“I’m joining you,” Turesobei said suddenly. “I just need to go get my parka and overboots.”
Iniru sized him up. “You’re not in any shape to fight.”
“I’m not going to practice, but …” He bit his lip. He had to think of something fast. All he really wanted to do was not let her spend time with Kemsu without him there. “I’m feeling cooped up. I haven’t seen the sky in ages.”
“Well … I can understand that,” she said suspiciously.
Glaring at Iniru, Kurine said, “Unfortunately, I can’t come along with you. I have work to do.”
“I’ll see you later … at dinner, maybe,” Turesobei said.
“You’re on!” she replied. “Meet me at the commons, and we’ll go to my home from there.”
He gulped. “Your home?”
“Since you’re well now, I think it’s time you met my parents. My dad just returned from his latest expedition. I can’t wait for you to meet him! I mean, you’ll have to soon, anyway; he’s on the Council. And Mom’s been pestering me every day, asking when she’s going to get to meet you.”
She bounded off, and Turesobei threw his head in his hands. So much for the plan he’d been bouncing around in his head of getting the Council to negate his marriage to Kurine. Unless after meeting him, her father hated him … but if her father ended up hating him, that would probably make other things go poorly, since this was the only place they had to live for now.
“Big night for you,” Iniru remarked.
“Very big,” Kemsu said coarsely. “Kurine’s dad is the biggest goronku in Aikora. He’s a monster of a man.”
“Zai, my friend,” Turesobei said, “you’re right. No ordinary life for me.”
Zaiporo patted him apologetically on the back.
Turesobei dressed in his cold weather gear and went outside. The sky was grey and the landscape an endless white. He’d forgotten how harsh it was … and somehow, he’d even forgotten how cold it was. It was unimaginably cold, like his mind just couldn’t retain the knowledge as soon as he was out of it. Following the sounds of them talking, Turesobei found the others on the opposite side of the stable. A circle of small stones marked off a well-trodden area that he assumed was intended for just this sort of thing. He stood beside Enashoma.
Kemsu was in the midst of a spear form which involved a lot of powerful thrusts with a few swipes and blocks mixed in. He finished and looked very impressed with himself. It was a good form. Better than anything Turesobei could’ve done. But it was certainly not the best he’d seen. As Iniru took one of the goronku spears and stepped into the circle, he knew Kemsu was about to feel far less competent. In fact, Turesobei was willing to bet that Kemsu would never again think highly of his combat skills.
Iniru blocked, stabbed, spun, kicked high, kicked low, somersaulted, swiped, threw the spear up and caught it, and bent backward so far Turesobei could hardly bear to watch. It was a fighting dance of pure beauty, and it was done so fast that it was hard to track all the little extra twists and special moves she did along the way. He knew there were many, because she had broken down a few sword forms for him along the way back from Wakaro. She had tried to show him all the details, but most had been lost on him, since they were far beyond his ability. He did notice that she moved a little slower than normal. Not that she wasn’t still above and beyond amazing.
She finished. “Wow. All this gear really slows me down. That was terrible.”
“No,” said Kemsu, staring at her. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Then you haven’t seen much,” Iniru replied, clearly unimpressed that he was so impressed. Iniru was a young k’chasan qengai, and Turesobei often wondered what her teachers and elders must be capable of after many more years of study.
“You were beautiful,” Zaiporo said, also enraptured. It was the first time he’d seen a healthy Iniru in action like this. Enashoma glared at him. He noticed and added, “The form was beautiful.”
“Your turn, Zai,” Iniru said.
Zaiporo frowned. “I’ve little experience with the spear. I can’t do anything to compare with that.”
“It’s not a contest. Do the form you know best, and we’ll work on the techniques. Trust me, you’re going to feel like a clown in all this gear anyway. You’ll need to get used to it. You don’t want to look like Sobei against the reitsu champion.”
“Hey!” Turesobei said. “That guy was super-fast.”
“You don’t think you could’ve dodged a few of those attacks of his? Maybe get off one block?”
“He was their champion, you know. Best fighter they had. And I was trying to let him win without getting killed.”
Iniru shrugged. “Well, I think some blocks would’ve helped that.”
Enashoma leaned in and whispered, “She’s just giving you a hard time because of Kurine.”
“It’s not fair,” Turesobei whispered back.
“Nothing ever is,” she said, with a sigh as Zaiporo entered the circle nervously, eyeing Iniru with reverence.
Zaiporo performed the same spear form Turesobei knew, though more competently than he could’ve done. Iniru stepped in when he was done and praised him.
“It wasn’t that good,” he argued.
“Don’t compare yourself to me, Zai. I’m a qengai. I did my first complete spear form when I was five years old. I trained ten hours every day of my life until I was sent out to help Turesobei. Fighting is all I’ve ever done. Now, let me give you some pointers.”
She took the spear and began to demonstrate new techniques to Zaiporo and Kemsu, who crowded in on her.
“Well, Iniru is certainly popular now,” Enashoma said.
“Jealous?”
“What about you, mister?”
They both looked at each other and laughed.
“Maybe we should be paying attention, too,” Enashoma said. “I only know the staff and some other basics. Sure am glad Dad made them give me more lessons than the other girls. What about you?”
“I’m not much in the mood for learning the finer points of spear combat,” he replied.
“Sulking?”
“I’ve earned the right, I think.”
“If you say so.”
When they took a break, Kemsu said he didn’t want to rest too long, because Narbenu would want him back soon.
“How is it you’re a slave?” Zaiporo asked. “No one else here is. And why aren’t you angry about it? I’d be furious all the time. I ran away because I wanted to be completely free, and I had a lot more freedom than you.”
“I’m paying a blood debt,” Kemsu said proudly. “My father killed Narbenu’s brother. My father didn’t face the repercussions. Instead, he ran. So I’m enslaved to the murdered man’s closest kin. That’s Narbenu. I’m doing what my father wouldn’t do. I’m doing what our laws demand. I’m doing what’s right.”
“Will you be enslaved forever?” Zaiporo asked.
“Until Narbenu releases me, but before he will do that, I must serve him at least five years and prove myself worthy. I must do something noble and brave. I have served four years already, but I haven’t had any good opportunities to prove myself. And though he may not seem it, Narbenu is a tough man. He will want to see something amazing out of me. He’s still angry about the murder. The worst thing is that as long as I’m a slave, I can’t …” He looked away from Iniru. “I can’t marry or have a family. But the gods will favor me for doing what’s right. I know they will. And once I prove myself, I can do anything I want.”
They returned to the forms and practiced a half-hour more, trying to learn from Iniru as she got used to fighting in the heavy garments and worked to get back to full fighting strength. But then Narbenu arrived and said to Turesobei, “The full Council has gathered, and they wish to see you as soon as possible.”
Chapter Nineteen
Faded tapestries adorned the walls of the Council Chamber. Turesobei nervously paced along the walls, scanning them.
The stitching depicted battles, festivals, and religious processions. None bore any writing.
“Narbenu, do your people read and write?”
“The priestesses do, so they can maintain our record book. Why?”
“I hadn’t seen any books since I arrived.”
“Paper is rare and precious. We maintain oral histories and sing stories.”
“So do we, though not as much as we did in the past. We read and write more now.”
Seven cushions lined the far wall. Another cushion sat in the middle of the room. “Is this where I’ll sit when they arrive?”
Narbenu nodded. “You should stand until they sit. You should also bow when they enter.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why haven’t I met with the Council before?”
“You have met two members already: Eira and Sudorga. But the Council wasn’t complete until Trade Chief Tsuroko returned last night … Kurine’s dad.”
Was Kurine’s dad angry about her betrothal to a foreigner from another race? That might explain the sudden summons. Hope that they’d annul the engagement flickered through him. That would save him. Though it would probably leave Kurine shamed, which he didn’t want, and he and his companions kicked out into the cold with little to survive on and no knowledge of the land.
“Narbenu, why are you here? You’re not in trouble because of me, are you?”
“Not likely. I am here because I was your sponsor in admitting you to the village. Not every stranger gets the sort of hospitality you have been given.”
Seven taps on a tinny drum announced the Council, and the members entered the room from a doorway to the side: War Chief Sudorga, Shaman Eira, four goronku he didn’t know, and an enormous goronku he feared he’d soon know all too well.
Turesobei bowed. The councilors took their seats. Kurine’s father, Tsuroko, thudded down onto his cushion, bones creaking. He was easily a head taller than War Chief Sudorga and bigger around by far. Scars marked his face, hands, and arms.
“Please be seated, friend Chonda Turesobei,” War Chief Sudorga said.
Turesobei sat. Narbenu knelt to the side and just behind him.
“You already know Shaman Eira,” War Chief Sudorga said. He gestured to the others, each in turn. “This is Sun Priestess Oroki, Earth Priestess Faika, Herd Chief Boronaru, and Trade Chief Tsuroko.”
Turesobei’s eyes skipped across them and landed on Tsuroko, who showed no reaction to him — none whatsoever. Turesobei squirmed.
“Respected elders, I hope that I have in no way offended you.”
War Chief Sudorga glanced down the line to Tsuroko whose face remained as still as a statue’s. “You haven’t offended us,” Sudorga said. “This is simply the first chance we’ve had for the full Council to meet since you arrived, and so we thought it was time to discuss your situation.”
“My situation?” Turesobei asked.
“You were in dire need of our assistance, and we gave you hospitality,” said Earth Priestess Faika, “as the gods command us to do.”
“But you have recovered from your injuries now,” added Sun Priestess Oroki, “and though you are trapped in this world with no place to call home, the time for mere hospitality alone has come to an end.”
An image of him and his companions fighting to survive out on the ice, with Enashoma and Iniru freezing to death, flashed through his mind. Turesobei restrained a wrench of panic in his gut and spoke with as even a voice as he could manage.
“If it’s time for us to move on, I understand. You have given us so much, and we have taken more than we had any right to ask for: shelter, food, help in rescuing my companions, expensive clothing …”
“You misunderstand us,” said Eira. “We are not kicking you out into the wild. We know you cannot handle that on your own.”
Turesobei sighed with relief.
“There is, however, a limit to the generosity we can freely provide,” said Herd Chief Boronaru. “We are not a wealthy people, though we are perhaps the most prosperous of the goronku clans in this region.”
“You are free to leave if you so desire,” said War Chief Sudorga. “But to remain you must —”
“Pull our own weight?” Turesobei said.
“Indeed,” said War Chief Sudorga.
“With my power returning, I may be able to repay you somewhat with a bit of magic, but it won’t match what you’ve given us. We have little else to offer your people. We will have to move on.”
Trade Chief Tsuroko walked across the room, and hunched over Turesobei. Staring down at Turesobei with cold eyes, he dropped his hands, like mallets, onto Turesobei’s shoulders. The impact squashed him deep into the cushion. Turesobei swallowed hard, and stammered out an incoherent apology, though what he was apologizing for, he wasn’t certain. Actually, he was certain. He had stolen the man’s daughter without his permission. Only … she had stolen him, hadn’t she? Turesobei was confused.
“Stay,” Tsuroko bellowed. “Stay and become one of us. Learn our ways, take on trades so that you might contribute to the community.” Tsuroko lifted Turesobei up by the shoulders. With a deep chuckle, he added, “Stay, and I’ll be happy to call you my son.”
After Tsuroko set him down, Turesobei bowed to him. “I would be most honored to stay and to … marry Kurine … sir. I would. But we must seek a way back our world. My people need me desperately. War is coming to our clan, and without me, there is no hope for victory. But if I can’t find a way home, I’d be happy to stay here and become one of you.” Not that he would have much of a choice. “But for the sake of my people, I must try to return home.”
Anger flashed across Tsuroko’s face, but then he smiled warmly. “Well said, my boy. Well said. We must all do what is right in serving our people.”
As Tsuroko returned to his seat, War Chief Sudorga asked, “Do you know of some way you might return?”
Turesobei shook his head. “My plan is to seek out the Forbidden Library. If knowledge of a way to return to my world exists, surely it must be there.”
“The Forbidden Library lies on an island on the Glass Sea in the North,” said Sun Priestess Oroki. “It is a long way to travel, and we know little about it.”
“They say winged demons guard the library and its knowledge jealously, sharing it with no one,” said Earth Priestess Faika. “Never do they venture out, which is good, for they are supposed to be mightier than even the yomon.”
“I must try, though,” said Turesobei. “And I’ve faced yomon and demons before.”
“But the ice,” said Tsuroko. “That is a challenge you are not accustomed to. Unless you go the long way around, the trek to the shores of the Glass Sea is treacherous, taking you across the Central Wastes. And the sea itself … the clans of this region do not send caravans in that direction, though some peoples in other lands do send ships and caravans to and across the sea. I myself have never journeyed to the Glass Sea, and I have been many places.”
Tsuroko led their trade expeditions … across this world … no wonder he was battle scarred and huge.
“To get there, you would need sonoke to ride,” said Tsuroko, thoughtfully scratching through his crudely chopped beard. “You’d never make it there on foot. Supplies, of course. A guide and guards. Knowledge of how to survive on your own, if it came to it.”
“I could do it without guards,” said Turesobei. “I have Motekeru and the hounds, my spells, and Iniru’s qengai skills. I would need a guide and supplies, though … but I have no way to pay for those things. So we’d have to travel on our own.”
“You would never make it without a guide,” Tsuroko said. “Trust me. This land is less hospitable than you think.”
“It seems harsh to me now.”
“You’ve only seen our little region,” said War Chief Sudorga. “This area is quite tame.”
“And as I said before,” Herd Chief Boronaru commented, “we are not wealthy. We trade clothing for iro
n and herbs, but otherwise we subsist on what we hunt and grow. You would need food and equipment, four mounts at least. A guide. All that would cost you a small fortune. Which you do not possess.”
“But you could stay here and work to earn these things,” said Earth Priestess Faika. “If all of you worked hard for two or three years, we could give you what you would need.”
“And you could travel part of the way along a trade expedition,” said Tsuroko.
“Two years?!” Turesobei said, alarmed. “My people will need me desperately in four months, six at best.”
“I am sorry,” said Eira. “We are all sorry. We cannot afford the extravagance it would take to fund your journey.”
“Even if I returned what I didn’t use, should my journey fail?” Turesobei offered.
Tsuroko frowned and shook his head. “My boy, the chances of you reaching the Forbidden Library, much less returning from it … that would be a poor deal for us. I’m sorry.”
The fatigue he’d spent weeks recovering from rushed back into his soul. Turesobei sighed and hunched his shoulders. “I understand. And I can’t blame you. Out of kindness, you have already given us much. Clothing and food. And we have given nothing in return.”
“I wouldn’t say nothing.” Sun Priestess Oroki gestured toward a blank spot on the wall. “The story of you coming here, the boy from another world who was both a wizard and a dragon, shall be stitched upon cloth and hung here for all to see for centuries to come.”
“To think that our modest village would host visitors from beyond the gate,” said Earth Priestess Faika, “is beyond anything we could have imagined.”
“Tsuroko and I will discuss the specifics of what your journey would cost,” said Herd Chief Boronaru. “But keep in mind, you will be eating and living here. You must earn your keep beyond that. But we will be generous and not seek to make any profit from you, only to recoup our expenses.”
“With your magic,” said Eira, “I believe you can earn above your board and keep from us. But you will have to be patient. And you are fortunate, though we were not, that a plague three years ago cost us many lives, and there are plenty of rooms to house you and much work that is needed to be done.”
Storm Phase Series: Books 1-3 Page 73