Ashling

  It was not difficult to guess that this was Bram.

  I ran my eyes swiftly around the rest of those seated.

  Plump Brocade was at one end seated beside Tardis' yellow-haired emissary, Gwynedd. Brocade was wearing a jewel-encrusted vest stretched tight across his wide belly. A little further along sat a tall, fair, proud-looking woman. She wore no jewelry and her hair hung white and unbraided and perfectly straight about her shoulders like a snowy veil. Brydda sat by her, and then Dardelan. On the other side of Bram among a great number of strangers were white-haired Cassell, and Elii. It seemed Brydda's recruiting journey had borne fruit. But I had no doubt they were here first for a war council, rather than to see whether we were fit allies.

  A stooped man smiled faintly in greeting when our eyes met. He was seated beside Brydda and I guessed this was Yavok, who had taken over from him in Aborium. What had the rebel called him? Unimaginative and trustworthy.

  Last of all was Malik.

  When our eyes met, his lips curved into a sneering smile that made me instantly conscious of my sweaty, dust-smeared face and clothes.

  "It is the Misfit and its master," he told the dark-eyed man on his right, just loudly enough for us to hear.

  I felt Rushton tense with anger beside me, then relax.

  "As you see, this master is a stripling and barely old enough to be master of himself," Malik went on scornfully, not bothering to pretend to be speaking in an aside. Rush-ton's silence had made him bold, for he took it as weakness.

  Jakoby said nothing and I sensed she was waiting to see how Rushton would deal with this.

  The Master of Obernewtyn merely settled a long, impassive stare on the rebel, whose smirk faltered, then faded altogether.

  "What are you looking at, boy?" he growled.

  "I am not sure," Rushton said. "It might be a man, but then it might be a kind of performing ape. It is hard to tell in the firelight."

  Malik stared at him incredulously. Then he rose with a curse, pulling out a knife.

  "Enough," Jakoby said imperiously. "The Battlegames do not commence until the morrow and it is unseemly to sour our feasting with such behavior before then. All things in their right time."

  Malik resumed his seat, though he was pale with fury, and Jakoby ushered us up to Bram. I was surprised to see one of the hooded Temple guardians in the seat beside him. Then I remembered that Powyrs had said the Battle-games were overseen by the overguardian of the Temple. This must be he or she. The hood gave no sign of its wearer's sex, but I thought it must be a wizened old creature, for it was very small.

  "Bram, this is Elspeth Gordie of whom I have spoken," Jakoby said. "And Rushton Seraphim, who styles himself the leader of these Misfit gypsies."

  "Seraphim," Bram echoed. "An old name, I think."

  Rushton bowed. "I do not know if your name is old or not. I have heard only a little about the Sadorian people but it has made me curious to know more, and I am pleased at this chance to speak with you."

  Bram chuckled fruitily. "Yet I think this is not an occasion for speeches. I hope you do not think to win the Battlegames with words alone."

  "We are prepared to meet whatever challenge is offered," Rushton responded smoothly.

  "Good." Bram's dark eyes shimmered in the firelight. "I have heard from those among my people who watched for your arrival, that your force contains warriors who are even younger than you. And though you may count yourself a man, you are too young to be seasoned properly to battle. Have you hope of winning against such men as Malik, whose prowess is legendary?"

  "I would not have come otherwise."

  The old man cackled. "No? But sometimes battles must be faced whether or no there is a hope of winning them. This is a truth known to men and women of honor."

  "No battle is lost until it is lost. Men and women of courage know this."

  Bram nodded in appreciation. "True enough! You speak well, lad. I regret that you are not yet a sworn ally and therefore have no place at this table. Yet, if your people acquit themselves well and survive the testing tomorrow, we might yet sup together and have this speech you desire."

  "Survive?" Rushton echoed carefully. "Surely there is no question of not surviving since this is only a contest."

  The Temple guardian stirred.

  "These are the Battlegames, lad, where matters large and small may be decided without massive bloodshed. It is war in miniature. If death were not possible, there would be no true testing. Of course death is not the aim, nor is injury inevitable."

  There was a silence, broken by Malik's cutting laughter. "Look. The boy is nearly unmanned with fear at the thought that death might wait for him."

  "The morrow will bring what it brings," Rushton said softly. He turned his eyes back to Bram. "If it is permitted, I would like to know something more of the Battlegames."

  Bram's smile died and, for a moment, he looked like a weary old man. "Are you in such a hurry for war, lad? You were more handsome when you spoke of talking and learning." He sighed weightily. "Malik asked the same question, and I told him what I now tell you. The Battle-games designed by my people are many but the earthgoddess will decide which of these may be played." He drew himself up and summoned a formal and ceremonious air. "Once among the tribes who were much sundered during the time that followed what you Landfolk call the holocaust, there were wars occasioning great bloodshed among our people and harm was done to the earth. Then came one among us who heard the voice of the earthgoddess. She commanded us to build the Earthtemple, that others might come there and learn to hear the voice of the land as well. And so it came to pass. Through her disciples, the earthgoddess forbade war forever. But still there were disputes, great and small, which needed mediation. Hence were the Battlegames devised, both to decide issues and to expiate the violent urges that are the plague of humanity.

  "Each of the games is designed to test some specific quality in a competitor—courage or wit or charm or honesty or fitness—in your case the games will test fitness for battle. But the earthgoddess alone knows which of the many games will be selected, for they will be chosen at random using dice."

  He clapped his hands and the overguardian uncovered a tray on the table, on which rested two small cubes with a different number of marks on each face.

  "The dice," Jakoby said reverently.

  "These will be thrown and, when they fall, they will show a number of marks to the sky," Bram explained. "All games included will be marked with a number. By these means will the specific battle be selected. All are different. Some games are short and others long, so there is no way of telling how many will take place at a single Battlegame. As many as ten, no less than three. The Battlegames commence at sunrise, and end at sunset for these are moments of power.

  "Are all ten of a team to play each game?" Rushton asked. I guessed he was thinking of Dameon.

  Bram shook his head. "Not necessarily. The number of participants for each game will again be randomly selected by a further throw of the dice, but it is up to the two leaders to choose who will fill the places. For each Battlegame completed, there will be a spoken assessment, and then when the day ends the winner shall be named."

  "Do we not fight one another?" Malik demanded.

  "You will contend as the earthgoddess wills," the old man said coldly. "Some of the tests require confrontation between teams and others ask a different kind of striving."

  There was a stillness in the tent, and only the firelight shifted and flickered, driving the shadows before it.

  "Can you tell us the sort of things the Battlegames will test?" Rushton asked.

  "No," Bram said. He opened his eyes and reached for a piece of bread. This appeared to mark the end of the ceremony. All along the trestles, men and women reached for goblets or turned to whisper to one another.

  "There is just one thing more," Rushton said.

  "And that is?" Bram inquired through a mouthful of bread.

  "I want you to understand that we intend to us
e all of our powers in these Battlegames, but outside this contest we would never use those abilities on allies."

  Bram chewed and swallowed. "You should return to your camp now. Eat well and rest. You will be brought to the field of battle before dawn."

  Jakoby escorted us outside. "If you can, forget about the Battlegames tonight. Worrying and wondering about what will come will not avail you. Rest well."

  She turned and went back into the tent, leaving Rushton and me alone in the dark.

  XL

  "We'd better get back," Rushton said. "The others will be waiting to hear what happened."

  I shivered, though it was not cold, and followed him back across the spit.

  "I am... sorry," I said at last, with stiff formality. "I did not know there would be danger. Jakoby didn't tell me that when she offered the Battlegames."

  "You think she meant to deceive you?" He did not look at me when he spoke.

  I shook my head. "I do not think it would have occurred to her that it would matter there was danger."

  "Then there is no blame to be laid."

  Rushton's voice was remote and I knew he was still angry with me. I longed to heal the rift between us, but I kept seeing him holding Freya. The rift had become a chasm and maybe that was as it should be. I had my quest, and Rushton had Freya and Obernewtyn and that was that.

  I tried to think of what Bram had said about the Battle-games, but it was impossible. I had never felt further from Rushton. I had the urge to say something that would restore even the old uneasy comradeship between us, but his silence daunted me.

  We walked without speaking the rest of the way back to the camp.

  Angina saw us approach as he straightened up from stirring the cooking fire, and alerted the others with a cry. In moments they were clustered around us. In swift, unemotive words, Rushton told them what had happened.

  "The Battlegames are more than a contest then," Miryum said dourly, but without fear. "Is it possible that one or more of us may die?"

  "Possible," Rushton said calmly. "But certainly not inevitable. We will know more when we know which games are to be played."

  "I do not like the sound of this Malik," Hannay said.

  "He is a hard, strong man," Rushton said. "A bitter man and a tough fighter by all accounts. I do not relish the thought of being his opponent, but if we fare well tomorrow, that strength will be at our side when we fight the Council. Wars make for strange bedfellows. We need the rebels and it seems this is the only way to win them."

  "I wonder if such a victory as this will truly win us anything worth having," Dameon said, as Kella handed him a mug of mulled fement.

  "It will win us the aid we need against the Council," Rushton snapped. "We cannot afford the indulgence of philosophizing about what constitutes victory. Save that for when the fighting is over."

  He took a long deep breath, men shook his head. "I am sorry. I did not mean to snap, my friend. I am... tired." He sat down on the ground, facing the fire, and invited us all to do the same. "Let us not talk about the morrow anymore. It will come all too soon. We will nourish our bodies with food and rest, and our souls with a song."

  Miky's face lit up and she went to get her gita. Freya brought us plates of stew, then settled herself beside Rush-ton. Watching the smile that she gave him, I found I had no appetite.

  I longed to comfort Rushton, but what could I truly offer him? Even if he had loved me still, I could not say that I would never leave him because I would. I could not speak of undying love because I was not certain this bitter, painful emotion his embrace with Freya had roused in me was love.

  A great sadness filled me as I stared into the red heart of the flames and listened to the lovely haunting song the Empath guilden had made from the Oldtime story of the sleeping princess wakened by a kiss. As it rippled out into the night, I could not help but think again of Dragon, locked in her secret, internal battle with her past; trapped in a fortress of her own mind's making.

  Powyrs had agreed that the comatose empath might remain aboard the ship, for he was to bring us back to the Land when the Battlegames were over. He thought we were to perform at a bonding of one of the tribal chiefs. Little as we had liked leaving Dragon, she was safer on The Cutter than with us.

  "In this long sleep, in this fortress of dreams, I live a shadow life and in it dream of one who will come.... " Miky sang softly, and Angina took up the harmony in his deeper voice, at the same time elaborating the melody with tiny bells, and empathizing it delicately with his Talent.

  I rose quietly and slipped away from the fire, to crawl into one of the tents. Removing only my sandals I stretched out fully clothed.

  "Greetings, ElspethInnle," Maruman sent, and I looked up to see him enter the tent. I made a place for him beside me. The red glow of the fire through the tent opening made his fur appear bloody and discolored. He slept at once, but my mind was too active to let me sleep. On impulse, I shaped a probe and let it soar away from the spit and over the dunes like a nightbird.

  I did not try to direct its flight, but let the music take me where it would.

  Here and there, I encountered the silvery shimmer of other minds—small nocturnal creatures foraging. Once I was drawn to a brighter shimmer, and held for a moment by a deep mind which was clearly intelligent, and just as clearly non-human.

  I flew until my mind was calm.

  At long last I returned to my body. The fire outside had died and the music had stopped. The others had all gone to bed. I stroked Maruman's fur and wondered if the Temple guardians might not have some potion or treatment that would restore Dragon.

  I fell asleep, reminding myself to ask Jakoby.

  A moment later someone shook my shoulder.

  "Elspeth, wake up," Miky said. "The Sadorians have come to take us to the Battlegames."

  I opened my eyes, unable to believe it was morning already. I had just gone to sleep! Maruman had vanished but a warmth by my head said he had not been gone long.

  "They said to hurry," Miky urged. "We have to be there before the sun comes up or the whole thing will be called off."

  I sat up, pulled on boots instead of sandals and crawled out of the tent. It was still dark and the air was cool and pleasant. The moon had set, but a few stars still pricked the darkness. Wordlessly, Kella pressed some of the bread and cheese I had purchased the previous day into my hands, as Rushton announced to the two Sadorians that we were ready.

  We were conducted quietly through the sleeping camp to the road where a host of shaggy kamuli and several other long-legged Sadorians waited. As we mounted the seated beasts and settled ourselves in the wooden contraptions that served as saddles, I farsensed Maruman with an attuned probe. He was prowling about the cliffs in search of eggs.

  "If there is any trouble, go aboard The Cutter with Dragon and Powyrs," I sent. He did not deign to respond, but I knew he had heard me.

  When we were all mounted, one Sadorian perched precariously behind each of us, they made a clicking noise with their tongues and the kamuli rose with a great drunken lurching. They walked with a slow, rolling lope that reminded me horribly of the pitching movement of The Cutter. No wonder they were called ships of the desert.

  "Oh no," Fian moaned, as the kamuli made their ponderous way up the spit slope toward the cliffs. "We're headed out into th' desert."

  "It was the obvious place," Hannay said mildly. "We'd better start praying to Lud for a cloudy day or the sun will fry us."

  "The rebels will find it just as hard as us," Angina pointed out cheerfully.

  We had traveled for about an hour into the trackless desert, and the sky was empty of stars when the Sadorians pulled their beasts to a halt. I looked around, but there was nothing on all sides but featureless dunes. Were these Battle-games to take place here in the middle of nowhere where there was no shelter and no water? But if so, where were the rebels and the Sadorians? I looked up at the sky again. In the east there was a lightness that heralded the dawn.

/>   One of the Sadorians rode up to Rushton and said something inaudible. Then he pointed.

  I could see nothing but sand dunes.

  "He said the place where the games will be held is there," Rushton said loudly, sounding puzzled.

  The Sadorians clicked their tongues and the kamuli continued.

  "I can smell flowers," Kella said, and a moment later we found ourselves riding along a long narrow crack in the ground. Through its edges, we could see that it opened up into a great cave under the earth. It was too dim to see much but I could smell greenery and flowers and, at the very bottom of the hidden chasm, the glimmer of water.

  "This mun be one of their isis pools," Fian said in sudden excitement.

  "So this is where their goddess weeps her tears," Kella said dreamily. "No wonder they can spend so much time out here."

  "You'd never find it if you didn't know exactly how to get to it," Daffyd murmured.

  Miky described the valley to Dameon as the Sadorians turned the kamuli onto a small, narrow track that wended its way downward. Powyrs had said there were a number of isis pools in the desert, and I had imagined wells. I wondered if they were all like this. Clearly the wave of earth and rock almost covering the chasm protected it from the sun, but let in enough light to allow growth. The combination of heat and water produced humidity that generated luxuriant growth of plant life. The air became increasingly moist as we descended.

  By the time we reached the bottom, sunrise was only moments away. Jakoby emerged from what I had taken from a distance as a mass of greenery, but now saw were row upon row of Sadorian men and women.

  We dismounted, and she brought us to Bram, who sat crosslegged on a raised dais under a gigantic drooping tree with pale, coiling, green leaves and long creamy pods. The overguardian of the Temple sat at his feet. The rebels stood in a cluster to one side, and the ranks of Sadorians were arrayed behind them.

  Malik and his chosen nine stood ramrod straight in two disciplined lines facing Bram. Jakoby indicated that we were to take our place alongside them. The rebel I found myself beside was almost twice my height, his muscular arms scarred. I knew those looking at us must see the contest between us as absurdly unequal.