Ashidan grabbed the Earthman by his hand.
"This weed has always grown here! They ate it to speak to the gods! You declared even talking to the gods to be a crime!"
"Come on, Ashidan! You don't converse to a god or a demon, you just gobble this weed up to get high and you are afraid of Kissur because he will throw you into a hospital for drug addicts or just chain you."
"I am afraid of the sword he took," Ashidan said, "I saw this sword in Khanalai's hand and if people are killed, their souls enter their swords."
Khanalai was the rebel that fought Kissur seven years ago.
"Khanalai?" Bemish was astonished, "Have you met Khanalai?"
"He took me prisoner," Ashidan answered.
Bemish stared at the youth — he was young, slim like a snake and incredibly beautiful, with golden hair and grey eyes heavily mascara coated for the hunt.
"Oh, my God! How old were you?"
"I was fifteen, almost fifteen. Kissur entrusted me with five thousand horsemen and Dried Date and Aldon's uncle — Aldon the Striped — were with me. We should have waited for Kissur in the Black Mountains. But we heard that down there, in the town of Lukhun, merchants had come in for a fair and were bunched all together there because of the war. We decided to seize this town because we would get more loot if we didn't wait for Kissur.
So, we approached this town with a guide and when the sun came out we realized that it was a trap — Khanalai's army encircled us. Khanalai was going to catch Kissur."
Ashidan rocked in the saddle.
I rode forward and challenged Khanalai to a duel. My shield had an image of the White Falcon on it; Khanalai thought that Kissur himself got in his trap. He really didn't want to fight but he had to accept the challenge. He was afraid that his captains would mock him.
There is not much to say about this fight — Khanalai split my shoulder and threw me to the ground like a kitten and then he removed my helmet to cut my head off. He was really surprised and he asked me, "Who are you, brat, to wear a White Falcon shield?" I told him that my name was Ashidan and that my brother Kissur would avenge me and why wouldn't he just shut his lousy trap and cut my head off. I was a very cute boy and Khanalai suddenly took pity on me. He raised his sword and then he thought, "I will die — and these words contained all the horror of irreversible, you couldn't sleep at night having heard them. So, would it be worth it to bring the sword down?" At least, that's what he told me afterwards. So he threw me like a wench over his horse's back and rode to his army. And my army was obliterated down to the last man. You see, it was a war very different from a war between two countries. When one country and another country make a war, it's fair to spare the enemy and to make him your vassal. While when a government fights rebels, it's fair to obliterate the rebels completely.
"What happened to Dried Date?" Bemish suddenly realized.
"Dried Date and old Aldon were taken prisoners."
"And what happened next?"
They brought me and Dried Date to Khanalai's tent where he was feasting after the battle and Khanalai said that he would like to hear a song about this battle from Dried Date. Dried Date answered that the battle was not finished yet because not everybody, supposed to be executed after this battle, was executed and when Khalai executed everybody who was supposed to be executed, there would be nobody left to sing this song. Khanalai grinned and gave his new lute and his sword to Dried Date, and this sword was so valuable that it cost more that Dried Date's honor. He sat and sang a song of praise to Khanalai and I don't think that you'll ever hear it from Dried Date or on a tape recorder. Then, Khanalai turned to me and said that he would like to let me go. I was insolent to him. He paused and said, "All right, they will crucify you tomorrow, brat. At first they will crucify Aldon and then you."
"What happened tomorrow?"
"They brought Aldon and me out and Khanalai said, `If you let me pardon you, I will let Aldon go.' I spit in his face."
Ashidan paused. He face paled completely and Bemish suddenly imagined how cute a boy he had been at "almost fifteen."
"Khanalai rocked on his feet for a while and then said, `You are too beautiful a boy to die.' They crucified Aldon and quarreled for a while and then took me away."
"And what happened to Dried Date?"
"Dried Date sang songs of praise to Khanalai till he was offended, that he, a man from a noble family, was serving a commoner who used to tread cow dung in his childhood. He cut one of Khanalai's aides head off, threw it in a sack and raced to Kissur with this ransom. And he also gave Khanalai's sword to Kissur."
Ashidan paused and said, "I also met Khanalai's son there — we were of the same age and the lad was quite gifted. I think that Khanalai took mercy on me because of him. He asked me once, "What if Kissur gets a hold of my son? Do you think he will let him live like I let you?"
"Yes," Bemish thought, "Kissur, however, didn't take mercy on Khanalai's son and he didn't take mercy on anybody else."
"Hey," Khanadar the Dried Date shouted ahead, "have you fallen asleep? Come here quickly!"
Bemish and Ashidan hastened their horses. The road split in two in front of them, the riders grouped at the fork.
"We should go left," Kissur said, "We should visit Aldis so that the next hunt would be even more fruitful than the last one."
"Well," Ashidan objected, "we won't reach the castle before nightfall."
"No problem," Kissur said, "we will sleep over at the old altar house."
Ashidan's face fell.
"Look," Khanadar said, "you aren't afraid of the old altar house, are you?"
And he continued having turned to Bemish,
"Aldis the White Falcon is buried next to the old altar and two families were assigned to take care of the grave. But they ignored their duty and Aldis ate them and he liked it — he started climbing out every night, chased passersby with all his retinue and herded them into his place for a feast. A traveler passes by and sees a manor with lights on, and only his bones are left by the morning. People took notice — if on a new moon night there were fire and commotion at the old altar house — then, some family would wail somewhere soon enough. They would have pounded a stake down his coffin long time ago if he had been a commoner but they are afraid of doing it — you know, he is Kissur's great grandfather." Ashidan grinned.
"It's not fitting to visit ancestors' graves with an Earthman outlander," he said, "It's enough for a stranger that we took him for a hunt."
"I have never hunted here before," Kissur answered, "and not shared my booty with my ancestor."
And they rode to the old altar house, having dismissed the servants and having tied the bear cub's body to a saddle.
The old altar house sat between a forest and a horseshoe shaped mountain on the very edge of a sheer, as if cut with a knife, gorge. Behind a black carved fence, one could see a roof tied in a knot; yellow light issued forth from a round window, people's voices were coming from behind the fence. Ashidan's face acquired a pallid color of toothpowder.
"Oh-ho-ho," Kissur said, "is Aldis getting rowdy again?"
The riders quietly dismounted, Kissur petted his horse so it wouldn't neigh and stuck covertly a stubby assault rifle under his overcoat. A pine tree, that had fallen last year, crushed the fence and miraculously spared the chapel — they took a look over the tree log into a wide yard. There, on a stone site, a small space boat Orinoko-22 stood looking like a striped squash. People in body suits were standing in a line and passing sacks from the altar house to the boat.
"Heia," Kissur said loudly, "that's called progress! Even ghosts can no longer fly without engines!"
He bounced over the log and stepped in the lit circle. Frankly, it was Kissur that looked more like a ghost here — a hunter in an ancient green caftan with a yew bow hanging over his shoulder and his face painted with blue stripes for the hunt — amidst people in flying suits who froze for a moment next to a cargo hatch. The people dropped plastic sacks. Three guys jumped out of an altar house window with long barreled lasers in their hands. A horse quietly neighed — Khanadar and Ashidan stepped out into the light from the other side, leading their horses.
"False alarm," somebody said, "these are the landlords."
Kissur unhurriedly walked to a short round eyed character whom Bemish recognized to be the local bailiff.
"Oh, it's you Lakhor. What are you doing here?"
"You know, my Lord," Lakhor said with a certain dignity, "We are loading…"
Kissur placed his foot on a sack, dragged a hunting knife from his belt and ripped the plastic cover from top to bottom.
"I swear by god's goiter," Kissur said, "Everybody around says "Lord," "Lord" to you, kisses your knees while you don't even know what it is that you lord over. What are these oats you are hauling to the boat? Nothing but oats has ever grown around here, if my memory doesn't fail me."