77 – The rest of Komona’s story

“All-Spirit.” She closed her eyes again for a moment. “How can you bear to know the things you must?”

“I can’t, apparently, which is why I have to go asa kraiya. So anyway, I called for a litter double-time to get him to Kaninjer—oh wait. It’s you telling the story, sorry.”

Her lips pursed in a half-stifled smile, and she let out a sigh. “Yes, it is me telling—thank you.

“You’d won; you’d live; Yeola-e would have Vae Arahi back. But we wiped the joy off our faces fast; the Arkans’ dejection could turn to anger in an eye-blink. Some were saying it wasn’t a true victory, because he’d let you up. And they were all worried for Kallijas. ‘Did you see that?’ they were saying. ‘He took him prisoner only after Abatzas ordered his death… it was to save him.’ Others were saying, ‘Sure—for torture. Get even with us. Maybe he figures bleeding to death is too quick and painless.’ I almost wanted to reassure them, tell them I knew you and they needn’t worry. And then we were all too busy for any talk at all, because everything had to be out by sundown.

“We ran out the last things as it was getting dark, and marched down past Terera… they put us in a coffle, knowing we’d be gone in a moment if they blinked, otherwise. I walked past my mother’s house that way, blessing the darkness that would keep any of my family from seeing me. Then someone—I don’t know even know whether he was Arkan or Yeoli—cried “Aigh!” Above the black walls around Vae Arahi there was orange on a patch of blacker sky—the glow of flames shining upwards on smoke.

“We all wept. My heart ached for you. At first the Arkans were whooping and cheering, until someone said, ‘Aras help Kallijas, in his hands while this is happening!’ That made them more sombre. I heard curses against Abatzas. Then they were on alert, the outer ranks leveling their spears; of course everyone in Terera wanted to tear them apart bare-handed. I’m glad no one really tried. Where were you?”

“Giving orders as we tried to put it out with water-buckets,” I said. “First to try, then to call it off. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“And then you stood and watched until the last beam fell to embers, while Krero and Sachara kept a grip on your wrists to make sure you didn’t run into it.”

“For someone who doesn’t understand me, Komona, you know me very well. In the morning I saw sense, though. It was just wood and stone; we could rebuild it, the same but better. Though I guess that baby-blanket must have gone up.”

“Some of them thought it was rash of you to tear down the black monstrosity, to assume you’d never need it to retreat to,” she said. “I could just imagine you saying, ‘We will never retreat.’ Most of the Arkans felt the same way, whatever they said. Losing Triadas and then seeing Kallijas defeated took the heart out of them. You could see it in their faces and the way they held themselves.”

“It’s what you can see in the faces of warriors, and the way they hold themselves, which determines the course of a war,” I said. “A general is no general, who doesn’t know that.”

She signed chalk in understanding. “I was taken away from the Arkan army then. When Abatzas encamped, Madutas—the governor—decided to move his operations to Tinga-e. It’s as I say; they knew. So they took me, but Eosenas was growing more bored yet with me, and security was lax. The night we were in Michere, they had six of us in a room on the third floor, with a guard on the door but shutters that bolted only from the inside, on a window that opened to the street. We talked escape, but the other five were too afraid. I pretended to agree with them and go to sleep when they did—so they wouldn’t get in trouble for not reporting me—and waited until the death-hour.

“I’ve never scaled a wall or a cliff in my life… you know me, the bookish one. What I told myself was, ‘If my old lover and his hotheads can scamper up a ten man-height cliff ahead of Arkans after killing Triadas, I can creep by finger-widths down three storeys.’ ”

“Ehh… maybe. Both the hotheads and the warriors were very carefully picked.”

“Oh. Really. I, um… didn’t know that part.”

“Komona, I can tell you from experience: the worst mistake a dark-worker can make is insufficient reconnaissance.”

“Why, thanks, love. I’ll keep that in mind the next time, which will most certainly happen.” We both laughed, she letting out one of those long rippling ones that had helped me fall in love with her.

“Well, you obviously didn’t end up dead or crippled… what happened?”

“There were night-patrols out, enforcing the curfew; otherwise if anyone noticed me, chances were they’d be Yeoli. I waited until a pair of Arkan guards had just passed, and then I started down.

“Chevenga… why didn’t you ever tell me how difficult such a thing is? Clinging with my fingers and toes to tiny cracks between stones… fearing every moment they’d give out… ignoring the screaming pain… trying to keep the sweat from pouring onto my hands and feet so it wouldn’t make them slippery… remembering the rule, ‘Don’t look down,’ and wondering how in the garden orbicular to find footholds without looking down… I held the fear off well enough the first little bit, by doing a chant in my mind. Then I lost it, and froze from head to toe. I couldn’t move other than trembling. I closed my eyes and just hung on though I knew I couldn’t do that for any length of time… I decided I’d yell help to the next patrol, and wept knowing what would happen after that, but it seemed better than falling.”

I put an arm around her again in comfort, and felt her take it gratefully. “But then three men came along… so staggering drunk they had to lean on each other to walk. ‘Wha’s that up there?’ ‘Tha’s a girl clinging to that building, pea-brain.’ ‘Oh, well. Thanks, moron. Wha’s tha’ girl doing up there?’ ‘Sheep-brain, you wan’ know, ask ’er.’

“So they did, and I sobbed, ‘Escaping from Arkans. But I can’t move.’ ‘You’ve got t’move, love,’ one of them says. ‘I wish I could empt’ half m’ veins into yours ’cause you need half what I drank tonight, thought not a drop more, All-Spirit love you, but I can’t. C’mon.’ They stayed there, encouraging, and I got each hand and a foot moved one lower when one of them says, ‘Oh shit—Arkans!’ The next patrol was coming. ‘Love, time for climbing’s over,’ they say. ‘Y’ got’ jump, then we all duck int’ an alleyway. We’ll catch you! Link arms, brother morons.’

“ ‘Jump?’ I hissed down. ‘You must be out of your minds!’ ‘No, you are, love, if y’ don’… y’know wha’ they’ll do t’ya?’ They started naming things off… I don’t know whether they were making them up or not. I won’t repeat… you can imagine.

“I jumped, I think as much from my arms and legs losing all their strength in terror as by will. You can imagine how well they did at catching me, no less jelly-armed and jelly-legged than I, but for different reason. We all went crashing to the ground. But I had broken bones; I knew as soon as I tried to put weight on one hand to get up, then again on one foot. Luckily none of them did.”

“You were rock-tense all over with terror,” I said. “They were too sozzled to be tense. That’s why.”

“You mean I was the oak that breaks in the wind, and they were the reeds that just bend… that would explain it, true. At any rate, they half-carried me into the alley and we all crouched very still in the dark to wait for the Arkans to pass. And—Chevenga, do things like this happen in real life?—one of the idiots got the giggles. And then another did. And then we’re all stuffing a fist into our mouths to try to keep from being heard giggling, and are sniffling from tears because we can’t stop, like eight-year-olds doing a prank. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I do. They were drunk; you were free, which is a hundred times better than being drunk. And shocky… a sort of light-headed, shivery, I’m-not-quite-here feeling, that went away once the Haian had you lying flat and gave you whack-weed and painkiller?” She signed chalk. “I’ve had the giggles a time or two like that myself.”

“Really? You?”

“I’ll tell you the story of Megan Whitlock rescuing me from the tree-snare when it won’t be another interruption,” I said.

“Fair enough. Megan Whitlock, tree-snare—giggles—I’ll hold you to that. The Arkans didn’t catch us, and the three did get me to an underground Haian—they were all underground then. She put me in casts, the shadow-sibs asked me where I wanted to be, I told them the shrine of Vae Arahi and I became tishu, spirited from one house or farm to another, all the way home. I had no idea how good Yeolis are at secretly moving hurt escapees.

“And I went back to my mother’s house first, to let her know I was well and free, then back up to the Shrine. I can’t tell you how sweet it was to see that awful black wall gone, without a trace, as if it had never been, even if there was no Assembly Palace either. Once the Shrine was all put back together, I started doing what I could from Vae Arahi for the shadow-sibs, until Yeola-e was free. I have been here happily living the pure monk’s life ever since.”

“Did you go to a healer?”

I was all ready to tell her how in the army it is forbidden not to, if you’ve been captured even for a short time, but she said, “Yes, of course.” The senahera elders would have sent her, of course, if she hadn’t gone herself. “You know her; she’s on your Committee. Kuraila Shae-Linao. She is very good, very kind.”

My Committee, I thought, laughing dryly inside, as if I own it. “Yes, she is, even to me. And you healed?”

“Yes, thank you, love.”

“Enough to get you to rescind that oath of celibacy?”

She stared at me, with an expression in her large dark eyes that was unreadable for its complexity.





--