he came to stand before the tree and spoke to the hawks in the language common to all Men, accented in the lilting dialect of Mumbaza.
“Go away, hawks,” he said. “Your kind bring only trouble.”
Iardu melted from the branch and stood now as himself before the Mumbazan. Sharadza did the same, standing beside him in a traveling robe of green and black.
“Khama,” said Iardu. “How are you, old friend?”
Khama did not return Iardu’s smile. His eyes glittered like black pearls.
“Why do you come here, Shaper?” he said. “You are not welcome.”
“I come only because I have to,” said Iardu. “We must speak. This is Sharadza, Princess of Udurum.”
Khama turned away. “I cannot welcome you here, knowing what you are. You should have stayed in your northern kingdom.” He walked away toward the cluster of huts, where three curious children stared at the strangers. Iardu walked after him, and Sharadza followed.
“This is no way to greet a friend,” said the Shaper. “Surely you remember the things we’ve shared.”
Khama stopped and turned to face him. “I choose not to remember,” he said, voice low so the children could not hear his words. “I am only a man now, Iardu. These are my children, my goats, my land. I have found peace here. Why must you disturb it?”
“All of these things are beautiful,” said Iardu. He waved at the children, who responded with white grins. They shuffled shyly among the huts.
A voice called from one of the structures, and a lean Mumbazan woman looked out from its doorway. “My wife calls,” said Khama. “You must go. Please. Leave me to this simple life I have chosen.”
“You are a man of peace,” said Iardu. “I respect that. We do not bring you trouble, Khama. We bring a warning. War brews in the south. All that you love is in danger. Mumbaza is the fulcrum in a struggle for power. Elhathym has returned.”
Khama slammed the butt of his herding staff into the ground, raising a cloud of dust. “I do not know this name.” He stared at Iardu as if he might strike him.
“You do,” said Iardu. “ Remember…”
A cloud fell across the glow of Khama’s eyes, and he looked into the blue sky. He sighed, a long exhalation of regret, remorse, or perhaps weariness. The goats in their pen made helpless bleating noises. The children giggled and rubbed round stones across their palms.
Khama turned his eyes to Sharadza for the first time. His wife still stared from the doorway of their home. “Come and share food with us,” he said, and walked toward his family.
Sharadza shared a quiet glance with Iardu. His face said, Trust me . She decided s Sh›
“My oldest son Kuchka is out with our second herd,” said Khama. “We have forty-seven good sheep. Wool brings a high price at the capital.”
They served generous portions to the visitors, and Sharadza was famished. Flying all day took as much energy as walking all day. She ate well, but not enough to embarrass herself. Iardu did the same, and she knew he would rather be drinking wine than milk. Khama’s family spoke only Mumbazan, so they understood nothing of what Iardu told his old friend.
He told the herdsman of the recent events in Yaskatha, the usurping of the throne by the tyrant sorcerer, the murder of the Udurum Prince, the alliance of Ianthe and Khyrei with Elhathym and his new throne, and the war that was coming. As they spoke the sun began to set, and Kuchka returned with the sheep, herding them into a second pen near the goats. He came into the hut and ate the rest of the meal, his eyes darting back to Sharadza every few moments. A handsome lad, strong and well built like his father. If Khama was a sorcerer, then Kuchka would be too. But did he know anything about the ancient legacy of his father? She guessed not, since Khama lived here in the bosom of domestic bliss.
This man had found the happiness that Iardu never was able to grasp. Emi was a beautiful woman, a perfect wife and mother. Sharadza felt a pang of guilt for bringing Iardu back into Khama’s life. Yet what else could they do but seek aid wherever it could be found? What history did Khama and Iardu share? There was no doubt he came of the Old Breed, yet was trying to forget it. Like the Sea Queen, who had forgotten and carved her own paradise beneath the waves. Perhaps in a few more years Khama would have forgotten his true nature as well and truly become the simple man he so wanted to be. But Iardu had done something, looked into his eyes with a certain intensity, and it had all come rushing back to him.
Khama remembered… but would he help?
A sliver of moon stood over the prairie and stars blazed in the black sky. They walked with Khama to stand near the old tree. Talismans of bone and wire hung from its branches. A gentle wind blew across the steppe, dispelling the heat of the day.
“If we can remove Elhathym from his Yaskathan throne,” said Iardu, “there will be no chance of war with Mumbaza. Khyrei is far away. Fire and blood will not spill here.”
Khama crossed his arms and leaned against the peeling bark. “Mumbaza has known peace for a hundred years,” he said. “The grandfather of our current King forged a peace treaty with Yaskatha at my urging. How do you know Elhathym intends to break the treaty?”
Iardu frowned. “Do you remember Takairo the Great? Before Elhathym left the world he shattered its opal towers and murdered or enslaved every living thing within its walls. Takairo, whose people had never known war. He is a predator, Khama, and worse now that he has endured the strangeness of the Oenenevuter Worlds. He raises the dead to conquer the living. He takes what he wants. It will not be long before he decides to take Mumbaza.”
Khama watched the stars, keeping his thoughts to himself.
Sharadza could stay quiet no longer. “Even now a delegation of Princes from the northlands seeks alliance with your Boy-King. A choice must be made. Mumbaza will be forced to side with Yaskatha and Khyrei, or with those who oppose them. Like you I fear the coming of war. This is why I have convinced Iardu to help me prevent it. He says you can help us. If you do not, you will face the coming destruction knowing that you could have done something about it.”
“I have enjoyed living as other men do these past decades,” Khama said. “Yet the Great Wheel turns always, and now you remind me that men face war in their time. It has always been so. So if I am to be a man, I must face it too. Though my heart screams to run from here, to take my children where they can be safe, I know that safety is an illusion. Still… to leave them now, I am unwilling.”
“Open your Inner Eye,” said Iardu. “Look to the south. Feel the currents of shadow smothering Yaskatha.”
Khama’s eyes closed. A night-bird cawed somewhere over the plain. The cool wind blew, and the grasses whispered earthy secrets.
After a moment the herdsman opened his eyes. He shivered. “The Dwellers in Shadow,” he whispered. “They answer his call. A great many of them… legions of hungry darkness…”
Iardu nodded. “You feel what I have felt. His power will only grow stronger until he strikes. And it may be well before the northern armies can assemble.”
“Oh, it will be,” said Khama, his face haunted. “Such hunger cannot be held in check for long. It could consume the world.”
“Stand with us now,” said Iardu. “We’ll take him before he ever knows of our coming. Surprise will be a dagger that kills in our hand, Khama.”
Khama shook his head, ran a hand through his braided locks. “Emi, the children… I must take them to the city… hide them behind the walls of the palace.” Tears welled in his eyes but did not fall. “Understand. If I join you in striking at Elhathym, I break the treaty of my King. I must speak with him first. Only with his blessing can I do this thing.”
Iardu looked at Sharadza. His eyes glowed, twin prisms brighter than the moonlight. The blue flame danced on his chest. She had grown used to this wonder and hardly noticed it now. She wondered what Khama’s family saw when they looked at Iardu.
“We will accompany you to the city tomorrow,” said Iardu. “Once your family is safe there, and you have spoken with the Boy-King, we will fly south together… to douse the fire of war before it burns across the steppes.”
Khama nodded. “I must speak with my wife.”
