Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  ‘What did you do?’ whispered Marin as they followed their escort.

  ‘I put his back in,’ said Kira, still light-headed.

  ‘No, before that. What did –’

  Their escort entered the sorcha ahead and Marin was forced to save his question for later.

  Tierken watched Uthlin’s right-hand warrior stride across the hides to his Chief and whisper something in his ear. Uthlin shut his eyes momentarily and bowed his head, Tierken realising that Uthlin’s kin was either cured or killed. The escort followed, then Kira, ashen-faced, helped by Marin, who set her down next to Tierken, inadvertently giving her his own position. It was not something Uthlin missed, his shrewd gaze darting between them.

  ‘You have cured my son,’ said Uthlin. ‘What would you ask?’

  Tierken’s relief was tempered by the fear that Kira would insult Uthlin by demanding something inappropriate.

  ‘I am a Healer from the southern forests,’ she said. ‘In my lands, it is the custom to give healing.’

  It was an answer Tierken’s grandmother would be proud of, both generous and non-judgemental of those who either traded or sold their skill.

  Uthlin’s face remained expressionless but he straightened.

  ‘Healer of the southern forests,’ he said solemnly. ‘You are a long way from your home, and tread a plain unforgiving of the stranger. I, Chief Uthlin of the Ashmiri, grant you the protection of my people.’

  Tierken struggled to keep his face composed. Within the next few days, every Ashmiri, no matter where they roamed, would know what Kira looked like, and of their obligation to protect her. Uthlin’s pledge was as binding as Ashmiridin’s had been, in seasons past.

  ‘We eat now,’ announced Uthlin, and the tension broke.

  ‘I thank you,’ said Kira, whether for the food or for his protection was unclear.

  Some of the warriors rose as women appeared with platters of steaming food. Loti – a type of spicy sausage, sahin – slivers of meat fried, and misil – smoked cheese. There was nothing there Kira would choose to eat, but eat she must if she wasn’t to offend Uthlin.

  ‘You must eat,’ whispered Tierken, as bowls were passed around. Kira nodded but her pallor increased, as if she were going to be sick at the sight of it.

  ‘I’ll serve it for you,’ muttered Tierken, so he could limit the amount she must consume.

  The platter was offered to him first, as the most important guest, and Tierken put a small chunk of each of the foods in Kira’s bowl. Serving her first could be construed as respect for the service she’d rendered the Terak Feailner – in fulfilling his reciprocal obligations to the Ashmiri – or it could be seen as acknowledgement of her as his mate. Tierken suspected the Ashmiri would see it as the latter, given their physical similarity, and her position at his right hand.

  The talk was more general now, and there was an air of celebration. The high voices of the women mixed with the men’s as they ate. Tierken saw Kira wince as she swallowed chunks of food without chewing. He gobbled down his own meal, then rose and signalled to Marin to help Kira up. She looked as though she would barely be able to stand.

  It was expected that Tierken not stay late – courteous words had been exchanged and food shared. People who must journey all day did not carouse deep into the night like those in Sarnia.

  ‘I wish you fine weather and fair travel,’ said Tierken, giving the customary farewell of herders.

  ‘To you and yours also,’ echoed Uthlin.

  They came back out into the freezing night and set off in silence, aware that there would be Ashmiri watchers nearby who knew a little Terak. Marin walked by his side and Tierken sensed his impatience to speak, but his thoughts were on Kira, who walked with Jonred behind.

  ‘Can they still see us?’ she whispered.

  ‘They –’ began Jonred, but before he could finish Kira fell to her knees and was violently ill.

  Jonred crouched beside her, but Tierken ordered him up. ‘Jonred, Drinen and Shird, go on ahead and settle the horses for the night. Marin, set a fire near Kira’s gifan. I’ll bring her when she’s feeling better.’

  The men set off briskly, but Marin loitered.

  ‘The Ashmiri don’t murder those they’ve just shared meat with,’ said Tierken, pre-empting his objections. ‘I’ll hear your report at camp.’

  ‘Yes, Feailner,’ said Marin, then strode off after the others.

  ‘You’ve a waterskin in your pack?’ asked Tierken, as Kira’s vomiting became dry-retching.

  She nodded and he slipped the pack off, rummaging around till he found it. Gently he washed her face.

  ‘That was the meat?’ he asked.

  ‘That and an empty belly,’ she said.

  ‘Didn’t you eat with the men?’

  ‘You said I had to stay with Jonred and he wasn’t there.’

  ‘I didn’t mean you had to go without food, if he was with me,’ said Tierken, exasperated.

  Kira sat awhile on the wet grass, her eyes closed.

  ‘I’m sorry I insulted you in the storm-safe. I … I didn’t know what the word meant,’ she said, once she’d gathered herself.

  ‘What word?’

  ‘Kutan.’

  ‘Did you learn it in Maraschin?’ asked Tierken, wondering if the Tain used it to describe the Terak.

  ‘No. I lived in the Sanctum most of the time, and the Hea … physicks only spoke of gathering, or herbs or curing. I wasn’t in King’s Hall with Ad … Prince Adris and Caledon.’

  ‘Prince Adris? King Beris’s son?’ said Tierken.

  Kira nodded.

  ‘How old is he?’

  ‘Twenty-five, twenty-six seasons,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve met him?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kira and looked away.

  ‘You don’t like him?’ asked Tierken shrewdly.

  ‘It’s not really Adris’s fault he’s like he is. Caledon told me his father’s been ill for many seasons, and Adris is frustrated because he can’t do much about the Shargh attacks. Anything he does do, like send out the King’s Guard, he must do without his father’s knowledge or permission.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tierken, noting that Kira called him ‘Adris’ not Prince Adris, implying a level of familiarity beyond what he’d expect from a Healer who’d worked in the city.

  ‘This man Caledon. He’s a friend of Prince Adris?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s a Tain?’

  ‘No, he’s from Talliel.’

  ‘Talliel?’ said Tierken in surprise. ‘He’s a long way from home.’

  ‘He journeys a great deal,’ said Kira, her expression gentling.

  ‘Is this Caledon in Maraschin now?’ asked Tierken. If there were feeling between them, why in Irid’s name had he allowed her to endanger her life by gathering?

  ‘I don’t know.’

  The answer was evasive but Tierken bit back his next question. A Tallien called Caledon might wait for Kira in Maraschin, but this woman who shared his eyes and face was now under his protection and on her way to his city. And at this moment, he could see no reason why she would ever return.

  34

  It was late when Kira woke, sun penetrating the gifan, which was now pleasantly warm. She thought of the burned Ashmiri and felt a surge of gladness that the power of healing had released him from his agony. Pushing the tangled hair from her eyes with grubby fingers, she thought longingly of a bath, clean clothes and even a comb. She could hear the voices of the patrolmen, but not close, Tierken having set her gifan apart. He’d become solicitous of her, roasting a bowl of nuts and brewing metz – or cotzee as he called it – for her last night, and taking care that she have sufficient privacy.

  Yet for all his courtesy, Tierken practised the brutality of the Terak, her arms carrying the imprints of his fingers where he’d shaken her. He’d had Slivkash beaten and his own back bore the scars of beatings, too. She’d be a fool to forget that Tierken was Terak, with everything th
at implied, and yet …

  He had her eyes and Kandor’s face. Any other face, of all she had ever seen, would have been more bearable. And why not have brown eyes, or grey eyes like Caledon’s? It made being with Tierken both joyful and disturbing.

  ‘Kira? Come and eat.’

  She jumped, wondering if her thoughts had somehow drawn him.

  Outside, the sun was well up, the sky brilliant blue and wispy with cloud. Tierken smiled at her, as he had last night and she smiled back. He was pleased she’d healed the Ashmiri, and she’d overheard Marin say it made the treaty stronger.

  And he had roasted another large bowl of nuts for her.

  ‘I can’t eat all those,’ protested Kira.

  ‘If all you’ll eat are nuts, you’re going to have to eat more of them. You’re little more than bones.’

  ‘I eat other things as well,’ she mumbled, with bulging cheeks. The nuts were sweeter than those in the forest and very good.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Riddleberries, mundleberries, sour-ripe, osken, beggar leaves, scavengerleaf, pitchie seeds, sweetfish, feathergrass tubers, honey,’ listed off Kira.

  ‘That’s the food of the southern forests?’

  Kira nodded.

  ‘It’s not much. Are the rest of your people thin too?’

  ‘No,’ said Kira defensively, swallowing in a painful gulp. ‘The forest Shelters us. I didn’t take enough food with me when I left, that’s all. I thought I’d gather on the Dendora Plain, but there was little to be had.’

  ‘The Dendora’s Shargh grazing, and even before the long drought, offered only sparse gathering. The Sarsalin’s the same. How long were you in Maraschin?’

  ‘About two and a half moons.’

  ‘Obviously, there wasn’t enough food there either,’ said Tierken.

  ‘There’s plenty of everything, including food, in Maraschin, if you have something to trade,’ said Kira, failing to hide her bitterness. ‘But I didn’t need to trade as I healed in the Sanctum with the Tain physicks, and King Beris provides the Sanctum with food.’

  ‘What else does the King do?’ asked Tierken, pouring her some cotzee.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Kira, ‘he isn’t much seen. Most things, like the King’s Guard being sent out to The Westlans, seem to be at Adris’s command.’

  She finished eating and wiped her fingers on her breeches. ‘Kashclan thanks the Terak Kirillian,’ she said, passing the remainder of the nuts back to him. ‘Is there somewhere I can wash?’

  ‘You can wash at the grove. I’ll take you,’ he said, rising and leading the way.

  Kira was aware of the men’s gazes following them, but focused on the dark trees ahead.

  ‘After you wash, you can have a riding lesson,’ said Tierken.

  ‘A riding lesson?’

  ‘If you’re to spend time in the north, you’ll need to be able to ride. You can start off on Slivkash’s mount, Frost, who’s quieter than Kalos.’

  ‘Won’t Slivkash mind?’ asked Kira, painfully aware that Slivkash had been beaten because of her.

  ‘The Kirs are horse-people. He won’t mind.’

  They drew closer to the grove and Kira stopped, open-mouthed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Tierken, his sword already in his hand.

  ‘They’re alwaysgreens,’ exclaimed Kira.

  ‘Allogrenias,’ corrected Tierken. ‘The southernmost stand on the Sarsalin. Smaller than usual because of the harsh conditions.’

  Allogrenias? Had the word turned into ‘alwaysgreens’ in the same way as Kirillian had turned into Kutan, wondered Kira. Or had Kasheron chosen to differentiate the tree from the name of his settlement? It didn’t matter. The spicy scent was the same, as was the deep peace and Shelter of their broad spreading boughs. Kira ran to them, embracing a bole with wide-flung arms, then resting her forehead against it. Tears slid down her cheeks as she imagined her palms were flattened against the warm skin of Esogren or Enogren or Nogren.

  ‘Kira?’ said Tierken, his voice gentle as he put his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘I need to wash,’ she muttered, feeling foolish, and sleeving the wetness from her face.

  ‘The spring’s a little further,’ said Tierken, taking her hand, and leading her deeper into the trees.

  It was a perfect circle, the water seeping too slowly to ripple and only the occasional spark of sunlight glancing off the surface as a breeze disturbed the canopy. Kira sluiced water over her face and arms, but could do no more without undressing. Tierken stripped off his jacket and shirt, and Kira winced at the scars on his back, wanting to take away the evidence of season upon season of beatings.

  ‘I’ll turn away if you want to wash more thoroughly,’ said Tierken.

  ‘Your back. Does it still pain you?’ she asked, her voice hesitant.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can I … can I examine it?’

  ‘I’ve told you there’s no pain.’

  ‘Yes, but I need to know …’ she trailed off. Her need was overwhelming, as if she reassured herself that Kandor didn’t suffer.

  Tierken shrugged and turned his back.

  ‘No, from the front.’

  He turned round and Kira laid her hands over his heart. She had never done this with someone who was whole and uninjured, and instead of a fire-filled tunnel, she found a place of warmth, safety and love. Abruptly, she was back in the cooler air of the grove, but with none of the churning nausea that usually accompanied her return. Kira looked up at Tierken in wonder, and even in the emerald-coloured air, she could see his eyes had lightened.

  Tierken slowly brought his mouth to hers, giving her time to step away, but Kira remained in his arms, her palms feeling the beat of his heart quicken in time with her own as she answered each kiss, feeling his body against hers, under the broad Shelter of the alwaysgreens.

  Finally he pulled away, and she opened her eyes, as if awakening from a sweet and languorous dream.

  ‘You’re under my protection,’ said Tierken.

  ‘I feel completely safe, and I haven’t felt so for many, many moons. I thank you,’ she murmured.

  Tierken raised his hand, as if to caress her face, but let it fall. ‘If you’ve finished washing, we’ll go back.’

  Kira nodded and followed him, the sense of peace not dissipating until she moved out into the harsh sunshine of the plain again.

  35

  Tierken strode along, angry that he’d given in to the urge he’d felt since Kira had raised her face and looked at him with eyes as gold as his own. He knew he should have taken her back to Maraschin then, as did Marin, his reaction clearly telling him so. Marin was no fool and had an honesty that was useful, if not always comfortable.

  But the woman they’d taken from the Shargh had his eyes and his face, and was beautiful, with fine slender hands, and a spirit every bit as fiery as Kalos. She’d stood toe to toe with him, unbowed in her defiance, then healed in the same selfless way as his grandmother.

  I’d thought the Ashmiri for the next world for sure, when I first saw him, Marin had reported. The man was in the sort of agony where death is as sweet as a feather bed. But then she puts her hands over his heart and, by Meros, he stops groaning and starts looking round.

  If anyone but Marin had said it he’d have dismissed it, but Marin was the patrol bone-setter and knew about pain.

  Maybe in kissing him Kira had simply sought comfort after being distressed by the trees and the memories they evoked, thought Tierken. There was also the fact that she’d been away from her people for so long.

  He’d humoured her by letting her touch him, the scars old and no longer tender, but her proximity had fired every sense in his body. It had taken all of his self control to give her the opportunity to refuse him, but her need had been as great as his. The sweet sensation oozed over him again and he scowled to mask it.

  His men watched them and Tierken lengthened his stride, so that Kira clearly followed behind. He’d prefer his men to think h
e’d argued with his guest, rather than that he’d found a toy to play with on the journey home. Reaching the camp, he jerked his thumb to Marin and they walked off together.

  Kira settled near Jonred, who was part of a circle of men intent on some sort of game. She hugged her knees, trying to focus on the puzzle of Kasheron’s naming of the Tremen place and the alwaysgreens, her mouth still tingling. Kissing Tierken had given her a sense of peace and safety, and she couldn’t bring herself to feel any regret.

  The men in front of her erupted and there was much laughing and hooting, and clapping of backs, as the circle broke and some headed off towards the spring. Jonred and a patrolman Kira didn’t know remained, speaking in Terak, which told her the man was either Terak or Kessomi.

  ‘I’ll wager you ten traders I’ll have Mesia by Mid-market Day,’ boasted the man.

  ‘You do, and I’ll wager you ten more you’ll be married by the next one,’ replied Jonred.

  ‘I’ll not be marrying her,’ the man said, lounging back on the grass. ‘There’s other men she’s spread her legs for.’

  Kira’s face warmed and she broke off a stalk, and looked down at it as if she’d never seen seeded-grass before.

  ‘Her father won’t view it like that. You’d be better advised to spend your traders in the Caru Quarter. Hand them over, and take your pleasure with no complications,’ said Jonred.

  ‘I don’t waste traders on what I can get for free,’ the man said.

  Kira turned the grass over in her hands, glad the man had stopped speaking. He made her feel ill at ease. Maybe she should tell Jonred she needed ‘some time alone’ to get away from him.

  ‘What about the Feailner and our gold-eyed guest,’ the man continued, glancing across at her. ‘Want to wager he’ll have her before we see the city walls?’

  ‘She’s under our protection,’ said Jonred curtly.

  Kira jerked another grassstalk from the ground, digging her thumbnail into the stem, and watching the clear juice ooze out.

  ‘She’s exeal, and it’s been a long time for him. Must be tempting,’ the man said softly.

  ‘She’s under our protection,’ repeated Jonred. ‘You insult the Feailner.’