Water Sleeps

97

“That must have been one kick-ass nightmare,” Willow Swan told me, kneeling beside me, having just shaken my shoulder to waken me. “Not only were you snoring, you were grunting and squeaking and carrying on a conversation with yourself in three different languages.”

“I’m a woman of many talents. Everybody says so.” I shook my head groggily. “What time is it? It’s still dark.”

“Another talent emerges. I can’t get anything past the old girl.”

I grumbled, “The priests and the holy books tell us that God created man in His own image but I’ve read a lot of holy books including those of the idolaters and not once have I found any other evidence that He had a sense of humor, let alone is the kind of person who would try to make jokes before the sun even came up. You’re a sick man, Willow Swan. What’s going on?”

“Last night you said we’d have to start early. So Sahra thought you meant we should be ready to go as soon as there’s light enough to see. So we can get off the plain with plenty of daylight to spare.”

“Sahra is a wise woman. Wake me up when she’s ready to go.”

“I think right now would be a good time to get up, then.”

I raised my hands. It was just light enough to see them. “Gather ’round, people.” Once a reasonable crowd had done so I explained that each of us who had stayed behind in the fortress had been given knowledge that would help us in times to come. “Shivetya seems very interested in our success. He tried to give us what he believed would be useful tools. But he’s very slow and has his own demonic perspectives and doesn’t know how to explain anything clearly. So it’s extremely likely that there is a lot we know that we won’t know we know until something makes us think of it. Be patient with us. We’ll probably be a little strange for a while. I’m having trouble getting used to the reeducated me and I live here. New knowledge pops up every time I turn around. Right now, though, I just want to get off this plain. Our resources are still limited. We have to establish ourselves as fast as we can.”

Those faces I could discern revealed fear of the future. Somewhere the dog whined. Iqbal’s baby whimpered momentarily as Suruvhija shifted her from one nipple to the other. In my consideration, that child ought to have been weaned by now but I knew I had no justification for my opinion. None of my babies have been born yet. And it is getting a little late to bring them in.

People waited for me to tell them something informative. The more thoughtful now wondered what new troubles awaited us since we had actually made it this far. Swan could be right. It could be harvest season in the Land of Unknown Shadows. And it could also be the season for scalping foreigners.

I was troubled myself but had been faced with the unknown so often that I had calluses on that breed of fear. I knew perfectly well it would do me no good to fuss and worry when I had no idea what lay ahead. But worry I would, anyway. Even when knowledge contracted while I slept assured me that we would not encounter disasters once we shifted off the plain.

I had planned to offer a rousing speech but quickly discarded that notion. No one was interested. Not even me. “Is everybody ready? Then let’s go.”

Getting started took less time than I expected. Most of my brothers had not stopped to hear me say what they anticipated would be the same old same old. They had gone on getting ready to roll. I told Swan, “I guess ’In those days the Company...’ works a lot better after supper and a hard day’s work.”

“Does for me. Works even better when I’ve had something to drink. And it’s a kick-ass wowser after I’ve gone to bed.”

I walked with Sahra for a while, renewing our acquaintance, easing the strain between us. She remained tense, though. It would not be that long before she had to deal with her husband in the flesh for the first time in a decade and a half. I did not know how to make that easier for her.

Then I walked with the Radisha for an hour. She, too, was in an unsettled mood. It had been even longer since she had had to deal with her brother in all but the most remote capacities. She was a realist, however. “There’s nothing I can lose to him, is there? I’ve lost it all already. First to the Protector, through my own blindness. Then you stole me away from Taglios and robbed me of even the hope of reclaiming my place.”

“Bet you something, Princess. Bet you that you’re already being remembered as the mother of a golden age.” That actually seemed a reasonable prediction. The past always seems better when the present consists of clabbered misery. “Even without the Protector back in the capital yet. Once we’re established, the first mission I mean to launch will be to get word back to Taglios that you and your brother are both alive, you’re really angry, and you’re going to come back.”

“We all must dream,” the woman told me.

“You don’t want to go back?”

“Do you recall the taunt you laid before me every day? Rajadharma?”

“Sure.”

“What I may want is of no importance. What my brother might want does not signify, either. He’s had his adventures. Now I’ve had mine. Rajadharma constrains us more surely than could the stoutest chain. Rajadharma will call us back across the uncounted leagues as long as we continue to breathe, through the impossible places, past all the deadly perils and improbable beings. You reminded me again and again of my obligation. Perhaps by doing so, you created a monster fit to battle the beast who displaced me. Rajadharma has become my vice, Sleepy. It has become my irrational compulsion. I continue to follow you only because reason insists that even though this path leads me farther from Taglios today, it is the shortest road to my destiny.”

“I’ll help where I can.” I did not commit the Company, though. I still had the Captain and Lieutenant to waken and deal with. I started to move on. I wanted to visit with Master Santaraksita for a while and lose myself, perhaps, in an interplay of intellectual speculation. The librarian’s horizons were much broader these days. “Sleepy.” “Radisha?”

“Has the Black Company extracted sufficient revenge?” We had taken away everything but the love of her people. And she was not a bad woman. “In my eyes you’re just one small gesture short of redemption. I want you to apologize to the Captain once he recovers enough to understand what’s happening.”

Her lips tightened. She and her brother did not let themselves be slaves to considerations of station or caste, but still, apology to a foreign mercenary? “If I must, I must. My options are limited.”

“Water sleeps, Radisha.” I joined Suvrin and Master Santaraksita, taking a few minutes to visit with the black stallion on the way there. It carried One-Eye, who was breathing but otherwise did not look much better than a corpse. I hoped he was just sleeping an old man’s sleep. The horse seemed bored. I suppose it was tired of adventures.

“Master. Suvrin. By some chance do you two suffer any memories you didn’t have before we came to the plain?”

They did indeed, Santaraksita more so than Suvrin. Shivetya’s gifts seemed shaped for each individual. Master Santaraksita proceeded to relate yet another version of the Kina myth and of Shivetya’s relationship to the Queen of Death and Terror. This one assumed the point of view of the demon. It did not say much that was new, just shifted the relative importance of various characters and, laterally, blamed Kina for the passing of the last few builders.

Kina remained a black-hearted villain in this version, while Shivetya became one of the great unsung heroes, deserving of a much higher standing in myth. Which could be true. He had no standing at all. Nobody outside the plain had ever heard of him. I suggested, “When you get back to Taglios now, Master, you can establish a mighty reputation by explaining the myths in the words of a being who lived through their creation.”

Santaraksita smiled sourly. “You know better, Dorabee. Mythology is one area where nobody wants to know the absolute truth because time has forged great symbols from raw materials supplied by ancient events. Prosaic distortions of fact metamorphose into perceived truths of the soul.”

He had a point. In religion, precise truth has almost no currency. True believers will kill and destroy to defend their inaccurate beliefs.

And that is a truth upon which you can rely.