who is all left feet and ten thumbs. “No? I thought it suited me.”
“The Lady Ariane nal Amklana dubbed you Jak the Unsturr.”
“She — let us not talk of her.”
“Willingly.”
The Lady Ariane nal Amklana, of Hyrklana, had not turned out quite as we’d expected during our recent adventures. I had thought Tyfar was inclined to become romantically attached to her. Now I knew he was not. He deserved a far finer mate than Ariane.
“Let us take up the question of your name, Jak.”
“Before that, I will just say that one should not be too hard on Ariane. She was sore pressed. By Krun!
But she does have fire-”
“A fire that is inwardly directed only.”
“Let us talk of our plans to get out of here-”
“The Sturr — or the Unsturr?”
I just looked at him. We sat in the grateful shadow and the watch was set and the others were lying back and no doubt reviewing what Quienyin had told them and, an ob would bring a talen, wishing they were out of Moderdrin and safely back with their loved ones. Although — well, there were arguments about that, also…
Once a young man sets his feet on the mercenaries’ path and seeks to become a paktun and then a hyr- paktun, he must banish foolish longings for home. He will return in the fullness of time, bearing his scars and the choicest items of his loot — if he is lucky — and take a wife and settle down and raise more fine young men to go off adventuring across Kregen. But daydreaming of home is weakening. Thanks to Opaz — men are weakened every day doing that!
“Should, Jak, I call you-” said Tyfar. He was half-laughing. “Should I dub you Muzzardjid?”[1]
“I think not.”
“It is a fairly won name.”
“Maybe. Not for me.”
“I just do not like Sturr. I am a prince and empowered to confer names upon the worthy. You are -
although you have not said — I guess, of a middling rank of nobility?”
The name of Hamun ham Farthytu had been conferred upon in all honor; it was not just another alias. And the rank of Amak is at the bottom end of the higher nobility; there is the wide range of the lesser nobility, of course. But caution held me. Even in this, the old harum-scarum, rip-roaring Dray Prescot who would go raging into a fight without an ounce of sense in his head, would have held back. The Amak of Paline Valley was an identity, a real identity, that I did not wish to reveal as yet. So, leaning back on an elbow, I said, “It is of no matter, Tyfar. What concerns me is the slow progress we make.”
He looked as though he was going to carry on with his thought; but he must have changed his mind, for he contented himself with, “Very well, Jak. But as soon as the time is ripe I shall dub you with a name more fitting. So you have been warned.” He wiped his lips with a cloth and closed his eyes in the heat.
“As to our making better progress, I think it still too risky to travel in daylight. But, if we must-”
“Think of Quienyin.”
“I am.”
“Given an opportunity, we can change our mode of travel. But it will be chancy-”
So we talked, low-voiced, and then ceased this prattling and sought the deeper shade and tried to sleep. We had ample water, thanks to the stream from the Moder, and our swarths were cared for. We had food, meat, and fruits. But we all felt the screaming need to get out of this damned place. Promptly on the hour of mid Quienyin woke up and, reaching for his turban, looked around our little camp. He saw me. He opened his mouth and I spoke quickly, quietly.
“Tyfar is asleep. I would prefer not to awaken him.”
He nodded and then caught his turban and slapped it down, hard. The blue cloth was dusty and cracked, and many of the fake pearls and brilliants had been lost. But it still gave him that aura of omniscience so necessary for the credulous folk.
“Do you wish…?”
“When the suns are gone down a little more.”
“We will see what a Wizard of Loh can do, then.”
“Remember, Quienyin, I do not ask this of you, do not beg or plead. I know nothing of the cost to you; but, I-”
“There is no need to go on. Of course I shall do all I can. Are not we all comrades?”
This was, truly, a most strange way for a feared Wizard of Loh to talk. But, by the insufferable aroma of Makki Grodno’s left armpit — he was right.
“You have never been to Loh, Jak?”
“I paid a fleeing visit to Erthyrdrin, and-”
“Well, they are a strange, fey lot up there, and hardly call themselves Lohvians at all.”
“That is sooth. You have traveled widely?”
“Mainly in this continent of Havilfar. I, I must confess, regard travel as a means of arriving somewhere.”
“As we did in that caravan across the Desolate Wastes?”
“Grim though it was, the time had its pleasant moments.”
“You have been to Hamal?”
“I shall not return to that empire.” His gaze twitched to the sleeping form of Tyfar, and then away. I would have to ask Deb-Lu-Quienyin what had chanced in Hamal. I felt he did not care for the place. “I did make a quick trip to Pandahem; but that was not successful.”
“And Vallia?”
He glanced up at me.
Was there a special note in my voice, a tremor, an inflection, as I spoke the name of the country of which I was emperor? Did he truly see so much more than ordinary mortals?
“Vallia? No, Jak. I have never been there.”
I took a breath. Tyfar slumbered. The others were either asleep, dreaming, or standing watch. I summoned my courage.
“I think, Quienyin, if you visited Vallia you would be received with proper respect. You would like it there.”
“Oh? You speak with — authority — of the empire at war with the empire of Hamal.”
“You remember I asked you about the Wizard of Loh called Phu-Si-Yantong?”
“I do. San Yantong is a most puissant adept — I was sorry to have missed him.”
I jumped, startled. “You mean — he was there — in Jikaida City?”
“I thought so. I am not sure. His kharrna is very powerful, superb, superb. I did not press too hard.”
I swallowed down. By Vox! That devil Phu-Si-Yantong, so near! Yet — could he have been and not struck a blow at me?
“When I asked you of Yantong before you said he was marked for great things. You expressed the hope that he would prosper. You also said nothing about his little difficulty.” I know my old beakhead of a face had grown grim and like a leem’s mask as I spoke, and I could do nothing about that. One cannot always hide emotions behind a placid countenance. I went on and the words ground out like vosk skulls being crushed in the grinders. “Do you still harbor good wishes toward Yantong? Have you learned nothing of him since we spoke?”
He was abruptly intense, concentrated. He looked at me and those lines that had been vanishing on his face deepened and grooved. The force of his power shocked out.
“You speak in a way that could offend a Wizard of Loh, Jak. I will not be offended. But it is necessary that you explain yourself.”
Given the awesome powers of the Wizards of Loh, given their aloofness from the petty concerns of normal men, given that they regard others as, if not inferior beings, then beings without the same necessities of the inner life — what Deb-Lu-Quienyin said to me was perfectly rational. Any man of Kregen would tremble if a Wizard of Loh spoke to him thus.
“By Hlo-Hli! Jak! Speak!”
“If you seek-”
