by Clayton, Jo;
The old woman stirred. She looked at Tuli’s lap and smiled. “Soredak,” she said, her husky voice soft and filled with wonder. “In your tongue, a fireborn. A channel of power.”
Rane frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Ajjin chuckled, but she said nothing more, only shook her head.
Rane thrust impatient fingers through her straw thatch. “We have to leave early,” she said. “With the norit vanishing like that, they’re like a wasps’ nest stirred up. If the weather’s right for them, they’ll have a dozen traxim up, the other norits, I mean. Ajjin, Gesda’s provisions should hold you till your son gets back from the hunt. Have you messages we can carry for you? Or is there aught else we can do for you? Favor for favor, my friend. To keep the balance.”
Tuli enjoyed the feel of the warm softness of the beast on her thighs and began to accept that Rane could not see it, would not believe it was there even if told of it. The ex-meie was excluded from almost all of what had happened here. She felt a sadness that this was so, and a touch of pity that the woman she admired so much must for some reason be excluded from this wonder. She looked down at the beast. “Ildas,” she whispered to it. “I’m going to call you Ildas.” She smoothed her hand over the curve of its side and back, slanted a glance at Ajjin, met her eyes and knew suddenly that there were going to be very few who could see her new companion and that his presence was part of the changes to come. Changer’s moon. She turned round to Rane and knew that their time together was coming to an end. She’d expected to cling to Rane long after this probe was finished, she knew that now, and knew also there was no hope of this, that she and Ildas would move in another direction to other goals that did not include Rane.
Ajjin rocked gently on her haunches. “Ah-huh, ah-huh,” she said, not the guttural double grunt of assent everybody used, but more like the drumbeats that opened a dance. “Oras,” she said. “Debrahn the midwife. My son’s wife’s elda-cousin. The feeling comes that Debrahn has troubles.”
“We won’t be there soon.” Rane sounded more than a little dubious. “It’s a tenday of hard riding if we were to go straight there from here, and we won’t do that, we can’t do that. It’ll be a passage at least before we get to Oras. At least, Ajjin.”
Ajjin nodded. “There is no pressing, only an uneasiness. Debrahn lives in the hanguol rookery. Not a place of power.”
“To say the least. Well, if she’s kept her head down.…”
“There are calls she must answer.”
“Healwoman?”
“The training but not the name. She was one who left before the time was complete. Mother died and father called her home.”
“But she still keeps the covenants?”
“For her, that is not a matter of choice.”
“Then she won’t be willing to leave with us.”
“There will be something for you, so I feel.”
“What we can, we will.”
Ajjin smiled. “For you as her there is no choice.”
“Except to win the battle coming and hope such as she can stay alive.”
“You will have help. Hern comes.”
“You saw that?”
“Last night I looked for my son and found Hern. He brings strangers to the mijloc. Fighters with ways that clash with ours and weapons of great power; they carry with them the seeds of the change—it is they, not the Nearga Nor, that bring the end to us—I who walk on four legs and two, the child your friend who has magic of another sort. Our time is passing, not yours, Rane; you’ll find them much like you and fit well with them.”
“You’re full of portents and prophecies tonight, old friend, and I don’t understand a word of them.”
“You never did, that’s why you’ll fit so well into the new age, good friend. The magic fades, it fades, ah well—get you to your beds, both of you before sleep takes you here.”
They rode in silence over the white fields, a gray sky lowering over them, fat, oily clouds thick with snow that dropped a sprinkling of flakes on them and kept the traxim from spying on them. They followed the river a while until it began pushing them too far east, then risked riding onto a bridge road; a ford was far too risky in this cold and the watches at the bridges far more apt to be huddled over mulled cider and a warm fire than keeping an eye out for fools trying to travel in such weather.
The bridge was unsteady, moving to the push of the water in a way that so frightened the macain they wouldn’t budge from the bank. Ildas leaped down from Tuli’s thigh where he’d been perched with confident serenity since the ride began and ran a weave across the rickety structure, battered into a dangerous state by the violent storms of the Gather and the Scatter. Hern had kept norits employed to see that the bridges and the roads were maintained, but Floarin had other priorities. It was one more wrong to mark against her. But after Ildas had spun his invisible web, the span steadied and the stones knit together more firmly, their macain relaxed and crossed the bridge at an easy lope.
Rane lifted an eyebrow at Tuli, but said nothing.
The tar hedgerows began not far from the river, restricting their movement to the twisty country lanes, piled high now with snowdrifts—and more snow promised from the clouds overhead although they seemed reluctant to let down their burden and the fall held off day after day as they angled toward Oras, spending most nights either camped out of the wind in the thick groves that dotted the landscape or creeping into empty outbuildings of the winter-settled tars whenever they were reasonably sure of being unobserved. They visited a tar here and there, Rane collecting reports from men or women whose anger lay like slumbering geysers under a very thin skin of control. The farther north they got, the more depressing the tars were, the tie villages were more than half empty, always children crying somewhere, signs of hunger everywhere even among the more prosperous villagers in the scattered small settlements dotted among the tars. Rane grew tense and brittle, scolding Tuli about her delusion—which is what she called Ildas—telling her it wasn’t healthy to carry the tricks of her imagination so far. She could not see, feel or hear Ildas and was deeply troubled by Tuli’s persistence in playing with him, talking to and about him. But Tuli watched the little creature jig about, listened to him sing his soundless tunes, laughed as he ran on threads of air, turned serious when he mimed the presence ahead of traxim or patrols out on sweeps from the villages, guards and Followers after food thieves and vagrants. For three tendays they traveled across the mijloc without serious trouble, only the niggling little things, the cold, the meager unsatisfying meals, the depression from constant reminders of the misery of the mijlockers, the floggings they’d watched in villages, the hunger in men’s faces, the pinched look of the children. Twice more Rane left Tuli in empty outbuildings, hidden with the macain and instructions to wait for no more than three hours then get away fast and quiet if Rane had not returned. No noncombatants in this war, Rane told Hal while Tuli listened not understanding. She did now. She was Rane’s insurance. She was able to take care of herself so Rane wouldn’t have to worry about her and she wasn’t more urgently needed elsewhere, so she was available as back-up. Rane liked her well enough, that she was sure of, didn’t have to fret about. But the ex-meie didn’t really want companionship, despite all her assertions to the contrary; if she hadn’t needed backup she’d never have brought Tuli with her no matter how much she liked her. Tuli found these thoughts cold comfort, cold like everything else these days, but comfort nonetheless, and she settled down to prove her competence and deserve the trust Rane was showing in her.
At the first of those tars Rane took her inside the House and they slept in relative comfort that night, with full bellies and a fire in the room, at the second Rane came back looking grimmer than ever. Without saying anything, she took her macai’s reins and led him outside, walked beside him, alert and on edge, not relaxing until they were almost an hour away from the tar. Tuli asked no questions, walked beside her, keeping up as best she could. Finally Rane stopped and
swung into the saddle. She waited until Tuli was up also, then said, “Norit.” She kneed her mount into a walk. “Sniffing about. Not really suspicious but looking to catch anything that stuck its head up. Keletty only had a moment to warn me there were noses in her household and tell me about the norit. Nothing else she could do. Mozzen was doing his catechism for the Agli who was nervous as he was with the norit listening in. Catch this.” She tossed a greasy packet to Tuli. “Some bread and dripping, a bit of cheese, that’s all she could spare.”
Tuli looked down at the packet. She was too tired to be hungry. She smiled down at Ildas, a blob of warmth cradled against her belly. “Think you could hang onto this for me?”
The fireborn grinned his cat-grin, held up his forepaws; she tucked the packet down between those tiny black hands, smiled again as Ildas curled round it. Melt my cheese, she thought. Nice. She looked up to see Rane scowling at her. “I’m too tired to eat,” she said.
“Take care, Tuli, don’t lose the food, it cost Keletty something, giving it to us.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
They rode another hour, slipped into a broken-down herdsman’s hut, gave the macain some stolen grain and sat down for a quick cold meal. Tuli’s wasn’t cold. The bread was steaming, the cheese melted all through it. She looked up to see Rane staring. “The fireborn who’s only my imagination,” she said, grinning in spite of her fatigue. “He’s got a hot little body.”
Rane shook her head. “Or you’re more talented than you think. Ajjin called you a magic child and, by damn, I think she’s right.” She stretched, groaned. “We’ll ride by night from now on. Could use the rest, both of us. I’ll take first watch. You crawl into your blankets and get some sleep. Barring accidents, we’ll spend the day here. Couple of nights’ ride to Appentar. Lembo Appen’s a man who likes his meals so at least the food should be good.”
The signal came when she was about to lead the macain out of the half-collapsed hut in the grove’s center—long and breathy, the wail of a hunting kanka, one, then two, then one. But Ildas was as twitchy as the fire he was born from, darting about as if blown by a wind that didn’t exist except for him. The silent gray trees stood like old bones about her, not a rustle or a creak out of them, the snow shone an eerie gray-white in the pulsing moonlight as Thedom and the Dancers rode gibbous through the breaks in the clouds. She frowned at Ildas, looked over her shoulder at the macain. Working with furious speed so Rane wouldn’t be worried, she stripped the gear off the beasts, all but the halters, led them back inside and tied them where they could reach the snow if they needed water, dumped before each of them a small pile of grain. Ildas was too upset; even if Rane thought it was safe, Tuli wanted to take no chances. The fireborn ran before her, nervous and excited; he came back to circle so closely about her feet she was sure she was going to trip over him. She started to scold him, then saw that he was kicking up the snow and hiding all trace of her passage so she pressed her lips together and endured that along with the soundless yaps that were making her head hurt. She wasn’t feeling very well anyway, hadn’t been sleeping well for several days, her menses were due, she was overtired, underfed and ready to snarl at the least thing. He sensed that finally and went quiet as she reached the edge of the grove.
Rane was waiting in the shadow of a hedgerow. When she saw Tuli without the macain, she said nothing, only turned into the narrow curving lane, shortening her stride as she led Tuli along it toward the gates of a small tar, then over the wall of the House’s private garden.
Two girls like enough to be twins met them at the garden door. One had a small candlelamp muted by a darkglass, a child’s nightlight, used, Tuli supposed, to shield the girls from discovery. Eyes glistening with an excitement that Tuli found excessive, they spoke in whispering rushes Rane seemed to understand. Tuli didn’t feel like puzzling out what was said, so she didn’t bother listening. With furtive stealth, the girls took Rane and Tuli up into the attics, showed them into a cozy secret room with a small fire burning ready there, a table set with plates and cups, two bedrolls ready on straw pallets.
The fireborn didn’t like it at all; he ran his worry patterns over the walls and ceiling, but ran them in silence so at least Tuli’s headache didn’t worsen. She wanted to talk to Rane but those idiot girls wouldn’t leave them alone; while one was downstairs fetching the meal and gathering supplies for them to take when they left, the other stayed in the room, making conversation and asking questions. Tuli didn’t like the feel of this whole business, even without Ildas’s fidgets, but she wouldn’t say anything because if the girls were honest they were putting themselves in some danger so she couldn’t be actively rude. Rane was nervous too, but anyone who didn’t know her well would never guess it. The ex-meie was being very smooth and diplomatic, talking easily with the girl, answering her questions with apparent expansiveness and no hesitation, but Tuli noted with some surprise and a growing admiration just how little she was telling the girl. And she began to realize how much of that girl’s artless chatter was made up of questions, innocent until you added them together; if she’d got the answers she’d wanted, she’d have had a detailed account of their travels across the Cimpia Plain.
The other girl came up the stairs with a heavily laden tray that gave out remarkably enticing smells. A fresh crusty loaf, still hot from the oven, one probably meant for the workers’ breakfast. A pot of jam, two bowls of savory soup thick with cillix and chunks of oadat. A pot of spiced cha filled the room with its fragrance. Tuli sniffed and was willing to forgive the girls all their unfortunate dramatizing and nosiness. She looked about for Ildas. He was curled into a ball, sulking in one of the corners of the fireplace. She left him there and joined Rane at the table. The girls finally left them alone.
Eyes warily on that door, Tuli swallowed a mouthful of soup, whispered, “Do you know them?”
“Yes.” More loudly, “Looks like the weather’s breaking.”
The door was eased open and a girl was back with a crock of hot water. She smiled shyly, put it down and scurried out.
“Makes riding a bit sticky,” Tuli said. She spooned up more soup, glared at the door. “Don’t like them popping in and out like that,” she whispered. “Ildas is upset a lot. You sure you know them?” She nodded at the door, took a hefty gulp of the cha.
“Knew their father better.” Rane wrinkled her nose at Tuli, shook her head. “We’ll know better in the morning,” she said more loudly.
“If it’s snowing, we’d better find a place to hole up.” Lowering her voice, Tuli went on, “Well, where is he?”
“Visiting a neighbor, his daughters said.”
All through the meal one or the other of the girls was bringing something or popping her head in to see if they wanted anything. After the first whispered exchanges Rane and Tuli kept to safe subjects like speculations about when the snow would start. The food was good, the cha was hot and strong, the heat in the room enough to tranquilize an angry sicamar. By the time she emptied her cup for the last time Tuli could hardly keep her eyes open. She knew she should get out of the chair and go lie down on the pallet but she didn’t feel like moving. She didn’t even know if she could move; the longer she sat, the more pervasive her lassitude grew.
A harsh croak, a rattle of dishes, a table leg jolting against hers. She found enough energy to turn her head.
Rane was struggling to get onto her feet, the tendons in her neck standing out like cables. Her pale blue eyes were white-ringed, her lip bleeding where she’d bitten it. She shoved clumsily at the table, pushing it over with a rebounding crash that nonetheless sounded muted and distant to Tuli. Rane managed to stagger a few steps, then her legs collapsed under her. She struggled to crawl through the mess of broken china and food toward the door. Tuli watched, vaguely puzzled, then the meaning of it seeped through the fog in her head. Drugged. They’d been drugged. This was a trap. That was what Ildas had been yammering about outside. Fools to come into this, fools to eat the food, dr
ink that cha, must have been in the cha, the spicing would cover whatever else had been added. She tried pushing up, fell out of the chair, made a few tentative movements of her arms and legs to crawl after Rane, but before she could get anywhere or concentrate her forces, she plunged deep into a warm fuzzy blackness.
Tuli wakes alone in a small and noisome room. There is a patch of half-dried vomit in one corner, the stones are slimy with stale urine and other liquids, beetles skitter about on floor and walls, whirr into flight whenever she moves, one is crawling on her leg. She is naked and cold, lying on a splintery wooden bench scarcely wider than she is. Her head throbs. There is blood on her thighs. Along with everything else, her period has come down. She feels bloated and miserable. Usually she doesn’t even notice it except for the rags she uses to catch the blood and has to wash out herself, maybe the drug was affecting that too. She wants to vomit but won’t let herself, vaguely aware that the food she’d eaten will eventually give her strength, and she knows she’s going to need strength in the days to come. She is no longer just a rebellious child to these folk. Not like before. She is Tesc’s daughter, though she can hope they don’t know that. At least they shouldn’t know that. But there is Rane, she is Rane’s companion. When she thinks about Rane, bile floods her mouth. She swallows and swallows but it does no good, she spits it out onto the floor and forces herself to lie still, her knees drawn up to comfort her stomach. Ildas nestles against her; his warmth helps. Rane. Maybe she’s already dead. She might have made them kill her.
Tuli dozes awhile, wakes with a worse headache, forces herself to think. Got to get out of here. Get Rane out if she’s still alive, but get out anyway whatever has happened to Rane. She’s counting on me to get word back to the Biserica about how things are on the Plain. I should have listened more. Maiden bless, why didn’t I listen? Never mind that, Tuli, think. How do you get out of here? How do you survive without telling them anything until you can get out of here? After a moment’s blankness, she adds grimly, how do I kill myself if I can’t get out?