Lioness Rampant (Song of the Lioness)

by Tamora Pierce

  Coram looked at her. “Don’t start sayin’ maybe ye should bring me home to Rispah. We’ve somethin’ to do before we head back.” He touched her shoulder. “I’ve been raisin’ ye. I’ve no complaints of my life.”

  Buri showed Alanna how to feed the infant from a waterskin filled with goat’s milk. When that was done, Alanna picked up the child as she’d seen Liam do, patting him on the back. Now she had the knack of handling a baby!

  She was shocked by the infant’s burp, unpleasantly surprised when dampness spread over her back. Seeing her face, Buri laughed until she cried. Liam gave Alanna a wet cloth, fighting to keep his face straight. “Put down a clean rag first,” he explained. “They spit up when they’re burped—and they fuss when they aren’t.” Alanna went to change, red with embarrassment.

  When she returned, all the children slept on blankets in the shade. Even Buri dozed, one arm over the baby. Liam, Thayet, and Coram waited by the stream, out of earshot.

  “They need rest,” Liam told her when she joined them. “They won’t make it to sundown, otherwise. We’re used to the road—they aren’t.”

  “Thayet tells me they’ve no supplies,” said Coram. “Even the food we brought won’t last.”

  “We tried to forage.” The princess cooled her feet in the stream. “The farms in these valleys were rich, and there was game—but not anymore. The land’s picked clean. We ran out of food last night, and Buri and the older girls have been stinting themselves for days. They can’t keep that up.”

  I bet they aren’t the only ones who’ve gone short of food, Alanna thought, watching Thayet’s too-thin face. We have to do something, soon. But how, if we can’t live off the country?

  “We have t’find humans, then.” Coram was matter-of-fact. “If the land’s picked over, let’s find the pickers and clean them out.”

  Alanna gave Moonlight’s reins to Thayet for the afternoon. Sliding a quiver over her shoulder, she took her longbow and ranged up and down the road, watching for game. She bagged two squirrels, which told her more than Thayet’s words how bad off Sarain was. At this time of year game should have tumbled into her lap.

  Buri came to join her, with no better luck. After an hour’s hunting, Alanna asked something that had been on her mind. “Why is Thayet roaming the mountains? Why isn’t she with her father?”

  “It’s because of Kalasin,” Buri said after a moment’s consideration.

  “Her mother?”

  Buri nodded. “The most beautiful woman in the world. She was … amazing.” Her black eyes were sad. “Kalasin asked the Warlord to deal fairly with the K’mir, because we’re her people. Lowlanders take us for slaves; they steal our horses—” The dark girl stopped until her anger was under control. “Jin Wilima hates us—he’s a lowlander completely. So he signed laws forbidding us to meet in groups of more than five people at a time. There’s more than thirty in the Hau Ma clan, and they’re our smallest! How can we honor the dead or a marriage or a birth if the clan is forbidden to meet?”

  “Go on,” urged the knight when Buri stopped.

  “I’m sorry. What Kalasin did was a great thing, but it hurts to remember. She and Thayet tried to make the Warlord stop. They even pleaded—a K’mir never begs! But he signed the law.

  “Kalasin knew what she had to do then. She sent Thayet to the convent, far away. My mother and my brother, who served Kalasin, kept the guards from breaking into her tower room. Kalasin stood at her window and sang her death chant, about her shame at jin Wilima’s laws. A crowd was there to witness: nobles, commonborn, and slaves. My mother and brother were killed, but they held the door until it was too late for the Warlord’s men to stop her from jumping. Mother and Pathom are buried at Kalasin’s right and left hands. The Warlord will lie in his tomb alone.”

  “I’m sorry,” Alanna said quietly.

  Buri shook her head. “They had the best deaths any K’mir could have. My people did what was right, and so did Kalasin.”

  “But they’re gone,” Alanna pointed out, disturbed. “Being dead doesn’t help anybody.”

  “That depends on the kind of death.” Liam had drawn even with them. “If your death’s wasted, that’s one thing. By her example, Kalasin woke up a lot of folk who thought it was all right to abuse the K’mir. Buri’s mother and her brother made it possible for Kalasin to tell why she killed herself.”

  “Dead is dead,” Alanna snapped. “You can’t do anything from a grave, Liam!”

  The Dragon and K’mir exchanged looks that clearly said Alanna didn’t know what she was talking about. Disturbed by their agreement, knowing she would rather change things while she was alive, Alanna moved ahead.

  * * *

  When Coram found signs that bandits had been in the area recently, Liam decreed it was time to stop for the night. Faithful found abandoned caves above a stream, where Thayet briskly set up camp. The children gathered firewood as Buri and Coram went fishing; Liam cooked. Once again Alanna got baby duty—diapering, feeding, and burping—this time with no mishaps.

  Taking her bowl of thin stew outside, Alanna took a seat on a large rock. Homesickness had caught up with her that afternoon. She wanted to see familiar faces and scenes: She missed George, in spite of sharing a bedroll with Liam—or perhaps because of that. Since the night before, Liam had been careful and deadly serious, concentrating on keeping their company safe until they arrived in Rachia. She respected him but felt shut out all the same.

  She missed George and his sense of humor. If he were here, she thought, he’d be in the middle of things, burping babies, hauling the boys off to wash, stealing Sarain blind for our supper. She blinked away unexpected tears. On the road she had no George to make her laugh, no Jon to say “Of course you can do it,” no Myles to explain the history of Sarain. She hoped the Dominion Jewel would be worth the trip.

  Faithful, who’d vanished when they found the caves, patted her foot. His coat was thick with dust and burrs. Bandits, he panted, a large camp of them, east of here.

  Thayet, who protested, stayed with the children. The two men, Alanna, and Buri formed the attack party, moving quietly through the woods led by Faithful. They marched for half an hour before they came to a canyon. Down there, Faithful told Alanna. Fifty of them and their women. The four crept to the canyon’s lip, where they could see the camp below. Alanna beckoned the others to draw back while they talked.

  “Faithful says there’s about fifty people down there,” she whispered. “We can’t take on those odds.”

  “I’m not a good enough thief to get in there and take what we need,” Liam told her. Buri and Coram nodded their agreement.

  “I’ll have to use magic.” Alanna met Liam’s eyes. She couldn’t tell their color in the dark, but when she put her hand on his arm she found he was rigid with tension. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it. Can you think of something better?”

  “Magic’s dishonorable,” Buri muttered. “It’s—cheating.”

  Alanna and Coram exchanged looks. “Do ye prefer ten-to-one odds?” Coram asked. “I don’t. We’ve got some brave younglings and yer princess who depend on us t’come back.”

  “I don’t like this,” protested the K’mir. “It’s too confusing. I suppose you have a point. I can’t exactly challenge all of them to single combat.”

  “What do ye have in mind?” Coram asked his knight-mistress.

  Thinking, Alanna said, “I don’t know. A net, maybe, to tie them down while you take what we need.” Coram frowned, troubled. He knew she’d never done anything so big and real. He said nothing, for which she was grateful.

  “Do your magic, then.” Liam’s voice was hoarse. “If you feel like it when you’re done, maybe you can lend a hand with the real work.” He returned to the canyon’s edge.

  “That isn’t fair,” Buri protested softly, but the Dragon was out of earshot. “What he said isn’t fair,” she told Coram and Alanna.

  “That’s all right—I understand,” Alanna told her. “Yo
u two had better get close to the camp. Don’t worry about what I’m doing. It won’t affect you.” She watched them slip over the canyon’s edge.

  You used to feel like Liam, Faithful commented as he and Alanna went to the edge of the canyon. Magic and fighting don’t mix, and a fighter who uses magic is cheating.

  “I’m older now,” whispered Alanna.

  She heard Liam’s feral battle cry, and the sounds of fighting. A sentry had seen the Dragon. Alanna had no more time to think. Reaching for the first image in her mind, Alanna saw the Dominion Jewel. Even a vision of it was a catalyst: Alanna’s Gift rushed into and through it, swirling out over the bandit camp as a shimmering violet net. She maneuvered it into place, making sure each tent and bedroll was covered. It was hard to concentrate as elation filled her. Did Thom feel this powerful when he performed one of his great magics? No wonder he’d given up a normal life to become a sorcerer!

  The net solidified. Coram, Buri, and Liam were unable to see it; they could only sense it. Alanna extended her magic until she could see what was happening below. Buri and Liam looted the bandits’ supply tent to fill packs with food and goods. Coram met them, leading four horses. The others he’d turned loose, making it impossible for the bandits to follow them.

  Now Alanna strained, trying to free herself from the spell while leaving it in place. She couldn’t even banish the Jewel’s image. It burned in her mind like a beacon, keeping her inner eyes riveted to it. Already she felt the peculiar sinking that meant she had gone too far.

  Cut it loose! Faithful yowled in her ear. Cut it loose, or you’ll pour your life into it! She couldn’t hear him through the focus the Jewel-image demanded.

  Pain broke Alanna’s concentration as Faithful wrapped himself around her arm, his claws and teeth ripping into her skin. Now she could free herself of the Jewel’s hold. Peeling the cat off, she lurched to her feet. The net itself would hold another half hour or so, time for them to get away. “Thanks,” she told Faithful in a gasp.

  When the others came for her with one of the spare horses, they saw she was unable to ride. Coram looked at Liam, but the Dragon’s expression made it clear he would rather not be near Alanna just then. Coram pulled her up behind him onto the saddle.

  Alanna took two days to recover, sleeping to restore her strength. By the time she was on her feet, Liam had gotten over his anger with her enough to give a dawn lesson. That same day the small company took to the road once again, the teenagers each riding a horse, with a smaller child behind. Coram had the third ten-year-old, and Thayet rode with the baby in his sling on her chest. Buri rode the shaggy pony Coram had taken from the bandits.

  Using the less-traveled paths, they moved quickly through the desolate highlands. They passed burned-out farms and cabins—all abandoned, their owners dead or run away. Almost every building had its own ugly reminder of the war in the shape of unburied bodies or skeletons. They saw and heard no evidence of human life, although the warriors all sensed watching eyes. Whoever spied on them stayed within the shelter of the trees, too frightened or too wary to approach.

  These sights gave Alanna nightmares, dreams in which the bodies were Tortallan and the burned-out homes belonged to her friends. Liam soon found a way to deal with dreams: He gave an extra lesson in hand-to-hand combat after they stopped for the night. Between the new lessons, the regular ones at daybreak, and her turn on watch, Alanna soon was far too tired to dream.

  Rachia was a bustling trade city, her streets packed with things to see. Even the many soldiers present couldn’t put a damper on people’s spirits. The children wriggled in their saddles, trying to look at everything. Buri stuck to Thayet, scowling at anyone who came too near. Alanna found it difficult to breathe and was dismayed to think she was more used to desert and woodlands than to crowded cities. How would she feel when she returned to Corus?

  They had crossed the marketplace when some instinct warned her—she looked up to see an archer on a nearby rooftop. Alanna yelled, “Thayet!”

  Liam was afoot, leading his Drifter. Hearing Alanna, he dragged Thayet and the baby from their saddle as an arrow sliced past their heads. A second arrow followed; Liam grabbed it from the air.

  Buri dismounted, dark with rage, and ran into the building where the archer stood. Dismounting, Alanna saw that the building supported a sturdy flower trellis reaching from ground to roof. She tested it and started to climb, trying not to think about rotten wood or loose anchorings. “Coram! Get them to the convent!” she yelled as twigs showered onto her face. She didn’t look, but she heard Liam and Coram bellow orders.

  She vaulted over the roof’s edge, keeping low. The assassin—swathed in headcloth and scarf—shot at her, then leaped to the next building. Alanna dodged, unsheathed her sword, and pursued. Behind her she heard a rooftop door crash open, and another pair of running feet. Wary, she glanced back to find Buri catching up. The K’mir was a faster runner than Alanna. She drew even within seconds, with her dagger in her hand. “Don’t kill him!” Alanna panted. “We need to know who pays him!” Buri nodded.

  They raced from roof to roof, Buri and Alanna closing the gap. The assassin’s breath came harder; his steps faltered. The next roof was a story lower than the ones they ran on—the assassin jumped and landed awkwardly. Rising, he stumbled on.

  Buri jumped and fell, her left leg twisting under her, but she ran on, sweat pouring down her face. Alanna jumped and rolled, as Liam and her wrestling teachers had instructed her; she got to her feet without any hurt. Buri shook her head when Alanna hesitated. “Don’t wait for me,” she hissed. “Get him!”

  Alanna raced on. Finally their quarry was forced to halt—he’d run out of roofs.

  Alanna stopped, afraid to scare him. “Talk to me!” she called. “I just want to know why—”

  He jumped. When Alanna came to the roof’s edge, he lay in an alley below, sprawled and broken. Cursing, she returned for Buri. Ignoring the stares of the building’s inhabitants, she and the hobbling K’mir went down to the street and into the alley. No one else had noticed the assassin’s fall, Alanna was relieved to note. She didn’t want a street urchin or his older counterpart stealing the dead man’s belongings before she and Buri got the chance to examine them.

  Buri knelt beside the body, turning out his empty pockets. “He could be anybody.” She kept her voice low as she lifted the assassin’s headcloth. The face, sickeningly misshapen after the fall, was male and coarse, the cheeks filled with a drunkard’s broken veins. “Tavern scum,” she said flatly. “You can buy a killer like this for one gold piece. He probably drank his money already.” She covered the dead man once more. “Someone wants Thayet dead.”

  Alanna nodded. “She has enemies.”

  “Her father has enemies,” Buri snapped, standing shakily.

  “Does it matter whose enemies they are? They want Thayet.”

  You can discuss this at the convent, Faithful told them from the alley’s mouth. You’re needed there, too. Now.

  * * *

  When she and Buri entered the convent visitors’ court, Alanna smelled trouble. Their company should have been placed in a temple guest house immediately. That was the Daughters’ policy everywhere in the Eastern Lands. Yet their party was here, outside the convent proper, watched by a Daughter Doorwarden. No other priestesses—a temple this size housed at least two hundred—were to be seen. Thayet was puzzled; the children were nervous.

  “What’s going on?” Alanna asked Liam quietly.

  “I don’t know.” His eyes were blue-gray, revealing nothing. “Some Daughters came out, gabbled like geese, and vanished. The Doorwarden says we wait. I want Thayet out of sight.”

  Buri scowled. “Is this the honor given a princess? I should teach these lowland hens some manners.”

  “Save your anger for Thayet’s enemies,” Liam advised. “You’ll serve her best if you’re careful.”

  “Hens,” Buri muttered rebelliously.

  Like Buri and the Dragon, Alanna wa
nted Thayet in a safe place, not this open courtyard. She went to the Doorwarden. “Please bear a message to the First Daughter of this House.”

  The Daughter nodded. Coldly the knight said, “I am Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, Knight of the Realm of Tortall, a shaman and rider of the Bloody Hawk Tribe of the Bazhir. Why are we kept outside the curtain wall? Why have we no explanation for this lack of courtesy? The children are tired and hungry, we are tired and dirty, and Princess Thayet is being shot at. The Daughters of the Mother of Waters owe a duty to travelers as servants of She Who Rules Us All. Why have you not performed that duty? I will be forced to report such a lapse to the Goddess-on-Earth in the City of the Gods.” Her violet eyes dangerous, Alanna nodded. “Please deliver my message.”

  The Daughter bowed and hurried away.

  In minutes they were shown to a guest house well inside the thick convent wall. Servants came to look after the young members of their group as the Doorwarden took the adults and Buri to a meeting with the leader of the Mother of Waters. Passing through a long courtyard, they entered a room where two Daughters sat at a long table. One was dressed in the black habit of the Hag, the Goddess as Queen-of-the-Underworld; the other wore the cloth-of-gold habit that marked her as First Daughter of a wealthy convent.

  “I am First Daughter jian Cadao,” she said when everyone was made comfortable. She avoided looking at Thayet. “Princess—Lady Thayet, we were … unprepared for your arrival. We want to extend every courtesy …” She stopped, looking flustered.

  “There are problems.” The woman in black was young, but she spoke with authority. “More than we could have foreseen.” Buri stirred, thinking the Daughter was being rude to Thayet. The Hag-Daughter nodded to her. “Forgive my bluntness—I never learned to soften my words. Princess, your father—the Warlord—is dead. May the Black God ease his passing.”