by Robin Hobb
Olikea looked rebellious. Likari wriggled in an agony of indecision, torn between curiosity and obedience. “Shall I leave you here, at her mercy?” Olikea began in protest, but Soldier’s Boy broke in on her words with, “Go. Just go now, or she’ll kill me. I can manage this situation better if you are not here, Olikea. Go down to the stream. Wait for me there.”
“Oh, you look so much in control of the situation!” Olikea snarled. She glared at Epiny and kept the obsidian blade at the ready as she backed away. “Someday, Jhernian woman. Someday it will be just you and me.” Then she turned angrily on Likari. “Why are you still standing there? He told us to go wait by the stream. And that is what we must do.”
“He told her to go away, and she and the boy are leaving,” I hastily interpreted before Epiny could look at me. I wanted her to keep her wary gaze on Olikea. “But she threatened that someday she’d get back at you.”
“That’s fine,” Epiny said almost absently. There was strain in her voice. She kept her gaze fixed on Olikea and Likari, watching them until they were out of sight. Crouching over me, pressing the knife to my throat, was uncomfortable for her. Her pregnant belly got in her way. I could see that it was hard for her to remain still, the hatchet blade pressed lightly to my throat, and all her weight on her bent knees.
“And now what?” Lisana asked in a low voice. “What will you do now? Do you think this is over? That Soldier’s Boy will let you just walk away after you have threatened the forest?”
Epiny blew the hair away from her eyes and then looked up at Lisana. “And do you think it’s a good idea to ask me that question while I’m in this position? The simplest way for me to resolve it would be to cut his throat and go my way. By the time they realize he’s not coming, I’ll be long gone.”
“Do you think the forest would allow you to escape that easily?” Lisana countered.
Epiny sighed. “No. I don’t think the forest or the magic will allow any of us to escape. It wants the impossible. It wants to reverse the flow of the years; it wants to go back to when Gernians came here only to trade for furs and then to leave. It won’t happen. It can’t happen. And as long as the magic demands that, there will never be a resolution. Not for any of us.”
I looked from Epiny’s bowed head to the sweat drops rolling slowly down my own face and then up at Lisana. Epiny was right. As the thought came to me, I felt as if my existence wavered. The magic was weakening. Lisana was weary and there was little magic left in my own body for me to draw on.
“Epiny! I’m fading. I’m sorry. I did what I thought was wise, but it helped no one. Not even me. Farewell. I loved all of you the best that I could. Get away if you can. Get all of you away.”
Suddenly I was in my body, looking up at Epiny. I think she saw me in Soldier’s Boy’s eyes, because she said softly, “You stopped him from killing me. Remember that you could do that. Believe you’ll eventually find that strength again, that you’ll master him again. Until then, I’m sorry, Nevare. I’m sure you’d do the same thing in my place. And you know, you really deserve this.”
She lifted the hatchet from my throat, but before I could stir, she reversed her grip on it. The blunt end of it hit me squarely between the eyes, and I knew nothing more.
CHAPTER EIGHT
QUICK-WALK
When I became aware again, Epiny was gone. I didn’t immediately realize that. With Soldier’s Boy, I felt woozy and disoriented and unable to focus my eyes. My gut heaved with nausea. Being struck on the head hard enough to cause unconsciousness is never a joke, and my body had endured two such assaults in rapid succession. I could barely breathe past the thickness in my mouth, and I could not stir my limbs. I felt Soldier’s Boy’s frustration as he used yet more of his rapidly dwindling magic to speed the body’s healing. Even so, we lay motionless and queasy for a good hour before he felt well enough to sit up.
That was when he discovered that Epiny had taken a few precautions before she left. The leather strap of her bag was tied securely in my mouth as a gag, and strips torn from the draggled hem of her dress were knotted about my wrists and ankles. Soldier’s Boy rolled onto his side and began working against his bonds. Tree Woman spoke to me as he did so.
“Your cousin is more resourceful than I thought. Truly, she would have made a better servant to the magic.”
Little as I wanted to serve the magic, the comparison still stung. “Maybe if my self hadn’t been divided, I would have been a better tool for the magic. Or a better soldier.”
“That’s likely,” she admitted easily. Soldier’s Boy didn’t hear her. He wasn’t looking at her tree stump, so I couldn’t see her. But I could imagine her gentle, rueful smile. I hated what she had done to me. I hated how the magic had twisted my life away from my boyish dreams of a glorious career of a cavalla officer, of a gentle well-bred wife and a home of my own. I’d forfeited it all when I’d battled Lisana and lost. She had been the engineer of my downfall. Yet I still felt tenderness toward Lisana, my Tree Woman. It was no longer based entirely on Soldier’s Boy’s love for her. I sensed in her a kindred spirit, someone who had come unwilling to the magic’s service but, like me, saw a need for it.
“So. What will happen now?”
She sighed, light as wind in the leaves. “Eventually, Olikea or Likari will come back and help you. Or you’ll wriggle free on your own. And then you must eat heartily, and quick-walk to join the People at the Wintering Place.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant, what will become of Epiny and Spink? What will happen to them?”
She sighed again. “Let go of that life, Nevare. Embrace the one you are in now. Join the sundered halves of your soul and become one.”
That hadn’t been what I was asking her. “Will you try to harm Epiny?” I asked her directly.
“Hmf. Did she try to harm me? A few more minutes of that fire, and we would not be having this conversation now. I’ve told you before, I cannot control the magic or what it does.” A pause. Then her voice was gentler. “But for whatever peace it gives you, I’ll tell you that I will not be attempting any revenge on her.” She made an odd sound that might almost have been a laugh. “The less I have to do with your cousin, the better for both of us, I think.”
“Thank you.”
Olikea did not come to find me. Jodoli did, stumping up the ridge with a scolding Firada in his wake. He, too, had heard the summons of the whispering leaves, but he had been farther away and Firada had not wanted him to quick-walk them to Lisana, thinking it better that Soldier’s Boy handle whatever the difficulty was with the Gernian madwoman on his own. Firada was not pleased with Jodoli consuming energy to rescue me yet again. She grumbled about it the whole time that he was untying me.
“What happened here?” Jodoli asked as soon as the gag was removed from my mouth.
“Nevare’s cousin Epiny attacked Lisana. But do not concern yourself with it. The threat has been dealt with. I’m sorry that I used more of your time.”
“You call this dealing with a threat?” Firada asked tartly. “We find you bound and gagged, and your feeders nowhere in sight!”
“I sent them away, to keep them safe. It is dealt with. Let it go.”
He spoke in a commanding way that I expected her to find offensive. Instead she just puffed her cheeks and then settled in abrupt silence. Soldier’s Boy turned to Jodoli. His face was equally disapproving, but I suspected that some sign from him had quieted Firada.
“Jodoli, I thank you for coming yet again to my aid. Please, do not delay your journey to rejoin the People any longer. I will need another day here to gather strength before I am able to do any magic. But do not linger here on my account.”
“We have no intention of doing so,” Firada responded quickly.
Jodoli’s words were more measured. “Indeed, we must depart tonight. But I wanted to let you know that I went to look at what you did to the intruders’ road. I think you bought us a season of respite, and perhaps more. It is not a permanent s
olution. Nonetheless, I do not think you used your magic in vain. Firada is correct that I must rejoin our kin-clan tonight; they are unprotected when I am not with them. I hope you will hurry to rejoin us as quickly as you can.” He glanced about, his eyes lingering on Tree Woman’s scorched trunk.
Soldier’s Boy got slowly to his feet. His head still pounded with pain, and hunger squeezed him again. All the magic he’d acquired, he’d used in healing the worst of his injury. He sighed. “I go to regain my feeders. We will see you soon, at the Wintering Place. Travel well.”
“At the Wintering Place,” Jodoli confirmed. He reached out and took Firada’s hand. They walked away. I did not “see” the quick-walk magic, but in less than two blinks of my eye, they had vanished from my sight. When they were gone, Soldier’s Boy turned back to Lisana’s stump.
He walked over to it, knelt in the deep moss, and gravely examined the damage. There was not much; the fire had licked the outer bark, scorching it but had not penetrated it. He nodded, satisfied. He gripped the hilt of the rusty cavalla sword that was still thrust deep into the stump. Heedless of the unpleasant buzzing that the proximity of the metal blade woke in his hands, he tried to work it loose. To no avail. A nasty recognition stirred in my own thoughts. As a mage, I’d now experienced how unpleasant the touch of iron felt. Yet Lisana had never once reproached me for the blade I’d felled her with and then left sticking in her trunk. I felt shamed.
But Soldier’s Boy continued unaware of my thoughts or feelings. He pushed through growing underbrush to reach the young tree that reared up from Lisana’s fallen trunk. He set his hands to its smooth bark and leaned his head back to smile up at its branches. “We must thank our luck that she did not know this is where you are truly most vulnerable. This little one would not have survived such a scorching as your trunk took. Look how she seeks the sun. Look how straight she stands.” He leaned forward, to rest his brow briefly against the young tree’s bark. “I really, really miss your guidance,” he said softly.
Behind us, Lisana spoke. “I miss you, too, Soldier’s Boy.”
I knew he could not hear her. She knew it, too, and I heard the isolation in her voice, that her words to him must go unheard. It was for her rather than for him that I said, “She misses you, too.”
Soldier’s Boy caught a breath. “Tell her that I love her still. Tell her I miss her every day. There is not a moment that goes by when I do not remember all that she taught me. I will be true to what she taught me when I go to the Wintering Place. This I promise. Tell her that. Please, tell her that for me!”
He was looking at her little tree. I wanted him to turn and look at the cut trunk, where Lisana still manifested most strongly for me. But it was not easy to make him hear me, and I did not want to waste the effort. “She hears you when you speak. She cannot make you hear her replies, but what you say aloud, she hears.”
Again, he halted, turning his head like a dog that hears a far-off whistle. Then he slowly reached out to the little tree and drew a finger down its trunk. “I’m glad you can hear me,” he said softly. “I’m glad we at least have that.”
I heard Lisana sob. I wished I could have met her eyes. “She’s by the stump,” I said, but my strength was fading.
Lisana spoke to me again. “Please. Tell him to walk down the line of my fallen trunk. Near the end, another small tree has begun. Tell him that it is for him, when the time comes. I’m preparing a tree for him. Please tell him.”
“Look for another little tree, near the end of her fallen trunk,” I said. I pushed the words as hard as I could. But he did not hear me. After a pause, he spoke aloud to her. “I’m tired, Lisana. Tired and hungry and empty of magic. I need to find sustenance. And as soon as I can, I must leave for the Wintering Place. I haven’t forgotten what you told me. Believe me. What you taught me, I will live.” He was very still, as if listening for me or for Lisana, but after a time he closed his eyes, puffed his cheeks, and turned away from the little tree.
He started to follow the fading trail that led back down the ridge and eventually into a valley where a small stream flowed. Weariness dragged at us. He muttered as we walked, and after a time, I realized he was speaking to me. I listened more closely to his rambling words. “You used it all. Did you hate us that much or were you just stupid? I saved that magic, hoarded it all thinking that I might get one chance. And now it’s all gone. Gone. You always complained to everyone who would listen that I’d stolen your beautiful wonderful future. Is that why you destroyed mine? Was it vengeance? Or stupidity?”
I had no way of responding. I was little more than a spark inside him now, clinging desperately to my self-awareness. The idea of letting go came to me. I shook myself free of it. What would happen to me if I did? Would I cease to be entirely, or would all my ideas, thoughts, and knowledge suddenly be merged with Soldier’s Boy? Would he consume me as I had tried to consume him? If he integrated me into his being, would I have any awareness of it? Would I live on only as odd bits of dreams that sometimes haunted the Speck mage I would become?
The thought of merging my awareness with Soldier’s Boy and becoming merely a part of him held no appeal for me. Instead it filled me with loathing, and I struggled against it. “I am Nevare Burvelle,” I told myself. “Soldier son of a new noble lord. Destined to be a cavalla officer, to serve my king with courage, to distinguish myself on a field of battle. I will prevail. I will keep faith with Epiny and I will prevail.” I would not become a set of disconnected memories inside some hulking forest mage. I would not.
And so I wearily clung to my identity and did little more than that for the next two days. I was an observer as Soldier’s Boy hiked wearily down to the stream. He found Likari dozing on the shady bank while Olikea scavenged in the shallows for a grayish-brown leggy creature that looked more like an insect than a fish to me. As she caught each one, she popped its head off with her thumbnail and then added it to the catch heaped on a lily leaf on the stream bank. The animals were small; two would fill her palm. She already had a small fire burning. As Soldier’s Boy approached, he greeted her with “It is good that you are already finding food for me.”
She didn’t look up from her hunting. “I already know what you are going to say. That you have used up what magic you had, and we must stay another night here. Did you kill her?”
“No. I let her go. She is no threat to us. And you are right that we must stay here, not one night, but three. I have decided that before I travel, I will rebuild some of my reserves. I will not be the Great Man I was when we rejoin the People, but I will not be this skeleton, either. I will eat for three days. And then we will quick-walk to the people.”
“By then almost everyone will have returned to the Wintering Place! The best trading will be done, and all that will be left there are the things that are not quite perfect or have no newness to them!”
“There will be other trading days in years to come. You will have to miss this one.”
Olikea filled her cheeks and then puffed the air out explosively. She had caught two more of the creatures, and she flung them down on those already heaped on the stream bank so hard that I heard the crack of their small shells as they hit. She was not pleased, and I was dimly surprised by how easily Soldier’s Boy dismissed her feelings on the matter.
She looked at him at last and surprise almost overcame her sullen glance. “What happened to your forehead?”
“Never mind that,” he said brusquely. “We need food. Busy yourself with that.” With his foot, he stirred the sleeping Likari. “Up, boy. Gather food. Lots of it. I need to fill myself.”
Likari sat up, blinking, and knuckled his eyes. “What sort of food, Great One?”
“Any food that you can get in quantity. Go now.”
The boy scuttled off. Olikea spoke from behind me. “Do not blame him if he cannot find much that is good. The time for the best harvesting is past. That is why we go to the Wintering Place.”
“I know that.” Soldier’s Boy
turned and walked to the stream’s edge, upstream of Olikea. With a grunt and a sigh, he hunkered down and then sat on the ground. He reached over, pulled up a handful of water-grass, rinsed the muddy roots off in the flowing stream and then peeled the slimy outer skin off them. He bit off the thick white roots and, as he chewed them, uprooted another handful of the stuff. The flavor was vaguely like onions.
By the time Likari returned with an armload of shriveled plums, Soldier’s Boy had cleared a substantial patch of water-grass. He ate as methodically as a grazing cow. Olikea was busy with her own task; she had steamed the leggy creatures in layers of leaves and was now stripping them of legs and carapaces. The curl of meat from each one was scarcely the size of my little finger, but they smelled wonderful.
They ate together, with Soldier’s Boy taking the lion’s share of the food. The plums had dried in the sun’s heat; their flesh was thick and chewy and sweet, and contrasted pleasantly with the little crustaceans. When the food was gone, Soldier’s Boy commanded them both to find more, and then lay down to sleep. When they woke him, they had roasted a pile of yellow roots that had little flavor other than starch, and a porcupine was cooking on the fire. Likari had killed the creature with a club. Divested of its fur and quills, it showed a thick layer of fat. “You can see the kind of weather that soon will come!” Olikea warned him.
“Let me worry about such things.” Soldier’s Boy dismissed her.
Night was deepening when that meal was gone. They slept in a huddle, Olikea against his belly and Likari cuddled against his back. Soldier’s Boy used a tiny bit of magic to hummock the moss into a nest around them while Likari had gathered armloads of fallen leaves to cover them. Over the leaves, he spread the winter blanket from my cemetery hut, even though both Olikea and Likari complained that it smelled odd. He had discovered that they had disposed of the clothing he had worn when they found him. Olikea had cut the shining brass buttons from his uniform and kept them, but the rest of it was gone, dropped somewhere in the forest when they were moving him. So all that he carried forward from my life was a winter blanket and a handful of buttons. It seemed fitting.