The Shasht War (45 page)

Fortunately they received good light from the windows, which Thru had been surprised to find were all glassed in on the ground floor. The Gsekk family had obviously been wealthy for a long time.

When all was ready Thru began to weave, working up a simple tabby pattern in pale yellow and red.

Simona put down her sewing and moved closer to watch. He worked from then to the end of the day, and was already enjoying the subtle differences of the linen from bushfiber.

Simona listened to the soft whispering sound of fingers on weft and warp with shedding stick opening and heddle closing the weave. Outside the silence indicated that the snow had stopped falling.

For a long while they were united like this. Thru established the warp and began to work in the weft. Excellent colors were available for another "Chooks and Beetles," and he was excited by the different feel of the thread.

At last he stopped, fingers cramping.

"The snow has stopped," said Simona.

"Let's take a look," suggested Thru.

They opened the back door enough to get out with shovels and clear the snow along a path through the back cloister. They would leave the snow at the front unmarked, in case anyone climbed up to the lower ridgeline to examine the lodge through a spyglass.

From above the rear court they looked out the gate to a world buried in drifts up to four feet deep. For now, they were safe.

The water was warm, inviting, perfectly clear right across the lagoon. Palm trees waved past the glitter of the sands. Nuza rose to the surface, turned over, and languidly pushed herself toward the shore.

The island was five hundred miles from Shasht, uninhabited, marked on only a few charts. Captain Moorsh had anchored here to take on fresh water, fruit, and green stuff. Ahead of them lay a much greater voyage, with no habitable islands for several thousand miles, and the
Duster
had not been able to revictual in Gzia Gi.

Nuza was glad of the break from the sailing across endless ocean and very glad for the chance to swim. Another part of herself had come back to life. Since leaving Shasht, she had sensed a reawakening of things within herself that she had shut down during the captivity. She had found hope again, and strongest of all was the hope that she might see her homeland once more.

She turned over and swam down into deeper water. The lagoon was so clear you could see right across it to the banks of coral. A school of bright yellow and blue fish shot away from her. A larger fish followed them at a more leisurely pace.

She rolled, tumbled in slow motion, and touched the bottom with her fingertips, disturbing fine sediments into whorls of white haze. Now she swam by undulating her body, like a fish, legs kicking just from the ankles.

The water shallowed toward the shore, and she rose to the surface to take a breath. Her feet touched bottom. As she walked out of the water she shook her body, just like any furred animal, and threw spray all around her.

Aeswiren watched her. She sensed his eyes on her. She knew the look that would be in them, the strange emotions that she read there. He was in "love" with her, he said, as he had never loved a woman of his own kind. There was something troubling and oddly bewitching about this. Perhaps just because it gave Nuza some power in her life, something that had been missing for a long time.

But there was no sense of disgust. Even though she knew he was a "bare skin," even though he smelled "wrong" to her and had the strange "hair" that grew dark and long on his head. Despite all that, she felt no disgust at his touch. And she wondered about that. Aeswiren was like a father to her, or a favorite brother, or Toshak, who was like both. She had loved Toshak, but love was not enough for that intense, driven soul. Could she love Aeswiren?

He was not Thru Gillo, he was not even a mot, and she could not find sexual interest in him, but as a person, as a friend, she had great affection for him. And this made everything even more complicated.

When he held her hand or stroked her cheek, there was an emotional charge so strong and intimate that she could not pull away. Though she knew that it stoked an erotic flame for him. The thought was mixed with fear and fascination. Sometimes she thought she should forbid the contact, but it was the only contact she had with anyone and it was not unpleasant. Moreover Nuza had never been one to think anything intimate between male and female to be indecent or unpleasant, unless it was coerced like rape.

It was all part of the changes, she'd decided. Changes that had altered everything in the last few weeks. She had watched Aeswiren undergo a distinct change. He still seemed calm, but he had shed some layer of civilization, a veneer that had kept his real self in check. There was a controlled fury in him now that everyone could sense. Nuza was glad she was his friend and not his enemy. This Aeswiren was closer to the man who had mounted to the throne atop a mound of corpses.

She saw how this power flowed from him, invisible but unbreakable. The men who had joined him after Gzia Gi obeyed him without question. The Baron Thuam and the others were all ready to give their lives for him. Captain Moorsh was the same, as were his officers and crew. This was the man who had commanded armies and written campaigns of blood and glory across the entire Empire of Shasht.

And she knew that she had strange, mixed reactions to that power in him. Something in her wanted to worship it. Even wanted to take up the sword for him. But another side of her was distressed by that idea and wanted nothing to do with war. She'd seen the face of war and was not enamored of it. That side of her was disgusted by her positive response to that power he had.

And braided within these emotions was the knowledge that Aeswiren and his strength were the only thing that could save the Land. Nuza had seen Shasht. She understood the vast imbalance in might between Shasht and the small kingdoms of the Land. Toshak and his army might hold off the first invasion, but Shasht would keep coming and the Land would be overrun and lost forever. Unless, Aeswiren triumphed. In which case the course of history would be changed.

"My lord," she said, copying the form that everyone else adopted with him in casual surroundings, and took up the robe he had given her, which was hanging on a palm tree beside him.

"My dear, if they could see you right now even the priests would find it hard to contemplate killing you."

Indeed, Nuza was naked and unashamed of that fact. Her body was beautiful, her breasts like that of a young woman, but covered in fine soft fur, her nipples a paler color than was usual with women, her belly a lighter shade than her back, her thighs darker, with the clear outlines of the powerful acrobat's musculature that lay underneath. Aeswiren had seen more than his share of women's bodies, and he had seen none that were more lovely than Nuza's.

Now she wrapped the robe around herself.

"Do you think I should not swim?"

He laughed. "I think it's a good thing that my men are all occupied and cannot be witness to this." In fact, he was simply awestruck as she came closer, her hip swaying in a way that always captured the male eye. Gods! She was so beautiful, his desire for her was strong, but there was always that difference. In her face and in that fur that covered every inch of her, but for her face. She was not a woman. She was mor.

"The Great God Himself, He Who Eats, he could not cope with the sight of you, not in the least." His laugh had a slightly bitter edge to it.

Confused for a moment, she stared at him with slightly slitted eyes. He joked sometimes and she didn't quite understand the joke. It referred to things that she thought must be sexual and that was an area of discomfort. For they were of different kinds.

"My dearest Nuza," he said. "Forgive me. You rise from the water like the Goddess Canilass rising from the sacred lake. I was left giddy by the vision."

She smiled again, reassured once more by his playful tone.

Aeswiren thought to himself that really, he'd done the right thing. He'd lost his throne because he wouldn't give up this beautiful creature, and he'd be damned if he'd do anything different, even with the knowledge he had now.

Of course he'd been too slow. But he was awake now. It was as if the fog that had descended on his mind during the years of government had evaporated at last. In time there would come the opportunity to gain revenge. And when he had won and put his sword through the heart of that foul, old thing he would kill a lot of those who should have stood by him in the crisis. And every damned priest would lose his head and every image of He Who Eats would be smashed and burned. When Aeswiren III was finished, Shasht would be remade and the temple pyramid would be no more.

Aeswiren had realized that the struggle would be renewed in the new world. The Old One could not rest knowing that Aeswiren had escaped Shasht aboard a ship. The Old One would have to lead an army to find Aeswiren and kill him. And Aeswiren would be ready for him when he came.

"Let us walk toward the hill, there are some extraordinary flowers there that you will enjoy."

They wandered along the top of the beach, shaded from the hot sun by the palm trees. Small insects whined occasionally through the warm air.

"How long will we stay here, my lord?"

"Captain Moorsh thinks we'll be away tomorrow, as soon as he's filled all his casks."

"Seems a pity to leave this place."

Aeswiren chuckled. "It does, I agree. At times I have thought that we should abandon our quest and just stay here and live out our lives in peace."

She flashed him a look, saw that he was not serious, and turned away reassured once more. He thought again of how there was still a gulf in understanding between them, but that it was closing, day by day.

They came on a patch where a plant with dagger-like leaves had thrown up thick spikes, each of which hosted a large, orange bloom.

"They are extraordinary," said Nuza. "I've never seen anything like them."

Struck by a sudden thought, Aeswiren cut one of the flowers and held it up to her cheek. "Take it," he said.

She held it up and sniffed its scent, her eyes closed, and his heart jumped. Aeswiren blinked. There was too much beauty here for his old head. He found himself on the verge of tears, and he had no idea why, except that he couldn't stand to watch this for a second longer.

"These flowers are unknown in my homeland, but if they were I think they'd be very popular."

But Aeswiren had turned away and with a strange cry he went bounding down the sands, tearing off his clothes, and hurled himself into the lagoon. He swam out with powerful strokes, his kicks raising a high spray.

It was a cold, clear day in deep winter. Recent snow had thickened the drifts on the north slopes of the mountain, but a few deer trails were still passable. Thru was working the little trapline he'd set along the bank of a mountain stream. His snowshoes made it possible to move about quickly despite the four-foot drifts.

He found a rabbit with its neck broken in one of his snares. With a silent prayer to the Spirit, he cut it down and placed it in his game bag. Earlier in the day he had been lucky enough to get close to wood pigeons foraging for loose grain and had taken one with one of the stone-tipped arrows. Between this rabbit and the pigeon they had enough now for a couple of days if they were frugal. He made a mental note to check the mousetraps again. One of the storehouses had some soft wood in the underflooring, and the mice had taken advantage of this opportunity. Thru planned to replace the underfloor entirely, but the work would have to wait until spring. Until then he had to maintain a strict regime with the mice.

Suddenly he caught a faint howl on the wind from the north. He stopped moving, held his breath, and listened carefully.

There, again, he heard another faint howl, to the north, probably on the other side of the high ridge.

He knew these wolves, of course. They were the small pack that denned somewhere just to the north of Beegamuus, perhaps on Small Hummock Mountain. In this poor country the wolves had to range over a wide territory to find food in winter. The deer in these hills were very wary beasts.

He moved back up the mountain stream, leaving as little of a trail as possible. The wolves were very rarely heard in the daylight. There had to be a good reason for them to call.

His other traps were unsprung, so he pulled them up as he passed and hid them. With the rabbit and the pigeon, he had no need to hunt for a couple of days.

He soon reached the black crag that jutted up from the southern face of the mountain. He had thoroughly explored all this ground and knew a quick route to the top. He pushed his game bag well over his shoulder and climbed a short steep stretch that let him into a gulley that hurried up the next fifty feet. Soon he hauled out onto the flat stone just beneath the top. Now he had a great view off to the north, toward the sun in the southern hemisphere. Lake of the Woods could even be seen as a silvery gleam on the horizon.

Directly to the north was the high ridge, which shouldered off Mount Beegamuus for three miles in a northeast direction before ending at the river. Beyond the high ridge was the second ridge, visible as a darker grey mass, and beyond that was Hilltop.

Hilltop House was hidden beneath the brow of the hill, but a faint finger of smoke was rising from one of the chimneys. He watched for several minutes, but there was no doubting it, he saw a thin white line of smoke.

Thru shook his head. The enemy had not given up on them after all. He studied the valley, but saw nothing more than birds on the move above the trees. He had made a few preparations for this development; now he would make some more.

Later, back at the lodge, he used only the driest wood, pine twigs, and well-seasoned hornbeam branches, so as to generate as little smoke as possible. Simona cleaned and skinned the rabbit, then broke it up into quarters. She worked quickly, although she had only done this kind of work for the last two months. When the rabbit was done, she turned to the pigeon, which she plucked and cleaned. Most of the meat she rubbed with salt and placed in a small, tight barrel sealed with a clasp. Thru grilled a couple of pieces of the rabbit, and Simona put flat bread on the griddle and poured tea.