Seeing no safe way to refuse an answer, Idisio repeated the words, lifting his head just enough to be clearly heard, and kept his eyes shut tight.
“Oh, gods.” Scratha sounded sick. “The attack came within days of Lord Scratha's passing . . . but what about Orde? What about. . . .” He fell silent for a moment, then added, plaintively, “Why hasn't it ever spoken to me?”
This desert lord has never been bound to this place, the voice said. I only allowed him passage as was his right. With a sense of awakening interest, the beast stirred and raised its great head. He never called my notice properly.
Idisio repeated the words again, watching Scratha's face take on the darkness of sudden anger.
“Nobody ever told me there was a ritual involved,” the desert lord said, almost spitting the words out. “I thought that if there was a ha'rethe here, it would know me.”
I saw him as a desert lord, not as one bound to me, the voice said, indifferent now, and lowered its huge head, closing its eyes.
“How does he get bound to you, then?” Idisio said. “And how is it you notice me?” Speaking out loud seemed as effective as silent thought, and the hungry look on Scratha's face demanded to hear at least half the conversation.
One golden eye opened, regarding him lazily. He must give his blood and seed, and swear himself bound to me, while within this fortress. And you are blood kin; how could I not see you?
Idisio swallowed hard and wished he could get away with an edited version of that reply; but Scratha's dark stare bored into him. He repeated the words, trying not to look at anyone as he did.
After an awkward silence, Scratha cleared his throat. “I was afraid it would be something like that,” he said. He shut the book, holding his place on the page with a finger, and sighed. “Let's go sit and eat. And think a bit.”
Idisio started to nod—his queasy stomach might settle down with some food—and found his mind filled with that golden stare again.
You may want to know, young se'thiss t'akarnain, there are others outside these walls. An elder—from your point of view—ha'ra'ha and several desert lords. They seem very agitated, and there are several with thoughts of claiming this fortress for themselves. There are thoughts of challenging this desert lord's claim to be head of Scratha. They know he is not bound to the fortress. They do not know he is here.
Idisio stood frozen again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
I do not care who binds themselves to this fortress. That is a human concern, and none of mine. I care only for the pact. But you are ha'ra'ha and seem to care about their world, and so I tell you. Do as you will with the knowledge.
The presence faded, and Idisio put his hands over his face.
“What now?” Scratha demanded, and Idisio told him.
“Those would be the lords I called for the Conclave.” Scratha's expression turned ugly. “So they're wanting to challenge my right, are they? Because I haven't taken this ritual of blood and seed? I assume that means. . . .” His gaze settled on Riss, and his eyes narrowed.
“Don't touch me!” Riss snapped, backing away.
Scratha's upper lip actually lifted away from his teeth in a silent snarl. He pressed his lips tight and turned his back on them.
Idisio, caught between sympathy for the girl's obvious fear and Scratha's equally evident frustration, stood halfway between the two sides, feeling unable to move.
“Come on,” he said, his voice coming out thin and raw. “Don't. This isn't . . . Riss, he won't. You know that. And, my lord, she wasn't saying you would. Just . . . just stop being so. . . .” He shook his head, at a loss for more words. The headache seemed to engulf him, streaking red-yellowgreen lines behind his eyes.
With the faintest feather-touch of sensation, like a gentle hand stroking his hair, the headache faded away completely. The ha'rethe said, The ritual he needs to complete is not one the human girl would be any use for. Tell him to go to the temple in the center of this fortress.
Idisio let out a gasping breath of relief.
“Thank you,” he said aloud, and looked up at Scratha. “Go to the temple in the center of the—”
Scratha's face lit with excited hope. He sprinted from the room before Idisio could finish speaking.
“—fortress,” Idisio ended lamely. He sighed. “I guess we wait here.” Follow him.
Idisio swallowed hard. “Um,” he said, waving his hands apologetically, “I mean, I guess, you wait here . . . please?” He tossed the last word over his shoulder as he hurried after the desert lord.
He thought he heard Riss say something, but a glimpse of Scratha rounding a corner far ahead distracted him from understanding it clearly. He put on his best speed and ran. A moment later he knew his weren't the only footsteps echoing from the stone walls; a glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears. “Go back and wait!”
“I don't think so!” Riss hollered back at him.
Idisio mouthed a silent curse and saved his breath for running. He'd never imagined that Scratha could run so fast; when they rounded the corner, the desert lord was further ahead than Idisio had expected.
In the background, behind his panting breath and the thudding of their feet, he sensed vast, ancient amusement. The faintest sense of a chuckle wove through his mind.
It took all his willpower and self-control not to fling a curse at the creature for laughing at him, now of all times. He saw absolutely nothing funny about this situation.
As if in reply, he saw a brief image of fluffy, ungainly baby chickens toddling frantically after one another as if their pursuit were the most serious thing in the whole world; and he had to laugh. It came out sounding manic and sharp, and he cut it off as soon as he could. Was that how the ha'reye saw humans? Small, preening life forms with no brain to speak of, with no thought for anything larger than themselves?
Sometimes, the ha'rethe said mildly. Turn left up ahead. You'll get there before he does.
Trusting the voice, although Scratha could still be seen in the distance, Idisio dove into the next left-hand passage that appeared, vaguely registering as he went through that a metal lattice door stood open. He heard the sound of Riss's footsteps still following him. She wasn't letting him out of her sight, for some reason.
Don't you understand why yet? the ha'rethe said. She's in love with you.
Idisio almost staggered to a stop at that concept.
“You're wrong,” he muttered under his breath, and forced his legs to keep moving. “You're wrong.”
Somehow the creature managed to deliver a mental shrug. Turn left again. Now turn right. And you might want to slow down—
Idisio managed to stagger to a stop just before he plowed straight into a heavy wooden door. Riss squawked as she rounded the corner behind him and bounced herself against a wall to avoid slamming into Idisio.
“You could have said,” she complained, entirely unfairly, and rubbed her shoulder as she glared at Idisio.
He shook his head, still rattled by the ha'rethe's comment, and pushed the heavy door open. It swung, easy and silent, as if it had been oiled yesterday. Idisio took a deep breath and stepped into the room beyond.
It was round, and moist, and silent in a deep, profound way that felt more alive than the rest of the fortress. The sun streaming into the room had a different quality as well, a more filtered feel. Looking around, awestruck, Idisio realized living trees graced this room, great towering desert palms that stretched to the high ceiling and feathery sand-bushes that stood taller than Scratha.
“Gods,” Idisio breathed. “I thought the well went dry!”
A huge pool in the center of the room, easily fifteen feet across, was clear enough to see white sand at the bottom.
The well did not go dry, the ha'rethe said. It was blocked, and there was not a lord present, so I left it alone, and slept. Now I am awake, and you are here; you and this desert lord will need the water. So I have repaired it, and replaced the growing things.
&n
bsp; “That's pretty heartless,” Idisio said, looking back at the pool. “People died here because they didn't have water.” He moved forward a few steps.
To their right, another door opened and Scratha came in. He stared around the room, his expression dumbfounded. Astonishment turned to a sharp frown when he saw Idisio and Riss.
“What—” he started, then stopped, his gaze on the door they had come in through. The amazement returned. “How did you—” He stopped again, and shook his head, evidently caught between wonder and anger.
“That's the door the Callen use,” he said finally. “Their quarters are sealed. I've never been able to get into that part of the fortress.” He shook his head once more, slowly, and waved a hand as if dismissing the issue. His gaze traveled around the room again, drinking it in as if he had been craving water for days and found himself unexpectedly presented with a lake.
He never had a need, the ha'rethe observed dryly. Or the right. You are ha'ra'ha; you can go anywhere you like.
Scratha didn't seem to hear the voice.
“This room,” he went on, moving forward, “was . . . last time I saw it, it was dead. There was a dry pit where that pool is now, and these trees . . . they were little more than dry, dead husks. I remember wondering what kept them from crumbling like all the others in the fortress.”
Humans, the ha'rethe sighed. No understanding of the deep ways of the world at all.
Idisio found himself grinning. This ha'rethe was nothing like the one he'd encountered near the Wall. He actually found himself liking this one. Remembering the dry well, he stopped smiling. Likable or not, this creature had a ruthless streak to be wary of.
The ha'rethe seemed puzzled. You say “ruthless” and “heartless.” We hold to the Agreement. We do not concern ourselves beyond that. We have never pretended to.
Scratha paced around the room. He laid a tentative hand on the trunk of a giant desert palm, as if afraid it would crumble at his touch.
“Amazing,” he muttered several times as he walked, and finally moved to stand in front of the pool. “You'll need to leave,” he said over his shoulder.
Now why would you have to leave when I summoned you?
Idisio choked back a hysterical laugh. “Er . . . my lord,” he said awkwardly, “the ha'rethe wants . . . me at least . . . here. It told me to follow you, and which way to turn to get here before you did.”
Riss gave a snort of annoyance and muttered, “You're not sending me away.”
Scratha turned and stared at them. For the first time, he seemed nervous.
“I don't understand why,” he said a bit peevishly.
Idisio shrugged, spreading his hands.
“We should at least send Riss away.”
No, the ha'rethe said. She may stay as well, if she wishes.
Scratha seemed to read Idisio's expression. “She's to stay too?”
Riss gave a satisfied “Hah!”
Move out of the doorway, the ha'rethe said patiently. Idisio jerked, startled, and motioned Riss forward into the room. As soon as they were clear, the doors swung shut, latching with a thin clang.
Do you care for the northern girl? the ha'rethe said unexpectedly.
“Um. . . .” Idisio said out loud, and coughed to hide the uncertain noise as the others looked round at him.
I see the answer, the ha'rethe said before he could figure out a response. You need not reply.
Idisio swallowed hard, not entirely sure what the ha'rethe saw in his mind. Care for Riss? She was all right as a traveling companion, but he wasn't sure that qualified as caring for her.
Riss stared at Idisio, then made a dismissive gesture and said, “What do we do now, Lord Scratha?”
Scratha seemed to consider for a moment. “Sit before the pool. Leave yourself some space. This isn't anything like what I've been through before; I have no idea what's going to happen.”
With those less-than-reassuring words, he moved forward and lowered himself to the ground in front of the pool. Idisio took up a position on the desert lord's right; Riss settled to Scratha's left.
Riss squared her own shoulders and put her gaze on the pool.
Take a knife and prick your finger, the ha'rethe instructed gently.
“What, all of us?” Idisio said aloud, then realized that Scratha and Riss were already moving to obey. So they heard the ha'rethe for themselves now; he found that something of a relief. He'd hated relaying the creature's messages.
It may benefit you as well, little ha'ra'ha. You must decide for yourself. Idisio swallowed hard and pulled out his belt knife, hoping Riss and Scratha hadn't heard “little ha'ra'ha.” He'd never live that designation down.
Shake a drop of blood onto the sand before you.
Idisio obeyed, then stared at the tiny dark spot on the sand in front of him, feeling a sense of unreality. He heard Scratha murmur something that sounded like, “I offer the gift of blood to prove my honorable intent and dedication of my life to this place.”
Idisio kept his mouth firmly shut. He couldn't bring himself to say that. Riss seemed to have chosen silence as well.
Abruptly, he felt a wrenching sensation somewhere in the center of his forehead. His surroundings faded into a hazy mist, and a distant wailing sound advanced towards him. The wail resolved into words: “How can you do this to me?” a woman screamed. “How can you do this to my child?”
“Demon-spawn!” a male voice shouted, heavy with anger. “Burn it! Drown it!”
“It's a child!” the woman protested. “How can you harm a child?”
“It's a damned creature!” the male voice replied, still loud and furious. “You'll be joining it, woman, never fear!”
“The hells you say!” the woman cried with sudden, spitting passion. “No! You won't lay a hand on either one of us!”
Another wrenching feeling: a scream echoed in Idisio's head. The internal noise faded, although the fog remained.
Great golden eyes opened in the mist and regarded Idisio. Interesting, the ha'rethe of Scratha Fortress said. Your mother was a very strong woman.
Idisio found himself shaking uncontrollably. That was my mother? Of course. There is something odd about this Ghost Lake area. I would like you to go investigate this. I cannot travel so far any longer. Will you do this for me?
Idisio nodded, still dazed. I will, he said, not sure why he agreed. How did my mother escape?
I believe her ha'rethe helped her. The creature seemed to frown, emanating displeasure. From what I see in your memory, it may have harmed some of those holding her captive in order to allow her to escape. I do not like that. What should it have done? Idisio demanded. Let us die?
There are many ways to do a thing, the ha'rethe said peacefully, and not all of them require violence to a lesser form of life.
You're responsible for the death of this entire fortress! Idisio shot back, suddenly angry again. You let everyone be murdered!
Idisio had the sense that the creature sighed. You have been among humans too much, little ha'ra'ha. You do not understand. But enough. I am finished with the Scratha lord.
Warm water splashed onto his face, just a few drops that speckled his forehead and cheeks. Realizing his eyes had been shut for some time, he opened them and wiped the moisture away, blinking hard.
Scratha knelt beside him, his face almost glowing with happiness. “Thank you, Idisio. I would never have known this was even possible without you.”
Idisio, staring at the sopping-wet desert lord, couldn't help noticing that Scratha's clothes seemed to have disappeared somewhere along the way.
“Uhm,” he said uncertainly.
Cafad Scratha glanced down at himself and grimaced ruefully.
“Damn,” he said, pushing straggles of long hair from his face. “Didn't expect that. Well. . . .”
Idisio hastily pulled off his own shirt and tossed it to Cafad. The tall desert lord wrapped it around his waist.
“Did it work?” Idisio said. “Are you bound
?”
Cafad smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I'm bound to Scratha Fortress as rightful lord now. I never knew contact with one of the ha'reye could feel like that. It's always been painful before. That was wonderful.” He seemed to bask in the memory for a moment, then grew serious again. “I can feel the fortress around me. I can hear the sound of everything that happens within these walls. It's incredible. I've always felt a strong connection to this place, but now I feel as if I've been living half-blind all my life.”
Idisio found himself grinning. “That's good.”
Secrets of the Sands Page 42