Абрахам Меррит - Dwellers in the Mirage

This done, I took Evalie to my own chambers, not those of the High–priest where the Black Octopus hovered over the three thrones, but a chain of comfortable rooms in another part of the citadel. The little troop, which had stood by me through the sack of Sirk and after, followed us. There I turned Evalie over to Dara. I was bathed, my wound dressed and bandaged, and clothed. Here the windows looked out over the river, and the drums beat through them maddeningly. I ordered food brought, and wine, and summoned Evalie. Dara brought her. She had been well cared for, but she would not eat with me. She said to me:

"I fear my people will have but scant faith in any messages you send, Dwayanu."

"Later we will talk of that other message, Evalie. I did not send it. And Tsantawu, dying in my arms, believed me when I told him I had not."

"I heard you say to Lur that you had promised her Sirk. You did not lie to her, Dwayanu—for Sirk is eaten. How can I believe you?"

I said: "You shall have proof that I speak truth, Evalie, Now, since you will not eat with me, go with Dara."

She had no fault to find with Dara. Dara was no lying traitor, but a soldier, and fighting in Sirk or elsewhere was part of her trade. She went with her.

I ate sparingly and drank heavily. The wine put new life in me, drove away what was left of weariness. I put sorrow for Jim resolutely aside for the moment, thinking of what I intended to do, and how best to do it. And then there was a challenge at the door, and the Witch–woman entered.

Her red braids crowned her and in them shone the sapphires. She bore not the slightest mark of the struggles of the day, nor sign of fatigue. Her eyes were bright and clear, her red lips smiling. Her low, sweet voice, her touch upon my arm, brought back memories I had thought gone with Dwayanu.

She called, and through the door came a file of soldiers, and with them a score of the Little People, unbound, hatred in their yellow eyes as they saw me, curiosity too. I spoke to them, gently. I sent for Evalie. She came, and the golden pygmies ran to her, threw themselves upon her like a crowd of children, twittering and trilling, stroking her hair, touching her feet and hands.

She laughed, called them one by one by name, then spoke rapidly. I could get little of what she said; by the shadow on Lur's face I knew she had understood nothing at all. I repeated to Evalie precisely what I had told Lur—and which, at least in part, she knew, for she had betrayed that she understood the Uighur, or the Ayjir, better than she had admitted. I translated from the tongue of the dwarfs for Lur.

The pact was speedily made. Half of the pygmies were to make their way at once over Nanbu to the garrison on the far side of the bridge. By the talking drums they would send our message to the stronghold of the Little People. If they accepted it, the beating of the war drums would cease. I said to Evalie:

"When they talk on their drums, let them say that nothing will be asked of them that was not contained in the old truce—and that death will no longer lie in wait for them when they cross the river."

The Witch–woman said:

"Just what does that mean, Dwayanu?"

"Now Sirk is done, there is no longer much need for that penalty, Lur. Let them gather their herbs and metals as they will; that is all."

"There is more in your mind than that—" Her eyes narrowed.

"They understood me, Evalie—but do you also tell them."

The Little People trilled among themselves; then ten of them stepped forward, those chosen to take the message. As they were moving away, I stopped them.

"If Sri escaped, let him come with the embassy. Better still—let him come before them. Send word through the drums that he may come as soon as he can. He has my safe–conduct, and shall stay with Evalie until all is settled."

They chattered over that, assented. The Witch–woman made no comment. For the first time I saw Evalie's eyes soften as she looked at me.

When the pygmies were gone, Lur walked to the door, and beckoned. Ouarda entered.

"Ouarda!"

I liked Ouarda. It was good to know she was alive. I went to her with outstretched hands. She took them.

"It was two of the soldiers, Lord. They had sisters in Sirk. They cut the ladder before we could stop them. They were slain," she said.

Would to God they had cut it before any could, have followed me!

Before I could speak, one of my captains knocked and entered.

"It is long after dusk and the gates are closed, Lord. All those who would come are behind them."

"Were there many, soldier?"

"No, Lord—not more than a hundred or so. The others refused."

"And did they say why they refused?"

"Is the question an order, Lord?"

"It is an order."

"They said they were safer where they were. That the Rrrllya had no quarrel with them, who were but meat for Khalk'ru."

"Enough, soldier!" The Witch–woman's voice was harsh. "Go! Take the Rrrllya with you."

The captain saluted, turned smartly and was gone with the dwarfs. I laughed.

"Soldiers cut our ladder for sympathy of those who fled Khalk'ru. The people fear the enemies of Khalk'ru less than they do their own kind who are his butchers! We do well to make peace with the Rrrllya, Lur."

I watched her face pale, then redden and saw the knuckles of her hands whiten as she clenched them. She smiled, poured herself wine, lifted it with a steady hand.

"I drink to your wisdom—Dwayanu!"

A strong soul—the Witch–woman's! A warrior's heart. Somewhat lacking in feminine softness, it was true. But it was no wonder that Dwayanu had loved her—in his way and as much as he could love a woman.

A silence dropped upon the chamber, intensified in some odd fashion by the steady beating of the drums. How long we sat in that silence I do not know. But suddenly the beat of the drums became fainter.

And then all at once the drums ceased entirely. The quiet brought a sense of unreality. I could feel the tense nerves loosening like springs long held taut. The abrupt silence made ears ache, slowed heart–beat.

"They have the message. They have accepted it," Evalie spoke.

The Witch–woman arose.

"You keep the girl beside you to–night, Dwayanu?"

"She sleeps in one of these rooms, Lur. She will be under guard. No one can reach her without passing through my room here," I looked at her, significantly. "And I sleep lightly. You need have no fear of her escape."

"I am glad the drums will not disturb your sleep—Dwayanu."

She gave me a mocking salute, and, with Ouarda, left me.

And suddenly the weariness dropped upon me again. I turned to Evalie, watching me with eyes in which I thought doubt of her own deep doubt had crept. Certainly there was no scorn, nor loathing in them. Well, now I had her where all this manoeuvring had been meant to bring her. Alone with me. And looking at her I felt that in the face of all she had seen of me, all she had undergone because of me—words were useless things. Nor could I muster them as I wanted. No, there would be plenty of time…in the morning, perhaps, when I had slept…or after I had done what I had to do…then she must believe…

"Sleep, Evalie. Sleep without fear…and believe that all that has been wrong is now becoming right. Go with Dara. You shall be well guarded. None can come to you except through this room, and here I will be. Sleep and fear nothing."

I called Dara, gave her instructions, and Evalie went with her. At the curtains masking the entrance to the next room she hesitated, half turned as though to speak, but did not. And not long after Dara returned. She said:

"She is already asleep, Dwayanu."

"As you should be, friend," I told her. "And all those others who stood by me this day. I think there is nothing to fear to–night. Select those whom you can trust and have them guard the corridor and my door. Where have you put her?"