To the High Redoubt (37 page)

Although this bothered him as well, he said, “We're in a remote part of the world, Surata. Perhaps the men who know of this place aren't here often.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, Arkady-immai, that is not the reason. The reason is that we are far from any roads, aren't we?” She did not sound frightened, but still, it was hard for him to answer her. “Arkady-immai?”

“Right,” he muttered. Then he turned to her. “Yes, Surata, yes. We're lost.”

Chapter 19

They did not so much sleep that night as collapse. Both lay in an exhausted stupor that held them even when foxes and wide-eared, flat-headed sand cats came to drink in the night. Once a golden civet sprayed its penetrating scent at an unknown threat, and that odor hardly disturbed Arkady and Surata, though she sneezed.

When they woke, it was slowly and groggily, moving as if they feared their bones would not support them.

“I'm hungry,” Arkady said when he had blinked and stretched and tried to remember where he was.

“So am I,” Surata said. “But the horse needs food more than we do. He will not carry us much longer unless he has food and a rest. He is as tired as we are.”

“I know,” Arkady grumbled. “He can eat grass and leaves if he must. I'll try to cut him something when I get up. Can you tell if there are any trees or shrubs that he can eat?” His mouth was dry, but that no longer weighed on him as it had the day before. He remained still, hoping that he would be able to keep down the little moisture he had taken.

She started to speak, but began coughing from the effort.

He reached out to her, touching her hair. “Are you all right now?”

“I'm tired.” She stretched. “I don't think I have been this tired in all my life, not when I was going with the slave caravan, not when I fought with my family against the Bundhi. My bones long for sleep.”

“I'm sorry, Surata.” His sympathy was deep and genuine. “I'm truly sorry.”

“But why? I am the one who should say that to you, since I am responsible for us being here at all.” To her chagrin, she started to weep. “I…it's the fatigue, Arkady-champion, it means nothing. I can see why you do not trust me at other times when I nearly brought us to death by getting us lost.”

He understood her better than she knew. “Surata, after I take care of the horse, I'm going to find us something to eat, even if it's only grasshoppers. We can't keep on this way. One of the reasons we're lost is that we're too tired and too hungry and too worn out to be able to think clearly. And in this condition, we haven't a prayer of getting to that other place for help.” Or for relief, or for love, he added to himself.

“I wish I could help!” She brought her hands to her eyes. “I
detest
this blindness!”

“I know,” he said, confining her hands in his own. “I know, Surata.”

She turned on him, as if she willed herself to see him. “Why do you bear with me? I have led you into this…desolation. I have cost you more than gold and livestock. I have failed you, and—”

He sat up. “You know why. I've told you before. Surata, you hate your blindness more than I do. That's natural. It saddens me that you're blind. But I'm damned if I'll pity you for it, or let you pity yourself.” He pulled her up. “I know how you feel. You've told me before.”

This outburst quieted her, and she composed herself. “You're right to rebuke me.”

“For all the Saints in Heaven…!” He unwrapped himself from the blankets. “I
didn't
rebuke you.” He glared at her in exasperation. “Or if I did, it wasn't meant to—”

“It was meant kindly,” she interrupted him. “I realize that.”

“But?” He smiled down at her.

She shrugged. “It still irritates me.”

“Not surprising.” Arkady just managed to suppress a yawn, then looked about for his horse.

The bay was near a few low-lying bushes, stripping the few leaves off the branches. His ribs showed and his dark coat was almost without luster. But he was eating, and Arkady knew that in time he could grow sleek and glossy once more.

“Doing better?” Arkady asked as he came up to the gelding. He patted the horse's shoulder. “You've done more than I should have asked of you, fellow.” He looked for the shears in one of the packs and started away, still weak and unsteady, for the hillside, where he set himself to cutting the clumps of grass and other low vegetation he found. It took him longer than he thought possible, but when he came back, he had an armload of fodder for the horse. “I'll get you more water in a bit,” he said to the bay, then looked around for Surata.

She was not where he had left her: the blankets were neatly rolled and stacked together, but she was nowhere in sight.

Arkady knew a moment of consuming panic, then steadied himself. “Surata!” he shouted.

There was no answer at first, and then he heard her call his name. She was in the cave of the spring. “Come here, Arkady-immai.”

He found her seated by the water, her legs drawn up and crossed in the manner she had, soles upward in the bend of her knees. She had regained some of her serenity. “I have been wondering why the tigers did not come here. It would have been an easy thing, a natural thing for them to attack and drink as well.”

Arkady had been able to keep the tigers from his thoughts, but her reminder brought back all his apprehension. “Do you have any reason?”

“Yes, I think I do. This spring has a guardian.” Her smile widened.

“What do you mean, a guardian?”

“You know,” she said impatiently. “There are forces that are partly of the other place and partly of the daily world. They are often very ancient things. This guardian is one such.”

“You mean it's haunted?” He crossed himself quickly, remembering everything he had been told as a child about malevolent ghosts and evil spirits.

“Not haunted,” she corrected him. “This is a…being that watches this place. Perhaps other men think it is holy or haunted, and that is why they do not come here. The animals know better, and visit it regularly.” She rocked a little.

“Then the tigers might—”

“The tigers are agents of the Bundhi. They cannot come here. The guardian does not permit that.” Her voice was light and happy. “We can remain here another day or so and be safe. The Bundhi will not be able to find us, in the daily world or in the other place: the guardian has power in both and will stop him.”

Arkady could think of nothing to say to her. While he knew she did not doubt what she was telling him, he could not accept it without dread. He muttered a prayer under his breath and looked around the darkness uneasily. “What makes you think this is so?”

“Because I can…touch it. Not as you and I touch, but there are other ways. This guardian is strong and does not want this spring to be contaminated with such as the Bundhi. The spring is restorative.”

Was it because they had been in the sun and heat and emptiness for so long that Surata imagined this? Arkady asked himself. Why did she want to convince him that they had stumbled upon anything more miraculous than water? “Surata, there's no reason…”

When he did not go on, she turned toward him. “The guardian cannot harm us, Arkady-immai. It will not harm foxes, either, or the other animals. It will be kind to your horse.”

He thought her words were madness but he said nothing. “I've got feed for the horse. I ought to find something we can eat, Surata. The water is wonderful and without it we would be dead, but we must have food.”

“There is a fig tree up the hill and behind an outcropping of stones. It was planted long ago to give food to the guardian.” She waved him away. “Find that tree, Arkady-immai. Then we will eat.”

He supposed, as he left the cave, that he would have to do her the service of looking. It would be difficult to tell her that he found nothing. He went with growing regret, for it pained him to consider how their ordeal had changed her. As he made the climb up the hill, he did his best to think of ways he could ease the distress that had so clearly taken hold of Surata. “Guardians,” he said to the air. “Guardian beings taking care of springs!” He was able to scoff now, where she could not hear him and he would not have to see her anguish.

Near the brow of the hill there was an outcropping of rocks, and this surprised him more than he liked to admit. He stood looking at it, deciding at last that in an area like this, she would know there had to be occasional outcroppings of rocks. There was nothing significant in finding it, he insisted to himself.

Behind the rocks stood an old fig tree, the ground beneath it sticky with fallen figs. Flies and other insects droned among them. Arkady stood staring at it for some time, then went cautiously toward it, expecting to find it gone. But the smell was real, and the leaves rustled in the wind, and when he pulled one of the remaining figs off its stem, it was believable enough. Shaken, Arkady peeled back the skin and bit into the rich, sweet fruit.

He came back to the cave with the leather pail full of figs. On the way, he had given three to his horse and watched the gelding extend his neck and half-close his eyes with pleasure. As he entered the cave, he called out to Surata, adding, “They were there,” rather sheepishly.

“The guardian said the tree was—” she began, only to have him cut her off.

“I doubted you. I thought that…” He could not go on.

“You thought that I had gone mad. But you see, I had not. The guardian is real and has told me things we must know. Now I tell these things to you, so that you can get food for us and keep us safe.”

“It's too bad we had to leave the tent behind. In a place like this, it would be pleasant to have it to climb into.” He sat beside her and held out a fig. “Here. There's more.” While he watched her eat, he had another fig himself. “We shouldn't eat too much. It's like the water, it could make us sick.”

“Three figs will not destroy us,” she said lightly. “Oh, this is so good.”

By nightfall, Arkady had been guided to more food by Surata, who insisted that her information came from the guardian of the spring. He accepted this unwillingly but could think of no other explanation for her remarkable knowledge. It was against everything he had been taught, and he said this to her as they pulled their blankets up to their necks that night.

“But you've said that you believe in devas, winged spirits—”

“Angels,” he supplied.

“Yes, that guard you. And you said that there are miraculous shrines that your holy men protect. How is this any different?” She stretched one last time before securing her blanket.

“It…it is.” he was as puzzled by his answer as she was. “This isn't a Saint or the Virgin, or…I don't know what it is.”

Surata touched him gently. “Arkady-champion, that is why you don't want to believe it is there—because you don't know what it is, and that troubles you. You cannot trust it, as you do not always trust what I tell you that you cannot verify for yourself. If calling this…guardian a saint or an angel will make you less apprehensive, then call it one of those things.”

“And how do you know that it isn't a demon or…anything like that?” He was being stubborn, and he acknowledged it to himself, though not to her.

“If it were malignant, those tigers would be here, and we would not. The guardian is neither of the Right nor the Left Hand Path. The guardian keeps to its own way and will not permit those that are not peaceable to come here. The tigers are not peaceable, and for that reason, they cannot find this place. If the guardian did not have this power, the Bundhi would know where we are, and he would have taken some action against us by now, because we are weak, and we're…in no condition to reach the other place, let alone battle him or anyone once we reached there.” She paused, then pointed out, “We have food, don't we? And water? Then stop asking so many questions and be glad that we stumbled onto this spring.”

There was nothing he wanted to do more, but the uncertainties nagged at him. “If neither the Right nor the Left Hand Path is welcome here, why have we found this place?”

“Because we are peaceable. If we carried on our fight here, the guardian would not permit us to remain.” She sighed. “It is sad that the guardian will not take sides, for we need an anchor in the daily world before we can establish a sanctuary in that other place. But the guardian will not do this, not for us or for anyone.”

“But can we stay here?” Arkady dreaded the thought of going on before they had regained some portion of their strength.

“We will be permitted to do that, and the guardian will protect us as long as we do not bring our battle here. We may travel in that other place and the guardian will not interfere, but we are not to bring our fight to his spring.”

“Right,” he said wearily, closing his eyes.

They spent one more day and night there by the cave and its spring. In that time, some of their energy was restored, and their bodies no longer ached from privation. The gelding grew restless and his coat glistened in the sunlight. Arkady combed and braided his mane, having nothing better to do. He was delaying the hour of leaving, and he admitted it, if only to himself.

“We'll have to travel soon, Arkady-immai.” Surata told him later that day. “The guardian will not permit us to remain once we are strong enough to fend for ourselves.”

“We are a long way from any merchants' route,” Arkady said pensively. “You said that you can see no farther than I can, and all that is around us here is empty, dry land. We don't know where we are, so it will be difficult to find where we are going.”

“There is a way,” she said with more enthusiasm than she had shown before. “We can return to the traders' road.”

“Possibly,” he said. “We can't be very far from the Oxus, and if we take care, we can reach it, then—”