Saviar leaned forward, still maintaining eye contact. "Unfair or unreasonable?"
Thialnir narrowed his green eyes nearly to slits. "So you think the Renshai should just stand by and accept whatever the king of Bearn decides."
"Oh, no."
"No?" Thialnir seemed taken aback. "So, what do you think?"
"I think," Saviar said, uncertain exactly what was about to come out of his mouth. "I think the Renshai have a right to demand certain things. For example, since Bearn breached the agreement, not us, we should continue to get paid. They should be able to afford it given that the Northmen aren't asking for any compensation, and Bearn should be able to barter losing Renshai assistance in the war against the price of iron ore."
Thialnir rolled his eyes, head shaking. "But it's not the money, Savi. It's the battle Renshai want." He waxed eloquent, light gleaming like emeralds in his eyes. "The exhilaration of the sword, the brilliant splash of blood, the chance to earn a place in Valhalla."
"I know that." Saviar tried to rein in growing impatience. "But that's not the negotiable part, unfortunately. So long as we're paid, concern for necessities need not distract us from our swordwork. And I think we also need to assure that the heirs of Bearn remain in our protection."
Thialnir was clearly listening.
"Removing us from that job would be the ultimate insult," Saviar realized as he spoke it. "To put lesser swordsmen in charge of protecting Bearn's most precious treasures." He shook his head angrily at the mere thought. "We cannot allow that."
"On that," Thialnir agreed. "We cannot compromise." He smiled. "You're a wise man, Saviar Ra-khirsson."
Saviar winced at the realization of what he had just done. "I'm not sure my father and grandfather would agree." He shrugged. "But they represent Bearn and Erythane, while we are always Renshai."
"Now, about that battle…" Thialnir rose. He was even more massive than Saviar remembered, a brick wall of a Renshai also endowed with lightning speed.
Nevertheless, Saviar leaped from his seat simultaneously. Show no fear.
"Are you actually challenging me?"
Saviar would have preferred to face a pack of starved dogs, but he gave no hint of his hesitation to Thialnir. "If necessary. I'm always up for a good row, sir. I just don't fancy the need to slay a great Renshai."
Thialnir grinned. It began with a chuckle that gained volume and timbre until it sprouted into a full-throated laugh.
Saviar saw nothing funny in the situation. "Are you laughing at me, Thialnir? Because, if you are, you leave me no choice."
Thialnir waved him off. "No, Savi, I'm not laughing at you. But the day a Renshai child defeats me is the day I commit taphreselmordat." The word literally translated to "brave suicide," the Renshai phrase for leaping into an unwinnable battle for the sole purpose of dying in glory for Valhalla rather than of illness or weakness.
Still gravely insulted, Saviar stood his ground. "I can defeat you, old man. My adulthood is assured next testing, and I am your worthy equal." He had spoken fighting words, and he expected an instant assault that did not come.
Instead, Thialnir considered the words, giving them a surprising amount of contemplation. Thialnir was better known for his swift and unstoppable attacks. "I am an old man, Saviar. I'm fifty-five, older than any Renshai need get, even in these accursed times of politics and peace."
Saviar felt a sudden pressure in his chest. He had triggered something unexpected. "Sir? With all due respect, you would not set any records for oldest living Renshai."
"Perhaps not." Thialnir retook his seat. "But age and too much 'affairs of state' have softened me. I want out. I'm tired of representing Renshai as a group. I want to go back to worrying about nothing but my sword arm."
Saviar stared. It seemed impossible that any Renshai adult would confide in him, especially about something so personal.
"Would you consider taking my place?"
Stunned, Saviar dropped back into his own seat. He had heard clearly but could only utter, "What?"
"Saviar Ra-khirsson, would you consider succeeding me as speaker for the Renshai?"
"But… but I'm not even a man yet."
"You just informed me you would definitely pass your next testing."
"Yes, but… I'm not even a… a full-blooded-"
Thialnir interrupted, anger tingeing his tone. "There is no such thing as half a Renshai. One either is or isn't, and you are."
Saviar knew the deal. Most offspring of Renshai and ganim were not considered Renshai at all. They had no right to any of the training. "Well, yes, but…"
"Do you know why we accepted you into the tribe, Saviar?"
Ra-khir never talked about it, but Tae had proven easier for the twins to crack. "You found my father worthy."
"Not exactly." Thialnir settled into his seat. Clearly, the battle Saviar had anticipated was not going to happen, and the young Renshai did not know whether to feel relieved or cheated. He did not relish the thought of more cuts and bruises or humiliation, yet he did want to test his sword arm against the great Thialnir.
"For a ganim, your father does have some competence with a sword. He is also courageous to a degree some would describe as insanity, a feature well appreciated by Renshai and one you demonstrate aptly. He's devoted, willing to commit to an ideal so strongly he will throw away his own life defending it. More importantly, to me at least, he could give the Renshai size without sacrificing quickness. If you managed to inherit your mother's agility and your father's strength, you would make a great asset indeed."
Saviar lowered his head. "Except I seem to have inherited my mother's strength and my father's quickness, as Calistin often says."
"Calistin," Thialnir said, "cannot see the buds for the roses."
It was the first negative word Saviar had ever heard uttered by a Renshai about Calistin.
Thialnir made another, wholly unexpected, pronouncement. "I was nearly twenty before I passed my tests of manhood."
"Really?" The word was startled from Saviar, one he never would have spoken had he time to think first.
"Men like us, Saviar. Men of speed and muscle, develop bulk first, then learn to work with and around it." Thialnir captured Saviar's gaze again. "In time, you will become like me. In time, Saviar, you will be one of the most formidable Renshai in history. And, I hope, you will lead the tribe."
It was the ultimate compliment. Saviar could do nothing but bask in it for several moments. Me? A formidable Renshai? Every young man believed himself destined for greatness, but few expected others to see it in them, especially others so respected. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
Now, Thialnir frowned. "There is nothing to thank me for, young Renshai. I am simply stating what I see, what I saw in you even as an infant. I examined the set of your sinews, their attachments and arrangements. I knew then what you would become today, at least in physicality. You are very much like myself as a young man; and, since I have no offspring, it will be up to you to pass your strengths through the tribe."
Saviar flushed from the roots of his hair to his lantern chin. "Are you asking me to… to…?" He found himself too embarrassed to speak the words.
"I'm asking you to marry within the tribe. And to pick someone fertile, please."
For Renshai, this was not such an odd request. Their women worked as hard as their men and hurled themselves into the same dangers. Many never cycled at all. Those who did still often had difficulties conceiving, carrying, or delivering. "I'll try, sir," Saviar said, eager to abandon the topic. His father had become a young parent, but Saviar did not feel nearly ready for such an enormous responsibility. He deliberately changed the subject. "Don't you worry that if I succeed you, I might be influenced by the Knights of Erythane rather than strictly representing the best interests of the Renshai?"
It was a complicated question that deserved a complicated answer but got only, "Nope."
Saviar found himself, once again, speechless.
Lucki
ly, Thialnir filled the void. "You've proved yourself a smart and honest young Renshai. I don't believe you would accept the position if you couldn't do it properly."
"But I-" Not knowing where he was going next, Saviar was relieved when Thialnir broke in.
"And I've worked with your grandfather long enough to know that his strict and damnable honor would never allow him to take advantage of his relationship with you. He might advise, but he would never push you in the wrong direction."
Abruptly, Saviar gained a new respect for Thialnir, not only as a warrior but as a diplomat. Renshai disdained strategy, yet Thialnir clearly had developed a talent for it. As rash in his youth as any Renshai, Thialnir would clearly not leave the Council unscathed. Time and exposure had added sophistication to his speech as well as his actions. Thialnir was not the same Renshai that he'd been when he had agreed to represent the Renshai on the High King's Council. How much will it change me? Yet, Saviar realized something important. He was different from the other Renshai. He loved his swordwork as much as any, but he also wanted something more, the knighthood, for example. Or, perhaps, a chance to help steer the course of Renshai history. Could this be the plan the gods have always had for me?
"So." Thialnir propped his enormous elbows on the table. "Will you become my apprentice?"
It was exactly like a Renshai to expect immediate results, an impulsive answer to a lead-heavy question. "Please, Thialnir, sir. I need some time to think about it."
"Very well." Thialnir took the nonresponse in stride. "Will you, at least, accompany me to the Council meeting tomorrow?"
For the second time in two days, Saviar found himself invited to a meeting his father would prefer he not attend. Clearly, it's fated. "Of course," he promised. "I would be delighted."
Thialnir snorted with just a hint of smile. "Saviar, you're the only Renshai who would be."
CHAPTER 14
The future is decided by battles, and it is not finished except by them.
-General Santagithi
Saviar perched on a familiar rocky outcropping south of the Fields of Wrath, watching the sun crawl toward the western horizon, trailing streaks of silver. Gradually, the sky diffused into its sunset hues: bands of pink blossoming into orange and saffron, then melting into greens and exploding, farther out, into a vast spectrum of blues and purples. Saviar managed a smile at the display, his first in at least a week.
Focused fully on nature's artistry, Saviar allowed the annoyances of the last six months, since the Northmen's arrival, to disappear into the recesses of his memory. Nothing existed except this grand tableau; everything human seemed insignificant in comparison.
"I thought I'd find you here."
The voice startled Saviar, and he found himself on his feet with sword drawn in an instant. The darkness gathered around a small man: swarthy, black-haired, and familiar. "Subikahn?" he whispered, barely daring to hope.
"Do you always greet your long-gone brother with bared steel?"
Saviar sheathed his sword and caught his twin into an exuberant embrace. "Subikahn! You're back." He laughed loudly, his troubles fully forgotten. "I missed you."
"And I you," Subikahn replied in a muffled voice. "But I'd still rather you didn't suffocate me."
Saviar released his twin, subsumed by excitement. "Sorry. Sorry."
Subikahn smoothed his tattered tunic, speckled with mold and bits of leaf. He looked thinner than Saviar remembered. Twigs tangled into his long, soft locks. Darkness bagged beneath his eyes, and scratches marred his cheeks. He reeked of sweat and filth.
Finally, Saviar responded to his brother's greeting words. "How'd you know you'd find me here?"
Subikahn studied the horizon, dropping into a crouch on the rocks. "Because we used to come here when we felt troubled and needed a distraction or some time alone."
Saviar looked back at the parade of colors radiating from the horizon as the last edge of sun sank beneath it. "What made you so sure I'd feel troubled?" It was an apt description, but Saviar doubted word of Erythane's unrest would have reached all the way to the Eastlands.
"Well." Subikahn did not bother to look at his brother. "First, testing day is approaching. If you want to become a man half as much as I do, you're brooding about that. And second, I'm distressed; and you're my twin. So you have to suffer whenever I do."
"I do?" Saviar had heard people claim that twins had an unholy, emotional bond but had never believed it.
"Sure." Subikahn made a gesture but still kept his gaze on the sunset. "We match in every other way, don't we? Why not in mood?"
Saviar laughed, and it felt good. No two brothers, let alone twins, had ever seemed more different. "Whatever's bothering you will seem less significant over a good meal with family."
"No."
The response caught Saviar off his guard. "No, what?"
"I can't go with you. I was given explicit instructions. I'm not allowed to 'run to Mother.' "
"Explicit instructions? Run to…?" The words made little sense to Saviar. He seized Subikahn's shoulders and forced the smaller man to face him. "All right, Brother. Start explaining."
Finally, Subikahn met Saviar's gaze. Then, he lowered his head and stared at his shoes instead. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't. I don't ever want to talk about it. With anyone."
"Subikahn, we shared a womb."
"Yes."
"And nearly everything else."
"Yes."
"So why not this?"
Subikahn remained silent for several moments, then finally managed. "I don't know."
"Oh."Torn between hurt and rage, Saviar debated his next course of action. "Did you come to… to test?"
"To test… yes." Subikahn struggled to raise his head again. "And to see you. I wanted to talk to you. I did. I really thought I could, but I can't. Not yet."
"Oh," Saviar said again, not certain where to go with the conversation. Pressing too hard seemed counterproductive. If Subikahn gave up his secrets under pressure, he might resent doing so, which could lead to permanent discomfort between them. Better to wait and give Subikahn the time he needed.
Subikahn steered the discussion in another direction. "What's bothering you, Savi?"
"Bothering?" Saviar tried to hide his own anxieties, not wishing to further burden Subikahn. "It's just… just the testing. I'm just worried about the testing. Don't know what I'll do if I fail again."
"Yes, you do."
Saviar had expected commiseration, not bravado. "I do?"
"Same thing you did last year. Practice harder, and try again next time."
Saviar rolled his eyes. "Well, yes. I suppose so. But isn't there a point where one just… when it's time to realize you're just not… ever going to be competent enough… to…"
Subikahn nodded. "Yes, but it's not at eighteen, Savi. That's just the average age of passing. Many don't succeed until well into their twenties."
"Well, yes, but Mama-"
"Mama is aberrant."
Taken aback by Subikahn's word choice, Saviar could not help laughing again. "And Calistin?"
"Weirder still. Need you ask?"
That reminded Saviar of the only fun news he had to share. "You're not going to believe this. Calistin…" He could not keep himself from chortling, unable to finish. "Calistin…"
"Yes?"
Saviar forced out the news, "… has a… a… a…"
"Yes?" A touch of impatience entered Subikahn's tone.
"… a bodyguard." Saviar collapsed into a frenzy of mirth.
Though surely utterly confused, Subikahn could not help laughing along with his brother. "What?" he finally managed.
"This Erythanian kid latched on to Calistin. Calls him Hero and tries to protect him from everything. And I do mean everything."
"Erythanian? Is he competent?"
"He's a competent pain in Calistin's rear end. He's like all of ten years old, skinny as a stick, and probably
never saw a sword before he met Calistin. Constantly under his feet, fetching him things, cheering him on. It's hilarious." Saviar could not help laughing again.
Subikahn snorted, still smiling. The dirt on his cheekbones cracked, as if he had not worn any kind of happy expression for a very long time. "I'm surprised he hasn't killed the little bug."
"I think Calistin sees him as one more challenge." Saviar ran with the insect analogy. "If he can remain the best swordsmen in the world with this blackfly buzzing and biting him, that makes him even better."
"What else is new since I left?" Subikahn seemed genuinely interested for the first time since his arrival.
Saviar saw that as a positive step, a way to drag Subikahn from his funk, perhaps far enough to share his own troubles. "Thialnir has chosen a successor."
"Really? Who?"
"Me."
Subikahn laughed harder. "Funny."
"Extremely," Saviar admitted. "But nonetheless true."
"You? Representing the Renshai?" Subikahn shook his head, teasing. "What a terrible thought."
Saviar winced, his heart suddenly as heavy as the growing darkness. He knew his brother meant the words as a joke, but he could not see the humor in it. "I wish I'd said 'no.' "
Subikahn caught Saviar's hand. "I was only kidding, Savi. You'll do great. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have representing us at Bearn's council." He nodded suddenly. "No wonder you're so worried about the testing."
"Yes, that's why mostly," Saviar admitted, giving Subikahn's hand a brotherly squeeze. "Subikahn, don't tell anyone this: I might deliberately fail."
"What! You can't do that! No one-" Subikahn sputtered wordlessly.
Saviar shrugged. "I already made my first leaderly decision, and it was a bad one. A very bad one."
Subikahn freed his hand to loop the arm across Saviar's shoulders and pull him down to a sitting position. The gesture was more suggestion than purposeful. A head shorter than his brother, Subikahn had to stand on the tips of his toes just to reach, and he did not have nearly the strength to force Saviar anywhere.
Saviar willingly dropped to a crouch with his brother. "I talked Thialnir into pulling us out of the Pirate Wars so that Bearn could use Northmen."
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