Minutes passed and still the scene remained. Poco drew a shaky breath.
She was mesmerized by the living world within Taav’s eyes. The scene, once so familiar, reinforced her belief that what she was seeing was real, both to her and in some way to Taav. But why didn’t the scene fade as it always did? Was Taav responsible? Was he doing something to hold the door to elsewhere open?
She felt her flesh crawl as the word door echoed and reechoed through her mind. Dhal had called the world gates doors through time and space—was it possible that Taav could be of some help in finding such a door?
Fool! Poco swore silently. You are letting your thoughts run wild! Taav is in no mental state to do anything but absorb your stupid songs and blank out whatever little mind he has left! Snap him out of it before he is hurt!
“Taav!” Poco tapped the side of his face lightly, then harder when he failed to respond. “Taav, do you hear me? Come on, wake up! Come back to me!”
Poco’s third slap stung her fingers. Taav blinked rapidly, his eyes watering from the blow. For a moment there was a spark of awareness shining back at her, then his eyes closed and he slumped in her arms.
Not long after that, Dhal, Gi, and Screech returned, giving Poco the all-clear signal. Screech climbed up the tree and carried Taav back down. Poco stretched cramped muscles and followed, her mind still busy with thoughts of Taav and his reaction to her singing.
Poco gave Dhal a quick hug when she reached the ground, glad to see that he had come to no harm. “It looks like you went through some heavy underbrush,” she said.
Dhal nodded and continued to pull small stickburrs from his pants. “It was quite a run, something I would not want to do every day. Screech and Gi helped distract one while I lost the other two farther downtrail. It took us a little while to find each other.”
Dhal looked down at Taav, who lay at Ssaal-lr’s feet. “What is wrong with him?” he asked Poco.
“Do we have time to sit and talk?” Poco asked.
Dhal frowned. “Something is wrong.”
“Yes,” she answered.
Dhal turned to Screech and saw him nod; they would be safe there for a little while. Dhal took Poco’s hand. “Sit down and tell me what happened.”
Poco sat next to Taav, unsure of where she should begin. She rubbed at the frown lines on her forehead and tried to gather her thoughts. “You are not going to believe what I have to tell you,” she warned.
A small, furred hand touched her arm. Gi stood at her right shoulder, his head cocked to one side. “Tell us,” he lisped. “We believe.”
Poco smiled and drew the olvaar close. “You, I love,” she said, rubbing her cheek on the top of his head.
Gi thrummed laughter and contentment. “Gi making Poco happy, Dhal,” he said.
Dhal smiled at the olvaar, knowing full well how Gi affected everyone. Then he reached out and drew Gi from Poco’s embrace. “Enough with happiness for a little while, Gi. Let’s hear what Poco has to tell us, all right?”
Ssaal-lr knelt behind Poco as she started to tell them about Taav’s reaction to her singing. The derkat’s strong fingers moved over her back and shoulders, massaging and easing her tired muscles.
Words came more easily as Poco relaxed to a familiar touch.
Poco looked down at the red bruise on Taav’s cheek. “I had to slap him to wake him up,” she finished ruefully. “After he passed out, I just held him until you came.”
Screech was the first to offer an opinion. “Your songs live for you and for the Healer. Not for me or Little Fur. Now they live for the atich-ar. Your songs are a form of Ni bonding, yes?”
“Yes,” Dhal agreed. “I begin to think so. Whatever Poco’s special talent is, it only seems to affect those of Ni blood.”
“That I can accept,” Poco said. “But why was it different this time? Why did the scene hold so long? It has never lasted more than a few seconds before.”
“It has to have something to do with Taav, or his state of mind, I think,” Dhal responded.
“Or lack of it,” Poco added, looking down at the unconscious atich-ar. “Dhal, do you think he will ever be any better than he is now?”
Dhal smoothed the hair from Taav’s forehead. “I don’t know. I could try to go back inside again, to see if there is something I missed.”
“That would be dangerous right now if Jesh is behind us.”
“I agree.”
A few minutes passed as each of the four was caught up in his or her own thoughts. Finally Poco spoke.
“Dhal have you decided which way we are going?”
They had talked about their options every night since leaving Port Sulta, but had not yet made a firm decision. Their goal was the Owri River deep in the Chen-garry Mountains. According to all Dhal had learned from talking to traders in Port Sulta, the Owri had once been used as a route in reaching Jjaan-bi. They had two choices. In order to reach the Chen-garry Mountains they could go straight north across the High Plains where radgs of derkat roamed freely, or they could go east to the Reaches, a natural flood plain where vast food crops were grown for trade in Annaroth; but the men of the Reaches were closely tied to the Sarissa Empire and therefore might look upon Dhal as an enemy. If they did chance the western route, it would take them a month longer to reach the Owri.
Dhal was set on a route straight north, which meant that their last stop for supplies would be the small trade town of Bannoc, deep in the Semco Hills. The only problem with Bannoc was that Ssaal-lr would be in danger there, for it was a trade center built and governed by men who dealt in the procurement of animal pelts. Some of the pelts brought more than a man’s weight in spices, a rare commodity in Letsia and derkat pelts were among the most precious.
The derkat were native to Lach and considered by most men to be little more than gensvolf, animals to be hunted and put in cages. The only time men would lower themselves to trade with the derkat was when the furred ones had something men wanted, such as draak hides or amber nodules.
Poco knew that if they went into the Semco Hills it would be extremely unwise for Screech to enter Bannoc without a full radg to protect him. Those derkat who were taken by trappers were usually loners or the very young, caught straying from their radgs during the yearly trek across the plains. The bronze-skinned Utura trappers were responsible for Ssaal-lr’s abduction to Port Bhalvar years before.
Poco looked at Ssaal-lr. Knowing the depth of thought that could go on behind his still, yellow eyes, she could not help but wonder if men would ever waken to the realization that they were not the sole possessors of intelligence on Lach, that mind could not always be judged by form or lifestyle.
Poco watched Dhal stand and move away, his eyes turned to the trail north. “Bannoc?” she asked.
Screech growled; his eyes narrowed with distaste. He was not afraid of returning to his home territory, but he wanted nothing to do with the men of Bannoc.
Poco realized that if Dhal said yes, they likely would lose Screech; if not to Utura trappers, then to his own people. Returning to his clan if the opportunity presented itself would only be natural. The thought of separation brought a lump to her throat.
Dhal turned and nodded. “Bannoc. Who knows, maybe the Utura will know something more about Jjaan-bi.”
“I hate the thought of crossing the plains. I wish we could just turn around and go south again, maybe down-coast toward Port Cestar.”
Dhal looked at Poco. “Port Cestar belongs to the Sarissa in all but name, Poco. We would be right back where we started.”
“What about Amla-Bagor or even beyond. It’s a big world. The Sarissa don’t own it all!”
“No, but they do own enough of it to keep us jumping.” Dhal squatted next to her. “You are afraid,” he said. “Of what? Of getting lost on the plains?”
“No. I am not afraid of getting lost.”
“What then?” he pressed.
Poco hesitated, then answered. “I am afraid of finding what we search for.”
“Jjaan-bi?” he asked, disbelief plain in his look.
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. If we find Jjaan-bi, we find the Ni-lach, and maybe the Tamorlee.”
“What if Jjaan-bi is deserted, like Val-hrodhur? What then? Where do we go from there?” she asked.
Dhal hesitated. “I don’t know, Poco. I guess that I have just been hoping that it won’t be deserted.”
Poco realized that Dhal had had his mind made up for some time. Was there any chance at all to dissuade him? she wondered.
“Dhal, when we found Val-hrodhur, we lost Haradan. Who will it be this time? Screech? You? Me?”
“Poco you are not making any sense. No one need die this time. If Jjaan-bi is deserted, there is no danger, and if it is not, the Ni we find there will see us as friends.”
“How can you be so sure, Dhal?”
He pulled her close. “I am not. There is no way of knowing what we will find in Jjaan-bi, but not knowing should not keep us from looking. I think—I know Haradan would want us to go on.”
He released her and pushed her to arm’s length. “You do still want to find the Ni-lach and the Tamorlee don’t you?”
Poco finally gave a reluctant nod. “Yes, I guess so, but I want your promise that you will go slowly if and when we do find your people.”
“Look who is cautioning who, will you? Who was it who slipped off on her own to rescue Screech and got herself caught?” Dhal laughed and pulled her close again, kissing her soundly.
Poco struggled for a moment, then returned his kiss.
Dhal stood and gave her a hand up. “Will that bolster your courage for a little while?” he asked, smiling.
An answering smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I did not know Healers were capable of granting courage.”
“Only to very special patients,” he replied.
Chapter 7
THEY TOOK EIGHT DAYS TO REACH BANNOC, WHERE THEY intended to purchase supplies and mounts for the trek across the High Plains. Taav’s inability to keep to a steady march slowed them down considerably. Although he seemed to have recovered from the trance touched off by Poco’s singing, he tired easily and there were times when he seemed to walk in a daze; he would come to a standstill and move only if someone pulled him along. And still he did not try to communicate.
Leaving Screech, Gi, and Taav hidden in a narrow, tree-shaded valley a half-day’s march from Bannoc, Poco and Dhal continued on alone.
“Have you ever ridden a bomal, Dhal?” Poco asked as they walked up the roadway.
The Utura trappers had domesticated one of the larger variety of bomal, a fleet-footed, four-legged animal that stood shoulder high to a man, its slender neck raising its head an arm’s length taller. The trappers used the bomal’s strength to travel over great distances and to outmaneuver draak, gensvolf, and derkat.
“No,” Dhal answered. “The bomal in the marshlands are small and shy and seldom seen, even by wilders. I have heard about the greater bomal, but have never seen one.”
“I have seen two, and they were beautiful. They have big, sad eyes and long curled horns. I admit, though, that I am a little nervous about riding one.”
“Before you worry about that, let’s worry about getting the money to buy them. Verg’s money is almost gone.”
The road widened as it neared Bannoc. To either side lay small, freshly turned fields, surrounded by thick, briar-twined fences. The town was situated on a ridge of a hill. The stockade that encircled the town was built to withstand the attack of even the largest of land draak.
When they reached the main south gate, Poco and Dhal were stopped and asked what business had brought them to Bannoc. Dhal was careful to keep his eyes shadowed by his hood as he explained their need to purchase several bomal to use as pack animals.
“I am a wilder by profession,” he told the two gate guards. “My mate and I tire of carrying everything on our backs. Herbs and spices can get heavy when one has to travel long distances.”
“Do you have a trade route?” one of the men asked.
“No,” Dhai answered. “Not yet.”
“We could use a good wilder here,” the man said. “All of our medicines have to come from Port Sulta. You might do well to set up a route between here and the Reaches. You would not have much competition.”
“No competition,” the other man said, smiling. “But lots of draak.” A burly fellow, he seemed more interested in looking at Poco than in hearing what Dhal had to say. “But you both look like you would be fast on your feet,” he added. “You especially, blue eyes.”
Poco smiled and nodded. “I have outrun a few draak, but I find climbing a tree much easier.”
“I’m sure you are good at it,” the first man said.
“She looks like she would be good at everything,” the second man added.
Before things could go any further, Dhal politely reminded the men he was there. “If you have no more questions for us, may we pass?”
“Sure,” the first man said. “Welcome aboard. Good luck to you in your buying.”
Dhal turned to look at Poco as they started toward the center of the town. “They liked you.”
“So I noticed,” she responded, smiling.
“Sometimes I wish you were not so beautiful.”
Poco looked down at herself. Her shirt was torn in several places; her pants were dusty and grass-stained; and her boots were definitely the worse for wear.
“You are beautiful, Poco,” Dhal said. “No matter what you wear. I know it and those men back there know it. I just hope it doesn’t get us into trouble here.”
Poco nodded. “I’ll be careful. I promise. No flirting back.” She smiled. “No matter how tall and handsome he may be.”
Bannoc was not large. The collection of buildings situated at the very top of the hill boasted of only four main streets and was bare of trees except for those that sheltered the large bomal enclosure at the north end of town.
“Shall we go and look at the bomal first?” Poco asked.
Dhal was watching five men who sat on a porch on the right-hand side of the street. “Yes, it might be a good idea.”
Poco was also aware of the men watching them. “We are strangers, Dhal. They are only curious. They probably don’t get many visitors here.”
“I hope that is all it is,” he murmured.
Suddenly Poco was chilled by an unpleasant thought. “Dhal, do you think Jesh’s men are still after us?”
“I don’t know, Poco. Still, it would be wise to assume the worst and keep our eyes open.”
“Yes,” Poco agreed, “and start thinking about ways to earn some money.”
“We still have a few pieces of Ni jewelry left, but I would rather not do any more trading unless we have to. One band of thieves following us is enough.”
Poco nodded, her thoughts already turning from Jesh’s men to the money they needed for supplies. “I lost my pouch of chalks at Verg’s place, so chalking is out. Even if I had them, there is no place to do any sketching, unless I used one of the porches we passed.”
“Would anyone pay just to hear you sing?”
Poco knew better than to take Dhal’s question as an insult. “Back in Port Sulta I would say yes; but here I am not so sure. I could try.”
They walked on in silence, passing the last of the wooden buildings on the street and approaching the bomal enclosure.
Dhal adjusted his backpack, easing tired muscles. “I have an idea.”
Poco looked at him. “What?”
He met her glance, then hesitated and looked away, shaking his head. “No, I guess not.”
“What? What were you thinking about?”
“Never mind.”
“Come on, Dhal. If you have thought of something, tell me.”
“I could heal,” he said, not looking at her.
Poco slowed her pace, then stopped. Dhal walked a step or two beyond her. When he turned to face her,
Poco just stared at him, shocked and surprised by the inner conflict she felt. Was it wrong for him to profit by such a gift? Was it really any different for him than it was for her? She had used her gift for song to provide a living for many years; but his gift for healing was so very special that to put a price on it would be like putting a price on a miracle. And though the Letsians had never treated the Ni-lach as had the Sarissa, neither had they offered them sanctuary—there was no telling how they might treat Dhal should they learn of his bloodlines.
Poco closed the distance between them. “Dhal,” she said, carefully judging her words. “I think I would rather trade every piece of Ni jewelry we own than to have you sell your power to heal. I know what healing means to you, how you become linked with everyone you touch. You cannot sell something like that. Not you! And I think it best to keep your secret to ourselves, even here.”
Dhal took a deep breath and nodded, relief plain in his voice. “It was just a thought.”
Poco slipped her arms about his waist and pulled him close. “Come on, let’s go look at the bomal.”
Down at the bomal enclosure, Dhal pointed out several bomal that he thought might make good mounts. Suddenly Poco became aware of a man standing behind them. She had not heard him approach.
“Like what you see?” he asked as she turned to face him.
“They are beautiful,” she answered. “Are they as fast as they look?”
“Faster.” The man smiled and stepped closer, then Dhal turned and the man’s eyes widened.
Too late, Dhal pulled his hood forward, shielding his eyes.
The man hesitated, then spoke. “Are you two interested in buying?”
“Perhaps,” Poco answered. “It depends upon the price.”
“You are strangers in Bannoc.” When neither replied, the man continued. “We don’t get many strangers here. Those who come usually have a pretty good reason.” The man looked at Dhal. “You are Ni, aren’t you?”
Dhal hesitated, then nodded.
“Running?”
Shadow Singer Page 6