Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  ‘But that must injure you. You’re not to do it.’

  ‘I’m a Healer, Tierken.’

  Tierken took her by the shoulders and Kira glanced round uncomfortably. ‘You’re not to –’

  But Laryia had twirled to their side and grabbed Tierken’s arm. The music had started.

  ‘I claim the first dance with my brother. You can have all the rest, Kira,’ she added with a smile, hauling Tierken away.

  As it happened, Kira danced many dances before Tierken returned. Thread-the-leaves, the weave dance, then something like a wreath dance, with four steps back and to the side where Kira least expected them. She flushed in mortification as she destroyed the pattern of the entire row, and those around her laughed good-naturedly.

  ‘I’ll get Laryia to teach you the wreath dance,’ said Tierken afterwards, as they caught their breath and sipped fruited water.

  ‘I know the wreath dance,’ said Kira, still smarting. ‘The Kessomi version must have changed after Kasheron took the original version south,’ she couldn’t resist adding.

  Tierken’s lips thinned, then the first notes of the pipe rang out. Not that song, not that! thought Kira in panic, struggling to resist the urge to sprint off. But it was no use. As the melody swelled the darkness closed in, the imperative to run to Kandor’s aid swamped her and she turned and fled.

  Kira had no idea how long she spent under the alwaysgreens before she came to her senses, but she was frozen by the time she made her way back to Eris’s house. Eris seemed surprised that she’d come back alone, and her gaze was piercing.

  ‘You’ve argued with Tierken?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, no … it was something else,’ said Kira, trying to steady. She felt as though she could trust Eris, a fellow Healer, so she took a deep breath, and went on.

  ‘The night the Shargh killed my family,’ she started, ‘my brother, the one I looked after, played a song for me … on his pipe. He’d practised it for many days. Now … if … when I hear that song it’s like I’m there again, with the Bough burning. There was thick smoke, and I was too late to save him. I know I’m not there now … but I can’t breathe, and the need to run is unbearable.’

  Kira glanced at Eris, expecting to see pity but the old Healer contemplated her steadily.

  ‘Do you dream of that time, too?’ asked Eris.

  Kira nodded.

  ‘When I was a young Healer, there was fighting between the Terak and Bishali,’ said Eris. ‘It didn’t last long, but some of the wounded Terak were brought here. The Bishali would beat metal as they went into battle, and the clash of a cooking pot lid was enough to make the injured shake. People are wounded by many things, Kira. As a child, Laryia nearly drowned in the Kristlin, and her fear of water remains.’

  Eris’s bony hand closed over hers. ‘Give yourself time to heal.’

  ‘Time’s one thing I don’t have.’

  The door sounded and Tierken came in, nodding to them briefly as he went to his rooms.

  ‘I might go to my bed, too,’ said Kira uncomfortably. ‘I thank you for your words, Eris.’

  56

  Laryia was upset by the news that they were to return to Sarnia the following dawn. But Kira was happy, for it took her a day’s journey closer to Maraschin. It did mean that she had only one day left to search the surrounding lands for fireweed, though. Laryia had told her there was deep leaf litter to the west of the track they’d entered Kessom by and Kira was keen to forage there. She knew Laryia would want to spend her last day with Thalli, and persuaded Laryia that she was happy to spend the day exploring Kessom alone. But as Kira came out of Eris’s house, the two Guard fell into step behind her.

  Why must she be guarded when Laryia and Eris had the freedom to go where they pleased in privacy? she wondered in irritation. To make matters worse, the sunny sky quickly filled with heavy dark cloud – and they had left their capes behind.

  ‘How far do you go, Lady?’ one asked, looking at the sky.

  Kira shrugged, annoyance with Tierken robbing her of her usual politeness.

  ‘It will rain soon,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve been wet before,’ said Kira.

  The wind freshened and ragged veils of rain gusted through the trees, the chill dampness penetrating her shirt. Kira peered down the slope, and seeing that the leaf litter had thickened, began her descent.

  ‘It’s too steep!’ exclaimed a Guard.

  ‘It’s not,’ retorted Kira, ‘as long as –’

  Her foot slipped in the wetness and she slid several lengths on her backside, stopping against a rotted trunk. Kira repressed a giggle as the Guard scrambled after her, their horrified gaze on her leg.

  A branch had snagged her breeches, tearing them from ankle to knee, and leaving a shallow scratch that nevertheless bled copiously. Ignoring the blood, Kira continued her exploration, the Guards’ disapproval palpable. When the slope gentled, she knelt and trawled through the deepest drifts of litter, finding nothing but managing to add more grime to her clothes. Kira went on, scrambling up and down small gullies and pushing through scrubby bushes, and not climbing back up to the track until it was dark. It was raining steadily, and the chill wind made the long trudge back miserable, the three of them remaining silent till they reached Eris’s house.

  ‘We leave you now, Lady,’ said one of the Guard, and they bowed.

  Kira pulled off her boots at the door, and padded through to the cooking place. Eris wasn’t there, but Tierken and Laryia were, Tierken prowling about the room, his gaze taking in her torn breeches and bleeding leg in one sweep.

  ‘Where in Irid’s name have you been?’

  ‘Ask your Guard,’ said Kira, going to pass him.

  ‘I’m asking you!’ said Tierken, seizing her arm.

  ‘Tierken,’ said Laryia rising. ‘I think –’

  ‘Keep out of it,’ snapped Tierken, his furious gaze on Kira. ‘Answer me!’

  ‘I won’t!’

  ‘You will!’ said Tierken, giving her a shake.

  ‘Tierken!’ cried Laryia.

  ‘Our guest needs to learn that she can’t just rush off from celebrations held in her honour or wander away as the whim takes her,’ said Tierken, jerking Kira closer. ‘That she owes explanation, that basic manners dictate she answer the questions of her host!’ His voice dropped. ‘I know our guest is only seventeen, and that perhaps in her lands politeness is unimportant, but she lives with us now and it’s time she learned courtesy.’

  A string of possible insults tumbled through Kira’s head, but she bit her tongue, stilling her breathing and staring Tierken in the eye.

  ‘Tremen Leader Feailner Kiraon of Kashclan requests the Feailner of the Terak Kirillian takes his hands off her,’ she said as calmly as she could.

  Tierken’s eyes blazed, but he released her. Kira pushed past him into the bathing-room, and a few moments later Laryia appeared with buckets of warm water. There were no pipes of hot water in Kessom.

  ‘Kira …’ began Laryia tentatively.

  ‘Leave me be, Laryia,’ said Kira, peeling off her soggy shirt.

  ‘Kira, you need to understand something about Tierken.’

  ‘I don’t need to understand anything about him,’ said Kira, still fuming. Her torn and stained breeches followed her shirt to the floor. Her underwear was drenched too.

  ‘Tierken spent his growing not knowing if he’d become Feailner. It’s a hard way to live, but he’s sure about that now. He needs to be sure about you, too,’ said Laryia.

  Their evening meal was taken in strained silence, as was their breakfast, the first light of dawn tinting the Silvercades as Eris farewelled them. The sky was clear, promising a cool, fine day for their journey.

  ‘Give yourself kindness and time,’ said Eris softly to Kira, kissing her cheek. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’

  Kira nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and followed Tierken and Laryia to the stables. The Guard were already mounted and Robrin waved them off
, Tierken leading, and Laryia pointing out plants or interesting vistas that they’d missed in the darkness of the northward journey.

  They cleared Glass Gorge and stopped at the Frost Glades to eat, Tierken handing Kira a cup of cotzee, and Kira thanking him with careful formality. Let him complain about her manners now! They went on, Laryia’s attempts at conversation dwindling with the light, and it was fully dark before they approached the Tiar Forest and looked down on the twinkling lamps of Sarnia.

  ‘Sarnia is a beautiful sight,’ said Tierken, bringing Kalos level with Kira’s mare.

  ‘To a Sarnian,’ said Kira, still smarting from the last night.

  ‘Is there nothing in the north you like?’

  ‘The stars, the horses, the deep silence of snow, the always-green groves, the dwinhir, your grandmother and sister.’

  ‘But not the Terak Feailner?’ said Tierken, his eyes glittering.

  Kira looked away and made no response. Whatever Laryia said, Tierken’s denial of her left her with no choice but to go south. And if he wasn’t going to give her people aid then the sooner she was gone from him the better.

  They completed the rest of the ride in silence.

  Kira went straight to her rooms on their return and Tierken ate with Farid in the Meeting Hall. He felt glad to be back, which made him realise that he’d truly settled in Sarnia. As he sipped his ale, the fire at the end of the room reminded him of how he’d lain with Kira on the rug. He lounged back in the chair, easing the sudden tension in his groin.

  ‘The Writing Store’s ordered,’ said Farid, ‘and the records on Kasheron and his followers separated, as you requested.’

  ‘Any more Writings on the Sundering or on the ring?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘Nothing on the ring apart from what we already know. As for the Sundering, none mention the specific time Kasheron left, apart from the one we’ve discussed,’ said Farid. ‘It’s odd that the tales tell of Kasheron going north, but not the Writings. What did Eris say?’

  ‘That it’s likely Kira’s telling the truth,’ said Tierken.

  ‘And Poerin?’

  ‘The same.’

  Farid’s eyebrows rose.

  ‘Poerin has more belief in the machinations of men than gods,’ added Tierken.

  ‘And so?’ said Farid tentatively.

  ‘All the tales tell of Kasheron going over the Oskinas and I’d wager you’d not find a single Terak, Illian, Kir or even a Kessomi who’d disagree. My uncle believed it, and the Feailners before him. The traders and the Marken believe it. Only a single Writing disputes the time and, by implication, the direction of Kasheron’s travel.’

  ‘And what Kira says,’ added Farid.

  ‘I intend to leave things as they are for the time being. Apart from anything else, it’s too dangerous for Kira to be anywhere but here. On my return from patrol, I’ll discuss with her the Writing you’ve found and other matters that have come to my attention. But for me to recognise the Tremen as kin, and for Sarnia and the rest of the Terak to accept the Tremen as kin – and everything such recognition entails – such as opening up the Wastes to them – I’m going to need more substantial proof.’

  ‘Are you saying that you now believe Kira’s version of events?’ said Farid in astonishment.

  ‘No.’

  Farid looked at him quizzically, wondering how to interpret the answer, but silence stretched and in the end Farid cleared his throat. ‘How does Eris?’ he asked.

  ‘Frail but still gathering in all weathers.’

  ‘What did Eris think of Kira?’ asked Farid.

  ‘Healers usually like each other, and it was so this time.’

  ‘Did Kira like Kessom?’

  ‘Kira liked it better than Sarnia, but that’s not saying a great deal,’ said Tierken. ‘She’s been used to going off where and when she pleases and, given the Shargh threat, that has to end. I know she’s not going to enjoy having her freedoms curtailed, but she’ll become settled here, as Laryia has. Now, we need to discuss the provisioning of the patrol.’

  57

  Arkendrin marched at the front of his warriors, almost two hundred, strung out behind him. His spears he carried over his shoulder, and his flatswords and daggers at his side. One more day and they’d gain the western flank of the Braghans and turn east. The Sky Chiefs had granted him healing for his leg wound, and though the muscles still pained him Arkendrin had spurned the horses some Weshargh rode, refusing to repay the Sky Chiefs’ benevolence with further insult.

  The Sky Chiefs had delivered the gold-eyed creature into his hands, then snatched her back, and Arkendrin would give them no cause to punish him a second time by lifting his feet from the earth. He pondered whether such slights risked the withdrawal of the Sky Chiefs’ favour from their greater mission. Certainly Erboran’s death meant the Sky Chiefs intended him to both rid the Shargh of the creature of the Telling and reclaim their stolen lands. But he wondered whether the Sky Chiefs smiled on Orbdargan and Yrshin.

  Orbdargan’s herds had grown too large for their present pastures but Yrshin sought lands only to silence the discontent of those who wanted a Chief who could still run and hunt. His quest was hardly likely to have the Sky Chiefs’ approval. To add to the danger of rousing the Sky Chiefs’ anger, Orbdargan and Yrshin continued to mock the Sky Chiefs by climbing into the mountains with their warriors. It was only the fact that the Braghans were too steep for horses that meant the Soushargh and Weshargh who’d chosen to ride trailed at the back of his men with their horses and provisions.

  Arkendrin spat as he considered the possibility of their proximity tainting his fortunes as well. He’d argued that there would be plenty of the herders’ and woodcutters’ food in the northern foothills of the Braghans, without burdening themselves with still more horses. But Yrshin had been worried his fat belly would shrink and Orbdargan had sided with the old Soushargh Chief – again.

  Kira wandered along the top of the wall. Her mind was made up. Tierken’s patrol would leave in two days, and she would leave on the third. Since their return from Kessom, Kira had managed to avoid Tierken completely, which was no mean feat. She rode very early and pretended to be asleep whenever he knocked. Her locked door kept him from entering, and maintained his irritation with her. It hadn’t made leaving him any easier though, and her anxiety at crossing the Sarsalin alone had roused the nightmares again. Or maybe it was hunger that had caused their return.

  Kira had disguised her theft of food for the journey by eating less, and now her pack bulged with nuts and dried fruit. Nights of studying the map she’d copied meant the lands had become familiar to her, but she would have to outrun the Domain Guard in order to use her newfound knowledge.

  She came down from the wall and made her way back to the Domain, stopping at the owl fountain and perching on its edge. The first Kiraon had put it here, with its tree of stone and little carved owls. What had that Kiraon been like, and Alitha, who’d planted the grove in Maraschin? Both had bonded with Kings, shared their bodies with rulers of vast lands, birthed.

  ‘A good evening to the Lady Kira,’ said a male voice, startling her out of her reverie.

  Kira stood. ‘Good evening …’ returned Kira. Though she had no idea who he was, the bearing of the man approaching told her he wasn’t a server.

  ‘Marken Rosham,’ he said, coming so close Kira had to resist the urge to step back. Rosham was only a little taller than her, but thickset, his hair the same silver as swords.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect the Lady Kira to know me, given her lands are far away – and somewhat rustic, I hear.’

  Rosham’s contempt was plain and Kira searched her memory for what she knew of him. Laryia had rolled her eyes when she’d spoken of Rosham, but he was Farid’s father, and Kira liked Farid.

  ‘How does the Lady Kira occupy her time in the Domain, when she’s not keeping company with the Feailner?’

  ‘I ride and record my Healer knowing,’ said Kira reluctantly.

 
‘Healer knowing? Of course. I had forgotten you dabble in those things that play to men’s weaknesses. How did you enjoy your jaunt to Kessom?’ he asked, before she could respond to his insult.

  ‘Kessom is beautiful,’ said Kira defiantly.

  ‘Yes, I thought it might suit you,’ said Rosham, his gaze moving over her slowly. ‘Things are laxer there than here, perhaps like the place you’re from, a point the Feailner sometimes forgets.’ His mouth bent in a smile. ‘I wish you a good night, Lady Kira.’

  Kira stared after his receding back, trying to summon up anger to dispel the hurt he’d inflicted. Was that how she was seen in Sarnia? Like a Caru woman? Laryia had alluded to it when she’d insisted Kira wear metal at the banquet. And during one of their arguments, Tierken had too. I’m beginning to think Tremen women are as faithless as those in the Caru Quarter. He’d apologised later, but Kira suspected the words reflected his true fears.

  She went slowly up the stairs to the balcony, wondering if Merek and Kesilini had shared a bed before they’d bonded. As the Leader’s daughter, she’d seen countless bonding ceremonies at Turning, but had never thought about what came before, too busy at her gathering, and drying, and making of pastes. She’d noticed nothing and known nothing – until Caledon.

  Kira entered her rooms and rested her head back against the door, eyes shut, hoping Merek and Kesilini had known the sweetness she’d discovered with Tierken. Its briefness didn’t make it less worthy, nor did the fact that they were unbonded, as Rosham implied.

  ‘Are you tired, Kira?’ said Tierken, causing Kira to start violently. ‘I beg your pardon for invading your privacy, but I decided it might be the only way to see you,’ said Tierken, rising from the table.

  ‘You need to take care, Feailner, that you’re not seen as being as lax as those in Kessom,’ said Kira, her heart still skittering with fright.

  ‘Whose words are they?’ he said, his brows drawing.

  ‘Does it matter?’ she asked.