Fire Time

SEVENTEEN

Port Rua was legionary barracks and their outbuildings, workshops, trading posts, warehouses, taverns, the homes of long-time dwellers, all crowded together on straight and narrow streets in order that a high, betowered stockade might enclose them. Outside sprawled tents, booths, and shacks where overflow people could shelter unless attacked. Further scattered were the steadings of farms and pastureland which had helped nourish the town. But most of these stood deserted amidst heat-sickened fields. Tassu raiders had plundered several. Legionary columns made sallies northward and westward as much to hunt and gather food as to harass their foes.

From that mountaintop where he waited at the head of warriors, Arnanak could barely see the settlement. Clearer in view were the long sweep of the Esali River through its brown-burnt valley tilt it emptied into Rua Bay, and the easterly glint of that great bight opening at last en the Sea of Ehur. His telescope found boats trying to fish—they didn’t venture far, lest a native warcraft snap them up—and masts of ships tied at the wharf, supply line and escape for the Zera Victrix.

The sky seemed white-hot over the two suns. Though the air never stirred, and its dryness made pelts and manes crackle, somehow it seethed. Arnanak and his sixty-four males wore nothing save their shields and weapons, whose metal parts they did not touch, and still they felt consumed. What must it be like for the sixty-four from cold Haelen and gentle Beronnen, bound full-armored up the mountainside?

They came at a smart trot, though, which thumped the bricklike soil, snapped stalks of parched dead lia across, and kept their standard slowly flapping. They were in battle order too, squads knit into platoons (three heavy-mailed shock troopers with a porter for their gear; four pairs each of an archer and his arrow-bearer, who held a big shield for them both; eight light troopers, swift scouts or close infighters as need might be) and one catapult trio (its bearer, its shooter, and its ammunition lugger). This left a single male in command, if the agreed-on number was not to be exceeded.

Actually, it had been, but Arnanak didn’t fret. For the extra member was a human!

Clad in white, its head likewise decked against heaven, it moved mysterious to the sight. A murmur and growl went among the Tassui. “Hold steady,” Arnanak told them. “This is a thing I was hoping for. Remember, such creatures are mortal. Do I not hold one of them captive?”

The new arrival was noticeably taller and broader than Jill Conway, doubtless a male. Arnanak wondered if a death tool lay beneath yonder flowing garments, to wipe his whole band out at a burst. He thought not. How then would the male ever learn where the female was kept? No, he must have arrived lately in a flying boat. Much earlier, the Zera’s commandant had released a couple of Tassu prisoners with the message that he wanted to talk under truce. Arnanak set out from Ulu the day he got that word, sending a courier ahead to declare the place and terms whereon he would meet. He had barely arrived and pitched camp here. Thus he would not hitherto have heard of the newcomer.

The legionaries hatted two spearcasts away. Their standard dipped thrice, their sign of peacefulness. Arnanak for his part thrust sword into ground. He and their leader stepped forward.

Startled, he saw this was none less than Larreka. All knew of old One-Ear. Arnanak had glimpsed him a few times, on visits to Port Rua before war began. So he was back from South-Over-Sea and gambling his life on the good faith of his enemies? Why not? the Tassu decided. I am here in my own person, and I may well be more the keel of my people’s strength than he of his.

“Greeting, mighty one,” said Larreka in the vernacular. He added no customary wishes for luck.

Arnanak returned a Sehalan salutation: “Honor and happiness be yours, Commandant, and fellowship between us.”

Larreka stood quiet, his pale blue eyes probing the other’s green. Hardly aware that he did, the latter took soldier’s stance, torso and arms straight, feet squared, tail bowed outward. Larreka stepped near and offered his left hand. There passed between them the initiates’ grip of the Triad, followed by certain phrases.

They let go. “Where did you serve?” Larreka asked.

“Tamburu Strider,” Arnanak told him. “Combat engineer corps, mostly in the Iren Islands. But that was long ago.”

“Yes, it would’ve been… You’re the Overling of Ulu, aren’t you? Gods know I’ve heard enough about you.” Larreka paused. “And we’ve met before. You don’t seem to have recognized me then, in my helmet. But I’d know you in the Final Dark. You bore the human off my ship. I cast her ration box onto yours.”

Arnanak’s hearts clenched. Was this a fate—whether of Sun or Ember Star—or a whim of the Rover which might breed a fate—or might mean nothing?

Because Larreka stood unshaken, he rallied to his purpose. “Then well are we met anew, maybe. Let us swear a day’s peace, and your folk can take ease with mine.” He waved at the awnings they had raised. “We brought beer for hospitality.”

“You and I and this human have work to do.”

“Aye.”

The fighters gave oath in their separate ways, broke formation, disarmed, and mingled, southerners more warily than northerners. In Sehalan, Arnanak acknowledged Larreka’s introduction of Ian Sparling, and led them to his shelter. A regular tent, though two sides were furled for the sake of breath, it stood in a patch of wan blue blades. Already Starkland seeds, blown in on storm winds, were surviving Fire Time better than most of the plants which fed mortals.

Beneath the tent were shade, rugs to rest on, ale, waterskins, and goblets. The Ishtarians folded their legs. The human sat down jerkily, arms clasping knees, face haggard, insofar as that visage was readable. Arnanak told him: “She of your kind who names herself Jill Conway is well. She has suffered no harm, nor do I mean for her to.”

“That… is good to hear,” Ian Sparling grated.

“I seized her, when the chance came, as much to bring about a meeting like this as for any other reason. On my side we have ever stood ready to make peace. We got no word—”

“You sent us none,” Larreka interrupted in a tone as dry as the land, “save that the legions must get out and stay out.”

“This is our country,” Arnanak said for the human to hear.

“Not every bit of it,” Larreka retorted. “Our sites we have held for octads, bought from owners willing to welcome civilized traders. Since, we’ve often had to punish banditry. But who in your ruck of barbarians has any claim to our towns?”

Arnanak addressed Ian Sparling: “Gladly would we Tassui have met your kind and dealt. You never opened a door.”

“We sent occasional explorers here,” the human said. Having talked a great deal with Jill Conway, Arnanak made out the strain in his voice. “But that was before there seemed to be any single purpose or leadership among the dwellers. Lately we’ve had troubles of our own—” He leaned forward. “Well, I’ve come about her release. If you truly wish the friendship of her friends, you’ll fetch her to me at once.”

“And afterward we will talk further?”

“What do you want of us?”

“Your help. I have heard how you will help the Gathering through the next sixty-four. Are my folk less worthy of life?”

“I… am not sure… what we could best do for you.”

“Aye,” said Arnanak bleakly, “no tales have reached me of almighty works or even of promised miracles in Beronnen.”

Ian Sparling considered, before he won quick respect from the Tassu by saying: “I could swear every kind of reward, but why? You’re too intelligent. Let’s discuss instead, today, the female’s ransom. Ask the impossible, and you will get nothing—no, worse than nothing: attack on your country, the ruin of your plans. Ask something reasonable, and I can likely arrange it for you.”

Nevertheless Arnanak must pounce. “If you are able to lay South Valennen waste, why have you not struck ere now? We’ve given the Gathering ample woe, the Gathering you are supposed to rescue. Why have you held back your military aid? Is it because you have none to bring?”

“We… we did not come here seeking quarrels—” Ian Sparling collected himself. “Now is too early for threats. Name a ransom.”

“What can you offer?”

“Our good will, first and foremost. Then tools, materials, advice, to help you outlast the bad years. For example, instead of this heavy tent cloth, stuff that’s much lighter and stronger, rotproof and flameproof. That would let you range more freely in search of wild food.”

“Ng-ng, I would rather have a supply of those weapons you’ve given the soldiery a few of.” Arnanak stared at Larreka. “Also, you must withdraw help from the Gathering.”

The commandant uttered a rough chuckle and jerked a demi-thumb at the goblet of ale before him. “This doesn’t taste very good either,” he said.

“I know you two spoke together beforehand.” Arnanak had settled into a steely calm. “I did not truly believe the humans would or could abandon their long-held purpose for the sake of one of their number. Indeed, she whom I hold warned me of that. Honored be her pride.”

“Then let’s talk of what may be done in reality,” Ian Sparling urged.

“Aye,” Arnanak agreed. “Let us do that, Larreka. Will the Zera leave Valennen freely, with our good will, or must we destroy you? Dead bones are oracles here, but of no use to Beronnen. It is not too late to bargain about what Fiery Sea Islands you may keep,” until we’re ready to cast you off them, “though best for your cause would be that you returned the whole way home.”

“Stop spilling time,” the legionary snapped. “I thought we might dicker out a few meaningful things. If you leave our hunters and fishers alone, they’ll keep their parties small and stop putting the torch to areas where they know you have homesteads. Like that.”

“We might accord so far,” Arnanak said. This was not unawaited either.

“Hold on!” exclaimed the human. “What about Jill?”

Arnanak signed. “You have offered nothing to match her hostage value in staying whatever hand your people may raise to uphold the Zera. Can you? If not, we will keep her till after our victory. Meanwhile we can talk about her price from time to time—her price and much else.

“Do you not understand, Ian Sparling? My aim is that the Tassui shall live, not as a few starvelings but in power and fortune. Have you thought that we may become those whom it can best pay you to deal with?

“If naught else, here is the first real chance for us to swap knowledge of each other, which could well be worth more than a fleetload of goods. Therefore, be not afraid for her. Think rather how we can arrange to have brought to her whatever she needs for health while she abides among my folk.”

Ian Sparling stared long at him. The sounds of soldiers and warriors moving about, talking a little, came distantly. The air beneath the tent simmered. It smelted almost charred.

Larreka broke silence: “I knew the Valennener leader must be shrewd as well as strong. I didn’t see till today that he’s also wise. Too bad we must kill you, Arnanak. You should have stayed in your legion.”

“I’m sorry that you do not surrender,” the Overling returned in like courtesy.

Ian Sparling stirred. “Very well,” he said. “I foresaw this outcome. Take me to her, then.”

“What?” asked Arnanak, surprised.

“She’s all alone among wild strangers. They may mean well, but they aren’t her kind, nor do they know how to look after her should… harm befall. Let me join her. Why not? You’ll have two of us.”

Arnanak studied not the face which was alien as a daur’s, but Larreka’s. The commandant looked stark. He and his guest had surely wrestled together with this thought.

Decision surged forward. What was life but the taking of risks? “I can make no promises,” Arnanak warned. “It is hard travel for days to reach her. Nor have they an easy time there.”

“The more reason for me to go,” Ian Sparling said.

“I will first want to see everything you bring along, garb, food, everything, handle each piece myself and make you show me what it’s for, till I am sure you plot no treachery.”

“Of course.”