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would never have met you and set out on this journey. And the meeting itself was of the greatest luck imaginable. For if you had not sought an alley to relieve yourself, Leego would certainly have killed me." I meant this as a bit of a tired jest, but Janos did not favor it with a smile. Instead, he frowned, struggling Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html for a moment with some inner turmoil. I was astonished at what he finally said. "I'm ashamed to say that meeting was no accident," was his reply. "I think it is time I confessed what really happened." He took a long pull of the wine. Then, "Maeen came to get me after you refused his safe company. He said there was a young man of noble birth who seemed intent on daring trouble. My honest response to this was laughter. For what do I care about rich men's sons?" He looked at me, but I made no reaction, for I was confused at this belated confession. "But then I thought, perhaps here is opportunity," he continued. "As you know I was seeking support for an expedition since I arrived in Orissa. I did not know if you could be the man to help, but I thought it wise to gamble." "So you were waiting outside the whole time?" I asked. Janos nodded. "I should have come out of duty or honor, at Maeen's first word, but I'm ashamed to admit I did it for selfish motives." I was charmed by this admission. It made Janos seem more human. I didn't doubt for a moment that after this time our friendship bloomed from honest ground. Otherwise, why would he 115 confess? It did him no good to shine an ill light on his own deeds. I have learned since my youthful reasoning powers were poor protection, for men and women do many things for many motives. And although I now believe Janos was my Mend, he could not help but play on my weakness. For he was a creature of his obsession. I poured more wine, new interest making me forget the heat. "Thank you for that," I said. "It takes a strong man to admit a failing." Janos laughed ruefully. "I have more failings than strengths, my friend," he said. "But I appreciate your words just the same." "You are a most curious person," I said. "My sister called you mad, bad, and dangerous to know. And my sister is not often wrong. Tell me about yourself, if you would. All I know are the rumors of the marketplace and the few hints you've dropped. How is it you find yourself here with me? Awaiting the winds from a lazy god." Janos's face darkened. At first I thought I had offended him by prying. His next words shook me. "Damn all the gods," he said, voice hoarse. "They never come when they're wanted. And arrive only when disaster is complete. Do not depend on the gods, Amalric. For they are as cunning and mean as any demon." I was too amazed at this blasphemy to speak. Janos rushed on. "Let me tell you what happens to those who trust in the gods, instead of setting their own course. As you know, my mother was the daughter of an Orissan noble, and my father was a prince of Kostroma when they were joined. When he returned to his homeland with his bride, his father had died and the populace was waiting to anoint him king. This was a heavy responsibility and there were brothers who could have taken the load, but the people wanted him ... and with great reluctance, he accepted." "Why would one be reluctant to be a king?" I wondered. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "For many reasons, as you shall see if you live long enough. But in Kostroma a king's lot was especially difficult. For a king of Kostroma was responsible for the city's luck. It was the law when calamity struck, and all hope was lost, it was the king who was required to lay down his life for the kingdom as the ultimate sacrifice. My mother's family was partly correct in viewing Kostroma as a land of barbarians. But my family was much more civilized than their imaginings, of course, and in the few years I was given with my parents I had all sorts of skilled tutors to make up for any lack in innate civilization." "Forgive me for tearing at a tender scab," I said, "but I had 116 heard your parents were dead. Does this story have something to do with that?" "All of it," Janos said. "Kostroma had many enemies, but my father used his wits to keep them divided and his warrior skills to keep them from our fields. Then one day news came that a great horde was advancing on our lands. I do not know who they were or are, for I was too young to know more than they were a dangerous and particularly evil enemy. My father sent out scouts, and they came back with reports of such vast numbers, he knew all was lost Kostroma was doomed. "So my father donned his priestly robes and took up the standard of our god, our protector. He advanced alone to the field outside our city where the enemy host was formed, set down the standard, and called upon our god to accept his sacrifice and save the city. Such was our bargain with that god. I will not speak his name, because my hate might give him life. "The enemy charged, my father between them and the city. He cried again for help and stood his ground. A horseman laughed and lopped off his head with a single blow. His body tumbled and the horseman impaled his head on swordpoint and led the army through the city gates. They killed all who fought them and carried off those who surrendered to sell as slaves. My mother was one of the dead. In a way this was fortunate, for as a final humiliation to Kostroma, all the princesses were thrown to the horde to be tormented. "I did not learn until later what went on in the city, for I was with my father that day. Although I rose barely to his waist in height, I was a prince and knew I must stand by his side in the sacrifice. When he fell I struggled to raise that standard myself. I remember how heavy it was. How scared I was. But I knew if I raised it and called the god, he would come quickly and put everything right. Someone rode for me, shouting and waving his sword. I struck at him with the standard, but he knocked it away and plucked me off the ground and into the saddle." Janos' eyes were tormented. "After the battle I was put in the slave pens." "But you escaped," I cried. "You must have, or you wouldn't be here to tell the tale." "No," Janos rasped. "I was marched for many a league, almost dying from weariness and thirst. Eventually we came to Redond and their slave market, where a buyer for the Lycanthian army bid on me like I was one of my father's lambs." I gawked, a little amazed at myself for not shrinking away from 117 someone who had just revealed that he came from the lowest caste. I looked again at the dark-bearded [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |