Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [227]
He sank to the ground, puffing and holding his head in misery. He rested an elbow on a pack he had been carrying.
‘Tell me what news of the city,’ Laintal Ay said impatiently.
‘Ask me nothing, let me be … Let me die.’
Laintal Ay dismounted and kicked the lord of the mint in the buttocks.
‘What of the city – besides the pest?’
Raynil Layan turned his red face upwards. ‘Enemies within … As if the visitations of the fever were not enough, your worthy friend, the other Lord of the Western Veldt, has been trying to usurp Aoz Roon’s position. I despair of human nature.’
He dipped his hand into a purse hanging by his belt, and brought out some bright gold coins, roons freshly minted at his mint.
‘Let me buy your yelk, Laintal Ay. You’re within an hour of home and scarcely need it. But I need it …’
‘Give me more news, rot you. What of Dathka, is he dead?’
‘Who knows? Probably so by now – I left last night.’
‘And the phagor components ahead? How did you get through them – buying your way?’
Raynil Layan gestured with one hand while he tucked his money away with the other. ‘Plenty of them between us and the city. I had a Madi as a guide, who avoided them. Who can tell what they may be up to, filthy things.’ As if struck by a sudden recollection, he added, ‘Understand that I left, not of course for my own sake, but for the sake of those I had a duty to protect. Others of my party are behind me. We had our hoxneys stolen almost as soon as we set out yesterday, and so our progress—’
Growling like an animal, Laintal Ay seized the other’s coat and dragged him to his feet.
‘Others? Others? Who’s with you? Who are you running away from, you bladder? Is Vry there?’
A wry face. ‘Let me go. She prefers her astronomy, I’m sad to relate. She’s still in the city. Be grateful to me, Laintal Ay, I have rescued friends and indeed relations of yours and Aoz Roon’s. So bestow on me your insufferable yelk …’
‘I’ll settle with you later.’ He pushed Raynil Layan aside and jumped on the yelk. Spurring it fiercely, he crossed the ridge and rode forward to the next one, calling.
On the syncline of the ridge, he found three people and a small boy sheltering. A Madi guide lay with his face buried in the bank, still overcome by the stigmata in the sky. Beside him were Dol, clinging to Rastil Roon, and Oyre. The boy was crying. The two women gazed at Laintal Ay in terror as he dismounted and went forward to them. Only when he clung to them and called their names did they recognise him.
Oyre too had been through the eye of the fever needle. They stood and surveyed each other, smiling and exclaiming at their skeletal selves. Then she gave a laugh and a cry at the same time, and snuggled into his arms. While they stood together, faces against each other’s flesh, Aoz Roon came forward, clutched his small son’s chubby wrist, and embraced Dol. Tears poured down his ravaged face.
The women related some of the recent painful history of Oldorando; Oyre explained Dathka’s unsuccessful attempt to take over the leadership. Dathka was still in the city, together with many others. When Raynil Layan had come to Oyre and Dol, offering to escort them to safety, they had accepted his offer. Though they suspected the man was really fleeing to save his own skin, such was their fear that Rastil Roon would catch the pest that they accepted Raynil Layan’s offer, and had left hurriedly with him. Because of his inexperience, their goods and mounts had been stolen almost immediately by Borlienian brigands.
‘And the phagors? They’re going to attack the city?’
All the women could say was that the city still stood, despite the chaos within its walls. And there had certainly been massed