Абрахам Меррит - Dwellers in the Mirage

The last skeleton company came through the gap. I had been watching for Sri, but he was not with them, and I concluded that he had been taken to Karak with the earliest prisoners or had been killed.

"Come," I said to the Witch–woman. "Let your women go before us."

I rode over to Evalie, lifted her from her saddle and set her on my pommel. She made no resistance, but I felt her shrink from me. I knew she was thinking that she had but exchanged Tibur for another master, that to me she was only spoil of war. If my mind had not been so weary I suppose that would have hurt. But my mind was too weary to care.

We passed over the bridge, through the curling mists of steam. We were halfway to the forest when the Witch–woman threw back her head and sent forth a long, wailing call. The white wolves burst from the ferns. I gave command to the archers to set arrows. Lur shook her head.

"No need to harm them. They go to Sirk. They have earned their pay."

The white wolves coursed over the barren to the bridge–end, streamed over it, vanished. I heard them howling among the dead.

"I, too, keep my promises," said the Witch–woman.

We rode on, into the forest, back to Karak.

We were close to Karak when the drums of the Little People began beating.

The leaden weariness pressed down upon me increasingly. I struggled to keep awake. Tibur's stroke on my head had something to do with that, but I had taken other blows and eaten nothing since long before dawn. I could not think, much less plan what I was going to do after I had got back to Karak.

The drums of the Little People drove away my lethargy, brought me up wide–awake. They crashed out at first like a thunderburst across the white river. After that they settled down into a slow, measured rhythm filled with implacable menace. It was like Death standing on hollow graves and stamping on them before he marched.

At the first crash Evalie straightened, then sat listening with every nerve. I reined up my horse, and saw that the Witch–woman had also halted and was listening with all of Evalie's intentness. There was something inexplicably disturbing in that monotonous drumming. Something that reached beyond and outside of human experience—or reached before it. It was like thousands of bared hearts beating in unison, in one unalterable rhythm, not to be still till the hearts themselves stopped…inexorable…and increasing in steadily widening area…spreading, spreading…until they beat from all the land across white Nanbu.

I spoke to Lur.

"I am thinking that here is the last of my promises, Witch–woman. I killed Yodin, gave you Sirk, I slew Tibur—and here is your war with the Rrrllya."

I had not thought of how that might sound to Evalie! She turned and gave me one long level look of scorn; she said to the Witch–woman, coldly, in halting Uighur:

"It is war. Was that not what you expected when you dared to take me? It will be war until my people have me again. Best be careful how you use me."

The Witch–woman's control broke at that, all the long pent–up fires of her wrath bursting forth.

"Good! Now we shall wipe out your yellow dogs for once and all. And you shall be flayed, or bathed in the cauldron—or given to Khalk'ru. Win or lose—there will be little of you for your dogs to fight over. You shall be used as I choose."

"No," I said, "as I choose, Lur."

The blue eyes flamed on me at that. And the brown eyes met mine as scornfully as before.

"Give me a horse to ride. I do not like the touch of you—Dwayanu.''

"Nevertheless, you ride with me, Evalie."

We passed into Karak. The drums beat now loud, now low. But always with that unchanging, inexorable rhythm. They swelled and fell, swelled and fell. Like Death still stamping on the hollow graves—now fiercely—and now lightly.

There were many people in the streets. They stared at Evalie, and whispered. There were no shouts of welcome, no cheering. They seemed sullen, frightened. Then I knew they were listening so closely to the drums that they hardly knew we were passing. The drums were closer. I could hear them talking from point to point along the far bank of the river. The tongues of the talking drums rose plain above the others. And through their talking, repeated and repeated:

"Ev–ah–lee! Ev–ah–lee!"

We rode over the open square to the gate of the black citadel. There I

stopped.

"A truce, Lur."

She sent a mocking glance at Evalie.

"A truce! What need of a truce between you and me—Dwayanu?"

I said, quietly:

"I am tired of bloodshed. Among the captives are some of the Rrrllya. Let us bring them where they can talk with Evalie and with us two. We will then release a part of them, and send them across Nanbu with the message that no harm is intended Evalie. That we ask the Rrrllya to send us on the morrow an embassy empowered to arrange a lasting peace. And that when that peace is arranged they shall take Evalie back with them unharmed."

She said, smiling:

"So—Dwayanu—fears the dwarfs!"

I repeated:

"I am tired of bloodshed."

"Ah, me," she sighed. "And did I not once hear Dwayanu boast that he kept his promises—and was thereby persuaded to give him payment for them in advance! Ah, me—but Dwayanu is changed!"

She stung me there, but I managed to master my anger; I said:

"If you will not agree to this, Lur, then I myself will give the orders. But then we shall be a beleaguered city which is at its own throat. And easy prey for the enemy."

She considered this.

"So you want no war with the little yellow dogs? And it is your thought that if the girl is returned to them, there will be none? Then why wait? Why not send her back at once with the captives? Take them up to Nansur, parley with the dwarfs there. Drum talk would settle the matter in a little while—if you are right. Then we can sleep this night without the drums disturbing you."

That was true enough, but I read the malice in it. The truth was that I did not want Evalie sent back just then. If she were, then never, I knew, might I have a chance to justify myself with her, break down her distrust—have her again accept me as the Leif whom she had loved. But given a little time—I might. And the Witch–woman knew this.

"Not so quickly should it be done, Lur," I said, suavely. "That would be to make them think we fear them—as the proposal made you think I feared them. We need more than hasty drum talk to seal such treaty. No, we hold the girl as hostage until we make our terms."

She bent her head, thinking, then looked at me with clear eyes, and smiled.

"You are right, Dwayanu. I will send for the captives after I have rid myself of these stains of Sirk. They will be brought to your chamber. And in the meantime I will do more. I will order that word be sent the Rrrllya on Nansur that soon their captured fellows will be among them with a message. At the least it will give us time. And we need time, Dwayanu—both of us."

I looked at her sharply. She laughed, and gave her horse the spurs. I rode behind her through the gate and into the great enclosed square. It was crowded with soldiers and captives. Here the drumming was magnified. The drums seemed to be within the place itself, invisible and beaten by invisible drummers. The soldiers were plainly uneasy, the prisoners excited, and curiously defiant.

Passing into the citadel I called various officers who had not taken part in the attack on Sirk and gave orders that the garrison on the walls facing Nansur Bridge be increased. Also that an alarm should be sounded which would bring in the soldiers and people from the outer–lying posts and farms. I ordered the guard upon the river walls to be strengthened, and the people of the city be told that those who wished to seek shelter in the citadel could come, but must be in by dusk. It was a scant hour before nightfall. There would be little trouble in caring for them in that immense place. And all this I did in event of the message failing. If it failed, I had no desire to be part of a massacre in Karak, which would stand a siege until I could convince the Little People of my good faith. Or convince Evalie of it, and have her bring about a peace.