by Marie Brown
Lorrine. Who are you? What is going on here?"
"Peace, Lorrine. Share with me the name of your mother."
"Malina. What's it matter? Please, won't you tell me what all this strangeness is?"
The Dargasi and his horse moved closer, closer, until Lorrine's horse snorted and shook its head with a jangle of metal bits on the bridle.
"Lorrine, daughter of Malina, I have a tale to tell you. But it is no tale for outside ears. Send this man away."
Lorrine shot a desperate look at Derfek, who shook his head.
"No way, desert man. I stay with my woman."
"What right have you to hear the business of the Dargasi?" His black eyes held a world of disdain. "You are kopeshk, outsider. You have no business here."
"That is where you're wrong, my friend. I am no outsider. I am a Seeker."
"Ha!" The Dargasi let out a derisive laugh. "Seeker, in very deed. So tell me, Seeker, what is the color of my underwear? For all know Seekers have the Sight."
"Purple. Now will you share your news? I grow weary of your games."
The Dargasi blinked, taken aback. "Well. Perhaps there is something to your claim, after all. Fine. You may stay, if my niece allows it."
"Niece?" Lorrine startled, causing her horse to dance sideways. She controlled it awkwardly. "Of course Derfek can stay. What do you mean, calling me niece?"
"I thought the man's name was Ralla?" The Dargasi glared indiscriminately. "You gave your name as Ralla, and occupation of trader, yet you carry no goods for trade."
"Of course not," Derfek said brusquely. "The girl knew not my Seeker name, only the one I use in the outside world. As for goods, why should we have any, when we ride to purchase trade goods from the Dargasi? We carry gold, not products."
"I smell a rat about you, kopeshk. I have changed my mind. I will not speak to you. Go, and leave me to speak to the woman in peace."
Derfek started to protest, but the man put his hand near his dagger.
"Fine. Lorrine, I expect you to negotiate safe passage for both of us. Now get busy."
Lorrine watched as her lover rode away, tugging furiously at his amulet. Then she turned her eyes towards the Dargasi man, enveloped in his desert robes so only his face and hands were visible. The sun pounded on her now, making her wonder if all that fabric truly kept one comfortable in the desert heat. Even out here, on the border between thornscrub and true desert, the heat threatened to knock her clean off her horse. She could scarcely imagine the conditions in the deep desert. Maybe it did help. After all, the veil Derfek insisted she wear here in the borderlands kept the sun from pounding on her head quite as fiercely as it did on her exposed arms. Maybe she should put the thing back on.
"Ride with me," the Dargasi said, and his horse started jogging slowly away.
Lorrine followed, feeling her head seem to unmuddle a bit. Maybe the motion helped counteract the broiling of the sun. "A moment ago, you called me niece, and yet I don't even know your name. Who are you? And more to the point, who am I?"
"With the kopeshk gone, I will tell you. My name is Ranam, son of Hadar, son of Arentin, he who is now Keeper of the Stone. I am brother to Alimansk, who is destined to be Keeper some day, and to Malina. And I am-was-brother to. . . "
Ranam fell silent, unconsciously moving forward so his horse picked up speed. Lorrine urged hers to keep up, although the poor beast didn't want to move faster at all. The heat was as hard on the scruffy mutt horse as on any outsider. Kopeshk.
"Forgive me. This is more difficult than it should be, for you do indeed have the right to know who you are. My oldest brother Mintarre is dead now. He ran mad several annums ago, and died in a crazed attempt to take the life of Arentin. He is now accountable to the gods for his actions, may they damn him thoroughly."
Lorrine waited, while Ranam slowed his horse to a walk. They'd moved well beyond the border now, and she wondered why the lands felt ominous, like the desert watched her and didn't entirely like her.
"Please, do go on," she said eventually.
"Apologies, niece. This is, as I mentioned, a difficult tale, for I have never spoken of it aloud before. What did your mother tell you of your birth?"
Lorrine shrugged. "Nothing, really. She told me I was born in the springtime, and under a waxing moon. That is all. She never even specifically stated that my father actually sired me, but what else was I to think? My father was my father. But that other man back there, the border guard, he seems to think I'm pure Dargasi, not half."
"He has a big mouth," Ranam grumbled. "He thinks this thing because it is true. You were born twenty-four annums ago, correct?"
Startled, Lorrine nodded. "How did you know?"
"Because that is the proper time. Twenty-four annums and some months ago, my sister Malina rode into exile, pregnant and shamed beyond bearing. Our mad brother Mintarre was the man who got his own sister pregnant."
The words didn't make sense to Lorrine at first, they were that outlandish and unexpected. "Wait a moment. Did you just say my mother's brother-your brother-got her pregnant? That's-that's-"
"Unholy. Unclean. Disgusting. The list of descriptive words for the act is long and unpleasant. But whatever you call it, the fact remains the same. My sister Malina was rendered with child by our brother Mintarre. You are that child, Lorrine."
"Holy goddess on the moon. What happened?"
"I am not sure," Ranam said, looking away. "We all suspected something had gone wrong in Mintarre's head by then, but we did not know yet how bent he truly was. Did your mother tell you anything of our culture?"
"Nothing. She would say nothing of the Dargasi at all. I never knew she had family, let alone was related to the ruler of the Dargasi lands."
"That's not exactly. . . never mind. Perhaps you will learn about your heritage, and our culture, if you stay amongst us. But for now, I will tell you that in the evenings, after the day's work is done and the heat has left us until the morning, there is much music and dancing. There are many kinds of dances, but one of the most popular is the Dance of Enticement. Maidens who are of an age to marry perform this dance to show off their lovely young bodies to potential husbands. The men's version of this is more aggressive, filled with leaping and acrobatics, intended to inflame the hearts of young women. But when your mother Malina became eligible to join in the Dance of Enticement, all present made note of the unhealthy light of lust in Mintarre's eyes when he looked upon his sister. Again and again, he watched her dance, and then Malina changed. She became distant, withdrawn. She would no longer dance. She cried out in pain if touched. But no one suspected the truth until her body began to swell with pregnancy. You must understand, Lorrine, in Dargasi culture it is unheard of for a woman to conceive out of wedlock. It just does not happen. Our women are chaste, and faithful. So when the people saw my unwed sister growing thick about the middle, scandal rocked Karr'at."
"Malina's Shame, that guard called me."
"Indeed. People saw the pregnancy as shameful, something she'd brought on herself. I, however, I was there the day my sister faced Arentin in the Chamber of the Stone and denounced our brother Mintarre as an incestuous rapist. I watched as the old man, not so old back then, listened to my sister tell a tale of horror such as we'd never heard spoken aloud, then summoned Mintarre to the Chamber. When our brother arrived, I have never seen such a look of fear and loathing as Malina directed upon him, but he only smiled at her and caressed her hair. Even now the memory turns my stomach. Then Arentin confronted him with Malina's accusation and he smiled. Yes, he said, this is true. Is it not a wonderful thing that he would have a son of the purest royal lineage?"
Ranam paused again, this time struggling to contain old emotions. Lorrine's stomach writhed and twisted. She felt dirty, unclean inside and out, hearing the true tale of her own parentage. She'd really like to deny everything and run right back to Derfek, but how could she? Anyone with eyes could see quite easily that Ranam resembled her very closely, hawknose and all.
"I wil
l not repeat all of the troubles that followed. I will tell you, however, that Arentin made a judgment based on his need to keep the succession intact. He declared your mother exile, and struck her name from the family rolls, and commanded Mintarre to never speak of her or the unborn child again. Malina rode off within the hour, cursing and weeping, saying until the very end that Mintarre should be the one punished.
"And so he was, eventually. As the annums wore on, people forgot Malina's Shame, but they were reminded daily of the madness of Mintarre. Until, of course, the day when the mad, bent fool attacked the Keeper himself, and died."
"Well." Lorrine shuddered. "That's. . . Well, it's an all-around horrible story. I wish I'd never heard it. I wish I'd never learned the truth of my birth, and gone on thinking myself a half-blood. Although now I know why mother would whack me every time I asked about the Dargasi, and why she always seemed a touch not right in the head."
"That is. . . an unfortunate thing to hear. The experience changed Malina beyond recognition. What has become of her now?"
"I don't know," Lorrine confessed. "I. . . I had some differences of opinion with my mother, and I left her behind annums ago. The last I saw, she was still with my father, and they had settled in the Lake District of Ashland. They had a cottage on the shore of one of the lakes and no intention of ever leaving. My guess is that they are still there."
"What a strange location