Lord of Janissaries (14 page)

They seemed to go on forever. The air in the bladder was stale, and her lungs ached so much that she nearly forgot her other pains. She was certain that she would faint from lack of breath, but at that moment they stopped. Light burst in from a door opened in front of them. They hurried through, past another door, and stood outside in the dying light of the night sun. To the east was the red of dawn.

There were horses. She felt herself lifted up behind Caradoc. She clung to him and they rode away. After a while, she fell asleep clinging to the archer. In her dreams, she had Sarakos flayed alive, and she smiled.

* * *

The true sun was high overhead when at last they stopped at a crossroads.

“We must hurry on,” Yanulf was saying.

“This horse must rest,” Caradoc answered. “Carrying double has nearly foundered him.” He reached up to help Tylara down, then led the horse to the watering trough that stood next to the stone heap. He bowed to the heap before allowing the horse to drink.

Tylara bowed as well. Crossroads were sacred to the Guide of the Dead. Then she turned to Yanulf. “Thank you.”

“Thank him.” He pointed at Caradoc.

“I have. But we would not have escaped if you had not—” she stopped herself.

“Broken my oath of secrecy?” Yanulf said. “Yes. Doubtless I will answer for that. But I spoke truly to the acolytes. Yatar cannot wish his secrets held at such a cost.”

“Where are we going?” Tylara asked.

Caradoc answered from behind her. “This is the east road,” he said. “Perhaps we will find the boy Wanax and the Protector. And if not—it leads home.”

Home. She looked to the east, but Tamaerthon was more than a hundred leagues, across salt flats and pirate lands. “There’s someone coming,” she said. She pointed eastward. Two men and a woman were walking up the road. The woman wore strange-trousered clothing like the men.

PART FOUR

THE CROSSROADS

1

The planet below did not look like Earth. The polar icecaps were too large, and there was much more water, too little land. Despite the vast empty seas—because of them? Rick knew too little to guess—there were great deserts ringed by mountain ranges.

From high orbit there was no trace of man at all.

* * *

The pilot seemed to be afraid of them. He made them store all the ammunition for the rocket launchers and mortars in one locker and the guns in another. He made it clear that the two would be offloaded a considerable distance apart.

The last few hours had been continuous briefings with the pilot insisting that both Rick and André Parsons attend them all. They were told how to raise
surinomaz
, which had a complex ecology and even more complex harvest procedure; how to use the transceivers to communicate with the traders when they came for the harvest; endless details, and always an underlying note of warning that the people of Tran were human and deserved to be well treated.

The landing area had been chosen: far enough from the equator to have an endurable climate even after the rogue sun came close; far enough from the poles to be inhabited even during the centuries when the invader was far away; at high enough altitude to remain dry when the polar caps melted and raised the sea level a hundred meters. There were several areas that would do, and Rick had no way to know which was best. He had pleaded with the pilot to let them spend several days observing the planet before landing, but that request was refused. The pilot seemed to be in a frantic hurry. Rick wondered why, but there was no explanation.

They moved to a lower orbit, and the TV screen showed images of the country below: a few large cities, but mostly a land of villages and fields. Many of the villages and all the cities were dominated by massive castles. There were few roads.

Parsons wanted to land near a city, but Rick chose a village near a major road, fifteen kilometers from a castle. The orbital photographs showed an army encamped outside the castle and massive siege towers nearing completion.

“If there’s a battle we may decide to join it,” Rick said. “After we get some political intelligence.”

“Nearer a city would be better,” Parsons said. “And if you intend to take that castle, why land a day’s march away?”

Rick again protested that they didn’t know enough and should land a safe distance from conflict. Eventually Parsons stopped arguing.

They landed at dusk, just after the major sun had set but before the distant secondary was up. When the secondary sun fully rose, it would light the planet with a blaze like a thousand full moons, making the night as light as a heavily clouded day on Earth. When they landed, the tricky light— dusk from the sun, rays of dawn from the secondary—made weird images and shadows.

They offloaded the guns first, then the ammunition nearly a kilometer from their first touchdown spot. Rick was the last to leave. Before he could jump out, the hatch closed and the ship lifted.

“Stop! I’m still aboard!” he shouted.

“I know.” The pilot’s voice was impassive. The ship moved half a kilometer and settled to the ground. Rick heard the whine of machinery, but the hatch didn’t open for several minutes. Then the voice said, “Now you can get out.”

When he jumped to the ground, the ship lifted. Rick watched it rise into the clouds until it was gone. He hadn’t really believed it would leave until then. He felt completely alone.

“It’s really gone.”

He fought a moment of terror as he realized the voice had been a woman’s. He turned.

She was a tiny girl, not very pretty in the half-light. She was dressed in coveralls much like his own. “You’re human,” he said.

“You don’t sound very sure of that.”

“I’m not very sure of that.”

“I’m human. My name is Gwen Tremaine, and I come from Santa Barbara.”

“Santa Barbara. As in California? On Earth?”

“Yes.” She tried to laugh, but she didn’t succeed. “Oh, yes, I’m from Earth.”

“We’d better get over to the others,” Rick said. He moved closer to her and saw tears in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m scared as hell,” she said.

“So am I. Uh—”

“I was the pilot’s mistress,” she said. “That’s what you wanted to ask, wasn’t it? I got pregnant and didn’t want an abortion, so he put me out here.” This time she managed a laugh. Rick thought it sounded horrible. “Pretty convenient. I asked him if this was the traditional way for flying-saucer pilots to get rid of excess baggage, but he didn’t answer.”

“Jesus!” Rick muttered. He led her through the scrub brush—it seemed a lot like the chaparral of the western United States, but there was a strange pungent odor to it—toward the distant lights where Parsons and the guns had been unloaded. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but he couldn’t think of anything. God Almighty, he thought. She must be as alone as anyone has ever been. “Do you know anything about—about why we’re here?”

“Probably more than you,” she said. She walked beside him, but several steps away, as if repelled by him.

“If you know more than I do, I’d appreciate the information,” he said.

“We’ve got plenty of time. Let me get used to the situation, will you? When he had me read up on Tran, he didn’t tell me it was because he was leaving me here.”

“When did he tell you—”

“That he was ditching me? About five minutes ago.”

“That was—” He tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t.

“A rotten thing to do?” she asked. “Sure was. You see, I thought I was in love with him.” She walked on for a few steps. “Do I sound like you?” she asked.

“How?”

“Scared and trying to be calm about it when what you really want to do is run in circles flapping your arms.”

“Do I sound that way?” Rick asked.

“Yes.”

“I guess I do,” he said.

* * *

Parsons had assembled the troops on the hilltop. He seemed as surprised to see Rick as he was to see Gwen. “I thought they’d taken you on to wherever the saucer was going,” Parsons said.

Rick didn’t like the edge to Parsons’ voice. He didn’t much care for the way Parsons held the M-16 rifle, either. “They didn’t,” he said. “I guess he wanted an escort for Miss Tremaine.” Rick explained who she was.

“I see. And now what do we do?”

“There are about a thousand things to do,” Rick said. “When there’s more light, we can go down to that village. The first thing is to start learning the local language. And figure out which side to take in that war we saw. Then—”

“There’s one thing a bit more urgent,” Parsons said.

“What’s that?”

“I think it time we restructure the command,” he said. The rifle swung around until it almost pointed at Rick.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“You are not an experienced officer,” Parsons said. “An ROTC boy, with almost no combat experience. Under the circumstances, do you really feel qualified to lead?”

“As qualified as you—”

“No. This is my career. For you it was an accident,” Parsons said.

“So you’re taking over.”

“Yes.” Parsons shrugged. “If you like, I’ll fight you for it.”

“Isn’t that a little barbaric?” Rick demanded.

Parsons smiled broadly. “Of course. We are on a barbarous planet. In fact, that is one major objection to you, Rick. You are unlikely to have the proper instincts for survival here. I have long noticed a regrettable tendency toward softheartedness in you. That was bad enough in Africa. Here it is likely to be fatal.”

A circle of men had gathered around them. Rick looked at them. “Elliot—”

“Cap’n, I’m truly sorry. I thought about this a lot when Mr. Parsons first brought it up, back aboard ship. He’s right. You just don’t have the experience.”

And he sounds really sorry about it, Rick thought. And probably is. One thing was certain. If Elliot and the NCOs accepted Parsons’ takeover, there was nothing Rick could do about it. At best he’d cripple the command. They were all staring at him.

He had to say something, and quickly, before Parsons decided to shoot and be done with it. “Maybe you’re right. André, you do have more experience than me. All right, you command.” As he said it, he felt a wave of relief. Someone else could do the worrying.

“Glad you understand,” Parsons said. “Sergeant Elliot, get our perimeter defense set up.”