Chapter 16 The Valley of Thunders
Simone rose the next afternoon to a changed Fold, and it was not just that no one called her Empress anymore. Since Clay was commonly believed to be virtually on his way to Mount Rinna, she had been firmly demoted to Princess. Even the Loopers had caught on. But more than that, her recent way of life was shattered, her mission ended while still unfulfilled. She put on not her soldier’s clothes but a royal gown and cloak provided by the Forestmen.
She had no where to go. She must wait for Athlaz and for Clay—and Simone hated waiting. She did her waiting in a tent in the camp of the Forestmen, and there thought too much about the horrors she had seen in the battle. Snart sat brooding nearby, and the Loopers, oversensitive to her moods, seemed to brood too, or at least to mope. One or two crept into the tent to ask if they had perhaps done something wrong?
She began to question Snart and discovered that he had been hiding in wheat fields most of the night. It seemed he had fled from the Farjans, as she had commanded, only to several times barely escape from Perg forces; for the Pergs were crossing the plain, searching for their wounded, their dead, and the occasional Farjan to be taken prisoner. Only with the greatest difficulty had he avoided them all and at last limped into the Forestmen’s camp before dawn. He had been happily astonished when they had told him that Simone had found rescue from an unexpected quarter.
“But you’re not happy now,” Simone commented. “You’re miserable about Snag.”
Snart nodded. “He was a soldier,” he said simply.
“And a friend,” Simone added for him. “But I’ve seen how cheap life is in the Fold. If it isn’t a meaningless invasion, it’s plague, or cutthroat murderers. It makes me want to go home.”
“I see,” said Snart. “You’re homeland must then be peaceful and happy. I never understood how much you gave up to come here.”
Simone thought this over. “Well, there’s a government that keeps order.”
“Yes, that’s what we want,” said Snart with a sigh. “I hoped you would provide it.”
This was too much for Simone, who hardly thought herself equal to constructing a government. “It was a stupid dream,” she said harshly, “and Clay can’t do it any more than I can. You’ve seen how it is. Yesterday I told the Pergs and Foresters to kill, and they did that well enough—but—”
Several Bibaseel Loopers loped in the tent door and began a tour of the dim interior, commenting on the furnishings, sniffing the tent poles, and generally milling about.
“—but to tell anyone in the Fold to back off and not make war—not to be greedy? That’s another story.”
“But your authority, Princess.”
“No, no. They won’t listen to Ulrumman, so why should they listen to me? Instead, they keep trying to kill Clay and me—which actually makes a sick sort of sense because I’ll bet people would kill Ulrumman Himself if they could just once get their hands on Him.”
This train of thought suggested odd possibilities, so that Simone grappled with it a moment longer. “Snart, why is it good that the best arrow gets broken? What’s the sense in that? I—hey! Paws off my sword!”
One of the smaller Loopers hastily dropped it, pulled half out of its sheath, and grinned sheepishly. He was toothy and bright eyed and wore a little helm, its point cocked at such an angle that one upright ear stuck out.
“Meant no harm, Princess.”
“I know you didn’t. You just love to investigate. But you and your fellows need to keep some sort of order. Who’s captain among you?”
This was a poser for the little fellow. “Captain? Arch? Well, uh, maybe Mr. Roper?”
“Roper!” Simone laughed. “He’s supposed to be a prisoner! All of you clear out of here, while I talk to Snart. Shoo!”
After they bumbled out, she said to Snart, “I was warned that they’re helpless without some non-Looper leader. Well, I need somebody to take over so I’m appointing you. You’re my new captain of the guard in Snag’s place.” He nodded with dignity. “Keep them from running in and out every few minutes; and find something to occupy them, even if it’s busy work.”
“Yes, Princess.”
“Also, have someone ask again whether Minoz has turned up. Oh, and send someone to inquire about Angfetu. If he’s really seen Clay, then I’ve got to talk to him. If I’m going to sit here like lost baggage for my brother to claim, I might as well find out what the scudball’s been up to.”
Angfetu was asleep and could not be disturbed, needing the rest for his hurt wing. However the Forest Captains offered Princess Simone an interview with the Lady Metuza Zeezur-Hytra, a prisoner who was said to have seen the Emperor alive. Iron house Master Zeno left his overseeing of burials to come to Simone’s tent to discuss the matter. He first told her that Minoz had not been found after the battle and was presumed dead. Then he explained about the girl who had been captured with the Smoke Hag.
“You might question this girl’s trustworthiness,” he said, “but she appears to be just another innocent victim of the Hytra family of Farja, that great coven of witches. She’s only sixteen, and by her account, she was forced to marry into the Hytra family at age fourteen. Can you imagine? Then her husband died a few months later, murdered, she says, by rivals in the cult. That left her rich but powerless while under the control of Hytra in-laws and the notorious Smoke Hag, who styles herself the Priestess Zavira. She came here as an unwilling traveling companion to the Hag.”
“Does she really know anything about Clay?” Simone asked.
“Before the battle Arriz had a letter from Pyrus claiming that Metuza can identify a Pretender to the Empire. Beyond that, well, you’re the best qualified to question her, Princess Simone.”
“I will. Bring her here.”
“At once. And Princess, if I may be allowed a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.”
“The Lady is born of the noble Zeezur family and is unaccustomed to the plain manners of a military camp. Perhaps if you were to speak to her with less of your accustomed, uh—”
Simone’s eyes flashed. “A little more tact?”
Zeno nodded. “She’s been through quite a scare for someone with a sensitive nature.”
“Bring her on. I’ll be as sweet as sugar.”
In due course, Metuza Zeezur was ushered into the tent, the only sign of her imprisonment being a pair of soldier guards who courteously awaited her outside the door. Metuza proved to be sparkling and gracious, with a talent for putting others at ease and the serenity of a saint. She was also beautiful and emphasized it with a richly made dress, thick with ornamentation, an even richer shawl, and an elaborate hair style accented with dozens of tiny white ribbons. Altogether, Simone felt like a lizard contemplating a flower arrangement.
The girl bowed gracefully. “Princess, how kind of you to allow me to speak with you.”
Simone gestured toward a chair.
“May I? Thank you.” She seated herself casually. “I was hoping to meet you, though I’m somewhat in awe of you. It’s almost worth being a prisoner for so long if it ends in an interview with you.”
Simone, still standing, said nothing but glanced at Snart, who stood silently at hand.
“But you don’t understand? You see, I’ve been tossed this way and that. First I was brought here against my will by the Priestess Zavira as her travelling companion. Now I’m a prisoner of your conquering army. But whether one or the other, I’ve not known freedom or seen my own family since I left Farja.”
Even her voice was beautiful.
“But what can I do for you, Princess?” she added.
Simone felt such a gulf between herself and this well-heeled child of nobility that she hesitated to reply. For the moment she merely scowled, meeting the girl’s eyes aggressively.
“You met an emperor?” she demanded.
Metuza smiled. “I met someone who claimed to be Emperor. That was la
te in August back in Farja.”
“How old?”
“I’d say about—oh, maybe twenty.”
Simone settled suddenly on a chair. “And what did he look like, what did he call himself?”
“Very blond,” said Metuza, “and tall and heavy. He said his name was Peter—after the great king, you know. He was an adventurer looking for followers, but he ran into trouble with our government, was revealed as a fraud, and had to run off to the Perg lands.”
Simone sat staring at the tent wall. “Born here in the Fold, I suppose?” she murmured.
The girl looked at her with mild surprise. “Who isn’t? Oh, but you’re referring to the prophecy about you, uh, Lila-mes. Of course. Let me explain first that I met this man when he came begging to my father for money. (I have my own house, but I was visiting my parents at the time.) Peter had a lot to say, but most of it was just big plans and promises. You know, how he’d soon have an army and whom he’d conquer and all that. But he talked low-born, if you ask me.”
“An accent?” asked Simone dispiritedly.
“Yes, Quintusian. I wouldn’t have any more to tell you than that, because father turned him away, if not that he was allowed to stay the one night with us, and he made sure to talk to me alone.”
Simone waved a long hand dismissingly. “I don’t need to hear any more about him.”
Brought up short, Metuza looked a little uneasy. “But Princess, what he had to say was so interesting. You see, he told me the truth, I guess because he was in love with me. Or so he said.” She gave her beribboned head a toss. “He was an escaped slave, no less, who had labored in the galleys. He said he got his ideas about becoming a Pretender by talking to a boy who had rowed beside him. This boy was just a teenager and also had blond hair. He was thin and sickly and used to talk a lot to Peter, telling him that he was the Emperor, if only the Fold knew. Peter got lots of ideas from him, all about how he could play the part. Then when he had escaped, he went around being one of these Pretenders, and he wanted me to go with him and try our luck together. Well, I was as tactful as I could be without laughing at him, but—Princess? Oh, I’m sorry. How can I rattle on so much about myself?”
Simone was standing over her. “The boy in the galley. What happened to him?”
Metuza smiled with compassionate eyes. “Princess, I don’t understand, but I can see you must have known this boy. But a rogue like Peter would say anything. He said—please, don’t jump to conclusions—he said the boy died. The rowing was too much for him.” Metuza stood and took Simone by the arm. “Steady. Here, sit down. Can I get you anything?”
“What was his name?” Simone asked.
“Peter called him Cla-ee. something like that. Not a name I’d ever heard before. Princess, what was he to you? I mean, who do you think he was?”
Simone shuddered. “Never mind. This was not a complete surprise. But if he was who I think, then my friends are hunting the wrong person, hunting Peter.”
“Well, yes, of course Peter. Our army followed Peter around the mountains but lost his trail at some point. They brought me along so I could identify him.”
“I thought you were brought as a companion for the Smoke Hag.”
Metuza nodded. “Pretty much both.”
Simone pulled herself together. “You can go now.”
“Yes, Princess.” The girl bowed. “But please, am I to be allowed to go home now? Is my nightmare over?”
“Yes, I’ll advise the captains to release you.”
“Oh, thank you.” Metuza grinned and drew her eyebrows together in a way that struck Simone as familiar. “This is my day,” she said gleefully.
“I’m glad it’s somebody’s day,” Simone said dully.
“And Princess, may I be allowed to visit Angfetu? He and I were prisoners together, and I’m concerned for him.”
“You can do that if he’s awake and if those caring for him permit. I have to see him myself as soon as possible. He appears to have been fooled by this Peter.” Simone glanced at her watch.
“Thank you, Princess. Thoz give you rest.”
Metuza sailed out past her guards, who hurried to catch up with her.
Later that afternoon, the physicians reported to Simone that Angfetu the Lusetta had died in his sleep, apparently of heart failure. Lady Metuza, who had spent a few minutes with him, said he had complained of chest pains.
The same messenger brought news even more startling and discomfitting. The Priestess Zavira had been delivered over to General Arriz to stand trial, but Arriz had inexplicably released her at once. She was believed to be already on her way back to Farja.
That night Dramun came to visit Simone. Carefully easing his bulk into her tent without knocking it down, he settled himself with his saw-tooth tail curled close to his feet.
“Princess, there’s been some discussion among the human leaders as to how to properly take care of you now that the Forestmen are eager to go home. We believe you intend to stay here. At least, that is, we think so, if there’s any truth to that song all the bards have been learning from Abram. You could stay with the Ulrigs, but you’ve been rather sensitive to that suggestion in the past.”
“Touchy, Scale Tail, I’ve been touchy. So what did the powers-that-be decide?”
“They decided to send me to ask you your preference.”
“How diplomatic. The Forestmen can go home, of course, with my thanks. They’ve done wonderful service. As for me....”
“Yes, Princess?”
“I’ve been thinking I’d like to go home myself and see if my mother is well. On the other hand, Athlaz is expecting to find me here when he comes back.”
“What’s troubling you, Simone? You look so unhappy.”
“I can’t marry him now,” she said. “He had a plan, but it depended on his finding Clay.”
“I see. And you think that’s unlikely.”
“Unlikely, yeah. I don’t want Athlaz to think I’m not true to my word, but maybe someone here at Rinna could watch for him and let him know where I’ve gone.”
Dramun looked grave and took a deep breath. “I don’t think that will be necessary, dear Princess.”
“No? Why?”
“You must understand that—perhaps I shouldn’t be the one to say this, but—the northern lands have become very dangerous.”
“So was the mountain track when we came north, Old Scale Tail.”
“Yes, Princess, but the North is more dangerous even than that.”
“So what are you trying to tell me, that you let him go on a suicide mission?”
“No, definitely not. He should be safe even now, and in the days ahead as he passes through Ulrig tunnels in the Northern Titans. After that, however, they will be trying to outmaneuver armies; I mean the army of Prowts and the remnants of the Farjan army; as all of them are searching for your brother.”
“Oh, that’s a hoot! My brother is dead.”
“Don’t say it, Princess. Your brother is our hope.”
Simone slammed her palm sharply against Dramun’s broad nose. “And you just said Athlaz can’t find him, or even get back, so where’s your hope? Why don’t you just go back to whatever nightmare you slithered out of? Why should I even have to listen to you? If Athlaz can’t get back, why even tell me?”
Dramun blew out a little smoke. “Because you need to be safe until the situation is resolved, and this vicinity is perhaps not the best for your safety. We prefer to take you much farther south to where no human can threaten you.”
“Yes, because I’m your number two hope, I know. If all else fails, I can be the standby, backup Lila-me to save the Fold. Well, I’ll go someplace safe, all right, but it won’t be with your deceitful, rotten Ulrigs. (Begging your pardon, Snart.) Now just get out of here.”
Dramun began to inch back out the door.
“And you’re back off my bodyguard, too!”
br /> “Yes, Princess. Where shall I tell the leaders you’re going?”
“Home. Out of this world.”
“They’ll want to speak to you again.”
“Tell them to make it tomorrow morning.”
In the middle of the night, Simone slipped out of camp with her Loopers and Snart and took the southern road into the Valley of Thunders. She knew she could not travel far undetected but hoped—rightly, as it proved—that the Ulrigs were through with trying to kidnap her. As for Abram, he was away in the camp somewhere, teaching the Forestmen the Parting Song.
It is four hundred and fifty miles from Rinna to the Crow Wood, and Simone covered it hurriedly in less than a month, walking through a land as sleepy and backward as Trans-Titan. In Lila’s day a part of the long-lost Kingdom of Bourasnia, the Valley of Thunders now belonged to Eschor. But the valley was so far from the coast that the peasants were little troubled by Emperor Solomon. They kept to their villages and their farms. Simone found that even these were sparse; much of the way was wilderness with one good road down the middle of it.
Early on, Simone went alone into a town and sold her fine gown and cloak. In return she received rough, warm peasant’s garb and gold enough to have sufficed for a journey twice as long in those poor lands, especially since the Loopers tended to meet their few needs by hunting and foraging. The Loopers, besides forming a sizable guard around Simone, also proved invaluable by making nightly shelters with ax and twine, displaying a speedy woodcraft that amazed her; and they were able to build a fire in a rainstorm, which was handy because it rained much in the valley that November.
They had to go around the larger villages because, although the people there do not attack Sarrs as Pergs do, they fear them and want nothing to do with them. This was fine with Simone, who preferred Sarr company to human, anyway.
So Simone hastened between the tall peaks on the same road that Lila had taken so long before when the dark-haired Princess of Eschor journeyed to meet an arrow at the top of Icarus Pass. On November twenty-fourth, on a dreary afternoon, Simone took the same turn toward Crow Wood that Lila had taken when she had tried to avoid her fate. Lila was to return to the road, climb the pass, and meet the arrow; but that is another story.
On the little, muddy road to the Hule Kors, or Crow Wood, they met two Ulrigs coming their way, a vagabond pair with wet, dirty fur. It happened that Captain Snart had dropped back to the rear of the strung-out procession in order to quell some tomfoolery of the Loopers, so it was Simone who greeted these Ulrigs. She did so without fear, for the whole valley was protected by Ulrig troops, who although they did not crowd near to guard her, nevertheless were making sure of her safety.
“Bu ba eer,” she said in greeting.
“Good paths to you,” one of the ragged Ulrigs echoed, but added drearily, “Our paths have been far from good, Princess. We beg your mercy.”
They bowed low to her.
Simone was not surprised to be addressed by her title, for news of her progress was everywhere in the valley. She was used to being known to the occasional traveler she met on the way.
“I’m sorry if you’ve had hard times,” she said. “May I offer you something to eat?”
The two looked at her questioningly, then at one another.
“What is it?” she asked.
They bowed again. “We beg your mercy, Princess.”
“Yes, I know. You said that.”
“Zang, she doesn’t remember us,” said one to the other.
They looked at her with forlorn eyes, while Simone cast about in her mind for some notion of their identity. Meanwhile, many Loopers had caught up with her and were crowding around her knees, asking questions.
“Don’t you remember? Norg and I were with you and your brother in your own world,” said Zang, “and rode in your magic carriage. And also we were with you when the humans attacked us in such great numbers at Lucilla.”
Finally, it registered. “Cruel and Drool! How did you get here? I thought you were dead.”
“So did everyone,” said Norg (who was Drool in Simone’s mind). “In fact we’ve been going about under assumed names so no one will know we’re still alive and arrest us as deserters. It’s a hard enough life.”
“After we escaped from the humans at Lucilla,” Zang said, “and knowing that you and the Emperor had been captured, Norg and I traveled across the plains north of the Seelkir pin Rom. But we were afraid to return to our own folk in the mountains at first, afraid they would execute us for deserting, so we turned south near the Areophar and entered the Forest from the northeast.”
“A deadly, grim place that was,” said Norg.
“Yes, monsters and magicians, Princess, are in that part of the Forest, and horrid Ro-anthrops that once were humans. A few Ulrigs live there, outcasts like us, but we couldn’t bear it. When we heard, even there, that you lived and were free, we set out journeying to find you and beg a royal pardon.”
Simone was touched. “You have your pardon on the condition that you rejoin my bodyguard. Maybe you know that Snag died and that all I have is Captain Snart. I need you.”
“Bless you, Princess, bless you!”
Simone continued to call them Cruel and Drool to their faces, immediately forgetting their real names. Knowing no English, they were puzzled rather than offended and soon grew used to it. They informed Simone and Snart that the Ulrigs of the Middle Range had driven off the natives of Crow Wood, taking possession of the ancient temple at the foot of Turtle Hill. Within were Tsawb and his Door. However, Tsawb’s anger had been such that earth tremors had resulted, so frightening the Ulrigs that they had allowed the local priesthood to come back and tend to Tsawb again. The Ulrigs only restriction was that the Turtle Priests could no longer offer human sacrifice to Tsawb as they had done for so many centuries.
Simone also learned that the Ulrig leaders were happy with her progress southward, only hoping that she would go farther. Their soldiers at Crow Wood had made a friendly wager with those at Icarus Pass regarding which of their respective roads she would take. The odds makers favored the Pass, but Simone disappointed them by continuing eastward through the dark and dripping woods.
They spent that night in an abandoned barn, huddled around a fire, and late the next morning reached the outer cordon of the Ulrig force occupying the area. Soon many Ulrig nobles escorted them to the Crow Village situated just below Turtle Hill. The crude buildings were all occupied by Ulrig soldiers, causing Simone to wonder sympathetically about what had happened to the humans, now turned out of their shelters so close to winter.
The largest building, a rough monstrosity apparently meant for public meetings, had been reserved for Simone. While Snart, Cruel, and Drool were cautiously scouting the surroundings, and the Loopers were tearing around the village, knocking things over and sniffing them; she entered alone. The interior was scantily furnished, paintless, and dominated by a huge hearth with a correspondingly big fire. No one was visible, but a raspy voice was singing, and a small feather duster was brushing off the top of the mantle, apparently of its own volition.
The voice sang:
Telval ripamat ba mij zelrigalal orn.
‘Mij ripaman, Athlaz, nel jen.’
Preoccupied by the animate feather duster, Simone only slowly realized that this was Abram’s song about herself, now translated into Kreenspam.
“I believe there’s a Fijat here,” she concluded aloud. “Kor mil?”
The duster dropped, and the voice answered in (astonishing) English. “Yes, true! Princess, I’m delighted to see you.” The Sarree scrambled down and across to Simone’s feet. “I’m Razatella, who was once a companion of the Misara Razabera. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
“Yes, Mald spoke of you,” said Simone as Snart and Roper entered behind her. “You’re one of the Four who traveled to the Far East to learn about the Doors. Let’s see, it was you and Razabera
and Mald and....”
“And Beld, Princess,” she said, using Kreenspam for the Ulrig’s sake. “He’s seeing to matters in the South.”
“And you speak English as well as Razabera!”
“Yes, we Fijats chosen to go to your world are always trained in English first. The Misara and I both learned from old Zatel in our home forest of the Nasseel. It was intended that I go with Razabera to visit you this past summer.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I couldn’t. Razabera and I approached this wood by way of the mountains of the Ulrigs, and I was held hostage by them. The Ulrigs, you see, insisted that the Emperor be brought straight to them, and my very life was threatened if Razabera did otherwise. In return, they promised not to follow Razabera into your world.”
“A promise they promptly broke,” said Simone with a side glance at Snart.
“Yes, Princess,” said Razatella. “They followed her because of my own unforgivable prattling. I talked too freely to their Captain Snag, rest his soul, going on about the city Viola and the house on the east side of the cemetery. I might as well have drawn him a map. I felt terrible when I realized how I had helped him to follow the Misara. Even worse since then, for I’ve discovered that my terrible fault led the witches to you as well.
“For the Magi also had learned about Razabera’s mission, knew of it by means of the traitor Dragon Milba. Some of their witches came north from Saldar and fought Snag’s band of Ulrigs at the very door of Tsawb’s temple, running them off. We believe the witches tortured one of the wounded Ulrigs that Snag left behind, and so they learned as much about where your house is located as Snag had learned from me. The priests here say that the witches then made themselves invisible before passing the Door, but that they shortly returned, reversed the spell, and entered your world again.”
“That’s curious,” said Simone.
“Not to me, Simone. We Fijats know that invisibility creates more problems than it solves. The witches were probably terrifying humans on the other side, which could only hinder them. Then, after they passed the Door the second time, Snag returned, unwilling to give up. He followed them through the Door to try to save you. But if only Snag’s band had been in time to save the Misara!”
“She was a good friend of yours?”
“The very best.”
“Me too. And all the Sarrs say she’s heavily missed.”
“She is missed,” said Snart. “She was the greatest of the noble Fijats, even excelling her brother Razaber. We Ulrigs should have trusted her more, and in a lesser matter we would have.”
“I think that’s a sort of apology for your imprisonment,” Simone observed to Razatella. “But are you free even yet?”
“Oh yes, since September, and I’ve done some traveling around, mostly trying to learn where you were. Then I heard about the Battle of the Field of Parting and that you were coming this way on the valley road, so I hurried back here to meet you. I knew you would be going home.” Razatella touched Simone’s muddy boot with a claw. “But you won’t leave us and not come back?”
Simone avoided the question. “I have to see my mother.”
“I’ve seen her. She’s well.”
“What!”
“Yes, after I was freed the Ulrigs permitted me to pass the Door, for we were all concerned about the Queen Mother, since Snag had sent word that a witch might be still in your world. Say, would you mind if I sit on your arm or shoulder? This floor is cold.”
Simone stepped nearer the fire while offering a cradling arm, and Razatella scrambled up.
She continued, “So I went through to see about Susan and found my way to your house. I watched your mother for about a week in late September and never saw any sign of the witch. Then I had to return, since Tsawb would give me no more time than that. He had wanted me to kill the witch and was mightily angry when I told him I couldn’t find her. But don’t you think that, if the witch wanted to attack your mother, she would have done it by then?”
“I do,” said Simone. “That’s very encouraging. Especially when you think that Mom has had no warning and isn’t taking precautions.”
“So stay here,” Razatella whispered.
“No, I’m going on as soon as I’ve had some rest. What I want you to do is go north to Rinna and watch for Athlaz for me. If he comes—which some say is a stretch—you can tell him I’m visiting home, and then come fetch me.”
“In the song,” said Razatella quietly, “you wait there for him.”
Simone had no defense against such humble reproach. “How did that song get here so fast? Do these bards fly?”
“Everyone loves it, Sisskame. Everyone in the Fold is singing it, or soon will be.”
“And now they’re calling it the Battle of the Field of Parting,” said Simone, exasperated. “It’s the stupidest thing in the world to name a battle in which thousands of people died, to name it by what happened between a couple of teenagers. Someday I’m going to pay Abram back for writing that syrupy ballad.”
Suddenly on the verge of tears, Simone turned on Roper, who was nervously waiting to speak to her.
“What, Rope?”
“Only, Princess, that if you’re leaving at once, I beg you to reconsider a royal pardon for my peccadillo of so many years ago.”
“Oh right, your harmless little escapade of robbing your own king’s treasury! Well, I told you to report to Korazagel, and you didn’t do it! Snart, I want this thief bound and delivered to his king for judgment. That’s something for the Loopers to do after I pass the Door. They’re homesick for Bibaseel anyway. Only they’ll never get it right by themselves, so you’d better go with them.”
She turned on Roper again. “What are you looking so hurt for?”
“You pardoned Cruel and Drool,” he offered unhappily.
“That’s completely different. What they did, they did in a moment of panic; but you and your cronies coolly planned that burglary.”
“I was drunk,” Roper peeped.
Simone burst out laughing. “I’m sure you were, yes. Now get out of my sight.”
That night Simone ascended to a bedroom prepared for her in the attic and called for Razatella. She spent hours talking with the Fijata, reminiscing about Razabera and generally discussing their lives and worlds. The next morning she rested completely. Then on that afternoon of November twenty sixth she dismissed her bodyguards with much thanks and affection.
At her request, the Ulrigs had removed the priests from Tsawb’s Temple at the foot of the hill. She wore her thick, hooded peasant garb and took with her only a knife and an old nevel that had been left behind by some villager.
She went in alone.