Riding the Serpent's Back (39 page)

Qobi did not want to watch, but it was expected of him so he stayed. He admired Yulou-ab-Te, and he hated to see him humiliated in this way, as more blows struck him across the body and head. It was true that Yulou-ab-Te was the village’s noblest warrior, but that was only because he had been fighting for so long that he had had time to accumulate his victories. He was so much slower now than when Qobi had first seen him, in his prime. His joints were stiff and painful, his reactions dulled, but he would never admit it. He was a fighter and would never stop – Qobi hated to see him stopped by someone else. What made it worse was that Edri-ab-Halahm had chosen him in the knowledge that he would lose: in that way tributes could be paid and honour spared.

Finally, Yulou-ab-Te lay bleeding on the floor. His eyes stared up at Sandos who loomed over him, club poised for the final blow, and perhaps for the first time they showed fear.

But then Sandos paused, as if reconsidering.

Qobi had not expected any mercy to be shown, or he would have warned the envoy against it.

Slowly, the envoy lowered his club, then tossed it aside and walked over to his cheering men.

A short time later, a grim-faced Edri-ab-Halahm told Sandos that the required tribute would be paid in full, and that he would pass word through his fellow leaders of the Morani world that they should do the same or see their most noble warriors humiliated in combat just as the great Yulou-ab-Te had been today.

Qobi translated and Envoy Sandos nodded in acceptance. “And what of the warrior, Yulou?” he asked, still condescending to show pity for the loser.

“He has devoted the rest of his life to Huipo,” Qobi said angrily. “And all of his family, too.”

~

Now, as Qobi finished his story, Monahl saw that even its retelling had made the former missionary angry. “What did you mean by that?” she asked.

“That night,” said Qobi, “after they had feasted in honour of the victor, Yulou-ab-Te – his hair turned instantly white by his shame – led his family out of this hall. He took them out on a trail that leads across the soda-flats to the Lake of Huipo, the fiercest, most hostile lake of this region. By dedicating his own and his family’s life to their god, Yulou-ab-Te devoted them to this lake, the home of these people’s god. The mud there is so caustic that the merest touch of it will burn the skin from your body, even the gases that rise from the mud might burn the lining from your throat. Yulou-ab-Te led his family out across the soda-flats of the Lake of Huipo, to finish the task Sandos had so dishonoured him by not completing that day.”

Monahl glanced up at the suspended effigies of Huipo, with their garish red paint representing their flensed bodies. She tried not to think about how the defeated warrior’s family had chosen to die. “But the Morani still pledged their support to Lachlan?” she asked.

Qobi nodded. “Sandos earned that by his victory. But by sparing Yulou-ab-Te, and so shaming him in the eyes of his people, he has also earned their lasting hatred. The Morani pay their debts of honour, Kunuk, but through Sandos’ ignorance of their ways they also share Yulou-ab-Te’s shame. Why do you think they spare you? They know that you are one of Lachlan’s enemies. If he had won their support in an honourable manner, then you would be dead by now. As it is, only those Moranis in his service will fight for him, and they will be his finest soldiers. My neighbours here will do no more than is required of them by honour.”

Monahl returned to her food. It was clearly hopeless to try to persuade these people against their reluctant support for Lachlan. She was grateful, at least, that her presence seemed to amuse them, and that they had spared her life.

As she finished eating, she noticed that the men were watching her closely and she wondered what was expected of her.

Qobi bowed his head towards her. “Edri-ab-Halahm wishes me to acknowledge your gift,” he said.

“Gift?” said Monahl, frantically trying to work out what the former missionary meant. Then she saw him nodding towards the long platter of meat from which they had been eating.

“I assured him that it was a most nutritious tribute to his hospitality.”

Her horse. They had just eaten Monahl’s horse.

Red Simeni had always known it was reckless to go on as he did. But he did. Oh, how he did.

And now, after so long, his time of reckoning was close. By this time tomorrow he would almost certainly be dead.

He had known from the start that this madness could only end in tragedy, yet he had never relented. The sense of risk had added a frisson of excitement, a rush of adrenalin.

Now, as he walked through the palace with the Principal, he knew that it would soon be over.

Tonight, Pieter would know everything, for tonight he was going to make Estelle confess.

Red tried not to think about all the opportunities to make things different he had spurned in his headlong rush into madness. If only he had been stronger. If only he had made the right decisions at the right times.

If only he had gone with Kester when she had come for him those few weeks before.

~

Three weeks earlier, Red had been lying in bed savouring the memory of Estelle’s visit during the night. “Pieter is asleep,” she had said, dropping her maid’s coat to the floor. “I couldn’t settle.”

Later, she lay slumped across him, still awake. She would have to leave soon, he knew. Return to her husband. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he said. He reached up and stroked the back of her neck. “I wish you were mine and mine alone.” It was hard not to be jealous of Pieter.

“I love you,” said Estelle. “Isn’t that enough?” She hesitated, then went on. “I would never have come to Totenang if it was not for you – did you know that? I argued furiously with my parents, but they were more concerned with the politics than with what I wanted. When you first presented yourself to them and they told you I was away in the city saying my farewells to friends, they were lying: I was hiding outside the window, listening to you showing off how clever you were with the language.” She smiled fondly at the memory. “I couldn’t believe you were real: I decided then that if all western men were like you I would be a fool not to go to Totenang. I discovered too late that they were not, and that it was you I should have been with. But I made my choice, Red. I pay the price – not even a very high one – of being the wife of a man who would give me everything for my pretence of love, so that I can be with the one I do love. You have to pay a part of that price too, Red.”

He had shrugged and made some casual joke that made her smile. He was rarely more content than when they were alone like this.

“I’ll do whatever you say,” he said.

“Good. Now lie still and shut up.” He had done exactly that.

The next morning he was roused from his reverie by a knock at his door. He glanced around the room to make sure there was no sign of his night-time visitor, then rolled onto one side and said, “Yes?”

The door opened and Hellia came in.

He moved over to make room for her – he had most of the morning free, after all. “You don’t usually knock, Helly. What’s the matter?” He studied her more closely. She was upset for some reason – he searched his memory to find an explanation, but came up with nothing. “Come here, Helly,” he said, patting the bed. “Come and tell me what’s wrong.”

She didn’t move from where she stood. “I’m not stupid,” she said – Red decided this was not the time to debate the point – “and I’m not getting into that bed of yours just because you have a couple of free hours.”

Red glanced down at the rug on the floor and then back at Hellia, his eyebrows raised. If not the bed, then perhaps...?

She shook her head. “No, Red. I’ve decided: we’re done. I know what you’re up to and I’ve had enough.”

Red studied her more closely now. “‘Up to’?” he said. “I...”

“You and
her
,” said Hellia. “You’re a fool if you don’t know that people are talking about the two of you. It’s not even as if you try to hide what you’re up to.”

“I don’t know what you can mean,” said Red. “You know how much I like you, Helly.”

“Me and Jess Compney, yes.”

Jess! She was talking about Jess. “We only had a drink together, Helly.”

“
And
some,” said Hellia. “It’s no good. I know what you’re like, Red Simeni, and you’re not going to make me change my mind.”

After he had spent twenty minutes persuading her otherwise, he stretched lazily, hands folded behind his head. “Was there some reason why you came to see me?” he asked. “Or was it just to tell me I couldn’t convince you we weren’t finished?”

She had been lying beside him, her skirts pulled up around her midriff. Now, she sat up suddenly, angry again. “Yes there was, you bastard. You made me forget!”

She reached into a pocket and pulled out a fold of paper. She twisted and hurled the note in his face. “And I’m not your blooming messenger girl, either. Okay?”

Red sat up and watched her storm out of his room in her most theatrical manner.

He looked down at the note where it lay on a damp patch of sheet. Folded twice and stuck down with gum. The careful writing on the front – ‘
Red Simeni. Private
.’ – was not Estelle’s, as he had expected. Curious, he picked it up and opened it.

Red Simeni, it read. You don’t know me, but I have to see you. I am staying at Sun’s Passage Inn, by the docks, for two nights before heading south. If you won’t reconsider your refusal to join Chi, then at least come and see me because I am, your sister, Kester Etheram of Jaspera.

~

She was a purposeful-looking woman, with dark, braided hair and the wiry, resilient body; a doer, rather than someone like Red who preferred thinking and scheming to action. Red soon learnt that she was as straightforward and direct in behaviour as she was in looks.

He let her buy him a drink, but said nothing after his first introduction.

“Grenny told me you refused to come,” she said. “But Chi needs us. Are you aware that he is the father of Lachlan Pas? I don’t know exactly what sort of trouble Chi is in, but I do know that Lachlan has already tried to have him killed – Lachlan’s a maniac. You have to join us.”

“You shouldn’t say those kinds of things here,” said Red. “You’ll end up on a spike at the city limits.”

“You can live under such a regime? You can work for it?”

Red shrugged, recalling Pieter’s justifications. “Whatever decisions a leader takes, people are going to suffer. Politics is the art of choosing who should suffer so that the majority can thrive. Your Chi, if he’s in any position of power, must make the same kinds of decisions all the time.”

“What do you mean: ‘your Chi’? He’s your brother. I’m your sister.”

Red shook his head. “My mother and father are dead,” he said. “My father was a great soldier – he died in battle when I was a child. My mother died in childbirth. I have no brothers or sisters. I met Chi several years ago and, just like everyone else before him, he dumped me. I owe him nothing, and I owe you nothing, except a drink in return for the one you bought me.”

“Keep your drink,” said Kester, turning away from him.

“Look, you have to understand,” said Red, suddenly feeling that he should not let her go without an explanation. “I have lived in Totenang all my life. I’ve studied and worked hard and now I have a good position in the Principal’s household. I have friends, reputation, a woman I love...and you expect me to abandon it all on the word of a ragged urchin and a woman I’ve never met who claims to be my sister!”

Kester slumped. “That maid?” she said. “The one who took my note?”

Red shrugged – let her think that if she wanted.

Kester took his hand and squeezed it between her two. Red tried not to wince, but she had a powerful grip. “It’s not just my word,” said Kester. “If you’re a brother of mine then you’ll know in your heart that the influence of the Embodied Church is malign and its regime brutal. Somewhere deep down you must
know
that I’m your sister.”

He shook his head. “I can see quite clearly that you are a sister to Chichéne Pas, if I remember him as well as I think I do. But as I say: I am an orphan. No parents, no brothers or sisters. I had to start all over again. Don’t ask me to throw everything away over some obscure political argument.”

“Ask Senator Carmen, or Gabby Alder, or Ehnan Scine,” said Kester sadly. “If they were still alive they’d tell you the debate is not at all obscure.”

Before she went, she said to him, “If you won’t join me, then I think you should seriously consider leaving Totenang. There’s going to be trouble and as your sister I don’t want you to get hurt. Will you think about it?”

Red smiled and nodded. “Of course, I’ll think about it,” he assured her, thinking only how she had completely ignored all the arguments he had given her for staying. “And then I’ll get back to work.”

~

He could have stopped the affair at any time. He was
sure
he could have stopped it. If only he had taken the warning signs more seriously. He had always known Pieter was a dangerous man to cross.

A week ago, Red and Pieter had been strolling back through the Garden of Statues after their daily visit to the temple. “Doesn’t it make you feel pure at heart that you have rediscovered the glories of worship?” asked the Principal, breathing the fresh morning air deeply.

Red nodded seriously. “Oh yes, sir,” he said. “A bowel movement and a prayer is my motto. Absolutely the best way to start the day.”

Pieter laughed. There was nothing at all pious about his newfound devotion, it was all for public consumption. He had been a faithful man even before the treaty with Tule, but his religion had been a more private affair. Now, along with this daily ritual, he had taken to littering his proclamations with references to the cyclical texts, many of which he tried out on Red beforehand.

The Principal paused to glance back at his entourage. With a wave of his hand he indicated that they should continue to the palace. Then he took Red’s arm and turned down one of the pathways through the statues. “Come with me,” he said. “I want to talk.”