The Gandalara Cycle I (36 page)

And one of those in exile would be your son.
I thought.

"It would cost us a third of our Riders," he said. He looked out of the window and sighed. "There were a thousand Riders when we settled here. Now there are less than a hundred.

"Last and most important," he continued more briskly, "they have little chance of success, and every opportunity to cloud the trail you'll be following."

"I - I'm not going after Gharlas, either. Partly for the same reason you've just given. Zaddorn is working on it through his Peace and Security contacts. I figure that, if I go tramping into the middle of things, it will make finding Gharlas that much harder for him."

The Lieutenant got up from his chair and walked over to a small window which overlooked the river. He stood there for a few seconds, then turned hack to me.

I was struck, again, by the similarity between him and Thanasset. It wasn't physical; Dharak had a thicker, stronger body and a startling shock of snow-white head fur. But the window gesture, and now the look of uncertainty....

"I wish I knew more about the customs of Serkajon's house," he said. "Has Thanasset -"

The door burst open at that moment, and Thymas stomped in. He had his father's build, on a shorter and slimmer scale. He had pushed his sand-colored hat off his head to hang by its neck string, and I could have sworn that his head fur, a little more yellow in tone than his father's, was bristling.

"I just got back from my patrol," he said to his father. "I heard what happened. How could you -" He caught sight of me, and whirled in my direction, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"You
filth,
" he spat at me. "You lied to us. You betrayed your own sha'um by riding others. And you betrayed a sacred vow by letting Gharlas get away!

"You're a coward and a liar, Markasset! I do not accept you as my Captain!" He drew his sword. "Agree to leave Thagorn
today
, and never return, and I will spare your life."

Ah, the perversity of human nature. Here I had just been ducking the Captaincy for all I was worth. Yet Thymas's accusation that I was
unfit
for it made me madder than hell.

Before Dharak could move a muscle, I was on my feet and around the table. Thymas crouched back, ready for a fight, but I had enough control to know that I didn't want that. The boy would be no real trouble for Markasset's swordsmanship, but Thymas was so angry that I might have to hurt him to put him out of action.

"You
will be lucky to get out of this room with your head still attached, if you don't put that sword away
right now!
" I yelled. I took a step toward him; he backed up, still holding his sword at the ready. I had the offensive. He knew it, and didn't like it.

"How dare you dishonor your father by baring your sword in his home?" I challenged him. "You are threatening your father's guest.-

I pointed my finger at him for emphasis, and stepped forward again. He backed another step, and touched the wall with his heel. Dharak, who had been behind Thymas, had moved aside, and was watching us with concern,

"If you had come in here and
asked
for explanations, I'd have given them," I growled. "I'd have told you that I had to go back to Raithskar to save my father's life - would you have made a different choice? I'd have told you that Gharlas is going to Eddarta, and Zaddorn has people watching for him. I'd have told you that
I had Keeshah's permission to ride with Bareff and Liden."

I saw his face register disbelief as I loomed over him. He placed the point of his sword against my chest, and I leaned into it until I could feel it pricking skin, and I knew he could feel my weight against his wrist.

"But since you have violated all the rules of common courtesy, I'm only going to give you one answer, plus a small warning, out of respect for Dharak.

"My name wasn't Rikardon
then
," I said, jabbing my finger at him, "but it is
now
. If you insist on fighting me, you'll be facing Rika, the steel sword of Serkajon!"

I backed off. Thymas was angry, humiliated, undecided. "I'm just about out of patience," I said. "Do yourself a favor and get out of here."

The boy looked from me to Dharak, who wasn't offering him any support. Then he sheathed his sword. "If this weren't my father's house -" he muttered. Then he stormed out the door, and Dharak and I both sighed with relief.

"Do you see?" Dharak asked. "He is nearly uncontrollable."

"I hope
you
see that I wouldn't be much help in that department," I told him. "It was sheer luck that he wasn't just a little bit more angry. He had a perfect opportunity to kill me just now.-

"Thymas may, very well, be past saving," Dharak said sadly. "But the others are not. They are restless and idealistic. They are concerned for the Ra'ira and want action.

"Well, the acquisition of a new Captain is action of a sort. Where they would defy me, they will accept your authority and remain here, content under your orders, at least for a while. By the time they get restless again, perhaps Zaddorn will have found the Ra'ira and there will be no more problem.

I sat down at the table and drained the last of the glass of faen.

"Then you agree that Zaddorn can do it without my help?" I asked. "Before Thymas burst in, I thought you were unsure. Weren't you going to ask me something?"

He smiled. "You have answered that question for me. If Thanasset gave you Serkajon's sword - well, I accept your judgment of how best to return the Ra'ira to Raithskar.

"We have had word that Tarani will arrive in a seven-day. Let me arrange for a formal ceremony that day, presenting the Riders to you. We'll have a banquet that evening, and Tarani will perform for us. It will be an occasion to remember, a respite from tension and disagreement. We could all use it.

"In the meantime, you can get to know us better, and have the relaxation you need. Afterward, you can go back to Raithskar, or anywhere you wish, and we will leave the recovery of the Ra'ira in your hands - and, through your choice, in Zaddorn's."

I thought about it while Dharak poured more faen from the ceramic pitcher that had been left on the table. The Lieutenant hadn't brought up how silly he would look, if I turned him down after he had acknowledged me as the Captain in public.

He seems to want me only for a figurehead,
I thought.
I did lie to him that first time. He knew it, and he covered for me. I owe him for that. But this . . . something doesn't feel right.

"What would happen at the ceremony?" I asked.

"I'd just say a few words to the assembled Sharith - everyone will be there, not just the Riders - and introduce you. From there, you can do what you wish." He lifted his glass to me. "Health."

"And wisdom," I answered the toast automatically. "There won't be an oath of allegiance, or anything?"

Dharak laughed, nearly choking on his drink. "Certainly there will be, Mar - I mean, Rikardon. Our allegiance to you. As to your reply, I've said that it's up to you. This is, after all, the first time such a ceremony has been necessary - or possible. Write the rest of it yourself."

Something was still bothering me. "Isn't this deceptive, Dharak? I mean, letting your people believe I'll get the Ra'ira back, when you know I have no plans in that direction at all? And binding them to me, but asking nothing
from
me?"

"My conscience is clear about this, my friend. Shall I tell you why?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

He leaned on the table and reached across it to put his hand on my wrist.

"We need no oath from you, Rikardon. You're already part of us. It's why you came back here. You felt it, yourself, as you rode in."

I sure felt something,
I admitted to myself. I
'm feeling it now, a sense of . . . completeness. It scares me a little.

"I felt it
about
you, the first time we met," Dharak continued. "Do you realize that it has been hundreds and hundreds of years since any man of Serkajon's descent set foot in Thagorn? And now it has happened in the wake of the Ra'ira falling into the possession of a madman. It is difficult not to see meaning in all of it. I believe that it is important, for you as well as for us, that we establish your position here.

"I know you think it's a waste of time, and that you will never have occasion to exercise the rights of command you'll be given. I even hope that you're right, for all our sakes."

"But you don't think so, do you?" I asked him.

"No, I don't." He sighed. "I'm getting old, Rikardon. These changes in the world I've always known frighten me. I'll admit that I want you formally named Captain as a precaution against a troubled future."

Why, all he's doing is buying insurance,
I realized with a deep sense of relief.
If all hell breaks loose because of this Ra'ira thing, he doesn’t want to be the only one holding the bag. Thymas won't be any help. In fact, Thymas might be the one to set it off, if he goes through with his screwy plan about chasing down Gharlas.

If I agree to this, the harm Thymas can do will be reduced, because fewer men will follow him - according to Dharak's line of thinking. If Gharlas does slip through Zaddorn's net, reach Eddarta, and begin a war to re-establish the Kingdom with him at the head of it....

Sure, it would be a mess, and the Sharith would be the strongest weapon of opposition. Yet they've been sitting here in Thagorn, playing military games and living off "tribute" for so many generations, that attrition has cut them way down. They aren't the weapon they were once. I can see why Dharak wouldn't want the duty of leading them into battle.

So he's setting me up, and I'm damned if I can get mad about it. Especially since he has admitted it, openly. And for one other reason - nothing of this scenario is ever going to happen. Zaddorn will find Gharlas, get the Ra'ira back, and I can help Dharak by just minding my own business.

Where's the risk?

"All right," I said out loud. "I'll do it."

Without realizing it, I had acquired preconceptions about the lifestyle of the Sharith. Most of them, as usually happens, were wrong.

I had expected an organization like the military groups of which Ricardo had been a member - the Marines during World War II, and the Marine Reserves for many years afterward. The only similarity I could find, during the week I spent learning about the Sharith, was the chain-of-command principal, and the requirement that on-duty Riders always wear their tan, desert-ready uniforms.

The Riders weren't the only people who were given rank and assigned duties. The distribution of tasks was roughly like this:

The Riders were responsible for city security, surveillance, and "assessment of tribute." Certain unpleasant jobs - like cleaning the mire from the fine-mesh filters that covered the bath-house drains - were routinely assigned as punishment details.

The women of Thagorn handled the daily maintenance, including cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Wives did these chores for their own house-holds, sometimes assisted by their youngest children or by the kids of a larger family. The older girls and unmarried women did the same things for the unmarried men.

The children were obligated to attend a school conducted by most of the adults on a rotation basis. It taught reading and writing, sewing and building skills, and the all-important history of the Sharith. Girls twelve and younger, and all boys up to age sixteen, worked in the grainfields in their off hours, and helped wherever they were needed.

There was a special category of children called "cubs." These were boys thirteen to sixteen who had returned from the Valley of the Sha'um with two-year-old cats, after spending a year, living on their own, in that valley. Their off-school time was spent in training with the Riders and in developing precision coordination with their sha'um.

Most surprising of all, to me, was the large number of men who were not Riders - about a third of the adult males. These men were the farmers, the masons, the carpenters, the millers. They were as well trained in fighting skills as any of the Riders. They spent part of their time as guards on the wall and could, if necessary, be carried into battle as second riders on sha'um.

They were treated with no less respect than the Riders. At age twelve, every boy had to make the choice of whether to risk a trip to the Valley of the Sha'um. If he stayed, he learned some other necessary skill, and he was never faulted for his choice. It went without saying that a boy who didn't want to go would have less chance of survival.

As it was, a fourth of the boys who went to the Valley never returned. I was sure that those losses had contributed to the declining size of the settlement.

The Riders were honored by everyone in Thagorn as the symbol and purpose of the Sharith. But men who did not ride were respected as contributors of important support functions.

A series of ranks existed within each group of the Sharith. The Riders were organized into four companies. Each company had a leader and sub-leaders, though the only title of rank belonged to the Lieutenant. Among the married women, rank corresponded, more or less, to the ranks of their husbands. Age was the general criterion for rank among the unmarried women, and among the children.

Dharak's wife, Shola, settled disagreements among wives, unmarried women, and older girls, in the same way that Dharak held authority over the men. But his was the ultimate authority in every case. Even children who felt they had been given unjust punishment could appeal to him for an objective decision. He, and previous Lieutenants, had discouraged abuse of these rights of appeal by upholding all prior judgments unless a bias was obvious and the penalty was grossly unfair.

This is not to say that all was peace and order in Thagorn. By no means. The Sharith had their share of wild kids and irresponsible adults. There was just an organized, on-the-spot way of dealing with problems.