Penumbra - Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Refreshments had been served in the private quarters of the Ombrios; he had chosen the smaller room because he sensed that this discussion with Rispa would be more concerned with personal matters and less with the formal ties between governments and, besides, he wanted to improve the relationship between them, sensing as he did that they would need to work together if either was to succeed in his plans.
“So you’re still having difficulties getting a halter on your wild man?”
“Halter! I’d be happy to get a lead on him,” Rispa snorted. “He’s determined to go his own way in spite of anything any of us can do. I’d hoped that once the reality of his approaching fatherhood had sunk in he would reconsider but, alas, even that doesn’t distract him.”
“Yes, I confess that entire business is surprising to me. I’m still amazed that Jaithlym consented to it. She has never seemed to me like one who would readily abide the strictures of child bearing, far less the special requirements of your people. Did your lad bewitch her with some sort of Prydain spell the rest of us lack? Ah well, be that as it may... But, tell me, since when did parenthood interfere with any Prydain, male or female, going his own way?”
“You’re right, of course, but I had expected that after all that’s happened and with his... problems, he would make the turn once he had witnessed the creation of his son.”
Naufrage took a sip of his tea, “I remember when my solmari told me she was pregnant, I couldn’t wait to start making things easier for her and our child. Of course, my first turned out to be a girl so I needn’t have been so concerned about her future. But I certainly wouldn’t have run off to join the nearest army and risk not being there when she was growing up and needed me.”
“We handle things differently, you know. We raise our young communally so it’s not necessary for the parent to provide for the future or even recognize their children. My own three - two boys and a girl - did not become known to me or each other until they had returned to Ban Khatour to begin their second professions. In fact, I never knew my oldest son; he was killed before completing his Warrior phase.”
“I’m sorry for that. It must be the worst thing of all to bury a child, even one who has been a stranger. But... you let your girl go off to fight?” Naufrage was quizzical.
“We don’t have the luxury of dictating to our children. They make their own decisions when they have enough maturity to do so. And I wouldn’t have stopped my daughter even if I could. She wouldn’t have thanked me for treating her with less respect than her brothers - that is, when she finally got to know me. As I said we don’t encourage parental ties to the young; Anjh didn’t meet his father until he was seventeen and sent to fight alongside him. And that was a rare event - very few of our young have that experience since most of the generation before them has either made the turn or been killed before their offspring reach the age of adulthood.”
“I’ll never understand all the complication of your relationships and customs. Do you think Anjh will stay with Jaithlym after his boy is born?”
“Yes, it wouldn’t surprise me; there seems to be genuine affection between them. Prydain do not necessarily separate from their mates when the child is sent to the crèche. I have stayed with my solmari for almost seventy years now... By the way, why did you agree that Jaithlym would have ‘access’ to Anjh in the first place?”
“You still don’t trust me, Rispa. You keep thinking every move I make is part of some devious plot aimed at the Prydain. I’d be willing to bet that you think I set up the entire situation while your lad was still lying on that gurney closer to death than to life. Do you really suspect that I put them in the same house and let nature take its course in order to get my sinister hands on a pedigreed Prydain boy for my foul purposes? ... You overestimate me. In this case, it was simply a matter of saving money. This is an expensive war and I felt I needed Anjh to keep it going, so when Jaithlym offered to open her purse and cover the costs of his reconstruction if we let her make a run at him, well, why not?”
“I see, not evil, just cynical. Her scheme seems to have worked better than most of ours.” Having established a comfortably gossipy atmosphere, Rispa moved to the heart of his visit. “Of course, their future relationship hinges on a question of survival - I mean, of course, the survival of Anjh in that cave of yours.”
“Survival does seem to be the over riding subject whenever we discuss him, doesn’t it? I keep hearing your lad is Thanamant; are you ready to level with me on that?”
Cursing the rumor-infested society that was Aleofane, Rispa carefully replied, “We’ve discussed this before and my reply is the same: it’s not something we discuss but it’s not likely. As a student of the races of Junonia, you probably know we are philosophically forbidden to commit suicide; Anjh is not so far estranged from his upbringing as to break that taboo. Is this canard still coming from Caffolas and how are the Lamasoni doing reining him in? I hope you’ve had better luck with your renegade than I’ve had with mine.”
Naufrage gave a humorless bark, “Here we sit, two of the most powerful leaders on this world and both of us at the mercy of rebellious juniors. Frankly, I haven’t the slightest idea of what to do with Caffolas. He’s starting to persuade some of the Laimak and even some of the younger Lamasoni that we need a change in leadership, that the ‘less hidebound, more daring’ generation is ready for its time on stage. I tell you, Rispa, I’m running out of patience with that boy. It wouldn’t be so bad if he were actually fit to be a leader but he’s no more ready for governing than Anjh is for the arena. Caffolas is a fool; sometimes I’m sure he’s simply the puppet of my political enemies because he doesn’t have the brain to think up even half the witless schemes he hauls before the Council and when he’s given any authority, he invariably screws everything up. It makes me wish I hadn’t forsworn assassination as a tool. Death would do that idiot a world of good.”
“While I’m not your equal in power and responsibility, I understand your frustration. All too often, trying to lead the younger generation is like pushing a string. What is all this about the so-called Pit of Archaos? Is it just another one of Caffolas’ fever dreams or is there something to it? Anjh is burning to have a go at the mission and, if I’m to keep him alive, I need to know all I can.”
“Oh, it’s real enough. I have no objections to telling you what I know about it both to spite Caffolas and to preserve Anjh. You see, I’m keeping nothing back. In this you have my complete cooperation.” Naufrage offered the plate of pastries to the Brisevant, who politely took one. “We discovered this Pit of Archaos late last year during the campaign to take back the Feneralia. The Mazoid had massed a large force of Ferals in the general area and we were trying to root them out when one of our men spotted the opening to a cave and reported it to his captain. It had been first discovered several years ago and cleaned out and mapped before we sealed it. Now it was open again and we thought it might be a trap. When a small contingent was sent inside - just to see if anything was still there - and didn’t come out, we were curious to see if the hole led somewhere new or if it was housing a nest of nasties.”
“So you had to find out? That’s understandable. How many did you lose?”
“At first, just the survey party, but now we have lost every single warrior who has gone in the damned thing. Can you believer it? Not a single one has come back. Oh, yes, we’ve managed to send teams into the first section of the cave system to drag out a body or two, but no one actually sent in to fight has come out alive. And the bodies we’ve recovered are almost the strangest part of the whole affair. They are either shot or hacked by their own weapons or they are absolutely intact with not a mark on them.”
“Unmarked?” Rispa feigned ignorance.
“Unmarked - looking as if they had laid themselves down and died in their sleep like honest men and women. We’ve had them examined in every way we can think of and have discovered nothing. The Healers and Surgeons say there is nothing to find, that what we have here are corpses that shouldn’t be dead.”
“Do you think there is some manifestation of Archaos in that cave? Or is it something we haven’t faced before?”
Naufrage shook his head uncertainly, “I don’t know. All of us are fairly sure it isn’t a part of Archaos because it doesn’t seem to have anything in common with that monster, but guessing what it isn’t doesn’t help us discover what it is. I’m sorry, I just don’t know and neither does anyone else in the Council.”
Rispa continued to press, “Well, what does Caffolas think and why was he given this command in the first place?”
“To be honest, he was given this because we wanted to sabotage him. He was becoming a dangerous nuisance to those of us who know how to use our power discretely and we needed to discredit him amongst his followers. We thought if he lost enough of our troops and acted enough of the coward the army would rebel and get rid of him for us. Didn’t work; he’s managed to stay just clean enough to pass. And your second question - he doesn’t think. I’m sure he has even less of an idea than the rest of us just what’s in that damned Pit.”
“So, you don’t know anything that would help Anjh if he manages to get that far?”
“I’m afraid not. But, I do promise you that I will do everything I can to keep your Warrior away from the cave and, if it comes to that, from the Feneralia. By the way, has the opportunity arisen to ask him the question I posed?”
“Yes, I did so and he still insists that he knows nothing about the afterworld, that he saw nothing except darkness.”
“Do you believe him or is he tormenting me because of my part in his resurrection?” Naufrage seemed distraught for the moment.
“No, I don’t think he’s lying. Our race finds lying very nearly impossible. The reason he can’t satisfy your curiosity is probably that Prydain in general are skeptics and are not pre-disposed to experience anything of the sort you were expecting.” The Brisevant offered what comfort he could.
“Ah, then that’s that. I must abandon that line. I had hoped ...” Naufrage shook himself and returned to the matter they had been discussing. “Have you given any further thought to my notion of offering him a position in the priesthood? It would be a good choice for him now that he is manifestly unfit for battle.”
“Actually, I have thought about that. It’s not so unlikely as I had assumed. The basic problem is persuading him that he is, in fact, unfit and he hasn’t accepted that yet. He’s typical of his blood-line; his father was just as stubborn and I can’t see any way right now to divert him from his single-minded fixation on going to Caffolas’ camp. Aleo knows I would like to see him follow me as Brisevant but if that can’t be, your suggestion is as good as any.”
“Do you think there is any chance of swaying him? Perhaps Jaithlym ...?”
“I don’t know. I confess I mentioned it to her earlier and she may have tried to coax him already. This I do know - she’ll do anything she can to keep him away from danger.” Rispa made a motion as though to stand, then changing his mind, sank back into the chair, “I’m grateful for your information and what help you can offer. I make no secret of the fact that I had hoped to learn more, something to help me arm my student, but any knowledge is useful. Now, I’ll tell you something that may help to explain some of the difficulties we have both had in this affair - Anjh is the son of Biyonne - the first man to be called The Immortal.”
“I knew that much and assumed that was the reason he was given command of the Cadre at such a young age and why he seemed to have inherited the cognomen as well. He’s certainly following in his father’s footsteps, isn’t he?” Naufrage nodded encouragingly. “I had also heard that Biyonne fell in battle in the Feneralia. That’s in the records but the exact location is not. Are you going to tell me that it was near the Pit of Archaos or even in it?”
“I don’t know for sure if it’s the exact spot but it’s close enough to be uncomfortable for all of us. There’s more - because he left his father’s back unguarded to take out a clutch of Mazoid, Anjh feels he was to blame for the death and has tried for years to expiate his imagined guilt and the picture gets even darker when you know he was cursed as a coward by his father just before he died.”
“Great Aleo, that explains a lot; so it was more than just being present when his sire died? That must have hurt him badly. To witness a parent’s death at such a tender age would have been devastating to a lad of any sensitivity at all and I’ve discovered that he’s not nearly so unfeeling as he likes to pretend, even now. But to be burdened with the dying curse of a parent... that surpasses anything I might have imagined.” Naufrage had always been a good actor; now with part of his mind he was considering whether Rispa knew what else had happened on that pivotal day and if he could be persuaded to reveal what had been done with Anjh afterward. He decided to try to winkle out more of the facts.
“Is that why he’s always been so foolishly impetuous in combat? Why he was immediately given his father’s title? Come, Rispa, tell me - is that why he’s Thanamant? You can’t deny it; his life and exploits have been the talk of the capital since he suddenly showed up alive in Jaithlym's townhouse.”
“And I suppose everybody in Aleofane thinks she’s keeping him?” the Brisevant snarled.
“No. Nobody’s foolish enough to question his manhood. They know she’s his mistress and her house is convenient... Anyway, it’s true she’s footing the bills. You’re changing the subject; he is a Thanamant, isn’t he? Some civilians were overlooking the old Cadre training grounds when he had an encounter with a sand-bear and there have been other stories. What’s more, it’s always the bravest of your race who go that way.”
Rispa sighed and sipped more tea, “Since we are being honest with one another - yes, but don’t tell the rest of the Lamasoni. It won’t reflect well on either of us to have it known that the hero we saved with such great fanfare and publicity is too disgusted with his life to want to continue it.”
“Does Jaithlym know?”
“Yes, he admitted it when she confronted him and she’s convinced she can persuade him to change his mind.”
“Young women always think that,” Naufrage snorted scornfully. “We old men know better...”
Rispa nodded and remained seated while he considered confiding further in his counterpart. Judging that affairs had reached the stage at which truth would do no harm and might help, he cleared his throat and said, “I’m going to tell you something else, Ombrios, in deepest confidence, something only two other people now alive know... After his father was killed, Anjh became... somewhat unstable. He clung to Biyonne's severed head for days until he collapsed from exhaustion and we were able to secure him.” The Brisevant paused.
Unwilling to interrupt the flow of the information he had angled for, Naufrage grunted his understanding and leaned forward.
Rispa continued, “So four of us, elders of our people, secretly took him to a special establishment we maintain - one only a few even know exists - a place where we hold and try to salvage those of our kind who break under the strict mental training and discipline to which we subject ourselves. You know, our special skills don’t come cheap to us. Anyway, for several weeks our specialists worked with him using a new technique they were developing - a way of selectively excising dangerous memories. Anjh seemed the perfect subject, so they removed the parts involving his father’s curse and the episode with the head, leaving the rest. The idea was to relieve the impact of the worst of what he had experienced and not touch any essential memories or further impair his functioning.
“It seemed to work at the time; then, after we had let him out and he had gone back to his unit, he suddenly remembered that Biyonne had cursed him and we were afraid that he would recall the rest,” he paused to collect his thoughts.
“That didn’t happen.” Naufrage stated in confirmation.
“Not yet, but I’m afraid it may be happening now and it may be those emerging memories that are making him what he is.”
“A Thanamant.” The Ombrios’ voice was flat.
“Just so,” Rispa nodded. “It’s the most reasonable explanation for his behavior.”
“Do you think it would be a good thing to return him to that place and repeat the therapy?”
“No, I’m not sure it would work a second time and if it didn’t, it would just make things worse. Just imagine how he would react if we tried to lock him up in another treatment center. It could make your experience with him at the hospital look benign. I simply don’t have any answers or suggestions. I’ve told you this because I believe we are both concerned with saving this individual in whom we’ve invested so much. Perhaps you can see something I’ve overlooked.”
“I thank you, Brisevant, for your trust and openness. I shall honor your confidence and see if anything springs to mind. You’re right; we’ve based too many of our plans on Anjh to give him up without trying every thing we can to salvage him.” The stocky man smiled sadly, “I wish we had known one another earlier and had the time to be friends, Rispa - there’s a great deal we could have taught each other. Now, we are coming to the end of our eras and it’s too late but at least we can agree not to be enemies.”
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Watching his own movements in the wall mirrors, Anjh carefully positioned himself and lifted his sword, swinging it in ever-swifter circles around his head. The blade made a whistling sound as it reflected an apparently solid metal nimbus in the glass. With a grunt of satisfaction, he lowered the weapon, “That’s better, no wobbling. So, Naufrage doesn’t know anymore than we do? Are you sure he was leveling with you? After all, the Laimak are no friends to the Prydain.” He picked up a towel and blotted his face and neck.
Rispa was also observing the exercise critically. “Yes, it’s better, but I want to see you bring down a complete sweep without faltering before you leave on this damnable mission. As a matter of truth, I want to see you do that several times without any problems. And you are right about the relationship with the Laimak. However, Naufrage is growing old and wants to end his term in peace. He has tendered me a personal offer of friendship - of sorts. And, yes, I believe he told me everything he knows about the Pit of Archaos.”
“And Caffolas?” Anjh inhaled as he raised the sword again, beginning the spin and then interrupting it with his powerful two-handed downward blow into the practice dummy. “Damn!” he shouted as he began to stumble and was caught by his mentor’s quick intervention.
“You lost your concentration,” Rispa noted. “You can’t divide your mind while you’re fighting. You know that, especially not as things are now. Take a break and we’ll talk about Caffolas and the cave.”
“I don’t have time; in two days, I leave for the Feneralia.”
“Not if you’re too spent to climb into a floater. Don’t forget smoothness is better than speed. Sit down,” the Brisevant pushed a chair forward with his foot.
Anjh sank, not ungratefully, onto the wooden seat and stretched out his long legs, glaring resentfully at the left. “I just don’t have enough muscle left to depend on that thing... that mechar'.”
“No, you don’t and what’s there is weakened by the connector rods. That’s one of the reasons this mission of yours is a fool’s game. Don’t do this, Anjh, it’s not worth it.” He half-expected the furious response that followed.
“Not worth it. I never thought I would hear a Prydain Elder, a Brisevant, say that honor was ‘not worth it’, that a Prydain's word was worth nothing. I said I would go and so I will!” He turned to stare at the mirrors again, “I think I’ll take Harad's advice and change to the gun, the projectile one. That way I won’t have to depend on muscle so much and can concentrate on balance. Yes, that should work better, don’t you think?” He caught the skeptical look on his mentor’s face in the reflection, “Would you have me sit in this house and be cosseted until I grow too soft and lazy to take to the field?”
“Never,” Rispa met the eyes in the mirror. “I would have you grow stronger and more agile, better able to defend yourself under the conditions you will face in that cave. We haven’t worked enough on your mental defenses and Caffolas will give you no back-up when you go into that place. You’re rushing things, not taking the time you need to get ready. It hasn’t been that long since you were released from the Healers’ care. Take time to recover.”
“I don’t think I’m going to recover much more,” the admission was almost inaudible. “Even the genius of the Ordmun can’t give me back what I lost on the Mountain. I see less improvement each day and the effort grows greater. If I am ever to find what I seek, it must be soon.”
“Your death, you mean?”
“My honor.”