into that background his untidy brown hair and sunburnt face seemed to merge like all desert creatures' camouflage, so the brilliant gray eyes stood out more strikingly still. He was a part, but also the essence of Hethria.

Then he pushed Vestar's shoulder. At the last second it became a quick grip on my knee, and his eyes were deadly serious. “Hethria's your debtor, Sellithar. And don't worry. It will be all right.”

* * * * * *

He delayed his foray till late afternoon, by which time I was in a perfect dither and wishing fervently that he would not come at all. Surely it would have been wiser simply to sit on the Kemreswash and change Kastir's mind? This was a superfluous risk, a gamble, half Hethria's protection cast in jeopardy, Kastir's reaction was unpredictable but not to be underestimated. . . . Then from the window of our lodging in Penhazad keep I saw him, a solitary figure riding blithely up out of Hethria, a gay, careless carriage that was unmistakable, cantering to the gate as if he owned that as well.

My heart did a somersault. I turned hastily from the window, striving to compose my face, wondering how he would come at us, but somehow in no doubt that he would.

Kastir was tinkering with a cartage schedule—the Gebros blocks would be hauled straight off to the site of the dam—and was pleased by my sudden interest. In truth it was all at random, I scarcely knew what I said. Thankfully, it was he who first looked up at the ring of quick, decisive feet on the outer steps.

“Who is that? But I daresay Ardis will take care of—what?” For his watchdog secretary in the other room had failed to take care of anything. The door opened and had shut before Kastir's mouth did, and Zem was saying, “Governor Kastir, I hear you mean to colonize Hethria. But you haven't asked Hethria's opinion yet.”

Kastir met this sudden invasion with remarkable aplomb. He looked across the table and enquired stolidly, “Who are you?”

Zem was standing in the center of the room. Not at all like an underling, who dares not ask for a chair, nor a lord, whose dignity will suffer if he is not offered one, but lightly, balanced like a fighter poised to spring. His turban was down round his neck. He was grinning slightly, absently, and the gray eyes were vividly alive. Like Moriana, I thought, he relished a fight.

“I? I'm warden of the Hethrian roads,” he said.

“You represent the Sathellin?” Zem shook his head. “The—er—Hethox?”

“No.” Zem's voice acquired a certain ring. “I represent Hethria.”

Kastir frowned and sat back, abandoning his schedule. “I was not aware that Hethria had a ruler. Or—any form or government.”

“Nor does it, governor.” If Zem still smiled, it did not touch his voice. “What it has is guardians.”

Kastir's eyes grew expressionless. “I see.”

Zem hooked up a chair with his toe, gave me a quick bow, said, “Your permission, ma'am,” planted himself on the chair and his elbow on the table, and charged.

They were all my former arguments, but they came with force and pungency, the authority of intimate knowledge and a battering ram of figures to drive them home. If reason isn't his strongpoint, I thought as I listened to the play of this dazzling verbal artillery, I should like to know what is.

“So you see,” he concluded, “not only does Hethria have an opinion, it has a case. You are a disciple of reason, governor. I trust the case gives you reason to cancel this project while the expenses are still low enough to recoup. The longer it runs, the more money you'll sink. If you go beyond completion, you won't only miss a return, you'll sink yourself along with Hethria—and quite likely Estar as well.”

“I see,” Kastir repeated. But his next question was right off the subject. “How did you get in here?”

Zem grinned. “I have my ways.”

Kastir frowned. “Perhaps you know the gate guards. They come from the garrison. But my bodyguard? Not to mention my two receivers, and my secretary. My private secretary, who has orders to admit no one without at least an appointment. How did you. . . .”

With a swirl of blue robe Zem rose and went lightly to the door. It opened to reveal Ardis seated at his desk, pen poised in midair, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

“Your bodyguard,” he said cheerfully, “are doing the same. They'll go on doing it till I break the Command.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Command. I'm guardian of Hethria, governor. I'm an aedr as well.”

Kastir surprised us both, I think. His eyes sharpened with interest, and he said, “Come back a moment, please. Sit down.”

Zem's head cocked. Then he closed the door and strolled back to his chair. “I wouldn't have gone—” The gaiety held a certain silkiness “—till I had what I came for, governor.”

Kastir ignored this. He was studying Zem as I had seen him study a strange plant or a new butterfly. “An aedr,” he said.

“I see you read your lore. And tend to believe it, too.”

“One is never wise to ignore history,” Kastir was still watching him, “though one may reserve judgment on it. Tell me—can you really read my mind?”

Zem chuckled, cocked his head again and spoke with Kastir's very intonations. “No harm to ask, foolish to miss such a golden oppo
rtunity of conclusive proof or refutation, there may be something in it and if so the case certainly merits further study, I think I shall . . .”

“The stories are true.” Now the laughter danced in his eyes. “True as they are about Hawge.”

“The dragon?” Kastir was moved to open scorn. “There never was such a thing. The experts have proved conclusively that the bones are those of a dinosaur.”

Zem gave a snort of glee. “Try telling Beryx that a dinosaur can spit fire and fly!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He killed it, governor. The aedric way.” The laughter remained, but it had grown bleak, chillingly significant. “With his mind.”

Kastir was silent. Zem nodded.

“Your deductions are right. I do share the powers. I could kill you—if I had to. There are simpler ways, with a man. Yes, I just change your mind. I can do it by Chake, a direct Command. You have a chance to resist that. If I use Fengthir, the hidden compulsion, you'll never even know.”

The silence deepened. Zem said lightly, “No, perhaps, to change your mind might only have you replaced and would not change Estar's. I would have to take stronger measures, yes. It might come to killing in the end, certainly, but I'd prefer not. I dislike having to destroy innocent men doing no more than they're told. I would prefer, governor, to convince you by reason. Then you can convince Estar for us both.”

Though he still smiled, there was steel beneath. “Not a good idea to call for help, governor, even in the least dramatic way. Your zealous minions would only join your—er—two receivers and your private secretary. Nor would I suggest treachery. You could agree to all my demands, then arrange to have me murdered before I leave Penhazad—” A faint leaden tinge entered Kastir's cheeks “—but I also have the aedric sights. That door behind you leads to your bedroom. The bed has green and yellow hangings, there's a greenish carpet on the floor. Quarred work, I should say. . . . And I can see behind me too.”