For a time, there was nothing but the sensation of it, the rhythm of their mouths meeting and parting, the pressure of their contact. Then, as their kisses became shallower until they were mere brushes of the lips, thought began to intrude once again. Kaiku opened her eyes – still blood-red in the aftermath of her kana – and saw Tsata looking back at her. Her gaze roamed him uncertainly, afraid of the blow that would shatter the fragile state they had found themselves in. She traced the lines of the tattoos on his cheeks, the orange-blond sap-stiffened hair, the line of his jaw; and she saw in him the antithesis of all she hated in her life, all the deceit and subterfuge and secrecy that had killed her family and torn her world apart. And yet she waited in terror for him to break the spell, to tell her that this was only a mistake of passion, that his brutal self-honesty would not allow him to go on with this if his heart was not in it.
He seemed about to speak; but in the end, he moved to kiss her instead. She pulled away fractionally, and he stopped, confused.
‘Peithre has worsened,’ she murmured. ‘You should go to her.’
His pale green eyes flickered across her face. Then he was gone, disappearing without a word into the forest, leaving Kaiku alone.
When Nuki’s eye next rose in the east, it found Mishani sitting on the shore of Lake Xemit, looking out over the water.
It was a cold dawn, and around her she had a heavy crimson shawl, embroidered in gold. Her hair pooled on the cloth that she had laid down to prevent her dirtying her hem. She had been here most of the night, thinking, chasing herself in ever tighter circles until she was left with a conclusion. It was an unwise course, one that she dreaded to take, and she did not want to accept it; yet she knew in her heart that it was inevitable, and her protests were weak and failing fast.
Presently she heard the tread of approaching feet on the dewy grass slope that led down from the temple complex of Araka Jo. She guessed it to be Yugi even before he walked into her line of sight.
‘Daygreet, Mishani,’ he said. ‘May I join you?’
‘Daygreet, Yugi. Please do.’ She moved across to make space for him on the cloth, and he sat down heavily next to her.
‘No sleep for you, then?’ he said.
‘Nor for you, it seems.’ She studied him. He looked dishevelled as ever, and he reeked of amaxa root. It was obvious what had kept him up.
‘I begin to wonder how many more nights I have left,’ he said. ‘Sleeping seems such a waste of precious time.’
‘That sounds a fast route to madness,’ Mishani said, half-seriously.
Yugi scratched the back of his neck. ‘This whole land is in the grip of madness, Mishani. If I were mad, I might at least have a chance of understanding it.’
They looked out across the lake for a time, before Yugi spoke again.
‘There is word that your mother will publish another book soon. Cailin speaks of plans in the wake of the information you have given us,’ he said, and coughed. ‘She’s still agitating for an assault on Adderach when Lucia returns. Depending on what news comes from this latest tale.’
‘Foolish,’ Mishani said with a sigh. ‘An army would be cut to pieces in those mountains.’
‘Perhaps,’ Yugi replied.
She glanced at him. He was unshaven and gaunt. ‘You are overfond of the root, Yugi,’ she said. ‘Once you controlled it; now it controls you. You are the leader of many men and women. Their lives are your responsibility. Stop this idiocy before you lose your judgement.’
Yugi seemed a little surprised, apparently deciding whether to take umbrage or not. Then he sagged, and merely looked weary. ‘You’re far from the first to tell me that. It’s not so simple.’
‘Cailin could help you overcome the addiction, perhaps,’ Mishani suggested, brushing her hair over her shoulder.
Yugi snorted a laugh. ‘I’m not addicted, Mishani. I smoked amaxa root for years and it never got a hold on me. The root is only a symptom of the cause.’
‘What, then, is the cause?’ she asked.
He did not answer for a while, debating whether to tell her or not. Mishani was no confidante of his. But she waited patiently, and finally he shrugged and sighed.
‘I was a bandit, once,’ he said. ‘I imagine you know that.’
‘I had surmised as much from things Zaelis said,’ she admitted.
‘Did you also know that I had a woman back then?’
‘A wife?’
‘As near as can be. We had little use for marriage, and no priests.’
‘That I did not know.’
Yugi was tentative, ready to abandon this conversation at the slightest hint of sarcasm or mockery from Mishani. She gave him none. This was important to him, and that made it important to her, for he was the leader of the Libera Dramach and any knowledge about his state of mind could be advantageous.
‘Her name was Keila,’ he said. He opened his mouth to say more, perhaps to describe her to Mishani, perhaps to talk of what he felt for her; but he changed his mind. Mishani understood that. Words seemed mawkish that were most deeply felt.
‘What happened to her?’ Mishani asked.
‘She died,’ Yugi said. He looked down at the ground.
‘Because of you,’ Mishani said, reading his reaction.
He nodded. ‘There were perhaps a hundred of us at our height. And we had a reputation. We were the most feared bandit gang from Barask to Tchamaska.’
‘And you led them, back then?’ Mishani guessed.
Yugi nodded. ‘Gods, I’m not proud of some of the things I did. We were bandits, Mishani. That made us killers, thieves, and worse. Every man had his morals, every man had . . . things he wouldn’t do. But there was always someone who would.’
He gave Mishani a wary glance. She watched him steadily, showing nothing. He was searching for condemnation from her, but she would not condemn him. Her own past was hardly unstained.
‘A man can . . . detach himself,’ Yugi murmured. ‘He can learn to see people as obstacles, or objects. He can learn to shut out the crying of women and the look in his enemy’s eyes as he dies. They are just animal reactions, like the thrashing of a wounded rabbit or the twisting of a fish on a hook. A man can persuade himself to the necessity of anything, if he has the will to.’ The lake was grey and still in the dawn light. He gazed into it. ‘The world of bandits was a ruthless one. We had to be more ruthless still.’ He smiled faintly, but it was bitter and there was no joy there.
‘Does it disturb you?’ he asked. ‘To know that the leader of the Libera Dramach is a thief and a murderer?’
‘No,’ said Mishani. ‘I ceased to believe in innocence long ago. A bandit may kill a hundred men, but those we choose to govern us kill many times that number with their schemes and policies. I learned of such things at court. At least your way of murder is honest.’ She watched a bird winging its way across the lake, south to north. ‘I cannot speak for others, but I do not care about your past. I did not know those you harmed, and to be outraged at you would be false sentiment. We are all of us guilty of things that make us ashamed. Good men do evil deeds, and evil men can become good. I care only what you do now, Yugi, for you hold the reins of many lives.’ The bird disappeared at last, vanishing in the distance, and she shifted herself where she sat and turned her eyes to him again. ‘Go on with your tale.’
‘We made enemies, of course,’ Yugi said after a time. ‘Other bandit gangs wanted to topple us, but none of them had a chance against our strength. I became overconfident.’ He began to pick at the cloth between his knees. ‘There was word of a gathering of our rivals. I led my men out to ambush them. But it was a trick. One I should have seen coming.’
‘They ambushed you?’
‘Not us. They raided our camp, where we had left our women and children. There were only a dozen fighting men there. I didn’t think they knew where we hid, didn’t think they’d dare to attack us even if they did know. Wrong on both counts.’ His eyes tightened. ‘Gods, when we got back . . .’<
br />
Mishani was silent. She pulled her shawl a little tighter around her to fend off the cold.
‘She wasn’t quite dead when I found her. I’ll never know how she held on that long. But she waited for me, and . . . we . . .’ His voice failed him. He swallowed. ‘She died in my arms.’
He stared furiously out across the lake, taut with a festering anger. ‘And do you know what my first thought was after she had died? My very first? I’ll tell you. I deserved it. I deserved for her to die. Because I realised then that every person who died on my blade had a mother or a brother or a child who felt the grief that I was feeling. And I tore a strip from the hem of her dress and I wrapped it around my head, and I swore I’d wear it always to remind me of what I’d done, and who I’d lost because of it.’ He touched the dirty rag around his forehead. ‘This.’
‘And what happened afterward?’ Mishani asked. She did not offer sympathy. She did not think he wanted any from her, nor would she have given it if he had.
‘The others were already screaming for revenge,’ he said. ‘But I knew how it would be. Our retribution would spark other retributions, as it always had and always would. Running around in circles, getting nowhere, an endless back and forth of blades and bleeding bodies. And so I walked away from there. They thought to give me space, to let me grieve for my woman. They thought I would be back.’ His eyes were flat. ‘But I never came back.’
Mishani knew the rest from Zaelis: how Yugi had drifted into the Libera Dramach; how his natural leadership skills and experience had made him more and more invaluable until he had become Zaelis’s right-hand man; how, after Zaelis had died at the Fold, he had become the head of the Libera Dramach. And she understood him now.
‘You do not want to lead these people, do you?’ she asked.
Yugi looked at her for a long moment, then tilted his head in affirmation. ‘I’m no general like Zahn. I don’t have the vision and ambition that Zaelis had. I led a hundred men and I led them well, but in the end I failed and it cost me the only thing I ever . . .’ He looked away. ‘Ah, what use is talking?’
‘You could step down,’ said Mishani.
‘No, I couldn’t. Because I’m still the best gods-damned leader they’ve got. Zaelis may have picked his men well, but he couldn’t get generals, he couldn’t get war-makers. They belong to the noble houses, and the moment one of them get near the Libera Dramach, the moment politics becomes involved, then it’s over for us. They all want Lucia.’
Mishani nodded. ‘There is sense in what you say. Even Zahn would be a danger. But can you lead thousands to war, Yugi? Your skills were of great use in the Fold, but then you were fighting as bandits fight. It may come to a moment when you must be a general, and your choices on the battlefield will cost many lives. Will you be able to make those choices? Or will you hide in your drugged dreams?’
Yugi looked grim. ‘If it’s my punishment that I must suffer to lead these men and women, then I’ll bear it because I have to. The gods certainly have a sick sense of humour, to make revenge on me for my past misdeeds by giving me more lives to ruin.’
‘They do indeed,’ said Mishani.
Yugi got to his feet then. Nuki’s eye had risen a little more by now. The lake was blue, and the air was warming. ‘Thank you for hearing me out, Mishani. I don’t know why I chose to talk to you of all people, but I’m glad I did.’ He looked up the slope, to where the white temples of Araka Jo stood crumbling. ‘How is it that our past dictates our future?’ he wondered aloud. ‘Where’s the sense in that?’
And then he was gone, walking away from her, and she was alone again.
She sat for a long time and thought on what he had said. Then she returned to her house and began to pack what things she needed.
She was going to see her mother.
EIGHTEEN
Few slept in the forest that night, but for Kaiku it was not out of fear of dreams.
She wandered the emyrynn village alone after Tsata had left her, traipsing listlessly between the iridescent columns and swirls and spikes that clung to the trees and sprawled along the ground. Fretfully replaying the moment in her mind when they had kissed, picking it apart to find what meaning she could therein. What had been in his eyes when she had halted him? Would it have been better to have let him kiss her again before giving him news of his ailing kinswoman? Did he interpret it as an excuse for rejection? And indeed, in Kaiku’s intention, had it been that? Did she shy from him on purpose, using Peithre as an excuse to get herself out of it? Gods, she did not even know herself what she had wanted then; but retrospect was a hard eye to cast upon her actions, and she was full of regrets and uncertainties.
She had achieved no resolution by the time dawn came, and she heard Phaeca’s scream.
Her meanderings had almost brought her back to the camp when the sound reached her. It took longer to process than it otherwise would, for the sleeplessness was beginning to tell. She wasted a second on incomprehension before breaking into a run, sprinting around the tent cluster where others were getting to their feet. She reached the alien dwelling where Phaeca had been resting, pushed aside the soldiers who crowded around the entranceway and went inside.
Phaeca was still screaming. She was hunkered against the tree bole that formed one wall of the room, her possessions and bedding scattered across the floor. Blood ran from the walls and lay in pools on the floor, smeared at the edges where her heels had slipped in them. Chunks of smoking flesh and blackened bone were strewn about. Some of them were whole enough to still have the fur on. White fur, soaked in red.
Kaiku stared at the scene, aghast. ‘Phaeca, what have you done?’ she breathed. Her voice rose in anger and disbelief. ‘You killed one of them? You killed an emyrynn?’ She crossed the room and grabbed hold of Phaeca’s shoulders, shaking her roughly. ‘Why? Why?’
‘It was trying to kill me!’ Phaeca shrieked. ‘It was in my room! I woke up and it was in my room!’
Kaiku squeezed her eyes shut. The scene as it might have happened played across the darkness: Phaeca, awakening from a nightmare to find an unfamiliar creature before her, lashing out with her kana. She was already in a state of questionable sanity, driven to raving and feverish mutterings by the malevolence of the forest. The sight of the emyrynn must have been too much for her. Or maybe it had attacked her. Maybe she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter, in the end. She had killed one of them.
‘This is not your room,’ she said, her voice quieter now. ‘You were sleeping in its home.’
A cry of alarm went up in the camp, and those soldiers at the doorway turned back to look. ‘There’s something moving out in the trees!’ came the shout.
‘Do you know what you have done, Phaeca?’ Kaiku said, her tone heavy with despondency. ‘Your actions will be the death of us all.’
At that, Phaeca’s face twisted into a snarl, and she launched herself at Kaiku.
Kaiku did not expect it in the least. Perhaps, had she thought on it, she would have been more careful in her words. She knew how fragile her friend was in this place. But though she had worried about Phaeca’s state of mind over the past few days, she had never once thought that she might become violent. Even in the wake of what she had just discovered, she assumed the killing of the emyrynn was an accident, a reaction rather than a premeditated act. The sight of the Sister’s face twisting into a contortion of such utter hatred made her quail; and then she was being carried out of the doorway of the dwelling by the weight of the attack, scattering the soldiers there, and she fell onto the blue-green grass outside with Phaeca atop her.
The savagery of Phaeca’s assault stunned her; she only resisted at all because instinct drove her to. Phaeca raked her face with her nails, slapped and punched at her head, shrieking and screaming oaths and curses in a coarse Axekami dialect that was entirely unlike her usual mode of speech. Two of the soldiers, unable to credit what they were seeing, reached down to pull the crazed Sister from her victim; they were flung back and
away by an invisible force that flattened the grass and cracked the sap wall of the emyrynn dwelling.
It was the outrush of Phaeca’s kana that brought Kaiku to her senses. The wrenching of the Weave sparked an answer in her own body, a surge of energy that she fought to curtail before it broke out of her, fearful of hurting her friend.
She should not have done so. It took her too long to realise that Phaeca’s kana was not only directed at the soldiers, it was also directed at her. Phaeca was attacking her in the Weave, and that made her intent lethal.
She surrendered herself to the will of her kana. Time decelerated to a crawl in the world of the five senses, while beneath its skin the Sisters clashed at blinding speed. Kaiku’s fractional hesitation had afforded Phaeca an advantage. Only when she had cast aside all doubts and had realised that her friend really meant to kill her, that this was a fight for her very life, did she lend her will to the conflict and begin resisting in earnest.
But by then it was too late. Phaeca had undermined her, laid traps that foiled her attempts at constructing defences. Kaiku constructed labyrinthine tangles only to have them come apart at a single tug. She built snares to delay her opponent and watched them fall to pieces when they were sprung. By the time she had got her barriers up, Phaeca was already behind them, and Kaiku was forced to abandon them and back away further. The assault was relentless, furious; she crumbled under it. Phaeca was not as good as Cailin, but she was still better than most Weavers, sliding and shuttling like a needle. And Kaiku had been taken totally by surprise, had still refused to believe it even when she had realised what was happening.
Phaeca burst through the holes in Kaiku’s stitchwork and reached into her body, grasping, encircling her heart, sewing into muscle and bone. Kaiku screamed in horror, a wordless mental anguish at the violation, the knowledge that she had no way to fight back now and that this cry would be her last.
The Braided Path: The Weavers of Saramyr / the Skein of Lament / the Ascendancy Veil Page 121