Master Of The Hashomi

Chapter 26

In spite of Blade's victory, nobody in the hospital got much sleep that day or the following night. Nobody said it out loud, but the same question was in everybody's mind. Were the Hashomi going to launch a last desperate attack to avenge their fallen Master?

They didn't. At dawn the next day the sentries called Blade to the railing to show him the spectacle of an empty valley. The Hashomi were gone, leaving behind nothing but piles of ash and charcoal where their campfires had been. Nothing moved on the valley floor, except the scavenger birds digging bits of flesh out of the bodies of the assarani.

An hour later a messenger from the Baran scrambled down the cliff to the hospital ledge. The Baran's army had reached the mouth of the Valley of the Hashomi and hammered its way in. Now it was advancing down the valley, and the Hashomi were gathering to meet it. The Baran was sending food and reinforcements to Blade in a flying column that should reach the hospital tonight. Until that time Blade and his people had nothing to do.

Blade passed on the message, and when the cheering died down he ordered the last of the beer broken out to celebrate. By the time the flying column appeared, nearly everyone in the hospital was slightly drunk. The beer had worked rather powerfully on stomachs that were so nearly empty.

The next morning Blade led his own people and the flying column down the path to the floor of the valley, to join in the last battle against the Hashomi. It was bloody as long as it lasted, but it did not last long and most of the blood shed was Hashomi. They'd had their chance at close-quarters fighting when the Baran's army came into the valley. In that fighting they'd killed more than three thousand of the Baran's men. He wasn't about to give them a chance to do so a second time.

So the Hashomi were beaten down with archery and hurled spears. They faced bristling walls of pikes. Where they took cover in buildings or forests they were smoked and burned out. Those Hashomi who did get to close quarters usually killed two or three enemies before going down themselves, but not many got the chance. The Baran had promised that any commander who wasted men would be impaled on the walls of the palace in Dahaura, and the Baran was known to keep that sort of promise.

In a single day the Hashomi were broken. Most died, some fled, a few tried to surrender and a very few were allowed to do so. It took another tedious and bloody week to rout the fugitives out of the caves and isolated huts where they'd hidden, but that was a minor affair.

There were still a thousand or so fighting Hashomi unaccounted for. Most of them were probably in Dahaura's cities, lying low.

«They are no more dangerous than the branches of a tree when one has killed the roots,» said Blade. «Or at least they need not be. I suggest that you offer a pardon for all who surrender before a set date, then settle them someplace on the frontier where you need good fighters.»

«Not among the Fighters of Junah, I hope,» said the Baran, with a laugh.

«No. That would be sentencing the Hashomi to death, and I'm not sure they deserve it, not now. I have the feeling that many of the survivors wouldn't mind settling down to a more normal life, with wives, children, and land. Give them that chance, and see what happens.»

«I'll do that,» said the Baran. «I take it that you don't want any of them in the valley?»

Blade shook his head. «I'll have enough trouble getting things settled as it is. All I've got by way of people I can trust is the refugees and Mirna's women.»

«How is Mirna?»

«A few bruises are still healing, but otherwise she's doing well. She's already asked for a horse so she can ride out and get her women properly organized.»

«Maybe you ought to marry her, Blade, so that you'll have some influence over those women of hers.»

Blade considered the Baran's suggestion. Under the laws of the Baranate, a man could have up to three legal wives and seven recognized concubines. Few men in their right minds would take on that many, of course, even if they could afford them. But he could marry Mirna, if he wanted to.

«I don't think so,» he said at last. «She doesn't need any man's protection, not with the Hashomi gone and her women behind her. She might not even be willing. Also, I don't know what the rest of the valley people think of her. If I married her, I could find myself making all her enemies mine before I'd been ruling a week.»

«As usual, you think ahead,» said the Baran.

I wish I could think farther ahead than I can, thought Blade. I almost wish you hadn't decided to make me your Hand for this valley. My time here must be nearly at an end. I'll be on my way back to Home Dimension long before I can give these people what they need. Who will be my successor?

Of course! I'll recommend Giraz as my successor. He's old enough so that he'll be retiring from the Eyes before long. He's a eunuch, so he won't be producing a family to watch out for. And he's completely trustworthy.

Blade heaved a mental sigh of relief. That was the last loose end tied up.

It was early morning, and the Baran was waiting on the terrace of the hospital as Blade came out. Behind the Baran stood a dozen picked soldiers and Giraz. Beside him stood two scribes, one holding a scroll and the other a long pole with a flag wrapped around one end.

The sunlight flashed on the jewels and precious metals Blade wore. He was in the full court costume of a general of the Baran's army, with tunic and trousers of silk, boots of white calfskin set with pearls, sword with a ruby-studded hilt, and gold helmet with a crest of emeralds. The costume weighed as much as a coat of mail, it was nearly as uncomfortable, and it was far less battle-worthy. Junah help any man who had to fight in this outfit!

Then the Baran and the two scribes were stepping forward. One scribe was unrolling the scroll and reading from it in a high-pitched nasal voice. It was the Baran's proclamation that henceforth Richard Blade was the Hand of the Baran in the Valley formerly of the Hashomi, and that he was in all matters supreme authority second only to the Baran.

Then the other scribe came forward and handed Blade the furled banner. He undid the silk cords, shook the pole, and the banner lifted and streamed out on the morning breeze. It was green, and on it in white was a knife, slashing through a Hashomi sword and a Hashomi staff.

«This is not only your banner as my Hand in this valley,» said the Baran. «This is the banner of your house, the House of Blade, as long as there are men of that name in Dahaura. May that be a long time!»

The Baran motioned to one of the soldiers, and he stepped forward carrying what Blade recognized as the Master's staff, wrapped in silk except for the silver ball at the end. «I thought of making this my own trophy, but by all that is just, it is really yours. Take good care of it, Blade. That was a victory you won for yourself, and let no one say otherwise.»

«Lord Baran, I-«began Blade formally, then stopped. It was as if a white light had flared briefly behind his eyeballs, momentarily blotting out the world around him. «My lord-«he began again, and the light came again. This time there was also pain with it pain that stabbed at Blade's eyes until he felt tears starting from them, pain that thundered in his head.

Blade turned, dropping the banner and barely keeping his grip on the Master's staff. He took two blind, staggering steps forward. He was vaguely aware of shouts and cries from the Baran, Giraz, and the soldiers. He was also aware that the railing was pressing against his stomach. If he stayed here he might go over the edge. The computer was reaching out to him, ready to snatch him back to Home Dimension, but it might not finish the job before he struck the ground four hundred feet below.

The pain grew more savage. Blade bit back a groan and threw himself away from the railing and the cliff beyond it. His head struck the terrace, and the blow seemed to clear his vision. He saw the blue sky and the White Mountain rearing against it. The peak reared higher and higher, as though he were moving toward it, then higher still, until it seemed ready to topple over on him.

Before it could do that, the pain swelled further and the White Mountain danced away into the sky. Blackness fell like rain, and as it fell the world around Blade faded out and did not return.