by DAVID B. COE
Living in an Y'Qatt village, she heard little about the Qirsi clans. Teacher taught them about the Blood Wars, of course. He could hardly have taught the history of the Southlands without mentioning them. But it was one thing to hear tales of the Fal'Borna horsemen and their prowess in battle; it was quite another to know what they were like today. They were said to be shorter than other Qirsi, but more powerfully built. Their men and women wore their hair long and tied back from their faces. Some said that their skin was darker than that of the other clans, that they had lived on the plains for so long, their skin browned by the bright sun, that their babies were even born dark. Jynna wasn't certain that she believed this, but she knew so little else about them that she scoured her mind for anything she had ever heard, no matter how insignificant or foolish.
She did know that all the Qirsi clans rejected the faith of the Y'Qatt. Would they refuse to help her because she came from an Y'Qatt village? She nearly stopped, her resolve failing her for an instant. But no. Father had sent her on this errand. He wouldn't have done so if he thought the Qirsi of Lowna would turn her away. Her people were dying. How could they not help her?
On she went, her fatigue deepening with every step. As the hour grew later, Jynna began to cast anxious glances westward, toward the moons. They were low in the sky, and it wouldn't be long before they disappeared below the western horizon, leaving her in utter darkness.
As if sensing her fear, a wolf howled in the distance, and was answered by a second on the far side of the lake. Jynna shuddered and began walking faster. A moment later the first wolf called out again, drawing another cry from the second beast. On and on they went, their howls echoing across the lake. Jynna began to cry again, fear gripping her heart. The air had grown cold; she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep warm.
And still she walked, her steps growing heavier, the night darkening as the moons dropped lower and lower toward the plain. Mist rose from the lake, chilling her more and giving an unearthly feel to the terrain. When at last the moons did disappear, Jynna started to cry, though she really had no reason. Enough light remained, cast by the stars and reflected in the waters of the lake, for her to see. And even had she been immersed in complete darkness the sound of the water gently lapping at the muddy lakeshore would have enabled her to find her way.
Still, she had never felt so alone, and it occurred to her that it had been some time since last she'd noticed any fire streaking across the southern sky. She tried to tell herself that she'd come too far, that Tivston was so far away by now that she wouldn't have noticed the flames had there been hundreds of them. In her heart, though, she knew better.
But she walked on.
Eventually she must have fallen into a waking dream, some nether realm between sleep and wakefulness, for she abruptly found herself on a dusty lane, with small houses on either side of her. For a moment she merely stood in place, tottering on trembling legs, looking about, trying to remember where she was and why she had come. Then she began to sob and moan and cry out for help, all at the same time.
At first nothing happened. She heard horses neighing and stamping, but she neither heard nor saw any people, and her despair grew unbearable. But then the pale glow of a candle appeared in one window, and a moment later a second. Soon there was light all around her. Doors opened. There were shouts and footsteps. Somehow she had fallen to the ground and was lying on her back. Men and women stood over her, looks of concern on their faces. Qirsi faces, but darker than any she'd seen before. Perhaps the tales were true. That is, if this was indeed Lowna, and these were the Fal'Borna.
A man bent over her and lifted her into his arms, just as her father had done with her mother. Her mother, who was dying of the pestilence.
Had that been a dream, or was this? Was it even the same night? Abruptly frightened, she struggled to break free of the man's grasp, but he held her tight, and carried her toward one of the houses, toward that warm glow of candle flame.
She ceased her struggles and gave in to her weariness. The last thing she remembered was someone asking her name.
Jynna awoke to the sound of whispers. Opening her eyes, she saw three men standing over her, all of them Qirsi, all of them with their hair tied back and their faces burned golden brown, the color of dry grasses swaying in the plains wind. The Fal'Borna.
Her eyes flew to the window beside the bed on which she lay. The sun was up, shining brightly into the room. She let out a low moan and covered her face with her hands. By now they were all dead. Mama, Papa, Delon, Blayne. All of them. Quite likely, everyone in Tivston. She should have been crying, but no tears would come. She just felt weary, as if she hadn't slept in days.
"Who are you?" one of the men asked, his voice even, matter-of-fact. She uncovered her face and looked up at them. They were all watching her, waiting. She had no idea which of them had spoken. For all she could tell, they might have been brothers, so much did they look alike. "Where are you from? Why did you come here?"
That one. He appeared to be the youngest of the three. He had a handsome, square face, and eyes that were so pale they were almost white.
"I'm from… from Tivston."
The three of them glanced at one another.
"You're Y'Qatt," another said. Now that she was looking at them more closely, Jynna realized that their appearances weren't so similar after all. This man was smaller than the other two. His face was rounder, his eyes a deeper shade of yellow. He was older than the first man; quite a bit older it seemed. There were lines around his eyes and mouth.
She nodded.
"Why are you here?" this second man asked.
"Everyone was dying," she said. "My father sent me to get help. He told me to go north, to Lowna." She hesitated. "Is this Lowna?"
They didn't answer.
The young one exhaled through his teeth and looked from one of his companions to the other. "The pestilence?"
The third man held up a hand, silencing the other two. Then he looked down at her, a slight frown on his face. "You're telling us that an Y'Qatt sent his child to get help from the Fal'Borna?"
She nodded.
"And he was willing to let us use magic to help you?"
"Yes."
He shook his head. "I don't believe you. It's a trick," he said to the other two. "I'd wager she's from the J'Balanar, or the A'Vahl."
"She's not J'Balanar," said the young one. "She bears none of the markings."
"She's young to be marked."
"Not true. They start using the pigments at the end of the first four.
She's near to her second."
She was just done with her second, but she didn't bother to correct them.
"The A'Vahl then," the third one said.
"To what end, T'Kaar? The J'Balanar may want our land, but the feud with the A'Vahl has been over for nearly ten fours. They've grown weak, complacent. They wouldn't challenge us now."
"So you believe her?" T'Kaar asked. "You really think an Y'Qatt village would send a girl for aid from magic-using Qirsi?"
"That's not what she said," the older man broke in. "She said her father sent her here to get help. That I would believe." He looked down at her again. "What's your name, child?"
"Jynna. And I'm not lying."
The third man glared at her, but the other two smiled.
"Tell us what happened, Jynna."
She shrugged, and finally she was crying, her vision clouding. "They all just got sick," she told them. "First Mama and then Papa, and then Delon and Blayne. They're my brothers."
"Were they fevered?"
"I think so. They were… they got sick to their stomachs. All of them."
"The pestilence," the young man said, spitting out the word as if it were a curse.
"Then strange things started happening," Jynna said, the memories coming fast and hard now, forcing the words out through her tears and a sudden wave of panic. I'm alone! They're all gone!
"What strange things?" the third man d
emanded. He still sounded doubtful.
She took a long breath, trying to calm herself. "They started to use magic." She shook her head, knowing that wasn't quite right.
"You mean trying to heal themselves?"
"No, it wasn't like that. They couldn't help it." They stared at her.
"I don't understand," the older one finally said. "What do you mean, they couldn't help it?"
Jynna still shook her head, slowly now, trying to find the right words. "My mother has fire magic. She never uses it, though. Because we're Y'Qatt. But last night fire was flying from her hands. I don't think she wanted it to, but she couldn't stop herself. And my father. He-" She stopped, gagging on the memory.
"T'Noth," the oldest one said. "Get her some water."
The young one left the room, only to return a moment later with a cup of water. Jynna took it from him with a trembling hand and forced herself to drink. It helped.
"My father has healing magic," she began again, speaking slowly. "But last night it tore his skin open. I think he might have bled to death." "Could a fever do that, S'Doryn?" T'Noth asked.
The older man shook his head. "I've never heard of it before."
"But they're Y'Qatt," said T'Kaar. "They've hoarded their magic all their lives. Who knows what a fever might do to them? It may be that her mother and father-"
"It wasn't just them," Jynna said, glowering at the man. "It was everyone in the village. There was fire everywhere. I heard houses being destroyed by shaping power. The horses were making horrible noises, and I think it was because people with language of beasts were saying things to them. Things that made no sense."
For a long time, none of them spoke. The oldest of the three men was watching her, his face grim. The other two were eyeing each other. At last, the older man stood. "All right, Jynna," he said. "You rest here. We'll be back shortly." He smiled at her, though she could tell that it wasn't a real smile. "Are you hungry?"
"No."
The smile faded. He nodded once and patted her leg through the wool blanket that still covered her. "I wouldn't be either."
With that, he stood and led the other two men out of the room. The young one was the last to go, and he glanced back at her. But he didn't smile or say anything, and he made certain to close the door behind him.
Jynna was alone for what seemed a long time. She tried to sleep some more, but couldn't and eventually she climbed out of the bed and began to wander around the room. It reminded her of her parents' room in her old house. They're all dead! I have no one! Fear, loss, grief: She felt it all welling up inside her again. This time, though, she pushed the feelings back down. She'd made it to Lowna. She was getting help. What more could she do? It wasn't that she was being brave. She knew that. It was just that she couldn't bear the thought of being so sad again.
So she concentrated on the room and on the wardrobe that stood in the corner near the door. The clothes belonged to a man, someone taller than her father. Maybe they were the young man's; he was the tallest of the three men who had been speaking to her. T'Noth. She thought his name odd. In other ways though, this could easily have been a room in Tivston. The clothes looked similar to those she was accustomed to seeing. So were the blankets and bed cloths. Jynna wasn't certain what she'd expected, but she had thought that the clothes and homes of Qirsi would be different from those in her village. Particularly the Fal'Borna. They were supposed to be nomads, hunters. But this place seemed so much like home.
The door opened and T'Noth poked his head inside. Seeing the empty bed, he frowned. When he spotted Jynna standing near the wardrobe he stepped all the way into the room.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing!" she said. "Just looking around."
“Why?”
She shrugged. "I don't know. I was bored."
Clearly, he hadn't expected that answer. "Well… you shouldn't look through other people's things."
"I'm sorry. Is this your room?"
He frowned again, but after a moment he nodded.
"Do you live here by yourself?"
"Now, what kind of-"
The door opened and S'Doryn walked in. Seeing that Jynna was out of bed, he smiled. "Are you feeling better?"
She shrugged again, her eyes flicking toward the younger man. He turned to T'Noth. "What's going on?"
"She was… she was looking at my things."
The older man raised an eyebrow. "And?"
T'Noth shook his head. "Never mind."
S'Doryn held out his hand to her. "Jynna, I want you to come with me. The leaders of our village have come. They have some questions for you."
"And then will you help me? Will you come back to Tivston with me?"
He faltered, though only briefly. "We'll go back with you. Some of us at least." He started to lead her out of the room, but then stopped and faced her again, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye. "I don't know what we're going to find there, Jynna. If this was the pestilence, or something like it.." He trailed off, a pained expression on his round face.
She finished the sentence for him. "They'll all be dead."
"It's possible, yes."
"Then can I come here and live with you?" She started to cry again, though she tried hard not to. "I won't have anywhere else."
S'Doryn pulled her to him and held her as she sobbed. "Yes, Jynna. If they're all gone, you can come and live with us. With me and N'Tevva, if you like. All right?"
She was still crying, but she nodded.
He held her for a moment longer, then gently steered her out of the bedroom and into a small common room. There was a hearth in the far wall, though no fire burned there, and beside it a narrow space that must have served as T'Noth's kitchen, though Jynna's mother would have thought it far too small. In the center of the room stood a table and four chairs. Three women and a man were sitting there and three more men stood nearby. Like the men she'd already met, these Qirsi wore their hair tied back from their faces. They also had dark complexions, and they appeared stronger somehow, as if life on the plain had toughened them in ways it hadn't the men and women of Tivston. When Jynna and S'Doryn entered, all of the people turned to look at them, or more precisely, to look at her. Jynna sidled closer to S'Doryn, who placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"This is Jynna," S'Doryn said. "She comes from Tivston. She's Y'Qatt. She tells a most remarkable tale of what seems to be some strain of the pestilence that struck her village yesterday."
"Yesterday?" one of the women asked, her pale eyes widening. "All of this happened yesterday?"
S'Doryn looked down at Jynna, who nodded.
The woman actually stood and stepped toward the door that led outside. "She could still be contagious! How could you have allowed her into the village, much less this house?"
"She's shown no sign of being ill," S'Doryn said evenly. "From all she's told us it seems that the disease came upon them swiftly and with great force. If she were carrying it, she'd be dead by now."
He couldn't have had any idea of how his words struck at Jynna's heart, nor did she let any of them see. Her father had sent her here to get help, and she trusted that some of them-S'Doryn certainly, and perhaps T'Noth as well-would do all they could for her. But she was less certain of T'Kaar and these others. And so she refused to let them see how she ached inside. Standing there, her back straight, her eyes dry, might well have been the most adult thing she'd ever done. In a small part of her mind that remained apart, watching all that was happening to her, Jynna marveled at how she had grown in just this one day.
For several moments more the woman just stared at Jynna, as if the girl were some beast summoned by Bian himself to lay waste to her village. Finally, she returned to her chair, her cheeks coloring somewhat.
"How is it she escaped with her life?" one of the men asked.
"We've wondered the same thing," S'Doryn told him. He smiled for just an instant. "Perhaps if we knew for certain, we'd never again have cause to fear
the pestilence." No one else so much as grinned, and he offered a small shrug. "Perhaps she was merely lucky. Perhaps the gods have marked her for some greater purpose. To be honest, I don't know. But she came to us seeking aid, and I for one don't feel that we can refuse her."
An old woman who sat at the table shook her head. "You make it sound easy, S'Doryn. Yet you know it isn't." Before she could say more, she was taken by a fit of coughing that racked her body. No one said anything, although T'Noth did offer her some water, which she waved away even as her paroxysm went on. Eventually her coughing subsided and she pulled a white rag from the folds of her dress and wiped her mouth. "Forgive me." She glanced at Jynna. "I've been sick a long time. Sooner or later it will get the best of me, though I daresay I have some time left."
She grinned, and Jynna decided that she liked the woman, regardless of what she meant to say.
"It's not that easy," she began again, shifting her gaze back to S'Doryn. "You and I are old for Qirsi, even for Fal'Borna. But others here have young families to care for, children to protect. Jynna may want our help, but our safest course is to let whatever disease has struck her village run its course, and then burn to the ground what's left."
"The disease might well have taken care of that for us already." "What do you mean?"
S'Doryn looked down at Jynna and nodded. And for the second time that morning, she told of the strange and horrible effect the pestilence had on her people. The reaction was much the same this time: silence, followed by speculation that the Y'Qatt had brought this on themselves by refusing to use their magic.
"For all we know," one man said, as T'Kaar looked on and nodded, "the pestilence has always done this to the Y'Qatt. Their faith is old, but it's only recently that so many have subscribed to it."