Krozair of Kregen

Chapter Twenty-one

“My father!”

“That insolent rast my father!”

“The hyr Jikai Zadak my father!”

Well, poor lads, it was hard for them.

There is little left to tell.

I, Dray Prescot, Prince Majister of Vallia, Strom of Valka, King of Djanduin, Lord of Strombor — and much else besides — held my Delia and I most certainly would not let her go. We gathered in the High Hall and there was the most sumptuous shindig.

I forced away the dark and terrible news I must tell Delia. Her daughter Velia was dead. But she had news for me that set me back, for she had gone home from the inner sea when Seg and Inch had come for her on the island of Zy after I had seen her in a stinking fish cell. Those two had stolen a skyship from the emperor and gone looking for me. Seg had been in Erthyrdrin and Inch in Ng’groga when my letters at last reached them. But they had taken Delia back, for she had seen me and understood that with the help of Nath and Zolta I must work out my own salvation. At home in Esser Rarioch she had given birth to a daughter. We would call this dearly beloved daughter Velia.

“So now you know why I made you look at the dead face of Gafard. He was not an altogether evil man.” The three faces of my sons reflected indescribable emotions. “He was your brother-in-law.”

Delia insisted on looking, also, and she turned away and held me close, and said, “Dear Velia. Dear Velia.”

She would overcome her sorrow in time.

As to Zeg and Jaidur, they were hot for continuing the war against the Grodnims. The situation of the Eye of the World was now back to where it had been before Genod had set out on his road of conquest. With his genius for war removed, the Red southern shore would be cleansed of the Green centers of infection. From Zimuzz west to Shazmoz all would be Red once more. Drak put his chin in his hands and said he had to return to Vallia, for trouble brewed there and the Racters were not the only ones involved. Just what their attitude to me would be, now that they knew just who I was, remained to be seen. They studiously avoided any mention of the past differences. But I said, “I go to Zy. There is a matter between me and Pur Kazz, the Grand Archbold.”

As Krozairs of Zy, Drak and Zeg would attend. Delia said, simply, “I’m not letting you out of my sight again, and you needn’t think otherwise.”

I gave orders that resulted in a disheveled, bloody, swearing Grogor being brought in and dumped down, all messy and filthy, before me. “Jiktar Grogor!” I said and his head snapped up. “You will do a certain thing for me, or, by Zair, you’ll find out where our lord Gafard has gone!”

“Gadak-?”

He shook his head, stunned, when he was told.

So we took our fleet of skyships off to Zy. Seg and Inch had simply stolen the huge vessels. What the emperor would say did not worry them. He had been mean with Drak, saying that what consequence was it to him of a struggle in some distant and forgotten sea around the world? I promised to sort him out when we returned to Vallia. And before I could do that the Apushniad must be removed. I recalled the scarlet and golden Gdoinye, and the white Savanti dove. Vast forces moved behind the scenes here, supernatural powers that sought to control our lives, and I felt a hint of evasiveness, a suggestion of a lack of full control. I wanted to see Zena Iztar again; but she made no occult appearance. And so we flew to Zy.

You may well imagine the carryings-on in the skyships as our old friends rejoiced. It had been a long time. The news! The events that had passed on Kregen — well, all will be told in due time, as they fit into the jigsaw of motives and events of my life on Kregen under the Suns of Scorpio. The Krozairs of Zy had been apprised of our coming and awaited us in the Outer Hall, for so many with me were not Krozairs. Pur Kazz, the Grand Archbold, sat on the Ombor Throne, for that was proper. The Krozairs sat ranked in their stalls along one side and my people sat on the other. If it came to a fight I would not like to predict the outcome. I most certainly felt torn. But a few four-armed Djangs, and Hap’s Clansmen, and the Archers of Valka, and the Blue Mountain Boys, and — well, the Krozairs of Zy are renowned warriors, and I feel that had we come to handstrokes a Kregan Gotterdammerung would have ensued. Pride is a fearful thing. I determined to remain cool. It was a good intention. Pur Zenkiren, vastly recovered and almost back to his old self, greeted me kindly. “Pur Kazz is sick, Dray. He has ordered certain things that I, for one, cannot approve of. I think you may find support — if your cause is just.”

“I did not answer the Call because I was unable to do so. I take my vows as a Krzy far too seriously to lie about them. I was not able to answer the Call, and after I have told Delia, you will be the first to hear what, I fear, you may not believe.”

Then he said something that rocked me.

“I have talked with Zena Iztar. She is a remarkable woman. She tells me she works for Zair.”

I gaped at him like any onker. He went on quickly to tell me that Zena Iztar confirmed my inability to answer the Azhurad. From what he said I understood he did not know the full extent of Zena Iztar’s supernatural powers — that I had not been on Kregen at the time of the Call. But he was fully aware that some of the mysticism of the Krozairs — of which I do not speak — had revealed itself. The adjudicator sat on his throne. Pur Kazz, on the Ombor Throne — the genuine one moved here, for there is only the one — leaned over and spoke to the adjudicator and the proceedings opened.

‘This is a preliminary hearing,” said the adjudicator. Well, of course. The Krzy would not settle so important a matter with so many non-Krozairs present. If I could win here, then the final hearing in the Hall of Judgment should also be won. But not necessarily. The case was put afresh.

“You, Dray Prescot, Apushniad, stand condemned on two counts. It is known that it is impossible for a living Brother not to hear the Call. If you did hear and did not come, you stand condemned. If you did not hear, you were never fully a Krzy, you were never pure enough of spirit, your ib remained befouled, and you stand very properly condemned Apushniad.”

“Ib-befoulment cannot be proved against me. I have worked for Zair. There are witnesses.” I detested this crawling and pleading; but I wanted to go home. “I pretended to turn renegade and serve the vile Grodnims and their evil Grodno. Thus in the end perished this Zair-forsaken king Genod.”

“All that is very well!” screeched down Pur Kazz. I glared at him. I felt very differently from the dazed wretch who had stood under his enmity in the Hall of Judgment. The terrible scar down his face drew his mouth into a cruel grimace. His eyes gleamed in the lamplight like two feral leem’s eyes. I felt sorry for him. But if he stopped me, as he apparently still intended, I must deal with him. Once, he had been a fine Krzy. “You are condemned and no man here will alter that. I will not allow it, not allow such blasphemy.”

His voice rose still higher, screeching like steel across metal, and he lapsed into an unintelligible screech. I believe at that point I realized I would win this just fight.

I will not go into all the tortuous arguments. Casuistry is a high art among the Krozairs. I based my claim on deeds open to all. I offered the instance of the clearing of the Grodnims from the southern shore, a process still proceeding but all too plainly about to finalize successfully for the Zairians.

“Impious braggart!” shouted Kazz. “You claim this great work is your doing, when the thanks go to Zair?”

“I helped,” I said. I heard the growls from my people and I hoped they wouldn’t break out. At least, not yet.

Pur Zenkiren said, “I speak for the Apushniad. He has accomplished much. I would give him the High Jikai!”

“Aye!” bellowed my people. “Dray Prescot! Hai Jikai!”

“If they do not behave they will be ejected,” snarled Kazz.

Of them all it had to be Korf Aighos who laughed. I wondered how much loot he had stuffed into his sacks, the great reiver.

The arguments went on. It was becoming clear to all that Pur Kazz, while still retaining his mystical authority as Grand Archbold, was in very truth a sick man. The wound across his face had driven deep into his mind as well as his body. And yet he was the Grand Archbold, and he owed the allegiance of the Krozairs for his position, and his near-divine ordinances must be obeyed. No one there would cross him. I detested, as I say, what I was slowly being forced to do. In good times a maniacal Grand Archbold may be tolerated. But in times of war and stress, a man is needed at the helm who may hold total affection from Krozairs as well as total authority. Krozairs may not be driven by the whip, to shouts of

“Grak.”

So I began a new tack in the arguments. I reiterated that I had been unable to answer the Call, and then went on subtly to gnaw away at the position of Pur Kazz himself. I cited his rages, his incoherences. I said that Pur Zenkiren through his great knowledge of the Mysteries knew I spoke the truth, that all who knew the truth knew I did not lie. The Krozairs remained very quiet. My people, too, remained reasonably quiet.

I said, harshly, “Pur Kazz has been wounded. The sword that struck his face struck through to his ib. He is no longer one of us. He is Makib! Makib! He is unfit to hold the high office! The supreme man who should have held the high office of Grand Archbold was foisted off, was betrayed. Now he should receive the high due he deserves. It is Pur Zenkiren who should be Grand Archbold!”

My people were not slow to take up the call, and the yells of Pur Zenkiren for Grand Archbold racketed out as though we shouted for our favorite riders in the zorca races. Pur Zenkiren flung me a startled look. He stood up and somehow silence returned.

“It is not fitting that such grave matters be discussed in the Outer Hall. These are weighty things. You speak aright, Dray Prescot, and yet I will not speak for myself.”

At this Pur Kazz foamed and raved and tried to speak and only produced an eerie gargling. The poor devil was mad, right enough; Makib; insane through no fault of his. But he was not the man to hold down the supreme post of Grand Archbold. The other Krozairs saw this, and yet could do nothing. So Pur Kazz and I fronted each other.

I just hoped none of my men would shaft the onker.

The final stroke seized him as the adjudicator, alarmed, rose to suspend the proceedings. Pur Kazz, foam around his mouth like the foam as a chunkrah runs itself to death, flopped over the side of the Ombor Throne. He was dying as his aides reached him. In a last moment of lucidity, he said, “Krozair! I am a Krozair of Zy!” Then he died, and, despite all, I was sorry for the poor devil. After that we adjourned to the Hall of Judgment, where only Krozair Brothers might venture. I will not detail the events there, for, although I was in the right, the means I had used to prove my point did not exactly make me feel pride. In the event, Pur Zenkiren was unanimously elected Grand Archbold, and I was purged of the Apushniad. Once again I was a Krozair of Zy. Then I set forth my son Jaidur, Jaidur of Valka, Prince of Vallia, also known as Vax Neemusbane, for election. He had completed his training. Again, unanimously, Jaidur was elected and ordained. The ceremony would take place later. For now, Jaidur was a Krzy.

When I told Delia she was pleased.

“When you went away, Dray, and I will tell you of that later, Drak was mad to join the Krozairs, as you had instructed. So I sent Segnik there very young. And he-”

“He will stay in the Eye of the World and become the king of Zandikar. Later on he will mature. Now he is obsessed.”

“Yes, Dray. And Jaidur, too, wanted to go — and-”

“I would have liked him to be named for Inch.”

She looked up at me. We stood on the high outer terrace of the sacred Isle of Zy. Our friends laughed and sang and drank within hail. She said, “But he is. Inch is only Inch’s use-name. Jaidur is Jaidur’s use-name. Their real name is the same and is known only to them.”

I nodded. It was right.

“You have done what you said you would do.” She leaned close.

“Yes, my heart. And I will tell you what I should have told you seasons and seasons ago. But only when we are safe in Esser Rarioch.”

“And what of Nath and Zolta?”

“They seem to get on well with the other rascals. I think they might relish a visit home.” I held her to me.

“And Lela and Dayra?”

“They are about their business. The Sisters of the Rose make demands very like your famous Krozairs of Zy.”

“Hai!” I said, and I laughed. “But although we have won through against great peril, there is a thing we must do yet.”

“Yes. You are a Krozair again, and I am happy. This inner sea is a wonderful place; but I yearn for Vallia!”

“Drak is anxious to return to Vallia. He tells me there are forces at work your father would do well to take notice of. And-”

“Hush, dear heart! The stars shine and the breeze is soft and all the problems of Vallia can wait a while.”

“Yet will I call Grogor, who is a renegade and should be chopped for it, and yet who tried to help our daughter Velia.”

“Yes — you will tell me of this Gafard?”

“I will.”

“Did you know that when Seg heard this king Zo in Sanurkazz had you on his list of infamy, Seg said -

did you know?”

“No.” But I could imagine.

“Seg just stroked one of his terrible steel-tipped arrows and said, ‘If this onker, King Zo, does not rub my old dom’s name from his damned list we shall have to pay him a visit.’ And, dear heart, he meant it!”

“Oh, aye,” I said. “That would be like Seg Segutorio.”

“And Inch said his great ax was feeling dry again.”

“Let us forget everything for tonight,” I said, holding my Delia. She lifted her face to me, rosy in the streaming pink moons-light, for the Maiden with the Many Smiles and She of the Veils smiled down on our foolishness.

“Yes, my heart,” said my Delia of the Blue Mountains, my Delia of Delphond.

“Although,” I told her as, our arms about each other, we went into the chamber prepared for us, “we must take that great rogue Grogor and go to Green Magdag of the Megaliths and there find our granddaughter, Didi, and bring her home with us.”

“Yes. Do you think Gafard would have liked that — for I know Velia would have longed for it.”

“I think Gafard would,” I said, and turned to close the shutters. I thought I caught a hint of lambent blueness beyond the window.