The World Weavers

by Kelley Grant

  The crowd stared at Kadar, and erupted in shouting.

  “Suma!” they cried, and gathered around his humpback, patting his boot and legs. Amber uncurled herself and leapt onto the ground as the humpback knelt and Kadar was ushered off and to a pillow by a large cook pot hung over a dung fire by the edge of the camp.

  Calim, Turo, and the rest of the warriors settled in around the fire as well. Once the pale desert scarves, called shemaghs, that covered their hair, lower faces, and necks were removed, Kadar could see that their party was evenly men and women. A man of the camp served Kadar and the rest of the party on beaten tin plates. There were no children anywhere around the oasis.

  The conversation between the Tigus seemed casual, and Kadar let the unknown language wash over him as he studied the horses the Tigus had tethered around the camp. They were a more refined version of his uncle Aaron’s racing horses. They had wedge-­shaped heads, broad foreheads, large eyes, large nostrils, and small muzzles. They were smaller than horses in Illian, built for endurance in the desert. He itched to ride one.

  Turo noticed his interest and nudged him in the ribs. “You like the desert horses?”

  Kadar nodded. “Yes, very much. They’re beautiful.”

  “If you steal a horse, you will die,” Turo said seriously. “Horses are important in this tribe, treated like babies by their owners.”

  Calim asked something, and Turo answered. Calim gestured and spoke rapidly. Turo’s eyebrows climbed into his forehead. The crowd rose, and Kadar scrambled to rise with them.

  “Follow Calim,” Turo said excitedly. “He has a sun horse for Suma!”

  Calim put a hand on Kadar’s back and led him past the tents, to the far side of the oasis. There was a horse tethered in the shade between two palm trees.

  The mare snorted nervously and pranced as they approached. Kadar could see why she was called a sun horse—­she was a palomino, her chestnut coat so pale she looked gold, with a flaxen mane and tale. She stomped her foreleg warningly and dug into the sand.

  “She’s beautiful,” Kadar breathed. “Where is her owner?”

  “Dead,” Turo said cheerfully. “She threw him and stomped him to death.”

  Kadar looked sharply at the man, but he wasn’t joking. Another Tigu came up and dumped a bridle and saddle at his feet. Kadar glanced behind and found the entire camp watching the scene. Calim gestured toward the mare. So this was a test to prove he really was a Suma. By the grins and nudges between the warriors in the crowd, it was a test the Tigus probably thought he’d fail. The mare was barely broken and dangerous. Kadar grinned. This was going to be fun. The gorgeous mare would be his.

  Kadar moved toward the oasis beside the mare, not looking directly at her. All of his senses were extended, and he spoke nonsense in a soothing tone. She held her ground, and he knelt at the oasis a few feet from her. She stomped her hoof and he dipped his hands into the water and drank, ignoring her. He splashed water on his face as he focused his energy, sent soothing waves to the mare. He heard her wuffle in curiosity and he repeated the sound to her. They held a short conversation of snorts, until she approached him.

  “Rowl.” Amber startled Kadar, rubbing against him. The mare went still, and then snorted at the cat, who rubbed up against her, purring. Kadar slowly turned toward the mare and offered her his hand, letting his beast magic tickle her nose, tame her heart. She snuffled his offered hand, then snorted into his hair, lipping at it.

  Kadar slowly rose and went to her side, rubbing behind her ears, down her neck, ruffling the pale mane. He pressed her back and gently put weight on it, making certain she was saddle broken. She gazed curiously at him, then lipped at the cat’s tail. Kadar grasped her mane and flung himself up on her bare back.

  She froze for a second, and Kadar held his hands on her neck, focusing his gift on calming her, making her accept him. She relaxed and Kadar nodded to Turo. Turo unfastened her tether, jumping away as she snapped her teeth at him. Kadar kneed her away from the crowd. She responded willingly, as he let her know with his legs and hands where he wanted her to go, nudging her mind with his talent so they understood each other. He let her walk, then canter into the desert. Keeping an eye on the tents, he allowed her to gallop, circling the camp and oasis.

  They raced back to the crowd of ­people and slid to a halt. Kadar dismounted and took the mare by her halter; fastening the lead line Turo gave him.

  “She moves like flowing water,” he told the crowd. Turo translated.

  He grinned as the Tigus went wild.

  “Suma!” they shouted. Kadar had to calm the startled mare.

  “Good riding!” Turo said, slapping him on the back. “Her name is Asfar. The horse and tent are yours now.”

  Kadar grinned at him. Maybe it wouldn’t be as hard as he thought to fit in. His abilities with hooved animals had been appreciated in the caravan—­but were always overshadowed by his twin’s more revered abilities with the feli.

  “Time to sleep. We rise early morning,” Turo told him. “We will deliver the goods to Antajale.”

  “Antajale?” Kadar asked.

  “Our city. Antajale means deep water. Few from the clans ever see its beauty.”

  Kadar tethered his mare, and then went to his new tent to unroll his mat. His head barely hit the pillow before he was asleep.

  They were up again before dawn. They left many of the humpbacks, weapons, and supplies with Calim and his tribe. Calim would bring them the rest of the way south, to the other tribes.

  The bulk of the beasts, most of the supplies, and all of the iron went with Kadar and Turo.

  “We go east. Antajale is by the mountains,” Turo said.

  Kadar nodded. A group of Tigus rode with them. He tethered Asfar behind his humpback. He wasn’t certain how far the next oasis was, and though they’d filled bags with water—­he didn’t want to put any more strain on the horse than necessary. She snapped and kicked at anyone who walked near her, calming only for Kadar and Amber.

  The heat was oppressive, this close to summer. The Tigu riders seemed immune to it, not even wet with sweat when they stopped and ate and he watered Asfar. They camped under the stars that night. Kadar was bemused as his companions introduced him to an evening ceremony for the One, which involved bowing to the four directions and burning some sort of incense. Kadar had always muttered blessings to the One before bedtime and had watched his grandmother do her moving meditations in the mornings and evenings, but this was the first he’d seen of the Tigus’ expression of worship. They put him in the center of the group as they made their prostrations, and he’d followed along the best he could, though he did not understand a word they said.

  Late the next day, deep into unfamiliar territory for Kadar, they topped a rise of dunes. On the other side, blending in with the sand, were walls, opening into a city. The ridges of black mountains rose in sheer cliffs behind the city. Kadar’s jaw dropped. Turo had said they were going to a city, but Kadar had pictured a small oasis town like Shpeth. This city was smaller than Illian, but still full of long low mud-­brick houses and ­people. Guards at the gate shouted, and they stopped on a cobblestoned street and dismounted. Turo spoke with the guards as Kadar looked around in wonder. He did not see a river or even a large body of water—­but somehow this place existed in the middle of what he’d thought was desolation.

  “Kadar,” Turo called to him, and Kadar stopped staring, grabbed his saddlebags from the humpback, and settled Amber on his shoulder. Turo had been joined by a group of Tigus and was directing these Tigus to take the humpback strings. Kadar untethered Asfar and let them lead his string away, around the edge of the wall.

  Turo was speaking with a younger woman whose dark features bore a resemblance to him. She had brown eyes, and her scarf was thrown back to show short, black hair. She turned her eyes on Kadar, assessing him.

  “My daughter, Onyeka
,” Turo said proudly. “She will help you.”

  Kadar smothered a sigh, wondering how he would communicate with this new person, and smiled at her. Turo said something to her, she replied sharply, and then Turo headed after the humpbacks, leaving Kadar and the strange woman alone.

  “Very nice to meet you,” he said slowly and loudly.

  She grinned. “You won’t think so in a few days,” she said in slightly accented Sanisk. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us. I was expected back at camp three days ago. What took you so long? Where did you get a suncat?”

  Kadar stared in astonishment. “We had to ride west to convince the Tasharas to give up their iron,” he told her. “The cat became attached to me in Illian.”

  She clucked her tongue and reached out to pet Amber. “You came back with Tashara iron? The One must have pulled a miracle to pry iron out of their clenching hands.”

  Kadar sobered at the reminder. “My uncle paid for it with his death,” he told her.

  “Then we will honor him by waging glorious battle against the Northerners,” Onyeka said briskly. “Come, let’s get you and your horse settled and go through the lists to see what you brought and how to divide the supplies. I’m anxious to get to the Northern border and my tribe.”

  Onyeka grabbed one of his bags as he grabbed the other and they set off down a narrow lane between the houses. Kadar gawked as they walked through the streets. They were walking beside a very long, low house. A low wall connected it to other houses, and he could see a courtyard with a well in the center creating a compound of homes. Children were everywhere, playing in the streets and around the greenery surrounding the well.

  “How is this possible?” he asked his companion. “Where do you get the water to support everyone?”

  Onyeka smiled. “The One guided us to where the water was buried. It is water from before the Sundering, before the desert, before ­people even existed. It is antajale—­deep pure water. We were able to dig down to bring it up to the surface. When it is gone, we will have to move to a new source of ancient water.”

  “Do you have to move often?” Kadar asked, picturing trying to move an entire city.

  She shook her head. “No. Only once so far, a century ago. The reservoir under us is deep and pure here.”

  “This is the first I’ve seen children since I left Tsangia,” Kadar said, watching two girls run past.

  “Yes, we come here to have our children, where they will be safe and cared for by our elders while we fight,” Onyeka said. “Each tribe has its own house here.”

  Kadar nodded as they came to another low-­walled stone courtyard. A young boy met them and tried to take Asfar’s reins. She snapped her teeth at him, barely missing his hand, and he backed away. Kadar put a hand on her neck and focused, letting her know it was safe to go with the boy. She stamped a hoof once and let the boy lead her off.

  He turned to Onyeka, who was watching the scene and drinking from a thick pottery cup. A young girl presented Kadar with a second cup.

  “She’s a beautiful mare, though a bit wild. You seem to have a way with horses,” Onyeka said.

  “Yes,” Kadar said. He said rather proudly, “Calim’s tribe named me Suma.”

  Onyeka snorted into her water cup and choked.

  “Oh dear,” she gasped as she contained her coughing. “Do you know what that means?”

  Kadar shook his head, confused by her reaction.

  “Well, you’ll find out in time,” she said cryptically, but would not elaborate when he pressed her further. They walked into the coolness of the adobe building.

  “This is the Sepacu tribalhouse. Let’s get some food from the kitchen, then we can go over the lists and see the riches you have brought us, so I can translate the report to the elders who will divide it up.”

  Kadar nodded, and they settled at a long table. Amber leapt down from his shoulder and trotted off to investigate the kitchen. Kadar retrieved the supply lists from his pack and spread them on the table, pointing out what they’d given Calim’s tribe, and what they’d brought to the city.

  “I’m impressed you can read and write Sanisk as well as speak it,” he said. “Do you speak the Northern tongue as well?”

  She smiled. “I did not think you recognized me,” she said. “I am too much older than you. You and your sister were still running wild while I was studying with your grandmother. You were just beginning to become civilized and notice the ­people around you when I left. I did not stay long enough to grasp more than a little of the Northern language.”

  Kadar thought back to his childhood, and remembered a shy, thin, dark-­eyed girl, five years older than him, who’d spent most of her time cloistered with his grandmother, and the rest of the time practicing with the swordsmen. She was one of a series of girls from the tribes who were sent to Grandmother for extra training and finishing.

  “You seldom had time for us children,” he said. “And you could fight as well as any man in Shpeth. You left right after my mother died.”

  “You do remember,” Onyeka said, delighted. “I came here to have my child. I was so impatient to be a warrior! I did not appreciate my time with your grandmother.”

  Kadar stuttered with surprise, “I had not heard, I mean, I did not realize you were sent away.” He supposed his grandmother had hushed up that a Tigu girl under her became pregnant. He hadn’t heard about the scandal. “Are you married then?”

  Onyeka sputtered with laughter at his discomfort. “We do not marry, Kadar. It takes away from our commitment to the One. I was not sent away, I sent myself away. Tigu warriors cannot fight until they produce an heir because too many of us are killed in battle. I got pregnant to escape all the studying and tedium. Your grandmother was exasperated, but knew it was only a matter of time. I am a warrior, not a scholar, no matter what my father and the elders wanted of me.”

  “The father?” Kadar asked.

  “A man I respected. A smart man who was brave and strong,” Onyeka said, turning to the lists. “He gave me a good, strong son. He trains in a warrior camp, outside these walls.”

  Kadar wanted to ask if the man knew about his son, but he’d already asked too much. “I have a daughter,” he offered. “Not quite a year old. I left her with her great-­aunt, in Tsangia.”

  “That is good,” Onyeka said, nodding as she made a note. “She will be safe by the great river, as safe as any of us as the second great war approaches. Where we travel to is no place for children.”

  Kadar did not want to cling too closely to Onyeka as she met the elders and did the night chores, but it was nice having someone speak his language. He played with the children in the courtyard, a game of tag that needed no words, until dusk. As the sun set, the courtyard filled with ­people facing the setting sun. Most of the ­people around Kadar were either very old or very young.

  They bowed deeply to the west, and Kadar let the words wash over him. He could hear the same ceremony taking place in other courtyards around him.

  “We bless the sunshine, giver of life and death, and thank our beloved, the One, for this gift.” Onyeka whispered the translation in his ear. Kadar twitched. She’d silently crept up beside him.

  They faced east.

  “We bless the cool of the night, the glow of the moon which gives us the water and rain, and thank our beloved, the One, for this gift,” Onyeka translated.

  They bowed to the north.

  “We bless the ­people of the north and know that the same light within our hearts glows within theirs, and thank our beloved, the One, for this gift.”

  They bowed to the south.

  “We bless the life within ourselves and renew our vow to protect our ­people. We thank our beloved, the One, for the gift of life.”

  An elder at the center of the courtyard burned a pungent mixture, the smoke rising above the walls.

  “
What is that?” Kadar asked Onyeka.

  “A bit of meat, herbs that are pleasing to the One, and incense spices,” she answered. “You should turn in, now. We have had a messenger from the Northern border—­the deities are moving their armies closer. All warriors must return immediately. We leave early; our mounts will ride light so we can make haste. Supplies will be sent to us as they are organized.”

  Kadar nodded. As much as he wanted to explore this strange city, he knew his duty lay to the north. He settled on his cot with a sigh, and smiled as Amber curled in a ball next to him.

  He thought about checking in with Sulis before he fell asleep and decided against it. Although his world was changing quickly, he had nothing new to report.

  CHAPTER 6

  Tori looked down at the sea town of Caracas with distaste. It smelled like fish, even from this hill. She wrinkled her nose at Evan, and glanced at the group behind her. Only about a hundred and fifty Descendants were riding with them, but more were gathering and training in their small groups so as not to attract too much attention from acolytes of the deities.

  “I don’t see why this is necessary,” Evan said. “Your duty is to the Descendants, yet we’ve stopped at four temples already in the North. We should be traveling to Illian. Why waste our time?”

  Tori smiled as she thought of the disarray she trailed behind her. Over half of the acolytes at the small temples she’d stopped at had been transformed into Counselors. Luckily, each of the temples had a farspeaker among their ranks, so Counselor Elida could speak with the new Counselors directly and Tori did not need to linger and give them directions. She wasn’t certain why the One was directing her to transform acolytes into Counselors, but she was enjoying the chaos it spread.

  “I believe this is our last temple. The One has given me both tasks, and I will not fail her. Besides, we don’t want to advance on Illian before Voras’s troops head into the desert,” she told Evan. “We may be stronger energy workers, but we cannot hold against an army. This temple contains the twins from my pledge group, Sandy and Shane. Alannah expects them to return to Illian with me.”