Seeker (31 page)

"So she went to the holy island. She stood before the Community of the Nomana and offered them the rest of her life. And they did not want her. They sent her away."

"Ah," said Blaze, sighing a long sigh.

"What could she do? As she left the holy island, rain was falling, and the dark days were returning. This time the darkness was so profound that she no longer knew where she went or why. All she wanted to do was die, and cause no more pain to those who loved her. So she never went home. She walked down the road in the rain, the road that led farther away from home, so that the ones who loved her would not be cursed by her darkness. And somewhere down that road, near a roadside hostel, she met two small soaking children, who told her they were running away. So she said, Could she run away with them? They said yes she could, and hand in hand they ran away together. They ran back to the hostel, where it was dry, and where their father was waiting. He was grateful to her for returning his children to him, and seeing that she was only a poor peasant woman, he asked her if she was seeking employment. He was a widower. He needed a nursemaid for the children.

"She thought to herself, why not? If it made the children happy to play with her, why shouldn't she? So she became a nursemaid. Then, as they grew a little older, a governess. And then a wife. Why not? If it made their father happy to love her, why shouldn't she let him? There was nothing else before her, except the darkness."

She turned again to rest her eyes on Blaze.

"Another governess came. My husband liked her, as he had once liked me. So you see, I was not required any more."

"May I ask your name?"

"My name is Mercy. But I'm the one in need of Mercy. We live to see our names mock us. What do they call you, Noma?"

"I am Blaze of Justice."

"And do you blaze with justice? Do you burn to make all things right?"

Blaze looked over towards Similin and saw that he was awake now and listening.

"Yes," he said.

It was time to be on the move again, so they said no more. They rose and took to the road and walked on all through the long hot afternoon and were close to the city of Radiance by the early evening. Similin now confided in Blaze.

"I can get you into the city on my papers. But not her as well."

"What will happen to her?"

"She has a husband. She can ask for him."

"Her husband no longer wants her. We must look after her."

"Don't concern yourselves about me," said Mercy, seeing that they were speaking about her.

"Do you have any other friends in the city?"

"Perhaps. It doesn't matter."

As they crossed the boundary into the city, they were accosted by the border police. The secretary showed his papers, which had the effect of making the officers respectful. He explained that Blaze was accompanying him on business for the king. The officers then issued Blaze papers of his own.

"And this lady," said Blaze, turning round to indicate Mercy—but she was no longer there. Nearby stood a grove of trees. He caught a flicker of white, running among the trunks in the twilight shadows. Then she was gone.

"Stupid," said Similin.

"What lady?" said the policeman.

"It's of no importance," said Similin. "We've no time to waste. Thank you, Officer. We're on the king's business."

He strode firmly away down the road into the city, with Blaze at his side. Blaze spoke to him in an undertone.

"What about the beautiful lady?"

"She left us of her own free will."

"Will she be happy? I want her to be happy."

"I don't think she's a happy sort of person."

"No. She's sad."

Similin knew he must move Blaze's attention away from their runaway companion.

"We'll sleep in my quarters tonight. Tomorrow I'll show you the way to be the noblest warrior of them all."

"Ah! I'm to be a Noble Warrior!"

He spoke with eagerness.

"You're still willing?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Even if it means you have to give your life?"

"Of course! What else do I have to give?"

Similin was satisfied. His plan was back on course. All he needed now was the final act of will. Once Blaze was in the chair and the charging process had begun, there could be no turning back.

Silently to his mistress he said,
Am I not deserving?

W
HEN THE SERVANTS OPENED THE GATES OF
C
HEERFUL
Giver's house the following morning, they found a wild cat tied to the iron ring. The cat was taken, yowling, to the housekeeper, and the housekeeper took it, still yowling, to the master of the house. Cheerful Giver eyed the noisy creature with displeasure.

"Tied to the gates?"

"Like the leaf, sir."

"Like the leaf? So does the cat carry a message?"

"No, sir."

"Send for the mistress."

Cheerful Giver had already exchanged hard words with his wife, before bedtime the previous evening. His wife had got it into her head that the tribute he had bought was too special to be sacrificed. He had made short work of that. "Five thousand shillings is too special to be sacrificed," he had told her; and the subject was closed. Now there was this cat. He didn't know what his wife would make of the cat, except that it would cause him more trouble.

Blessing entered and was shown the creature.

"There must be a message," she said at once.

"No message," said Cheerful Giver. "Just a cat."

"Then it's a sign. Our child will know what it means."

"Oh, yes, I've no doubt. Our child will reveal it's a sign that she's to be set free. Well, let me assure you, I have signs of my own, and my signs say, Nobody fools me."

"Nobody wants to fool you, dearest. You know you've always wanted a daughter."

"A real daughter, maybe. This one's no more my daughter than she's a slice of pudding."

"Even so, dearest. I shall ask her about the cat."

"It's no use you dearest-ing me. That girl goes up the rock tomorrow evening, and if you can get her to go with a will, you'll be a good and loving wife, and I'll dearest you as much as you like."

"Whatever you say, husband."

Cheerful Giver rose from his chair, his face dark with suspicion.

"I'm coming with you," he said. "And you're not to say a word about any cats. I'll do the talking."

The master and the mistress of the house took the breakfast tray down to their imprisoned tribute together. Morning Star was polite as always, and she ate and drank gratefully. Blessing kept issuing small squeaks, which were escaped portions of the words she longed to utter, but her husband obliged her, with ferocious looks, to remain silent.

"So," he said, when Morning Star had eaten. "Do you have anything more to say to us?"

"Anything more about what, sir?"

"Perhaps you've had another dream. Perhaps you've found out that in a past life you were my grandmother."

"No, sir. But I have had another dream."

"You see!" cried Blessing.

"Be quiet, wife! Another dream, eh?"

"In my dream there was a cat."

"A cat!" shrieked Blessing.

"Silence!" thundered Cheerful Giver. "Go on."

"The cat spoke to me."

"What did the cat say?"

"It was a golden cat. It spoke to me, here in your house, sir. It spoke about you."

"About me. Very good. Go on."

"It said, Tell the master of this house that if he heeds my command, he will stand on the right hand of the king."

"If I heed this dream cat's command?"

"Yes, sir."

"This useful cat's command," said Cheerful Giver grimly, "does it by any chance refer to you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You see?" Cheerful Giver snorted at his wife. "It's all no more than a trick to save her own neck."

"There was nothing about saving my neck, sir. Only that I'm to pass on the command. Then you will stand on the right hand of the king."

"Oh, husband!" exclaimed Blessing. "The right hand of the king! That must mean you're to become High Priest!"

"Nonsense!"

But Morning Star was watching carefully, and she saw his colors change, from the browny orange of his refusal to be fooled, to the tawny yellow of ambition.

"So what exactly are these commands that I'm to heed?"

"The golden cat gave me only one command, sir. It said, Guard the treasure that lives after you."

"What treasure?"

"Oh, husband!" cried Blessing. "That means our children! What other treasure lives after us? You must guard our children. Including our new child here."

Cheerful Giver's colors darkened with renewed doubt.

"Naturally," he said. "What a surprise."

Morning Star decided it was time to deliver the clincher.

"In my dream," she said, "as a sign that you would stand on the right hand of the king, the golden cat wore a golden bracelet, on its right foreleg."

"Golden bracelet? That mangy animal has no golden bracelet."

"In my dream, the golden bracelet was made of a single golden hair."

"Fetch the cat!" cried Blessing.

The cat was brought down to the cellar. And there, after some searching, a single golden hair was found to be tied round its leg. Blessing didn't cry out this time; she just looked at her husband. Cheerful Giver stood there, shaking his head from side to side.

"You believe her now, don't you?" said his wife.

"Give me time. I need to think about this."

"Not too much time, dearest. Your name day is tomorrow."

Seeker and the Wildman spent a third day working in the floating gardens, knowing that time was running out for Morning Star. Seeker also believed he was getting close to the weapon they had originally headed for Radiance to find. They talked over the problem of what to do next, as they moved down the tomato vines.

"I think I should go to these people this evening," said Seeker. "If I can get them to trust me, maybe they'll help us free Morning Star."

"What should I do?"

"Go back to the house this evening, as Morning Star said. Do whatever she tells you to do. She's working out some plan of her own."

When the day ended, Seeker left with the same priest as on the day before. The Wildman was in no hurry, knowing that he couldn't speak to Morning Star until the streets emptied for the evening offering, so he lingered by the lake. Here the young spikers who had taunted him before found him.

"Hey, boys! Here's the Girlman!"

"You scare me so bad, Girlman! See my knees knocking!"

"He don't see your knees knocking at all. Maybe he wants a closer look."

"Hey, Girlman! You want my knee in your face?"

They gathered round him, reaching out and flicking his long golden hair. Control did not come naturally to the Wildman, but he held his silence.

"The Girlman's a real beauty, isn't he, boys? Look at those gorgeous lips!"

"Heya, Girlman! Do you love me?" They began to imitate his old cry. "Do you lo-o-ove me?"

The Wildman avoided their mocking eyes. He set off away from them, up the street into the city. But his tormentors followed.

"Do you lo-o-ove me?"

Hands reached out to paw him, to stroke his hair, to rattle his bracelets.

"Gimme a cuddle, Girlman! You're a real beauty!"

Hands pulled at his arms, to twist him round. Laughing mouths swung close. He felt the brush of a mocking kiss. It was too much. The Wildman's rage boiled up and gushed from him in a howl of fury. His powerful right hand shot out and seized one of the spikers by the throat, and even as he choked him, he slammed the spiker's head into another head. Too fast for them to land returning blows, he gripped wrists and twisted arms till the bones cracked. The spikers screamed in terror. Patrol officers came running. He struck out at them too, sending them flying back. But more came, and more, and by sheer weight of numbers, they grappled him to the ground and crushed him into submission.

"One more for the tanks," they said.

Morning Star heard the household members leaving for the evening offering. She heard the big gates swing shut and the heavy keys turn in the lock. Then she waited for Seeker or the Wildman to call to her, down the vent that brought air into the dark cellar. But no call came.

In time she heard the sound of the key in the lock once more and the tread of footsteps in the courtyard above. Then she knew her friends would not be coming that night. Something had gone wrong.

The Wildman was yelling at the top of his voice. He had no more need to control his anger. He beat at the overhead bars of the tank in which he had been thrown and screamed at the guards.

"Chickens! I'll slit your throats! You come near me, I'll rip out your hearts!"

The guards paid him no attention. Other prisoners, lying on the stone floor of the tank trying to sleep, called to him irritably.

"Shut that noise. Save your breath. You're not going anywhere."

Unable to attack the guards, the Wildman turned on his fellow prisoners.

"You got a problem, blubber-piss? You want your throat slit?"

"Go to sleep."

The tanks had no benches, no bunks. The inmates lay mostly curled up on the stone floor. At one end of each tank was a stinking trench in which the prisoners were expected to excrete and urinate. At the other end was a stone trough, into which a kind of gruel was poured twice a day. This gruel, made of ground maize diluted with water, was both food and drink for the miserable inmates. They were given no implements with which to eat it. They were to push their faces into the trough and lap like cattle.

The Wildman had been dropped into the tank without explanations or threats. A wide hinged section of the grid had been unbolted and raised, and he had been pushed over the edge to fall onto the hard stone floor. The patrol officers who had brought him in, and the guards who now watched over the tanks, had no further interest in him. He had fallen into a living grave.

The roof overhead was pierced with roof lights, and through these moonlight fell, past the crisscross bars to the prisoners below. The Wildman, grown weary at last of shouting at men who didn't respond, sat himself down in this silver light and looked about him and considered what to do. The bars above his head were set deep in the stonework and were as thick as pick handles. No chance of escape there. The hinged section was also strongly made, and the bolts, once driven home, were held in place by iron hasps. Anyone on the outside could undo these bolts; but to the prisoners down in the tanks, they were as unmovable as if they had been welded shut. The only way out, therefore, was to wait for the lid to be opened, and then to make a break for freedom. The Wildman counted the guards who were lounging round the tanks. Even now, when the prisoners were mostly asleep, there were ten men on duty. For any breakout to succeed, every prisoner would have to take part.