The River Wall (11 page)

“The dead Supervisor—did he occupy the place that Ferrathyn took on the Council?”

“No, Ferrathyn didn’t become a Supervisor until a couple of years later—” He stood up slowly. “After
another
sudden death. Boy, are you telling me that Ferrathyn killed those men, that I knew he had done one murder, and he made me forget it?”

“Hold on, one thing at a time,” I said. “First tell me how the first Supervisor died.”

“The man died with a dagger in his heart; he had left a note saying …”

“That he had chosen to die?” I prompted. Ligor nodded and swallowed hard.

“Yolim wouldn’t believe it. The man had been a close friend, and he felt he would have known if the man had been that … unbalanced.

“So he reported the death as a possible murder, presently unanswerable, but still open.” Suddenly Ligor slammed his fist on the table. “I remember!” he said. “Ferrathyn wanted me to change the record to show self-inflicted death.” His eyes narrowed. “That fleason Ferrathyn killed the Supervisor, didn’t he?”

“I think it’s very likely.”

“Then why didn’t he move right into that position? Why did he wait for another Supervisor to die?”

“I think that’s the answer you’re really looking for, Ligor—because you
didn’t
falsify that record. People respond differently to mindpower, and some people seem better able to resist it than others. Ferrathyn may never have run into someone with a will as strong as yours before. He had to realize that if you could resist his compulsion, you might break free of the forgetfulness command.
You
stopped him from becoming a Supervisor then because he was afraid you would expose him. He had to wait until another Supervisor died—how?”

“The healer ruled it was some illness he had never seen before,” Ligor said. “I saw the body; it looked like the man had been choked to death, but there wasn’t a mark on his body. Could Ferrathyn have done that?”

I remembered the fierceness on Tarani’s face, and the terror in Molik’s, in that moment when Tarani had almost killed the roguelord by immobilizing his lungs with her mindpower.

“He could have done it,” I said. “He must have figured enough time had passed that you wouldn’t connect him with the earlier death. But he couldn’t rest easy as long as you were in Raithskar. He couldn’t kill you outright, either—you had proved you had substantial resistance to his power. I suspect he wasn’t ready, yet, to use the Ra’ira overtly. So he used more ordinary tactics—political pressure and harassment—to drive you out.”

“And now he’s finally got what he wanted all along,” Ligor said.

I sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

Ligor’s jaw tightened. “His first motion to the Council, as a Supervisor, was to disband the Security force. He said that if vineh could be trained to clean streets, they could be trained to fight—and would be totally loyal and beyond corruption.” He laughed bitterly. “I thought it was a crazy idea—but I didn’t know about the Ra’ira. Fortunately, the Council turned him down, but he brought it up every now and then. Now—Council or no Council—he’s got his army of vineh.”

“You mean you had heard nothing about what’s going on in Raithskar?” I asked Ligor.

We had left Krasa behind us several minutes ago, and were making our way through the rocky brush of the hillside above the town. It had taken very little to convince Ligor to go back to Raithskar with me, even though neither one of us had a clear idea what help he might be. He had succeeded in resisting Ferrathyn’s power once—but a power unaided by the Ra’ira and wielded by a much younger and less subtle Ferrathyn. There was no real reason to suspect he could resist Ferrathyn completely now.

I believed Ligor was coming with me out of a sense of responsibility to Raithskar for having “run out” when things became uncomfortable for him. There was no doubt he was angry on a personal basis, too, after learning that the mind puzzle that had tormented him had been set deliberately by Ferrathyn. I wanted him to come for a very different, very selfish reason. I trusted him, and he was on our side. I had a strong feeling that we would need every ally we could get before this was over.

“You got to remember, son,” Ligor said, holding aside the tangled branches of a bush so that I could pass through, “Krasa ain’t on the main road to anywhere. Caravans come here, they’re generally
just
coming here, from Grevor or Dyskornis, and they ain’t too frequent. We got one strange old maufel who sometimes takes it in his head not to talk to nobody, and he’s in one of them spells right now. He gets and gives messages when he’s asked—and paid—but he don’t inquire about the contents and he
don’t
share news.

“As Peace and Security in Krasa,” Ligor added, “I expect I’d have made him keep shut about the vineh, anyway. These folks don’t know about the way Raithskar used vineh. They’d have taken the news of a vineh sickness to mean that the ones near here, which are none too easy to get along with, might catch it and make even more trouble. I wouldn’t have wanted that kind of panic.”

We had struggled through a snarl of underbrush and come out onto a large, flat area of nearly smooth stone. We paused to catch our breath, and I called to Keeshah.

*Here we are, Keeshah. Ready to go?*

I had already talked to Keeshah about accepting Ligor as a second rider, and he had agreed. I knew he was nearby, but even I was surprised when he came up out of the brush nearly at Ligor’s right elbow. He was yawning, and the impressive tusks—along with the other less spectacular but equally threatening teeth—were in full view.

“Yi-i-!” Ligor yelped, and jumped aside.

I heard Keeshah’s mind chuckle, and I fought to hide my own smile.

The big cat took his time coming into the clearing, stretching out each foreleg and clenching the stone with his long claws, then drawing his body forward until his back legs were fully stretched, his tail extended and fluffed. Then he stepped over the bordering brush with his hind legs and was fully present in the rock-floored clearing.

He filled it up.

“I’d forgotten how big he is,” Ligor said, looking slightly embarrassed.

*Keeshah, quit trying to scare him, and make friends,*
I
said.

*Already friends
,* Keeshah said.

He moved as far away from us as he could and still remain in the clearing. Then he lay down, rolled over, and came to rest belly-up with his side leaning against Ligor’s legs.

Ligor staggered against the impact, but kept his balance. He laughed uproariously.

“Hey, there, you haven’t forgotten me, eh?” He glanced at me and chuckled at the look on my face. “You say you have Markasset’s memories?” he asked.

“I have them,” I answered shortly, “and he doesn’t remember
ever
seeing Keeshah do that with you.”

“That’s because he never saw it happen,” Ligor said, and leaned over to stroke the fur on Keeshah’s chest and belly. A very special feeling of contentment came from Keeshah’s mind, and something of a cherished memory. “He still had school a couple of years after he brought Keeshah out of the Valley, and I—um—I dropped by his house now and again during the day. Keeshah was big enough to scare the fleas off me, even then, but there was something
young
about him, and I played with him some.”

That seemed to be an understatement. Keeshah’s attitude toward Ligor gave me the impression that he was a longstanding, trusted, and much-missed friend. Before I could ask more questions, though, Ligor stood up.

“Good thing I made friends with him when he was younger,” he said, as Keeshah rolled back over and stood up again. “But scratching his belly and climbing on his back are real different propositions. Wanna give me a clue about how to do this?”

We were busy, then, for a while, replaying a scene which had occurred once before with Zaddorn in Ligor’s role. While Ligor’s nervousness was lessened somewhat by his familiarity with Keeshah as a friend, he suffered the same cultural inhibition that had troubled Zaddorn. Since birth, Ligor and Zaddorn had expected to walk wherever they needed to go. There were no riding-sized animals in Gandalara except the sha’um, and their friendship was reserved for the Sharith—and the male descendants of Serkajon, who had separated himself from the Sharith at the end of the Kingdom. Ligor had never before trusted his weight and well-being to another living creature.

Eventually, however, Ligor was secure and reasonably comfortable with his body resting along Keeshah’s back, his knees tucked up just forward of Keeshah’s hind legs. I mounted the crouching cat behind Ligor, using pressure from my legs and hands to keep the full force of my weight off the cats hips.

*Okay, Keeshah
,* I said.
*Stand up—slowly, please.*

To my surprise, he obeyed. With Zaddorn, Keeshah had taken no trouble to be gentle; he had surged up and started his run with no warning.

I guess he knows Ligor better
, I thought.
Or maybe I don’t have the history of rivalry with Ligor that Markasset had with Zaddorn.

*Okay?*
I asked Keeshah.
*Is he pinching you anywhere?*

*No. Comfortable.*

*Then let’s go,*
I said.

The more time I spent with Ligor, the more he impressed me. Considering what he had told me of his life in Raithskar and his pride in his role as Chief of Peace and Security, I would have been the last person to blame him for settling into a comfortable berth in a small town and letting his life slide into idleness. But he had carried his job in Krasa with as much pride as in Raithskar, and his stocky body was muscular and fit. He had to be as old as—if not a bit older than—Markasset’s father, but he made no complaint of the rigorous journey.

As far as supplies went, we were traveling as lightly as possible, carrying very little food and the minimum supply of water. Keeshah had hunted and fed well, and would wait until we reached the Refreshment House at Inid before eating again, and he shared our water sparingly. We adopted a familiar travel pattern: run for three hours, rest for one. Ligor became adept at riding second, so we alternated places. The one who rode in first position could doze while Keeshah’s furry back hunched and flexed with his long stride.

We traveled along the western edge of the Strofaan Desert, where sand and rock cliffs offered little shelter from the heat and dryness. At the end of our second day of travel, we stood outside the gates of the Refreshment House at Inid. Fatigue was an everywhere ache; Ligor staggered beside me; Keeshah had dropped into a crouch and was panting heavily. My voice was sand-hoarse and barely louder than a whisper as I called out the formula request for entry.

At the first sound, the gatecloth dropped, and several people rushed out to support Ligor and me. One young man carried a haunch of glith. A slightly bigger girl brought out a skin of water and poured it into the freshly swept ceramic trough that rested against the outside wall. The Elder himself greeted us, hurrying through the formula and signaling for others to take our weapons without waiting for us to surrender them, and he provided a quick explanation for our reception: “The High Lord told us to expect you tonight or tomorrow.”

“Wait,” I said, and pulled myself free of the two young people on either side of me. I looked around to find Keeshah nearer the water trough but still resting in a crouch.

*Thank you for waiting, Keeshah
,* I said, and walked over to the water trough. I scooped up a double handful of water and offered it to him. He lapped up the water, and nuzzled my open hands.
*And thank you, as always, for letting us ride.*

*Friend
,* he said, with more meaning than the word can convey. He pressed his forehead into my midriff and then shoved me gently aside.
*Thirsty.*

I directed the Fa’aldu to leave the meat in the other, empty trough, and we all went inside. I declined the Elder’s discreet offer of an inner apartment, and joined Ligor in one of the travelers’ cubicles. In the brief moments before I drifted into a solid, refreshing sleep, I reached out for the cubs.

They were struggling, along with their mother and Tarani, through the blinding dust storm that always prevailed in the highest reaches of the Zantil Pass. The cubs had made it through that nasty trip once, on the way
to
Eddarta, and I was glad to see that they were not afraid, now that the sand and wind were more familiar. They were no more comfortable now than on that first trip, however, and when they sensed my contact, their minds were full of complaint and restlessness and undirected anger. I soothed them as best I could, and promised we would all be together again soon.

Then I wished Keeshah good night, and slept.

Ligor and I roused ourselves in time to share the stew-and-bread luncheon meal that was served to all the travelers. The Elder came to us in the late afternoon to assure us that Keeshah had been given more meat and water (a formality, since the Elder probably realized that Keeshah himself had already let me know), and to bring a message their maufel had just received from Relenor. It was for me, from Tarani.

“I insist that you and your friend join the family for dinner, Captain,” the Elder said when he had handed me the folded parchment. I accepted the offer for both of us and, after the Elder had left the cubicle, said to Ligor: “I hope you didn’t mind my speaking for you.”

“No—that is, you eat with the Fa’aldu? And what did he call you—’Captain’?”

“Yes—” I began, puzzled. Then I realized what the problem was. “Oh. I guess I skipped a few details when I told you about the Ra’ira.”

“I guess you did,” he responded crustily. “The Fa’aldu?”

I shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I can’t account for it. One Elder helped me shortly after I—uh—became Markasset, and the Fa’aldu have taken an interest in me ever since. Another one now knows the whole story, and the Fa’aldu have agreed to handle messages for us and forward any information they think we can use.”

“The Fa’aldu … have agreed …” Ligor said, then shook his head. “Let that go for now. What about this ‘Captain’ business?”