The Diamond Warriors. David Zindell
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We came out of the woods with the late sun touching the farmland of the Valley of the Swans with an emerald blaze. To the west, the three great mountains, Telshar, Arakel and Vayu, rose up as they always had with their white-capped peaks pointing into the sky. Lord Harsha’s large stone house stood framed against the sacred Telshar: a bit of carved and mortared granite almost lost against the glorious work of stone that the Ieldra had sung into creation at the beginning of time. We caught Lord Harsha out weeding his wheatfield to the east of his house. When he heard the noise of our horses trampling through the bracken, he straightened up and shook his hoe at us as he peered at us with his single eye. He called out to us: ‘Who is it who rides out of the wildwood like outlaws at this time of day? Announce yourselves, or I’ll have to go and get my sword!’
Lord Harsha, I thought, would prove a formidable opponent against outlaws – or anyone else – with only his iron-bladed hoe to wield as a weapon. Despite a crippled leg and his numerous years, his thick body retained a bullish power. And even though he wore only a plain woolen tunic, he bore on his finger a silver ring showing the four brilliant diamonds of a Valari lord. A black eyepatch covered part of his face; twelve battle ribbons had been tied to his long, white hair, and in all of Mesh, there were few warriors of greater renown.
‘Outlaws, is it?’ I called back to him. ‘Have our journeys really left us looking so mean?’
So saying, I threw back the hood of my cloak and rode forward a few more paces. I came to the low wall edging Lord Harsha’s field. Once, I remembered, I had sat there with Maram, my brother Asaru and his squire, Joshu Kadar, as we had spoken with Lord Harsha about fighting the Red Dragon and ending war – and other impossible things.
‘Who is it?’ Lord Harsha called out again. His single eye squinted as the sun’s slanting rays burned across my face. ‘Announce yourself, I say!’
‘I am’ I called back to him, ‘the seventh son of Shavashar Elahad, whose father was King Elkamesh, who named me –’
‘Valashu Elahad!’ Lord Harsha shouted. ‘It can’t be! But surely it must be, even though I don’t know how!’
I dismounted and climbed over the wall. Lord Harsha came limping up to me, and he embraced me, pounding my back with his hard, blunt hands. Then he pulled back to fix me with his single, bright eye.
‘It is you,’ he said, ‘but you look different, forgive me. Older, of course, but not so much on the outside as within. And something else. Something has lit a fire in you, like that star you were named for. At last. When you skulked out of Mesh last year, you did seem half an outlaw. But now you stand here like a king.’
I bowed my head to him, and he returned this grace, inclining his head an inch lower than mine. And he said to me, ‘You have his look, you know.’
‘Whose look?’ I asked him.
‘King Elkamesh’s,’ he said. ‘When he was a young knight. I never saw the resemblance until today’
I smiled at him, and told him, ‘It is good to be home, Lord Harsha.’
‘It is good to have you home.’ His gaze took in Maram and my other companions, who had nudged their horses up to the wall and dismounted as well. And Lord Harsha pointed at Alphanderry and said, ‘I count eight of you, altogether, and eight it was who set out for Argattha. But here rides a stranger in Kane’s place. Don’t tell me such a great warrior has fallen!’
‘He has not fallen,’ I said, ‘as far as I know. But circumstances called him to Galda. And as for Argattha, we did not journey there after all.’
‘No – that is clear. If you had, we would not be gathered here having this discussion. But where then did you journey?’
I looked at Maram, who said, ‘Ah, that is a long story, sir. Might we perhaps discuss it over dinner? For more miles than I can tell you, I’ve been hoping to sit down to some of Behira’s roast beef and few glasses of your excellent beer.’
At the mention of his daughter’s name, I felt something inside Lord Harsha tighten, and he said to Maram, ‘It’s been a bad year, as you will find out, and so you will have to settle on some chops of lamb or perhaps a roasted chicken. But beer we still have in abundance – surely Behira will be glad to pour you all you can drink.’
He motioned for us to follow him, and we led our horses around his field toward his house. Although I still felt a dark presence watching my every movement, Lord Harsha seemed completely unaware of the Ahrim or that we had fought a battle for our lives scarcely an hour before. As we passed the barn and drew up closer to the house, he called out in his gruff voice: ‘Behira – come out and behold what the wind has blown our way!’
A few moments later, the thick wooden door of the house opened, and Lord Harsha’s only remaining child stepped out to greet us. Like Lord Harsha, Behira was sturdy of frame and wore a rough woolen tunic gathered in with a belt of black leather. With her ample breasts and wide hips that Maram so appreciated, my mother had once feared that Behira might run to fat. But time had treated this young woman well, for she had lost most of her plumpness while retaining all that made her pretty, and more. Her long hair gleamed a glossy black like a sable’s coat, and her large, lovely eyes regarded Maram boldly, and so with the rest of us. I might have expected that she would run out and fall into Maram’s arms, but time had changed her in other ways, too. The rather demure and good-natured girl, it seemed, had become a proud and strong-willed woman.
‘Lord Marshayk!’ she called out to Maram with an uncomfortable formality. ‘Lord Elahad! You’ve come back!’
So it went as she greeted all of us in turn, and then her gaze drew back to Maram. I sensed in her a churning sea of emotions: astonishment; shame; adoration; confusion. I felt hot blood burning up through her beautiful face as she said, ‘Oh, but we’ve much to talk about, and you will all want a good hot bath before we do. I’ll go and heat the water’
And with that she bowed to us, and went back into the house. The explanations for her strange behavior, I thought, would have to wait until we cleaned ourselves. After Behira had filled the cedarwood tub in the bathing room, we went inside the house and took turns immersing our bodies in steaming hot water: first Atara, Liljana and Estrella took a rare pleasure in washing away their cares, and then Master Juwain, Maram, Daj and I. While Master Juwain and Daj were pulling on fresh tunics, Lord Harsha came into the wood-paneled bathing room to inform us that dinner would soon be ready. He eyed the strange, round scars marring Maram’s great hairy body, but did not remark upon them. He seemed to be waiting for a more appropriate moment to tell of things that he was loath to tell and to hear of things that he might not want to hear.
At last, when we were all well-scrubbed and attired in clean clothing, Lord Harsha called us to dinner at his long table just off his great room. As we were about to take our seats, the clopping of a horse’s hooves against the dirt lane outside made me draw my sword and hurry over to the door. I said to Lord Harsha, ‘We have enemies we haven’t told you about, and we are not ready to make our presence known.’
‘It’s all right,’ he said to me as he stood by the window and peered out into the twilight. ‘It’s only Joshu Kadar – in all the excitement, I forgot to tell you that we’ve invited him to dinner. Surely you can trust him’.
Surely, I thought, I could. Joshu had been Asaru’s squire, and he had stood by the horses that day when Salmelu had shot me with his poisoned arrow – and he had served my brother faithfully at the Culhadosh Commons as well.
‘All right,’ I said, sheathing my sword and leaning it against the side of the table. ‘But please let me know if you are expecting anyone else.’
Lord Harsha opened the door and invited Joshu inside. The youth I remembered from the days when Asaru and I had taught him fighting skills had grown into a powerful man nearly as tall as I. He wore a single battle ribbon in his long hair. With