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Chapter 13 Trans-Titan 

        Simone lay on her back on the deck of a moving ship and looked up at a million stars. In her dream, she knew that she had been on the ship for many days and that she was going to a place of Answers. As the ship gently beached at her destination, it began to be morning, and she saw a great mountain dominating the land. She left the ship--which seemed to be empty except for her--and walked slowly inland over small hills until the sea was no longer visible.

        The land was green, fresh, and cool; the grass short; the sunlight cheerful without being too warm. Nothing mattered and all was well. As she rounded the shoulder of a hill, she found someone seated in the grass nearby, a dark haired girl of about her own age, wearing a rich gown of green and black. The girl was slim, pretty, and blue eyed. She smiled at Simone. With nothing else to do and nowhere to go, Simone sat down with her. Neither spoke for a long time.

        Then Simone found herself telling the girl everything.

        "I want to go home," she said. "I want to sleep in my own bed, and I want to take a bath. You wouldn't believe how filthy I am and how dirty my clothes are. The knees of my pants are literally rotting. And I'm so tired, and I hurt."

        The girl looked at her affectionately and nodded for her to go on.

        "OK, I want a cheeseburger, and I want fries and a milkshake on the side. Then I want to have Sarah over and we'll make popcorn and watch TV. Mom and Clay will both be there, so I want Clay back."

        Now she began to falter for words. "And I want--not to be a murderer. I killed a second man this morning; that is, I think he's dead. I had to, you know, because Zatur's band was trying to catch us, so we had to fight. But it's a horrible memory to have stabbed someone. I can't live with that baggage. I want to be sweet inside. I'm not asking to be pretty like you, but I have to deal with this blood on my hands, or die."

        She paused in confusion, wondering how she could have poured all this out without first discovering if the girl spoke English. She glanced up the mountain. "Can you--can you tell all that to whoever should hear it?"

        The girl gave her hand a squeeze. "Nosky," she said in Gellene. ("He knows.")

        Simone thought that over. "Will it be all right?"

        The girl nodded.

        "Because I just want to go back. This tunnel I'm in, this Leb Nashraksa, heads toward the valley where the Door is. If I tell the others to go that way with me, they'll have to do it. Oh, don't look at me that way! I want to go home and get a job--I'm through with high school now. And I want Carl Besanto to date me and to marry me, and then we'll have kids, and we won't ever get divorced."

        She paused, feeling unsure of herself. What about Athlaz?

        "You want that?" the girl questioned.

        "Yes."

        "It's not good for you to lie."

        "Who's lying? I haven't lied."

        "But you keep telling me what you want, and yet you don't come to the most important thing. Isn't that a form of lying?"

        Simone thought this over much more calmly than she would have in the waking world.

        "I came to the Great Tunnel in the first place," she said, "because I thought my journey would please Him, I mean Ulrumman. But He seems to have abandoned us."

        "Never mind the abandonment," the dark-haired girl said matter-of-factly. "Your intent was to please Him whom your soul loves. Stick to that. So do you please Him?"

        Hesitating, Simone met the girl's eyes and saw something in them she had not expected: something of kinship, of sisterhood. She knew that this girl had suffered for Ulrumman. That was good enough. No more conversation was necessary.

        "I have to go now," Simone said. "You've been good to me, thank you. Um, may I ask who you are?"

        The girl laughed a jarring sort of laugh and hugged Simone. "I'm a kind of mother to you," she said. "My name is Lila."

        Simone woke in the dark with such a sense of blessing that she was not much alarmed to see a faint light at the back of the room. Rising without disturbing the others, she found her way to the bottom of the little stairway. The light was coming from up above. She loosened her sword in its sheath, drew a dagger, and started up. She was unafraid, for she considered with a smile that she was unlikely to meet with anything more deadly than herself.

        In a few moments she stood behind the throne she had seen from below. Its black bulk was outlined by the light, which seemed to come from the floor in front of it and out of Simone's line of vision. Slipping to the left, she saw a few pieces of burning wood and, crouching low before the throne, Blumma. The Ulriga was scrubbing the stone seat with a rag.

        Simone came closer. "Nice night, huh? Not many stars."

        The Ulriga paused to wet the rag from a skin bag that lay at her side. "I was lying awake thinking of how dirty this must be, so I nosed around and found some unburnt wood and wetted it to make it burn more slowly. And then I always carry a bit of everything in my belt pouch. I had this cloth and a water bag." She rubbed again at the back of the throne.

        "Why clean it?" Simone asked. "No one's going to sit in it."

        "It may be that no one ever has, Empress, but you could. You're the only one with the right, you know, because you're the descendant of the one it was intended for. It's a bit late perhaps, but someone ought to get some use out of it." The Ulriga laughed a little at her own small joke.

        Simone touched the high stone back. "Not very comfortable."

        "The one it was intended for was ka Sisska," Blumma went on. "The Torch. You humans call him Quintus. He brought to us the fire of Karasis, Son of Ulrumman, teaching us from the Book of Books. Since then the Sarrs have known the true way, though not all accept it."

        She beat her rag against the low stone balustrade to knock off some of the grime, and the moving air made the fire flare a little. By the brighter light Simone saw an open doorway on the opposite side of the throne. She went over and looked in.

        "Bring some light, Blumma."

        Blumma took up a stick burning on one end, and they went together down a short passage to another room in which the walls and ceiling were very irregular. Simone took the crude torch from Blumma and held it close to a wall. To her astonishment, she found there the imprint of a hideous face, the same sort of bat-face she had seen carved on a chair in the hall of council in the Palace Of Reflections. The face of a Vult. Moving the light around, she discovered many more impressions of Vult bodies, hundreds of them, leading off down a narrowing tunnel. There seemed to be no end to them.

        "Blumma, did someone carve these?"

        "No, Your Eminence. You've found the Vultlag of our legends, the place where the Vults slept for many hundreds of years. The Great Tunnel was purposely built to pass by here so that the Sisska, when he would come, might see them in their sleep. He did not come. But ages later the Emperor Kuley spoke to the Vults and woke them, and they flew out to join the waking species. When they pulled free from the tunnel walls, they left behind these impressions."

        Simone shuddered. "They're horrible."

        "Don't be afraid. They sleep again."

        "Where? Nearby?"

        "No one knows, Empress. Some say to the north across the Sidder-Phar."

        They quitted the place and returned to the throne balcony. Simone had been a little afraid of the throne, but compared to the Vultlag it looked homey and inviting. She sat down on its newly cleaned surface and drew her legs up. Blumma found her rag and seemed ready to use it on one of the arms, but the Ulriga paused and stood back, staring at Simone in the waning light of the fire.

        "What is it?" Simone said.

        Slowly, Blumma prostrated herself at Simone's feet.

        "Oh, come on, knock it off." Simone nudged the Ulriga with a boot toe. "Do I look like an empress? More like a grimy grasshopper wearing a helmet."

        Then something about the positions of the two of them fell into place in her mind, and Simone had a vision. The darkness fell away, and the area beyond the balcony was lit by a thousand lamps. The Leb Nashraksa was clean and shining, no broken masonry or blackened walls. Down below, filling the tunnel so thickly that not an inch of floor was visible, were the Sarrs, thousands of them, all bowing low, all chanting, "Sisska! Sisska! Sisska!"

        All the Sarrs were there. She saw Ulrigs, Dragons, Loopers, and Lusettas. She saw the cat-like Mangars and Mangarees and the lizard-like Silbs. There were the Vults, newly awakened by the voice of the Sisska, exulting in his presence. There were the Fijats: she saw them, for in her vision no one had cursed them with invisibility, or ever would. And she saw the Hagards, spare and tusked, still alive and never to be exterminated, bowing with the rest.

        Upon the throne was not a weary and wounded teenage girl but a man in the prime of his strength and wisdom. He looked out over them with understanding. He spoke to them. Their wars were over, he said, their security established. Now had begun the Kingdom of the Karasis--the Trunk-fire from heaven....

        Simone came out of it with a start. Blumma still knelt before her, barely visible in the light of the worm-like embers. Simone reached forward and held the Ulriga under her muzzle.

        "Now I understand, Blumma, now I see it! You weren't ready for him, you poor, poor Sarrs. You could have had your Eden, your--your Atlantis, your Camelot. But you broke it all to pieces with your own paws before Quintus ever came. No wonder you still go half mad over a True Descendant."

        Blumma pawed at Simone's knee. "It's up to you," she quavered, "to save us, to heal our land and our hearts. Save us, O Great Simone, by the hand of Ulrumman. Keep us Sarrs from destroying one another and the humans too. There is such a darkness in our minds that we could eradicate every living thing on the face of the land. Even the little stickstar. Where's the light? Come between us and our own murderous hearts, Simone."

        'And how,' Simone thought, 'can I do that when my own heart is murderous?' But she could hardly answer Blumma with that. She stammered something about doing her best.

        Long before daybreak Mald came back from a trip to the surface and reported that all was clear above, with no trace of Zatur's men. He had even found Misu waiting for them in a tree nearby; and she reported that she had somehow stolen back from the bandits two of their backpacks--unfortunately empty. The travelers now made the long climb back up the ventilation tunnel and emerged under a nearly full moon. Blumma, Snag, and Snart fetched food and gear from Blumma's cave, and they all ate a cold meal before going on. Blumma remained behind rejoicing--for in the first light she saw that her stickstars had bloomed at last.

        The travelers still had some money and soon bought the things they needed to continue. Why Zatur had not set a watch for them they never learned, but they were untroubled by him or anyone else as they covered the last marches down to the gates of the Sidder-Phar, or Iron Valley. Everyone cheered up except Abram, who was troubled by his wound, and perhaps something more. He no longer chattered. He trudged along as doggedly as ever but with fingers that twitched at his sides and a pale, sorrowful face. He seemed to be listening for something--perhaps some strange music in the wind.

        During these October days, Simone had time to mull over many things. If she could somehow get back to Viola, she told herself, and if her mother was unharmed, then she could try to live as she had before--only without Clay, she remembered with a pang of misery. She had finished high school, but the family did not have money for more than her first semester of college expenses, so she would get a minimum wage job somewhere. She would continue to try to attract the boys, probably with the same lack of success as before. She would be lonely, write poetry, row on the cemetery pond--eventually be Sarah Overby's bridesmaid.

        In contrast, life in the Fold was very dangerous but had a zesty flavor. She began to wonder if Athlaz might be persuaded to change his mind about her supposed exalted status. Yes, maybe if this mission was over, and they both were still alive, she could go back to Ursala with him and become his wife. They would honeymoon in Ruin, making merry with the Loopers, and have a happy, peaceful life in the Forest. She began to pick out names for children.

        In the late afternoon of October eighteenth, they drew near to the Mountain Gate, highest of the gates in the Long Wall that crossed the Sidder-Phar from north to south. This had been built long before to keep the Pergs within the Land of Freedom, and was guarded by armed soldiers. Non-Pergs might pass by paying a toll. On the other side was Trans-Titan, in which lived a Perg people who long ago had had their schism with the majority to the west. The Trans-Titanites believed themselves to be the only true followers of Tiras. The western majority believed that the Trans-Titanites would, of course, burn in eternal torment.

        Before the travelers reached human habitations, Snag and Snart took temporary leave of them, striking eastward to enter the Ulrigs' mountain tunnels. So hated are the Sarrs by these Pergs that no Ulrig may safely show himself beyond his mountain strongholds. Snag and Snart would therefore take the shorter route to a rendezvous at Mount Rinna on the far side of the Iron Valley. Misu would fly there directly.

        "We've paid your extortionate toll, so why don't you let us through?" Simone asked.

        The ugly, dark bearded guard stared at her with piercing eyes. "Take off your helmet," he grunted.

        Simone obligingly removed her helmet, and her long, dirty hair fell around her shoulders.

        "A girl," he laughed to the other soldiers. "Not the one we're looking for."

        Simone and Athlaz exchanged glances as they stood at the great gate with its pointed arch. Abram stood behind them, his dull eyes staring ahead.

        "Is it all right if I ask who you're looking for?" Simone said to the guard.

        Unexpectedly, the man felt like talking.

        "A blond haired boy who pretends to be emperor. Our country's prince has offered a fortune to whoever will capture him. We know the boy was here in Prowts not many days ago, in the city of Dowerkass, but he's disappeared. Well, I swear he won't get through this gate without getting caught."

        "I believe it," said Athlaz smoothly. "you don't look the sort to let anything get by you. But speaking of getting by...."

        The guard laughed, showing bad teeth, and stood aside. "You're no Pergs, so you're free to go--and blacken your souls to damnation." He gave Athlaz a parting prod with the butt of his spear.

        On the other side Athlaz said to Simone, "I'm surprised you didn't try to learn more from him."

        "What, and find out it is Clay? And the whole Prowts army hunting him down? No way, I'd rather not know."

        "There's some wisdom in that," Mald agreed from Simone's shoulder. "If your brother is in a desperate fix, we can't do anything to help. So best to make plans for ourselves and leave Clay to Ulrumman."

        They stopped speaking as another group of travelers passed them, toiling up the steep road. No one must hear Mald's raspy voice coming seemingly from nowhere.

        "Yes, what is our plan now?" Athlaz asked when the group had passed.

        "The hardest part of our journey is over," said Mald, "the part that Dramun and Grall said was impossible. Now we pass through little Trans-Titan and into the northwest of Anatolia. It's a long way to Colonia on the coast, but every mile is through peaceful, well governed land. No bandits, no plague. True, Grall feared that Simone's identity would have become known by now, and that, exposed to her enemies on the plain, she would be taken. But she's as unknown as when we started. Probably, no one will pay us any attention all the rest of the way. What's that, Abram? Nothing? So as I say, if the Ulrigs have allowed any Forest soldiers to pass north through the mountain tunnels --which I think highly unlikely--then they won't be needed."

        "Abram, are you all right?" Simone said, for the little man was muttering to himself.

        "I just don't think it will be as easy as all that," he said with an apologetic laugh.

        Simone ignored this. "If the Forestmen do come," she said, "Snag and Snart will tell us when they rejoin us at Mount Rinna."

        "Yes, Empress."

        "So anyway, we walk hundreds more miles to Colonia, and then what?"

        "That's what I keep asking myself," said Mald. "How do we present you in Eschor with the slightest hope of your being accepted as Empress? Many Sarrs are willing to take the word of the Fijats, master genealogists that we are, and so do the human Forestmen; but here in the North, Fijats count for nothing. And then there's the problem of Solomon, who currently sits the throne at Colonia. His family has for many decades claimed descent from Lila, so he styles himself the Emperor. It's a fraud, of course, and one that the rest of the Fold sees through; but I can hardly imagine Solomon standing aside for you. More likely he'll ignore you--or imprison you."

        "Well, you must have thought of something," said Simone lightheartedly.

        "Actually, I haven't. I keep praying for wisdom, but nothing suggests itself. We can only hope that Colonia, when we get there, is in the grip of some dire crisis, perhaps with Zeeba's Dragons at the very gates. Then the people might be willing to turn to a stranger, one who commands at least some respect from the Dragons themselves."

        "Not much, I don't. You're really reaching for it, Maldy."

        "Well yes, I know it's pretty thin."

        "This could be good fun in a way," she said. "Finally, I'll be in a place where they take my claim to the throne as unseriously as I do. Free at last!"

        "It won't be fun," said Mald sternly, "if the Eschorians are slaughtered by Dragons simply because they won't believe you."

        "No, I suppose not. But if this prophecy about me is going to come about, then shouldn't we be able to see some way it could happen? I mean some tiny, small chance of it? I'm not saying I don't believe it, but--"

        "Exactly," said Athlaz. "We don't doubt, but if no one in these lands accepts Simone's claim, then she can, at any rate, still be recognized as Empress in the South. So then we'd go back, if that's how things are. We certainly shouldn't take the chance of her being imprisoned in Colonia."

        "Let's go ahead and see how things are," said Mald firmly. "And remember, in the meantime, that the fire we want to put out might easily spread across the whole Fold. The safety even of Ursala can't be guaranteed, no, nor even of the Nasseelkir of the Fijats. Also, you got here with some little difficulty. Do you think it will be easier to return? Trust in Ulrumman, and don't look back."

        Simone was tired of such gloomy talk. She made a silly face at Athlaz, and he laughed.

        Mald sighed. "You humans...." he began, but stopped himself.

        "What?" said Simone. "We humans what?"

        "Nothing."

        "Say it!"

        "All right, I will! You're half silly Looper and half pitiless Dragon. Crazy, bare apes who tie cloth on their slick pink hides and march off to conquer all creation. You're gods, but when your godhood gets to be too much for you, you fling it aside and make stupid jokes like those scarcely out of the egg. You live like fools, but sometimes you die like --like...."

        "Like noble Fijats," said Simone quietly.

        "Yes, sometimes," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to crawl into your pack and take a nap."

        As they descended from the Mountain Gate, they looked out over the cropland of these northern plains, dotted by villages. Just below them was a khan--or inn--nestled in a crease of the mountainside. The khan was a rectangle of covered rooms with an open courtyard in the middle. Within the enclosure were sheep and other domestic animals on their way to market. Athlaz also pointed out with delight two of the giant sloths which are used by the Trans-Titanites as beasts of burden. Some of the khan's visitors were in the galleries that all around separated the rooms from the courtyard. Here and there, oil lamps were being lit, and a wood fire. They remembered that they would sleep in a real human habitation for the first time since they had left the Forest of Darkness two months before. They were met by the innkeeper, a clean-shaven and oddly accented man who wore clothes different from those of the Pergs: a long blue coat with buttons and a leather hat with flaps that covered the back and sides of his head. He was, in fact, a foreigner even to the Tran-Titanites, an Eschorian; and Simone looked with interest at this sample of the people she had come to save. She was pleased with his friendly face and courteousness as he listened to their food order and took payment. After settling in one of the Spartan, unfurnished rooms, Athlaz and Simone left Abram and Mald and went out to the galleries to look around. Here they found a mixture of humanity, both Trans-Titanite and foreigner, almost all male. More Eschorians were gathered around a fire, chatting and drinking from earthen mugs. A group of Pergs knelt under a hanging lamp and shouted and gestured, playing at dice. Two others played at chess on a board scratched out on the stone pavement. At one corner of the khan several ragged men huddled in chains, watched by armed guards. These were slaves in transport. The two young people drifted toward the sound of a nevel and found a young Perg bard playing in the midst of a group of ten or twelve. These were gathered around another fire built just off the gallery in the courtyard itself, under the stars. The bard sang:

                The King and Queen are come,

                The Sun and Moon shall bless us;

                The King a golden Sun,

                The Queen a Moon most precious.

                The prophet sang,

                The words flew true

                As arrows through the sky.

                Like swords that rang,

                The words ran through

                The foes of Thoz Most High.

        As he went on in this vein, Simone grew uncomfortable. It was embarrassing! What would these folk do if they knew their prophesied, precious-moon Queen stood among them? She gave Athlaz a slight tug and began to move away, but her way was blocked by someone. The fire reflected in the alert gray eyes of a sturdy, middle-aged man in Perg dress. He looked up intently into her face and spoke crisply, smilingly.

        "You know the song? It's new-written since the Emperor passed through Prowts just a few days ago. Lots of excitement now; many songs springing up about that prophecy, and old songs dusted off. What do you think of--"

        "We're not very interested," said Athlaz, stepping between protectively, "in songs new or old. We're just going to our room to get some sleep." He began to brush past the man.

        "The young lady does look tired," the stranger said quietly.

        Athlaz and Simone halted as it registered that Simone's disguise had been penetrated even in the dark.

        "Let's go inside," the man added in a whisper, "and let me speak to you, great lady, and to you also, Athlaz of Ursala. Have no fear, I'm a friend."

        They led the stranger to their room, now lit by smoky oil lamps, and closed the tall, arched door behind them. Abram they found lying with his head on his pack, resting his wound. He looked up at Simone with feverish eyes and began talking to her without a glance toward the man they had brought with them.

        "That song!" he said. "I heard it through the open door, and it set my fingers to trembling for the touch of a nevel. Something's wrong, Simone. I've felt it ever since the Leb Nashraksa. I had strange dreams there of something high and sorrowful. You'll say it's my wound, but that isn't it. Some terrible and great event is approaching, and I'll have to sing about it. I--I don't even know whether I'll be able to play a nevel--but--"

        "Rest yourself," said Simone. "You're just a little feverish and--"

        "Here in this land," he went on, "and soon. The gathering of the peoples, of armies. I see blood and fire."

        Simone smiled. "But Mald says these are peaceful lands we're entering so--" She could not go on, for suddenly she knew with certainty that Abram was right. "Um, wait a minute. No, wait, you're right. A great batttle here in Trans-Titan. You'll see it all, just as you say, and make a song about it."

        "Already I can hear it," he said tiredly. "The notes are forming."

        "How can this be?" Simone asked.

        The stranger answered. "It's not impossible," he said. "Armies are beginning to move. They say a Farjan army was marching north of Prowts not many days ago."

        Simone looked at him. In the lamplight he seemed far from threatening: rather short, nicely dressed, and with a face that reminded her of her sixth grade teacher, Mr. Baird. "This man knows us, and claims to be a friend," she said. "But he hasn't said who he is."

        "I am Minoz, the Unknown King of Trans-Titan," he said.

        "The what?"

        "You've heard me speak," said Mald, "of the Land of Unknown Kings."

        Surprisingly, Minoz did not start or even look around as Mald's voice came seemingly out of nowhere.

        "Though it's far across the ocean in the Ebbil Kir," Mald went on. "I've been there, and not so long ago. From there sail forth the rulers of every nation in the Fold--the unacknowledged rulers, that is. This has been going on for over a thousand years, and as yet only two of them have ever occupied a throne here on the continent; and that was long ago. Hardly surprising. You don't just walk in and take over a country."

        "Tell me about it," said Simone dryly.

        "I recognize the voice of a Fijat," said Minoz. "Is it Misar Mald or Misar Razaber?"

        "Mald," the Fijat replied, "but I wonder how you know who to expect?"

        "The message I received informed me not only of the route the Princess might travel but also of who would be likely to be with her."

        Simone turned to Athlaz. "Do you know anything about Unknown Kings?"

        He knitted his brow. "There's a crazy, old woman in Skoteine who calls herself the Unknown Queen of the Forest States. They say she lives as a pauper over in Leona. No one bothers her. My father says it's bad luck to harm an Unknown Ruler."

        "It's worse than bad luck, it's courting disaster," said Mald. "I could name half a dozen nations that once were mighty and now are nothing but names in history books; nations that imprisoned or executed their Unknown Rulers. As for your Queen Clopedra of the Forest States, I know her well, and she's far from crazy. She has noted the enthusiasm of the iron house Masters toward a revived empire, and has rewarded those states with excellent hunting and special protection from the Vulture's creatures. But back to the matter at hand. Minoz, you understand that we want proof of your identity? Do you have your crown with you?"

        "No," said Minoz, "it's inconvenient to carry it with me. Might get stolen. I can't prove who I am, I suppose, but what's it matter? I can prove I have a genuine message from the Emperor."

        Minoz knelt on one knee and offered something to Simone. "My Princess, I believe this bracelet is yours?"

        Simone gasped, for he was holding out her own wristwatch that she had given to the Lusetta Angfetu in the garden of Ursala months before. She held it to the light and looked it over.

        "The message is this," said Minoz. "The Emperor wants you to meet him at Colonia. Also, he is well and misses you. That's all. However, I should add that, since I've been watching for you here, I've had word from Unknown King Pindar over in Prowts. Pindar says things have not gone well, that the Emperor was unable to pass the gates of the Sidder-Phar and was in danger of being captured. He has fled northward into the wilderness west of the mountains. That's all I know."

        Simone still held the watch, her face stonily calm, her eyes narrowed. "What's this Emperor's name and what does he look like?"

        "That wasn't in the message, Princess."

        "I wonder why not? Mald, what do you think of this man and his message?"

        "I like his looks, or I wouldn't have spoken aloud to him, Simone. As for the bracelet, if it's genuine, the message probably is too, for who else but your brother would know whose it was?"

        "Angfetu could have been captured and forced to tell," she said.

        "Possibly, Your Eminence, but as a practical matter we are going to Colonia anyway, so we may yet see the sender of this message, supposing he has escaped his enemies. Minoz, do you know anything of Angfetu?"

        Minoz shook his head. "The name means nothing to me--sounds Lusettan."

        Simone slipped on the watch, which was still running. "So Angfetu has disappeared after parting with my watch, and I get a vague message from someone claiming to be Clay, but without so much as his name attached to it."

        "Meanwhile," added Athlaz, "a pretender to the empire is last heard from headed north into the barren lands, and not toward Colonia."

        "Not enough to lose any more sleep over, is it?" Mald said. "Minoz, please remain with us tonight. I want to talk with you about many things."

        That night Mald became convinced that Minoz was who he claimed to be, for the man knew all the ways of the Land of Unknown Kings. So next morning King Minoz accompanied them on the road down to the plain.

Chapter 14 The Battle of the Field of Parting 

        For several days they dawdled from khan to khan, enjoying the rustic villages of Trans-Titan in the sunshine of autumn, glad to be sleeping under roofs, bathing, and eating properly cooked food. They had been nearly out of money, but now Minoz supplied their lack with curious gold coins from his homeland, stamped with the image of a Dragon, and with 'dragons' they replaced their tattered clothes. Then in a bazaar in the smallest of villages, Simone came across a small but exquisitely crafted nevel and bought it for Abram. He began to pluck out melodies on it, while wincing from the pain in his shoulder.

        When they were still far from their rendezvous with Snag and Snart below Mount Rinna, they began to hear rumors of a dreadful invasion in the north of the land. No two stories matched, but all seemed to confirm Abram and Simone's prophecies. An army of strangers had come, they were told, and had spread cruel depredations. Mald had them quicken their pace, hoping to escape the fate of this little country.

        On the foggy morning of October twenty-seventh, actual refugees arrived outside the khan where the travelers had just finished breakfast and were donning their packs. About thirty wagons jammed the road, each drawn by an ox or a sloth and overflowing with possessions; and beside trudged hundreds of Perg peasants.

        King Minoz spoke to a gray haired patriarch among them.

        "Kroz-chieftain! What's happened in the north, and who did it?"

        "The filthy dogs!" said the old man. "Sigapoleians, infidels! Many, many thousands of them came from across the mountains. They robbed us, burnt our crops and our houses, and killed anyone who stood in their way. We are some of the lucky ones who got away."

        Minoz looked down the line of wagons, noting that a few refugees, crippled with age, were allowed to ride. Young mothers walked, carrying babies in their arms.

        "Are there many more coming?"

        "Yes, very many more."

        "And what about our army?"

        "Broken in battle," said the old man. "Some say they were wiped out to the last man."

        Minoz gripped the old man's shoulder. "These stories, they're often exaggerated. If our army is broken, they'll regroup. Don't give up hope."

        He returned to Simone and the others and reported what the old man had said.

        "If the invaders are so close," said Mald, "we'd better go up in the mountains and sit it out."

        "Yes, go," Minoz said, "but at a time like this my place is with my country's army, if there's any army left. This country is mine, so I bear a special responsibility."

        "They're all mine," said Simone, "so I'm going on with you."

        For once Mald did not argue.

        Arriz settled his heavy, shabbily robed figure on a field chair, stroked his long moustache ends, and contemplated suicide. That is, he contemplated the near certain necessity of suicide after his army would fight and lose on the morrow.

        "Fifteen engagements, two major battles--and we lost them all," he said. "You'd think Thoz would have favored us just once."

        Across the field tent his aide Crito raised his eyes from his writing. "It's a wonder we still have an army," he said. "But that's what I'm calling us. I've written: 'From Arriz of Muros, Commander of the Grand Army of Trans-Titan; to Pyrus, commander of the Army of Farja.' How shall I continue?"

        Arriz slapped Pyrus' recently delivered letter against his knee and cursed. "He demands the boy Pretender!--a blond headed boy with a strange accent, and possibly traveling in the company of a Mangar, of all things. Crito, couldn't we take one of our young fellows, dye his hair, and send him?"

        Crito clucked regretfully. "But what about the accent? And we can't fake a Mangar. Also, Pyrus says he has someone who can identify the boy by face. What was her name?"

        Arriz rescanned the letter. "Lady Metuza Zeezur-Hytra."

        "That was it."

        "'...the Pretender must be delivered over to us this day, or the Army of Farja will destroy you in the morning,'" Arriz read aloud from the document. He sighed. "Would to Thoz we had him to give to them. The officers are still--?"

        "Yes, General, continuous search is being made for him. But we've been looking for several days now. I'm convinced he's not with us." The oil lamp sputtered and Crito rose to trim the wick. "So what shall I write?"

        Arriz rose. "Let's go for a walk first. We have all night to answer, and really there's nothing to say. Tomorrow we fight for our lives, that's all. Pyrus will have cut the valley road west, and his korfy riders hold the crossroads east. With Mount Rinna at our backs, we've no place left to retreat."

        Crito slowly nodded. "So here we are on the last corner of Trans-Titan left to us. It's good to die on our own soil. Let's not try to break through the bird riders."

        "Agreed," said Arriz, and the two threw on their cloaks and went out.

        It was late on October twenty-ninth as under a cloudy night sky they walked the camp. Here were some thirty-four thousand Trans-Titanites, the most men Arriz had yet been able to gather in one place. But actually it was the enemy who had gathered them, driving them into this corner with alternating threats and crushing defeats. The camp held the remnants of four armies that had suffered in this way. The other three generals were dead, two in battle and one by suicide.

        Arriz did not need daylight to know that what had been herded together here was hardly a fighting force. Spears, swords, shields, and armor had been thrown down in flight; supply trains abandoned; and the best officers lost in holding actions, covering continual retreats. He smiled bitterly to think that the Farjan army was reported as smaller than his own. What difference did it make? The enemy was well armed, well fed, confident, and above all well disciplined. Pergs just could not follow orders the way these westerners could. Tonight he would make a plan of battle, knowing that no one would follow it. Frightened and uninspired, the men would break and run as before. Tomorrow would bring a terrible slaughter, and he could do nothing to prevent it.

        At least he had managed to send his wounded and the civilian refugees west before Pyrus could close the valley road. But after tomorrow's battle, the Farjans could pursue those wagons with no more threat of Arriz' army on their flank. The untouched west of Trans-Titan would lie open to them all the way to the Long Wall. Thus their mad search for the foreign boy could continue till all Trans-Titan was in ruins.

        "Who's this?" said Crito at his side. They had drawn near a knot of noisy men: soldiers struggling to hold a civilian. Several torches showed them the prisoner, a bright eyed, middle aged man who, upon seeing Arriz, shouted his name.

        Arriz identified the senior officer present by his red chin strap. "Report."

        "We took his sword from him, sir. He's that Minoz that calls himself the Unknown King. He says he wants to talk to you."

        "Very important!" insisted Minoz, his eyes popping. "An army is in Mount Rinna that could help you. Not Ulrigs--humans."

        Arriz beckoned and the soldiers pulled Minoz nearer.

        "An army of humans in Rinna? Impossible. But I'll let you tell your story in a moment." Arriz turned to Crito. "You remember this rogue, how he used to skulk around our Interpreter's court at Muros? He's one of those mad beggars from the Far East who think they're the Kings of the Fold."

        "I remember him, General. I must say I've not heard that he begs, but I know his ridiculous claims. This about humans in Rinna is new though, isn't it?"

        "They are there," Minoz said stoutly. "Four thousand armed men of the Forest States. They've come by way of--"

        "Wait, wait!" said Arriz laughing. "From the Forest States? How did they fly here? And who leads this phantom band?"

        Minoz' face hardened. "They are led by the Queen of the prophecy, sister to the Emperor."

        His soldiers joined in Arriz' laughter. "Of course, your highness, of course."

        "Don't mock me, listen to me!" said Minoz. "Arriz, send a message to Rinna by way of the Ulrigs and addressed to Princess Simone. Implore her to bring the Forestmen to your aid tomorrow morning. Otherwise, your army is doomed."

        Arriz looked thoughtful. "Crito, have the proper message prepared--and whipped into this moonstruck clown's back. Then send him up the mountain. Perhaps the Ulrigs will be as amused by him as we are."

        Arriz walked on while Crito hung back and spoke to the officer. "Just let him go, and I'll take the responsibility. He can't help his madness, and anyway, they say it's bad luck to harm an Unknown King."

        "You see, Empress, that I have done as you commanded." Towering over the travelers, Dramun gestured with a stony claw across the expanse of Mount Rinna's Pamanbrem, or council hall, a vast chamber hidden within the mountain. Countless lamps showed them not only the human army that Dramun had dutifully shepherded through the Ulrig tunnels, but many thousands of Ulrigs as well.

        Simone stepped forward with Misu perched on her left arm and Mald on her right shoulder; Snag and Snart once again at her sides; and Athlaz and Abram at hand. Still in her soldier's garb, she showed a face under her helmet both tired and determined.

        "Yes, Dramun, very good. I'll consider returning you to my personal guard."

        The Dragon stiffened and mumbled something about being "over honored."

        "You know about the invasion of Trans-Titan?" she asked. "We have to discuss what's to be done."

        "Of course, Your Eminence. We wish to discuss this and much else at the proper time. But for now, these nobles wish only to greet and honor you. If you'll come to the central table...."

        They made their way down to a massive stone table set in the middle and lowest part of the Pamanbrem and lined on all sides by throne-like chairs. From all around, the host of humans and Ulrigs looked down; and seeing Simone come into view, the men stood and shouted, raising their swords, and the Ulrigs howled their approbation.

        Simone rolled her eyes at Athlaz as if to say, 'Here we go again.'

        At the table were many Ulrig nobles and human iron house Masters. They rose and bowed to Simone.

        "I have been chosen to speak for all," said one of the Ulrigs. "I am Misar Shill of the Tem Staltara."

        "You can trust him," Misu whispered to Simone. "He's one of the best of the Ulrigs and a friend of mine."

        "He's one of the few Ulrigs to be honored with the title of Misar," added Mald in her other ear.

        "We welcome you gladly, great Empress," Shill was saying, "and congratulate you on your safe arrival. Tomorrow will be a day of council for all of us. But since the hour is late, we've arranged that you first be escorted to the royal chambers we've prepared. There you can rest and be suitably attired."

        Simone raised her eyebrows. "Rest? Now, Misar? With a terrible battle about to be fought on the plain?"

        Shill paused uncertainly. "It is not our affair. What do you wish, Your Eminence?"

        Simone eased herself into the chair at the head of the table and looked around with a tight grin. "Everyone sit down while Misar Shill explains himself. Speak loudly so the troops can hear you."

        An hour--and six speeches--later, Simone's counselors were ready to sum up. "Interference in the human's battle is out of the question for all the reasons stated," said the Ulrig Senator Drel. "First, it's not our quarrel. Second, the Ulrigs can't do anything because the Pergs hate us and would fight us more fiercely than they do the Farjans. Third, four thousand men are not enough to turn the tide: the Trans-Titanites are bound to lose regardless. Finally, it puts your royal person at risk, Simone, and that is unthinkable.

        "Putting that aside then, we are left with one decision only and that is how to bring the Empress to Colonia. The eastern road is now blocked by Farjan korfy riders. Of course, we have ample force to sweep them aside, but not by my counsel. After tomorrow's battle these riders will move away with the rest of their army. If we wait a day or two, we need risk no one on the plain, and Simone has a clear way to her destination. I welcome other views, but I think we were pretty much agreed on this course before the Empress arrived."

        The Empress was drumming her fingers and had a wild look in her eye. "Can anyone tell me why these Farjans have invaded Trans-Titan?"

        Misar Shill answered. "Your Eminence, they came around the northern end of the mountains, chasing the Pretender. Our spies tell us the Farjan general demands the Pretender be turned over to him, or he will devastate all of Trans-Titan."

        "He's pretty far along on that," said Mald from where he sat on the table near Simone. "Men and Ulrigs, don't the Farjans seem to be swatting flies with a catapult? Why all this massive expense and effort to get one boy? Well, doesn't it suggest that the Pretender might really be Simone's brother the Emperor, whatever the Farjans may say?"

        The nobles were silent and uncomfortable. Only Shill spoke at last. "I've wondered the same thing," he said tentatively. "Go on, Misar Mald."

        "This Farjan invasion has the stamp of Monophthalmos on it," Mald said. "The old crumbly has done this sort of thing before, you know, inciting one nation to devastate another. Furthermore, Farja has long been a stronghold of the witch cult. Even the Farjan council is infiltrated by them. I speak of the Hytra family, the worst clan of deceivers and murderers to ever disgrace the Fold. The Smoke Hag, too, is often in Farja. I more deduce than guess that the witches have now gained enough power over that city to direct the army, and that's great power indeed."

        Shill howled softly. "You chill me, Misar. I thought this was the usual human warfare and not a move by Monophthalmos."

        Simone stroked Mald with tense fingers. "You told me once that Monophthalmos is my great enemy. I know it now. This has to be stopped."

        "Yes, Empress, your enemy," said Mald. "But fortunately he has known nothing about your whereabouts except perhaps that you were at the Palace of Reflections months ago. The Vulture could have told him that. But if you now go down to the plain and show yourself, that's the first pawn move in a deadly game."

        "What's this?" said Dramun, stirring behind Simone's chair. "No one says anything of the Empress going anywhere near the battle. Her safety has been risked enough through the folly of the Fijats."

        "Shut up, Dramun," Simone said agitatedly.

        "No, Empress. I must oppose folly. This Mald is trying to kill you."

        Simone virtually leaped from her chair and faced Dramun, her sword drawn.

        "Take it back, Scale Tail, or I'll make you eat the lie."

        Although Dramun was four feet taller than Simone and many times her bulk, no one in the Pamanbrem laughed. Only Athlaz might have been seen to smile approvingly as he reached for his sword hilts. Snag and Snart glided between Simone and Dramun, but neither drew his sword.

        Dramun's nostrils quivered and blew smoke. "I'll not be made a fool of. And I'll not lie. Mald's counsel has put you at risk of death, Simone."

        "You said he tried to kill me," shouted Simone, her face red. "Take it back!"

        He waved a deprecatory claw. "An exaggeration, Your Eminence. I--uh--retract the statement."

        "Good. Fine. Then you're back in my bodyguard, so report to Captain Snag." Simone turned around and jumped onto the tabletop. "Listen, all of you! I can't knock down all their practical arguments about leaving the Pergs to their fate; I can't deal with debaters' points. But I feel the terrible wrongness of it, the filthy self-servingness. Repulsive!"

        Without quite realizing it, Simone was waving her drawn sword, and many of the Forestmen drew their swords in sympathy, so that the sound of ringing metal filled the hall. Simone waited till all was quiet.

        "I order all the Ulrigs--except those in my personal guard--to stay here. I myself, and my bard Abram, are called down to the battle. If anyone else wants to go, they can. But you're free to stay here."

        "This is nonsense!" Dramun erupted.

        Simone turned on him with a murderous look. "Seeming nonsense," he quietly amended.

        "General Arriz, wake up! General? We have confirmed reports of a force of humans coming down from the mountain. In fact, their envoys are on their way to see you."

        Arriz looked at Crito with astonishment. "Have you sent a reply to Pyrus yet?"

        "No, sir."

        "Well, wait until we're clear on whether these people are with us."

        "Yes."

        "And that Minoz--I suppose he's already been whipped?"

        "Not yet, sir."

        "No? Get him in here. He must have had real information after all."

        Handsome, well dressed General Pyrus of the army of Farja stood on a hill and watched the battle lines form. Below him was his own army, lined up stiff and straight as wooden soldiers, twenty thousand of them, and the late morning light gleamed on their helmets and armor. Beyond were the Perg forces, more numerous, less orderly; their line late in forming--the incompetent fools.

        What was this? He saw that a section of the Perg line was entirely missing, a good quarter mile of the center. Arriz was bumbling again. If that gap remained another half hour, Pyrus intended to take advantage of it. He turned to the officers and aides gathered behind him and issued orders accordingly.

        A runner approached and handed a packet to one of the aides who in turn brought it to Pyrus.

        "The reply from General Arriz, sir."

        Pyrus took and opened it. "He's late with this as with everything else, Demas. Arriz is such a child. You know, I'm almost tired of beating him. One wants a challenge." His dark eyebrows raised. "Another defiance, but this one has a twist. He threatens us with reinforcements that he supposedly received during the night. Hm, foreigners? And where did they supposedly come from? He doesn't say wh--" Pyrus paused, his face frozen, and all eyes turned to him. He looked up again at the battle lines. "Captain Timod, watch that gap in the Perg line and report to me on it. I believe it will be filled by a few thousand mercenaries. Everyone hold this position till I return."

        "Yes, sir."

        "Demas, with me."

        Pyrus began to stride off the hill with surprising speed, aiming for the camp, but halted at the approach of the parties he was looking for. Several slave-bearers carried a two-seated litter toward him. The closed box with drawn curtains at the windows halted just beside him. Pyrus stood by a curtain and waited respectfully till he was spoken to. Presently, a creaking, rasping voice came from within.

        "Slaughter them, Pyrus."

        "Yes, Priestess, we will."

        "Watch for the boy."

        "Everyone has his orders, Priestess. No one will escape us. But I have something curious to report."

        He could hear wheezing, labored breath through the curtain, but no comment came. Silence, he decided, was encouragement.

        "The reply from Arriz just arrived, late, and he sends us defiance. That's expected. What's interesting is this part...." He reopened the message and read, "'Our defiance is seconded by Simone, Lady of Lucilla, Princess of Eschor, Queen of the Prophecy, and Empress of the Fold.' He doesn't quite say that this Pretender is with him but--it's implied."

        A whispered consultation took place within the litter and momentarily the curtain was pulled back, revealing a young and beautiful woman, her hand extended to receive the letter. As Pyrus handed it to her, he saw that she was leaning across from the far side. In the nearer seat was the shrunken, veiled figure of a woman bent with age. The curtain shot across the window again. A little time passed, then the Priestess spoke, her cracked voice quivering with emotion.

        "She's here, another Pretender. Bring me her, too. The whole army must watch for her. She'll be young and have Sarrs with her. A strange accent like the other. Tall and skinny. Tell your men."

        "Yes, Priestess." He nodded to Demas who ran off to deliver the message to the army. "I go now to the battle, Priestess. We've only waited till the sun rose high enough to be out of our eyes."

        "It's almost noon. Go then."

        "With alacrity, Priestess. You and the Lady Zeezur-Hytra will be pleased with the result of this day."

        Pyrus quickly returned to the top of the hill, followed slowly by the litter, for the Priestess apparently intended to watch the slaughter. He found that the gap in the Perg line was now almost filled with the expected foreign troops, standing tall in greens and browns and looking better armed than the natives. Where in Fowroz' name had they come from? He at least knew that the pretended Empress, if she existed, would likely be found among these newcomers. Again he gathered his commanders.

        "A change of plan. Concentrate the battle against the mercenaries in the center. When their line is broken, search in the rear for the woman who has been described to you, and take her at all costs. Search their wagons, their baggage. She may be hiding anywhere. Understood?"

        Several nodded. At the same moment a single horn blew in front of the Perg line, followed at once by thousands more. One of Pyrus' men looked around and dropped his jaw. "Sir! The Pergs are advancing! Sir, they're attacking!"
 

        Still in her soldier's garb, with the addition of a shield, Simone stood among the officers, both Perg and Forester, and looked up at Athlaz.

        "We have to attack, and all along the line," he insisted again. "I know, General Arriz, that your people are disorganized and slow to follow orders, but if horns are blown at every point on the line at once, and if your officers lead out, the men will follow. We Foresters have sent runners through every part of your line, announcing about Simone. Your people are excited by her arrival, ready to try anything."

        "Maybe, maybe," said Arriz petulantly, "but why attack? We hold the high ground here."

        Athlaz answered as calmly as if he were not repeating himself for the fourth time. "Because in past battles your shield line has been broken in every defense, Arriz, high ground or not. Your people are not defensive fighters. Also, because it will dishearten the enemy when they discover that you have taken the initiative from them."

        Arriz seemed to make up his mind about something, for he changed his tack. "And who will take responsibility if this strategy fails?" he asked.

        Athlaz glanced down at Simone. She understood at once and, laying a palm on his great arm, said, "I'll take responsibility. As Empress, I relieve you of all accountability Arriz, except to carry out the attack."

        "It will be on your head, then?" Arriz looked her in the eye.

        Simone paused, remembering the two bandits she had killed in the mountains. Now she was ordering an attack that would leave thousands dead in the field. It flashed through her mind that she should have ordered the Ulrigs to take Arriz' army into Mount Rinna, to safety. But would the Ulrigs have obeyed, or the Pergs have accepted? Too late now, anyway. She glanced up at Athlaz and just caught a wink from him. She grinned shakily.

        "Yes, on my head," she said loudly for all to hear.

        "Very good, Your Eminence." Arriz turned and dispatched his officers to both ends of the line, spreading word of the attack. Then Simone's entourage moved to the very front of where the Forestmen stood facing the enemy. Snag and Snart were with her, still robed and cowled for discretion's sake after their morning's march among the Pergs. Dramun was undisguisable, but had needed no protection. The Pergs, and even the Forestmen, kept their distance from him. Misu and Mald rode upon him, and at his side walked the Unknown King Minoz, summoned by Arriz, his sword restored to him.

        Simone looked at the dread ranks of the Farjans, so far invincible in every battle. "You aren't thinking of sending me to the rear?" she asked Athlaz with a hint of challenge.

        "I know you wouldn't stay back for long," he said. "Better to have you up here where I can at least see you. Just promise that you'll stick close to me."

        "Of course!"

        He handed her his horn. "Go out in front and blow this, hell-bat."

        Drawing her sword, she strode out many yards into the tall grass to where the army could see her. They began to cheer for her by name. When she looked back to Athlaz, he nodded to her and pantomimed the blowing of a horn. She raised the horn and blew.

        Then the earth stirred as by thousands and by thousands the army behind her surged forward, thronging together, and she was caught up with them, running to battle. Athlaz somehow got her shield off her back and onto her arm. He was shouting something to her, but she could not hear over the roar of the men and the blowing of thousands of horns. "Freedom for the sons of the Forest," she shouted with them as she ran. The whole earth resounded.

        Thousands of trumpets answered from the enemy lines with high, piercing tones as the heavens dinned and the earth trembled. The Trans-Titanites' ten thousands held their course, thronging down upon the Farjans as if heaven was falling.

        Before the lines met, the arrows flew from both sides. Simone was astonished at the great cloud of them, so that Snag had to grab her shield and pull it up above her head. A moment later the arrows hit, quick as light and thick as snowflakes in winter. Men fell everywhere, pierced through. Then with a gasp she saw the end of an arrow sticking out of Snag's shoulder as he loped ahead of her. The Ulrig dropped his shield, but kept running. She screamed her anger and frustration and ran faster.

        Then came the sling-thrown stones, smashing even thick armor, sending men spinning to the ground. But just beyond was the solid wall of enemy shields, spears extending out from between them. The line Simone had started running with was no longer a line but a mob, attacking disjointedly. Nevertheless, the men ahead of her crashed into the Farjans here and there with a crack of spears and a crash of shields. Moments later she did it herself, slipping between two spears and hurling her shield against one of those in the line. To her surprise the man fell down, and she tumbled over him. She leaped up like a cat and began stabbing with her sword at the backs of the enemy.

        After that she lost all track of the battle except to know that the field was full of Farjans and Forestmen in wild melee, wounding and killing one another at a furious rate. Shields split, helms rolled away, tall men fell, and blood spouted. She stumbled here and there, giving and blocking sword blows, nearly falling over bodies, screaming fiercely; often whirling around to make sure no one was behind her. Her personal guard was scattered from her, and she had no time to look for them; but did, once, see Dramun rearing up above the humans a great distance away and spewing fire from his mouth.

        When at last the battle front moved and the throng thinned around her, she looked around at a field of dead and wounded, and only here and there a Forestman standing or walking. The field was discolored with blood, and battle flags lay on the ground. As for the men who had fallen, Farjan and Forestman, they were too ghastly to look at. Enough of them were still moving to give the field a strange, crawling effect. With her stomach churning, she loped away toward a little stand of woods, hoping to escape the horror.

        But it was no better. Wounded soldiers wandered throughout that wood, crawling and walking, and it's paths were bloody streams. Anguish and misery was upon them all. Meanwhile, the uproar of the battle, not far away, never stopped for a second.

        Simone watched two men step warily around each other, neither knowing whether to stab a foe or spare a friend, since both were so all-over blood as to be unrecognizable. Many others were in the same state. She slumped with her back against a tree and, for a moment, thought that the tree was trembling, but realized at once that it was her own thin shoulders.

        Lex saw the boy first and pointed him out to his squad. "One of the Foresters, fellows, a youngster over there by that tree. Looks paralyzed with fright. Probably his first battle."

        They approached the Forestman, a tall, skinny youth with grimy face and dented shield. To Lex's surprise, the baby-face lurched into a fighting stance, his sword raised.

        "Easy, boy. Can't you see we're allies? We owe the day to you Southerners. We want to thank you, not hurt you."

        "You're--Pergs." He lowered his sword.

        "Gotcha. Just give yourself a shake and come along with us. We'll show you the way to the front. That's where we're going."

        "Unless he'd rather stay here," laughed one of Lex's men. "I think he's seen more of a fight than he looked for. Probably ready to go home and hunt rabbits."

        "Stifle that," said Lex. "You saw he's ready to fight anyone. What've we done anyway? Didn't have any weapons and had to wait till we could pick 'em up from the dead. This soldier was probably in the main charge while we did dirt nothing. But maybe there's some battle left, so off we go. Come along, boy, you're with friends. Tell us the truth, how many Farjans did you lay down?"

        "I didn't kill anybody," Simone said thickly as she went with them.

        "No? Bad luck. But you'll do better next time. There now, you're walking real good. You're doing fine."

Chapter 15 The Crossroads 

        They soon came to a part of the field where the corpses were sparser, and after a walk of what seemed to Simone a hundred miles, to a knoll that gave them a view of the plain farther north. Banners moved in the distance, horns were blown, fires burned, and troops moved in lines barely discernable. Clearly, the battle was still going on, though the forces were scattered. Nearer was a half destroyed tent town that she took to be the Farjan camp, now occupied by hundreds of victors, mostly Forestmen, and among them the towering Dramun, unmistakable and imposing. Simone parted from the Pergs without ever having told them who she was, and in another half hour wandered in among the Southerners. She was practically in Dramun's face before he knew her.

        "Simone! Where were you? I've had soldiers looking everywhere for you, even among the fallen. You aren't hurt, are you?"

        Simone threw down her shield and helmet and sat on the ground. "Where're Athlaz and the others?"

        Before Dramun could answer, the Forestmen at last saw her and began to jostle one another and cheer hoarsely. Dramun raised her to her feet with a steady claw and called for silence.

        "Athlaz--where is he?" she said.

        "Gone north, Princess. You see, when we broke into the enemy's camp, we found the Lusetta Angfetu imprisoned among them. The poor fellow's been hurt somehow, but he told us everything we needed to know. He really was with your brother and can vouch that the Emperor Clay was alive and well just a few weeks ago. The Farjan army pursued Clay on the west of the mountains, but lost him. They thought he must have come down into Trans-Titan, but no, he must have gone north with the Mangars to their homeland far in the northwest."

        "Where is Athlaz?" Simone said wearily.

        "Don't you see, Simone? It's no longer rumor. Angfetu is an eyewitness proving that the Emperor can be found. So the Fold has an Emperor again for the first time in five hundred years, and all we have to do is fetch him. We know where to look, too, so it was only a matter of sending those who will search."

        "Curse your mouth, Old Scale Tail! Where is my Thaz?"

        Dramun was brought up short, at last taking serious notice of Simone's reddened, teary face.

        "Why gone with them, Princess, and Mald too. A field council was held within this hour, and Athlaz was chosen to lead a small force northward in search of the Emperor. Misar Shill is with them and guarantees their passage through the northern Titans, so they may get on your brother's trail ahead of the enemy. However, they've barely started now, and Athlaz and a few others are hanging behind. He told me he would wait for you at the first crossroads north. He said that if you came before sunset he would still be there to say goodby to you."

        Simone looked across the plain blankly. "Where's the crossroads?"

        "A mile or two, Princess."

        Simone took a few steps and stopped. "I'll never make it; I'm dead on my feet. You know, I didn't get any sleep last night."

        "Yes, Princess, but Abram has gone to--"

        "Abram's alive?"

        "Yes, alive. He's gone to fetch a wagon, just on the chance you'd come in time. Snart is with him. Misu spotted the only wagon on the field that hasn't burned, and she's leading them to it. Ah, here she comes now."

        Misu glided in and landed neatly on Dramun's outstretched claw. "Simone!" she cried. "We knew you'd be found. Dramun has told you everything? Good. I want to ask you a great favor, Princess. May I go with the mission to find the Emperor your brother? They'll need me to scout from the air, you see. Angfetu has volunteered to take my place in your retinue. As soon as his wing heals, he'll do you good service, I know. May I go?"

        Simone gave permission. In a few minutes the promised wagon arrived with Abram at the reins and Snart beside him. As both descended and bowed, she noticed absently that, though Abram was a dirty mess, his nevel was intact on his back. Not a string broken.

        Seeing the Ulrig brought back recent and horrible memories. "Snart, is Snag gone?" she asked thickly.

        "Yes." he said simply. "Dead on the field, Princess."

        "He died saving me from the arrows," she said wretchedly. "I can't spare him. You and he saved us in the cemetery at home. I--just can't stand it."

        "Come along," said Abram, pulling her gently by the wrist. "We have to get you to where you can say goodby to Athlaz. The sun's going down."

        Simone climbed onto the empty wagon, and the oxen pulled it across the ravaged fields. She stood in the bed, gripping the seat back, and looked all around. At distances near and far, ricks and houses were burning, soldiers were running, and horns still blew. The mopping up was not yet done.

        When they neared the crossroads, they saw several Forestmen sitting by the road, and Athlaz leaped up from among them and came running. As Abram halted the oxen, the young man climbed onto the wagon bed, looking dirty and battered but showing no sign of a wound. He took Simone's hands and looked into her eyes.

        "I'm going to bawl," she said.

        "Oh no." He stroked her cheek. "Not you. The worst is over."

        "Snag's dead."

        "I know, hell-bat. I'm sorry."

        "And you're leaving?"

        "Just for a while. I can't marry an empress, but if I bring Clay back, you won't be one. Just a princess."

        "So that's why everyone's started calling me that."

        "You'll still be high above me, but such a union is perhaps just possible. Still, I won't go unless you say. Tell me to stay here and I will."

        Simone gripped his hands tighter. "Go," she said. "They chose you to go."

        "You'll wait for me at a safe place, at Rinna?"

        She nodded.

        "You understand that you can't go? If we can't find Clay, you're the Fold's only hope."

        "Yes, I understand."

        "I can't believe you're alive," he said. "I was half crazy with worry. But then I remembered the prophecies about you that are still unfulfilled, and so I knew you'd be all right."

        "I was half crazy for you," she said.

        "Are you sure of me?"

        "Yes."

        "Are we promised to one another, Lady?"

        "Yes, promised."

        He held her out from him and looked into her face. "Then we're set. Thoz will take care of the rest. Be blessed. Stay brave."

        He kissed her once and then tore himself away. She watched as he ran down to the road and joined the other men who were waiting for him. Then Abram turned the wagon around and they jolted off southward.

        When they returned to the Farjan camp, where Dramun and so many hundreds of Forestmen had been, all had moved on. But Simone told Abram to halt the wagon, and she dropped down to retrieve her helm and shield. This took some little time, even with Snart's help, for the sun was now below the horizon. They had found her things and were starting back toward the wagon when Snart paused tensely.

        "Stay back, Princess. See? Soldiers are by the wagon."

        "So what?" said Simone.

        "They don't smell right. I think it's the enemy. Very slowly lie down in the grass here."

        "And leave Abram to them?"

        But it was too late in any event. They had been seen. A party of at least a dozen men broke off and came running toward them. Simone laid a hand on Snart's furry foreleg. "I'm too tired to run, but you can. You have my permission."

        "I can't, Princess. I musn't."

        "I'm ordering you. You're my only hope, old friend. Go and get Dramun. Go!"

        Snart shuddered once, then leaped off and disappeared into the dusk. With her sword in its sheath and her palms raised, Simone walked forward to meet the Farjans. They seized her, took away her weapons, and dragged her back to the wagon where Abram was already being held by them.

        Enough light remained to show her the disagreeable face of the Farjan leader. He looked her over, paying particular attention to her long hair, which she had not had time to hide under her helmet. He asked her a few questions.

        "Men," he said presently, "what did Captain Lizeez tell us before the battle? Watch for a woman, he said, one that talks funny. She'll be young and tall and have Sarrs with her, eh? You saw that Sarr fiend run away from her just now. Deary, you're no Perg, so who are you?"

        "She's my daughter," Abram lied stoutly.

        "And maybe she calls herself an empress?"

        "Never, not my girl."

        "Well, deary, what about it?"

        "I don't just call myself the Empress," said Simone, "I am the Empress. Your Empress."

        "Woooo-eeh! Listen to her!"

        Another soldier plucked at the leader's elbow. "Zeeg, if she's the one Pyrus wants, it'll make us all rich."

        "Think I don't know it? But not if we don't get clean away. I didn't lie with my face in the dirt half the day just to get caught at the last minute. Let's get moving."

        "There's too many of us, Zeeg. Most'll have to walk."

        "Well, it won't be me! Here, tie these two up to the back. Get the wounded up on the wagon and anyone else who'll fit. I'll drive. And somebody bring that nevel. We'll want the bard to sing us a song when we're free and clear."

        Tied by their wrists to the back of the wagon, Simone and Abram plodded along in the dark. The noise of the wheels masked their conversation from the Farjans.

        "We didn't do so badly, you know," said Simone. "A whole country saved. That's pretty good. And the Farjans won't be invading anyone for a while."

        "Yes, Princess, but I don't understand about my song."

        "Why you didn't get to write it? I don't understand it either, any more than I understand why the prophecies about me failed."

        "Don't say it, Princess. Thoz never fails."

        "He did this time. Say, when I can't walk any more, do you think they'll just let me be dragged?"

        He did not answer. The wagon jounced along ahead of them in inky darkness while the stars were slowly covered by a line of clouds from the west.

        "Hey, Abram, was Lila ever in a fix like this?"

        "Worse, Princess."

        "Well, what did she do?"

        "She prayed."

        "How practical." Simone thought about it. "I don't think I feel like it, but if I did, I'd tell Him anything He wanted to know, and be bold about it. I'd tell Him that I've done everything that I knew to do, been the best arrow I knew how to be. I don't need to be ashamed."

        "Of course not, Princess. You've done wonderfully. But we ought to pray about our needs, too."

        "Oh. Sleep. I mean, I wouldn't mind dying if I could just get some sleep afterward."

        In the distance they heard a barking and baying of some canine pack.

        "Wild dogs," said Simone.

        "Yes, feeding on the corpses."

        "They'll probably eat us."

        They were jerked along for another twenty yards while the sound grew nearer and louder.

        "Actually, it sounds more like Loopers to me," Abram said dully.

        Simone's weary mind slowly took this in. Then her eyes opened wide.


        Zeeg stopped the wagon and jumped off. "Don't be afraid men," he said cheerily. "It's just a pack of dogs. Make a line and face 'em. Jason, get a spear ready. Kill one of 'em and the rest will turn tail and run. Hey, come back here!"

        Several of the men of frailer nerve were dropping back.

        "What's the matter with you?"

        "It sounds like thousands of them, Zeeg!"

        "Zeeg, here they come!"

        From out of the darkness a rush of upright bodies, the faint glimmer of swords and fangs, and a howling of discernable words: "Simo, Simo, Simo-oh-oh-one!"

        "Zeeg, they're not dogs! They're Sarr-fiends!"

        A flight of spears suddenly landed among them, sinking into human flesh with sickening, muffled thuds. Several Farjans fell. The rest backed up, screaming and wailing and, in another moment, broke and ran. In moments Simone and Abram were surrounded waist deep by fawning, yipping, victorious Loopers who cut their bonds and licked at their chafed wrists.

        Simone was giddy. "You loves, you perfect, hairy, Loopers! I thought you'd forgotten me. How did you find us?"

        "We would never forget you," said one of them. "We remembered your smell and tracked you all the way from Mount Rinna."

        "When you weren't at the Palace of Reflections--" began another.

        "You mean when you were late getting there," laughed Simone.

        "Yes, Empress. We were told that you wanted us to follow you, so we crossed the Areophar and found Ulrigs expecting us. They said you left word to keep on, so we went with them through the endless tunnels all the way to Rinna. You called us, so we came."

        Simone laid a hand on the speaker's head. "Roper? Is that Roper?"

        "Er, yes, Empress."

        "Why, you fraud! I called for the Loopers of Bibaseel, not you! How in the world did you come to be here?"

        "We caught him," another Looper eagerly volunteered. "He was sneaking down the river, trying to get away, and we nabbed him at Trimmer's Corner. He said--"

        "He said you had to judge him," another broke in. "So we brought him along."

        "Fol-de-rol," said Simone, patting one head after another in the dark. "King Korazagel was supposed to judge him. I thought that was all straight."

        "Judge him now!" suggested a Looper, dimwittedly.

        "No, no, I'm too sleepy now. I haven't slept since Saturday night and I think it's Monday evening. Or is it Tuesday?"

        "Up on the wagon!" they said. "Sleep on us, Empress, we're soft."

        "Oh yes, and clever too, to get yourselves a ride on my wagon."

        They all laughed at this. Then someone took up a cheer. "Sleep for the Empress! Sleep for the Empress, the Empress, the Empress!"

        A cold wind blew through the valley after midnight, making Abram shiver as he drove the weary oxen up to the camp of the Forestmen below Rinna. Only one boyish guard was on his feet, and he left a campfire reluctantly to investigate the wagon.

        "Who's there?"

        "What's that? Young Argoz from Leona?"

        "Abram the Bard! You are Abram?"

        "Most of him, ha-ha. Give me a hand unhitching these oxen, Argoz, and I'll tell you a story you won't believe."

        "I've heard them all today, oldster. Every man in camp has two stories: what really happened to him and the one he tells. Add 'em all up and we Forestmen alone, without the Pergs, killed all the Farjans three times over."

        "You're right, boy. Careful with the yoke now, easy, my shoulder's bad. Ha-ha. Yes, we've got enough heroes now, and they can tell their stories, and embroider them, till they're too old to make themselves heard. But for tonight, how does a love song strike you, a new one?"

        "You brought your nevel?" the boy asked enthusiastically. "It's in the back. Oh wait, Argoz. Be careful."

        "What in the--?"

        "About forty sleeping Loopers, boy, and the Queen of the Fold sleeping on top of them. I told you I had a story."

        "Well--what do you want me to do with them? Is that really Simone?"

        "It is, and don't do anything. Just leave them alone, they're happy. That's right, tie the oxen up to the wagon. Good boy. Now come with me. Let's wake a few of our friends so I can try out a new song on them."

        "You're too tired, Abram."

        "Not for this."

        Simone woke to the sound of a nevel and Abram's clear, high voice. She rolled half over among the Loopers and saw through a gap in the side board a campfire and soldiers seated around it. Abram was singing for them.

                When the battle was ended, she searched on the field

                Where was many a young man's grim ghost,

                But Simone found not Athlaz, the strongest to wield

                A sword among all of the host.

                But when she comes to the captains, she stands boldly forth

                And asks if he lived or he died.

                'Athlaz lives,' say the captains. 'and goes to the north

                With his Forestmen journeying wide.

           &