Noman by William Nicholson Read Free Book Online

to Sasha too, but he was beyond help. That one awesome blow had killed him instantaneously.
    The rest of the band of Orlan officers, having heard the fracas, came running to the barn and stared at the scene. Sasha Jahan dead. The Great Jahan dying before their eyes. Alva and Sabin white-faced by his side. And the beautiful dark-haired woman commanding them all.
    The Orlans dropped to their knees in grief and respect. Amroth Jahan looked at them and nodded.
    "Nearly over," he said. "Bring me Malook. Bring me my horse."
    "You can't ride," said Caressa.
    "Do as you're told, woman!"

    The exclamation cost him more strength than he had. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.
    "It's the Orlan way," said Alva. "Orlans die on horseback."
    So Malook was found and led into the barn. The Caspian bent his head low and snuffled at his master's face, and the touch gave the Jahan renewed strength.
    "Here, beauty," he said to Caressa.
    She knelt by his side. He took her hand and pressed it to Malook's brow.
    "I give him to you. But Malook must carry me one last time."
    Together they heaved the Jahan up onto Malook's back. The blood was streaming from his wound and down his thigh. Once mounted he pulled himself upright and looked down at the ring of faces round him. He raised his silver-handled whip, which had never left his grasp.
    "I name my successor," he said. He reached the whip down. Alva stepped forward. "Not you, baboon," said his father. "Here is your leader." He handed the whip to Caressa. "I give you your new Jahan of Jahans. Obey her as you have obeyed me."
    Caressa took the whip in her hand and heard the dying Jahan's words with perfect amazement. She had neither sought this honor nor expected it. She saw bitter fury on Alva's face, and sheer bewilderment on Sabin's, but neither spoke a word. Their father was not dead yet.
    His strength was failing fast. He lowered his body so that he was lying on Malook's back. Caressa kissed him for the last time. His ugly face, pale from loss of blood, cracked into a last grin.

    "Always wanted to die young," he said.
    He murmured softly to Malook and the Caspian moved away, stepping carefully across the farm to the open gates. From there he picked up speed until he was cantering steadily westward over the parched land. Caressa and the Orlans watched in silence, knowing this was his last ride. They saw the Great Jahan rise up from his slumped position and sit tall on Malook's back. They saw him reach out his arms on either side in the Orlan victory charge. They saw him hold this proud pose for a few moments in the sun, and at last they saw him fall.
    They dug him a grave on the spot where he fell, according to the Orlan fashion. They dug a second grave by his side for his eldest son. While the men were engaged in the slow labor of digging the dry ground, Caressa sat by the dead man and stroked his hair and thought long and hard about his crazy final gift.
    They lowered the Jahan of Jahans into the ground, and Sasha Jahan too, and covered them with earth, and left no marker where they lay. This too was the Orlan way.
    "An Orlan lives on in his sons," they said. "He needs no headstone."
    Alva Jahan never spoke. His eyes were on the silver-handled whip, which Caressa now wore in her belt.
    They returned together to the abandoned farm, where there was brandy to drink to the memory of the dead men. Then after due honor had been done, Alva spoke at last—in a low bitter voice.

    "My father was not in his right mind before he died," he said. "The words he spoke were madness."
    "You think so?" said Caressa.
    "What he said—it's impossible. You're a woman. You're not an Orlan. You could never be the Jahan."
    "So who's to take your father's place?"
    "I am," said Alva. "I'm his son."
    "So am I," said Sabin.
    "I'm the elder," retorted Alva.
    "Why does that give you the better right?" said Sabin. "Younger sons have been chosen before."
    "Our father is no longer here to choose." Alva was struggling to