Then it occurred to me that this was not a chance benefit of the suggestion. When I turned toward Aras, he was already looking in my direction. When I met his eyes, he lifted one shoulder in a tiny shrug and I knew my thought had been true: he did think it important to send a message to Talon Commander Samaura, and he did think Etta would be a good choice for that and Garoyo a good choice to escort her. But he had also suggested my sister and my brother because he wanted to protect them for my sake.
He did not say anything to this thought. He only lowered his gaze to the bowl he held. But I knew it was true.
-27-
We traveled through the northern forests of the winter country: twice twenty and ten inGara warriors, and more than that inGeiro, and some inVotaro besides. Darra inKarano and some of the inVotaro warriors took a different direction. Obviously they would go to Koro inKarano. I wondered what our king would think when he heard all the things that had been happening. He might think that Aras had made all of us into his slaves and his fools. I hoped he would not think that. Darra would say otherwise. But then Koro might think our sorcerer had made Darra his fool. There was no end to the doubts a sorcerer scattered along his path; that was one reason we Ugaro hated sorcerers so much. But there was nothing I could do in that matter.
All the rest of the women, except my sister, would go north, into the high steppe. I was sorry Garoyo was not with us, but very glad he had gone south with our sister. More than anything, I was grateful the gods had been so kind as to allow me a better parting with my brother. I held to that thought to turn my mind away from other thoughts that were less good.
We traveled almost the same route by which I had brought Aras, but this time we traveled by dog sledge, which is by far the best way to travel when the deep snows come. Our dogs are bored in the warm season and happy when snows come; they love to pull. To travel in that way, a man stands at the back of the sledge to direct the dogs, his partner running alongside, then trading places as he grows weary.
Aras did not travel like a warrior, or even like a woman. He rode upon my sledge like a bundle of supplies, wrapped in furs, even his face covered. The first night, I fought one warrior and then another who made comments about this—bare hands, of course; the offense was not severe enough to demand knives. The first was an inGara warrior, a young man named Keyova, who was ordinarily my friend. He was ashamed of his words when he saw I thought them shameful, so he did not fight hard. The second was an inGeiro man, older than I, and heavier. That was a hard fight, but I won. If Esau had not taught me to wrestle, the matter have might have gone otherwise.
Aras said nothing about the fighting. Neither did my father, except to observe, as I packed snow against a bruise afterward, that as I had so much strength that I wished to waste it in fighting, I might do well to run beside the sledge all the next day and give the dogs less work.
“Yes,” I said cheerfully. I was glad to have fought and glad to have won. I did not mind the bruises and, as I could see he was not angry, I did not mind my father’s punishment.
The next day, I ran beside the sledge. Keyova came to run beside me, and by the end of the day we were friends again. I was very tired by the evening, but it was a good feeling. I felt as though the cold and the exercise and the wide forest and Keyova’s friendship had worn away some brittle edge I had not known was there, that had been left from the dark things that had happened.
The evening after that, to my complete astonishment, my father suddenly stood up from beside the inVotaro fire, where he had been talking to Royova inVotaro. Drawing his knife, he threw it into the snow at the feet of an inVotaro warrior, a younger man who evidently had not learned to keep his tongue between his teeth when he should.
My father never bothered to fight anyone; no inGara warrior would have dreamed of challenging him. But he fought this man. He won so quickly and decisively that anyone could see his arm was strong with pride and anger and the other man’s arm weighed down by shame. When the inVotaro man knelt to acknowledge defeat, my father struck him two hard blows across the face, so if that fight had involved knives, it was plain how it would have ended.
As the man was inVotaro, I was afraid Royova might be angry, even though the fight had not ended in blood. But he only stood by with his arms folded and no expression on his face. After my father won, he paused and looked at Royova. They nodded to each other before my father walked away, so probably there was no trouble between them—no additional trouble.
Rakasa inGeiro, a man a little older than I, eldest son of the inGeiro warleader, stood beside me to watch that fight. Afterward he said to me, “That should soften hard tempers. No one will want to offend your father after seeing that. I hope my arm is as strong when I am that age.”
He was smiling, so I smiled in return and answered, “My father’s arm has lost none of its strength, as I have had reason enough to know.”
Rakasa laughed. “I have no doubt of it,” he said in the same friendly way. “My father’s arm is the same.” He tilted his head toward the fire he shared with some other young men. “Come tell us about the summer lands, Ryo. We are all very curious. Does your Lau wish to come to the fire? We will build it high so that he does not freeze to death.”
His manner was a little mocking, but still in a friendly way. If he was afraid of Aras, that did not show at all, so I went with him to his fire. Many of the younger warriors were there. Aras came, settling as close to the fire as he could get. To help make sure no one said anything I would have to notice, I described how, as I had ridden south, the heat quickly became so great I had not been able to tolerate the Sun’s power. “I did not know a man might die of the heat,” I said. “How should I guess such a thing might be possible? I was so sick I did not know anything for three days.”
“Three days!” a young man said, disbelieving. “Because of the Sun!” His name was Bara; he was an inGeiro, Rakasa’s friend. He mimed astonishment, but in a way that made the other young men laugh at him rather than at me.
I laughed too, but I said seriously, “The Lau find the same heat comfortable. Both peoples have their strengths.”
“The Lau are weak, even in their own country,” a different man commented, not quite looking at me.
This was the inVotaro warrior who had fought my father. I pretended I had forgotten that. “It is not their nature to be as strong as Ugaro.” I told him. “They learn to fight in ways that make their weakness less important. Some of them can beat me in a bare-handed fight.”
The inVotaro man looked me up and down. “Could any of them beat your father?”
I smiled. “That is not very likely. I have never seen a Lau who could match my father at anything.”
The man grunted, satisfied. He stood up and walked away.
Aras said quietly to me in darau, “This was the man whom your father fought?”
I glanced at him in astonishment. “Yes, of course. Did you not recognize him?”
He smiled. “Only by the bruise on his face. Many of your people look very much alike to me, Ryo. I no longer think it strange that you had such difficulty recognizing one Lau from another.”
I had been staring at him. Now I laughed. “I was afraid all the time I would make a mistake and embarrass myself completely. You knew, of course.”
“Yes, and I was arrogant enough to think it was your own particular failing, or perhaps a failing of the Ugaro, rather than a failing we Lau might share, I as much as any other man.”
“Does your sorcery not tell you?”
“Well, a lot of them are thinking very nearly the same thoughts when they look at me. Would it help if I fought someone? With swords, obviously. I would not dare wrestle you strong young Ugaro warriors.”
“We have no practice blades. No. Do not suggest such a thing.” Then I thought again.
“I would be perfectly happy to spar Royova. I’m reasonably confident he could avoid injuring me.”
I laughed, hearing that exactly as he intended. “Arrogant Lau. H
e is a very great warrior. He would win, but he would not injure you unless he meant to. Your sorcery should tell you whether he would do such a thing . . .” Unless the inVotaro warleader decided to do it impulsively, during the match.
“I don’t believe he would do anything of the kind. Later it might be different, but right now he’s almost certain Lorellan is a much worse threat than I am.”
So. That was probably true. Perhaps such a match might be a good thing, if it showed everyone that Aras was not a man to despise.
He smiled and rose, touching my shoulder lightly. “Go tell your father about the heat sickness, Ryo. I think he might like to hear about that from you, not from a chance comment another man makes.”
He was right, so I went to my father’s tent to do that. Every evening I had been telling my father a little. He always listened carefully, seldom asking questions. This night, after I had knelt to greet him and he had gestured that I might sit, I said first, “I hope matters are calm between you and Royova.”
My father lifted one shoulder to say he did not care about Royova inVotaro’s opinion. But he said, “Royova knows the man was stupid to speak to me in that way. That man was born inTarana and believes his new name means he may speak as he pleases, even to me. If I had not fought him, very likely Royova would have beaten him for embarrassing the inVotaro.”
“He said you were the sorcerer’s dog.” I knew that must have been the insult.
But my father said, “No, Ryo, he said you were.”
I looked at him. Then I said, “I should have fought him. I would have won.”
“Of course you would have won,” my father agreed. “But when young men fight, no one pays attention. When I fight someone, everyone notices. Now everyone will know better than to speak so carelessly.”
This was true. I said, not very graciously, “If I fought him now, it might cause trouble with the inVotaro. You would probably beat me for that. I suppose you would be right to do it.”
My father answered seriously, “You are old enough to know what your honor requires. I will not beat you if you fight him. Will you?”
I could feel my face getting hot. “No. You already defended me. Not only might it cause a quarrel between the inGara and the inVotaro, it would make too much of the insult, which you already answered.”
“So,” said my father. “Good.” He sat back, smiling a little. “You are old enough to make wise decisions, Ryo. This is as well, as I would not wish to beat you even if you deserved it.”
I had not realized he had guessed the terror of the whip that still lingered. Embarrassed, I said sharply, “No doubt eventually I will earn a beating from you, and I will stand for it. I will not bring shame either to myself or to you.”
“I am not remotely concerned that you would not stand,” my father answered, not sharply at all. “It is my own heart I guard when I ask you to behave perfectly. I apologize for taking your fight on myself. If an inVotaro warrior speaks carelessly again, you may fight him.”
I stared at him. Then, as I could make no other answer, I bowed. After a little while, when enough time had passed to let the subject turn, I told him about the summer lands and the heat sickness. I told him more than I had said to the young men. I knew that if he did not think less of me for that weakness and confusion, I would not have to think less of myself for it.
He made no comment about my weakness, only said that it might be useful if the early signs of the heat sickness were better known among Ugaro. But he said, as I got up to go, “I remember the problem in the west. So one of your sorcerer’s warleaders was in part responsible for that trouble.”
I stopped and turned back. I did not want to say anything sharp or anything that would cause ill feeling, but I felt I had to speak. I said as respectfully as I could, “Nikoles Ianan was a proud man and a respected warleader. He had made a mistake, but he was ashamed of that and tried to do better. He was kinder to me than I deserved, and he died bravely. I would prefer my father refrain from saying anything against him.”
My father raised his eyebrows. “Wise the man who learns from his mistakes. I meant, your Lau sorcerer took up this man and gave him a way to restore his honor. That was well done. It was the act of a lord who is confident of his own honor.” He paused.
I started to apologize because I had misunderstood him so completely, but he only turned his hand palm up to show he took no offense and told me, “Go to sleep, Ryo, and let me go to sleep as well, or we will both become so hard-tempered with weariness we accidentally offend each other.”
I had to laugh at that. He had responded so kindly, I could only be a little embarrassed I had mistaken his meaning. That comment about hard tempers had not been something he would have said to me a season ago. It was something he would have said to Garoyo.
I went to sleep in the tent I shared with Aras. He did not say anything when I came in, but he smiled.
The next day, we crossed the Little Knife.
The climb was easier with so many men, though the sledges were a nuisance and sometimes the dogs had to be lifted or lowered by their harnesses, which they did not like. Still, we were through to the southern forest well before dusk, arranging shelters and setting up tents as the evening stretched out over the winter country. I looked into the forest and wondered where the inKera might be now. I wondered whether any of their warriors still lived, or whether Lorellan had done to them the things he had made me believe Aras had done to my own people. Or whether he had already forced them to cross the river and do such things to Lau.
“Probably not yet,” Aras said, coming to kneel beside the fire. “I don’t believe he’s gotten quite that far with his plans. I hope not; I would much rather face him here in the north than be forced to try to stop him after he’s already established himself in the summer lands.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the sharp heights of naked stone. He went on, switching to taksu. “This was not bad. I should thank Rakasa and the others for helping me. What is the proper form for that?” He had managed the climb much more easily this time, with warmer clothing and fur-lined mittens and willing hands to help when Lau strength was not enough. Not only Rakasa had helped, but also Rakasa’s friend Bara, and my friend Keyova, and Keyova’s younger brother Tyo, and so we had not had much difficulty even with the worst parts of the climb or the descent.
“One simply expresses gratitude for a kindness,” I told him. “You already did so.”
“Well, I should do it again. Rakasa has several times gone out of his way to be kind to me. His nature is both bold and curious, and his confidence means he seldom worries about his pride.” He gestured up toward the Little Knife, “Does the gods-hated thing run across your entire country, Ryo?”
“It is not gods-hated,” said Royova, coming up to us before I could answer. “The Little Knife was a gift from the gods, set into the world at the plea of the singers to end a bitter war that had spread to all the tribes. Ryo inGara could tell you the tale, but perhaps not this evening. I have blunted two swords. I would not put one into the hand of a boy; they are not fit for that. But they should do for a man who is reasonably skilled.”
“So.” Aras stood up. “Let us by all means find out if we are both reasonably skilled.”
By the end of the first cautious match, everyone was watching. Royova won, of course, but Aras had no reason to be embarrassed. Because he could not begin to match Royova’s power, he fought the way a boy fights a man, leading the warleader’s sword rather than blocking it. But he was much more skilled than a boy. Anyone could see that Royova had to exert himself in order to win.
Royova won the second match as well, and then the third. But when he won the third time, he did not let Aras kneel to acknowledge defeat. He said, not loudly, but clearly enough that everyone could hear, “You fight well. Many of my warriors would learn useful skills from sparring you. Does your sorcery help you fight?”
Aras was breathing hard, but he managed to answer in an almost steady voice. “Only a
very little, warleader. No one thinks much when he is fighting.”
Royova nodded acceptance of this obvious truth. He said, “You may come to my fire if you wish. I would like to hear how it happened that a Lau learned to fight properly.”
“Soldiers don’t duel, generally,” Aras told him. “But Lau of a certain rank often do.” They went to Royova’s fire to discuss the ways men fight—the first time Aras had been invited to sit there. My father and Naroya went to sit with them as well.
Rakasa came to stand beside me. Like everyone else, he had watched the fight with great interest. He said, “Your Lau fought like a man, not like a sorcerer.”
I nodded. “When I first thought he was a sorcerer, I tried to kill him. He did not prevent me with sorcery, but defended himself as any man would. I broke two of his ribs. He did not punish me for that. He said he had made a mistake to frighten me.”
Rakasa nodded thoughtfully. “I would like to hear that tale. My father is not sure of him even yet, but I think you must be right about his nature, Ryo. Unless he is lying about everything, and I do not think that can be so.” He paused. Then he added, “My friends and I would spar if you wish. Your Lau as well as you. Tomorrow evening, if you like.”
He meant they would not be held back by the probable embarrassment of being bested by a Lau. It was the offer of a friend. I said, “I will tell you how it happened, if you wish,” and we went together to the fire he shared with his friends.
We traveled more quietly over the next days, watching for enemies. If we had come upon Lau soldiers and they had seen us before we saw them, every warrior among us would have died of shame, saving our enemies the trouble of killing us. We watched very carefully, and sent men out before us to look for anything unexpected that might lie in our way.
I watched Aras more than I watched the woods. I thought he would know first if we came near enemies. But I remembered how, in the summer country, Lorellan had hidden his presence and his men until it was too late for us to escape his ambush, and I was not sure.
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