by DAVID B. COE
"Because he's intent on destroying my marriage to Grinsa. He wants us to stay here, and he wants Grinsa to marry a Weaver, be it a woman from your sept or someone from a neighboring one. He doesn't care. Either way he gets what he wants: more Weavers. He knew how T'Lisha would respond to this; he might have thought that this would drive her away from L'Norr so that he would try to make a concubine of me. And E'Menua is probably hoping that Grinsa will react the same way T'Lisha did. Anything to drive us apart. He's like this old spider spinning webs all around him, trying to catch as many flies as he can before he dies."
"You're speaking of my a'laq," F'Solya said, an edge to her voice.
Cresenne winced, realizing that she had gone too far on the one day when she could least afford to do so. "I'm sorry," she said. "It's just… he doesn't like me very much, and he seems intent on forcing Grinsa to marry a Weaver."
They lapsed into another lengthy silence. Cresenne tried to keep her mind on her work, but her hands were trembling again. She wasn't certain what she would do without F'Solya's friendship. It was bad enough longing for Grinsa day and night, but to be friendless as well would drive her mad.
"T'Lisha is telling anyone who'll listen to her that you're trying to steal her man," F'Solya finally said.
Cresenne wanted to ask if F'Solya believed the girl, but she was afraid of her friend's answer. So she simply said "I'm not."
"I believe you," F'Solya said.
Cresenne lowered the skin she was working on and looked at the woman. "Do you really? It didn't seem that way before."
F'Solya met her gaze. "I was wrong to speak to you the way I did. I'm sorry."
She smiled, feeling so relieved that tears came to her eyes. "Thank you."
"The others…" F'Solya trailed off, her brow furrowing.
"I know. The others believe T'Lisha. Why shouldn't they? They know nothing about me, and I was in L'Norr's shelter last night. I will be again tonight and tomorrow, and every day until Grinsa returns."
The woman frowned again. "It does seem an odd way to get you food," she said. "Do you really believe that E'Menua wishes you ill?"
Cresenne looked away. "I suppose there might be another explanation."
"Look at me," F'Solya said, as if Cresenne were but a child.
She faced her friend once more.
"Do you really believe all those things you said before about the a'laq?"
Cresenne nodded. "I do. I'm sorry."
F'Solya shook her head, looking troubled. "It's all right. I was… troubled by the way D'Pera spoke to you the day we went to see her. She as much as accused you of trying to.." Her face colored. "Well, anyway, she shouldn't have spoken to you the way she did."
"They need Grinsa," Cresenne said. "At least they think they do. And because of who I am, they feel that the only way to get him, to convince him to stay, is to drive me away." She shrugged, not quite certain why she was justifying the way they had treated her. "I'm sure it makes a great deal of sense to them."
F'Solya seemed to consider this for several moments. Cresenne went back to working on the rilda hide she was holding, feeling a bit better. Let T'Lisha spread rumors about her. As long as F'Solya didn't believe them, Cresenne didn't care, at least not much.
"What will you do?" the woman asked her eventually.
"About T'Lisha, you mean?"
Her friend nodded.
"I've told L'Norr to have her join us for the evening meal each night, so that she can see for herself that she has no reason to be jealous."
F'Solya's expression brightened. "That seems like a fine idea."
"L'Norr didn't think so. He wasn't certain that T'Lisha would agree, and even if she did, he didn't think it would satisfy her."
"Then she's a fool."
Cresenne smiled. "That thought had crossed my mind."
"I can try speaking to her for you. I've known her for a long time. She's headstrong-girls her age often are-but she's a good child at heart. She might listen to me."
"I don't know, F'Solya," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Don't get me wrong: I'm grateful for the offer. But you've done a good deal for me already. At this point you might not want to make it so clear to everyone that we're friends."
"Nonsense," F'Solya said.
Again, Cresenne smiled.
"But you may be right about talking to T'Lisha. I'd be better off speaking with T'Resse, her mother."
"Her mother?" Cresenne repeated. "That sounds like a very bad idea."
"Not at all," F'Solya said, sounding quite sure of herself. "T'Resse and I have known each other for years." She nodded, clearly convinced by the soundness of her choice. "She'll be able to help."
She stood.
"You're going to talk to her now?" Cresenne asked.
"Of course. She'll be grinding grain-that's what she does most days. I'll be back in just a bit."
Cresenne watched her walk off, hoping that her confidence would be rewarded. She had her doubts, though, and as she turned her attention back to the rilda hide, she began to consider once more the possibility of speaking to T'Lisha directly. L'Norr had thought it a bad idea, but Cresenne wasn't certain that they had many choices.
Before long, she looked up from her work to see F'Solya returning. Her friend didn't look at all pleased, and Cresenne was glad that she hadn't allowed herself to share in F'Solya's earlier optimism.
F'Solya sat down heavily and took up her hide once more, a deep frown on her pretty face.
"I've never known her to be so unreasonable," she said. "Or so stubborn." She looked at Cresenne. "When my boys misbehave I'm the first to admit it. But T'Resse sounded as if T'Lisha had never done an ill deed her entire life. And I know that's not true."
"I'm sorry, F'Solya. I shouldn't have gotten you involved in this."
The woman waved a hand dismissively. "You didn't. I wanted to help. And I do now more than before." She frowned again and shook her head. "I just can't believe that T'Resse could be so foolish."
They worked a while longer, then paused for their midday meal. Cresenne's meal was meager as usual, but F'Solya had packed extra food for her, so she ate well. It was her second ample meal in as many days, and already she could feel herself growing stronger. After they ate, they worked some more, until Cresenne couldn't sit still any longer.
"Where does T'Lisha work?" she asked abruptly.
F'Solya regarded her for several moments before responding. "Are you certain that's a good idea?" she asked.
"No. But doing nothing isn't helping matters either."
The woman shrugged, as if conceding the point. "She's often with the younger ones, caring for the children."
Cresenne's blood ran cold and she felt her face go white. "She wouldn't hurt Bryntelle, would she?"
F'Solya shook her head. "No. She's many things, but a brute isn't one of them. I assure you, your daughter is safe."
Cresenne exhaled, then nodded and climbed to her feet. "All right then. Wish me luck."
She started off toward the area where the older girls cared for the children, ignoring the stares of the other women. She'd been an object of curiosity during her imprisonment in Eibithar's great castle back in the Forelands, when she had actually done something wrong. This was easy by comparison. And the fact that T'Lisha was near Bryntelle gave her an excuse to approach the girl that she wouldn't have had otherwise. She needed to feed her daughter anyway.
As she drew near, Cresenne suddenly wondered if she'd recognize the girl when she saw her. They'd only spoken briefly, and the z'kal had been dim. As it turned out, she needn't have worried. She spotted the girl immediately, and T'Lisha saw her almost as quickly, stiffening noticeably, her eyes growing wide.
Cresenne didn't approach her at first. She found Bryntelle and once she had assured herself that her daughter was fine, she fed her. Only after she had returned Bryntelle to the girls who had been caring for her did she go to T'Lisha.
Even as she walked up to the girl, T'Lisha didn't look at
her. She was standing with several other girls who appeared to be her age, but none of them said anything to Cresenne or to each other.
"I wanted to let you know that I'd be eating my evening meal with L'Norr again tonight. It's not by choice; the a'laq is making me do it. But I'm hoping that you'll be there, too, so that you can see that there's nothing more to it than a simple meal."
T'Lisha let out a short, disbelieving laugh, but still refused to say anything.
"I have a husband, T'Lisha. I love him, and only him. And L'Norr cares only about you. He doesn't want me."
T'Lisha glanced her way. "How do you know that? Did he refuse you when you tried to climb into his bed?"
Cresenne actually smiled. Had she ever been this young?
"No. I told you, I've a husband whom I love. But I've had other lovers in the past, and I know something of men and the way they behave when they're in love."
She didn't wait for a reply. She simply turned and started back toward the tanning circle.
T'Lisha didn't call for her to stop or come after her. She could only hope that the girl would give some thought to what she had said.
"What happened?" F'Solya asked as soon as Cresenne took her place beside her once more.
"Nothing, really. I asked her to eat with L'Norr and me. We'll see if she does."
That evening, though, she and Bryntelle found L'Norr alone in his z'kal, roasting rilda meat over his fire.
"Did you speak with T'Lisha today?" he asked, as Cresenne sat across the fire from him. He sounded angry.
"Yes, I did," she said mildly.
"I warned you against doing that."
"Yes, I remember. I did it anyway."
"You had no right! I told you not to speak with her."
"Did you speak with her?" she demanded.
He hesitated.
"Did you plan to any time in the near future?"
"Of course!" he said.
"I'm not certain I believe you. I didn't want her spreading any more rumors about me than she had already, so I did something about it. If that bothers you… well, too bad. Someone had to do something, so I did."
"You had no right," he said again, sounding sullen this time, like a chastised boy.
"What did she say to you? Was she angry with me?"
"She was…" He shook his head. "Just what did you say to her?"
"I said several things. Nothing that should have disturbed her. I told her that I have a husband, and that I love him, and that I'm not interested in any other man. I also told her that you weren't looking for another concubine."
His face turned bright red. "Did you tell her… did you make it sound like…?"
She suppressed a grin. "What's the matter, L'Norr?"
"She seems to think now that I'm in love with her."
Cresenne widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Really?"
The young Weaver scowled at her.
"Did you tell her that you're not?"
"Of course I didn't."
"Are you in love with her?" she asked.
His face colored again. "That's not… I'm not going to answer that." Seeing him so flustered, she nearly laughed aloud. "Would you have preferred that she remained angry with you?"
He twisted his mouth sourly. "No."
"Then you have no cause to complain." She leaned closer to the fire and peered at the cooking meat. "That looks nearly done. Unless you were planning to burn it."
He took the meat off the fire, cut several slices for her, and handed her a shallow bowl that held the meat and some boiled root.
"Thank you," she said, starting to eat. The rilda was excellent and the root, which she'd never tasted before, was tender and slightly sweet. "This is good," she told him after several bites. "Thank you for sharing your meal with me."
He nodded, avoiding her eyes. He no longer seemed angry with her, merely embarrassed. They spoke little for the rest of the meal, and when it came time for her to leave, he said "good night," but nothing more.
Emerging from his shelter with Bryntelle in her arms, Cresenne saw that several people were watching her, including T'Lisha. Their eyes met briefly and then the girl looked away. But the hostility Cresenne had sensed in her earlier in the day and the night before seemed to have vanished, or at least abated.
No doubt most of the people to whom T'Lisha had spoken the night before still thought the worst of her; it would take a few days before they realized that the girl had been mistaken. But it seemed that T'Lisha herself no longer wished her ill. Perhaps the notion that L'Norr truly loved her had been enough to make her forget her jealousy.
Cresenne made her way back to her z'kal, put Bryntelle to bed, and then went to sleep herself. Her slumber this night was far more restful than it had been the night before. And at one point Grinsa came to her, as a Weaver could, to walk in her dreams and speak with her and hold her. He looked tired and pale, but he was well, and he told her of his travels and of the Mettai men his company had encountered.
"They killed her?" she said, when he informed her of the witch's fate. "Yes."
"But E'Menua wanted you to kill her."
"I know," Grinsa said, holding her hand and brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "There's nothing to be done about it now. We're going to try to keep the baskets she sold from reaching any more villages, and then we'll return to the sept."
"He won't be happy," she said. "The a'laq, I mean."
He shook his head. "I don't care anymore. He can try to keep us there, but it won't work. We're leaving Fal'Borna lands as soon as we can. You have my word."
She rested her head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Good," she whispered.
"Are you and Bryntelle all right?" he asked, sounding concerned. "You look thin. Have you been eating?"
"We're fine," she said. She looked up into his eyes and kissed him. "Really. We had a bit of trouble, but it's all right now."
"What kind of trouble?"
"It doesn't matter. Nothing serious." She smiled. "I can handle it."
And she meant it. Before he left she'd told Grinsa to do what he had to do and return to her. She'd told him that she and Bryntelle would get along without him. Brave words. But at the time that was all they'd been. Now, though, finally, she actually believed them.
"You're certain?" he asked her, still looking worried.
"Yes. I'm not sure the Fal'Borna will ever accept me as one of their own, but I think I'm starting to figure out how to live among them."
He smiled, though he looked puzzled. "Someday you'll have to explain what you mean."
"I'll try." She grinned. "It might take a while."
Chapter 18
S'VRALNA, MEMORY MOON WAXING
On the seventh day of the new waxing, they came within sight of a great walled city. Its towers and battlements were made of pale stone that gleamed like hone in the late-morning sunlight, and great columns of black smoke rose from within its walls. Though Grinsa had been in the Southlands for only a few turns, and had been living among the Qirsi clans for only part of that time, he had already come to think of all Fal'Borna settlements as being like E'Menua's. Fortifications like the one in front of him belonged in the Eandi sovereignties. This city seemed to have much more in common with Yorl, along the Aelean coast, where he and Cresenne had first set foot in the Southlands, than it did with the z'kals and open paddocks of E'Menua's sept.
He had to remind himself that this city-S'Vralna, Q'Daer called it-and the lands around it had once belonged to the Eandi of Stelpana. The night before the young Weaver had been in an uncharacteristically expansive mood, and had spoken at length of the Blood Wars and the battles for control of the Central Plain.
"The Fal'Borna took it from the dark-eyes during the Blood Wars," he had said, sounding so proud that one might have thought he'd had a hand in winning the city during those battles a century and a half ago. "The Eandi once held all this land, everything west to the K'Sand. Now all of it is ours, and they hide on the far banks
of the Silverwater."
The two Eandi merchants, as well as Besh and Sirj, had kept their thoughts to themselves, and before long Torgan and Jasha wandered off to sleep. Grinsa had tried to turn the conversation in a different direction, asking Besh about the history of the Mettai. But Q'Daer had interrupted, and soon after Besh and Sirj left them as well.
On this morning, though, the young Weaver kept silent, his expression grim as he eyed those clouds of smoke. Grinsa continued to gaze at the city, keeping his thoughts to himself. Even after the city came into view, the distance to the gates remained great, and it was some time before he began to notice that the walls were not as uniform as they first appeared. They had been broken in places; parts of them were blackened as if by fire; at least one of the corner towers had collapsed in on itself. It had to have been the pestilence, unless the Southlands were at war again.
"How many people live in S'Vralna," he asked, his voice low.
Q'Daer shook his head. "I don't know for certain. Three thousand perhaps. Maybe more. It's one of our bigger cities, though not as big as D'Raqor or Thamia." He raised himself up on his mount, squinting in the sun. "Damn," he muttered. He'd been chafing at their slow pace all morning, and now he glanced hack at the rest of their company. "Faster!" he shouted at them, before kicking his mount to a gallop.
Grinsa stayed with him, but he glanced back repeatedly to see that the others were following, particularly Torgan. The one-eyed merchant had been behaving strangely in recent days, even more so than usual. On the best of days Torgan was belligerent and selfish, but more recently he had retreated into a dark, brooding silence. He spoke to no one, not even Jasha, though at times he appeared to mumble to himself. Grinsa had tried to speak with the man a few times, hoping at least to find some sign of the argumentative arrogance he recalled from their earliest encounters. But the merchant said little to him, and when he did speak he was unfailingly polite, which in many ways alarmed Grinsa even more than did his silence.
At the moment, however, Grinsa was concerned more with the fate of S'Vralna and its denizens than with Torgan. The closer they drew to the city walls, the more severe the damage appeared to be. Many of the buildings within the city were made of the same white stone as the outer wall, so that closer inspection revealed breaches in many parts of the wall that had appeared whole from a distance. Vultures, crows, and kites circled over the city and occasionally great flocks of dark birds rose into the sky from within the walls, crying plaintively at whatever had driven them from their scavenging. Wild dogs prowled a short distance from the gates, eyeing the city warily.