“I’m not going to age as I once did? Can you elaborate, please?”
“Your people live for one hundred and twenty turning of the seasons or so, depending on location and vice. I’ve already spoken of the elders, the Siobani, keepers of another stone, who live much longer. Because you are linked with Teann and bear their stone, your life will be as the Siobani.”
“And how long is that?”
“They do not measure life by seasons, but by the stars.”
By the stars, what does that mean? Sara stared hard at the planes and furrows on Zeynel’s face.
He smiled. “Yes, I am old. But I am not an elder child.”
“You are one of those the One sent out to restore harmony.”
Zeynel nodded.
“You’re a...a messenger of the One?”
“Nothing as grand as that. I am not an Amaryth, if that is what you mean.” Zeynel plucked at his arm. “Flesh and blood, like you.”
“Another race then.”
Zeynel shrugged. “More or less.”
“But the story said your people were hunted down and killed.”
Zeynel stared to the horizon and then slowly lowered his head as though memory weighed it down. “Yes. They were.”
“Are you being hunted now?”
“Darkness can never be complete if light exists.”
They walked a distance in silence; the sky stretched overhead, endless blue. Birds twittered in a nearby bush, settling to eat the plant’s fruit only to flutter off again in a blur of feathers.
Sara cleared her throat. “They tell their age by the stars—what does that mean?”
“It means you’ll be given one day at a time, like everyone else.”
“But I’ll have more of them?”
He nodded. “Perhaps.”
Sara smiled. The idea was so foreign as to be silly. “So what? I have a hundred, two hundred springs to find Crioch and the Siobani?”
Zeynel hesitated, his face solemn. “If it takes that long, I’m afraid we’ll have failed.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tobar stood alone a short distance from the edge of camp, the sun warming his back as it lowered in the sky. Behind him, mothers tucked children in for the night, while the men brought the horses in from the corral and settled them in their tent. As the sky darkened, the elders would begin their stories by the fire and little ones would strain to hear while pretending to sleep. He tried to take comfort in the familiar rhythm of his people, but there was none. Never before had he felt so vulnerable and he hated it. His mind crossed the Faisach before him. Four days. He sighed.
“Is it your son you miss or the healer?”
He turned to see Chavi approach. “What?”
“Where is your mind flying off to? Your son? Or to your lover?”
“She is not—”
“Not yet.” Chavi’s words were clipped. “What do you see in her?
“Chavi.” Tobar felt a slow anger build.
“She is young and inexperienced in the ways of men, and she is not Heleini.” She tossed her head, her chin rising and eyes darkening further. “Is that it? Something different?”
Tobar clenched his jaw then let out a breath. “Are you quite finished?”
To his surprise, Chavi burst into tears. He stepped forward, hesitant, not prepared for grief. His anger drained.
“I am your first wife, the wife of your choice, yet I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
“She is beautiful.”
Chavi shook her head. “No, Tobar. Hide the truth from yourself if you must, but not from me. We’ve known each other since we emerged from our mothers’ wombs. I understand you as the sun understand its place in the heavens. I’ve seen that look in your eyes only once before, when you courted me.”
Tobar wrapped Chavi in his arms. For a moment, her sobs intensified and then tapered to silent tears moistening his tunic. She wiped her face, her hands smearing the dark lines around her eyes. A small, sad smile touched her face. “Does she know of your love?”
Tobar hesitated then shook his head. “No.”
“Then she is stupid, no matter what she bears.”
Tobar held Chavi closer. No, Sara was not stupid, unsure perhaps—like a flower blossoming under an unknown sun, but not stupid.
“I am sorry,” he whispered into Chavi’s hair.
“When I realized what was happening, I was shocked at my anger. I avoided Sara to keep from giving insult. It was my duty, but it was difficult to see her dressed as a Heleini before the Fire. You see, that was how I knew you would not take her. For all her charms, she was still a tegosi, an outsider. But then I saw that your heart did not care.” Chavi took a deep breath. “But hear this, if she brings our son home safe, I would share even you with her.”
Tobar stroked Chavi’s hair, taken aback at the unexpected pain caused by her words.
“Forgive me.” Tobar stared deep into Chavi’s eyes. “How can I make amends?”
“You can’t.” Chavi’s eyes softened. “But don’t leave me alone tonight. I cannot bear it.”
Tobar nodded. “I will not.” He took Chavi’s hand and led her to his tent.
* * *
“Would you like to tell me about your life on the island?”
The fire crackled. Sara watched a spark as it rose into the starry sky, then spent, plummeted back to bury in the cool sand. She wrapped her hands around her legs, leaned her cheek against her knee and focused on Zeynel’s craggy face.
“My grandfather was my life.”
The silence lengthened, mellowing as only silence between friends can.
“He didn’t want me to be influenced by the way the other people lived. I suppose some would say he was extreme, but looking back, he did what he had to do and I don’t remember my childhood as unhappy, just busy. I learned to be quiet, to watch, to rationalize and think. He was a warrior and taught me everything he knew.
“I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t training, learning fighting techniques, memorizing histories, botany and anatomy. He was making sure I was ready, ready for this.” She gestured toward the horizon. “I don’t think I am.”
“Why?”
“I’m not much of a warrior. I hate killing. I hate the thought of killing.”
Zeynel laughed.
Sara turned. “And what is amusing about that?”
“Sara, a person who enjoys killing is not a warrior, he is a monster.” His face grew more solemn. “Death is a part of life. It is a great responsibility to be the one to end that life, but I have no fears that you will do so arbitrarily or without great need.”
“My grandfather said something similar once. He told me I didn’t have the power to give life so I needed to be slow to take it.”
“Your grandfather sounds like a wise man.”
“He was.”
“Do you know which part of Anatar your mother was from?”
“I think grandfather said the northeast, but he wasn’t sure.” Maybe she should find her mother’s family. The stone could help. But then what? Hello, I’m Sara and I’ve just endangered your life. No. She stretched and pulled the blanket around her shoulders. The flames flickered as the silence stretched. She had no family, no friends save Zeynel, no home. A sense of loneliness took her breath away. All she had was the stone and she was on a journey to find the Siobani and give it away. Then she would have nothing and belong nowhere. “I really don’t know much about my grandfather’s family either. I guess I could belong anywhere.”
The peddler’s voice was soft but laced with strength. “You belong to Anatar.”
She turned to Zeynel. “Thank you.”
* * *
“Just a little farther.” Sara answered Zeynel�
��s unspoken question. Puffs of vapor escaped her mouth as she spoke. Pale pink slashed through the indigo sky in the west while the last rays of the dying sun tipped the edges of the hills in gold. She scanned the mountains that loomed ahead in the distance. It was an illusion but, at times, it felt as though they were walking in place; the mountains never looked any closer. Zeynel was tired, the horses were tired, she was tired, yet a need to hurry urged her forward.
The first few stars appeared over the horizon. Sara observed them for a moment before realizing that one star burned closer than the others.
“Zeynel?”
“Yes, I see it.”
Rabishi? No, that didn’t make sense. She assumed the Rabishi would know better than to camp on the skyline. Sara veered closer to the fire, moving slowly up the hill.
She jumped when Zeynel’s horse snorted close behind her. “Would you tell that animal to be quiet or he might end up as horse stew?” Sara whispered.
Zeynel made a noise low in his throat and stroked the horse’s neck. Sara took that as an affirmative.
Off-key singing carried over the cold earth as they approached. They paused to listen. One of Zeynel’s eyebrows shot up. “I bet they don’t know there’s a woman present.”
Sara motioned Zeynel to silence and handed him Mairi’s reins. She crouched, moving closer. Near a grove of trees, four men leaned against each other, swaying in time to the music and singing between swigs of the bottle they shared. A fifth man held an instrument shaped like raised arms. He brought the single branch to his mouth. He held the forked end with both thumbs, his fingers playing holes in the reed. A group of horses stood with their noses together as though discussing the behavior of their masters.
“What is that?”
“A group of drunken traders,” Zeynel deadpanned.
“No, the instrument.”
“An Ai, from the north country.”
“It sounds like... I don’t know. I’ve never heard the like.”
Zeynel shrugged. “You’ve not missed much, though some enjoy the sound, and I’ll put up with it for a taste of what they’re cooking over the fire. It smells good and I’m hungry.”
Sara watched the group for a moment longer, glanced over at Zeynel then rose to her feet. “So come on.” She deliberately stepped on a branch bleached dry by the sun. In the following silence, she heard the sound of a chicken clucking over its nest.
“Who’s there?” The men scrabbled for their weapons, surprisingly quick for their condition.
“Show yourself,” the leader demanded. Three men stood at his back, the other retreated until he was near an impressive pile of goods.
“My name is Zeynel and this is...my daughter, Sara.” Zeynel stepped into the circle of light. We saw your fire and thought a bit of company would ease the mind on a night like this.”
Sara’s gaze flew to Zeynel. His daughter?
The man lowered his sword a fraction. “Aye, ’tis colder than a witch’s tit, so it is.” He glanced at Sara. “Beggin’ your pardon, miss.”
Sara inclined her head to hide a smile.
“Please, sit, warm yourselves. We don’t have much in way of vittles, but you’re welcome to what’s left.”
Zeynel led Sara to a boulder not far from the fire. He stood behind her as a man dished whatever was in the pot into wooden bowls and handed one to Sara and another to Zeynel.
“Don’t got no utensils, miss. No cause for fancy eaten out here,” the man muttered.
“Thank you, this will be fine.” Sara tested the temperature of the meat and pulled out a piece.
“Don’t ask what it is,” Zeynel muttered behind her.
“I wasn’t going to.”
The meat was tender, with a slightly nutty flavor. Sara didn’t think, just ate.
“I’m Aric. This is Shad, Tahj, Ladrius and that over there is Savion.”
Sara noted that Savion, the man standing next to their stores, hadn’t relaxed, or lowered his short sword.
Aric settled across from Zeynel on a pile of skins. “Sorry for the greetin’. You can’t be too careful out here, especially lately. Where you folk headin’?”
“Zorcani territory.”
The man picked at something in his teeth with a piece of dried grass. “That there is bad news. Somethin’ strange going on in those mountains. Mark my words.”
“Strange?” Sara wiped her hands on her leggings.
The man reached to scratch an itch, hesitated and clasped his hands together. “Yup. We just came from there. Got out just in time to avoid the snow. We’re late this year.”
“Weren’t our fault, it was that trader,” Ladrius said
“Aye, I know that. I weren’t accusing you of anything.”
“Don’t forget the horses getting sick,” Tahj added.
“Let me tell the story, would you?” Aric stared at each man in turn. “Anyway, we met up with a new trader last warm season. Said he wanted to see what the Rabishi had to offer.” The man spat into the dirt. “Rabishi don’t got nothing we want. But we went with him anyway. Powerful speaker that one. Could charm a snake right outter skin.”
“If you’re gonna tell the story, tell it,” Ladrius muttered.
“I am. Shut yer trap.” Aric scratched his chin, then continued. “Anyways, after we left the Rabishi, we headed toward the Zorcani. This here trader came with us. We was late, could feel it in there air, you know? Too cold. Then we got to the Zorcani, just started tradin’ when they went up in a tither. Something with one of the boys. I don’t know. Don’t git involved with locals my pap always said, better that way.” He shook his head. “Strange goings-on, though.”
“What do you mean?” Sara ventured.
“I’ve been a trader my whole life. Went with my pap when I was nigh to his knees, I did, and I ain’t never seen the Zorcani trade so poorly.” He lifted a rich fur. “They were givin’ these away. Not a question of price, not a haggle, nothing. They agreed to our trade and that was it. Not that I’ll complain cuz it made up for the time we wasted with the Rabishi, but...” He shook his head. “It sure does trouble a man. It’s not the way things are done, you know?”
“You mentioned another trader?”
“Yup, he stayed with the Zorcani. I can’t say I’m sorry to see the last of him.”
A murmur of agreement sounded around the fire.
“You forgot the horses,” Tahj grumbled.
Aric scowled in the man’s general direction. “Four of our horses took ill. One or two and it wouldn’t have bothered me, but four?”
“Our best horses too,” Shad pointed out.
The trader growled. “The Zorcani keep a stable of ’em at the bottom of the mountain, wouldn’t be able to spot it lessin you knew it was there. Couldn’t figure out what was ailing the critters. If it would’ve been bad feed, then they all would’ve been sick, no?” He shrugged. “We spent a couple nights there seeing if they’d get better. We finally traded our sick horses for four of theirs.
“And several bags of corn and one cup from the sea.” Ladrius grinned around a mouth full of food.
“Aye. Good trades, those.” Aric rubbed his beard. He looked over at Sara and Zeynel’s horses, which stood just outside the firelight. “You ain’t thinkin’ of ridin’ them up the mountain, are ya? Legs too delicate. We don’t even take our horses up the mountain and they’re part goat.” He chuckled. “Long time ago, we set up a barter system with the Zorcani. We leave our horses with them and they lend us some of their nice sturdy goats. When we’re done tradin’, we bring ’em back, hopeful much lighter, in exchange for our horses.”
“Only this time our horses was sick,” Tahj said.
“I already done said that.” Aric scowled. “Now we got to make tracks to the coast. From there we’ll head south, get out
of this blasted cold.” He stared at the stars. “It’ll snow before the moon’s full. I hate the snow.”
“Sooner’n that, I’d warrant. It’s going to be a bad un this winter,” Shad said.
Aric nodded. “Maybe so, maybe so.” He turned to Sara and Zeynel. “Hear a fellow traveler’s warning: watch your back up there in those mountains. Something mighty fishy going on.”
Zeynel nodded. “We’re thankful for the meal and the company.” He paused, gesturing to the Ai. “I’ve seen you have a nice instrument there. Did you know they’re only made from the wood of the Rinai tree?”
Aric scratched his chin and smiled. “Can’t rightly say that I did.”
“Oh yes, and not only that, only from trees that have fallen naturally. In some places up north, it is still against the law to cut a Rinai. Valuable instrument you have there.” Zeynel settled on the bundle of furs. “There’s a story about the Rinai...”
Aric slapped his leg. “A man who knows the trader’s creed, even this far down south. Does my heart good. Well go on now, tell the story. Make it one I’ve never heard.”
Zeynel turned to Sara. “When a trader has gifted you with his hospitality it’s—” he hesitated, “—polite to return that gift with a story.” He stared into the fire.
“Long ago, when the rocks of Anatar were new, a man lived in a village off the coast.” Zeynel offered his hands to the fire and rubbed them together. “A herder from a long lineage of herders, this man was a dreamer and often disappeared into the forests for days on end when he should have been tending to his father’s flocks.
“One night, as he wandered and dreamed, he saw a beautiful woman bathing in a pool. Her skin glowed under the moonlight, drops of water nestled in her flaxen hair like diamonds. She moved with a grace and elegance he’d never seen. He fell in love. Determined to have her, he stepped out from behind a tree, certain that once she’d heard of his adoration, she’d return it. As he neared the pool, the wind rustled through the trees, lifting the debris off the forest floor in a whirlwind and hiding the woman from him. When the wind died, she was gone.”
But for the soft simmer of the fire, the night hushed and even the stunted grove of trees seemed to lean over and draw a little closer around the fire to listen to Zeynel’s tale.
Journey of Awakening Page 22