water to the limit of their capacity before descending the rim. Marak approved. For the rest, he trusted Obidhen knew the wells, and the hazards.
It was approaching dawn by the time he was satisfied about the rest of the baggage, and by the time the Ilaâs men reported the mad were delivered to the bottom of the hill. He had thought it might take longer, and saw now that there would be no rest, not even an hour, but that was well enough. His back ached, his ears roared, his joints ached, and his eyes blurred with exhaustion, but the expectation of life and freedom had become bedrock, underlying all actions, the urgency of the departure as overwhelming as the direction, and the Ilaâs officers were inclined to take her orders as like the godâs, instantly to be fulfilled. East, his voices said, persistent, though the Ilaâs blast had deafened him. East. Now. Haste.
âI will come back,â he said, if Memnanan had doubted it.
Memnanan eyed him at a certain remove, as if still trying to sum him up. He likewise fixed Memnanan in his mind, a man not remarkable to look at, but distinguished by honesty, by wit, by intelligence. Someday they might be bitter enemies. In this hour they were close allies, and he meant to remember this name, this face, for good, whatever fell between them.
Then still haunted by his voices, half-deafened and aching in his bones, he turned and left, to walk down the hill like any common traveler. Memnanan sent the sergeant and his men down with him, and the auâit that the Ila had instructed to go with him walked with him, too, down the streets he had walked up mere hours ago as a prisoner.
The city rested neither by day nor by night . . . only changed its traffic. As folk did in the downland villages, people in Oburan did their major business by day; but the city being also of the Lakht, there were still plenty of curious onlookers abroad even in the depth of the night. They wondered at him, perhaps, not having had the rumor from the day people what he was. But they seemed to wonder more at the auâit, red-robed, the visible presence of the Ila, where they crossed the occasional circle of bug-besieged, oil-wasteful lamplight. Omi, they said. Lord. Lady. They bowed, or covered their faces, fearing her more than weapons.
When they reached the gates, gates that stood open by night in these times of peace, they had only to walk outside, there by the Mercy of the Ila, where Obidhen had arranged his beasts and their burdens. The pack beasts all sat saddled. Their burdens, which seemed all apportioned, sat ready to be bound to the saddles just before they set themselves under way. The riding beasts, too, were saddled, awaiting their riders. Obidhen had been a busy man.
âWe are ready,â Obidhen reported, bowing.
âThe auâit will ride with us,â Marak said. âI doubt she knows how. I doubt many of the others do.â
âWe have been advised,â Obidhen said. It was still a question of how much Obidhen had been advised, but Marak thought likely Obidhen had by now heard the nature of his party.
The sergeant commanding the Ilaâs men, too, gave the necessary commands to the caravan master, and went off to secure their own riding beasts from somewhere near, while Obidhen began to appoint his party of madmen to their beasts.
That was the orderly beginning of the matter. Then Obidhenâs slaves, strong men, each, roused each of the forty-some riding beasts up, beginning with the auâit, and hoisted their passengers up, like children.
âSit still!â Marak shouted out. âLet them settle!â
It was appalling confusion. The beasts, in the uncertainty of so many new riders, lost patience and moved away from nudging knees and elbows, adding to the bawling confusion. Two and three of the novice riders toppled hard onto the sand. Marak seized stray reins, and so did the freedmen and the sons and Obidhen himself, while
It was approaching dawn by the time he was satisfied about the rest of the baggage, and by the time the Ilaâs men reported the mad were delivered to the bottom of the hill. He had thought it might take longer, and saw now that there would be no rest, not even an hour, but that was well enough. His back ached, his ears roared, his joints ached, and his eyes blurred with exhaustion, but the expectation of life and freedom had become bedrock, underlying all actions, the urgency of the departure as overwhelming as the direction, and the Ilaâs officers were inclined to take her orders as like the godâs, instantly to be fulfilled. East, his voices said, persistent, though the Ilaâs blast had deafened him. East. Now. Haste.
âI will come back,â he said, if Memnanan had doubted it.
Memnanan eyed him at a certain remove, as if still trying to sum him up. He likewise fixed Memnanan in his mind, a man not remarkable to look at, but distinguished by honesty, by wit, by intelligence. Someday they might be bitter enemies. In this hour they were close allies, and he meant to remember this name, this face, for good, whatever fell between them.
Then still haunted by his voices, half-deafened and aching in his bones, he turned and left, to walk down the hill like any common traveler. Memnanan sent the sergeant and his men down with him, and the auâit that the Ila had instructed to go with him walked with him, too, down the streets he had walked up mere hours ago as a prisoner.
The city rested neither by day nor by night . . . only changed its traffic. As folk did in the downland villages, people in Oburan did their major business by day; but the city being also of the Lakht, there were still plenty of curious onlookers abroad even in the depth of the night. They wondered at him, perhaps, not having had the rumor from the day people what he was. But they seemed to wonder more at the auâit, red-robed, the visible presence of the Ila, where they crossed the occasional circle of bug-besieged, oil-wasteful lamplight. Omi, they said. Lord. Lady. They bowed, or covered their faces, fearing her more than weapons.
When they reached the gates, gates that stood open by night in these times of peace, they had only to walk outside, there by the Mercy of the Ila, where Obidhen had arranged his beasts and their burdens. The pack beasts all sat saddled. Their burdens, which seemed all apportioned, sat ready to be bound to the saddles just before they set themselves under way. The riding beasts, too, were saddled, awaiting their riders. Obidhen had been a busy man.
âWe are ready,â Obidhen reported, bowing.
âThe auâit will ride with us,â Marak said. âI doubt she knows how. I doubt many of the others do.â
âWe have been advised,â Obidhen said. It was still a question of how much Obidhen had been advised, but Marak thought likely Obidhen had by now heard the nature of his party.
The sergeant commanding the Ilaâs men, too, gave the necessary commands to the caravan master, and went off to secure their own riding beasts from somewhere near, while Obidhen began to appoint his party of madmen to their beasts.
That was the orderly beginning of the matter. Then Obidhenâs slaves, strong men, each, roused each of the forty-some riding beasts up, beginning with the auâit, and hoisted their passengers up, like children.
âSit still!â Marak shouted out. âLet them settle!â
It was appalling confusion. The beasts, in the uncertainty of so many new riders, lost patience and moved away from nudging knees and elbows, adding to the bawling confusion. Two and three of the novice riders toppled hard onto the sand. Marak seized stray reins, and so did the freedmen and the sons and Obidhen himself, while
Similar Books
