by Diana Rivers
“Come with us, Zheran,” I said quickly. “We will need you. I promise there will be a place for you there.”
Now I had all the women I needed, or at least enough to make a start. Of the Hadra, there was myself, Pell, Tama, Rishka, Zari, Jhemar, Kara, Vestri, Mouraine, Shartel, Zenoria, Hayika, Kilghari, Maireth, Ozzet and her two friends, and Megyair and Josleen. Of the Witches, Alyeeta was coming, of course, as well as Olna and Telakeet. Shalamith had decided to stay in Ishlair and perhaps go back to Mishghall. Zheran was the only Kourmairi riding with us. We were a little more than twenty, a strange company, perhaps, each of us on that road for her own reason.
That next morning, Renaise and the other women from the cookfires helped us to pack supplies, while Rishka, Zari, Zenoria, and Jhemar went to gather the horses. Every woman in Ishlair was there to wave good-bye and wish us well. When I finally rode away from Dhashoti’s little settlement with my small troupe, it was with no regret and no fear and a terrible, tearing hope in my heart.
Chapter Ten
It was our second day on the road. We had just sat down to a hasty breakfast when Josleen, our sentry for that morning, rode in to say that a group of Wanderers were asking permission to enter our camp. They had with them a man who said he had an urgent message for the woman Tazzil and would speak only to her. Full of curiosity, I gave my assent. Moments later, the Wanderers were in our camp and I was on my feet to greet them, very curious to see this man who would only speak to me and who called me Tazzil.
He rode in between four tall Wanderers, not quite a prisoner, yet not a free man either. His skin was bronzed from much sun, but his hair had that unmistakable Shokarn fairness and was bleached almost white. The eyes that looked out at me from his deeply tanned face were of a bright, clear blue. Clearly this was no Kourmairi. It was certainly no man of my village, yet what other man would seek me out this way, as if we had some business together? I found the fearless directness of his stare unsettling.
Though his clothes were ragged and dirty, they were not poor. Once they had been of fine cloth and careful make. He sat his horse proudly. I could not imagine who this man was or what he wanted of me; still, there was something oddly familiar about his face that gave my heart a strange little twist. I nodded to the Wanderers to show I was willing to hear him. He rode straight at me, clearly knowing who I was. When he was close enough, he made a slight bow from horseback, then continued staring at me. He seemed to be searching my soul, wanting to see if I might be worthy of some task I knew nothing of and certainly had not asked for.
“So, we meet again, Tazzil of the Star-Born; or should I say Hadra, for I hear that is what you call yourselves now? I see you do not recognize me, though we once shared a moment of life and death.” He spoke a strangely formal and stilted Kourmairi.
Suddenly, from his mind, I saw again the scene on the shore; the river in flood and the black toads, the ewee, leaping everywhere. My face broke into a wide grin. “Lorren!” I exclaimed, unaccountably glad to see him again and to see him alive. “I must say I am very relieved the Kourmairi did not catch up with you. No, I did not recognize you. You look very different from the man I last saw, the one who tried to run me through with his sword.”
He nodded, grinning. “Very different, I promise: wiser, less bloody, and a lot more worn. And you are also very different. You are not the Witch’s feebleminded old sister, as you pretended to be that day, Tazzil of the toads.”
“You saw me that day as Alyeeta wished you to see me. Today I am myself. Now, why have you sought me out?”
Quickly he evaded my question with another. “Tell me, was it my friend Hereschell who betrayed me and so spoiled my grand surprise victory? If not for Hereschell and you and your Witch friend here, I might have regained Mishghall for the Zarn and so earned enough glory and riches to last me all my life.”
“Hereschell meant you no harm. He was only…” I stammered quickly, wanting to protect Hereschell, or perhaps protect Lorren from the pain of that betrayal.
“And been miserable all my life,” Lorren added quickly, interrupting my protest. “No need for your loyal defense of Hereschell. I thank him. I am deeply grateful, more than I have words for. Tell him so when you see him next. He saved me as well as Mishghall. And I am grateful to you as well. Think of all the death and misery I would have caused. In the end, I myself would have become a prisoner of Eezore, trapped in a life I despised with the blood of Mishghall on my hands. I have already done enough harm; you saved me from doing more. Now I am a free man, my own man.”
“What has happened to you since the battle of the toads?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Yes, the toads…Now that was a brilliant strategy.”
“Mine,” Alyeeta said, pushing her way up beside me. “If the Zarn ever wants to know who defeated him at the Escuro River and sent his troops fleeing in fear, tell him it was Alyeeta the Witch. Tell him I have not forgotten how his father burned my beautiful Witch convent to the ground. Tell him that soon I will send black toads into his palace, yes, even into his bed, to attack his manhood there.”
Lorren’s face turned serious. “I am not likely ever to tell the Zarn anything again, not if I value my life. He was not pleased with my defeat. I ended up in the dungeon of Eezore, likely to be hung or beheaded; at least that was the talk among my jailers. Men loyal to my father managed to sneak me out through the gates. Even so, it must have taken much work and planning and probably quite a bit of gold. No, I will not be talking to the Zarn again, not of my own free will.”
Pell had been tugging at my arm for a while. Suddenly she sent me a blast of mind-touch that jolted my attention. “Who is this man, that you would trust him?” she asked in an accusing tone. “I gather from your speech together that he was captain of the Zarn’s guards at Darthill. Why do you even think to speak to him here in our own camp? You endanger us all.”
“Pell, you named me leader for this part of our journey. You must either trust me to make my own judgments or you must decide not to follow.” I could scarcely believe that I had said those words to Pell. Instead of blasting me with anger, she stepped back with a slight nod of her head.
“Quite right. I see you are learning. I have something to learn too if I really mean to let go of this burden.”
Almost at the same moment, Lorren said, “She has no reason to trust me. The last time I saw her, I did indeed try to kill her, and her Witch friend here as well. I would have done so gladly if not for her powers. But I am a different man now, much humbled and wisened by my circumstances, believe me. I only carry a sword to defend myself against other men, but if it makes it easier for you to hear me, I will lay it down here on the ground. You may use it against me if you need to; you may kill me if you wish. I will not harm you. In fact, in payment for harm done, I have pledged myself to your survival and well-being, a Wanderer pledge and one not taken lightly.
“Take up your sword, man,” Pell said in disgust. “You know we cannot use a blade against you.”
“But I can,” Alyeeta said quickly. She stepped forward with a look of calculated malice on her face and hefted the sword.
At almost the same moment, Zheran came and said to the men, “There is korshi, fresh fruit, and tea ready by the fire. Would you all care to join us there?”
Deftly, Jhemar slipped between Alyeeta and Lorren, adding quickly, “Forgive us. In our excitement, we forgot Wanderer courtesy. This Wanderer is embarrassed for her poor manners.” As she made a broad gesture of welcome with her hand, I remembered again that Jhemar had been taken in by the Wanderers long before she and Pell had joined together to find the Star-Born.
With a hiss, Alyeeta dropped her arm, and the sword fell clanking to the rocks. “Offering him food will not turn this Shokarn lordling into a Wanderer, nor will it make him any more trustworthy.”
The Wanderers dismounted, Lorren among them. They followed Zheran to the fire, where she ladled out bowls of food and passed them around with a smile of welc
ome. Watching her, I thought with a combination of amusement and chagrin, This outsider has better manners than any of us.
Katchia, meanwhile, put out a very different kind of welcome, turning on all her charms. She particularly had her eye on Strathorn, the youngest of the Wanderers. She managed to be the one to bring him his bowl, touching his shoulder with her hand when he took it and leaning forward so that her breasts showed temptingly at the opening of her tunic. This was not lost on Strathorn. After that, he watched her hungrily as she moved about the camp with an occasional smile in his direction or a sway of her hips.
While we ate, Hayika watched Lorren relentlessly, barely eating her own food. Finally, in a voice full of hostility, she asked, “Man, what do you want with us? Now that you have failed to bloody your sword in our flesh, burn us alive, or end our lives in some other monstrous way, what are you doing here in our camp?”
Zheran looked chagrined, and even Pell seemed startled at the rudeness of her questions, but Rishka was nodding in agreement, as were several others, Mouraine, Vestri, and Shartel among them. Lorren, however, seemed to take no offense. He stared at Hayika for a long moment as if searching deep inside for the answer, then gave a slight nod. “Curiosity,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes, curiosity. As a student of the natural world, I am looking for information and answers. I was never cut out to be a soldier, only I made the mistake of being born the oldest son in my father’s house. If I had been given a choice, I would have spent my whole life in the library or in the fields and woods. No one asked me my preference. When I first heard of the Star-Born, I was full of excitement, thinking, Here is something new and amazing in the world. I wanted to meet these creatures I was being sent out to kill.” Those words set off some angry mutterings. Lorren went on when he could be heard again. “Yes, creatures. That is how they taught us to think of you. Then, at the river, when Tazzil leapt in front of the Witch to protect her and turned my sword against me without even trying, I knew this was a natural force to be reckoned with and studied with care. I want to see how you will evolve and shape yourselves, what you will become. That is all I want from you. That is my secret. In return, I am willing to give you, Tazzil, what you most want in the world.”
Hayika snarled, “So you want to study us like bugs pinned to a board. Will you report back to your master then?”
At the same moment I jumped to my feet in anger. “What do you know of me and what I want? There are toads and dead men and much blood between us, Captain—not secrets.” Yet even as I said those words, I felt a tug on my mind.
Mouraine had jumped up to stand beside me, the morning sun flashing on her golden hair. She took a threatening step in his direction. “Man, you take advantage of our goodwill.”
Hayika and Megyair were muttering to each other. Rishka was making rude remarks in Muinyairin. Kazouri was shifting from foot to foot as if ready to spring at any moment. Lorren ignored them all and kept his eyes fastened on my face. “The talk among the Wanderers is that Tazzil the Hadra goes south with a small band of women. They say she is in search of a settlement by the sea, a place large enough to make a city. Is that truth, or is it only talk?”
“Truth,” I said softly, sinking back into my seat. “How did you know?”
“If I told you that, who would speak in my ear again? The Wanderers have their ways. I know of such a place, far south of here, three hills between the river and the sea. If you can bring yourself to trust me, I will take you there.”
I shut my eyes with a groan. I could see it in my mind again: the green hills, the blue of the river, the deeper purple-blue of the ocean. “Show me the way and I will follow,” I said, standing up again as if under a spell.
Now a storm of argument broke out, with only Pell, Kara, Vestri, Jhemar, and Kilghari speaking to go with Lorren. The others shouted a hundred reasons why we should not trust this man, most of them good ones. I listened for a while, not adding my voice. Then I clapped for silence. Much to my surprise, I got what I asked for. “I will not argue with any of you. I will only say that I am going with Lorren. Those who want to come with us are welcome. I have seen this place in my sleep and in my waking dreams as well. I am haunted by it. I have to go, even at the risk of my life.”
Instantly Rishka was on her feet. “I will not let you go alone with that man. I will go with you and watch his every move.”
To my surprise, Zheran rose on the other side of me, saying with concern, “I will come too and watch over you.”
“A trap,” Hayika said bitterly. “He may well be leading you into a trap—or rather us, for I can see that no matter what we say, we are all going to be foolish enough to follow.”
Lorren stood up slowly, watching Hayika. “I have nothing to gain and much to lose by a betrayal. The Wanderers can vouch for me. I am as much under the Zarn’s death edict as any of you and far less able to protect myself. I have no master anymore to report back to.” Then he suddenly turned his smile on me. “Besides, if I could not kill Tazzil with a whole army at my back, how could I harm her now?”
I found myself charmed into smiling back. I did not remind him that his whole army had not been at his back at all, but rushing away in flight from little black toads. Strangely enough, I found myself trusting this man almost as I had trusted Pell when we first met in the tavern. “Alyeeta?” I asked, looking to her as if she might have some final answer.
Lorren turned to her too. “Well, Witch, I see you are not the old woman you appeared to be but someone still young and strong.”
“Make no assumptions, soldier. I am old enough to remember the Zarn’s father and his father before him. I have stayed alive by being watchful of tricks.”
“If you are still afraid I mean Tazzil some harm, put your hands on my head to read my truth. I have no evil intent hidden there. You may read me to my soul. I leave myself open to your hands.”
“Give me your sword.”
Lorren turned it and laid the hilt in her hand. Instantly, she raised it over his head as if to strike. I wanted to shout, “No, Alyeeta!” but found I had no voice. Lorren looked straight ahead and did not flinch. There was a moment of frozen silence as all of us stared at those two figures. Then, with some strange creature sound—a growl and a shout combined—Alyeeta threw the sword down and put her hands on his head.
This seemed like some odd sort of blessing, and unaccountably, it brought tears to my eyes. Seeing him standing there, open and defenseless under Alyeeta’s hands, I wondered, Who is this man, this stranger who pretends to know me, who acts, in fact, as if we are bonded, as if we have some claim on each other’s lives? He seemed dangerous to me, and yet, in no way could I have resisted going with him. “Do you trust him?” I asked Alyeeta.
After a long silence she nodded. “I have read him to the best of my ability. Though there is some secret that he holds, I can find in him no will to harm.”
Suddenly the camp was full of the noise and motion of departure.
Chapter Eleven
Not since childhood had I felt such joy bubbling in my blood, such eagerness for each new day. It was as if I had reconnected with Tazzia, the little village girl who spoke with creatures, loved everyone, and thought life was filled with magic; the child who had not yet felt the hatred of her fellow villagers, nor seen her lover killed before her eyes. I felt Tazzia in my heart again, filling me with love. It was like meeting again with a long-lost and almost forgotten beloved friend. I woke every morning with a sense of freshness, eager to be on the road, no longer driven by fear of what pursued us, but drawn forward by what lay ahead.
Going home…Going home…Those words sang themselves in my head, over and over, like a tuneless song or a chanted prayer, though in truth I was going farther and farther from the only home I had ever known. At night, I dreamt of walking up steep cobbled streets, past parks and gardens and white stone buildings.
Sometimes the others grumbled at the pace I set, but more often they let me sweep them along with my fervor, glad, no dou
bt, not to have to contend with the Tazzi who had been so full of bitter rage or the more recent one who had prowled about, restless as an Oolanth cat trapped in a cage. The other Wanderers had left us before noon of the first day, though not without Strathorn turning back many times with longing glances. Now we were following Lorren uphill and down, through woods and fields and yet more woods, going south by narrow, almost secret roads and meeting few others.
Sometimes I rode with Kara, my first love, who had not died after all, and we were able to share memories of our common past, no longer poisoned by my bitterness. I could even watch her now with her lover, Vestri, and not feel the bite of jealousy—or at least not feel it so deeply. It was as if I had my own lover waiting for me somewhere ahead and I was going eagerly to meet with her. Sometimes I rode with Pell, asking advice or reminiscing on our adventures together, for that is what they seemed, now that we were no longer in mortal danger. Or I rode with Mouraine, wanting to get to know her better, or even with Katchia, whose outrageous stories kept me laughing and whose bawdy mouth could embarrass even this Hadra into blushing.
Alyeeta, when I kept company with her, said how different I seemed, almost like a child. Rather than being overjoyed, she sounded sour and resentful. “I think this man has turned your head with all his fancy talk of a settlement. Beware he does not make a fool of you. You have as little sense at the moment as a lovesick village girl.”
This last she said with utter contempt, but I was too happy to feel anger. Instead, I burst out laughing. “Oh, Alyeeta, you look as if you just bit into a sour lemon.” Then, more seriously, I asked, “Alyeeta, can I never do anything right in your eyes? Would you rather have me as I was, so full of anger it tarnished everything I looked at, poisoned every word I spoke? Be glad for me. This newfound happiness may not last.”