“I will. I must stand up for the whip first. Do not scowl. I knew when I listened I might draw punishment for it. I deserve more than ten strokes, but he would not agree to twenty.”
“Barbarian Ugaro,” he repeated. “What about Ranen?”
“Oh, the same. Anything else would be unjust. Where Lord Aras is unjust, it is because he is too generous, never too harsh. You were wrong to think he might hurt me for the pleasure of it. He is not that kind at all.”
“Well,” Geras said. “I wouldn’t have thought so until lately, but ... well, that’s good to know.”
“You thought he might be angry. If you had been right about him, he would have been. You went to him anyway.”
“Don’t fuss. I had a couple contingencies sorted out.”
I was sure he had. I did not ask. Whatever he might have done, it seemed better not to have thoughts about those plans in my mind.
I slept that night, deeply and with no dreams I recalled.
The next morning, I took the ten strokes. I was dismayed to discover that the Lau do not permit a man to stand for the whip; he is bound between two posts to keep him still. I could never have accepted such a shameful thing for myself. I looked to Lord Aras and thought this very strongly, and to my relief he beckoned to the man with the whip and spoke to him. The man laid the thongs aside, and I stood freely instead, with my hands open and relaxed on one of the posts. Ten was nothing. I did not allow my face or back to tighten as the blows came, but looked into the distance and pretended I did not notice the whip at all.
Six soldiers were also on the punishment report: Ranen, of course, and five men for brawling, and one for theft. I did not see that brawling was such a fault, but it drew twenty strokes apiece. The man who had stolen—from a farmer, not a comrade—drew twenty and ten. I was not sorry for the man. Any kind of dishonesty is a serious fault. But I was sorry for Lord Aras, whose honor compelled him to set that penalty and then witness it. His expression remained remote and unmoved throughout, but I could see from the set of his mouth that it was hard for him.
Only one of the Lau took the beating he had earned without flinching: one of the men who had drawn punishment for brawling. Even he hissed between his teeth with each stroke. The others all cried out at least once. I tried not to think they were all cowardly, but no Ugaro would have behaved so disgracefully for so little.
After the punishment had been dealt out, while the talons made ready to go on, I beat Geras in wrestling, and then a man named Lucan, a friend of his, and then I nearly beat Esau, which pleased me very much.
Then I fought Lord Aras with blunted swords. That, I had not expected. But he paused to watch my match with Esau, and what could I do but challenge him? He would not wrestle, but to my surprise, he accepted my challenge for swords. I had not touched a sword for many days, and these were blunted for practice and not exactly the same as Ugaro swords, but I was glad to have a weapon in my hand again—and astonished by his skill. The Lau never stand out from their lines to show their courage in battle, and I had not realized any Lau knew how to fight properly. But he beat me handily. When sparring with blunted swords, he was not over-kind; I took a bruise from that match that pained me more than the whip.
After he had knocked the sword from my hands and put me on the ground a second time, I did not try to stand, but lifted my hands palms upward in the gesture by which the vanquished asks for mercy. He said cheerfully, “Next time, Ryo!” and waved for the horses to be brought up, because by then it was time for us to ride out.
I was very pleased with myself, because never once in all that morning had I thought, for more than an instant, of anything I did not want him to see.
Suyet came to offer me his hand and help me get up. He was smiling, but once I was on my feet and we had both turned toward the horses, he said tentatively, “Can I ask you something, Ryo? It might be impolite.”
I looked at him, curious. “What do you wish to ask?”
“When you took your ten stripes, you hardly seemed to notice the whip. And just now you were wrestling and sparring like it never happened. Do your people not feel as much pain as we do, or were you just pretending not to feel it?”
If someone else had asked me that, I might have been offended. From Suyet, I did not mind it. “We feel it,” I told him. “What would be the point if we did not? Our peoples are different, but not that different. It is important for a warrior to learn not to flinch from pain; otherwise how will he endure any injury? My brothers helped me learn to stand for the whip. I know you Lau are not ... I do not mean to slight your pride, Suyet. Have you ever been beaten?”
“I took ten once, for inattention,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have wanted to wrestle half a minute afterward, I know that.” He gave me a knee up to the high saddle of my horse and swung up to his own. Then he glanced at me sideways. “Um ... Your brothers helped you learn not to flinch?”
I thought about that question. It had not occurred to me that no one taught Lau boys such things. Perhaps I could understand why they did not know how to stand properly. I decided I did not mind explaining. I said, “A child is not beaten with a whip, but as a boy comes nearer his fifteenth winter, that will change. When I had twelve winters, my second and third older brothers took me away from the camp to show me how to stand.”
“Twelve? Gods. How old were they?”
“Tokavo was twenty and one and Gayata twenty and three. I was glad to have brothers of the right age. It is important for a boy to trust the young men who do this.”
“Gods, yes, I see that.”
“Gayata took the whip. Tokavo held up his hands for me to put mine against them. Gayata gave me the first stroke and then waited for me to understand that I could endure the pain. Tokavo told me, ‘It is this bad. The second blow is not worse. Let the pain come. It will go. It is not important. Breathe. Look past me. Look at the mountains and the sky. Do not let your eyes widen. Relax your face and your hands.’” I shrugged when Suyet raised an eyebrow. “I had gripped him hard. One should not. Tokavo corrected me when I made mistakes and praised me when I did better. They gave me six strokes, very slowly and carefully. After that, I knew I did not have to be afraid of the whip because I knew I would not embarrass myself or my father.”
“And you never did, probably.”
I raised my eyebrows. “No.”
“Of course not. How many—do you mind my asking how many you’ve ever taken at once? More than ten, I bet.”
I had to laugh. No Ugaro man comes to my age without taking the occasional severe beating; young warriors who have just become men are always fools, and respected warriors correct them for it, as they should. I told him, “Three times I have taken twenty and ten strokes. Once I took twice twenty and ten.”
He looked appalled. “Gods, Ryo! Your people—” he cut that off.
“My people are harsher than yours, but not as harsh as you may think. A lord’s son is held sharply to account for any fault, especially—” it was my turn to stop short of what I had meant to say. Now I did not feel like smiling.
“Especially the warleader’s brother?” he guessed. “Especially an inGara?”
“Yes. No.” I was silent for a little while. Finally I said, “It does not matter now, or probably it does not matter. But everyone expected that when my eldest brother became lord of the inGara, I would take his place as warleader. So. That is why.”
“Oh,” he said. After a moment, he said, “Oh,” again, in a different tone.
“It does not matter,” I said again. “If Lord Aras had put me to a tuyo’s death, it would be the same. If I had died of any injury or a fever, it would be the same. Except I would be dead. I am glad to be alive, although—” It was my turn stop short.
“All right,” Suyet said. He was silent for a time. Then he said, “I’d trust you to help me learn not to flinch, Ryo.”
I looked at him in astonishment, but he was plainly serious. I could not have said why his words made me feel better,
but after that I could smile again.
-14-
When we finally came to Erem Sen we found it nothing but rubble and ashes. The Ugaro who had destroyed it had been thorough, as anyone would have expected. If I had not known already that Royova inVotaro felt personally bitter toward the people of this town, I would have known from the complete destruction that had been done here. Only rarely would the warriors of any tribe go to the trouble to burn every building in a town.
We knew that some of the people had escaped. But many-many had been killed, and there had not yet been enough rain to wash away the signs of the butchery that had been done. The streets were dark and sticky with blood, dried where it had soaked into the earth and rotting where it had puddled deeply on cobblestones. Flies still clustered here and there, enough that I thought I could hear the humming of their wings. The ashes of the pyres had not yet all sifted away in the wind, so the smell of the rot and the ashes came on the breeze. It was the scent of bitterness and hatred.
We did not stay in that place long. Most of the soldiers had stayed back anyway, making their camp near a village to the south. Only Lord Aras and a small number of soldiers had come all the way to look at the ruin of the town. Nothing there interested me. I looked mostly toward the river and the winter country beyond that. I felt as though a very long time had passed since I had last walked in the snow or breathed the spruce-scented air. The inKera must be there now. I was glad of that, but jealousy came into my heart and made me feel again like a captive among enemies. I had not felt that way for ... it seemed a long time. Now the feeling filled me, and it took all my strength to resist the impulse to jerk my horse’s head to the side and kick him hard, make him run to the river.
“Easy,” Esau told me, reaching over from his horse to tap me on the knee. “You’re all right, Ryo.”
Running would be impossible. I knew that. Also, anything of the kind would make me an oathbreaker. I made myself look away from the winter country, so near and so completely out of reach.
“Are your people over there now, do you think?” Suyet asked me. He sounded both sympathetic and worried. His gaze went along the forest to the north and then back to our small group. He was thinking of Ugaro warriors bursting out of the trees and counting our own numbers and thinking that an attack now would not be good.
“No one is there now,” I said, not bothering to look again. “Or perhaps a few warriors are watching. But there is no danger.” Any number of warriors might be hidden in that forest. But if a war party were there, I was certain Lord Aras would know it.
“All right.” Suyet accepted my word with perfect confidence, sitting back in the saddle and relaxing. His eyes went back to the town, but he flinched from that and looked away in the other direction, west, where the fields lay empty and clean. “I hope we don’t stay here long.”
We did not. Almost as soon as he said that, orders came and our party turned away from the ruins and rode toward the camp. Lord Aras looked over at me and beckoned, and I nudged my horse to come up beside his blue roan mare.
“A couple of Ugaro are in the forest there,” he said to me quietly. “Would those be inVotaro?”
I could think of no reason he should not know. I said, “This is likely, though they might be inYoraro.”
“I supposed if I sent someone to speak to them, they would probably kill him.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised that he might contemplate such a thing. “I think they would.” Of course they would. I added, “They might listen first to what this man came to say, if he were brave and did not show fear. Have you a soldier among your talons who speaks taksu? Would this man be brave enough to face Ugaro warriors without flinching, even if the hearts of those warriors are bitter against Lau?”
“Nikoles Ianan speaks quite good taksu,” he said, surprising me. “But of course I won’t send him, though he’d probably volunteer. If I sent you, would those warriors listen to you? And would you come back afterward?”
That surprised me so much I checked my horse, and then had to tap him with my heels to send him forward again. He tipped his ears back at me, tolerant comment on my bad horsemanship, and I patted his neck in apology. To Lord Aras I said, “They would listen to me. But I would not come back. Whatever their tribe, the warriors there would take me to Royova inVotaro. I would tell him everything. I ask you now to give me leave to speak freely so that if I cross the river, Royova would give me a kinder death than is due an oathbreaker.”
He looked at me. “He’d put you to death.”
I thought this was too obvious to need explanation. “He would consider you a deadly enemy.” Royova inVotaro was certain to believe Lord Aras had made me his slave or his dog.
When Lord Aras nodded in understanding, I continued, “He would put me to death. But if I were able to explain everything without breaking any oaths, probably he would do it quickly, out of respect for my father, and he would send my head to my people. This is why I ask you to permit me to speak freely.” I hesitated. Then I added, “I am perfectly aware that in making this request, I am taking advantage of your generous nature in the most disgraceful manner possible. The offense is worse because I know you will not punish me for it. I apologize. But I still ask.”
“Well,” he said, and sighed. “If you cross the river, Ryo, you may speak to anyone regarding any matter. But I won’t send you. I suppose I’ll have to depend on Hokino inKera.” He was silent for a moment. Then he looked at me directly. “Ryo, I don’t mean to impugn your honor in any way, but I gather you feel your duty to your people might require you to cross the river, even though it would mean your death. Given that, will your oath continue to hold?”
I bowed my head at once. “I am not offended. I cannot possibly be offended.” I thought about what he had asked. Finally I said, reluctantly, “I do not know what honor requires. I do not wish to break my oath to you. But I am not certain I will hold to it.”
“Ryo . . .” But he did not say anything else, only frowned at me. I bowed my head more deeply, wishing to ask him to free me of the oath entirely, knowing perfectly well that any such request would be completely shameful. I said nothing.
Then his gaze unfocused. He turned to look the way we were riding and said, speaking more loudly, “Let’s pick up the pace a little.” He nudged his mare into a canter.
When we came to the camp, we found at once that a courier had come there, looking for Lord Aras. This was a young man, dusty and tired. He had been brought to Lord Aras’ tent to wait. Someone had given him a cup of thin ale, but he set this aside and jumped up at once when Lord Aras ducked through the entry into the tent. He staggered a little, his balance uncertain with weariness and many hours’ hard riding. In one hand the young man held a black scepter, shorter and slimmer than the one Lord Aras carried, inlaid with copper and ivory instead of gold. I remembered after a moment that this indicated that the young man was a royal courier and had come directly from the summer king and that anyone who interfered with him in any way risked a charge of treason against the king. In the other hand, he held one of the stiff leather envelopes the Lau use for important papers.
Clearing his throat, the young man said, “My lord, from the hand of Soretes Aman Shavet, regat sul.” That is the way the summer kings style themselves. He tucked the scepter under his arm, set his hand on his heart, and held out the envelope.
Lord Aras said first, to one of his young aides, “Send for Harana and Ianan.” Then he said to the courier, “Your name’s Erinet, isn’t it? Did you come from Avaras, or from some point south or east? How many days have you been on the road?” He was not looking at the young man as he spoke, but breaking the seals on the envelope, untwisting the cord from the wax and unwinding it from its spool.
The courier answered, “Yes, Lord Gaur, Erianes Erinet. I took this from the king’s hand in Havivenica, lord. Twenty-seven days, counting today.”
“Havivenica! In twenty-seven days? That’s a hard pace,” commented Harana, coming into the
tent. He scowled equally at the courier and Lord Aras.
“Yes, sir,” agreed the courier. He coughed, then bowed gratefully as Lord Aras, without looking up, gestured toward the cup set aside on the table. Picking up the cup, he drained it. “Sorry, my lord. Dusty road.”
“Yes,” Lord Aras said absently, his attention still on the letter. “Trooper Suyet, please bring a pitcher and more cups. Erinet, sit down before you fall over.” He gave the letter to Harana and nodded to Ianan as the younger talon commander came in, then said to the courier, “You’re the first courier to reach us in some days. Should I credit your extraordinarily fast pace, or should I understand that there might be a problem between Havivenica and this part of the border? Did you encounter trouble of any kind during your ride?”
“Most likely speed and luck, Lord Gaur, I think.” The young man held his cup out to Suyet, who had returned with a pitcher. He sipped the ale and sighed. “I didn’t run into any problems, but the king might’ve expected something, because he sent four guardsmen with me. They couldn’t keep up, so as he’d stressed to me it was urgent you get that letter, I left them in Tamaudan and came on alone.” The courier said this with no sign of conceit; merely as though it was only to be expected.
“Tamaudan,” Lord Aras repeated thoughtfully. “That’s very nearly at the western foot of the mountains. They managed to stay with you through the mountains, but couldn’t hold the pace once you reached better roads?”
Now the courier frowned a little. He shrugged. “A fast pace through the mountains is hard on horses, lord; especially horses carrying heavier men. They did well to keep up with me as far as they did.”
“That’s true. How many days did it take you from Tamaudan?”
Harana finished the letter without reacting visibly to anything he had read. He glanced at Lord Aras for permission, then handed it to Ianan.
“Nineteen, lord.”
“Extraordinary. I hope you didn’t ruin any horses.”
Tuyo Page 18