Chapter XLIII
Of all the outsiders, the Koinoni — draped in the dark, heavy fabric of mystery — disconcerted the Raspars most. The curse of Gryphon seemed to have returned to the Eternal City’s residents: The intrusion into their solitude of others even more unwilling to show themselves gave even the most skeptical Raspars a tingle at the back of their necks. At the same time, the unceasing parade of Raspar humanity threw the Koinoni into confusion; their spinning sentries could never tell who was approaching and who had passed, as the ebb and flow swirled through their minds into a tangle of pallid blurs. So the outsiders’ decision to remain together in a central room, where most Raspars could avoid them, proved best for all clans. At this moment only Rhodan and Linus sat in the company of the sojourners.
“If I don’t get out of these shadows and into the sun soon, I will be left looking like you,” Dungo said to Theodoric. “See, the beautiful bronze has drained from Sylva’s cheeks, and I daresay the raven ringlets of my head seem to fade into grayness. Ho-ho! What a grand sight the sun would be for these eyes, growing blind within the gloom of these walls. Oh, for sand to welcome the pegs of my tent! These rigid floors would never allow such beautiful intercourse; the cracks between these stones cleave so close and tight, even the spit of insult could not penetrate! Look, the floor itself rejects my rudeness! Now, the desert sands, they will drink up spittle like milk to a rumidont lamb. My desert could soak in the blasted Alluvia without a hiccup. How I miss my homeland, the ground upon which all my forefathers walked!”
“You know not of the depth you speak,” said a Koinoni, probably Yarrow.
Rhodan cast a curious eye at him. “Lo, does not your voice change?”
“Shall we not reveal the Koinoni leadership at our own discretion?” Yarrow responded.
“Yes, you speak well,” said Theodoric, redirecting the discussion. “We must take our leave of this place, with or without help. We must rouse Artur and not tarry. A surprise is never worse than when it is missed.”
“What do you mean?” asked Geoffrey.
“The Aoten no doubt have headed back to your village,” said Theodoric. “They took nothing from the fallen tower but weapons. I fear for your fortress.”
“Then we must be gone!”
“Certainly, none of you wish to leave more than I,” said Dungo, and he looked to Sylva. “But we first must attain provisions. We must prepare well for the journey west, for the way was rugged indeed coming here, and we have none of our own food or even shelter left to us. So we must stay at least long enough to beg for supplies. And for no reason will we abandon our friend!” Here Dungo’s clicking began.
Theodoric stared at Dungo; he had expected the Bedoua vizier to be eager to quit the city, at almost any price.
“No, for certainly Artur is not only our leader, but our heart as well! Medialia can hope of no defense without him, for surely he has shown courage and wisdom beyond even his own estimation! Wisdom to listen, wisdom to lead, wisdom to follow, wisdom to act! A fighting man is a unique animal, for he must respect life as much as he is willing to sacrifice it. He must reckon his enemy as willing to shed blood as he is, and as afraid for his own, and use that ferocity and fear to sway the battle. Artur overshadows us not as a single man among us, but the heart of us all, even as Wolven is the crawling depravity in us all. Not one of us will leave Artur here, for without him Medialia is certainly doomed to be crushed under the giants’ feet!”
Geoffrey looked downward, surprised and somewhat embarrassed. Though once he had called Artur the greatest of his sons, he had never heard such praise from the mouth of another. Theodoric remained silent.
“What, do you not believe I can see the world around me?” Dungo replied to this still reaction. “Am I so fat that I cannot see my feet? Perhaps I can not hide my meaning in a maze of words as you do, oh Melic king, but neither can I hide the overflow of my soul, and the inward parts of a man can divine the truth as clearly as his mind and tongue. So I have said, for the Bedoua do love easily, and wound easily, and heal slowly. And we are not a people to hide our emotions.” Clicking came from his throat, and Sylva’s as well, as she rocked backward and smiled reassuringly at Rhodan. The others knew the vizier had struck upon a truth they all had known yet never set their minds to.
Linus sat in consideration of the Bedoua leader, and leaned toward a corner filled with dark shadows. “Lo, ye think I talk too bloody much; here holds forth one who talks damn well more.” He snapped his fingers at a Raspar passing by the door, who glanced at him and nodded before melting into the flowing current of the crowd.
“Truly, again you speak truth,” said Theodoric, in a manner that was both apologetic and deferential to Dungo. “No matter the might of the trunk, a weevil at the roots can fell the tree. Your heart tells you well, and surely we will not leave without Artur. So we must find him first, then seek either audience with the regent or safe passage away.”
At that moment a silhouette filled the doorway, moving stiffly under the bondage of heavy bandages. The hulking shoulders and spray of thinning hair made the figure’s identity only too obvious.
“My son!” Geoffrey exulted as he leapt to his feet.
“Zootaloo!” came a chorus.
“Ah, my friend! What a blessing to behold you again!” began Dungo, the rest of his speech lost in the cacophony of greetings. All the travelers leapt to the door in welcome, as the Rufoux chief tried to acknowledge each, even each anonymous Koinoni, while painfully fending off their enthusaism.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. Good to see you alive. No, I’ve had worse. No bones broken, but my knees ache badly. Thank you. Thank you. I need to sit.”
“Artur,” said Theodoric simply, and grasped his arms to elicit a smiling wince.
“Aye, surely the treatment ye directed has served him well,” Linus said into the shadows.
“Artur,” said Theodoric, “We had begun to despair of seeing you again. Are you fit to travel? Will you be able to return to the Rufoux village?”
“I’m not sure. I can move all right, but I don’t know how long I’d last on the trail. You may have to leave me behind.”
“No, we will not have that. But I am certain we need to return, and soon,” said Theodoric.
“Yes, the Aoten definitely returned to our forests.”
“And heavily armed.”
“Yes, I have thought the same. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t left already,” Artur said, with a sidelong glance to Geoffrey. The old man stood defiantly.
“Ho-ho, no, sir, we will not leave without you —” began Dungo.
“Yes, as I say, we have settled that already,” broke in Theodoric. “We will not leave without you. And yet as important, we must make one more attempt to speak to the Raspar regent, and secure supplies. But we must do so quickly.”
“What do you mean ‘settled already’? Was I consulted? Your conclusion is easily reached when the risk is not to your own people,” scolded Artur. “You should have left already.”
“I’m glad to see you did not break your anger bone,” quipped Theodoric, looking to Artur’s bandages, but his joke was lost on everyone. “Regardless, we are here, and time quickly fails us. We must make good use of it.”
“Don’t brush me off! As chieftain to the Rufoux, the clan’s survival is all that matters to me! If you knew the Aoten planned another attack, you should have followed! How many days has your delay given them? You should never have waited for me!”
“Oh, but my friend, you are the most —” began Dungo.
“We stayed!” Geoffrey growled at Artur. “We stayed, and we will stay until you too get out of here! Then we will defend the village! Are you and I the only Rufoux? Do you think my presence in the village will make a wooden fence any stronger? Do you think you would improve our chances as a prisoner in a stone tower? Do you not think Wyllem can make Rufoux want to live? Shut up, my son, my chieftain! Shut up until you can muster right words to lead!”
“Lo, see, they do love him, just as ye said, and he bears the hellish burden of their worries,” Linus murmured to the shadowy corner. “The measure of an alliance is the harsh words it can bear.”
“All right, then,” said Artur, shaking his shoulders. “If I’m not beaten to death by a giant, I’ll have it out of your hide later, old man. What must we do, then? We must seek out this Wessex fellow, give him one more chance to join our fight, but then we must leave. We must be off with the morning. What time is it? I don’t know if it’s day or night.”
“No longer Wessex, for the Raspar regent died in the battle, directing the defenses of the fallen tower. His daughter has taken the regency — Mercedi, and we can not see her,” said Theodoric.
“Why not?”
“They do not allow,” said Theodoric, looking toward Linus.
“Aye, Mercedi is regent now, at the tragic death of her father,” said Linus. “Though young and without experience, she had stones to bring ye into the city. Ye are the first outsiders ever to see the inside of the city walls. Now many Raspars grumble against her and her leadership. She has taken damn great risk for your sake, and she chooses to wait before she risks more.”
“I see,” said Artur.
“Sir, we understand your regent’s need to be cautious, but you must also see our desire for haste,” said Theodoric. “The giants will turn their destruction back upon our people, and we must return. We desire your aid, the service of Raspar defenses, but if your clan will not join, then at least we must depart to rejoin the battle.”
“Aye, I can assure ye that the regent will do nothing to prevent ye when ye must leave,” said Linus. “Still, she must be sure she will not be overthrown by her own stinking people before she will gamble upon being overthrown by ye.”
“We mean no threat, to her or your clan,” said Artur. “Look, since we arrived we have done nothing to raise your suspicions. We took up your fight to repel the giants, without protection of your walls; I lay bleeding at the foot of your city. If your regent needs yet more proof that we bear no guile, then all we can show you is to leave now empty-handed.”
“But the giants, they will return,” added Theodoric. “Once they finish with us, they will return here.”
“Yes, when we leave we will never return,” said Artur. “There will be no other chance to join us, for we will either drive the giants away or lie dead on the ground trying. Either way, they will come here again one day. A show of good faith from us now, if we leave you at peace but alone, could as well leave you doomed.”
“Nay, this is not a decision for me,” said Linus. “Only the regent can hear it. Nay, it is not even my judgment whether she might give you blinking audience.”
“I take it we will not be seeing her, then,” said Artur. “Come, let us begone. Clearly we have wasted our time and blood here.”
“Dear sir,” Dungo pleaded. “You are a man of words, a man who knows that much can be settled with conversation. Do not let the cold belly of your castle pull a shroud over your heart; do not let the inflexible walls that surround you enclose your souls. We have risked death at the whim of the land, and the rivers, and the giants — even at your own hands did we offer our lives for the taking, because of the greatness of our quest. Medialia will lie in waste, if we do not defeat the giants! Haffa! I come from the beautiful desert sea, a harsh land you have never seen, where life dwells on a dagger’s edge! Not a shrub will grow, unless it is nurtured with the most tender care! A labor of love it requires, to coax a blade of grass from the sands. But if the Aoten can wipe out the Bedoua, then without its loving husband, the desert would truly die, along with all Medialia. Surely your regent is so kind and gracious as to at least hear us? We beg for the life of our homeland!”
“Lo, I have heard,” said a soft voice, and Mercedi emerged from the shadowy corner. “I have heard your words, and they ring in my ears. I will confer with ye.”