by Adrian Selby
He moved so as not to disturb Mosa, wiped his eyes and nose as, nearby, the longhouse’s doors opened for the clan and those of my van still in there to leave, their voices and some shared songs carrying across the settlement.
“I’m sorry, Teyr. I just, well … I know you’d come with me at daybreak, we’d roll out and back through the Sedgeway, back to Hillfast and our home I confess I miss. You might run roads and outposts all over the north and northeast, Kreigh Moors, Larchlands, but it won’t be enough for you.”
“It will be, my love, it will be.”
“It won’t, bluebell, because it’s not about a road, but a road across the Circle. A road for your people. I think I knew it deep down, these years it’s been in the planning. You’ve needed to prove something to them, to your da maybe.”
I wasn’t sure I believed it even as I said it. What he said threw me off balance, wasn’t fair and was fair. “It’s not about my da, he’s dead.”
“I know. Does that matter?”
“Maybe I will come home, get richer, come back with more soldiers perhaps, now I know this threat. Khiese commands a few hundred at best, it would be …” These was the wrong words, weighing up the threat here and now. He had the truth of me and always, always, the truth from me, whether given or taken. Our silence dribbled on while the barn filled up with the rest of us taking shelter there, trading insults and jokes, helping each other with whatever plant they needed for the wounds and other suffering that come with paying the colour.
“Speak to me, Teyr.”
Love is speaking the truth because it hurts, and it is hiding it to avoid hurt, and choosing right never comes easy or often.
“We’ll meet early, the whole van, decide what’s next.”
He withdrew his hand after squeezing my shoulder, bunched his riding cloak under his head a bit more and went still. Mosa stirred then, lying in between us. I picked some snapped ends of straw from his hair, sleep as far away from my eyes as Aoig was. I rolled out from under our furs and shivered as I stood up, the night air bitter and clear. Outside, the settle was quiet, faint talking here and there. Further off, west in the trees, a wolf called out. A figure approached. It was Thruun, swamped in our da’s ermine.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” he said.
“No.”
“Let’s go to the river then.”
A man named Sagga guarded the gate, I remembered him as a bab, so a bit surprised he was on lookout, but by Thruun’s account he was a quiet one, preferring the nights since the girl he was cricky on decided on another.
Left out of the gate was a few of the fields long ago cleared from the forest, two hundred yards to the river.
“We could have used the cave tunnels,” I joked, which made him laugh.
“Not in these clothes.”
“I’m sorry for earlier. Aude is too. It’s been a long time since I needed to account for the Circle’s customs, or anyone’s other than my own.”
“I see.”
“Oi.” I nudged him. “You spoke well before your people. You keep Amondell in good order. The clan seem settled.”
“Perhaps that’s because there are no bodies nailed to our bailey’s walls, as I heard was the case in Crimore. I do what my father did. I hear their disputes, I try to remember what he told me: ‘Question! Question! Question!’” The last was an impression of him, a good one.
“Oh Halfussen yes. And when you think you have run out of questions, repeat them all and listen for any change in their answer!”
“It has helped, I have to say.”
“You’re looking more like him,” I said.
“I’m fatter, you mean. Skershe cooks well, and my hands were always made for a quill, never a spade or spear.”
We was grateful for a clear night, the moon near full, the land all edged in a sharp, pale white, the water of the river shining.
“Good to see you with your boy Mosa. He’s been raised well.”
“Thank his da for that. You have a fine keep in Skershe, she thinks the lands of you. Both Ma and Da would have loved to have seen them, Mosa and Drun. Ma, well, whatever else I might have won, I lost ever having her hold my son, though Halfussen knows I’m not looking for pity. Anyway, have you made some alliance with the Lithessens, to have married Skershe, or did you inherit our da’s hips?”
“Aaah no, sadly not. The Lithessens came the spring after you last left, and Skershe with them. I could see that her da thought she’d not wed as her sister had to old Auksen’s nephew, for she was near to thirty years, but she seemed to see enough in me, and I think her beautiful and much cleverer than I with our scrolls.”
“You’re too modest, Brother. You ran rings around us all with your letters as a boy.”
The river ran with purpose, this close to the Mothers. We stood at its edge, both remembering I’m sure the years we played here.
“Have you told Drun about the girl who lives in the river?”
Thruun laughed. “Of course. I told him she’d take his innocence and weave it into her hair of glass and leave him a man in his fourteenth year. He’s been looking for her ever since.”
“Same as me then.”
“Yes, you swore she’d touched you while you waded that one day we found the wolf’s skull, remember?”
“I do.” It was the yellow of cheese, picked clean to a shine, half the jaw missing, perhaps the killing blow. We balanced it on our heads and chased Beikker’s son about.
“Will you go home, Teyr? I would hate for Khiese to find you, not while you’ve a chance to escape. I might have spoken out against you earlier and think differently to you about what you do or don’t owe us, but by our blood I don’t want you dead. We will survive, our rope will survive, I’m sure of it. Gruma lacks wit and Khiese lacks an heir, though word is he has tried.”
“What more do you know of them? I’ve learned almost nothing.”
“What I learned I learned from Gruma. He finds himself here often and finds in me, which my belly I’ll confess proves, a man who can drain cups almost as well as him and far better than his crew. In his cups he talks a lot. He told me of their da Finn, the Elder Khiedsen, who somehow got five sons out of some poor woman he eventually beat to death because he thought she was fucking his guards. He then made keep another woman, who Gruma and Samma alone called their mother, but she wasn’t able to give Finn any more children. She raised them all nevertheless through the beatings she also got: Finnson, who was his eldest, Jerrik, Olof, Samma and Gruma, his youngest. They were young boys when she, Cwighan I think her name was, started to take care of them. It was from her they learned their da had killed their ma. Samma was a runt then, Gruma growing big on his gruet as you saw at the Almet. With older brothers finding him easy to take out their own pain on, Samma realised he had to become strong or be beaten all his life. Of course, he wasn’t going to best them with muscle, and Cwighan knew her letters, for Khiedsen trusted nobody else with his scrolls. So she taught Samma, and so he came to be useful to her and to his da. But this only got him beaten more by his brothers, who could see a clear threat to their own prospects for weaving glory into the Khiedsen rope. The only brother on his side was Gruma, and I think their love was bonded by their love for Cwighan and hers for them.
“As sons of Finn they were all forced to learn their Forms, even Samma, but small as he was, the tutors could ask for no more dedication. He ran, he lifted stones, broke stones, he endured. Gruma grew big as you see him, a terror in the tourneys, but Samma grew hard and cold after they found Cwighan dead. Gruma said she was always nursing some hurt, but they found blood on her bed furs and she was cut and bruised from fists. Samma was eighteen now and his ability to shoot and use a spear and sword could not be questioned. His elder brothers, threatened both by the praise he and Gruma received from their tutors but especially the praise Samma got for keeping the scrolls and learning contracts, tried to take their revenge in the Khiedsen tourney after his eighteenth. He beat them and humiliated them, took hi
s time over it, which the clan loved but his father despised. His father, for all his praise, did not look past his eldest son as his heir, as is our way, so he expelled Samma, and Gruma followed him. They knew they fled for their lives, for their brothers were quick to lead some crews after them. They escaped and over time put together their own crew of bandits to terrorise the Khiedsens. The rest brings us here.”
It give me a lot to think about. I knew now a bit more about Samma’s way, his painting his whiteboys and his use of the horns. It was about fear and maddening his enemies, about making up for his size with his wit, something all us women soldiers learn how to do for similar reasons when it comes to fighting.
“I never had the soldiers to go up against him, Teyr. Clans have been killed to a child for standing up to him. Skershe’s own, the Lithessens, they were doing well with Auksen. You never met her cousin, who was their chief. He stood up to Khiese, killed a few of his men, twenty in all, set a trap. You don’t need to know how Khiese killed them, but he burned them and dug salt into the head of their bloodlands, smashing up the stones there. She’s the last of the Lithessen clan.”
It was nice of him to say she was the last, given he was all for Circle traditions, and as such there really wasn’t any clan any more with the last boy dead.
“What about Auksen?”
“There’s been no word. Khiese won’t recognise the tribute Families and principal Families as they were.”
“I find it strange, Brother. If I was him I’d have won the Auksens first, knowing the tribute clans would follow.”
“Think, Teyr, you keep that alliance intact and they may well bring the tribute clans against you.”
He was right. I was tired. A moment’s more thought and I could see it. Separate the old ties and weaken the bonds. Divide and rule.
The raw wailing of lynx began somewhere off in the hills, like two women grieving. Near us some grouse cackled as we talked, perhaps thinking us a threat to their chicks.
“You didn’t answer me earlier, when I asked if you were going home tomorrow. You’ve got a good keep and a good boy. They’re worth more than some drained marshland and a few bridges. That’s what I’ve learned since Skershe gave me Drun. I know you curse me for those banners, but when I’ve got Drun in my arms, and he’s alive and happy, I know I’ve made the right choice in my heart.”
He turned to face me then, thoughtful. He put his hands on my arms and squeezed them, as he might a child.
“You did what you set out to do, Teyr. You poked me and Da in the eye, saw the world and come back rich, no war or poison took you, no droop, no agits. I don’t know what you’re doing worrying over us and the Circle.” He put his arm about me then, a hesitant but welcome gesture.
“Well, here’s how it is with me, by way of an example. A bit before I was thirty, Ry’ylan raiders was killing the Ososi, cousins of the Oskoro, on the borders of what would become Khasgal’s Landing. I was one of Khasgal’s captains and he put me in charge of a hand of skirmishers, to rout them. Khasgal had made treaties with the four tribes there on behalf of the Roan Province in return for helping fight off the Ry’ylans. Then he fell in love with Curael, the daughter of one of the tribe’s chiefs, who was proud to welcome him into their tribe as her keep. And I mean ‘her keep’ because they had it right there: women could be chiefs and she would succeed him. By the following year he’d made an alliance between his tribe and the Ososi. After all that he must have owned a stretch of land not far short of the Circle for himself. The Ososi give him gifts of rare plant, and the trade with Roan he was stewarding netted him chests of gold. I asked him one night we was out on an ambush what he was doing sweating his balls off in a mosquie-ridden jungle cutting throats in the dark when he had all that coin. ‘It’s never been about the coin,’ he said. It’s only in the last few years I’ve come to realise what he meant.”
“I understand what you’re saying, though the tales of Khasgal founding his nation have it that while it was never about the coin, it was about you. Regardless, looks like you found something to believe in. But you won’t bring the Circle together when Khiese’s already done it. You’d need an army.”
“Would I?”
He shook his head, exasperated with me.
“Thruun, If Auksen stands against Khiese, would you stand with Auksen or Khiese?”
He didn’t want to answer me, just stared ahead into the river and the blinding shimmer of moonlight.
“Auksen.”
I got the answer I wanted, though he’d made it sound like the worse of the choice.
“We should get some sleep, Teyr, you’ve got some leagues to cover tomorrow.”
Thruun woke us all a few hours later. He put out some apple pies, a few slabs of roasted deer and some akva. It was an attempt to lift our spirits a bit, and I was grateful. Last night was peaceful and much needed, though I was fretting and snappy over watching Yalle and Sanger make their preparations. If they left we’d be hard pressed to go on, and they was making a point of doing this where I could see it.
I clapped my hands. “I want the whole van with me. We have to decide what’s next.”
The crew started coming together in the square before my family’s longhouse. It had been a warm night by Circle reckoning, and a mist was about Amondell, thick and heavy as lard in the trees.
Yalle stepped forward then, ready to ride, armed and chewing on a stalk of vadse, which spoke of her wanting to leave straight away for it’s a mild dayer we use also for stopping a sore head after a night’s drink or kannab. Bela and Steyning was stood behind her, Bela close to Jem, leaning into him. Sanger had barely got his leathers on, loosely strapped. He was cleaning out his pipe.
“We got to Amondell, and Khiese’s banners fly behind us over your house. We need to settle the purse as we agreed at Crimore,” said Yalle.
“You’ll not lift a finger to help us if our van walks the same trail as you back to Hillfast if Teyr doesn’t pay you to do it?” This was Aude, who was kneeled next to me adjusting Mosa’s tunic and running a comb through his hair.
“We’d not watch you be killed,” said Yalle, “but that’s about all. It’ll cost Teyr more if she wants us to run the van back there.”
Aude stopped combing and looked at her, not sure if she was serious at first, but she stared at him until he smiled.
“How much?” I asked.
“We’ll make out the scrolls later. I’m sure you could afford it.”
“Are you not going on to Auksen with us?” said Eirin. “I hear he has a good hundred or so.”
“If they’re not already sworn for Khiese,” said Sanger, puffing through a fresh bowl of bacca that give off an air of cherries. His morning weed.
“I need to know,” I said. And that was that, for Aude picked up Mosa and walked away, back to Chalky’s wagon.
“We have a duty to Othbutter. His brother killed, we have to kill Khiese if we can, before he becomes stronger, commands more men and women,” said Eirin.
Her crew was stood around her, and they was clearly set. I looked in their eyes in the moments that followed, looked for the doubt, a sense of fear, but found none. She must have spoken to her crew last night, and all of them was in.
“You have to speak to Aude,” said Thad. He wasn’t happy but said nothing.
“Chalky, you will go back, there’s no way forward now except through Khiese. I’ll make arrangement for our mercenaries to ride with you back to Faldon Ridge; you should be fine to go on to Hillfast without them.”
Him and his keep, Edma, walked up to me and each embraced me. “Sillindar follow you, Master Amondsen,” said Chalky. They walked off to the wagons.
I turned to Thad. “You must go with them. Leave us some brews, but I want you to keep them safe.”
“And if I spoke to Aude, I believe he’d say that your being safe was his only concern. Drudhas feed soldiers, not nokes. If you’re going on I’ll be with you. We’ve seen worse.”
“You were with bet
ter men and women back then.” This was Sanger, who come over to stand with us. “I won’t be joining you, Master, nor Jem. We have the same purse as Yalle; we’ll ask only half of her fee for taking your family back home, however.”
We clasped arms by way of sealing this agreement. “Aude will write up the scrolls and confirm the purse. There’s a bit of coin should see you forward. Thornsen or Omar will take care of the rest when you get to Faldon.”
“I’d say you should come back with us, Teyr.”
“I know.”
Sanger moved off towards his own horse. I looked back and saw Aude helping Chalky with one of his harnesses. Mosa was sitting on the wagon laughing at something they was joking over. Aude cast a glance at me then. The smile faded. Those few yards between us seemed impossible to step into. I held out my hand instead. He spoke to Chalky, who helped Mosa jump to the ground and follow him off to help with our packing.
I led Aude to a ladder to the wall around our longhouse. He come up behind me, and we stood looking over the wall to the camp. Women, along with the older boys and girls, was milking. Further off, the sniffers’ horn sounded and I saw them grouped up before the bast stalukt, as we called the master forager in our Abra. It was a younger voice than that which I woke to all through my years as a girl here. Their dogs made a din barking, and the foragers stamped their boots and took their snuff while the young man finished calling them to their work from the houses: “Kom stalukt, kom stalukt, kleip i stem, i fowrist rut.”
“What’s he singing?” said Aude. He leaned on the wall next to me, a little too far away for me to lean into him.
“He’s singing, ‘Come stalukt, come stalukt, to pinch the stem and seduce the root.’ Stalukt means forager.” They all clacked each other’s walking sticks and spread out in pairs, moving off into the forest and along the river, whistling to the dogs. “If it wasn’t for these banners it could almost be a normal day. A day I dreamed of sharing with you and Mosa for a long time, here.”
“I would have liked to explore this place, have you take me along the carvings and sculptings of your walls, learn more of your rope, put it in scrolls for our library. But we’re leaving today, and you’re not coming with us.”