Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  ‘Kasheron took his cowardly skin, and those of his followers, north, over the Oskinas,’ he said, sobering. ‘They deserted, leaving Terak to fight alone. If it weren’t for Terak’s bravery, and the loyalty of the Kirs and Illians who fought with him, the Shargh would be doing to the rest of us what they’ve already done to you!’

  Her eyes were the lightest he’d ever seen, and she was breathing as if she’d been running.

  He softened his voice. ‘It’s late,’ he said, rising. ‘We’ll speak more on this in Sarnia.’

  ‘I was journeying to Sarnia when Caledon confined me in Maraschin,’ she said, scrambling to her feet.

  ‘Confined?’ said Tierken sharply.

  ‘I was going there to seek aid from our kin – from you.’

  ‘Kasheron went north over the seas,’ repeated Tierken.

  ‘As Terak Feailner, I call upon you to honour the kin-tie and aid the Tremen against the Shargh attacks.’

  ‘There is no kin-tie!’

  ‘I carry Kasheron’s ring, the ring of both our peoples,’ said Kira, drawing out something from under her shirt.

  ‘Whose ever it is, it’s not Kasheron’s, unless you’ve also lied about being from the southern forests instead of beyond the Oskinas,’ said Tierken, his attention on pushing an errant coal back into the fire-hole. ‘We’ve an early start, Kira. I suggest you get some sleep,’ he added, not wanting to argue with her again.

  ‘So the Terak Feailner refuses his obligation to aid his kin?’ pursued Kira.

  Tierken sighed. ‘You’re neither blood-tied nor treatied,’ he said, keeping his temper in check by reminding himself that given Kira’s belief, her reaction was predictable. And as she wasn’t Kessomi, Terak or Kasheron’s blood, only one explanation remained.

  ‘Your people must have entered the forests when all peoples wandered in solitary groups,’ he said, as gently as he could. ‘For reasons known only to themselves, they’ve concocted a history centred on Prince Kasheron who lived later. Small peoples do that sometimes, seeking the glory of other peoples’ histories. I know this must be difficult for you to accept, but all I can suggest is that if your people need help, they should treaty with the Tain, who are at least close. I bid you goodnight, Kira.’

  41

  Kira lay sleepless in her gifan, endlessly replaying their words together. If she’d said things differently, not said things, led into the topic more slowly, more quickly, been more forceful, less forceful, actually thrust the ring under Tierken’s nose and made him look at it … would any of it have made a difference? According to the Terak, Kasheron had deserted and gone over the seas.

  Tierken was young but he was the Feailner, and if he believed it, everyone else probably did too, including any older advisers, and those in Sarnia with the best knowing of Terak histories. She had the ring of rulership that Kasheron had taken as firstborn, but the Terak had most likely had another one forged. There was also her northern sword and herbing sickle, but she’d seen similar ones in Maraschin, so they wouldn’t serve as proof. The most compelling evidence for her claim was in their shared eyes, looks and tongue, but Tierken had dismissed these as coming from a time before Kasheron. It was a convenient way of keeping the Tremen exeal, thought Kira bitterly. Even his suggestion that the Tremen make a treaty with the Tain was something that Caledon already intended.

  Kira finally gave up on sleep and crawled out of her gifan, surprised to see Marin sitting near the fire.

  ‘Jonred’s on guard duty. Do you need time alone?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Kira, settling beside him.

  ‘Dawn’s close,’ said Marin, putting a pan of water on to heat.

  ‘Do you know how a treaty is made, Commander Marin?’

  ‘Treaties or alliances are pledges exchanged by leaders of peoples who have known each other in friendship for many seasons,’ said Marin.

  Kira said nothing, thinking of Kasheron. He had broken all friendships at the Sundering, and the isolation of the forest had sustained the breach. She’d never seen the Sundering in this light before. It was as if she were on the outside of the trees looking in, rather than on the inside looking out.

  ‘One more night and we’ll be in Sarnia,’ said Marin.

  Kira swallowed nervously, thinking of the tales of the barbarous city of metal and dead stone.

  ‘There’s nothing to fear in Sarnia,’ said Marin softly, pouring water into cups and adding spices.

  ‘You … you have a bondm … wife there?’ asked Kira.

  ‘I do indeed, and a daughter about your age and a son of thirteen seasons,’ said Marin with a smile. ‘Tisia is soon to be married, but Stinian insists on following in my footsteps, despite me warning him he’d be better working wood or metal,’ said Marin, his pride plain.

  ‘Now, as Jonred’s busy, you’ll have to put up with my cooking. We’ll travel all day, so you’ll need something to stick to those ribs of yours.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You look hungry, but I’m not sure for what,’ he said, handing her a cup of cotzee.

  Kira flushed, but Marin’s gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder, and he poured another cup of cotzee, set it next to the fire and moved away.

  ‘You’re up early,’ said Tierken in Terak, sitting beside her.

  ‘So are you,’ said Kira, resisting the urge to use Onespeak. Continuing their argument from last night wasn’t going to be useful in achieving her quest.

  ‘I must have spread my sleeping-sheet on a root,’ said Tierken lightly. ‘Not conducive to a good night’s sleep. We’ve just one more night on the plain,’ he went on. ‘I’ve sent scouts ahead to inform the Domain of your arrival. Laryia will prepare rooms for you, clean clothing, and anything else you need.’

  ‘Is Laryia your wife?’

  ‘Do you think I would have kissed you if I were married?’ said Tierken, looking shocked.

  ‘Well, your men speak of the women they can get by trickery or subterfuge and how they can hide their conquests from their wives.’

  ‘There are faithless men and women in most lands,’ said Tierken, ‘even in the forests, I suspect. Aren’t there?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Kira, keeping her eyes on her cotzee.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘I understand why you’re upset, Kira,’ he said gently. ‘When we get to Sarnia, and you’ve had a chance to rest, and eat properly, and feel safe, we will talk again. Then you will understand.’

  The patrol had breakfasted and were on the move again by dawn. Kira rode with Jonred all day, keeping her gaze on the Silvercades while she listened to the men discussing what they would do on their return: the wagering, the alehouses and the women of the Caru Quarter. They said nothing of use in her mission to gain help from the Terak, and Kira felt increasingly weary from searching her own mind for things she might do.

  She wondered sourly whether if Kest had made the kinship claim Tierken would have accepted it, as he was a fighter like the Terak. But Kest was far away in the southern forests.

  The sun began to sink, and Marin shouted orders, the patrol wheeling east towards a scattering of trees emerging from a dip, their growth too sparse to be a grove. There was no spring, just a series of shallow puddles, as if a stream ran just beneath the ground. Jonred set her down and rode off, and Kira watched men collect windfall for the fires, take the horses to drink, and pitch gifans – a sign it was going to be a cold night. Two or three rode away on scout, looking for wolves or Shargh, or grazing people, pasture growth or stream flow.

  Kira looked at the trees, her thoughts on Allogrenia. There were groves of ashaels and castellas there, chrysens and fallowoods, steep stony places, streams and springs; places alive with birds and brightwings; quiet places full of emerald light, and Shelter. Here the sky stretched from horizon to horizon, ungentled by leaf-shadow.

  Tierken approached on Kalos and halted in front of her, and Kira stroked Kalos’s muzzle, comforted by his beauty. His muzzle w
as the colour of storm clouds, and she was surprised at how soft it was. How could Kasheron have turned his back on these glorious creatures, walked deep into the trees and never returned?

  ‘Kira, come,’ said Tierken. ‘I want to show you something.’

  Reluctantly Kira took Tierken’s hand and he pulled her up behind him, turning Kalos and urging him to a canter.

  They went east, the land rising steadily, then dipping. A steep-sided hill erupted, from the plain set with a massive tor that sparkled in the setting sun. Kalos’s powerful haunches propelled them up the near-vertical slope and on to the small circle of flat land on the top. Tierken brought him to a stop and lowered Kira down.

  ‘The Terak call this Terak’s Tor, but the Kessomis call it Helin’s Twin,’ said Tierken. ‘It’s due south of Helin Peak, the highest point in the Silvercades and made of similar stone. To the Kirs, it’s Mindolin – the spear; to the Illians, Fleam – the sword.’

  The stone was set with chips of crystal like the stone in the Warens, reminding Kira of waking there after the Shargh attack, and knowing everything was gone.

  ‘What think you?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘That it’s very unusual,’ said Kira, not wanting to speak of that time.

  ‘I didn’t bring you here to show you Terak’s Tor. Come, or you’ll miss it,’ said Tierken. He led her to the northern side of the tor and, leaning back onto the stone, he turned her so her back rested against him, then folded his arms round her shoulders.

  ‘Watch,’ he said softly, his gaze on the mountains.

  The sun slipped to the horizon and the Silvercades burned with golden fire. Then, as the sun dipped lower, they washed to an intense pink, then a gentler rose. The beauty dissolved Kira’s residue of resentment, and awareness of Tierken’s nearness flooded her senses, her need of him suddenly overpowering.

  She turned and drew his mouth to hers, his surprise momentary, then his kisses as intense as hers. The smell and feel of him was intoxicating, and it was Tierken who eventually pulled away, leaving her dazed by the sudden lack of him.

  ‘You’re under my protection,’ he said, his eyes as bright as the sunset.

  ‘There’s only now,’ said Kira, trying to come back to his arms.

  ‘I’ll make it so you’ll be happy in Sarnia,’ said Tierken, holding her shoulders.

  Kira jerked away. How could she possibly be happy with a people who, by insisting Kasheron went over the seas, denied her very existence?

  The Silvercades were a chill blue now, bleak and lonely looking.

  ‘Time to go,’ said Tierken.

  They rode back to camp. Only one fire had been set, but it was large, with all the men gathered round it. Their eyes were curious as they watched Kira and Tierken approach.

  ‘Stay with Marin,’ said Tierken, as he set her down.

  Kira intended to sit behind the Commander, but Marin shifted sideways and she settled beside him.

  ‘How did you like Terak’s Tor?’ he asked, his words carrying to the men, as if he were trying to protect her and Tierken from their gossip.

  ‘It’s big,’ she said.

  Marin laughed. ‘The Teraks, Kirs and Illians, would agree with you, but not the Kessomis. The Kessomis have even been known to call Terak’s Tor a pebble.

  ‘Eat up,’ he went on, passing her a mug of cotzee and a plate of roasted nuts. It’s your last meal of the plain’s food. You’ll eat better on the morrow’s night in Sarnia, where there’s a vast array of foods. The land in the Rehan Valley is rich, and traders bring other things from the ports.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to that,’ said Kira, wanting to please him.

  ‘Niria will have a rare feast waiting to welcome me home,’ he said, sighing contentedly.

  ‘Is Niria your wife?’

  ‘Of course. I’m not like some here.’

  ‘Doesn’t she miss you when you’re gone?’ asked Kira, sipping her cotzee.

  ‘We’ve been a long time together. Niria knows what it is to be married to a patrolman.’

  ‘How often do patrols go out?’ asked Kira.

  ‘The Feailner’s been in Sarnia three seasons and in that time he’s been out about once a moon. This patrol’s been short. Some last fourteen or fifteen days.’

  ‘That must be hard for your wife.’

  ‘There are other Commanders,’ said Marin. ‘I don’t always come.’

  ‘Why does the Feailner patrol so often?’

  ‘To remind the Terak, Kirs, Illians and Kessomis that they’re one people, and to train them in horsemanship and fighting. If fighting comes, they’ll need to know all of their lands, not just their favourite corners, and they’ll need to know what they’re fighting for, too.’

  Marin settled back with his mug of cotzee. ‘It’s also true that young men with time on their hands are likely to turn it to ill purpose. The patrols put their energies to good use.’

  The talk around the fire ebbed and after a time Slivkash began to sing, his pure voice joined by the other Kirs.

  ‘Are there herders nearby?’ whispered Kira.

  ‘Not according to the scouts. On the final night of a patrol, we sing of the time spent together under the stars,’ murmured Marin. ‘It’s a time of thanking Meros and Irid for the true hearts of our fellow travellers and for ensuring our safety. Kirs sing with Kirs, and they usually begin, for they’ve fine singing voices – it’s where the Feailner got his. The Teraks go next, then the Illians, then the Kessomis and back to the Kirs. We make our own lay-link.’

  The Kirs’ voices softened, drawing out the last note, Tierken singing with them. Before the music died, Jonred, Shird, Vardrin and the other Teraks started, Tierken singing again. He would sing with all of them, Kira realised, for they were his people.

  Their singing reminded Kira of her status as an outsider, of not being part of Tierken’s song, but also of the music played at Turning, and she scrambled away from the fire.

  ‘Do you wish time alone?’ asked Marin following her.

  ‘I am alone, Marin, whether I wish it or not,’ she said, and Marin’s face softened.

  ‘Show me my gifan, and I’ll remain there,’ she managed to say.

  Marin pointed to a gifan and she crawled into it, Marin watching until the flap fell back into place. The singing was clear through the gifan’s walls and Kira wrapped her head in her arms and wept.

  42

  The next day Jonred was off on scout and Kira rode behind Marin, the Commander far more verbose than Jonred, and keeping up a constant commentary on the lands about them. The juts of land to each side were the Rehan and Lehan Spurs; the land they traversed, the Rehan Valley; the river glinting to the west – the Rehan; to the east – the Steelwater.

  Kira took the opportunity to ask Marin about those who helped Tierken rule, and learned of the Marken and a man called the Keeper of the Domain. The Marken were a group of men who had advised the previous Feailner, Darid, and Kira gained the impression that they weren’t well disposed towards Tierken – or he to them. She was reminded of Adris chafing under King Beris’s rule, and wondered whether, in the event of her convincing the Marken of the kin-link, Tierken would accept their advice in any case.

  The Keeper of the Domain seemed a more promising possibility, for Marin’s words suggested that there was friendship between him and Tierken. The Keeper of the Domain was also the son of one of the Marken, and Kira wondered if she could make use of this link.

  The day drew on and Kira grew increasingly anxious. The lands they now rode through were as alien as the stone city, filled with fruiting trees, lush plants in rows, goats contained by fences, animals that bellowed and fat birds pecking the earth. There were short longhouses, and people working among the greenery who bowed low as the patrol passed. Kira’s heart quickened and she turned her face away. She didn’t feel strong enough to bear the stares, and she was painfully aware of how dirty and unkempt she was.

  The city had domed roofs, Marin was saying, as Terak had b
rought stone-smiths from afar, who’d built in the manner of their own country. Kira found it increasingly hard to concentrate on his words. The city wall was clearly visible, the stone buildings marching up the foothills like a clutch of shattered eggs. All the tales that Tremen children told to frighten each other, and themselves, came back to her, making her sweat. None of them were true, Kira told herself: the patrolmen had treated her with kindness and courtesy, Marin had a family there he loved, and Tierken had pledged to care for her.

  It was no use. She was trembling now, and nauseous. ‘I need time alone,’ she choked, clutching Marin’s arm.

  Marin shouted an order and slowed but Kira slid to the ground before he’d stopped and took several unsteady steps away.

  ‘Marin said you needed time alone,’ said Tierken, coming to her side.

  ‘I do, but not in the way he means,’ said Kira, trying to still her breathing.

  ‘What troubles you?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘In my lands …’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘In my lands we tell many tales of Sarnia, and none of them good,’ she said, with her gaze on the ground, feeling foolish.

  ‘You will be safe in Sarnia, Kira. Will you trust me in this?’ he asked, his fingers lifting her face to his.

  She flushed, aware that they were in full view of the patrol, but Tierken waited for her answer. He was Terak and kin, despite his denial. She nodded, unable to speak. He smiled then, and taking her hand led her back to where Marin held Kalos. Irid seemed to have intervened again, thought Tierken. When he’d decided to time his return to Sarnia in daylight, he’d half considered riding into his city with Kira in front of him on Kalos.

  It would give the Sarnian gossips a rare bone to gnaw on, but the idea had seemed less sensible the closer he drew to the city. Now Kira’s fear seemed to require that he continue his plan.