Jango (8 page)

"Open your eyes, soldiers!"

But still the whips snapped harmlessly in midair.

Now the riders could be seen to be close to the two hooded men and to be exchanging words with them. Then they turned and rode back. The Jahan glowered at them.

"Why have you not done as I ordered?"

"Why, Excellency?" The men seemed confused. "We thought—we thought—it seemed best to leave them alone."

"Arrest these three!" said the Jahan, with an abrupt wave of one hand. The unfortunate men were led away.

"Which company is in the van?"

"The Sixteenth, Excellency."

"Tell the captain of the Sixteenth to charge the bridge."

"You wish them brought back alive, Excellency?"

"No. Make an example of them."

Echo watched as the company of twenty men and horses formed four lines, packed close, jostling and rubbing against one another. At the first command, the men drew their short curved swords. At the second command, falling into pace, the company set off at a canter towards the bridge.

The horses rose and fell together as they moved, in a beautiful display. As they quickened their pace and hit full gallop, the twenty melted into a single thunderclap roaring over the land, their raised swords flashing like lightning as they went.

The two barefoot hooded men on the bridge stood still and watched the charge sweep towards them and did not flinch. The villagers behind them fell silent with apprehension. As the horses' hooves struck the booming boards of the bridge, the riders let out wild howling cries and braced themselves for the impact and the kill.

The two hooded men made a slight movement—the bridge shuddered—and the compact squad of Orlan warriors burst apart. They exploded outwards, horses rearing, twisting, leaping. Men were tossed from their mounts, some falling, some skidding sideways and toppling over the low parapet into the river, some turning about, spinning in confusion, until they were facing back the way they had come.

When the cries of men and horses had faded, and the last of the bewildered Orlans had pulled themselves from the tangle of crashed riders and limped back off the bridge, there stood the two hooded men for all to see, as still as before, untouched. Each had one hand raised before him, with two fingers extended. But they had made no move. They had stood on the bridge like rocks in the river, and the charge of the Orlans had broken against them.

Echo Kittle saw, and she felt the same awe that she saw on every face round her. She turned to look at the Great Jahan. He stood raised on his carriage, staring impassively at the bridge, his face giving away no emotion. His sons, riding just behind him, were exchanging glances. Then Sasha Jahan spoke.

"Send me, Father!"

Then Alva Jahan called out, more loudly.

"Send me, Father!"

Amroth Jahan shook his head. Moving slowly, he stepped down from the carriage and strode towards the bridge. He had given no orders to his sons or to the rest of his army, so no one moved. But Echo, who was not a warrior under his command, slipped forward through the frozen ranks and followed him to the start of the bridge.

There she halted and watched as the Jahan strode over the boards to the two hooded men. The immense army behind her was silent, as were the villagers before her. She could hear every word that was spoken in that encounter.

"I am the Jahan of Jahans. Who are you?"

"We are Nomana."

The hooded man replied in a low voice. He sounded weary.

"What are Nomana? Are you devils? Are you spirits from the land of the dead?"

"We're men like you."

"Then let us pass."

"If you come in peace."

"Peace!" roared the Jahan, his caged fury breaking out. "I am peace! There is no peace without order, and I am the bringer of order! In all the lands I rule there is peace, because I enforce peace!"

The taller of the two hooded men sighed, and he raised one hand.

"You carry a heavy burden," he said. "Peace for all, but no peace for you."

The Jahan was silent with surprise.

"Ask forgiveness. Seek your own peace."

He extended two fingers and touched the air before him. Amroth Jahan sank slowly to his knees. There, kneeling on the bridge, he bent his head, groaned, and wept. Echo saw it and heard the low sobs. The men of the army lined up behind her saw and heard also. The unthinkable was happening before their eyes. No one had ever seen the Great Jahan cry.

The two hooded men then turned and padded away over the bridge. They linked arms as they went and leaned a little towards each other, as if overcome with exhaustion. Then they were lost to sight among the crowd of villagers.

After a few moments the Jahan rose slowly to his feet, and without brushing the tears from his eyes, he returned to his army. All watched him, in fearful uncertainty. He gazed at the massed ranks of his warriors, his cheeks still glistening, and raising his silver-handled whip, he gave the sign for the army to advance over the bridge.

The companies of mounted warriors began to file slowly across the river. The villagers on the far side parted to let them go by.

Echo was watching the Jahan as he climbed with weary movements into his high-wheeled chariot. One impatient wave of his hand dismissed the mirror bearers and the music makers. He turned to his three sons, who were staring at him in utter confusion. Sasha spurred his horse to the chariot's side.

"Father, command me!" he said. "Let me avenge you!"

The Great Jahan fixed dull angry eyes on his son.

"For what?"

Sasha Jahan saw that he had said the wrong thing, and not wanting to anger his father further, he bowed his head and was silent.

"We will cross the bridge," said the Jahan. "No one bars our way. There is nothing to avenge."

"Yes, Father."

The Jahan and his sons then crossed the bridge in the midst of the vast Orlan army. There was no sign of the hooded strangers on the far bank. The villagers offered no resistance. The army passed on down the road in silence.

After a little while the Jahan sent for Echo and asked that she ride with him in his carriage.

"You saw what happened," he said to her, not meeting her eyes.

"Yes."

"They call themselves Nomana. Do you know them?"

"I've heard of them."

"What have you heard?"

"That they are the only good people who are also strong."

"Good, and strong."

He said no more for a while. She watched the muscles twitching on his swarthy face.

"I'll not forget," he said at last, speaking more to himself than to her. "They did what no one has ever done before. They made me cry."

"They wanted you to find peace."

"Peace? Yes, I'll find peace."

With this the Great Jahan's face distorted in a smile of passionate cruelty: the smile of one who inflicts great pain and finds great pleasure in it.

"My peace will be in their destruction."

Echo said no more. But she too knew she would not forget those silent figures in gray. She had no interest in the peace they spoke of; she was interested in their power. Here was her means of escape from the Jahan, without harm to the Glimmen; and here was her means of revenge. She would find her champion among the Nomana.

A
LONE AND WITHOUT OCCUPATION IN HIS CELL,
S
EEKER
found the hours passed slowly and unmarked until they merged into a single unending moment. Food was brought to him by a silent meek, and his bucket was emptied. Day came with the brightening of the panel of glass in the roof above, then departed again with the fading of the panel into the night. For hours at a time he lay on the hard bed and watched the distant clouds above, finding in their many forms, and in the way they were forever changing, his only reminder of the world's variety and ceaseless activity. The silence and the emptiness were hard to bear, but he sensed that here, alone in his cell, he was being given a last chance. If he failed this test—whatever it was—he would follow the Wildman into exile from the Nom.

So he looked for ways to occupy his mind.

He studied his room, becoming familiar with the cracks and stains on its old plaster walls, imagining that they were rivers and roads and forests on a map of an unknown land. He chose not to eat his breakfast all at once, but to hold back the apple for later—breakfast was a slab of dark bread, an apple, and water—and to eat every part of the apple but for the pips. He kept the pips on his table in a row and played games with them, making them into warriors who went on adventures. He discovered that there was a very small spider living in a corner by the door and that close to the spider's web was a hole in the wall, no more than a pinprick, through which tiny crawling insects came and went. From time to time one of the little creatures became caught in the web.

He did his physical exercises, as he had been taught on first entering the Nom, and afterwards the more important mental exercises. Standing upright, he focused his attention first on his outer extremities—fingers, toes, scalp—and so worked slowly in towards the pit of his stomach. At each stage he felt for and found the lir that tingled through his nervous system and drew it inwards, until he could feel the concentrated heat of its power throbbing in his belly. From here he shot it like a bouncing ball into his hand, or his eyes, or his foot, like an acrobat who can balance his entire weight on any part of his body.

When he had done everything he could think of to do, he lay on his bed and tried to guess the purpose of this strange isolation; and from that he fell to thinking about Morning Star, also alone, somewhere very near. He thought about the way she had wept over the Wildman.

***

Morning Star was not afraid of solitude. She had spent many a night alone on the hills, watching over her father's sheep, and was used to her own company. What she found hard to bear was the closeness of the walls and the narrowness of the horizon. After the first few hours, the confines of her cell became unbearable to her, and she took to closing her eyes and keeping them closed. She found her way about the room by feel, letting her fingers patter over table and walls, until she could move as freely as if her eyes were open. For a time this trick made the spaces round her seem bigger. But then the unseen walls began to loom as large to her fingertips as they ever had to her gaze, so she stopped her circling of the cell and stayed for long hours, with her eyes closed, on the bed.

Alone in the darkness she thought of the Wildman and wondered what was happening to him.

"Are you still there, Wildman?"

She realized she had spoken aloud. There was no one but herself to hear, but the sound of her own voice comforted her. Also she liked saying the Wildman's name.

"Are you still asleep, Wildman? I want to be there when you wake. I want to be with you, Wildman."

This talking aloud made her ashamed and made her happy; but since shame requires the presence of others, and there were no others, she was left with the happiness.

"I've always been alone," she told the Wildman, as if the beautiful youth were standing by her side in the darkness. "I'm a good companion because I ask for very little. When you wake up from your sleep, maybe they'll send us both away, and we won't mind. You're bold and strong, and I'm really quite clever, so we'll find a way to survive."

Once launched into this daydream, she saw no reason to deny herself; and so, by small stages, she talked herself into an entire future life with the Wildman by her side. This life was vague as to what occupied her days, and how they obtained their nourishment, but was very detailed about the time they spent sitting close together and the sweet moment when they curled up in each other's arms to sleep.

"There, Wildman, lay your head on my arm, just here. And I'll rest my head on your chest, like so. We'll keep each other warm, shan't we? We'll say nothing, for there's nothing needs to be said. So shall we sleep now, my friend? Shall we sleep in each other's arms? And when morning comes, shall we wake and find ourselves still warm in each other's arms?"

Such thoughts were so strong and clear to her that she almost believed her friend was there with her, and she felt a deep calm contentment. But he was not there. It was only a trick she played on herself. Then, seeing the reality in a sudden flash, the daydream vanished and she was alone again in the darkness, more afraid than ever.

"Wildman! Help me!"

But the Wildman did not come. So, not thinking or caring what she did, she called for Seeker.

"Seeker! Don't let me fall into the darkness! Reach out your hand. Let me catch it. Let me hold your hand!"

She stretched her hand up into the darkness, there in her solitary cell, and imagined that Seeker took it and held her, and so the panic subsided once more.

"I'm going mad," she said to herself. "I can't do this any more. I'll tell them they have to let me go. I'm not strong enough to be a Noble Warrior."

The Wildman, meanwhile, had woken from his long sleep, to find himself alone in the novitiate dormitory. He rose from the bed and saw a meal waiting on a table. He was very hungry and ate all of it. His head throbbed, but he was not in pain, and his sleep had refreshed him. However, he was very confused. He tried to recall how he came to be there, but found he had no memory after the time he and the other novices had entered the Cloister Court.

He left the dormitory, passing down the bare wooden stairs and out into the courtyard. He hadn't been there long when he saw Miriander approaching him through the low archway.

"Are you well?" she said. "Are you better?"

"Yes," he replied. "Have I been ill?"

"Not ill, no. You've eaten?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand what has happened?"

"No."

"You're going to have to leave the Nom."

She looked at him with such gentleness as she spoke these words that the Wildman still didn't grasp her meaning.

"Does that distress you?"

"What?"

"Leaving the Community."

"Leaving? No, I want to leave."