The World Weavers

by Kelley Grant

  Kirt didn’t look any happier than Abram about being ordered around, but no one disobeyed Grandmother. As they walked between warehouses they had to dodge a mini dust cyclone a weather mage had conjured and edge around warriors training in the courtyard. Abram plastered on a pleasant smile as he followed Kirt to the jetal housing the masters. They stopped in the doorway to the office, waiting for Master Ursa’s attention.

  “If I could nail Joisha’s feet to the ground, I would’ve done it years ago, Tull,” Master Ursa was saying to a woman with short-­cropped gray hair.

  “How can we protect the Chosen when they keep running off? We traveled here because the Chosen required it, and now they’re leaving without us,” Master Tull growled. “Joisha isn’t letting us do our job.”

  “Have you told her this?” Master Ursa asked.

  “Of course. You know what a silver tongue she has. Two words and suddenly I’m doing exactly what she wants. That woman will drive me . . .”

  Abram’s guide cleared his throat loudly, and the masters broke off and turned to them.

  “Who do we have here, Kirt?” Master Ursa asked.

  “Joisha’s grandson,” the warrior said.

  “Ah,” Master Tull said. “Thank you, Kirt, you may leave us.”

  Kirt turned and left, and Abram walked up to the masters, feeling their discomfort that he’d overheard their idle talk. There was another woman about his age sitting at a desk in the room, and she glanced up at him. He winked at her, and she grinned. He bowed to the masters.

  “My mother says the only way not to be trapped by Grandmother’s schemes is to play dumb or run like crazy,” he offered. “I didn’t run fast enough, so I’m here to be your farspeaker.”

  The women relaxed and Tull grinned at him.

  “If you’ve learned that, you’ll do well among us,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, Ursa.”

  Master Ursa nodded as Master Tull left, but her attention was already on Abram. He shifted uneasily under her regard.

  “Heavily shielded, like all of Joisha’s brood,” she said, stepping close to him. “May I?”

  Abram nodded and she put her cool hands on his temples. He felt her in his mind and forced himself to relax.

  “Excellent, yes,” Ursa said softly. “Slight farspeaking—­that rare talent runs in your family. Do you have any other abilities? Are you good with animals, does it rain when you’re upset, things like that?”

  “Besides a silver tongue like Grandmother?” Abram quipped, feeling uncomfortable. “I can often sense what other ­people are feeling, and . . .” He hesitated, then told her, “I felt my da die. I knew he was gone at the same time Grandmother did. I always know where my family is.” He was embarrassed by the tears that welled up in his eyes.

  “Ah, yes, there it is,” Ursa said with satisfaction, then lowered her hands and stepped back.

  He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and she squeezed his shoulder.

  “Your father was a good man,” she said. “I enjoyed training him when he was a boy. Now, you have slight farspeaking, which we will open more. That will not be pleasant. Once your farspeaking is opened, we will need to connect you to Kadar and to temple master Sari at the Obsidian Temple. You will need to stay close to Master Tull or myself so we can speak through you at any time.”

  “Master Tull needs an assistant,” the other woman piped up. “Her last one asked to be reassigned.”

  “Excellent thought, Casia,” Ursa said, eyeing him. “Casia is my apprentice and assistant. You will be Tull’s runner. Casia, why don’t you get him settled in your dorm while I talk to the Chosen about their journey.”

  Abram followed Casia into the bright sunlight, his mind whirling.

  “She’s intimidating, right?” Casia said cheerfully. “The strongest mind healer we will see in our lifetime. And Master Tull is the strongest warrior mage.”

  “What about you?” Abram asked, turning his full attention to her. He could feel her intelligence and good humor and smiled flirtatiously.

  “I can sense weather, make little changes. I’m honored that I caught Ursa’s eye,” Casia said, blushing a little under his gaze.

  “Working with weather is dangerous,” Abram said. “You must be quite courageous.”

  “Stop using that charm of yours,” Casia protested, stopping by a doorway and turning to him. “It’s too attractive. I already have a companion.”

  “A shame. Do you have a sister?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

  She shook her head.

  “A brother?”

  Her eyes widened and she laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “Yes, and he’d love you. But he’s in Frubia with our father. You are an absolute flirt.”

  Abram smiled. “I love ­people,” he said. “All sorts.”

  “You would, with your talent,” she said, holding the door flap open for him. “Let’s hope you feel that way after being assigned to Master Tull. She went through four assistants this spring alone.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Kadar gave a quick glance at Amber, who was curled in the box he’d rigged on the front of his humpback. He’d tried to leave her at the city for her own safety, but she’d howled and clawed the girl restraining her. He’d be grateful for the extra distance she gave his farspeech, but worried about keeping her safe. Kadar was more concerned about Asfar, tied in the string behind the humpback. They’d been traveling two days in the heat and he worried she would become overtired. Only one of the other warriors traveling with them towed a horse—­and he did not seem concerned for her wellbeing.

  “She is a desert horse,” Onyeka said from beside him. She was almost indistinguishable from Kadar and the other nomads with her shemagh covering her hair, neck and lower face. “She has been bred for this, and for war. She cannot travel as long without water as the humpbacks, but she can go far and this heat is no danger to her. She will endure far worse, willingly. Our best warriors and our fast strike teams use mares like her in battle.”

  Kadar nodded his thanks, but she was already distracted by another warrior and left him to ride alone. He smiled as he watched her joking with the other warrior, jostling him with her humpback. She’d organized this party, arranged weapons delivery, and led the warriors out into the desert in half a day. He admired her practicality and determination.

  “You are looking at my daughter,” Turo said gruffly from Kadar’s other side, startling Kadar. “You are not Tigu.”

  Kadar looked over at him, irritated. The same kind of prejudices, the same kind of separation of clans and castes, here in the desert as in Illian. He’d left that behind months ago. Kadar shook his head and turned away.

  “Ha, ha!” The man reached over and slugged him on the arm. “A joke. You and she would make beautiful babies. She likes you.”

  Kadar was certain something was missing in translation. “I thought Tigus didn’t marry.”

  The nomad laughed loudly, doubling over in his saddle. “No, no,” he gasped. “You would not be bound together, only making babies! The Tigus need new seed. You could give me strong grandbabies. Ha!”

  Kadar shook his head. He knew that was the Tigu way, but he couldn’t fathom having a child without marrying his partner and raising the child together, as he’d planned to do with Farrah. Onyeka seemed to have no problem leaving her child in the city, but Kadar hated leaving his daughter’s care to other ­people.

  “Ah, it is all funny now,” Turo said, sadly. “War is coming. It is better not to have babies now.”

  Kadar tried to pull his mind away from Farrah, from his daughter, and from a newer interest in Onyeka and failed as they rode on into the dusk. They stopped at a tiny oasis, well into the night. Kadar dismounted wearily, tired of his own thoughts.

  He watered Asfar at the hole, and when he turned to tether her with the rest of the beasts, Onyeka was beside him.
/>   “We could share a bedroll, on this night,” she offered as he tethered his mare.

  Kadar tried not to show his surprise at her forwardness, but she sensed it.

  “I am sorry,” she said, taking a step back. “I thought you were interested. But I remember; you clans go more slowly than we do. Forgive me.”

  Kadar put out a hand to stop her, his own emotions turbulent. “No, it isn’t that,” he said. “I am interested in you. I am beginning to like you. But it’s too soon . . .”

  “Too soon because we just met?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

  Kadar paused, then decided to confide in her. “My daughter’s mother died a few ten-­days ago,” he said.

  “And you loved her, and don’t want another in her place,” she said, nodding.

  Kadar pursed his lips. “I did love her, but . . . in the end, it wasn’t enough. It’s confusing to explain.”

  She shrugged. “We have time as we set up camp. It interests me to learn how the Northerners do love, if you do not mind talking about it.”

  Kadar helped her tend to the humpbacks. “She was a fighter, like you, but with words rather than weapons,” Kadar explained unbuckling and handing Onyeka a saddle. “I fell in love with her when I first met her in Illian. When she became pregnant I wanted to marry her. Northern laws wouldn’t allow us to, because she was a Forsaken.”

  “But having a child changed that love?” Onyeka asked, checking the tack for wear. “The mothers in the North are the main caretakers, right? A warrior is not a natural caretaker.”

  Kadar nodded. He ran his hand down a beast’s back, checking for sores. “There were many things. But in the end, freeing the Forsaken was more important to her than her child and I were. She felt that harming children and killing feli were fine if done for her cause. I was torn between doing what was right and loving her. In the end, I lost that love. I did not even get to bury her, to return her body to the sand, because she’d bonded with another man. He took her to bury.”

  “Ah,” Onyeka said softly. She turned to him. “Tigus do not make such commitments to each other. To do so forces us to choose between the love of a single person and doing what is good and right for the whole—­which is what the One requires. You chose what was right, rather than your love for one person but still have doubts and pain because of that binding between you two. That is why the Tigu way is not to bind to one partner, is to let all raise the children. Then our minds are free to understand the way of the One.”

  She grabbed her bedroll and turned away, leaving Kadar to set up his own lonely roll with much to think about.

  In the morning she approached him, as he was about to mount his humpback.

  “It is not right that you did not get to mourn your love,” Onyeka said. “We have a ceremony, releasing the dead. When we reach camp, we will honor her sacrifice and release her to the winds so your heart may be free.”

  She nodded firmly, and then turned to her own humpback. Kadar grinned. He seemed destined to be surrounded by determined women.

  They reached a large encampment late that day. The warriors in the camp gave a desert war whoop when the newcomers arrived, and Kadar’s group howled it back.

  There was much confusion and bustle as they dismounted. Supplies were quickly and efficiently unloaded from humpbacks and carried off. Kadar helplessly stood behind Onyeka as she and Turo spoke to a group of warriors, not understanding a word they were saying.

  A snarl and howl drew everyone’s attention. A warrior had wakened Amber while unloading Kadar’s humpback and she was annoyed to find herself surrounded by strangers. Kadar walked over, and she leapt from the humpback to his shoulder, arching her back against his ear and purring. She sat and let out a contented “murp.”

  Kadar turned to find all eyes on him.

  “Suma!” Turo exclaimed.

  “Suma!” the warriors roared, some brandishing weapons above their heads. Kadar was surrounded by warriors patting him on the back, as Amber hissed at the noise.

  “They think you are good luck,” Onyeka said from beside him, and he turned to her.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what Suma means?” he complained.

  She grinned and grabbed his saddlebags, leading him to a tent. “They are having a ceremony of release tonight for the warriors we lost this ten-­day. We only recovered one of the bodies and will burn that one—­but we will burn remembrance for the other two. Do you have something you would like to let go of for the mother of your child?”

  Kadar hesitated and then nodded. He reached into a side pocket and pulled out a tattered sheet of parchment. He carefully unfolded it to show a color pencil drawing of a blond woman with startling blue eyes. Ava had created the drawing of her sister over a year ago. He’d tried to give it back to her, but she’d said she had others she preferred of Farrah.

  Onyeka studied it a moment. “Northerners have such strange eyes,” she said. “When I first saw eyes of such blue color, I thought it was because the man was blind. Are you certain you wish to let go of this?”

  Kadar nodded.

  “I will let you know when it is time.”

  The ceremony was similar to the one held for his mother when he was a child, but less elaborate. A close friend or child of the deceased lighted the oil and wood and named the deceased. One large pyre burned for the one body recovered, but several small fires were lighted for consuming belongings rather than bodies.

  Kadar looked down at the picture of Farrah, remembering the laughter they’d shared, remembering her fierce spirit. He sent a blessing out to her, wherever she was on the wheel of life and death and fed the picture to the fire. He joined the ululations as Farrah’s beautiful features turned to flame and ash, and Onyeka sat silently beside him.

  ­People placed meat and other food items into the flames of the surrounding fires.

  “What are they doing?” he asked.

  “They are making sacrifices to the One, giving her the best of their meals as a blessing,” Onyeka said. She looked at him. “They call those sacrifices suma.”

  Her face seemed serious in the flickering firelight.

  “Suma means sacrifice?” he asked. “They think I’m a bit of meat to throw on the sacrificial fire?”

  “It means blessing of the One,” she said. “They send blessings through sacrifice. You can communicate with the sacred suncat and the beasts of war, and you are used by the One. That’s why you are such good luck—­you are a living human sacrifice that the One uses as she pleases. It is hoped that the One will sacrifice fewer of us when she has you to beat around.”

  Kadar sighed and she put an arm around him. “Come, it is time to retire. We warriors must be at our sharpest in the morning.”

  Amber woke Kadar in the morning, and he realized guiltily that he had not contacted his sister the entire trip. He had no news for the warriors of the One, but he knew she would be waiting to hear from him.

  He sat cross-­legged and Amber curled up on his lap. He reached out with his mind, found his twin-­bond and followed it to his sister.

  Kadar? Sulis sent, somewhat sleepily. It’s about time! I was afraid we’d be gone before you finally called on us.

  Gone? Kadar asked.

  Hang on, Sulis sent, irritably. Can you contact me again in a candlemark? I need to gather some ­people.

  Kadar assented. He got up, washed himself in a basin of water left by his tent flap and dressed.

  “Kadar?” Onyeka asked outside the flap. “Are you awake? Would you like breakfast?”

  Kadar opened the flap. “Just contacted my sister. She said she needed more information and asked me to farspeak her again in a bit. I’ll come eat after that.”

  “I’ll bring you a bowl,” Onyeka said. “When you are done reporting we will ride to the front and see the army.”

  Kadar nodded his
thanks and then settled down again. This time when he contacted Sulis, others were connected to her.

  Kadar, I’ve got Grandmother and our cousin Abram here, Sulis said. We Chosen have to go to the Obsidian Temple. The warriors of the One you report to are staying here. Abram has had his farspeech awakened so he will stay here and be your contact to the warriors of the One.

  Kadar sent a burst of puzzlement.

  I’ll tell you about it later, Sulis told him. Grandmother said she can help create an energy link between you and Abram, so you and he can easily contact each other when needed.

  Why was it every time he spoke with his sister he ended up with more questions than answers? Grandmother’s energy joined them, though she did not speak. Then another person’s energy joined them. This person did speak.

  Hello, Kadar, Abram sent. I’m not used to this farspeaking, but I’m now the assistant to Master Tull, rather than a fighter. His mindvoice sounded bitter.

  So they roped you in as well, Kadar sent, hoping he sounded sympathetic. I know your frustration.

  Kadar, Sulis interrupted. Grandmother says you will feel a mental tug, and then a binding. Don’t fight it.

  I’m not a very strong farspeaker, so they have to create this link, Abram admitted. And I don’t have a feli to enhance me. They did something to make me much stronger and more open than I was.

  Kadar winced, remembering Alannah opening his farspeech and the resulting headache. Kadar felt a tugging, a binding that made him want to break the connection. But he gritted his teeth, and let the binding settle in the back of his mind. It wasn’t a smooth connection, like the one he had with Sulis.

  Grandmother says it is set, Sulis sent. If you have information for the warriors of the One, contact Abram, not me.

  Kadar directed his speech at Abram. I will observe the army this afternoon, he told his cousin. I will report tonight to the warriors of the One.

  I will let Master Tull know, Abram said.

  Abram dropped out of the meld, then Grandmother’s presence faded away as well, leaving him with only Sulis.