Lord of Lies

Chapter 20

We spent most of the next day walking through the great woods back to our boat. On the beach, with the lake's waters lapping gently against coarse sands, we said goodbye to Ninana and Aunai and the several dozen Lokilani who had accompanied us. We launched our boat and rowed straight out toward the mist with a fair wind at our backs. When we reached this wall of cold gray cloud, a swift current caught us up and bore us away from the island. Our strenuous work at the oars further speeded us along, for we did not wish to spend any great time beneath this wet blanket that blinded us. After what seemed less than a mile, we broke free from the mist, out into the sunshine of a hot summer day. It did not take us very long to make our way back to the lake's northern shore and find the little village of the Dirt Scrapers.

Tembom was very glad to see us, for he had given up his boat — and us — as lost. Baltasar and the Guardians met us by the shore, as did Karimah and the Manslayers. It was very good to see my men formed up on their great warhorses; the diamonds of their armor sparkled brightly in the sun, almost as brightly as theTimpum of the mist-shrouded island across the lake.

'Baltasar!' I called out as I greeted my friend. 'Sunjay! Lord Harsha! Lord Raasharu!'

Skyshan of Ki held the reins to my horse, and I greeted Altaru with as much gladness. I climbed onto his back and said to Baltasar, 'You seem ready for a journey.'

'That we are,' he said. 'As soon as your boat was sighted, we broke camp. It was thought that with such a long delay, you would want to ride as soon as possible.'

The tightness of his voice told me that he had worried we would never return; the faces of my Guardians told me the same thing. Valari restraint kept them from voicing their concern. But the ways of the Sarni warriors were very different.

'Aara!' a strong voice cried out. The moment that Atara set foot to land, Karimah jumped off her horse with several other Manslayers. Karimah rushed forward to kiss Atara, and she began weeping and talking, all at the same time, wailing out, 'Four days you were gone! I thought you were dead — we all did. What kept you, my dear?'

Atara said nothing of the Lokilani and very little of the wonders of their woods. It wouldn't do to tempt the Sarni to their doom seeking treasure on the island, nor Tembom and the Dirt Scrapers, who stood about watching us, too. But Atara did admit that our quest had been successful.

'A great thought stone was hidden on the island long ago,' she said. 'With the aid of the Lightstone, we found it.'

At this, I brought out the akashic crystal for all to see. Flick spun above this little discus, and ail gasped as glorre passed from his form into the gelstei and back again.

'What is this!' Baltasar said as he marveled at this new color. 'You have stories to tell, Lord Valashu.'

'We do,' I said to him. I looked from him and my other knights across a little dirt lane to where the.Manslayers gathered on their horses watching us. Their naked arms showed bands of bright gold, and their sun-burned faces showed desire — whether for my men or something else. It was hard to say. 'And it's to be hoped that you don't have stories to tell.'

Something stirred inside Baltasar as he glanced at a handsome woman named Chinira. She stared back at him, boldly, and he said, 'We kept the peace, as you commanded. But it's well that you returned when you did.'

We were not the only ones to have rejoined our companions, for only the day before, Sar Sharath and Sar Manasu had arrived with the other knights whom we had left behind after the battle. The four wounded ones had recovered well enough to ride, and that was good, as many miles still lay between this misty lake and Tria.

Although it was growing late we set out that very afternoon. Karimah and the Manslayers pointed their horses toward the west and rode away from the Dirt Scrapers' village without a glance backward I paused only long enough to thank Tembom for the use of his boat and his people for the loaves of rushk bread that they gave us freely.

It was a hot day for travel. The sultry air almost immediately caused Maram to slump in his saddle and nod off, I rode up next to him and nudged him awake with an elbow in the ribs. And I said to him, 'You should have gotten more sleep last night.'

'Ah, I should have gotten any sleep last night. But Akia wouldn't let me,'

'And who is Akia?'

'Who is Akia?' he said. 'Did you not see me dancing with her? She of the honey lips and breasts that turn up toward the stars? Ah, well, I promised her that we would meet and dance all night beneath the stars, if you know what I mean.'

'Too well,' I said, turning to look at Lord Harsha and Behira where they rode with the wounded knights near the end of our columns. Then I said to Maram, 'Are you all right? You've never begrudged losing sleep to do your midnight duets before.'

'No, I haven't, have I? But it seems Akia took me at my word; all she wanted to do was to dance, if you know what I mean — too bad.'

I told him to close his eyes and meditate, since the day would be long and he had lost his chance for deeper rest.

'Meditate? On what? On my dwindling powers? I'm losing my charms, I know I am.'

I looked out at the grasslands to the west, and I said, 'Take heart. A lion chases five antelopes and counts himself lucky if he catches one.'

'Yes, and the old lions lose their teeth and starve. I'm getting old, my friend. I can feel it in my bones.'

'But you're only twenty-five.'

'I'll be twenty-six next month. No, no, it's time I engaged a new life. I've decided that I shall marry Behira. I'll make the announcement in Tria, after you claim the Lightstone and announce yourself.'

'That,' I said, 'may depend on what Master Juwain finds inside the memory crystal.'

'Even if you find air inside it, you'll be forced to make a decision, and soon,' he told me. 'You can't play coy with your fate, any more than I can keep putting off mine.'

I thought about this as we made our way around the shore of the lake and then followed the river that flowed out of it. We kept well to the north of its windings, which snaked across the sun-seared steppe like a blue ribbon edged with green. The leaves of the cottonwood trees, with their silver shimmer that I had always thought so glorious, seemed dull against my memory of the great oaks and astors of the Lokilani's island. And the yellow grasses of the Wendrush seemed almost dead. I thought of the even harsher terrain of Yarkona and the great desert said to lie to the south of it Would the Red Dragon, I wondered, bring the fire of war out of the west so that all of Ea become a blackened wasteland? Or would peace prevail and the earth be made green again? As I scanned the dun-hued distances about us, I squeezed the bag of seeds that Ninana had given me and dreamed of a new world.

And yet this world, I thought, still had its own beauty. And the plains of the Wendrush still teemed with life. The Manslayers, who rode on ahead of us, seemed to appreciate this in a way that we of the Morning Mountains could not. I tried to apprehend this stark land through their eyes and feel the wind through their senses. And when 1 did, its dried-up grasses seemed less a desolation than a great, golden shield stretching out in all directions to meet the blue sky. Chirping crickets and countless insects made their homes here while the prairie dogs built their mounded villages and kept vigil outside their holes for hawks and wolves and other predators. We passed great herds of antelope and sagosk who ate the grass with as much pleasure as men at a feast. The long, swaying strands also concealed prides of lions, with their tawny coats and their watchful yellow-green eyes. It seemed a million of them could have lain in wait about us. Maram feared these great beasts, as did some of my men, even those knights who bore the lion on their shields as their charge. But Atara and the Mans!avers gave them less thought than the biting flies who took pieces out of flesh and drew blood from the horses. Instead they turned their wariness toward searching the rolling country for any sign of their enemies.

These, in this part of the Wendrush, were mainly the Janjii, who sometimes raided east of the great Poru River and even a few rogue bands of Kurmak who would not follow Sajagax and had no love of the woman warriors of the Manslayer Society. All the rest of the day, however, we encountered none of these, nor indeed any other human beings. We made camp that night near the river, and the Manslayers watched with amusement as we fortified our rows of tents with a moat and a stockade built of cottonwood logs. Their strategy, if attacked in the middle of the night, was different than ours: they would simply mount their horses at a moment's notice and flee into the dark steppe. Either that, or else they would maneuver across the grasses, fighting their arrow duels if moon and stars gave enough light, or closing and slashing with their sabers if all else failed.

We traveled early the next day. We kept a good pace toward the west but not so fast that the riding would further weaken my wounded warriors. I gave the Lightstone to Sar Marjay to bear and the akashic crystal to Master Juwain. He spent hours delving into its incomprehensible contents, and many more with pen and paper trying to comprehend them. Over a midday meal of the nut-sweet rushk bread and roasted antelope, I heard him repeating otherworldly words and muttering, half to me, half to himself, 'Let's see, we have valaha and the root there must be val, which could be star as with Ardik or indeed our own language. And then there is arda. Fire, perhaps, or heart or soul. Or maybe all three. And with halla and alhalla we have a pairing that. .' And so it went, Master Juwain puzzling out meanings and scribbling down possibilities in his journal. I tried to remember more of Alphanderry's death song, and Master Juwain seized upon each word that I brought forth as if it were a precious jewel.

Late that afternoon we came to the confluence of the Snake and the Poru. This mighty river my companions and I had swum the year before — but in Valte and farther to the south where it was not as wide. Here, with the summer-swollen waters of the Diamond and the Snake added to it, the Poru was a great band of brown flowing swiftly across the steppe. We decided to make camp at the very point where the blue Snake flowed into it. It would be our last night of drawing and drinking clear water. The Sarni, it is said, like the taste of the Poru and draw strength from this Mother of Rivers. But to me and my men, the prospect of dipping our pots and cups into its turbid flow was as appealing as drinking mud.

For the next three days we followed the Poru's course westward and turning gradually toward the north. Except for afternoon thunderstorms when the sky opened up with lightning and rain fell upon us in sheets, we had good weather for riding. And the Wendrush, however much a Valari knight might feel ill at ease here, was a good place to ride. The turf was easy on the horses' hooves, with few stones and fewer hills to climb. And it was easy for the horses to keep up their strength, with all the fodder they needed growing out of the black soil beneath them. The grass, rich and heavy with seed, sustained them and relieved us of the burden of having to carry oats or other grain. It was one of the reasons why a Sarni army could cover great distances quickly, for they could ride to war without a baggage train weighing them down.

During this part of our journey, the Manslayers kept to themselves and Atara kept mostly to her sister warriors. Occasionally, however, she would ride with us, visiting with Maram or Master Juwain, making Behira's acquaintance and chatting happily with Estrella. At these times, she seemed warm and content with life, and she took joy in the singing of the meadowlarks and the sweet burn of the sun upon her face. But when she spoke with me, the frigidity returned to stiffen her being. She kept these interchanges brief and to the business at hand. So it was that as we drew nearer to the Sajagax's summer encamping, she explained why her grandfather had chosen this place on the Poru at the northeast corner of the Kurmak's lands: 'There's good water for the horses and herds here, of course, even if you Valari are too pure to want to drink it. Then, too, the Janjii are most numerous just to the other side of the river, and beyond their lands, only fifty miles, are the Marituk. Sajagax likes to keep his enemies close.'

'Does that include Alonia?' I asked her.

Atara smiled sadly, for her very life was the result Sajagax cementing an alliance with Alonia in her mother's marriage to King Kiritan. 'Let's just say that while Sajagax no longer regards my father as his enemy, the same is not true of all his dukes.'

'But what of the Adirii, then? We are far here from their lands.'

'Yes, but we have been at peace these many years. If any more truce-breakers, like the ones that nearly annihilated you, crossed the Snake in force, Sajagax would move south to annihilate them!'

I was eager to meet this great warrior renowned across Ea for his deeds in battle. We came upon his encampment late on the fourth day of our journey from the Lokilani's lake. In truth, the vast assemblage of men, animals and dwellings spread out along the Poru's eastern banks was much more like a movable city. Acres of animal pens — holding horses, sheep, goats and lowing sagosk — formed a barrier around its northern, eastern and southern sides. Even from a mile away I could smell these thousands of animals and the dung they dropped onto the ground. I smelled, too, the slaughter yards nearby where the Sarni women worked, hanging fly-covered joints on spits and smoking strips of meat over fragrant fires. Farther in toward the river were the many open-air shops where the Sarni tanned leather, crafted bows and beat red-hot steel into arrow points, sabers and studs for their armor. The core of the city was reserved for habitation. There, hundreds of rows of tents, with dirt streets running through them, were laid out as neatly as in any Valari encampment. But the tents were much larger, being circular and fitted over wooden frames. The Sarni made their coverings from a thick felt, either of sheep's wool or the long, soft hairs of the sagosk. A few of the tents, though, were larger still and woven of finer materials. These belonged to Sajagax's captains. The largest tent of all, at the city's center, was that of Sajagax himself: a huge dome of quilted silk rose up almost like a palace.

No guards impeded our entrance to the city. The Sarni are the freest of the Free Peoples, or so they like to claim, and therefore they do not deign to keep any warrior from riding among them. Even the sight of a hundred and seventy-three Valari knights arrayed for war did not unnerve them, as unprecedented as our arrival must have been. At a moment's notice, Sajagax could summon five thousand warriors to his standard. Then, too, word of our crossing of the Kurmak's lands had gone ahead. Indeed, Sajagax's outriders had tracked us across the entire course of our journey from the lake. And so the Sarni had been made ready to receive their most ancient of enemies, not with bows and arrows but rather with wine and beer and roasted meats for a great feast.

As we rode down dusty streets lined with men, woman and children eager to look upon us, Atara dropped back to accompany me With her lion-skin cloak and white blindfold, she made a striking figure: the great imakla woman warrior who had been blinded yet somehow could see. She greeted the Kurmak warriors whom she had known for years, calling out their names with her clear voice: 'Tiagax, Orox, Turkalak!' And the women, too, 'Ghita, Tyraya, Sarakah!' As anyone would have to admit, they were a handsome people: tall, cleanlimbed and strong, with long blond hair and eyes that gleamed like gemstones of blue or green. Nearly all of them claimed descent from Sarnjin Marshan, son of Bohimir the Great, the Aryan warlord who had sailed At of Thalu at the end of the Age of the Mother to conquer most of Ea. They were a proud people, as honest and open as they were brutal. Their word for stranger was kradak, which meant simply 'enemy'. Their eyes fell upon us like hundreds of steel-tipped arrows. It seemed that they might be happier roasting us over their fires instead of haunches of sagosk or lamb.

We drew nearer to the center of this barbaric city, and Atara pointed out the tents containing the treasury and armory, and those of Sajagax's concubines and main wives. And then we came to the tent of Sajagax. Its outside was hung with lion skins, while inside, as I would soon discover, it was decorated with sable and ermine and sheets of beaten gold. The Kurmak's great chieftain was waiting for us outside its open doors. To either side of him stood his greatest captains: Urtukar, Mansak, Jaalii, Yaggod, Braggod and his son, Tringax. All were big men, like unto form and appearance with Sajagax.

But in Sajagax himself, I thought, there concentrated the essence of a Sarni warrior. He wore a doublet of antelope skin embroidered with gold and lapis beads. He was an inch taller than I and massive in his gold-girded arms and across his chest. The weight of gold chains hanging from his bull's neck would have bowed down a lesser man. In his thick hand he bore like a staff of kingship his great bow: a double-curved welding of wood, sinew and horn so heavy and thick it was said that none but Sajagax could draw it. His face was heavy, too, and cut 1 harsh planes like the sun-seared steppe. His gray mustaches drooped down beneath hi stoney chin; his long hair was golden-gray braided and bound with golden wire. He had the same brilliant blue eyes that had once sparkled from Atara's countenance. He did not stand on pomp or ceremony, for he gazed upon his granddaughter with an outpouring of adoration for all to see. No one however, would mistake him for a good-natured man. He radiated ferocity and willfulness as the Marud sun does heat. As Atara had told me, he could be cruel. Once, when a merchant named Aolun Wohrhan had betrayed him in a business dealing, Sajagax had allowed that Aolun should have all the gold for which he had lied and cheated. And so he had commanded that the greedy Aolun be staked out on the ground and molten gold poured into his eyes, ears and mouth.

'Atara!' he called out as we all dismounted. His voice was gravelly and bigger even than Maram's, like a battle horn blowing, and blunt as a war hammer, 'My beautiful granddaughter!'

She rushed up to embrace him, and he kissed her lips, and tears welled up in his eyes. His captains looked on disapprovingly, not at his display of emotion but because the Sarni are seldom kind to women.

Atara presented me and many of my companions. Then Sajagax called out, 'Valashu Elahad, Lord Guardian of the Lightstone, you and your warriors are welcome in my house! Never have I had the privilege of entertaining Valari warriors before, except with arrow and sword. But tonight, at least, let there be peace between our peoples. Come! Rest! Eat! Sit with me and let us talk of your journey.'

Urtukar, a fierce old man with a saber scar cutting his face from ear to chin, objected to allowing such a large company of armed Valari knights into Sajagax's tent. But Sajagax gainsayed him. He waved off his concern as he might shoo away a biting fly, bellowing out, 'Do you think I fear these knights? Let them bring their swords to the feast, their lances, too, if they wish. I care not. They are the Guardians of the Lightstone. How are they to guard it if they are stripped of their weapons?'

He was less generous, however, in inviting Behira and Estrella to take meat with him, for Sarni warriors will sit at feast with warriors only. And so Sajagax's eldest wife, Freyara, was summoned to take them to a more private feast with the women in her own tent.

Sajagax led the way into his great tent. So huge was this billowing silk structure that it would have required a frame the size of my father's hall to hold it up. Instead, great wooden poles, nearly as long as the masts of a ship, were planted in the ground as the main supports. The guy ropes, I saw, were braided silk. The entire floor was lined with rich and intricate carpets, mostly of blue and gold, for Sajagax was fond of these colors. I looked for a chair or any furniture that might be construed as a throne. But Sajagax required nothing of the sort; indeed he had as much disdain chairs and other decadances as did my father. With a painful stiffness due to many old wounds, he sat down against aground of cushions near the tent's center. His captains sat in a half-circle to his right, while Maram, Lord Harsha, Lord Raasharu Baltasar, Sunjay, Atara and I took our places to his left. Other prominent Kurmak warriors sat in similar circles throughout the tent, as did the rest of the Guardians. The question arose of what to do with Master Juwain, for he bore no weapon and was therefore counted no warrior. Tringax, a young man with bellicose blue eyes, suggested that Master Juwain should dine with the women and children. But I stared at him coldly, and informed him that Master Juwain had stood by my side the length and breadth of Ea and had fought his way into Argattha, a place that even the boldest of the Kurmak warriors might not dare to go. In the end, Tringax relented, and Sajagax invited Master Juwain to sit with us.

The feast began abruptly, with no speeches of welcome or fanfare. The Sarni, given to the extravagant in their possessions, were simple in their taking of food and drink. They cared little for delicacies and not at all for the fine art of cooking. What mattered to them, it seemed, was the abundance of meat. And of bread and beer and bowls of mare's milk, for this is most of what the Sarni consumed. Beautiful young women wearing long silk robes served us legs of lamb, roasted sagosk livers and other steaming victuals on great golden platters. Many of them bore bruises on their faces and on their naked arms, and they were subservient in their manner. Baltasar mistook them for slaves. He was astonished, as I was, when Sajagax told us that they were his newer wives. Sajagax only laughed at our outraged Valari sensibilities. He slapped one of these wives on her rear as he bellowed out, 'What need have we of slaves when we have women?'

Atara, I saw, sat quietly sipping from a goblet of wine as Baltasar and others looked at her. I said to Sajagax, 'But women are the mothers of your children! The mothers of you and all your warriors!'

Sajagax laughed againls he tore off a huge chunk from a lamb's leg with his strong white teeth. 'Yes, and that is what woman are good for.'

'We Valari,' Lord Raasharu said sternly, 'believe that women are meant for much more.'

'Yes, they are good at cooking and gathering sagosk dung, and some of them can even sing.'

Now Baltasar, picking up on his father's reproach, said to Sajagax, 'If a man spoke thusly in the Morning Mountains, he would have to sleep with his sword instead of his wife.'

'Do you fear your women, then?' Sajagax asked. 'You, who are always so fearless in battle?'

'We don't fear them,' Baltasar said. 'But we don't command them, either. Does one command the sun to shine?'

'No, but a man was made to master his women. And women were made to be mastered.'

Sajagax looked down at his great hand, thick with callus and scars along his knuckles. It was then that we learned that a Sarni warriors who refused to beat his wife was called a man without a manhood.

I looked at Atara again and said, ''Some women, it seems, are not so easy to master.'

'Indeed, they are not,' Sajagax said, smiling at his granddaughter, 'That's the beauty of the world, isn't it? Most women are sheep but a few are born to be lionesses.'

'From all you've said, it seems surprising that the lions would let them be.'

'Let them?' Sajagax called out. 'Does one let the sun shine? No one lets a women become a warrior.'

I bowed my head toward Atara, and then glanced at Karimah and three others of their Society who sat with the warriors in another circle. 1 said, 'The Manslayers are few; your warriors are many. Surely you could keep these women picking up dung, if you chose to.'

'Could we? At what price? Have you ever tried to make a Manslayer pick up dung. Lord Valashu?'

I admitted that I had not. And then Sajagax continued, 'If we tried to do this, then we would have to sleep with our swords at the ready — and our bows and arrows, too.'

I smiled at him and said, 'Do you fear your women, then?'

Sajagax laughed heartily and clapped me on my shoulder to acknowledge that I had scored a point in this verbal jousting that the Sarni relished. And he said to me, 'The Manslayers are warriors. They claim for themselves, out of strength, the right to kill. Thus they make others fear them. They fear death not. Thus they are twice feared. They escape from having to pick up dung by their willingness to die and to deal death. And in this, as with all warriors, they claim their freedom.'

In his rough, old voice I heard echoes of the words that Morjin had written to me. I said to him, 'Then is it only the strong who can be free?'

He took a long drink if wine from his goblet as he nodded his head. 'That too, is the beauty of the world, its terrible beauty The strong do as they will; the weak do as they must.'

For a few moments I thought about this as he waited to see what I would say. Finally I spoke, and the answer I gave him was what I might have told Morjin himself if he were sitting with us.

'It is the will of those who are truly strong,' I said, 'to protect the weak. They fear neither death nor other men. Only being unkind.'

But kindness among the Sarni, as I saw, was regarded less a virtue than a boon of the victor toward the vanquished. Their warriors were even more brutal with each other than with their women. Their continual verbal sparring often turned violent; twice during the feast, two of Sajagax's men came to blows, standing and smashing at each other's faces with their fists. Such unseemly displays would never occur in Valari society without swords being drawn in a duel to the death. I watched in amazement as these yellow-haired barbarians quickly spent their fury and then returned to their places, eyeing each other malevolently. They bore each other deep grudges in this testing of their manhood. They, and all who witnessed their combat, would remember who had bested whom. And so it went all their lives. The strongest of them became captains over warriors and chieftains over clan or tribe. In their bluffing and bullying of each other, I better understood a Sarni saying that Atara had told me earlier:

'Every tribe against every tribe; every clan against the tribe; every family against the clan; every man against his family. And all the tribes against the kradak.'

The Sarni's enmity for me and my men boiled barely beneath the surface like a geyser that might erupt at any moment Sajagax's warriors stared at the glittering armor of my knights as if counting the diamonds there and mentally adding these white gems to their treasure chests. So it had gone for ages. How many times had the Sarni invaded the Morning Mountains hoping to seize our vital mineral wealth? No other people had made war against the Valari so often or with such savagery. And now, here in Sajagax's tent, the Kurmak fired different kinds of arrows at us. Fell words flew from the lips of these wild warriors and stung my men like so many barbs. I overheard one warrior at a nearby circle taunting Sar Hannu of Anjo: 'You look familiar. Weren't you one of the knights who fled from my company at the Battle of the Crooked Field?'

This, I told myself, was only more testing; in anticipation of this, I had issued strict orders that my men should not trade insult for insult, nor under any circumstances draw their swords. Lord Raasharu and my other counselors feared that Sajagax might use such an inci-dent to provoke a battle — and then after I and ail the Guardians lay slaughtered on Sajagax's blood-drenched carpets, Sajagax would claim the Lightstone for himself.

When at last the time for singing and serious drinking was at hand, Sajagax called to see the Lightstone. Sar Elkald of Taron stood and came over to hand the golden cup to me. And then I gave it to Sajagax to hold.

'Beautiful,' Sajagax said as his eyes lit up. The cup seemed lost in his huge hand. 'But so small.'

His hot breath steamed out into the even hotter air of his tent. I could see his image, all fierce with longing, reflected from the numerous golden sheets hung from the tent's walls. Threads of gold showed in the tapestries also displayed there, and the tent's great poles likewise were sheathed with this most precious of metals. So rich were these furnishings, it made one wonder what was left to lock away in Sajagax's treasury.

'So this is the true gold,' he said to me as he gazed at the cup. 'Let us hear the story of how you gained it.'

Maram, his face flushed with wine, was only too happy to stand and give an account of the great Quest. He told Sajagax and the Kurmak warriors of all our battles, paying particular attention to his heroics at Khaisham and the arrow wounds he had received there. Our hosts struck their bows against their goblets in acknowledgment of these feats. They were less inclined to believe Maram's description of the invisible bridges that spanned the gorges of the Nagarshath and the great Ymanir who had built them, for it displeased them to imagine a people larger and stronger than themselves. And they would have dismissed the story of Flick altogether if this strange being hadn't suddenly appeared to amaze them with a brilliant display of lights. But they listened in wonder as Maram explained how he had used a firestone to burn an opening into Argattha and then later to wound the great dragon named Angraboda. And when Maram reached the climax of his tale, when the blinded Atara had stood upon Morjin's throne firing arrows into our enemies and felling them by the dozen, many of these grim-faced warriors burst into tears of pride and called out, 'Atara Manslayer! Atara for the Kurmak!'

'Great deeds!' Sajagax exclaimed as Maram sat back down. His hand still gripped the Lightstone, and a golden sheen fell upon his face. He turned to Atara and said, 'You are a glory to our people. The Kurmak have always fought Morjin. And we always will.'

Sajagax now stood to sing out the tale of how the Kurmak and other tribes of the Sarni had ridden to war against Morjin at the Sarburn two whole ages before. His voice blared out like a battle horn, and he needed no minstrel to recall the verses that extolled the deeds of great warriors six thousand years dead. According to his version of this story it was only through the heroics of his Kurmak ancestors that the Lightstone was wrested from Morjin's hand. That many of the Sarni tribes had fought on Morjin's side he neglected to tell. After he had sat back down, I said to him, 'We of the Morning Mountains still sing of the wonder of the Sarni riding with the Valari to battle. But it should be remembered that it was Aramesh who wounded Morjin and took the Lightstone from him.'

'True, Aramesh claimed the Lightstone according to the ancient right of guardianship.' Sajagax stared at the golden cup in his hand with all the passion he might have reserved for a new bride. 'The right you Valari have always claimed for yourselves. But are not all those willing to shed blood in the Lightstone's defense its rightful guardians?'

Everyone, I thought, knew the story of how the Valari tribe long ago had been riven when Aryu had slain his brother and had stolen the Lightstone. But I doubted if Sajagax and the Sarni also knew that Aryu's descendants had used a varistei to alter their forms and so become the Aryans: a strong and rugged people whose blue eyes and fair skin were better suited to Thalu's cold mists. And with the exile of Sarngin Marshan, the Aryans had become the Sarni, and how should these fierce warriors want to believe that they were therefore descended from a murderer and the greatest thief in all history save Morjin himself?

'It was Elahad who brought the Lightstone to earth,' I told Sajagax. 'And it is his descendants who must bear the burden of guarding it.'

'So you say,' he muttered as he gazed at the little curve of gold that he gripped so tightly. 'So you Valari have always claimed.'

Lansar Raasharu fingered the hilt of his sword as he huffed out, 'We claim this: that the Lightstone was meant for the hand of the Maitreya and no other.'

'So you say,' Sajagax muttered again as he looked at me. 'I say it was meant to be used to defeat the Red Dragon.'

I tried to smile at the quarrelsome old chieftain but I could not. I said to him, 'Truly, it was. But defeat how? With the blood of yet more battles? Or defeat in light?'

Sajagax looked at me strangely. 'I've also heard it said that Valashu Elahad claims to be this Maitreya.'

'No, not yet,' I told him. 'We're hoping that the crystal we recovered from the Lake of Mists might tell if a claim should be made.'

'What is there tell, then? The Maitreya would be the greatest of warriors, the boldest and the strongest.'

His blue eyes bored into me, and his fierce gaze burned with blood-lust, pride and challenge.

The Sarni, it is said, covet gold as a drunkard does spirits, but they revere three things: the horse, the sky, and their given word. Sajagax had promised us safe passage through the Kurkmak's lands. This could not include despoiling us of our possessions. Atara had also once told me that her grandfather, though sometimes cruel, was always true. I had gambled everything upon this. Either one believes in men or not.

'My father,' I said to him, 'taught me that the greatest strength of all lies in following the will of the One.'

I looked at the Lightstone and held my hand out toward him.

Sajagax's hardened fingers only gripped it more tightly. His eyes narrowed with a terrible concentration; his jaws ground together as if trying to snap a bone. He seemed to fight a ferocious battle within himself. And then, with a sudden laughter that rumbled up from deep in his chest, he found his own immense will and slapped the little cup into my hand.

'Here, take it!' he roared out. 'Guard it with your life, if that's what you want! It matters not to me.'

I held the Lightstone for a moment before setting it down on the cushion in front of me. I said, 'It matters to me that you would help us in our purpose. It matters to all Ea.'

'Help you howl By having my men enlist as Guardians under your command? No Sarni warrior would have the stomach for that.'

'No,' I told him, 'we've Guardians enough already. But why don't you ride with us to Tria? As it was in the ancient days?'

He chewed at his mustache a few moments before saying, 'Kiritan has called a council of the kings of all the Free Lands. Kings, Valashu Elahad. Why would a Sarni chieftain wish to sit with such as these?'

A stew of emotions bubbled inside him, and I misinterpreted his sensibilities. I said to him, 'But surely King Kiritan has invited you to the conclave as well. Surely he would welcome you, even if you don't call yourself a king.'

'No, that I don't. That I never will,' he called out. 'Kings compel the service of their subjects as if they were women, and what satisfaction is there in that? I am a free man, and a leader of free men who follow me or not as they please. What business have I among kings?'

'The business of defeating Morjin,' I told him.

'Morjin,' he spat out as he might a piece of moldy bread. 'We Kurmak will fight him no matter what your kings decide.'

I looked around the circle at his captains. Yaggod and Braggod were like great, tawny lions trembling to rend and slay, and Tringax and the scarred Urtukar seemed no less eager for war. All the Kurmak warriors in Sajagax's tent, I thought, would gather to his standard and would die sooner than admit to a fear of the Red Dragon's armies.

'Yes, you will fight, and you are to be honored for that,' I said to Sajagax. 'But wouldn't the chance for victory be greater with others by your side?'

'What others, then? King Hanniban of Eanna? King Marshayk of Delu? They are weak.'

At the mention of his father's name, Maram bristled but said nothing. He took another sip of wine and glared at Sajagax.

'The Valari kings will fight,' I said to Sajagax. 'In the end, if it comes to war, they will have to fight.'

'Kings,' Sajagax spat out again. 'Valari.'

'Yes, Valari,' I said. 'You've fought us many times, but you've never understood us. None of our kings rules except through the will of warriors as valiant and free as your own.'

Sajagax looked at the circles of grave-faced Guardians who sat watchfully throughout his tent. Then he traded looks with Jaalii and Mansak. He said to me, 'And you've never understood my people, either.'

Maram saw his chance for vengeance over Sajagax's slight, and he said, 'We understand that Morjin is buying the service of other Sarni tribes with gold.'

'Gold,' Sajagax said sadly as he gazed at the Lightstone. 'We love it too much. Ever has it been our downfall. Even now the Zayak demand a tribute of Morjin and believe that they have thus gained dominion over him. But in the end, as in ancient days, it is he who will make slaves of them.'

'The Zayak we fought on our way home from Argattha,' I said. 'And now it seems that the Adirii have gone over to Morjin, too.'

'No,' Sajagax said. 'Only one of their clans. And they shall be punished.'

'And what of the Marituk, then? They are your enemies. Have they thus become Morjin's friends?'

Sajagax turned toward the west as if he could gaze through the silken walls of his tent and far out across the Poru river into the Marituk's lands. 'We've had word that Morjin has sent many treasure chests to the Marituk. Will they make alliance with him? That is hard to say. They hate the Beast — but perhaps less than they do Alonia and the Kurmak.'

He went on to say that, as always, the Janjii would follow the Marituk, for they were under their fist.

'And what of the other tribes?' I asked him.

'In the south, the Siofok and Danyak stand ready to ride with Morjin. And the Usark and Tukulak are inclined to join them.'

'That is bad,' I said. 'And what of the Mansurii?'

'They hate Morjin — almost as much as they love his gold.'

I looked off at the gold-shod pillars holding up the tent, but I said nothing.

'The southern tribes are weak,' Sajagax said. 'But most of the central tribes remain strong enough to oppose him.'

'The Niuriu? Their chieftain gave us shelter on our journey.'

'Yes, Vishakan is a good man and will never yield to Morjin. And neither will Artukan and the Danladi.'

'But what of the Urtuk?' I said, naming the Sarni's most numerous tribe and Mesh's ancient enemy.

'The western Urtuk remain undecided,' Sajagax said. 'And the main dans would carve the livers from any emissaries Morjin sends and despoil them of their gold. The eastern Urtuk hate the Valari enough that they might join Morjin just for the pleasure of carving out your livers — and your hearts, as well.'

'Then the Sarni tribes each go their own way, as always.'

'Not always, Valashu Elahad. Even in Mesh, they must sing of Tulumar the Great.'

Truly, we did sing of this bloodthirsty warlord, but none of our songs were happy ones. In the year 2073 of the Age of Swords, Tulumar Elek, having united all the Sarni and gone on to conquer more civilized lands, took the title of Emperor of the Wendrush, Delu and Alonia. It was said, if not sung, that Morjin had aided Tulumar in his bid for world dominion and then betrayed him to his death with poison.

'As it was in the ancient days, so it is now,' Sajagax told us. 'Morjin cannot win without the Sarni. And if my people ride with him, he cannot lose.'

'Then that is all the more reason that you must ride with us to Tria. If an alliance is made against Morjin, if you and the Kurmak take part in this and the other tribes behold this miracle- then might not the Sarni be persuaded to ride against Morjin?'

'That is possible,' he said. 'But if the alliance fails, it will go badly. Few of the tribes will want to fight on the losing side.'

'The alliance won't fail,' I said. 'How can it not? What could bring the Valari together with Valari — and with Alonians and Delians? The Maitreya?'

'Yes, he.'

Sajagax pulled at the golden wire binding his braided hair as he looked at me. 'You ask a great deal. For me to ride to Tria at this time with the Marituk raiding in the north and the Red Dragon to be watched — and all on the hope that some untested youth might be the Shining Warrior out of legends none know to be true. No, no, this is too much.'

Baltasar started to reply to this, but Maram laid his hand on his knee and spoke instead: 'Lord Valashu is not untested. Haven't you listened to what I've said? In Argattha, he slew as many as did Atara. And under his leadership, we vanquished the Adirii as well. And only last month, he defeated all at the great tournament and became its champion.'

Sajagax nodded his head as he continued to regard me. And Braggod, a red-faced man with the longest and most impressive of mustaches, spoke for his chieftain: 'Sajagax has led us to victory in thirty-three battles. And as for your tournament, you didn't invite Sarni warriors, so what honor is there in claiming its championship?'

'Valari knights,' Maram said, glancing at the two diamonds of his ring, 'are matchless at arms.'

'With the sword, perhaps,' Braggod allowed. He lifted up his bow and shook it at Maram. 'But not with a truly noble weapon.'

'Our archers hit their targets, too,' Maram said.

'You say "our" as if you are truly a Valari. But no matter the diamonds you wear, you'll remain a fat prince of Delu.'

Maram's face flushed as red as Braggod's. He said to him, 'This Delian won a second in wrestling. And a third in archery.'

'In what you call archery. Shooting at targets that don't shoot back can hardly be counted as sport.'

'And what do you call sport then?'

'Why, shooting at each other from horseback, fat man.'

Now Sajagax and everyone in our circle looked at Maram, who seemed ready to choke on his bile and throttle the rude Braggod. I was afraid that despite himself, Maram was about to blunder his way into a duel. And so I gripped Maram's arm to steady him; to Braggod and the others, I said, 'Our Valari longbows weren't made for such work. And while in your lands, my knights may not engage in any sport that might draw Kurmak blood.'

If I had hoped to cool Maram's and Braggod's rising tempers, I hoped in vain. Braggod suddenly stood up, and the muscles along his ruddy neck and arms stood out like snakes swollen with blood. He shook his fist at Maram and said, 'We've other sports then, fat man. Why don't we see if you're as good at holding the horn as in blowing your own fat horn?'

'What do you mean?' Maram asked, now as puzzled as the rest of us.

'It's a test,' Braggod said. 'Each of us is given a horn of beer. We drink. The horns are refilled, once, twice — as many times as it takes. The one who holds his beer and remains standing is the better man.'

Maram's eyes gleamed. Braggod might as well have suggesting a test to see who could deflower the most virgins.

'Bring on your horns!' Maram called out with a smile. He fairly jumped to his feet. 'It's time we tested your Kurmak beer!'

Sajagax's warriors in their circles cried out: 'The kradak will drink against Braggod! Give him room to fall!' They stood and gathered around us, and so did many of my knights.

The Sarni cut their long, curved drinking horns from the heads of the greatest sagosk bulls. Such horns, it is said, are the measure of a man. Some are shorter, some longer, their lengths varying according to the amount of beer a warrior can consume. But the horns used in such contests as this were always of the longest: a tall man's arm scarcely sufficed to reach from the horn's mouth to its tip.

Sajagax's wives brought forth two horns, equal in length, brimming with frothy beer. Braggod took one and Maram the other. They stood eyeing each other. Braggod was slightly taller than Maram and seemed stronger, with long, lean muscles that showed beneath his sun-burned skin. He was thick through the body and hips, with massive legs from a lifetime of squeezing the ribs of horses. At a signal from Sajagax, they both lifted up their horns and threw back their heads as they drank deeply.

'Ah, not bad,' Maram said as he smacked his lips and then belched. 'In fact, it's really quite good. You brew your beer from that yellow rushk grain, don't you?'

Braggod belched, too, and licked the foam from his drooping mustache. His large blue eyes seemed as watery as a lake.

'Well,' Maram continued, 'it's more potent than Meshian beer, I'll give you that. Why don't we refill our horns?'

Braggod consented to this, and Sajagax's wives poured the yellow-brown beer into their horns. They raised them and began again.

'Come, Braggod!' Yaggod called out, 'drink it down!'

'Drink him down!' a nearby warrior called back.

'No one has ever outdrunk Braggod before.'

'And no one ever will.'

'Especially not some fat kradak. Look at that belly!'

It took Braggod and Maram slightly longer this time to drain their horns. When they had finished, Maram stood staring at Braggod, whose eyes were glazing and losing their focus. The big warrior seemed a little unsteady on his feet.

Again their horns were refilled, and again they were emptied

'Do you see?' Maram said, patting the ball of fat pushing out above his belt. 'A belly is a great, good thing. In form, like unto a globe like … ah, the world itself. And so it is a reservoir of great strength. It centers a man. And more to the point of this fine sport of yours, it gives a man a greater capacity to enjoy your fine beer.'

He began reciting verses that extolled the beauty of the belly. I could not tell if he was composing these in the moment. I appreciated his strategy: rather than immediately calling for another horn, he seemed happy to let the beer bubble in Braggod's belly and do its work.

'Bring on another horn!' Tringax finally said. 'No one has ever finished a fourth horn.'

Now both Maram and Braggod were weaving and shifting about, trying to find their balance. Freshly filled horns were pressed into their hands. Again, they began to drink.

'Down, down, drink it down!' the Sarni warriors called out. And my Valari knights standing with them picked up the chant: 'Down, down, drink or drown!'

Maram and Braggod stood with their horns thrust out toward each other as they eyed each other and drank. Somehow, to the amazement of Yaggod and Urtukar and others who were expert at these contests, they both managed to drink their beer to the last drop. When they lowered their horns, both of them seemed sick, as if they stood above a precipice on slippery rocks.

'Ah, that was very good,' Maram said with a belch. 'A very, very brew. Ah, I mean, a very fine brew. Very fine, indeed.'

He began rambling on about his liking of the Kurmak's beer, all the while watching Braggod. This great captain now began staggering, lurching forward and checking himself desperately trying to pull himself erect before staggering again.

'Ah, had enough, have you, Braggod, my drinking man?' Maram took a step closer to him. He looked around at the warriors watching him. 'I do believe he's about to fall. May I help him?'

'You may not lay your hands upon him,' Sajagax told him. 'That would be wrestling.'

Maram belched again and muttered, 'May not lay my hands upon him, so you say. Well, I won't then. But he must go down.'

Maram stepped even closer to Braggod, whose eyes were almost rolling back into to head. Suddenly, Maram let loose a tremendous belch. The blast of his breath seemed further to stagger Braggod. 'Down, down, like a drunken clown!' Maram called out Then he pushed out his belly against Braggod, nudging him slightly. It was just enough to make Braggod teeter and lose his balance altogether. With his arms flailing, he finally collapsed, falling down into his pile of cushions. All present laughed wildly and cheered to see such sport.

'Down, down to carpet-covered ground!' Maram rambled on. He stood weaving above Braggod and smiling at him. 'Well, my good man, I think you have had enough to drink, too bad. But Maram Marshayk has not. Bring on your best beer! Fill my horn! Fill your eyes and watch how a Valari knight and a prince of Delu drinks. Behold!'

Once again, one of Sajagax's young wives poured a stream of dark beer into Maram's horn. This time, it took Maram much longer to drink it, but drink it he did. Proud Sarni warriors stood dumbfounded at this feat; they knocked their bows together with a fearsome clacking. Never in living memory had any of them heard of a man finishing five horns of beer. And so Tringax called out: 'A five-horned man! Maram of the five horns!'

'Five horns?' Maram said. 'Why not make it six? Yes, I like the sound of that better: "Six-Homed Maram"!'

So saying, he held out his horn yet again. But when Sajagax's wife came forward to refill it, Maram's face fell sick and he shook his head as he thought better of his impulse. 'Ah, enough, enough — I think I've had very enough.' And to the cheers of hundreds of warriors, both black-haired and blond, he fell backwards down to his cushions, too.

Braggod lay close-eyed and moaning as if felled by an axe, but Maram still had his wits — and his pride. As everyone looked on, he smiled at Sajagax and said, 'Do you see? Do you see, great chieftain? And you thought we Delians weak!'

No one could challenge Sajagax thusly and expect such a man to keep his silence. Sajagax nodded at Maram and said, 'You're not weak in the belly, I'll give you that. Nor in the mouth. If you weren't so drunk, we'd put the strength of your arms to the test as well.'

'My arms are as strong as those of any Sarni.'

'You think so, fat man?'

'As strong as yours, old man.'

Sajagax's eyes flared with anger. He said, 'Prove it then.'

'Gladly. How?'

In answer, Sajagax stood up and leaned his body into his bow he bent it and strung it. He handed it to Maram and sat back down. 'Let's see if you can draw this, then,'

Although Maram was unused to working a bow from a sitting position, he held the great bow out before him with his stiffened arm. He grunted and groaned and exerted all the power of his arms and black

to pull the bow's string to his ear. Then a moment later, he relaxed

the string and called out. 'There!'

Yaggod and Urtukar nodded their heads at this feat, Tringax, too. And Sajagax said to Maram, 'You're stronger than anyone would think I'll give you that. That was more than most of my warriors can manage But that is not what we mean by drawing a bow.'

'What is, then?'

Sajagax handed him an arrow fletched with raven feathers, one of the heavy ones used for piercing armor. He said to Maram, 'You must hold this at full draw for a count of at least five.'

'Only five? Can Five-Horned Maram do any less?'

And with that, he knocked the arrow and again drew the string back to the side of his head. Sajagax tried not to blink as Maram pointed it past his head toward the roof of the tent.

'One!' Sajagax cried out.

Maram grunted and seemed to swallow back a belch. He gripped the arrow between his sweating fingers with a fierce concentration.

'Two!' A hundred voices cried this out together.

Beads of sweat rolled down Maram's face as he gasped for breath. Both his arms began trembling with the strain of pulling the great bow.

'Three!'

'Look at him!' a warrior called out. 'Five-Horned Maram is going to hold the count!'

'Four!'

But even as everyone in the tent, myself included, shouted out this number, Maram's arm buckled and he lost his grip on the bowstring. With a loud crack, it sent the arrow whining through the air. A dozen warriors ducked low their heads. And three hundred more looked up to witness the neat hole thatihe arrow had punched through the silk of Sajagax's tent.

Seeing this ruin, three of Sajagax's wives looked at Sajagax and cringed. Everyone else looked at him, too. The great chieftains face grew as red as the Marud sun. His eyes fixed on the hole like arrows of his own. Even Yaggod and Tringax dared not speak.

At last, like the sky breaking open during a storm, Sajagax let loose a tremendous laugh. He threw back his head and pounded Maram's shoulder, all the while pealing out a huge, happy thunder. We all laughed with him. And then Sajagax dried his eyes and took back his

bow.

'Well, Sar Maram,' he said, 'that was better than anyone would have expected. None of the Kurmak will ever question your strength again.'

Maram squinted as he looked up at the stars showing through the hole he had made. He belched and said, 'I'm sorry about your tent, Sajagax.'

'That's all right — it was growing stuffy in here, and we needed a little ventilation.'

I took a sip of wine, glad that I had this spirit of the grape to drink instead of beer.

'Here, Lord Vaiashu!' Sajagax said, smiling at me as he held out his bow. 'Let's see if you can draw it.'

I smiled back at him and said, 'No one has ever called me an archer.'

'But you placed fifth in archery at this tournament of yours, didn't you? You won the gold medallion of championship, didn't you?'

I admitted that I had as I looked at Sajagax's huge, knotted bow.

'Take it, Lord Valashu,' he said to me. The smile suddenly fell from his face. His eyes grew hard as diamonds and seemed to press into me. 'Take it. Surely the one that Five-Homed Maram follows must be the strongest of men.'

Yaggod and Tringax and all the Kurmak captains in our circle except the senseless Braggod turned to look at me. Master Juwain and Maram, Lord Harsha, Lord Raasharu and Baltasar — all my friends' eyes fell upon me with an uncomfortable light. Even Atara seemed to be waiting to see what I would do.

'Surely the one that Sajagax rides with, if he rides,' Sajagax went on, 'must be strong enough of heart at least to try to draw this bow.'

I knew that I was not as strong as Maram. I looked at the thick, curved bow that Sajagax gripped in his huge fist If I refused to take it, I would bring shame upon myself. But if tried to draw it and failed, I might bring worse than shame

'Come, my friend,' Maram said to me. 'If I can draw it, you can.'

'Show him what a Valari warrior is made of!' Baltasar added.

And then for the first time during the feast, Atara spoke, and her voice was as clear as a bell: T'ake the bow, Val.'

I took the bow. It was even heavier than I had thought it would be. Sajagax gave me an arrow, and I knocked it to the bow's string. I raised up the bow and tried to pull back the arrow as far as it would go.

'Valashu Elahad!' Sar Avram called out. 'Lord Valashu for the Valari!'

A terrible weakness burned through the muscles of my arms and back as I struggled to draw the great bow. I gasped at the pain of it. I knew with a sick and sudden certainty that I didn't have the strength for this feat, any more than I could lift a rock the size of Sajagax. Inch by inch I pulled back the arrow; when the bowstring was about three inches from my ear, my arm seemed blocked by a wall of stone and I could draw the bow no further

'That's about as good as I can do,' Tringax admitted as I trembled and strained and finally relaxed the bow. 'No one except Sajagax will ever draw this.'

'The Elahad will draw it!' Sunjay Naviru said 'lie's only asking a moment to get a better grip.'

I could grip the bowstring with the claws of a dragon. I thought, and still not be able to draw this massive bow just as I was about to give up hope and betray my weakness yet again. Flick began spinning above the Lightstone. All the Timpum possessed qualities such as brightness, calmness or curiosity that made one think of people's faces. I had always seen Flick as a sort of mischievous but well-meaning child. But now I saw something strange to the array of lights before me. Flick's usual colors began giving way to a swirl of topaz, incarnadine and soft browns. Glorre contained the essence of all colors, and out of this brilliant hue, for one lightning quick moment, a distinct face flashed into form: it was that of Alphanderry. A sharp pain stabbed through my heart, Why, I wondered, did this beautiful man have to die? So that I might go on to find the Lightstone?

As Flick faded back into nothingness, my memory of Aiphanderry and his impossible feat at the Kul Moroth burned inside me. I could almost hear him telling me, in the language of the Galadin. that nothing was impossible. 1 gazed down at the Lightstone, which seemed to fill with a marvelous liquid the color of glorre. I drank it in through my eyes. And the more that I drank, the more that the golden cup poured forth this luminous substance, I knew that the little Lightstone could hold much more than ten thousand drinking horns — and I could hold much more than I ever dared dream.

'Come, Val,' Maram said to me.

A tingling warmth flowed down my spine into my arms and hands and every part of me. it touched fire to my blood and filled me with-a great strength.

'Come, Val,' Atara said to me. 'Draw the bow.'

I lifted up this massive working of wood and horn; it now seemed as light as my flute. With one swift motion, to the gasps of Tringax and Urtukar and others looking on. I drew the nocked arrow straight back to my ear. Atara and Maram called out. 'One!' with a single breath. Hundreds of other warriors did, as well. The next numbers came in succession to the slow and even, beating of my heart. When the count reached ten, I eased the tension on the bow, and gave both it and the arrow to Sajagax.

'One hole is enough,' I said to him as I looked up at tear in the tent's roof that Maram had made.

'Lord of Battles!' Baltasar called out. 'Lord of Light!'

Sajagax breathed heavily as he looked at me. He pulled on his bow as if testing it to see if someone had somehow slipped a lighter one into his hand. And then, quickly and surely, he nocked the arrow and turned as he drew it back as far it would go. He sighted on the hole in the roof. He held the bow at full draw for what must have been a count of twenty. Then he let fly the arrow. It burned through the air invisibly and vanished through the star-sparkled hole.

'One hole is enough,' he agreed, smiling at me.

Hundreds of knights and warriors gasped to see such marksmanship. I blinked my eyes, not quite daring to believe what I had witnessed. Not even Atara or Sar Hannu or any other archer I ever heard of could have made such a shot.

'If I ride with you to Tria,' Sajagax said to me, 'if an alliance is made and you are proclaimed the Maitreya, what then, Lord Guardian?'

'Then Morjin will not be able to move against the Free Peoples.'

Sajagax's eyes blazed with a blue fire. 'No — but we will be able to move against him.'

'Perhaps, but we must not.'

'Why not?'

'Because we can defeat him without making war.'

'Defeat the Red Dragon without war, you say?'

His eyes burned into mine. Sitting at the center of his great tent, with hundreds of his warriors gathered around him and thousands more at his call, he looked deep inside me for any sign of weakness or fear. At last I touched his bow and then laid my hand on the hilt of my sword. I said, 'We were meant for much more than this.'

'What then?'

'To make a new world.'

Now I stared at htm as the anguish of all those I had slain and seen slain came pouring into me. My eyes burned, and burned into him. Why, I wondered, had so many suffered so much for me to have recovered the Lightstone? I felt the fire of this golden cup blazing inside me, brighter and brighter. I could not hold it. I stared at Sajagax without blinking in a test of will that seemed to last an hour. Finally, he looked away from me and sat rubbing his eyes as if they were tired and gave him pain.

'You Valari,' he said to me, 'are strange.'

I held out my hand to him and said, 'Will you ride with me to Tria?'

'All right, Valashu,' he told me, on the morrow, the Valari and Kurmak will ride toward this new world of yours.'

He smiled as he took my hand. His grip was strong enough to crush bones, and it took all my strength to hold the clasp without crying out.

After that, there was more drinking and singing, far into the night. Sajagax offered one of his daughters in marriage to Maram; Maram, under Lord Haraha's scathing eye, told Sajagax that he was already betrothed and that as a Valari warrior he might take only one wife When it came time for sleeping, Sajagax noticed that Atara's blindfold was soiled with dust and splashed beer. He called for a fresh, white cloth to bind her eye hollows. With his own hands he tendered this service. After he had finished, he sat combing back her golden hair with his calloused fingers. Tringax and Yaggod and others, displeased at his kindness, glared at him in reproach. And Sajagax glared right back and called out, 'If the chieftain of the Sarni's greatest tribe can't do as he pleases in his own tent, what's the point of being chieftain?'

He picked up his bow then, and stared down his captains one by one. Although they might have dreamed deep in their hearts of a new world in which no man would ever yield to another, no one was willing to challenge the great and fearsome Sajagax.