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English to Indonesian: Crossroad of the Light - Translated General field: Art/Literary Detailed field: Poetry & Literature
Source text - English And it shall come to pass, in the days when the Dark Hunt rides, when the right hand falters and the left hand strays, that mankind shall come to the Crossroads of Twilight and all that is, all that was, and all that will be shall balance on the point of a sword, while the winds of the Shadow grow.
—from The Prophecies of the Dragon,
translation believed done by Jain Charin,
known as Jain Farstrider,
shortly before his disappearance
________________________________________
Prologue
Glimmers of the Pattern
________________________________________
Rodel Ituralde hated waiting, though he well knew it was the largest part of being a soldier. Waiting for the next battle, for the enemy to move, to make a mistake. He watched the winter forest and was as still as the trees. The sun stood halfway to its peak, and gave no warmth. His breath misted white in front of his face, frosting his neatly trimmed mustache and the black fox fur lining his hood. He was glad that his helmet hung at his pommel. His breastplate held the cold and radiated it through his coat and all the layers of wool, silk and linen beneath. Even Dart’s saddle felt cold, as though the white gelding were made of frozen milk. The helmet would have addled his brain.
Winter had come late to Arad Doman, very late, but with a vengeance. From summer heat that lingered unnaturally into fall, to winter’s heart in less than a month. The leaves that had survived the long summer’s drought had been frozen before they could change color, and now they glistened like strange, ice-covered emeralds in the morning sun. The horses of the twenty-odd armsmen around him occasionally stamped a hoof in the knee-deep snow. It had been a long ride this far, and they had farther to go whether this day turned out good or ill. Dark clouds roiled the sky to northward. He did not need his weather-wise there to tell him the temperature would plummet before nightfall. They had to be under shelter by then.
“Not as rough as winter before last, is it, my Lord?” Jaalam said quietly. The tall young officer had a way of reading Ituralde’s mind, and his voice was pitched for the others to hear. “Even so, I suppose some men would be dreaming of mulled wine about now. Not this lot, of course. Remarkably abstemious. They all drink tea, I believe. Cold tea. If they had a few birch switches, they’d be stripping down for snow baths.”
“They’ll have to keep their clothes on for the time being,” Ituralde replied dryly, “but they might get some cold tea tonight, if they’re lucky.” That brought a few chuckles. Quiet chuckles. He had chosen these men with care, and they knew about noise at the wrong time.
He himself could have done with a steaming cup of spiced wine, or even tea. But it was a long time since merchants had brought tea to Arad Doman. A long time since any outland merchant had ventured farther than the border with Saldaea. By the time news of the outside world reached him, it was as stale as last month’s bread, if it was more than rumor to begin. That hardly mattered, though. If the WhiteTower truly was divided against itself, or men who could channel really were being called to Caemlyn . . . well, the world would have to do without Rodel Ituralde until Arad Doman was whole again. For the moment, Arad Doman was more than enough for any sane man to go on with.
Once again he reviewed the orders he had sent, carried by the fastest riders he had, to every noble loyal to the King. Divided as they were by bad blood and old feuds, they still shared that much. They would gather their armies and ride when orders came from the Wolf; at least, so long as he held the King’s favor. They would even hide in the mountains and wait, at his order. Oh, they would chafe, and some would curse his name, but they would obey. They knew the Wolf won battles. More, they knew he won wars. The Little Wolf, they called him when they thought he could not hear, but he did not care whether they drew attention to his stature—well, not much—so long as they rode when and where he said. Very soon they would be riding hard, moving to set a trap that would not spring for months. It was a long chance he was taking. Complex plans had many ways to fall apart, and this plan had layers inside layers. Everything would be ruined before it began if he failed to provide the bait. Or if someone ignored his order to evade couriers from the King. They all knew his reasons, though, and even the most stiff-necked shared them, though few were willing to speak of the matter aloud. He himself had moved like a wraith racing on a storm since he received Alsalam’s latest command. In his sleeve where the folded paper lay tucked above the pale lace that fell onto his steel-backed gauntlet. They had one last chance, one very small chance, to save Arad Doman. Perhaps even to save Alsalam from himself before the Council of Merchants decided to put another man on the throne in his place. He had been a good ruler, for over twenty years. The Light send that he could be again.
A loud crack to the south sent Ituralde’s hand to the hilt of his longsword. There was a faint creak of leather and metal as others eased their weapons. For the rest, silence. The forest was as still as a frozen tomb. Only a limb breaking under the weight of snow. After a moment, he let himself relax—as much as he had relaxed since the tales came north of the Dragon Reborn appearing in the sky at Falme. Perhaps the man really was the Dragon Reborn, perhaps he really had appeared in the sky, but whatever the truth, those tales had set Arad Doman on fire.
Ituralde was sure he could have put out that fire, given a freer hand. It was not boasting to think so. He knew what he could do, with a battle, a campaign, or a war. But ever since the Council had decided the King would be safer smuggled out of Bandar Eban, Alsalam seemed to have taken into his head that he was the rebirth of Artur Hawkwing. His signature and seal had marked scores of battle orders since, flooding out from wherever the Council had him hidden. They would not say where that was, even to Ituralde himself. Every woman on the Council that he confronted went flat-eyed and evasive at any mention of the King. He could almost believe they did not know where Alsalam was. A ridiculous thought, of course. The Council kept an unblinking eye on the King. Ituralde had always believed the merchant Houses interfered too much, yet he wished they would interfere now. Why they remained silent was a mystery, for a king who damaged trade did not remain long on the throne.
He was loyal to his oaths, and Alsalam was a friend, besides, but the orders the King sent could not have been better written to achieve chaos. Nor could they be ignored. Alsalam was the King. But he had commanded Ituralde to march north with all possible speed against a great gathering of Dragonsworn that Alsalam supposedly knew of from secret spies, then ten days later, with no Dragonsworn yet in sight, an order came to move south again, with all possible speed, against another gathering that never materialized. He had been commanded to concentrate his forces to defend Bandar Eban when a three-pronged attack might have ended it all and to divide them when a hammer blow could have done the same, to harry ground he knew the Dragonsworn had abandoned, and to march away from where he knew they camped. Worse, Alsalam’s orders often had gone directly to the powerful nobles who were supposed to be following Ituralde, sending Machir in this direction, Teacal in that, Rahman in a third. Four times, pitched battles had resulted from parts of the army blundering into one another in the night while moving to the King’s express command and expecting none but enemies ahead. And all the while the Dragonsworn gained numbers, and confidence. Ituralde had had his triumphs—at Solanje and Maseen, at Lake Somal and Kandelmar—the Lords of Katar had learned not to sell the products of their mines and forges to the enemies of Arad Doman—but always, Alsalam’s orders wasted his gains.
This last order was different, though. For one thing, a Gray Man had killed Lady Tuva trying to stop it from reaching him. Why the Shadow might fear this order more than any other was a mystery, yet it was all the more reason to move swiftly. Before Alsalam reached him with another. This order opened many possibilities, and he had considered every last one he could see. But the good ones all started here, today. When small chances of success were all that remained, you had to seize them.
A snowjay’s strident cry rang out in the distance, then a second time, a third. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Ituralde repeated the three harsh calls. Moments later a shaggy, pale dapple gelding appeared out of the trees, his rider in a white cloak streaked with black. Man and horse alike would have been hard to see in the snowy forest had they been standing still. The rider pulled up beside Ituralde. A stocky man, he wore only a single sword, with a short blade, and there were a cased bow and a quiver fastened to his saddle.
“Looks like they all came, my Lord,” he said in his permanently hoarse voice, pushing his cowl back from his head. Someone had tried to hang Donjel when he was young, though the reason was lost in the years. What remained of his short-cropped hair was iron-gray. The dark leather patch covering the socket of his right eye was a remnant of another youthful scrape. One eye or two, though, he was the best scout Ituralde had ever known. “Most, anyways,” he went on. “They put two rings of sentries around the lodge, one inside the other. You can see them a mile off, but nobody will get close without them at the lodge hearing of it in time to get away. By the tracks, they didn’t bring no more men than you said they could, not enough to count. Course,” he added wryly, “that still leaves you outnumbered a fair bit.”
Ituralde nodded. He had offered the White Ribbon, and the men he was to meet had accepted. Three days when men pledged under the Light, by their souls and hope of salvation, not to draw a weapon against another or shed blood. The White Ribbon had not been tested in this war, however, and these days some men had strange ideas of where salvation lay. Those who called themselves Dragonsworn, for instance. He had always been called a gambler, though he was not. The trick was in knowing what risks you could take. And sometimes, in knowing which ones you had to take.
Pulling a packet sewn into oiled silk from his boot top, he handed it to Donjel. “If I don’t reach Coron Ford in two days, take this to my wife.”
The scout tucked the packet somewhere beneath his cloak, touched his forehead, and turned his horse west. He had carried its like for Ituralde before, usually on the eve of battle. The Light send this was not the time Tamsin would have to open that packet. She would come after him—she had told him so—the first incident ever of the living haunting the dead.
“Jaalam,” Ituralde said, “let us see what waits at Lady Osana’s hunting lodge.” As he heeled Dart forward, the others fell in behind him.
The sun rose to its height and began again to descend as they rode. The dark clouds in the north moved closer, and the chill bit deeper. There was no sound but the crunch of hooves breaking through the snow crust. The forest seemed empty save for themselves. He did not see any of the sentries Donjel had spoken of. The man’s opinion of what could be seen from a mile differed from that of most. They would be expecting him, of course. And watching to make sure he was not followed by an army, White Ribbon or no White Ribbon. A good many of them likely had reasons they felt sufficient to feather Rodel Ituralde with arrows. A lord might pledge the White Ribbon for his men, but would all of those feel bound? Sometimes, there were chances you just had to take.
About midafternoon, Osana’s so-called hunting lodge loomed suddenly out of the trees, a mass of pale towers and slender, pointed domes that would have fitted well among the palaces of Bandar Eban itself. Her hunting had always been for men or power, her trophies numerous and noteworthy despite her relative youth, and the “hunts” that had taken place here would have raised eyebrows even in the capital. The lodge lay desolate, now. Broken windows gaped like mouths with jagged teeth. None showed a glimmer of light or movement. The snow covering the cleared ground around the lodge had been well trampled by horses, however. The ornate brass-bound gates of the main courtyard stood open, and he rode through without slowing, followed by his men. The horses’ hooves clattered on the paving stones, where the snow had been beaten to slush.
No servants came out to greet him, not that he had expected any. Osana had vanished early in the troubles that now shook Arad Doman like a dog shaking a rat, and her servants had drifted quickly to others of her house, taking whatever places they could find. These days, the masterless starved, or turned bandit. Or Dragonsworn. Dismounting in front of the broad marble stairway at the end of the courtyard, he handed Dart’s reins to one of his armsmen, and Jaalam ordered the men to take shelter where they could find it for themselves and the animals. Eyeing the marble balconies and wide windows that surrounded the courtyard, they moved as if expecting a crossbow bolt between the shoulder blades. One set of stable doors stood slightly ajar, but in spite of the cold, they divided themselves between the corners of the courtyard, huddling with the horses where they could keep watch in every direction. If the worst came, perhaps a few might make it out.
Removing his gauntlets, he tucked them behind his belt and checked his lace as he climbed the stairs with Jaalam. Snow that had been trodden underfoot and frozen again crackled beneath his boots. He refrained from looking anywhere but straight ahead. He must appear supremely assured, as though there were no possibility events should go other than as he expected. Confidence was one key to victory. The other side believing you were confident was sometimes almost as good as actually being confident. At the head of the stairs, Jaalam pulled open one of the tall, carved doors by its gilded ring. Ituralde touched his beauty spot with a finger to make sure it was in place—his cheeks were too cold to feel the black velvet star clinging—before he stepped inside. As self-assured as he would have been at a ball.
The cavernous entry hall was as icy as the outside. Their breath made feathered mists. Unlit, the space seemed already wreathed in twilight. The floor was a colorful mosaic of hunters and animals, the tiles chipped in places, as though heavy weights had been dragged over them, or perhaps dropped. Aside from a single toppled plinth that might once have held a large vase or a small statue, the hall was bare. What the servants had not taken when they fled had long since been looted by bandits. A single man awaited them, white-haired and more gaunt than when Ituralde had last seen him. His breastplate was battered, and his earring was just a small gold hoop, but his lace was immaculate, and the sparkling red quarter moon beside his left eye would have gone well at court, in better times.
“By the Light, be welcome under the White Ribbon, Lord Ituralde,” he said formally, with a slight bow.
“By the Light, I come under the White Ribbon, Lord Shimron,” Ituralde replied, making his courtesy in return. Shimron had been one of Alsalam’s most trusted advisors. Until he joined the Dragonsworn, at least. Now he stood high in their councils. “My armsman is Jaalam Nishur, honor bound to House Ituralde, as are all who came with me.”
There had been no House Ituralde before Rodel, but Shimron answered Jaalam’s bow, hand to heart. “Honor be to honor. Will you accompany me, Lord Ituralde?” he said as he straightened.
The great doors to the ballroom were gone from their hinges, though Ituralde could hardly imagine bandits looting those. They left a tall pointed arch wide enough for ten men to pass. Within the windowless oval room, half a hundred lanterns of every size and sort beat at shadows, though the light barely reached the domed ceiling. Separated by a wide expanse of floor, two groups of men stood against the painted walls, and if the White Ribbon had induced them to leave off helmets, all two hundred or more were armored otherwise, and certainly no one had put aside his swords. To one side were a few Domani lords as powerful as Shimron—Rajabi, Wakeda, Ankaer—each surrounded by his cluster of lesser lords and sworn commoners and smaller clusters, of few as two or three, many containing no nobles at all. The Dragonsworn had councils, but no one commander. Still, each of those men was a leader in his own right, some counting their followers in scores, a few in thousands. None appeared happy to be where he was, and one or two shot glares across the floor, to where fifty or sixty Taraboners stood in one solid mass and scowled back. Dragonsworn they might all be, yet there was little love lost between Domani and Taraboners. Ituralde almost smiled at the sight of the outlanders, though. He had not dared to count on half so many appearing today.
“Lord Rodel Ituralde comes under the White Ribbon.” Shimron’s voice rang through the lantern shadows. “Let whoever may think of violence search his heart, and consider his soul.” And that was the end of formality.
“Why does Lord Ituralde offer the White Ribbon?” Wakeda demanded, one hand gripping the hilt of his longsword and the other in a fist at his side. He was not a tall man, though taller than Ituralde, but as haughty as if he held the throne himself. Women had called him beautiful, once. Now a slanting black scarf covered the socket of his missing right eye, and his beauty spot was a black arrowhead pointing at the thick scar running from his cheek up onto his forehead. “Does he intend to join us? Or ask us to surrender? All know the Wolf is bold as well as devious. Is he that bold?” A rumble rose among the men on his side of the room, part mirth, part anger.
Ituralde clasped his hands behind his back to keep from fingering the ruby in his left ear. That was widely known as a sign that he was angry, and sometimes he did it on purpose, but he needed to present a calm face, now. Even while the man spoke past his ear! No. Calm. Duels were entered into in anger, but he was here to fight a duel, and that required calm. Words could be deadlier weapons than swords.
“Every man here knows we have another enemy to the south,” he said in a steady voice. “The Seanchan have swallowed Tarabon.” He ran his gaze over the Taraboners, and met flat stares. He never had been able to read Taraboners’ faces. Between those preposterous mustaches—like hairy tusks; worse than a Saldaean’s!—and those ridiculous veils, they might as well wear masks, and the poor light from the lanterns did not help. But he had seen them veiled in mail, and he needed them. “They have flooded onto Almoth Plain, and moved ever north. Their intent is clear. They mean to have Arad Doman, too. They mean to have the whole world, I fear.”
“Does Lord Ituralde want to know who we will support if these Seanchan invade us?” Wakeda demanded.
“I have true faith you will fight for Arad Doman, Lord Wakeda,” Ituralde said mildly. Wakeda went purple at having the direct insult flung in his teeth, and his oath-men’s hands went to hilts.
“Refugees have brought word that there are Aiel on the plain, now,” Shimron put in quickly, as though he feared Wakeda might break the White Ribbon. None of Wakeda’s oath-men would draw steel unless he did, or commanded them to. “They fight for the Dragon Reborn, so say the reports. He must have sent them, perhaps as an aid to us. No one has ever defeated an Aiel army, not even Artur Hawkwing. You recall the Blood Snow, Lord Ituralde, when we were younger? I believe you agree with me that we did not defeat them there, whatever the histories may say, and I cannot believe the Seanchan have the numbers we did then. I myself have heard of Seanchan moving south, away from the border. No, I suspect the next we hear will be of them retreating from the plain, not advancing on us.” He was not a bad commander in the field, but he had always been pedantic.
Ituralde smiled. Word came more swiftly from the south than from anywhere else, but he had been afraid he would have to bring up the Aiel, and they might have thought he was trying to trick them. He could hardly believe it himself, Aiel on Almoth Plain. He did not point out that Aiel sent to help the Dragonsworn were more likely to have appeared in Arad Doman itself. “I’ve questioned refugees, too, and they speak of Aiel raids, not armies. Whatever the Aiel are doing on the plain may have slowed the Seanchan, but it hasn’t turned them back. Their flying beasts have begun scouting on our side of the border. That does not smack of retreat.”
Producing the paper from his sleeve with a flourish, he held it up so all could see the Sword and Hand impressed in green-and-blue wax. As always of late, he had used a hot blade to separate the Royal Seal on one side while leaving it whole, so he could show it unbroken to doubters. There had been plenty of those, when they heard some of Alsalam’s orders. “I have orders from King Alsalam to gather as many men as I can, from wherever I can find them, and strike as hard as I can at the Seanchan.” He took a deep breath. Here, he took another chance, and Alsalam might have his head on the block unless the dice fell the right way. “I offer a truce. I pledge in the King’s name not to move against you in any way so long as the Seanchan remain a threat to Arad Doman, if you will all pledge the same and fight beside me against them until they are beaten back.”
A stunned silence answered him. Bull-necked Rajabi appeared poleaxed. Wakeda chewed his lip like a startled girl.
Then Shimron muttered, “Can they be beaten back, Lord Ituralde? I faced their . . . their chained Aes Sedai on Almoth Plain, as did you.” Boots scraped the floor as men shifted their feet, and faces darkened in bleak anger. No man liked to think he was helpless before an enemy, but enough had been there in the early days, with Ituralde and Shimron, for all to know what this enemy was like.
“They can be defeated, Lord Shimron,” Ituralde replied, “even with their . . . little surprises.” A strange thing to call the earth erupting under your feet, and scouts that rode what looked like Shadowspawn, but he had to sound assured as well as look it. Besides, when you knew what the enemy could do, you adapted. That had been one core of warfare long before the Seanchan appeared. Darkness cut the Seanchan advantages, and so did storms, and a weather-wise could always tell you when a storm was coming. “A wise man stops chewing when he reaches bone,” he continued, “but so far, the Seanchan have had their meat sliced thin before they reached for it. I intend to give them a tough shank to gnaw. More, I have a plan to make them snap so fast they’ll break their teeth on bone before they have a mouthful of meat. Now. I have pledged. Will you?”
It was hard not to hold his breath. Each man seemed to be looking inward. He could all but see them mulling it over. The Wolf had a plan. The Seanchan had chained Aes Sedai and flying beasts and the Light alone knew what else. But the Wolf had a plan. The Seanchan. The Wolf.
“If any man can defeat them,” Shimron said finally, “you can, Lord Ituralde. I will so pledge.”
“I do so pledge!” Rajabi shouted. “We’ll chase them back across the ocean where they came from!” He had a bull’s temperament as well as its neck.
Surprisingly, Wakeda thundered his agreement with equal enthusiasm, and then a storm of voices broke, calling that they would match the King’s pledge, that they would smash the Seanchan, even some that they would follow the Wolf into the Pit of Doom. All very gratifying, but not all Ituralde had come for.
“If you ask us to fight for Arad Doman,” one voice shouted above the rest, “then ask us!” The men who had been calling their pledges fell to angry mutters and half-heard curses.
Hiding his pleasure behind a bland expression, Ituralde turned to face the speaker, on the other side of the room. The Taraboner was a lean man, with a sharp nose that made a tent of his veil. His eyes were hard, though, and keen. Some of the other Taraboners frowned as if displeased he had spoken, so it appeared they had no one leader any more than the Domani, but he had spoken. Ituralde had hoped for the pledges he had received, but they were not necessary to his plan. The Taraboners were. At least, they would make it a hundred times more likely to work. He addressed the man courteously, with a bow.
“I offer you the chance to fight for Tarabon, my good Lord. The Aiel are making some confusion on the plain; the refugees speak of it. Tell me, could a small company of your men—a hundred, perhaps two—cross the plain in that disorder and enter Tarabon, if their armor was marked with stripes, as those who ride for the Seanchan?”
It seemed impossible the Taraboners face could grow any tighter, yet it did, and it was the turn of the men on his side of the room to mutter angrily and curse. Enough word had come north for them to know of a king and panarch put on their thrones by the Seanchan and swearing fealty to an empress on the other side of the Aryth Ocean. They could not like reminders of how many of their countrymen now rode for this empress. Most of the “Seanchan” on Almoth Plain were Taraboners.
“What good could one small company do?” the lean man growled, contemptuous.
“Little good,” Ituralde replied. “But if there were fifty such companies? A hundred?” These Taraboners might have that many men behind them, all told. “If they all struck on the same day, all across Tarabon? I myself would ride with them, and as many of my men as can be outfitted in Taraboner armor. Just so you will know this is not simply a stratagem to get rid of you.”
Behind him, the Domani began protesting loudly. Wakeda the loudest of all, if it could be believed! The Wolf’s plan was all very well, but they wanted the Wolf himself at their head. Most of the Taraboners began arguing among themselves, over whether so many men could cross the plain without being discovered, even in such small bands, over what good if any they could do in Tarabon in small companies, over whether they were willing to wear armor marked with Seanchan stripes. Taraboners argued as easily as Saldaeans, and as hotly. Not the sharp-nosed man. He met Ituralde’s gaze steadily. Then gave a slight nod. It was hard to tell, behind those thick mustaches, but Ituralde thought he smiled.
The last tension faded from Ituralde’s shoulders. The fellow would not have agreed while the others argued if he were not more of a leader among them than he seemed. The others would come, too, he was certain. They would ride south with him into the heart of what the Seanchan considered their own, and slap them hard and full across the face. The Taraboners would want to stay afterward, of course, and continue the fight in their own homeland. He could not expect anything more. Which would leave him and the few thousand men he could take with him to be hounded back north again, all the long way across Almoth Plain. If the Light shone on him, hounded with fury.
He returned the Taraboner’s smile, if smile it was. With any luck, furious generals would not see where he was leading them until it was too late. And if they did . . . Well, he had a second plan.
Translation - Indonesian Dan akan tiba saatnya, pada masa Perburuan Kegelapan merajalela, ketika tangan kanan gemetar dan tangan kiri tak berguna, umat manusia akan menghadapi Persimpangan Senja dan semua yang ada, yang dahulu, dan yang akan datang akan ditimbang diujung pedang, sementara angin sang Kegelapan menderu mengencang.
-dari Ramalan sang Naga,
Terjemahan dipercaya oleh Jain Charin
Dikenal sebagai Jain sang Pengelana
Beberapa saat sebelum dia menghilang
________________________________________
Prologue
Remang-remang Pola Waktu
________________________________________
Rodel Ituralde benci menunggu, meskipun dia amat sadar bahwa menunggu adalah bagian terbesar dari kehidupan prajurit. Menunggu pertempuran berikutnya, menunggu sang musuh bergerak, melakukan kesalahan. Ia mengamati hutan musim dingin itu dan berdiri diam seperti pepohonan. Sang surya telah setengah ke puncak, tapi tak memberi kehangatan. Nafasnya berembun putih di depan wajahnya, membekukan kumisnya yang tercukur rapih dan bulu-bulu rubah hitam dari tudung mantelnya. Ia lega helm-nya dia gantung di pelananya. Pelindung dadanya dingin dan menyebarkan dingin itu menyusup jaket dan semua lapisan wol, sutra dan linen di bawahnya. Bahkan pelana Dart, kudanya, juga terasa beku, seperti kuda putih ini terbuat dari susu beku. Jika ia pake helm, maka otaknya akan membeku.
Musim dingin datang amat terlambat di Arad Doman, sangat terlambat, tetapi datang seperti balas dendam dengan seluruh kedahsyatannya. Dari kegerahan musim panas yang tidak alami berlangsung hingga musim gugur, puncak musim dingin tiba kurang dari satu bulan. Dedaunan yang bertahan dari kemarau musim panas yang lama langsung membeku di dahan sebelum sempat berganti warna, dan sekarang mereka berkilau seperti jamrud berlapis es aneh tertimpa sinar matahari pagi. Kuda-kuda dari para prajurit di sekitar Rodel kadangkala menghentak ladamnya di salju sedepa. Mereka telah berkendara sejauh ini, dan akan lebih jauh lagi bagaimanapun buruk atau bagusnya hasil dari ini. Awan-awan hitam bergulung di angkasa ke arah utara. Dia tak perlu peramal cuaca untuk tahu suhu udara akan melorot turun sebelum malam tiba. Mereka harus sudah berlindung sebelum itu.
“Tak seganas musim dingin sebelumnya, ya Tuanku?” Jaalam berbisik. Perwira muda jangkung ini seperti punya cara membaca benak Ituralda, dan ia tinggikan suaranya agar lain bias dengar. “Biasanya, orang-orang akan mendambakan anggur panas saat ini. Tapi tidak buat gerombolan ini. Mereka absen dari minuman keras. Mereka minum teh, saya kira. Teh dingin. Jika mereka punya ranting dedaunan, mereka akan buka baju untuk mandi salju.”
“Mereka harus tetap pakai baju sementara ini.” Jawab Ituralde dingin, “tapi mereka bias minum teh dingin malam ini, jika beruntung.” Beberapa orang tertawa. Tawa yang diredam. Ia telah memilih mereka dengan hati-hati, dan mereka tahu bagaimana akibat suara di waktu yang salah.
Ituralde sendiri juga ingin minum secangkir mengepul anggur hangat, bahkan teh jika anggur takada. Tapi sudah lama sekali para pedagang tidak membawa teh ke Arad Doman. Lama sejak pedagang manapun mau menjelajah lebih jauh dari perbatasan dengan Saldea. Saat kabar apapun dari dunia luar sampai ke dirinya, berita itu sudah basi seperti roti bulan kemarin, meski itu hanya isu saja awalnya. Tak jadi soal. Jika Menara Putih benar telah terpecah saling melawan satu sama lain, or para pria yang bisa mengalirkan tenaga dalam dipanggil ke Caemlyn… maka, dunia bisa berjalan tanpa Rodel Ituralde hingga Arad Doman utuh kembali. Saat ini, Arad Doman lebih dari cukup untuk dihadapi setiap orang yang waras.
Sekali lagi ia membaca perintah-perintah yang telah ia kirim, dibawa dengan para pengendara tercepat yang ia punya, ke setiap bangsawan yang masih setia pada sang Raja. Terpecah belah oleh masalah pribadi dan pertikaan lama, mereka masih berbagi kesetiaan. Mereka akan mengumpulkan tentara mereka dan bergerak saat perintah datang dari sang Serigala; paling tidak selama ia masih dipercaya sang Raja. Mereka bahkan akan bersembunyi di gunung dan menunggu, atas perintahnya. Oh, mereka akan menggerutu, sebagian akan menyumpahinya, tapi mereka akan taat. Mereka tahu sang Serigala memenangkan pertempuran. Lebih lagi mereka yakin sang Serigala memenangkan peperangan. Serigala Kecil panggil mereka saat mereka pikir ia tidak mendengarnya, tapi dia tidak peduli pandangan mereka terhadapnya – selama mereka bergerak kemana dan kapan ia perintahkan. Tak lama lagi mereka akan bergerak cepat, menyiapkan perangkap yang lama baru akan digunakan. Peluang jangka panjang yang ia siapkan. Rencana-rencana rumit yang punya banyak celah untuk kegagalan, dan rencana ini punya lapisan di dalam lapisan. Semua akan hancur sebelum dimulai jika ia gagal menyiapkan umpannya. Atau jika ada orang yang mengacuhkan perintahnya menghindari kurir dari sang Raja. Mereka semua tahu alasannya, bahkan mereka yang paling kaku sekalipun, meski sedikit yang mau membahasnya. Dia sendiri telah bergerak seperti hantu mengejar badai sejak ia menerima perintah terakhir dari Alsalam. Kertas yang terlipat itu tersimpan di lengan bajunya di atas renda pucat yang melapisi sarung tangan bajanya. Mereka hanya punya satu kesempatan terakhir, satu kesempatan amat kecil, untuk menyelamatkan Arad Doman. Mungkin juga menyelamatkan Alsalam dari dirinya sediri sebelum Dewan Para Pedagang memutuskan memilih orang lain di singgasana menggantikannya. Alsalam seorang penguasa yang baik selama dua puluh tahun. Semoga sang Cahaya memastikan dia bisa memerintah dengan baik lagi.
Suara keras di selatan membuat tangan Ituralde memegang gagang pedang panjangnya. Gemerisik gesekan pada kulit dan besi saat yang lain menyiapkan senjata mereka. Selain itu, sepi. Hutan sunyi seperti kuburan membeku. Hanya dahan patah keberatan salju ternyata. Beberapa saat kemudian, Ituralde menyantaikan dirinya-sesantai dirinya sejak ia mendengar cerita dari utara tentang sang Reinkarnasi Naga muncul di angkasa Falme. Mungkin orang itu benar sang Reinkarnasi Naga, mungkin betul ia muncul di angkasa, tetapi apapun kebebaranya, cerita-cerita itu menyulut Arad Doman dalam api.
Itularde yakin ia dapat memadamkan api itu, jika diberi keleluasaan bergerak. Itu bukan sekedar kesombongan kosong. Ia tahu apa yang bisa dia lakukan, dalam pertempuran, kampanye perang, ataupun peperangan. Tapi sejak Dewan Pedangan memutuskan lebih aman menyelundupkan sang Raja keluar Bandar Eban, Alsalam sepertinya menganggap dirinya sebagai reinkarnasi dari Artur Hawkwing. Tandatangan dan segel dirinya telah menandai beberapa perintah pertempuran, membanjir keluar dari manapun Dewan Pedagang menyembunyikannya. Mereka tidak mau memberitahu di mana, bahkan pada Ituralde. Setiap perempuang anggota Dewan yang ditanyainya menghindar setiap membahas soal sang Raja. Ia hampir percaya bahwa mereka sendiripun tidak tahu di mana Alsalam berada. Pikiran yang konyol, memang. Dewan Pedagang terus mengawasi sang Raja. Ituralde selalu yakin para Kelompok pedagang telah turut campur terlalu banyak, namun ia berharap mereka bisa turut campur sekarang. Mengapa mereka tetap membisu adalah misteri, karena seorang raja yang menghancurkan perdagangan biasanya tidak bertahan lama di singgasana.
Ia tetap setia pada setiap sumpahnya, dan Alsalam adalah seorang teman. Tetapi perintah-perintah dari sang Raja telah menyebabkan kekacauan. Namun dia tidak bisa mengacuhkannya. Alsalam adalah sang Raja. Tapi ia telah memerintahkan Ituralda bergerak ke utara dengan semua kekuatan dan kecepatan yang dia kerahkan untuk melawan kumpulan besar para Pengikut Naga yang menurut Alsalam tahu dari mata-mata rahasia, tetapi sepuluh hari kemudian, tanpa seorangpun Pengikut Naga ditemukan, sebuah perintah datang untuk mengerahkan pasukan ke selatan, dengan segera, melawan kumpulan besar lainnya, yang tidak pernah ditemukan. Dia telah diperintahkan untuk menkonsentrasikan semua pasukannya untuk mempertahankan Bandar Eban saat serangan dari tiga arah dapat menghancurkannya, dan membagi pasukannya saat sebuah serangan bagi godam besar bisa membinasakan semua pasukan yang terpecah itu. Kemudian dia diperintah untuk menyisir daerah yang ia tahu sudah ditinggalkan oleh Pengikut Naga, dan diperintah meninggalkan daerah yang dia tahu jadi basis berkumpul para Pengikut Naga. Lebih buruk lagi, perintah Alsalam dikirim langsung ke para bangsawan berkuasa yang seharusnya di bawah perintah Ituralde, mengerahkan Machir ke arah yang satu, Teacal ke arah yang lain, Rahman ke arah yang lainnya lagi. Empat kali sudah, pertarungan jarak dekat terjadi antara pasukan kawan karena terserandung dengan pasukan kawan lain di malam hari saat bergerak atas perintah sang Raja dan tidak mewaspadai pasukan kawan di depan selain musuh. Sementara itu kekuatan para Pengikut Naga membesar dan makin percaya diri. Ituralde memenangkan beberapa pertempuran – di Solanje dan Maseen, di Danau Somal dan Kandelmar – para Penguasa Katar dapat pelajaran untuk tidak menjual hasil tambang dan bengkel tempa mereka ke para musuh Arad Doman – tetapi, perintah-perintah Alsalam mementahkan semua kemenangan itu.
Namun, perintah terakhir ini berbeda. Di satu sisi, seorang Pembunuh Gelap sampai membunuh Puteri Tuva saat mencegah pesan ini sampai ke tangannya. Mengapa Penguasa Kegelapan khawatir atas perintah ini dibanding perintah yang lain masih menjadi misteri, namun itu menjadi alasan untuk bergerak atas dasarnya. Sebelum perintah lain dari Alsalam tiba. Perintah ini membuka banyak kemungkinan, dan ia telah mempertimbangkan semua yang bisa dilihat. Tapi kemungkinan-kemungkinan yang bagus dimulai di sini, hari ini. Ketika hanya ada peluang-peluang sukses kecil yang tersisa, engkau harus merenggutnya.
Siulan suara burung Salju terdengar di kejauhan, kemudian kedua kali, dan ketiga kali. Melingkari mulutnya dengan telapak tangan, Ituralde mengulangi tiga siulan panggilan itu. Beberapa saat kemudian, seekor kuda pucat berambut panjang muncul dari pepohonan, sang pengendaranya mengenakan mantel putih berloreng hitam. Sang kuda dan pengendaranya akan sulit dilihat dalam hutan bersalju jika berdiri diam. Sang pengendara berhenti disamping Ituralde. Gempal, sang pengendara hanya bersenjata pedang pendek, dan busur serta sarang anak panah terikat di pelananya.
“Tuanku, sepertinya mereka semua datang,’ Ia berbicara dengan suara parau, sambil mendorong tudungnya ke belakang kepala. Seseorang telah mencoba menggantung Donjel saat ia muda, meskipun alasan penggantungan itu sudah terlupakan bertahun lalu. Yang tersisa dari rambut pendeknya berwarna perak. Selembar kulit hitam kecil menutupi lubang mata kanannya yang hampa merupakan sisa dari pengalaman muda lainnya. Punya satu mata ataupun dua mata, dia adalah pengintai terbaik yang Ituralde kenal. “Kebanyakan, sih,’ lanjutnya. “Mereka menyebar dua lingkaran penjaga disekeliling pondok, satu di dalam lingkaran lain. Anda dapat melihat mereka dari jarak satu mil, tetapi tidask ada yang dapat mendekat tanpa di dengar mereka yang ada di pondok untuk meloloskan diri. Dari jejak yang ada, mereka tidak membawa pasukan lebih dari yang anda izinkan, tapi saya tidak bisa menghitung pasti,” dia tambahkan dengan muram,”Yang pasti jumlah mereka lebih banyak dari anda.”
Ituralde mengangguk. Ia telah menawarkan Pita Putih, dan orang-orang yang dia undang datang telah menerimanya. Selama tiga hari mereka bersumpah di bawah Cahaya, demi keselamatan jiwa mereka, tidak akan menggunakan senjata mereka atau menumpahkan darah sesama mereka. Pita Putih belum pernah diberlakukan dalam perang sekarang, dan saat sekarang beberapa orang punya ide yang aneh mengenai di mana keselamatan jiwa terletak. Seperti mereka yang menyebut dirinya para Pengikut Naga. Ituralde selalu dipandang sebagai seorang penjudi, meskipun dia bukan. Kuncinya adalah tahu resiko yang bisa ditanggung. Kadangkala, juga tahu mana yang harus dia ambil.
Mengambil sebuah kantung yang dijahit dari sutra tahan air dari atas sepatu botnya, ia berikan itu ke Donjel. “Jika saya tidak tiba di Coron Ford dalam dua hari, berikan ini pada istriku.”
Sang pengintai memasukkan kantung itu di bawah mantelnya, menyentuh dahinya, dan mengarahkan kudanya ke barat. Ia telah membawa paket serupa dari Ituralde sebelumnya, biasanya pada saat awal pertempuran. Semoga sang Cahaya menjamin bukan saat ini Tamsin akan membuka paket itu. Ia akan menjemputnya – dia bilang ke Ituralde – kali pertama orang hidup menhantui orang yang mati.
“Jaalam,” perintah Ituralde,”Mari kita lihat apa yang menunggu kita di pondok berburu Puteri Osana.” Saat dia menghela Dart maju, yang lain mengikuti di belakangnya.
Sang surya telah mencapai puncak dan mulai turun saat mereka berkendara. Awan-awan gelap di utara bergerak mendekat, dan hawa dingin menggigit lebih dingin. Tak ada bunyi lain selain gemerutuk butir salju yang ditimpa ladam kuda. Hutan sepertinya kosong selain diri mereka. Ia tidak melihat para penjaga yang disebut Donjel tadi. Apa yang dapat dilihat Donjel dari jarak satu mil berbeda dengan kebanyakan orang lain. Mereka akan menunggunya, pasti. Dan mengawasi untuk memastikan dia tidak diikuti oleh pasukan tentara, dalam naungan Pita Putih atau tidak. Kebanyakan mereka punya alasan cukup untuk memenuhi badan Rodel Ituralde dengan anak panah. Seorang bangsawan mungkin bersumpah Pita Putih atas nama pengikutnya, tetapi apakah pengikutnya semua merasa terikat atas sumpah itu? Kadangkala, ada beberapa peluang yang mungkin bisa kamu ambil.
Pertengahan sore hari, apa yang disebut sebagai pondok berburu Puteri Osana tiba-tiba menjulang di atas pepohonan, sekumpulan menara-menara pucat dan kubah langsing lancip yang lebih cocok berada di antara istana-istana di Bandar Eban. Perburuan Puteri Osana selalu berkaitan dengan pria dan kekuasaan, piala-piala yang didapatnya telah banyak dan mengesankan meski dia masih relative muda, dan “perburuan” yang berlangsung di sini akan menyebabkan alis mata orang naik di ibukota. Sekarang pondok itu terlihat ditinggalkan. Jendela-jendela yang rusak terlihat seperti gigi-gigi yang patah ompong. Tak terlihat secercah cahaya ataupun sekelibat gerakan. Salju yang menutupi halaman sekeliling pondok telah terinjak-injak oleh kuda. Gerbang-gerbang berhias kuningan di halaman utama terbuka lebar, dan Ituralde mengendarai kudanya melewati gerbang tersebut tanpa melambat, diikuti oleh pengikutnya. Ladam-ladam kuda bergeratak di batu jalan, di mana salju telah mencair terinjak-injak.
Tak seorang pelayan-pun keluar menyambutnya, meski dia tidak mengharapkannya. Osana telah menghilang dari saat awal munculnya masalah yang sekarang mengguncang Arad Doman seperti anjing mengguncang tikus, dan para pelayannya telah bergabung ke bangsawan lain di kelompoknya, bergabung ke tempat apapun yang bisa mereka temui. Hari-hari ini, mereka yang tidak punya tuan akan kelaparan, atau menjadi bandit. Atau menjadi Pengikut Naga. Turun dari kuda di depan tangga lebar marmer di ujung halaman utama, dia memberikan tali kendali Dart ke salah satu prajuritnya, dan Jaalam memerintahkan yang lain untuk mencari tempat berlindung yang bisa ditemukan untuk mereka dan binatang kendaraan mereka. Mengamati balkon-balkon marmer dan jendela-jendela lebar yang mengelilingi halaman, mereka bergerak dengan waspada seperti ada anak panah yang akan menancap di bahu. Salah satu pintu istal kuda terbuka lebar, tetapi meskipun hawa dingin menerpa, mereka menyebar di tiap sudut halaman, bersama dengan kuda mereka di mana mereka dapat mengamati setiap arah. Jika kemungkinan terburuk yang terjadi, mungkin beberapa dari mereka bisa lolos.
Mencopot sarung tangan besinya, dia menyisipkan mereka di sabuk dan memeriksa rendanya sambil naik anak tangga bersama Jaalam. Salju yang telah diinjak di bawah kaki dan membeku pecah diinjak sepatu bot-nya. Dia menahan diri melihat sekeliling tetap memandang lurus ke depan. Dia harus terlihat amat yakin, seperti tidak ada kemungkinan hasil lain dari yang dia harapkan. Keyakinan adalah kunci kemenangan. Jika pihak lain percaya engkau yakin kadangkala lebih baik daripada keyakinan diri. Di ujung atas tangga, Jaalam membuka salah satu pintu berukir tinggi dengan menarik cincin sepuhnya. Ituralde menyentuh titik riasnya dengan jari untuk memastikannya sesuai ditempatnya – pipinya terlalu dingin untuk merasakan bintang merah tuanya tergantung – sebelum ia melangkah masuk. Seyakin dirinya seperti masuk ke sebuah pesta dansa.
Ruang masuk dansa yang besar sangat dingin seperti di luar. Nafas mereka berembun. Tanpa penerangan, ruangan itu seperti mengerut dalam cahaya senja. Lantai berhiaskan lukisan mosaik warna-warni tentang pemburu dan binatang buruan, Ubin-ubin retak diberbagai tempat, serperti ada beban berat digeser di atas mereka, atau dijatuhkan di atas mereka. Selain dari sebuah pilartunggal terjungkal yang mungkin dulu menjadi alas vas besar atau patung kecil, aula itu kosong. Apa yang tidak dibawa oleh para pelayan saat mereka melarikan diri telah lama dijarah oleh para bandit. Seorang pria menunggu mereka, berambut putih dan lebih kurus dari terakhir kali Ituralde melihatnya. Pelindung dadanya penyok, dan anting-antingnya hanya cincin emas kecil, tetapi rendanya rapi, dan bulan sabit gemerlap di bawah mata kanannya akan cocok berada di lingkungan istana, di saat-saat yang lebih baik.
“Demi sang Cahaya, selama datang di bawah naungan Pita Putih, Tuanku Ituralde,” dia menyambut formal lengkap dengan sedikit menundukkan badan.
“Demi sang Cahaya. Saya datang di bawah naungan Pita Putih, Tuanku Shimron,” jawab Ituralde, membalas dengan penghormatan yang sama. Shimron dulu adalah salah satu penasihat kepercayaan Alsalam. Setidaknya, sampai ia bergabung dengan Pengikut Naga. Sekarang dia adalah salah satu pembesar di dewan Pengikut Naga. “Pengawal saya adalah Jaalam Nishur, terikat dalam kehormatan pada bangsawan Ituralde, juga mereka yang datang bersama saya.”
Sebelum Rodel, tidak ada bangsawan Ituralde, tetapi Shimron membalas salam Jaalam, tangan di dada. “Kehormatan demi Kehormatan. Silahkan ikuti saya, Tuanku Ituralde?’ katanya sambil meluruskan badan.
Pintu-pintu megah ke ruang dansa telah copot dari engselnya, meski Ituralde tidak yakin para bandit juga menjarahnya. Yang tertinggal adalah lengkungan tinggi besar yang cukup muat bagi sepuluh prajurit menerjang masuk. Di dalam ruang berbentuk oval yang tidak berjendela itu, lima puluhan lampu berbagai ukuran dan jenis mengalahkan bayangan, meskipun cahaya tidak cukup mencapai langit kubah. Terpisahkan oleh luasnya ruangan, dua kelompok pria berdiri di depan dinding dengan lukisan, dan jika Pita Putih menyebabkan mereka melepaskan helm, kesemua dua ratus lebih pria itu memakai pelindung badan, dan tak seorangpun menanggalkan pedangnya. Di satu sisi terdapat beberapa bangsawan kuat Domani seperti Shimron – Rajabi, Wakeda, Ankaer – setiap mereka dikelilingi oleh bangsawan lain serta pengikutnya, dan beberapa kelompok, dua atau tiga kelompok, yang tidak ada bangsawan dalam anggotanya. Para Pengikut Naga punya dewan-dewan, tetapi tidak punya ada panglima. Namun, setiap dari mereka adalah pemimpin dari kelompoknya, beberapa dengan sedikit pengikut, beberapa dalam ribuan. Tak seorangpun yang kelihatan senang berada di sisi, dan beberapa melepaskan pandangan tajam ke seberang ruangan, di mana sekitar limapuluh sampai enampuluh orang Tarabon berdiri dalam satu kelompok solid dan balas menatap tajam. Mereka mungkin sama Pengikut Naga, tapi tidak ada cinta di antara orang Domani dan Tarabon. Ituralde hampir tersenyum melihat para pendatang ini. Dia tidak berani berharap lebih dari setengah yang datang hadir hari ini
“Tuanku Rodel Ituralde datang dalam naungan Pita Putih.” Suara Shimron menggaung di antara bayangan lentera. “Barangsiapa punya niat kekerasan biar ia mencari di dalam hatinya, dan mempertimbangkan keselamatan jiwanya.” Dengan itu berakhirlah semua formalitas.
“Mengapa Tuanku Ituralde menawarkan Pita Putih?” Wakeda menuntut penjelasan, dengan satu tangan menggenggam pangkal pedang panjannya dan satu tangan lagi mengepal di samping badannya. Dia bukan orang yang jangkung, meski lebih tinggi dari Ituralde, tetapi lebih congkak seperti dia yang menguasai singgasana sekarang. Para wanita memanggilnya tampan, dulu. Sekarang sebuah selendang hitam miring menutupi mata kanannya yang hilang, dan titik riasnya adalah anak panah hitam menunjuk ke codetan tebal dari pipi ke atas dahinya. “Apakah dia bermaksud bergabung dengan kita? Atau meminta kita menyerah? Semua orang tahu sang Serigala sangat berani juga licik. Apakah dia sebegitu berani?” Gumaman terdengar di antara mereka di sisi ruangan dekatnya, sebagian ejekan, sebagian geram amarah.
Ituralde menangkupkan kedua tangannya di belakang tubuh agar dia tidak menyentuh batu ruby di telinga kirinya. Itu dikenal luas sebagai tanda dia marah, meski kadangkala dia lakukan juga dengan sengaja, tetapi saat ini ia perlu memperlihatkan wajah yang tenang. Meski orang berteriak di telinganya! Tetap tenang. Duel dilakukan karena kemarahan, tetapi dia di sini untuk mencegah duel, dan itu perlu kekaleman. Kata-kata bisa lebih mematikan dari pedang.
“Semua orang di sini tahu kita punya musuh lain di selatan,” katanya dengan suara mantap. “Kaum Seanchan telah menelan Tarabon.” Dia arahkan pandangannya ke kaum Tarabon dan dibalas dengan dingin. Dia tidak pernah bisa membaca wajah orang Tarabon. Di antara kumis menggelikan mereka – seperti taring bulu; lebih buruk dari orang Saldea! – dan cadar konyolnya, sama saja seperti mereka memakai topeng, dan cahaya yang kurang dari lentera-lentera tidak membantu sama sekali. Tetapi dia pernah melihat mereka bercadar dalam ketopong dan dia perlu mereka. “mereka telah membanjiri Dataran Almoth, dan bergerak ke selatan. Tujuan mereka amat jelas. Mereka bermaksud meraih Arad Doman juga. Mereka bermaksud meraih seluruh dunia, nampaknya.”
“Apa Tuanku Ituralde ingin tahu siapa yang akan kami dukung jika kaum Seanchan ini menginvasi kita?”
“Saya punya keyakinan nyata anda semua akan bertempur demi Arad Doman, Tuanku Wakeda,” balas Ituralde tenang. Wakeda menjadi ungu atas penghinaan langsung ke mukanya itu, dan tangan para pengikutnya bergerak ke pangkal pedang mereka.
“Para pengungsi membawa kabar bahwa ada kaum Aiel di dataran itu, sekarang,” Shimron cepat menyela, seperti khawatir Wakeda akan melanggar Pita Putih. Tidak akan ada pengikut Wakeda yang akan menarik pedangnya jika dia tidak memulainya, atau diperintahkannya. “Mereka bertempur demi sang Reinkarnasi Naga, menurut beberapa laporan. Dia pasti yang telah mengirim mereka, mungkin sebagai bantuan bagi kita. Tidak ada yang pernah mengalahkan pasukan Aiel, tidak juga Artur Hawkwing. Anda ingat peristiwa Salju Berdarah, Tuanku Ituralde, saat kita masih muda? Saya yakin anda setuju dengan saya bahwa kita tidak mengalahkan mereka saat itu, apapun kata ahli sejarah, dan saya tidak percaya kaum Seanchan punya jumlah pasukan seperti yang kita punya saat itu. Saya sendiri mendengar kaum Seanchan telah bergerak ke selatan, menjauh dari perbatasan. Tidak, saya menduga kita akan mendengar mereka mundur dari dataran, bukan maju kea rah kita.” Dia bukan komandan yang buruk di lapangan, tetapi dia selalu komandan yang kaku.
Ituralde tersenyum. Kabar datang lebih cepat dari selatan dibandingkan dari arah lainnya, tetapi dia ragu untuk membahas soal Aiel, dan mereka mungkin berpikir dia mencoba menipu mereka. Dia sendiri hampir tidak percaya, kaum Aiel di dataran Almoth. Dia tidak menekankan bahwa jika Aiel dikirim untuk membantu kaum Pengikut Naga maka harusnya mereka muncul langsung di Arad Doman. “Saya telah menanyai para pengungsi, dan mereka berbicara tentang serangan Aiel, bukan pasukan Aiel. Apapun yang kaum Aiel lakukan di dataran mungkin telah memperlambat laju kaum Seanchn, tetapi tidak membuat mereka putar balik. Binatang terbang mereka telah mulai mengintai sisi kita di perbatasan. Itu bukan pertanda gerakan mundur.”
Sambil mengeluarkan kertas dari lengan bajunya secara dramatis, ia memperlihatkan kepada semua cap Pedang dan Tangan di atas segel lilin hijau dan biru. Seperti belakangan ini, ia telah memakai bilah pisau yang dipanaskan untuk membuka Segel Kerajaan tanpa merusak segel tersebut, sehingga ia bisa memperlihatkan surat itu seperti belum terbuka bagi mereka yang ragu. Pasti ada banyak yang meragukan, saat mereka mendengar sebagian dari perintah-perintah dari Alsalam. “Saya punya perintah dari Raja Alsalam untuk mengumpulkan sebanyak mungkin prajurit, dari manapun saya bisa kumpulkan, dan menggempur kaum Seanchan sekuatnya.” Ia mengambil nafas panjang. Sekarang, ia mengambil peluang lain, dan Alsalam mungkin akan memancungnya jika dadu tidak jatuh ke angka yang benar. “Saya menawarkan gencatan senjata. Saya bersumpah atas nama sang Raja saya tidak akan menyerang kalian selama kaum Seanchan masih menjadi ancaman bagi Arad Doman, jika anda semua juga bersumpah yang sama dan bertempur di sisi saya melawan mereka sampai mereka dikalahkan.”
Hanya keheningan yang menjawabnya. Rajabi yang gempal terbangong-bengong. Wakeda menggigiti bibirnya seperti gadis yang terkejut.
Kemudian Shimron terbata-bata bertanya, “Dapatkan mereka dikalahkan, Tuanku? Saya bertempur menghadapi… Aes Sedai mereka yang dirantai di Dataran Almoth, seperti juga anda.” Suara sepatu bot terdengar bergeseran dengan lantai saat mereka gelisah, dan wajah-wajah lebih muram karena amarah. Tidak ada orang yang berpikir dia tidak berdaya di hadapan musuh, tetapi cukup sudah yang mereka alami di awal pertempuran, seperti pengalaman Ituralde dan Shimron, untuk tahu apa yang mereka hadapi sekarang
“Mereka bisa dikalahkan, Tuanku Shimron.” Jawab Ituralde,”bahkan jika mereka mengerahkan… kejutan kecil mereka.” Aneh rasanya menyebut bumi meledak dibawah kaki mu, dan pengintai yang menunggangi mahluk seperti dari kegelapan sebagai kejutan kecil, tetapi dia harus terdengar tenang menyakinkan. Lagipula, jika kau tahu apa yang bisa dilakukan musuh, maka kamu bisa beradaptasi. Itu adalah inti dari ilmu peperangan jauh sebelum kaum Seanchan muncul. Kegelapan malam mengurangi keunggulan Seanchan, badai juga punya efek sama, dan para peramal cuaca dapat memberitahu-mu kapan badai akan datang. “Orang bijak berhenti mengunyah saat dia menyentuh tulang,” lanjutnya,”tetapi, sampai saat ini kaum Seanchan telah mendapat daging makanan mereka terpotong-potong sebelum mereka meraihnya. Saya bermaksud memberikan potongan daging gigih untuk dikunyah mereka. Lebih lanjut, saya punya rencana untuk membuat mereka menggigiti dengan begitu cepat mereka akan mematahkan gigi di tulang sebelum mereka sadari. Sekarang, saya telah bersumpah. Akankan anda?
Sulit untuk menahan nafas. Setiap orang sepertinya merenung ke dalam. Dia hanya bisa mengamati mereka berpikir. Sang Serigala punya rencana. Kaum Seanchan punya Aes Sedai yang dirantai dan mahluk terbang dan apalagi yang mereka belum tahu. Tetapi sang Serigala punya rencana. Kaum Seanchan. Sang Serigala.
“Jika ada orang yang bisa mengalahkan mereka,” Kata Shimron akhirnya.”Andalah orangnya, Tuanku Ituralde. Saya akan bersumpah dengan anda.”
“Saya juga bersumpah!” teriak Rajabi. “Kita akan mengusir mereka kembali ke seberang lautan tempat mereka berasal!” Dia punya temperamen banteng seperti lehernya.
Dengan mengejutkan, Wakeda mengguruhkan persetujuannya dengan antusiasme yang sama, kemudian badai suara pecah, menyatakan mereka akan memenuhi sumpah Raja, mereka akan menghancurkan kaum Seanchan, bahkan beberapa berkata mereka akan mengikuti sang Serigala ke Lubang Kehancuran. Semua sangat memuaskan, tetapi tidak semua yang diharapkan Ituralde datang ke sini.
“Kalau engkau ingin kami bertempur demi Arad Doman,” sebuah suara terdengar keras di antara suara lain,”Maka tanyalah pada kami!” Mereka yang telah bersumpah kemudian terdengar menggumamkan kemarahan dan serapah.
Menyembunyikan rasa senang di balik ekspresi dingin, Ituralde mengalihkan pandangan ke wajah sang pembicara, di sisi lain ruangan. Orang Taraboner itu ramping, dengan hidung tajam yang membuat tenda dengan cadarnya. Matanya keras, tangguh, dan berapi. Beberapa orang Tarabon lain mengernyit seperti tidak suka dia telah berbicara, sepertinya mereka juga tidak punya satu pemimpin seperti kaum Domani, tapi dia telah bicara. Ituralde telah berharap dengan sumpah yang telah diterimanya, orang Tarabon tidak diperlukan lagi bagi rencananya. Paling tidak, orang tarabon akan membuat peluang rencananya berhasil seratus kali lipat. Ia menjawab orang itu dengan hormat, lengkap dengan membungkukkan badan.
“Saya menawarkan pada anda kesempatan bertempur demi Tarabon, tuanku. Kaum Aiel membuat beberapa kebingungan di dataran; para pengungsi mengabarkannya. Katakan, apakah sebuah kompi kecil pasukan anda – seratus, mungkin duaratusan –dapat melintasi dataran yang sekarang dalam kekacauan dan masuk ke Tarabon, jika baju besi mereka ditandai dengan garis-garis, seperti mereka yang bertempur demi kaum Seanchan?’
Nampaknya tidak mungkin bagi wajah orang Tarabon untuk lebih kencang lagi, tapi demikianlah yang terjadi, dan sekarang giliran mereka yang ada di sisi ruangannya yang menggumamkan kemarahan dan serapah. Cukup informasi datang ke utara bagi mereka untuk tahu ada raja dan wanita utama baru yang diangkat oleh kaum Seanchan dan telah bersumpah setia pada seorang maharani di seberang Lautan Aryth. Mereka tidak suka diingatkan berapa banyak teman senegara mereka yang sekarang bertempur untuk maharani ini. Kebanyakan prajurit “Seanchan” di Dataran Almoth adalah orang Tarabon.
“Apa yang bisa dilakukan satu kompi kecil?” orang ramping itu menggeram, menghina
“Hampir tidak ada,” Jawab Ituralde. “Tetapi bagaimana jika ada lima puluh kompi kecil? Seratus?” Kaum Tarabon ini mungkin punya sebanyak itu di belakang mereka. “Jika mereka menyerang di hari yang sama, di seluruh Tarabon? Saya sendiri akan bertempur bersama mereka, juga sebanyak orang saya yang bisa disamarkan dengan baju besi Tarabon. Jadi anda paham ini bukan sekedar strategi untuk menyingkirkan anda.”
Di belakangnya, orang Domani mulai protes keras. Terutama Wakeda, kamu percaya itu! Rencana dari sang Serigala amatlah bagus, tetapi mereka mau sang Serigala sendiri di baris depan pimpinan mereka. Kebanyakan orang Tarabon mulai berdebat di antara mereka, mengenai berapa banyak pasukan dapat melintasi dataran tanpa diketahui, meskipun dalam satuan kecil, mengenai apa yang bisa dilakukan di Tarabon oleh satuan kecil, mengenai apakan mereka bersedia mengenakan baju besi dengan garis-garis Seanchan. Orang Tarabon berdebat sama mudahnya seperti orang Saldea, dan sama panasnya. Namun tidak orang berhidung tajam itu. Dia balas memandang Ituralde dengan tajam. Kemudian mengangguk sedikit. Sulit memastikannya, dibalik kumis tebal itu, tetapi Ituralde pikir orang itu tersenyum.
Ketegangan akhirnya meninggalkan bahu Ituralde. Orang itu tidak akan memberikan persetujuajn saat kaumnya yang lain masih berdebat jika dia bukan salah satu pemimpin mereka. Yang lain akan setuju juga, dia yakin. Mereka akan bergerak ke selatan dengannya menuju jantung wilayah yang dikira Seanchan sebagai milik mereka, dan menampar mereka dengan keras tepat di wajah. Pasukan Tarabon akan ingin tinggal setelahnya, dan melanjutkan perjuangan mereka di tanah air mereka sendiri. Dia tidak mengharapkan lebih dari itu. Maka tinggal dia dan beberapa ribu prajurit yang dibawanya akan dikejar balik ke utara lagi, dalam perjalanan panjang melintasi Dataran Almoth. Semoga sang Cahaya menghendaki, dikejar balik dengan bernafsu.
Dia membalas senyum orang Tarabon itu, kalau benar dia tersenyum. Dengan keberuntungan, para general yang bernafsu tidak akan melihat kemana dia menyeret mereka sampai terlambat. Dan jika mereka melihatpun…. Yah, dia punya rencana cadangan.
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Years of experience: 22. Registered at ProZ.com: Oct 2016.