He had posed as a friend, had sat at her table and slept under her roof, had entertained her with his tales of life beyond the borders. But none of it had ever come close to full candor. In fact, both Jared and Mistral had been more honest with each other than either had been with their wives. She resented Mistral and all that he had shared with Jared, down to the truth of his death. A death that Mistral’s actions may have caused.
She was angry at Mistral because he was here and Jared wasn’t. And because she was terrified of losing Eli — and now Dov.
Recognizing her underlying turmoil, Rishana buried it. Mistral was correct; they didn’t have time for that.
When they reached her home, he held the gate for her, waited for her to open the outer door, as was proper, then closed it again, to safeguard against others disturbing them. In silence, they removed their coats and boots in the vestibule. Then, as they entered the greeting room, she turned to him with a suitable smile of welcome. “Please come into the kitchen. We can talk over lunch,” she said.
They threw together a cold meal of roast beef sandwiches, salad, applecake and cider. Without asking or being asked, Mistral assisted, as any Alleman would with an Allesha. Not at all the way he used to behave in her kitchen at home where he was always sitting and watching. As Jared’s Triat, he’d been treated like family, but he had never crossed over that invisible threshold of familial informality with her. Now she was no longer his Triat’s wife, but an Allesha. Yet she could feel Jared’s presence as she hadn’t in a long time. It should have been a comfort.
When they sat down to eat, she put out an offering saucer and placed pieces of her food into it, knowing Mistral would have the same beliefs as her Winter Boy.
“Thank you for honoring our rites.” Mistral added his own offering to the saucer. He bit into his sandwich and swallowed quickly, not taking the time to fully taste it. “No doubt you’ve many questions. Please ask.”
She took a forkful of salad and chewed thoughtfully. All her questions started at the same place.
“Tell me about Jared’s last mission.”
“I can only guess what it was.”
“Then give me your best guess.”
“Jared and I didn’t always agree, as I’m sure you know.”
“Assume I know nothing. In many ways, that’s true.”
Mistral put down his sandwich and leaned his forearms on the table. He became quite still, allowing no distraction from his words. “Jared and I saw things differently. Jared liked direct paths. If he had a question or problem, he’d go right to the center of it, to the person who had the answer or caused the difficulty. He’d find what they wanted or needed, offer compromises, and when practical measures failed, win them over with his charm and generosity.”
“You don’t?” His stillness seeped into her, deterring her natural inclination to move in rhythm to her words.
“I can’t. Not with the Mwertik; they’re a hidden people. I don’t just mean that they’re difficult to find, but that they hide behind their rituals and traditions. Maybe it has something to do with being a nomadic tribe. What I’ve learned about them indicates that they’re not even direct in their personal relationships. Everything is circuitous. Some would call it devious; I believe it’s more about their sense of the sacred.”
“Sacred?” She stared at Mistral but couldn’t help seeing Dov. It wasn’t only their dark coloring or the chiseled angularity of their faces crowned by thick, lustrous hair. How was it that a father and son unrelated by blood could be so similar?
“I’m not sure I can explain it. Sometimes, when I’m tracking them and I find one of their old camps, I’m struck by the way they try to wrap themselves within the land, arranging small stones and twigs in patterns that have no obvious sense or value. And how they place their tents and fires, aligning them to the terrain, with everything pointing west. I’m not describing it well, but whenever I see the remnants, it feels sacred.”
“Perhaps your reactions have more to do with who you are than what they believe.”
“I don’t know.” Confusion played on his face for only a few moments and was quickly replaced by more characteristic resolve. “I’ve spent so much time and energy trying to think like them. I believe I am seeing them clearly.”
The tendons in her neck began to ache with such unaccustomed immobility. Shaking off the spell, she stretched her back and willed her body to move naturally as she spoke. “Mistral, how different are the Mwertik from the Birani? Your people are also steeped in the sacred, so much so that they erected a building around a tree rather than cut it down.”
“It’s an unusual tree.”
“When I hear you speak of the Mwertik, I’m constantly reminded of the Birani. Then I look at you, and how much like your son you seem. No wonder others don’t question his bloodlines.”
Mistral frowned in thought. “What are you trying to say?”
“Do the Mwertik and Birani have common ancestors?”
“I don’t know.” His gaze became unfocused for a moment, turning inward. “I’ve never been able to find their roots. But, yes, it would be worth looking into.”
“You still haven’t told me what you think happened on Jared’s last mission.”
“I think he made contact with someone, or learned something that he felt would make them listen. What, I don’t know; I wish I did.” Mistral paused, apparently making a decision. “Did you read his last message?”
“Yes.” The memory of Jared’s last letter, written while she slept — though not to her — cut through her, a knife slicing off the layers of titles, names and roles that she had built up around her pain.
“Then you know it was a sudden opportunity he felt he couldn’t ignore or delay. I believe it was a trap. He wasn’t the type to walk blindly into danger. Still, if someone were willing to talk, or if he had discovered some leverage… Perhaps he got caught between two factions.”
“Factions? Among the Mwertik?”
“Well, that was Jared’s theory. That the Mwertik couldn’t be monolithic, that no group of individuals can be always in accord.”
“Have you found evidence of factions?” she asked.
“Only the normal rifts over leadership, hunting methods and raiding strategies. But no signs of any Mwertik who disagreed with the idea of being at war with us. Still, I know only of those who lurk near our borders, and wouldn’t they be the most warlike? Perhaps if we can finally find their home base…”
Rishana didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she drank some cider, while watching Mistral over the rim of her glass. What was he trying to say — or hide? Putting the glass down, she patted the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then asked, “How far into their territory have you gone?”
“Through the border forest into the Antoyn Mountains, almost to the shore of the great western ocean.”
“The ocean? Could the Mwertik come from there? From a land off the shore?”
“That’s one of Tedrac’s theories, which is why I was so far away when Jared was killed. Otherwise…” His hands balled into fists without moving from their rigid position on the table; the muscles in his forearms pulsed with the motion. “If I had been here, maybe I could have stopped him or gone with him. Oh, Jinet!” He slammed his left fist down onto the table. “Excuse me — Allesha. It should have been me, not Jared. He was the best of us. I was gone so long, I didn’t even know until months after you buried him. Please forgive me. It should have been me.” His voice trailed off, and in the silence, Rishana could clearly hear his anguish.
Rishana knew that deep inside she did hold Mistral responsible. He never should have stolen the baby. Then none of this would have happened, and Jared probably wouldn’t have gone off on that fatal mission. But that baby was Dov, her Winter Boy, his son.
She placed her hand on his. “Mistral, we can’t change the past, no matter how much we want to. And Jared wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” She felt him shiver — a release, or just the shoc
k of her touch?
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
“For being alive when Jared isn’t?”
“For causing all this.”
“It isn’t my forgiveness you need.” She withdrew her hand. “I can’t absolve you. That’s something you’ll have to do for yourself.”
“Yes, of course.” He leaned back in his chair and grabbed his sandwich with both hands. How quickly Mistral took control over his emotions.
Rishana also ate, working the flavors of the beef, bread and spice sauce over her tongue, while she tried to understand the shape and purpose of this meeting. “What’s so important that it couldn’t wait? What do you need from me?”
“As I said, Jared and I didn’t always agree, but his questions kept me balanced. Without him, our Triad is unhinged. We need your help.”
“Mistral, you can’t be asking what I think you are,” Rishana snapped. “I’m not your Triat. He’s dead.”
“What I’m asking isn’t unprecedented. You are an Allesha.”
“Your son’s, not yours.” She stood, grabbing her plate and his, though they hadn’t finished eating. “This meeting is at an end, Mistral. Please close the outer door as you leave.”
“No, not until you hear me out,” he demanded, but quickly gentled his voice. Standing, he gestured at her empty chair. “I’ve been clumsy. My apologies once more. Please…”
Putting the plates into the sink, she leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m listening.”
“We both carry something of Jared within us. Can’t we take solace in that, and at the same time, work together to protect the Peace? All I ask is that you challenge me as Jared would, as it is your nature to do. Keep doubting me, as you always have, but not in silence. Help me see what I might otherwise be blind to. If nothing else, it would be to your advantage as my son’s Allesha and Eli’s mother and a Guardian to know my thoughts and plans. I would share them with you as though you were my Triat, but, believe me, I know the difference. You are not Jared. You could never be Jared. Still, we could help each other.”
“What does your Allesha think of this?”
“I haven’t told her about it.”
“Do you think it was wise to approach me in this manner without first consulting her?”
“Dara is my Allesha and a Guardian. I honor her and owe her my full allegiance. However, she’s become set in her thoughts. Part of it is probably due to age, but there’s also her hate and fear. She can’t see the many facets of a situation the way she used to. Maybe she’s been over the same paths too many times. It’s the only reason I can think of that she didn’t anticipate the theft of the guns, the Alleshi and Allemen going renegade. But you did. Please don’t tell her I said this. I mean no disrespect for her. After all, what Jared gave me — what you could give me — is something different from the way Dara and I are together.”
“Why would you keep this hidden from your Allesha if, as you say, it is not untoward?”
“Because it would be a closed subject if you refuse. Only if you say yes will she need to know.”
Rishana turned to the sink and ran water over the dishes. Mistral said nothing. When she faced him again, he hadn’t changed position. “What I don’t understand,” she said, “is why you need to approach me in this manner. Don’t you already report to the Guardians? We will work together in that capacity.”
“That’s not the same thing. I’d like your permission to come here to your home when you’re not in Season. Or we could meet elsewhere, if you prefer. Just the two of us. To talk, separate from the Council and the Guardians.”
Rishana couldn’t help wondering what he wasn’t telling her. Didn’t he trust the Guardians? “And you will be honest with me?” she asked.
“I will tell you everything I can.”
“That’s not the same thing. I require your complete honesty, with nothing hidden.”
“And you will trust my word if I agree?” he asked.
“No, not fully. But then, you say it’s my doubts you seek.”
“Then you agree?”
His posture, the way he looked at her, with those dark intent eyes so like his son’s. She could not bring herself to refuse him.
“You may call on me or send me messages, and I will consider responding. We’ll see how it goes. But yes, for now, I agree.”
“Thank you, Allesha.”
“You may call me Rishana.”
Chapter 85
In many ways, the Service Days were everything Ryl had been led to expect: lots of work, discussions and instruction. That first afternoon, workgroups were organized based on the boys’ lunch companions, so that Ryl found himself clearing a mountain path with fifteen fellow Winter Boys. Two Allemen supervised, laboring side by side with them, as they broke up and gathered fallen tree limbs. Ryl enjoyed the fresh air and the exertion of the work, a sharp contrast to all the time he’d spent indoors over the winter with women. What surprised him was how easily he fell into working with men he barely knew. Ryl was sure that no one among the Birani who had known him as a rebellious loner would recognize the genial team worker he had become.
During a break, Aidan sat next to Ryl, which made about as much sense as Aidan seeking him out at lunch, given the way Ryl had treated him at the Battai’s. Ryl was drinking from his canteen, trying to find the words to apologize, when Aidan spoke first.
“Ryl, I owe you an apology.”
“What?” Ryl sputtered, practically dropping the canteen.
“I didn’t treat you particularly well at the Battai’s.” Aidan spoke with the rhythm of a skilled orator, though so softly only Ryl could hear him. “In my arrogance, I thought you were an ignorant oaf and dismissed your ideas. I didn’t understand how different people have various ways of using their intelligence. It’s something that’s been bothering me all Season, and when I heard you speak so eloquently today, it brought home to me how wrong I had been about you.”
Ryl stared at Aidan, uncertain how to respond.
Aidan held out his small, thin hand. “Will you accept my apology?”
Ryl looked down at the offered hand and chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Aidan shifted his slight frame on the ground.
Ryl took Aidan’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “I was getting ready to ask your forgiveness.”
Now, it was Aidan’s turn to be astonished. “What? Why?”
Taking a slow breath, Ryl was determined to give as dignified a response as Aidan’s. “Because I called you a wimp and treated you badly. I didn’t understand about the different kinds of strength people can have. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
One look at Aidan’s toothy grin and crinkling slanted eyes, and Ryl’s attempts at propriety melted away. They burst into laughter.
“Hey, what’s the joke?” Garin called over to them.
“It would take too long to explain,” Aidan responded with a wink to Ryl.
Ryl found the physical demands of the daily afternoon work more engaging than the morning lectures. Not that the Allemen who spoke weren’t intriguing, providing important information and guidance. But he didn’t like sitting in the dark Assembly Room when the world outside was calling. Plants were beginning to unfold, and the paths, fields and forest bustled with people. Life was returning to The Valley, and Ryl wanted to be part of it.
Despite himself, Ryl was often drawn into the animated discussions that followed the morning lectures and continued throughout the days. He hadn’t expected the other boys to be so interested in his ideas and opinions. But he often preferred remaining quiet, so he could listen and watch. Soon, he would need to know who among these boys he could depend on. Some might end up his enemies, once his Mwertik bloodlines were revealed. Two would be his Triats.
Mistral and Ryl didn’t have any further private time together, though Mistral occasionally supervised Ryl’s workgroups, and they were sometimes in the same evening discussion groups. Still, Ryl kne
w Mistral watched him, as much to protect his back as to gauge what he had learned.
The workgroups were reassigned daily. At first, the boys were assigned to cleaning up winter damage and preparing for spring. Clearing and grooming the paths took several days. Then, in groups of about a dozen each, the boys and Allemen were assigned to work under the Battais’ foremen — repairing and painting buildings and equipment, mending or replacing broken gas lines and water pipes, supplying and maintaining the steam plant, sowing The Valley’s handful of fields, helping the regular maintaince crews, and assisting with whatever needed to be done in the various workshops that ringed each inn.
Whatever the boys did and wherever they went, it was always under the watchful eyes of Alleshi and Allemen.
On the tenth morning of the Service Days, after the Alleman Jakot of the Waleen explained ocean, river and lake water rights and the various attitudes different villages have about them, Lev of the Saranoi took the podium.
“The spring caravans have begun to arrive.” Lev’s announcement was greeted with a few yelps of joy. “I understand quite clearly what a caravan’s arrival has always meant to you, but it’s different here in The Valley, especially for Blessed Boys and Allemen.”
“More work, you mean,” Donel called out, to the accompaniment of good-humored groans and laughter. “So, what’s new about that?”
“What’s new is that this will be the first time since you were Blessed that you’ll be interacting with so many strangers. It will be an exacting test of your discipline.”
Everyone was suddenly very quiet.
Lev leaned on the podium. “The Caravan Convergence is a keystone of the Peace, in many ways as crucial as our Allemen. However, as with any meeting of diverse groups, we’re certain to witness disturbances. One of our responsibilities is to cut through any disruption before it can ripen into violence. Keep your senses open, but don’t try to take on potential problems without help. Report immediately to the closest Allesha or Alleman, who will work with you to defuse the situation.”
The Winter Boy Page 55