“That is when the king set the ban.”
Gayata nodded. “Yes. No one would admit fault or agree to any kind of resolution. Finally Doroya inKarano set this ban between inGara and inTasiyo and between their allies.” He explained to the Lau, “The king forbade raiding and declared that if any person on either side trespassed, he should be put to death—by his enemies, if he were caught; or by his own lord if he escaped. Doroya declared that if either the inGara or the inTasiyo disobeyed this order and continued the war, he would join the other tribe to crush the one who disobeyed. That finally ended the problem.” He turned back to me. “All this happened twice twenty winters in the past, but I think our father is unlikely to have forgotten anything.”
I nodded. I did not know what to say. I had not known anything important of that tale. “We do not tell that story? Does our father forbid it?”
Gayata shook his head. “He never forbade it, but my mother did not like to hear it. She took the fault for everything that happened to herself, because she said she should have killed Yaro that first day. But everyone knew the story at first. Only later, young people of the tribe did not remember how that trouble started.”
If I had known that whole tale ... I did not know what I would have done differently. Now that I knew this story, I was not certain what would be best to do.
Tano said, not looking up, “If you prefer to release me from my oath, I will release you from yours. Then you can do anything you wish.”
Everyone stared at him. Then they all looked at me.
Gayata said, “That would be one solution, Ryo.” At the same time, Suyet said urgently, “You can’t do that, Ryo!”
Aras had picked up a stick of firewood and was turning it over in his fingers. He was accustomed to pick up his scepter and trace the gold inlaid along its length. He did it when he was thinking or when he was troubled. He saw me looking at him and set the stick down.
I said firmly to Tano, “That was bravely offered, but I do not release you. I am glad to know this tale now, but my oath and yours still stand.” I paused long enough that everyone would understand they should not try to argue with me regarding the matter. Then I added, “I would like to know how the inTasiyo tell that story. Do they tell it?”
“Not like that,” Tano said softly. “I think the inGara probably tell the tale in much the way it happened.” He glanced up at me and then down again.
“You choose your own honor,” I said sharply. “That is true for everyone, no matter the reputation of his people.” I got to my feet, but I did not walk away at once. I said to Gayata, “I think we must go on tomorrow. We have been glad to rest here and I have been very glad to see you and your family, Gayata. But the days are passing. We should not delay much longer.”
He nodded and stood up as well. “I will give you as much grain as you can carry. That should help you move travel quickly for many days.”
“Yes,” I said. “We thank you for your generosity.” Then I said to Tano, “Come with me now.” As he looked up in surprise and jumped to his feet, I walked away from the wagons, into the wide steppe, until the sounds of people and horses faded behind me and the susurrus of the winds through the tall grasses became the most important sound in the night.
The stars glimmered overhead, filling the vault of the heavens. They were vivid and bright this far north, so close to the lands beyond the mountains where they ruled the skies. I did not look back, but I heard Tano walking behind me and to the side, a little distance away. We waded through grasses that came up to mid-thigh, crushing stems underfoot; here, the way we had walked, the herds had not yet grazed the grasses short. The scent of the grass and of the earth, still warm from the day’s sunlight, rose up around us, overwhelming the more distant odors of the herds behind us.
When we had come that far, I turned to face Tano. He took a sharp step back, caught himself, and stood still. The Moon’s face was round and bright, as her face usually is in the winter lands. We could see each other clearly enough. He held himself warily, ready to move, as a man does when he thinks he may face an enemy. I could think of two reasons he might stand like that. At least two.
I said, “You told me you did not intend to trespass on inGara lands. You told me the inSorako forced you east and east again, until at last you had no choice but to cross the boundary into inGara lands. Was that true?”
He took a breath. I saw his chest move. Then he said, “That was the truth, warrior.”
I waited. The grasses rustled and murmured in the wind. From a distance came the murmur of voices and the slower, deeper lowing of cattle. Tano did not say anything else. I could hear him breathing. He took slow, deep breaths, as one does when one is afraid but is trying to control the fear. I still waited.
Finally, after a finger or so of time had passed, I said, “If I were a son of Yaro inTasiyo, if I were a young man who wanted above everything to win my father’s good regard, if I came east and east again, perhaps I might do that because I hoped to raid the inGara. I might hope to succeed not in a small raid, but in a great one. Perhaps I might hope to kill the lord of the inGara. That would be a great feat for a son of Yaro inTasiyo to bring his father.”
Tano said immediately, “That would be completely stupid. My father would have put me to death for that, or if he did not, that would give the inGara reason to set a charge against the inTasiyo that they could not answer. The inKarano and the inVotaro would join with the inGara to destroy the inTasiyo.”
I did not like how quickly he had answered me. “Perhaps a son of Yaro inTasiyo might not respect the ban,” I suggested. “Perhaps he would expect his father to ignore the king’s ruling. This young man might manage to kill the lord of the inGara in some quiet way so that he could conceal the act and come away and no one would know he had broken the ban. Perhaps a young Ugaro warrior who did not consider honor important might think of something like that.”
This time Tano did not answer at once. Only after a small space of time, he said, “Aras would have warned you. He knows there is nothing of the kind in my mind.”
I said impatiently, “I know you do not intend such a thing now. Of course Aras would have said something to warn me if that were so. But if your intention in the beginning had been something of the kind, he would not tell me that. If that were so, I do not want him to tell me. I want you to tell me.”
Silence again. I waited, letting the quiet grow. For a long time, neither of us spoke. A finger of time crept past. Two fingers. A hand. Longer than that. For all that time, Tano looked past me, at nothing. He gazed out at the endless steppe, the grasses silver-gray and then silver-green in the moonlight as all the blades bent one way and then another in answer to the winds. Far, far in the distance, a single wolf sang. Farther still, another answered. This was the first night I had heard wolves since we had come onto the steppe. They sing less in the warm season than they do after the snows begin to fall. I listened to these wolves now, singing to each other and to the Moon, and composed myself to wait for as long as I must.
Finally Tano breathed out and bowed his head. He said in a low voice, “Everything you say is true. When I left inTasiyo lands, that was in my mind. I knew it would be difficult, but I thought I might be able to do it. I thought ...” his voice trailed off. He was quiet for the space of three long breaths. Six. Twelve. Then he said, “I thought I could pretend to be someone from a different tribe. I thought the inGara might be generous to an inRasiko and that I might come near the lord of the inGara in that way. I could kill him and get away again and everyone would set the fault for my act against the inRasiko. It was all exactly as you said.”
To plan so coldly to do murder and put the act on a tribe that had nothing to do with the quarrel between inTasiyo and inGara ... that was much worse than anything I had thought of. I said nothing.
Tano was not looking at me, but at the earth between us. “Long before I came near inGara lands, I knew I had been completely stupid. Entirely stupid. I knew I could never d
o it. I heard people talking, inRasiko people, and I learned that the lord of the inGara was far, far north. From that time I was trying to go west. But one tribe after another forced me east instead. So I came to inSorako and then inGara lands after all.” He looked at me and said again, “That part happened as I told you.”
“You say you had given up this plan?” I asked. “Yet you still told me you were inRasiko.”
He nodded. “Yes. I mean, I had given it up. I hoped only that you would show mercy to an inRasiko boy. I hoped you would not beat me too severely. By that day, in that moment, that was all I hoped for.” His tone had taken on a biting contempt. This was not directed at me, but at himself. “I should have realized an inGara might know me. I knew inGara warriors always look hard at my father when their paths cross during the Convocation. My plan was completely stupid from the beginning. Stupid in at least two different ways.”
It had been much worse than stupid. I did not know what to say.
Tano finally knelt. He said, “I told you the truth about why I came past the boundary markers and into inGara lands. At the time I crossed the border, that was true. I thought it was true enough, even though I did not say anything about what I meant to do in the beginning. If you say it was a lie, I will not protest. I will try to endure any punishment you give me. If you put me to death, I ask you to leave my head for the animals.”
Some days ago, that request might have surprised me. Now it did not. I looked at him for some time. Finally I said, “You declare you will not protest if I say you lied. I do not say that. I ask you to judge that yourself, Tano inTasiyo. Considering everything you did not tell me, was what you told me a lie?”
A breath. Another breath. At last he began, “I think ...”
I waited.
He looked up at me. “I think I may not know exactly what the truth is and what a lie is. Not the way you do. I thought it was not wrong to be silent about some things. Or not very wrong. Probably I was mistaken to think so. If you say it was wrong and that I lied to you, I will accept that.”
That was not a bad answer. It was better than I had feared. I sat down facing him. I said, “From someone I trust, from a cousin or a friend, from anyone who was not inTasiyo, I would say that was not exactly a lie and I would forgive it. From you, I say it was not exactly the truth and I am not certain whether I wish to forgive it. In the future, I ask you to be very, very strict with yourself when you tell me things that are true.”
He bowed wordlessly to the ground.
“I will not put you to death. I do not wish to punish you for anything,” I told him. “I wish to be confident that I may trust what you say. Once that confidence is lost, it is very difficult to recover. That is why you should cherish your honor, not discard it for a momentary advantage. Perhaps someone has taught you otherwise. They were wrong.”
“I understand,” he said, muffled against the earth.
“Perhaps you do. I hope you do. You may sit.”
He obeyed, straightening and moving to sit cross-legged, as I was, though he did not raise his eyes to my face.
I asked him, “Do you understand that what you planned to do was wrong? That making use of such a deception to kill the lord of the inGara would be disgraceful, and putting the act on the inRasiko would be unspeakably dishonorable?”
The blood came up into his throat and face, dark in the moonlight. “I accept what you tell me. I am very sorry I thought of that plan. I ... I deserve punishment for—”
“Be quiet,” I told him. And, after a breath of silence, “You do not know how to judge anything. Least of all yourself. What has Aras said to you regarding the matter? I am certain,” I added, “that he has said something.”
He was still flushed, but he answered without stammering. “He said I have sixteen winters and do not know anything. He said when I have sixteen winters more than I do now, I may have better sense. He said I should tell you everything. He was right.”
“He is usually right. It is a hazard when arguing with a sorcerer. I do not release you from the oath you swore to me. I do not renounce the oath I swore to you. You remain within my honor and within inGara honor. My father is too just to punish you for an anger that was old before you were born. He will remember that. If necessary, I will remind him of it. You are a very intelligent young man—”
His head jerked up in surprise.
“Anyone could see it,” I told him impatiently. “Honor is more important, but intelligence is not a bad thing to have. It may be useful now. Think of something to say that will make my father see you as yourself and not as your father’s son. Something true all the way to its heart. Give him a reason to be generous to a son of Yaro inTasiyo.” I stood up. “Come back to the wagons when you are ready. We need not discuss this matter again unless you think of something else you should say.” I walked away, leaving him there.
-10-
Two days after we left my brother Gayata and his wives and that part of the inGara people, on a clean morning that dawned bright and clear after a brief storm, with the endless skies stretching out forever above the earth, we finally saw the northern mountains clearly. The Fangs of the North stood against the sky, tiny with distance, but glittering and brilliant in the sunlight.
“Twenty days, Ryo?” Aras asked me, shading his eyes with his hand as he gazed north.
“Not that many,” I told him. I ran my hand down my mare’s neck. “With as much grain as my brother gave us, we need not let the horses graze much. We will come there ...” I considered the distance, glancing at Rakasa.
He shrugged. “Fifteen days?” he guessed.
“Twelve,” I said, laughing suddenly. I nudged my mare sharply, leaning forward and giving her a loose rein. Happy with the clear morning and the wide, level ground, she caught my mood at once and leaped into a gallop. Rakasa was after me immediately, shouting. Our horses thundered across the steppe. I heard Suyet shout and then Lalani, her voice as high and piercing as the voice of an Ugaro singer as she passed me. She weighed nothing; her gelding could carry her as easily as though she were a bird perched on his saddle.
We could not ride at that pace for long, but we put a great distance behind us that day, for all the Fangs of the North seemed to grow no closer.
Later, I drew out the mountains in the ashes of our fire, showing the Lau how the land lay. “My mother’s camp will be set somewhere along the shore of this lake,” I told them, sketching its long, narrow shape. “We will ride along that lake for the whole last day before we come to the foot of the mountains.”
“Does it have a name?” Aras asked.
“The lake of the pass, the lake of ice, the narrow lake. We know which lake we mean. It is the largest lake within inGara territory. We inGara camp to the west of that lake. The inGeiro camp to the east. During the long cold, people may walk or ride across the ice. During the warm season, we ride around. Ordinarily no one would camp there in this season, but because of this Tarashana woman, people of both tribes may be there.”
“People of both tribes will definitely be there,” Rakasa agreed. “Yavorda and my father and everyone agreed some inGeiro should stay in the north to see how it happened.” He smiled at Aras. “Everyone thought you would come.”
“I am glad not to disappoint them,” Aras answered, smiling back. “I must say, I am impatient to solve this mystery now that we are so close. I hope nothing has happened to the Tarashana woman in all these days.”
“Perish the thought,” Geras exclaimed. “Gods-hated long ride if we made it for nothing.”
“Not entirely for nothing,” Aras murmured. “But certainly long enough.”
“Very soon now, we will come there,” I assured them both.
So that day passed, and the next after that, and the next again. For some days, we seemed to come no closer to the mountains. Then suddenly one morning they seemed much closer, which is how it happens when the skies become especially clear on that journey. “Some days more,” I said, judging the sky and t
he mountains. “But not many.”
“Five,” Bara said. “Four.”
“Something near that,” I agreed.
By this time anyone could see that we rode toward very great mountains. The two tallest stood close together, their peaks raking into the sky, with the lesser mountains stretching away to the east and the west. Ice glittered like glass along the highest peak. Where there was less ice, the stone was gray, shading to pink where the sunlight struck it and to lavender in the shadows.
I said to Aras, “You see how the those mountains seem rooted one directly beside the other? They actually stand so far apart it is more than a full day’s ride to travel from one to the other across the valley that lies between them. The western mountain is Talal Soka. The eastern mountain is called Talal Somara. The tombs of the Gara people are set into the stone of Talal Soka. Those of our people who have gone into the land of the shades, the taiGara, may come there to look out upon our lands and upon those of their people who still dwell in the land of the living.” I glanced at Suyet. “The names of the mountains are old. A poet might know what they mean.”
“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t know you had another name for your dead, Ryo!”
I nodded. “We are all Gara people. All these mountains send their roots down into the land of the shades, while their highest peaks brush the vault of the heavens. We think this the best place to set our tombs.”
Aras was gazing up at the eastern mountain. “No wonder you want the skulls of your dead returned to you. I knew you set them in tombs, but not ... I should have understood this better than I did, I think.” He glanced at me. “How long have your people held this land, Ryo?”
“You would have to ask a poet to know the span of years. So long that inGara and inGeiro were still one people when we came here. The highest tombs belong to both peoples.”
For a moment there was a respectful silence as everyone looked up at the mountains.
Tarashana Page 15