THE BLOOD-STAINED BELT

By

Brian H. Jones

Published by Aichje Books, Goulburn, NSW, Australia

The Blood-stained Belt

Copyright © 2010 by Brian H. Jones

ISBN 978-0-9808107-0-7

Cover design and artwork by Elaine Cornwell

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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'You know what Joab son of Zeruiah did to me when he murdered my two army commanders, Abner son of Ner and Amasa son of Jether. He pretended that it was an act of war, but it was done in a time of peace, staining his belt and sandals with innocent blood' (The Bible, 1 Kings, 2: 5)

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CHAPTER ONE: WHEN LAND AND PEOPLE MEET THE SEA

Yesterday I saw Sharma struggling to heave his bulk across the courtyard, cursing at the men who supported him. When he stubbed his toe and pitched forward only the strength of both servants saved him from thudding to the ground. The great one of Keirine is falling and who knows who and what will collapse with him? Whatever happens, one thing is for sure – I won’t be around to see it. Sharma will ensure that. Yet, in spite of that, I can’t bring myself to hate him. I should, but I can’t. We’ve shared so much, done so much together, hoped and striven for so much that to hate him would be like negating part of myself. I can grit my teeth at him, ball my fists in frustration, and let my thoughts stalk all over that barren wilderness that is marked by roads not taken and signposts obtusely ignored – but, no, I can’t hate Sharma.

By Zabrazal, Sharma and I go back so far that remembering our early days is like trying to see the shapes of other people’s lives while peering down a mist-hazy tunnel. Somewhere back there, I will find the days when Sharma and I played stick-and-hit together with the other bare-footed boys. Somewhere back there is the time when we were shoved into school to endure its misery for four years. That’s where we met and became friends. Together with forty other boys we hunched together on rough benches balancing our slates on our knees. The mud-plastered, turf-roofed building was too cold in winter and too hot in summer while what went on inside was either tedious or frightful. We flinched as we waited to see who would be the next victim of old Aggam’s tongue-lashing or, worse still, who would be the next to be beaten across his shoulders with the stick that Aggam brandished as he stalked the boards, a slave-master to his cowering slave-pupils. It was like watching the dice being rolled – if your number didn’t come up now, it would come up soon enough. You couldn’t escape Aggam’s stick. You could only hope to avoid it for as long as possible.

Also, somewhere down that hazy tunnel is the day that we lay at our ease on the shoulder of a hill that overlooked the coastal plain. Sucking on a stalk of grass, Sharma rested on his elbows and pronounced confidently, ‘I’m telling you, Jina, one day we’ll conquer the Dornites. We’ll take their land all the way from here to the coast.’

‘Oh? What makes you think so?’

‘It’s our destiny.’

‘Destiny! Ha! What do you know about destiny?’

Sharma sat up and looked hard at me, the yellow flecks in his eyes glinting. ‘There’s a prophecy that says, “Keirine only shall be free, when land and people meet the sea.” Have you heard it?’

‘Sure, I’ve heard it. So what?’

‘I believe it.’

‘How can you believe it? It’s just something that Aggam made up.’

‘Ha! It has nothing at all to do with that old fool Aggam. It comes straight from the oracle at Oshigna.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because my father told me so. He heard it from someone who heard it direct from the oracle. That’s how I know!’ Sharma clicked his fingers in a gesture of finality.

I grunted and settled back against a rock, basking in the warmth of the sun. When land and people reach the sea? It was a hopeless dream. I banished it with a shrug. Even at that early age I suspected that dreams and visions betray you like wraiths that lead their credulous victims into fathomless swamps. Dreams and visions have been Sharma's provenance rather than mine. Mind you, cat-like as always, he’s had the tenacity to stalk them and then to seize the opportunities when they presented themselves. And, for all my scepticism, I have prowled at Sharma’s shoulder, my caution outweighed by his visions of the glories that awaited us when at last we scaled the heights.

We were taking a risk that day when we lay on the hilltop and looked out across the coastal plain. Mind you, we didn’t have much choice because there weren’t a lot of other places that we could go. It was the dry season and there was no grazing left closer to Osicedi so we had shepherded our flocks further eastwards than we had ever been. From our vantage point, the sea was clearly visible across the coastal plain. It might have looked near but in fact it was inaccessible because the Dornites occupied all of the plain between the foothills and the coast. So near and yet so far -- to us, as with everyone else in Keirine, the coast might as well have been beyond the furthest islands of the Endless Ocean.

But that was a long time ago – so long ago that it seems like it happened yesterday. Ah, the deceptions of memory! I close my eyes and, once again, Sharma and I wander across the sunlit hills behind the sheep or march south a few years later, comrades in youth-fired expectation, to enlist in Vaxili’s army. I open my eyes and I come back to the reality of being confined in a stone-walled room, three paces wide by four paces long. Sharma? Well, then, what about the great Sharma, lord and master of Keirine? Forget about titles, forget about achievements, forget about power – one thing is for certain: he has a little more space in which to pace but he’s no freer than I am. We’re both prisoners of old age and betrayal, Sharma and me. We share those same intractable realities even although our stories, for so long woven together like the strands of a piece of twine, have finally reached the loose, unraveling end.

Our friendship was cemented while we were suffering at school together. Even now, my memory curdles as I recall how I hated school and I hated Aggam! Early on, I resolved never to let that old sadist see what I felt. No matter how much I raged and wept inwardly, I always showed him an implacable face. I made a point of enduring the pain of my beatings in tight-lipped silence, never giving Aggam the smallest hint of how much I suffered. Whack! Whack! The blows would descend on my shoulders while Aggam, panting, eyes glinting, would roar exultantly, ‘Aha! So mister Jina is too proud to cry, is he? We’ll break that stubborn streak, won’t we, eh?’ Whack! Whack! ‘Aha! Beat the child and save the man. One day you will thank me for this, my boy.’ The more Aggam beat me, the more I bit my lips, clenched my fists, and retreated into baleful silence.

On the other hand, Sharma deliberately provoked Aggam. He would stretch forward as far as he could, twitch his shoulders and then raise them high, offering them freely to the stick and to Aggam’s lust. With each blow, Sharma would emit a low hiss that sounded like steam escaping from a kettle. When the beating was over, he would look steadily at Aggam, tight-mouthed, saying nothing but with the yellow flecks in his eyes glowing. After a while, Aggam gave up beating Sharma. However, he continued to assault me

Now, on the day when Sharma lay on the hilltop propped up on his elbows, sucking on a stalk of grass, all that was behind us – thank Zabrazal for these mercies! We had done our five years of school and now we were free from Aggam's caustic control. We sat there companionably, looking over the hills that fell away below us, watching the sheep grazing. What was there to say? Prophecy or no prophecy, even youngsters like us could see how matters stood. The vegetation here in the uplands was thin and unreliable. Life was hard and insecure. To make matters worse, we were always in danger of being attacked by the Dornites. They treated the land, people, and property of Keirine like their private beehives, to be raided at their pleasure. Even at such a young age, I sensed that the struggle with the Dornites would never end until one side completely conquered the other. Neither the seemingly endless succession of sun--drenched days nor the endless vistas of hills, plains, and valleys could drive away that dark knowledge.

Sharma reached into his tunic and took out his sling. He picked up a stone, put it into the pouch and stood there swinging the weight. Then, finding a suitable place, he pointed towards a chest-high rock and said, ‘Let’s have some target practice’. I walked over and placed small stones on top of it while Sharma looked at the targets with narrowed eyes, grinned and said, ‘They’re getting smaller all the time, aren’t they?’ He crouched and flexed his shoulders before he whirled the sling, reached peak momentum and let fly. Plink! The stone on the left went flying off the rock. Sharma continued to demolish the targets, missing only one out of the eight. Annoyed at having missed one, he took another shot just to make sure that he could do it. Plink! The last stone went flying. Sharma surveyed the results of his work with satisfaction and then handed the sling to me, saying, ‘It's your turn now.’

I relied, ‘No thanks! Some other time, maybe.’

Sharma thrust the sling at me, saying, ‘Come on, man, have a go! We’ve got plenty of time. Have some target practice.’

I took the sling reluctantly. Although I wasn’t bad with it, I was nowhere near as good as Sharma was. In the first place, I didn’t practise half as much as he did. Also, even at that young age I preferred a spear. I've always liked the solid weight and balanced feel of a good spear. I like to see it fly through the air, level and sleek, dark with intent, quivering down its length as if eager to reach its goal. Most of all, I like to hear the emphatic thump as it hits its target.

I gave in to Sharma’s urging and took aim with the sling. In spite of the fact that I hadn’t practised much lately my aim wasn’t too bad and I managed to hit five out of the eight targets. Sharma said, generously, that the unsuccessful shots had all been close misses. He also showed me a new technique that he had developed, in which he dropped his wrist level with his eyes just as he released the sling.

Our target practice was a lot more than merely the playful activity of two boys with time to spare. When we were out on the hills, we needed straight arms and sure eyes for our own protection as well as for the good of our flocks. For instance, when a wolf attacked the sheep only a few weeks earlier, Sharma disabled it with two shots from his sling before I finished it off with a spear thrown from medium range and then with a flurry of thrusts from close distance. At first we were terrified but then, when we succeeded, we were ecstatic. We hugged each other, laughed and cheered and pranced around the dead body which was still shaggy with menace. Even as we celebrated, we were in awe at what we had done while, simultaneously, we were filled with the explosive, new knowledge of what we could do. It was the harbinger of greater things to come.

We only left the hilltop and the view of the shimmering coast line when the sun began to sink lower in the sky. Sharma jerked a thumb and said, ‘I guess we’d better round up the sheep.’ He was right. Even at night, it was risky to be so far to the east in no-man’s land. We would have to move the sheep westwards, further into the hills.

After we herded the flocks into a dead-end ravine and secured the entrance with thorny branches, we made our camp about thirty paces up the slope above the mouth of the ravine. It was Sharma’s idea. He said that there was less chance that someone would find us if we camped higher up. Even while I grumbled about the awkwardness of our position, squeezed into a small space between a boulder and the stony hillside, I knew that he was right. He usually was.

It was too risky to light a fire so we dined on cheese and bread before we dug indentations in the sand, spread our blankets, and fell asleep less than an hour after sunset.

Early next morning, I awoke with a hand over my mouth. It was Sharma, hissing into my ear: ‘Quiet!’

‘Huh? What’s up?’

‘There’s someone down below!’

We peered over the top of the boulder, pressing as close to the rock-face as possible. In the half-light, we saw two men dragging away the branches. Further up the ravine, a third man was preparing to drive the sheep out.

Sharma pulled me backwards so that we slid down the rock until we were seated on the ground and hissed, ‘Dornites!’

I nodded and reached for my spears but Sharma restrained me, growling, ‘Are you crazy? They’re too strong for us. They’ll kill us if we take them on right now.’

He was right. Each man carried a sword as well as three medium-length spears secured across his back in the quiver-like holders that the Dornites favoured. Besides, we were boys and they were full-grown men.

I subsided glumly. It was against my instincts just to sit tight and wait. Sharma knew that, which was why he maintained such a tight grip on my arm while he whispered, ‘How many of them are there?’

‘I can see three.’

‘Yes. But maybe that’s not all.’

‘So --?’

‘So before we do anything we need to find out what the situation is.’

‘And meanwhile they get away with the sheep?’

‘If they kill us, they’ll get away with the sheep anyway. Not so?’

The logic was irrefutable. We huddled there for a few minutes, pressed against the rock, tense with fear and apprehension before Sharma whispered, ‘They don’t know that we’re here. Let’s keep it like that. It gives us time to make a plan.’

I said grimly, ‘You bet!’ I was shivering with both fear and anger. Through gritted teeth, I muttered, 'What if they come looking for us up here?’

Sharma grunted phlegmatically, ‘Then you’ll get a chance to use your spear and I’ll find out how good my aim is with the sling.’

My pulse raced faster as I realised just how close we were to capture or death. Death? Probably not. The Dornites preferred to take people alive, to be sold as slaves. Perhaps they would have had us castrated to serve as eunuchs in wealthy households on the islands that spread across the Endless Ocean. Perhaps they would have sold us to be raised as mercenaries to serve one of the Dornite city-states. Who knew? All that we knew was that we didn't want to find out.

Sharma watched from over the top of the rock while I wormed my way amongst the bushes to get a clear view of the mouth of the ravine. We watched as the men drove the sheep over the nearest ridge and out of sight before Sharma joined me and said, ‘Three of them! I guess that’s the lot.’

I asked, ‘What now?’

It was a difficult question for two boys far from home on the edge of Dornite territory, having to deal with at least three fully-grown, well-armed enemies. Sharma said thoughtfully, ‘Three against two isn’t good odds.’

‘Congratulations! I was wondering when you’d notice.’

Sharma grimaced and rubbed his chin while he said thoughtfully, ‘We have to narrow the odds.’

‘How do we do that?’

‘Our big advantage is surprise.’

‘So --?’

‘We’ll take them by surprise, one by one. That way we’ll always be stronger than they are.’

I muttered, 'Right! Let's go.' My hands were trembling and my knees felt like they needed to be clamped in a vice to keep them steady. However, above fear and above apprehension I was seething with the anger of a people who have been beaten, exploited, and oppressed but can still remember how things once were different. As we scrambled down the slope, I muttered to Sharma, ‘We’ll teach them to leave our things alone.’

‘Keep calm, man!’

‘Who do they think they are? Just who?’

‘Calm, man!’

‘The Dornites think that everything in Keirine belongs to them. We’ll show them!’

Sharma took hold of my wrist and murmured, ‘Do you believe that Zabrazal cares for us?’ I nodded and Sharma said, ‘Then pray that he is with us now.’

I replied, ‘Zabrazal is the defender of Keirine. He is with us.’ I shot a quick, enquiring look at Sharma. Not for the first time, I suspected that he didn’t believe whole-heartedly in the grace of Zabrazal. I shrugged and grunted non-commitedly. I had to admit that in spite of all that we had been told about the tender mercies of Zabrazal, right now he did seem to be a long way from us – a long way from two boys in an isolated ravine faced with three well-armed Dornite raiders. Guiltily, I tried to do penance for the errant thoughts. Oh, Zabrazal, forgive me! Those little, stray thoughts just slipped in when I relaxed my guard. Oh, Zabrazal, I know that you care for us and that you’re always with us. I didn't mean to slight you. Oh, Zabrazal, defender of Keirine, be with us now and I will burn five scented candles in the temple when I return safely to Osicedi.

From the ridge we could see that one man was at the head of the flock, one was to the side where the hillside fell away sharply, and one was bringing up the rear. Sharma pointed at him and whispered, ‘If we follow that one, we’ll get our chance. He can’t be in contact with the others all the time.’

My heart was racing, my skin was prickly and my mouth was dry. Was Sharma as scared and as tense as I was? Outwardly he looked calm and unflustered. Only the pitch of his voice, the gleaming flecks in his eyes and a twitching eyelid betrayed his feelings. However, I could sense his tension and his coiled readiness. As so often happened in moments of stress or excitement, Sharma reminded me of a cat stalking its prey. Although he gave little away outwardly, his whole body and all his senses seemed to be balanced, poised and focused as he pursued his goal. Also like a cat, he could be patient beyond normal endurance as if he knew that the time would always come when his prey would betray itself by a false move or by relaxing its guard.

In the broken country we were able to get close to the man in the rear without being seen. We tracked him down a ravine until it narrowed and then, when he stopped to relieve himself, Sharma dropped him with a stone from his sling. When I reached him he had regained consciousness and was on his hands and knees, swinging his head groggily and groaning. I hesitated for a moment but Sharma hissed, ‘Kill him, man!’ Forcing myself to a pitch of determination, I closed my eyes and drove my spear at him. It hit the Dornite in the side and he rolled onto his back groaning even more deeply. By Zabrazal, by now I’ve thrust my weapon into living flesh more times than I can remember – it’s what soldiers have to do, the essence of their trade -- but I’ll always recollect the sounds made by that man as he lay writhing on the ground. As I stood there wavering, Sharma cried, ‘He’s not dead! Finish him off!’ I clenched my fists, summoned my will-power again, took aim at the man’s stomach, closed my eyes, and, with two-handed force drove the spear downwards. It went in easily, like a knife into soft earth and not at all like a spear thudding into a target. The man died with a soft gurgle and a little moan. I felt faint, leaned on the spear with my eyes closed, and tried to stop myself from gagging.

Sharma said hoarsely, 'Pull your spear out, man! He's dead.'

I straightened and withdrew the spear which came out reluctantly as if the flesh had already claimed it. Without looking at it, I rubbed the point in the sand to clean it. Then I examined the dead man. Lying there on his back in the dust, he didn’t look like one of the larger-than-life Dornite super-warrior-bogeymen with which the mothers of Keirine frightened their children. In fact, he looked crumpled and pathetic. What was more, in his patched tunic and darned hose he looked to be no wealthier than the impoverished inhabitants of the tumble-down shanties on the outskirts of Osicedi.

The man wore a silver disc on a chain around his neck. One side bore an image of Zreforid, a major god in the Dornite’s pantheon. On the other side was a scratchy inscription that read, ‘Janali makes this loving gift to Selek.’ Who was Janali? Was she his mother, his girl friend, or perhaps his wife? As I held the disc in my hand, for a wrenching moment I wished that our paths had never crossed. Oh, Zabrazal, if you really watch over us, couldn’t you have arranged things otherwise? Then as I remembered who the man was and what he had done my resolve hardened. What did one dead Dornite matter? Why should we care? After all, they cared nothing for us. I put the disc into my pouch thinking that it would be a souvenir of our achievement. In fact, with luck I might even be able to sell it.

Suddenly my knees went weak and I wanted to vomit. As I stood there gagging, Sharma shook my shoulder and said, ‘No time for that, man! Help me get him out of the way.’

Gagging and in a daze, I helped drag the body to a pile of rocks at a bend in the ravine. Sharma said, ‘Help me to prop him up.’

‘Prop him up? Why?'

Sharma clicked his tongue impatiently while we hauled the body behind the rocks. He said, ‘Someone will come back to look for him.’

‘For sure they will! That's why we ought to hide him.’

Sharma growled, ‘Anyone coming to look for him will have to pass us. He’ll be a good target.’ Sharma's face was shining and the flecks in his eyes glinted. He looked as if he was enjoying himself. If so, then he was the only one who was having fun because I was shaken and scared. I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.

Sharma’s plan worked perfectly. After about twenty minutes, one of the rustlers appeared around the corner of the ravine coming towards us at a trot and looking worried. We watched as he spotted the body, stopped, and called out. When there was no answer, he moved forward cautiously, sword unsheathed, and called out again. Right then, Sharma let fly with a stone from his sling and struck the man on the side of his throat. He spun around, gasping. Sharma’s next shot hit him on the forehead and he dropped immediately as if an invisible hoof had kicked him. His body twitched three or four times and then he was still. Thank Zabrazal, I didn’t have to finish him off with my spear.

Two down and one to go! Now I liked being the hunter and no longer the prey.

About an hour later, we caught up with the third rustler where the ravine widened into an open stretch of hillside. It was clear that he sensed that something was wrong. Looking worried, he kept on glancing around, frowning and shading his eyes against the low sun.

I whispered, ‘Maybe we can make him move closer.’

‘How?’

‘We could create a diversion – make a noise, or something.’

Sharma shook his head. ‘No, that’s too risky. It’ll give us away.’

‘What do you suggest?’

Sharma took his time before he replied, ‘We just have to be patient. He'll come back to look for the others. That's when we'll hit him.’

‘I hate just waiting!’

Sharma pressed my arm firmly, muttering, ‘Patience, patience!’

Sure enough, it wasn't long before the rustler began to walk towards the ravine calling out as he did so and looking both annoyed and worried. When Sharma’s first shot hit him in the eye, he collapsed onto his knees screaming in pain. The second shot hit him on the side of the head and he toppled over, twitching. He was in acute pain but not dead so I finished him off with my spear. It wasn’t any easier than it had been the first time but at least I knew what to expect. I steeled myself not to gag as I pulled the spear out of his stomach while Sharma thumped my shoulders, shouting, ‘We did it, Jina, we did it!’ He was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes were gleaming and he was pumping the air with a fist. I forced a grin and tried to share his celebratory mood. This time I didn’t feel like vomiting. I just felt weak and worn out.

When Sharma calmed down, he said, ‘We’d better hide the body, eh?’

I shrugged and nudged the corpse with my foot. By now, I had got over my sympathy with the dead and my stomach had settled down. Suddenly a wave of rage spewed over me and I felt like wading into the dead man, fists and feet flailing. I wanted to kick the head until it was nothing but a piece of pulp. Who did they think they were, taking our animals and our possessions and stealing our livelihood as if they were lords of the land and we were their serfs? Lords of the land, with their threadbare clothing and mean, pock-marked faces? Did they think that the people of Keirine would be pushed around forever, just submitting to their fate like the sheep that they had tried to steal? I said, ‘Hide it? No ways! We’ll leave it here as an example to other thieving Dornites.’

Sharma said firmly, ‘No we won’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘We need time to get the sheep back home. Also, we need to cover our tracks. We don’t want them to follow us back to Osicedi.’

I replied heatedly, ‘Let them come! We’ll be ready for them.’

Sharma put a hand on my arm and repeated a well-known proverb, ‘When the eagle is in flight the sparrow should keep to the trees.’

We dragged the body up the side of the ravine, scratched out a shallow trench behind a boulder and covered it with earth and rocks. Hopefully it wouldn’t be visible from the floor of the ravine even if wolves or wild dogs dug it up. Then, as we drove the sheep up the ravine, we paused to bury the other two bodies in the same manner. That night, we stopped at the same dead-end ravine as the previous night. We hardly slept at all and at the first sign of light we began to drive the sheep towards Osicedi. We didn't say much to each other but it was clear that we both had the same thought -- we wanted to get home and we wanted to do it fast.

When Osicedi came into sight, we finally stopped to rest. It had been a breathless rush, driving the sheep at a fast pace over broken country. Now, for the first time in two days, we felt that it was safe to slow down and take a break.

Sharma said triumphantly, 'We did it, Jina, we did it!' Grinning, he thumped me on my back.

I replied, 'Maybe.'

'What do you mean -- maybe? All's well that ends well, man.'

'Maybe it hasn't ended yet.'

Sharma frowned before he grinned and punched me lightly on the arm, saying, 'Hey, Jina, you worry a lot, don’t you?'

'What if they come after us?'

Sharma snorted and exclaimed dismissively, 'They can't! They're dead!'

'Sure, they're dead. But what about their comrades? They aren’t dead.'

Sharma wrinkled his nose, snorting, 'Huh! Those men were just rustlers. They were lone operators.'

'You're probably right.' I tried to sound positive but I wasn’t convinced.

As we walked down the hill towards Osicedi, Sharma muttered, ‘Let’s keep this quiet, hey? You know what adults are like. They’ll just make a fuss if they hear what happened.’

I said, ‘I think that we should tell them.’

‘Do you have to tell your parents everything?’

‘No, man, it’s not that!’

‘What, then?’

‘It’s like I said – what if they come after us? Our people need to be prepared.’

‘I told you, man, they were just rustlers who were working on their own. Anyway, the bodies are out of the way. Nobody will find them.’

‘But what if ..?’

‘In any case, how will anyone connect them with us? Did anyone see us? Did we leave anything at the scene? Did anyone follow us?’

‘They could follow our tracks.’

Sharma snorted dismissively, saying, ‘Man, there are tracks all over the hills. How could anyone follow our tracks in particular?’

Even although I didn’t raise any more objections, I still felt uneasy. On the one hand, I wasn’t convinced that the matter was as open and shut as Sharma said it was. On the other hand, part of me agreed with Sharma but for a different reason. It was because Aggam unwittingly taught me the idiosyncratic ways of the god Zabrazal in dealing with the nation of Keirine. When Aggam embarked on his favourite subject, which was the History and Glorious Destiny of the People of Keirine, he loved to recount the sensational aspects of the national saga. For instance, eyes shining, he would tell us about the sandstorm that Zabrazal raised in the desert to annihilate the pursuing Usserdite army when the People of Keirine escaped from slavery. Or, with the same bright-eyed enthusiasm, he would tell us about the various kings and their armies that our ancestors annihilated when they took possession of the hill country that became the heartland of Keirine. Also, to illustrate the rigorous standards that Zabrazal set for his people, Aggam would relate how, during the Great Retreat, the whole nation was infected with warts because one of the generals misread the omens before a battle.

To Aggam, stories like these were evidence of the divine favour of Zabrazal. To me, however, they provided different lessons. The first lesson was that Zabrazal favoured soldiers with strong arms. For sure, I never heard of Zabrazal bestowing his favours on simple people like weavers, shepherds, housewives, or carpenters. The second lesson was that in dealing with an exacting god like Zabrazal, it was best to keep my nose clean, cover my tracks, and keep a low profile. Hopefully, by so doing I would escape Zabrazal’s attention. Then some day, as a man amongst men, when I wielded a sword in the service of Keirine I would step forward and catch Zabrazal’s eye. Until then, caution would be my watchword. Mainly for that reason, I agreed with Sharma that we wouldn't tell anyone about our clash with the Dornite rustlers.

On the outskirts of Osicedi, we met my brother, Abozi, who was pulling a handcart to the rubbish dump. When he saw us, he let out a holler and ran up the hillside to greet us. Breathlessly, he asked, 'Where have you been?'

I was about to reply when Sharma put a hand on my arm and said smoothly, 'One of the sheep got lost. It took us so long to find it that we had to stay out an extra night.'

Abozi looked disappointed when he asked, 'Is that all?' Then he brightened and told me with lugubrious satisfaction, 'You're in trouble.'

'Trouble? Why?'

'Because mother says she's sick with worry and father says he'll take the strap to you for making mother sick with worry.'

Sharma asked calmly, 'And what about you, Abozi? How do you feel?''

'Me? Oh, I have no problems! What's the use of worrying? Either the two of you are all right, or you're not all right. If you're all right, that's good. If you're not all right -- well, what can worrying do about it?'

As so often, I couldn't help laughing out loud at Abozi's phlegmatic temperament. I asked, 'So it doesn't matter whether we're all right or not all right? It's all the same, is it?'

Abozi looked at me as if he wondered about my sanity and replied heatedly, 'Of course it matters! You're my brother. Why should I want you to … you know …?' His voice trailed off. I punched his arm lightly and gave him a hug.

As we walked down the hillside, Abozi whispered, ‘Is it true what Sharma said?'

I never could lie to Abozi. His nature was so plain and so direct that I always felt guilty if I tried to deceive him. What was more, if he found out that I had deceived him I knew that he would shake his head in sorrowful disbelief as if he had been struck by a source from which he expected no harm. When he did that, it put a burning rod through my soul. So, of course, I told him about our escapade. He nodded as if my story confirmed his suspicions and said calmly, 'More than ever, it’s good that you are safe.' I grinned, hearing my father's tone and manner of expression in Abozi's words. Then, after a few seconds, Abozi turned to me and said heatedly, 'That's the way to treat the Dornites!’

‘You reckon?’

‘They should leave our things alone! They have their own territory and they ought to stay there.' Now Abozi sounded so much like my father that I burst out laughing. When I stopped laughing, I said, 'Don't tell anyone. Keep it a secret. All right?'

Abozi nodded in reply.

Within a few seconds, Sharma pulled me aside and hissed, 'You told your brother what happened, didn't you?' My face gave me away; Sharma cursed and said, 'Man, we agreed to keep this thing to ourselves and now, the first person you meet --' He broke off and cursed again.

I said heatedly, 'He's my brother. He won't tell anybody.'

'Oh, is that so? We’ll have to see, won’t we?'

I faced Sharma squarely and said, 'I’m telling you, we can trust Abozi.'

Sharma glared at me and said between gritted teeth, 'I hope so!'

I said, 'He's my brother! I trust him and you can damn well trust him, too.'

Sure enough, Abozi kept my confidence as I knew he would. He didn't even say anything when our escapade had unfortunate consequences not long after that.

Abozi scurried off to let our parents know that we were safe while Sharma and I drove the flocks down to the pens. I was leaning over the rail watching the sheep file into the corral when someone said, 'Hello, Jina. Where have you been?'

It was Roda. She was standing right by my elbow, so close that I could smell the mingled aroma of freshly baked bread and rose-petal scent that lingered about her. I gestured eastwards and said, 'We've just brought the sheep back from the hills.' I tried to sound casual even while I was aware that my pulse had picked up its pace so much that my whole body was stirring and tingling.

Roda wrinkled her nose and whispered with what sounded like a mixture between a warning and satisfaction, 'Everyone is looking for you, you know!'

I replied, 'I know. I heard.'

Roda’s violet eyes widened as she moved a little closer. She was always doing that, standing so close that, with one small dip of my head, I could have laid my cheek against the top of her head. Sometimes the instinct to do so was so overpowering that I had to move away feeling foolish and wondering why, in the light of reason, I wanted to do that. This time, when I shifted away, Roda's eyes glinted as if she had gained a small victory. Now she put a hand on my wrist, on the bare skin just where the sleeve of my coat ended, and asked in a concerned voice, 'Did you have any trouble?'

For a moment I was tempted to tell the whole story to Roda. Her liquid eyes and close presence had that effect on me. In those days I always wanted to impress her, if only to hear her suck in her breath and say huskily, 'Oh, Jina, fancy you doing that!' I was still wondering how much to tell her, if anything at all, when Sharma called, 'Roda! Hey, Roda, come over here!' She turned away from me, giving me a knowing look as if saying, You understand why I'm going, don't you, but we will meet again, won’t we? She squeezed my hand, pressing her fingers into the flesh, and then moved away, calling, 'Oh, Sharma, I've been so worried. You shouldn't stay away so long.'

Sharma grinned and called out, 'I can take care of myself, Roda. You don't have to worry.'

They walked away together, heads inclined towards each other, conversing in low voices. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched them resentfully, wondering what Sharma had that I didn't have. I continued watching them while, at the corner of the corral, they talked together in low voices, Sharma standing with his hands on Roda's shoulders. Then Roda stretched up, kissed Sharma lightly, and ran off laughing. Sharma shouted something after her and she looked around as she ran, laughed again – it was so merry that it cut into my soul because it wasn’t for me -- and waved lightly.

Sure enough, there was a fuss when we arrived home. Our fathers were furious and our mothers were both tearful and indignant. However, in spite of being closely interrogated, we stuck to our story about a lost animal. After a lot of huffing and puffing, the fuss subsided and life returned to normal by the next day.

Unfortunately normality didn’t last long. A Dornite search party found one or more of the bodies, put two and two together, and did manage to follow our tracks to Osicedi. No one knew anything about it until they attacked our town five nights later. The raiders had an easy passage because, although Osicedi was quite close to Dornite territory as the crow flew, like most of Lower Keirine the mountainous country around it protected it from attacks. Guards were only posted in periods of general alarm and as this was a time of relative peace there were no lookouts. Consequently the raiders were able to make their way right into the centre of Osicedi before they were discovered. Even then, the alarm was only raised after they set fire to a house.

There were only ten or fifteen raiders and they operated in a cohesive group. They knew the layout of Osicedi well – they must have studied it from the hills around the town -- and they moved so quickly that there was no time to rally a force to oppose them. In any case, most people were so concerned about the danger of fire, which leaped from one thatched roof to another, that there was no time to organise any resistance.

Although there was a lot of damage to property, only three people were killed. An elderly couple burned to death in their beds and the raiders killed one of Sharma’s older brothers. This happened when the men of Sharma’s family spilled out of their house just as the raiding party was approaching. Fatally, as they discovered, people in night attire carrying whatever weapons they were able to find as they scrambled out of bed were no match for fully armed assailants. The band swept through the street ruthlessly, leaving one of Sharma’s brothers dead in the street and his father and two neighbours wounded.

For three days after the attack, Sharma closeted himself in his room refusing food. He only came out of seclusion to attend the funeral, looking shaken and subdued. As the clods of earth were shoveled into his brother’s grave, Sharma muttered to me in a voice that was thick with anger and shame, ‘It’s like I said the other day.’ He jerked his thumb eastwards and muttered tersely, ‘Like I said, one day we’ll conquer the Dornites.’

After such a disaster, our escapade with the rustlers couldn’t be concealed any longer. When our fathers had finished raging and slapping us about, we were reprimanded publicly at a town meeting. Even worse, we also had to submit to a cleansing ceremony in the temple where the priest implored Zabrazal to forgive our lack of truthfulness. For me, the ceremony was the worst aspect of the whole sorry affair. I was certain that Zabrazal would have his eye on me from now on. How else could it be when I had to kneel at the altar, the centre of attention for nearly an hour, while the priest and the congregation sang, prayed and chanted? I was weighed down by the ominous feeling that I had leaped near to the top of Zabrazal’s list of those who ought to be watched in future.

However, it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Underneath the public disapproval, we sensed that a lot of people admired us. Although they didn’t like the consequences of our actions, people told us that there would be a lot less trouble if more people followed our example in dealing with the Dornites. Even old Aggam gave us his grudging approval when he stopped to speak to us in the street a few days later. That was something that we had never had before – and never would again, very likely.

CHAPTER TWO: KEIRINE HAS A KING

Sharma and I were about twenty years of age when the struggle against the enemy reached a crisis after the Dornite city-states formed an alliance under a single military command and intensified their pressure on Keirine. The Dornites were using new military tactics based on cavalry and chariots and as success followed success they began to widen the scope of their operations. With its lower hills and east-facing plains, Upper Keirine felt it the most as the raiding forces swept in against towns and villages, rounding up livestock and capturing young men and women. Within a few years, they occupied a sizeable piece of territory that had belonged to Keirine for centuries.

In the face of this crisis, the people began to demand action to counter the Dornites. From all over, the cry went up for a king to lead Keirine. Finally, bowing to the pressure, the high priest, Izebol, convened an Assembly of the Nation.

Sharma and I were appointed to accompany the delegation from Osicedi. As rural ignoramuses away from home for the first time, we expected to see dazzling sights in the great world. However, Sininda – holiest place of Keirine, seat of the high priest, site of one of the foremost oracles -- disappointed us. In fact, Sininda was hardly a town at all. It was just a collection of small houses, workshops, stalls, and storerooms. The only impressive thing about Sininda was the temple, which rose up the hillside in three ascending levels and dwarfed everything else in the valley.

In the temple courtyard Sharma and I squeezed against a pillar and looked around curiously. The place was crowded, noisy, and so pervaded with a pungent haze of incense and sweat that Sharma held his nose while he muttered, ‘What a stink! Don’t they ever wash?’ He looked around disdainfully and then whispered into my ear, ‘It’s this lot from Upper Keirine. They smell the worst.’

I replied, ‘Some of our group haven’t washed for a few days, either.’

‘Maybe -- but they don’t smell as bad as this lot, that’s for sure. Don’t they teach them anything in Upper Keirine?’

In one corner, a man was standing on a bench, haranguing a crowd about the advantages of having a king for Keirine. He was bellowing that without a king, Keirine would never be able to organise and control its defences. A king, declaimed the speaker, would unify Keirine and would overcome the old tribal divisions which he referred to contemptuously as ‘The greatest bane of Keirine and the greatest boon to our enemies.’

After a few minutes Sharma muttered sceptically, ‘Nothing I haven’t heard before!' He grunted and observed, 'Ha! What is there to say that’s new? Everyone knows what’s going to happen. Keirine is going to have a king and it’s going to get one within a few days.’

‘You think it’s settled?’

Sharma gave me a wondering look and replied, ‘Izebol isn't a fool. He can see which way the wind is blowing. Things have gone too far for him to turn back now.’

‘You reckon?’

‘Sure, that’s what I reckon. You’ll see!’

We moved over to the other side of the square where an anti-monarchist was bellowing louder than a market auctioneer, ‘We’re the nation of Keirine, not so? You hear me? We’re the nation of Keirine – not the tribes or the city-states, or whatever. We’ve been a nation since before we came out of the desert. A nation! That’s because we enjoy Zabrazal’s special favour. Zabrazal binds us together as a people. Zabrazal sets us apart from all the other tribes and the peoples. You hear me? Zabrazal is the only leader that Keirine ever has needed and ever will need. Zabrazal doesn’t want a king and we don’t need one.' There was a buzz of agreement from the listeners and someone shouted, ‘Praise be to Zabrazal!’ Another member of the faithful band shouted, ‘No king for Keirine!’

There were only about twenty-five people in the anti-monarchist crowd, much smaller than the crowd on the other side of the courtyard. Judging by the sizes of the respective groups, the pro-monarchists were so far ahead that they were already out of sight and heading down the home straight.

Sharma listened with his arms folded and his legs planted apart, snorting so loudly that I gave him a warning dig in his ribs, to which he replied with a withering look. Hearing Sharma’s snorts, members of the anti-monarchy brigade began to look at us suspiciously; in fact, a few of them eyed us with definite hostility. Some of the men had their hands inside their garments. They were probably just scratching fleabites or guarding their money-pouches against pickpockets but, with the looks that we were getting, they could also have been fingering their daggers. I pressed back against the wall trying to be as inconspicuous as possible while Sharma gave a final snort – it sounded about as loud as a horse clearing its nostrils on a winter’s morning -- and moved off, saying over his shoulder, 'What a bunch of losers! I’ve had enough! I'll be at the other side of the square.'

Listening to the speaker, I thought that old Aggam, the supreme anti-monarchist, would have approved of the sentiments that were being expressed. By coincidence, just then, I thought that I saw Aggam standing nearby partly concealed by a pillar. Thinking I was mistaken – hoping that I was mistaken, in fact -- I looked again. Sure enough, it was Aggam. He gave me a glare of recognition and then returned his attention to the speaker, giving me the opportunity to sneak another look at him. He was more animated than I had ever seen him. In fact, he was even more animated than when he went after one of his pupils with his stick. Aggam caught me looking at him, glared at me with narrowed eyes, turned his thin lips down in disapproval, and then directed his attention back to the speaker. I studied him surreptitiously, not wanting the old fool to think that I had any interest in him. By Zabrazal – he was more of a desiccated old sourpuss than ever! Suddenly, agreeing with some reactionary statement, Aggam punched his stick into the air and let out a holler of appreciation that was so loud that I jumped to one side, thinking that he was coming after me. I recognised the stick only too well. It was the same one that he used in the schoolroom, the stick that he called 'The Corrector'. Feeling uneasy, I sidled to the edge of the crowd, suspecting that even here in public Aggam was capable of laying about my shoulders if he thought that I wasn’t showing enough devotion to the ancient cause of the priestly rulers. However, even while I was moving away from him, I thought happily that this time old Aggam, the scourge of the schoolroom and the terror of our youthful days, would find himself outnumbered, out-argued, and out-maneuvered.

Two days later the Assembly convened on a grassy slope on the outskirts of Sininda. Standing on a platform high enough to be seen by everyone, Izebol began the proceedings by sacrificing a white goat on an altar. After he declared that the omens were good, he launched straight into berating the People of Keirine in general for being unfaithful to Zabrazal. Raising his priestly rod in both hands, he declaimed, ‘Fools! You want to become like the nations around you, abandoning your god for the false glitter of earthly splendour.’ Although this was greeted with a roar of dissatisfaction from the crowd, Izebol was unmoved. He just folded his arms across his chest and stood his ground, chin lowered, bull-like head thrust forward, glowering at the delegates. When he could be heard again, he cried that a king would turn out to be an oppressor who would tax the nation beyond endurance and would strip it of its resources. Furthermore, cried Izebol, a king would conscript the young men for his army and for his road gangs and would demand that the prettiest young women should serve him as maids and concubines. Rising to a crescendo, Izebol almost spat out his final denunciation when he called out, 'Fools! You are going to choose your own oppressor! Ha!’

In response, a stocky man of about forty years of age with broad shoulders and strong thighs stood up. His hair, thick and tawny, was unfashionably long and unruly as if he brandished it in the face of convention. He wore a soldier’s jerkin and stood with his legs planted firmly apart like a man who knew how to weather a gale. Izebol looked at him calmly from under glowering brows and called out, ‘You may speak, Jainar.’

Sharma whispered, ‘That’s Jainar of Orifinre. They say that he might be elected king if the assembly gets to vote.’

Jainar planted his hands on his hips, looked around calmly and called out, ‘We are well acquainted with the mercies of Zabrazal towards his people and we are grateful for them.’

Izebol replied dourly, ‘So you should be!’

Jainar looked around as confidently as if he was in the bosom of his family, raised his eyebrows and replied, ‘We have heard that Zabrazal is angry. But we have not heard his answer to our request.’ There was a buzz of approval.

Izebol rubbed his chin and looked at Jainar narrowly before he punched a finger at him and announced, ‘Zabrazal has an answer.’

Jainar replied, ‘We are ready to hear it.’ He sat down amidst a roar of approval and applause from all sides.

Izebol glared at the delegates and called out, ‘You want Zabrazal’s answer? Good! Now hear the words of your god!’ He raised his rod and declaimed, ‘Zabrazal says that Keirine may have what it wants!’ There was another roar of approval that subsided when Izebol waved the assembly to silence and continued, ‘However, Zabrazal reminds Keirine that it will have to deal with the consequences of its own choice.' He stretched upwards, his imposing head turned skywards, and cried, 'Keirine may have its king if that is what Keirine wants!’ Then he put down the rod, glowered at the delegates and said ominously, ‘May Zabrazal have mercy on Keirine!’

As expected, the delegates voted for the monarchy by a ratio of about ten to one. When the result was announced, Izebol raised his hands and gave a theatrical cry of exasperation. But he recovered quickly enough – after all, it was a foregone conclusion – and called for the sacred dice.

Amidst a clamour of dissatisfaction, Jainar rose and protested that the delegates should decide and not the dice. As if oblivious to the tumult of discontent, Izebol waved Jainar aside and cried, ‘If you wanted the assembly to choose, then why did you come to Sininda? Go somewhere else! Don’t ask Izebol, high priest of Zabrazal, to officiate.’ Izebol shook his finger at Jainar, swept his gaze over the assembly, and said with finality, ‘That is what Zabrazal says.’

Jainar pointed his finger at Izebol, thought better of it, muttered something uncomplimentary, and sat down. Into the hush that followed, Izebol said firmly, ‘Zabrazal has spoken! Let the sacred dice decide.’

While the assembly settled down, Sharma whispered to me, ‘Jainar has big ambitions but Izebol is too smart for him. He's clipped Jainar's wings.’

I asked, ‘What has Izebol got against Jainar?’

Sharma lowered his voice and replied, ‘Jainar is strong-minded. He doesn’t respect the priests.’

‘You reckon that the person chosen by lot, whoever he is, will be different?’

Sharma replied, ‘Of course. The sacred dice reflect the will of Zabrazal, and Zabrazal protects the interests of the priests.’ He winked at me ironically.

The dice rolled and the priests supervised the process of elimination, tribe by tribe and town by town, until only the family of Dorgile from the region of Orifinre in Upper Keirine remained. Orifinre is in the south-west of Keirine, where the mountains and the highlands give way to the grasslands and meandering rivers of the endless interior. The region has a long tradition of producing entrepreneurs and traders because it not only has easy access to Kitilat and its coastline but also trades with the fertile hinterland across the Great River. However, then as now, the people of Orifinre aren’t just shopkeepers and traders. They like to remind the rest of Keirine that they also have a tradition of producing scholars and priests from their schools and in particular from the celebrated Academy of Philosophy. In fact, up to the time of the Assembly five of the last eight high priests, Izebol included, had come from Orifinre and its academy.

Wealthier than the other regions of the country, conscious of its sophistication and proud of its higher level of education -- all of these factors encouraged the people of Orifinre to regard themselves as a cut above their fellow Keirineians. Predictably, in return the rest of Keirine accused the people of Orifinre of arrogance. In fact, when the argument really got heated, it was said that over the centuries Orifinrians had intermingled so much with other nations that they were bastards and mongrels and not true Keirineians. The Orifinrians sneered at this jibe, saying that the people of the rest of Keirine were rural bumpkins whose intellects had been addled by isolation and inbreeding.

Dorgile’s eight sons were eliminated one by one until only Vaxili remained. He was a man of about forty years of age with a slender build and a well-formed face that was marred by a scar that ran from under his right eye all the way to under his ear. The scar had contracted the skin around the outer corner of his eye so that Vaxili always seemed to be looking askance at the world. He also limped, dragging his left foot slightly. Soon after Vaxili was crowned, a rumour spread that he got his injuries while fighting heroically against the Dornites. However, there was also a rival story that he was injured as a boy when he fell out of a tree while stealing fruit from a neighbour’s orchard. I never did hear the true story. Perhaps no one really knew.

At mid-morning on the following day, Vaxili was crowned King of Keirine.

CHAPTER THREE: A FAVOUR

About a month later, I was on the road that led southwards from Osicedi towards Upper Keirine. After the recent rains, it was pleasant to sit on the box of the swaying wagon enjoying the rich aromas of the countryside while looking across the swaying backs of the oxen at the pastures and the hills that fringed the valley. Suddenly, someone grasped my arms from behind. I nearly jumped off my seat in shock. Bandits? As I flashed a look over my shoulder, a voice said, 'Keep calm! It's only me.'

I could have shouted out in relief. Instead I said, 'Damn you, Sharma! You scared me. What are you doing here?'

Sharma crawled out from amongst the bales and scrambled onto the seat next to me where he dusted himself off, looked around warily, and asked, 'Are we alone?'

'Except for a team of oxen -- yes, we're alone.’

Still looking around warily, Sharma said edgily, 'I need your help.'

'If you wanted a ride, or whatever, you could have asked me straight out! You didn't have to skulk in the back of the wagon like a thief.'

Sharma hesitated, settled back, and said confidentially, 'I'm in trouble.'

'What sort of trouble?'

'I guess you could call it woman trouble.'

'Let me guess -- trouble with Roda?' Sharma nodded morosely and I said, 'I'm not surprised.'

'Man, Jina, don't take that tone with me! I'm sick and tired of hearing it.'

'Then maybe you'd better explain what's going on.'

I had good reason for saying that I wasn't surprised. Roda had turned into a robust and shapely young woman with hips that swayed more extravagantly than was required for ordinary forward motion and eyes that roved more than was necessary for plain eyesight. With her vitality, flashing glances, bubbly laugh, and low-cut gowns, Roda could make any man itch with desire. Furthermore, to add to her charms, as the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Osicedi she was quite a catch. However, people observed knowingly that, fast as a man would have to be to catch Roda, he would have to be super-alert to keep her. They also said that Roda was the sort of young woman who could have just about any man that she wanted. Then they winked and added that in fact that was exactly what happened.

Sharma's story was simple and predictable. As everyone knew, he got involved with Roda about four months earlier. I saw it happening and, like a lot of people, I never could understand why he took up with her. Sharma was good looking and well built, with quick intelligence and an easy manner. His generosity and easy-going nature blunted the envy even of those who resented the fact that they weren't as gifted as he was. Men respected Sharma and women liked him. In short, Sharma didn't have to compromise his reputation and peace of mind by taking up with a flighty woman like Roda. He could have had just about any eligible woman that he wanted and, what was more, he could have had her in the honourable way.

Sharma hesitated before he said, 'Roda's father is after my blood.'

I grunted. It was too predictable. I said, 'Now you're going to tell me that Roda is pregnant?'

'No. Not that I know of, anyway.'

'Ah! That's a relief! But the fact is that she could well have been. Not so?'

Sharma said sulkily, 'That's no business of yours.'

'You make your trouble my business but I shouldn't ask for details, eh? Is that how it is?'

Sharma couldn't meet my eyes when I looked at him. After a while, head averted, he asked in the same sulky voice, 'Are you going to help me or not?'

'Help you sight unseen? No ways!' I jumped down from the seat, walked to the rear of the wagon and took a drink from the water flask. Then I strolled beside the wagon, whistling. Damn Sharma! Did he think I was one of his household servants, to be used just as he desired? However, even as I affected nonchalance, I was curious. But I wasn't going to let Sharma think that he could rely on me for assistance while he told me only what suited him. He would have to address me openly and honestly, man to man, or he wouldn't have my co--operation.

Sharma began to whistle as well, trying to out-nonchalance me. After a while, the oxen began to stray from the road and I had to climb back on the box to set them straight. Sharma and I sat there next to each other, whistling and affecting to ignore each other. The wagon lurched and Sharma bumped against me. I clicked my tongue in annoyance. Sharma did the same but more emphatically. I shoved him with my elbow and he reciprocated. After more elbowing and shoving, he caught my eye and grinned. Then we started laughing. I never could be angry with Sharma for long. It was always like that and, in spite of everything, it’s much the same even today.

I said, 'Hey, I can't stand any more of your whistling. Just tell me whatever you want me to know and do it in your own way.'

Sharma pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and muttered, 'You were right.'

'About what could have been?'

He nodded and continued, 'That's what caused the problem. She told her father that I had -- well, you know, that we had done what -- you know -- what you said --'

'She told her father that you slept together?' Sharma nodded morosely. I asked, 'Why in the name of Zabrazal would she do a thing like that?'

Sharma bit his lip and said in a thin voice, 'She wants to marry me.'

'Ah! What a surprise! So, if I've got this right, she goes to her father and says, Papa, dear Papa, Sharma has slept with me. I'm a ruined woman. Now there's only one way for me to salvage what remains of my virtue and that's for Sharma to marry me. Am I right?'

Sharma muttered, 'You've got it.'

'Can't you just pay compensation and keep the whole thing quiet?'

Sharma shook his head morosely and grunted, 'They won't accept it.'

I sat back and thought about the matter. Right now, Sharma was completely in the hands of Roda's family. If they wouldn't accept compensation, then according to law he had to marry her. If he didn't do that, then he could be imprisoned or sent into exile. The law was pretty strict when it came to protecting the rights of violated women – or, perhaps more correctly, it was pretty strict when it came to the rights of violated fathers.

While the oxen jogged along and the wagon creaked and swayed, I put my mind to the question of how to extricate Sharma from his predicament. After a while I asked, 'Are you the only man that she's slept with?' Sharma gave me a wondering look as if I had asked him if the sun rose in the east. I said, 'All right, I was just checking. But don’t you see -- that's the way out for you?’

‘How come?’

‘It’s simple. You just have to get someone else to admit that they've done the same and you're off the hook.'

Sharma replied despondently, 'More easily said than done.' I grunted, still thinking the matter through. Sharma continued, 'Do you think that someone will just step forward and say, Hey, here I am – I slept with Roda?’ Sharma snorted. ‘Anyway, I can't go back to Osicedi. Her father is a madman. He wants to beat me up and then haul me into the temple to marry Roda. He has his workers out looking for me right now.'

I couldn't help grinning when I asked, 'Are you sure they aren't coming down the road after you?'

Sharma looked around uneasily and said, 'No, I reckon I'm safe. No one saw me getting into the wagon.'

We travelled in silence for a while before I said, ‘I think I can fix it for you.’

Once back in Osicedi, after asking around I found someone who would admit to having slept with Roda, against payment of a reward for being prepared to make a sworn statement to that effect. At first, Sharma's father exploded with anger at the thought of parting with so much money. He roared that his damn-fool son could damn well find his own damn way out of the hole that he had dug for himself. However, after about ten minutes of roaring and raging, he calmed down and agreed that it was better to pay the money than have his son married to a woman of Roda's reputation and background. When that was settled, I had a word with Roda. I pointed out to her that if I took her former lover to a priest to make a statement, he would have to do so in the presence of two witnesses. Not surprisingly, her family abandoned its matrimonial claims on Sharma.

Sharma stayed away from Osicedi for a month while things cooled down. When he returned, he said to me, 'You're a true friend. I'll never forget what you did for me.' In gratitude, he gave me a leather belt, broad and sturdy with a bronze buckle. Along the whole of its length, the belt was engraved with a wonderfully intricate pattern of mythical beasts intertwined in struggle. It wasn’t from Keirine; it had the character of something foreign and fantastical. Someone told me that the style of the belt showed that it was made in Bakuel, a country that lay on the Great Plains somewhere far to the south of Upper Keirine. Whatever the origin, it was the finest piece of apparel that I had ever possessed. As I stood there lost for words holding the belt to the light to view the craftsmanship, Sharma chuckled and asked, ‘Do you like it?’ I nodded dumbly. Sharma fitted the belt around my waist, stood back appraisingly, and said, ‘Always wear it as a sign of our friendship.’

I murmured, 'I will.' And I did, for almost all of the rest of my life.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE CRADLE OF CHAMPIONS

Anyone who tried to rule the fractious, tribalistic Nation of Keirine needed to be both diplomatic and strong-minded. For instance, it was commonly said in Keirine – and only partly with tongue in cheek – that if the Dornites would only leave us alone we could get down to the really serious business of falling out with each other. There were enough rivalries, feuds and ancient insults to keep the pot boiling interminably.

Vaxili had enough sense to see that he had to put his stamp on the country as soon as possible so he began his reign by visiting the major towns of Keirine to introduce himself and his programmes. His style was unusual, in the sense that when he arrived somewhere he refused offers of accommodation and board for himself and his retinue. Instead, he set up camp just outside the town and requested the elders to provide him and his party with food and refreshments.

To most people, this was a serious slighting of the hospitality that a visitor should accept graciously. For instance, after Vaxili arrived in Osicedi, my mother said disdainfully, ‘Is this the way for a king to behave? I ask you – a king! He arrives with hardly any advance notice, riding on a horse covered with ribbons. A horse! Since when did we have horses in Keirine, I ask you! What's more, he sets up camp outside town instead of staying in a decent house. Huh! Tell me -- is that any way for a king to behave?’

My father chuckled and asked, ‘How do you know how a king should behave?’

My mother replied heatedly, ‘Oh, don’t get smart with me! You know as well as I do that every dignitary who has ever visited Osicedi has arrived on a donkey. It's customary, isn't it? Even the High Priest rides a donkey when he enters a town. Not so? You think that a king should be different?'

Vaxili’s behaviour seemed to be paradoxical. On the one hand, he paraded himself on a beribboned horse. On the other hand, he stayed in a modest tent when he could have enjoyed the comforts of any one of the finest houses in town. Later, when I gained better insights into Vaxili's thinking, I saw that there was no contradiction. He arrived on a fine horse because he wanted to impress people and he stayed within his own encampment because he didn't trust anyone outside of his own circle of officials and advisers, all of whom came from his home region of Orifinre.

My mother flapped a dishcloth dismissively and cried, ‘Well, he might think just because he's king that he can act like Vaxili the High and Mighty but he'll find that people in Osicedi aren't impressed by his manners or his upbringing.’

My father just sighed and shrugged.

Later Sharma observed, ‘Vaxili should have become the guest of the town. As it is, he’s confusing people and putting their backs up. What’s the sense of doing that when he hasn't got any weight in his belly?’

‘No weight? He’s the king, man!’

‘He's a king without a treasury, without an army, and without many supporters outside his home base – don’t forget that.’ Sharma whirled his sling, let fly and smiled in satisfaction as he hit his target. He picked up a pebble, fitted it into the sling and said, 'If Vaxili gets money, an army, and a lot more support then he can behave as he chooses.’ Sharma stood back, eyed his target, and let fly again. Plink! He smiled in satisfaction and offered the sling to me.

On the morning after his arrival, Vaxili caused more dissatisfaction by demanding that the elders should come to his quarters for an audience instead of him going to them as was customary for a visitor. That afternoon, he addressed the people of Osicedi in the town square. Izebol, who was a member of the royal entourage, introduced Vaxili and outlined the circumstances that had led to Vaxili being anointed as king. He concluded his speech by saying that now that Keirine had a king, the priests would no longer provide military and political leadership. He said, ‘Zabrazal the Defender will act through his anointed king.’ Then he added pointedly, 'But Zabrazal the Righteous will speak through his priests as always.'

Vaxili stepped forward, looking nervous and stroking his chin with one hand while the other hand fiddled with the hilt of his sword. However, he started well enough by praising Osicedi as the cradle that had produced great men who had served Keirine well. After thanking the town for its hospitality, he said, ‘Let me get down to business. You all want to know what my program is and how it’s going to affect you. Well, my program starts with two major tasks. The first is to build up a sense of nationhood. Soon I will appoint a royal advisory council that will represent all the tribes and regions of Keirine.’

There was a buzz of both interest and scepticism. Someone shouted, ‘We want a council of the people!'

Someone else bellowed, 'They'll just be a gang of arselickers.'

Vaxili ignored the hecklers and continued, 'My second task is to defend Keirine’ He paused, took a step forward, and said firmly, ‘To do that, I will create a standing army.’

Someone called out, ‘Are you going to abolish the militias?’

Vaxili replied, ‘The militia system has served Keirine well but it’s too cumbersome to be the first line of defence.’

Someone else called out, ‘There you are. You heard him – away with the militias!’

The muttering and heckling increased to an uproar when Vaxili announced that he would introduce taxation to pay for the costs of the army and the monarchy. Keirineians had never paid taxes and the people of Osicedi didn't like the idea any more than did people anywhere else in the country. The hecklers redoubled their verbal assault on Vaxili.

‘If a tax collector knocks on my door, I’ll put a boot up his backside.’

‘We already tithe to Zabrazal. Do you think we’ll also pay taxes to a king? Forget it!’

‘Hey, Vaxili! Go back to Upper Keirine and tax them! We’ll take care of ourselves like we always did.’

‘Are the rich going to fix it so that they don’t have to pay, as usual?’

Listening to the protests, Sharma said disdainfully, ‘Ha! Listen to them talk! Oh, sure, they don’t like the idea of taxation. But either they pay tax and have an army or they don’t pay tax and they don’t have an army. No army, no chance of defeating the Dornites! It’s simple.’ Sharma snapped his fingers impatiently. ‘Talk, talk, talk! They think they can wriggle out if they carry on talking long enough.’

I couldn’t help grinning. Sharma was right. Whenever the debate lurched a few paces towards accepting the inevitable someone would intervene with a remark that would take the matter back to an earlier stage. It was like trying to get a flock of sheep through a gate – a few animals would pass through while the rest balked and scattered in all directions. Then, while the shepherd raced after the escaping animals, some of the corralled sheep would slip out through the gate and the whole thing would start over again.

However, the atmosphere had changed by the time the meeting drew towards an end. The crowd had hurled their verbal missiles at Vaxili but had achieved nothing. Now they were weary, like workmen who have shoveled for hours to shift a rock and have at last realised that their labours have been in vain. Vaxili had got what he wanted; a wise man would have left it at that. Instead, as the saying goes, he snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. Perhaps it was weariness, perhaps it was the strain of having to deal with the same old predictable arguments wherever he went ---- I really don't know. Suddenly, in response to a provocation by a lone heckler, he retorted vehemently, 'I'm king over all of Keirine -- remember that! I'm the king! Oppose me and you will regret it!'

Vaxili’s outburst had the effect of oil thrown onto smouldering coals. The crowd swayed and surged forward, shouting, while the people standing next to the platform began to shake it. It was a precarious base, fashioned from tables lashed together and it looked like the whole contraption was going to collapse taking Vaxili and his party with it.

Vaxili stepped back in alarm and half drew his sword. The noise increased and the platform swayed and trembled as more people took hold of it. Suddenly a member of Vaxili's entourage stepped forward. He was a middle-aged man with a stocky, powerful build, long hair tied behind his head, and a square face. This was the same Jainar who had spoken so forcefully at the meeting of the Assembly and had recently been appointed as commander of the army. He advanced to the front of the platform, stood there with his hands on his hips and his feet apart like a sailor on a rolling deck, and bellowed, 'Quiet! Quiet, I say!' His voice was so deep and powerful that it transcended the noise of the crowd. Everything stopped as if the town square had suddenly been frozen in time. Then Jainar began to sing. He had a good baritone voice that rang out with power and confidence and he sang 'The Rose of the Hills', the ancient battle song of the north. Soon the whole assembly was singing along with him.

When the song ended, Jainar put up his hands and declared, 'We are all one in Keirine!' He looked over his shoulder and nodded briefly. Vaxili and his entourage mustered their dignity and walked off the stage while Jainar stood there foursquare holding up his hands. Then, when the stage was empty, he cried, 'Osicedi is the cradle of champions! I salute Lower Keirine!' He stretched his arms upwards and cried, 'Honour to Osicedi! Honour to Lower Keirine!' In the silence that followed, Jainar raised his hands in greeting, turned, and left the stage.

In spite of the near-debacle, everyone agreed, more or less grudgingly, that they would have to pay taxes. Vaxili got what he wanted. However, on the point of achieving success, he came within a whisker of throwing it away. It was a foretaste of what was to come.

Within a month, the call went out for recruits for the army and the elders of Osicedi selected Sharma and me to join the squad that marched southwards to join Vaxili's new army. Perhaps the elders thought that our youthful escapade with the Dornite rustlers was proof of our warlike dispositions or perhaps they thought that it would be prudent to get rid of hotheads like us before we caused more trouble. Whatever the case, we didn’t complain at the prospect of military service. Life in the army promised to be a lot more exciting than raising sheep, shearing sheep, and taking bales of wool to market.

As we marched southwards trying to look disciplined and soldierly, Sharma looked at my waist and remarked approvingly, ‘I see that you’re still wearing the belt.’

I replied, ‘Why not? I told you that I would always wear it.’

Sharma chuckled and replied, 'It was the proper gift. Already you look like a soldier.’

CHAPTER FIVE: GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT

A commander named Zaliek was in charge of our squad during our three months of basic training. With his half-severed right ear, scarred forearms, and face with the contours and colour of a weathered granite boulder, he looked like a brigand or a desperado. There was plenty of speculation about Zaliek – for instance, one rumour had it that that he was a Dornite renegade, while another had it that he was of royal descent from one of the kingdoms somewhere far to the west of the Great River. Many years later, not long before I sent him to his death, I did learn the truth about Zaliek's background and it turned out that these rumours weren’t far off the mark. It was also said that Zaliek fled from the Dornites when it was discovered that he was having an affair with a senior official’s wife. Sometimes the rumour was supplemented by the view that he refused to have an affair with the woman, which made life even more dangerous for him than if he did have an affair. I never found out whether or not there was any truth in these rumours.

No matter how many rumours were doing the rounds, Zaliek kept his past to himself and his relationship with the members of the squad was strictly professional. At our first meeting, he scowled at us and growled, ‘I’m Commander Zaliek. That’s all you need to know. I don’t ask who you are and I don’t want to know. You could be murderers, faggots, or mommy’s boys, or all three together – it’s all one to me. You’re here for only two reasons. The first is to learn to protect yourselves so that you don’t get killed. The second is to learn how to kill an enemy ---- barehanded or with weapons, it doesn’t matter how. Never mind tactics and strategy – you can learn those things later, if you survive.’

Basic training was tough. We tumbled out of our tents at daybreak, ate a quick breakfast of salted mutton and corn bread, and spent two hours doing squad drill. Then we learned unarmed combat and, after the mid-day meal, we practised armed combat. By late afternoon we were exhausted. After the evening meal – more mutton and bread, tarted up with gravy and a few vegetables --- we had to clean our weapons and equipment by lamplight. When that was done, we collapsed into bed only to stumble out at dawn to repeat the same grinding routine.

Zaliek was fanatical about fitness. He made us run and, when we were ready to drop, he made us run some more. He made us carry boulders up the stony hillsides that surrounded the camp and he made us carry each other across the marshy ground at the end of the valley. He taught us how to run with shields and spears strapped to our backs, holding our swords to our chests. Then, when we thought we had done something to perfection, Zaliek made us do it again.

In spite of his size, Zaliek was fit and agile. He did whatever we did and he did it better. He would growl at us, ‘You think you’re getting good, hey? Well, you’re still so soft that the Dornites will have you for breakfast. When you can beat me you might have a chance against the Dornites – but until then, forget it!’

During basic training, we cursed Zaliek with every panting breath. However, when Sharma and I ran from the Dornites at Gandonda, remembering to carry our shields and weapons --- and finding that we were fit enough to carry them --- we were thankful for Zaliek’s training. We were just as thankful when we had the stamina to return and harass the enemy a few hours later.

After about six weeks of training, Zaliek took us on a long run. We carried only our swords, strapped across our backs. After two hours we reached the highest point of the range of hills that now marked the easternmost limits of Keirine. During one of their recent pushes into Keirine, the Dornites had captured the foothills that lay between the hills and the coastal plain and from our vantage point we could see the smoke rising from some of their new settlements.

Panting, we sat down on the slope and reached for our water bottles. Zaliek shouted, ‘Three mouthfuls each! That’s all!’

‘But, commander –‘

‘I said three mouthfuls and that’s all you’ll have! Do you think you’ll get more when you’re fighting a battle?’ There was some grumbling but no one disobeyed the command. While we were drinking and regaining our breath, Zaliek paced in front of the squad and then planted himself squarely before us and roared, ‘Ha! Do you think you’re ready to go into battle?’

A few members of the squad muttered, ‘We’re ready.’

‘What did you say?’

‘We’re ready, commander!’

‘Ready? You think you’re ready? You think you’re ready to take on that lot down there?’ Zaliek gestured towards the smoke rising from the foothills below. ‘You think you’ll stand steady when the Dornite cavalry comes at you not to mention their chariots? You think you won’t turn tail when the Dornite infantry comes at you in closed ranks? You think that, eh?’

Now the reply was less certain: ‘Yes, commander.’

Arms folded, Zaliek surveyed us sadly. He shook his head and growled, ‘You lot are pathetic. Do you hear me – pathetic! Oh, you’re brave enough – I don’t doubt that. You’re brave enough to die in your ignorance. You’re brave enough to die with a Dornite sword or lance through you. I don’t doubt that either. But do you think that bravery is enough, eh? Do you think it’s enough?’ There was more muttering. Zaliek roared, ‘Well, what do you say? Is it enough, eh? Speak up!’

‘No, commander!’

‘I said speak up!’

We roared back at him, ‘No, commander!’

‘No – what isn't enough?’

We roared, ‘Bravery is not enough, commander!’

‘Good! Very good! At least you’ve learned something. Now, tell me the first thing that I taught you.’

‘We have to know how to defend ourselves, commander.’

‘Right! And the second thing is --?’

We roared, ‘We have to know how to kill our enemies, commander.’

Zaliek regarded us half sceptically and half approvingly. Then he roared, ‘Huh! When you do those two things better than your enemy, and when you add bravery, then maybe you’ve got what you need to defeat the Dornites.’ Zaliek dropped his sword and cried, ‘Let’s see what you’ve learned.’ He bared his arms and roared, ‘Who’ll take me on, eh? Man to man, unarmed combat – who’ll take me on, eh?’

We shifted uneasily and exchanged furtive glances while Zaliek paced in front of us, grinning and flexing his arms. After a while, Sharma got to his feet and called out, ‘I’ll take you on, commander!’

‘Ha! Sharma, eh? You fancy yourself? Come on, then, let’s see what you can do.’ Zaliek bent forward in a wrestler’s stance, arms wide, balancing on the balls of his feet, taunting Sharma, inviting him to approach.

As Sharma stood up, something twirled, Sharma’s hand flicked, and there was a swishing noise. Zaliek shouted in pain and straightened, clutching his shoulder. Sharma dashed at Zaliek, kicked his feet out from under him, and pinned him to the ground, face down. Zaliek turned his face to one side and growled, ‘All right, you win. Let me go.’

Sharma released Zaliek, who got up and dusted himself off. Still rubbing his shoulder, Zaliek said, ‘A sling, eh? You call that unarmed combat?’

The squad was deathly silent while we waited for Zaliek to descend on Sharma in a storm of wrath.

Sharma replied steadily, ‘No, commander. But it helped me to defeat you. That’s what’s important.’

Zaliek squinted at Sharma narrowly. Suddenly he lunged forward, grasping. Sharma avoided him, springing to one side. Then he leaned forward, legs braced, with his hands in front of him. The yellow flecks in his eyes gleamed and his left eyelid twitched. I knew the signs. Sharma was coiled for action – and he was enjoying the challenge.

Zaliek straightened, gave his shoulder a rub, and said, ‘A sling, eh? Ha! But you're right -- what does it matter, if you defeat your opponent? We’re soldiers, not professional wrestlers.’ He roared at the squad, ‘Did he defeat me?’

‘Yes, commander!’

‘Yes, that’s right, he did. He used unfair, underhand tactics, didn’t he?’

‘Yes commander!’ The reply was hesitant.

Zaliek scowled and rubbed his shoulder again. He bellowed, ‘Maybe you learned a lesson today! Don’t attack your enemy in the way he expects. Attack him in a way he doesn’t expect. You got that?’

‘Yes, commander!’

‘Good! Remember it and it might save your life.’ Zaliek turned to Sharma and asked, ‘Where did you learn to use a sling?’

‘In Osicedi, commander.’

‘Osicedi, eh? Ever killed a man with it?’ Sharma glanced at me warily while Zaliek growled, ‘I asked you – ever killed a man with it?’

‘Yes, commander.’

Zaliek eyed Sharma narrowly and asked, ‘Ever killed three men with it?’

Sharma shot a glance at me again and then replied, ‘Not exactly, commander.’

‘Not exactly, eh? Well, let me guess – you knocked some of them down with your sling and your mate finished them off with a spear. Is that what happened?’

Sharma licked his lips, gave me a sidelong glance, and then muttered, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘And was your mate by any chance called Jina?’

Sharma gave me another glance and then said reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘That same Jina as is sitting over there?’ Zaliek jabbed a finger at me.

‘Yes, commander.’

Zaliek folded his arms, scowled, and said, ‘Do you remember the first man who you killed?’

Sharma answered reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘He was a big man with red hair and a thin face with pockmarks, not so?’ Sharma nodded in reply. Zaliek waved a finger under Sharma’s nose and demanded, ‘Well, speak up, man! I asked you a question.’

Sharma paused apprehensively before he said reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander, that is so.’

‘That’s right! Now I’ll tell you something that you don’t know – his name was Selek.’

‘I knew that, commander.’

Zaliek looked at Sharma curiously. Then he said, ‘Ah, yes, he wore a disc engraved with his name, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, commander.’

‘A disc given to him by someone called Janali, not so?’

‘I can’t remember, commander.’

'No? Well, perhaps you can tell me -- where is the disc now?'

Sharma bit his lip and glanced at me furtively before he said, 'Jina has it.'

'Ah! Jina, eh? Now, let me tell you that Janali was Selek's wife. What do you say to that, eh?’

Sharma straightened his shoulders and clenched his fists by his sides. He said firmly, ‘I’m sorry about that, commander. But he was a Dornite. He was an enemy. He should have left our sheep alone.’

Zaliek snapped his fingers under Sharma’s nose and growled, ‘And I’ll tell you something else that you don’t know – Selek was one of my best mates. What do you say to that, eh?’ With his gaze lowered and his head to one side, Sharma stood there awkwardly, saying nothing. Zaliek pushed his face close to Sharma’s and said, ‘And then a few nights later a Dornite raiding party attacked Osicedi – not so?’

Sharma replied in a subdued voice, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘They killed a few people, didn’t they?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who?’

‘They killed my brother, and –'

‘Your brother, eh? Well, what would you say if I told you that I was one of the men in the raiding party?’ Sharma raised his eyes and looked at Zaliek half in bewilderment and half in hostility. Zaliek hissed, ‘What would you do if I told you that I was the one who killed your brother?’

Sharma stiffened and looked Zaliek in the eye. He licked his lips, straightened his back, and then said quietly, ‘I would say, Thank you for telling me, commander.’

Zaliek stepped backwards and picked up his sword. He asked, ‘Do you want to settle it now?’

‘Settle what, commander?’

‘Do you want to take revenge for your brother’s death, here and now?’

‘No, commander.’

‘You don’t?’

‘No, commander, I don’t’

I grabbed my sword and scrambled to my feet, shouting, ‘I’ll do it!’

Zaliek raised his eyebrows and asked, ‘You’ll do what, Jina?’

‘I’ll take you on man to man, commander.’

‘Who asked you to, Jina?’

‘No one did. But --’

‘Then, damn it, sit down!’

Clutching my sword, I shouted, ‘I’m not afraid of you, commander.’

‘Sit down and shut up, damn you, or I’ll put you in the cells when we get back to camp.’

‘You killed Sharma’s brother. If he won’t, then –'

‘Damn you, Jina, sit down and shut up, or I’ll have you arrested right here and now.' Zaliek took a step towards me and growled, 'You hear me? Sit down and shut up!’

Discipline asserted itself and I sat down, trembling and sweating, still clutching my sword. Zaliek grunted and turned his attention back to Sharma. Balancing his sword in his hands, Zaliek asked evenly, ‘You don’t want to take revenge, eh? Why not?’

‘I’m training to fight against the enemy, commander. I’m not training to fight you or anyone else on my own side.’

Zaliek grinned in satisfaction. He turned to the squad and said, ‘Excellent! That’s an excellent answer. Remember it in future. Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.’ He wagged his finger and bellowed, ‘Focus on the task! The enemy will give you more than enough to think about without having your mind full of diversions. Remember that – focus and clear thinking! You got that?’

‘Yes, commander!’

Zaliek pointed at me and roared, ‘You – Jina! Have you got it?’

I replied reluctantly, ‘Yes, commander.’

‘Good! Like I said, courage isn’t enough. It’s enough to get yourself killed but it’s not enough to defeat the enemy.’ Zaliek wagged his finger at me. Then he turned to Sharma and said, ‘In any case, it wasn’t me.’

‘Commander?’

‘I wasn’t anywhere near Osicedi when they attacked it. I’ve never been anywhere near Osicedi in my whole life. Sure, I knew Selek. He was a casual acquaintance and not a best mate. And I agree with you when you say that he should have left your sheep alone. That’s the closest that I ever came to having anything to do with the matter.’

Sharma replied calmly, ‘Thank you for telling me, commander.’

Zaliek jerked his thumb and said, ‘All right. Now you know. Get back to the ranks!’ He braced himself and bellowed, ‘Squad! Form up!’ We got to our feet, dusted ourselves, and swung our swords across our backs. Zaliek pointed to someone and asked brusquely, ‘You – what have you learned today?’

‘I learned to fight dirty, commander.’

‘Fight dirty? Is that all you learned? Ha! Any mangy street-dog knows how to fight dirty.’ He pointed to another member of the squad and roared, ‘You – what did you learn?’

‘I learned not to do what the enemy expects, commander.’

‘Yes. That’s better! And what else did you learn?’

‘I learned that we should keep our minds focused, commander.’

‘Yes. That’s good.’ Zaliek swung his sword across his back and shouted, ‘Right, you lot! Let’s get back to camp. Keep formation all the way. No stragglers! Understand?’

‘Yes, commander!’ We set off at a jogging pace and reached camp just before sunset.

The camp was next to the town of Koraina where Vaxili set up a temporary capital. Koraina was strategically situated close to the border between Upper and Lower Keirine, protected by hills while offering easy access to the open, rolling country to the south, which was the sector that the Dornites favoured for their incursions into Keirine. Before Vaxili and his court arrived, Koraina was just a quiet rural town about the size of Osicedi. Now it was a boom town with facilities and services expanding to provide for both the regular and irregular needs of the court and the army camp.

At Koraina regularly I attended devotions at the temple just in case Zabrazal still had his eye on me. I had felt that way ever since Sharma and I underwent the cleansing ceremony in Osicedi when I sensed an active, omnipresent intelligence that scrutinised me sceptically while chalking up pluses and minuses on the divine scoreboard. I didn’t want to provide a reason for more minuses to be chalked up.

At the time that I joined the army, I wasn’t sure whether the pluses or minuses predominated on my score sheet. I hadn’t done much wrong but, on the other hand I wasn’t sure that I had satisfied the priests’ demands of absolute devotion to Zabrazal either. I had given alms to the poor, performed the annual sacrifice, tried to be truthful, and stayed away from married women – actually, stayed away from women altogether, in deed if not in thought – so I should have toted up a host of pluses. But Zabrazal was unpredictable. The priests told us that Zabrazal could look into your thoughts and take offence at even the most fleeting hints of deviance or disloyalty. In fact, Zabrazal could get steamed up about a whole number of things that mere mortals wouldn’t think were worth a second thought. In short, I understood that dealing with Zabrazal was like walking through a swamp on a dark night knowing that there were hazards everywhere and wondering when, almost inevitably, you would blunder into the next muddy hole or even flounder despairingly in a patch of quicksand.

My regular visits to the temple had one definitely positive result and she was named Dana. Although I noticed her right away during my first visit to the temple, initially she meant nothing more to me than any other young woman who was attractive enough to be worth two or more glances. Then, one day, I happened to sit behind her. While the congregation was reciting the creed, she glanced at her companion from time to time. I became intrigued by the luminous secret that her eyes suggested. Like a shock going through my frame, it struck me that I wanted to meet her. In fact, I wanted to meet her so badly that the need was like a twisted knot in my stomach. But how? By Zabrazal, I felt gormless and helpless! Unlike Sharma, I didn’t have a way with women. I would sooner go on a day-long route march with a pack weighed down by rocks than approach a woman who took my fancy. The more I wanted to meet a woman, the more I would shrink into myself as if I thought that invisibility would do the job for me. However, even as I shrank with shyness, I cursed myself for being so damnably awkward and tongue-tied.

Dana was small of build with a compact body that fitted together all of a piece and moved with the confident fluidity of an acrobat. Most of all, what attracted me was her liquid eyes that gleamed luminously against the setting of her olive skin. The glow in her eyes suggested that she had a delectable secret that she wanted to share with whoever was talking to her. As I got to know her, I learned that the secret was no more and no less than the pleasure that she took in life itself -- a pleasure so great that it emanated from her like the warmth of a hearth. She gave it to everyone who came within her orbit, but for a while – oh, Zabrazal, for a short while and so long ago, so long ago -- she gave it to me in particular in her own special way. When I think of it – and only that memory can rouse me now, nothing else – I wish with the useless poignancy of old age that I could reverse time and undo my bounded condition by going way back to when I first sat behind her in the temple. Then when, instead of bright recollections, the cruel starkness of my position fills me with bleak despair, I wish that Sharma would send them right now to set me free me forever from all memory and from all desire. It will be a most welcome release.

At the temple, I used to squeeze into the row behind where Dana always sat. Forlornly, I would admire the way her hair curled at the nape of her neck, the seashell shape of her ears and the ripple of her shoulders under the fabric of her cotton tunic. If she turned to whisper to her companion or to glance around the temple, a pang of pleasure would dart through me as I got a close-up look at her profile. I also experienced pangs of guilt, wondering if Zabrazal was chalking up more minuses against my name whenever my attention wandered away from the priest and towards Dana. More acutely, I was embarrassed to think that Dana might be aware of how closely I scrutinised her in my helpless admiration.

In short, I wanted to meet her badly – badly, badly, so badly! So help me, I even considered trying to do a deal with Zabrazal, offering to accept a clutch of minuses against my name on the divine scoreboard if only he would arrange for me to meet Dana. However, as it turned out, Zabrazal’s assistance wasn’t necessary. Dana solved the problem by approaching me one day as we were leaving the temple. She said, ‘You’re Jina, aren’t you?’

I managed to untie my tongue long enough to say, ‘Yes, I am.’

‘Do you know Kentri?’

My tongue got tied up again and a flush swept over me so that my palms flooded with sweat and my forehead began to thump. I must have looked like an idiot as I stared at her wordlessly because she raised her eyebrows and said coaxingly, ‘Kentri?’

I muttered, ‘You know him?’ I tried to sound confident but I knew that my voice sounded squeakier than a fingernail being drawn across a piece of pottery. I cursed myself silently, tried to get control of my vocal cords, swallowed and said, ‘Uh – Kentri – yes, he’s in Osicedi – I mean, yes, I knew him at school.’

Dana said, ‘Kentri is my cousin.’

I said, ‘That’s good.’ She frowned as if trying to work out what I meant. Then I blurted out – I don’t know where it came from -- ‘That’s good, because he’s been lucky enough to know you for a long time.’

Dina’s eyes glowed and she smiled mischievously. She said sweetly, ‘Well, you do know how to speak to girls, don’t you?’

I blurted, ‘No.’

‘No? I thought that you were doing rather well.’

‘No. I mean – you know, it just came out –.'

‘It was a charming thing to say.’

No one, especially a good-looking young woman, had ever referred to me in the same context as ‘charming’. Strong, loyal, impetuous – even pig--headed – those were descriptions that I sometimes heard. But ‘charming’ was unusual enough to tie my tongue up again. I flushed and forgot words while I tried to hide my sweating palms behind my back.

Dana looked at me with a quizzical smile and asked, ‘Do you have a sore back?’

‘No. No – you know – my back is all right – no problem.’

‘It’s just the way you’re standing – I thought maybe –‘

I tried to straighten and stand more naturally, wondering at the same time what a natural stance was when you were trying to make an impression on an attractive woman. Hands by your sides? Arms folded? Perhaps I should gesticulate more often to impress her with my vivacity? I said, ‘It’s just a bit of stiffness – you know, from training – crawling across the ground, you know. It’s no problem.’ As I spoke, anxiety made me clasp my hands even tighter behind my back.

We were outside the temple now, standing in the shade of a tree. Dana asked, ‘Are you walking back to the camp?’

‘Uh – yes. Yes, I am.’

‘I’m also going in that direction. Let’s walk together, then.’

We strolled down the road together. I was in a state of happy confusion. My emotions were seesawing. It was as if that moment could decide everything – and everything right then was whether I would be confirmed in happiness or abandoned in desolation. I wanted to speak and act in ways that would advance my cause, but, contrarily, I held back from doing so, for fear that my squeaky-voiced, gormless confusion would obliterate my chances of gaining a foothold in Dana’s affections.

Dana said brightly, ‘I haven’t seen Kentri for about four years.’

‘Kentri?’

‘Kentri in Osicedi – you know, the person we were talking about earlier.’

‘Oh, right – Kentri. Yes, Kentri – he’s your cousin, isn’t he?’

‘Well, that was still the case, the last time I mentioned him. I don’t suppose that our relationship has changed in the last five minutes – not that I know about, anyway.’ She glanced at me quickly with her head tilted. Then she dropped her eyes and smiled mischievously. I could have sworn that she was laughing at me silently. If I had been on my own, I would have bashed my head against a wall in frustration at my ineptitude. I tried to recover the situation by changing the subject. I searched for a topic – any likely topic – and asked, ‘Do you know Sharma?’

‘Sharma? No, I don’t think that I do. Why do you ask?’

‘He’s my friend. He’s also from Osicedi.’

Dana giggled and glanced at me mischievously, asking, ‘Does he know Kentri?’

‘Who?’

‘Your friend Sharma?’

‘Yes, he’s my friend.’

‘So you said. But does he know Kentri?’

‘Kentri? Oh, yes, Kentri! I guess that he does. We were all at school together.’

‘Then I must meet Sharma some time.’

Suddenly all my senses were on the alert. I imagined that if Sharma were here now, he wouldn’t be stumbling around in tongue-tied ineptitude. Instead, he would be fluent and assured, taking the initiative, making just the opposite impression of the one that I was making. Once again, I felt like bashing my head against a wall – but this time for a different reason. I muttered, ‘Yes, you could meet him some time. But, you know, he’s very busy, so maybe --’

‘Even busier than you?’ Dana grinned at me knowingly.

‘Well, he’s just about the busiest person that I know. He hardly ever has time to relax.’

Dana chuckled. ‘Maybe I can meet him one day, if he stops being busy for a minute or two.’ She halted, pointed, and said, ‘I live down this way.’

‘You live with your family?’ I was trying to delay our parting and my question was about the best that I could do.

‘My mother died last year. I live with my father. He’s the chief cook to the royal court.’

I said, ‘Ah!’ and hoped that it sounded profound.

Dana moved away from me. Then she stopped and said, ‘I have enjoyed meeting you.’

‘Could we – ah – you know –?

‘Yes?’

I blurted, ‘Meet again?’

‘Meet again? You mean could we meet again?’

‘Yes.’

Dana pursed her lips and looked at me shrewdly. Then she chuckled and asked, ‘Would you like that?’

I gulped, ‘Yes.’ Was my voice as high-pitched as it sounded?

‘Yes, I suppose that we could.’

‘At your home, perhaps?’

She frowned, considered the matter, and replied with a mixture of seriousness and knowing humour, ‘No. That isn’t possible. My father is very possessive. The last man who tried to visit me at the house nearly came to a bad end.'

'Really? How?'

'My father threatened to boil him alive in cooking oil.’

'Really? Boil him alive? He would do that?'

Dana gave me a wondering look and then giggled. 'Who knows? He might. He is very possessive.' She giggled again, wrinkled her nose and asked, ‘Will you be at the temple tomorrow?’

‘I could be, if you’ll be there.’

‘Well, if you are there –‘

‘I will be there. For sure, I’ll be there.’

‘Good. Then we’ll probably see each other.’ Dana nodded and walked away. After a few steps, she turned and said with a straight face, ‘I hope that your back is feeling better tomorrow.’

As she disappeared around the corner, I was torn by emotions. Mostly, I wanted to shout out to the world, 'Can you believe it! I'm going to see her tomorrow. How's that for luck?' On the other hand, I wanted to crawl into a dark place and kick myself for being such a graceless fool.

I met Dana at the temple next day and for a number of days after that until there was no need of a pretext for meeting.

One afternoon we strolled away from the town. Following the road southwards through the foothills, we wandered through open countryside. It was a quiet spring day, warm in the direct sunlight, with the air so still that the sounds from the town drifted to us as if the houses were no more than a few paces behind us. I reached for Dana’s hand, taking her nearest finger awkwardly. She gave me a swift look like a deer startled while grazing but she didn’t withdraw her hand.

We walked hand-in-hand for a while, not saying anything, absorbed in this new intimacy. Then we sat down half way up a hillside, ensconced in the green folds of the slope and looking down over the red-dirt road that slashed its way across the bottom of the valley. Dana sighed happily and lay back with her hands under her head. I looked at the form of her body that was outlined under the fabric of her tunic. She stretched her arms above her head and the cloth pulled tighter across her breasts. I looked away, not wanting to stare at what I desired.

Dana laughed lightly and asked, ‘Do you like me, Jina?’ She gave me her quick, half--knowing, half--humorous glance and then dropped her gaze.

I mumbled, ‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then why won’t you look at me?’

My throat constricted and my hands grew clammier. I mumbled, ‘I thought you wouldn’t like it.’

‘Oh, Jina! Is that true? Really?’

I mumbled, ‘Yes.’

Dana started to laugh. She sat up, hugging her legs with her chin resting on her knees. Then she glanced at me out of the corners of her eyes and laughed some more. When she stopped laughing, she said, ‘Oh, Jina –‘She couldn’t say any more because she started to giggle.

I muttered, ‘Hey, what’s the joke?’

Between giggles, Dana said, ‘You are amusing.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Oh, Jina, don’t get so upset. You make me happy.’

I said, ‘I’ll tell you what, Dana. If anyone else called me amusing –’

‘Yes?’

‘I'd settle with them. They wouldn’t do it again, that’s for sure.’

‘Are you going to settle with me?’

I took another deep breath and said, ‘You can call me amusing any time you want to – but only you.’

Dana took my hand and laid it against her cheek. She said softly, ‘Thank you, Jina.’

Dana lay back again with her arms behind her head, stretched, and gave a relaxed sigh. I propped myself on an elbow and looked at her. She raised her eyebrows and lazily returned my glance. I leaned forward and kissed her tentatively. It was the first time that I had kissed a woman and I didn’t know what to expect. Her lips were moist and receptive and opened slightly to receive me. I pressed my lips closer and a flush like lightning darted across my body. I withdrew guiltily, embarrassed to think that Dana must have felt it too. But she just lay there in the same relaxed position, smiled slowly, and murmured, ‘That was nice.’

I leaned over to repeat the experience but she put up a restraining hand, saying, ‘Enough for now, Jina.’

‘I want –‘

Dana raised her hand again, closed her eyes, and murmured, ‘Take it slowly, Jina. We have plenty of time.’

As it turned out, we didn’t have plenty of time. But we couldn’t know that, creatures of the moment as we were, idling in the sun on a grassy hillside.

The lightning was still darting through my body, igniting my senses. At the same time, my mind was in a haze of confusion as if the concentration of force in my senses had drained my other faculties. I flopped onto my back, lying next to Dana, hands behind my head as well. I exhaled, breathed in deeply, and exhaled again. The thumping in my blood began to subside. I exhaled again.

Dana said gently, ‘Good things come to those who wait.’ I glanced at her. Her dark eyes were enigmatic. I thought I caught a flicker of teasing amusement but it was only a flash and I couldn’t be sure. Dana held my gaze for a moment and then closed her eyes, inclining her head to receive the full radiance of the sun.

We lay there, enveloped by warmth and by the silence of the valley. The quietness lay across me like a blanket soothing my senses back towards normality. I closed my eyes and began to doze. As I drifted between waking and dozing, I thought how paradoxical it was that Dana could fire my senses and at the same time lull me into a state of relaxation.

We must have been lying there for about ten or fifteen minutes in silence when Dana said something. I asked, ‘Hmm? What?’

Dana said, ‘I asked whether you ever felt that you could drift like the clouds.’ She stretched out and put her hand across mine, palm lying against palm.

‘Drift? Like the clouds?’

‘Yes, like the clouds.’

‘No, I haven’t ever felt that.’

‘I have. I imagine that my body expands and diffuses –‘

‘Diffuses? What’s that?’

‘It gets thinner, less solid – oh, you know, it gets almost like a cloud, so that it floats and drifts.’

‘Where does it float and drift to?’

Dana clicked her tongue in exasperation, saying, ‘Don’t be so practical!’

I hesitated, pondering a suitable response. Once again, Dana had caught me off guard, making me stumble over both my thoughts and my tongue. I responded cautiously, ‘I’d like to be a cloud with you.’

‘Oh, Jina! Really!’

‘I’m serious.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And if you were like a cloud --?’

Lying back with my eyes closed, I said, ‘Imagine if we could leave the highlands. Imagine if we could leave Keirine.’

‘Yes?’

‘Imagine if our bodies weren’t so heavy with our feet always thumping back into the earth! Imagine if we could float and drift instead of having our weight always pulled down onto the earth. Imagine that!’

Dana squeezed my hand. ‘Yes?’

‘Well, I guess that’s about it.’

‘No, Jina, that’s only the beginning. Imagine if you were like a cloud -- where would you drift to?’

I closed my eyes and thought for a while before I replied, ‘I’d drift eastwards. I’d drift over the lowlands, I’d drift right over Dornite territory, and I’d drift right over the coastline.’

‘And then --?’

‘Then I’d drift over the Endless Ocean. I’d drift over the islands.’

‘Yes? The islands?’

‘I’d see the ocean and the islands all spread out beneath me.’

Dana murmured, ‘That would be beautiful.’

‘Yes, it would be.’

‘Tell me more!’

‘The islands would be like pearls set in the neck-piece of a gown.’

Dana replied dreamily, ‘Like pearls? Yes, perhaps they would be – green and brown and ochre pearls? Who knows?’ She ran her fingers across the palm of my hand. ‘And could I be drifting with you, seeing the same things?’

‘Of course. Look at the sky. It’s huge. It stretches from here to the limit of the world wherever that is. We can’t see the beginning of it and we can’t see the end. There must be room for a hundred thousand clouds all drifting at one and the same time. For sure, there's room for both us and plenty more.’

Dana said nothing for a while. Then she remarked reflectively, 'You're not always practical, are you?’

‘Not when I’m with you.’

Dana sighed and said softly, 'Keirine is not a place for people who dream of being clouds.'

'No? How do you mean?'

Dana didn't reply for a while. She sat up, arms clasped around her legs, looking out over the valley. Then she inclined her head towards Koraina and said almost angrily, 'Oh, out here a person can dream of clouds and drifting over islands -- and you can dream of whatever you want to be. But back there -- huh!'

'Back there? You mean --?'

'Yes, in Koraina, especially there. What do they care about dreams and possibilities?'

‘They dream about making Keirine safe and secure. Isn't that worth something?'

‘Huh! You dream about that! Oh, don’t be so – so naive, so – so idealistic -- there aren’t a lot of people like you – especially back there.’

‘But for the good of Keirine –‘

'Keirine! What is Keirine? I ask you, what is it?'

'It's our home, Dana, it’s our home -- that's what it is.'

'Yes. You're right. It's our home. But for some people it's just one big forage bin – a bin ten times bigger – no, twenty or thirty times bigger than anything they've ever got near before.'

'Forage bin? What are you talking about?'

'Oh, Jina, you don't live in the palace like I do. You don't see them snarling at each other like hungry dogs getting their noses to a food bowl. You don’t see them shoving each other out of the way, bowing and smiling even while they're planning who next to stick their knives into. You don’t see them crawling on their bellies to Vaxili in the hope of getting a bigger seat to put their fat bottoms into. You don't see any of that.'

'Who are you referring to?'

'Who? The Orifinrians, of course – Vaxili's friends and hangers-on! Who else?' Dana snorted contemptuously and tossed her head. 'Oh, it's easy to talk about Keirine being a home for all of us like they do when they’re talking to the rest of us – but it’s just hollow words. I’m telling you, it’s just hollow words! When you've seen what I've seen, you'll realise that it's a home where just a few people are going to live in mansions while most people are going to live in shacks on the outskirts of town the same as always.'

I didn't know how to reply. I was silenced by the vehemence in her voice and by the picture that she painted. Dana looked at me knowingly, smiled, and trailed a hand lightly across my forehead. Then she lay back and said pensively, 'The clouds ask the questions. But they don't give the answers.'

'Maybe there aren't any answers!'

Dana put a hand on my shoulder and gently pulled me downwards. She murmured, 'There are questions and there are answers. It's up to us to hear the questions and to find the answers. Sometimes we just have to watch the clouds and be patient.' She took my hand, murmuring, 'Lie down again, Jina. Let's watch the clouds some more.'

After a few minutes of silence, Dana said slowly, 'Every day I hear more questions. Sometimes I think I'm moving towards some of the answers and sometimes I think it's hopeless.' She shrugged.

'What sorts of questions?'

'Oh, I don't know. They come and go. But mostly I think, Is this really all that there is to life? Violence and sharpening swords, plotting the destruction of the Dornites, squeezing the life out of anything that doesn't fit with their four-walled, small-minded pattern of the once-and-to-be Kingdom of Keirine, jostling to get near the forage bin – is that all there is?' Dana squeezed my hand and asked gently, 'Don't you sometimes feel the same, Jina?'

Did I, Jina, soldier of Keirine, feel the same? I knew what I should say. In fact, I almost said it. But then, from an impulse deep inside me, I spoke the truth. I said, 'Yes. Sometimes.'

Dana sighed, settled back, closed her eyes, and said nothing. Then, after a long silence, she said, 'I love the clouds for asking the questions. Every day, I think, Thank you for the questions, because I know that I'm alive as long as I'm hearing them. I think, Some day I'll find the answers. In the meantime, I want to keep walking the road, following the clouds.' She squeezed my hand and said, 'I talk a lot, don't I?'

I squeezed her hand in return and said nothing.

We lay there holding hands, sometimes dozing, sometimes watching the clouds as they asked the questions and took the answers with them to the far horizons. Then Dana propped herself up onto her elbows and looked out across the valley. From my reclining position, I gazed up at her. The shape of her breasts against the pull of her tunic, her neck arched backwards, her hair flowing freely – the lightning flickered again under my skin, my blood thumped, and my throat contracted. I took a deep, deep breath.

Dana looked at me sidelong. Her eyes were serious but she was smiling mischievously. She got to her feet, smoothed down her tunic, and said, 'I guess it’s time to go.’

I put an urgent hand on her arm and said, ‘No. Stay here a bit longer.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. I want to look at you some more.’ I was surprised at my own forwardness.

‘Oh? Some more?’

‘Yes. I want to touch you.’

Dana tossed back her hair and put her hands on her hips. She said, ‘I told you, Jina, good things come to those who wait.’

I cried in real frustration, ‘I don’t want to wait.’

‘You’ll have to.’ She stretched out her hand. ‘Come on, be a good boy. It’s time to go.’

As we walked along the road towards the town, Dana asked, ‘Do you know Sharma well?’

‘Sharma? Yes, of course. He’s been my friend ever since we were at school together.’

‘Is he a good friend?’

‘He's my best friend.’ Warning beacons flickered and I asked, ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Oh, nothing. I was just asking.’ I looked at Dana suspiciously but she ducked her head. She let go of my hand and we walked in silence until we turned a corner in the road and saw the town in front of us. Then Dana stopped, faced me, and said, ‘The fact is, I know someone who wants to meet Sharma.’

I flared with suspicion and jealousy. I wanted to ask, Are you the one who wants to meet Sharma? Did you get to know me just so that you could meet Sharma? The thought was so crude and visceral that it shocked me. But I couldn't drive it from my mind. Dana must have seen what I was thinking because she dropped her head and stood there awkwardly. I fought down the insidious thoughts and asked, ‘Who wants to meet Sharma?’

Dana said, ‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Man or woman?’

‘A woman.’

‘So you want me to arrange a meeting with this mysterious lady I-can’t-tell-you-her-name – just like that, sight unseen?’

Dana shifted uncomfortably and said, ‘Yes.’ Then she looked straight at me and said, ‘It’s not for me, Jina. It’s for my friend. It really is.’

‘Oh, yes? Is that so? Just so secret – and so sudden?’

‘It’s the truth, Jina. And the matter only came up later, after I met you.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Yes. It’s the truth. I’m telling you the truth, believe me.’

We walked towards the town. Dana took my hand but when I showed no response she let go of it. When we came to the place where our ways parted, Dana stretched up to kiss me but I turned my head away. She said angrily, ‘Jina! Don’t be like that!’

I shook my head and walked away. The freshness of the day had faded away.

CHAPTER SIX: AMBITION?

Torn between desire and jealousy, in the days that followed I kept away from Dana. I couldn't get rid of the suspicion that Dana had hooked me only as a means of arranging a meeting with Sharma. Also, I was jealous of Sharma. I imagined how he would sweep into Dana’s affections if she met him. He’d be all over her in no time while she … damn it, I hated myself for thinking these things as much as I hated the thought that they might be true.

Four days later I went to the temple, having decided that, Dana or no Dana, I’d better stay in Zabrazal’s good books. Although I sat at the back of the congregation and tried to make a quick escape after the service, Dana anticipated my move. She left early by a side door and was waiting for me when I emerged from the main entrance. She rushed up to me, asking, ‘Jina! How are you?’

‘Oh, I’m all right, I guess.’

Dana was wearing a bronze band across her forehead with earrings, a belt, and shoes of the same colour. Her floor-length robe was of a silky material that made me want to caress the shape that was enhanced by its soft folds. Dana looked at me with her ever-luminous eyes and I felt my resolve weakening. It weakened even more when she stretched up and kissed me on my lips. In fact, it weakened so much that I almost capitulated entirely. However, I just managed to get a hold of myself before the point of no return. I pushed Dana away, averted my face, and mumbled, ‘I don’t think that we should see each other any more.’

‘But why not?’

‘Oh, you know, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. I mean, I have to concentrate on my training and – well, as I said, I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

Dana put her hands on her hips, faced me squarely, and said, ‘You’re jealous, aren’t you?’

‘Jealous! Me?’

‘Yes, you!’

I mumbled, ‘No, I’m not.’

Dana clicked her tongue and said, ‘Jina, can you truthfully say that you don’t like me?’ She looked at me closely, sniffed in disbelief, and clicked her tongue again. ‘You see, you can’t say it!’

'I can.'

'Well, then, say it! Come on, Jina, let me hear you say it.' Of course, Dana was right. I couldn't say it. Dana said more gently, 'That’s what I mean. That’s why I say that you’re jealous.’

She was driving me into a corner and I didn’t know how to get out of it. I muttered, ‘Look, Dana, if I say that we shouldn’t see each other again – I mean, isn’t that enough to --?’

‘No, it’s not enough for anything. I don’t believe you!’ She laid a hand on my cheek and said softly, ‘Jina, don’t be jealous.’

My resolve began to crumble. I muttered, ‘Well, you know, maybe I did over--react.’

‘Oh, Jina, you did!’ Dana stroked my cheek and murmured, ‘There’s nothing to be jealous about.’

I mumbled, ‘That’s good.’ Dana eyes were moist. I said, 'I’m sorry – you know – if I upset you –’

Dana snuggled her head against my shoulder, wiped her eyes, and said, ‘It’s about Sharma, isn’t it?’ I nodded. She said, ‘I told you the truth. A friend wants to meet Sharma. That’s the truth, really it is. But if it makes you jealous then let’s forget about it.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s all right. Just forget about it.’

‘Well, maybe I could arrange it.’

‘No, let’s just forget about it. It’s not worth getting upset about.’

By now, my resolve had weakened so much that the crumbled remnants had been swept out of sight on a flood of returning emotions. I kissed Dana. Her lips were moist and soft and as they moved against mine, the lightning began to flicker again along the unguarded ridges of my body. I pushed her away gently and took a deep breath. Holding her at arm’s length, I asked, ‘Who wants to meet Sharma?’

Dana moved away from me and inclined her head, looking at me appraisingly. She asked, ‘Do you promise that you won’t tell?’ I nodded. Dana said insistently, ‘Do you promise by the wrath of Zabrazal?’

‘I promise.’

‘By the wrath of Zabrazal? Say it.’

‘All right, if you insist.’ I pressed both hands to my heart. ‘I promise by the wrath of Zabrazal that I won't reveal the name of this person. May Zabrazal damn me forever if I violate this oath.’

Dana put a finger across her lips, stretched upward, and whispered, ‘Mecolo.’

‘What? Mecolo! Vaxili's daughter?' Dana nodded. I asked incredulously, ' Vaxili's daughter wants to meet Sharma?’

Dana looked around and said quietly, ‘Yes, Mecolo. That’s right.’

I whistled and stood back to consider the situation. Vaxili’s daughter! Whoa! It was no wonder that Dana wasn’t shouting the news from the rooftops. I looked at her, in a final check that she wasn’t playing a poor practical joke on me. Dana just looked back at me with those great luminous eyes – the eyes that always promised to let you into the secret that they held, and promised all the more, the more you looked into them. Yes, she was serious. I asked, ‘How does Mecolo know Sharma?’

‘She doesn’t know him, silly! If she did, why would she want to meet him?’

‘All right, then, what does she know about him?’

Dana said, ‘She saw Sharma in the temple.’

‘Oh, she saw Sharma in the temple and she decided that she wanted to meet him, just like that?’

‘Why not? I saw you in the temple, didn’t I?’

The logic was irrefutable. I said weakly, ‘But the king’s daughter …’

‘Oh, it’s typical of Mecolo – she knows what she wants and she goes straight for it.’

I took a step backwards, giving myself time to think about the matter. The more I thought, the less I liked the idea. I said, ‘I don’t know. It could be –‘

‘Now, Jina, don’t get cold feet.’ Dana pressed herself against me, rubbing her forehead against my chin. ‘Think of what it could mean to you.’ She moved her body against mine, soft and pliable, her arms clasped around me. A whole summer month’s worth of lightning flickered and flashed through me again while the thunder rumbled through my ears and my temples. I tried to fight the storm down and mumbled dry-lipped, ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know.’

Still pressed against me, Dana said softly, ‘Think what it could mean to you, Jina.’

I leaned back against the wall and put my hands against Dana’s shoulders to put space between us. I said, ‘I am thinking about it.’

‘Well?’

‘I’m thinking that it could mean big trouble.’

Dana pressed one of my hands against her cheek. ‘Trouble? How?’

‘Damn it, Dana, she’s the king’s daughter!’

‘Well, what of it?’

‘What of it? Man, this isn’t like something between you and me, or just any – hey! What’s that for?’ Dana had been nibbling at one of my little fingers, playing it between her teeth and lips. When I tried to withdraw my hand, she looked me straight in my eyes and nipped the tip of the finger. I tugged my hand away, shook it vigorously – it wasn’t the gentlest of bites -- and said, ‘Hey! Careful!’

Dana chuckled. ‘Have I got your attention now?’

‘You didn’t ever not have it.’ I was still shaking my hand as the pain subsided.

‘Good. Now answer me – are you going to be a soldier all your life?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I will be. Why not? Or maybe I'll go back to Osicedi one day. Who knows? Anyway, why are you asking?’

Dana stroked my chin, passing the tips of her fingers lightly to and fro across it. ‘I mean, are you going to stay a plain, simple soldier all the time you’re in the army? Just a plain, simple soldier? Don’t you have any ambition?’

‘Sure, I have ambition.’

‘How much ambition?’

‘I have plenty of ambition.’

‘Exactly!’

‘Exactly what?’

‘Exactly what you should be thinking about – ambition!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Mecolo is the king’s daughter – right?’

‘Which is why –‘

‘Oh, Jina, Jina, you only see the problem. You don’t see the possibility.’

‘Which is --?’

‘That Mecolo will be grateful for any favour that you do for her.’

I said, ‘Sure, she might be grateful. But there’s also a possibility – a big one – that the king, not to mention a few other people, might not be so grateful.’

Dana laid her hands alongside my face and said earnestly, ‘It’s her risk, not ours. All we’re doing is arranging the meeting. The rest is up to her.’

‘And Sharma.’

‘Yes, and Sharma. But he can make up his own mind, can’t he?’

‘I don’t know. I still think –‘

‘Look, Jina, I can’t speak for you, but speaking for myself, I’m not going to be a seamstress all my life. No ways!’ Dana pressed herself against me again, pulled my head forward, and kissed me. It was a long kiss, moist and luxurious. I found myself responding even while my mind told me that I was being drawn into this matter much too quickly. Then, still with her body against mine, Dana leaned back and asked, 'Do you remember the clouds, Jina?’ I nodded. ‘You remember what you said about how we could float together over the Endless Ocean, or any other place we chose?' I nodded. Dana said, 'Well, Jina, a plain, simple soldier and a poor seamstress aren't free to follow their dreams – not if the dreams are worth anything. To do that, you need something behind you, something big, something that will set you on the right road.’ Still leaning back but holding our bodies close with one arm around my back, Dana rubbed the tip of my nose half playfully and half forcefully. She asked, ‘Do you understand me?'

I nodded, blinked, and pressed against her. The fire was up and I wanted her body to be moulded with mine. Bright-eyed, licking her lower lip speculatively, Dana held me away from her and said, ‘Think of the possibilities, Jina. Think of the possibilities for both of us.’

‘I am thinking.’ It was true that I was trying to think about the future, even if my mind and other parts continually veered away towards possibilities that were more immediate and a lot closer to hand. I murmured 'Yes! Possibilities!' and tried to pull Dana to me but she leaned back with her hands against my chest and asked, ‘You’ll do it?’

‘All right. I guess I will.’

‘You’ll do it tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow? So soon?’

‘Mecolo is impatient. She likes to get what she wants.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Oh, Jina, thank you.’

‘Hold it! I want you to promise that you won’t talk about it.’

Dana chuckled and said, ‘What's salt for the lamb is salt for the beef, isn't it?’ She stood back, put both hands on her heart, and said, ‘I promise by the wrath of Zabrazal.’

‘May Zabrazal punish you if you break the promise?’

Dana nodded and completed the oath.

When I told Sharma that the king’s daughter wanted to meet him, Sharma just laughed at me. He punched me on the shoulder playfully and said, ‘I thought you could come up with a better practical joke than that.’

‘It’s not a practical joke, man!’

‘Oh, come on, Jina – give it up. I’ve got better things to do.’

‘Damn it, man, I’m telling the truth!’

Sharma stopped chuckling and looked at me narrowly. He pursed his lips and asked, ‘You're not kidding?’

‘No. I'm not kidding. I’m serious. I am completely serious.’

Sharma gave me his sidelong look with his left eye half-closed. He flicked his tongue across his top lip, looked at me speculatively, and asked, ‘How come you’re the go-between?’

I explained and Sharma said snorted sceptically, saying ‘A princess and a baker’s daughter?’

‘Why not? Who do you think Vaxili’s daughter has for friends? Do you think they’re going to import some true-blue aristocrat-friends from the Dornites, or from the Usserdites, or what?’

‘All right, all right, I accept that Dana and Mecolo are friends. But how do you know that Dana isn’t playing a practical joke?’

‘Because I know Dana and I can see that she's serious! Anyway, so what if it's a practical joke? Let’s say that we arrange a meeting tomorrow and no one turns up? So what? Or some other woman turns up instead of Mecolo? Again, so what? What have you got to lose?’

‘And what if only Dana turns up?’

‘By Zabrazal, Sharma, that’s a remark in poor taste!’

‘I was just teasing. Hey, man, don't --’

‘I don’t like that sort of teasing! You hear me? I do not like it!’

‘I’m sorry. I apologise. Let’s forget about it. All right?’

I grunted, ‘Apology accepted. Forget about it.’ However, Sharma’s imputation rankled with me for a long time after that.

In spite of Dana’s schemes, Sharma and Mecolo had to wait a while longer to meet. That night, the bugles sounded just before midnight. Their shrill notes hauled us out of the depths of sleep and dumped us in the rough discomforts of the world around us. Cursing and complaining, we tumbled out of bed, trying to light lamps, falling over each other, tripping over our boots, and scratching around for our weapons and equipment. Commanders bellowed instructions, raging at the muddled confusion and trying to get their units together in the dim, flickering light of torches. It took nearly an hour for the whole army to assemble on the parade ground and even then there was still a lot of shuffling, bumping, coughing, swearing, hitching of belts and straps and adjusting of equipment.

Finally, when the army settled down into a semblance of order, Vaxili addressed us briefly. He told us that a Dornite army had swept in from the south-east, looting, taking captives and occupying a large tract of territory. Tersely, he reminded us of what we had learned during our period of training. This, he said, was our first big test and for the sake of Keirine and ourselves we dared not fail it.

So this was it! This was the big one – us against the Dornites, the first head-to-head between the army of the Kingdom of Keirine and the ancient enemy. All of us were excited and some were even elated. However, those feelings were buried under the discomfort of broken sleep, the weight of our packs, and the usual chaffing of soldiers under discipline. Yawning and muttering, the army trudged out of camp and took the road that led south from Koraina – the same road that Dana and I had wandered along a few days earlier. There were shouts and curses in the dark as the commanders tried to keep order and more curses as men stumbled over obstacles or collided with each other. To add to the confusion, messengers on horseback forced their way through the ranks. Most of my comrades had never been near horses before and were terrified of them. At the sight of these dark forms, huge and alien against the dim night sky, men scattered to left and right. Zaliek cursed at them and shouted, ‘How the hell do you think you’re going to stand up to the Dornite cavalry when you run like children from a single horse?’ It was a pertinent question.

By mid--afternoon, we were marching through countryside that had been pillaged by the Dornites. Hearing that the army was approaching, the inhabitants began to come down from their places of refuge in the hills. As we marched through a large village where just about every house had been damaged or destroyed, people lined the roadside, grim-faced, shouting and jeering at us:

‘What good is an army that arrives when the Dornites have already left?’

‘What are we paying taxes for – just to feed your fat stomachs, eh?’

‘When you’ve finished fighting the Dornites, come back and rebuild our houses, if any of you survive.’

An old man was sitting on a stool in front of his house surrounded by pieces of broken furniture. As our unit marched past him, he heaved himself to his feet and shouted in a high, thin voice, ‘May Zabrazal damn you to deepest darkness!’ He tried to pelt us with stones but he was so feeble that the missiles didn’t reach us. When he exhausted his supply of stones, he shouted, ‘You should have your faces smeared with cow dung.’ It was an extreme insult. Zaliek heard the muttering in the ranks and shouted, ‘Eyes front! Pick up the pace – hup, hup!’

A young woman came out of the house next door, made a derogatory gesture with her fingers, and shouted, ‘They raped his wife and then cut her throat. A woman of sixty years of age and him nearly seventy! They made him watch. Where were you? Are you here to protect the living or to bury the dead?’

Zaliek didn’t even flash a glance at her. He just bellowed at us, ‘The next man who doesn’t keep his eyes to the front will be put on heavy duty! Hup, hup!’

Sharma hissed, ‘We’ve killed three Dornites already, you and me, but I’ll be a lot happier when we’ve killed three hundred of the bastards.’

‘Or three thousand?’ I said it ironically but Sharma flicked an approving look at me and nodded.

I quoted Zaliek’s maxim: ‘Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.’

Sharma said, ‘Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll be thinking clearly when we get to grips with them.’

‘That’s good. Keep it like that.' The destruction all around us brought it home to me that the enemy was close at hand. Dry-lipped, I said, 'You’ll need a clear head and steady nerves. Facing those bastards isn't going to be easy.’

‘Are you worried?’

‘Worried? No, I’m just scared out of my mind, that’s all.’

We marched along in silence for a while before Sharma said, ‘Me too. But don’t worry – we’ll be all right when we get to grips with them.’ Then, after a few seconds, he said quietly, ‘When we meet them, I won’t forget what they’ve done to our people.’

CHAPTER SEVEN: SOLDIERS OF KEIRINE

Next day, we met the Dornites at Gandonda. Shivering in the morning chill and blanketed in mist, our army advanced down the valley from the north-west. Dornite bugles sounded somewhere in front of us, muffled in the thick air, and from time to time through drifting gaps in the mist we could see signs of distant movements. Then, as we advanced and the mist began to lift, we saw that the Dornites had formed up at the shallow head of the valley. From our position, the Dornite army looked like a gleaming belt that stretched across the floor of the valley. They stood there in complete silence, immobile except for the occasional movement of a horse or the light wafting of breeze-blown plumes. It was eerie, like confronting a life-sized, life-like, petrified frieze.

At a distance of about one thousand paces, Vaxili halted the advance and re-formed our line, strengthening the centre and drawing our flanks forward so that they advanced along the sides of the valley. At that point, Zaliek planted himself in front of our squad and said, ‘Good luck! Remember your training. This is where I leave you.’

There were protests but Zaliek silenced us with a gesture and said firmly, ‘My contract calls for me to train you not to fight against the Dornites.’

Someone called out, ‘Are you afraid?’

Zaliek’s eyes narrowed as he replied, ‘No, Nadali, I’m not a coward. But I’ll tell you one thing – if the Dornites capture you, they won't kill you. In fact, they’ll be only too happy to take you alive. But if they capture me, they’ll kill me in ways that you don't want to know about. I need to be paid double if I’m going to face danger like that. Anyway, it’s not my fight, is it? You’re the soldiers of Keirine, not me.’ He saluted us, hitched his sword over his shoulder, Dornite-style, and moved towards the rear.

Sharma broke ranks and followed Zaliek. He trotted back within a few minutes, looking bleak. He pulled me towards him and whispered, ‘It’s like I thought. Zaliek says this is crazy.’

‘What’s crazy?’

‘We’re fighting in level country. The Dornites have all the advantages – cavalry, chariots, and room to maneuver. We’re playing into their hands.’

‘Thanks, Sharma, you’ve just made me feel a lot better.’

‘I’m just telling you what Zaliek said.’

‘Well, it’s too damn late now, isn’t it?’ Sharma licked his lips, grunted gloomily, and hitched up his breastplate. The line of Dornite infantry was moving towards us at a steady trot. My stomach tightened and I muttered, ‘Oh, man, may Zabrazal protect us. We’re going to need it.’

Sharma snorted. ‘Zabrazal might not be with us.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Izebol performed a sacrifice.’ He licked his lips again.

‘Yes? So what?’

‘The omens weren’t favourable.’

‘What?! We’re going into battle against the omens?’

Sharma shrugged and said grimly, ‘That’s what Zaliek said.’

I cursed as heartily as I ever had before or since. ‘Is Vaxili crazy, sending us into battle against the omens?’ Sharma just shrugged grimly. I asked, 'What does Izebol say about it?'

Sharma’s mouth tightened and he muttered, ‘Zaliek says that Izebol has no say in the matter. Vaxili told Izebol to keep out of the army’s affairs.’

‘Oh, that’s a great move, just when we need all the help that we can get. Hey, man, isn’t that a really great move?’ Sharma just grunted again while I cursed. ‘Damn! Against the omens! I can’t believe it.’

Sharma nodded even more gloomily and, as he eyed the inexorably advancing line, muttered, 'We don't need the omens to tell us that we're heading for trouble.' For about the tenth time in five minutes, he hitched up his breastplate, scratched under his helmet strap, and licked his lips. In spite of my own stomach-wrenching, skin-scratchy apprehension, I was comforted to see that the normally cool-headed Sharma was as skittish as a colt.

Suddenly we heard shouted commands from the enemy force. The Dornite line trembled like silver foil shaken in the wind and the soldiers increased their pace. A subdued rustling whisper reached our ears, like wind rushing down a distant mountain side. It was the soughing of thousands of men advancing at a quick trot, line abreast, through knee-high grass. Then we heard the sound of the Dornite’s war chant – a steady, rhythmical hymn that rolled with a deep underlying menace. Until then, we could have been involved in war games, doing nothing more serious than feinting and maneuvering. Now, as the war chant rolled in our ears, it was confirmed to us – seriously, deeply, with utmost conviction – that within a few minutes we would be the targets of heavily armed men who intended to kill us, maim us, or, if they overcame us and we survived, take us into slavery. Quiet fell like a sodden sheet across the army of Keirine – a deep, reflective silence.

With his eyes fixed on the approaching Dornites, Sharma murmured, ‘Vaxili said that the omens only meant that Izebol and the other priests should get off the battle field and leave the army to conduct its own affairs.’

My mouth was dry, my pulse was throbbing, and my skin was as prickly as if I had rolled all night in a bed of cactus. I muttered with conviction, ‘It sounds like damn good advice. If Izebol has any sense, he’ll get out of here as fast as he can.’

The Dornites attacked with their infantry in the centre and then sent their cavalry to harass our left flank. Our men fought bravely enough but inexperience soon showed. When our centre began to fall back, our commanders failed to notice that the line between the centre and the flank was stretching thin. It was the signal for the Dornites to unleash their chariots. There were only about thirty chariots but that was more than enough. Our men knew nothing about facing horse-drawn armour and the chariots crashed right through our line and wheeled for a new assault. The cavalry followed, our left flank was isolated, and our disarrayed centre had to fall back even further to ward off the new attack. When the chariots scythed through us from the rear, our centre crumbled and the battle was as good as over.

On the right flank, we withstood the Dornite infantry until we were exposed by the defeat of our centre. After that, it took only one rush by the chariots to tear our ranks to shreds. Following the example of the rest of the army, we broke and ran. Within seconds, our unit deteriorated into a scrambling mob of terrified men, screaming, shoving each other aside and abandoning wounded comrades to their fate. Terror, which had been battened down until that moment, burst forth with energising force and infused us with life-preserving energy. In short, we ran for our lives.

Sharma and I fled together along with men from our squad. Sharma pointed up the slope and panted, ‘Get as high as possible.’ He was right. Being more heavily armed than we were, the Dornites wouldn’t easily follow us into the higher parts of the hills. We scrambled up slopes and crags, panting, cursing, tearing our fingers to shreds and lacerating our knees and shins as we pulled ourselves upward.

After about twenty minutes we stopped to catch our breaths. Looking down from the hillside, we viewed the carnage that was going on below us on the broad floor of the valley. Suddenly, from behind us, someone growled, ‘Where’s the rest of the squad?’ It was Zaliek, looking at us grimly.

I replied, ‘There are some more men coming up the hill, commander.’

From behind a boulder, Zaliek peered down the hillside. He cursed and said, ‘If that’s all that’s left of you lot, I’ll have to get another job.’ Then he grunted approvingly and observed, ‘You’ve still got your weapons, eh? At least I taught you something useful.’ He surveyed us sadly and shook his head mournfully. ‘Damn fool tactics, taking on the Dornites at their own game. A hard lesson, not so?’

About half of our squad survived the battle. Zaliek got us together and led us further into the hills where he settled us down in a protected position and posted scouts, instructing them to report any approach by the Dornites. We were still there when night fell. Zaliek withdrew the scouts, saying, ‘The Dornites won’t attack in the dark, even if they know where we are – which I doubt.’ He unslung his sword, stretched, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, ‘We’ll stay here until first light and then we’ll head for Koraina. We should be all right if we stay on the high ground.’

Half admiringly and half resentfully, Sharma asked him, ‘Is this in your contract, commander?’

Zaliek scowled and replied truculently, 'No, but I won’t have a job if the Dornites wipe out my unit, will I?’

We settled down in discomfort without food, water, or protection against the chill of the night. Sharma and I slumped against a boulder, absorbing its warmth into our weary bodies. However, even in our exhausted states, Sharma wouldn’t allow us to rest for long. I was half asleep when suddenly he sat up, snapped his fingers, and asked, ‘What are the Dornites doing right now?’

‘Hmm? What does it matter?’ I was dead tired and thoroughly drained. I just wanted to sleep. Instead of talking about the Dornites, I wanted to forget about them – wipe them right out of my mind – and in so doing obliterate the memory of the day’s terror and humiliation.

‘The Dornites – what are they doing?’

I roused myself and growled, ‘Celebrating, of course. What else would they be doing?’

Sharma said, ‘Exactly!’

‘Yes, exactly! Like I said, what else?’ I closed my eyes and slid down against the boulder.

Sharma said thoughtfully, ‘Now is the time to strike at them.’

‘What? Attack the Dornites? You must be crazy!’ I was so startled that I grazed my back against the rock as I jerked upright.

Sharma replied, ‘Crazy? I don’t think so.’ He got to his feet and walked off into the darkness while I slumped down again and dozed off.

I don’t remember anything more until about half an hour later when Sharma dug my ribs with his foot and called, ‘On your feet, Jina. It’s time to move.’

‘Huh? I’m trying to sleep, man. Leave me alone.’

Sharma crouched and shook my shoulders. He said, ‘It’s time to move against the Dornites.’

'The battle is over, man. We've been defeated. Let's get some sleep.'

'The battle might be over but there's still a war to be fought. We can harass them enough to stop them from pursuing our men.'

I wriggled upward against the boulder and muttered, ‘Are you serious? I thought it was just another one of your crazy ideas.’

Zaliek loomed over me, a dark form against the stars, and growled, ‘Volunteers only! Are you joining us, or not?’

I yawned, stretched, and said, ‘I guess Sharma's already volunteered me, not so?’

Sharma chuckled grimly and replied, ‘You’re a mind--reader, Jina.’

I yawned again, stumbled to my feet, dusted myself off, and scowled, ‘I just hope that I can still get some sleep tonight.’

Sharma replied placidly, ‘I doubt it.’

Everyone volunteered, more or less willingly, and we set off in single file keeping to the high ground. It was a cloudless night with a quarter moon and we were able to make good progress. After about an hour, we reached the ridge above the Dornite camp. Concealed behind boulders half way down the slope, we mapped out our plan of attack. It was simple: we would divide into two groups, each with a clearly defined mission. The larger group would set fire to the nearest tents and kill the occupants as they emerged while the smaller group would kill or maim as many horses as possible and stampede the rest. We would do it as quickly as possible, restricting our attack to easy targets, after which we would re--assemble and make our escape. Zaliek took the lead in mapping out the plan of attack but refused to accompany us. As he had done that morning before the battle, he growled, ‘My contract doesn’t call for me to take part in fighting against the Dornites.’

Our scouts reported that it looked as if the Dornites hadn’t posted sentries. It seemed that they were so complacent after their overwhelming victory that they weren’t taking even elementary precautions.

Sharma and I were in the group that attacked the tents. As we crawled towards the camp from the bottom of the ridge, my heart was pounding and I was heavy with the foreboding that at any moment we would be seen, exposed as we were on open ground between the tents and the safety of the hills. The nearer we got to the camp, the more I was convinced that each tent contained a group of vigilant, murderous Dornites. I visualised them licking their lips and pricking their fingers on the points of their swords as they watched us crawling towards them. I anticipated that they were just waiting for the appropriate moment to rush out and slake their blood lust by thrusting their swords and spears through our fragile bodies.

To my surprise, nothing happened. We reached the lee of the nearest tent, stood up cautiously, and looked around. There was still no one to be seen although a number of men were lying asleep around the nearest fire. Sharma whispered to me, 'By Zabrazal, they're careless bastards! They'll pay for it. It's our turn now.' He led the way, bounding cat-like towards the men, his swift form silhouetted against the fire. After witnessing the disaster and slaughter of the morning, I felt nothing but grim exultation as I plunged my sword into the body that lay in front of me, arms flung behind his head, torso exposed in careless sleep. I struck in vengeance for the carnage of the day, I struck for Osicedi, I struck for the years of humiliation, and I struck for all of Keirine. I killed four men in quick succession and, when I looked around, I was disappointed to see that there were no more victims to hand.

Next, we lit faggots from the fire, divided into smaller groups, set fire to the nearest tents, and killed the occupants as they tumbled out. Flushed with our success, we wanted to repeat the exercise but the noise and the flames roused the occupants of the neighbouring tents. Sharma called off the attack and we ran back towards the safety of the darkness.

I could see Zaliek’s signal flickering near the top of the ridge and started to follow the others towards it but Sharma grabbed me and said, ‘We can do one more job before we leave.’

‘What? Are you crazy? The whole camp is awake. Let’s get out of here!’

Sharma pointed to a large tent that stood about thirty paces away from us and hissed, ‘I’ll bet that’s the commander’s tent.’

I pulled loose from Sharma's grip. Exultation had faded into apprehension. My stomach was in a knot, I was sweating all over, and I wanted to get away as quickly as possible. I hissed back, ‘All the more reason to avoid it.’

‘Not so!’ Sharma pulled me onto my knees and, with his mouth next to my ear, said, ‘Take a look. It’s unguarded. Follow me.’ Keeping low, he flitted around the perimeter of the camp beyond the perimeter of light. Cursing, I followed him until he stopped when there was only one small tent between us and the large tent. I dropped onto my stomach next to him and asked, ‘What are you planning?’

Sharma hissed, ‘Maybe can get the big one.’

I nodded glumly, thinking that the big one was probably attended by big danger. In my opinion, the best thing for us to do was to get out of there fast -- but I knew that the idea would just bounce off Sharma. He raised himself to his knees and asked, ‘Are you ready?’

I nodded stoically and poised myself for the sprint to the tent.

When we reached our target, Sharma pierced the canvas with a knife and peered through the gash. He grinned at me, nodded, and pointed. I took a quick look and saw a man in the act of getting out of bed. While I watched, he swung his feet onto the floor, yawned, leaned forward, and ran his hands through his disheveled hair.

Sharma nodded and raised a thumb. We split the canvas with our swords and rushed in. The man hardly had time to register our presence before Sharma struck him a blow across the neck and I drove my sword into his ribcage. He gave one startled grunt, toppled over, and fell to the floor next to the bed. Withdrawing my sword, I turned to leave but Sharma grabbed my arm. He said, ‘Wait! There’s one more thing to do.’

‘He's dead! For God’s sake, let’s get out of here!’

Sharma gave me an impatient glare, dragged the body to the middle of the floor, and unsheathed a broadsword that was hanging on a tent pole. He hissed, ‘Just getting a souvenir of our visit.’ He brought the sword down on the neck of the corpse. The blow almost completely severed the head from the body. Sharma hacked once more and the head rolled free. He stuffed the head into a canvas bag, slung it over his shoulder, and jerked his thumb in a let's-go motion.

I said, ‘Hang on! It’s my turn now.’ I picked up a torch and flung it against the canvas. Then I followed Sharma into the darkness.

We escaped without being noticed and made our way to the place where Zaliek’s light still flickered. When we got there, Zaliek cursed us and growled, ‘What kept you? You’re holding us up.’

Sharma said lightly, ‘We had some extra business to attend to.’

I pointed to the Dornite camp, where the large tent had just collapsed in a circle of fire, and said, ‘That was part of the business, commander.’

Zaliek gave a grudging nod of acceptance. Then he looked at the bag that Sharma was carrying and said disapprovingly, ‘I see you had enough time to collect some loot.’

Sharma grinned mischievously, saying smugly, ‘It’s not loot, commander. It’s a souvenir.’

‘A souvenir! Same thing! Any way you look at it, you could have got killed for it.’ Zaliek cursed, extinguished the torch, and growled, ‘Get moving. The Dornites will be on our trail soon.’

Sharma said smugly, ‘Maybe not, commander.’

Zaliek just snorted sceptically and led the way towards the top of the ridge.

We travelled for the rest of the night, only stopping for short periods. At daybreak, we reached an abandoned village where we were able to get water, fruit, and some dry bread. There we met two of our scouts who told us that Vaxili had regrouped what remained of our army and was trying to establish a defensive position.

While we paused for refreshment, Zaliek pointed to the bag that Sharma was carrying and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The floor of the bag was soiled with a blotchy, red-brown stain. Zaliek said, ‘That bag is disgusting. What did you steal – a lump of meat?’

Sharma replied smugly, ‘Better than that, commander.’ He reached into the bag and hauled out the head, swinging it by the hair.

Zaliek’s eyes widened. He took a closer look, whistled and said, ‘By Melok, that’s the head of Drunuk.’ He whistled again and looked at Sharma in admiration. ‘That’s their commander. Do you know that?’

Sharma replied in a self--satisfied tone, ‘We thought as much, commander.’

I said, ‘Perhaps the Dornites won’t be following us, commander.’

Zaliek rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, ‘You haven't just bought us some time. You've bought time for the whole of Keirine. Only the Dornite federal council can appoint a new general. That means that they’ll probably be arguing about who's in charge instead of following us.’ His face split in a wide, slow grin. ‘And, if I know the Dornites, they won't stop arguing for a few months, until they've made a new appointment.’ Still grinning happily, he snorted and said, ‘The Dornites spend half their time arguing about who’s going to be the commander of their army. The rest of the time, they argue about who’s going to replace him.’

At the time, I wondered once again how Zaliek knew so much about the Dornites. It seemed to lend credibility to the theory that he was a Dornite himself even if most people thought that he came from somewhere to the south of Kitilat. Was Zaliek telling the truth when he said that the Dornites had a particular hatred of him or was that a cover for something else? Cowardice? No, I didn’t think so. Unwilling to fight against his own people? It could be. I shrugged the thought away. There were more immediate matters to attend to.

After a few hours we reached the large village that we marched through on the way to the battlefield. Vaxili had gathered the remnant of the army there and was trying to organise a defensive position that incorporated the outer ring of houses into a system of ditches and earth walls. However, the troops were tired and dispirited and not much had been done. As Sharma remarked as we entered the village, an attack by the Dornites during the next few hours would almost certainly force a retreat if in fact it didn't inflict another crushing defeat.

Vaxili himself rode out to meet us. Zaliek halted, saluted, and made a brief report after which Vaxili nodded despondently and said, ‘Get something to eat and drink. You’ll find what you need in the village. Then report to the south--eastern sector.’ He wheeled his horse but Zaliek stopped him, saying, ‘My lord, we have something here that will interest you.’

Vaxili asked wearily, ‘What is it?’ Zaliek nodded to Sharma, who pulled the head from the bag and held it up. Vaxili wrinkled his nose in disgust and asked disdainfully, ‘Are we as savage as the Dornites, that we carry the heads of our enemies around with us?’

Zaliek said, ‘Your majesty, it is the head of Drunuk.’

‘Drunuk! Drunuk, you say? Is that so?’ Vaxili’s eyes widened and he leaned forward to take a closer look. He gave a long whistle. ‘Drunuk, eh?’ Vaxili smiled for the first time. ‘Drunuk dead! That changes things. Oh, yes, that certainly changes things.’ He got down from his horse, planted himself in front of us, and said, ‘Tell me about it.’

When we had told our story, Vaxili took off his helmet, scratched his head vigorously, and grinned in satisfaction. He said, ‘This is a great service to Keirine. You’ve bought us time to reorganise.’ Putting his hands on our shoulders, he said, ‘Your service to Keirine will be recognised.’

Next day, when we marched into Koraina, our squad led the column with Sharma and me in the front rank. Sharma held the head of Drunuk aloft on a lance where it bobbed before us as a macabre symbol of success in the midst of defeat.

The inhabitants of Koraina lined the road as we approached the town. The mood was grey and sombre. Instead of a victory march, this was the return of a force that had lost more than a third of its men, many of whom were husbands, relatives and friends of the people of Koraina. Also, there was an air of foreboding because the defeat increased the likelihood that the Dornites would sweep into southern Keirine with renewed confidence, wreaking more destruction and conquering more territory.

As we marched through the crowd, a young woman suddenly ran forward. She was dressed in a robe of pastel colours with a golden ringlet on her head. Taller than the average, her elegant figure was enhanced by fastidious grooming and fine fabrics. Running up to Sharma, she draped her scarf around his neck and called out, ‘Sharma has killed Drunuk and Keirine rejoices.’ Dancing in front us, ululating and holding up her hands, she cried, ‘By the stroke of his sword, Sharma has turned defeat into victory.’

Sharma called out, ‘Don’t forget my comrade Jina! We both killed Drunuk.’

The woman called out, ‘Jina is also a hero of Keirine.’ Turning towards me, she asked, ‘Are you the Jina who is Dana’s friend?’

I nodded. The woman gestured to the crowd and called, ‘Join us, Dana. Join us to honour Jina as well.’

Dana ran forward, calling out, ‘Keirine rejoices in Jina and Sharma.’ She kissed me, causing me to break step. Zaliek shouted, ‘No women in the ranks! This is a line of march not a dancing troupe.’ Then he said more gently, ‘My lady Mecolo, please do not mingle with the troops.’

She laughed and replied, ‘Zaliek, you know that I would never come between you and your duty.’

Mecolo! So this was Vaxili’s daughter, Mecolo! Sharma and I glanced at each other. He gave me a knowing grin and then, looking ahead again, called out, ‘My lady Mecolo, I dedicate this success to you.’

Zaliek shouted, ‘Quiet in the ranks! The next man to speak will face a disciplinary charge.’

As more young women joined Mecolo and Dana, the group danced ahead of us, ululating and calling out, ‘Drunuk is dead. The enemy of Keirine has perished.’ Whirling and swaying, Mecolo began a song:

Sharma of Osicedi, soldier of Keirine,

On a lance he bears Drunuk high.

Jina of Osicedi, comrade of Sharma,

With his sword he laid Drunuk low.

Her companions joined in, singing and ululating, while Mecolo whirled ever more swiftly with her arms stretched above her head and with her gown swirling about her, bell--like. The crowd closed in, shouting encouragement and calling out, ‘Sharma! Sharma! Jina! Jina! A thousand like Sharma and Jina, and Keirine is safe.’

Vaxili had been riding just behind our detachment but now he forced his way to the head of the procession and called out tersely, ‘Mecolo, your father greets you.’

Mecolo ran to him and put a hand on his leg. Walking by Vaxili’s side, she said, 'Mecolo and all of Keirine greet the king. They thank Zabrazal that he is safe and well.’

Vaxili frowned, bent down, and said something sharp to Mecolo. She bit her lip, shook her head, and said something in return. Vaxili frowned even more. He gesticulated dismissively at Mecolo’s companions and then at our detachment. Mecolo tossed her head, whirled around, and called to her companions resentfully, ‘We are mere women! The king says, let the soldiers march without the interference of women.’ They ran off and the crowd opened up to give us unobstructed passage into the centre of Koraina.

The army assembled in front of the temple and Izebol appeared on the top step, dressed in his full high priestly regalia. Vaxili moved towards him but Izebol waved him away with an abrupt gesture. Vaxili stopped short as if he had been struck in the face before he turned on his heel and stalked down the steps to take up a position in front of the first rank.

Izebol raised his arms and waited for silence. He called out, ‘Zabrazal grieves when his people grieve.’ Izebol paused, looked over the assembled company, and then fixed his eyes on Vaxili. He said ringingly, ‘Zabrazal speaks through his priests and Zabrazal speaks through the omens. Zabrazal will walk with you in all your endeavours if you open your ears to the words of the priests and open your eyes to the message of the omens.’ Izebol stood for a while with folded arms and lowered chin, looking out over the army and saying nothing more. There was a deep silence. Then Izebol raised his arms, pronounced a short benediction, and turned on his heels.

As Sharma and I walked back to the camp together, I remarked, ‘Mecolo is too bold.’

‘Oh? You think so?’

‘Already she could mean trouble for us.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, for one thing, Vaxili wasn’t pleased that she neglected him while she favoured us. He won't forget it.’

Sharma grunted dismissively. Then he clapped me on the back and said cheerfully, ‘Jina, my old friend, you worry too much. If you’re not worrying about Zabrazal you’re worrying about Vaxili.’

'Perhaps there's reason to worry.'

Sharma draped an arm around my shoulders and said confidently, ‘Forget about it, man. We’re nothing in the eyes of gods and kings. To them, we’re just insignificant creatures, not worthy of their attention.’

I said, ‘Even gods and kings will trample on insects if they cause annoyance.’ I meant what I said. I remembered the look on Vaxili's face when he called out to Mecolo. Worse still, I remembered the looks that he gave Sharma and me while he was talking to Mecolo. The only consolation – a small consolation -- was that Mecolo had her sights set on Sharma and not on me. Now that I had met Mecolo I could see that people spoke the truth when they said that she was vivacious, graceful and desirable. She was all of those things, and more – but rather Sharma than me. Yes, I thought, rather Sharma than me.

I resolved to go to the temple to make my peace with Zabrazal. While I thought about it, I wondered if I had earned pluses or minuses on his divine scoreboard. Surely I had been given plenty of pluses for bravery in the service of Keirine? On the other hand, maybe I’d been awarded minuses for being the centre of public attention, even if only briefly? However, when I added up everything on my mental scoreboard, it seemed to me that the pluses must surely predominate. After all, didn’t Zabrazal have a particular affection for those who wielded the sword in the service of Keirine? On the other hand, didn't I have pride and exaltation in my heart when I looked back on my escapades in the Dornite camp? My heart sank a little and pleasurable certainty declined into apprehension. Pluses or minuses, pluses or minuses? I didn't know. I really didn’t know. That was all the more reason to make my peace with the jealous Zabrazal. In the morning I would go to the temple as a humble supplicant.

CHAPTER EIGHT: ZABRAZAL MIGHT BE JEALOUS

A day later, I saw Dana again. Judging by the warmth of her embrace, my share in her affection had reached a new high. She wanted to know all about the battle and in particular about our attack on the Dornite camp. When I finished telling the story, Dana embraced me again, giving me a long kiss that set the lightning playing across my body. I pulled her closer to me but she chuckled and moved away. Eyes shining, she swayed and began to sing the song that Mecolo composed as she danced before us:

Sharma of Osicedi, soldier of Keirine,

On a lance he bears Drunuk high.

Jina of Osicedi …

I put a finger on her lips and said, ‘No more, Dana.’

She removed my finger, kissed it, and asked, ‘Why not? Don’t you like to be praised?’

She looked at me so comically that I had to laugh. I said, ‘Oh, for sure, I like praise. Who doesn’t? But I don’t like to tempt fate.’

‘Tempt fate? What on earth do you mean?’

‘I mean just what I say.’

‘How are you tempting fate?’

‘Zabrazal is a jealous god.’

Dana said teasingly, ‘You sound like a priest.’

‘I don’t know how to say it any other way.’

‘Jina, Jina, do you really think that Zabrazal will be jealous of your achievements?’ Dana took my face in her hands, saw the look in my eyes, and said, ‘Oh, you really do, don’t you?’ She stretched upwards, kissed me, and asked, ‘Can I say that I’m proud of you?’

‘I guess you can.’

Still stretched up against me, Dana said, ‘This is just between the two of us. Is that making too much fuss about it? Will Zabrazal be jealous if I say it just to you?’

‘Zabrazal sees and knows everything.’

'Even the thoughts and words of lovers? What an inquisitive being he is. Then I guess he deserves what he sees and hears.' Dana laughed, took my hand, and asked, ‘Shall we walk for a while?’

We strolled hand in hand. Then Dana said, ‘I don’t know about Zabrazal being jealous but I do know someone who you have to watch out for.’

‘Who’s that?’

Dana gave me a swift sidelong look and said simply, ‘Vaxili.’

‘Tell me more.’

Dana pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. ‘Maybe I’m wrong, but – I don’t really know for sure –‘

‘Come on, Dana, tell me what you know.’

Dana stopped walking, looked me in the eye, and said, ‘Vaxili is angry with Mecolo.’

‘I’m not surprised. Mecolo made a mistake. She should have honoured her father first.’

Dana gave a short laugh, saying, ‘There wasn’t much to celebrate, was there?’

‘Nevertheless --.’ I shrugged.

Dana pulled a wry face and said softly, ‘Yes! Nevertheless, Vaxili is her father, and he is the king. Mecolo should have been more prudent.' She said in a low voice, 'Sharma should be careful – and maybe so should you.’

I took her hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you. I’ll be careful.’

Dana said, ‘Mecolo still wants to meet Sharma.’

‘Oh, really? It sounds like she'd do better to lie low for a while.’

Dana wrinkled her nose sceptically, saying, ‘Tell that to Mecolo!’

‘Damn it, Dana, tell Mecolo to cool it! Tell her to put her head down and to keep it there for a few months.’

Dana gave a short laugh. ‘You don’t know Mecolo like I know her.’

‘Meaning --?’

‘She’s stubborn. She’s just about the most stubborn person that I’ve ever met.’

By Zabrazal, I didn’t like this business involving Sharma and Mecolo. In fact, the more I thought about it the more risky and foolhardy it appeared to be. When I said that to Dana, she replied truculently, ‘I can’t tell Mecolo that. She won’t take “no” for an answer.’

I felt that I was being tossed this way and that like a leaf in a blustery wind. Also, like a fallen leaf, I didn’t have any place to which I could anchor myself. After a few minutes of this mental buffeting, I said, ‘All right, let’s look at it this way -- it’s for Mecolo and Sharma to decide. It's their business, not ours.’

Dana replied in a relieved tone, ‘Of course! What else?’

Reluctantly, I agreed to keep my promise by arranging a meeting between Mecolo and Sharma.

In the meanwhile, the army had to be rebuilt and it had to happen quickly. Jainar took control of the task. Speaking at a parade that was held about one week after the battle of Gandonda, he admitted with unusual frankness that the high command was responsible for the defeat. He also admitted that the army had been completely unprepared for the superiority that the Dornites enjoyed in experience, weapons and equipment. Jainar's speech didn't bring back our dead and captured comrades and it didn't turn defeat into victory but at least it boosted morale by giving the troops the impression that the same mistakes wouldn't be repeated.

The fact that Vaxili didn't attend the parade didn’t improve his reputation in the eyes of the men. The general opinion was that Vaxili had sent Jainar to do his work for him because he lacked the courage to face the army himself.

Nervously and apprehensively, everyone waited for the Dornites to press home the advantage that they gained after the battle. However, they didn’t do so. It seemed that the death of Drunuk really had given Keirine a breathing space. Jainar and his commanders used the time well, buying new armour and equipment and enrolling and training new recruits. In the face of the fresh-faced ignorance of these newcomers, Sharma and I felt like veterans. We had survived basic training, we had lived through our first battle and, most importantly, we had come away with honour and fame. In spite of my inclination to lie low in the face of Zabrazal’s censorious scrutiny, I allowed myself a hint of a swagger when we passed a squad of new recruits. God, they looked young and green to someone like me, who had been through the storm and had emerged as a hero. I even tried my swagger on my brother, Abozi, who was one of the newcomers. However, he just laughed at me, imitated my mannerisms satirically, and said that one corn cake didn't make a meal. He also said, in his characteristically sardonic manner, 'My dear brother Jina, you're only as good as your next performance. You'd better start thinking about how you're going to live up to your giant-killing reputation. After all, you don’t want to disappoint your admirers.' Abozi was young -- in fact, he was under-age for a recruit -- but he had a sober head on his shoulders. It was good to know that he was around and in fact, although I wouldn’t have admitted it, it was even good to be brought down to earth by him from time to time.

About three days after my conversation with Dana, the meeting between Sharma and Mecolo took place. They decided to meet at the stables because Dana and Mecolo often went there. They had become enthusiastic riders during the last few months, ever since Vaxili acquired horses from Kitilat. As women, they caused a stir not only by riding but also by doing so in men’s leather breeches that fitted tightly at the waist, flared out over the hips – the modestly moral flare, as Dana called it – and then tightened from the knees down to the ankles.

Dana met Sharma and me behind the stables and took us inside where Mecolo was tending to her horse. After making a show of introducing me to Mecolo, Dana casually introduced Sharma to her. Sharma took Mecolo’s hand, bowed over it, and said, ‘My lady Mecolo, I have heard a lot about you.’

‘All of it good, I hope?’

‘All of it excellent, my lady. But no one has ever done justice to your beauty. Perhaps no one could ever find the right words.’

I cringed inwardly. I never could abide flattery. However, Sharma had no compunction in laying it on like plaster on a brick wall when a woman was involved and when he judged that he would profit by it. To me, it was so blatant that it embarrassed me just to see or hear it. However, instead of being repulsed by Sharma's flattery, most women rose to the bait like fish to a garish lure. In spite of her position, Mecolo wasn’t any different. Looking at him from under lowered eye-lashes, she said, ‘They say that beauty is only skin deep.’

Still holding her hand, Sharma gave another little bow and said, ‘Perhaps it is with ordinary mortals. But in your case, my lady, I can see that it goes much deeper than that, like a lamp glass reflecting its flame.’

Mecolo’s eyes flickered with pleasure and amusement. She released her hand, stood back, and said lightly, ‘You’re the same Sharma as carried the head of Drunuk on a lance, not so?’

Sharma’s eyes gleamed with pleasure but he replied straight-faced, ‘I had no idea that you knew about it, my lady.’

‘Oh, it just happened to come to my attention. But, you know, I’ve had something on my mind ever since the army arrived back in town. Do you mind if I ask you a question?’

Sharma took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it, looked her in the eye, and said, ‘I am helpless before your beauty, my lady. Ask whatever you will.’ By God, he could lay it on thick when he wanted to! Didn’t he realise that he sounded like a simpering fop? Apparently not! Or maybe he didn’t care when a woman was concerned.

Mecolo liked having it laid on her. That was plain to see – in fact, she liked it a lot. She asked, ‘Tell me, how did you overcome such a famous Dornite warrior?’

With a straight face, Sharma replied, ‘In spite of his accomplishments, it seems that Drunuk was inclined to lose his head rather easily.’

‘That’s true. One would expect more of a Dornite general. But perhaps you shouldn’t have been lurking about outside his tent.’

‘Lurking, my lady? It seems that you’ve been misinformed.’

‘Oh, really? You weren’t lurking?’

‘My lady, I can assure you that there were Dornite soldiers all around us. In the middle of a Dornite camp, there’s no time for lurking.’

Mecolo laughed. ‘I’m glad to hear it. I would hate to think that you were the type to lurk.’

Dana plucked at my sleeve and whispered, ‘We’ve done what we came here to do.’

Outside, I said, ‘I’ll never get used to the way that Sharma makes up to women. Never!’

Dana laughed admiringly and replied, ‘He’s a smooth operator, isn’t he? In fact, he’s charming.’

‘Charming? You think so?’

‘Of course! He likes women, he shows it, and he pays attention to them. That's all part of his charm.’ Dana looked at me, laughed, and took my hand, saying, ‘Oh, Jina, don’t be jealous!’

‘Jealous? Me? Ha!’

‘Well, by the look on your face, either you’re jealous or you’ve got a stomach ache.’

Jealous? Me? I grabbed Dana by the waist and lifted her onto the railing of the horse pen. As I released my hold, she began to topple forward. I grabbed her again while she laughed uncertainly and steadied herself, gripping the top rail and tucking her feet under the lower rail. I took hold of her ankles and asked, ‘Do you still think I’m jealous?’

‘Jina! Careful! I’ll fall off!’

I tightened my grip and asked, ‘Jealous, am I?’

Dana wriggled, trying to get a firmer seat. She replied, half in amusement and half in alarm, ‘No, maybe not jealous.’ She reached for my shoulders but I leaned back, still holding her ankles.

‘What, then?’

‘Jina, if you make me fall, I’ll -' She grabbed hold of the railing again.

‘What, then?’

‘I would say that you’re concerned.’ She said the words with a mixture of amusement and desperation.

‘Concerned, am I? Concerned about what?’

‘You’re concerned about me.’

I grasped her under her arms and pulled her forward. Holding her against me, I lowered her to the ground. I said, ‘Yes, that’s right. Don’t forget it.’

Dana pulled my head forward, kissed me, and murmured, ‘You know what? You’re charming in your own way.’

That evening, I asked Sharma how he had enjoyed meeting Mecolo. He merely replied, ‘I’ll be seeing Mecolo again tomorrow.’ His voice was half-smug and half-defiant.

It was the answer that I expected but hoped not to hear. I replied, ‘I wouldn’t advise it.’

'You wouldn't, eh? Why not?’

‘Damn it, Sharma, don’t pretend to be naïve! She’s Vaxili’s daughter!’

‘She’s also beautiful and intelligent.’

‘And she has a slender neck, deep dark eyes, a graceful walk, dimples on her toes, a little round belly button, and–‘

Sharma growled, ‘Are you mocking me, Jina?’

I stood my ground. ‘No. Any man would find Mecolo attractive.'

'You too, Jina? You also find her attractive?'

'Yes. Of course I do. But that’s not the point.’

‘What is the point?’

‘Sharma, are you stupid, or obstinate, or what?’

‘None of those!’

‘Well, then, you’d better listen to me and listen well, before you get into this thing so deep that the water’s way above your head. Mecolo is Vaxili’s daughter and he’s not going to be pleased if you start something with her.’

‘You mean that he thinks that I’m not good enough for her?’

I sighed inwardly. God, Sharma could be pig-headed and blinder than the blind when he set his sights on a woman. I replied, ‘Sharma, let’s stop beating about the bush. To put it plainly, in the eyes of the king, I’m not good enough for Mecolo, you’re not good enough for Mecolo, and just about every man in the whole damn army, not to mention every man in the rest of Keirine, isn't good enough for Mecolo. Don’t take it personally. It’s just the way it is.'

Sharma’s eyes narrowed. He put his chin forward and said, ‘Mecolo seems to think I’m good enough.’

‘Oh, congratulations, Sharma! You’ve charmed the king’s daughter and you think that means that you’ll charm the king as well.’

‘You’re just jealous!’

One accusation in a day was enough, twice was too much. I felt like beating something with sheer frustration. Sharma, the brick wall, the ground under my feet – just about anything would do. I got a hold of myself and said, ‘Look, Sharma, I happen to know that Vaxili might not be pleased with us.’

Sharma gave a short laugh. ‘Already? What have we done?’

‘You remember when Mecolo joined the procession?’ Sharma nodded. I continued, ‘Well, you’ll also remember that she wasn’t exactly forward in greeting Vaxili, not so?’

Sharma shrugged dismissively. ‘So what? Vaxili had a lot on his mind. Like I said, he wouldn't even have noticed us.’

‘What – not notice us? He spoke to us and asked our names, or have you forgotten? Then we marched into Koraina waving Drunuk's head on a spear with his daughter dancing before us singing our praises. And you still think Vaxili hasn't noticed us? Man, Sharma, come down to earth!’

Sharma's eyes narrowed and he said sullenly, ‘Huh! I guess that Dana’s been speaking to you.’

‘So what if she has? Do you think she doesn't know what's going on just because she isn't a king's daughter?’

The conversation ended without conclusion. I knew Sharma well enough to see that he wasn’t going to take my advice on this matter, no matter how hard I pressed him. Sharma and women! How could someone as cool-headed and resourceful as Sharma become so short-sighted and pig-headed when he set his sights on a woman? In all the years that I have known Sharma, I have never found a satisfactory answer to that question. Now I never will – not that it will matter, anyway.

Later, I asked myself if Sharma was playing a deeper game than the ancient one that men and women always play. Did Sharma think that he could kill two birds with one stone: land the fish safely and net Vaxili’s goodwill as well? Did he think that he could play for big stakes against heavy odds and win the grand prize? Yes, it looked like he did. But how did he think he was going to do it? I shook my head and tried to stop worrying about the matter. After all, it was Sharma’s business and his alone. He would suffer the consequences or reap the rewards, not me. At least, that is what I told myself.

Five days later, Dana told me that she would be going away for about a week. Vaxili’s mother would be celebrating her sixtieth birthday and Vaxili was sending Mecolo and his two younger sons to attend the occasion while Dana had been selected accompany Mecolo as her personal attendant.

I said, ‘I didn't know that you were one of Mecolo’s attendants.’

Dana said with affected nonchalance, ‘I'm not one of Mecolo's official attendants but she's selected me for this occasion.’ She couldn't hide the note of self--satisfaction in her voice.

‘Selected for services rendered?’

Dana’s eyes flashed. She put up a finger and said, ‘Watch your words, Jina! You think I’m not suitable to be an attendant, don’t you?’ Dana put her hands on her hips and thrust the words at me. ‘You think just because my father is a cook –‘

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘What did you mean, then?’

I took Dana's hand and said, ‘I don’t want you to go. I’m going to miss you, Dana.’

Dana softened. She said, ‘I’ll miss you too. But this is a big opportunity for me. It could result in a permanent appointment.’

‘I know that, Dana. I’m happy for you. But I’m not happy for myself.’

‘It'll only be for a week, Jina.’ She kissed me on my cheek and whispered, 'I'll make up for lost time when I get back – you'll see.'

The party left early next morning. Because their destination was near the Great River, at a place where the river was at the apex of its wide sweep westwards, the journey would only take them a day. It would be a long day but they should reach their destination before nightfall.

As fate would have it, they didn’t reach their destination at all. The first that we knew about it was when Vaxili's adjutant woke us just after midnight. He shook us urgently, shouting, ‘Sharma and Jina! Out of bed! Get dressed!’

We fumbled around for flints and candles amidst yawns and complaints from all around us. The adjutant roared at our companions, ‘Shut your mouths or I'll put the whole lot of you on a charge for disrespect.' To Sharma and me, he said, 'I want the two of you on the parade ground in less than ten minutes. Take light packs and your swords. Get moving!’

About thirty men from various units assembled, stamping and shivering in the chilly night air. The adjutant called us to attention, counted us, stood us at ease, and said, ‘You’ve been selected for a special assignment. An Usserdite raiding party captured Princess Mecolo, her brothers, and the rest of the party. You will rescue them.’

Sharma and I looked at each other. We could hardly make out each other's faces in the dim light but each knew what the other was thinking.

Someone asked, ‘Where did this happen, commander?’

‘West of Erlata, on the road to the Great River. Any more questions?’

‘Won't they be over the river in Usserdite territory by now, commander?’

‘Perhaps they will be, perhaps they won’t be. Probably not, because they'll be slowed down by captives and baggage. But wherever they are, this side of the river or on the other side, you will find them and you will bring our people back safely. You will also bring back as many prisoners as possible. Is that clear?’

‘Commander –‘

‘No more questions!’ The adjutant peered at the squad and asked, ‘Where is Sharma?’

‘Here, commander.’ Sharma stepped forward.

‘Good! You will command the unit. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, commander.’

‘Do you understand what you have to do?’

‘Yes, commander.’

‘Any questions?’

‘No, commander.’

The adjutant peered at us again and barked, ‘Where is Jina?’

‘Here, commander.’

‘You will act as deputy commander of the expedition. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, commander.’ I tried to keep my voice calm but my pulse began to race at the realisation that I had just received my first promotion even if it was only a temporary one.

The adjutant said, ‘You will move immediately. Leave your packs here for the logistics unit to pick up. They’ll follow you.’ He saluted Sharma and said, ‘Take over, acting commander.’

Sharma stepped forward, saluted, and shouted an order. With swords secured across our backs we set off at a quick trot. After an hour and a half, we took a short break at a village. Just under three hours later, as the sun was rising, we reached Erlata. It was a medium-sized village, with the main track – the one that we were following – running straight through it from east to west. The village elders told us that the attack took place about half an hour’s travel to the west at a place where the country became more broken and rugged before the escarpment tumbled down to the Great River.

In Erlata we found someone who had witnessed the incident. He said that the attack took place where the track narrowed to pass between rocky hillocks in the sort of broken countryside that was common on the rim of the escarpment. The man said that he came around a corner in the track, saw the start of the attack, and concealed himself where he could watch without being seen. He said that there were about twenty Usserdites. The bandits killed all of the soldiers and some of the servants and took the rest of the party captive. As far as he could tell, about five of the bandits were killed during the attack.

Sharma asked, ‘Were any of them mounted?’

‘I saw some donkeys carrying packs but I didn’t see any horses.’

Sharma nodded in satisfaction and said, 'That means that they won't be moving quickly. We can catch them before nightfall.'

One of the elders said dourly, ‘You'd better do a good job. If they get the captives back to Usserd, they’ll either be ransomed or they’ll be sold as slaves.’

Another elder said, equally dourly, ‘If the women are young enough, their chiefs use them in their harems to breed men for their bodyguards.’

Once again, Sharma and I exchanged glances. Once again, each knew what the other was thinking.

We pressed on at a fast pace and, after about thirty minutes, reached the site of the attack where we found that the bodies were still lying next to the road. Their faces were bloody and disfigured as if a drunken butcher had hacked at them. This was an Usserdite trademark: they always cut out their enemies’ tongues and ears as offerings to their gods. Once they used to offer human sacrifices but now that they were more civilised, they only offered body parts from dead enemies.

Sharma ordered us to give the bodies a provisional burial while he scouted around. After ten minutes, he came back and said, ‘They’ve taken their dead with them. That will also slow them down.’

I asked, ‘Any sign of horses?’

Sharma shook his head. ‘No, I can only find donkey tracks.’ He hitched up his sword and said tersely, ‘We should catch up with them before sunset. Let's get moving.’ He pointed south-west to a break in the jumble of rocks where a path snaked up the slope towards a ridge. ‘They’re travelling across country, away from the regular trails. With the donkeys carrying loads and with wounded men, they won’t be moving fast.’ Sharma hitched his sword over his back and asked, ‘Any questions?’

Someone asked, ‘Do we kill them or do we capture them alive.’

‘You heard what the adjutant said. Kill anyone who offers resistance but try to take as many as possible alive.’

Someone said heatedly, ‘We should eliminate every one of them.’

Sharma’s eyes flashed when he replied, ‘We will obey our orders. But, if it helps to know why we’ve been ordered to take prisoners, remember that Keirine has a peace treaty with the Usserdite confederation. King Vaxili wants to show good faith by letting their own people deal with them.’ Sharma jerked a thumb towards the ridge. ‘That’s enough talking. We can bother about killing and capturing once we’ve caught up with them. Let’s go.’

In early evening our advance scout reported that we had caught up with the raiders and Sharma and I went forward to observe their position. We crept up to the bushes that lined the top of a slope from which we could look down onto the river bank and watch the Usserdites moving about, lighting fires and laying out bedding rolls. Sharma touched my shoulder and muttered, ‘There they are – next to the donkeys.’

I grunted in acknowledgement. I had also seen them. There were eight captives in all – Dana, Mecolo, Mecolo’s two brothers, their attendants, and two servants. They were lashed to trees and looked dirty and uncomfortable but, thank Zabrazal, they all appeared to be unharmed. As I looked at the small form of Dana, lashed against a tree, trussed up like a bag of someone’s possessions, my anger rose so high that it almost choked me. I wanted to rush down there, hack my way past anything that stood in my way, and take her in my arms. I wanted to feel her fear ebbing away while I whispered to her that, while I was alive, nothing would ever harm her again. I fought down the feeling, reminding myself of Zaliek’s words: 'Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.' Sure, I would do that. But that wouldn’t save any Usserdite who stood in my way.

After a few minutes, Sharma muttered, ‘We’ve seen enough. Let’s move back.’

We slid back down the slope and rolled into the shelter of a small ravine. Sharma asked quietly, ‘How many of them?’

‘I saw fourteen Usserdites.’

Sharma nodded. ‘Good. We agree. A few of them could have been out of sight by the river. Let’s say sixteen or seventeen at most.’ He looked at me keenly. ‘What are our options?’

I said, ‘We could wait for about three hours until they’re asleep and then we could take them.’

Sharma shook his head. ‘There's no moon tonight. If we attack in the dark, we’ll be as confused as they are. What's more, some of them will escape, for sure.’

‘What do you suggest, then?’

Sharma tugged at an ear. ‘I think that we should wait until just before sunrise. We'll put five men on the other side of the river to deal with any of them who might get away. The rest of us should be able to handle them if we take them by surprise. You agree?’

I nodded, trying to show composure. In fact, I was annoyed, not only because Sharma had trumped my plan but also because he was correct. Also, I was annoyed at myself. I had to admit that my eagerness to rescue Dana as soon as possible had overcome my cooler reason. Damn it, I thought, get a grip on yourself. You’re a soldier, not a schoolboy. I swallowed my pride and nodded again in agreement.

The plan worked almost perfectly. Our comrades took up their positions across the river and at first light we launched our attack on the camp. We encountered only one guard, but he was asleep against a rock. We dealt with him with a sword thrust and within a few seconds we were within the encampment. By Zabrazal, they were a slovenly and negligent lot! They were lying around in disorder amidst wine jugs and the remains of their meal, surrounded by a jumble of equipment. Didn’t they think that they would be followed? Didn’t they even know how to set up a proper camp? It felt good to be a soldier, disciplined and orderly, when you came across scenes such as this one. We went about our business so quietly and with such commitment that eight of them were dead before anyone noticed our presence. By then it was too late to offer resistance. The remaining Usserdites had swords at their throats.

I turned my attention to releasing the captives and stopped abruptly. One of the Usserdites had been on guard duty and must have been alerted by the noise from the camp. Sizing up the situation, he grabbed the nearest captive, slicing through the rope that bound her to the tree. He hauled her to her feet, backed behind her, and put a knife to her throat. Then he called out, ‘Let my comrades go or I'll cut her throat.’

He was holding Dana. With her head pulled back and the knife at her throat, she squinted at me in confused terror. I moved forward but the man jerked Dana’s head further backwards and shouted, ‘One more step and she’ll be dead.’

There was an impasse for just a moment. Then Sharma and one of our comrades appeared behind the man, about ten paces from him. Sharma said, ‘If you kill her, we’ll kill you for certain. Give yourself up before there’s further harm.’

The Usserdite looked around, looked back at me, and then cut Dana’s throat. Perhaps he thought that he could escape if he caused a diversion, perhaps he had a death wish – I don’t know.

I rushed forward to Dana while Sharma cut the Usserdite down. Dana was lying face down. I turned her over. She was dead with her throat gashed and still with the look of terror on her face. I held her to me and wept while her blood oozed over my chest, over my stomach, and over my belt. That was the first blood-stain on the belt. Unfortunately it wasn’t the last.

CHAPTER NINE: COMRADES

That was the last time that I ever cried. Looking back on the incident, I knew that I betrayed my professional calling. By allowing myself the indulgence of weeping over Dana, I had disabled myself and had diverted my comrades’ attention. Later, still flushed with shame, I remembered again what Zaliek taught us during basic training. He drummed it into us that we should bury emotions such as grief, anger, vengefulness, and personal ambition. He taught us that these emotions distract a soldier from his task. I never again forgot Zaliek’s teaching. In any case, in the last analysis, isn’t death one of the commonplaces of a soldier’s trade? What does one more death matter when a soldier is serving in the line of duty?

It was also the last time that I allowed myself to get close to a woman. At the time, I convinced myself that a relationship with a woman prevented me from focusing on my task as a soldier. But, looking back on it down the years, I have to admit that I never again wanted to tempt fate by offering it a target through which it could strike at me. Fate? Was it fate or was it Zabrazal, settling with me by wiping a batch of minuses off my scorecard all in one great scoop? I didn't know – but if it was Zabrazal, then in future he could settle with me directly and not through other parties.

Of course, in the intensity of my grief I forgot that there were other targets at which Zabrazal could strike to discomfort me if that was his intention. For instance, there were my parents and there was my brother, Abozi. Even Sharma could have been a target.

While I succumbed to a bout of unsoldierly weeping, Sharma and the rest of our comrades secured the Usserdites and released the captives. Mecolo’s eyes sparkled with pleasure when she saw Sharma and she held out her arms to him. But in a moment she recalled where she was and who she was, dropped her arms, and said formally, ‘I thank you all for your bravery. I thank you on behalf of everyone here.’ Mecolo wept when she kneeled next to Dana's dead body and she wept again when she offered me her condolences. However, within a few minutes she composed herself and began to discuss the situation with Sharma. I got hold of myself, dried my eyes, and walked over to join them. As deputy commander of the expedition, I had my duties to attend to.

Sharma said to me, ‘I’ve told lady Mecolo that we have to move right now.’ He jerked his thumb towards the western bank of the river. ‘We don’t know what might come at us from over there.’

Mecolo pointed to the captives who were standing linked by a rope with their hands bound behind their backs. She asked, ‘What about them?’

Sharma replied, ‘My orders are to take as many prisoners as possible and to deliver them safely to Koraina.’

Mecolo’s mouth tightened and her eyes went hard. She said, 'They’ll delay us on our journey. We should hang them now.’

‘Of course they deserve to be hung, my lady. Probably they will be hung. But that's not our decision. We have been ordered to take them to Koraina.’

‘And what if I order you to hang them now?’

Sharma said steadily, ‘My lady, our orders come from your father, the king.’

Mecolo said in a hard-edged voice, ‘That’s a pity! They deserve to be hung for what they did, not to mention for what they would have done with us.’ Mecolo walked over to the nearest prisoner, spat in his face, and said, ‘Pha! My father will deal with you. You’ll learn what it means to interfere with the daughter of Vaxili of Keirine.’ She pointed two fingers close to the man’s face as if she was going to poke out his eyes. When the man winced and averted his face, Mecolo gave a short laugh and said, ‘If it was up to me, you wouldn't leave this place alive.’ She spat at him again and walked away.

As we approached Koraina, a crowd met us and accompanied us home with singing and ululation. We had won only a small victory over a disorganised band of thieves but after the disaster of Gandonda the people of Keirine welcomed any and every cause for celebration, no matter how insignificant. In the midst of the jubilation, no one took any notice of the dead bodies that were draped over the donkeys that trudged in our wake. Only family members and friends mourned the dead and they were a small minority amongst the people who thronged around us, singing our praises and assailing the prisoners with curses, blows, and threats. Keirine needed a military victory and if the real thing wasn’t available then these miserable bandits, bound for death either in Keirine or Usserd, would have to do instead.

Mecolo had the good sense not to lead the celebration. In fact, she had been subdued ever since we rescued her. Probably her close contact with danger and terror had sobered her spirit, for the moment, at least. During the journey, she only brightened up on the occasions when Sharma walked next to her holding her donkey’s bridle and conversing with her in a low voice. I warned Sharma to avoid Mecolo’s company because their feelings for each other were so plain to see when they were together but he just grunted in annoyance and replied, ‘She’s the king’s daughter and I’m the commander of this unit. Do you expect me to ignore her?’

When we reached Koraina, Vaxili, his commanders, and Izebol received us in front of the temple. Izebol blessed us, made a short speech of welcome, pronounced the benediction, and then disappeared into the temple. Vaxili congratulated us, paying tribute to our courage and initiative. Then he dismissed the parade and came down from the platform with his arm around Mecolo. He said to Sharma and me, ‘You have done both Keirine and me a great service.’

Sharma replied, ‘It is our duty, your majesty.’

Vaxili looked at us speculatively and asked, ‘Sharma and Jina, eh? First you were the scourge of the Dornites and now it’s the turn of the Usserdites.’

I replied, ‘Your majesty, we are at the service of Keirine and the king.’

Vaxili's eyes narrowed as he asked us, 'You're both from Osicedi, eh?'

'Yes, your majesty.'

Vaxili frowned. 'Hmm! Who would have thought that even the north would render me good service?' It was a strange remark, one that I forgot within a few seconds and only understood a few months later. Still looking at us closely as if he wanted to imprint our features on his memory, Vaxili said, ‘You will expect to be rewarded for your services, no doubt?’

Sharma and I exchanged puzzled glances. Sharma replied, 'Only if it pleases your majesty to do so.'

There was an awkward silence. Mecolo broke the tension by moving forward quickly and embracing me formally. She said, ‘I thank you on behalf of my father and on behalf of Keirine. I also thank you on my own behalf.’ Then, holding my hands, she said, ‘I will not forget Dana. She was my good friend and I loved her dearly.’ Mecolo embraced Sharma next, lingering just enough to whisper something to him. Sharma’s face brightened for a few seconds before he straightened his features.

I sneaked a look at Vaxili, who was looking at Mecolo and Sharma darkly. As he watched Mecolo whispering to Sharma, he shook his head slightly as if relegating the impression to the deep reaches of his memory. Then he straightened, snapped his fingers as if recalling himself to duty, pointed to the prisoners, and asked Sharma, ‘How many of them did you kill?’

‘Ten, your majesty.’

‘Was that necessary? Couldn’t you have taken more prisoners?’

‘Your majesty, we did what the situation called for.’

Vaxili asked tersely, 'But ten? Surely you could have killed fewer of them?'

'Your majesty, we did what we had to do. We obeyed your orders in every respect.'

Vaxili stroked his chin and looked from us to the prisoners and then back again. He gave a sceptical nod and said, ‘No matter. We have enough prisoners, whether we want to bargain with them or make an example of them.’ He nodded brusquely and turned on his heel.

During the weeks that followed, Sharma and Mecolo saw a lot of each other. Although they tried to be discreet, it was impossible for the king’s daughter to conceal a relationship like this one. First they met at the stables where Mecolo pretended to be showing Sharma how to care for a horse. When that attracted a crowd of gawkers, they tried to meet out in the countryside. Mecolo went for a ride on her favourite horse while Sharma pretended to be going on a cross-country run. Their plan didn’t succeed, because, by order of her father, Mecolo always had to be accompanied by at least one lady-in-waiting and two bodyguards. Although she managed to outrun her entourage, she and Sharma hardly had time to begin a conversation before the first guard appeared, cursing and bumping on his mount and complaining that he would have to report Mecolo to her father.

Next, Sharma and Mecolo gave up their attempts to meet during the daytime and began to meet under cover of darkness. Although this wasn’t difficult for Sharma because he could slip in and out of the camp easily, it was more difficult for Mecolo to get away without being noticed. The palace was just a small compound that had been formed by putting a wall around three of the more comfortable houses in the town and security was tight all over the complex. Mecolo devised the stratagem of disguising herself as a serving-woman and told Sharma that in this guise she was able to come and go without being observed. In my opinion, this was merely self-deception, especially when I remembered the dark look on Vaxili's face and felt more certain than ever that Mecolo would be watched day and night. Whatever she thought, this was a hazardous and foolish business. When I said this to Sharma, his eyelid twitched, the flecks in his eyes glowed and he poked his finger at me while asking belligerently, ‘What business is it of yours?’ However, in spite of his anger, he had a half--defiant, half--troubled look as if he wasn’t as certain about things as he liked to sound.

I said, ‘All right, since you ask, I’ll tell you. Firstly, we’re age mates and comrades. Do you think that you live only for yourself? Do you think that you’re Sharma the lone agent, making your way in splendid isolation?’

‘What I do in private –‘

‘Let me finish, damn it! I’m saying that what you do affects me whether you like it or not. Do you understand that? Good! Secondly, Sharma, you have the ability to climb to the high places. You've already had your first command even if it was only temporary. Where could you be in five or ten years' time? Stop and think, man! You have the ability to go places where a lot of people can’t. Consider other people and consider your future!’ Sharma put up a hand to stop me but I brushed him aside, saying, ‘Oh, sure, what does it matter what your age mate and comrade, good old Jina, thinks about you, eh? But have a care for Keirine and for what you can do for the nation. I don’t want to see that wasted.’

Sharma bit his lip. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and said, ‘I’ll think about it.’

I said, ‘Yes, you do that.’

Vaxili honoured his promise to reward us for our services. Within a week, Sharma and I were promoted to deputy commanders. However, typically, while Vaxili gave with one hand he took away with the other. Our unit was ordered to an isolated spot on the eastern escarpment near to where the battle of Gandonda took place. In future, Deputy Commander Sharma and Princess Mecolo would not be able to meet each other so easily, if at all.

The move didn’t matter to me. With Dana gone, there was a chasm in my soul and a hard resolve in my mind. I loved my family and, yes, I loved Sharma. They were the only personal relationships that claimed my affections and that was because they already had places there when Dana was destroyed. For the rest, I would live and die for the cause of Keirine.

CHAPTER TEN: A WORTHY INSTRUMENT

Gandonda occupied a strategic position on Keirine’s south-eastern flank, sited as it was on the last range of hills before the escarpment sloped away to the coastal plane. Traffic from the coast had to funnel through the pass at Gandonda to reach the highland plains that lay beyond, stretching westwards towards the Great River and northwards towards Koraina. More importantly, from Gandonda the roads fanned out towards the rich wheat fields, mines, and forests of the distant countries to the south-west of Keirine.

Our unit was based to the north of Gandonda in a position from which we overlooked both the coastal plain and the approach to the pass. From our vantage point, the walls and buildings of the Dornite city of Asjolorm were clearly visible, glinting on the plain about a half-day’s journey away. Three of the Dornite coastal cities were visible as well, appearing as light-coloured smudges against the green of the plain, backed up by the turquoise, white-flecked expanse of the Endless Ocean.

One afternoon, about a week after our arrival at the base, Sharma and I walked to a rocky promontory that thrust out above the plain like the prow of a ship. One of the things that we shared was a fondness for high places. I think that we were both seduced by the almost disembodied experience of looking out from a high place. There you seemed to be floating while at the same time the features around you – the hills and crags to left and right, the plain spreading below, the clouds above and all around – were clean and sharply defined in the fine air. Yes, I think that we were both as seduced by high places as we were by the dream of the kingdom – but, then, the kingdom is a high place, too, and even more seductive than ridges, crags, and elevated views over hills and plains.

Sharma wrapped his arms around his legs and, with his chin on his knees, said reflectively, ‘Do you remember a place like this when we were boys?’ I nodded. I knew what he meant. Sharma gave a slow smile and pointed to the plain below. ‘You said that our flocks had as much chance of grazing down there as they had of grazing on the moon.’

I nodded again. ‘It’s still the same. Nothing has changed.’

‘Nothing at all?’

‘Not that I can see. The Dornites are still down there and we’re still up here. The Dornites are still harassing us, treating Keirine like their private possession, and we’re still struggling to defend ourselves.’

Sharma grunted thoughtfully. ‘There’s something else that hasn’t changed as well.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The prophecy.’

‘The one about Keirine being free when land and people reach the sea? You mean that one?’

Sharma laid back, hands behind his head, sucking on a stalk of grass. I did the same. After a while, Sharma said, ‘It’s either them or us. Since Gandonda, I see it more clearly than ever before. I don’t just know it in my head – now I know it in my bones. There can’t be any compromise. The weaker the Dornites are, the stronger we’ll be. It’s a matter of them or us, plain and simple.’

I grunted my agreement. More than ever, I felt as if there was a current running underneath my daily existence -- a current that ran ever stronger and straighter towards the goal of subduing the Dornites and exalting the Kingdom of Keirine. It was a current to which I willingly submitted, seeking to perfect myself as an instrument that was worthy of the task.

Sharma rubbed his chin and said, ‘We shouldn’t wait for the Dornites to come at us; attack is the best form of defence.’

‘Is it?’

Sharma frowned at me. ‘Man, Jina, do you have to question everything?’

‘I question whether we’ve got the resources to attack anybody, no matter who it might be.’

Sharma leaned forward and pointed across the plain. He said thoughtfully, ‘We could attack Asjolorm.’

‘Asjolorm! Are you crazy?’

Sharma said easily, ‘Exactly!’

‘Exactly what?’

‘You think it’s crazy to attack Asjolorm. Everyone in our unit probably thinks it’s crazy. In fact, our whole army, including Vaxili, probably thinks it’s crazy.’

‘So --?’

Sharma asked easily, ‘What do you think the Dornites down there in Asjolorm think about us attacking them?’

‘They probably don’t think about it at all.’

‘Why not?’

‘Damn it, Sharma, don’t ask stupid questions. You know the answer. Firstly, they’ve got control of the whole coastal plain. Nobody threatens them down there. Secondly, down on the plain they can fight in the best possible conditions for their forces. Thirdly, they know that we hardly have enough men to defend our own boundaries. How can we commit forces to fighting in their territory as well?’

‘Yes, all that is true enough. So you reckon that the Dornites wouldn’t give a thought to the possibility of us attacking them?’ Sharma gave me a look that was almost self-satisfied, as if he was going to produce a trump.

‘If they did think about it, it would seem so crazy that they would roll about laughing at the idea.’

Sharma lay back, pulled out a stalk of grass, and sucked at the juice. With his eyes closed and his face to the sun, he said, ‘Exactly!’

I thought that I was beginning to see what Sharma was getting at. I said, ‘So if everyone thinks it’s crazy …?’

‘Exactly!’

I rolled over and straddled Sharma’s chest, pinning his arms to the ground. ‘I swear if you say “exactly” again, I’ll throw you over the ridge, right into Dornite territory.’

Sharma lay there grinning easily. He asked, ‘You think you’ve got me, eh?’

I grinned back at him, bore my weight down against his chest, and said, ‘For sure.’ I leaned forward, pinning his arms more firmly against the ground. Sharma just sucked at the stalk of grass and chuckled. I said, ‘No more “exactly” – all right?’

Suddenly, Sharma lifted his body at the waist and moved it sideways. Trapping one of my legs under his body, he rolled over. In an instant, our positions were reversed. Sharma chuckled and said, ‘All right, no more “exactly”. You’ve convinced me.’ He rolled off me and lay on his back with his arms under his head. Then he said quietly, ‘I got you when you weren’t expecting it, didn’t I? Do you still think I’m crazy?’

I said, ‘Everyone thinks it’s crazy so that’s why it might work – is that what you mean?’

Sharma said, ‘You’ve got the picture.’

While it was easy enough to talk about a surprise attack, it was another thing entirely to plan and execute one. When I asked Sharma if he had thought of a strategy, he looked smug and began to draw a rough plan of the city on the ground.

Surprised, I asked, ‘How do you know so much about Asjolorm?’

Sharma gave me a knowing smile and replied, ‘I got the details from Anagina.’

‘Anagina? What does he know about Asjolorm?’ Anagina was one of our comrades in the unit. He was a dreamy young man who played the flute, kept his own counsel, and had a permanently surprised look on his face as if he had landed in military life entirely by accident. I couldn't imagine that Anagina would bother his head with military strategy.

Sharma said, ‘Anagina lived in Asjolorm until about seven years ago. His father had a business there, importing goods for sale in Keirine.’

‘Does he still live there?’

‘No. Anagina says that some of his father’s commercial rivals in Asjolorm ganged up against him. They accused him of being a spy.’

‘What happened to him?’

Sharma grunted and shrugged. ‘They hanged him. What else can you expect from Dornites?’

‘That being the case, I guess that Anagina isn’t well disposed towards Dornites in general and towards Asjolorm in particular.’

Sharma grunted again. ‘You’ve got the picture. Anagina says he'll be first up when they ask for volunteers for an attack on Asjolorm.’

Sharma’s plan was simple. Tracing a stick over the rough outline on the ground, he said, ‘This is the eastern side of the city. It’s the poorest and most crowded sector. That means it has the highest concentration of thatched roofs and the fewest tiled roofs.’

‘Fire? Is that what you’re thinking?’

‘Right! Remember when they attacked Osicedi? We can do the same, only more thoroughly.' Sharma ran his stick around the edge of the outline and said grimly, 'Osicedi doesn't have walls so people could escape in any direction. Asjolorm is fully walled so as the fire spreads, they'll only be able to escape through the gates – here, here, and here.’ He pointed to the outline. ‘We can pick them off as they come through the gates. That would cause further confusion inside the walls and would hamper attempts to contain the fire.’

Sharma was making sense. I said, ‘It could work, if we could get close enough to the city.’

Sharma’s mouth tightened. ‘You remember what happened that night in Osicedi?’

‘I remember.’

‘How many Dornites were involved?’

‘About ten, I guess.’

Sharma took a few steps forward and stood on the edge of the ledge with arms folded looking towards Asjolorm. He said, ‘Imagine what we could do with about fifty men.’

I joined Sharma. On the plain below us, Asjolorm rested in remote peacefulness. However, it no longer looked so secure – not in my imagination, anyway. Sharma's plan was simple and convincing but I still had reservations. I asked, ‘Suppose we succeed -- what effect will it have on the Dornites?’

Sharma grinned sardonically. ‘They won’t be happy.’

‘True enough. And then --?’

‘They’ll launch a counter-attack in retaliation.’

‘The question is, are we ready for that?’

Sharma sat down with his legs dangling over the ledge, his hands palm-down on the rock and his shoulders hunched. He said, ‘Maybe the question is, Are they ready to attack us?’

‘Why shouldn’t they be?’

‘As far as we know, they haven’t elected a new supreme commander yet. They might not be as ready as we think they are.’

‘But what if they do attack? We aren’t much better prepared than we were last time.’

‘Not if we use the same tactics.’

‘You have something else in mind?’

Sharma grunted. 'I’ve been thinking about it. Who hasn't? Everyone knows we can’t suffer another defeat like the last one. It will be the end of the army’s confidence, if not the end of the army, period, and most likely the end of the kingdom.’

‘So --?’

Sharma looked at me keenly. He asked, ‘How would you go about facing up to the Dornites?’

I had been thinking about the matter, just like Sharma. I said, ‘Well, they destroyed us at Gandonda because they had cavalry and chariots and we didn’t have them. We need to get on equal terms with them.’

Sharma chuckled sardonically. ‘Fight fire with fire, eh?’

‘Yes, something like that.’

Sharma pulled at an ear and said slowly, ‘How about if we fight them with something that puts out their fire?’

‘Like what?’

‘Something like a wall, maybe.’

‘Oh, you mean we carry a wall onto the battle field, put it in place, and then say, Come on Dornites, throw yourself against our wall? And the Dornites say, All right, just let us know when the wall is ready so that we can throw ourselves against it. Oh, yes, that should work just fine!’

Sharma grinned slowly and said, ‘Yes, something like that.’

‘Oh, man, that's a great plan! It'll work perfectly – as long as the Dornites co-operate.’

Still grinning knowingly, Sharma replied, ‘Well, in the first place, we carry the wall onto the battlefield. You’ve got that part right. But the wall isn’t like anything that has been seen before.’

‘What, then?’

Sketching in the dust, Sharma explained his idea. The more I listened the more it made sense. After half an hour, I was convinced. I said, ‘It might work. But it'll take discipline and training.’

Sharma clicked his tongue impatiently and asked sardonically, ‘What are we – soldiers or shepherds?’

We discussed an attack on Asjolorm with our unit commander, who liked the idea and passed it on to headquarters where we thought that it would be turned down because of the risk and because of what Sharma called ‘close-minded conservatism.’ However, to our surprise, the plan was approved. Later, we heard that although Vaxili disapproved of the idea at first, Jainar persuaded him that it was viable.

Jainar arrived at our base to take personal charge of the attack on Asjolorm. It was the first time that I was able to get a close look at him and it confirmed my impression that he had the squarest face I ever saw. It was square from his jaw, which looked as if it had been planed on a brick, to his jowls, forehead, and flat-lying ears. Even his nose, asymmetrically off-centre, had been partially squared off. It looked as if it had been flattened in a fight. However, even if he hadn’t have been a general you wouldn’t have asked someone with Jainar’s solid build and stolid countenance about how his nose got to be that shape.

Jainar got his fighting experience in skirmishes against Usserdite raiders on the south-western border where he gained a reputation as a tough and innovative leader. He had no other military experience, in the formal sense. But, then, nor did anyone else. We were all learning on the job. When I sat back and thought about the matter, it scared me to realise that no one in the whole Keirineian army, generals included, had any experience of managing an army. Usually it scared me so much that I tried to put the thought out of my mind as quickly as possible.

Jainar might not have had a lot of formal military experience but he did know how to devise and execute a plan. Within a day of his arrival, he had finalised the strategy for the attack. The first objective was to cut communications between the city and the Dornite garrison that was based halfway between Gandonda pass and Asjolorm by silencing two guard posts on the highway between the two. If that move succeeded then the garrison wouldn’t know about the attack until long after the attacking party had finished its business and made its escape.

Besides the unit that would attack the guard posts, there were two other parties. One would set fire to the houses while the other would handle the fugitives at the gates. The plan was to kill as many people as possible until the detachment began to meet resistance. At that point the men would withdraw, retreating along the same paths as they used on the approach.

When Jainar finished his presentation, there was a grumble of dissent. Someone said, ‘General, your plan means that we will be attacking civilians.’

‘Yes, that is so. Do you have an objection?’

‘General, we are soldiers, not bandits. We should be attacking enemy soldiers, not –‘

Jainar straightened and silenced the man with a gesture. He barked, ‘Soldiers, eh? Well, if you’re soldiers, you’ll know that the first thing you’re trained to do is obey orders. Not so?’

‘But general –‘

‘But -- nothing! Listen, soldier, you can leave now if you don’t want to be part of the attacking force. There are plenty of men who will take your place. Well, what do you say?’

The speaker dropped his eyes and shook his head. Jainar put his jaw forward, looked around the squad, and barked, ‘Any other objections?’

Sharma was brave enough – or foolish enough – to get to his feet. Jainar turned his attention to him: ‘You have an objection?’

‘No, general, not an objection, but –‘

‘What, then?’

‘General, you must understand that we haven’t made war on civilians before. It’s a new thing for us.’

‘I understand that. But you’re soldiers and you'd better get used to it. The Dornites don’t make distinctions between soldiers and civilians, do they?’ Jainar jabbed his finger at Sharma. ‘What’s your name, soldier? Don’t I know you?’

‘My name is Sharma, general.’

‘Sharma, eh? Sharma the famous slayer of Drunuk – the same Sharma?’

‘Yes, general, that’s me.’

Jainar waggled a finger thoughtfully. ‘Didn’t I hear something about an incident involving you and some Dornite bandits when you were a boy?’

‘Yes, general, my comrade, Jina, and I defended our flocks against three Dornite raiders.’

‘Defended?’ Jainar gave a short chuckle. ‘You tracked them down and killed them one by one, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, general.’

‘Were they soldiers or civilians?’

‘They were bandits, general.’

‘Yes. They were bandits – civilian bandits. And, if I remember correctly, after that some Dornites attacked your town. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, general.’

‘Did they only attack soldiers in your town?’

‘No, general. There were no troops in Osicedi.’

'And your brother was killed, wasn't he?'

'Yes, general, he was.'

'And was he a soldier?'

'No, general, he wasn't.'

Jainar grunted, turned, and began to pace in front of us, hands behind his back and head down. Then he wheeled around, snapped his fingers, and said, ‘There you have it, eh? The Dornites don’t distinguish between soldiers and civilians. Nor will we.’ He jabbed a finger at us. ‘Understand one thing and understand it well. We don’t make war on civilians because we like it. We do so because it weakens the support base and morale of their soldiers. If we do that, we weaken their military effort. If we destroy their towns, we weaken their military effort. If they worry about the safety of their families, they give less attention to military matters.’ He wagged his finger at us and barked, ‘If you can’t accept it then you shouldn’t be a soldier in this army.’ Chin forward, standing with legs planted apart, Jainar said, 'Get this into your heads, and don't ever forget it – anything that weakens the Dornites –' he wagged his finger at us again – 'anything at all, no matter what it is – anything that weakens the Dornites is good for Keirine. Do you understand?'

'Yes, general!'

'I asked you, Do you understand? I want to hear your reply loud and clear.'

The squad roared back at him, 'Yes, general! We hear you!'

Jainar was thorough, leaving nothing to chance. He took us through the phases of the attack so often that we could almost have recited the plan backwards. In essence, it was a simple strategy in which every man knew what to do, how to do it, and when to break off doing it.

On the night of the attack, the main party, consisting of fifty men, approached the town along back paths by the light of the half-moon. Jainar’s thoroughness showed in the way in which he mapped the route beforehand, sending scouts to reconnoiter the path as far as the river and then relying on Anagina’s knowledge for details of the routes from the river to the city. With the outline of the route firmly etched in our minds and with enough light to see by we had no trouble reaching the city without being observed. Twenty men under Sharma's command approached the eastern side of the town, carrying ladders and fire-pots while I was in charge of the unit that was deployed outside the main gate.

It surprised us that there were no guards on the walls. The Dornites must have been so confident of their superiority that they thought that they could sleep safely in their beds. As a result Sharma and his men were able to select their targets at will. Within a few minutes about twenty roofs were aflame. Having accomplished their task, they withdrew to guard the smaller gates.

It was the dry season and the flames spread quickly. From outside, we could only judge what was happening within the walls by the spreading glow and by the growing hullabaloo. After about five minutes, the gate opened and a group of young men appeared carrying buckets, obviously hoping to dowse the flames with the pathetically small amounts of water that they could carry from the river. We cut them down and dragged the bodies out of sight.

There was so much confusion that no one inside the walls noticed the disappearance of the men. Soon the next people appeared, comprising a family party consisting of a man, a woman, and four children. We killed them as well. Even as the bodies were being dragged out of sight, there was a surge of people through the gate. We hacked and thrust at them indiscriminately. It was butchery, pure and simple. In the confusion, amidst the crackle of the flames, the roar of collapsing buildings, the shouts and screams, and in the flickering light, only the fugitives on the outskirts of the crowd knew what was happening. They pressed inwards to avoid our onslaught while trying to defend themselves with whatever they were carrying – buckets, bundles, household implements, or anything else. Their press, together with the growing rush through the gate, added to the congestion and soon people were being trampled underfoot or crushed against the wall.

It was a sickening slaughter in which we thrust, cut, and hacked at human flesh almost without opposition. People screamed, doubled over, reeled, and staggered. They went down underfoot, the crowd pressed forward all around us, and the slaughter continued. We were at such close quarters that we stopped using swords and went to work with daggers. Our victims slumped against us, screaming and gurgling, and had to be shoved away so that we could thrust at the next target.

After less than ten minutes, I ordered my bugler to signal the end of the engagement. If anyone had questioned my judgement, I would have said truthfully that, in the confusion and amongst the massing throng, I had lost contact with most of my men and thought it best to withdraw before they were overcome by the sheer press of bodies. However, the truth was that by then, I was more than heartily sick of the bloody, one-sided massacre. Asjolorm was being thoroughly, completely destroyed by raging fire and the deaths of a few more civilians wouldn't contribute anything more to the extent of our victory.

Anagina confronted me as we were withdrawing. His face was flushed, his cheeks were smeared with blood, his eyes were wild, and he was waving a dagger. He screamed at me, ‘Why are you withdrawing? We haven’t finished here.’

I said coldly, ‘It’s getting too dangerous. It’s time to leave.’

Anagina grabbed me by the front of my jerkin, waved his dagger in front of my eyes and yelled, ‘We have them, man, we have them! We have the Dornites where we want them! This is not the time to stop!’

I didn’t want to hang around arguing. Our comrades had withdrawn and we were already isolated. I shouted, ‘I’m in charge here and I say that it’s time to withdraw.’

Anagina swore, pounded at my chest in frustration and turned towards the gate. I seized him by the shoulder and as he turned in surprise I smacked him across his cheek. As his jaw dropped, I hauled him around and sent him stumbling with a shove between his shoulder blades. I shouted, ‘Get going, damn you, or I’ll make you move.’

As we jogged down the path side by side, I said, ‘Consider yourself lucky that I don’t put you on a charge. Anagina looked at me sullenly, his eyes smouldering. I added, ‘I know what they did to your father, but you’re a soldier. Remember that and forget about everything else.’ He gave me a resentful half-nod and dropped his eyes.

The attack was my first taste of command. I liked the experience even if I didn't easily forget how, abattoir-like, we massacred unarmed and terrified people at the gates of Asjolorm.

As we made our way down the path towards the river, we passed a few fugitives. Most of them were so concerned with their plight that they didn’t even look at us. A few recognised us as Keirineian soldiers and attacked us in wild fury, cursing and screaming. We ignored them or just shoved them aside. I guess that my men felt the same as I did; they were already sick to their stomachs of slaughter.

As I approached the clearing where we would join the rest of our unit, someone attacked me screaming at me in the Dornite language. I felt a sharp pain down my arm and turned to defend myself, striking out with my free arm to drive back the attacker. I made contact with soft flesh, heard a gasp of pain, and drove forward, head down, pinning the body against a tree, bending the assailant’s attacking arm backwards. As I drew back my arm to strike with my dagger, I saw that my attacker was a young woman. Her hair was loose, her eyes were wide, and her teeth were bared in pain. I held back my thrust in surprise and she lunged forward and tried to sink her teeth into my neck but I grabbed her hair and forced her head back. Our eyes met and she spat at me. Her spittle dribbled down my cheek as I pressed my body against hers. The old lightning flickered through my veins and, as the heat flushed over me, I pressed closer against her, driving into her softness. She screamed as I yanked at her hair and pulled her head further backwards. With my face close to hers, gripping her hair behind her head, pressed against her, I looked at her. It was familiar – too familiar. She reminded me of Dana in the grip of the Usserdite bandit – the same tilt of the head, the same grimace, and the same wide-eyed, desperate look. I went cold, cursed, and threw the woman away from me so that she landed on her back with a thud. Moaning in pain and fear, she tried to scramble away, supported on her elbows and digging into the ground with the back of her heels.

Behind me, someone said, ‘Kill her, man. She’s getting away.’

I looked around. It was Sharma. I said, ‘Let her go.’

He said, ‘Then I’ll do it.’ He unsheathed his sword and moved forward. The woman was still scrambling backwards, whimpering, and digging her elbows and heels into the ground, wide-eyed and terrified.

I grabbed Sharma’s arm, shouting at him, ‘Leave her, man. She’s helpless.’

Sharma cursed and tried to shake me off but I gripped him tighter and swung him around so that my body was between him and the woman. We stood there for a moment, chest to chest, eye to eye, glaring at each other. I don't know what would have happened if, right at that moment someone hadn't shouted urgently, ‘Sharma! Jina! Get a move on! Our comrades are leaving for the river.’

Sharma grunted, sheathed his sword, and relaxed. As we jogged down the path to the river, he said, ‘You could have had her, my friend – one way or the other.’

I replied, ‘It's over. It’s better that way. Forget about it.’

Sharma asked quietly but grimly, ‘Are you going soft, Jina?’

I said, ‘There’s been enough slaughter for one night.’ I clutched my arm and felt the damp warmth of blood. The wound was painful but it didn’t seem to be deep. I thought, incongruously, that this was my first battle wound – and I got it from a woman.

Sharma jogged a few more paces and then said, ‘Dornites are Dornites, man. Dornites are the enemy.’

'Didn't you hear me? I said that there’s been enough slaughter for one night. Leave it be.’

Sharma responded tight-lipped, ‘Remember our orders, man. There’s no distinction between soldiers and civilians. This is war and we’re soldiers.’

A wave of anger swept over me, fiercer even than the lightning that had burned through me only a few minutes earlier. I said, ‘Oh, go back and fight your civilians, Sharma! Go back and cut down every damn woman and child that you can find. Hey, maybe you can find a few old men who can give you an equal contest with their walking sticks. And don't forget to bring their heads back on a lance so that we can all applaud you. Maybe we can even arrange for a few women to dance in front of you, eh?’ Sharma said nothing but I sensed how he started and stiffened with resentment. After a few paces, I said, ‘You think I’m going soft, hey? Wait until we get back to camp. You can choose your weapons and then we’ll see who’s going soft.’

Sharma shot me a look that was both startled and appraising. He snorted as if he didn’t believe what he was hearing and, after a short silence, said, ‘Forget about it, man. I know what you’re worth.’

‘Do you, Sharma?’

‘Yes, I do. Forget about it, eh?’

I just grunted in reply.

Forget about it? I never forgot how the lightning-sharp exhilaration pounded through my body as I pressed against the woman, driving forward, able to have her, in Sharma's words, one way or the other. More than that, I never forgot how I saw the image of Dana’s last moments in the woman’s wild eyes, in her tilted head, and in her bared throat. Above all, I never forgot that.

We got back to our camp just before sunrise, went through a debriefing session, and then collapsed onto our cots. However, in spite of being exhausted, at first I couldn't go to sleep. My mind was full of images of the slaughter outside the gates of Asjolorm. Then, when I did drop off to sleep, I dreamed about Dana. I dreamed that she was lying with me on the hillside near Koraina where we watched the clouds drifting across the sky. The dream was so vivid that I could hear Dana's voice saying that the clouds asked the questions. Then I imagined that she caressed and welcomed me tenderly as her lover. I dreamed that, with my eyes closed in ecstatic expectation of reaching my goal at last, I prepared to enter and possess her warm sweetness. As I entered her, I dreamed that she shuddered and gasped not as a lover but as someone in the throes of terrible pain. I opened my eyes and saw that she lay beneath me with staring eyes, with head lolling, and with her throat cut. I awoke to the sound of my own cry and didn't dare to sleep again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ZABRAZAL’S BLESSING

The attack was successful beyond our greatest expectations. The city of Asjolorm burned out completely and nothing but an empty husk remained. Hundreds of houses were destroyed. The governor’s precinct was a soot-streaked ruin, the oil and grain storehouses were reduced to nothing but ashes and shattered jars, while the armoury collapsed into a mound of shattered masonry and molten metal. All in all, it was a major victory that was gained at literally no cost to our own force. Moreover, at last the fight had been taken to the enemy. Ever since the Dornites established themselves on the coastal plain about two hundred years earlier, they had been the aggressors, raiding our flocks, pillaging our towns and villages, carrying off captives and seizing our territory. Now for the first time we had turned the tables on them.

A few days later Vaxili summoned Sharma and me to his headquarters. As we waited in an antechamber, I looked around curiously. The room had bare, whitewashed walls and a low wooden ceiling. It was sparsely furnished, containing only a bench, a few straight-backed chairs and a table haphazardly strewn with stacks of parchments and folded military cloaks. It was not at all what I expected to find in royal precincts. I asked Sharma in a low voice, ‘Is this the palace?’

Sharma looked at me in amusement and relied, ‘Palace? No, this is just a house that Vaxili has converted for use as his headquarters.'

'Where does he live?'

Sharma jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'He lives in a house next door.’ He gave me another amused look and commented, ‘It’s in better condition than this one – a lot better by far. But don't think that Vaxili is going to be satisfied with living in converted accommodation for long.'

'He has something else in mind, does he?'

'For sure! What’s the use of being king if you live in a bunch of converted houses, eh?’

‘So --?’

‘So he's going to build a palace in his home village. He's already commissioned architects from Kitilat to draft the plans.'

'Why there? It's out of the way. It's not the place for the capital of Keirine.'

Sharma shrugged phlegmatically and answered, 'It's where Vaxili feels at home.'

‘What about Mecolo?’

‘Mecolo? What about her?’

I asked, ‘Where does Mecolo feel at home?’

In reply, Sharma glared at me and clammed up so hard that I could feel the tautness radiating over me like a wave of heat from an oven door. We sat there in uncomfortable silence, listening to the subterranean rumblings of our unresolved disagreement. In the silence, from behind the inner door we could hear the sound of heated conversation. I could pick out the voices of Vaxili and Jainar as well as another voice that I knew I should recognise but just couldn’t place. Sharma cocked his head and said sardonically. ‘It sounds like Zabrazal’s messenger isn’t as happy with Vaxili as he might be.’

I listened more closely. Sharma was right: it was Izebol's voice.

The thickness of the door prevented us from hearing clearly even although we sat in silence trying to hear what was being said while pretending to ignore the altercation. Then suddenly the door burst open and Izebol stormed out, followed by a younger priest. We jerked backwards, trying to look innocent and unconcerned. However, we might as well not have bothered because Izebol stalked across the room, ignoring us. Only when his companion touched his arm and cocked his head towards us did Izebol stop, glower at us, and then bark, ‘You! Are you Sharma?’

Sharma got to his feet, saying, ‘Yes, your honour, I am Sharma.’

‘And you? Who are you?’

‘I am Jina, your honour.’

‘Ah, yes, Sharma and Jina.’ Izebol frowned and looked at us narrowly. Then he put out his hand to us and we kneeled and kissed it. Izebol said, ‘Sharma and Jina who brought back the head of Drunuk, eh?’

‘Yes, your honour.’

‘And the same Sharma and Jina who rescued Lady Mecolo from the Usserdite abductors, eh?’

‘Yes, your honour.’

Izebol took a step forward and studied us so closely that I felt as if I was being inspected on a parade ground. After a lengthy scrutiny he suddenly barked, ‘You had something to do with Asjolorm, I hear?’

‘Yes, your honour.’

‘How much, eh? How much?’

Sharma said, ‘Well, your honour, we just suggested –‘

‘You just suggested the whole plan, not so?’ Izebol thrust a finger at me and demanded, ‘You! What did you have to do with it?’

‘Your honour, Sharma discussed his plan with me and I –‘

Izebol grunted knowingly and silenced me with a wave. Still scrutinising us, he asked, ‘Are you servants of Zabrazal?'

'Servants, your honour?'

'Yes! Servants! Servants of the one true god! Are you dedicated to his service?’

‘Yes, your honour. We are servants of Zabrazal, your honour.’

Izebol wagged a finger at us and said severely, ‘Serve your god in your youth and you will be rewarded throughout your life. Do you believe that?’

‘Yes, your honour.’ I replied fervently, hoping that Izebol would believe me and hoping that it was true. Sharma just gave an affirmative nod.

Izebol relaxed a little, waggled a half-friendly finger at us, and said, ‘You are favoured by Zabrazal.’

‘You honour?’

‘It is as clear as it can be. Do you think that you would have enjoyed such success without the blessing of Zabrazal?’

We shook our heads vigorously and I thought, Well, that’s good news. If Zabrazal’s chief representative says it, then it’s probably true in fact, it's almost as good as getting it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Then Izebol's mouth tightened and he interrupted my thoughts by growling, ‘But as for your commanders – did they consult the omens? Did they consult the priests of Zabrazal?’ He glared at us. ‘Well, did they?’

‘We don’t know, your honour.’

‘You don’t know! Of course you don’t know! You don’t know because they only consulted themselves and their own desires!’ Izebol snorted and lowered his voice. ‘But as for you -- you were fortunate. Zabrazal blessed your ventures in spite of the negligence of your commanders.’ He straightened and gestured towards the inner door, saying, ‘Vaxili and Jainar know my mind on this matter.’ Izebol glared at the door, looked at us in a half-speculative and half-approving manner, nodded regally and swept out of the room.

We settled back, waiting to be called into the inner sanctum. However, before that happened, Mecolo entered through the outer door. Although she pretended to be surprised to see us, she wasn’t a good actor. It was plain to see that she knew very well that we were there. Mecolo shot a cautious look at the inner door, fingered the neckline of her gown nervously, and said with feigned innocence, ‘Sharma and Jina! What are you doing here?’

We rose to greet her. Sharma bowed slightly -- it was so studied that it was familiar rather than formal -- and said, ‘We are waiting to see your father, Lady Mecolo.’

‘About what?’

‘Something to do with Asjolorm, or so we were told.’

‘Asjolorm? Is that the Dornite city that was destroyed?’

Sharma bowed again and said, ‘The same, Lady Mecolo.’

She gestured to us to be seated while she remained standing, looking hesitant and apprehensive. First she snatched at an invisible thread in the waist-line of her gown and then she flicked repeatedly at an imaginary speck on her sleeve. Next she sat down on the edge of a chair, hands clenched tightly in her lap, and said brightly, ‘Sharma and Jina! What a pleasant surprise! I haven’t seen you for such a long time.’

Sharma said smoothly, ‘And we are the poorer for it, Lady Mecolo.’

She lowered her eyes and replied, ‘So are we.’ She started to say something, stopped, and then asked hesitantly, 'How long will you be in Koraina?'

Sharma replied, 'Until tomorrow morning at least, my lady.'

‘And when did you arrive?’

‘Hardly half an hour ago.’

‘Ah! So you haven’t had time to make any social calls?’

‘Not yet, my lady. But of course we will.’

Their eyes met. Mecolo said, 'Then perhaps we will see each other again before you leave?' Sharma nodded and gave her a deep look. Mecolo's eyes glowed before she said, ‘That’s good.’ Then, still keeping up the bright facade, she asked, ‘And how have you been, Sharma?’

Sharma replied, ‘Life has been very dull without you and the ladies of Koraina, my lady.’

Mecolo stood up, smoothed her gown over her hips, and flicked her tongue over her lips like a lizard testing the atmosphere before making its next move. Then, apparently satisfied with what she had found, she moved to stand halfway behind Sharma. She put her hand on his chair, just behind his shoulder, leaned forward and asked, ‘But, Sharma, when you are so occupied with warlike and heroic deeds, surely you hardly miss the ladies?’

Mecolo was standing where I could get a good look her. A look? In fact, she was so absorbed in her duet with Sharma that I could have stared at her as intensely and for as long as I wanted. By Zabrazal, but she was dolled up to the nines and carrying it off with style as well. She was wearing a soft lime-green gown that folded around her so lightly that she looked to be all fragility and vulnerability. The low-cut bodice was gathered under her bust so that there was plenty more to see than just a hint of the smooth flesh of her breasts when she leaned forward. That alone was enough to attract my attention, producing a distant ache that, even while I tried to suppress it, recalled someone else in another setting. Mecolo was a good-looking young woman – far above the average, I had to admit – who knew how to arrange and display herself to the very best effect. On top of that, she carried with her the seductiveness of association with power and position.

Sharma glanced upwards over his shoulder and said with studied impassivity, ‘Why, Lady Mecolo, when the ladies are as beautiful as you nothing on earth could make any soldier of Keirine forget them. Our deeds are inspired by the beauty of the maidens of Keirine.’ He paused and then said meaningfully, ‘And especially the maidens of Koraina, who are nearest to our hearts.’

Mecolo pulled up a chair and sat down with her knees almost touching Sharma’s. Even at a distance, I could smell her perfume. Under the musky pungency, it carried the hint of the fresh warmth of her body. Mecolo demanded, ‘Tell me about Asjolorm.’

Sharma said nonchalantly, ‘Asjolorm? It was destroyed by fire. There’s nothing much to tell.’

‘Oh, Sharma, don’t be so modest! I hear that you had a lot to do with what happened there.’

Sharma looked pleased but tried to hide it with a negligent shrug. He replied, ‘No single person can take the credit. Most of the men in our unit were involved in the attack.’

‘And you were just one of the many?’ Mecolo looked at me and asked archly, ‘Jina, isn’t he modest? Perhaps you can tell me what happened.’

I said, ‘Lady Mecolo, we burned the city to the ground and we slaughtered a lot of people when they tried to escape. We slaughtered women and children along with the men. We slaughtered old people and we slaughtered babies. Then when things started to get too hot for comfort we got out of there fast. Like all good soldiers, we wanted to preserve our lives and limbs for the next battle. That’s what happened.’

Mecolo bit her lip and sat back stiffly with her hands in her lap. I had rebuffed her but I didn’t care. Once, not so long ago, I could have enjoyed these flirtatious approach-and-retreat, double-meaning games. With Dana, they had excited me. With Dana, they were steps in an exhilarating and intriguing dance. Now they irritated me. More than that, nowadays they reminded me of what I was trying to leave behind in the pit of oblivion.

Sharma tried to rescue the situation by saying quickly, ‘It’s true that Jina and I were involved right from the beginning.’

‘Oh? How? Do tell me.’

Sharma had just begun telling the story when the inner door opened and Jainar appeared. We stood up and saluted but he frowned and looked past us, saying severely, ‘Lady Mecolo, I did not expect to see you here.’

Mecolo’s eyes flickered warily but she maintained her composure and replied, ‘I was hoping to see my father.’

‘At this hour of the day, Lady Mecolo? Your father has his duties, you know.’

Mecolo wrinkled her nose and shrugged in studied indifference. ‘Then perhaps I won’t see him now, if he’s busy. Perhaps I'll call on him later’

Jainar took a step forwards so that he was standing squarely across the doorway. He replied evenly, 'Yes, my lady. Later would be much better. This evening would be best of all.'

Mecolo got up, moved to the outer door, then stopped there and said to us, ‘Well, it’s been so nice talking to you. I hope that I will see you soon.’

Jainar said brusquely, ‘They also have their duties, Lady Mecolo.’

‘Yes, of course they do – and I’m sure that you know how to keep them busy, General Jainar.’ Mecolo wrinkled her nose again, waved lightly, and was gone.

Jainar grunted and looked at us suspiciously with narrowed eyes. Then he ushered us through the door.

The inner room was the exact opposite of the antechamber. It was spacious and had a luxurious, sumptuous air, with its deep-piled carpets, large tapestries, and heavy drapes that reached from ceiling to floor. Although it was mid-morning, all of the drapes were drawn, so that the room had to be lighted by lamps. I felt as if, in one moment, I had been transported to a secret cavern in a fabulous land. It was so surprising that I stopped abruptly, causing Sharma to collide with me at which he muttered something uncomplimentary and gave me a discreet shove in the middle of my back. I stepped forwards, blinked, and took in more of this surprising scene. A huge table of heavy wood dominated the room. The surface was so highly varnished that I wondered incongruously if Vaxili and his aides used it to play some game or other -- perhaps an exotic game in which polished counters were pushed to and fro. All around the table there were large chairs with high, carved backs and upholstered seats. I stumbled against one of the chairs, stubbed a toe, and swore under my breath. Sharma pulled me backwards and muttered something that was probably no more complimentary than his words of a few seconds earlier.

From behind us, Jainar said loudly, 'Your majesty, may I present Deputy Commanders Sharma and Jina?' Peering into the semi-gloom, at last I located Vaxili. He was sitting at the head of the table with the lamplight falling on him obliquely so that half of his face was illuminated while the other half was in deep shadow. It was disconcerting, like encountering a man who wore only one half of a mask. Furthermore, the direction of the light exaggerated the effect of the scar under Vaxili’s right eye, so that he appeared to be glaring at us with an eye narrowed in suspicion. He looked so inhospitable that I wondered if we had come to the wrong place.

Sharma plucked at the hem of my tunic. I glanced at him, saw that he was standing to attention, and followed suit. We saluted but Vaxili only acknowledged us with a negligent gesture and motioned to us to be seated at the foot of the table. When Jainar went up to Vaxili and murmured something to him, Vaxili scowled, pursed his lips, and looked us up and down as if he had just been told that we were infected by the plague. I guessed that Jainar had told Vaxili that Mecolo had been with us in the antechamber and my stomach muscles tightened in apprehension. This was not a good way to start the meeting.

Jainar settled down in a chair between Vaxili and us and there was a deep silence until Jainar coughed discreetly and Vaxili nodded as if he had just remembered that he was in charge. He cleared his throat, coughed again, and said, ‘Welcome, deputy commanders Sharma and Jina. We are pleased to see you.’

We gave the standard response: ‘We greet your majesty.’

Vaxili waved a finger in acknowledgement and looked at Jainar expectantly. Jainar said, ‘His majesty has invited you here so that he can thank you for your role in the attack on Asjolorm. He wishes to inform you that you will be decorated with the Order of the Defenders of Keirine.’

Sharma and I exchanged glances. I could see that for some reason Sharma didn’t want to speak first, so I tried to look knowing and appreciative and replied, ‘We thank your majesty. It is a great honour.’ However, the fact was that I had never heard of this decoration -- or any other Keirineian military decoration, come to that.

Vaxili looked at Sharma enquiringly. Sharma straightened and responded stiffly, ‘We thank your majesty. It is an honour.’

For the next ten minutes, Vaxili talked with us about the attack on Asjolorm. While doing so, he became quite animated as if discussing a successful attack on the Dornites had cleared away his earlier mood of indifference. As the discussion drew towards a conclusion, Vaxili put up a finger, smiled sardonically, and, with his head a little to one side, looked at Sharma shrewdly. After a pause, he said, ‘It appears that you find service on the frontier productive, Deputy Commander Sharma. Would you agree with me?’ He continued to look at Sharma in the same way.

‘Your majesty?’

Vaxili said, ‘You looked down towards Asjolorm, you saw the possibilities, and you conceived the plan for the attack – not so? Now, if you had not been based where you were --’ He broke off and looked closely at Sharma.

Sharma swallowed hard and replied in a subdued voice, ‘It wasn’t all my doing, your majesty.’

‘No?’

Sharma looked at me quickly and replied, ‘My comrade Jina also had a lot to do with it.’

Sharma was always good at acknowledging the contributions that others made. It was one of his most attractive qualities and one that he cultivated as he climbed the ladder of his aspirations. Right now, however, it struck me that he was trying to deflect attention away from himself rather than share the glory with others.

‘Yes, so you’ve already said. And as I’ve already said, I’m grateful to both of you.’ Vaxili gave the same fleeting smile and asked, ‘Do you also find service on the frontier stimulating, Deputy Commander Jina?’

‘I serve Keirine wherever I’m called to do so, your majesty.’

‘One posting is as good as another, eh?’

‘No, your majesty.’

Vaxili's eyes widened and he asked, ‘No?’

‘What I mean is, your majesty – I mean that I prefer to be on active service. That’s how I serve Keirine best.’

‘Ah! You prefer active service? You really do?’

‘I would like to be wherever I can oppose our enemies directly, your majesty.’

Vaxili nodded thoughtfully and drummed his fingers lightly on the top of the table. Then he half-turned in his seat and looked at the wall that was covered in drapes. There was a long silence. Suddenly, still looking in the same direction, Vaxili said reflectively, ‘Killing Drunuk, rescuing my daughter, and now Asjolorm -- they make a good team, don’t they, General Jainar?’

‘Indeed they do, sir.’

Vaxili turned to face us. He leaned forward, hands clasped, and asked quietly, ‘Do you also prefer active service on the frontier, Deputy Commander Sharma?’ Vaxili leaned further forward and looked at Sharma closely.

Sharma licked his lips and replied cautiously, ‘I prefer to be wherever I can serve Keirine best, your majesty.’

‘Anywhere at all?’

Sharma paused, swallowed, and replied, ‘Yes, your majesty. I am a soldier first and foremost. It is my duty to serve Keirine wherever I am placed.’

Vaxili grunted and drummed the fingers of his right hand on the table, producing a light, incessant tic-tic sound. With his left hand, he stroked his throat slowly as if he was trying to rid it of an obstruction. After a while, he looked up and asked sharply, 'You are both from Lower Keirine, not so?'

'Yes, your majesty.'

Vaxili looked at us thoughtfully as if we were goods that he was turning over while he was pricing them in the bazaar. Then he asked, 'Would you not prefer to serve your own people?'

'Pardon, your majesty?'

Vaxili smiled quizzically as if he didn't believe the surprise in our voices. He asked, 'Surely your first loyalty is to your own people? Surely you would want to serve them first? Isn’t that only natural?'

Jainar got up quickly, bent over Vaxili's shoulder, and whispered to him urgently. Vaxili inclined his head and then waved Jainar away with a brush-off motion. He looked at us with a sceptical smile and asked, 'Well? What do you say?'

Sharma said, 'Your majesty, it is not a question of where we come from.'

'No? What, then?'

I could hear Sharma taking a deep breath before he answered cautiously, 'Your majesty, the elders of Osicedi sent us here to serve the Kingdom of Keirine. That is why we came here. We are soldiers of Keirine. That is our profession and that is what we want to do.'

Vaxili leaned back and smiled at us as if he knew something that we didn't. There was a long silence. Then Vaxili said reflectively, 'Ah, yes – from Osicedi, eh? I remember Osicedi.' He smiled thinly and nodded at us as if he expected us to respond his remark. I didn't know what sort of response was expected, but I was getting annoyed. I said, 'Your majesty, we were sent here to serve the Kingdom of Keirine. We weren't sent here to serve Lower Keirine, or Upper Keirine, or any other part of Keirine, north, south, east, or west. However, your majesty, if you feel that our loyalty is in question, then please send us wherever you think that we and our loyalty belong.'

Jainar said sharply, 'Show respect to his majesty, Deputy Commander Jina!'

Sharma put a hand on my thigh and gave it a warning squeeze. I opened my mouth to speak but shut it when Sharma squeezed my thigh even more sharply. Sharma said quickly, 'Your majesty, our loyalty belongs to Keirine and to all of Keirine without distinction of place or region. You may place us wherever you think that we will give the best service.'

Vaxili was still stroking his throat and looking at us contemplatively. He pursed his lips and asked quietly, ‘So, Deputy Commander Sharma, you wouldn’t even mind being posted to headquarters here in Koraina?’

‘I wouldn’t mind, your majesty, as long as that was where I could be useful.’

Vaxili ran a finger up his cheek, looked at the finger while he rubbed it with his thumb, and then said thoughtfully, ‘The question is, useful to whom?’

‘Your majesty?'

Vaxili asked pointedly, ‘You wouldn’t find that there were too many distractions here in Koraina?’

‘No, your majesty. I am a soldier of Keirine and I –‘

Vaxili waved a hand dismissively. ‘Yes, yes, I know – you've said all of that already. You don't have to repeat yourself. You are good soldiers and you serve Keirine with all your -- no doubt you believe it when you say ... well, no doubt, no doubt.’ His tone was ironic. Vaxili turned to Jainar and said in the same tone, ‘We are fortunate to have such devoted soldiers in our ranks, General Jainar. Not so?’

Jainar looked fixedly at Vaxili and replied firmly, ‘Indeed we are. We should remember that they have already rendered exceptional services. That is why your majesty wishes to congratulate them.’ He said it so firmly that Vaxili raised his eyebrows before he lowered his gaze and began to drum his fingers on the table. The silence was broken only by the tic-tic-tic of Vaxili's fingers drumming on the table-top. Then, suddenly, Vaxili shot a question at Sharma: ‘Are you absolutely sure that you would not be distracted if you were posted to Koraina?’

‘I’m certain, your majesty.’

‘Ah! No temptations posed by the fairer sex, for instance?’

Sharma hardly paused before he answered, ‘Not such as would interfere with my duties, your majesty.’

Vaxili pursed his lips. ‘Hmm! I believe that you are acquainted with my daughter, Mecolo.’

‘Yes, your majesty, I know Lady Mecolo.’

‘You know her well?’

‘I am acquainted with her, your majesty. You will remember, on the expedition to the Great River …’

Vaxili silenced Sharma with an abrupt gesture. His eyes narrowed and his face went hard. He said tight-lipped, ‘Deputy Commander Sharma, I know all about you and my daughter. I do not approve of your relationship with her.’ There was silence around the table. Then, still tight-lipped, Vaxili said, ‘I hope that I have made myself clear.’

'Your majesty --'

Vaxili silenced Sharma again. His eyes were as hard as his voice when he said, 'I will repeat myself. I said that I do not approve of your relationship with her. You understand?'

Sharma dropped his eyes and swallowed. ‘Yes, your majesty.’

‘You understand?’

‘I understand, your majesty.’

‘Good. We should be concentrating on fighting the Dornites without having to deal with distractions at home. You agree?’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

Vaxili snapped his fingers. ‘Good! We understand each other. That’s settled.’ He got to his feet, flexed his shoulders, and then leaned forward with both hands planted on the table. ‘General Jainar, you said that there was something else to discuss with these young men?'

Jainar said in a relieved tone, 'They have a proposal for a plan of battle against the Dornites. I think that it is worth hearing.’

For the next half--hour, we presented the idea for a battle formation that we discussed just before the attack on Asjolorm. Vaxili and Jainar questioned us closely and appeared to be more than interested in our ideas. As the discussion ran towards a conclusion, Vaxili asked, ‘Has your service on the frontier produced any other ideas?’

Sharma said, ‘There is one thing, your majesty.’

‘Yes?’

‘Your majesty, we shouldn’t only meet the Dornites on the battle field.’

‘No? How, then?’

‘Your majesty, I mean that we should take the fight to them wherever and whenever we can.’

‘Do you mean more attacks on their cities, as with Asjolorm?’

‘That is a possibility, your majesty. But we were thinking of other things.’

‘Such as?’

Sharma replied, ‘Your majesty, my comrade Jina has a suggestion.’

‘Well, let’s hear it.’

Sharma looked at me, inviting me to speak. I would rather have left right then, without any more talk but I swallowed my feelings and said, ‘We should be more mobile so that we can harass the Dornites. We need to keep them off balance. They should never know where the next attack is coming from.’ Vaxili raised an enquiring eyebrow at me and I continued, ‘Your majesty, you have been importing horses from Kitilat. We could use more of them.’

Jainar sat forward, looking interested, and asked, ‘Are you proposing that we should raise a cavalry regiment?'

Sharma said, 'Your honour, we were thinking more of a light mounted force that could harass the Dornite's supply lines or attack them in the rear. If we use the force well, it would destabilise the Dornites. We could divert their attention and divide their forces.’

Vaxili rubbed his chin and said, 'Keirineian forces have never fought on horseback.’

Jainar replied, 'Your majesty, the Dornites have changed their tactics. Perhaps it's time that we did the same.'

Vaxili rubbed his chin and asked, ‘What do you think, General Jainar?’

‘The idea has merit, your majesty. We should consider it.’

Still looking thoughtful but not fully convinced, Vaxili said, 'Well, there's no harm in considering an idea, even if it might not be practical.' He waved a hand and said, 'Thank you. We will consider your suggestions.' He turned his head to look at the wall with the drapes and Jainar moved us towards the door. As we were leaving the room, Vaxili called out sharply, ‘Deputy Commander Sharma!’

‘Your majesty?’

‘Remember what I said. I would not want to hear any more about you and my daughter.’

‘Yes, your majesty.’

Vaxili turned his head away again, we saluted, and Jainar ushered us out of the room.

Outside the building, we took a few deep breaths and exhaled hard and long as the tension ebbed. We didn't speak for a while. Then, after a few minutes, Sharma exhaled again and said, ‘What a bastard!'

I replied, 'Did you hear that -- wouldn't we rather serve Lower Keirine? Damn him! Does he think we're spies or infiltrators, or what?'

Sharma said somberly, 'If that's what he really thinks, then it's bad news for Keirine.'

We walked for a while in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. Then Sharma asked, 'Was Vaxili interested in our ideas? I don't know how to read him.'

'Maybe he just didn't want to commit himself or maybe he really wasn't much interested -- I don't know.'

Sharma snorted dismissively. 'I’ll tell you something that I saw at first hand -- Vaxili doesn't have a head for military matters. I thought so earlier but now I know it. It's a good thing that Jainar was there. He understands what we’re talking about, whereas Vaxili ...' Sharma swore and shrugged eloquently.

Just before we reached the camp, I asked the question that was uppermost in my mind: 'What are you going to do about Mecolo?'

Sharma said, ‘We will have to be more careful.’

‘Careful? Just be more careful? By Zabrazal, more than just careful, I would say. If I were you, I'd lie low. In fact, I'd lie so low that they'd think that you'd gone underground like a mole.’

Sharma pursed his lips and his face took on the stubborn, I-won’t-be-diverted look that I knew so well. I sighed inwardly. The flecks in his eyes gleamed as he said, ‘Don't worry about me. I can handle the situation.’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘For sure – I can handle it. Quit worrying.’ Sharma clapped my shoulder reassuringly and said cheerfully, ‘Hey, let’s go and get some food in the canteen. I’m hungry. I bet you are, too.’

CHAPTER TWELVE: I WANT HER

Three months later, Sharma and I were out riding at a site about two hours' march north of Koraina. Sharma reined in his horse and patted its neck, saying to it, 'Stand still while I get off. All right?' He dismounted cautiously, groaned, and said, ‘Damn it, shepherds weren’t made to ride horses.’ He rubbed his backside, flexed his shoulders, and grimaced.

I dismounted as well, slung the reins over a shoulder, and walked next to Sharma. I couldn’t help grinning at his stiff-legged gait while I said, ‘Shepherds weren’t made to ride, eh? That’s also what the Dornites think.’

Sharma grinned ruefully. ‘All part of the plan to catch them by surprise, not so?’ He groaned and leaned forward, flexing his back.

‘You said it, my friend.’ I wanted to rub my backside as well but I didn’t, because even more than soothing my aches, I wanted to go one up on Sharma. But, by Zabrazal, I had to admit that it was difficult to keep a straight face and a straight back. The ache in my muscles was so deep-seated – no pun intended – that it felt as if it had established itself as a permanent fixture.

Sharma stretched, flexed his shoulders and asked, 'What were we talking about?'

'You mean, before you nearly fell off your horse?' Sharma grinned at me ruefully and nodded. I said, 'We were talking about Vaxili.'

Sharma replied, ‘And I said that Vaxili isn’t a military leader -- he never was and he never will be.’

‘To which I replied that maybe he needs more time. He’s still learning, like the rest of us.’

Sharma said forcefully, ‘He sacrificed the army at Gandonda. Is that the price we have to pay while he learns?’

‘Sacrifice? That’s a strong word.’

‘Huh! What else can you call it? Vaxili exposed us to a superior force in a place where we didn’t have a chance to defend ourselves.’ Sharma stretched, groaned, and then said, 'What's worse is that Vaxili is a tribalist. You heard him. He might be King of Keirine in name but he's not King of Keirine in his head and his heart.' Sharma snorted and said flatly, 'Vaxili is a typical Orifinrian. That's what he is -- a typical Orifinrian. They think they're better than the rest of us and they think that they can call the shots for the rest of Keirine.'

‘Calm down, man! The fact is that he’s also the king. We have to live with it.’

Sharma said flatly, 'Vaxili isn't what Keirine needs. He's a tribalistic weakling. By now that's clear as daylight.’

'What is the alternative?'

Sharma replied forcefully, 'We need someone like Jainar. He's a soldier through and through.' He hitched his horse's reins around a branch and sat down gingerly. Then he said, ‘The problem is that we think that kings and military leaders always have to be one and the same. You remember Aggam's history lessons?' Sharma mimicked Aggam's high-pitched nasal tones: 'And then there arose another great leader in Keirine.' He snorted. 'And what sort of great leader arose? It was always another military leader, swift of foot and strong of arm – if Keirine was that lucky -- but with the political experience of a grasshopper. Not so?' Sharma winced, rubbed his thighs, and said, ‘I ask you -- who says that kings have to be military leaders? Who says that military leaders have to be kings? Look at the Dornites: they have the good sense to separate political rule from military command.’

As often happened when I had an exchange of views with Sharma, I found myself saying, ‘I guess you’re right.’

‘It’s as clear as daylight! Vaxili should handle political affairs – administration, taxation, law and order, that sort of thing – if he's up to it, which in fact I doubt. Anyway, whatever he does, he should leave the army to someone who can handle it – someone like Jainar. He thinks like a soldier. He understands strategy. The men have confidence in him. Everyone knows he's the one who really runs the army. Vaxili should just acknowledge it openly and leave military matters to Jainar’

I responded, ‘Someone ought to tell Vaxili that. I reckon he’d be pleased to hear it.’

Sharma grunted. 'You tell him, my friend. I'd rather stay far away from him.'

We were sitting out in the countryside resting our mounts because someone, probably Jainar, had taken our advice and established a light mounted unit. It was flattering to see our ideas being taken seriously. However, we had mixed feelings about the fact that that we had been included in the first batch of recruits. We certainly hadn't had much fun since we joined the unit. In fact, we’d been working harder than ever. Before the horses arrived, we moved equipment, cleared bush and grass and leveled the site. We dug a protective ditch, pitched tents, and constructed latrines and a kitchen block. Then we built the stables, which were solid structures of brick and wood with individual stalls. It galled us to see that the horses were better accommodated than we were in our tents where we had just about no protection from the heat and the cold and had to endure gusting winds and dust whipping into the tent between the flaps and under the sides.

When the horses arrived at the camp, Zaliek was with them. He dismounted, gave us a broad, knowing grin, and said, ‘Well, well, Sharma and Jina! What are you doing here, of all places?’

‘Someone drafted us, commander.’

‘Now I wonder who could have done that?’ Zaliek looked us up and down appraisingly and asked, ‘Have you collected any good Dornite heads lately?’

Sharma answered, ‘Not since you assisted us at Gandonda, commander.’

Zaliek gave Sharma a keen glance. He growled, ‘I hear that you’ve been quite busy since then, eh?’

‘Just keeping out of mischief, commander.’

Zaliek looked around with an amused air, gestured at the camp, and remarked, ‘Back to basic training, eh?’

‘It looks like it, commander.’

Zaliek patted his horse’s neck affectionately and asked, ‘You didn’t know that I could ride, did you?’

‘No, commander, we didn’t.’

‘There are lots of things you don’t know about me. Well, I’ll tell you another thing you don’t know about me. I learned to ride almost before I learned to walk.’

‘Where was that, commander?’

Zaliek started to rub down his horse. Over his shoulder, he growled, ‘Never mind that. Like I’ve told you a few times already, I get paid to make soldiers out of you, not to tell you my life story.’ He flicked an eyelid in what could have been a wink before he straightened and barked, ‘What are you looking at? Get busy rubbing down those horses.' Catching the looks on our faces, he asked, 'You know how to rub down a horse, don’t you?’

‘No, commander, we don't.’

‘Damnation! This is supposed to be a mounted unit! Are they scraping the bottom of the barrel, or what?’ Zaliek jerked a thumb at the men who arrived with him and said, ‘Ask them how to do it. They’ll show you. Well, what are you waiting for? Don't just stand there with your mouths open, looking at me like I'm a stark naked whore that just descended out of a passing cloud.’ He looked at us suspiciously and asked, 'Do you know anything at all about horses -- anything at all? Hey?'

'No, commander. Nothing at all!'

‘Then you’d better learn fast or I'll kick your backsides quicker and harder than a rock falls down a cliff. Well, move your arses! Get going!’

Zaliek taught us how to care for a horse, how to ride it, and how to fight while mounted. He taught us maneuvers, tactics, and strategies. He also showed us how to look after a horse better than we would look after our own mothers. It turned out that Zaliek knew what he was doing and, as was the case during basic training, he did everything better than we did. Mind you, that wasn’t surprising, considering that most of us had never been within touching distance of a horse before we were assigned to the unit.

Now, three weeks after Zaliek's arrival, here we were, exercising our horses and still feeling the effects on our long-suffering muscles. I lay next to Sharma on the ground, stretching my legs and wriggling my shoulders. Sharma asked, ‘Do you think being with a mounted unit is a good deal?’

I replied, ‘It’s all right. It’s interesting. What's more, it's better than walking.’

Sharma grunted as if he was unconvinced. He flicked a pebble with his thumb, watched it arch and drop into the grass, and asked, ‘Do you like horses?’

‘I don’t know yet. Give me another week or two and I’ll be able to tell you.’ I stretched again, shifted my position, and said, 'I don't even know whether horses like me.'

Sharma groaned. ‘I can’t say that I’ve conceived any affection for them.’ He stood up gingerly, rubbed his backside, and said half humorously and half resentfully, ‘Feed them, saddle them, bridle them, sponge them, rub them down, cover them with a blanket, talk to them as if they’re your best friends – damn it, man, we’re going to spend more time caring for the creatures than we spend looking after ourselves.’

I replied with a straight face, ‘Well, it’s your own doing.’

‘I didn’t ask them to assign us to the unit, did I?’ Sharma stretched, groaned again, looked at me ruefully, and complained, ‘Convenient, eh?’

‘Convenient for whom?’

‘Convenient for Vaxili, that’s who.’

‘Well, what did you expect? Did you think he would give you a position at headquarters to show his appreciation of your affectionate concern for his daughter?’’ Sharma grunted despondently. I asked, ‘Are you still seeing her?’ Sharma grunted again. I said, ‘For an intelligent man, you’re a damn fool, Sharma!’

Sharma’s eyes flashed and he retorted, ‘That’s my business!’

‘All right, have it your way, damn it! If you don’t want to talk about it – well, then, don’t!'

Sharma sat up and rested his chin on his knees. He said slowly, ‘I like her.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘I want her.’

‘That’s not the point, either.’

‘No? What is the point?’

‘The point is, if you go on seeing her, you’ll have her old man’s boot coming down on your neck. And, as I don’t need to remind you, her old man is the king. When he brings his boot down, you’ll feel it. In fact, it's likely that you are already are -- but just a gentle nudge, this time.’

Sharma didn’t say anything for a while. He just hugged his knees and looked out over the plain. Then he said with feeling, ‘Jina, I’m telling you, I don't want to lose her.’

‘Do you like her enough to risk what Vaxili will do to stop you?’ Sharma didn’t reply. He just tugged at an ear. However, by the set of his jaw I could see what he was thinking carefully. I said, ‘Come back to the real world, Sharma. She’s not the only fish in the sea. You can trawl your net and catch just about as many fish as you like any day of the week.’

Sharma said, ‘I won’t find another one like Mecolo.’

‘Oh, that’s for sure. You won’t find another one whose old man could do you serious if not fatal harm. If you go fishing elsewhere, all that you’ll find is a lot of girls with parents who'll think how nice it is that their beloved daughter is seeing such a well-known, up-and-coming young man like you.’

‘I told you, man! I don’t want to give her up.’

‘Of course you don’t! You like the challenge, don’t you? You like the risk. Well, let me remind you that this time you’re not engaged in a surprise attack on the Dornites or dealing with a bunch of Usserdite bandits. This time you’re completely exposed, out in the open, where every move you make can be seen. You remember Gandonda? You remember what you said, about how Vaxili exposed us to superior force without sufficient protection? Well, I can tell you that where Mecolo is concerned you’re in an even worse position than we were at Gandonda. At least there you had armour and weapons. Here, you have no protection. Nothing!’

After a while, Sharma said regretfully, ‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘Yes, maybe I am.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You do that, Sharma! Oh, yes, you do that!’

Of course, Sharma didn’t change his mind and he didn’t change his behaviour, either. Vaxili couldn’t keep Sharma penned up in the camp all the time like a dog tied to a stake. Sharma was entitled to leave and time off just like the rest of us and, as a free citizen he was entitled to go wherever he wanted when he was off duty. Predictably, he went on seeing Mecolo whenever he could. He did try to keep his affair with Mecolo quiet and out of the public eye -- but how could anyone keep a thing like that away from the attention of the king, if the king made it his business to know about it? Sharma pushed his luck, his relationship with Mecolo deepened, and Vaxili fumed and plotted his response. Of course, the matter came to a head soon enough, as it was bound to. But before that, there was another battle with the Dornites – not a sneak attack on one of their towns, but a regular head-to-head confrontation, just like Gandonda.

The next full-scale Dornite attack came about six months after our attack on Asjolorm. Why did the Dornites take so long to mobilise? Perhaps they were distracted by their squabbles over appointing a new military commander. Perhaps they were arguing about strategies. Perhaps they wanted to prepare an even more powerful force, one that would inflict decisive damage on Keirine and on the Keirineian army. Whatever the reason, the delay gave Keirine time to prepare for the Dornite onslaught.

One morning, in the middle of drill parade, our unit was ordered to relocate to the south-eastern border. As we headed out of camp, Zaliek rode beside us, bellowing, ‘Get your line straight! Sit upright in the saddle!’

As Zaliek drew abreast of me, I asked, ‘What’s the emergency, commander?’

‘Emergency? Who said it was an emergency? Maybe we’re going to have a picnic somewhere on the frontier. How about that, eh?’

‘It doesn’t feel like a picnic, commander.’

Zaliek reined in his horse so that it trotted alongside mine. He said, ‘We’ll get our orders when we pass through Koraina but it’s my guess that the Dornites are on the move.’

Sharma leaned over and asked, ‘What’s our role going to be, commander?’

‘Scouting, mostly – that's my guess.’ Zaliek shrugged and added, ‘Perhaps we'll make some attacks on the Dornite’s supply lines. Who knows?’ He shrugged again before he grinned sardonically and said, ‘Let’s hope they don’t want to use you as cavalry in a regular battle. That could be the end of you lot.’

There was an edge to Sharma’s voice when he asked, ‘Don’t you think we’re good enough?’

Zaliek looked at Sharma appraisingly and asked, ‘What did I say about courage during basic training? Remember?'

Sharma looked away sulkily and pretended to be adjusting his horse’s bridle. Zaliek chuckled knowingly and asked, ‘Do you remember, Deputy Commander Jina?’

I replied, ‘You said that courage isn’t enough. You said that it’s enough to get yourself killed but it’s not enough to defeat the enemy.’

Zaliek snapped his fingers. ‘Exactly! You’re a light mounted unit while the Dornites use heavy cavalry. They’ll run over you in a head-to-head encounter.’ Zaliek snapped his fingers again and growled, ‘You see, Deputy Commander Sharma, it has nothing to do with your own, personal, precious, celebrated courage! Are you satisfied?’

Still looking sulky, Sharma replied with something between a grunt and a muffled acknowledgement.

Zaliek leaned over and asked sharply, ‘I asked, are you satisfied?’

‘Yes, commander! I am satisfied.’

The rain started about half an hour after we left the camp. Although it was just a persistent drizzle weeping morosely from a low sky, ahead of us, to the south, lightning flickered over the hills and the clouds were swollen and molten black with menace. I cursed, adjusted my headgear, put my head down and drew my coat tighter across my chest.

Sharma said, ‘Don’t curse the weather.’

‘Why not? It’s damn miserable.’

‘If this rain keeps up, it’s going to be even worse for the Dornites. Their chariots will be bogged down in the mud and their cavalry won’t find it much easier. It will reduce their mobility by half.'

I grunted despondently. It was a small consolation amidst the discomfort.

The rain was pelting down by the time we rode into Koraina. While Zaliek reported to headquarters to receive orders, we dismounted and found shelter wherever we could. That was difficult because the place was in a ferment of activity. Carts and wagons were being loaded with supplies, troops were assembling under full packs, and orderlies were running around with harassed expressions. There was noise and activity everywhere. Sharma looked around, hesitated, and then asked me, ‘Will you look after my horse for a while?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Just look after my horse. I won’t be long.’

‘Don’t be a fool, man. If you’re not here when Zaliek gets back –‘

‘I won’t be more than a few minutes!’ Sharma shook my hand off his arm and headed away from me at a fast jog.

I called after him, ‘You won’t find her, man! You haven’t got the time.’

Sharma didn’t give any indication that he heard me. I stood there holding his horse’s reins, cursing him for being such a pig-headed fool.

Zaliek returned within a few minutes and ordered us to mount. Then he saw the empty saddle and bellowed, ‘Where’s Sharma?’

I replied, ‘He’ll be back right away, commander.’

‘I didn’t ask when he'd be back! I asked where he is.’

I said, truthfully, ‘I don’t know, commander.’

Someone said with a snigger, ‘Perhaps he’s gone to answer a call of nature.’

Zaliek looked around grimly and said, ‘It depends on which part of his nature is calling, eh?’

Just then Sharma appeared at a run. Zaliek glared at him and shouted, ‘Where did you go to, deputy commander?’

Sharma replied calmly, ‘I was just getting some exercise, commander.’

Zaliek shouted, ‘In future, you stay with your unit until I give you orders to disband. Understand?’

‘Yes, commander.’

We headed southwards out of Koraina. After a few minutes, I asked quietly, ‘Did you find her?’ Sharma shook his head. I continued, ‘It’s just as well that you didn’t.’ Sharma grunted and I said, ‘You need to focus on what’s waiting for us. Forget about Mecolo, just like you forget about everything else that gets in the way of what you have to do. Focus on what you have to do. Your life could depend on it – not to mention the rest of us, as well.’

Sharma shot me a quick look and pursed his lips before he muttered truculently, 'It's all right for you. You don't have --' He stopped and looked away.

I felt like leaning over and slapping him hard across his face. Slap? In fact, I felt like punching him so hard that his words would be driven right back to where they came from. I clenched my fists on the reins, bit back my anger, got a hold of myself, and said, ‘I don’t want you to get injured or killed, Sharma.’ He shot me another quick look but still said nothing. I continued, ‘It’s a damned nuisance, dealing with injured comrades. Do you think that I want to haul your body off the battlefield when I should be fighting the Dornites? So my advice is that you focus on what we have to do and forget about everything else. All right?’

By way of response, Sharma just grunted and looked sulky.

That night, we camped at our old base on the escarpment just north of Gandonda. The huts were empty because the soldiers who had been occupying the base had left that morning to join the army which was on the march somewhere to the west of us.

We settled in, grateful to have warmth and shelter and relieved to be able to stretch our stiff limbs. Gusts and squalls propelled the rain so fiercely that it felt like miniature arrowheads of ice. We laid out our cloaks to dry – not that there was much chance of that happening – and settled down to munch at our field rations. Just then, Zaliek appeared. His eyes flickered with amusement when he saw us glumly munching on our rations. He said, 'Not like the soft and easy life of camp, is it? Almost like doing something useful with your lives, eh?' Then he barked, ‘Sharma and Jina! I want to see you as soon as you’ve finished eating.’

‘We’re coming, commander.’

‘Finish your meal first. You’ll need it for what’s coming.’

A few minutes later, we joined Zaliek, huddling with him in the lee of one of the huts, pulling our greatcoats tight against the swirling wind. Zaliek got straight to the point: ‘The Dornites are on the move down there.’ He nodded eastwards towards the coastal plain.

Sharma asked, ‘Are they in full force, commander?’

Zaliek nodded. 'The scouts say it looks like they have a bigger force than they had at Gandonda.’

I asked, ‘What’s our role, commander?’

‘Eager to get into action, eh? Don’t you ever lose your appetite for gobbling up Dornites?’

‘Not while I’m serving Keirine, commander.’

Zaliek chuckled. ‘If Keirine had a few more like you, the Dornites would have been driven into the sea by now.’ Then he said somberly, ‘This is where I leave you. You’re on your own from now on.’ Zaliek jerked his thumb towards the escarpment and the rain-veiled plains beyond it. He said, ‘Your orders are to harass the Dornite supply lines. You’ll divide the unit into two sections. Each of you will command one of the sections. Liaise with one another and try never to operate separately. After three days, you will link up with the army. Any questions?’

My blood raced faster. I would be commanding my own unit for the second time – but now we would be facing Dornite soldiers not a bunch of bandits or confused, panicky civilians. I had a score of questions but I suspected that Zaliek wouldn’t be able to answer them. The simple fact was that we were on our own from now on.

Sharma and I led our units out at first light. The air was moist and heavy, the clouds were low, and the ground was sodden but at least it had stopped raining. Our plan was to make our way over the escarpment following the path that we used on our approach to Asjolorm. After that, we would turn south towards the main highway on the assumption that the Dornite army was somewhere in the vicinity of the pass at Gandonda.

Just after we linked up with the highway at about mid-morning, we intercepted a Dornite trader who was on his way to Asjolorm. He was an elderly man with a large paunch, a bald head, and a squint, wearing a cloak and a tunic made of material that was so coarse that it felt like the sacking that my father used as wrapping for his bales. When we hauled him off his donkey, the pathetic fellow actually pissed in fright so that the disgusting yellow liquid ran down his legs, steaming in the cold air. We searched his packs but found nothing of any significance. Privately, I pitied the fellow for his poverty. I remembered my father's wagon, piled high with wool and hides and for a moment I pitied the man even more. Then I shrugged these diverting thoughts aside – this was war not a sociable meeting – and ordered my men to interrogate the trader. A knife held to his throat elicited the information that late the previous evening he passed a large Dornite detachment heading for the pass.

To extract more information, our men knocked blindfolded the fellow and knocked him around a bit, making a game of it by forming a circle and shoving him in all directions so that he never knew who would push him next or in which direction he would stumble. Then, when he dropped to the ground sniveling and exhausted, we threatened to torture him if he didn't tell us everything that he knew. At that, he sobbed and clung to Sharma's legs so tightly that he had to be prised loose and dragged away while Sharma looked at him in distaste. To get him to talk some more, some of our men held him down, pulled up his tunic, and pressed a knife against his genitals. Although he writhed, wailed, and screamed, even in the extreme of his terror he could only repeat what he had already said.

It was clear that he had nothing more to offer so I decided to let him go. However, Sharma pointed out that the man should be prevented from carrying information to the Dornite army, just in case that was in his mind. When we killed his donkey, the man cried out and kneeled down next to the dead beast weeping and rocking up and down so that his head hit the ground with a soft thud with each forward movement. At that point, Sharma had second thoughts and wanted to kill the fellow but I couldn't see the sense in it. Truly, I had had enough of slaughtering pathetic creatures. It brought back such unpleasant memories that I could have imitated the fellow by knocking my own head against the ground if only that would have cleared my mind of the images that beset it. Of course, I didn't say that to Sharma. Instead, I told him that killing a helpless civilian would demoralise our men. Sharma muttered 'Maybe you're right', and ordered two of our men to get rid of the fellow. They lashed him to one of our spare horses and rode off with him with orders to release him somewhere to the south at a considerable distance from the highway. As he disappeared into the mist with his escort, he was bent forward over the horse's neck, shoulders hunched, like a condemned man going to his death. Probably he was too frightened to understand that we were giving him his freedom.

At midday we split up. Sharma’s section went south of the highway and my section went north. It was a miserable afternoon. The wind gusted off the escarpment, rain battered us in sharp squalls and the ground was cold and sodden. Nothing moved on the highway. It was as if the world had been cleared of life and only our detachment was remained to trudge over its dreary surface.

In the early evening, I rode over and joined Sharma.

I said, ‘We’re wasting our time. The Dornites aren’t bringing up supplies today.’

Sharma nodded. ‘They probably have everything that they need for the moment.’

We huddled together, cold and wet, considering the situation. Sharma said, ‘They probably took enough with them to last for a few days. After that, they’ll bring up fresh supplies and live off the land at the same time.’

‘If our army doesn’t stop them.’

Sharma said grimly, ‘Yes, if our army doesn’t stop them.’ He stamped his feet vigorously and cursed. ‘By Zabrazal, this is miserable! No action, and freezing weather on top of it.’

I said, 'We’re wasting our time. We need to find the Dornites or link up with our own forces.’

Sharma muttered, ‘I can tell you where the Dornites are – somewhere up there.’ He pointed towards the pass and the escarpment.

‘Well, then, let’s go and find them. We’re not doing any good, hanging around here.’

We spent a miserable night in the open, sheltering under trees and bushes, huddled together. Early next morning we moved eastwards, parallel with the highway. It was slow going, keeping an eye on the road, sending out scouts, waiting for their reports, and then moving forward cautiously over the rough, sodden ground. Finally, at mid-afternoon, one of our scouts reported that he thought that he had located the Dornite army. Sharma and I rode forward to investigate and just before sunset we found the enemy camped in a valley to the south of the highway.

We crept up to the top of the ridge, cursing under our breaths as we elbowed through mud and as the damp seeped into our clothes. Worming our ways to the edge, we looked into the valley. Sharma gave a low whistle. ‘It’s them all right.’

‘It’s a bigger force than last time, I reckon.’

‘It sure looks like it.’

As the light faded, we studied the position. Sharma said, ‘They’re supremely confident. They don’t even have scouts out on this side to cover their rear.’

I replied grimly, 'Based on their last performance, they have reason to be confident.'

Sharma said, 'Let's hope that our commanders have come up with something new. Our army won't survive another defeat like the last one.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE SWING OF THE PENDULUM

What could we do with only fifty men? There we were, unobserved, within striking distance of the Dornite camp but unable to carry out a decisive action. In my frustration, I imagined that I could stretch out my hand, seize the whole camp, and crush it in my fist. After all, what was it but a few thousand men? From our position on the ridge, with the whole camp spread out beneath us in the valley, the camp had the appearance of toy tents and toy soldiers. It seemed incongruous that such a small force could stand between Keirine and security.

However, even as I fantasised about removing the whole Dornite army with one sweep of my hand, I recognised that these few thousand men and what they represented had already changed the shape of Keirine. Somewhere in front of the Dornites, lying across their line of advance, there was a king with an army -- the first king and army that Keirine ever had. Without the threat of the Dornites, Keirine would have continued with its old, timeworn practices as a tribal federation with part-time militias. Now things had changed forever, for better or for worse.

We lay there shivering and damp for about an hour while night fell and the Dornites lit fires and prepared their meals. Pairs of guards were posted all around the camp. As we peered into the valley and considered various possibilities, I suddenly had an idea. I nudged Sharma and whispered, ‘The supply wagons!’

Sharma said, ‘That’s a possibility!’

The wagons were standing together on the southern side of the camp with their contents covered by oilskins. I said, ‘The contents will be dry. If we can get fire into the wagons, under the oilskins –‘

That’s what we did. At about midnight, our men took out the three pairs of guards nearest to the wagons. After that, it was easy to lift smouldering logs from the nearest fire, put them into the wagons, and then retire quietly. The outcome was satisfactory. Although the Dornites managed to extinguish the blazes in some of the wagons, about twenty burned out completely. In addition, there was an unexpected bonus when containers of oil exploded, setting fire to a number of tents.

We retired southwards, leaving scouts to observe the camp. While our men sheltered under rock overhangs, Sharma and I planned our next move. It was clear that we only had two options -- either to try to disrupt the Dornite supply lines, if there was anything to disrupt, or to link up with our army. What to do? We sat in glum silence for a while, hugging our knees to protect ourselves from the cold. After a while, Sharma said, 'I wish I knew what the Dornites were going to do next.'

I nodded. It was going to be a waiting game. I said, ‘We don’t know exactly where our army is except that they’re somewhere up ahead. We might as well stay here and exploit any opening that the Dornites give us.’

Sharma grunted in agreement.

Just after sunrise, our scouts reported that the Dornites were moving forward in battle order. I wanted to get going immediately but Sharma put a restraining hand on my arm, saying, 'Hold it, Jina. Not so fast.'

'Hold it? Why? You don't want to hang around here, do you?'

Sharma replied quietly, 'How many men do we have?'

'You know the answer -- fifty-two, counting us.'

'Fifty-two men aren't going to make much difference.'

'Maybe not. But, damn it, we can't just hang around here. We have to do something useful.'

Sharma said, 'Then let's use our men to the best advantage.'

'How?'

'Let's not commit ourselves too early. We'll wait for an opportunity to hit the Dornites when we can have maximum effect.'

Within an hour, our force was positioned behind a ridge above the battlefield. Sharma and I went forward and looked down from a position where the Dornite army was directly below us and our army was about one thousand paces to our right, already moving forward at walking pace. The Dornites responded by moving their chariots into the centre of their line while their cavalry took up a position in the rear.

Sharma whispered, 'The ground is so wet it's practically a swamp. Their cavalry and chariots aren't going to move easily in these conditions.'

'What about us? We're also mounted.'

Sharma nodded thoughtfully. He pulled at an ear and said, 'We'd better stick to the hillsides. That way we'll be more mobile.'

As I watched the scene below, my mouth went dry and my stomach muscles tightened. I muttered, 'This waiting and watching is worse than actually being there.'

Sharma grunted in agreement. Lying shoulder to shoulder with him, I could feel that he was quivering like a great cat that has stalked its prey and now waits for just the right opportunity, the moment of its victim's greatest weakness, to pounce. I glanced at him. His tongue was flickering over his lips and the flecks in his eyes were gleaming as he gazed intently at the scene below. He gave the impression that he was on the point of leaping over the ridge to pounce on the prey below with one ferocious lunge. I put an arm around his shoulders and whispered, 'Hold steady, Sharma.'

He looked at me with veiled eyes. Then he blinked as if he was refocusing on matters nearer to hand, shook his head vigorously, and muttered, 'No problem! I'm all right.'

I held him firmly across his shoulders while the tension eased out of him and the quivering subsided. After about a minute, he looked at me and muttered, 'I just want to get at them – that's all.'

Our army continued to advance. About six hundred paces separated them from the Dornites. Then it was five hundred. Then it was four hundred. Through gritted teeth, Sharma said, 'What the hell are they doing? They're just advancing in line abreast. The Dornites will find a weak point in the line and that will be the end of them, just like the last time.'

I could only nod in agreement and grit my teeth. It was like watching a dramatic performance based on a well-known myth in which everyone in the audience knows the tragic outcome but can't do anything to change the course of events. What made it worse for me was the knowledge that my brother, Abozi, was down there somewhere and could well be a victim of the same ham-headed tactics that led to disaster at the first battle of Gandonda.

Suddenly, shouted commands reached our ears through the heavy air. Sharma gripped my arm and asked in excitement, 'Do you see that?'

I saw it, too. The unit in the centre re-formed into a square formation and lances swung into the air. During their advance, the men had trailed the lances behind them and we hadn't been able to see them. Now, in an instant, the unit bristled with sharp-pointed menace.

Sharma said, 'By Zabrazal, they're going to form a wall!'

I didn’t reply. The scene below transfixed me. It was if the script of a well known drama had changed abruptly in mid-act. In an instant, the plot was wide open and unpredictable. What had been discussed between Sharma and me on the heights above Asjolorm, sketched roughly in the dust, now became a three-dimensional scene enacted by live players.

The square moved forward at a slow walk while the wings advanced slightly ahead of it. Now there was confusion in the Dornite army. Officers scuttled around behind the ranks and the cavalry withdrew by about one hundred paces. After another series of commands, their centre opened to let the chariots through.

Sharma gripped my arm and said in elation, 'The chariots! They're playing into our hands!'

I muttered in tense excitement, ‘We’ve got them this time!’

The chariots moved sluggishly in the mud, trying to look for an opening while the square moved onto them at an inexorable pace. It was a disaster for the Dornites. The long lances skewered the horses and the drivers who tried to turn their vehicles to flee but were either held by the mud or collided with other chariots. Skirmishers from our flanks moved in to finish off any Dornites who didn't flee back to their own ranks. It was a slaughter.

The square moved forward at the same pace, opening to bypass the derelict chariots and the dead and wounded horses, and then closed ranks again as it approached the Dornite army. The men on the flanks withdrew to the rear of the square, which opened to allow them to enter. Once again, a solid monolith advanced on the Dornite ranks.

I whispered, 'We should be down there, man. There's work to do.'

Sharma licked his lips and shook his head, saying, 'Not yet, my friend, not yet. Our time will come.' He glanced behind us and said, 'But it's time for our men to prepare for action.' With his eyes fixed on the battlefield, Sharma muttered, 'Tell them to keep out of sight. When we hit the Dornites, we're going to hit them hard.'

I got to my feet, turned to go, and then on a sudden thought said, 'Perhaps we should ask Zabrazal to bless our venture.'

'And if Zabrazal declines to bless us? Will we allow the Dornites to escape while we wait on Zabrazal's favour? Is that how we will serve Keirine?' Sharma snorted. Having no answer to his dismissive, I moved away to make preparations for the attack.

I ordered our men to move their horses forward to a position just behind the ridge and then I rejoined Sharma. I had only been away for about five minutes but already the scene had changed. The square was moving onto and through the Dornite ranks at the same inexorable pace. First the Dornites made a frontal attack, only to find that they couldn't penetrate the porcupine-like wall. Their leading ranks perished while the press of the men behind added fresh victims to the butchery before their ranks wavered and fell back. A bugle sounded and, right below us, the Dornite cavalry moved around their right flank.

Sharma said triumphantly, 'The last throw of the dice!'

My pulse was racing and my skin felt as if it had been rubbed with raw sandstone. I wasn't even aware that I was beating my fists against the rock in exhilaration. I was about to see something for which I had waited ever since I was a boy – the rout of a Dornite army. I said, 'We should move now.'

Sharma grunted, 'Not yet. Wait until the square has finished with them.'

Struggling through the mud, the cavalry advanced towards the side of the square. The result was the same as it had been with the chariots: horses were skewered and tumbled to the ground leaving the riders exposed to the points of the lances. The survivors turned and retreated up the lower slope of the hillside towards our position.

I said, 'Now! We have them!'

Sharma shouted, 'Let's go!'

Our men swept over the ridge and took the Dornite cavalry from behind. Attacked from front and rear, hemmed in by the lances and by the hillside, hampered by the soft ground and by their own weight, hardly a cavalryman escaped. As our forces completed the slaughter, I joined Sharma a little higher on the hillside. Sharma grinned at me broadly and shouted, 'We have them!'

I pointed to the Dornite ranks and shouted back, 'We haven't finished them off yet.'

'They won't last long. They can't handle the square.'

We watched as the square moved forward, at the same time opening at the rear to admit the men who had attacked the cavalry. Then the square opened up, forming a long line of advance, three men deep. A bugle sounded and the ranks broke into a quick trot, going as fast they could under the weight of the lances while maintaining unbroken lines. The Dornites fell back in confusion, breaking their line as the men in front tried to escape the approaching lines of lances.

I shouted, 'They're retreating. They'll get away.'

Sharma shouted back, 'Let's get behind them.'

We led our men along the hillside and then wheeled behind the Dornites. We got among the nearest stragglers, those who were retreating in advance of their comrades, cutting some of them down and forcing the rest back into their ranks.

Sharma drew up alongside me and shouted, 'We don't have enough men to do much damage. The best we can do is to try to slow them down.'

That's what we did. We moved up and down behind the Dornites, attacking easy targets. Now that the Dornites had to worry about two fronts at once, their retreat slowed.

The next move came from our own main force when the troops without lances suddenly poured around the sides of the advancing lines, attacking the Dornite flanks. Both sides sensed that this was the crucial phase of the battle. The Dornites held on grimly, like men with their backs to the edge of a cliff, contesting every step that they were pushed backwards. For about ten minutes, the battle swayed as if it was on an evenly balanced scale. Then the lances of the square broke through the Dornite centre and it was all over. From the Dornite ranks there rose a collective roar of anguish as if their intestines were being ripped out of their living bodies. From our soldiers came a shout of triumph and exhalation accompanied by the deep-throated chant of 'Kei-rine! Kei-rine!'

The Dornites wavered, broke, and ran. About half of our army followed them, cutting down the fugitives, stabbing and spearing those who fell in their path. Sharma and I led our men in the chase. The butchery was almost as callous as the killing at Asjolorm except that now the fugitives were soldiers, not civilians.

However, even at this late stage, the pendulum of battle could have swung one more time. A Dornite leader -- probably their supreme commander, judging by his the height of the crest on his helmet -- rallied some of his men on a hillock near the end of the valley. I had to hand it to the commander and his officers. Within minutes, they welded a bunch of terrified fugitives into a fighting force that held the hillock and then advanced down the slope in reasonably good order as our men turned and ran like a rabble. The panic spread across the field and soon the pursuers had turned into fugitives. Fortunately half of our force remained intact, advancing down the valley without their lances at a quick jog.

Sharma and I withdrew our men while our troops, the pursuers turned fugitives, streamed back in retreat. Sharma pointed to the disorderly scene and grunted, 'Thank Zabrazal for Jainar. Without him, we could be lost.'

It was true. Jainar was in control of the half of the army that didn't break ranks and set off in pursuit. We could see him gesticulating to the returning troops, giving directions to the officers, and taking charge of the proceedings. After about ten minutes, the full force had re-assembled. With Jainar in the lead, they set off down the valley at a jog. However, by then the Dornites had begun to climb the eastern heights above the valley. They were safe, out of our reach. Before long, they would be gone.

It was a great victory. More than half of the Dornite army remained on the battlefield, dead or injured, compared with only about two hundred casualties on our side.

As we rode down to join the army, Sharma growled, 'Damnation, we could have destroyed the Dornites completely if our men had kept their heads. As it is --' He shook his head and cursed.

I replied, 'It's a huge victory. Be satisfied with it, man.'

'But it's not what it could have been.'

'Get a sense of perspective, Sharma! This is Keirine's first major victory over the Dornites.'

'Exactly! That's why we should have finished the job properly.'

'Are you never satisfied? We must have destroyed half their army. It'll be a long time before they recover.'

Sharma shook his head and grunted in disappointment. He said morosely, 'We could have had more.'

Our troops greeted us with a cheer as we approached them. Some of our men broke ranks to greet friends and comrades but Sharma shouted at them to get back into line. We dismounted and saluted in front of Jainar who greeted us with a broad smile and fraternal embraces.

As I watched our men dispersing, I drew a deep breath. I felt as if I had climbed a huge step on a long stairway. I had a mental image of myself looking backwards down the stairway and then looking upwards along the climb that still lay before us. An inner voice told me that if I could get up the step that I had just climbed, I could handle the rest as well. I drew another deep breath, put my head back, and closed my eyes. As the excitement ebbed and as my blood cooled, suddenly I felt lonely. I was a successful soldier with my own command, celebrated for my achievements, acknowledged by the king himself. I was standing on the field of Keirine's greatest triumph, in the midst of the wreckage of the Dornite army, surrounded by the chatter and celebrations of soldiers relaxing after their triumph -- but I felt lonelier than I had ever felt before. I felt hollow, empty, and drained.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: GOOD ADVICE

After we disbanded, I rode over to the right flank to find Abozi. To my relief, he was safe and well. Like everyone else, he was flushed with the excitement of the victory. We chatted for a while and agreed to meet later.

While I was riding back to the centre of the valley, I began to feel feverish and dizzy. Suddenly I had a pounding headache and my eyes misted over so that I was viewing the world through an opaque veil. Feeling myself swaying in the saddle, I leaned forward over my horse's neck and allowed him to find his own way back. I must have passed out for a while because the next thing I remember was Sharma's voice, asking me if I was all right. Someone supported me in my saddle and called for assistance. It was probably Sharma but I can't be certain. After that, I can remember nothing.

My fevered delirium lasted for nearly four days. As I found out later, during that time, I was carried back to Koraina in a baggage cart together with a load of wounded soldiers. Along with scores of others, I was put to bed in a hut that served as a temporary hospital.

I have a few dazed memories of the time during which I suffered from the fever. Mostly, I remember images of Dana. I remember having the same dream that I had after the attack on Asjolorm – the dream that just as I was about to possess Dana sweetly and eagerly, I looked down and saw with horror that she was lying under me with her throat cut. I must have had the dream repeatedly because I recollect that at least twice – probably more often, I couldn't tell -- the sound of my own shouts awoke me from my delirium. Sweating, flushed, and bewildered I pushed myself up against the wall behind me and gazed dazedly at the crowded hut. In my half-conscious state, the image of Dana was still with me, more real than my actual surroundings. I gripped the sides of the bed and looked around in confusion, as if I expected to see Dana lying next to me or making her way down the aisle between the rows of beds. Then I dropped back into unconsciousness.

I also remember dreaming of Dana being held by someone. Perhaps it was the Usserdite bandit on the bank of the Great River or perhaps it was a figure that was conjured up by my dark imagination. The details weren't clear – it was just some blurred shape behind Dana, restraining her as she called out and struggled to come to me. In my dream, I called to her, 'You're safe now, Dana, you're safe. Come to me.' Then suddenly she was free and there was no one behind her. She ran towards me, arms outstretched with her garments billowing airily about her as if a wind was blowing up from the ground under her feet. I ran towards her but the more I ran, and the more she ran, the more we remained apart. I called out and reached towards her, and she did the same, but we always remained apart until once again I subsided into the dark void of delirium.

On the fourth day, my fever broke. At about mid-morning, I opened my eyes, lifted my head and looked around, sensing that someone was sitting next to me. I glanced sideways and then closed my eyes as pain pounded through my head. Someone asked half jocularly, 'Had enough sleep, eh?'

With my eyes closed, I muttered, 'My head hurts.'

The voice said, 'At one point, we thought we were going to bury you. Now it looks like you'll live to fight another day.'

Still with my eyes closed, I muttered, 'Is that you, Commander Zaliek?'

'It is.'

I opened my eyes and cautiously squinted towards him. Just as I focused on him, I felt faint. My head dropped back onto the pillow. Zaliek asked gruffly, 'Still not feeling so good, eh?'

After another silence, I managed to mutter, 'How long have I been here?'

'It's four days since the battle. You spent one night in the wagon and three nights in this bed.'

'Have you been here all the time, commander?'

Zaliek snorted. 'Here? All the time? You think I have nothing better to do than sit next to your bed day and night? Ha! You flatter yourself, Deputy Commander Jina!'

I was feeling a little better so I propped myself up against the wall and muttered, 'It's good to see you, commander.'

'I was just passing by so I thought I would drop in and see how things were.' Zaliek waggled a finger at me and said, 'A good commander cares about his men. Remember that.'

'And a good commander never expects his men to do anything that he won't do himself.'

Zaliek gave a short laugh and said, 'Ha! That's true. But nothing will induce me to get into that bed with you. That's something that you can do on your own without your commander.'

The pain in my head was subsiding, my mind was clearer, and my senses were keener than they were a few minutes earlier. I looked down at the bedclothes, sniffed, and said, 'Oh, man, I stink.'

'You said it, my friend, not me.'

'It's disgusting. I've got to get out of here.'

'Stay calm, deputy commander, stay calm. You're not well yet.' Zaliek put a hand on my forehead. His touch was surprisingly light, even tender.

I felt faint again and flopped back to a prone position. As I did so, I muttered, 'I've got to get out of here.'

Zaliek said, 'Don't try to move. I'll get someone to help you.'

After a few minutes, he came back with an elderly woman with a slatternly appearance. She picked her nose and looked at me with indifference until Zaliek roared at her in frustration, telling her that he would kick her backside if I hadn’t been fed and washed by the time he returned. As the woman shuffled away muttering to herself, Zaliek said, ‘After she’s seen to you, you can sleep for a few hours. I'll call again this afternoon.' I muttered something in reply and Zaliek said quietly, 'There's something that I need to discuss with you.' He looked at me meaningfully as if he wanted to impart a message to me but didn't know how to speak the words. Then, still looking at me in the same way, he nodded and walked away.

I slept through the middle of the day and when I awoke in early afternoon, I was ravenous. The woman brought me a bowl of stew, which I wolfed down. She brought me another one and I finished it nearly as quickly. Then I lay back and dropped into a state between sleeping and waking while my thoughts drifted amongst a host of impressions and memories. I had distant recollections of a battle field and someone supporting me on my horse. I dreamt of Dana lying back to receive me as her lover. I remembered how while I suffered from the fever, I woke in pitch darkness, screaming and flaying my arms about. I imagined myself running towards Dana, but never reaching her. Zaliek was talking to me, or so I thought … Finally I fell into a deep, dark, and dreamless sleep.

Zaliek shook my shoulder to wake me. I mumbled something and tried to turn over and go back to sleep but Zaliek shook me again, insistently. I rolled onto my back and opened my eyes. Zaliek was leaning over me, his face sombre. He asked, 'How are you?'

'Much better, I think.' I shook my head and propped myself up on my elbows. I said, 'My head doesn't hurt so much.'

'You feel better now that you've had something to eat, eh?'

'I was ravenous. I had some stew about an hour ago.'

'An hour ago? They told me that you ate about five hours ago.'

I looked around and saw that the room was already growing gloomy with the approach of evening. I said, 'Five hours ago? It doesn't seem like it.'

Zaliek said, 'Sorry to have to wake you.' He looked around and asked in a low voice, 'Can you walk?'

'Ever since I was a year old, commander.'

'Good. Then you should still be able to do it now.' He looked towards the door at the end of the room and said, 'I have something to discuss with you – confidentially.'

As I stood by the side of my bed getting dressed, Zaliek reached up to the windowsill and handed me something, saying, ‘Don’t forget this, deputy commander.’ It was the belt that Sharma had given me. As I buckled it around my waist and hitched it into a more comfortable position, running my fingers over its patterned surface, I wondered where Sharma was. I would have thought that he would have been amongst the first to see me. I said this to Zaliek, who looked uncomfortable and replied that he would tell me about Sharma once we got outside.

Zaliek supported me as I walked unsteadily down the passage between the beds. I was shaky but it felt good to be out of that bent-backed, stinking, soiled bed and on my feet again. As I made my way down the room, I looked around. By Zabrazal, this was no place to be spending time! Faces gaunt with pain and illness stared at me vacantly. The air was fetid, not only with the stench of wounds and unwashed bodies but also with an atmosphere of listless hopelessness. It was as if the place had sapped the will, energy, and self-belief of its inhabitants. I muttered to Zaliek, 'I've got to get out of here.'

'You can leave tomorrow, so they say.'

We were at the door. I stepped outside, leaned against the door-post and breathed deeply. I felt as if a part of my soul returned to me with every inhalation of fresh air. I said, 'Commander, I'm leaving right now. The only way they'll stop me is if they take me back by force.'

Zaliek looked me up and down and said sympathetically, 'Well, you might as well move out now. I guess it doesn't matter where you sleep tonight now that you're on the mend.' He cocked a thumb towards the interior of the hut and wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'At least you'll be out of that putrid atmosphere.'

When we sat down on a bench near the door, Zaliek reached into his tunic, took out a piece of cloth from which he unwrapped a medal on a ribbon. He held it up and said, 'This belongs to you.'

'What is it?'

'It's the Order of the Defenders of Keirine. Vaxili awarded it to you.'

I took the medal, saying, 'Did he? I know nothing about it.' As I inspected it, I asked, 'How did you get it, commander?'

Zaliek replied, 'The parade was held yesterday. You weren't available so I received the medal on your behalf.'

'Thank you, commander. I appreciate it. But, nevertheless, I would have thought that if it was so important, Vaxili would have found time to award it to me personally. Or maybe Jainar could have handed it to me. No offence meant, you understand?'

Zaliek shifted uncomfortably and said in a low voice, 'There's something that you should know -- Jainar isn't the commander of the army any longer.'

'He isn't? Why?'

Still in a low voice, Zaliek said, 'Jainar has been demoted to the level of a unit commander. It seems that he and the other senior commanders had a disagreement with Vaxili over the tactics to be used in the battle. That's why Jainar was in command while Vaxili stayed behind in Koraina.'

'What? Vaxili wasn't in command of the army?'

Zaliek shook his head. 'Like I said, he stayed behind in Koraina.'

I whistled. This was news indeed. I asked, 'And now Vaxili has struck back by demoting Jainar?' Zaliek nodded grimly. I asked, 'Who's the new commander?'

Zaliek said, 'No one. It looks like Vaxili is going to do the job himself.'

I began to feel light-headed again and leaned back against the wall. Zaliek leaned over me and asked, 'Are you all right?' I nodded. He looked at me closely as if checking that I was alert enough to go on with the conversation before he said, 'We can talk about these things tomorrow, when you're stronger.'

I replied, 'Commander, I have the feeling that you want to tell me something. I don't want to wait until tomorrow. I'm strong enough now.'

Zaliek nodded, leaned forward, and said in a low voice, 'I'm telling you this in confidence. Keep out of Vaxili's way.'

'What have I done to annoy him?'

Still speaking in a low voice, Zaliek said, 'It has to do with Sharma.'

'Well, commander, that doesn't surprise me. I've often warned Sharma to stop playing around with Mecolo but he won't listen to me. Anyway, what does that have to do with me?'

Zaliek smiled tightly. 'This time, Sharma has done a lot more than just play around with Mecolo.'

I groaned. Damn Sharma! Why didn't he take my advice and go fishing in some other part of the sea? I asked, 'What has he been up to now?'

Zaliek replied in a whispered hiss, 'Sharma has eloped with Mecolo.'

'What? Is he crazy?’ I sat there scratching my head. The effects of the fever combined with this news made me feel so faint that I could have been knocked over with a fly-whisk. I got a hold of myself and asked, 'When did this happen?'

'The day before yesterday.'

'The day that the army arrived in Koraina?'

Zaliek nodded and asked, 'Did you know that Sharma was planning this?'

'No. I had no idea – no idea at all! He never said a thing to me.'

Zaliek said grimly, 'That's not what Vaxili thinks.'

'He's wrong. I had nothing to do with it. On the contrary, I warned Sharma to break off with Mecolo. I warned him plenty of times. I told him that he was playing with fire.'

'Well, Sharma's going to get badly burned now. In fact, he'll be lucky to escape with burns. Vaxili will hunt him down and destroy him.' Zaliek paused and then said bleakly, 'I might have to watch my back as well.'

'You, commander? What have you done?'

'You remember your mission to rescue Mecolo and the others from the Usserdite bandits?' Zaliek cleared his throat and said sympathetically, 'I'm sorry, but I have to refer to it. Well, I have a feeling that Vaxili thinks that I arranged things so that Sharma could have an opportunity to get together with Mecolo.'

'Did you, commander?'

'Don't be a fool, man! I didn't even know that there was anything between them. The adjutant ordered me to select the best men for the purpose and that's what I did.' He cleared his throat again and concluded morosely, 'That's what comes from just following orders, eh?'

I leaned back and thought about the matter. God, it was a mess! Vaxili, jealous of his own commanders, had struck back at them. Sharma and Mecolo were on the run, ablaze with lovers’ passion while her father was after them, ablaze with passion of a different kind. Vaxili suspected that I was involved – in fact, the tentacles of his suspicions even reached as far as Zaliek … Where would I find a path through this wilderness of intrigue and suspicion?

Looking ill at ease, Zaliek said, ‘It gets worse. Vaxili has declared Sharma an outlaw.'

'What!? He can't do that!'

'Maybe he can’t. But that's what he's done.'

'Only a tribal council can do that – and then there has to be a proper hearing.'

Zaliek said grimly, 'If Vaxili bothered about it at all, he would probably say that he's above all the tribal councils so he can exercise all their functions.'

'Without a hearing?' Zaliek just shrugged despondently. I said, 'He can't do this! Even the king isn't above the law.'

Zaliek sat back and fiddled with his girdle. He started to say something, checked himself, and then coughed. He leaned forward, scratched the tip of his nose, and coughed again. I wasn't used to seeing the phlegmatic, down-to-earth Zaliek in such a hesitant state. Finally, he said, 'The fact is that Vaxili feels that he's threatened.'

'Threatened? But, commander, that's ridiculous! He's just won the biggest victory that any Keirineian force ever won over the Dornites. How can he feel threatened?'

Zaliek said, 'That wasn't Vaxili's victory. It was Jainar's victory.'

'But Vaxili is the commander in chief, and –' Zaliek was looking at me so intently that I broke off and asked, 'What's going on, commander?'

Zaliek said, 'It wasn't just that Vaxili wasn't present at the battle. The fact is that Jainar and the senior commanders took over all the planning for the campaign – tactics, strategies, logistics, everything. They excluded Vaxili completely.' Zaliek sat back and looked at me closely. He said, 'You and Sharma helped to move it along.'

'Sharma and me? What did we have to do with it?'

'You remember when the two of you met with Vaxili and Jainar, that you suggested a strategy for defeating the Dornites?'

'Yes, I remember. In fact, I saw the result just the other day, at the battle.'

Zaliek nodded. 'That's because Jainar liked what you suggested. In fact, he liked it a lot. But Vaxili didn't like it.'

'He seemed to be interested when we met with him.'

Zaliek shrugged. 'Maybe he was. But Vaxili can change his mind faster than the weather changes in autumn. That's the way he is. What's more, he doesn't accept other people's ideas easily and he doesn't like to give credit to others.' Zaliek lowered his voice and said cautiously, 'The problem is, he's insecure.'

'Insecure? I can agree with that assessment but I can’t understand it. After all, he's the king!'

'That's true. But he's never felt secure in that position.' Zaliek pursed his lips. 'For instance, who elected him to be king? Everyone knows that Izebol engineered the whole thing once he saw that he couldn't refuse the demand for a king. And now Izebol isn't happy with Vaxili. So where is Vaxili's support base? The answer is that he hardly has one at all, except maybe with his own clan. The only way he can build up wider support is by being successful. And what happens in his first battle against the Dornites? Disaster, that's what!'

I said, 'But if Vaxili had any sense, he would –'

Zaliek interrupted me. 'Hold it, deputy commander! Let me finish. If Vaxili was a big man, he'd know how to go out and win support. Unfortunately, he's not a big man. He's a small man who feels threatened at every turn. For example, let's consider his relationship with you and Sharma. Who gets a measure of victory out of the disaster of defeat by killing Drunuk? The two of you do. Who rescues Vaxili's daughter from the Usserdite bandits? The two of you do. Who has the idea for the attack on Asjolorm? The same, not so? Who suggests the tactics that win the second battle of Gandonda? The same again.'

'But, damn it, those were his victories as well not to mention the fact that they were victories for the whole of Keirine.'

Zaliek shook his head morosely. 'That’s how a big man would see it. But a small man like Vaxili – no.' Zaliek shook his head again and said, 'And then, on top of all that, who wins the affections of his beloved daughter?'

'Well, commander, at least I'm not guilty on the last count.'

'Ha! Tell that to Vaxili. He thinks that you're in league with Sharma. Anyway, never mind the finer details -- you see what I'm getting at, eh?' Zaliek shrugged fatalistically. 'Vaxili is hurting and he's looking for scapegoats.' He looked around cautiously, leaned forward, and said in a low voice, 'Like I said, the real problem is that Vaxili is a small man. And the big problem with small men is that they can't give credit to others. What's worse, they end up surrounding themselves with small men so that they only ever hear the arse-licking opinions that suit them.'

We sat there for a while in glum silence, busy with our thoughts. Then I asked, 'Where is Sharma?'

Zaliek gave a short laugh. 'He's with Mecolo somewhere in Lower Keirine, I would think.'

'Osicedi?'

Zaliek shrugged. 'I doubt it. Sharma would be clever enough to stay off the beaten track, at least until things cool down.'

I stood up and stretched, trying to get the ache out of my bones. Suddenly I felt faint and sat down in a hurry. I leaned forward, shook my head to clear it, and asked, 'What about me, commander?'

'That's a good question.' Zaliek pulled at an ear and looked at me speculatively. 'You're not on the top of Vaxili's popularity list but you're probably not in any danger. Vaxili wants Sharma, not you. My advice to you is: keep a low profile, recover your strength, and see how the wind is blowing.' Zaliek stood up and said gruffly, 'Look after yourself, deputy commander. You're a good soldier and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Remember – keep your head down.' He squeezed my shoulder, nodded, and left.

I walked into the hut, picked up my bag, and left without anybody noticing. Then I found a bungalow with a spare bed, dumped my kit, washed, and walked over to the mess hall. I was hungry as I had ever been.

I was halfway through my second plate of food when someone tapped me on my shoulder. Two men wearing light armour were standing there looking at me as if I was a rag fit only to be thrown onto the garbage heap. One of them said dourly, 'Deputy Commander Jina, you will come with us.'

Thinking that Zaliek or someone higher had summoned me, I replied, 'Certainly, my friend. Just let me finish my food. Why don't you sit down? I won't be more than a few minutes.'

The man put his hand on my shoulder, none too gently, and said, 'Our orders are that you are to come with us immediately.'

'What's the hurry, comrades. Surely --?'

'We said immediately!' They hauled me to my feet and turned me towards the door. I tried to shrug them off, saying, 'All right, comrades, I don't need your help. I might have been in the sick bay but I can walk on my own.' At that they let go of me but still shepherded me towards the door. I asked, 'What's going on?'

One of them growled, 'It's not our business to ask. We're just following orders.'

The men marched me to the headquarters building where Vaxili's new adjutant, a pock-faced man who I had never met before, was waiting for me in the antechamber. He ignored my salute and said tersely, 'Deputy Commander Jina, you are under arrest.'

I was flabbergasted. 'Under arrest? For what?'

'For colluding with the outlaw, Sharma.'

This took the wind out of my sails. I didn't know whether to protest first about the matter of collusion – whatever he meant by that – or about the unlawfulness of declaring Sharma an outlaw. As it happened, I didn't get a chance to protest about either matter. Before I could say anything, the adjutant made a dismissive gesture, as if waving away a troublesome insect, and the two men seized me. They marched me to a building on the outskirts of the town where the guards opened the door and thrust me inside. The door thudded shut and I was left trying to adjust to the turn of events – from mess hall to imprisonment within five minutes – as well as to the gloom inside the building.

A voice asked warily, 'Is that you, Jina?'

I looked around, trying to see who was speaking. It was so gloomy in the room that I could hardly see the walls let alone any other details. I replied cautiously, 'Yes, I'm Jina. Who are you?'

The invisible speaker replied, 'I'm Drohita. Remember me?'

Of course I remembered Drohita. He came from a village near Osicedi and he joined the army at the same time as I did. In fact, we marched south together to sign up. When he served with Sharma and me in the same basic training squad, I got to know him well as a quiet, studious young man who seemed out of place as a soldier. In fact, he had probably only survived this long because of his wry sense of humour. When I last spoke to him, a few months ago, he told me that he was hoping to leave the army soon to train as a priest.

Looking towards where the voice came from, I asked, 'Drohita! What are you doing here?'

He replied dryly, 'I'm taking a census of the prisoners, comrade. The problem is, just when I finish counting, they throw someone else in and I have to start again.'

Another voice said, 'Greetings, my brother.'

'Abozi! Are you also here?'

'So it seems.'

'What have you done, to be here?'

'Well, my brother, it seems that my crime is the same as yours, and the same as all the others here -- namely, to be who I am.'

Someone called out irritably, 'I don't mind you having a family reunion but if you move another step to the right, you'll tramp on my leg. That will annoy me so I advise you to be careful where you put your feet.'

I asked, 'Is that you, Anagina?'

'Right first time, comrade Deputy Commander Jina. And don’t ask me what I’m doing here.' There was cynical laughter from all over the room. Anagina continued, 'Because only Zabrazal and Vaxili know the answer and neither of them is saying.'

A voice said sardonically, 'He lived in Asjolorm, didn't he? He's guilty of consorting with the enemy.'

Anagina said quietly, 'That might be so. But maybe my crime is compounded by the fact that I'm also from Lower Keirine.'

'Are you? I didn't know that.'

'Yes. I was born there.'

Someone said dryly, ‘Welcome to the club, Anagina.’

I backed against the wall and looked around. Now that my eyes were getting accustomed to the gloom, I could make out that there were dark shapes huddled all over the floor. I asked, 'How many of us are in here?'

Someone snorted, 'Ask Drohita. He's the census-taker.'

Drohita called out, 'Forty-three, if no on has escaped or died since the last time I counted.'

I asked, 'How long have you men been here?'

Abozi replied, 'The first four were put in here three days ago. Since then, they've been throwing us in at regular intervals.'

I asked, 'What's the charge?'

Once again, there was cynical laughter from all over the room. Different voices said:

'Charge? No one told me about a charge.'

'We're here at Vaxili's pleasure.'

'Wise up, comrade, his royal highness Vaxili doesn't think he has to keep to the law. If he takes a dislike to you, that's it – it’s curtains for you!'

Someone burst out vehemently, 'Law? Vaxili is the law -- at least, that's what he thinks.'

There was a deep silence, gloomier than the dusk itself, before Abozi called out, 'Hey, Anagina, change places with me. That way I can sit next to my brother.'

There was the sound of shuffling and I felt the weight of a body against my right leg. A hand grasped my knee and Abozi's voice said, 'All right, Jina, there's room here. You can sit down.'

Below me to my left, a voice said, 'Do it carefully, man. I don't want you sitting on my head.'

I slid down the wall into a sitting position, shifted around to get as comfortable as possible on the hard-packed earthen floor, and asked, 'So not one of you knows what he's supposed to be guilty of?

There was a deep silence -- so deep that I could hear the sound of the guards stamping their feet against the chill of the evening. After a while, Abozi said, 'Oh, we reckon we know what we're here for.'

'Well, let's hear it then.'

Abozi cleared his throat and said, 'It's not difficult to work out what we all have in common. Firstly, we're all from Lower Keirine. Secondly, we all have a connection with Sharma.'

‘Yes? And --?’

‘And nothing!’

I whistled. 'You mean, that's it?'

'Yes. That's it.'

'But so what? Those aren't crimes. There must be something else as well.'

There was more cynical laughter by way of reply.

Abozi muttered, 'Vaxili! I despise the man. He's not a good enough soldier to defeat the Dornites so he turns on his own men instead.'

I replied, 'Save your feelings for later when you're free to do something about it. Meanwhile, stay calm. That's the best you can do under the circumstances.' I remembered Zaliek's injunction: 'Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.' His words were appropriate here as well, except that they applied to a situation in which the enemy was our own supreme commander and king. I repeated to myself, 'Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.'

There was a long period of brooding silence before someone muttered, 'It's going to be cold tonight. They should give us more than one blanket each, the bastards.' His words were answered by a resentful mumble of agreement.

Anagina said in a low voice, 'We should try to get out of here. Why wait to find out what they intend to do with us? By then, it'll be too late.'

Someone responded, 'We could probably get out through the roof without much trouble. This isn't a proper prison; it's just a derelict building.'

I replied, 'Don't be a fool, man. Where would we go? They'd have us in no time.'

Someone said gloomily, 'I know where I'd go, for sure. I'd go straight home. I've had enough of this damn-fool king and his damn-fool army. You give good service, you risk your life, and what do you get? I’ll tell you -- you get this! You get locked up for nothing, treated like a common criminal!’ He spat out the last words and followed them with a disgusted, ‘Pha!'

I said, 'Presuming you reached home, which is not very likely, they would find you there in no time.'

Anagina asked gloomily, 'What do you suggest? Got any plans?'

I responded, 'Give me a chance. I've just arrived. But my advice is that no one should try to escape. For all we know, it could provide them with just the excuse they want.'

Someone asked, 'Excuse for what?'

I replied, 'An excuse to dispose of us.'

The silence that followed merged with the darkness that covered the room.

Abozi asked me quietly, ‘How are you brother?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I visited you in hospital two days ago. It looked like you were going to die. I got those lazy female attendants to wash you, for what that was worth. Then, before I could go back to see how you were, they grabbed me and threw me into this place.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’

Abozi squeezed my knee, which was about the only part of me that he could reach in our cramped positions, and muttered gruffly, ‘Good to see you, brother!’ Then he chuckled ironically and said, ‘You should be able to get all the rest that you need in here, eh?’

It was only about an hour after sunset and already the chill was beginning to seep into my limbs. I asked, 'Has anyone got a blanket?'

Someone said, 'Ask Denga. He's got two. Isn't that so, Denga?'

There was a muttered curse before a voice said resentfully, 'All right, here it is. Pass it to Jina.'

I wrapped the blanket around myself and wriggled my way down the wall, pushing my legs forward to find out how much space I had. The answer was: not much. I had to lie with my legs bent at the knees and with my shoulders hunched. The floor was hard and cold. It was going to be a long, restless, uncomfortable night. Worse still, there were likely to be many more nights like this. My thoughts were as cheerless as the darkness that covered the room.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE WASTELAND

Three months later, I was standing at the mouth of a cave in the mountains that overlook the desert that fringes the northern parts of Lower Keirine. I took a drink from a water flask and laid out my breakfast on a flat rock. Bread, cheese and figs -- it wasn't much, but, in the words of the proverb, bread and cheese in freedom are much better than a four-course meal in a prison cell. I cut a piece of cheese, laid it on a slice of bread, and sat back to watch the sunlight seep across the plain. As always, I marveled at how the harsh contours of the wasteland soften with the hues and shadows that come with the rising sun.

Sharma joined me. I nodded towards the plain and said, 'The desert has two seasons.'

'Yes, my friend, I know -- sunrise and sunset.' He grinned at me companionably.

I said, 'Bread, cheese and figs again. Isn't it time we had a change of menu? How about beefsteak with dumplings, gravy, and fresh vegetables for dinner?'

Sharma replied, 'Some new recruits should be arriving today. I hope they'll bring supplies with them.'

'Beefsteak and fresh vegetables?'

'I can't promise that. Maybe they'll only bring some more cheese and bread flour.' Sharma laid a hand on my shoulder. 'Enjoy your breakfast, comrade. I'll see you later.'

Two weeks earlier, we had still been prisoners in Koraina. Then, one day, we were hustled out of our cells and were marched northwards under heavy guard. Along the way, three more groups of prisoners joined us. They were all soldiers, they had all been imprisoned at about the same time as we had been, and they were all from Lower Keirine. When the last group joined us, there were more than five hundred men in the column.

At mid-day on the second day, we reached a small town that lay close to the southernmost part of Lower Keirine. There we were herded into the town square and ordered to sit down. After about two hours, a messenger arrived from the south and the guard commander and a detachment of men moved to the northern edge of the square. Then, suddenly, Sharma appeared, accompanied by some armed men. We set up a shout, greeting Sharma, complaining about our plight, and demanding to be released. Sharma waved at us, as if telling us to be patient. He talked to the commander of the guard, nodded, and then gestured to the lane behind him. Mecolo appeared, riding a horse and dressed resplendently in a travelling cape and a flowing gown.

The guards freed a group of about thirty prisoners, separating them from the rest of us like a flock of sheep and driving them down the lane behind Sharma. Soon the same men returned, carrying arms, to stand at Sharma's side. Sharma nodded to Mecolo, who shook her head vehemently and drew away from him. He took hold of her horse's rein and talked to her quietly while she continued to protest. Mecolo looked as unhappy as Sharma was insistent but finally she yielded to Sharma's persuasion and they walked forward to meet the commander of the guard. He took the reins and led Mecolo around the side of the square and back down the road by which we had entered the town. Mecolo sat on her horse rigidly, staring straight ahead, with her face hard-set in unhappy resentment. She didn't even look back at Sharma.

After a few minutes, someone shouted an order and the guards withdrew. Sharma shouted, 'Comrades, you are free! You can go home!'

Once the excitement died down and we were on our way home, Sharma told me the story. After he and Mecolo eloped from Koraina, they tried to live together in a hamlet near Osicedi. This arrangement didn't last for long because when the town elders heard that a detachment of soldiers was on its way to capture Sharma and Mecolo, they requested them to move on. The elders didn't like the fact that Vaxili had outlawed Sharma and they didn't like the vendetta against soldiers from Lower Keirine but they also didn't want to provoke royal anger.

Sharma and Mecolo fled over the border to seek refuge with Durgenu, the ruler of a Dornite city-state that had good relations with a number of towns in Lower Keirine and that steadfastly refused to join the Dornite military alliance. When Vaxili demanded that Durgenu should hand over Mecolo, Durgenu just laughed and asked whether Vaxili thought that he, Durgenu, was a vassal of Keirine. Vaxili then changed tack and sent messengers to negotiate directly with Sharma. Finally, an agreement was reached: Mecolo would be returned to her father if Vaxili released all of his prisoners who came from Lower Keirine. The result was that we were on our way home as free men while a reluctant Mecolo was being returned to her father.

While Sharma was telling me the story of how he made a deal with Vaxili and why he felt compelled to do so, his face looked as if it was covered by a thundercloud. He finished by crying in an agonised voice, ‘She's carrying our child.' What could I say? I laid a hand on Sharma's arm. He said bitterly, 'I will never forgive Vaxili for this! Never!'

Within a few weeks, Sharma had even more cause to be bitter. Vaxili announced that Mecolo's marriage to Sharma had been dissolved and that Mecolo was going marry someone called Thuxto. In so doing, Vaxili piled insult upon insult. Firstly, Vaxili had no right to annul a marriage. Only the high priest could do that. Secondly, Thuxto was a disreputable non-entity, an elderly widower who worked in the forge at Koraina by day and was a notorious frequenter of taverns for the rest of his waking hours.

After hearing Sharma’s story, surrounded by the chatter of men who were free at last and were excited at the prospect of seeing their homes for the first time in many months, I thought somberly that probably not one of them knew the real extent of the price that had been paid for their freedom.

Abozi joined us and observed grimly, 'They won't leave us alone, comrades. We will be hunted like outlaws in our own land.'

Sharma said quietly, 'You're right, comrade. Vaxili will never leave us in peace. We'll have to defend ourselves.' He nodded grimly and said, 'The kingdom is dead. Vaxili has killed it.'

Abozi cursed and said, 'Whatever the future holds, one thing is for sure -- I'm not going back into one of Vaxili's prison cells. I'll die before I allow that to happen.'

Sharma burst out, 'Damn Vaxili! He could have had the whole of Keirine behind him. Now it's much worse than it was before. Damn him!'

I said, 'He's a small man'

'Then curse him for taking on a task that he can't handle!'

Sharma addressed the men before they dispersed to their home towns. He told them that Vaxili would never leave them in peace and invited them to join him in the mountains of the wilderness where they could defend themselves. Some of the men responded to Sharma's invitation while others were reluctant to do so. They thought naively that Vaxili would forget about them now that they were free. It wasn't long before they learned that they were wrong.

On the day after we reached Osicedi, the town elders asked Sharma, Abozi and me to meet with them. It was a sombre gathering. In the first place, the elders were enraged at the fact that Vaxili had insulted Lower Keirine by imprisoning so many of its sons. They said frankly that Vaxili had destroyed the dream of the united Kingdom of Keirine. Furthermore, they agreed that Vaxili would soon be hunting for his former prisoners. Everyone at the meeting, including Sharma and me, knew what had to be done, namely that the former prisoners had to leave Osicedi as soon as possible.

Next day, before we left town, one of the elders quietly gave us a wallet. He said, 'Sons, don't let anyone know who gave this to you and don't ask where it comes from. It's better that no one should know.' Later, we learned that the money came from the town treasury. Much later, when we were established in Orihedrin, we were able to repay the money as unobtrusively as we received it.

As soon as we found a base in the mountains, we used the money to buy arms from Durgenu. At first, there were only about twenty-five of us, all from Osicedi, hiding out in the mountains. However, during the days that followed our numbers swelled as former prisoners streamed in from towns all over Lower Keirine. The elders' councils had been talking to each other and most of them agreed that their towns would be targets for Vaxili's vengeance as long as they harboured his former prisoners. Some of the councils shrugged off the threat, thinking that the danger was exaggerated. However, soon enough, when Vaxili's men began raiding the towns and villages of Lower Keirine, they regretted that they had done so.

When a messenger from Vaxili arrived a few days later, demanding that Sharma and I should be handed over, the elders of Osicedi could say truthfully that they didn't know where we were. The messenger replied ominously that they would soon be hearing from Vaxili. Five days later, a detachment of about two hundred troops arrived in Osicedi. They set up a cordon around the town and began a house-to-house search. When they found no one, they assembled all the inhabitants in the town square and demanded to know where we were. Finding that no one would give them any information, they dragged Sharma's father onto a table and, in front of the whole town -- men, women and children -- they stripped him naked. This was an insult so terrible that it was almost unimaginable. However, Vaxili's men weren't content with that. With sword points pressed into the old man's back, they ordered him to stand motionless facing his fellow townspeople. Next they ordered everyone -- once again, every man, woman and child -- to walk past him and to spit at his genitals. When Sharma's mother and brothers refused, they seized Sharma's youngest brother and threatened to pull out his fingernails at the rate of one fingernail for every refusal. When the family again refused, the soldiers pulled out the first fingernail. Sharma's mother rushed at the sword of the nearest soldier and threw herself forward with such force that the sword passed right through her body. Mercifully, she died instantly. Sharma's father collapsed in a coma, falling off the table and striking his head on the cobbles. He died two days later without regaining consciousness.

Sharma nearly went mad when he heard the news. His grief was so acute that we had to hold him down to prevent him from dashing his forehead against a rock. Later, when he calmed down a little -- more from nervous exhaustion than from any other cause -- I made him walk with me in the desert, which was silver and luminous under the full moon. Zaliek's words kept running through my head: 'Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.’ However, I couldn't speak those words to Sharma. True as the words were, profound as they were, they were small and hopeless when set against what Sharma was suffering. And so we just walked and walked, our boots crunching in the soft gravel of the plain, our shapes tiny against the darkly mercurial expanse of the wasteland.

After a long time, somewhere far out on the plain Sharma turned to me and cried, 'I cannot take it any longer.' He hurled himself onto the ground and, lying on his back, thrashed like a man with a convulsive fever. I threw myself across his chest fearing that he would injure himself and -- I must admit it now -- because I was terrified of the passion that energised his thrashing, writhing form. I pressed down onto Sharma saying urgent things to him -- soothing words, comforting words, words of dumb and hopeless consolation -- while he howled and thrashed under me.

Much later, we headed back towards our base. Stumbling like a man recovering from a fever, Sharma asked me weakly, 'Jina, Jina, what is to be done?'

I replied with more confidence than I felt, 'We have to pick ourselves up, consolidate, and then start climbing again.'

'Climb? You think so? Climb? I don't have the heart to do anything at all.' Sharma stopped and sat down with his legs crossed, his arms folded across his chest, and his head drooping. Rocking backwards and forwards, he cried out, 'I want to die! I want to die right here! Leave me, Jina. I can't go on.'

I kneeled next to him and, with my arms around his shoulders, said some things to him -- something about having courage, something about how all things pass, even the most terrible and vile atrocities, and something about how we would be victorious if only we could pass this test. While I was murmuring these words of stupid consolation, Sharma began to sob. I took him in my arms and held him tight with his head pressed to my chest, caressing him and murmuring more helpless words. His cries subsided gradually and, as he leaned back on his elbows, he looked at me, his face taut and wretched, tears glinting in the moonlight, and said in a strangled voice, 'It's all gone, Jina. It's gone. It's gone.'

'Have courage, Sharma.'

'My parents are dead! The kingdom is dead! Mecolo and my child have been taken from me! We're hunted like animals!' Sharma cried out again, 'It's all gone, Jina.'

'Courage, Sharma, courage.'

'Courage! I can't even face tomorrow. I would rather die. Courage, you say?' Sharma lay back, outstretched on the ground, while I hunched next to him, guarding against any desperate move that he might make. Gradually his breathing became easier and more regular and I thought that he had fallen asleep. However, after about ten minutes he asked in a tight but steady voice, 'Dana said that the clouds ask the questions, didn't she?'

'Yes, she did.'

'Do you see any clouds up there, Jina?' I shook my head. Sharma said shakily, 'We'll have to ask the questions ourselves, won't we?' He sat up with his arms around his legs and his chin resting on his knee. He asked, 'What are the questions, Jina?'

I said, 'That's easy to answer, Sharma.'

'Is it? Tell me?'

'There's only one question that concerns us right now.'

'What is it?'

'It's simple -- how do we survive? In time, there might be other questions but right now there’s only one.'

Sharma muttered, 'You'll have to answer the question for us, Jina. I'm useless. Do you hear me? I'm useless! I’m useless, I say – useless!'

When we got back to our base just before dawn, I took over command while Sharma slept all of that day and half of the next. After that, he was alert and refreshed and, as he resumed his daily duties, it looked as if he had weathered the crisis. However, the corners of his mouth were tight and there was a sharp wariness in his eyes that never left him for the rest of his life. Also, those who knew him well, like me, could see that something had died in him while something new -- something harder, heavier, and blunter -- had emerged from his crisis. I noticed something else, as well: Sharma had shut the door on the events of that night under the desert sky. Shut the door? It would be more correct to say that he had obliterated them. He never again referred to his desperate despair and in all the time that I knew him after that, he never again mentioned his parents.

By now Lower Keirine was in an uproar. Vaxili responded by establishing garrisons in the major towns of the region. To do so, he had to increase the size of his army. This inflated his expenses so he levied a further tax on Lower Keirine. He called it a Home Security Tax, saying that the inhabitants of Lower Keirine would appreciate the fact that they were being provided with better protection against the bandits and desperadoes who had evaded royal justice. Of course this measure only increased resentment and opposition throughout Lower Keirine and that swelled our numbers so much that within a month we had a force of nearly five hundred men. Most of them were former soldiers, either former prisoners or men who fled from the army to escape Vaxili's vendetta.

Secure in our base in the mountains, we harassed Vaxili's forces’ supply lines and launched attacks on garrisons and outposts. We had the advantage and we enjoyed success. Our men moved easily and openly through a friendly countryside gathering supplies and information wherever they went while Vaxili's forces occupied isolated islands in a sea of hostility.

Sharma took the moral high ground right from the start when he ordered that captives should not be harmed. Instead they should be disarmed, escorted as close to the border with Upper Keirine as possible, and set free. Many of our men, enraged at what they and their families had suffered, vehemently disagreed with this practice. However, Sharma refused to rescind his order. He explained, firstly, that Vaxili's soldiers were our compatriots who were also victims of Vaxili's weaknesses. Secondly, the practice would encourage our adversaries to surrender more quickly, rather than to continue fighting out of sheer desperation. Finally, leniency on our side would result in the occupying forces treating civilians less harshly than they would otherwise do.

After one meeting at which Sharma patiently explained the policy to a group of disgruntled men, Abozi rubbed his chin and said to me quietly, 'But there's more to it than that, isn't there, comrade brother?'

'You think so?'

Abozi winked at me. 'One day the kingdom might be re-united, don’t you think?'

'That would be a desirable outcome.'

'And are you telling me that you've never considered the possibility that Sharma might be involved when that day comes?'

I replied, 'Well, that would be a step-up for Sharma, wouldn’t it?'

Abozi scratched his nose thoughtfully and, looking at me keenly, replied, 'And a step-up for some others too, no doubt.' Then, even-voiced, he continued, 'If that happened, then a reputation for leniency would count in Sharma's favour, wouldn't it?'

'No doubt it would.' I put a hand on Abozi's shoulder and said, 'Why, brother, who knows what the future might bring?'

Abozi replied stolidly, ‘Indeed, who knows?’

Once Vaxili's troops heard that they would be treated leniently if they surrendered, they turned themselves over to our forces in droves. Most of them didn't have the stomach for occupying Keirineian towns and fighting their compatriots and were only too pleased to be returned to Upper Keirine safe and free. The troops surrendered at such a rate that within two months we had cleared away most of the garrisons and outposts in the north. Of course, Vaxili couldn’t stand by idly while he lost ground hand over fist in Lower Keirine. He countered by announcing that soldiers who surrendered would be court-martialled and he was as good as his word. Within a few days, fifty returning soldiers were court-martialled and were sentenced to be indentured for twenty years to the King of Kitilat where they would serve in the royal salt mines. After that, we met fiercer resistance. However, Vaxili's oppressive tactic also worked in our favour because many of the soldiers, particularly those who did not come from Orifinre, chose to surrender and join our force.

I knew of only one prisoner of war who wasn’t treated leniently. One afternoon, a detachment of our men arrived with a captured unit commander whose men, when ambushed on the open road near Osicedi, had cheerfully laid down their arms. Only the commander offered resistance, so much so that he was wounded twice before he was overpowered. Pushing and shoving their captive, our men demanded to see Sharma. At first Sharma asked irritably why they hadn't either released their captive or offered him the chance to join us. However, his tune changed when he heard who the captive was.

‘Don’t you know this man, Commander Sharma?’

‘No. Why should I know him?’

There was an apprehensive pause before someone shouted, ‘Ask the bastard what he did to your father!’

Sharma's eyes narrowed and the flecks in his eyes glowed like coals. He asked the captive, 'Is this true?'

The man writhed on the ground, begging for mercy and forgiveness. It was pathetic, but no one felt any more sympathy for him than they would have for a sacrificial fowl or goat. He had committed a blood crime and he was already as good as dead.

Sharma's eyes narrowed even further as he said in a steel-cold voice, 'We will not be lenient with him. Punish him as the law prescribes.'

Someone shouted, 'No, commander. First let him suffer as your father suffered. After that, the law can take its course.'

Sharma lifted the man's chin with the toe of his boot. While the man cried out for mercy, Sharma looked down at him dispassionately, shook his head, and growled, 'As the law requires! No more and no less! Take him away.' He shrugged and looked down at the man with hard eyes.

While our men dragged their captive away, Sharma called after them, ‘No more and no less than the law requires! We are not savages. You hear me?’

When the men came back without their captive about half an hour later, they were sombre and subdued. We didn’t enquire how the man had died.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE FUTURE KING

When Vaxili finally did march northwards, he came with an army of almost two thousand men. He re-established the garrisons that we had eliminated and then began to move towards our base in the mountains. On the way, out of pure vindictiveness, he sacked Osicedi. Fortunately most of the townspeople got away before the attack and sought refuge with us. Even as we welcomed our friends and family members, we sighed inwardly at the thought that now we not only had to contend with a superior force but also had to deal with destitute refugees.

What was to be done? We couldn't feed the refugees properly, we couldn't take them with us when we maneuvered against the enemy, and we couldn't abandon them. Finally, we decided to move them to an oasis for temporary refuge while we applied to Durgenu for assistance. Ever the obliging businessman, Durgenu agreed to a deal by which he would care for the refugees for six months, deferring payment for two years at an agreed rate of interest.

Abozi and I suffered a personal misfortune when our father died during the trek from Osicedi to the mountains. My mother told us that he lingered on a hillside, watching Vaxili's soldiers enter the town, and only turned his back on Osicedi after he saw our house, workshop, and warehouse going up in flames. Then my parents turned and trudged along in the wake of the rest of the refugees with father going at an ever-slower pace until finally, in the heat of mid-afternoon, he sat down under a tree complaining that he was feeling tired. While my mother was reaching into a pack for a water container, she heard a loud sigh. She turned around and saw that my father had toppled onto the ground. My mother tried to pull him back into a sitting position but he just sighed once more, very faintly, and then died.

My mother was strangely calm while she was telling us the story. She concluded by saying reflectively, 'It is the way of the world. Husbands usually go before wives, and parents usually go before children. I will mourn for your father and my life will never be the same again but I will have the consolation of my memories.'

Abozi said fiercely, 'You would have had a longer life together if it wasn't for Vaxili.'

Mother was still very calm. She said, 'Be thankful that your father is at peace now. Vaxili has to live with the consequences of his actions. Pity him, that he has travelled so far into the wilderness of his own making that it is unlikely that he can ever turn back to find a place of peace.'

Abozi was still incensed. He said, 'We'll see to it that he never escapes from this wilderness, either. We'll make it his graveyard.'

Mother drew Abozi to her and held his head against her breast as if he was a child again. She said, 'Leave it to Zabrazal to punish Vaxili. Free your heart of vengeance or you will be as desolate as Vaxili.' She sat forward and said, ‘I can bear the loss because your father and I were coming to the end of our road together. But I don't know if I can bear to see one of you -- worse still, both of you -- die before me.'

I said, as gently as I could, 'We're soldiers, mother.'

She sighed heavily. 'I know. Every day I fear for you in more ways than one.'

When Sharma heard what had happened to our father, he called Abozi and me aside and said, 'I want both of you to lead the unit that escorts our people to Durgenu.'

Abozi and I protested at being assigned to such a peripheral task when action against the enemy was imminent but Sharma just looked at us impassively and replied, 'I'm your commander. You will do as I say.'

I said heatedly, 'We appreciate why you're doing this, but --'

Sharma cut me short, saying firmly, 'You will do as I say. When you have completed the task, hurry back. I can assure you that you won't be short of action.' When we left him, he said gently, 'Look after your mother. Take care of her for me as well.'

As we left the cave that served as Sharma's headquarters, a woman brushed past us on her way in. Most of her face was covered with a shawl and she was wearing a long cloak, once elegant but now creased and grubby, that concealed her figure. She murmured a greeting and hurried past us. I didn't pay much attention to her but after a few steps, recognition stirred in the back of my mind. I asked Abozi, 'Don't I know that woman?'

He answered, 'You should know her. That's Roda.'

I stopped and looked back, halted in my tracks by the implications of what I was thinking. I asked, 'By Zabrazal, Sharma wouldn't be such a fool, would he?'

Abozi replied, 'If that's what you think, my dear brother, then you don't know your friend Sharma as well as you think you do.'

By this time I knew that when it came to women, Sharma could be a great fool. In all other aspects of his life, Sharma was orderly and far-seeing. He never undertook a venture until he had assessed all the risks and had investigated all the possibilities. He was like a chess player who could see ten moves ahead while other players could only calculate the consequences of the next one or two moves. But with women, Sharma was just the opposite. With them, he seemed to court danger and uncertainty. After being closely acquainted with Sharma for many years, and after sharing both hardship and affluence with him, as well as disasters and triumphs, I can only conclude that Sharma's relationships with his women reveal a deep and subterranean stratum of his personality. The patient, stalking Sharma is also the Sharma who quivers with passion and rejoices in his heedlessness as he leaps into the snare of a beautiful woman. It is a paradox but it is true.

Abozi and I reluctantly obeyed Sharma's orders and escorted the refugees to safety in Durgenu's territory. As we left the oasis, a man riding a donkey called to me. It was Aggam. I hadn't seen him for a long time, perhaps ten or twelve years, but he looked the same as ever. His lean face still had the same sardonic, supercilious expression and in spite of his age he still had the rigid bearing of a soldier on parade. Aggam waved a stick at me – it looked like the same old Corrector – and called out, 'So, you see that I was right.'

I asked. 'How so?' Aggam glared at me with narrowed eyes. Old habits asserted themselves and I corrected myself by saying, 'How so, teacher?'

'How so? Didn't I always say that Keirine should not have a king? Didn't I always say that Zabrazal is the only leader that Keirine ever needed?' Aggam waved his stick around and sneered. 'You see how things have turned out? The consequences of disobedience – ha!'

I said, 'Perhaps it is the fault of the priests.'

‘The fault of the priests! What a foolish idea! How could that be? Explain yourself, man.'

'It was the High Priest who anointed Vaxili as king.'

'Ha! But it was the people who rebelled against the High Priest and demanded a king.' Aggam's lips curled contemptuously around the word 'people'.

I didn’t want to continue the conversation. My schooldays were far behind me and this renewed acquaintance with Aggam revived unpleasant memories. As for Zabrazal, priests, and kings – well, only Zabrazal knew what was in Zabrazal's mind and I was getting tired of trying to understand the thoughts of an inscrutable god. Nor was I any more interested in finding out what a sour old fool like Aggam thought about the matter. I walked off, saying, 'I wish you a safe journey, teacher.'

Aggam called after me, 'You will see that I am right, Ghazila. This business of the kingdom will do nobody any good.'

Ghazila? He couldn’t even get my name right. I stiffened my shoulders and ignored him. There were more important things to do than listen to the frustrations of an old has-been.

I never saw Aggam again. I heard that he became a tutor to the children of some of Durgenu's officials and died peacefully in his sleep about five years later – which, in my opinion, was better than the old miscreant deserved.

When Durgenu learned that I was Sharma's deputy commander, he provided my mother with an apartment within his palace. He made light of his kindness, saying genially, 'It is self-interest, my dear friend, nothing but self-interest. One day Sharma will be a great man in Keirine and you will be at his right hand. Then I will be repaid many times over for my kindness, not so?' He guffawed and slapped my back, saying, 'My friend, make sure that you tell Sharma what I have done. What use is an act of self-interest if no one knows about it?'

We hurried back to our base where we found that Sharma had moved our men to the southern edges of the mountain to face Vaxili's force. As we were leaving to join them, Roda appeared out of Sharma's personal quarters. Roda! My heart sank. Damn it, so Sharma really had taken up with her again! Roda greeted me curtly – we had been on cool terms ever since I had done Sharma a service at her expense – and asked superciliously, ‘What, Jina, not at the frontline with Sharma?’

I replied, ‘I have my duties’ and pushed past her, not wanting to be diverted by someone who could only bring me trouble.

She called after me, ‘Where are you going, if I may ask?’

I stopped and said, ‘Now that you’ve reminded me of my duties, I’m going to leave for the frontline as soon as I’ve had a meal and got my kit together.’

Roda’s eyes flickered as if she wanted something but didn’t know how to ask. Then she put out her hand, dangling a bracelet, saying, 'Please give this to Sharma. Tell him that I'm thinking of him and waiting to greet him with a hero's welcome when he returns.' She said the word 'greet' with such an accent of insinuation that I bridled. I refused to take the bracelet, saying, 'Sharma will have more things on his mind than trinkets.'

Roda looked me up and down, put her face close to mine, and hissed, 'Who are you to say what is on Sharma's mind?'

'I am his deputy commander. By Zabrazal, how can you concern yourself with ornaments when we are all in deadly danger?'

Roda looked me in the eye defiantly and replied, 'If you know what is good for you, you will give this to Sharma.'

Abozi snatched the bracelet from Roda, saying impatiently, 'We'll take the damn thing to Sharma.' To me, he said, 'Let's go, brother. We're wasting time.' He snorted and stalked away.

When I caught up with him, I asked, 'Why did you do that? Can't you see that she's nothing but a packet of trouble?'

Abozi replied, 'Then let's not look for more trouble over such a small thing.' He dropped the bracelet into my pack, saying, 'Don't be so stubborn, man. Give it to Sharma and then forget about it.'

Our men were ranged along the southern edge of the central massif while Vaxili's army was camped in a valley about half a day's march away. Sharma took us up to a vantage point and outlined the situation, saying, 'It's a stalemate. Vaxili won't advance into the mountains and we can't meet him in a regular battle.'

I said, 'The question is: Who can play the waiting game the longest?'

Sharma grunted and swept his arm across the plain. 'Vaxili has the advantage. He's cut our supply lines. The only way that we can access supplies without risk is by getting them from Durgenu.'

Abozi said, 'We don't have much time and we don't have enough money. We're deep enough in debt to that Dornite shopkeeper as it is.'

Sharma scratched his chin and looked at us shrewdly. He observed, 'That's exactly what Vaxili will be thinking. That being so, this is the time to strike.'

Sharma's plan was simple. We would attack Vaxili's camp two nights later when the waxing moon would provide just enough light to see by. Some of our men would create a diversion at the head of the valley while men on both sides of the valley would hurl fire-pots into the camp. A further detachment of our force would be sited at the entrance to the valley to cut off any soldiers who fled from the camp.

On the evening of the attack, Sharma and I went forward to a place from where we could look over the valley and review the plan for the attack. As the sun dropped below the horizon and Sharma turned to leave, I asked him, 'What do the omens say?'

Sharma gave me a look that was a mixture of surprise and disdain as if I was hauling up an obscure incident from a discredited past. He grunted, 'Omens, eh? Ask a priest if you can find one.'

'You're going ahead without consulting the omens?'

Sharma put his hands on his hips and faced me squarely. He said, 'I don't want to hear any more talk of omens. Hear me, and hear me well, Jina – no more talk of omens!'

'But if the men –'

'The men will go where I lead them. That's what I expect of them and that's what I know they'll do.' Sharma looked hard at me and said pointedly, 'And that's what I expect of my commanders as well.' He turned and stalked off towards the camp with me in his wake. After a few minutes, he stopped and said fiercely, 'Where was Zabrazal when my father was humiliated to the point of death? Where was Zabrazal when my mother killed herself rather than live with her shame? And, come to that, where was Zabrazal when your father died helpless and exposed out there in the wilderness? And when Dana --' He slammed a fist against his chest like a wrestler issuing a challenge. 'Zabrazal the Merciful! Zabrazal the Defender of Keirine!’ He spat into the dirt contemptuously and then ground the spot with the heel of a boot. ‘Ha! I tell you, Jina, from now on Zabrazal is no concern of mine. You hear me? I say -- no concern of mine!'

By now we had reached the top of a ridge from which we could see the higher slopes to which we were heading. They were darkly turquoise in the twilight, solid shapes that bulked against the great background of the evening sky. Sharma stopped and swept his arm around. 'You see these mountains? They are ours because we have made them ours.' He pointed towards Osicedi. 'You see all that land down there? Tomorrow it will be ours once more because we will have taken it, just like we’ve taken this place.' Sharma's voice now had a grating edge to it. 'You know what lies down there, Jina – my brother's grave, my parents' graves, your father's grave … and over there –‘ He pointed due south. ‘Over there lies Dana, dead to no purpose – do I have to continue? No, I think not. And whose lives have been changed because of those deaths? Our lives, or Zabrazal's life? Ha! You know the answer as well as I do.' Sharma slammed a fist against his chest again. 'Keirine is my concern, Keirine is the concern of all of us – and Keirine is what we will make of it, not what a bunch of lying, self-serving priests say it could or should be.'

At first Sharma's words were like a slap across my face. I felt as if something deep within me had been torn loose from its foundations. Then, as we entered the camp and were surrounded by the commonplace of our existence – the fires, the women preparing the meals, the laughter of children, the low voices of the men as they tended to their equipment – I thought, Yes, Zabrazal, where are you in all of this? As always, I didn't have the answer. However, now for the first time, I knew with certainty that the question was fruitless because it never would be answered. What was the point of crying for the moon especially when a thousand earlier cries had produced no result? Sharma was right – Keirine was what we would make of it – we and we alone. We didn’t have the time or the resources to wait for an inscrutable god to make himself known to us.

The attack on Vaxili’s encampment was even more successful than we hoped it would be. To start with, more than half of the fire-pots found their marks, causing fires all over the camp. At the same time, after raising a thunderous noise -- shouting, beating their shields, shaking rattles and blowing trumpets and whistles -- our men advanced on the camp in line abreast. They were able to move a long way into the camp, driving the opposition before them, until they had to halt because of the fires and because of the resistance that they were meeting. At that moment, other detachments of our men swept down from the sides of the valley with a great clamour, causing further panic amongst the enemy soldiers and driving them down the valley.

The second part of the plan worked to perfection. At sunrise, while Vaxili and those who remained – less than half of the original number -- were trying to sort out the wreckage in their camp, our men attacked from the places where they had lain concealed. There was some vigorous resistance, especially from Vaxili's royal guard, but most of the enemy soldiers surrendered quite tamely, probably not only because we had them in a vice but also because they had heard about Sharma's proclamation that we would treat prisoners leniently.

Vaxili fought with almost unnatural vigour until he was overwhelmed by force of numbers and captured. Our men began to slap him around, taunting him, but Sharma stopped them, saying, 'He is the king. Treat him with the respect that the King of Keirine deserves.'

Abozi and I raised our eyebrows at each other. I could see that we were thinking the same thing. After all that Sharma had suffered at the hands of Vaxili -- not to mention what Lower Keirine had suffered – courteous treatment was a lot more than Vaxili deserved.

Before we set the prisoners to work cleaning up the camp so that we could use it as a temporary base, Sharma addressed them, telling them that we were all Keirineians and urging them not to make war on their compatriots in future. He also recounted the indignities that Lower Keirine had suffered at the hands of Vaxili and appealed to people in Upper Keirine to understand that their compatriots in the north were justified in resisting oppression. Then, after they had done their work, the prisoners were marched southwards and released at a spot that was close to the border with Upper Keirine.

That evening, Sharma brought Vaxili before our commanders. Sharma treated Vaxili deferentially, calling him 'Your Majesty' and making sure that he was comfortably seated and waited on by his own attendants. When Sharma began by making a speech similar to the one that he made earlier that day, outlining the indignities and atrocities from which we had suffered, Vaxili listened impassively, only occasionally showing signs of impatience and annoyance. However, when Sharma finished, Vaxili rose to his feet, his hands at his sides like a soldier on parade, and cried, 'I demand to be released. I am your king. You may not make a prisoner of your king.'

Sharma said mildly, 'Your majesty, it would be better if we could conduct this conversation in an orderly manner. Please be seated.' For a moment it looked as if Vaxili was going to refuse. Then he threw himself into his chair, sighing in an exaggerated manner and puffing out his cheeks impatiently. Sharma said, 'Thank you, your majesty. Now, allow me to explain that you are not a prisoner. You are merely being kept in protective custody for your own safety.'

Vaxili jabbed a finger at Sharma and roared, 'Protective custody! My own safety! I don't need any assistance from you, you womanising toad!'

I'll say this for Vaxili -- he had his weaknesses and moral shortcomings – in fact, he had plenty of them -- but he didn't lack personal courage. Mind you, perhaps it wasn’t really courage; perhaps it was just that he was short of a few measures of intelligence. Bluster and bravado didn’t do his case much good. By the time that Vaxili had finished insulting Sharma and the gathering at large, most of our commanders would happily have strung him up immediately if Sharma had not intervened by announcing that Vaxili would be released as soon as all the garrisons withdrew from Lower Keirine.

After the meeting, I asked Sharma, 'Why should we let him go?'

Sharma replied, 'Because he is the king.'

'He's also a damned rogue. Look at what he's done to you alone let alone to thousands of other people!'

Sharma replied obdurately, 'He is the anointed king. He’s a weak man, more’s the pity, but that doesn't change the fact that he is the King of Keirine.' Seeing the look on my face, Sharma smiled ironically and said half-teasingly, 'What was it that Zaliek used to teach us? "Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking." Isn't that what he used to say?' I nodded. Sharma clapped me on a shoulder and cried, 'Well, let's apply those words to our present situation, eh, man?’

I couldn't stop myself from saying, 'I remember that you said that you could never forgive Vaxili!'

Sharma's voice hardened. 'That's still true. I will never forget what he has done.' Then he said almost pleadingly, 'But, Jina, surely you see that we must distinguish between Vaxili the man and Vaxili the king, for the good of the nation.'

I cried in real frustration, 'What is the distinction?'

Sharma replied, 'That's a good question, my friend. I don't have a complete answer. But I do know that if we harm Vaxili now then we will do violence to Vaxili the king – and by so doing, we will do further harm to the fabric of the kingdom.'

Later, I heard a rumour that Sharma told Vaxili privately that the price of his freedom also included allowing Mecolo to return to Sharma at which Vaxili declared that he would rather die than acquiesce to such a demand. Perhaps it was true. I never asked Sharma and he never discussed the matter with me. In any event, Vaxili got his freedom about one week later when all of his garrisons had withdrawn from Lower Keirine.

We left a detachment to guard the camp and went back to our mountain base to move out our supplies and equipment. We didn’t realise it then, but this was the end of our period of existence as fugitives. As we rode back to the base, I thought with satisfaction that now we had our feet back on the rungs of the ladder. We were climbing again. I didn't know where the ladder was leading us but, at least, we were on the move upwards.

When we reached our base, Roda came running to meet Sharma and welcomed him by throwing her arms around him, calling out that he was a victor and a hero. I was standing just behind Sharma while Roda embraced him and, over his shoulder, she gave me a glance that was both defiant and provocative. Then, her body moulded against Sharma’s, she tilted her head and asked, 'My lord, did you wear my bracelet into battle and did it bring you good fortune?' Of course, Sharma asked, 'Which bracelet?' and of course Roda replied, 'The one that I asked Jina to give to you.'

Holding Roda around the waist, Sharma asked me, 'Do you know about this bracelet, Jina?'

I hauled the thing out of my pack, saying, 'Here it is.'

Sharma's face darkened. He snatched it from me, put it onto his wrist, and turned away without another word. Later, he asked me privately, 'Why didn't you give the bracelet to me before the battle?'

I replied, 'There was so much going on that I forgot about it.'

Sharma said angrily, 'You should have remembered. It was important to me.'

'Damn it, Sharma, it's only a bracelet, and a cheap one, at that! Why are you making such an almighty fuss about such a small thing?'

Sharma glared at me and growled, 'It was important to Roda. You have caused her distress.'

I muttered an apology through gritted teeth. Sharma glared at me again and stalked away -- to comfort the discomfited Roda, I supposed. I shook my head and thought morosely that while all of us were celebrating our victory over Vaxili, there was a woman not far away who was celebrating her victory over Sharma.

Within a week, we met with a congregation of all the elders' councils in Lower Keirine to plan for the immediate future. Although the meeting decided to establish a protected border between Upper and Lower Keirine, at Sharma's insistence the delegates affirmed their allegiance to Vaxili as king. They also affirmed allegiance to the Kingdom of Keirine. The meeting appointed Sharma and me as commander and deputy commander of the army, respectively. Then we moved our main base to Orihedrin, a town that was centrally situated just north of the border with Upper Keirine. With the financial and material support that was channeled through the elders' councils, and by means of Durgenu's trade contacts, we were able to triple the size of our force as well as to outfit it adequately.

This was a strange and paradoxical period. Lower Keirine had effectively seceded, virtually forming a state within a state, making laws, raising taxes, and maintaining an army, while at the same time it proclaimed its allegiance to the kingdom and to its ruler. While I thought that we should have seceded, Sharma always maintained that the arrangement was for the eventual good of the kingdom. He asked me, 'Do you remember how we sat on the hills outside Osicedi and talked about a prophecy of the oracle at Osighina?' I nodded. Sharma quoted the words: 'Keirine only shall be free, when land and people meet the sea' and then asked me gently, 'Do you still believe it to be true?'

'I do.'

Sharma said, 'Well, Jina, believe me, the prophecy will never be fulfilled unless we have a united kingdom of Keirine.'

I asked sceptically, 'Do you think what we're doing now is going to serve the cause of the united kingdom?'

Sharma said firmly, 'I do.' Quoting a well known proverb, he said, 'A path may wind, but its destination is fixed.'

About a year later, something took place that straightened out the path and brought the destination much closer. Although it happened without warning and it was over within half an hour, it had a profound effect on the future. One day, at about noon, a procession consisting of twelve men riding on donkeys arrived at our headquarters in Orihedrin. In spite of the heat, five of the men were covered from head to foot in cloaks and veils with only their eyes showing through narrow slits. They reminded me of the nomads of the dune desert in the distant west, except that the nomads rode camels, not plodding donkeys. The rest of the men in the party were servants and guards and were dressed more conventionally.

While the veiled men dismounted, one of the servants hurried into the building. He returned within a few minutes and, after speaking deferentially to the men, escorted them inside. Fifteen minutes later, Sharma summoned me to the council chamber. When I entered the room, I was amazed to see Izebol there, dressed in his full regalia as high priest. He put out his hand and, as I kneeled and kissed his ring, he said, 'Ah! The honest Jina! You are still the scourge of your enemies, so I hear.'

I murmured, 'Your honour, I do what I can.'

He looked at me quizzically and asked, ‘And the scourge of the enemies of Keirine?’

‘I will always serve Keirine when I am able to, your honour.’

Izebol pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully but said nothing. Then he put out his hand and raised me to my feet while looking at Sharma expectantly. Sharma said in an unsteady voice, 'Jina, I want you to serve as a witness.'

'A witness? To what?'

Izebol stepped forward, saying, 'You will see in a moment. But first, I want you to swear that you will never speak to anyone about what you witness here until the day that Vaxili dies. After that, you may speak about it freely. Are you prepared to swear to that?'

'Your honour, I –'

'Are you prepared to swear or should I find another witness? We don’t have time to waste.'

'Yes, your honour. I will swear to it.'

'Are you prepared to swear by Zabrazal's sacred altar and may Zabrazal curse you and your children and their children if you violate this oath?'

I took the oath after which Izebol administered the oath to Sharma and then pointed to his companions and said, 'They are also witnesses and they have taken the same oath.' To Sharma, he said, 'Kneel!' He gestured to the priests, who arranged themselves in a semi-circle around Sharma. Pouring a few drops of oil on Sharma's forehead, Izebol proclaimed, 'I anoint you as the King of Keirine. It is the will of Zabrazal.' He rubbed the oil across Sharma's forehead, put his hands on Sharma's head, murmured a short prayer, and then raised Sharma to his feet. The ceremony took less than a minute. It was short, simple and momentous.

Sharma got up slowly and looked around unsteadily like a man in a daze. He appeared to be astounded at what had happened -- as well he should be. He wiped away a trickle of oil above his eyelid and then looked fixedly at the smear on his fingers as if he wondered how it had got there. Then Sharma smiled shyly, almost apologetically, like a man who has stumbled on a priceless jewel while walking across a barren field.

Izebol asked, 'Jina, you have witnessed that Sharma has been anointed as the King of Keirine?'

I muttered, 'Yes, your honour.'

'Speak up, man, so that everyone can hear.'

I got a hold of my emotions as well as my voice and said 'Yes, your honour. I have witnessed it.'

'Tell me what you have witnessed.'

Still unsteadily, I replied, 'I have witnessed that you have anointed Sharma as the King of Keirine.'

'And you have sworn that --?'

'Your honour, I have sworn that I will never speak about what I have witnessed here until the day of Vaxili's death.'

Izebol nodded, raised a finger, and said, 'Remember your oath, and may Zabrazal curse you if you betray it.' He leaned back against the table, looking tired and drained. He put his hands to his forehead and, with eyes closed, shook his head wearily before he said, 'Zabrazal has begun to call me home. Every time he calls, his voice is more insistent. One day soon he will give me the final call.' Izebol paused for breath and rubbed his head as if he was clearing it of errant thoughts. However, when he spoke again, his voice was strong and clear. 'I also foresee that Vaxili, disobedient wastrel that he is, won't last for long. He might survive me but even if he does, it won't be long before he walks the same path to Zabrazal's place of judgement.' Izebol leaned back again and closed his eyes. This time, he paused for so long that I thought that he had fallen into a trance. There was a breathless silence in the room. Then Izebol roused himself, blinked as if he was coming back from a far place, snapped his fingers, and said, 'Our business here is finished. It's time for us to go.'

Sharma said, 'Your honour, you have had a long journey. We can prepare quarters for you and your companions. You can stay for the night and then leave at your leisure.'

Izebol shook his head. 'We thank you for your courtesy but it is best that we should leave as soon as possible. The fewer the number of people who know about our visit, the better.' He pulled on his cloak, motioned to his companions to leave the room, and held out his hand. As we kneeled and kissed his finger-tips, Izebol murmured a blessing. At the door, he paused and said sternly, 'Remember your oath!' He covered his face and left.

Sharma took a deep breath. His eyelid was twitching but otherwise he looked calm. What was he thinking? Within a matter of minutes, his status had changed from that of a rebel to that of the future King of Keirine. It was so astonishing that I wondered if it had really happened. The whole incident had the quality of one of those fever-inspired visions that drifted through my mind while I lay wracked by illness in the squalid hut in Koraina. I felt weak and sat down with my head resting on my arms. Sharma put a hand on my shoulder and said, 'Compose yourself, Jina. Nobody must know what has happened here.'

In a daze, I muttered, 'I'm all right.'

Sharma said lightly, 'You look as if you've been hit by a rock-fall.' Still with his hand on my shoulder, he sat down next to me. I blinked a few times, shook my head to try to clear it, and said, 'By Zabrazal, Sharma, you're calm about it.'

He replied in a steady voice, 'It is the will of Zabrazal, not so? Who am I to question it?'

I couldn’t help muttering with deep scepticism, ‘The will of Zabrazal!’

Sharma replied straight-faced, ‘That is what Izebol said, isn’t it?’

Sharma’s face was glowing as if he had passed through a baptismal bath of mercurial liquid. I said, 'You'd better stay here for a while. You'll give yourself away immediately if you go outside looking like that. People will think that Zabrazal himself paid you a visit, in all his glory.'

I started to ask myself the inevitable questions. Why did Izebol choose Sharma? Was it some sort of trick? If so, what was the aim of it? I also pondered the practical implications of what had happened. If it wasn’t a trick, how was it going to come to pass? When Vaxili died, was Sharma just going to come forward and claim the throne? Without any opposition? Faced with the complexity of the matter, and thinking of the uncertainties on the road ahead, I began to think that it was a trap for Sharma. When I said this to Sharma, he replied, 'If this is a trick, then Izebol has compromised himself as well as committed sacrilege.'

I replied, ‘Are you sure you don’t believe it just because you want to?’

Sharma looked at me narrowly, his head to one side. Then he pulled at an ear and said slowly, 'Do you remember when we were boys, how we sat on the hills and talked about Keirine and the future?' I nodded. I could picture the day as fresh as if had happened yesterday. Sharma said reflectively, 'For a long time, I've felt that it's my destiny to guide the kingdom.'

'But, Sharma, to be king!'

Sharma just closed his eyes and nodded calmly as if he had received an infusion of inner strength and confidence. I said, 'If this is what you want, Sharma, it’s going to be a hard road to walk. Getting there will be hard -- but staying there will be even harder.'

Sharma leaned forward and grasped my shoulder. 'Will you walk the road with me, Jina?' I nodded. Sharma said, 'Good! I need you. More than anyone, I need you.' He squeezed my shoulder and said earnestly, 'With you by my side, I can climb the heights with confidence.'

I kept the secret for three years, as did Sharma, until the time came to step into the open and climb the final slopes towards the summit.

Sharma’s time was coming close. So was mine.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: ROTTEN FRUIT

Surprisingly, Vaxili made no move to re-invade Lower Keirine. There was a rumour that Izebol had warned him off but, if that was true, what did Izebol say? Who knows? On the other hand, perhaps we were left in peace simply because Vaxili had his hands full in defending his kingdom from the Dornites. In the space of three years, the Dornites made two major incursions into Upper Keirine. On the first occasion, Vaxili's army fought them to a standstill, mainly because, following a near-revolt amongst the troops, Jainar had been reinstated as supreme commander. On the second occasion, Vaxili led the army personally -- and he led them to a crushing defeat. The Dornites captured all the Keirineian territory that they relinquished after the second battle of Gandonda as well as a portion of Vaxili's home area of Orifinre. The main cause of this catastrophic defeat was that Vaxili had purged all his senior commanders, Jainar included, accusing them of disloyalty and of plotting to assassinate him. However, as usual it was easy to see that the real reason was that Vaxili couldn’t co-exist with anyone who was capable of wielding power and responsibility successfully. Competence and efficiency near at hand threatened Vaxili far more than the threat posed by a distant enemy.

After the second battle, Vaxili's long-suffering troops finally did revolt. They marched on the palace and demanded that Vaxili should abdicate, that Jainar should take the crown, and that his fellow commanders should be restored to their positions. Vaxili blustered, cursing his soldiers as rebels and traitors and threatening to execute the ringleaders of the revolt. Understandably, this only infuriated the soldiers. With only the royal guard remaining loyal to Vaxili, matters had reached a point where it looked like Vaxili was going to go down either in surrender or death. That was when Izebol intervened. Surprisingly for such a crusty old fire-breather, he was so conciliatory that he succeeded in reconciling the opposing factions. The troops dropped their demand that Vaxili should abdicate on condition that all the imprisoned commanders were restored to their positions. It was a climb-down for Vaxili but it saved his crown -- and perhaps it saved his skin as well.

After the second battle, with Upper Keirine in disarray, some leading members of the Supreme Council approached Sharma privately to ask if he would be prepared to be crowned king of Lower Keirine. Before he gave his answer, Sharma summoned his senior commanders to be his witnesses. In our presence, he told the elders bluntly that Vaxili, the anointed choice of Zabrazal, was the only king in Keirine – and that was how it would be, as long as Vaxili was alive. The elders went away looking chastened. However, even while Sharma was giving a convincing performance as a loyalist -- loyal to the anointed king, loyal to the kingdom -- I sensed that he was plotting his moves well in advance. Like a good chess player, he would sacrifice a minor piece or even stage a retreat as long as he was moving towards the goal of toppling the opposing king and winning the game.

That evening, Roda came to see me. When I saw her at the door, I was so surprised that you could have knocked me over with a feather. Usually, when Roda was with Sharma, she would greet me with a forced smile, even as she glared at me. When she was alone, she just swept past me in disdain. Now, however, she simpered as she sidled up to me, giving the impression that we had never been anything else but the best of friends. I received her as cordially as possible while thinking privately that I would feel more secure if I was dealing with a spitting cobra.

Roda began by saying, 'Jina, we don't always see eye to eye, do we?'

I replied with feeling, 'That is so.'

Roda continued, 'But we both want the best for Sharma, don't we?'

I answered cautiously, ‘Well, he's my best and oldest friend. And as for you -- as his wife, of course it’s only natural that you would want the best for him.'

I should explain that Sharma married Roda soon after we came down from the mountains. When Sharma told me what he was planning, I tried my best to get him to change his mind by pointing out that he was already married to Mecolo. Sharma replied heatedly that the marriage was invalid because Vaxili had dissolved it and had forced Mecolo to remarry. Anyway, said Sharma, there was no law against having more than one wife. I could have continued the argument by reminding Sharma that Mecolo had just given birth to their son but seeing a familiar look in Sharma's eyes – a combination of determination and defiant anger – I shrugged and walked away. In fact, I wished that the matter could be dismissed with something as simple as a shrug. For a long time, I had been apprehensive that Sharma's relationships with his women were storing up a heap of trouble for him – and if they caused trouble for him, then I would also be involved. Whenever I thought about it, I had a feeling of gloomy apprehension, like the heavy-headedness that people feel when thunder clouds lurk ominously on the horizon for day after day.

A year after they married, Roda gave birth to a son and she produced another son a year later. Now Sharma had three sons by two different women. In the light of Sharma’s present position, this was complicated enough without speculating on what might happen if Sharma did ascend to the throne of Keirine one day.

Now, having been admitted to my house, Roda was looking at me thoughtfully with a finger laid against one of her smooth cheeks. Oh, she was attractive, for sure, with her clear, almost translucent skin, her large eyes, and her well-packaged frame. However, it was a long time since women's looks and women's wiles had had much effect on me and Roda in particular wasn’t going to win me over. Beauty or no beauty, I didn't like Roda and I didn't trust her.

She asked sweetly, 'Do you respect Sharma's abilities?'

'Of course I do.'

Roda laid a hand on my arm and said even more sweetly, 'Sharma respects you greatly.'

'I'm pleased to hear it.' I looked down at her hand and she winced and withdrew it from my arm.

Roda tried another tack, saying, 'You know, Jina, Sharma doesn't always know what's good for him. He's so busy with important matters that he doesn’t have time to look out for himself. You should use your influence with him to guide him in the right direction.'

'I give advice when I'm asked to do so.'

Roda put her head on one side, flicked her tongue over her bottom lip, and looked at me closely. She asked, 'Do you think that Sharma is destined for bigger things?'

For a moment I wondered if she knew about Izebol's visit to Sharma. Then I dismissed the thought and replied, 'Of course! We all hope for bigger things. Wouldn’t you agree?'

Roda clucked her tongue in annoyance and said impatiently, 'Jina! Don't be so cold!' She leaned towards me and said in a confidential tone, 'You know that the council has offered the crown to Sharma, don't you?'

'Yes. It's common knowledge.'

'Well?'

'Well, what?'

Roda clenched her fists and bit her lip. However, she got herself under control and said winningly, 'Oh, Jina! Surely you know what I'm talking about!'

'I'm not a mind-reader. Why don't you speak plainly, Roda?'

Roda clicked her tongue again. 'I mean that Sharma should have accepted the offer? Don't you agree?'

'He's made his decision. Respect it, Roda. Leave things as they are.'

'It's not final. He can go back to the council at any time and tell them that he's changed his mind.'

'Maybe he could – but he won't.'

Roda put on another appealing smile. Looking up at me from under lowered eyelids, she asked, 'Jina, don't you see what it would mean to you if Sharma was king?'

'Do you mean that I would be the deputy king? Imagine that – a little throne for me, right next to Sharma's big throne.'

'Deputy king? Oh, Jina, you're such a joker! No, you'd be commander of the army.'

'And you, Roda, would be Queen of Lower Keirine. Queen Roda! What a leg-up that would be for a simple girl from Osicedi.'

Roda gritted her teeth, got herself under control again, and said in an even but strained voice, 'Jina, Jina, you misunderstand! It's not about me – not at all. It's about Sharma and what he deserves.'

'So you don't want to be Queen of Keirine?'

Roda was still trying to win me over even if she was smiling through gritted teeth. She said, 'Oh, Jina, you really do misunderstand me! I'm his wife. I just want what's best for Sharma – that's all.'

'Sharma has made the decision that's best for him, best for all of us, and best for Keirine.'

'But, Jina, don't you see that –'

'That's enough, Roda! Stop trying to manipulate me. I don't want to discuss it any more.'

'But, Jina –'

'Do you hear me? No more!'

Roda dropped her mask. Her eyes blazed and she spat at me. Then she hissed and stalked away.

At about the same time, a story about Sharma began to spread through Lower Keirine. According to the story, when Sharma was a just a stripling shepherd boy, he killed a sheep-thieving Dornite giant with one stone from his sling. The giant was a huge man who towered torso, head and shoulders above ordinary mortals and had shoulders as broad as a sack of grain. Later the story was embellished with the detail that Sharma cut off the vanquished man's head with one blow from the giant's sword. As the story gained currency, it was further embellished with the detail that by killing the giant Sharma saved all of Lower Keirine from invasion by the Dornites. Someone wrote a poem about the incident and soon the poem spawned a popular song. When a minstrel sang the ballad at a banquet at our headquarters, Sharma nodded approvingly and rewarded him with a pat on the back and two gold coins. Soon the legend of Sharma and the Dornite Giant became part of the folklore of Lower Keirine and not much later it became part of the folklore of all of Keirine.

I suspected that the story originated with Roda. Of course, I couldn't prove it. She used to whistle a few bars from the tune of the song whenever I passed by her as if she knew how much this sort of myth-making, this misleading nonsense, annoyed me.

Not long after my conversation with Roda, Vaxili died in a Dornite ambush. They said that Vaxili fought like a hero and finally fell on his sword to avoid being captured. It was probably true because, as I said, personal courage was about the only positive quality that Vaxili wasn't short of.

The death sent Keirine into a ferment of activity and intrigue. With me as his witness, Sharma told the Supreme Council of Lower Keirine that Izebol had anointed him as Vaxili's successor. Councilors from Upper Keirine met with councilors from Lower Keirine and I led a delegation of our military commanders that held discussions with commanders from Upper Keirine. Izebol, who was near to death at Sininda, sent messengers to the councils in both Upper and Lower Keirine to confirm that he had anointed Sharma. Unfortunately the messenger who was on his way to the Council of Upper Keirine was ambushed and killed before he reached his destination and Izebol died before he could send another messenger. Mysteriously, after Izebol died, not one of the priests who had been present on the occasion could remember anything about an anointment. However, the messenger from Izebol to Lower Keirine delivered his message safely to the Supreme Council.

Within a month, the Council of Upper Keirine nominated Vaxili's son, Aebrel, as the new king. Of course, there was outrage in Lower Keirine. In a desperate last measure, the council sent a message to Upper Keirine to try to delay the crowning. The factions supporting Aebrel imprisoned the messenger until after the coronation and then paraded him in public, accusing him of being a liar and a rumour--monger. After they flogged him, they sent him packing with the warning that he would be killed if he spoke to anyone before he reached Lower Keirine.

In Lower Keirine, the Supreme Council and the army commanders met to discuss the situation. There was a lot of fire-breathing and fist-thumping but Sharma settled the matter by saying flatly that he would not countenance any talk of invading Upper Keirine. He stated that an invasion, whether successful or not, would drive the two parts of Keirine further apart. Anyway, said Sharma, the intrigues and instability in Upper Keirine would soon drive Aebrel from power. In the meantime, all that was necessary was to make it known throughout all parts of Keirine that he, Sharma, was the anointed king, and that he was waiting to re-unite Keirine in a peaceful manner.

After the meeting, I said to Sharma privately, 'You might have to wait a lot longer than you think.'

Sharma put a hand on my shoulder and said confidently, 'You will see, my old friend – the fruit is so rotten that it just needs a bit of shaking for it to fall into our laps. Make no mistake, the kingdom will be ours soon enough.'

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DESOLATION

There's one incident that I can point to surely and say, yes, without doubt, there was the first time that Sharma and I broke the bread of shared guilt. That was when I sent the message that summoned Jainar to return to Orihedrin. It was the first serious fracture in our relationship. Set against the sweep of events, it was only a small fracture – but it was a fracture nonetheless. It all began when we faced Jainar’s army on the field of Origun.

When Aebrel became king, Jainar continued to serve as commander of the army and it was clear from the start that he was the real power in Upper Keirine. For instance, to forestall any of the intrigues of Vaxili's reign Jainar told Aebrel bluntly that he, Jainar, would have exclusive control of the army. Furthermore, if there was even a hint – the merest whiff of a hint – of an attempt to remove him as commander then he would depose Aebrel immediately. As for Aebrel – well, what could you say about a man who had all the flaws that one would expect in Vaxili's son along with a few that were uniquely his own? Aebrel was a weakling, a dissolute man who couldn't even arrange things properly in his own life let alone rule a kingdom. He wanted popularity, always took the easy way, and had the moral qualities of a bag of offal together with the diplomatic abilities of a skulking hyena. For instance, he secured a temporary peace by ceding to the Dornites most of the territory that they had conquered while at the same time agreeing to pay them a huge amount in tribute every year. Aebrel seemed to think that he could earn the respect of his people by signing away a quarter of their territory and then raising debilitating taxes to pay tribute to the people who stole their land. It was no surprise that he faced popular protests all over Upper Keirine. Nor was it a surprise that he suppressed the protests ruthlessly in a welter of bloodshed and torture. Then, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate, nine inauspicious months into his reign Aebrel decided that the time was ripe to conquer Lower Keirine. For some reason he thought that he would succeed where his father had failed.

I was with Sharma and the rest of our commanders in our council chamber at Orihedrin when we heard that Jainar and his army were advancing towards our southern border. Sharma said calmly, 'I did not expect them so soon.'

There was silence while we digested the news. Then Abozi said thoughtfully, 'If Jainar is leading them, it's going to be a tough battle.'

It was mid-winter and Sharma was ill with a fever. He was lying on a couch under a pile of blankets, sweating and coughing. He raised his head from the pillow, frowned in displeasure and asked, 'Do you fear him?'

Abozi paused, collected his thoughts, and replied evenly, 'I mean that Jainar is a worthy opponent. In fact, I would say that he respects and fears us. That's why he's leading the army himself.'

Sharma smiled without humour and said, 'Yes. It's a pity that I can't repay the compliment in person.' He propped himself into a sitting position, coughed, and wiped his forehead. I could see that he was getting irritated. Since he defeated Vaxili, Sharma had only known success and promises of future glory. Nowadays, he became impatient with cautious talk even when we were discussing a foe as redoubtable as Jainar. I understood how he felt. At Sharma’s side, lately I too had only known the heady flight of success. Since retreating to the mountains, we had not only retrieved all the ground that we had lost but had climbed a long way further as well – to the steps at the base of the throne of Keirine, in fact. However, unlike Sharma, I had a pervasive sense that success is deceitful. For instance, I remembered all too clearly the ignominy of imprisonment and the desperate days in the desert. Also, I remembered that squat, square-faced man – that same Jainar who was advancing towards us -- who had planned the attack on Asjolorm with meticulous thoroughness so that absolutely nothing was left to chance. However, recognising that Sharma was in no mood for caution, I just said, 'The die has been cast. We have to meet Jainar as soon as possible and preferably before his forces set foot in Lower Keirine.'

Sharma coughed, spat into a bowl, and said, 'Damnation! I'm in no condition for a campaign. You will have to lead the army, Jina.' He fell back against the pillows, coughed violently, and then waved a hand at us, saying, ‘Well, go! Go! Go and deal with Jainar.’ As we turned to leave the chamber, Sharma called me to his side, saying weakly, ‘Jina! A word, if you please.’ He took my hand, grinned bleakly, and said, ‘No need to bring back his head on a lance, eh, Jina! We’re not savages, are we?’

‘No. Nor are we just ordinary soldiers.’

‘We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Jina, old friend?’ I nodded. Sharma moved his hand to my waist, saying, ‘I see that you still have the belt.’

‘I told you that I would always wear it.’

‘Of course you did! And the loyal Jina always keeps his word, doesn’t he?’

‘When I give it freely – yes, I keep it.’

Sharma coughed so hard that is body was wracked by the spasms, squeezed my hand, and muttered, ‘Go and deal with Jainar.’

It was an assignment not to be taken lightly. Weighing up the situation, I reckoned that Jainar would have the advantage of a larger force, with solders that would probably be better armed and equipped. However, our army would have the advantage of fitness and experience, going right back to the time when we operated in the wilderness. Another advantage was that we had never lost a battle unlike the soldiers who were marching to meet us. Also, we had Sharma at our back together with a united populace while the enemy force was backed by the weak and indecisive Aebrel together with a restless and dissatisfied people.

When I said these things to my brother as we marched southwards, Abozi just nodded non-commitedly and grunted, 'We shall see.'

I grinned to myself. Abozi was always like this before an engagement. But when battle commenced, he was as solid as a rock and as workmanlike as a reaper scything his way through a field.

Abozi jerked his head backwards and said, 'It's probably just as well that we've got them with us.'

He was referring to the squad of Dornite mercenaries who were marching behind us, their feather-crested helmets slung over their backs and their kilts swinging. Durgenu provided the mercenaries at what he called cut-rate prices, saying that it was always an honour to do business with his respected colleagues, Sharma and Jina.

I replied, 'I wouldn't have thought the day would come when I would march out to do battle together with a squad of Dornites.'

Abozi asked, 'How are you going to use them?'

'I'll put them in the centre.'

Abozi leaned towards me and asked confidentially, 'Can we depend on them in the centre?'

'Depend on them? I'll wager my life on it.'

Abozi asked doubtfully, 'You think so?'

'I know so, Abozi. Look at it like this -- our own people can turn and run home when the going gets tough. But where would the Dornites run to?'

Abozi snorted. 'They'd also run home. Dornites have homes, too.'

'Maybe. But every man, woman, and child along the way would harass them to settle old scores. And home for them is a lot further than Orihedrin.'

Abozi said gruffly, 'Well, we'll see.'

On the field of Origun, we defeated Jainar's army. It was a close-run affair, like two evenly matched wrestlers who strive against each other while clasped together, weight against weight, heave against heave, searching for the first sign of weakness. Finally the break came as it always did. After nearly two hours, the Dornites managed to drive a wedge through the centre of Jainar's forces. On our right flank, Abozi saw the opportunity and drove our men inward on to the enemy forces. They fell back against each other and our forces drove into them from three directions. Jainar’s army swayed, crumpled, and then began to scatter.

Abozi led a detachment in close pursuit, pressing forward at speed until Jainar and some of his men regrouped on the hillside. Our forces halted and looked at the opposing force warily. There was an impasse. Suddenly someone broke ranks and ran forward up the hill. It was Abozi. He stopped a few paces from their front rank and shouted something. Jainar stepped forward and shouted something in return. Then the two men exchanged a volley of words. Later, I was told what was said during the encounter. Abozi shouted, ‘Jainar, the battle isn’t over yet. Come out and fight man to man.’

Jainar asked calmly, 'Is that you, Abozi brother of Jina?'

'It is.'

Jainar said, 'I remember you well from the old days. I have no quarrel with you. If you want to fight hand to hand, challenge one of the young men. Fight against a young man and you might get reward and honour.'

Abozi called, 'I’m challenging you, Jainar, not some insignificant member of your army. Come out and face me if you’re not a coward.'

Jainar replied, 'A coward? I’ve defeated more men than you have years in your life! You know that or you wouldn’t be challenging me.’

‘Then come out and face me if you’re not a coward.’

Jainar responded patiently, ‘I don't want to strike you down. I have no quarrel with you and I will not fight against you.'

I could see what was happening even if I couldn't hear what was being said. I yelled at Abozi, ordering him to stand back but he was too far away to hear me. He would have ignored me, anyway, in his blood-mad, glory-seeking mood. I don't know what got into him. Perhaps he felt that he had walked in my shadow for too long and that now was the time to make a name for himself. Perhaps he was infected by battle-craziness. I really don't know.

Abozi's reply to Jainar was to rise to his full height, swing his shield into place, shouting our war cry – ‘Shar-ma! Shar-ma!’ -- and rush forward. Jainar retreated a few paces and crouched, covering himself with his shield. As Abozi reached him, Jainar thrust the butt of his spear forward at a steep angle. To be fair to Jainar, he put the butt-end forward to minimise injury. But he didn’t have to do it. He could just have withdrawn to the protection of the ranks. The spear passed under Abozi's shield and hit him in the stomach. Abozi was moving with such speed that the butt passed right through him. He doubled over, shuddered, and died on the spot.

When I saw my brother fall, I wanted to rush forward and throw myself onto Jainar. Of course I couldn’t, because he was too far away. In any case, even while I was filled with horror and outrage I knew better than to indulge in personal vendettas on the battlefield. A commander's work is to defeat the enemy forces, clear them from the field, and then pursue them to wreak the maximum amount of destruction. As I learned from Zaliek, personal feelings such as vanity and desire for revenge just get in the way of the task.

Suppressing my seething emotions, I assembled our men for an orderly pursuit. At the second battle of Gandonda, I saw what could happen when a pursuing force rushes forward in disorganised waves like a pack of yelping hounds. The enemy can rally at any time and within a few minutes victory can be compromised. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen here.

Late in the afternoon, Jainar rallied some of his men on another hilltop. By the looks of them, they were the core of what remained of Vaxili’s royal guard -- men of Vaxili's tribe, and Jainar's, too. They would be a tough proposition.

Although we were victorious, we were in no position to press forward. We were far from the rest of our army and we didn't have the resources to put a cordon around Jainar's force. Besides, if we did try to do so, the chances were that Jainar would strike at one of our weakest points under cover of darkness.

I was considering the position when Jainar stepped forward. He stood squarely with legs apart and shouted, 'Jina, for how long will we oppose each other? Isn't there enough bitterness already?’

I replied, ‘More than enough, I would say.’

Jainar continued, ‘Aren’t we all men of the same nation?’

‘We are. What of it?’

Jainar put down his shield and sword and stood there in just his tunic and breastplate. He raised his arms, palms forward, and shouted in reply, ‘Order your men to stop pursuing their brothers and we can all depart in peace.'

I replied, 'Jainar, you speak of brothers and yet you killed my only brother.'

Jainar answered, 'I regret it. But he challenged me and I couldn't avoid him. He died honourably as a soldier should. Be grateful for that.'

Now that I was so close to Jainar, rage pounded through my veins. I was on the verge of rushing forward to attack him myself. In fact, I had already half-drawn my sword when sanity prevailed. I got a grip on myself, pushed my sword back, and shouted, 'Death is a soldier's closest companion. We have not lived honourably until we have died honourably.' It was a politic answer that concealed what I really felt. Privately, I resolved that one day Jainar would pay for my brother's death. However, in the meantime I had to attend to my duties.

Jainar acknowledged my words with a wave of his hand. He said something to his men and they lowered their shields. They stood at ease, regarding us warily while my men did the same. I shouted, ‘If you agree, then we will conclude the engagement.’

Jainar shouted back, ‘That’s as it should be. Brothers shouldn’t be at each other’s throats.’

I said, ‘Then brothers shouldn’t attack brothers.’ Jainar made a resigned movement with his hand but said nothing. I took a few steps forward and shouted, ‘I have a message for Aebrel.’

Jainar replied, ‘I can carry a message as well as anyone.’

‘Tell your master that there is only one anointed king in Keirine and that king is Sharma. Tell Aebrel that he only continues to rule Upper Keirine because Sharma does not want to cause further suffering to the nation. Tell Aebrel that his days are numbered. If he abdicates, Sharma will treat him with consideration. If not, he will lose everything.’

Jainar replied, ‘I will deliver your message. But remember that Aebrel rules because of the strength of his general and his army not because of Sharma's kindness. Remember that, when you are tempted to think otherwise.’ Jainar raised his hand in salute and stepped backwards into the ranks.

I ordered the trumpeter to blow the signal for a halt to the pursuit, posted a rearguard, and led the main force back down the hill. When we reached the bottom, I stopped and looked back. Jainar and his men had disappeared.

We won an overwhelming victory, losing less than fifty men as against nearly four hundred on the other side. I should have celebrated our achievement except that Abozi was amongst the dead. When I returned from the battlefield with the body of my brother draped over the back of a donkey, I passed through one of the heaviest periods of my life. To make it even heavier, I could not show my grief because, as commander, I couldn't allow anything to spoil the celebratory atmosphere amongst the men. They would interpret sadness, bitterness, or regret on my part as a reproach to them. But inside, I was grieving and lacerated. I had not felt like this since I lost Dana. The world was desolate and I hated Jainar for making it so.

Abozi was only twenty-two years of age when he died. Marching towards our home in Osicedi to bury him, I kept thinking of how quickly time had passed since we were children. Only a few years ago, Abozi was a schoolboy walking the fields with me to learn how to be a shepherd. Then he was a lanky and fresh-faced youth, roaming the hills with the sheep as I had done before him. Next, in quick succession, he became a soldier, my companion in Vaxili's prison cell, our comrade in the desert, and a respected commander in Orihedrin. Saddest of all, I remembered that our mother had a special love for Abozi. She called him the last-born lamb, the unexpected gift that arrived when she thought that she would not carry a child again. She would say to my father and me, 'He is Zabrazal's special gift to all of us.'

Now Abozi was dead, his corpse lashed over the back of a donkey. As we marched northwards, my heart shriveled when I thought about how my mother would react to the news. My father died only a few years ago and now she would also have to bear the death of her youngest son, her beloved late-born lamb. Especially, I remembered how, after my father's death, she said to Abozi and me, 'I don't know if I can bear to see one of you die before me.'

I stayed in Osicedi for two days to comfort my mother and to make arrangements for Abozi to be buried in the tomb with our father. Then I led the army back to Orihedrin. My mother begged me to stay for the funeral but I knew my duty. Osicedi wasn’t a garrison town. If the army stayed too long, there would be trouble – fighting, drunkenness, whoring, and all the rest of the undisciplined behaviour that occurs when soldiers are idle. The troops had to leave as soon as possible and it was my duty as commander to lead them. Leaving my mother behind with the corpse of my brother, I led the troops out of Osicedi, heading down the red-dirt road to Orihedrin. The dust that filled my eyes and nostrils matched the aridity in my soul.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: ASCENT TO POWER

After the battle, matters in Upper Keirine deteriorated quickly. As if to compensate for losing the battle, or possibly to forestall any impression that he had been weakened, Jainar tightened his grip so much that Aebrel was hardly more than a hostage on his own throne. Jainar took all the decisions and made all the moves while Aebrel wallowed in wine, consoled himself with his ever-growing collection of women and performed a few ceremonial functions.

One evening, during a drunken carousal, Aebrel accused Jainar of sleeping with one of the royal concubines. This was too much for Jainar who, whatever his faults, wasn't a womaniser. In fact, he had been married for twenty years and held strictly to the old virtues of faithfulness and monogamy. In the presence of the whole court, Jainar turned on Aebrel in fury, saying, 'Remember who I am, my lord! You forget that I have been loyal to your father's house ever since Izebol anointed him even although he treated me worse than a peasant. Now you treat me like a dog, insulting me in public and accusing me of sleeping with one of your whores. Pha! I wouldn't even touch one of your women with the tip of a spear for fear of infection.’

Aebrel blustered, ‘You forget yourself! Who’s king here, eh? Me, that’s who! I’m king in Upper Keirine!’

Jainar was in a red-eyed rage. He spat out, ‘King! You can’t even govern yourself! You’re ruled by your whores and by wine!’

‘Remember your position, Jainar! I could –‘

‘You could what? Look at you, my lord –‘ Jainar ground out the word 'lord' in contempt and then cried, enraged, ‘King of Upper Keirine! King of the Wine Cups, more likely! Pha! You’re so drunk that you can’t even stand on your own two feet.’

Aebrel shook his head muzzily and growled, ‘Shut up, Jainar. I’m the king. I command it.’

Jainar pointed at Aebrel and said with knife-sharp scorn, ‘You can be thankful that I haven't handed you and your kingdom over to Sharma -- which is what Izebol promised him, as you might remember.'

‘Promised? You speak treachery!?’

‘Treachery? I'm only speaking the truth. You know where the proof is. It’s dead in a ditch with the messenger that you had killed.’

Aebrel was so drunk that he replied, 'Oh, yes, Jainar, why don't you try to hand the kingdom over to Sharma! You think that you can destroy me, huh? You think you’ll be safe then? Huh! Forget about it.’

Jainar said in quiet fury, ‘I could destroy you as easily as this.’ He snapped his fingers.

‘Huh? Destroy me? It won't be so easy, my good general – no, it won't be so easy.’ Blearily, Aebrel waved a wine cup at Jainar. ‘But if you do, then when I’m gone, Sharma will destroy you. I’m all that stands between Sharma and the throne. If Aebrel goes then Jainar goes. Simple, eh? Sink or swim together, huh, Jainar – sink or swim together, that’s what it’s about – huh.' Aebrel burped and subsided into his chair like a sack of sodden fodder.

Jainar banged a fist on the table and roared, 'By Zabrazal, whatever you might think about him, at least Sharma acts like a king who is worthy of the name.'

Even although he was deep in his cups, Aebrel could see that he'd pushed Jainar too far. Lolling in his chair, Aebrel muttered and waved a hand in what could have been an apology or could have been a dismissal. Jainar stalked out of the chamber in a rage and didn’t wait for the crisis to develop. Next day, he sent a message to Sharma, saying that he wanted to meet him as soon as possible. Sharma replied in the affirmative but set a condition for the meeting: he demanded that Mecolo should accompany Jainar. I guess that he did that because he saw an opportunity to right the wrong that Vaxili had done to him while humiliating Aebrel at the same time. In addition, perhaps by demanding Mecolo, Sharma was testing the extent of Jainar's power.

Jainar delivered Mecolo and Sharma met with him privately at a site on the border, half a day's march from Orihedrin. Not even we, Sharma’s commanders, knew exactly what was discussed. Sharma would only tell us that he made it plain to Jainar that Aebrel should not be harmed, whatever happened.

Later, I asked Sharma, 'If this works out, what's going to happen to Aebrel, when he's no longer king?'

Sharma gazed at me steadily and replied, ‘If he falls into our hands he will be treated with honour and respect as the son of Vaxili deserves.'

'Honour and respect! You mean that you'll heap coals of fire on his head, not so? He'll be like a dog at your feet, won't he? What a pity that Vaxili won't be there to see it.'

'Have a care, Jina!'

I saw that I had struck Sharma too close to home so I retreated a little by saying, 'By Zabrazal, Sharma, don't you see that you won't be secure as long as Aebrel is alive?'

Sharma flushed and retorted, 'We will deal with the situation when it arises.' On the surface, Sharma looked calm and controlled. However, I knew him well enough to see that he was edgy with excitement and anticipation. He sensed that the time when he would become king of united Keirine was near at hand. However, to be fair to Sharma, he wasn't just excited at the thought that he would soon be king. He was also excited because the unity of Keirine was an obsession with him, as it was with me. It went back a long way, at least as far back as the time when, as boys, we sat on the hills and looked towards the coast while reflecting on the weakness and vulnerability of Keirine.

I said, ‘Aebrel will be a focus for rebellion as long as he lives.’ It was pushing the boundaries of our relationship, but if I didn't say this to Sharma, who would?

Sharma snorted disdainfully. ‘Aebrel is a spent force. Just about no one supports him now, and even his few supporters will abandon him when he's no longer king.’

‘Don't underestimate how much support he has. Some people support him just because he’s the son of Vaxili and others support him because they’d rather have him on the throne than you.’

Sharma clucked his tongue impatiently and asked sceptically, ‘Aebrel rather than me? Really? And why is that?’

‘Because they can manipulate Aebrel but they won’t be able to manipulate you.’

Sharma poked a finger at my chest and barked, ‘For a soldier, you seem to know a lot about the politics of Upper Keirine.’

‘That’s because these things are so obvious that even a plain soldier like me can see them.’

Sharma stood back and looked at me. He rubbed his nose and said slowly, more in amusement than in irritation, 'Ah! So plain soldier Jina is advising the king on the politics of the throne, is he?'

'Perhaps that’s because plain soldier Jina can see what the king can't.'

Sharma grunted and tried to conceal a grin. I made an expansive bow, kneeled, and said, ‘My lord, I am your humble servant.’ That stopped him. I was his boyhood friend and closest confidant, and he didn’t know how to handle me when I was on my knees before him. Sharma stood there stroking his chin, looking at me appraisingly. Then he put out his hand and raised me to a standing position. He muttered, ‘Damnation, Jina, you embarrass me.’

I said, ‘Sharma, your cause is my cause. I advise you as I would advise myself.’

'Jina! Will you shame me as well as embarrass me?'

'I could never do that. Your shame would be my shame.'

‘Be careful, Jina. You will be a courtier yet.’

‘A courtier! I don’t think so! I would die of suffocation.’

Sharma grinned broadly and embraced me, saying, 'Jina, Jina! If Zabrazal exists and if he ever gave me a gift, then surely he gave you to me as a pillar to my house.'

We stood there beaming at each other, our disagreement forgotten. I made a half-mocking bow and said, 'The general is always at the service of the king-to-be.'

Sharma's face was sombre when he replied, 'Not all kings are so fortunate.' He put up a finger and said, 'Ah! Talking of serving the king-to-be, there’s something that you can do for me right now.' I looked at Sharma enquiringly. He dropped his eyes and looked embarrassed while he muttered, 'Uh – quarters need to be arranged for Mecolo and the child.'

The child? Didn't he know the name of his own son? I put the thought aside and asked, 'Should we arrange a room for them in your compound?'

Sharma looked even more embarrassed when he said, 'No, not in my compound. Roda isn't – you know – she’s not fully prepared for this. Nor is Mecolo. Perhaps – uh – you can arrange quarters somewhere else, close by, you know, but not in the compound, not yet, anyway.'

'You mean that you didn't tell Roda that Mecolo was on her way?' It was so farcical that I wanted to laugh out loud. Fortunately, I managed to keep a straight face.

Sharma couldn’t look me in the face when he replied, 'I thought that it would be better if she got used to the idea gradually, but – damn it, Jina, are you going to help me or not?'

'No problem! I'll get on to it right away. By the way, is Mecolo to be accommodated as your wife, or – ah – in some other capacity?'

'As my wife, of course! Why do you think it might be otherwise?'

I paused and thought carefully before I replied. Was my memory at fault when I remembered that when Sharma decided to marry Roda, he was happy to acknowledge that his marriage to Mecolo had been annulled? Whatever the case, this was another thought that I put aside quickly. I took my leave and went to arrange suitable quarters for Mecolo.

I found Mecolo and the boy sitting in a small room near the council chamber. They were surrounded by a jumble of baggage and Mecolo looked tired and tense. When I entered, she greeted me with relief, crying, 'Jina! It's so good to see you!'

Seeing Mecolo again brought back so many memories that I struggled to keep my voice steady. I said, 'My lady, Sharma has asked me to arrange quarters for you and your son.'

'Sharma!' Her voice was sharp. 'Where is Sharma? We've been here almost five hours and we haven't seen him yet.’ She swept her arm around angrily. ‘We’re being treated like just so many more pieces of baggage. I demand to –'

'My lady, have patience! Sharma has been busy with matters of state. He sends his compliments and he will see you soon.'

Mecolo looked as if she was going to give vent to another outburst of frustration, as well she might. However, she bit back the words and shrugged as if she no longer knew what to believe. She sighed, then looked at me appraisingly and said, 'You're looking well, Jina.'

'So are you, my lady.' I said the words out of courtesy but not with conviction. The truth was that, apart from looking travel-weary, Mecolo looked older than her years. Her face had tightened and her shoulders were more stooped than they should have been for a woman of her age and station. Well, perhaps that was to be expected -- the last few years hadn't been easy for her. She had been the centre of a tug of war between Vaxili and Sharma, she had been forced into a humiliating marriage – if it was a marriage – and then, after surviving her father's erratic reign, she had lived as an appendage of her dissolute brother. What was more, her close association with Sharma must have been a daily irritation to Aebrel and he must have let her know it.

I changed the subject, saying, 'You have a fine son, my lady.' It was true. The boy was sturdy and had an open, trusting countenance. However, I wasn’t being entirely truthful. To my eyes, as the boy sat there looking at me earnestly, there was more of his mother in him than there was of Sharma. But when he smiled, he looked a lot like Sharma.

Mecolo stroked her son's hair and said, 'Every day, I thank Zabrazal for him. Since he was born, he has been my only consolation.'

'What is his name, my lady?'

'His name is Bedaxili.'

'Bedaxili' meant 'Beloved of Vaxili'. I wondered how Sharma would feel about the name. I said cautiously, 'It is a striking name.'

Mecolo's mouth tightened and she replied without enthusiasm, 'It is the name that my father gave him.'

The air was heavy with suppressed issues and unspoken words. I roused myself to activity and said, 'My lady, you need to rest. Let's move your belongings to your quarters.'

Mecolo floated the scarf from her neck and arranged it around her head. As she did so, she said, 'So, Jina, I hear that you have become an important man in Lower Keirine.'

'I am deputy commander of the army, my lady.'

'Deputy commander? And only a few years ago, you were--' Mecolo stopped suddenly, as if she had caught herself on the point of committing an indiscretion. Then she gathered herself and said, 'I am honoured to be assisted by the deputy commander.'

I acknowledged her with a slight bow and then began to supervise the move to her quarters.

After the men had deposited the baggage and left the rooms, I introduced Mecolo to the women who would be attending to her and asked if I could be of further assistance. Mecolo looked around suspiciously and asked, 'Do these rooms adjoin Sharma's quarters?'

‘Not exactly, my lady.’

‘No?’

'They're close but they don't actually adjoin them, my lady.'

'No? Where exactly are Sharma's quarters?'

I pointed out of the window: 'Over there, across the courtyard.'

Mecolo's face darkened as she pushed the drape aside and peered out. She asked sharply, 'Is that where Roda lives? Those quarters with the maroon canopies?'

'My lady?'

'Oh, come now, Jina! I know all about this creature named Roda!' Mecolo grimaced sourly. 'Do you think that I lived in a total vacuum in Koraina? Don't you think that there were plenty of people who would delight in giving me news like that?' She turned away, looked out of the window again, wiped her eyes, and said, 'Well, Jina? I asked you a question: Is that where Roda lives?'

'Yes, my lady. That's where Roda lives.'

'Nearest in place, nearest in heart, as the saying goes – not so?' Mecolo turned towards me. Her eyes were moist and she was biting her lower lip. She asked, 'Is Roda beautiful?'

'I can't say, my lady.'

'Oh, come now, Jina -- you're a man. Give me your opinion as a man.'

'I do not have opinions on women's beauty.'

'No? You used to have.'

'That was long ago, my lady. Now I choose not to have opinions on such matters.'

'Oh, Jina, you can't forget Dana, can you?' When I didn't reply, Mecolo took my hands and said, 'I can't forget her either.'

'Please, my lady, I prefer not to speak about it.' I pushed her hands away, saying, 'I must go now.'

Mecolo asked, almost pleadingly, 'And Sharma --?'

'My lady, Sharma will come to see you soon.'

As I left the room, Mecolo called after me, 'Believe me, Jina, I wish that I could follow your example. There are things that I should put behind me as well.'

I walked over to Sharma to tell him that Mecolo was settling into her quarters. He was with Roda and it was clear that they were quarrelling. Instead of greeting me, Roda tossed her head and turned away, standing with her back rigidly against us. Sharma looked at her angrily, took my arm, and walked me outside. I made my report, Sharma thanked me tersely and I left him.

About one month later, I was away leading the pursuit of an Usserdite raiding party when Sharma and Jainar met again. This time, Jainar came to Orihedrin where Sharma entertained him lavishly. I returned to Orihedrin only a few hours after Jainar departed. I was furious when I heard what had happened and demanded to see Sharma immediately. Going straight to the point without ceremony, I said, 'So, once again, you timed your meeting with Jainar well!’

‘Calm down, Jina! It was only arranged a few days ago. You were out of contact and I couldn’t call you back in time.’

‘Oh, yes? Or was it just very convenient?’

‘Don’t you believe me, Jina?’

‘What should I believe? This is the second time that it’s happened.’

Sharma waved my objections away as if they were the buzzing of an annoying insect, saying, ‘You can believe it or not, just as you choose.’

‘And I can go to hell if I have any objections, eh?’

‘I said you may believe it or not, just as you choose.’

‘What's more, you had Jainar in your grasp and you let him go!'

Sharma face tightened. He said stiffly, 'He came to negotiate. I gave him my word that he would be safe.'

'Negotiate! He came to buy time or to spy! You know that he can't be trusted.'

Sharma's eyes narrowed. 'Up until now, he's delivered what he's promised. Why shouldn't we trust him?'

I thought, what has he delivered so far? Mecolo? Is that all? Well, Sharma, you should know that there's a big difference between delivering a woman, even if she is a princess, and delivering a kingdom. I suppressed the words and replied, 'How do you know that he's not playing a double game?'

Sharma thrust his chin forward and wagged a finger at me, saying tersely, 'Have a care, Jina. I am the king. You command the army and I decide on policy.’

'By Zabrazal, now I see it clearly! I am the king's loyal dog, to be sent here, there, and everywhere, while the king entertains his favoured guests at his table! And for me – '

'Have a care, Jina! I tell you, man – have a care!'

I bit back my reply, knowing that I had already pushed further than Sharma would have tolerated from anyone else. I took a placatory course and said, 'Sharma, it wounds me that you sent me away while you met with Jainar. Is my advice so unreliable? Why do you exclude me when matters of state are discussed?'

Sharma fingered the neck of his cloak and looked away as if he didn’t have a ready answer. After a pause, he said, 'I told you the truth when I said that when you left, I didn't know that I was going to meet with Jainar. The arrangements were made later.'

'But, damn it, couldn't you have waited until I got back?'

'There's no time to be lost, Jina. Matters are moving too quickly.' Sharma put a hand on my shoulder. 'Jina, if you had been there, you would have advised me to do exactly what I did.'

'Which is --?'

'We decided that Jainar would deliver Upper Keirine into our hands. Soon there will be one Kingdom of Keirine again.'

'How soon?'

Sharma looked me in the eye and said firmly, 'Very soon.'

‘And there will be one king, by name of Sharma?’

‘Yes. That is so.’

I said, 'Not before time.'

'Good! We agree.'

I said, 'But, without Jainar, Upper Keirine would fall anyway.'

Sharma looked at me thoughtfully. He scratched his chin and asked cautiously, 'Ah! And what of it?'

'If Upper Keirine is ready to be delivered, then it's likely that Jainar is superfluous.'

Still looking at me thoughtfully, Sharma responded, 'Yes, that is possible.'

We stood there facing each other, with thoughts between us that couldn't, or wouldn't, be spoken. I decided to take the plunge on one of them and said, 'The united kingdom should have only one supreme commander of the army.'

Sharma stroked his chin and looked at me shrewdly. He responded, 'Perhaps not. Perhaps there could be a dual command.’

‘A dual command!’

‘Yes. For example, one general for the western sector and one for the eastern sector.'

'One king and two generals? That would be a happy state of affairs!'

Sharma was still looking at me in the same appraising way, head to one side. He said softly, 'Perhaps you are right. But, if not --' He stopped.

I said, 'If not, then perhaps Jainar is superfluous already.'

'Yes, Jina, that could be so -- ordinarily.'

‘Ordinarily?’

‘Yes, ordinarily. But these are extraordinary circumstances.’

‘How so?’

‘We will have obligations to Jainar.’

‘Only because that’s how he’s arranged things.’

Sharma looked at me through narrowed eyes, pursing his lips. He said, ‘But if Jainar is superfluous to the plan --?’

'Then, Sharma, perhaps he's nothing more than an impediment even now.'

'Yes, perhaps that's true. We will have to think about it.'

'Why think about it? There’s no time like the present.'

Sharma moved closer to me and said quietly, 'No time like the present, eh? That’s true.' He put a hand on my shoulder and pressed it firmly.

We shook hands and I left without saying anything more. I knew what had to be done.

Immediately, I sent a message to Jainar in Sharma's name recalling him for further discussions. When he arrived about two hours later, I met him at the city gateway and took him aside, saying that I had a confidential message from Sharma. Two of my men were waiting there. They stepped forward and seized Jainar's arms, pinning them behind his back. At the same time, I stabbed Jainar in the stomach, twisting the blade and forcing it in right up to the hilt, while the men held the squirming Jainar upright. Jainar died with the third thrust but I stabbed him twice more, just to make sure.

I had avenged the death of my brother and had also cleared the way for Sharma to ascend to the throne that had been promised to him. What was more, I had eliminated any possibility of dissension over the position of army commander in the re-united Kingdom of Keirine. It was a good day's work.

It was also messy work. Jainar’s blood stained my tunic and even spattered over my legs and sandals. As I was washing and changing my clothes, I noticed that the blood had stained my belt. Although I soaped the place and rubbed it vigorously with a towel, the outline of the stain, ink-dark against the dark leather, never disappeared. While I was cleaning the belt, I thought of Sharma saying to me many years ago that I should wear the belt as a sign of our friendship. Well, I thought, today I have done him a great service, much more than even the closest bond of friendship would require.

I had played my role and now it was up to Sharma to take centre stage. He didn't wait long: within an hour, he called a meeting of his commanders. He was looking composed and his voice was measured but knowing him as well as I did, I could see that behind the veneer he was simmering with excitement and anticipation. Why not? He had traversed the difficult terrain of the escarpment and now the open, uplands plain stretched before him. All he had to do was walk a few more steps and he would attain his goal.

Sharma said, 'Jainar is dead. A great man of Keirine has passed away.’ He cleared his throat, tightened his hands on the chair in front of him, and pronounced firmly, ‘I had no hand in his death. Before Zabrazal, I am innocent in this matter.' Then he said more than I expected from him, and he said it with such vehemence that I was taken aback. Sharma said, 'May the blood of Jainar fall upon the house of Jina, and on the houses of those who assisted him, and on their fathers’ houses even to the second and third generations.'

There was a stir around the table. Everyone expected Sharma to deny responsibility for Jainar's death – that was routine -- but no one expected him to curse the perpetrators and, what's more, to curse us so roundly and so thoroughly. I was startled and I was angry. I had been prepared to sit through a ritual denial but to be cursed publicly was humiliating and undeserved. I started to rise to protest but, in the face of the pensive silence around the table and Sharma’s tight-mouthed determination, I thought better of it and slumped back into my chair.

Sharma caught my eye. He held it only for a moment before he dropped his gaze. In that moment, I saw acknowledgement of our complicity. But I also saw anger -- and that I didn't expect. Was Sharma trying to convince himself that I had talked him into doing something that he didn't want to do? Was he trying to convince himself that he really was innocent?

Sharma collected himself and said evenly, 'We will bury Jainar this afternoon. I expect every commander to be present.' He looked at me stonily and repeated, 'Every commander will be present.' He paused and then said firmly, 'We will offer the respect that the death of a great man deserves. Rend your clothes and walk bare-footed before the body. All of Keirine must see how we honour one of the nation's great men.'

Sharma led the mourning procession and put on a good show, walking before the body with the rest of us and prostrating himself, weeping, over the grave. He also sang an improvised song of lament at the graveside. I looked on, feeling both moved and sceptical. Sharma was good at this sort of thing. He reveled in public performances and knew how to catch the popular mood – in fact, he knew how to work it up, how to bring emotions to fever pitch, and how to sustain them there. Today Sharma was acting the role of the populist, aflame with the mood of the people. But it was more than just an act – or, rather, it was a piece of inspired drama. The poet inside Sharma took flame on occasions like this and his spirit soared, just as it did with the bards and the prophets.

Mecolo also took part in the funeral procession, weeping and lamenting. Was she really weeping for Jainar who, after all, had never been anything special to her? Or was she weeping for a death that reminded her of a vanished time when she had been confident, bold, and headstrong, a princess in the house of her father, the king?

All through that afternoon, Sharma's denunciation rankled with me. Finally, even although it was late evening, I walked to his quarters to remonstrate with him. However, as I reached his door I turned back, thinking that it would do no good to speak to him while he was in this mood. I returned to my rooms and sat there alone, thinking with bitter melancholy about the people who could have advised and supported me at this time. Dana was dead and so was Abozi. Only Sharma remained of those who I had counted as friends and comrades – and right now there was a fissure of complicity and denial between us.

For the first time in years, I ordered a flagon of wine. As I sat there sipping at the cup, I consoled myself by remembering how, after Izebol visited him, Sharma said to me, 'I need you. More than anyone, I need you.' Now, as he entered into new territory, surrounded by ambitions, suspicions and intrigues, he would need me more than ever. I sipped at the cup again and thought yes, these things will pass, and Sharma will need me more than ever.

On an impulse – probably wine--induced ---- I took off my belt, folded it neatly, and gave it to an attendant. I said, ‘See that it is given to the king immediately.’

‘Is there a message, sir?’

‘No. The king will know what it means.’

Although I knew that I had done the right thing for the Kingdom of Keirine, I couldn't help thinking about Jainar. My mind replayed the moment of Jainar's death – that moment when he gasped at me, 'Jina, you will never rest in peace' just before I plunged the dagger into his writhing body for the third time. Yes, that's what he said. But what did he know about peace, this man who never lifted a finger when my comrades and I were in prison, this man who ordered us to massacre civilians, this man who killed my brother, this man who helped the usurper to stay on his throne? I tried to drive his words out of my mind even as they returned to me time and again. I told myself to forget about his words and to forget about the subsiding gurgle that he produced as he slumped in death. I knew that I had done the right thing. I had avenged the death of my brother and had cleared the way for the kingdom to be re-united. With Jainar alive, the task of building a peaceful and united Keirine would have been more difficult; now it was simple and straight-forward. What was more important than that? I shrugged, left the cup and the flagon where they were, and went to bed. I hoped desperately for a dreamless sleep, unlikely as it was.

The next morning, my belt was returned to me. It had been polished and was shining with a deep lustre. With it was a note in Sharma’s handwriting that read, ‘Now as always, wear it as a sign of our friendship.’ As I turned the belt around, wondering what to do, I noticed again that the stain was still visible in spite of all the polishing, buffing, and rubbing. It reminded me of how much bound Sharma and me together. What looked like a fissure from one point of view, from another point of view looked like two crags that were united by bedrock at their base. I shrugged off my anger and buckled the belt around my waist. There was still work to do and there were still slopes to be climbed.

The next time I saw Sharma, his eyes flickered to my waist and he gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.

Within a few weeks, Upper Keirine fell into Sharma's hands without us having to do anything more than make a few surreptitious payments to members of the royal court. When the kingdom began to topple, there was no one to rally the army. In fact, there was no army at all. It melted away after Jainar’s death. Abandoned by his soldiers and then by his courtiers, Aebrel fled to Asjolorm, the nearest Dornite city. With him went five wives, seven concubines, more than twenty retainers and a line of donkeys bearing the royal valuables. Only the wives and the concubines reached Asjolorm alive – and they entered the city as captives, lashed to their own donkeys. Aebrel and the rest of his party were murdered along the way and the caravan was looted. It was said that the thieves and murderers were more than just ordinary criminals. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps the Dornites decided to do away with Aebrel when they recognised that he was a spent force who had no value at all, not even as a nuisance factor. Who knew the truth? Anyway, who cared?

Sharma’s victory was complete. Once again, as we climbed more rungs on the ladder, we were bound together by the heady experience of success. However, there was also a new bond between Sharma and me. Now we were also bound by the complicity of guilt. Although we didn’t think about it at the time, from now onwards the linked trajectories of our lives would no longer be so straight and uncomplicated. However, the fault-lines didn’t show at first, in those heady days of our ascent to power over the whole Kingdom of Keirine.

CHAPTER TWENTY: THE PRICE

I entered the room just as Roda gave Mecolo such a shove that she hurtled back against the wall, thumping into it with a sound like a sack of grain hitting the floorboards of a wagon. Roda didn't leave it there – she was onto Mecolo immediately, slapping, spitting, and cursing. Sharma got between them, shoving them apart, yelling at them to quit or he would have them confined to their rooms.

I stood there embarrassed, not sure what to do. Come over to my quarters for a quiet evening, said Sharma. Come over and we can relax for a while just like we used to do in the old days. God, Jina, do you remember how it used to be, sitting on top of a ridge, spinning the webs of our dreams, lying back in the grass and assuring ourselves that whatever the future held it was going to be good? And now – well, just look at us now. What's happened to us since Orihedrin? Where has the time gone? Councils, stratagems, diplomacy, sitting in judgement, logistics, and goodwill visits – well, that's the way of the kingdom and it's the price we have to pay for getting what we wanted, isn't it, old friend? Anyway, forget about all that, and come over for a quiet evening.

As he held Roda and Mecolo apart and yelled at them, Sharma suddenly caught sight of me, standing there like a frog that thought it was about to slide into a cosy pond and instead found itself on the edge of a boiling cauldron. Sharma bit his lip and squeezed the shoulders that he was holding so hard that both Roda and Mecolo shrieked in pain. He hissed, 'Quiet! We have company.' He thrust the women apart, turned to me, adjusted his robe, and said as civilly as he could in the midst of his roused emotions, 'Jina! I wasn't expecting you so early. Come inside.'

'Perhaps if I came back later –'

'No, no, by no means. Come in and sit down.' Sharma motioned me to a chair by the fire. I settled in while Sharma went around behind the chair and talked to the women in low tones. I heard Roda's voice raised in protest, saying, 'I will not stand for this woman and her –', followed by Sharma hissing, 'Enough! You will not say another word or I will have you confined to your room. Understand?' There was silence and then I heard the women walking out of the room. The footsteps were short, swift, and hard-heeled.

Sharma sat down, raised his eyebrows at me, and rang a bell. A servant appeared with a flagon of wine and two mugs, poured wine for each of us, and withdrew. Sharma raised his mug, looked at me over the rim and took a deep pull at his drink. Then, cradling the mug, he said, 'Welcome, Jina.' I raised my mug and sipped at the wine, trying to look as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Except for the twitching of his left eyelid, to outward appearances Sharma had regained control of his emotions. However, he sat forward in his chair, head slightly to one side, as if he was tensed to spring at any new disturbance.

I sipped again and said as easily as I could, 'It's good to be here.'

Sharma nodded and took another deep pull at his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sighed heavily and refilled his mug. Then he raised the flagon and looked at me enquiringly. I said, 'Not yet, thanks. I'm still busy with this one.'

Sharma said, 'You drink slowly, Jina. It's not companionable.' He took another deep pull at his mug.

I replied, 'Oh, you know me, Sharma. I'm a slow starter. But I'm like the last sheep in the flock -- I always get into the pen before the gate closes for the night.' Privately, I thought that this wasn't the first time that I'd seen Sharma drinking quick and deep. When did it start? I couldn't remember him drinking at all when we were outlaws together in the desert. Nor could I remember him drinking much during our early days in Orihedrin. Thinking back, I reckoned that he must have started his drinking towards the end of our time in Orihedrin not long before he ascended to the throne.

Sharma leaned forward, the yellow flecks in his eyes glinting. He said, 'Well, Jina, it's good to have you here. Just the two of us, eh?'

I raised my mug and said, 'Times change but friendship doesn't.'

Sharma grunted in acknowledgement, took another long pull at his mug and refilled it. He sat back, raised an eyebrow, and said, 'When land and people reach the sea, eh, Jina?' I looked at him quizzically. Sharma asked, 'How far do we push the Dornites?'

'Push them? Man, Sharma, in case you haven't noticed we haven't even got them out of Keirine yet.'

Sharma waved a hand half in amusement and half in irritation. 'Jina, Jina, you always were the cautious one.' He settled back with his mug held against his chest and asked, 'Do you doubt that we'll push them back over the escarpment within a few months?'

'Doubt it? Of course I doubt it. I doubt the outcome of every battle and every campaign until we've got the enemy on the run. Then, when I see their backsides retreating at a fast pace, I stop doubting – for a little while at least.'

Sharma chuckled. 'Maybe you've been doubting a little bit less during these last few weeks, eh?'

Sharma had reason to be confident. Although we hadn't defeated the Dornites, we were closing the noose on them. When Sharma was crowned King of Keirine, the Dornites not only occupied a sizeable piece of Upper Keirine but were also exacting tribute in lieu of seizing more land. It was the arrangement that they enjoyed when the weak-kneed Aebrel was on the throne and it was the way in which they intended that things should continue. Just to make sure that there wasn't any misunderstanding about their intentions, the Dornites didn't wait for Sharma to settle in. Before he had even been crowned, a Dornite army advanced from the south, burning and looting as it came. Fortunately, we were able to hold them to a stalemate during a day-long battle. However, although there was not a clear victor, it was a moral victory for us. For the first time since Vaxili's last years on the throne, a Dornite army had been halted.

We didn't wait for the Dornites to regroup. Using the experience that we gained in the desert, I began mobilising the inhabitants of the occupied territory to harass the Dornites. Soon the countryside was so unsafe for their forces that they had to travel in large numbers or not travel at all. More than that, we eliminated the profits of their occupation by capturing traders and caravans. The Dornites were forced to protect themselves by retreating behind fortified positions in the occupied towns and by going to the trouble and expense of sending out large caravans under heavy guard. The occupation of Upper Keirine was becoming an expensive and troublesome business for the Dornites.

Sharma leaned back in his chair and said in a relaxed voice, 'We've forced them onto the back foot, Jina. Now we have to put a wedge between their garrisons and their heartland.'

'Easier said than done, I would think.'

Sharma ran a finger around the edge of his mug and said thoughtfully, 'Another attack on Asjolorm, perhaps?' I raised my eyebrows at him. Sharma continued, 'Why don't we tackle them on two fronts? We could destroy Asjolorm and cut their supply lines while we take on their garrisons one by one.'

'It might work.'

'Think about it, Jina.' Sharma waved his mug at me unsteadily. 'We'll talk about it tomorrow, eh? No more business talk tonight. All right?'

Some time during the evening, Sharma picked up a small bag and took out a sling. Then he shook out some pebbles from the bag and asked, 'How about it, Jina? Are you still up to it?'

'In here?'

'Why not? Isn't the king allowed to have some fun?' Sharma waved a hand around airily. 'The king proposes and the king disposes, not so?' He rang a bell and a servant came in with a bucket, draped a blanket over a sideboard, and ranged the contents of the bucket on top. I went over to have a look at the objects that were standing on the sideboard. There were seven short pieces of wood, planed and varnished, the thickness of two fingers, and mounted on small bases. The targets were pitted all over, testifying to how often they had been used.

I said, 'You are well prepared.'

Sharma gave me a slow smile and replied, 'The king should always be prepared.' He stood back, crouched, whirled the sling, and let fly. The pebble missed its target and clattered against the stone wall behind the sideboard. Sharma cursed, drank some wine, took aim again, and let fly. This time he hit the target. At the end of the round, he had hit five out of the seven targets. Sharma tossed the sling to me, saying, 'Your turn now.'

'I'm not in practice. I won't be much good.'

Sharma grunted. 'Huh! That's what you always used to say and you were always better than you claimed.'

I replied, 'But never as good as you.' In the event, I surprised myself by hitting three of the first four targets at which I aimed. Opting for caution, I deliberately missed one of the last three targets. Sharma grinned at me, raised his mug in salute, and said, 'It's a tie! Hail to the general.'

Later, we had a few more rounds with the sling. Watching Sharma crouch, eyes narrowed, balanced on the balls of his feet, the years fell away and I glimpsed the youthful Sharma out on the hillside taking aim at targets placed on top of a rock. I said something like that to Sharma. He responded by grunting and letting fly with such force that the pebble sliced a sliver off the target and then shattered against the wall.

Surprisingly, in spite of the wine, Sharma's aim improved until during his last round he hit six out of seven targets. Still cautious, I made sure that I never exceeded his score in any round. Afterwards, Sharma lay back in his chair and started to talk about the days when we roamed the hills looking after the sheep. He concluded by saying, 'When land and people reach the sea, eh?' He tossed the sling in the palm of his hand, looked at it pensively, and asked, 'Are we safe now, Jina?'

'Not as safe as we should be but safer than we ever have been.'

Sharma grunted, 'Huh! Maybe that's true. But there's one enemy that's always with us, always working to destroy us. Do you know what that is, eh?' I shook my head. Sharma looked at me with half-closed eyes and said, 'Complacency, Jina, complacency! That's the enemy that's always at the gates.'

It was after midnight when we parted. Sharma was drunk and I had imbibed enough to fear that I might have a sore head in the morning. I hated having a muzzy head. I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear it and started to walk across the courtyard. Suddenly, I felt a light touch on my arm. A voice hissed, 'Jina!' I turned and peered at the hooded figure standing next to me. It was Mecolo. She put a finger over my lips, took my arm, led me to a corner of the courtyard and opened a door. Inside, Mecolo threw back the hood. By the light of the lamps, I could see that her eyes were red and her expression was strained.

Mecolo said in a tight voice, 'I need to talk to you, Jina.'

'It's late, my lady.'

'It'll only take a few minutes.' She put a hand on my arm. 'Please – only a few minutes?' I nodded and she pointed to a chair by the table. Mecolo sat down across the corner from me leaning forward with folded arms. She forced a smile and asked, 'How are you, Jina?'

'Me? I'm fine. How are you, my lady?'

'Oh, Jina, we've known each other for a long time. We're old friends. Can't we just be Jina and Mecolo to each other?'

I thought, old friends? Just plain Jina and Mecolo? Well, that was never possible, was it? Once she was a king's daughter and I was a mere soldier or, at most, a deputy commander. Now she was a king's wife. Sharma might be my oldest friend but I had no illusions. Things weren't the same between us as in the old days. Now Sharma was king first and I was his general. Those things counted far above the fact that we were old friends and comrades.

Mecolo leaned forward and asked, 'Well, Jina? Can't we be just old friends together?'

'I'm always at your service, my lady.'

Mecolo winced and drew back. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and asked stiffly, 'How is Sharma?'

'When I left him, he was well.'

'Drunk again, I'm sure.'

'We did enjoy some wine together -- for old time's sake.'

Mecolo sat back and looked at me keenly. She said, 'Oh, Jina, I wish I had as good a friend as Sharma has in you.' She dabbed at her eyes again and then suddenly burst out, 'I can't take it any more! I simply cannot take it!'

'My lady?'

'You saw what happened! That loose-mouthed, sway-hipped creature speaks to me worse than she would to a serving girl in her father's kitchen! And Sharma --!'

'Calm yourself, my lady.'

Mecolo brushed me aside. 'And Sharma supports her. It's them against me – always them against me. You saw what happened, didn't you? You could see it was them against me.'

'I'm afraid I hardly saw anything at all. I just arrived and –'

'Oh, don't pretend you don't know what's going on just because you're Sharma's friend.'

'My lady, I am truly sorry that you are distressed.'

'Why did he bring me back? If this was how I was going to be treated why didn't he just leave me the way I was? Why?'

'I suppose he brought you back because you were his wife and the mother of his child.'

'Oh, that's charitable! Do you know what I think? I think that he brought me back to humiliate me for what my father did to him. No, don't shake your head. I know it to be the case.'

'My lady, I –'

'Well, I can understand why he treats me like this. I hate it but I can understand it. But why does he humiliate our son? He has nothing to do with his grandfather. Nothing! Nothing at all! On the contrary -- Bedaxili's grandfather despised him because he was Sharma's son. Don't be fooled by his name Bedaxili, "Beloved of Vaxili". That was nothing but a piece of cruel irony! The truth is, my father hated his grandson.' Mecolo pressed her fists against her temples, closed her eyes, and bit her bottom lip. Then she thumped a fist on the table and cried, 'I will not have my son suffer because of what lies between Sharma and me!' She put her head on her hands and sobbed.

I was embarrassed and I was at a loss about how to respond. I said inadequately, 'My lady, calm yourself. Sharma has a lot on his mind. He's a busy man. Perhaps you're reading too much into the situation.'

'He's not too busy to take sides, though!' Mecolo raised her head and fired the words at me. Then she sat up, straightened her back, and wiped her eyes. She shook her head briskly and said, 'I am the daughter of a king and I am the wife of a king – and look at me! Just look at me, Jina – weeping in my room in the dark hours of the night. But I tell you one thing, for sure, Jina – no one will ever see me weep outside this room.'

'I understand, my lady.'

'No, Jina, you don't. You think I'm weeping for myself. Well, perhaps I am, to some extent. But if I am, then I'm ashamed. I will not allow myself to indulge in self-pity. I never have and I never will. No, Jina, I'm weeping for my son.' Mecolo gave me a fierce look. 'Bedaxili is heir to the throne. That is what concerns me. You understand?'

'I think that I do.'

Mecolo's eyes softened and she leaned forward as if trying to coax sympathy out of me. She asked, 'Will you support me in this, Jina?'

'Support you, my lady? How?'

Mecolo’s eyes were still red-rimmed but now they were sharp and the gaze was direct. She said slowly and distinctly, 'There should be no doubt in the matter of succession. Bedaxili is Sharma's oldest son and that should be the end of the matter.’

‘That is so, my lady.’

‘Ah! But who knows what that creature might be planning for her own sons?' Mecolo put a hand over mine and said softly, 'That's what concerns me, Jina.' I retracted my hand, sat back, and looked at her. I wasn't certain of what she wanted from me – but whatever it was, I wasn't happy about the direction in which she was heading. Mecolo smiled wryly and said, 'Oh, Jina, don't look at me like that. You're always so correct and proper, aren't you? I'm not asking you to do anything subversive. I'm just asking you to do what's right.'

'And what is right in this case?'

'What's right is very simple -- you should support the legitimate heir to the throne.'

I took some time to think about the matter. Of course, in one sense it was a simple matter, an open and shut case. Bedaxili was the legitimate heir to the throne. Nothing could change his status as Sharma's first-born son. That fact stood out like a beacon on a hill. However, I had a skin-prickling, uneasy sense that the beacon did not have solid foundations. I replied cautiously, 'Any challenge to your son's status as heir to the throne would be bad for Keirine.'

Mecolo pursed her lips and looked at me appraisingly. 'Yes, exactly! That's what concerns me. Yes, that's it – exactly!'

'Then, my lady, we understand each other.'

Her face brightened. However, her eyes were sharp and shrewd when she said, 'My father couldn't keep Keirine together. Now Sharma has another chance. If we love Keirine, then we must ensure that the kingdom doesn't come to the same sad end. You agree, don't you?'

'I do, my lady. We have struggled too hard and suffered too much to see the kingdom fall apart again.'

Mecolo leaned forward, hands clasped together, and said, 'Oh, Jina, you're a dark horse, aren't you?'

'My lady?'

'Trustworthy, brave, dependable Jina! But underneath that stoical front you have a grand vision, don't you?'

'My lady, I do have one vision, and one vision only – the dream of Keirine, safe, secure, and dignified. That is all that I allow myself.'

Mecolo stood up and smoothed down her robe. As she did so, briefly stretching the fabric across her breasts and easing it down her hips, I caught a glimpse of the younger Mecolo in a time that seemed both close and remote. Also, thinking of that time, catching a glimpse of Mecolo's womanly form, I remembered a time when I lay on a hillside under the clouds with someone whose tunic stretched across a shape that generated the shock of lightning across the ridges of my body. The thought flashed through me only for a moment before I shook my head to clear it of such distractions.

Mecolo looked at me speculatively before she said, 'Dana would have been proud of you, Jina. What a pity that –'

'My lady! I am always at your service. But I must ask you one thing – please never speak about Dana.'

'I'm sorry, Jina.'

'The fact is, as I said to you, I have only one dream and one aspiration. Everything else is behind me. There are doors that have shut and they will remain shut.'

'I understand, Jina.'

'Thank you for understanding, my lady.'

We walked to the door. There Mecolo laid a hand on my arm and said, 'We understand each other in more ways than one, don't we, Jina?'

'We understand each other in all ways that tend towards the good of Keirine, my lady.'

I let myself out and walked across the dark courtyard. My head was clear – no trace of wine-induced dullness now, I was pleased to note – but I felt desperately tired. Well, there was a reason for that, wasn't there? I was an early-to-bedder and now it was two hours past midnight. However, I knew that wasn't the real reason. The fact was that my conversation with Mecolo brought home to me how wearisome it was to climb the heights to the top of the long-beckoning peak only to find that broken, upland country stretched for infinity beyond that. What was more, the peak had always been clear and sharply defined even if we sometimes struggled and slipped on our way towards it. But now the country beyond it seemed to be shrouded and threatening, requiring ever more effort and ever more wariness to pick your way across it safely.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: TIME TO SETTLE DOWN

I recognised him immediately, the moment he entered the room. There was no hiding his half-severed right ear, red hair, and granite-contoured features. Of course, he looked older. Time had brought streaks of grey to his hair as well as rotundity to his formerly square frame.

'Zaliek! By all that's wonderful, it's you!'

He grinned at me as I grasped his hands, saying in his characteristically deep growl, 'It's been a long time. The last time I saw you, you were a deputy commander recovering from a fever and looking like death itself. And now you're General Jina, commander in chief of the Keirineian forces!'

'How long has it been? Almost twenty years? Is that right?'

Zaliek nodded and continued to grin at me. 'Twenty years is about right.'

I motioned him to a chair. He put his helmet down, took off his breastplate, and sat down with his knees apart and his hands resting squarely on his thighs. I took the chair opposite him, across the corner of the table. We sat there looking each other up and down, grinning with pleasure. I said, 'I should have known that you would turn up soon. I was thinking about you just the other day.'

'Pleasant thoughts, I hope?'

'Last week I rode out with my divisional commanders along the road south of Koraina. For some reason, I started thinking about the march on the night when we left camp before the first battle of Gandonda. You remember?'

'Remember? Man, how can I forget it? It was chaos – more like a cattle drive than an army on the march.'

I grinned as memories came flooding back to me. 'The men dived for cover in the bush when the first messenger on a horse came past us. You yelled, "How the hell do you think you’re going to stand up to the Dornite cavalry when you run like children from a single horse?" You had to kick some members of the squad in the backsides to get us moving again.'

Zaliek chuckled and said, 'You were a lot of greenhorns. It's a wonder you weren't all completely wiped out at Gandonda. And as for that idiot Vaxili, taking you into battle against the omens and with no strategy except advance in line abreast if you can call that a strategy --' He shook his head. Then he said, 'Keirineian armies are better organised these days, from what I hear.'

'They're well enough organised to put the Dornites in their place at last.'

Zaliek winked at me. 'Looks like you learned something in basic training, eh?'

'Oh, I don't know about that. The main thing I learned was that the best thing about basic training was getting out of basic training.'

We sat there grinning appraisingly at each other for a while. Then Zaliek grunted and said, 'I hardly recognised Koraina -- paved streets, a market place, fine houses – it's bigger and better than anything that the Dornites ever built.' Zaliek shook his head disbelievingly. He pointed out of the window. 'And look at that – the royal palace! What a change, eh? When I was here last, the palace consisted of a few old houses. And now -- just look at it!'

I gestured to the map behind the table and said, 'The palace is bigger and so is Keirine.'

Zaliek peered at the map and asked, 'Wasn't there a saying about land and people reaching the sea?'

'Yes -- Keirine only shall be free, when land and people meet the sea. It was a prophecy by the oracle at Osighina.'

Still peering at the map, Zaliek observed, 'Well, General Jina, Keirine has reached the sea in a big way, hasn't it? How many independent Dornite cities are left?'

'Only one.'

'Only one? Let me guess – that's Durgenu's territory, isn't it?' I nodded. Zaliek shook his head admiringly. 'The crafty old bastard! He always did know how to walk on the edge of the ravine without falling in.'

I said, 'Keirine punishes her enemies and rewards her friends.'

Zaliek raised his eyebrows at me sardonically. Then he gave a short laugh, pointed at the map, and asked, 'That green blotch down in the south-east – is that all Durgenu's territory?' I nodded. Zaliek whistled admiringly and said, 'I hope he deserves a reward as big as that.'

I replied, 'We have reason to be grateful to him. When we were outcasts in the desert, Durgenu gave us supplies and took care of our families. In fact, he took special care of my mother. Later, when we needed arms and equipment for Lower Keirine, Durgenu provided them. He also provided us with mercenaries. More than that, he's stayed out of every war we've ever fought against the Dornites'

Zaliek put up his hands and laughed. 'Oh, Durgenu's a noble soul, all right. From what you say, he deserves whatever he's been given as well as a few medals on top of it.' He got up, walked over to the map, and hauled out something out from the folds of his tunic. With the contraption held to his nose, he peered at the map.

I asked, 'Zaliek, what in heaven's name is that?'

'This?' He held it for me to see. 'This is called a pair of spectacles.' Seeing the look on my face, he chuckled deeply and asked, 'Never seen anything like it before, have you?'

I looked at the object – two round pieces of glass separated by a curved bridge and held in place with a slender metal frame. I asked, 'What's it for?'

Zaliek balanced it on my nose and said, 'Take a look at the map.' As I peered through the pieces of glass, Zaliek asked, 'Do you see any difference?'

'Perhaps!' I pushed the contraption more firmly onto my nose, peered again, and said, 'Things seem to be a bit clearer.'

'Only a bit clearer? That shows the difference in our ages, General Jina. In my case, I couldn't see any of those small names without it.'

I gave the spectacles back to him, sat down, and asked, 'Where did you get them?'

Zaliek held the spectacles up to the light, breathed on them, wiped them carefully with the hem of his tunic, and put them away. He said, 'I got them in Wejigara. They've got some clever people there.'

'Wejigara, eh? That's a long way from here.'

Zaliek looked at me keenly and asked, 'Have you had dealings with Wejigara?'

'They sent a diplomatic delegation to visit us about five years ago. We entertained them, held discussions, and then waved goodbye to them.'

'What did they want?'

'We couldn't quite work that out. While they were here, they tried to get as much information out of us as possible but they didn't give us much in return. They left with invitations to seal an agreement of eternal friendship, co-operation, and lucrative trade, but we didn't hear anything more from them. Sharma thought of returning the compliment by sending a delegation to them but finally we didn't bother. As far as we could see, they were just here to sniff around and see if there was any profit to be got out of us.'

Zaliek snorted. 'Sounds like Wejigara, all right. They're a sharp lot.'

'How do you know about Wejigara?'

'I've just arrived from Wejigara. I was living there.'

'Are you going back?'

Zaliek shook his head. 'No. I can't take that mountain climate any longer. Man, I tell you, even in the middle of summer the wind cuts through you like a frozen knife. And as for the winters –' He shook his head and continued, 'I finished my second contract with them and decided that it was time to settle down somewhere warmer.' Zaliek sat back and looked at me half humorously and half expectantly.

I caught his drift and asked, 'Somewhere like Keirine?'

'It's a lot warmer than Wejigara, that's for sure.' Zaliek was still looking at me expectantly.

I teased him by saying, 'We're not training new recruits to fight the Dornites any more, Commander Zaliek. We have the Dornites well under control.'

'But what about the Usserdites? Are they also under control?' Zaliek looked at me shrewdly.

'The Usserdites? Well, of course, they're a restless lot. With them, we can't take anything for granted.'

Zaliek pointed at the map and chuckled knowingly. 'Especially now that you've pushed them back from the Great River, eh?'

'We need the Western River Strip for our own people, not to mention our own security.'

Zaliek got up, put the spectacles on his nose, and looked at the map. He whistled, 'You've taken a lot of territory on the other of side the river, haven't you?'

'We had an ancestral claim to it.'

'You did?'

'Of course we did! In the old days, when the People of Keirine were on the move, they occupied most of that territory.'

Zaliek asked sceptically, 'Courtesy of the local inhabitants?'

'By right of conquest.'

'What happened after that?'

'The Usserdites forced us out about a hundred years ago. They colluded with the Dornites.'

Zaliek raised his eyebrows. 'Colluded with the Dornites, eh? And I guess they've never been forgiven for it?'

'Forgiveness is not the issue. The point is that we've taken back what belongs to us and that's the end of the matter.'

Zaliek sat down, sniffed, scratched his nose, and asked, 'Do you have place for one more commander in your army?'

'Someone who tried to make soldiers out of a bunch of Vaxili's first recruits?'

'That's the sort of person that I had in mind.'

'Someone who tried to teach some of the same soldiers to ride horses, even if all they knew up until then was herding sheep and riding on wagons?'

'You've got it, General Jina. That sounds exactly like the person that I've got in mind.'

I asked, 'Would a five-year contract do?'

Zaliek frowned and scratched his head. 'To tell the truth, I was thinking of something longer than that. It's time for me to settle down.'

'Commander Zaliek wants to settle down? Well, that is news!'

Zaliek shifted self-consciously and said, 'The fact is, I have a reason for wanting to settle down.' I raised my eyebrows. He said, 'I have a wife and son.'

'You have? Where are they?'

'They're staying at an inn just down the road.'

'I'd like to meet them.'

Zaliek looked pleased when I said that. He replied, 'My wife would like to meet you, too. I've told her a lot about you.'

'What about your son? Doesn't he also want to meet his father's old comrade in arms, General Jina?'

Zaliek's face brightened even more at the mention of his son. He said, 'One day he'll hear all about you but right now he's a bit young. He's only two years old.'

I looked at Zaliek, sitting there with his weathered face alight with pleasure. Images of the past came to my mind. I visualised Zaliek bellowing at us on the parade ground, Zaliek leading our unit to safety after the first battle of Gandonda, Zaliek sitting with me outside the sick bay when I was recovering from the fever … I said, 'Yes, I guess that we could consider something longer than a five-year contract. I'll talk to Sharma.'

'How is Sharma?'

'Sharma? Oh, he's all right. He's got a lot on his mind, big responsibilities, and so on – you know how it is, the crown sits heavily on the shoulders – he gets distracted sometimes. But, basically, he's fine. Of course, he'll want to see you when he's got time.' I stood up and said, 'I'll see what I can do. Maybe we could meet at about the same time tomorrow?'

Zaliek got to his feet, clapped me on a shoulder, and said, 'Thank you, comrade. I appreciate it.'

At the door, I asked Zaliek, 'How long were you in Wejigara?'

'About twenty years.'

'You went there straight from --?'

'That's right. When Vaxili had you and your mates locked up, I knew that it wouldn't be long before they came for me as well. I got out of Keirine right away.'

Next morning, on my way to the headquarters building, I stopped at the inn where Zaliek was staying. I was curious to see his family. In fact, I could hardly believe that he really had a wife and child. I always thought of Zaliek as the quintessential professional-for-hire, a loner who would keep himself free to move on to the next assignment once he had exhausted the possibilities in the current situation. More than that, he always seemed to me to be a rough-and-tumble sort of fellow whose identity was completely bound up with his comrades and with his profession. And now he was a family man. I had to see it for myself.

When I arrived, Zaliek and his family were eating breakfast in the front room of the inn. Zaliek jumped to his feet, shook my hand, and asked in a low voice, 'Have you spoken to Sharma?'

I nodded, 'We'll fix something for you. See me later, all right?'

Zaliek relaxed. He gestured to the table and said, 'Meet my family.'

Zaliek's wife was a beauty. I literally stopped in my tracks when I got my first look at her. However, what stopped me was not only her good looks but the fact that she reminded me so much of Dana. She had the same small build, the same athletic, compact body, and the same luminous eyes. Of course, there were differences. Shani had the darker skin and the purple-tinged black curly hair of the people of the distant south-western interior. Also, her eyes pulled at the corners, so that she looked like a sleek animal – an otter or a fox, perhaps. Later, as I got to know her, I came to think of her as an animal that was always curled up within itself, alert and self-aware even when it appeared to be relaxed.

Zaliek introduced me to Shani. I took her hand and muttered a few words of welcome. She looked up at me calmly, smiled gravely, and said, 'So this is General Jina. It is a great pleasure to meet you at last. Zaliek has told me so much about you.'

I said something like, 'Only good things, I hope.' Even as I said the words, they didn't sound clever or original. In fact, they sounded downright silly. I remembered another woman who made me gauche and tongue-tied when I wanted to make a good impression and I cursed myself inwardly. I felt even sillier when I noticed that Zaliek was looking at me curiously. He took my arm and said, 'Sit down and join us.' As he moved me away, I realised that I had been standing there wide-eyed holding Shani's hand, saying nothing after my first vapid words.

I tried to cover my tracks by muttering, ‘So Zaliek really is married? I can hardly believe it.’ I sat down across the table from them while Zaliek put his arm around Shani, laughed mischievously and said, 'Look at Jina's face! He didn't believe me when I said that I had a wife.'

I muttered, 'Oh, I believed you but it's still a surprise.'

Zaliek asked, 'Well, what do you think of her, then?' He sat back and looked at his wife, stroking the hair above her ear.

I replied, 'I'm pleased to see you all looking so happy.'

Zaliek snapped his fingers and said, 'You haven't met my son. His name is Dipok.' I leaned over and shook the little fellow's hand. Zaliek said, 'Looks like his father, eh?'

'No, on the contrary. He's too handsome for that. He must take after his mother.'

Shani lowered her eyes modestly as a good wife should and Zaliek laughed in delight. 'That's good, that's good! The more he has of his mother, the luckier he'll be. All he needs from me is a big chest and arms like hams. The rest he can get from his mother.'

Shani ran a hand down Zaliek's cheek and said softly, 'Oh, Zaliek, you are a big fool. The more your son is like you, the more I'll love him. You know that.'

That silenced Zaliek. I swear that with his lowered his eyes and his trembling bottom lip, he looked just like a lovesick youth. Not for the first time, I wondered at how a boisterous, vigorous, self-confident man can be made tractable by a touch, a glance, and a word from a woman. Thinking of this and looking at Shani, I thought, perhaps if Dana had lived, I would have known the answer. I shook my head to get the thought out of my mind. It was nothing but vain speculation.

Zaliek took his son onto his lap, rubbed his chin against the boy's head and said fondly, 'Ah, he's our son, isn't he, no matter where he gets his looks from. He's got a father to teach him how to take care of himself and a mother to teach him all the finer things in life. Life will be his for the picking.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: DECISIONS

Zaliek accepted our offer of a position as senior commander on an indefinite contract. However, he set one condition – that, just as in the past, he would never be required to take up arms against the Dornites. When he set the condition, I said, 'Zaliek, you should explain your position. We have a right to know why we're making an exception for you.'

Zaliek nodded sagely, sat down, and told me his story. He had been born the youngest son of a chief of one of the tribes that comprised the federation of Bakuel, which was situated about five day's journey to the south of Kitilat. When Zaliek was twenty years of age, his father died. The body was prepared for disposal in the traditional way: by burning it on a pyre of logs. Furthermore, also as was traditional, his mother would die in the same fire.

I burst out, 'That's barbaric!'

Zaliek gave me a long look and rubbed his chin thoughtfully before he replied, 'I've been a soldier long enough to see that the death of a willing wife in the funeral flames may be less barbaric than what soldiers do to people in the ordinary course of their business.'

‘Your mother went to her death willingly?’

‘I didn’t say that. What I said was that if a woman went to the flames willingly, it might not be barbaric. I didn’t say that my mother was willing, did I?’ Then Zaliek told me the rest of the story. His mother wasn't originally from Bakuel. She had been raised further to the south, the daughter of a chief, and her marriage had been arranged as a means of cementing a political alliance. Nevertheless, the marriage was a happy one. However, on the night before the funeral, she came to Zaliek and said simply, 'My son, I can't do it. It's not the tradition of my people. I don't have the strength of belief to face the flames.' What was Zaliek to do? As one of the chief's sons, he was expected to uphold the traditions of the clan. In fact, he had been quite prepared to be present at the funeral taking part in the traditional ceremonies while his parents, united in death as in life, ascended together to the gods amidst the flames. It was the ages-old way of the dead and no one ever questioned it. But now his own mother was begging him to find a way out for her.

Zaliek told me that it was one of the most difficult decisions that he ever made. On the one hand, he had been brought up to respect the traditions of his clan. On the other hand, he couldn't face the thought of his mother being dragged to the funeral pyre, screaming and writhing, desperate in her resistance. If he didn't help her he would always be haunted by the thought that he had betrayed her. If he did help her he would be an outcast. After considering all the options, he gave in to his mother's request and rode away with her that night. But where to go? First, they tried to find refuge in her homeland. They wouldn't accept her, fearing the trouble that might follow on their heels. Next, they went to Kitilat and stayed there for a while. However, Zaliek's brothers tracked them down and demanded that they should be returned to the clan to be punished. Kitilat had good trade relations with the nations of the interior and there was a strong possibility that the King of Kitilat would surrender Zaliek and his mother so once again, they fled. This time, they travelled down the coast until they arrived at Griwasta, a Dornite city, where Zaliek took service as a mercenary.

Zaliek said, 'We lived there for four years. After all that time, we thought that we were safe. But my brothers finally tracked us down there as well.'

'Why did they go to all that trouble?'

Zaliek replied, 'They believed that our father's spirit wouldn't rest in peace until my mother was sacrificed in the traditional manner. What's more, they said that the people were being haunted by my father's spirit – crops were withering, cattle and sheep were dying of diseases, and so on.'

'Did you believe that?'

Zaliek shrugged. 'I used to believe it. That was before I had to make a choice.' He grunted sceptically and tugged at his ear. 'Nowadays, I think it's just ignorance and superstition, plain and simple. A man should learn to think for himself, not so?' He grinned ironically. 'I look at the matter like this -- how come we're the only ones whose spirits don't rest in peace if our wives don't die with us? How come the spirits of Dornite men, your men, the men of Kitilat, and the men of half the clans of my own nation, not to mention every other nation that I've met, don't get restless if their wives don't die with them? You see what I mean?' He spread his hands and continued, 'You can say that I'm just finding excuses for helping my mother. Maybe I am. But I'll tell you one thing – I don't know about other people's restless spirits but, as for me, I sure as hell would have a restless spirit if I hadn't done what I did.'

We sat there quietly for a time. I was thinking that I was seeing other facets of Zaliek. I'd seen one facet when, while I was wracked by fever, he sat by my bedside just to watch over me and warn me that I was in danger. Now I was seeing more of him. I said, 'You're a dark horse, aren't you?' Zaliek raised his eyebrows. I continued, 'I was thinking about the time you warned me about Vaxili's intentions.'

'It didn't do any good, did it? Vaxili was too damn quick.'

'That makes no difference. You took a risk warning me.'

Zaliek said bluntly, 'I'd do the same for a friend any time.'

Friend? I'd never thought of Zaliek as my friend. In the old days, I respected him as a soldier and as an instructor – as a man, too, come to that – but there was always a professional distance between us. Friend? For sure, Zaliek was a dark horse. Zaliek was looking at me with a frown and with questioning eyes. I covered my thoughts by saying, 'I was just thinking about the old days. Sorry I interrupted you. You were telling me about you and your mother in Griwasta.'

Zaliek settled back in his chair. 'My brothers sent messengers to ask that we should be handed over to them. At first I thought that they were wasting their time but it wasn't too long before I got wind that the city fathers were giving serious thought to the matter.'

I asked, 'What reason could a Dornite city have to give in to a demand made by a place that they probably couldn't even find on a map?'

Zaliek said gloomily, 'Don't underestimate the power of money.' His face clouded, his mouth tightened and he continued, 'The magistrates in Griwasta put my mother under guard.' He gave a short laugh. 'They called it protective custody. I knew that I would be next so I decided to get my mother out of there and move on.' He hesitated and his eyes narrowed.

'Easier said than done?'

'For sure.' Zaliek smiled grimly. 'The guards didn't take kindly to me appearing on the scene, demanding to have my mother released. I killed two of them, and the third grabbed hold of my mother.' His lips tightened. 'That was when my mother died.'

'The guard killed your mother?'

Zaliek's eyes narrowed even further. He said in a low voice, 'I killed her.'

'What? You killed her?'

'It was an accident. I attacked the guard, thinking that I could avoid hurting my mother. But he pushed her in front of him and my sword went through her.' Zaliek's voice rose. 'I just about went crazy. I killed that guard – damn near hacked him to pieces. Then I carried my mother out of there. I thought that she might still be alive or, if not, that I should give her a proper burial. Anyway, to cut a long story short, they chased me and wounded me. Ever wondered where I lost half my ear? Well, I left it behind that day in Griwasta.' His eyes clouded. 'I got away, but I left my mother behind. She was dead anyway, but – oh, damn it, at least I could have buried her properly.' Zaliek slammed a fist on the table and said, 'You know what they did with her body? They threw it down an old well. It was called the Pauper's Well. Just like that – threw her body down a well!'

There was a long silence. When I said, 'I'm sorry about your mother', Zaliek just gave me a sombre look and shook his head vigorously as if he was trying to shake the heaviness out of it. Then he said quietly, 'You remember what I told you a long time ago, during basic training – a soldier should forget about resentment and revenge?'

'I remember. You said that they get in the way of clear thinking.'

Zaliek nodded. 'That's the real reason why I won't fight against the Dornites. All those reasons that you heard from me a long time ago, about what the Dornites would do to me if they captured me – they’re true enough but they’re not the real reasons. The fact is, if I did fight against them, I might go crazy – battle-crazy, battle-lust, whatever it's called. Maybe that's all right for an ordinary soldier, but for an officer …' He shook his head. 'I couldn't take the risk. It would be dangerous for my men. It would be unprofessional.'

After Zaliek rented a house in Koraina and settled down with his family, I got into the habit of dropping in to see them from time to time and Shani often invited me to stay for a meal. She was a vegetarian whose dishes were so enticing that I forgot that meat, one of Keirine's staple foods, was missing from what I ate at her table. While we ate, she would tell me about Wejigara. I learned about the pine forests, the houses made of pitch and wood, and the terraced fields of wheat and mustard seed next to broad rivers in deep valleys. After the meal, we would relax with mugs of honey-flavoured liquor, a specialty of Wejigara, while Dipok fell asleep on her lap. Then, when Shani left the room to put the boy to bed, Zaliek would say softly, 'Dipok's a fine lad, isn't he? What’s more, he’s smart. Anybody can see that.' Once, he told me, 'You know, one day I'm going to send him to the Academy of Philosophy in Orifinre. He'll be a gentleman and a scholar not a rolling stone like his father. His grandfather was a chief and he deserves the best that I can give him.' Zaliek never spoke to me about his wife but he didn't have to tell me how he felt. I could see how his eyes followed her wherever she went and how he lingered behind her chair, touching her shoulder or caressing her hair at the nape.

Sometimes I felt guilty about visiting them. I liked to be with Zaliek but the fact was that Shani sharpened the attraction of my visits. She reminded me so much of Dana that I sometimes felt as if she was surrounded by an aura that projected Dana's presence to me. It was so strong that occasionally I had to check myself from calling her 'Dana'. Shani would catch me looking at her and she would drop her eyes. Then she would glance at me quickly, slightly sideways with her head tilted, just the way that Dana used to do. As she did so, she would smile secretively. When she did that, I would curse myself inwardly. Damn it, did she think that I was flirting with her? But, then, what else was she to think when she caught me staring at her so intently? What else was she to think when, having caught my eye, she saw me turn away in confusion?

There was something else about Shani that interested me: I couldn't properly work out how she felt about Zaliek. Her only response to Zaliek's touches and affectionate words was a small smile of acknowledgement that was almost condescending as if she thought that these things were no more than her due and, moreover, were of little consequence. When I complimented her on her cooking, she would say tightly, 'We do our best with what we have.' She said it in a way that suggested that she regretted not having finer and better things at her disposal. In fact, I couldn't see that she had any reason to complain. As they settled in, more and more expensive items began to appear in the house, such as thick-piled carpets, luxurious wall hangings, and delicate glassware. Shani wore robes made of the finest material that was imported from the best looms of Kitilat. In addition, their house was in the most expensive district of Koraina, close to the palace. I knew what we were paying Zaliek and I wondered how he could afford to spend at such a rate.

On the other hand, as a housewife and as a mother, Shani seemed to be irreproachable. She ran the house quietly and efficiently without any fuss. Perhaps she could be criticised on the grounds that she arranged her son's life rather too much like the way that she ran the house, quietly and efficiently, but the boy was always well dressed, well behaved, and treated with affection.

Shani often spoke about her homeland but she never spoke about her own background. Mostly, I learned about that from things that Zaliek said. Over time, I pieced together the facts that Shani was the youngest daughter of a small farmer. When Zaliek met her, she was serving food and drink in a tavern. From Zaliek's jocular references to their courtship, it appeared that she actively encouraged Zaliek's advances. Four months after they met, they were married against the wishes of her parents who didn't like the idea of their daughter marrying a stranger, and a wandering mercenary, at that. I often wondered why she married Zaliek who, after all, was about twenty years older than her and came from a different culture and background. Did she fall in love with this big, gruff, roughly-kind fellow, or did she view him as a means of escape from the verdant but confining valley in which she was born and raised? Was there some other reason? I never knew the answer.

Once I called at the house when Zaliek was out. I made my excuses and turned to go but Shani said winningly, 'Oh, Jina, don't be so prim. Zaliek will be back soon. Come inside and wait for him.'

I hesitated and then yielded. As usual when I was in her presence, it was more than just Shani that was speaking to me. Shani served me refreshments and then excused herself. When she came back a few minutes later, she was wearing earrings and a richly brocaded robe. It had a scalloped, low-cut neck and was gathered under her breasts so that my gaze was drawn to the smooth expanse of her chest and the curve of her bosom. She caught my eye, laughed lightly, and put her hand to her chest. Then she laughed again and fluttered her hand while she asked if I would like a mug of lemon juice.

I took the mug, sipped at it, and asked, 'Where is Dipok?'

'Dipok? Oh, he's asleep. He usually takes a nap at this time.'

I felt even more uncomfortable and said, 'I really can't stay for long. I'll call again this evening when Zaliek is home.'

Shani wrinkled her nose and frowned, looking both annoyed and amused. She said, 'Oh, Jina, you've only just arrived. You bachelors are always hungry. Here, do have some currant bread.' I put up my hands in refusal but she clucked her tongue impatiently. 'I've just finished baking it and I'll be really annoyed if you don't have some.' She leaned forward, covering her chest with one hand while she handed the plate to me. I took a piece of bread half reluctantly, but also half pleased to have a reason to stay a little longer.

I started to make conversation about some of the latest gossip at the palace but Shani leaned over, laid a finger across my lips, and said, 'Now that I've got the chance, I want to speak to you about Zaliek.' I looked at her quizzically but she went straight on and said, 'He deserves better, don't you think?'

'Better?'

'Yes. He's a good commander, isn't he?' I nodded cautiously, wondering what she was getting at. Shani said, 'Also, you must admit that he's brave and highly experienced.' I nodded again. She waggled a finger at me as if I was a naughty boy and continued, 'There you are, Jina. Now you see that he deserves better.'

'Well, I didn't say –'

'Oh, Jina, don't be so modest. A man of your standing and influence can do it easily.'

'Do what?'

'Why, get a promotion for Zaliek, of course. I thought you agreed that he deserves it.'

'Hold it, Shani, hold it! I can't just dish out promotions like sweet cakes at a New Moon festival.'

'Oh, Jina, you're so professional and absolutely, completely incorruptible! Everybody admires you for that. But don't you think you're being just a little bit too careful in Zaliek's case?'

'Too careful? I don't –'

'Of course, you wouldn't want to be suspected of favouritism. Of course not! But, on the other hand, you should guard against being unfair to Zaliek just because of that.'

'I'm not being unfair to him.'

'No, no, of course not. That's not what I'm saying. But don't you think you're being too strict in his case just because you're friends?'

'To tell the truth, I --'

'You must understand, Jina, that I would never ask this for myself.' While she was speaking, Shani came around to my side of the table and refilled my mug. She stood close to me, brushing my shoulder with her thigh. As she leaned forward with the jug, I had to fight down an urge to put a hand on her body just to feel the firm roundness that I knew lay underneath her robe. Still leaning forward, Shani chuckled throatily and glanced at me sideways. She murmured a question about whether she had served me enough juice and I grunted a reply, unable to trust myself to say anything. Then she straightened and stood close behind me, smoothing her robe. I could hear her and sense her but couldn't see her. She chuckled again in the same way and walked to the other side of the table.

I steadied myself and asked, 'So you would like to be the wife of a deputy general?'

'On, no, Jina! You misunderstand me!' Shani waved a hand around the room. 'What else could I want? You can see for yourself that I want for nothing. We live simply, to be sure, but it's quite comfortable and homely.' She wrinkled her nose as she said the last word. Then she added in a matter-of-fact tone, 'I have a loyal husband and a fine son.' She wrinkled her nose again. 'What more could any woman want?'

'They say, the more you have, the more you want.'

'Really? Is that a Keirineian saying? It's not a saying where I come from and I don't think it's true anyway. No, Jina, I want only one thing and that is to see that Zaliek gets what he deserves.' She smiled winningly, leaned across the table, and took my hand. 'Will you try to do something for him?'

'I'll see what I can do.' I released her hand and got to my feet, saying, 'I have to go.'

'So soon?' Shani followed me to the door. There she put a hand on my arm, stretched up, and kissed me on a cheek. She said, 'It's always good to see you, Jina. You're such a good friend to all of us.'

I muttered a farewell and left the house. The day was cool, but I was sweating. My skin was fevered and prickly, just as it was when I was in the field before we went into action.

Soon after Zaliek arrived in Keirine, he had a private audience with Sharma. When I asked him how it had gone, Zaliek replied cautiously, 'Well enough, I guess.'

'Nothing in particular to report?'

Zaliek gave an exaggerated shrug. 'We chatted about old times. Then he showed me around the palace. Impressive, isn't it?'

'The people expect their king to live in a manner that reflects the glory of the nation.'

Zaliek raised his eyebrows sceptically and grunted. 'In that case, it looks like the people's expectations are being satisfied, for sure.' He chuckled. 'There was a trade delegation from Kitilat waiting to see Sharma. The times are changing, eh? It used to be that Keirine sent delegations to Kitilat, asking for assistance. Now it looks like it's the other way around.'

I replied, 'Now that we've got direct access to the sea, we don't need much from them. Also, we control access to Usserd and the west. They want to keep the routes open.'

Zaliek nodded thoughtfully. Then he chuckled again and said, 'I recognised the leader of the delegation -- a shifty little rodent named Bahdere. He was in the forefront of the move to eject my mother and me from Kitilat.' He chuckled again. 'I made a point of greeting him but he suddenly had a coughing fit and found that he couldn't speak.'

I said with feeling, 'Diplomats! They're like the grease on the wheels of a wagon – filthy and sticky, but necessary for the wheel to move forward.'

Zaliek grinned. 'Not honest and upright like us soldiers, eh?' He rubbed a finger across his nose, looked at me speculatively, and asked, 'Do you know that there's trouble brewing with the Usserdites?' I nodded. Zaliek said, 'Sharma said that he wants me to be involved in the campaign.'

I was annoyed. Why was Sharma broaching the matter of a campaign against the Usserdites when nothing had been decided yet? Military matters were my provenance. Of course, I discussed everything with Sharma, almost down to the last detail. Nevertheless, I was the general and he was the king. I swallowed my annoyance and said, 'If it comes to war against Usserd, it's not going to be an easy campaign. We'll need people with your sort of experience.'

Zaliek must have sensed that I was annoyed because he hesitated, pursed his lips, and then changed the subject. He remarked, 'Sharma has put on weight.'

'Don't ever say that to him. He doesn't like to hear it.' That was an understatement. I had seen Sharma fling a mug of wine at someone at who made a casual remark about his weight, after which he drove the person from his presence amidst a torrent of abuse.

Zaliek asked, 'Is Sharma in good health?'

'Good enough, I guess. Why do you ask?'

'His eyes are red and puffy and he gets short of breath after he's walked for a while.'

It sounded to me as if Sharma was recovering from a bout of drinking when he met with Zaliek. I knew the symptoms. However, I didn't say that to Zaliek. There were some subjects that you approached with the greatest circumspection and then only if it was absolutely certain that what you said wouldn't get back to Sharma. I replied, 'Sharma has a lot on his mind. Sometimes he neglects his personal welfare in the interests of the nation.'

Zaliek nodded thoughtfully. I got the impression that he had made up his own mind about Sharma's health and state of mind. He took out a small dagger, looked at it speculatively, and began to clean his fingernails. Then, almost carelessly, he said, 'I saw Mecolo as well.'

'Oh? Where?'

'I caught a glimpse of her when Sharma was showing me around the palace. She took a look at me, recognised me, and then turned away without greeting me.'

'She didn't speak to you? Why would she do that?'

'Hold on, comrade. There's more to the story. When I was leaving the palace, she suddenly came out of a side door, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me behind a pillar.' His eyes narrowed at the memory. 'She put her hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and began to cry. I can tell you, I was surprised -- I hadn't seen her for twenty years and now there she was, just crying.'

'That's all that she did – just cry?' I remembered that, a long time ago, Mecolo told me, 'No one will ever see me weep outside this room.' Well, the times had changed for all of us, and not only for Mecolo.

Zaliek continued, 'After about a minute, she pulled herself together and said, "Oh, Zaliek, it's good to see you again.’ Of course, I was thinking it was just the opposite. I mean, damnation, what am I supposed to think when she acts like that?' He shook his head in bewilderment and said, 'I thought I was getting used to women, but this – well, man, this is a new experience.'

'What happened next?'

Zaliek shook his head again. 'She asked if I was going to see you soon. Of course, I said yes. Then she said that I should tell you that she wanted you to remember your promise to act for the good of Keirine.' He looked at me closely. 'What's it about?'

Promise? When had I made a promise to Mecolo? I guessed that she was referring to her appeal to me to support her son, Bedaxili. But that was a long time ago and, anyway, as I said, I had never made a promise to her. What was on her mind? What was prompting her to raise the matter now? I said cautiously, 'Her memory must be faulty. I never made a promise to her.'

Zaliek said, 'Mecolo said that now that I was a soldier of Keirine again, I should help you to keep your promise. She said that the time was coming when our resolve would be put to the test.'

'Damn it, man, I tell you that I never made her a promise. Her memory is faulty. And as to trying to involve you – well, I tell you, the best thing is to forget about it.'

Zaliek looked at me even more closely and lowered his voice. 'You're not messing around with her, are you?'

'Don't be a fool, man! Of course not!'

'It would be a bad move if you are.'

'I told you I'm not! I have nothing to do with Mecolo and that's the whole truth.'

Zaliek stood there scratching his head. He looked so awkward and bewildered, like an elephant puzzled by the question of how to cross a rope bridge, that I burst out laughing. Zaliek grinned in embarrassment, scratched his head, and then asked, 'How are things between Sharma and you?'

I was on the point of evading the question completely but my guard was up. I didn't want to offend Zaliek and I didn’t want to say or do anything that could start a rumour, so I replied, 'Things between us are pretty good. Our relationship isn't perfect – we have our disagreements – but generally it's good.'

'Do you see a lot of him?'

I wished that Zaliek would leave the matter alone. However, I stayed calm and replied, 'I probably see more of him than anyone else does. I see him on official occasions, I discuss business with him, and he invites me around for social evenings.'

'Just the two of you?'

'Yes, just the two of us.'

Zaliek tugged at an ear and grimaced. 'None of this is my business, is it?'

I took a deep breath, gathered myself, and said, 'No problem.' Then, just to make sure that there were no misunderstandings, I added, 'With regard to what Mecolo said, I want you to know that when I'm with Sharma, I hardly ever see Mecolo – or Roda, come to that. And I never – I mean never – see them at any other time.' I could have added that although I hardly ever saw them, I knew that Sharma’s relationships with his wives hadn’t improved with time. Their incessant rivalry and complaints about each other, as well as their demands for preferment for their children, irritated him so much that he avoided them for days on end if not longer. In fact, I suspected that he was thoroughly bored with them. His attentions had been wandering to other quarters for a long time. However, although I knew plenty, there were some aspects of Sharma's relationship with his wives and family that I didn't know about and didn't enquire into. Sharma didn't speak to me about personal and family business and I didn't ask any questions.

Zaliek grunted. 'Well, I gave you Mecolo's message like I said I would. If you say there's nothing in it, then that's good enough for me.' He shrugged. 'As far as I'm concerned, that's the end of the matter.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: INSECTS

I sometimes wished that we had never conquered the Western River Strip. It was true that it was a popular move at the time because it provided further evidence that a vigorous Keirine could not only defend its territory but was also able to deal with the neighbours who had harassed and humiliated it for so long. Occupying the Strip was also a popular move amongst land-hungry Keirineians who, within the space of ten years, turned the area into a green and prosperous expanse with market gardens and small farms that were fed by a network of canals.

On the other hand, it was costly to guard the Strip. The Usserdites who had been evicted from it were always staging raids and thieving expeditions. Besides that, one never knew when one of the neighbouring Usserdite chiefs would succumb to pressure or resentment and mount a more determined attempt to reclaim some of the land that had been lost.

I warned Sharma against occupying the Strip but he just clapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Ah, Jina, cautious as ever, eh!' The fact was that Sharma was only reflecting the popular mood when he began to seize territory from the Dornites and the Usserdites. After being restricted to the crowded highlands for generations, Keirineians reveled in the opportunity to settle in the fertile lands of the coastal plain and the Western River Strip. Also, expansionism was central to realising Sharma's vision of a Keirine that was entirely free of the threat of invasion. On a number of occasions, he said to me frankly, 'I don't mind fighting our enemies on the coastal plain, or in the Strip, or on the southern plains, or anywhere else, come to that as long as we keep Keirine itself secure. Never again do I want to see even one enemy footprint on Keirineian soil. Do you understand, Jina? Never again!'

The latest trouble started when Keirineian settlers in the Strip caught two Usserdites red-handed in the act of stealing donkeys. Instead of handing the thieves over to the authorities, the settlers took the law into their own hands and hanged the thieves. From there, matters went downhill. The King of Usserd protested that, according to the terms of the treaty between Keirine and Usserd, the intruders should have been handed over to him for punishment. When he demanded compensation, Sharma replied that the offenders would be tried and their fines would be paid to Usserd. We sent a deputy commander and twenty men to arrest the offenders but a mob of settlers surrounded the soldiers, saying that they wouldn't let them go until the offenders were pardoned. The governor of the Strip rushed to Koraina for an urgent consultation with Sharma and eventually, in the normal bumbling way of politicians who take the nearest way in a complex crisis, the offenders were pardoned. Sharma sent a message to the King of Usserd to say that while Keirine appreciated its good relations with Usserd, it could not guarantee that it would be able to observe the treaty in future if there were further acts of bare-faced provocation.

The next act in the drama came two weeks later when an Usserdite chief raided a village in the Strip, carrying off cattle and donkeys as compensation for the deaths of the two men. When Sharma demanded that the stolen livestock should be returned and that the chief should be punished, the King of Usserd refused, saying that he was also finding it difficult to observe the terms of the treaty in the face of bare-faced acts of provocation such as the hanging of the two men. Noting that the treaty had been concluded when the boundaries of Keirine did not extend beyond the Great River, the king also opined that he thought that it was time for Usserd and Keirine to negotiate a new treaty. He proposed that Keirine and Usserd should first discuss what he termed 'the difficult circumstances posed by Keirineian settlers who are improperly occupying Usserdite territory on the western bank of the river.'

Sharma summoned me to see him and, after a short discussion of the issue, said bluntly 'The King of Usserd wants war and war is what he'll get.'

I asked, 'Is that the only option?'

Sharma's eyes were red and his voice was thick. It looked as if he was suffering from a hangover or recovering from a fever. He said irritably, 'We have no choice, man. They have provoked us beyond endurance.'

'Perhaps one more diplomatic mission could –'

Sharma banged one fist into another and shouted, 'No more talking! No more diplomacy! They'll have to learn that we are not to be trifled with – and they'll learn the hard way.'

'Perhaps if we just recovered the livestock and burned a few villages –'

'I tell you, Jina, no more shilly-shallying!' Sharma eyed me narrowly, pushed a finger at me, and asked, 'Isn't the army ready for a campaign? Is that what you’re afraid of?'

'Of course it's ready.'

'But not as ready as it should be, eh?'

'What are you talking about?'

'What have the troops been doing for the last five years? Maneuvers, border patrols, parades and sitting in their barracks, that's what! They're getting soft and complacent.' Sharma walked over to the wall map and then turned and said with finality, 'They need a proper campaign to get them up to the mark again and, by Zabrazal, that's what they're going to get.'

I sighed inwardly and sat down to plan the campaign with Sharma.

When Sharma said 'a proper campaign', he meant nothing less than sacking Fewerla, the capital city of Usserd. As I knew right from the beginning, it was easy enough to sit at Sharma's conference table and plan the campaign but it was a lot more difficult to make progress on the ground. It took us three months to fight our way as far as the walls of Fewerla and even when we got there we had to guard our rear against attacks by the irregular forces of the various chiefs whom we had defeated along the way. Usserd was a federation of tribal authorities that owed a loose allegiance to the king in Fewerla and each chief had his own armed forces. It was like fighting a many-headed, self-replicating snake – lop off one head and another would spit at you. Lop off that one and other heads would be resuscitating themselves, ready to strike again.

While we settled down for the siege of Fewerla, I sent a message to Sharma, asking him to reconsider his order to sack the city. I had enough experience of sieges to know that they could be demoralising. Sitting around in camp made the men slack and dissolute. Then, if we attempted an assault and were thrown back, there would be muttered complaints about the injuries and deaths that were sustained without profit or gain. All in all, I didn't like sieges. I suggested to Sharma that we should settle with the King of Usserd according to terms favourable to us, by which we would more than recover the costs of our campaign as well as extract a large penalty.

Sharma replied that he hadn't changed his mind. His resolve was as firm as ever – Fewerla should be sacked and the King of Usserd should be brought back to Keirine dead or alive. I also received a heavily sealed letter in which Sharma berated me for questioning his instructions that Fewerla should be captured and sacked and asked if I would like to be relieved of my command of the expedition. If not, then I should proceed immediately with an assault on the city. Finally, Sharma wrote that he explicitly ordered that Zaliek, as the most experienced of my commanders, should lead the first wave of assault.

When I took Zaliek aside and told him about Sharma's instruction, he raised his eyebrows and said, 'During an assault, a commander's place is behind his men so that he can direct them properly.'

I said irritably, 'I know that, but –'

'But Sharma is the king and we disobey his instructions at our peril, eh?' Zaliek shrugged fatalistically and picked up his helmet. He said, 'If Sharma wants an immediate assault, I'd better get things organised.'

'I'm sorry, Zaliek. It’s not --'

'Sorry about what, General Jina?'

'You know that this isn't the way that I would arrange matters.'

Zaliek shrugged again. He turned to go, stopped, and said, 'This is a dangerous business. If anything happens to me, will you make sure that Shani gets the pension that is due to her?'

‘Don’t be so pessimistic.’

‘Will you see to it, if I don’t come back?’

'I will. You know that.'

Zaliek nodded with melancholy satisfaction and said, 'Oh, and perhaps you could use your influence to see that my son is admitted to the Academy of Philosophy. Remember, I don't want him to be a soldier. One of us in the family is enough.'

I said brusquely, 'Get out of here, Zaliek. You're the great survivor. Go and do what you have to do and I'll have a cup of wine with you this evening when it's all over.'

Zaliek nodded somberly and walked away, buckling his helmet as he went.

We didn't have that cup of wine together because Zaliek was killed in the first wave of the assault. He fought his way up the ladder and led the way onto the walls where he was left in an isolated position when the defenders threw back the ladder. Watching the assault, I saw Zaliek fighting desperately on the battlements, his back to the wall. I rushed forward to take personal charge, trying to get a ladder onto the wall at the spot where Zaliek was defending himself. However, even as the men struggled to raise the ladder, I knew that it was too late. When I looked up again, Zaliek had disappeared and all that we could see was a group of jeering defenders. Five minutes later, they threw his severed head over the wall. The eyes had been gouged out.

God, the longer I live, the more I suspect that we are no more than insects that crawl across the face of the earth awaiting our turn to be crushed underfoot by a higher boot. In Zaliek's case, the higher boot was Sharma's and, as I found out later, the reason was Sharma's lust for Shani. Not long after we left on the expedition against Usserd, Sharma was relaxing on the rooftop terrace of his palace enjoying the usual draught of wine in the cool of the evening. The palace was the highest building in Koraina and Sharma had a good view of the surrounding rooftops. At the same time as Sharma was lolling about, enjoying his evening rest, Shani was taking a bath on the terrace on the roof of her house. Taking a bath on the roof? Whoever does that, especially when the terrace can be overlooked from nearby vantage points? Oh, I can picture the scene well enough – Shani luxuriating in the tub, keeping a weather eye on the roof of the palace while studiously pretending to be giving all her attention to the serious business of bathing. Once she knew that Sharma was up there, she would have frolicked innocently in the tub – a show of leg here, a breast there – while chatting and joking with her maid. Next, I can picture Shani stepping out of the tub, facing the palace and stretching luxuriantly, tousling her hair, while her maid toweled her back. After that, she would probably have turned slowly – pirouetted, more likely -- just to make sure that Sharma got a good look at what she was offering. Pha! I could go on but already I feel sick to my stomach – Zaliek and the rest of us risking our lives in dirt and discomfort, while Sharma and Shani were engaged in their tableau of lust – pha!

It doesn't take a soothsayer to predict what happened next. That very night, Sharma took Shani to his bed and, finding her nubility to his liking, he bedded her on many nights after that. Before we reached the walls of Fewerla, Shani was pregnant. Shortly after that, her husband was dead and Sharma comforted the grieving widow by marrying her.

What would I have done if I had known about the matter when I received Sharma's order that Zaliek should be placed in the front line of the assault? Would I have told Zaliek about what was going on behind his back? Would I have carried out my instructions or would I have disobeyed them? I've thought about the matter hundreds of times, if not more, and almost always I conclude that the result would have been the same. I would have obeyed orders – but, knowing what I did, I would have made absolutely sure that Zaliek would have been killed without leaving anything at all to chance. How would honest, gruff, plain Zaliek have lived with the betrayal and the shame and how much damage would he have done to himself and others if he had survived?

When I heard about what had been going on between Sharma and Shani, I was so disgusted that at first I felt like going straight back to Koraina to confront Sharma. However, when I thought about the matter more coolly, I knew that I had a more immediate priority. I wanted to requite the death of Zaliek and slake the iron-cold hatred in my soul by dealing with the city of Fewerla. By Zabrazal, I would give Sharma what he wanted – the destruction of the city -- and then I would turn my back on him. He would have what he wanted but he would never again have me.

That night, I dreamed about Shani. Lying on top of the bed, dressed seductively in a flimsy night-gown, she spread her arms to welcome me. Fired by lust, I went to her eagerly, entwining my body with hers and panting with desire as I ran my hands up and down the smooth skin of her back and pressed her breasts to my chest. She moaned and bit my shoulder in passion. I buried my face in her hair, inhaling its sweet scent, when I suddenly felt her body go rigid. I looked at her. She was staring at the ceiling in wide-eyed horror. I twisted around and looked up. There on the ceiling was an image of Zaliek's severed, eyeless head. I awoke with a cry of fear and disgust – but whether for Zaliek, Shani, or myself, I could not say.

When we did finally subdue the city about a week later, I led the final assault. My message to the men was simple – no mercy to anyone except for the king, who was to be captured alive if possible. Once we got inside the city, there were scenes of carnage and destruction that made what happened at Asjolorm pale into insignificance. For me, the difference was that at Asjolorm I had felt pity and distaste after a few minutes of carnage. However, inside the walls of Fewerla I was filled with such rage that my sword and dagger could not find enough victims to satisfy their lust. Our assault was so ruthless that only one inhabitant of Fewerla escaped alive and that was the king, who was taken back to Koraina as planned.

After we burned the city, I would even have razed the walls if we had had the time or the means. Then, before we left the scene, I ordered my commanders to go through their men's packs, searching for loot. Whatever they found was confiscated, either to be burned or to be thrown into a nearby tar-pit. There were protests not only from the men but also from the commanders. However, I remained adamant. I told them that Sharma had said that we should only bring the king back with us and that was exactly what we would do. Of course, that was wasn't exactly what Sharma had said – but, then, who besides the two of us knew what he had told me? My rage was now focused on Sharma. I would be happy to leave him with no booty and with a restless army.

The victory parade in Koraina, with the King of Usserd as showpiece, was the greatest that had been seen since the last Dornite city fell to our army. I led the procession, resplendent in my general's regalia, playing out my role to the last. When we stopped in front of the palace to be welcomed by Sharma, I saw that Shani was sitting at Sharma's right hand. She looked radiant. Well, why not? She had not only progressed from being a waitress in a tavern to being the favoured consort of a king but, more than that, she was cementing her position by carrying his child. Not surprisingly, the other two people on the dais weren't looking as happy. Roda was sitting on Sharma's left hand, trying to look gracious but not succeeding. On her left was Mecolo, who wasn't even trying to look as if she was enjoying the occasion. On the contrary – she looked sallow and sunken. Briefly, I remembered the young Mecolo who had danced before us when we returned from the first battle of Gandonda, bearing the head of Drunuk before us. I recalled what she had sung that day:

Sharma of Osicedi, soldier of Keirine,

On a lance he bears Drunuk high.

Jina of Osicedi, comrade of Sharma,

With his sword he laid Drunuk low.

Well, today Mecolo wasn't singing and dancing and I wouldn't be Sharma's comrade for much longer. What about the severed head? For a moment I thought grimly that I should have paraded the head of Zaliek before the smug pair sitting on the dais. By Zabrazal, I would have done it, too, except that the head was a long way from Koraina, buried outside the walls of Fewerla under a memorial cairn that we raised to our dead comrade.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: QUESTIONS

Next day, I went to see Sharma to tell him that I was resigning my commission and leaving Keirine. While I was waiting, the door to the council chamber opened and someone stamped out. I recognised him as a priest named Isahile. When I greeted him, he gave me a look of half-recognition, muttered something churlish, and went on his way. Isahile was the nearest that there had been to a high priest since Izebol died about twenty years earlier. When the priests convened to elect a new high priest, Sharma told them that he thought it would be wiser if they waited for a few years to ensure that they made the right choice. They decided to go ahead anyway after issuing a statement that Zabrazal was lord over all of Keirine, the king included, and that the priests would not tolerate any attempt to interfere with their authority. Sharma reacted by detaining all of the senior members of the convocation on the grounds that they were usurping his authority. Since then, there had been no further attempts to appoint a high priest.

After a few minutes, I was summoned into the chamber. Sharma embraced me in such a perfunctory manner that in spite of my blade-cold anger I stood back and asked, 'What's wrong?'

Sharma's left eyelid was flickering and the flecks in his eyes were glowing with anger. I could sense that he was quivering with passion even although his bearing was outwardly controlled. For the first time in a long while, I glimpsed the old cat-like Sharma, deceptively composed even as he readied himself to pounce. Sharma licked his lips and said in a steely voice, 'That man has just tried to provoke me!' I raised my eyebrows. Sharma continued, 'He says that our child will die within seven days of its birth.'

'Why would he say that?'

Sharma's lips curled in distaste. 'He says that it will be Zabrazal's way of punishing me for marrying Shani. What do you think of that, eh?'

I had other things on my mind so I just shrugged and replied, 'It depends on whether or not you believe in soothsayers and predictions.'

Sharma snarled, 'Well, I don't! But who is he, the meddling fool, to think that he can scare me with such a cock and bull story? What if Shani hears about it?'

I shrugged again. I really didn't have any interest in the matter. I said, 'Look, Sharma, I didn't come here to discuss Isahile and his predictions.'

That stopped Sharma. He took a step backwards, looked at me coldly, and asked, 'You don't think that a prediction about our unborn child is worth discussing?'

'I didn't come here to discuss that.'

'No? You have something more important on your mind?'

'I do.'

'Well, then, my dear Jina, don't let my affairs stand in your way – by no means. Let's hear about this supremely important matter that's pressing on your mind.'

I steeled myself inwardly and then told Sharma what I thought about the fact that he had seduced another man's wife and then sent that man to his death to get rid of him. Pricked by the cold steel in my soul, I told him that he would be fortunate if the only retribution that came upon him was the death of his unborn child. Finally, I told him that I was resigning my commission immediately.

Sharma stared at me icily while I was speaking. When I finished, he said curtly, 'Curse you, Jina! I thought that I could trust you but now you're also turning against me. I wouldn't be surprised if you're in cahoots with the priests.' He poked a finger at me and roared, 'I'm giving you twenty-four hours to leave Keirine. If you haven't left within that time, I'll have you arrested.'

'You're ordering me to leave Keirine? You can't do that!'

'I'm the king. I can damn well do what I please!'

'Twenty-four hours, eh? Is that payment for a lifetime of --?'

'You heard me! Twenty-four hours! That's all you've got!'

'Twenty-four hours? Arrested? Oh, Sharma, Sharma, will you have your old comrade hunted like a common criminal? Now wouldn't that be a fine show of royal gratitude for services rendered?'

Sharma looked at me narrowly. Something flickered in his eyes – something from the long tunnel of memory – before he pounded the table and roared even louder. 'All right, I'll give you time to get your affairs in order. But, damn it, if you haven't left within a week, I will have you arrested for sure.' He pounded the table again and roared, 'Get out, damn you! Get out! I never want to see you again!'

I said with real sincerity, ‘The feeling is mutual.’

Two days later, I travelled to Durgenu's territory disguised as a trader. However, when the old man heard that I had fallen out of favour with Sharma, he told me plainly that he wanted me out of his territory as soon as possible. In fact, he was so nervous that he immediately arranged for me to take passage on a ship that belonged to one of his trading partners. As I left the room, Durgenu clasped my arm – his hand was trembling – and muttered, 'You see, my friend, we must maintain good relations with Keirine. It's not for me, you understand, not for me at all – but I have to think about my people. I can't risk doing anything that will place my people in jeopardy.' He pressed my arm and whispered, 'Go quickly. Go quietly. Sharma mustn't know about this affair. You understand, eh?'

‘You wouldn’t want to be treated the same as Ferewala, eh?’

‘Indeed not! No, my dear fellow, indeed not! All the more reason to keep this business quiet!’

The ship sailed the next morning, heading eastwards across the Endless Ocean. I stood at the stern, watching the land recede from view and trying to get used to the unfamiliar feel of the ship. It seemed to me to be like a living thing with its own nature. Its life was manifested through its dipping and swaying motions, and through its characteristic set of sounds – the creaking of timbers, the swish of the water down its sides, the whistling of the wind in the rigging and the flapping and snapping of the sails. As I leaned on the rail, I remembered how Dana and I talked about floating with the clouds eastwards over the Endless Ocean. I remembered saying to Dana that we would see islands in the ocean, laid out like pearls against the neck-piece of a gown. Well, I wasn't floating like a cloud and from this vantage point I wouldn't see the islands laid out like pearls. However, if I turned around and looked up at the great mainsail that loomed and billowed above me, it could well be a cloud. I closed my eyes and, with the image of the sail still in my mind's eye, I thought, Yes, this could have been what Dana and I envisaged that day on the hillside outside Koraina. Yes, the sea is like the great expanse of the sky and the ship with its great billowing sails is like a cloud following its scudding sky-companions eastwards in pursuit of our youthful fancy.

Before the ship sailed, I was tempted to send my belt to Sharma. Then I thought, No, I won’t do that. I will wear it as an eternal reminder of how he’s treated me, as a reminder of the ephemeral nature of even the oldest relationships. I also thought, if I don’t send it to him, he’ll wonder why I haven’t done so and what I’ve done with it. Have I sold it in the bazaar? Have I thrown it away? Have I burned it? As I stood at the rail, stroking the buckle with a thumb, running a finger across the embossed pattern of intertwined struggling beasts, I thought, Let him wonder and worry. Let the great King of Keirine know that there are many things in this world that are beyond his ken and beyond his reach.

As I stood with my eyes closed and my face upturned to the sail and the wind, I thought about Dana. She came to me in an image that was so immediate and so close that I moved a hand along the rail, reaching out to touch her – so real was she at that moment. She stood right there, looking up at me with her luminous eyes, smiling with the secret of her enjoyment of life. Then I opened my eyes, cursed under my breath, and turned around to look out over the ship's wake. God, what a fool I was! Dana was gone, killed next to the Great River – and, in any case, she wouldn't be fresh-faced and youthful now if she had lived. But what of it? Whatever her age, wouldn't she have stood next to me here at the stern of the ship, graceful in her maturity, invigorated by the experience, laughing with excitement at the thought that at last we were scudding eastwards towards the pearl-like islands of the Endless Ocean?

With that thought enveloping me, I felt loneliness and desolation greater than I had ever known. I thought bitterly that Dana wasn't here to share the moment, Sharma had failed me, Zaliek was dead, and as for Keirine – well, now I had abandoned my share in that dream to which we had climbed so purposefully. Leaning on the rail, I wept. Yes, I wept. My desolation was all the greater because I knew that nobody cared whether I laughed or wept – or, come to that, whether I lived or died.

On board there was a trader named Reshaja who came from one of the islands. He was a small, rotund man with a bald head, beetling eyebrows, and an earring whose gleam matched that of the gold inlays in his front teeth. He reminded me of the Dornite trader whose donkey we killed below Gandonda so long ago, except that the trader wore threadbare clothes and carried hardly anything of value whereas Reshaja was a man of substance who traded in gemstones. When I told Reshaja that I intended to make a new life for myself, he looked at me speculatively and remarked that he had one or two suggestions to make if I didn’t mind him doing so. Soon he was teaching me how to assess and value precious stones. Daily, as the ship swayed and dipped its way eastwards, we sat in Reshaja's small cabin poring over stones laid out on a cloth. I learned as much as he could teach me and we formed a partnership before the ship reached its first landfall. We agreed that I would travel amongst the outer islands, buying gemstones and looking for new sources of supply, while Reshaja would travel amongst the inner islands as well as market our wares on the mainland.

After eight days the ship reached the island of Terfillere. As we approached land, I marveled at how this massive place of rock and earth rose abruptly out of the fluid depths of the surrounding ocean. I was excited at the sight of the cloud-skirted mountain peaks, the rocky cliffs, the golden strips of beaches and the green valleys that seemed to have been poured into the folds between the mountains. It was strange, novel and exhilarating. I needed an experience like this to alleviate my despondency. I needed to see and know that the world could still offer sights and experiences that were as spectacular as they were unexpected.

Terfillere was Reshaja's home. He gave me a small apartment in his large, log-built house that stood on the outskirts of the island's main town. This would be my base when I returned from my commercial expeditions and it would be the place where we would meet to exchange money and wares.

For five years I travelled amongst the islands of the Endless Ocean, buying gemstones and looking for new sources of supply. Although the islands varied in size and shape, most of them were inhabited by the same race of people. Only the people of the easternmost islands were different. They were a tall and willowy race with slender noses, gentle eyes, and pale skins who claimed to have inhabited all of the islands of the ocean until the new people with their iron-making skills and larger, more maneuverable ships forced them ever eastwards.

These people of the furthest isles assured me that the Endless Ocean was indeed endless. No one had ever sailed eastwards from their islands for more than two weeks. After a week of sailing, the sea started to become thick with weed while an ever-growing encrustation of barnacles slowed a ship so much that it became sluggish in the water. After a few more days, if it could still move, a ship would enter a realm of perpetual fog and deathly calm where the wind hardly ever blew – and when it did blow, although it was ice-cold, it carried a whiff of fiery sulphur. In spite of the calm, the sea broke with whitecaps as if there was shallow water underneath even although depth soundings could not find a bottom. In this realm, at night sailors would hear howls and moans that made them think of demons in the grip of unbearable pain and anguish. Strangely, one man might hear the sounds while another might hear nothing. Those who heard the sounds said that they were so dire that they could only be warnings that human beings should not proceed any further, upon pain of death. To prove the point, I was told that once a ship did go further and never returned. About a year later, on the edge of the weed belt, sailors found timbers from the ship. The wood was scorched, twisted into fantastic shapes, and shattered as if some huge and monstrous force had breathed on the planks in fiery anger before crushing them as easily as a human hand crushes an egg.

Often, as I sailed from island to island, I watched the clouds scudding across the sky and envied them. I still had many questions and the answers that I got didn't always satisfy me. Howls, moans, and scorched, shattered timbers floating on the ocean? Perhaps it was true – in any case, was it more fantastic than some of the things that I had seen? -- or perhaps it was just a reflection of our unspoken human terrors. I knew that unlike us fragile, crawling human beings, the clouds would know for sure whether or not the Endless Ocean was indeed endless. They would know the shape and appearance of every island – something that I still didn't properly know even after five years of sailing the ocean. They would know why, once, when the wind blew a squall from the north, it dumped onto our ship thousands of small frogs, still alive and twitching. The sailors said that it was the work of the gods. But why would the gods – whichever gods they were – dump a heap of frogs on sailors who were minding their own business in the middle of the ocean?

Often, I recalled that Dana said that the clouds asked the questions. If the clouds knew so much then what sorts of questions did they ask? Perhaps one of the questions they asked was this: Why do you chase after such small and petty things when you see how you are situated within infinity between the great stretching sky and its earthly counterpart, the Endless Ocean? Perhaps they asked me: Why did you invest so much in the cause of Keirine, when for you it has come to nothing? Why were you so short-sighted that you couldn't read the end into the beginning? Perhaps that was what Dana meant.

Twice every year, Reshaja and I met in Terfillere. From him, I got news of the outside world. I learned that Sharma's and Shani's child did die within a week of its birth but that Shani had produced two more children since then. I also learned that, more than ever before, Sharma's wives and children were being troublesome. Of course, rivalries and resentments had been brewing ever since Sharma took a second wife, not to mention a third one. However, matters really came to a head when Mecolo's oldest son, the ironically named Bedaxili -- 'Beloved of Vaxili' – took a fancy to his half-sister, Roda's oldest daughter, who was only seventeen at the time. When the girl rejected his advances, he took her by force. In retaliation, Roda's oldest son attacked Bedaxili, who killed him. Overcome with shame, Roda's daughter committed suicide. Distraught and almost powerless in the face of such familial passion and intrigues, Sharma banished Bedaxili to a small village near Osicedi. The grieving Roda, now more of an enemy of Mecolo than ever before, pressed the claims to the throne of her surviving son, Isegala. Of course, Shani was waiting in the wings with claims of her own. Her sons were still pre-teens but who knew how long Sharma might live and what changes there might be in the interim? To add to Sharma's troubles, after lying low for a while, Bedaxili was trying to gain popularity by travelling around dispensing charity and suggesting that now that his father was old and tired he, Bedaxili, should take over the throne. Bedaxili was violating the terms of his banishment but Sharma, enervated in a web of his own making, didn't have the heart or the courage to bring his son to heel. In any case, everyone knew that he had always had an especially soft spot for Bedaxili, his first-born and the heir to the throne.

What did I care about these tales from a far-off place? I told myself that I had relegated Keirine to a small corner of my mind where it was sequestered along with all the other memories and experiences of my life before I took ship and sailed eastwards across the ocean. Keirine could stay in its remote corner of my mind, immobilised and embalmed, gradually shriveling up until it intruded upon me as much as a pebble in a barn full of grain would trouble a farmer. Then, perhaps, I would be happy again. Then, perhaps, I would roam the Endless Ocean with a spirit as free and unencumbered as I once roamed the hills near Osicedi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: MENDING FENCES

One day, during my sixth year in the Endless Ocean, Reshaja arrived from the coast with a sealed letter and gave it to me with a knowing glance. Immediately, I knew who had sent it: the seal was Sharma's. I cursed and threw the letter onto the table. Reshaja looked at me incredulously and asked, 'Aren't you going to open it?'

'Why should I?'

'It looks important.'

'Important to whom?'

Reshaja shrugged and replied, 'My friend, you should read the letter.' The letter lay on the table between us like an unanswered question while we caught up on news and discussed business. After our conversation, as I was leaving the room, Reshaja asked, 'Aren't you going to take the letter?'

'Take it? No! I wish I'd never seen the damned thing.'

'My dear friend, do you know who it's from?'

'Of course I do. That's Sharma's seal. That's why I wish I had never seen it.'

Reshaja thrust the letter at me, saying, 'Do with it what you want but please don't leave it here. It's your business, not mine.'

I stuffed the letter into my tunic, annoyed that I even had to acknowledge its existence. At the door, I stopped and asked, 'Who gave it to you?'

Reshaja replied, 'I was at a port in Durgenu's territory when a man knocked on my door one evening and asked if I knew you.'

'And, of course, you said that you did.'

'He knew that I knew you. Anyway, my friend, why should I have lied to him? You have nothing to be afraid of, do you?'

'I guess not. If they wanted to get me, they would have done so a long time ago.' However, even as I said it, I wondered how Sharma knew where I was. Had Reshaja been talking? Had they tracked me without my knowing it? I checked my speculations, thinking that the trail could lead anywhere – after all, sailors, traders, and the rest of the people I came into contact with every day could talk as freely as anyone else could. Damn it! I wished that the past had stayed where it was, neatly packed away. Now it was stirring again like a hibernating animal beginning to twitch after the winter. I would have to put it back into its corner as soon as I could, and do so as firmly as possible.

I sat in my room holding the letter. I weighed it in my hand, turned it around, weighed it again, and put it down. I told myself that it probably concerned some mundane matter such as the property that I had left behind in Koraina. But, if so, why would the letter carry the royal seal? I stretched out my hand to grasp the letter and then withdrew it. What if the letter invited me to become involved again with the affairs of Keirine? Damn, damn, damn! Finally, I gave in to curiosity and opened the letter.

The letter was from Sharma himself, written in his own hand. He invited me to return to Keirine and take up the position of commander of the army. In fact, he did more than issue an invitation – he practically begged me to return. Sharma concluded by writing, 'Let bygones be bygones, Jina. As you cared for me that night when I heard about the death of my parents, so I ask you to have a care for me now.' Included with the letter was a document that granted me safe passage from the coast to Koraina.

What lay behind Sharma's request? It was late but I knocked on Reshaja's door anyway. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he invited me into his room. I sat down, thrust the letter at him, and asked, 'What do you know about this?'

'My friend, I know nothing except that I was asked to deliver it.'

'You don't know what the letter says?

'By all the gods and by the tomb of my father – may nothing that I do or say disturb his peace – I swear that I don't know what is in the letter.' Reshaja protested his innocence so vehemently that it was almost comical. Anyway, what difference did it make, whether he knew or not? I told him about Sharma's request and then said, 'You've just come from the mainland. What's going on in Keirine that might explain why Sharma wants me back as commander of the army?'

'Sharma is facing a revolt. Don't you know that?'

'How should I know about it? I returned just yesterday after six months of travelling around the outer islands. A revolt, eh? Who's leading the revolt?'

'Bedaxili.'

'Tell me about it.'

'There's not much to tell. Everyone knows that Bedaxili has been champing at the bit ever since Sharma banished him to Lower Keirine. During the last two or three years, he’s started to act like an alternative ruler, going around settling disputes, making promises and exploiting grievances. Now he’s come out into the open and declared that Sharma should either abdicate or be removed, to be replaced by a younger, fitter man.'

'And that's Bedaxili himself, of course.'

'Of course. Who else?'

I sat back and thought about the matter for only a moment. Then I crumpled the letter into a little ball and got up to leave. I said, 'Thank you for the information, Reshaja. I'm sorry that I woke you.'

Reshaja rose and put out a hand to restrain me. He asked, 'You will be going to Keirine?'

'Go to Keirine? Of course not! They can settle their own affairs in their own way. It's no concern of mine.'

'But –'

'Look, Reshaja, right now I've got two things on my mind, and two things only. The first is to get a good night's sleep. The second is to get up early, feeling refreshed, to start dealing with all the business matters that have piled up while I've been away.'

'You're going to ignore Sharma's request?'

'Damn right I'm going to ignore it!'

'But, my friend, you can't do that.'

'I can do it and I am doing it.'

Reshaja moved around so that he was positioned between the door and me. He said, 'I'm sorry, my friend – you can't do that.'

'Why not?'

'Because it would distress His Excellency the governor.'

'Governor? Which governor?'

'His Excellency the governor of Terfillere, of course.'

'What does he have to do with it?'

Reshaja said patiently, 'Instability in Keirine is bad for all of us.'

'Not good for trade, eh?'

'That's true. But there are plenty of other things that it isn't good for, either.' Reshaja spread his hands, moved squarely in front of the door, and said, 'Be reasonable, my friend. You know how ordinary people live. After all, you were a shepherd once and your father was a farmer and a merchant. You know that wars and revolts might be good for rulers, kings, and generals – depending on who wins and who loses -- but for the rest of us they just bring poverty and suffering.' He looked at me almost pleadingly and said, 'Come now, my friend, be reasonable.'

Reshaja was planted so firmly in front of the door, legs apart and arms folded, that it appeared that I would have to remove him by force in order to leave the room. I asked, 'Are you a spokesman for the governor?'

'No. But His Excellency asked me to call on him after my ship docked. I know his concerns about the matter. '

'So tell me – what are his concerns?'

Reshaja sighed. 'I was going to tell you in the morning. His Excellency would dearly like to assist an influential ally like Sharma.'

'Ah! So you didn't know what's in the letter -- but the governor knew all along?'

Reshaja shifted uncomfortably and dropped his eyes. He muttered, 'The governor is in an important man. We shouldn't be surprised if he knows things that ordinary people don't.'

'God, Reshaja, this is a set-up, isn't it?'

Reshaja still wouldn't look me in the eye. He murmured, 'I can only repeat what I have heard.'

For a moment, I was so angry that I wanted to shake Reshaja so hard that his teeth rattled in his gums. Then I got a grip on myself. After all, Reshaja was only the messenger. I asked, 'And if I refuse to comply with Sharma's request?'

Reshaja sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. He leaded, 'Oh, my friend, don't do that. By all means, do consider His Excellency's feelings.'

'By Zabrazal, you are acting as the governor's spokesman, aren't you?'

'No, my friend, I am not. I just happen to have an insight into his feelings.'

'And why should you have these insights into the governor's concerns?'

Reshaja sighed even more deeply and rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Come now, my friend, you've lived here long enough to know what my people are like. A person in authority never likes to disappoint a person who depends on him. So--' Reshaja shrugged. 'So, in this case, I'm telling you what I think His Excellency might like you to hear. You understand, don't you?' He spread his hands and said pleadingly, 'It would be kind to the governor if you would consider his feelings.'

'I want to hear it from the governor in person.'

'You can try, my friend. But His Excellency might not want to see you – out of consideration for your feelings, of course.'

I sat down, feeling weary and beaten. My mouth was dry with the taste of frustration. Worse still, Keirine with all its concerns was roaring back at me like a storm that had come from nowhere and now battered my senses. I asked despondently, 'Why does Sharma need me, anyway?'

'I heard that the soldiers who defected to Bedaxili killed Sharma's army commander and both of his deputy commanders. I would think that's why he needs you.'

'Isowola, Admera and Izedrali are dead? All three of them?' It was a shock. I knew all of them well. Reshaja nodded in confirmation.

Next morning, I went down to the governor's palace and asked to see him. After a few minutes, his aide came back and told me that the governor was indisposed. However, he referred me to Reshaja who, said the aide, was privy to the governor's thoughts. When I insisted on seeing the governor, the aide took my arm firmly and led me to the door, saying, 'Oh, my dear sir, why don't you board a ship and go home for a while? His Excellency knows that you have business there and he doesn't want to delay you a moment longer than is necessary.' Still grasping my arm, the man walked me out of the door. There he bowed and said, 'His Excellency sends you his most respectful felicitations and assures you that he will be delighted to see you when you have completed your business in Keirine.'

When I reached Koraina I was granted an audience with Sharma almost immediately. For a moment, I hardly recognised him. He had changed so much that he looked like a derelict ruin of the man that I once knew. He was paunchy – bloated with heaviness, in fact – and he had puffy eyes and a double chin. In fact, his whole face seemed to have receded downwards like part of a mountainside that has begun to slide after heavy rains. Also, he not only walked with a heavy limp, leaning on a walking stick, but with each step he had to heave himself forward awkwardly as if the air itself obstructed his passage.

Sharma greeted me in a business-like manner as if we had only been parted for a few days. He gave me a perfunctory embrace and showed me to a chair. As he sat down, he winced as he lifted his gammy leg onto a footstool. He settled back and said sourly, 'This rotten leg! It won't get better.' He winced again and shifted, rubbing one of his buttocks as it lifted off the chair. 'The doctors say it's gout, caused by too much red wine. Ha! Wine never did any harm, especially the good stuff that I get from Durgenu.' He waved his stick around, gesticulating at the walls and ceiling. 'More likely it's living in this draughty building. I never should have allowed the architects to put in so much marble and masonry.' Sharma settled back with a noise between a sigh and a groan, rubbed his chin as if he was trying to dislodge his jowls from their moorings, and eyed me warily. The eyes were still Sharma's even if the rest of his body had fallen from its state of youthful grace. He asked stiffly, 'How are you, Jina?'

'I'm all right.'

'Good to be back, eh?'

'Oh, I could easily have stayed away a while longer.'

There was a pause while we looked at each other appraisingly. Sharma rubbed his chin again and dropped his eyes. Then he grunted, looked me straight in the eye, and said, 'I need you, Jina. More than that, Keirine needs you.' I grunted in return. Sharma pursed his lips and shifted uncomfortably. He said, 'I apologise, Jina.'

'For what?'

'I apologise for what I said the last time I saw you.'

'Forget about it. It's over and done with.'

Sharma shifted again and coughed. He said, 'I acted like Vaxili, didn't I?' I raised my eyebrows. Sharma continued, 'You told me frankly what you felt.'

'Yes. I did.'

'Vaxili never could abide frank speaking.'

'That's true.'

Sharma shifted again and rubbed a buttock. He said, 'You were honest with me.'

'Look, Sharma, it's over and done with. Let's forget about it.'

Sharma bit his lip and his eyelid twitched. He took a deep breath and said, 'Jina, this isn't easy for me.' I raised my eyebrows. Sharma continued, 'Damn it, man, I'm trying to apologise to you.'

Suddenly I felt like grinning as I glimpsed something of the old Sharma. Whatever his faults, in the old days Sharma had spoken to me frankly – most of the time, anyway. I said, 'I accept your apology.'

Sharma wriggled in his chair to get comfortable and repositioned his leg on the footstool. 'Do you, Jina?' I nodded. Sharma threw back his head, waggled it as if his neck was stiff, and said, 'That's good. Mending fences, eh?'

Mending fences? That wasn't the most suitable image to use. The fact was that I was aware of how many fences there were between us. They would always be there in spite of Sharma's apology. I shrugged the thought away and asked, 'Did you bring me here just to apologise?'

Sharma took another deep breath and then replied in a tight voice, 'It had to be said first, didn't it?' I nodded and Sharma said, 'You know very well why I asked you to come here.'

'Asked? You asked me, did you? Well, man, let me tell you that I had no choice. They ordered me out of Terfillere and practically frog-marched me onto a ship. You call that being asked to do something?'

Sharma stretched his hands above his head and flexed his shoulders, looking tired. He pleaded, 'I need you, Jina,'

'Why?'

'Because I can trust you.'

For a moment I felt like taunting him. Trust, eh? What about all your generals and all your governors, Sharma? What about your women and your many children, Sharma? What about your sons – yes, Sharma, what about your sons? I looked at the flabby shell that was sitting in front of me, shifting his lame leg uncomfortably and rubbing his jowls and I pitied him. I remembered the old Sharma – the brave, quick, and generous friend and comrade, the comet that had blazed its bright path through our lives and through the destiny of Keirine. Oh, the memories and emotions were all out of their lairs now. They were flooding all over me. Damn, damn, damn! I bit back my taunts and asked, 'Trust me? What of it?'

'I need you, Jina. Who else can I really trust?' I put up a hand to halt him while I got a grip on myself but Sharma continued, 'You always put the destiny of Keirine first, didn't you? You always drove straight for it without allowing yourself to be diverted, didn't you?'

I muttered, 'I did, once.'

'Do you know, Jina, you're the nearest that I've ever come to an honest man.'

'I doubt that. For one thing, the service of Keirine has corrupted my honesty.'

Sharma's eyes flickered but he ignored my words. He leaned forward and asked persuasively, 'Do you remember how as boys we sat on the hills and looked over the coastal plain while --?'

'Stop it, Sharma! No more!' There was a deep silence. Sharma reached into a drawer in the cabinet next to him and held something up for me to see. It was a sling. Sharma asked, 'Do you remember this?' I nodded. Still holding it up, he said, 'It's the same old sling, Jina.' He heaved himself out of the chair and, supported by a stick, waddled across to a large dresser. There he took out a number of small wooden objects -- the same targets that we used for slingshot practice while we sat around in the evenings drinking wine and chatting companionably. Sharma draped a cloth over the dresser, set up the targets, and heaved himself back towards me. He took some pebbles out of a pouch and gave them to me, saying, 'Have a go, Jina.'

'I don't feel like it, Sharma.'

'Please, Jina, for old time's sake?'

I surprised myself by hitting four out of the seven targets. Sharma grunted and said, 'Watch this, Jina.' He whirled the sling and let fly. Plink! The pebble hit the wall leaving the targets unscathed. He let fly again with the same result. Finally, after eight attempts, he had hit only two targets. Sharma said gruffly, 'You see how it is with me, Jina.'

'Oh, come on Sharma, you’re just faking it.'

He looked at me heavily and muttered, 'I assure you that I am not.'

'I don't believe you.'

'By Zabrazal, I can't do it any more, Jina. Don't you see – I can't do it.' Sharma slumped into his chair. 'I can't do it, Jina. That’s the truth.'

I looked at him, pitying rather than despising his despondent and fallen state. I picked up the sling, took aim, and sent one of the targets whirling. Then I said, 'All right, I'll do it. Just don't ask anything more of me. When it's over, I will be free to go back to the islands. Agreed?'

Sharma sighed as if he had been relieved of a great weight. He leaned further forward and, with both hands clasping the carved head of his stick, said, 'Don't harm the boy, Jina. He's my oldest son and he’s my heir. Whatever happens, don't harm him.'

‘What if he resists?’

‘Whatever you do, don’t harm him, Jina. He has to be the next king of Keirine. Anything else will bring chaos.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THINGS OF OUR OWN MAKING

Keirine was in turmoil. Bedaxili had only articulated and exploited the dissatisfaction that was already widespread by the time he came out into the open. People were tired of paying taxes that were spent on grandiose projects rather than on benefits for the public. They were tired of paying for extensions to the palace, a royal villa at the coast, clothing and jewelry for Sharma's wives and children, and triumphal cavalcades that accompanied Sharma wherever he went. They were tired of their young men being rounded up for forced labour gangs, to serve for two years in convict-like conditions. And such is the human desire for novelty, they were probably tired of the tedium of stability and security – or, at the least, they had forgotten what the alternative was like. Under the circumstances, Bedaxili offered something new and attractive. He was a handsome populist who sat in town squares and spoke to ordinary people, making promises of reductions in taxes, an end to forced labour, and the sweeping away of the old guard who surrounded Sharma. The priests added credibility to Bedaxili's campaign by coming out in support of him. Isahile, the High Priest-elect, stayed out of the fray but a number of his colleagues accompanied Bedaxili's cavalcade, proclaiming that Zabrazal approved of this flamboyant young man who, amongst his many promises, assured the priests that their authority and privileges would be restored.

However, Bedaxili played his hand too soon. He didn't know – or, in his eagerness for power, he didn't want to know – that there is a big difference between leading a populist movement and leading an army. He also made the mistake of thinking that the junior officers who clustered around him, eager for swift advancement, had the experience and the knowledge to organise a campaign and lead an army to victory. Ha! Their ambition had no more substance to it than the self-aggrandisement of a peacock that promenades and thinks well of itself until the eagle swoops. Then the peacock finds that its strutting pride, pomp, and fine feathers are torn to shreds within seconds. That's what happened to Bedaxili's army when we finally closed on it.

Thank Zabrazal, Sharma still had an army. The most senior commanders were dead and some of the middle-ranking officers had joined Bedaxili but he still had a core of officers and soldiers who had served Keirine well during the past twenty-five years. In the present crisis, they had been ineffective not because they lacked the capacity to act but because Sharma didn't have the heart to act against his treasured son.

It took me three weeks to sort things out. During that time, we sent a small force against Bedaxili's army. They were instructed only to feint and withdraw so that Bedaxili would gain confidence and become careless. To aggravate Bedaxili's delusions, as he advanced ever closer to Koraina we steadily evacuated the town. First Sharma and his court retired northwards. Next, units of the army also retreated. The civilian population, ignorant of what we were planning, began to panic and many of them also left Koraina. Their hasty evacuation suited our purpose and we didn’t try to stop them. Finally, when Bedaxili was within two days' march of Koraina, we offered ridiculously generous peace terms that were intended to suggest that we were weak and panic-stricken. However, in the midst of the negotiations we struck at Bedaxili's force using the same tactics that Sharma employed when we defeated Vaxili in the desert foothills. Just as on that occasion, after we had slaughtered or dispersed most of the enemy army in a night attack, next morning we had to deal with a hard core of survivors who gathered around their chief for a last stand. When they surrendered after two hours of hard fighting, all resistance came to an end. The rebellion was over.

When they brought Bedaxili to me, it was a shock to see how much he looked like his mother, just as he did when I first saw him as a youngster in Orihedrin. Even although he was disheveled and frightened, I could see why they praised his good looks and attractiveness. Outwardly, he had a manly bearing and the same fresh and open countenance that I remembered from his younger days. But – pha! – what do these things count if the character is weak and the heart is corrupt?

Bedaxili disgusted me. He had not only threatened the stability of his country but, to compound the offence, he had violated his siblings and had revolted against his father. I had to fight down the urge to strike him when I told him, 'You will be taken to Koraina where you will be dealt with as you deserve.' Privately, I thought with deep regret that, in actual fact, he wouldn’t be dealt with in anything like the manner that he deserved. He would probably only be wept over in maudlin fashion, rapped on the knuckles, and then set free with a fond pat on the head to continue on his dissolute, corrupt, conniving way.

It seemed that Bedaxili had most of the faults and weaknesses of his grandfather without having Vaxili’s one notable virtue, namely personal courage. Bedaxili was cringing and shaking with fear. He stammered, 'May I speak to you privately?'

'No, you may not! If you want to say something, say it right here.'

Sniveling, Bedaxili looked around and then leaned forward and said in a mumbling attempt at confidentiality, 'If you release me, I can offer you wealth and a good position.'

‘Oh, you can make offers like that, can you?’

‘Of course! I’m the king’s oldest son and I’m heir to the throne.’

'All the more reason why I won’t release you! In fact, I wouldn't release you if you offered me ten kingdoms.'

Bedaxili dropped to his knees and shuffled forward until he was right at my feet. 'I beg you – have pity on me.' He was sobbing.

I looked down at the pathetic creature at my feet, took a step backward to prevent him from touching me, and asked, 'Why should I pity you?'

'For my mother's sake – I beg you, have pity for her sake.' He lunged forward, grasped my ankles, and pressed his forehead against my feet. I tried to shake him off but he was clinging to me like a drowning swimmer.

I asked in disgust, 'Should I pity you in the same way as you pitied your sister, your brother, and your father?'

'I regret what I have done. I apologise. I beg you – have pity on me!'

I managed to shake one of my feet free and kicked him so hard that he sprawled backwards. As he lay there on his back in the dust trembling and sniveling, I pressed my sword to his throat and asked, 'Do you admit that you are a scheming wretch who shouldn't even be allowed to carry the shit buckets from the poorest hovel in Keirine?'

'Yes. I admit it.'

'Do you admit that a wretch like you who rapes his sister, kills his brother, and betrays his father isn't fit to live?' I applied pressure to the sword.

'Yes. I admit it.' I pressed the sword harder into his throat and he screeched, 'Have pity, I beg you!'

One of my commanders whispered urgently, 'Have a care, general! We must return him to his father unharmed.'

Bedaxili wriggled to his knees and tried to crawl away. I struck him on the side of his head with the flat of my sword and he sprawled on the ground, screaming in fear and pain, clutching his forehead. Someone grasped my arm, saying, 'General! He must not be harmed.'

The writhing creature on the ground filled me with disgust, all the more so when I reflected that this flabby offal-bag was the heir to the throne of Keirine. Worse still, I knew that Sharma would forgive him. He would set Bedaxili free to rape, murder, plot and scheme again. Even although he complained about them, Sharma never could do the hard, proper thing when it came to dealing with his wives and children. God, more than ever, I wished that they had left me alone in peace amongst the islands. But now that I was here and was forced to deal with these matters, I would do Keirine a favour for old time's sake. I shook off the restraining hand, drew back my arm, and plunged my sword into Bedaxili's throat. He gurgled and toppled over. Someone wrestled the sword free from my hand and someone else seized my arms to prevent me from drawing my dagger. It didn't matter. Bedaxili was dead already. Whatever the future held for Keirine, he wouldn’t be there to contaminate it.

When we arrived in Koraina, Sharma refused to see me. In any case, he was in no state to see anyone at all. I heard that when he got the news that Bedaxili was dead, he let out a howl of anguish and dropped to the floor insensible. Then, when he recovered, he reeled around the palace calling down curses on me. After that, he staggered to the temple where he prostrated himself in front of the altar, tearing at his clothes and begging Zabrazal to withdraw his anger and to smile on his house at last. If Zabrazal was listening, he must have been grimly amused at the return of the apostate in this fashion. In between his supplications, Sharma continued to curse me. They say that he was so desperate and distracted that he repeatedly beat his forehead against the stone floor while, his clothes having been reduced to shreds, he tore at his flesh with his fingernails. When he finally collapsed after this self-indulgent outpouring of anger and remorse, his attendants had to half-carry and half-drag him from the temple to the palace and heave him into bed, where he laid moaning and shivering in a fevered, semi-conscious state.

That night I lay in my room cursing myself for a fool. In the longer run, what did it matter if I had shored up Sharma's position and had done away with a rotten apple like Bedaxili? What did one apple matter when the whole barrel was already thoroughly infected with the rot? There would be no end to the intrigues while Sharma's scheming wives were alive to encourage their scheming children. More than ever, I wished to the bottom of my heart that they had left me alone. I wished that instead of sailing from Terfillere to the mainland, I had bribed the captain of the ship to set me down amongst the furthest of the outer islands. From there, rather than return to Keirine, I would gladly have headed for the realms of weed-filled seas, icy winds, and eerie howls. Alone if necessary, I would have sailed as far as I could, following the clouds until I was becalmed forever or was lost in the endlessness of the Endless Ocean. Anything, anything at all, would have been better than returning to Keirine to open old wounds and to become enmeshed again in these intractable troubles and intrigues.

Before morning, I went down with a fever as severe as the one that afflicted me after the second battle of Gandonda. In my delirium, I repeatedly had the same dream of Dana as I had then. A blurred shape behind Dana restrained her as she called out and struggled to come to me. I cried out to her, 'You're safe now, Dana, you're safe. Come to me.' Then suddenly she was free. She ran towards me, one arm outstretched and one arm stretched across her throat but the more she ran, and the more I ran towards her, the more we remained apart. However, now the dream was overlaid by a vision of Bedaxili, who rose up between us flinging his head backwards to expose the gash in his throat and taunting me as he gestured to Dana, who remained as distant as ever. Then Dana flung her arm aside and threw back her head to expose her own wound and I felt myself sinking into a sea of clutching darkness even while I reached out to her.

When I regained a semblance of consciousness, I half-turned my head, expecting for a moment to see Zaliek sitting next to me. Instead I saw an old woman, one of the palace nurses, and I began to remember where I was. As my head became clearer, I cursed myself for a fool. After the nurse wiped my forehead, helped me to change my undershirt, and gave me some water, she muttered something and left the room. I heard the click of the latch as she locked the door behind her. Soon she returned with a junior commander of the palace guard. Stiffly, he informed me that I was confined to the room until further notice.

That was two days ago. They bring me food and water at regular intervals but will say nothing. My room, which is on the top floor of the palace, overlooks the great courtyard in the centre of the complex. From my window, I watch them coming and going – orderlies, soldiers, servants, merchants, and others. I have seen Shani twice, making her regal way across the paving stones. She looks more beautiful than ever. Being a royal consort suits her. She dresses resplendently in robes that enhance her slender form and set off her dark sultriness. On both occasions her two younger sons, Sharma's children, accompanied her. I wonder where her older son is, the boy that she had by Zaliek. Is he studying at the Academy of Philosophy in Orifinre as Zaliek wanted him to do? I doubt it, and I fear for him -- but I have no way of knowing where he is and what he is doing.

As I said at the beginning of this story, I did see Sharma recently when he limped and struggled across the courtyard, helped by two attendants. Halfway across, he paused to gather his breath, panting and wiping the sweat from his brow even although the day was cool. When he stumbled, both attendants had to exert their full strength to stop him from crashing to the ground. He never looked in my direction.

I know that I won't leave here alive. Sooner or later, Sharma will send them to attend to me. Damn him! Why didn't he leave me alone amongst the islands to serve out my time in peace and quiet? What did he say to me, the last time I spoke with him – that I'm the nearest he has come to an honest man? If that's what he really thought, then he should have known that honesty is incompatible with serving the destiny of the kingdom. Cleansing winds, pure air, and pleasant vistas might surround the heights of a mountain range -- but that is not the case with the heights of Keirine. As we struggled upwards, we accumulated dirt and grime along the way. We compromised ourselves, easing our consciences with the consolation that it was all for the good of the kingdom. One day, we said, we would reach the heights and would find them to be glorious and unsullied. Also, we told ourselves, when we reached our goal our old, soiled clothes would wither away and we would find ourselves dressed gloriously in fresh and gleaming garments. More than that, we ourselves would be completely made over, ennobled and re-invigorated as new creatures who would be fit to match the new circumstances. Pha! We were deluded fools. We didn't recognise – perhaps chose not to know – that the heights of Keirine are things of our own making. That's all that they are – reflections of ourselves – nothing more and nothing less.

Yesterday I removed my belt, folded it, and sent it to Sharma. As I handed it to the attendant, I noticed that the old stain was still visible as a darker outline against the burnt sheen of the worn leather. I took the belt back from the man, looking closely at the stain, almost surprised to find it there after so long.

The attendant asked, ‘What is that, sir?’

I was about to say ‘Nothing of consequence’ when I thought, Why should he not know who he is dealing with? Why should he not know that once I, too, was one of the great ones of Keirine?

I asked him, ‘Do you remember Jainar?’

‘Jainar? No, sir, I can’t say that I do.’

I looked at him. God, he was young! Life hadn’t even yet curdled the corners of his mouth. How could he remember Jainar and the time when I served the kingdom well by leaving Jainar dead in the gateway of Orihedrin? I said, ‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.’ I gave him the belt, saying, ‘Deliver this to the king.’

‘Any message with it, sir?’

‘None. The king will know what it means.’

This time, I know that Sharma will keep the belt – or, more likely, he will have it destroyed. Whatever the case, it won’t be returned to me. I know that for sure.

Who knows what awaits me when they have done with me? Perhaps at last I might be set free to drift with the clouds over the Endless Ocean, looking down on the islands set in the water like green and brown and ochre pearls in the neck-piece of a gown. Best of all, after all this time, I might be able to do it with Dana. Who knows?

THE END

Dear reader, if you enjoyed this book please spare a moment to show your appreciation by rating and reviewing it -- even if you only write a few lines. Writers want to be read, they like to have contact with their readers, and they like to know what their readers think about what they have written. So, please, do rate and review this book!

Something about the author, Brian H. Jones

Brian lives in a country town near Canberra, Australia, together with his adorable wife, Marie (author of Dangerous Journey), and their laid-back cat, Shaka. Having survived being born and raised in South Africa, Brian then lived and worked in Canada, Namibia, Pakistan, and Australia. Thanks to flashes of optimism on days when the sun is shining as well as Marie's ongoing influence, Brian believes that life holds more than political prevarication, economic and financial failures, moral mendacity and spiritual spuriousness. Sometimes he even thinks that writing is one of life's more elevated activities. And then, sometimes, he doesn't..!

You can find out more about Brian and books that he has written at http://bhj.scriptmania.com/index.html

Issues that could be useful for discussion at a book club meeting:

1. Does 'The Blood-stained Belt' have a clear theme or themes?

2. Does the theme (or themes) speak to contemporary life?

3. Does the novel remind you of any other(s) that you have read?

4. What are the strengths of the novel? How has the author achieved these strengths?

5. What are the weaknesses of the novel? How could they have been avoided or improved?

6. Is Jina a convincing and rounded character?

7. Which aspects of Jina's character and experiences did you find the most convincing?

8. Is Sharma a convincing and rounded character?

9. Which aspects of Sharma's character and experiences did you find the most/least convincing?

10. Has the long and complex relationship between Jina and Sharma been portrayed in a convincing manner? Could the portrayal have been improved?

11. If you wrote a review of 'The Blood-stained Belt', on which aspects would you focus and what would you say? (By the way, the author would very much appreciate reviews and ratings!)