"When a fish is caught and lies in the net," he thought, "one sees the luster dying slowly out of its scales. And yet--how else to eat the fish?"
He turned once more, this time at the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor. The gong of the clock near the Peacock Gate had not long struck the tenth hour and he had not expected Ged-la-Dan's arrival so soon. Zilthe, older now but still trim, quick and light-stepping, came into the hall, raising her palm to her forehead with the smile of a friend. Of all the girls who had come from Quiso or had since entered the service of Shardik, Zilthe alone possessed both grace and a light heart, and Kelderek's somber mood softened as he returned her smile.
"Has Lord Ged-la-Dan come so soon?"
"No, my lord," replied the girl. "It is General Zelda who wishes to see you. He says that he hopes the time is convenient, for he needs to speak with you soon. He did not say so, my lord, but I believe that he wants to see you before General Ged-la-Dan arrives."
"I will go out to him," said Kelderek. "Watch by Lord Shardik--you or another. He must not be left alone."
"I will feed him, my lord--it is time."
"Then put the food in the Rock Pit. If he will go out there for a while, so much the better."
Zelda was waiting on the sun terrace that ran along the south side of the hall, his dark red cloak drawn close against the chilly breeze. Kelderek joined him and together they walked across the gardens and on into the fields lying between the Barb and the Leopard Hill.
"You have been watching with Lord Shardik?" asked Zelda.
"For several hours. He is disturbed and fretful."
"You speak as though he were a sick child."
"At these times we treat him as such. It may be nothing--but I would be happier if I were sure that he is not sick."
"Perhaps--could it be--" Zelda paused, but then said only, "much sickness is ended by the coming of summer. He will soon be better."
They rounded the western shore of the Barb and began to cross the pasture slope beyond. Before them, about three quarters of a mile away, lay that part of the city walls that ran uphill to encircle Crandor's eastern spur.
"Who's that fellow coming down toward us?" asked Zelda, pointing.
Kelderek looked. "Some nobleman--a stranger. It must be one of the provincial delegates."
"A southerner by the look of him--too dandified for any northern or western province. Why is he walking here alone, I wonder?"
"He's free to do so if he wishes, I suppose. Many who visit the city like to be able to say that they've walked entirely around the city walls."
The stranger came on, bowed graciously with a rather affected sweep of his fur cloak, and passed by.
"Do you know him?" asked Zelda.
"Elleroth, Ban of Sarkid--a man about whom I've found out a good deal."
"Why? Isn't he safe?"
"Possibly--possibly not. It's strange that he should have come himself as delegate. He was with Erketlis in the Slave Wars--in fact he's been a noted Heldro in his time. There's no particular reason why he should have changed his ideas, but all the same I was advised that it would be safer to leave him alone than to try to get rid of him. He has a lot of influence and standing with his own people, and as far as I can learn he's never done us any actual harm."
"But has he helped us?"
"Lapan's been fought over so much that it's hard to say. If a local ruler takes care to keep in with both sides, who's to blame him? There's nothing known against him except his record before we came."
"Well, we'll see what he has to offer us at the Council."
Still Zelda seemed hesitant to talk of whatever had led him to seek out Kelderek, and after a little Kelderek spoke again.
"Since we're talking of the delegates, I ought to mention another to you--the man you recently appointed as governor of Kabin."
"Mollo? What about him? By the way, that man is staring after us--I wonder why."
"Strangers not uncommonly stare after me," replied Kelderek with a faint smile. "I've become accustomed to it."
"That's it, no doubt. Well, what about Mollo? S'marr Torruin of the Foothills recommended him--says he's known him for years. He seems an excellent man."
"I've learned that until a short time ago he was a provincial governor in Deelguy."
"In Deelguy? Why did he leave?"
"Exactly. To take up his patrimony of a small estate in Kabin? I'm inclined to doubt it. Our present relations with Deelguy are strained and difficult--we don't know what they may be intending. I wonder whether we ought to risk this appointment of yours--we might be walking into a trap. A knife in the back from Kabin would be bad just at the moment."
"I think you're right, Kelderek. I knew nothing of this. I'll speak to Mollo myself tomorrow. We can't afford any risk in Kabin. I'll tell him we've decided that after all we ought to have a man with special knowledge of the reservoir."
He fell silent again. Kelderek veered a little downhill to the left, thinking that by thus seeming to commence their return he might loosen the baron's tongue.
"What do you think of the war now?" asked Zelda suddenly.
"Ask the kites and crows, they're the ones that knows," replied Kelderek, quoting a soldiers' proverb.
"Seriously, Kelderek--and entirely between ourselves?"
Kelderek shrugged his shoulders. "You mean its prospects? You know more of those than I."
"You say Lord Shardik seems ill at ease?" persisted Zelda.
"Not every mood or ailment of Lord Shardik is a portent of the war. If that were so, a child could read the omens."
"Believe me, Kelderek, I don't question your insight as priest of Shardik--nor you my generalship, I hope."
"Why do you say that?"
Zelda stopped and looked around at the open, rough pasture about them. Then he sat down on the ground. After a few moments' hesitation Kelderek joined him.
"To sit here may not become our dignity," said Zelda, "but I prefer to speak where none can overhear. And I warn you, Kelderek, that if need be I shall deny that I ever spoke at all."
Kelderek made no reply.
"More than five years ago we took this city; and there's not a man who fought in that campaign but knows that we did so by the will of Shardik. But what's his will now? I wonder whether I'm the first to feel perplexed on that score."
"I dare say you're not."
"You know what my men were singing after we took Bekla? 'Now Lord Shardik's battle's won, We'll squeeze the girls and lie in the sun.' They don't sing that any more. Four years up and down the marches of the southern provinces have knocked all that out of them."
Three-quarters of a mile away on the Serpent Tower--the southeastern tower of the Barons' Palace--Kelderek could see a soldier leaning over the balustrade. No doubt he had been ordered to watch for the approach of Ged-la-Dan, but it was plain from his attitude that he had seen nothing as yet.
"What was Shardik's will in restoring us to Bekla? Was it what the men supposed--to make us strong and prosperous for the rest of our lives? If so, why is Erketlis still in the field against us? What have we done to displease Lord Shardik?"
"Nothing that I know."
"Shardik killed Gel-Ethlin--he struck the blow himself--and after we had taken Bekla, you and I and everyone supposed that by his will we should soon defeat Erketlis and capture Ikat. Then there would be peace. But that hasn't happened."
"It will happen."
"Kelderek, if you were anyone other than the king of Bekla and the priest of Shardik--if you were a provincial governor or a subordinate commander promising me something--I should answer 'Then it had better happen damned quickly.' I'll be plain. For several years my men have been fighting and dying. They're just preparing to do so for another summer, and in no very good frame of mind. The truth is that, leaving aside the will of Shardik and speaking purely as a general, I can see no military reason why we should ever win this war."
Someone below seemed to be calling to the man on the tower.
He leaned out over the parapet, looked down for a few moments and then resumed his watch.
"It was Lord Shardik who gave us the victory over Gel-Ethlin," went on Zelda. "If it hadn't been for what he did, we could never have defeated a Beklan army--an irregular force like ours."
"No one ever said otherwise. Ta-Kominion himself knew it before the battle. Yet we did win, and we took Bekla."
"Now we're doing well merely to contain Erketlis. We can't defeat him--certainly not conclusively. There are several reasons why. I suppose when you were a boy you wrestled, ran races and so on. Can you remember times when you knew for certain that the other lad was better than you were? As a general, Erketlis is quite out of the ordinary, and most of his men were in the former southern army of patrol. Many of them feel that they're fighting for their homes and families, and that makes them ready to put up with very hard conditions. They're not like us, invaders disappointed in hopes of quick profits. Our men have felt for a long time now that something's slipped through their net. Food of some sort or other is easy to come by down in the south. We can't deprive Erketlis' army of food, and they don't look for much more than that. But their very existence makes difficulties for us. As long as they remain undefeated, they're a focus for disaffection and trouble anywhere in the empire from Gelt to Lapan--old Heldril sympathizers and so on. Erketlis has only got to maintain himself in the field, but we've got to do more than that; we've got to defeat him before we can restore to Beklan people the peace and prosperity of which we've deprived them. And the plain truth is, Kelderek, that I have no grounds--no military grounds--for thinking that we can do it."
The man on the Serpent Tower suddenly began waving his arms and pointing southeastward. Then he cupped his hands, shouted something down and disappeared from the balcony.
"Ged-la-Dan will be here in less than an hour," said Kelderek. "Have you said any of this to him?"
"No, but I've no reason to suppose that he's any happier with our military prospects than I am."
"What about the help we're expecting from the Council delegates tomorrow?"
"Whatever it is, it won't be enough. It never has been in the past. You must understand that at present we're holding on in Lapan as best we can. It's not we but Erketlis that means to attack."
"Can he?"
"As you know, he has recently received a force from Deelguy, led by a baron of whose actions their king pretends to be ignorant. There's a rumor that Erketlis now believes himself strong enough both to cover Ikat and to attack us as well, and that he's planning to march farther north than ever before."
"On Bekla?"
"That would depend on his success once he'd started, I dare say. But my own belief is that he may go wide of Bekla and try to show his power in the country northeast of it. Suppose, for example, that he simply told the Deelguy that he'd lead them north on their march home, doing all the damage he could on the way? Suppose they set themselves to destroy the Kabin reservoir?"
"Could you not stop them?"
"I don't know. But what I'm proposing, Kelderek--and what I have never proposed at all if you receive it ill--is one of two courses. The first is that we should negotiate a peace with Erketlis at once. Our terms would be that we retain Bekla, with the northern provinces and as much land to the south as we can get. That would mean ceding certainly Yelda, Belishba and probably Lapan, with Sarkid, of course. But we should have peace."
"And the second?"
For the first time Zelda turned and looked full at Kelderek, his dark eyes and beard framed in the red cloak-collar. Gently he drew out his knife, held it suspended a moment between finger and thumb, and then let it fall, hilt-upward, to stick quivering in the ground. Wrinkling his nose and sniffing, as though at the smell of burning, he drew out the knife and returned it to its sheath. The allusion was not lost upon Kelderek.
"I knew from the beginning--yes, that very night--that in some way you were carrying the destiny of Ortelga. Even before you and Bel-ka-Trazet set out for Quiso, I was sure that you had been sent to bring us luck and power. Later, when the first rumors reached Ortelga, I believed in Shardik's return because I had seen you withstand Bel-ka-Trazet's anger and realized that only the truth could have enabled you to do so. It was I who advised Ta-Kominion to risk his life by crossing the Dead Belt by night to seek you out; and I was the first baron to join him the next morning, when he came ashore behind Lord Shardik. At the battle of the Foothills, before ever Ta-Kominion reached the field, I led the first attack on Gel-Ethlin's army. I have never doubted Lord Shardik--nor do I doubt him now."
"What then?"
"Loose Lord Shardik! Loose him, and await what may befall. Perhaps it is not his will that we should continue the war. He may have another, perhaps an altogether different purpose. We should be ready to trust him, even to admit that we may have mistaken his will. If we loose him, he may reveal some unknown thing. Are you sure, Kelderek, that we may not be, after all, denying his purpose by keeping him here in Bekla? I have come to believe that that purpose cannot be the continuation of the war, for if it were, we should by now be at least within sight of the end. Somewhere we have lost the thread of our destiny. Loose him, and pray that in this darkness where we are wandering, he will put it back into our hand."
"Loose Lord Shardik?" said Kelderek. He could imagine nothing less favorable either to the continuance of his reign or to the divine secret still to be discovered by himself. At all costs he must steer Zelda away from this rash, superstitious idea, the consequences of which were quite unpredictable. "Loose Lord Shardik?"
"And then follow him, simply trusting in what will befall. For if indeed we have failed him, then since it cannot be in courage or resolution in the field, it can be only in not trusting him enough."
It was on the tip of Kelderek's tongue to reply that the Tuginda had once spoken in this way and that Ta-Kominion had known how to deal with it. As he paused, pondering how best to begin the delicate task of discussion, they both saw in the distance a servant running toward them across the pasture. They stood up and awaited him.
"Tomorrow night is the spring fire festival," said Kelderek.
"I had not forgotten."
"I will say nothing of this to anyone, and we will speak of it again after the festival. I need time to think."
The servant reached them, raised his palm to his bent brow and waited, trying to control his panting breath.
"Speak," said Kelderek.
"My lord, Lord Ged-la-Dan is almost here. He has been sighted on the road and will reach the Blue Gate within this half-hour."
In the city below, the gongs sounded once more for the hour, the further following immediately upon the nearer like an echo. Kelderek perceived that to retain the servant would put an end to their talk for the time being.
"Accompany us," he said; and then to Zelda, as the man took up his place behind them, "I and the priestess Sheldra will go out to meet Ged-la-Dan on the road. Will you not come with us."
28 Elleroth Shows His Hand
"--AND TO HAVE LEFT ALL I HAD IN Deelguy--"
"Compose yourself, Mollo."
"I'll not live inside their damned boundaries--not within ten days' journey of them--that blasted bear-priest--whatever he calls himself--Kildrik, that's it--"
"Be reasonable, Mollo. Calm yourself. You didn't leave Deelguy with the least idea of becoming governor of Kabin, let alone with any promise from Bekla. You left because you wanted to succeed to the family estate, or so you told me. No one's deprived you of that and you're no worse off than you were on the night when you dined with your bull-breeding friend."
"Don't be ridiculous. Everyone in Kabin knows that General Zelda appointed me on S'marr's recommendation. I had a long meeting with the elders, before I set out, about Kabin's contribution to the summer campaign. It was little enough they meant to give, too--we're not a rich province--never have been. 'Don't worry,' I said, 'I'll convince them in Bekla--I'll see you're not ruined to pay for the war.' What do you think t
hey're going to say now? They'll say I've been kicked out because I couldn't screw enough out of the province--"
"Perhaps you have."