Delia of Vallia by Alan Burt Akers

two Djangs, and kept them away from any too close contacts with diseased victims. If the damage was not already done, they might escape. Not everyone caught the Affliction of the Sores of Combabbry. The stench hung over the town. She had bathed in the Sacred Pool in far Aphrasöe. That had conferred upon her a miraculous ability to recover rapidly from wounds and to resist infections. No, she had no fears for herself, and in this knew she cheated. Naturally, this made her take on greater burdens, exposing herself recklessly. In turn, this distressed her friends. It was all a mix and extraordinarily difficult to find the correct path of conduct.
    On the day when the airboat bringing the ice arrived only ten people were so close to dying that the ice would make no difference. The three days of sores and the three days of temperature rise followed by a decline to death had already spelled destruction for too many souls. Now, the ice would make all the difference.
    Even then, Tandu and Dalki with a couple of the strom’s retainers only just managed to hold onto the airboat and persuade the crew to land. The smell warned them. Dalki, in particular, was most fierce.
    He waved his sword under the nose of the skipper of the airboat.
    “Put this voller back down, dom! Or you’ll grin from a mouth under your chin!”
    “It is death—” The skipper, a fat and jowly man, quivered and sweated.
    “For you — yes! Down!”
    The voller landed and at once the ice was unloaded.
    Delia said to Tandu: “Your son cuts a fine figure, Tandu. When all this is settled, what will you two do?”
    “Why, my lady, go back to guard duty, I suppose.”
    “We shall see. The emperor has need of good friends. I think a place will be found for you — if you so choose.”
    “I would choose so, my lady.”
    “Good. And Dalki shall be a Deldar at once.”
    Tandu beamed. The ice smoked as it was hurried away covered in sacking. “That pleases me, my lady. I give you thanks—”
    “Of course, one cannot really have a son outranking his father. It is known. But, in this, I think you will have to be a Hikdar. I can see no other course.”
    “My lady!”
    Delia turned away abruptly. Often and often she had discussed this thorny problem with her husband. How easy to dish out ranks and titles! How much pleasure it gave to reward good friends! And how selfish it was, giving of honor and seeing how easy it was, and taking the pleasure. Tandu was pleased and Dalki would be pleased and she was pleased so where was the error? Yet she worried over this as she knew her husband worried, also.
    With the coming of the ice a crisis point was passed. From that moment no more people who could be saved died. And, significantly, there were no more outbreaks. Those men and women who had remained to fight the disease and care for the sick ceased to be stricken in their turn.
    That evening by the light of a samphron oil lamp, Delia composed the necessary letter.
    It was brief, said all that was appropriate, expressed regrets that she had unavoidably missed the wedding of her half-brother Vomanus. Early next morning she sent off the ice flier with the letter, charged strictly to fly at once to Delka Ob and seek audience of the kov. Her seal, stamped across the ribbons fastening the letter, would be proof enough of the importance of the errand of uncouth icemen.
    She could not leave yet. There were still sufferers to be tended. Two days later a voller flew in. A girl dressed in leathers stepped down, the rapier swinging at her side, her face bright and eager, her color up, her head high.
    “Majestrix!” she said, advancing with her lithe step. Then, in a softer tone, she said, “May Dee-Sheon have you in her keeping.”
    “Yzobel!” said Delia.
    “This is a dreadful place. You are safe?”
    “Perfectly. And happy to see you.”
    Yzobel wore white leathers. Her body complemented the beauty of her face. Yet her rapier and main gauche that hung from silver lockets were