“Sure, why not?”
“Because, they would become less than your friends, and you’d be more than a companion, less of a man.”
“Huh?”
“Come, let’s clean up here. We’ll go into the kitchen and talk over tea.”
“Sure.” No longer elated, feeling instead like he was hovering over a precipice, Dov didn’t understand what had gone wrong. For a brief moment, he had glimpsed the shape of what they were trying to do to him, and it had felt so very right. Why did it now seem so unattainable? Why couldn’t Le’a or any of them ever be satisfied with who he was?
Chapter 47
In the storehouse, Tayar/Rishana found Caith perched on the top rung of an impossibly tall ladder, her feet resting on a high shelf. Mumbling to herself, Caith read the labels of the goods stored there. She found one of the items she sought, tossed it into a mesh bag that hung on a hook on the ladder, and pushed off with her feet, so the ladder rode its rails to the next section.
All the times Rishana had seen Caith do that, she was still amazed at the old woman’s nonchalance and energy. During her training, when she had been apprenticed to Caith, Rishana had worried about the seemingly frail old woman dangling so high. Though Rishana had attempted to take such risky responsibilities onto her much younger frame, she never did gain Caith’s easy mobility in the upper stacks.
The young Allesha’s heart still leapt into her mouth, watching the tiny caretaker deftly swing about like a flying mouse. Should Caith ever fall, no Healer would be able to mend her old brittle bones. Still, this was what Caith loved, who she was. If she had seen Rishana below her, the younger woman had no doubt the older one would take even more risks, to prove how capable she still was. So Rishana didn’t announce her presence. Instead, she wandered through the shelves and storage rooms.
It hadn’t been Rishana’s intention to collect provisions, but the variety of what was available was so tempting that she soon had her own bulging mesh bag. When she rounded a corner, Caith was waiting for her, arms on her skinny hips, a wide grin adding even more wrinkles to her dark, parched skin. “So, you’ve come for your oysters.”
“Yes, Caith.”
“Your boy is progressing well.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Rishana responded to her retreating back, as Caith led the way.
“Quickly, in fact. Some had told me not to expect you for a while, but I knew they were wrong. Your First Boy is special; he’ll surprise all of them. He’s an interesting one.”
“That he is.”
The old caretaker turned to face the young Allesha, and with her rough, calloused hands, pulled Rishana’s face down, to look into her eyes. “Yes, interesting.” Then she trotted ahead once more.
Rishana had difficulty keeping up with tiny Caith, who turned unexpectedly through this aisle and that. Without warning, they ended up not at the oyster ponds, but in Caith’s room. Rishana noticed new piles of books spilling out of the wall-covering cabinets and towering in corners. It made her realize that it had been a long time since she had last spent an evening with Caith in this cozy room, talking about everything that had ever entered their minds and lives.
“Come, sit.” Caith cleared papers and books from the upholstered armchair for Rishana, then pulled the wooden desk chair closer for herself. She poured two glasses of wine from a crystal decanter and handed one to Rishana. “Taste this. I think the Friants surpassed themselves with this vintage.”
Caith swirled the red wine in her glass, watching the light dance on the liquid. Then she closed her eyes, breathed in the rich, earthy fragrance, and sipped, playing the various pungent, sweetly acidic flavors over her tongue.
Rishana found she couldn’t give herself to the wine as fully as she would have liked. Nevertheless, she drank in silence rather than disturb the wonder of the moment for Caith.
With a sigh of pleasure, Caith put her empty glass on the desk, and leaned toward Rishana. “So, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
“No, dear.” She placed her hand on Rishana’s knee. “Start again. How are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” Rishana paused, weighing how much to disclose. “He’s fascinating to watch as he learns. I believe he’ll be a fine Alleman, maybe even one of great power and influence.”
“Of that I’ve no doubt. But does he give you pleasure in the inner room? Does he have any native skill?”
“Yes. There, too, he has learned.”
“Good… Good.” Caith leaned back. “Does he make you forget that you’re an Allesha and he’s your Winter Boy? Does he ever make you feel like a woman with a man?”
“No. I won’t let that happen. Don’t worry, Caith.”
“No, not yet.”
“Never!” Rishana shook with the insult that she could ever be so unAlleshine.
“Don’t be so sure. Oh, yes, I know they tell you that it would break the trust, but I’ve never really followed any rules that they force… Whoever they might be.”
“Caith!” Rishana couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“The day he makes you forget is the day that you’ll realize how deeply you love him. That’s when you’ll know how fine a job you have done as his Allesha. But you need to prepare for it now, Rishana. You have the potential to be one of the best I’ve ever known. Your boys will become powerful Allemen, because of the power and skill within you. That’s why you will forget who you are in the end.” Caith sighed. “I’m sorry; there will be much pain for you.”
“Oh, now I understand. You’re talking about the difficulty of End of Season separation. I think I’m prepared for that.”
“No, that isn’t what I’m referring to, but—” She paused to look deeply into her young companion’s eyes. When she spoke again, it was with a lighter, happier voice. “Enough of this. There will be great pleasure, too. And, at the end of it all, we’ll still have good wine like this. Do you want another glass?”
Rishana smiled. “No, thank you, Caith. I think I need to keep my head right now.”
“Well then, let’s go. I’ve put aside a very special selection of oysters for your First Season.” She pulled her coat out of the closet. “I think I’ll go with you to help prepare their new pond.”
Rishana was speechless. Caith hardly ever left the storehouse anymore except to attend important Council meetings. “I’m honored.”
“Bosh! Let’s go. We’ve got work to do, and pleasure to prepare for.” Caith was rushing ahead through the towering shelves once again, with Rishana following in her wake.
In Rishana’s inner room, Caith helped her remove the oyster pond’s stone cover, and showed her how to regulate the water temperature to assure that the mollusks stayed alive and healthy. Caith then sat back on her haunches and studied Rishana.
Rishana broke the silence of Caith’s scrutiny. “I wish you were my First Season mentor.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud, nor had she realized that was how she felt. But when the words poured out of her, she knew the truth of them.
Caith didn’t respond, and Rishana didn’t know what more to say, still unsure how much she could safely disclose. The only person she trusted more than Caith was Savah. Yet, she hadn’t even spoken to Savah about Dov’s true identity. “This Valley isn’t what I thought it was, Caith. I never realized how fragmented the Alleshi are.”
“Politics.” Caith spat the word, as though she had bitten into a worm-rotten apple. “They couldn’t let you have a normal First Season, could they?”
“Who?”
“Who do you think? Those old crones.”
“Dara and Kiv?”
“Yes, them, too.”
“Caith, they hate each other.”
“Do they? Yes, I suppose it could have grown to that by now.”
“Tell me, please.”
“Rishana, you know I keep myself apart from the Council. Let them wrestle with day-to-day arguments. I prefer staying in my storehouse and watching the years unfold.�
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“You know more than anyone about what’s happening in this Valley. Don’t pretend you don’t. I’ve seen you.”
“Oh?” Caith raised an eyebrow. “Have you now?”
“Yes, I have. You might not take sides, but you know exactly which side faces where, don’t you?”
Caith asked softly, “Tell me, child, what have they done to you?”
“I’ve never had any choice in anything. I’ve been nothing more than a pawn, pushed this way and that, to make me fit into their plans.” In the soft warmth of her inner room, the words tasted bitter, cold, but as true and solid as the granite floor around the pool.
Caith crossed her legs, folded her hands on her lap and spoke in a quiet voice that made Rishana’s sound even louder by comparison. “Rishana, how do you work with your First Boy? Do you tell him the shape of every stage of the Season from the beginning?”
“Caith, they’re using me for their personal ends.”
“To be an Allesha is to be of service, to be used.”
“But not like this. When did it start? Was it from my first day of training. or earlier? Who decided I was to be Dara’s heir, a specialist in problem boys? Who really chose this boy for me? And what about Kiv and Dara? How can hate be allowed in this Valley? Doesn’t being an Allesha mean anything anymore? Did it ever?”
Caith reached out to catch Rishana’s windmilling hands. Locking eyes with the young woman, she tried to infuse her own calm strength through pure will. “Hush, child. Don’t let them tear you apart.”
“But Caith—”
“You’re no one’s pawn, unless you allow it.”
“You don’t know—”
“I know more than most realize. Now, take a breath.” Still holding the young woman’s left hand, though more gently, Caith breathed with Rishana, guiding her by example to slow her rhythms. After several long, slow breaths, she nodded. “Let’s break down your fears into small bites.”
“Tell me about Kiv,” Rishana said.
“She’s allowed her terror of the Mwertik to take control.”
“Is she dangerous?”
“I don’t really know, but there’s always some danger whenever we allow our fears to direct our actions. How far has fear taken Kiv? I hope not as far as Dara seems to think it has, but I can’t know for certain.”
“So you’ve seen it too? Dara and Kiv.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what to think of them.”
“Then don’t. Not now. You need to put aside all such concerns and concentrate on your Season.”
“But my First Boy—” Rishana stopped in mid-sentence. Not even with Caith would she dare expose Dov’s fearsome truth. Not until she was sure she understood the perils that lay in wait for him… and for her.
“Yes?”
Rishana stood and held out her hand to help Caith up onto her feet. “You’re right. He must be my focus right now. Thank you.”
Caith’s creased face formed an enigmatic half smile. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”
At the front door vestibule, Rishana helped Caith on with her coat, then started to put on her own. But Caith shooed her. “No, child, I won’t have you walking all the way to the storehouse again. I will enjoy the solitude of my stroll, and you must meditate and prepare.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
They embraced as Alleshi do, in ritual respect and bonding, but also as two women wanting to give something of themselves to each other. Before turning to leave, Caith said, “Come see me again. Soon.”
Chapter 48
Throughout the afternoon, Dov was fidgety and unpredictable. One moment, he’d be attentive and happy, the next, moody and irritable. Rishana/Tayar had been told to expect such confusion as the boy struggled between his newly heightened sensitivities and deep-rooted habits. The strain would be fueled, rather than soothed by the vivid sensuality of the Exhilaration Stage. Then, during the Conflagration Stage, something in him would ignite, churning his fears and uncertainties to the forefront. With a boy of such power, she had no doubt Conflagration would be intense and difficult to direct. But first, tonight, she would use the oysters to initiate Exhilaration.
After dinner, Tayar and Dov settled into the sofa, heads at either end, legs entwined, as had become their way. He picked up The Traveler’s Tales from the end table and opened it. Tayar leaned back into the arm pillow and closed her eyes while he paged through the book to find his leather page marker.
“The next story’s called The Northern Border,” he said.
One year, I wintered in the sun-seared south, where the people were as dried out as the thin leached soil. So it was with little sorrow that I followed my feet to the north and west at the first hint of spring’s shriveling hot winds. As I traveled, I kept pace with the season, watching spring touch the earth again and again, gradually changing from a flavor of death to that of life.
Finally, in a high mountain range, I found a deep, wide-open cave. A creek babbled nearby and trout dashed through the currents. As spring progressed, the bushes along the banks grew heavy with food for the picking. It was a safe place, bountiful and quiet. I could curl up into myself to heal the wounds that the south had flayed into my soul.
I was not alone. As Alleen had taught me, I called life to me each dawn. Then one morning, a new life responded, one I hadn’t known existed there.
Tracks of dried tears streaked the child’s dirty face. Her clothes were torn and filthy; her tiny hands were caked with mud and blood; her legs scratched and bruised. She crawled into my lap as I sang to the animals and the sun, looking up to me with hope, fear and hunger. I continued my song; it seemed to calm her. By the time all the animals had crept away, one by one, she was asleep, her hands wrapped around my belt to hold me there, perhaps to assure herself that I was real.
She did not awaken when I carried her to the stream, though she slept fitfully, with small fearful squeals and twitching muscles. I bathed her scratches and bruises, relieved to realize that most of the caked blood was not hers. She did not appear more than three or four years, but was so frail and thin that she might have been older. As I washed away the filth, I saw how fair she was, unlike the dark babies I had once carried in my womb, held to my breast and buried in the smoldering ruins of my village.
I realized the child was awake when I felt the sudden stillness of her body. I continued to wash her and applied unguent to her bruises as though it were normal to be responsible for a strange child. When I washed her face, our eyes met; hers were the blue of glacier ice. Her tiny hand reached up to brush my tears, and she whispered, “Mama.” Hearing her small voice form that sound and give it to me bound me to her as no rope or chain ever could.
I called her Dawn, for the morning song which brought her to me. She fit into my life so easily that it was hard to believe it had not always been so. When we fished and swam and gathered our food, she stayed by my side, her eyes fixed on me as though she feared that, if she looked away, I would disappear. At night, we slept curled together, though she kicked and cried, unable to escape whatever demons stalked her dreams.
Our days were happy and quiet. Too quiet. She spoke no word, other than that first “Mama.” I tried to coax her tongue with my own, but she’d only look at me, as though she didn’t know the purpose of my utterances. I chose to not press her. In time, I thought, she will learn how very safe she is with me. In time, she will have so much to say that words will spill from her.
I knew how to be patient.
I was relearning how to love.
Finally, one day, she felt secure enough to venture out of my sight. We had been walking along the bank of our stream, gathering our noonday meal, when a butterfly lighted on her hand, then flew away. Laughing, she chased it downstream, actually turning her back on me in her delight. I followed her, careful not to catch up, to let her have her private adventure.
So it was that she was around a bend when I heard her scream. It was a sound out of nightmar
es. My legs pumped faster than ever in my life, but at first sight of what lay ahead, I stopped in midstride and crouched behind a clump of bushes.
In the clearing, two sun-baked, fair-haired men fought with knives, while two others jeered in a guttural language not unlike some I had learned in my travels. All four men were enormous, with bodies made strong through breeding and training, far beyond the needs of peaceful folk.
“Get him, Kar!”
“Watch his left!”
“Kill him!”
Tucked under the arm of one of these goading spectators was Dawn. She kicked and struggled, but she was so small, dwarfed by the single arm as a rabbit is to a tree, that he didn’t even shift as she flailed against him. My eyes darted over every speck of the clearing, seeking some way to wrest my child from these savages.
Kar’s knife bit hard into the belly of his adversary, who struck out blindly, already dead, though his legs and arms didn’t yet know it. With a final slash to the throat and a kick to the stomach, Kar finished off his opponent, who fell with a gurgle to the ground. Kar wiped the blood off his knife on the dead man’s tunic, then turned to the one who held Dawn. “Shut that brat up, or I’ll do it myself.”
My heart careened into my throat when I saw him brandish his knife toward Dawn.
“Na, Kar. She’s Murat for sure.” The one who held Dawn nodded to the dead man, then held the child up in front of him, so Kar could see the resemblance. “She’d be a good hostage.”
“Shit, they’ve none of mine, what do I care of hostages to trade? And she’s too young for anything else. Hell, give her to me and we’ll be done with it. I can’t stand that bawling.”
“Wait!” I ran out of my hiding place as he grabbed Dawn. “I can keep her quiet.”
“Well, what is this?” Kar lumbered toward me, so casually threatening that I knew the taste of my own death.
The Winter Boy Page 27