Terrible Swift Sword (3 page)

Muzta looked from one to the other. Both had approached him, offering threats and promises, if only he would order his umen to swing over and aid in the destruction of the other.

He had been tempted, to be sure, but he knew as well what it would mean for all of them in the end. Even Jubadi realized that, or at least his shield-bearer Hulagar did. A curious idea, he thought. As a Tugar he had his advisor, old Qubata, but not even Qubata could exert such influence the way a shield-bearer of the Merki could. It was said that a shield-bearer strove not only to protect the life of his lord, but that if need be, for the sake of the clan, and if the Qar Qarth proved to be unworthy, he would
take it
as well.

Such a system seemed to be madness to him. What was a Qar Qarth, if not the ruler of all his clans with no one above him? For was it not said, "As Bugglaah ruled the choosing of death, so shall a Qar Qarth rule all who are living?"

Hulagar caught his look and held it for a brief moment. What did the shield-bearer think of all of this? But the look was inscrutable, as if he were gazing through him.

"And though you are the weakest," Tayang said quietly, breaking Muzta's thoughts, "here you are the strongest."

Muzta bristled inwardly. Yet again, another Qar Qarth was taunting him.

"If either of you had faced the Yankee weapons first, then it would be you who saw his horde destroyed, and now sat before the other two as a pauper."

Tayang laughed softly but Muzta could sense the wariness, for what he had said was in a way true. He had nothing left to lose. What could be taken from him now was nothing, therefore Jubadi and Tayang would never join together at this kurata, the meeting of Qarths, to slaughter him. For a brief moment it was he who held power over the other two. Yet if he should betray one or the other, their hordes were still numberless and would hunt what was left of his nearly defenseless people across the entire world until vengeance had been taken. The umen with him was barely all he could scrape together for this meeting—nearly all the rest were buried before the human city of Suzdal.

Jubadi held up his hand to Tayang, as if in warning.

"Don't laugh so loudly," he said softly. "Too many of our dead will not take your mirth so lightly."

"Tugar dead, Merki dead, what are they to me?" Tayang replied, but Muzta could see the quick upward glance of his eyes to the peak of the yurt, where malevolent spirits were said to enter through the smoke-hole.

"It will be Bantag dead soon enough," Jubadi said, "if we do not reach agreement."

"And that is a concern of yours?" Tayang retorted.

"It is a concern for all of us—Merki, Tugar, and Bantag."

Startled, Muzta looked over at Jubadi's entourage of clan Qarths, who sat beneath him in a circle around his throne of cattle bones. A Merki came to his feet, looking up at his Qar Qarth. He was slender of build, hair a shaggy brown, eyes dark and full of cold purpose and knowledge, more like those of a serpent than of a hunting tiger. His armor was simple: chain mail of black steel, the coverlet over it adorned with a white circle on black silk, trousers of browned leather faced with metal strips to protect his thighs. Over his shoulder was the round, oversized bronze shield of his office.

There seemed to be a look of surprise in Jubadi's eyes, that one who served beneath him would dare to interject his thoughts at this moment when three Qar Qarths had come together. Jubadi looked down at him, as if weighing a decision, then nodded almost inperceptibly. The Merki stepped forward.

"I am Tamuka, shield-bearer of the royal heir, the Zan Qarth Vuka."

He had seen this one before. He could only hope that he had the strength to control Vuka, for if ever there was one who was not fit to be a Qar Qarth it was he. Muzta could see the wary look in Vuka's eyes as Tamuka strode to the middle of the yurt.

"Is your tongue so weak it cannot speak for itself?" Tayang asked, looking over at Jubadi.

"Perhaps I can form the words best for all of us," Tamuka said. "I am not Qar Qarth, concerned with my power and that of my horde. The three of you are guided by your
ka,
the spirit of the warrior, as is fitting for those who rule. But all of you here know that the shield-bearers of the Merki, those born to the White Clan, are guided by the
tu,
the
ka-tu
shaped by the inner spirit."

"I have heard of this," Tayang said, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Though to allow such as you to have influence would never happen with the Bantag," he added quickly, looking over at Muzta. "Nor the Tugar Hordes as well, I would assume."

"And perhaps if I had listened more to one whom I suspect was guided by the
ka-tu,"
Muzta replied, "all that has happened would not have been, and it would be the cracked bones of the Yankees that bleached in the sun rather than that of the Tugars."

There were certain moments in one's life, he had come to learn, which are relived a thousand times; and each reliving is a torment, filled with a desire to somehow go back into time, to change an action or even a single word and thus prevent all the anguish that had come since. Two such moments had come in his life. One from so long ago, a moment in his inner life with a consort long gone, the other as Qar Qarth. Qubata had stood before him, counseling against a headlong attack against the Yankees; and he had ignored him. And Qubata was dead, as were nearly all who had charged into the battle that day.

"Listen to him," Muzta said. His voice carried such force that Tamuka turned, a glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes.

Tayang looked over at Muzta and then let his gaze drop on Tamuka.

"Speak then, one who does not live by the
ka
spirit of the warrior."

Tamuka gave a nod of acknowledgment, ignoring the insult of not being called a warrior, and stepped into the ceremonial circle of gold cloth in the center of the yurt, the marking place where truth must be spoken.

"All of us have fought," he began softly, turning to look at the three gatherings of Qarths and Qar Qarths. "Bantag against Merki, Merki against Tugar, and before the great kurata which divided the world,

Tugar has fought even against the Bantag. I could recite the honors we have all gained, the grievances we all bear, the deaths across two hundred circlings we wish to revenge.

"These are the things which drive our spirits, which give us the thrill of the charge, the singing of the
ka
within as we ride against each other, chanting our songs of battle. It is the fullness of what it means to be one of the Hordes."

He smiled for a moment, as if recalling a pleasant memory.

"It is what makes us alive, for without a foe, how else may one measure oneself and one's
ka?"
All nodded in agreement, murmuring to themselves about the intelligence of his words.

"And now, at least for this moment, it is all meaningless."

Tayang stirred uncomfortably, but remained silent.

"Cattle have been the source of life. They have come through the tunnels of light, the portals our ancestor gods built which once gave them the power to walk between the stars. The working of it is a mystery we do not understand, something we have lost. The tunnels of light seem now to be a thing of their own will, pulling all through who are near them, opening and closing at different times and bringing to Valennia many strange things.

"It was a good thing our ancestors made—at least in the past it was a good thing. It brought the cattle to this world, many of the plants which have taken root, the animals of the woods and steppe, and it brought us the horse which set us free to ride the world."

"Yes, that at least is good," Tayang mumbled, and the entourage of the three Qar Qarths nodded in agreement, as if they had somehow been responsible for what he had said.

"The horse has given us freedom, has enabled us to own all of Valennia, riding forever eastward toward the rising sun. We who were once few, living in the fastness of the Barkth Nom, the mountains that are the roof of the world, became masters of wherever our mounts could ride.

"The cattle we bent to our will, for as we grew in numbers and started our everlasting ride we found some of them already here. And then more came, and yet more. It seems that whatever world they come from beyond the stars they must breed like carrion flies, and thus spill out of the Tunnel into this world.

"We have seen that they are the same and yet different—some of white skin, others brown, yet others black, their tongues different, their customs different as well. Our grandsires in their wisdom learned to place them about the entire world. The cattle built their cities, which they love to hide within. They brought with them yet other beasts to eat, and planted the fields. Their numbers grew, far faster than our own. Yet we learned something else as well. We learned that their flesh is good, and we came to harvest them along with the food that they prepared for our coming. And most importantly of all, they freed us yet more from labor, which is beneath the dignity of those who are of the Horde.

"They freed us so we could do that which is most worthy of all who are of the Horde. They freed us from labor, from want of food, so that we could war against each other and thus gain honor."

He paused for a moment, and saw the self-satisfied nods of agreement.

"We are fools."

"You dare to say that before me?" Tayang roared, coming to his feet.

Tamuka looked about the yurt.

"All of us—Tugar, Bantag, and yes, my own Merki—are fools!" Tamuka shouted, turning and facing each group with his hand extended, pointing accusingly.

"Is your dog mad?" Tayang snarled. "Silence him, Jubadi, or I'll do it myself!"

"For the moment at least, he speaks with my voice," Jubadi replied.

Tayang shifted uncomfortably, looking over to Muzta for support.

"Let him continue," Muzta whispered.

Tamuka looked up at Tayang. The old Qar Qarth cursed softly and then finally nodded.

"I am not speaking now as Merki," Tamuka said, turning to face Jubadi and bowing with an air of apology. "I speak as one of all the Hordes."

Muzta looked at Jubadi with surprise. He saw a sharp look of disdain cross the features of the Zan Qarth Vuka, and just as quickly disappear.

There is tension there between the two, Muzta realized; more than tension, almost a hatred. Tamuka did not seem to notice. He closed his eyes and looked up, as if his gaze could somehow pierce the golden covers of the yurt and reach into the night beyond.

"There is a distant wind, a memory, a soft calling of what we once were," he whispered. "It is like turning back to one's own youth, to a dream of what was, and what can never be again. It is a chant unto the sky of evening, the breeze sighing through the high grass of summer, the musty smell of the earth in the spring. It is riding alone at night, the great wheel lighting one's path, the endless sea of the steppe rolling on forever before our gaze. To awake before dawn, and to ride up to a high place, and to raise your voice in praise as the sun lifts into the sky, its light flashing across the winter snows, the world turned crimson with flashing fire . . .

"That is what we are."

His voice was low, filling the tent. It was as if he chanted the words, and Muzta closed his eyes and flowed away with the words, sharing the memories.

"It is the moment of the
ka,
when your gaze lifts up and behold, you are one of ten thousand, riding stirrup-to-stirrup, a vast line sweeping across the steppe, the war cries rising to the heavens, the thundering of the hooves; living or dying does not matter, all that exists is to be there in that moment. And you know that if you should live for five circlings, a hundred years, you will never forget the thrill of that charge.

"That is what we are."

He paused, and all were silent.

"These are the moments we have all shared, it is part of all of us, it is why I can say I speak not as Merki, but as one of all the Hordes.

"The cattle will destroy all of that forever. It shall never be the same again."

There was a grumbled response to his words. Muzta felt uncomfortable—he had been lulled by the chant, which now had changed to a cold voice of warning.

"They have given us the freedom to be such, and now they have the power to take it away.

"The cattle have changed. They have learned not only to think like us, but beyond us. They will destroy us and this world shall be theirs, if we do not change as well. We must end, at least for the moment, what we are, if we wish to save ourselves. Though you see it without honor, it is the cattle of the north who are the true enemies, what we do between each other is for now without meaning. If we do not settle this issue, in the end it will destroy us, and they, the lowly cattle, will inherit the world."

There was a low murmuring from the dozens of Qarths sitting beneath the feet of their leaders. Some had grasped the hidden meaning of his words, but only a few; the rest gazed at him in confusion or disdain.

"For a moment, I found I could listen," Tayang growled. "Now your words are like the buzzing of flies on offal."

Tamuka waited for the angry retorts to die away.

"My lord Jubadi is even now building weapons of war. Or should I say, we have cattle who are building them for us."

"Like your last folly, which they destroyed!" Tayang laughed.

"I was there and you were not, Tayang Qar Qarth," Tamuka retorted. "I saw what you have only heard. I know what you have not even yet to dream in your darkest nightmares.

"I saw cattle who fought with a discipline that rivals our own. I saw cattle who charged in to battle, shouting their hatred of us, willing to die, dreaming but to take but one of us with them.

"I remember a time when one of us alone could have ridden into a city of ten thousand of them and they would have submitted, baring their throats. Now I tell you that in the north they wait with their cannons, guns, ships, swords, their bare hands. If we kill ten of them to our one, still we will lose in the end. Because if their infection of hatred spreads east, south even unto the realm of the Bantag, you too will see the fields littered with the corpses of your warriors. For the seed of the cattle is strong, and they spread about our world by the millions.