Shadow Page 25

  Vindax had survived his journey well. He seemed to burn with some fierce internal forge. How long could such a cripple live? How long would he be allowed to live?

  "Explain," IceFire signaled, "why thisBobaSAsa-neneNOna?"

  If only he were not so weary...How to translateBobaSAsa-neneNOna?A dance? Three-dimensional ballet? A romp?

  "They are showing," he signed back, "that The-one-with-broken-legs is higher than they are."

  No wonder the eagles thought that the human race was mad.

  The courtiers had changed. Women outnumbered men by three to two. There were almost no young men. This was a joyous occasion, the throning of a new king. Mourning was not allowed, else that swarm of fireflies would be an army of ants. Husbands, sons, brothers, friends--fourteen thousand had died in the bloodstorm over Rakarr, and unknown hundreds in the bombardment of the palace.

  The homage ended, and the last man retired, bowing. Vindax sat for a moment and gazed with satisfaction over the Great Courtyard. He wore royal blue, taken from his brother's wardrobes, and a gold circle shone on his dark hair, but he had made no effort to disguise his injuries. His fingerless hands rested in full view on the arms of the throne, and every senior peer had been required to kiss one of those stumps. The noseless face...he was an ape playing king.

  The bell in Shadow's echoing head was knelling the words of Eagle Speaker: "She says what would you do?" It had been a reflex. He had been warned. Again and again he had pleaded with the High Ones, but they had been powerless. They could stop the slaughter afterward--once the birds had been released, there had been no more killing, but whenever one had been freed in flight, it had turned on its rider. Perhaps even Karaman had not realized how hotly burned the resentment of a ridden eagle, the gnawing of lifelong ignominy.

  "And now," Vindax said, "we must distribute reward. And punishment."

  The court took a deep breath.

  There had been no way to turn back. Had Shadow faltered, then the eagles would have done it by themselves. He had believed that he could do it better and faster and therefore, he had hoped, with less bloodshed in the end. And so his juggernaut had thundered along the Rand, gathering freed slaves and wilds by the thousands as it came.

  "Sald Harl, known as Shadow!"

  Shadow yanked his mind back to the present. He stepped to the front of the throne and knelt. Vindax studied him for a moment.

  "Know, my people," the king proclaimed, "that in Rantorra, only one man remained true." Unfair! What chance had the others had of demonstrating loyalty? "Only Shadow was loyal. He made this justice possible; single-handedly he overthrew the usurper." Better that fact not be made public. "We shall reward him as greatly as lies within our Power, and he shall have our favor forever."

  There was a silence. Then Vindax growled, and Shadow looked up in surprise. "We forgot to think up a suitable title, my friend! I am not used to this king stuff. Duke? No, perhaps we can make you a prince. King of Arms?"

  The old man whom Shadow remembered from the dressing room of so long ago came limping forward; he bowed and waited.

  Duke of Hiando? Prince Sald? Shadow's skin crawled. It was all a sham now. There were no slaves and no skymen, either. No one could hold a dukedom--today a man's land ran the length of his bowshot. The court itself was about to fade like a puff of dust. To become a noble would be a mockery.

  "We can appoint a prince, can we not, King of Arms?" the king asked.

  If the old man was disgusted at the thought, it did not show on his craggy features. "Your Majesty is the fount of honor; you may confer any title. Not, I fancy, a royal prince, although you could certainly decree an equivalent precedence."

  "Pick a name, Sald," Vindax said.

  "Sire..." Shadow said, then hesitated. He wanted two things only from Vindax, and a title was not one of them.

  The heavy brows scowled. "Well?"

  "Shadow," said Shadow.

  Surprise showed on the king's face, then a frown, then a royal smile. "Why not? So be it! We name you Prince Shadow and grant you precedence after ourself and our royal mother. We deed you the royal estates of Kragsnar and Schagarn as your fief, to you and your heirs forever. Record it, King of Arms. Arise, Prince Shadow!"

  Courtly honors were already history, so it didn't matter. Shadow muttered thanks and stayed where he was.

  "I crave a boon, Majesty."

  He wanted two things only: a proclamation to flee the eagles--and release. The thought of escape to Hiando Keep was a great ache, a haunting, an irresistible yearning.

  Vindax scowled. "Later! First the punishment."

  Reluctantly and uneasily, Shadow rose and stepped back to the side of the throne.

  Now the courtiers saw him; he was the object of dozens of furious glares. They were angry not about the title or the land, probably, but the precedence. Fools!

  Vindax leaned back and rubbed his palms. "We shall proceed to justice! Earl Marshal? Bring in the prisoner, Foan."

  Shadow cringed and wished he could think of any excuse in the world to leave. He had promised Vindax his revenge, and now it must be delivered. Had he killed so many just for that?

  On a chair of state at the side of the dais sat the dowager queen, Mayala: a wraith, a legend. She alone had dressed in black, a plain robe which covered her totally except for hands and head. She wore no jewels or ornaments. Her hair was tied starkly back, partly hidden by a black mantilla, and her face was the same shade of white. She had been the first to pay homage; since then she had sat like a figure of ice, seeming not even to blink, staring over the heads of the crowd. Strangely, a trace of her former beauty showed again. No, it was not quite beauty, but the fading of fear had returned her grace and dignity. Now she slowly turned her face to study the horror on the throne.

  The first man in the procession was the executioner, brawny, raven-hooded, bare-chested, carrying a knife and a rapidly cooling branding iron as symbols of his art. Guards followed, and within them the duke of Foan. He had been decked in sackcloth, his hair filled with mud, and he could barely walk under the weight of chains. Thus by law one accused of high treason was required to come to judgment. When he had shuffled to the front of the throne, he was forced down on his knees.

  Vindax smiled.

  There was no more expression on the duke's face than there was on the queen's, but Shadow was shocked at the sight of him. Yesterday in this same courtyard he had been nobility in defeat; now there was only defeat. How had they stamped on him so quickly?

  The queen was studying him, but he had not looked at her.

  "Executioner," Vindax said. "Review for us the punishment prescribed for traitors."

  Shadow closed his mind to the litany of horrors. The courtiers rippled silently. Rank had its privileges, and freedom from that sort of systematic public demolition was supposedly one of them. And Foan was the premier noble.

  The executioner fell silent.

  "Barbaric!" Vindax said. "But if that is the law...We shall see about changing it--someday." The courtiers squirmed in unison. Foan's expression did not change.

  High on the wall an eagle spread its wings and then folded them again--IceFire was trying to attract Shadow's attention.

  "One-who-came-through-the-dark, there are many-many-many people going through the gates, all bearing kills."

  This whole monstrous performance was a charade. The troopers who enforced the law were all dead; when the food ran out, the palace would starve. The servants knew, obviously, and as soon as the king had lifted his blockade, they had loaded up and started to move. While the court hierarchy was standing here watching the king gloat, the understructure of the government, the cooks and the cleaners and the gardeners and the footmen, were heading for safety as fast as their feet would go with whatever their hands could carry. Shadow could think of no reason to stop them. As soon as these bemused aristocrats discovered the truth, they were going to become a mob of ordinary people. Possibly a maddened, out-for-blood mob. He still had his flying ar
my at his beck, so the sooner they made the change, the better. He moved fingers unobtrusively at his waist to acknowledge.

  Had Vindax realized that his power rested entirely on Shadow?

  Now the executioner had finished; the king licked his lips and addressed the prisoner.

  "You are charged with high treason in that, knowing me to be alive, you continued to support the usurper. How do you plead?"

  "Guilty," Foan said, and was cuffed by a guard for failing to add the proper form of address.

  Vindax looked disappointed. "Do you wish to beg for mercy?" he asked hopefully.

  Foan merely shook his head and was struck by the guard on the other side.

  This, Shadow reminded himself, was the king's father. But how could a man not beg for mercy when faced with such torments?

  "Well, it wouldn't do any good, anyway," Vindax said. "We find you guilty. We sentence you to loss of all titles, ranks, honors, and lands, and then to death as ordained by law. We shall start the first session shortly, I think, as the court is already assembled. Move him over there..."

  He waved a flipper, and the guards dragged the prisoner off to one side. He fell when they released him, and was unable to rise because of his chains.

  The bell in Shadow's empty head tolled again:You can't turn a straight furrow with a bent plow, lad.Karaman had seen in Vindax what Shadow had not. Shadow had not dared to dream of a republic, only a better kingdom, and again Karaman had been wiser.If the soil is fertile.

  "Bring in the prisoner, Elosa Foan," the king said.

  The earl marshal dropped to his knees.

  "She is dead, sire."

  "No!" Vindax roared. "Who killed her? I'll have him flayed. When? How?"

  The earl marshal had turned gray with terror. "She took her own life, Your Majesty, some eight days ago."

  Obviously the duke had not known that the previous day.

  Vindax pounded both arms of the throne without producing any sound. "I wanted her to see what she had done! Why?" He turned his head to look at the prostrate form of the former duke. "Bring him back here!"

  The duke was dragged over and lifted to his knees before the throne once more.

  "Tell me what happened!" the king ordered.

  "Take off these damn chains first!" the duke shouted, and was instantly prostrate again.

  There was silence. One of the guards drew back a foot to kick, and Vindax yelled at him to stop. He had already sentenced the man to the worst death he could find; he had no threats left.

  "Remove his chains," he growled.

  With much clattering, Foan was released. He climbed stiffly to his feet beside the heap of shackles and rubbed his wrists. The last of the skymen, Ukarres had called him. He should be a tragic figure, Shadow thought. Nobility in defeat again, the young hero of Allaban grown gracefully to elder statesman--but the duke of Foan was a flawed hero. Always he had found solutions which served his own purpose or that of his daughter. His motives had never flown quite true. If this was the last of the skymen, then it was time to close the book on them.

  "Now talk, traitor!" the king said.

  From somewhere that filthy, half-naked figure drew a pathetic dignity. "I know only what I learned in your jail, boy."

  Boy?Son? If Foan confessed to adultery with the queen...but he would not do that.

  Again the guard raised a fist, and again the king stopped him.

  "Which is?"

  "That your brother did it. He invited her as guest..." The duke's voice began to rise. "...and pretended to welcome her. Then he beat her into submission, savagely, brutally. He raped her!"

  "Good!" Vindax said, mollified. "What else?"

  Foan spoke with contempt. "When she had recovered from the beating, he held a party for her birthday. She did not know what his parties involved. Afterward she was carried back to her quarters. Before the medics arrived, she somehow managed to drag herself over to the window--" His voice cracked, and he fell silent.

  "Pity!" Vindax said. "I did not approve of the Lions when they abused innocent victims, but in her case I only regret that they did not leave her for my professionals. Still, they were very inventive amateurs."

  Now the duke's face was incandescent with fury; hatred hung in the air like a stink. Yet who should presume to judge Vindax? He would never more know life without pain. He had owned the world: youth, power, health--who could lose all that and not desire revenge?

  The courtiers were as silent as a field of rocks.

  Vindax had dealt with his father and sister. "Bring in the prisoner Jarkadon!" the king snapped.

  The earl marshal prostrated himself.

  Foan laughed.

  Vindax flushed around the scars on his face.

  "You thought that mongrel could survive in a jail in this place?" the duke asked. "I had the cell directly across the passage. Noisy prisons you keep, King Vindax!"

  "Who?" the king hissed.

  "All sorts of people, Brothers and fathers, I suppose." Contemptuously the duke added, "You'll be pleased to hear that he took a whole watch to die. But indulge yourself: Send for the remains and pass them around."

  Vindax almost overbalanced as he turned his head. "Shadow! You promised me my revenge! They have cheated me!"

  Now the courtiers were beginning to rustle and stir. Shadow could feel danger rising like vomit, and he was shaking with fatigue and revulsion.

  "Cut off that one's head and be done with it, sire," he said. If he did not get Vindax safely out of this place, and quickly, there was going to be more bloodshed.

  "No!" the king snarled. He glared at his prisoner. "He will have to suffer enough for three."

  Shadow thought: I am not Shadow, Vindax is. Ever since his conception he has been a shadow on the throne of Rantorra, growing and spreading...but that was only fatigue scrambling his mind.

  "There is another traitor!"said a new voice. The queen had risen, and now her tiny form walked slowly across the front of the throne and stood beside the duke. "I plead guilty to high treason also."

  The whole court seemed to recoil one step, and Vindax grabbed vainly at the arms of his throne to hold himself steady.

  "Silence!" he said.

  "I will not be silent!" she shouted, and for so flail a figure she was astonishingly loud. "It was not King Shadow who killed your father, it was Jarkadon. I had to watch that poor man die--I perjured myself at his trail, and that itself is treason!"

  Vindax's sigh of relief was quite audible.

  "Jarkadon is beyond our reach," he said. "And I don't give a damn about King Shadow. Go and sit down, Mother!"

  She put her arm around Foan, who seemed to recoil slightly from her touch.

  Once Karaman had seen these two as the ideal romantic couple. Now they were a haggard old pair, and yet Shadow could find little pity for them. He could see nothing noble in their tragedy. They had caused all this trouble by not being honest with themselves and with their children.

  "I plead guilty to high treason!" the queen repeated stubbornly. "I shall suffer under the same law as this man does."

  Threat? Blackmail?

  "By God, if you defy me, then you shall!" the king roared.

  Father, sister, brother--now mother?

  The queen spoke again, but clearly she was intent on saving Foan, and to speak of Hiando Keep would drag him down with her.

  "Then there is another traitor!" she shouted, and raised an arm to point at Shadow. "He is a traitor to his own race! He has freed the eagles!"

  There was a pause.

  "Some of the eagles," Vindax said.

  "Sire!" Shadow protested.

  "The queen is right!" the duke shouted. "Without eagles, how can you rule? How will you keep order or collect taxes? How will the nobles receive their rents?"

  "Well, Prince?" the king asked.

  Everyone was waiting.

  Then Shadow realized that they were waiting for him.

  "Horses," he said.

  Over the rising tum
ult from the audience the duke shouted, "Nothing tastier than a young foal to an eagle! No more horses...How will you cross from one peak to another? On bicycles?"

  It was true. Many of the gaps were impassable to men on foot. The First Ones had not settled all of the Range. Shadow had not thought of that--but certainly Karaman had. He had not said so. Would that have held Shadow back from his purpose?

  Vindax raised a stump, and the noise died away.

  "Well, Prince Shadow?" he said again.

  Shadow stepped forward. "You agreed to free the eagles, Your Majesty!"

  Vindax hesitated. "We need them! Before we issue that proclamation, we must make a contract with them, Shadow. They need not be slaves, but we must have mounts."

  Betrayal! Shadow was too shocked to speak, too exhausted to think.

  The company murmured.

  "You can't make a deal with the eagles!" Foan shouted. "You have nothing they want!"

  Shadow raised his hands.

  "Seize him!"the king commanded.

  Two burly guards appeared instantly at Shadow's side, gripping his arms so tightly that his feet almost left the ground, keeping him from putting his hands together to signal. They must have been forewarned. He squirmed helplessly.

  The courtiers fell totally silent. Now they knew the stakes.

  "Shadow, my friend," Vindax said sadly. "Prince Shadow? I owe you everything, but without the birds I have nothing. You must make me a treaty with the eagles."

  Could he? True, he had nothing to offer that they would want, but they were loyal. As utterly loyal to their friends as they were to their mates, Karaman said. He, Shadow, was a hero to them now. He could impose on that friendship perhaps. For his sake they might agree to supply transportation.

  Yet that would be a corruption of friendship, a breach of trust, a usurpation.

  Why should he?

  Whose side was he on?

  Prince or commoner?

  He struggled to drive a brain choked with a sludge of fatigue and shattered loyalties. He tried to see this as the birds would see it, in their strangely inhuman thinking--and suddenly he knew what they were seeing at the moment.

  "Majesty!" he shouted. "Release me! The eagles--"