Snare

by Katharine Kerr

  ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I was a sergeant in Warkannan’s troop, out on the border. The ChaMeech had been raiding steadily. We were out on patrol, and they made a night attack on our horses. It was dark, everything was confused. Warkannan and I got ourselves captured.’

  ‘Oh gods! So that’s why you hate them so much.’

  Zayn nodded. ‘They marched us for two days straight, loping along, dragging us when we fell. They’d stop to sleep for a few hours, then slap us around to wake us up, and we’d be back marching.’ He looked away, his eyes bleak. ‘By the time we stopped, all I wanted was to die fast, because I knew they were going to make us die slowly. I think I would have died earlier, on the run I mean, but Warkannan kept me going. I’d fall down, and he’d somehow or other talk me into getting up again.’

  ‘I see. And then you were rescued.’

  ‘Yes, but we never thought we would be. It’s in the regulations, you see, that if men get captured, they’re officially dead; the post commander isn’t supposed to risk more men going after them. Jezro broke that regulation. He came after us with the whole regiment. They could have cashiered him, you know, khan or not, but he told us that it wouldn’t have mattered to him if they had. Damned if he was going to leave two of his men in ChaMeech hands.’

  ‘Are you really going to kill this man if you find him?’

  Again he fell silent, staring at her. The flickering oil lamps sent shadows dancing across his face and long spears of light around the tent.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Zayn’s voice was a bare whisper. ‘But I have to go and see if I will or not.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I keep telling you: I swore I’d serve the Great Khan. If I let Jezro reach Andjaro, then I’ve failed, I’ve gone back on my oath. How could I even think of myself as a man any more?’

  ‘How can you think of yourself as a man if you kill him?’

  ‘Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?’ Zayn was whispering again. ‘That’s why I’ve got to go find him. I can’t just pretend I don’t know where he is. I won’t know what I’ll do until I see him.’ He was silent for a long moment, then spoke normally. ‘I don’t know who I am any more. Don’t you see? Ever since the Mistlands, I don’t know who I am. I’ve got to find out if I’m the man who could kill Jezro Khan, or if I’m the man who can’t. It’ll be a start, anyway, on figuring things out.’

  Ammadin decided that either he’d gone mad or he was sane for the first time in his life. She found herself longing for her teacher, wise old Yannador, with his eighty years of studying the human heart, but to speak to him, she’d have to journey to the gates of the Deathworld. What would Yanno have said to this man? Zayn sat watching her, his eyes full of tears that never fell.

  ‘All right,’ Ammadin said. ‘That’s honest. Finding Jezro Khan is like a spirit quest for you. You need to ride it.’

  ‘Yes.’ Zayn paused, gasping down a breath. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Now listen. You’ll be leaving the comnee to quest. While you were off getting yourself into trouble, Kassidor and I made a bargain so I could go on a quest of my own. I want to ride east with Water Woman to meet Sibyl. Sammador agreed that his comnee will ride with Apanador’s for a while, so Kasso can tend my god figures and protect my people as well as his. I’ll go off with Water Woman, and when I come back, I’ll tell him everything I’ve learned.’

  ‘A fair enough bargain, I suppose, but –’

  ‘Just listen! To meet up with Water Woman I have to ride east into the Cantons. So I might as well ride with you – for a while, anyway. It’ll be safer for both of us. I can counter Soutan’s magic, and you can be my bodyguard.’

  Zayn started to speak, then merely stared at her.

  ‘But there’s one thing I will not do,’ Ammadin went on, ‘and that’s use my crystals to find Jezro. I will not join your blood hunt.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want you to. It’s bad enough I have to.’ He swallowed hard. ‘But it’s too dangerous, riding with me. I’d rather die than have you come to the slightest harm.’

  ‘You keep talking about dying, Zayn. Is that what you were planning on doing? Riding off and making some stupid mistake so you’ll die and never have to face Jezro?’

  He stood up, twisted towards the tent flap, stopped, turned back. ‘You really do have guards out there, damn you!’

  ‘Yes. Sit down.’

  Zayn sat.

  ‘You must be furious at me,’ Ammadin went on.

  ‘I’m not, oddly enough. I should be, but I’m not. Maybe I’m just too damned tired to be angry. I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more, maybe. Nothing looks the same as it did when I left Kazrajistan.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘What do you mean –’

  ‘Judging from what you’ve told me, things must have looked very ugly to you for years.’

  ‘Oh will you shut up? I –’ He paused for another long breath. ‘I’m sorry, Spirit Rider, but I can’t take any more of your – well, whatever it is you’re doing.’

  ‘Tearing you apart, just like you said.’ She smiled at him. ‘I will stop, for now, but Zayn, I oversaw your vision quest. I don’t think you realize what that means.’

  ‘I didn’t realize then. I’m beginning to now.’

  ‘Good. Then it’s settled. We’ll ride –’

  ‘I don’t recall it being settled.’

  ‘If you really want to die, I’ll have Apanador and Dallador tie you up and turn you over to Sinyur Alayn’s men, who’ll be glad to oblige. Huh, I can see from the nasty look on your face that you don’t want anything of the sort. All right, then, you need my magic, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He sounded exhausted. ‘I do. All right, it’s settled. We can tell people the truth, that you’re on some kind of quest for hidden knowledge, and I can go on being your servant.’

  ‘That’s not the truth. We’re both riding quests, and that’s what we’ll say. You don’t have to tell anyone what you’re questing for. If anyone asks, tell them you can’t discuss it because it’s Bane, which it is. In the morning I’ll tie you a charm for your bridle to mark the quest. And one for me, come to think of it.’ Ammadin stood up. ‘I’ll just go tell the guards to leave. You’d better not try to sneak out while I’m asleep.’

  ‘I won’t. I promise, and I’ll keep my word to you. Not to anyone else in the world, maybe, but to you I will.’

  ‘Good. Remember that.’ She picked up the tent flap and ducked outside.

  Near her tent the embers of a few cooking fires still glowed. In that uncertain light she could see that Dallador and Grenidor still stood on guard, but she couldn’t tell which was which. Fortunately Dallador stepped forward to talk with her. His voice was several tones darker than his cousin’s.

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing,’ Dallador said. ‘Or – all right, I’ll be honest. I got as close as I could and listened.’

  ‘I can’t blame you. So you know the truth. What do you think of Zayn now?’

  Dallador shrugged and looked away. ‘Does it matter? You’re both leaving tomorrow.’

  She laid a hand on his arm. ‘He’ll come back, Dallo. He belongs with us, and he knows it.’

  ‘I hope so.’ Dallador suddenly yawned. ‘It was about this time last night that we rode out, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. You’re exhausted, I’m exhausted, and so’s Zayn. Go get some sleep. He won’t be sneaking out again.’

  ‘I heard him promise. I’ll do that. Grenno, come on. You’ve damn near fallen asleep standing up.’

  Ammadin went back inside. Zayn had extinguished one of the oil lamps. He was lying on his back on his blankets, one arm flung over his face, asleep fully dressed. She took off her boots, put out the other light, and lay down on her side of the tent. She fell asleep before she could put one coherent thought together.

  Zayn woke to find the tent filled with the silver light of dawn. Ammadin had just opened the tent flap; when she saw that he was aw
ake, she paused with a hand still upon it.

  ‘I have to go talk with the chiefs,’ she said. ‘They need to know what we’re going to do, and I have to scan to see if Alayn’s men are on their way here. I’ve got to tie the charms, too, so it’s going to be a while before we can ride out. Don’t you have something to say to Dallador?’

  Zayn winced. Had she seen –

  ‘Well, you’re having an affair with him, aren’t you?’ Ammadin said.

  ‘Yes.’ The word came out strangled.

  ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed. So did I, once.’

  She smiled and went out, letting the flap fall shut behind her. Zayn sat up, resting his head in his hands. He found himself thinking of earthquakes, when ground that seemed solid moved and pitched, tumbling everything built upon it. The metaphor made him feel like vomiting. He got up, stretching, and went outside.

  The camp was just waking. Kassidor was trotting back and forth, yelling at everyone to hurry. The women were getting up, pulling on their boots and talking about feeding the horses. Grumbling and yawning, the men moved more slowly.

  ‘We’ve got to get on the road,’ Kassidor was saying. ‘We’re not very far from Sinyur Alayn’s land.’ He came hurrying over to Zayn. ‘Ammadin says to saddle her grey and your sorrel. Pick two pack horses, and load them with grain and food and whatever else you’re taking. She’s got her saddlebags all ready, and I’ve got the comnee’s god figures, so we can strike the tent as soon as you get your things out of it.’

  ‘All right. Tell her I’ll do it right away.’

  Zayn retrieved his gear from the tent, then hurried over to his comnee’s wagon, where the big canvas packs sat waiting. The excellent trading had bought the comnee a good many sacks of wheatian as well as charcoal and other necessities. Zayn was just calculating how much the comnee could spare them when Dallador walked up, his hands shoved in his pockets, his face carefully expressionless.

  ‘There you are,’ Zayn said. ‘I need to talk with you.’

  ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ Dallador said. ‘Zayn, all those lies!’

  ‘I know.’ Zayn turned away. ‘I thought I didn’t have any choice.’

  ‘You probably didn’t.’

  Zayn nodded and stared at the ground. When Dallador put his hands on Zayn’s shoulders, Zayn leaned back, relaxing.

  ‘You’re coming back, aren’t you?’ Dallador said.

  ‘Yes. If I live through this, and I might not.’

  Dallo’s hands tightened. Zayn twisted free and turned around to face him. ‘Well, you don’t want any more lies, do you?’

  ‘No.’ Dallador paused for a wry smile. ‘Except maybe for one right then.’

  ‘I’ll never lie to you again. I’ll promise you that.’

  ‘All right. I’ll hold you to it.’

  ‘Good. I might need some help.’

  They shook hands, clasped hands, stood staring into each other’s eyes, while all around them the comnee hurried and bustled, packing up, saddling horses, calling back and forth.

  ‘I’ll help you load up,’ Dallador said finally. ‘We’ve all got to get on the road.’

  They had just finished saddling and loading the pack horses when Ammadin came striding out to join them. She was carrying only one pair of saddlebags, slung over one shoulder. In her other hand she held a charm, a hawk feather bound to a shell, a Kazraki coin wrapped with red thread to keep it in place next to a dried and polished land-crab claw and two blue beads. She tied it to the left cheek piece of the sorrel gelding’s bridle.

  ‘There, that’s one thing done,’ Ammadin said. ‘Now I’ve got to scan.’

  As Zayn watched her walk away, he suddenly remembered her telling him that she’d slept with Dallador, too.

  ‘She’s not as cold as she looks.’ Dallador confirmed the story with a grin. ‘So good hunting.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  Dallador laughed with a toss of his head. For a moment they merely smiled at each other. ‘Well,’ Dallo said at length. ‘What else do we have to pack?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ve just got to saddle Ammi’s grey and tie on her bedroll, stuff like that.’

  ‘I’ll let you do that, then.’ Dallador turned solemn. ‘I can’t watch you ride out. All right?’

  ‘All right.’

  Dallador turned on his heel and strode off, heading back to camp. Zayn watched him till he disappeared among the other comnee men.

  While the comnee finished packing up the camp, Ammadin went down to the riverbank to scan, kneeling in the purple grass. Sammador and Apanador followed her to hover nearby with their backs turned. Although the Riders hung low at the horizon, Spirit Eyes managed to get a good view of the immediate countryside. At Alayn’s manor house everything seemed peaceful. In a paved courtyard, young women were laughing as they boiled laundry over open fires; in the stable yard men were grooming and watering horses, smiling and talking. Had they known their sinyur was lying dead in the forest, they would have moved and gestured in a very different way. Now that Ammadin knew where the temple compound was, she could direct Spirit Eyes to its location, and through the trees she caught glimpses of open lawn. Nothing moved.

  ‘How much time do you think we have?’ Apanador said. ‘Before the chief’s men come after us, I mean.’

  ‘At least a day.’ Ammadin stood up, holding her crystal. ‘Zayn is pretty sure that Alayn spent a lot of time at that temple. His family probably won’t miss him till late today or even tomorrow. By then you should have a good head start. Once you reach the Rift, they won’t follow.’

  ‘If they do, we have over twenty men between us,’ Sammador said, ‘not counting me and Apanador, and then Kassidor.’

  ‘I just don’t want any of our men to get killed.’ Ammadin paused, looking at each chief in turn. ‘Zayn’s caused enough trouble already.’

  ‘That’s certainly true.’ Sammador sounded weary. ‘But men do cause trouble. It’s the way the gods made us.’

  ‘Yes, and then the women have to clean up after us,’ Apanador said, ‘or so my wife always tells me.’

  ‘Gemmadin’s right as usual.’ Ammadin allowed herself a brief smile. ‘May the gods ride with you. I’ll see you at the winter campgrounds if not before.’

  Zayn was waiting for her by the east-running road. He had dropped the reins of her grey and his sorrel to make them stand, but he was holding the lead ropes of the two pack horses. He stood cavalry-stiff between them, watching her as she walked across the grass. Something about him struck her as odd; with some surprise she realized that his mask, that smooth bland expression with which he’d hidden his secrets, had fallen completely away. The morning light picked out the dark circles under his eyes and the droop to his full mouth.

  ‘Ready?’ she said.

  ‘I guess.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t think anyone can ever be really ready for a ride like this.’

  ‘True enough. Here, let me explain your quest charm. The Kazraki coin represents you. The feather and shell mean that you’re on a quest; every quest marker has them. The beads –’

  ‘Idres and Jezro?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘There’s nothing there to represent the Chosen.’

  ‘Oh yes there is – the red thread. A line the colour of blood, binding you.’

  Zayn winced.

  ‘The land-crab claw stands for the hold the grass has over you,’ Ammadin went on, ‘or the life we live out on the grass, to be more precise.’

  Zayn nodded, studying the charm. ‘That sums it up, all right,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Ammi?’ He looked up. ‘I’ve got one more thing to confess. Zayn Hassan isn’t my real name.’

  ‘I could guess that. What –’

  ‘Zahir Benumar.’ He paused for a brief smile. ‘Do you know what Zahir means?’

  ‘No. What?’

  ‘Truth.’

  ‘Then I’m going to keep calling you Zayn.’

 
; ‘I want you to. That’s why I brought it up.’

  ‘Good. Now let’s get going.’

  All that morning they rode without speaking. Ammadin was more than willing to let Zayn be alone with his thoughts, which were deadly grim, judging from the play of feeling upon his face. She took the lead, and the other horses followed her grey briskly along through the sunny fields of wheatian, but she was always aware of the dark swell of the forest, angling to meet the road. When the road turned to run alongside of it, Ammadin glanced back to see Zayn grimmer than ever.

  Just before noon they came to the river and the wooden bridge. Apparently the sorrel remembered what had happened there. It balked, bucked sideways twice, then tried to rear. A lesser rider than Zayn would have been thrown, but he flung his weight forward, kept the horse down and kept talking until the sorrel calmed enough to stand trembling in the road.

  Ammadin dismounted, dropped her reins to make the grey stand, and ran back to pick up the lead rope of the pack horses, waiting patiently some yards behind. She walked back with the horses to find that Zayn had dismounted and was stroking the sorrel’s neck.

  ‘Did I tell you about the crane?’ Zayn said. ‘The one that tried to warn me about the ambush?’

  ‘No, you didn’t, but you should have.’

  ‘Too much happened too fast. I’m sorry. But it was down in the river, fishing I guess. It called out and then flew up. But I couldn’t get back in the saddle fast enough to escape.’

  ‘Well, I never had much doubt before, but now I’m sure of it. Cranes are your spirit animal.’ The thought jogged her memory. ‘Wait a moment! You never learned your true name, did you? In the Mistlands, I mean.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. And I’m sorry, too.’

  ‘Something might happen on this quest to give it to you.’

  ‘Does it matter? If I kill Jezro Khan, if I go back to the Chosen –’

  ‘It’ll probably matter more than ever, if that happens.’

  ‘Think so?’ Zayn gave the sorrel one last pat. ‘I’m going to lead him across.’

  Ammadin considered pressing him to say more, then decided that she was simply too tired. She mounted up, took the lead rope for the pack horses, and rode across. Her own grey, which she’d trained herself, clopped across the bridge in sublime indifference to the hollow sound, and the pack horses followed. She hoped that the sorrel would mimic the rest of its miniature herd, but once again it balked. Getting the sorrel across took all of Zayn’s patience. By the time they reached the far side, Sentry was chiming in Ammadin’s saddlebags.