Lord of Lies

swiftly across the steppe. We decided to make camp at the very point where the blue Snake flowed into it. It would be our last night of drawing and drinking clear water. The Sarni, it is said, like the taste of the Poru and draw strength from this Mother of Rivers. But to me and my men, the prospect of dipping our pots and cups into its turbid flow was as appealing as drinking mud.

For the next three days we followed the Poru's course westward and turning gradually toward the north. Except for afternoon thunderstorms when the sky opened up with lightning and rain fell upon us in sheets, we had good weather for riding. And the Wendrush, however much a Valari knight might feel ill at ease here, was a good place to ride. The turf was easy on the horses' hooves, with few stones and fewer hills to climb. And it was easy for the horses to keep up their strength, with all the fodder they needed growing out of the black soil beneath them. The grass, rich and heavy with seed, sustained them and relieved us of the burden of having to carry oats or other grain. It was one of the reasons why a Sarni army could cover great distances quickly, for they could ride to war without a baggage train weighing them down.

During this part of our journey, the Manslayers kept to themselves and Atara kept mostly to her sister warriors. Occasionally, however, she would ride with us, visiting with Maram or Master Juwain, making Behira's acquaintance and chatting happily with Estrella. At these times, she seemed warm and content with life, and she took joy in the singing of the meadowlarks and the sweet burn of the sun upon her face. But when she spoke with me, the frigidity returned to stiffen her being. She kept these interchanges brief and to the business at hand. So it was that as we drew nearer to the Sajagax's summer encamping, she explained why her grandfather had chosen this place on the Poru at the northeast corner of the Kurmak's lands: 'There's good water for the horses and herds here, of course, even if you Valari are too pure to want to drink it. Then, too, the Janjii are most numerous just to the other side of the river, and beyond their lands, only fifty miles, are the Marituk. Sajagax likes to keep his enemies close.'

'Does that include Alonia?' I asked her.

Atara smiled sadly, for her very life was the result Sajagax cementing an alliance with Alonia in her mother's marriage to King Kiritan. 'Let's just say that while Sajagax no longer regards my father as his enemy, the same is not true of all his dukes.'

'But what of the Adirii, then? We are far here from their lands.'

'Yes, but we have been at peace these many years. If any more truce-breakers, like the ones that nearly annihilated you, crossed the Snake in force, Sajagax would move south to annihilate them!'

I was eager to meet this great warrior renowned across Ea for his deeds in battle. We came upon his encampment late on the fourth day of our journey from the Lokilani's lake. In truth, the vast assemblage of men, animals and dwellings spread out along the Poru's eastern banks was much more like a movable city. Acres of animal pens — holding horses, sheep, goats and lowing sagosk — formed a barrier around its northern, eastern and southern sides. Even from a mile away I could smell these thousands of animals and the dung they dropped onto the ground. I smelled, too, the slaughter yards nearby where the Sarni women worked, hanging fly-covered joints on spits and smoking strips of meat over fragrant fires. Farther in toward the river were the many open-air shops where the Sarni tanned leather, crafted bows and beat red-hot steel into arrow points, sabers and studs for their armor. The core of the city was reserved for habitation. There, hundreds of rows of tents, with dirt streets running through them, were laid out as neatly as in any Valari encampment. But the tents were much larger, being circular and fitted over wooden frames. The Sarni made their coverings from a thick felt, either of sheep's wool or the long, soft hairs of the sagosk. A few of the tents, though, were larger still and woven of finer materials. These belonged to Sajagax's captains. The largest tent of all, at the city's center, was that of Sajagax himself: a huge dome of quilted silk rose up almost like a palace.

No guards impeded our entrance to the city. The Sarni are the freest of the Free Peoples, or so they like to claim, and therefore they do not deign to keep any warrior from riding among them. Even the sight of a hundred and seventy-three Valari knights arrayed for war did not unnerve them, as unprecedented as our arrival must have been. At a moment's notice, Sajagax could summon five thousand warriors to his standard. Then, too, word of our crossing of the Kurmak's lands had gone ahead. Indeed, Sajagax's outriders had tracked us across the entire course of our journey from the lake. And so the Sarni had been made ready to receive their most ancient of enemies, not with bows and arrows but rather with wine and beer and roasted meats for a great feast.

As we rode down dusty streets lined with men, woman and children eager to look upon us, Atara dropped back to accompany me With her lion-skin cloak and white blindfold, she made a striking figure: the great imakla woman warrior who had been blinded yet somehow could see. She greeted the Kurmak warriors whom she had known for years, calling out their names with her clear voice: 'Tiagax, Orox, Turkalak!' And the women, too, 'Ghita, Tyraya, Sarakah!' As anyone would have to admit, they were a handsome people: tall, cleanlimbed and strong, with long blond hair and eyes that gleamed like gemstones of blue or green. Nearly all of them claimed descent from Sarnjin Marshan, son of Bohimir the Great, the Aryan warlord who had sailed At of Thalu at the end of the Age of the Mother to conquer most of Ea. They were a proud people, as honest and open as they were brutal. Their word for stranger was kradak, which meant simply 'enemy'. Their eyes fell upon us like hundreds of steel-tipped arrows. It seemed that they might be happier roasting us over their fires instead of haunches of sagosk or lamb.

We drew nearer to the center of this barbaric city, and Atara pointed out the tents containing the treasury and armory, and those of Sajagax's concubines and main wives. And then we came to the tent of Sajagax. Its outside was hung with lion skins, while inside, as I would soon discover, it was decorated with sable and ermine and sheets of beaten gold. The Kurmak's great chieftain was waiting for us outside its open doors. To either side of him stood his greatest captains: Urtukar, Mansak, Jaalii, Yaggod, Braggod and his son, Tringax. All were big men, like unto form and appearance with Sajagax.

But in Sajagax himself, I thought, there concentrated the essence of a Sarni warrior. He wore a doublet of antelope skin embroidered with gold and lapis beads. He was an inch taller than I and massive in his gold-girded arms and across his chest. The weight of gold chains hanging from his bull's neck would have bowed down a lesser man. In his thick hand he bore like a staff of kingship his great bow: a double-curved welding of wood, sinew and horn so heavy and thick it was said that none but Sajagax could draw it. His face was heavy, too, and cut 1 harsh planes like the sun-seared steppe. His gray mustaches drooped down beneath hi stoney chin; his long hair was golden-gray braided and bound with golden wire. He had the same brilliant blue eyes that had once sparkled from Atara's countenance. He did not stand on pomp or ceremony, for he gazed upon his granddaughter with an outpouring of adoration for all to see. No one however, would mistake him for a good-natured man. He radiated ferocity and willfulness as the Marud sun does heat. As Atara had told me, he could be cruel. Once, when a merchant named Aolun Wohrhan had betrayed him in a business dealing, Sajagax had allowed that Aolun should have all the gold for which he had lied and cheated. And so he had commanded that the greedy Aolun be staked out on the ground and molten gold poured into his eyes, ears and mouth.

'Atara!' he called out as we all dismounted. His voice was gravelly and bigger even than Maram's, like a battle horn blowing, and blunt as a war hammer, 'My beautiful granddaughter!'

She rushed up to embrace him, and he kissed her lips, and tears welled up in his eyes. His captains looked on disapprovingly, not at his display of emotion but because the Sarni are seldom kind to women.

Atara presented me and many of my companions. Then Sajagax called out, 'Valashu Elahad, Lord Guardian of the Lightstone, you and your warriors are welcome in my house! Never have I had the privilege of entertaining Valari warriors before, except with arrow and sword. But tonight, at least, let there be peace between our peoples. Come! Rest! Eat! Sit with me and let us talk of your journey.'

Urtukar, a fierce old man with a saber scar cutting his face from ear to chin, objected to allowing such a large company of armed Valari knights into Sajagax's tent. But Sajagax gainsayed him. He waved off his concern as he might shoo away a biting fly, bellowing out, 'Do you think I fear these knights? Let them bring their swords to the feast, their lances, too, if they wish. I care not. They are the Guardians of the Lightstone. How are they to guard it if they are stripped of their weapons?'

He was less generous, however, in inviting Behira and Estrella to take meat with him, for Sarni warriors will sit at feast with warriors only. And so Sajagax's eldest wife, Freyara, was summoned to take them to a more private feast with the women in her own tent.

Sajagax led the way into his great tent. So huge was this billowing silk structure that it would have required a frame the size of my father's hall to hold it up. Instead, great wooden poles, nearly as