Killer Plants Of Binaark

Chapter 17

Blade won Elstan's second victory by following Daimarz's advice about listening to the women of Elstan. It was easy to listen to Haima Kao, Master of the Guild of Weavers, particularly when she was talking to him in bed.

She was a large woman, heavy-boned and muscular rather than fat, with red hair down to her waist and a hearty appetite for food, beer, and men. She met Blade when he and Daimarz visited her house. Blade wasn't expecting to have a particularly good time and, indeed, wasn't in the mood to be anybody's guest. It seemed to him that the Master Woodcutter's negotiations with his fellow Masters were taking forever, while Tressana's army might already be on the march. Daimarz swore up and down that his father was doing everything that could be done to persuade the other guildsmen to unite with the woodcutters, but Blade continued to wonder.

Haima's lavish banquet improved Blade's temper quite a bit. Their hostess laid on food and beer as though they were all eating their last meal. She talked cheerfully about her work, the inferior skills of the younger weavers, the people intriguing to get her out of the guild's mastership, her late husband, and her lovely daughter Chaia. She talked so long and so loudly that Daimarz, who was normally fond of the sound of his own voice, hardly got to say a word. Blade was amused at his blood brother's growing look of frustration.

During the meal Haima didn't say anything about the war or the negotiations among the Masters. Then at the end of the meal, Haima rose and said, «Here's to a peaceful road through the forest of Binaark, when we've beaten the Jaghdi!» She emptied a quart pot of beer without taking it from her lips. Blade was tempted to change that toast to «If we win,» but remembered his manners. What was more, Haima was indicating that at least her guild, if not the others, was willing to unite with the woodcutters in a campaign against the Jaghdi. After a few more toasts to people and things he'd never heard of, Haima turned Daimarz over to her serving girls and took Blade off to her own bed for the night.

She was the third woman Blade had slept with in this Dimension, and he found her in most ways the best company. She wasn't nervous like Jollya, and she wasn't slightly mad like Tressana. She was simply enjoying herself. He enjoyed particularly the fine pillow her magnificent breasts made, and the fact that she laughed when she reached her climax. It wasn't the hysterical laughter of Queen Tressana, but a deep, hearty bellowing. It was as if she was enjoying herself so much that she simply couldn't find any other way to show it.

Afterward they sprawled on the furs before her fireplace and got down to serious business. Haima unrolled a map pricked into deerskin with a hot needle and Blade showed her the planned Jaghdi campaign.

«The army on the Adrim isn't going to be much of a problem by itself,» she said. «We can give up the lowland along the river and hold here with only a handful of men.» A work-calloused forefinger stabbed at a narrow pass leading up from the Adrim into the central valleys of Elstan. «The Jaghdi cavalry is the real problem. Solve that and we've won the war.» She looked at the mark Blade had made to show the planned Jaghdi camp. «That's the Kettle of the Winds there. We use the cliffs behind the flatland for the Stone Death.»

«The what?»

«The Stone Death? Didn't Daimarz tell you?»

Her tone was so accusing that Blade felt he had to defend the woodcutter. «He's been busy, Haima. His father needs-«

«He needs to remember that you can be trusted now. The Stone Death is simple. We take the man to the top of one of the cliffs and throw him off.»

«Oh.» That explained why Daimarz had called it a «good death.» It would be quick, at least.

Haima looked at the map again, then closed her eyes as if she were trying to conjure up a picture of the Kettle of the Winds. «That bitch Tressana has a good eye for land. We can't come at anyone camped on the flats there.»

«You could make your own camp there first.»

«We might, if we had enough men. Until all the guilds speak with one voice, we couldn't put more than two thousand men there.» Blade realized that wouldn't be enough to hold for long against several times as many cavalry. The Jaghdi might not even bother to destroy them, and instead besiege them in their own camp with half the cavalry while the other half continued to march through Elstan.

«If we could just be sure of reaching the camp with enough of the Living Fire-«began Haima irritably. Then she saw Blade's blank expression and swore. «Didn't Daimarz tell you about that either?» She held up a hand to silence Blade's new attempts to make excuses for the woodcutter. «One of these days I'm going to take that boy's pants down and spank him until his ass is red!»

Without any prompting from Blade she went on to describe the Living Fire. Blade recognized it as what the woodcutters must have used on those three rogues. It explained the smoke, the tar-like smell, and the soot on the men. The Living Fire was something like Greek fire or napalm. It was based on «rock oil,» it clung where it fell, and water only spread it. A good dose of the Living Fire scattered over the Jaghdi camp would probably make a first-class mess, and if it landed among unsaddled rolghas…

Blade was so absorbed by the idea of panicking the whole Jaghdi army's mounts that Haima had to run her fingers and lips over him for quite a while before he would pay attention to her. When they'd finished this time, she raised herself on one elbow and looked down at him. The firelight playing on her red hair seemed to make her face and breasts glow.

«Blade, how long do you intend to stay in Elstan?»

Blade answered cautiously. «Until I must travel onward, or return to my own land of England. If my queen orders me to return, it is my duty to go.»

«And if those orders don't come?»

Blade had the feeling that she wanted to hear him say he'd be staying for many years. He knew that she wasn't the sort of woman to forgive a lie, and that it was impossible to tell how long it would be before the computer drew him back to Home Dimension. Even more cautiously, he said, «It could be several years.»

«Ah. Long enough to marry Chaia and give her children, then.» Startled, Blade could only nod. Haima went on. «Chaia is beautiful but willful. Those men who do not fear her fear me. Only the most courageous of men would be suitable husbands.»

«Is Daimarz one of those men, by any chance?»

She laughed. «You see clearly. Yes. He was the first I would have chosen, as soon as Chaia came of age. But he refused, and said so much against both her and me that he drove away others. Now Chaia is two years past the lawful age, with no husband. If you could take her and give her my grandchildren before you returned to England, I would be sure of a place in the future of Elstan.»

«How old is she?»

«She will be fourteen next month.»

«Fourteen!» The exclamation slipped out before Blade could stop himself. The idea of playing stud to help Haima continue a dynasty wasn't entirely unreasonable, but making love to a girl of fourteen-!

«Is she too old to be a maiden?» asked Haima.

«Too old?» Blade managed to keep himself from gaping. «No. The law of England says no girl can be made a woman before she is sixteen.»

«England is a land of feeble women, or is it that your girls do not have the size and shape of women before they are sixteen?»

«Most of them don't.»

«Ah. Ours become women before they are twelve.»

She explained that ever since the wars the Elstani called the Time of Death, an Elstani woman was usually mature enough to bear children safely at twelve. She normally married at thirteen, bore her two or three children before she was twenty, then practiced some craft or skill into old age.

This sounded to Blade like the result of a mutation, or perhaps warfare with DNA-altered bacteria. However it happened, it largely explained the position of women in Elstan. They could be both mothers and productive workers in a single normal lifespan. In fact, with the natural advantages its women had, Blade was surprised that Elstan wasn't a matriarchy.

The explanation didn't make the idea of marrying a fourteen-year-old any more appealing to Blade. He frowned, as if he was examining the idea from all sides. Then he said, «What if we lose the war and your daughter is left with children to bring up in Jaghdi slavery?»

«She will kill herself and them before bowing to the Jaghdi,» said Haima coldly. «And we shall not lose this war if you agree to take Chaia to wife. If you do, I will join my voice to the woodcutters to unite Elstan. If we stand together the Jaghdi are doomed.»

Blade remembered what Daimarz said, about their only needing the help of one more guild to begin preparing Elstan for war. The weavers and woodcutters might be able to do enough by themselves. Their union would certainly encourage the other guilds to join in. Certainly Haima was promising more and asking less than any of the other guilds so far.

«Then join your voice to the woodcutters, Haima. I will take Chaia as my wife, but after we have won the first battle.»

They drank beer and bargained for nearly an hour. In the end they agreed that Blade and Chaia would swear betrothal and exchange rings at once, but the marriage would not be consummated until after the first battle. That was good enough for Blade. He wouldn't have to fight both the Jaghdi and his own scruples at the same time.

«The first thing I'd like to do is go to the Kettle of the Winds,» he began. «If I see-«

«No, the first thing you can do is this,» she said, guiding his hands to her breasts. Blade didn't think about the war again until he was drifting off to sleep, his head pillowed more comfortably than usual on Haima's breasts. He thought he was standing at the foot of the cliffs in the Kettle of the Winds, but they kept advancing and receding in a cloud of dark smoke, while giant bats swooped down to claw at his eyes.

«How do I look, Jollya?»

«Like a queen riding to battle, Your Grace,» said Jollya.

«I should hope so,» said Tressana. She gripped her stirrup, and Jollya's hands clasped under her boots lifted her into the saddle. With one hand she held the bridle, while the other rose in a signal to her musicians. The silver horns blared, then the drums joined in, and finally the cheers of the crowd drowned out all the musicians.

Tressana's rolgha caught some of her excitement and began to prance. She reined it in, but couldn't rein in her own excitement as easily. Jaghd was going to war, Elstan was doomed, and she would rule the world!

For the first time she wore metal armor, a helmet, a gilded breastplate, and leggings of silvered chain mail. She still carried her bow, because she would have felt naked without it, but she carried a gold-hilted short sword rather than a lance. She wouldn't be much use in a cavalry fight, but she didn't intend to get into one. With ten thousand Jaghdi gathered in one place, she had to be where she could see everything and give the orders. Few of the commanders would obey anyone but her, and none would question her courage.

Ahead the road stretched yellow and dusty in the sun toward the forest of Binaark. On either side rode her guards, with Jollya at the head of the women and Efroin of the Red Band leading the men. She'd have to ask Jollya how her father was doing. Sikkurad and some of his helpers were riding in the baggage train, to represent the Keepers in the war. Both Sikkurad and his daughter probably knew he'd been chosen because Tressana didn't trust him. She suspected he disapproved of her war, and so it was better if she kept him where she could keep an eye on him. However, as long as both Sikkurad and his daughter did their work in the war, everything they might have done before it would be forgiven. Neither Keepers nor good fighting women grew on trees.

For Jollya's part, she, like her father, was keeping silent. She remembered Blade's words about keeping one's mouth shut and waiting for a better time. So, like her father, she continued to serve Tressana, biding her time and biting her tongue.

Even the wagons in the rear were moving now, judging from the cloud of dust. Tressana saw the royal banner over Manro's wagon swaying ominously, and sent a rider back to have the pole strengthened. If it fell someone would be sure to call it an evil omen. They'd already said as much about the disaster to the first scouting party.

If she'd only been able to leave Manro behind completely-but neither law nor custom nor common sense would allow it. The King of Jaghd must go to war with his army, even if his mind was useless and his body nearly so. There were also advantages. Far from the palace with its sharp eyes and wagging tongues, some way might be found to complete the work begun so many years ago. If that could be done, and Manro's death blamed on the war… Yes, that was worth thinking about.

The queen's smile broadened as she took her place between her two guard-captains.

King Manro knew that the men standing on the back of the wagon wouldn't let him put his head out and see what was going on. He wanted to do it. It would be like a turtle putting his head out of his shell. He'd seen a turtle do that once, and liked it.

Even if the men weren't going to let him, he knew what was going on. The gods had told the Jaghdi that they must leave their homeland. They were all going, and Tressana was leading them. This was not right. The gods were punishing the Jaghdi by forcing them to find a new home because of all the bad things Pretty Tressana had done. She should not be leading them. This would make the gods even angrier. The Jaghdi would be punished again, even in their new home.

Once he had thought that Pretty Tressana would protect him from everything, even the gods. Now he understood that he himself had to be protected from Tressana. He thought the dark woman who rode with Tressana might do it. What was her name? Jollya? Yes, Jollya-Dark Jollya.

Dark Jollya would protect him in the new land where the Jaghdi had to go.

This time Blade was awake as he stood at the foot of the cliffs in the Kettle of the Winds. The towering cliffs were even more impressive than he'd imagined in his dream. From where Blade was standing, the cliffs were at least a quarter of a mile straight up. Or straight down, depending on your viewpoint. If the flatlands at the foot of the cliffs hadn't been so wide, no enemy could have set up a camp there. As it was, the flatlands were wide enough so that the Jaghdi cavalry would be protected by the cliffs but still be far enough away so that boulders pushed off the top would not reach them. The wide, shallow river protected them from the other three sides. Tressana did have a good eye for land.

Blade turned away from the cliffs and began to walk back toward the camp by the river. It was a good three miles against a brisk headwind. By the time he was getting close to the river he'd considered almost every way of attacking an enemy camped in the middle of the flats. He finally concluded that it couldn't be done unless the Elstani could grow wings.

Thinking of wings made him look up. Birds were soaring over the river and sweeping across the flatlands toward the cliffs, climbing as they went without a flicker of wing. They must be soaring on some fairly powerful updrafts.

Soaring on updrafts. Suddenly Blade was in a hurry. He scrambled across a patch of rocks as fast as he could go without breaking an ankle. When he reached smoother ground he broke into a run and came pounding up to the tent like an Olympic sprinter.

Haima watched Blade testing the direction of the wind with a wet thumb. Then he examined their tent, still without saying a word. Finally she lost patience. «Blade, have you got the itch or something?»

«No. I-Haima, how common are these reeds?» He pointed at the tent. Its poles were made of lengths of reed glued together.

«In some places they grow like grass. There's a marsh a day upriver.» She pointed.

«Good. And the wind-does it always blow? And toward the cliffs?»

«Blade, why do you think this place is called the Kettle of the Winds? Yes. What's biting you?»

Instead of answering, Blade took both her hands and danced her around in a circle until she started laughing in spite of herself. Finally she collapsed, still laughing.

«It's good news, isn't it?»

«Yes. There's no way of attacking a camp on the flatlands here unless the Elstani can fly. But with the help of the wind I think they can.»

Haima stared at him. Blade knelt down, wishing the Elstani had paper. The gravel by the river was very fine, though. With the point of his sword he was able to sketch his idea well enough to make Haima understand.