“This time I’m watching for that,” Aras told me quietly.
“Yes,” I said, but still I was not sure. My stomach felt tight now that we had come nearer to the place we thought Lorellan might be. I found myself listening all the time, as though if I listened hard enough, I might hear some inaudible whisper of sorcery behind the ordinary noises of the world. The sound of snow sliding from a fir branch to the ground seemed loud to me. When a nuthatch hopped his way headfirst down the trunk of a tree, even the little noises of his claws against the bark seemed loud.
On the seventh day, while I walked behind the sledge with my hand on the brake to help the dogs come down a steep ridge, Aras put back the furs with which he covered his face and asked, “Do you know how far it is to the river from here?”
I looked around at how the land lay, but I did not know. “Five days, six? It might be more than that.”
Rakasa and his partner Bara had been traveling near us. Now they guided their dogs to come up beside our sledge. Rakasa corrected me. “I mean no offense, Ryo, but you have mistaken the land. On better snow, I think it would be no more than two or three days to the river from this place.”
I nodded to accept this correction. “You know the land here?”
“Bara and I raided the inKera three times as boys.” He grinned at me. “When I had fourteen winters, I left a knife thrust into the snow beside Soro inKera’s tent. They nearly caught me. Bara got me out of that one.”
His partner chuckled. “And then half a heartbeat later, I nearly got us both caught, letting my silhouette show against a fire. Rakasa never tells that part. The next winter, when we were men, we tried to do it again, which was complete foolishness.”
I was smiling now. They made me remember some of the things I had done when I had just become a man. “If the gods were not kind, no young men would survive to grow old. They let you go with a beating?”
Bara chuckled again. “I am sure they intended to, but at the time we were convinced they would put us to death. Rakasa’s father had been frightening us with stories of raids that went wrong—he wanted us to be more careful, but as you see, at that age, we were not inclined to learn from stories. When Hokino inKera caught us in the middle of their camp, we were certain we would die there. Rakasa asked Hokino to send his head to his father. He asked very, very politely. I have never seen him so humble before or since.”
Rakasa aimed a cuff at him, but Bara leaned away and went on. “He asked them to spare my life so that I could take his head to his father and explain how it had happened. He told them he was Naroya’s son and I was no one important, so they would gain no honor from killing me anyway. Hokino said if Rakasa was a warleader’s son, maybe he should offer himself as tuyo for me, and Rakasa said yes, he would do that—”
“And Bara, who is a fool now but was a worse fool then, stepped between me and the warleader and declared he would fight them all, each in turn, before he let them touch me—”
I laughed.
“You may well laugh,” Rakasa agreed, grinning. “Hokino agreed to fight Bara, which went exactly as you would expect—”
“And then he let Rakasa fight him, which went even faster—”
“And after he had humiliated us both, he declared we were both very brave and completely stupid and he had wasted enough time on us. He said although we deserved a severe beating, he would let our fathers see to it. He gave me his knife and made me swear to drive it into the snow beside my father’s tent—”
“So Rakasa did, and of course he had to explain why to his father. His father beat us both as severely as any inKera could have wished, but the next time we caught inKera boys raiding, Naroya did not beat them nor cut their hair, but only gave them that knife to return to Hokino,” Bara finished.
Aras was smiling too now. “I gather boys raid all the time?”
“Of course,” I agreed. “Boys steal trinkets from allied tribes to prove their cleverness, or they leave a knife in the camp of an enemy tribe to show off their courage. If they are caught, they are usually beaten. If they were careless or clumsy, their hair may be cut, to shame them and teach them to be more careful. Men sometimes raid an enemy tribe to kill warriors, so if a man is caught by enemies he will often be put to death. But no one honorable would put such a young man to death only for trying a boy’s trick. I am sure the inKera tell that story too. That is exactly the way an incident of that kind should go.” I stopped, remembering, and said, “I hope they will continue to tell it. I hope nothing too terrible has befallen them.”
Rakasa soberly shook his head, agreeing.
“Quiet,” said Aras. We all stilled immediately. I slowed the dogs a little, and checked to be sure my bow was ready to my hand. Aras tilted his head back, closing his eyes. After a little while, he said, “Ryo, we need to pull back, the way we came, at least half a mile—two or three bowshots. More would be better. Can you tell your father?”
It was not necessary to tell anyone. I only called out quietly to my dogs, urging them to circle, signaling to the other warriors near me to do the same. The change in direction rippled out from us, first to those who had been traveling farther back, but then forward as well. Everyone closed up as well, coming close together. Very soon my father swept out of the snow, swung his team around, and came up beside me. He did not speak, only looked at Aras.
“We need to go back a little,” Aras told him. “I’m masking us all behind snow and silence, but it would be better if we were farther away.”
My father grunted. He urged his dogs to a faster pace and they took the trail ahead of us, back along the packed snow the way we had come.
We did not retreat two bowshots. We went twenty. Even then, no one really liked to stop. But we could hardly run all the way to the high north, so when we came to a place where the land lay well for a camp, with a big stand of firs all along the lee side of a high ridge, we halted.
Ordinarily the young men would have made fires at a little distance from the older warriors so that they would not have to behave with as much circumspection, but this time all the fires were laid close together so that everyone could gather in one place. No one had to suggest this. Uneasiness pushes men together; we say that when the tiger comes, all quarrels end. Everyone settled close around the fires. The firs cast long shadows and the land folded into irregular ridges. I could not prevent myself from imagining Lorellan hidden somewhere near us, reaching out with his sorcery to make us all into his slaves ... most of all, to force me to come to him and put myself into his hands. I stared at the fire, at the snowflakes swirling down through the high fir branches and into the flames. I tried not to think about anything but the fire and the snow.
“He doesn’t know we’re here,” Aras told me quietly. “That many Lau stand out much more clearly in the winter country than this many Ugaro. Ryo, this time will be different. For one thing, the initiative will be ours.”
“He took you by surprise that time.”
“Before this is over, I hope he will be very surprised.” He raised his voice a little. “Warleader of the inVotaro, one of your scouts is approaching.”
We were so nervous that even though the dogs showed by their cheerful behavior it was one of our people who came, without that warning, someone might have shot the returning scout. We had already been quiet, but when the man came to the fire to say what he had found to the south, the silence was so great the forest might as well have been empty, save for the crackling of the fires.
“There is a palisade,” the man told us. He gestured, describing the size and shape of this palisade with his hands. “It is two bowshots wide at least, and longer than that. It is the height of four men, but there is a walkway built inside so that the Lau can stand at the top and look down. Inside are many tents in long rows. Not only Lau are there. I counted twice forty Ugaro warriors. There were more than that, but I did not continue to count and I might not have seen them all. Most are bound, but some Ugaro walked free among the Lau. I think those
must have been made the sorcerer’s slaves.” The man hesitated. Then he said, “I heard a baby crying and looked again. There is one large tent set to the side. I think Ugaro women are there.”
Everyone looked to see what Royova would say. He asked Aras, his voice level and calm, “How would your enemy have taken Ugaro women? We knew enough of the danger to send our women north. They should have been safely beyond the Little Knife. Do not say this sorcerer reached beyond the Knife and forced them to come to him. I have heard all the tales, but I have never heard of a sorcerer as powerful as that.”
Aras looked Royova in the face. Then, perhaps realizing how angry the warleader was, he bowed his head. He said, “I suspect some of the warriors have been so deeply enslaved that our enemy was able to force them to go north and return, bringing with them their wives and children. He might have done such a thing as a test of his control over those warriors he has enslaved. He might have done it to demonstrate his power and frighten your people. He might have done it to have a way of controlling the warriors he cannot put his will on so completely. He might have thought of all those reasons or some other reason.”
This made a different kind of silence.
My father stood up. He asked the scout, “How did you see inside the palisade? And how is it that you came close enough to see all this, but the sorcerer did not take you as his slave?”
The scout, who was an inGeiro, looked at Naroya.
“Those are good questions,” the inGeiro warleader said impatiently. “Let us not quarrel over precedence. Answer the lord of the inGara.”
The scout nodded. He said, “Hills overlook that place. The hills are not high enough to see well, but I climbed a tree so I would have the height I needed. But I do not know why the sorcerer . . .” his face tightened and voice trailed off. He looked at Aras.
Aras said quietly, “You are not his slave or his fool. One Ugaro moving quietly through the forest can be hard for me to notice. Lorellan is more powerful than I am, but surrounded by so many people, probably he did not notice you at all.”
The man let out a breath and looked at Naroya, who nodded and asked, “If the palisade were set afire, would the Ugaro prisoners die or escape?”
Before the scout could answer, Aras said, “Many of the Lau will be skilled enough with magic—” he used the darau word—“that they can smother small fires before they grow into big fires. Also, any man who comes within a bowshot of Lorellan will become vulnerable to his sorcery as soon as he reveals himself by shooting. I cannot recommend that strategy.”
“Perhaps you can suggest some other strategy,” Royova suggested, his tone dry. “In the past, on occasion, Ugaro have simply waited for the Lau within such walled camps to grow too hungry to stay behind the walls, or to run out of wood to burn. But this sorcerer can force their Ugaro prisoners to hunt for them. If we interfere, the prisoners will be the ones to suffer.” His tone was perfectly level, but I remembered some of those prisoners were probably inVotaro and his own people.
Aras nodded. “I agree this is true. Ugaro are not suited to attack a fortified camp of this kind. Lorellan must be made to leave this camp, with all his men and with the captive Ugaro.”
“Yes, that would be better,” Royova agreed drily. “How shall we cause our enemy to leave his strong position?”
Aras sighed. “I will think about that, warleader. May I ask for some time to think?”
“The rest of this day and the coming night,” Royova told him. “After that, I will think of something to do.”
After that some warriors prepared food from the supplies we carried; others set up the small tents. Usually every tent would be scattered through a grove of trees, each in a place where the ground was reasonably clear and level and the trees provided shelter from the wind. But this time, the tents were set close together, in a rough ring around the fires. No one wanted to be away from the rest, and those who ordinarily preferred to keep their distance from our sorcerer now felt otherwise. Everyone spoke in low voices, of simple things, ordinary things, as men do when important things become too frightening to speak of.
I stayed by the fire, but I did not speak to anyone.
For a little while Aras sat within the ring of fires where the warmth was greatest. His mouth had that hard set to it that meant he was upset or hurt or angry, and trying not to show it. When the shadows lengthened with dusk, he stood up. He shook his head at me when I started to get to my feet, but he looked at my father. He did not say anything, only went into his tent, and put down the opening. My father frowned at me. Then he made a gesture that I should stay where I was, stood up and followed Aras. I heard them speak in low voices, and I thought perhaps I should go into the tent and make certain they did not offend each other. But disobeying my father would have been disgraceful, and I heard no anger in their quiet voices. I stayed by the fire.
Some small time after that my father came out of the tent again. He stood for some time, his gaze on the fire. Then he beckoned to me and walked away into the forest, west, along the slope of the ridge. I built up the fire a little and arranged the logs one way and then another way. But that kind of minor task could only excuse so much delay, so presently I rose and walked along the ridge, the way my father had gone.
My father had not gone far. He was sitting at the base of a great fir. He had taken an ember from the main fire and kindled a small one there so that I might find him easily. The forest crowded close, quieting whatever breeze might have stirred. Snow drifted down all around us. Snowflakes settled on my father’s pale hair and on the sleeves of his coat and disappeared into the flames of the little fire.
My father glanced up at me when I came to join him. I knelt on the other side of the fire and waited for him to speak. I think I knew already something close to what he would say.
He said, his tone gentle, “Ryo, our sorcerer does not need time to think. You are the one who needs time. If you agree, then Aras will set false memories into your mind. You will let yourself fall into our enemy’s hands. What he sees in your mind will tempt him into rash action.”
After that, we both sat in silence for a long time. Eventually I said bleakly, “In war, a warleader must be ruthless. I know that. But you are both more ruthless than I could be.”
“Yes.” He still spoke gently. “You have not yet learned to harden your heart. When you are Garoyo’s age, you will be a fine warleader, if you live, and if your courage and pride have not been broken by being asked to take on a task you could not bear.”
I did not answer.
“This is something no one but you can do. You speak darau. And Aras knows your mind well; far better than our enemy knows it. Even your fear is a weapon in your hand: it is set too deeply in your heart for our enemy to take it from you, and he will find it hard to see anything else in your mind past that fear.”
“Aras explained all this to you.”
“Is anything he told me untrue?”
I shook my head.
“None of this has been explained to Royova. If you refuse, only Aras and I will know.”
I did not say that in all this forest, no one else’s opinion mattered to me. He knew that. They both knew that.
After a time, when I did not speak, my father said, “If you cannot bring yourself to do this, I swear before the gods, I will not think less of you, Ryo. I know you would think less of yourself, and I also know nothing I say now can persuade you otherwise, but the failure would not be yours. It would be mine, because I asked you to take on a task beyond your strength. There is no worse mistake a warleader can make with a young warrior, or that a man can make with his son. Have I made this mistake?”
I could not answer that. I did not know.
After some time, my father stood up. He said, “However you decide, if you forgive me this before I die, that will be more generosity than I deserve.” He walked away, leaving me alone with the tiny fire, and the silent press of the great firs that stood sentinel all around, and the softly falling
snow.
I knelt where I was, by that tiny fire, until it burned down to ash. I stayed there until the ashes grew cool and snow began to cover the remnants of the dead fire, clean white across powdery gray. Snow swirled gently down, and more snow, not too fast but steadily. When it had covered the place until there was no trace of the little fire left, I stood up. I felt distantly surprised I managed it; I felt I should have frozen into the silent immobility of the trees and the hills. But it seemed I was still capable of movement after all.
I walked slowly back along the ridge, and past warriors who still lingered by the fires, and past my father’s tent, to the one I shared with Aras. When I came to that tent, I unpegged the opening, stooped down, and entered.
He was sitting at the far end, wrapped in furs, his hands tucked out of sight, his dark face almost invisible. But I could see his eyes when he looked at me, and I knew how he would look if I could see him better. I knew the exact set of his mouth.
As the tent was not large enough for me to stand up, I knelt, facing him. I asked the only question that came to me to ask. Like a child, I asked him, “How can you do this to me?”
He did not tell me that was a childish question. He bowed his head. “Ryo ... I honestly have no idea.”
“You knew you would ask this. From the time you forbade me to judge myself a coward because I had not faced the trial. You knew then you would ask me to face it.”
“I knew I might have to. That’s why it was so important not to let you believe you couldn’t. If it’s not corrected immediately, a belief like that can get into the heart and make itself true.”
“Yes,” I said. I could see how that might happen. I added, “I do not hate you for this. I am not even angry.”
“I know. You’re still in shock. I won’t blame you if you hate me later. Please try not to hate your father for it. In some ways, this is even harder for him than it is for you.”
Tuyo Page 37