Killer Plants Of Binaark

Chapter 22

Tressana found her legs shaking as she slipped from her rolgha's back to the rocky ground. She cursed her own weakness. She shouldn't be so tired, not when she was riding all day. She had to set a good example for the rest of her people, and put courage back into the Jaghdi fugitives who had returned from the disaster in the Kettle of the Winds. Some of them had walked for five days, managing to get through the ranks of Elstani that had been stationed to the northwest of the camp.

Unfortunately her legs wouldn't obey her. She had to grip the stirrups for a moment to keep from falling. Then Jollya was there-Jollya, so good and reliable even if she was her father's daughter. Jollya was helping her away from the rolgha, so gently that no one could see the queen's weakness. By the time the queen's tent was up, Tressana could walk into it herself, even though she lay down the moment she was out of sight.

She must have slept, because the next thing she knew it was no longer twilight but night. A cold rain was falling, and the wind made the tent ripple and crackle. Jollya was there again. She had soup and wine on a tray, and Tressana discovered that she was finally hungry.

«Your Grace,» said Jollya when the queen was finished. «How much farther east do we want to go?»

«As far as we need to,» said Tressana shortly. She'd thought that question was settled, although she hadn't reached the point of saying «You will obey!» to Jollya or Sikkurad.

«Haven't we done all that can be done to help our people escape?»

«Perhaps. But we haven't done all we can do against the Elstani. If we can mount the fugitives… Why do you think we're herding all the rolghas with us?»

«Your Grace, our fugitives are dying on their feet! The only reason they aren't actually dying is because they're eating the dead rolghas! How long-?»

«As long as it takes us to avenge our dead and kill Richard Blade.»

«Him again.»

«Jollya!» Tressana's voice cracked like a whip. «Did you love him too?»

Jollya jumped up, looking startled. «Yes. I loved him, and I don't want him dead.»

«You filthy little-!»

«I'm not throwing away the lives of men who follow me to take an impossible vengeance. Your Grace, I beg you. You're trying loyalty beyond what it can bear. Let's go home and-«

Jollya had her mouth open when Tressana hit her in the stomach. it stayed open as Tressana picked up a spear and smashed her across the back of the neck with it. Then it closed and she crumpled forward, to lie face down on the furs.

Tressana stood over the fallen woman, holding the spear and afraid for a moment that she was going to vomit from sheer rage and disgust. Blade had betrayed her even before he fled to Elstan and taught those-those- She couldn't find a word. Before he taught those people to fly and destroyed her army. He'd betrayed her with Jollya, which made it even worse. And how much treason had he been planning even while he was in her bed?

Tressana felt as if her head was going to split apart. She pressed her hands against her temples and screamed out loud. That released some of the pressure, but it also brought the other guardswomen on the run. They stopped at the door of the tent, staring down at Jollya. With a terrible effort Tressana forced out coherent words.

«Jollya tried to kill me. I had to strike her down. Tell Siharma she's captain of the Women's Guard now and bring her to me. Bind Jollya and take her to the treasure tent.»

«Yes, Your Grace.»

With the aid of a hand on the tent pole, Tressana stayed on her feet until she'd given Siharma her orders and Jollya had been taken out. Then she had to sit down.

Perhaps she'd been hasty in striking Jollya. Jealousy over a man who was now beyond the reach of either of them was foolish. But once she'd struck, there was no way back. Jollya could no longer be trusted, perhaps not to obey, certainly not to keep her mouth shut. Siharma would do well enough in the Women's Guard, and meanwhile Jollya would make a good hostage for her father's loyalty. It also meant a clear road to Manro, and that was becoming more important each day. If the loyalty of the men was beginning to fray, Manro's death at the hands of the Elstani would repair much of the damage. It would fill most of the men with a burning desire for vengeance on the Elstani, and remove the king as a possible rallying point for anyone who became discontented.

Blade was rubbing animal fat on his blistered feet when the refugee family arrived with word of Tressana's camp. His feet were as tough as leather, and it took a good deal to get them blistered, but keeping up with vengeance-driven Elstani was enough. Daimarz considered thirty miles a day no more than healthy exercise. Blade had met only one other people who could cover ground as fast on foot, the tall warriors of Zunga. When he set off Blade doubted that any men on foot could hunt a mounted enemy. Now he suspected that a well-fed Elstani could move faster than a hungry rolgha, and certainly the enemy's mounts were hungry.

Daimarz listened to the refugees for only a minute before calling Blade over to hear the rest of their story. It took a while, because the father was always interrupting himself to ask Blade if he could join the raiders in their attack. Blade kept refusing to make any promises to a man half-mad with rage, exhaustion, and hunger.

Tressana was no more than ten miles away, and had King Manro with her. Blade recognized both banners from the man's description. She had four or five hundred armed men with her, and twice as many gaunt rolghas.

Daimarz was in no mood to count the odds, and after a while he was able to convince Blade. The Elstani could march the ten miles, strike, and be safely away between sunset and dawn. In Jaghdi clothes they would be hard to recognize as enemies in the darkness. With surprise on their side and all their strength concentrated on striking down the queen, Tressana would be doomed. His desire for vengeance wasn't keeping Daimarz from thinking clearly. Blade went along with him partly because of this. The raid really wasn't as suicidal as it seemed. He also went along because it was his only way of getting to the queen, even if there wasn't any way of getting out.

It was nearly sunset. If they started now they would be approaching the camp before midnight. Blade and Daimarz started going down the list of their men, picking the best sixty. With surprise that would be enough. Without surprise there weren't enough Elstani closer than the Kettle of the Winds to make the attack. Everyone would carry a sword or a spear, half would be carrying crossbows, and six would be carrying pots of the Living Fire. They'd brought it along at Blade's suggestion, in spite of Daimarz's protests that it would slow them down.

«I told you we'd find a use for it,» said Blade cheerfully, as he sharpened his sword. «If we can stampede the rest of Tressana's rolghas, it hardly matters whether she dies or not. She'll have to go home. After a disaster like this, her own subjects may lose their patience with her.» Blade realized that if Tressana returned home safely, Jaghd would not be thrown into chaos. The Jaghdi would be able to find someone to take her place in a peaceful and orderly fashion, which they couldn't do if she was simply murdered by the Elstani.

«Maybe,» said Daimarz, wrapping his feet in clean cloths before pulling on his boots. «But people who could follow that woman in the first place-I won't trust them. Not now. I'll trust these and not much else.» He rested one hand on his sword and the other on a pot of the Living Fire.

Something was wrong tonight. Manro knew it. He felt it in the air, heard it in the voices of the women guarding him, saw it in their faces. The gods were going to strike tonight at Tressana herself. They'd already struck the men who rode away from her, hoping to escape. Now it was the bad woman's turn. So pretty, but bad.

Where was Jollya? Dark Jollya would protect him, if he could find her. But he could find her only if he got loose from the chain on his ankle. How could he do that? He remembered that chains were fastened by locks, and locks had keys, but only the person who had the key could open the lock. He didn't have the key, so he would have to wait until the person with it came to him.

But what if the person didn't come before the gods did? He might be hurt too, because the gods would think anybody near Pretty Tressana had also done bad things like her. Even Dark Jollya might get hurt, although she hadn't done anything bad at all!

Manro whimpered. He had to get out of his chain, find Jollya, and escape from the gods with her.