Wielding a Red Sword (9 page)

I could have ignored the aloof or used the seductress
.

And so she had discovered in him a man she could genuinely respect. But because of that, she did not wish to corrupt him. He had another love; she would not attempt to interfere with that, despite her mandate from her father. But her good intention was subverted by her female nature. When he protected her at night, she came to appreciate him more than she wished. Unable to prevent the development of what she strove to avoid, she had finally set out to solve the problem in the only way possible.

That is why I have to die
, her thought concluded.
It is the only decent thing to do. I could not face my father, after failing him for the third time, but I could not allow myself to corrupt you
.

And he had discovered in her a woman the equal of the one he loved, and one he might have loved had he met her first. But because he did love another, he had no right to compromise this one. He had exerted his discipline to act with propriety, despite the devices of the Castle. When she had required protection at night, he had done what was required—and no more.

But I could not allow you to die
, his thought concluded.
That was no decent thing to do
.

And so their dilemma was upon them, for both knew that if she did not die, she would corrupt him. The ambience of the Castle made that inevitable.

He did not like that term, “corrupt.”

And even if you did not love elsewhere, I would not be worthy of you, she thought. The one you love is strong, while I am weak
.

She is strong, while you are weak, he agreed
.

Therefore I must be sacrificed, that you may return to her
.

But Orb, he realized, could survive without him—because she was strong. A woman like her could have any man she chose. She had blessed him with her love and done more for him than any woman before had done—but she did not truly need him. While Rapture could not, at this stage, survive without him.

So let me die!
she pleaded.

Rapture loved him; this could no longer be concealed. So she chose to die, solving her problem and his. She had never sought the selfish way that would bring her the praise of her grim father; she had never tried to capture him, despite her emotion and her need of him.

He considered her, while their bodies remained locked in the kiss and their emotions swirled in a monstrous pattern about them. Rapture was the perfect woman, except for her single great weakness, her dependence on him. She was terrified of being alone. Yet she had had the courage to do what she felt necessary—to abolish her own life, to free him. This had been no pretense, no play for sympathy; she had made her decision and sought to implement it. He was assured of this, for no false thoughts were possible here. The courage she lacked for herself, she had risen to in her effort to protect him.

It is already too late
, he realized.

I would be dead now, if you had not prevented me! You would have been safe from corruption
.

I prevented it because I was already corrupted
. Then he laughed, mentally, at the irony of the term.

Even now, let me go and you will be free
! she persisted.

How can I be free by letting you die—when I love you
?

Like startled birds, her thoughts and emotions swirled, finding no anchorage.
But I am weak where she is strong
!

Therefore you need me more than she does. No woman ever truly needed me before
.

But this made no sense, she protested. No one would choose another to love because of a weakness!

No woman would
, he agreed.
But a man—desires a dependent woman
. Whatever he might say to the contrary. A man wanted his woman all to himself. It wasn’t nice, it wasn’t generous, but that was what he most truly desired—when his illusions were stripped away. A lovely, talented, and completely dependent woman.

And while her confusion swirled about them, he shifted his body, encountering no resistance, and took her in the manner they both desired. The storm intensified, obliterating all else, carrying them both into the rapture of their passion, the physical expression of their love.

Then they emerged into the center of the storm—and
it was completely calm, a region very like nirvana. For a thousand years they floated there, gently sharing their unbound love. The intense ecstasy of the breakthrough had become the enduring pleasure of complete acceptance, physical, emotional, and mental, and the latter was more wonderful than the former. Then it was morning.

They spent the remainder of the month as true honeymooners, going hand in hand by day, sharing a bed by night. They shared thoughts. coming to know all the details of each other’s existences. They agreed that they would be married as soon as was feasible, but would keep company in the interim. It had been a desperation measure of the two Rajahs, sending them unwed to the Honeymoon Castle, because of course it guaranteed that the bride would not be virginal—but this was, after all, the twentieth century, and the rulers of nations did what they deemed expedient, regardless of the ancient proprieties. A contraceptive spell would keep Rapture from becoming prematurely pregnant; that would suffice.

“But Orb,” she inquired, concerned. “What of her?”

“I gave her my magic serpent-ring,” he sang. “It always informs its user of the truth, if asked. I have no doubt she knew of my defection long before I did. She had only to ask it ‘Will Mym return?’ and it would squeeze twice. Two years have passed; she may already have found another man. I sincerely regret putting her through this business, but she knows that I loved her when I was taken from her, that I intended to return to her, but was prevented.”

“By another love,” Rapture said pensively.

“That I would prefer to spare her—but surely she knew it also, if she wanted to. My respect and feeling for her has not really been changed; it has merely been superseded. But I think it will be best if I do not see her again.”

“Perhaps I should see her, to explain—”

“No. She knows—if she wants to. We must leave her to her own life, which will surely be a rich one. With the ring, she may be able to find the Llano, the song she sought; that much, at least, I may have done for her.”

“If you are sure—”

“You fought to protect her, to avoid diverting my love from her,” he reminded her. “You meant to kill yourself. But it happened anyway, because you are what you are, and I am what I am, and the Castle is what it is. We have a new reality, and I would not change it now if I had the power.”

“Still I feel guilt—”

“And I feel it when you feel it. But I think it will pass.” And by the time the month was done, it had passed.

 
5
 
SWORD

A single carpet arrived, but it was capacious enough to support them both. They boarded, drew closed the curtain, and made love again while it carried them back to one Kingdom or the other.

It turned out to be Gujarat, and the Rajah was waiting.

Mym got out and held out his hand to assist Rapture. She had had to reassemble herself rather hastily, but looked stunning nevertheless.

“Sire, I accept this woman, the Princess Rapture of Malachite, as my betrothed,” Mym sang formally. “She alone will I marry.”

The Rajah nodded witih glacial satisfaction. “It shall be arranged.”

The arrangements proceeded. In the interim, Rapture was an honored guest at the Rajah’s palace at Ahmadabad. Nominally she slept alone; in practice she joined Mym. Of course the palace staff knew, and therefore so did the Rajah; it hardly mattered, since this was exactly the commitment the Rajah wanted. The two Kingdoms were now engaged in the complex negotiations for the precise size and nature of the dowry, but it was certain that in the end a suitable contract of marriage would be
drawn up. In the interim, Gujarat and Maharastra were allied, and this well served the political interests of both.

Mym plunged into the business of the Kingdom, for with his commitment to the betrothal had come his participation in contemporary matters. He would be the next Rajah and he had only three years to gain some solid experience. He talked in singsong, to avoid the stutter, and if any person thought that was funny, that person concealed his opinion most carefully, for the Rajah had issued a notice that any person caught making light of any other person’s manner of speaking would be summarily beheaded. On the first day Mym had gone out, a man had laughed at a comment made by another, probably on some unrelated subject; the cavalrymen had charged into the crowd, knocking down those who failed to scurry clear, and lopped off the laugher’s head—and that of his companion for good measure. Now no one found any subject the slightest bit humorous while Prince Pride was in the area.

Gujarat was not in ideal shape. There was a great deal of poverty, and some starvation in the nether castes. The problems were dual: a bad drought in the central region that had disrupted the rice harvest; and overpopulation along the coast. It would have been difficult to feed all those people if the harvest had been good; as it was, it was impossible.

Mym floated his royal carpet to the most distressed region. There he saw people spread out on the ground, having no place to go and no ability to work. Officers of the Kingdom were dispensing soup, but it was thin and insufficient; it only extended lives, without reversing their course. The distribution was being done in a fair and orderly manner; there simply was not enough soup to do the job.

Mym thought of the two years he had spent confined to the palace. He had been served the rarest delicacies, which he had not appreciated, and all his servants and concubines had been excellently fed. Now he cursed himself for his selfish neglect of the Kingdom, where the present situation had been developing. Had he done his duty earlier and been on the job where he belonged, he
might well have been able to accomplish some amelioration of misery. How many good citizens had starved to death, while Mym had taunted his father with his refusal to do his duty?

As he stood surveying the ugly situation, he saw a figure walking among the dying. He signaled a minister, who hurried forward. “Who is that man?” Mym inquired.

The minister looked, but was baffled. “Prince, whom do you mean? I see none but the dying on their pallets.”

“That man in the ebony-black cape,” Mym sang.

The minister gazed again, his brow furrowed. “I see no such man.”

Mym had had enough of this. He strode forward, the minister scurrying after him. He approached the caped figure, who was leaning over one of the pallets. “You!” he called in his fashion. “Identify yourself!”

The figure ignored him. Angry at this contempt, Mym confronted him face to face. “Speak, or suffer the consequence!” he sang.

Slowly the figure raised his head. Under the cowl, the face took form. It was emaciated beyond belief, a virtual skull, the eyes sunken and the teeth protruding. “You perceive me?” the strange man asked.

Mym was taken aback. This was obviously no ordinary person! “Of course I see you! I want to know who you are and what business you have here!”