On Blue's waters

It seemed that the elephant had little experience of such places, but he learned his business quickly. After the first hour or so, he was going faster than Darjan, so that Darjan, whom we had brought along to guide us, was in danger of being trodden flat. I had told Mahawat to watch me and go where I did, but the elephant learned how to do that before Mahawat did, keeping the tip of one trunk touching my headcloth and padding along behind me with surprisingly little noise. We had struck the tent before setting out; but Evensong and my guards had a rough time of it just the same, having to lie flat on the platform and fend off the limbs and twigs any way they could.

I had intended to stop at the edge of the forest and wait for one of the Hannese trains of mules and pack horses to pass, then attack it from behind; but in that I had not counted on the elephant. He was so happy to see an open space that he ran past us and out onto the road before Mahawat could get him stopped.

I got back up then, very glad of a chance to sit down after all the walking I had done, and told Mahawat he would have to get us back under the trees where we could not be seen. Mahawat agreed, but the elephant did not. When he realized that we wanted him to go back into the forest, he rebelled, charging up the road like an eight-legged talus while trumpeting with both trunks in a way that I found frightening myself and that absolutely terrified poor Evensong. I suppose I have heard as many women scream as most men have, and I may even have heard more than most men, having heard a good many wounded Trivigaunti troopers when Nettle and I fought for General Mint; but Evensong’s scream is in a class by itself. It is louder and shriller than the scream of any other woman I have ever met with, and it lasts two or three times longer.

Nettle, I know that you will never read this, nor would I wish you to; but I am going to pretend you will. Try to imagine us, my six guards, Evensong, Mahawat, and me (with Darjan lost in the dust behind us), holding on to anything and everything in reach and every one of us about to fall off, as we rounded a turn in the road and found ourselves among three or four hundred Hannese lancers.

A few days ago I wrote that our elephants could not be induced to charge the enemy. I was wrong. This one did, and you have never seen so many shaggy little ponies thrown into such a state of abject panic. Perhaps no one has.

When I think back on it, it seems miraculous that even one of us escaped alive. Riders were being thrown left and right, and few of those who stayed in their saddles seemed to have slug guns or needlers. The road turned again, but my elephant kept running in a straight line, into a sort of cleft between two masses of rock. Before long his sides were scraping and Mahawat got him back under control. A handful of horsemen tried to follow us in, but a few shots from my guards quickly put an end to that. Eventually we found our way onto a gende slope dotted with brambles. It became lower and wetter, trees took the place of the brambles, and we were back in the familiar “impassable” forest.

By that time all of us were very glad to be there, even my elephant.

Morning, but dark as night with pounding rain. No one came to awaken me-or what is more likely, Pehla did but the guard at my door would not admit her. Very late morning, I ought to have said. I have slept twelve hours at least.

I would like some tea and something to eat, but I wanted to read over what I wrote last night first, and make a few corrections. (I seldom correct anything, as you will have seen, but in this case there were far too many simple errors in spelling and the like. I have recopied one whole sheet, and thrown the old one away.)

But before I tell the guard I am awake and send him for some breakfast, I cannot resist speculating a little. Was what we did of any real value? If it simply shows the enemy that the “impassable” forest is indeed passable, it may have been worse than useless. If it teaches us (and compels them) to watch that flank, it will have been well worth doing. I must see that it does, and that further raids are organized and carried out.

What, you will ask, became of Trooper Darjan? The truth is that I do not know. By the time we had gotten clear of the enemy horsemen, I had forgotten him utterly; and I seem to have been too fatigued last night to spare him a thought, although I was stupidly determined to write down everything before I slept. Silk would have remembered him for the rest of his life.

I stopped writing this long enough to scribble a note to Hari Mau asking about Darjan. I called him “my guide.” Hari Mau should be able to tell me whether he returned safely.