Asena Blessed, page 34
part #2 of Altaica Series
Vikram laughed. ‘I haven’t forgotten, Māhir, it’s the best news of all.’
* * *
Malak stood beside Vikram in the dimness of the citadel entrance hall. She shivered in the chill air. ‘You’ve taken a long time to decide where you stand, Captain.’
‘I’ve always known what side I was on, Mistress Malak. But for some things the timing must be precise. All things have led to this and yet everything depends on this moment. Are you ready?’
Malak took a deep breath and drew herself up. ‘I am, but I’ve worried for days that someone will try to kill the boy and girl before they’re heard. Will they be safe here?’
Vikram paused with his hand on the doors of the citadel. He shrugged. ‘I’ve done all I can.’
Together they walked through the doors of the citadel and stood on its great, wide, arching steps. The courtyard was full. Vikram’s warriors—men and women—lined the parapets and inside the walls. The archers stood casually with their bows held loosely in their hands, but their eyes constantly roved the crowd. Along the widest part of the steps, in high backed, imposing chairs, elevated above the crowd, sat the members of the Conclave.
Malak and Vikram stood at the edge of the upper most step. ‘As Pasha of Faros, I have assembled the Conclave for a public hearing to pass judgement upon our clan lord.’
A wave of shocked murmurings rolled through the crowd.
Vikram held up his hands. ‘Silence! This is not done lightly! Only once before has such a thing been brought before the Conclave. This was once a great clan—a clan of honour. Shahjahan may have let his grief rule him for too long, but in his last days, I saw the return of the clan lord of old. The assault on our Kenati—Asha—was what galvanised him. Shahjahan wanted to restore honour to this clan. He wanted to curtail his son and his followers. You know what I mean.’ Heads in the crowd nodded. ‘Ratilal has a history of assaulting women. As a young man, as an adult—the assault on Asha, our Kenati, and the brutal attack on two of Pramod’s girls. You all saw Asha.’
‘He was punished for that!’ a voice cried. ‘You can’t punish him again.’
‘No, but we do well to remember it, for it signals a pattern. A pattern which it appears started when he was a child. First I will call Tomak, the former Commander of Shahjahan’s bodyguard. He is long retired, but he remembers discovering Ratilal torturing animals as a boy and the patent joy that he appeared to derive from having done so. He’ll also tell you of an earlier assault upon a maid within the citadel when Ratilal was but a teen. Remember this and remember Asha when you see Niara—the latest victim. Finally, you will hear from a boy who will tell you what he witnessed the night Shahjahan died.’ Silence. ‘Those rumours—those slogans on the walls of Faros, they are true. Ratilal murdered Shahjahan on the beach at Parlan.’
‘What!’
‘No!’
Malak called out, ‘I’ve heard the boy. I believe him. I’ve met with the girl. They, and I, have only remained safe due to the actions of Captain Vikram.’
‘Don’t you mean Pasha Vikram? He wants power just like the rest.’
Malak drew herself up. ‘Who is it who has kept the peace in this city for years? Who is it who listens to your grievances? Not Ratilal, but Vikram. He didn’t seek to become Pasha. It was thrust upon him by a man too consumed with rage, war and revenge to be bothered with his own citizens. Shame on you!’
Vikram smiled inwardly as Malak scolded them. What an ally! ‘I do not want power in this clan. No matter what the outcome I’ll not seek to be made clan lord. But we’re forgetting our purpose. You and the Conclave will hear the evidence and they will pass judgement. I call upon Tomak to give testimony before this gathering.’
An elderly warrior strode out in full armour, tall and proud. His craggy face strong and stern, he marched ramrod straight past the Conclave members to stand on the steps just below them. Tomak swore the oath to tell the truth and addressed the assembled crowd clearly. He finished his tale by adding, ‘Shahjahan was a good man, an honourable man despite his faults, and would not have allowed his son to rule.’
‘Children do foolish things! How can Ratilal be held accountable for his actions when he was a child?’ someone yelled from the crowd.
Several members of the Conclave nodded in agreement. Yet the senior member of the Conclave stood and bowed to Tomak. ‘We thank you for your testimony, your honesty and your service.’
‘I call upon Niara,’ Vikram cried.
Through the double doors walked a young woman. Her long dark hair fell lustrously to her slim waist. Niara slowly descended the stairs until she stood below the conclave members, yet high enough on the steps for all the crowd to see her. Her nose had been broken. It was flattened and bent sideways. A long jagged scar ran from high on Niara’s cheekbone, following the curve of her jaw to her lip. She held up her arms, showing defensive scarring.
‘Do you swear by all that we hold sacred, by Rana and Jalal and upon the spirits of your ancestors, that you will speak only the truth?’
‘Yes,’ came the soft reply.
‘Niara,’ Vikram said. ‘I know you are scared, but you are safe. You must answer loudly.’
She stood taller and, though trembling, Niara raised her head. ‘Yes!’
‘You know that to break this oath will dishonour your entire family and see your spirit condemned to Karak by Rana and Jalal upon your death?’ the senior Conclave member asked her.
‘I do.’
‘Then tell us your tale,’ the member said.
‘I tell no tale, but the truth. I came to the aid of another girl at Pramod’s brothel. Ratilal beat me and cut me with a broken pottery carafe. My screams alerted the others. I was only saved because Lord Niaz restrained him. I hid with my brother, then Captain Vikram found me and smuggled me from the city.’
‘What of the other girl?’ one of the Conclave asked.
‘She’s just a whore,’ one of the crowd yelled.
‘The other girl, Sora, fled,’ Vikram said abruptly. ‘Take a good look at what your high lord did. No one deserves this.’ Niara stood stiffly, her terrified eyes roamed the crowd. Soon she began to tremble.
‘Niara, child,’ Malak said. ‘Come, wait here with me.’ Niara darted to her side. Malak pulled her close and put her arm around her.
‘Next I call forth Mikka, grandson of Deo—Headman of the village of Parlan.’
The small boy, Mikka, exited the great doors, holding onto Deo’s hand. He swallowed nervously and with wide eyes earnestly swore to speak the truth. ‘My new friend, Pio and I, well … we got drunk,’ he said sheepishly, ‘at the celebration Clan Lord Shahjahan put on in our village.’ Chuckles and wry grins broke out among the crowd. ‘We fell asleep in the dunes and Lords Karan and Baldev came to find us with Asha. Well … um … they did—find us that is. And on the way back we heard Clan Lord Shahjahan and Ratilal arguing. We just hid and watched. Then all of a sudden like, Ratilal stabs his father.’ The crowd remained silent, stunned at the boy, waiting for him to continue, though they knew the end of the tale. ‘And Clan Lord Shahjahan dropped like a sack of spuds—dead.’ Talking and shouts erupted. ‘We was all pretty shocked. Lord Baldev and Asha snuck us back to the village.’
Vikram thrust his hands in the air, demanding, ‘Quiet! What did Lord Karan do?’ he asked.
The boy gulped again and anxiously looked around the crowd. ‘Lord Karan ran out to the body to check. He said the words of farewell to him.’ Mikka scowled. ‘Then Ratilal’s men saw Lord Karan. It was like they was waiting. I mean, why else would they be there? They said he’d killed our clan lord, but he never did.’
‘Why did you not speak of this earlier?’ Lady Malak asked.
‘Lord Ratilal killed his pa! What’d you think he’d do to me? And Lord Baldev and Asha told us to keep quiet. Everything went to Karak after that.’
‘We know the rest,’ Vikram said. ‘Ratilal blamed the Horse and Bear and started a war—all to come to power and overthrow his father who was about to pull him into line. Clan Lord Shahjahan was determined to see a return to the old ways and our former greatness. He saw peace between the clans as the means to achieve it—through trade and a resurgence of the annual clan games and other traditions.’
‘And how long would that have taken? High Lord Ratilal is an able commander. He’ll win this war and he’s promised a return to our glory days—to the old ways,’ came a shout from the crowd.
‘Yes, Ratilal is an able commander, his men respect his military skills, but he’s without honour. As for returning to the old ways—he has not done so. Ratilal does not care for your welfare as a clan lord should. He palmed off the regular hearings of disputes, he disregards the need to improve the lower city, he neglects the poor and he ignores the rights of half this city—the women. Our clan never cared about the sex of our warriors—only that they fought well and with honour. These women you see here armed and training do not do so under Ratilal’s orders.’ Vikram shook his head. ‘We’ve able commanders amongst us to match Ratilal—and with more honour. What warrior of honour would’ve burned Gopindar? Not Shahjahan. No, but the man who murdered his father in cold blood, for wealth and power … the man who has proved himself to be of the most vile character since childhood—yes, he would do it. Ratilal. You see his deeds laid out before you. Is this how you want your clan to go forward?’
‘No!’
‘Never!’
Vikram shook his head in despair. ‘I’ve worked for the good of this clan all my life. I was prepared to give Ratilal a chance, but no longer! I call on the Conclave to deliver their judgement.’
The Conclave rose as one and entered the citadel. The crowd waited. Silence turned to murmurs. The murmurs dimmed with one call.
‘Remove Ratilal and execute him for the crime of patricide.’
‘Remove him!’
‘Execute him!’
Vikram’s face remained impassive, yet his pulse beat more quickly. So much work, so much planning, so much time. Please gods, let them decide.
‘What’s taking them so long?’ Malak said. ‘How many of them are in his pocket?’
Vikram’s lips twisted. ‘They’re probably fighting over who gets to become clan lord.’
‘We’ll see about that!’ Malak stormed toward the citadel.
Talking began to cease. Some in the crowd jostled their neighbours to silence. ‘Look, Mistress Malak will bring them to heel.’
The doors of the citadel opened and the Conclave appeared. Malak slammed to a halt and watched with narrowed eyes as they moved to stand before their chairs.
The entire crowd fell silent, expectant.
The senior member stood. ‘For his crimes Ratilal will be executed. There was never any doubt about this. We have been debating how best to go forward from here. A new clan lord must be found. We have …’
‘Enough!’ Malak shouted. ‘This clan is at war over a falsehood. We have a loyal Pasha who is defender of Faros. It is in Vikram’s hands that we must now trust ourselves until this mess is sorted out. Then the clan—the whole clan for the first time in generations,’ she cried out, ‘can decide who our clan lord will be as per our ancient traditions.’ A roar of approval ran through the crowd. ‘Vikram, what do we do now?’ she whispered.
‘I’ve a few ideas. Come, we’ve a lot to plan and I feel not much time in which to do it.’
* * *
The stone cabin of farmstead lay nestled not far from a full flowing creek. It was only a small cabin with a lean-to built against the house for a few animals. A poor steading, but well tended. They didn’t have much, and even that was taken from them. We were too late. Karan placed the woman’s abused body on the bed next to her husband. He pulled a quilt over them. Thank the gods they’d no children.
Outside Karan’s warriors waited. Four of the enemy were dead and lined up before the remaining two who were tied, arms stretched, to timber railings on the house yard fence.
Karan walked to them and drew his kilij. ‘I’m usually a man of control. The other day I was telling someone dear to me that control makes heroes or villains of us all. You, however, have snapped my control. I want information.’ The sword flashed through the air, slicing across one man’s chest. He screamed. The skin parted, revealing bone. ‘Trust me when I say I know exactly where to slice, and not have you bleed to death.’
The other Boar soldier’s eyes widened in terror as the blade slashed again. His comrade shrieked as Karan’s blade cut him and lost consciousness. Karan cleaned his kilij lovingly before sheathing it and drawing a dagger. ‘How many squads did Ratilal send?’ Nothing. ‘I can keep cutting all day. Oh wait, he’s unconscious. Your turn.’
‘You’ll kill us anyway.’
‘True, but it can be quick or slow, and after what you did to that woman it will be very slow. Tell me!’ The Undavi flowed in Karan’s voice.
The man quailed. ‘Four squads. He sent four!’
‘What else?’
‘We crossed with the waning moon. The floodwaters let us reach the top of the riverbank at the right spot. We were to wait until the new moon, then cause havoc while one team headed to Bear Tooth Lake.’ The man hung his head resentfully. ‘They were to capture or kill one of the strangers and, depending on the situation, deal with Umniga and Asha. By the first quarter moon we should have been back at our boats.’
Isa! Karan’s hand clenched. ‘Where did you cross?’
The man described the willow stand in detail.
‘You should never have come,’ Karan said quietly as the life left their eyes. ‘Put them in the cabin. Burn it.’ Karan turned to Suniti. ‘Find Munira, pass on that location and time.’
While the cabin blazed, Karan said to his captain, ‘I hoped never to have to do that. It makes me little better than Ratilal. May the gods forgive me for this day.’
‘You’re nothing like Ratilal. He would not feel the weight of it, nor would he ask for forgiveness.’
As the smoke poured into the sky, Fihr flew overhead, screeching.
‘Mount up, we’re moving out.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Alejo’s bulky form stood out at the head of the approaching column. Thank the gods. Karan broke from his warriors and cantered Mirza toward them. He grew sombre when he saw Asha’s ghostly face.
‘My lord.’ Pravin inclined his head. ‘Things have been busy.’
‘Asha, I’m sorry,’ Karan said.
Stony faced, Asha nodded briefly at him.
Mirza swung beside Alejo. Karan held Isaura’s hand and kissed it; he did not let it go. Grinning, he held out his other arm. Alejo deliberately sidled closer to Mirza.
‘It’s a conspiracy,’ Isaura muttered, laughing as she allowed Karan to pull her across to sit sideways in front of him on Mirza. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Showing you how happy I am that you remained unharmed.’ Karan tilted her head toward him and kissed her.
‘Oh, she’s done more than that,’ Pravin said.
‘Has she indeed?’ Karan said.
‘She’s got the heads of some of those who killed Umniga hanging from a pack horse back there.’
‘Really?’ Karan kissed her again. ‘Pravin sounds rather proud of you,’ he said. ‘What were you planning on doing with them?’
‘I want to stick them on spikes at the fort at the Four Ways so the enemy can see them,’ Isaura replied.
‘I’ve a better idea. At the right moment, Fihr can fly them across and drop them on the enemy camp. I think that will be far more effective. That should satisfy some of Asha’s need for revenge.’
‘It’s a start,’ Asha said acerbically.
‘First we need to meet Hamza,’ Karan said, kissing Isaura again.
‘Whatever happened to distant restraint?’ Isaura asked, laughing.
Karan chuckled. ‘Too distant and too much restraint.’
* * *
Ratilal’s army lay behind a long, low treed ridgeline. Gopindar still smouldered and this far north the acrid smoke hung low. The wagons were covered in hessian to which grassy tussocks had been stitched. Men sheltered either under wagons or the trees. Mounted troops further away from the Falcontine had lit lots of small fires to disguise Ratilal’s true whereabouts and intent. He prayed to the gods that it would work.
Ratilal’s scout bowed low. ‘Lord Baldev’s forces have moved beyond the second of the Divide’s watchtowers. They are setting up camp here,’ the scout pointed to a spot on Ratilal’s map, ‘on what dry ground they can find.’
‘Does it look like they’ll try to cross upstream of the lake?’
‘Hard to say, High Lord. There is only one place where they might, but it will add days to their return. It’s only a single file track and the river may well have made it impassable. I’d say they aim to push through the marshy ground tomorrow.’
‘Good, well done. Dismissed. Get some rest.’ To his captains he said, ‘We’ll move out tonight. Make sure the horses’ hoofs are padded again before we cross. We need to travel light, fast and quietly. We must get across the Upper Divide and take those two towers.’
* * *
The warriors in Ratilal’s assault team had blackened their skin with a mixture of coal and fat. The polish on their weapons was dulled. They each clung to inflated goats’ stomachs and half drifted and swam across the Upper Divide. The newly completed watchtower stood on a raised stone foundation down river to their right. The Upper Divide widened dramatically after that and its banks became steadily steeper. The noise of faint ripples as they crossed echoed gently back to the Boar soldiers. With each stroke closer to the shore they waited to be spotted. Nothing.
The Boar slid on their bellies into the rushes that lined the banks. They froze at an abrupt hand signal from their leader. Nothing. Staying low, they worked their way to the tower and pressed against it walls, listening. Their leader held up two fingers. The tower door opened.
‘I’m goin’ for a piss.’
