Sayri's Whisper: The Great Link Book 1

by Daniel J. Rothery

  Finally they arrived at a house opposite the steps, downriver from where they entered the village. It was a simple and small hut, likely with only one room. The roof was in good repair, though, and Sayri saw fishing nets scattered along the river bank, as she had near several homes in the village. A low stone wall surrounded this house; none of the others had boasted that.

  Dol Vi walked up to the house, which had no door, and dropped the sprinters on the ground out front. When Sayri did likewise, he stood in the doorway looking at her, then stepped to the side somewhat ceremoniously and motioned for her to enter. “Enter ma home, ya will always be safe, while I yet live,” he said; the words sounded rehearsed.

  Sayri felt some sort of reply was required. “I am honored sir, to yet again accept your protection and hospitality,” she replied, curtseying deeply.

  Dol Vi looked confused, but he returned her curtsey with a proper Somrian bow, hand to chest and one foot behind, then motioned again for her enter, which she did.

  The hut was only a few paces across, and contained a wash basin, a table with a single wooden chair, and a sleeping pallet. It was simple, but clean and well kept. She smiled as she took in his modest home; when she turned back to thank him again, he was gone. Sayri went to the door and saw him already beginning to carve the sprinter carcasses.

  She shook her head. He was an odd man, to be sure. But she felt safe with him.

  ・ ・

  Dol Vi proved an adequate dresser, but once the meat was carved and the firepit burning, Sayri pushed him aside and took over, slicing the sprinter flesh into long strips and laying them across the metal grating he had produced for cooking. She was looking around helplessly for something else to prepare, when suddenly Dol Vi’s neighbors began showing up; the men first, carrying drink, which Dol Vi happily accepted despite his earlier protestations to her that he didn’t drink. Perhaps it did not contain spirits? They sat down, Dol Vi with them, on large rocks placed around the fire.

  Women showed up shortly thereafter, carrying bundles of vegetables and fruits, and some breads. Sayri couldn’t understand their words more than a few basics, but she happily accepted their gifts, carrying them into the hut for preparation as she motioned for the women to join their men by the cookfire. They all laughed at that, and joined her in the kitchen, when they began helping her prepare the food. Sayri shook her head at first, telling them not to help, but they laughed more, as if she had made a grand joke, and continued. She shrugged finally, and decided to appreciate the help; she was exhausted after the day’s hike, not to mention carrying the sprinter all the way. And with bruises and scratches from the battle, at that.

  When the food was prepared, the women carried the table outside and placed the vegetables and fruits upon it, adding the meat, which was ready and smelled delicious. Sayri had never eaten sprinter (it was generally considered inedible in the Lords’ Lands), but her mouth was watering heavily; she was hungry enough to eat . . . well, hungry enough to eat a sprinter.

  Before she could, though, Dol Vi said something in the local dialect, waving at Sayri. Then he added to her, “Go with them,” and motioned her off.

  Sayri wasn’t accustomed to being ordered about so, but she was too tired to argue; she allowed the women to lead her back into the house. There, they began removing her clothes.

  She tried to stop them at first, but the two women, who were both older than her mother, didn’t allow her to. When they had stripped off her vest and skirt and produced clean cloths and spirits, she understood, and capitulated. Soon they had cleaned and covered the scratches and helped her back on with her clothes.

  Her vest was half on, her breasts still clearly in view, when she looked up and was shocked to see a man standing in the threshold, smiling at her. Filled with indignation, she was about to walk up to the man and slap him when she heard the two women laughing. She glared at them briefly, shock no doubt clear on her face, but that only spurred them on to laugh even louder, and when she turned back the man was gone.

  She fastened her vest properly and stepped outside, intending to discuss the matter with Dol Vi. The man had gone straight over to Dol Vi, however, and laughingly said something, motioning at Sayri standing on the step. To her dismay, Dol Vi laughed, smiled at her, then patted the man on the shoulder.

  She blinked, stunned and uncertain how to react.

  Well, perhaps it wasn’t inappropriate here. I’m not staying, and who I am to judge their lack of manners? She shook her head yet again at the strange local customs.

  The women, she saw, were now eating, though sitting separately from the men, on a long log along the riverbank. Sayri joined them, and helped herself to the food. The women spoke rapidly among themselves, and occasionally to her, but she didn’t understand. Eventually they politely ignored her.

  Dol Vi was telling a story now, standing opposite the other men with his back to the fire. She listened as she ate, trying to pick up the dialect. It was difficult and she missed most of his story, but caught enough to know that he was telling them about the midnight battle with the sprinters.

  When he emphatically described Sayri’s fight, pointing at her and describing her actions with pantomimes of his own (though Sayri knew full well that he couldn’t have seen what she done in complete darkness), she felt herself bursting with pride. She had fought bravely and with tenacity, and she had killed the largest beast herself!

  One of the other men loudly made a comment then—the man she had seen leering at her from the threshold, she realized. Sayri didn’t understand it, but the men all roared with laughter, and Dol Vi chuckled and glanced over at her, smiling; the women beside her were tittering as well. Sayri couldn’t be certain, but somehow she doubted that she would have appreciated the joke. She frowned at Dol Vi, but he just shrugged, smiling.

  How much, she reflected, he had changed since their meeting. He had been quiet and restrained, at first; then he had become distant and irritable while traveling. Now, he seemed to be positively beaming. What had she missed?

  The women left shortly after finishing their meal. Each of them came up to her and placed their hands on her shoulders before departing; Sayri felt odd and wasn’t sure how to respond, but they didn’t react to her lack of response, so she imagined her part was to simply receive it.

  Once they were gone, she watched the men continue their occasionally heated discussions by the firepit for a while before she went into the hut. She didn’t feel unwelcome among them specifically, but rather as if she has no place with them. It was a strange feeling, and not altogether pleasant.

  She went inside the hut, and sat down on the pallet. It was slightly springy, very different from a platform, but certainly better than sleeping on the ground. She took a deep breath, and sighed, examining the inside of Dol Vi’s home. Where was she to sleep?

  She thought about going out and asking him, but again the hesitancy to disturb the men came over her. Her eyes were already heavy, and their boisterous voices showed no signs of abating.

  Reluctantly, frowning for the lack of being able to come up with a better idea, she reclined on the cot, fully clothed, and closed her eyes.

  I’ll just rest until I hear them quiet down, she mused. Then I’ll ask Dol Vi what sleeping arrangements he wishes. If I’m going to be here a few days arranging for travel, we’ll need to figure something out. This cot won’t sleep two.

  Once again she chastised herself for even thinking of sharing the cot with him.

  I belong to Arad.

  ・ ・ ・

  The morning sun woke her. The hut had no windows, but the arched entrance faced east. The fact that the sun had climbed above the edge of the cliffs meant she had slept in; once this occurred to her, she sat up, stretched, and looked around the hut’s interior. No sign of Dol Vi; why hadn’t he woken her?

  With a pang of guilt as she realized that he had slept another night on the hard dirt, she stood and went to the threshold, looking outside.

  The sprinter fur
s were there, but the meat was all gone. Presumably he had given away what was not eaten by the visitors the night before.

  Dol Vi was down at the river, a fishing net in his hands. He was slowly sweeping it back and forth. The morning sun was warm, and the lean, wiry muscles across his bare back flexed this way and that as he played with the net. She admired them with a smile.

  Stop that! She shook her head to clear the thought, and walked down to the craggy lip of the river bank.

  Similar to the base of the cliffs towering over the opposite bank, the water had eroded the dry, hard dirt, causing it to break off and crumble down into a sloped river bank, only a few hands widths in height instead of many paces. Her toes curled around the flat edge, and she felt the dried mud powdering under the pressure. Don’t fall like a fool, now, she chided herself, taking a step back.

  “Peaceful morning,” she said to Dol Vi, a few paces away and up to his knees in the water.

  “And ta ya,” he replied without looking back. He drew the net in and found a pair of small fish inside, which he rapped against a partially-submerged rock and then added to several he had left on the bank. Then he placed the net on the slope, picked up the fish, and climbed to the edge where she stood, handing them to Sayri. “Do ya know how ta cook this?” he asked, smiling at her.

  “Of course,” she laughed. She took the fish and walked back to the hut.

  Dol Vi had waited while she cleaned and cooked the fish on the resurrected fire; he had already relit it before she woke. She tried to initiate conversation while they were eating, but he waved her off. When he finished his meal and saw that she was done, he nodded at her. “What did ya wish?”

  “I want to thank you again for your kindness, Dol Vi. You have been a host and protector, out of your own generosity. I truly appreciate all you have done,” she added, smiling warmly at him. “I hope one day I shall be able to repay you.”

  Dol Vi shook his head. “Na need for that, ma salkra,” he replied with a shy grin, almost mischievously.

  Puzzling again, she said to herself.

  “Dol Vi,” she continued when it seemed right, “how can we look into finding a steed or passage? I don’t wish to be rude, or to take advantage of your hospitality, but I must reach the North Province.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “Why?” she repeated. She took a deep breath, sighed. “Well . . . it’s complicated. Someone is waiting for me, someone very special, who needs my help.”

  Dol Vi nodded, but he was still frowning. Then he too took a deep breath and released it. “Very well. Tomorrow we walk ta exchange,” he said, jerking his thumb downriver, “and find orey. Ride ta North Province, help ya friend. Then we come back, and start prepare for winter.” He gave his own plan an approving nod.

  “The winter?” Sayri said, not sure why he was telling her this, or what an orey was. No matter, you’ve imposed on this man enough. “Dol Vi, you don’t have to come with me. I know you won’t accept my coin, but please do not indebt me further by escorting me all the way. With this . . . orey, I’m sure I can manage alone.”

  Dol Vi laughed. “I not let ma woman travel alone,” he said. “Ya might na come back.”

  Sayri paused. “Your woman?” she asked. Oh, no.

  “Ya,” he said, puzzled. Then he stared hard at her, the net lowering in his hands, as he considered. Slowly his chin rose in comprehension. “Ya did na know,” he speculated.

  Sayri shook her head slowly.

  “Ya did na intend ta mate me,” he went on.

  She shook her head again, more quickly, heat rising to her cheeks, thinking of his back as he worked the nets . . . Stop. Arad is waiting.

  She asked sadly, “What did I do to mislead you? Dol Vi, I am promised already. To he who awaits me in the North Province garrison.”

  His jaw was tight, and he sighed. She wasn’t sure if he was angry, disappointed, or both. He didn’t reply, but just stared at her.

  “I . . . knew that I had missed something, Dol Vi,” she said.

  “Don’t call me that,” he said. Then, seeing her surprised and hurt expression, “Using a man’s name is first courtship.”

  “But you told it to me,” she protested. She shook her head in frustration; it seemed as if everything she did in this land broke some important rule. How would she make it to the North Province?

  “I understand,” he said quietly. “Then ya come in ma home, ya did na understand either.”

  She shook her head, confirming his words.

  He sighed again. “Well, ya have ta leave now.”

  Sayri took a step back, stunned. “What? Why?”

  Apologetically, he explained. “Too much shame for me. They all came ta welcome ya. If ya stay one night, is a mistake, I can explain. If ya stay another, it means . . .”

  Suddenly Sayri understood. “Oh,” she mumbled. “No, we can’t . . . no, I’m not like that, no. They would think badly of you.”

  “Ya,” he agreed. Bad of ya, so bad of me.” He stood slowly. “I take ya to the exchange.”

  “Now?” she asked. Then she saw his expression, the despondency in his eyes. Dummy. He thought he had a wife, and now he has to send you off. “Yes, yes, of course.”

  As Dol Vi silently put his belongings back together, Sayri did the same. She had just arrived, and now she was leaving. Dressing for travel, she wondered wistfully if she would ever have what Dol Vi had just offered her.

  Arad, she thought sadly. I’m coming.

  ・ ・ ・ ・

  After escaping the village without encountering any other villagers—apparently the festivities had been well enjoyed by all—the exchange was a two-day walk from Dol Vi’s village. Much of it was up a trail through the cavernous river valley in which he lived, granted her plenty of time to prepare herself for facing the potentially dangerous denizens of the place.

  Sayri had imagined the exchange to be another halfway house, with coaches outside and a horde of squinting, unfamiliar brown faces glaring at her. Dol Vi had almost nothing to say to her, again sinking into his silent, brooding guide persona, so she used the time to scheme a plan by which she would be safe from attacks at the exchange. Stay in the middle of the room; block her door with a table or the foot of her pallet; hold her knife in her hand hidden up a sleeve; offer to assist the proprietor and gain his or her protection. Her list was long by the time Dol Vi announced they had arrived at the exchange, at which point she dismissed it in its entirety.

  It had seemed to Sayri that the whole country of Somria must be an endless bowl of dust, decorated with the occasional washout or river valley, and now and then punctuated by a house in the middle of nowhere. The “exchange” did not fail to disappoint in this regard; it was a crossroads on an arid, empty plain—but there was no structure. No halfway house, no coaches, and no people. Just a crossroads, and both of the roads were nothing more than trails, likely traveled only rarely by coaches, if at all.

  Sayri stared down the trail to the north; it lay dead straight across a perfectly flat brownish-orange landscape. Swinging her head to the right, she saw an exact copy of the previous view; to the left, the same again, with the ever so slight darker line of the mountain range in the far distance. Back the way they came was no different—even the ravine containing the river leading to Dol Vi’s village had vanished into the blank terrain.

  “Na exchange,” Dol Vi said, matter-of-factly. “Ya can meet coach here, bargain ya way ta North Province.”

  Sayri turned back to him. Was he going to leave her here? The sun was creeping down toward the western horizon; it would be nightfall within a short while. “Will you travel back now, or wait until morning, Dol—young man?” she asked pensively. She had already begun to imagine the absolute black of night in the wasteland, with feral beasts wandering past and no fire to protect her.

  Dol Vi gazed at her emotionlessly for a moment, then shrugged as if surrendering a point. “Just a cause I think ya stupid, does na mean I want ya dead,” he muttered.
“I stay until ya find passage.”

  She closed her eyes, and relief finding its way to tears that squeezed out under her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to hug him, but her would probably feel insult, so she clutched her arms around herself and tried not to cry.

  When she opened her eyes, Dol Vi was standing before her, his hand rising to wipe the tears from her eyes. His own were kind as he studied her forlornly. “Stupid girl,” he mumbled, bringing his fingers to his mouth, and he tasted the salt of her tears.

  She laughed at that.

  Dol Vi had brought some food from the village, and he unfolded what was left from his pack and placed it carefully upon the fabric in which it was wrapped. Sliced, roasted meats (probably lizard), assorted fruits (mostly unfamiliar), and root like vegetables (all unfamiliar). They had nibbled on the cache while walking the past two days, supplementing it with fish that Dol Vi had caught in the river. It was just enough for an evening meal for two, with a bit left over which Dol Vi rolled up and handed to her.

  “What will you eat on the way back?” she asked.

  He laughed. “Stupid girl,” he repeated.

  He had become somewhat insulting to her since leaving the village, but she understood it was his way of defending his aching soul. She didn’t patronize by feigning amazement at his survival skills as she might have a Lower Valley boy; he would see right through it, and be offended. Instead she simply smiled and shrugged. It seemed like the right choice; he smiled softly and punched her gently on the shoulder.

  Nothing, she knew from growing up with two brothers, made a man feel stronger than seeing a girl try to be tough. She glared at him in mock offense, then wound up and clubbed him on the shoulder as hard as she could.

  He grunted, and rubbed his shoulder, his eyes wide in surprise. “Not bad,” he said slowly. “Maybe Somria is making ya stronger.”

  She glowed with pride, though not at the strength of her punch, but at her expert approach to lightening his mood. It had worked, but although he was still smiling lightly at her, Dol Vi shook his head sadly.