by Kyra Halland
The sentry muttered something that sounded like a curse, and spat to the side. “The Ta’ayatan are troublemakers. For years, a few generations now, they’ve been trying to expand their territory and drive the other clans out of these mountains. So far we’ve managed to hold them back, but since last spring, with that insane wiseman of theirs urging them on, they’ve become more aggressive. Aleet herself is a powerful maker of spells, and now you tell me they have Aleet’s half-wizard child in their hands?”
“Not just that,” Silas said, guessing where the sentry might be heading with this. “My wife is a Granadaian wizard, but she was born and raised here in the Wildings, and her mixed Granadaian-Wildings magic is very powerful.”
“Your wife – is she the one called Lainie Banfrey?”
“That’s her.” Silas was no longer surprised that word of Lainie had spread far and wide among the A’ayimat.
The sentry sheathed his swords. “Go on, I’m listening.”
Silas found himself breathing a little easier now that the swords were put away. “In exchange for taking Shayla, the child, from the father, the Ta’ayatan wanted to use her for something. I don’t know what. Aleet refused to go along with whatever it was, so the Ta’ayatan took my wife in the child’s place and, ah, expelled me from their territory.”
“And now they have a wizard in their possession who can use both Grana and what you call Wildings magics. Your wife would make a powerful weapon. The Ta’ayatan must be planning to make their move against the other clans soon.”
It all made a terrible sense. Silas still wasn’t sure what use the Ta’ayatan could make of an untrained or partly-trained mage, but he had no doubt the old wiseman would think of something. Awful visions came to his mind – Lainie in the midst of a war, being forced to kill people she had nothing against or any reason to want to kill, maybe even being killed herself. A sense of urgency pressed heavily against his chest and sent a wave of nervous energy through him. “Will you come with me to rescue her? Their wiseman is powerful, and they won’t want to let her go. I need help.”
“The Ta’ayatan haven’t done anything to us yet,” the sentry replied. “It isn’t our way to draw first blood. They’ve taken your wife; you have the right of attack. But we will not attack unprovoked and be responsible for starting a war.”
Anger and frustration boiled up inside Silas. The A’ayimat’s unwillingness to act unless directly provoked had allowed the settlers to occupy the Wildings in relative peace for thirty-some years, ever since the Compact between the A’ayimat and the settlers had been established. But now, this refusal to take action, even to protect themselves, struck him as nothing but apathy and cowardice. “So you’ll let two men fight alone against a whole clan, and you won’t help even to stop an attack on your own folk? You don’t have the stones to fight your own battles?”
“We don’t fight by throwing rocks.”
Was he really that obtuse, or was he being intentionally difficult? “Damn it –!”
“If they attack us, then we’ll strike back. Not before.”
“When they attack you, not if. And my wife will be right in the middle of it, if I’m not able to get her away from them.” He turned his back on the sentry and started to mount up into the saddle.
“Wait,” the sentry said. “You’re right. Though our principles forbid us to attack at this point, we can’t just sit back and do nothing. We’ll escort you safely through our lands to the Ta’ayatan settlement.”
It wasn’t nearly enough, but, under the circumstances, he had to be glad of what he could get. A guarantee of safe passage through A’ayimat territory was certainly better than nothing. Silas forced himself to let go of his anger. “Thank you.”
The sentry disappeared back into the forest, and Silas and Oferdon rode on, their way lit by Silas’s blue magelight. Though Silas was pretty sure he remembered the way to the Ta’ayatan settlement, from time to time their A’ayimat escorts, who mostly remained concealed in the forest, nudged them to one side or the other, correcting their course. A few times, the sounds of scuffling interspersed with grunts of pain interrupted the quiet of the night; confrontations with Ta’ayatan scouts, Silas assumed.
Around midnight, Silas asked Oferdon to take over lighting their way. He had more than sufficient power left to maintain his own light the rest of the night, but he didn’t want to be caught short when it came time to confront the Ta’ayatan and their wiseman. Oferdon’s mage light was a dull, dark yellow that flickered erratically in the light snowfall. If that was the best he could do, he wasn’t going to be of much use in rescuing Lainie, Silas thought. Not that he had really been counting on Oferdon’s help in the first place; he had only convinced him to come along to keep him out of trouble. Though the gods knew he could use some help.
Since he couldn’t sleep to regenerate the power he had used, as Silas rode he ate plentifully from his provisions, beef jerky and cheese and bread and a couple of apples. Likewise, Oferdon snacked all night from a pouch of something that looked like bits of jerky, also fueling his magic use with food. As the night passed without incident, Oferdon’s nervous fidgeting settled down and he became more talkative, sharing uninteresting bits of gossip about his wife’s family and Coltor’s – perfectly legitimate – business dealings. Silas wasn’t sure he liked the idea of a relaxed and confident Oferdon; he sharpened his watch on the fellow to make sure he didn’t get cocky and decide to make trouble.
Halfway between midnight and dawn, the snow ended and the clouds drifted apart. Starlight and the light of the waning moon joined the glow of Oferdon’s mage light, which was holding steadier as Oferdon’s nerves eased. Abenar and Mala, good, sturdy horses that they were, still kept up the same steady pace they had held all night. But there was a long way to go yet, and then Silas and Lainie were going to have to make their escape.
Even knowing this, Silas had to fight to keep himself from pushing the horses too fast. Over and over in his mind, he saw Lainie’s terror when the wiseman seized her with his rope of magic, and heard her scream his name, and imagined her forced into the forefront of the Ta’ayatan’s attacks on the neighboring clans. Every minute, every measure, brought them closer to the Ta’ayatan village, and with every minute and every measure that passed, the fear weighed more heavily on Silas that he would be too late.
* * *
WHEN LAINIE FINISHED her supper, Kesta held the baby out to her. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Kesta said proudly. “Do you want to hold him?”
Eagerly, Lainie reached for the baby, then she hesitated. Much as she wanted children, she had only held a baby a couple of times in her life. “I better not. I might drop him or hold him wrong.”
Kesta smiled. “It’s not hard. I’ll show you.”
Thus encouraged, Lainie couldn’t resist. She held out her arms and Kesta settled the baby in them, showing her how to support his head. The tiny, warm weight in her arms felt so good, so right. Carefully, Lainie nestled the soft, blanket-wrapped bundle closer to her breast. Her longing for a baby of her own, a need like magical hunger but far more tender, swelled until her heart ached. She turned her face aside, embarrassed at the tears that stung her eyes.
Kesta touched her cheek. “You don’t have any children?”
Lainie shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“You’re barren?”
“No.” This was the first time she had ever had the chance to talk about this with another woman. Even if Kesta couldn’t help, it would be a relief just to tell someone who might understand. “My husband – in Granadaia, they put a spell on mage children so that they can’t have children until their marriage is approved by the Mage Council – the Granadaian wisemen. My husband broke the law to marry me, so I don’t think we’ll ever be able to get the spell removed.”
“Oh.” Kesta glanced at her husband, then forced a smile at Lainie. “Well, you mustn’t give up hope. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll be able to have a child anyway.”
> The insincerity of Kesta’s words felt like a slap in the face. Despite the hospitality and show of friendship, Kesta knew that something bad was going to happen to Lainie. “Even if I’m an offering?” she asked.
Kesta’s face crumpled and she looked down. “I’m sorry.”
“What are they going to do to me?”
“I don’t really know. I only know that it’ll help the clan against our enemies.
“But I don’t have anything to do with your enemies! Can’t you and your husband talk to the wiseman? He’s your husband’s grandfather; won’t he listen to you?”
“The wiseman says this is necessary,” Kesta said, almost pleading. “None of us have the authority to go against him. Not even my husband.”
There went the hope that they would help her against the wiseman. All at once, Lainie’s discouragement and exhaustion felt too heavy to bear any longer. She handed the baby back to Kesta. “I’m tired.”
Without speaking, Kesta laid the baby down in his cradle, then spread some blankets on the floor on one side of the hut. With only a few essential words passing between them, she helped Lainie hobble on her bound feet out to the necessary, a row of pits walled off with loose stick structures at the edge of the village. When they returned to the hut, Lainie lay down on the blankets. Kesta asked Aktam a question; a brief but heated discussion followed. Lainie tried to reach into the ground with her mage senses to get an idea of what they were saying, but, again, her efforts only resulted in cramping pain and nausea.
The argument ended with a firm word from Aktam. “I’m sorry,” Kesta said again as Aktam came over to Lainie and tied her hands behind her. Kesta tucked another blanket over her, still without looking directly at her.
Tired though Lainie was, her racing thoughts kept her from falling asleep. Were the Ta’ayatan going to kill her or not? Whatever it was they were going to do with her, if they had to tie her up and keep it a secret from her, and if Aleet had been so desperate to keep them from doing whatever it was to Shayla, it couldn’t be good. Why had Aleet even made the agreement in the first place? The Ta’ayatan must have lied to her about what they meant to do. Or maybe Aleet had falsely promised anything they wanted just so she could get her daughter back.
After a while, Kesta and Aktam went to their own blankets. They talked and laughed softly together, their argument forgotten. A pang of yearning and loneliness shot through Lainie, bringing more tears to her eyes. This was the first night she had spent without Silas since they were married. Where was he? Had they hurt him? Was he even still alive? She had to believe she would know it, would feel it somehow, if he was dead. But if she couldn’t use her power, would she be able to know? What she did know was that if he didn’t come for her, that meant something was wrong and he needed her help. If he wasn’t already beyond help.
Eventually, Kesta and Aktam fell silent. Lainie tried to work her hands and feet free of the ropes, but only managed to pull them tighter. Men’s voices outside the hut reminded her that even if she did work her way free of the bindings, she was surrounded by a whole clan of hostile A’ayimat. Chances were she wouldn’t make it out of the village, especially since she couldn’t use magic and didn’t have her gun. All she could do was wait and hope and pray that Silas would come.
Chapter 9
WHEN KESTA SHOOK Lainie awake the next morning, Lainie felt like she had hardly slept at all through the long, lonely night. Her hands were left tied while Kesta fed her a breakfast of soft flatbread wrapped around spiced meat then helped her take care of business out at the necessary. The whole time, Kesta kept her gold eyes averted from Lainie and didn’t say a word.
Lainie ate because she was hungry and because if she was going to get out of this she had to keep her strength up, and she went out to the necessary because she needed to. Otherwise, she did nothing of her own will. Even if she couldn’t do anything else to help herself, at least she could make things more difficult for the Ta’ayatan.
Soon after Lainie and Kesta returned to the hut, Mikat and another man came in. Some words passed between them and Aktam, who was curt but didn’t try to argue with them, then they took Lainie by the arms in a hard, rough grip and hauled her to her feet. She let her legs go limp, refusing to stand on her own even though it wrenched her shoulders to have the men holding up her dead weight by her arms. The men yelled at her and shook her, but all that did was make her more determined not to give in. In the end, they had to drag her from the hut.
Kesta and Aktam followed. At least Kesta, with her silence and averted eyes, seemed to feel bad about what was happening, but an air of celebration hung over the rest of the clan. Men, women, and children stood gathered around community cookfires in the frosty morning, eating, talking, and laughing. Many of the adults were tending to weapons, and the heat from the busy forge had melted the snow for measures around. Most of the clansfolk stared and pointed at Lainie as she was dragged past them, and smiled and spoke excitedly to each other. There were a lot more people in the village than Lainie remembered seeing the day before, and she spotted still more coming in from the surrounding forest and being warmly greeted by those who were already there.
Aleet was in the crowd, holding Shayla close against her side. Lainie felt a brief, hot flicker of resentment towards the woman for selling her out to the Ta’ayatan when she had only wanted to help, but it quickly died. If the Ta’ayatan hadn’t taken her in Shayla’s place, it would be the little girl who was facing whatever ordeal lay ahead. It wasn’t Aleet’s fault if the Ta’ayatan had deceived her when they made their agreement with her, and Lainie couldn’t blame her for doing whatever it took to protect her child. If it was Aleet who had done the deceiving for the sake of getting her child back, Lainie couldn’t blame her for that, either.
She met Aleet’s eyes, hoping at least to see sympathy or gratitude, but Aleet only answered her with a hard, merciless stare. Shayla’s dark eyes were wide in her frightened face. She said something to her mother; Aleet responded sharply and held the child even closer.
The wiseman was waiting in the center of the village, still barefoot in the snow and wearing only his hide loincloth and his necklaces. Lainie dug her heels into the ground and tried to shake off Mikat and the other man who was holding her; if that old man wanted her, he was going to have to fight her. At her sudden movement, the two men growled what sounded like curses and tightened their grips on her arms. Grunting with effort, they wrestled her forward to stand in front of the wiseman.
“What right do you have to do this to me?” Lainie demanded.
“It is for the good of the clan,” the wiseman replied, his voice chilling in its calm.
“I don’t give a damn about your clan! I’m not one of you, and neither is Shayla. Why can’t one of your own people be the offering? Are they all too afraid?”
An angry murmur rose from the gathered clansfolk, but the wiseman remained completely placid, looking at her steadily through faded gold eyes. Of course, Lainie realized, the answer was clear – for this purpose, whatever it was, they needed someone with power beyond ordinary A’ayimat power. Someone like Shayla. Or her.
The wiseman gave a curt order to Lainie’s two guards, and they dragged her aside to stand next to him. Raising his harsh voice above the sounds of the crowd, the old priest spoke a few words.
The clansfolk fell silent. The wiseman began speaking again, quietly at first then with growing intensity. At intervals, the crowd responded by shouting his words back to him and calling out in what sounded like agreement. As his speech grew more impassioned, the old man strode back and forth, sometimes lowering his voice with despair, then raising it in anger and triumph, playing to the excited crowd as well as any traveling entertainer Lainie had ever seen in the Bootjack Saloon back home. A tingling sense of magic so strong she could feel it even without using her mage senses crawled up her spine.
The wiseman’s speech rose to a fevered climax as the crowd shouted approval. Then he cried out the first word he ha
d said that Lainie recognized, “Ta’ayatan!”
“Ta’ayatan!” the gathered clansfolk roared in response. The wiseman shouted some different words, and the crowd answered with something else. The wiseman and his audience went on alternating cries of “Ta’ayatan” and the other phrase and response until all the clansfolk were in an ecstatic, shouting frenzy. Even Kesta was saying the words, though there was no smile on her face and she held her baby close to her as though trying to shield him from what was happening. Only Aleet stood silent, Shayla’s face buried against her side, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.
Caught up in the excitement, Lainie’s two guards were shouting with such force that their movement jerked her from side to side. The noise and motion and magic spun around her; the wiseman’s voice, the shouting of the gathered clansfolk, their excited faces, even the scents of smoke, snow, bodies, and food, all blurred into a dizzying haze. Lainie nearly lost her balance, and the guards jerked on her arms to keep her from collapsing to the ground.
After one final shout, the wiseman turned sharply and strode towards the far edge of the settlement, followed by the guards, dragging Lainie with them. The clansfolk, still shouting, were right behind. Lainie’s heart hammered in her ears and a need to fight or run away flooded hot through her muscles. She stiffened her knees and dug in her heels, pushing against the direction they were taking her in, until the man whose name she didn’t know picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She thrashed and twisted, but she might as well have been pounding on a brick wall for all the good it did.
A short distance beyond the edge of the village, the man who was carrying Lainie threw her facedown onto a flat stone surface about as high as his waist. He held her down while Mikat untied her wrists, then the two men forced her over onto her back. She tried to swing her fists at them, but the men caught her arms and spread them out to the side, then tied them with ropes to small iron loops set into the surface of the altar. Keeping a firm grip on her legs so that she couldn’t kick, they untied her feet and bound them to the altar as well. Lainie pulled against the bindings, but the ropes only got tighter the more she struggled.