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We spoke for some time, so by the time my father and I came out of his tent, the women had prepared a great deal of food. They had brought it all to a place where many rugs had been laid over the earth, with low tables set on the rugs. Garoyo stood some little distance from the gathering place, speaking to a small number of other warriors, including one—two—warriors I recognized as inVotaro. Our king must have sent them to make sure he heard everything that happened here. Aras stood with my brother. If his presence made the inVotaro warriors uneasy, I could not see that in them.
My father stood considering the camp and thinking his own thoughts. I stood beside him, waiting. Beyond the open place, the tents rose up against the darkening sky, and beyond those the rounded silhouettes of wagons, though in a camp of this kind more people lived in tents and fewer in wagons. Wagons are more use to those of our people who travel with the herds.
This was a camp of women and children. Of course some men were here as well, but in this season, most of the warriors and almost all the herdsmen were out on the steppe or far south in the great forest. Here in this camp, most of the men were craftsmen, those who worked with wood or metal or bone. Among Ugaro, those are crafts normally taken up by men, as women work with furs and wool and cloth. The custom is not strict, so sometimes a man will teach his daughter to make bows, or a mother may teach her son to finish furs.
Early stars glittered in a clear sky, especially to the north, above the mountains. The Moon stood low in the sky, half turned that way, toward the north. I wondered what she saw tonight in that country, whether any people moved there or whether all was silent save the wind.
Finally my father led the way forward. My mother and my sister were laying out the food they had prepared. Lalani was helping them. She was laughing at something Tasig had said, happy and at ease.
“Wise of your Lau sorcerer to bring a woman,” my father remarked. “That has pleased everyone.”
“I told him it would be so.”
“Of course you did, Ryo. I see your Lau have given your new brother a place among them.”
Tano was sitting next to Geras. His manner was contained, and he was not looking at anyone. I said, “Geras is experienced with teaching young men. Tano is experienced with not giving offense to people who may be enemies.”
“Yes, you said this,” my father agreed. “Go greet your mother, my son.” He walked away, toward Aras and Garoyo and the other warriors.
I went to the fire and settled by a table near Geras and Suyet. Almost at once, my mother came and sat down beside me, letting children and young women take on the task of serving everyone. I bowed my head to her, and she touched my hand, smiling. “You have been gone from my camp a long time, my son. Welcome.”
I smiled at her. “Your camp is always a home of my heart. I have often thought of you, and of everyone. Perhaps Etta is with the inGeiro.”
“She is. She lives among those people now more than she lives among inGara. She may marry soon.”
“Iro?”
“This seems likely. Many ambitious young men and respected older men have put themselves in her way, but Etta has always favored that young man. It is your sister’s nature to be constant. Iro would do well for her, and his mother and I agree that the match would be good for both tribes.”
I nodded again, wondering if I might still be here in the winter country when my sister decided it was time to marry. It seemed unlikely, but only the gods know what the turning years will bring. I said merely, “If my mother approves of this young man for her daughter, then no doubt her brothers will approve.”
“One would be pleased to think so,” my mother agreed placidly.
I waited a little to let the subject turn. Then I tipped my chin toward Nisig.
“Another girl. Born two hands of days ago. Small, but all Nisig’s babies are small. The child will thrive unless some ill luck comes to her. Your brother is responsible for teaching every boy in this camp, Ryo. And he treats Arayo inKera exactly as though the young man were his son.”
I nodded. Arayo inKera had been given to my father as a tuyo to end the enmity between inKera and inGara—and to demonstrate the new custom, the offer and acceptance of a tuyo who was not put to death. Perhaps the new custom would spread among the tribes, or perhaps no one else would follow the example and the new custom would die. Either way, Arayo inKera belonged to my father and to the inGara, so of course my brother had taken him in hand. No one among all inGara people was better than my eldest brother at teaching a boy, as I had reason to know. Still, I regretted the new baby was not a boy. It is better for a great warrior to have sons as well as daughters.
“Nisig prayed for a son,” my mother said, following my thoughts without difficulty. “But your brother gave thanks for a healthy child. The gods give the gifts they choose, and if we are wise, we accept those gifts as they come. Garoyo will have a son eventually, Ryo, or if not, then that is as it is. Your sister Tasig is carrying. The early signs suggest hers will be a son.”
I nodded, making an interested sound so that my mother would tell me of other important things that had been happening. The evening had deepened, the stars coming out in their uncountable numbers. The fires had burned down to coals, glimmering red here and there.
My mother said, “I will tell you something that may interest you, my son. A traveler, a poet, has been staying among the inKarano. This man has come an extraordinary distance. He has traveled west for thirteen years from the lands where he was born. He said he wished to look upon the western edge of the world. This journey began when his grandfather traveled west for eight years. Then that man married a woman and stayed with her people for some time, but when she died, he traveled west again for six more years. The son of that man traveled with his father for those six years and then for three more years before he married in turn and settled with his wife’s people. Now this poet, grandson of the first, has come this far.”
This had distracted me from every other concern. I said in amazement, “This poet’s grandfather’s people must dwell all the way at the eastern edge of the world.”
“Perhaps nearly so.” My mother smiled. “Some of those years were taken up by going north or south in order to pass around some great barrier. This poet traveled for almost a year to pass around the great canyon that lies between the lands inKarano rules and the lands to the east. He paused for a long time with a tribe to the east of that lake and a tribe to the west.”
I nodded. I had heard that canyon described in tales. The cliffs were sheer and difficult, and the lake below those cliffs impassable except in the depths of the long cold—and then the cliffs were more difficult still, as ice coated the stone. A man might well choose to travel far out of his way to pass around that canyon.
My mother looked at me, calm but serious. “This poet may have changed his mind about going farther himself, at least for the present. He has lived among the inKarano for almost a year and shows no inclination yet to go on with his journey. Certainly the inKarano would be glad to bring him into their tribe.”
I was sure they would. A poet who had come so far would know very many tales we had not heard; for that alone he would be welcomed everywhere. He must be easy-tempered and tactful and polite, because a quarrelsome man would have been killed long before he came so far. He must know very well how to make himself agreeable to strangers. I asked, “What is this poet’s name?”
“Elaro inPorakario,” my mother told me. Her mouth crooked at my expression. “His people speak a different language, not unlike taksu, but not exactly like. This man speaks several languages, each one like taksu, but not exactly like.”
I knew that that Ugaro in different places spoke different languages, but I have never met anyone who did not speak taksu very much as inGara spoke it.
“This Elaro is a most interesting man, Ryo,” said my mother. “Few travelers are so interesting. If he wishes to remain among the inKarano, many young women might ask their mothers or t
heir aunts or their grandmothers to consider him favorably, even though he has no female relative to speak for him. Unmarried singers might be especially interested in a man who is a poet and has come so far.” She looked at me steadily for a moment. There was only one woman like that among the inKarano: Darra inKarano, daughter of Koro inKarano.
“You might write to Darra inKarano,” my mother murmured. “Everyone will wish to know what your lord discovers regarding this Tarashana woman, Ryo. I will write, but you might wish to do so as well.”
“Yes,” I said. “This is a wise suggestion.” I did not want to discuss Darra inKarano or eastern poets any further, not until I had thought about this further. I said, to turn the subject, “I will write to her tomorrow, after Aras has met this avila woman. I understand this woman is exactly as the tales describe.”
“She is,” my mother agreed, settling back. “She is a woman of the spiral pattern. When I was a woman with fewer winters than you have now, Ryo, and had gone with some of our people to trade with the avila, a man with a similar pattern spoke to me. He knew some taksu, and taught me a few words of the avila tongue. We exchanged one tale and another, each telling stories of our own people. I do not believe either of us entirely understood the other, but we each found much of interest in those tales. I believe this man might have been a poet, and important among his people, but I am not certain. I believe this woman we shelter may be important in the same way, but I am not certain of that either.”
“Tell me about her,” I suggested, and settled on one elbow to listen.
My mother tipped her hand back and forth, meaning that she was not certain what to say. “She is beautiful and fragile, as all those people are. She is your age, or mine, or older than that; I do not know. She seems young to look upon, but I feel she may be older than she appears.”
“The stars lend her their light?”
Now my mother smiled. “They do. One cannot see this in daylight, or only a very little. From dusk to dawn, one cannot fail to see it. When the night skies are overcast, her light seems very bright. The spiral patterns drawn across her skin sometimes seems silver and sometimes blue and sometimes black. Like those patterns, her eyes may be all the many colors of the sky, sometimes dark and sometimes blue and sometimes almost white.” She added thoughtfully, “When she gazes away to the north, the color is often pale.”
Our tales of the avila people explain that this means they are afraid.
“Our guest says that he is not able to see her thoughts from this distance,” my mother observed.
“He does not know her. He does not speak her tongue. He does not know her people. All this means he is unlikely to see her thoughts at all clearly.”
“So he explained to me. In some ways, I am pleased to know his sorcery tells him so little. In other ways, this is inconvenient. This woman has learned some taksu. My younger son has given much attention to teaching her, and we believe she can understand us well enough, though she will not speak.”
“Good,” I said. “When Aras meets her at last, that should prove useful, no matter how different and strange she may be.”
My mother inclined her head. “If the gods are kind, the things that frighten her will not be things Ugaro need to fear. If the gods are more generous than that, perhaps we may even be able to assuage her fear. For the memory of the man I knew, I would be pleased if that were so.”
I nodded. I had known my mother wished for many reasons to understand this avila woman, but I had not realized until this moment that my mother probably also liked her, or pitied her, or favored her in some other way, and so personally wished to help her if she could. I thought probably this meant that my people would find a way to assuage her fear, if such a thing were possible at all.
Later, when people began to retire for the night, Lalani did not raise up her own tent, but went to my mother’s. Aras went with my father to his tent, and Geras and Suyet set their small tent near that one. Tano stayed where he was, looking into the fire, pretending unconcern. He did not know where he should go, and I did not know what to suggest. He should not go into a tent with Lau soldiers, but I certainly could not suggest he come with me to my father’s tent, or Garoyo’s.
Then Arayo inKera came to the fire. He did not look at Tano, but nodded to me. “Ryo,” he said. “Garoyo suggests you come to his tent tonight.”
I nodded acknowledgment. Of course my eldest brother would want to hear everything. I rose, but Arayo did not move to walk with me. He said to Tano, “I am Arayo inKera. My father is Hokino inKera, warleader of the inKera. I was given to the lord of the inGara, so I belong to the inGara now. I have fifteen winters. I share a tent with Raga inGara, who is a poet and talks far too much, but he is not here right now, so it will be quiet tonight. Even when Raga sleeps in that tent, there is enough room for another young man.”
Tano took a breath, let it out, and stood up. I did not wait, but walked away, leaving the young men. But I thought that if it came about that I might do some kindness for Arayo inKera at some time in the future, I would be glad of that chance.
Aras rose at dawn, going out of the tent to face the Sun and offer a silent prayer, as is the way of the Lau when they know something important lies ahead in the coming day. They ask for courage and clear sight, or for the strength to be resolute in some brave and honorable undertaking, or for victory in battle—those are all suitable prayers to make to the Sun. I was already awake, but did not move to intrude.
Somewhere nearby a woman sang to the dawn. Not a singer. Her voice was not like that. This woman was just singing because the morning was clear and pleasant. High clouds streaked the sky, and a light wind sent ripples across the lake, and the early sunlight caught the sharp edges of the mountains so that the ice of the peaks glittered in the colors of the dawn. In Nisig’s tent, near my brother’s, the baby sent up a thin cry, swiftly soothed as her mother took her up.
Garoyo came out of his tent after me, touching my arm in silent greeting. He glanced at Aras, standing alone at the eastern edge of the camp, but made no comment before he went into his wife’s tent. One of Nisig’s older female cousins came out of the tent with a child on her hip, smiling at me as she went past—she had come to help Nisig while the infant was so little. Beyond Garoyo’s tent, Arayo inKera came out of another of the smaller tents. He saw me and smiled, turning to say something to someone else. To my surprise, not only Tano came out of that tent, but also my brother Raga, who must have come there some time last night after all. Raga’s face lit when he saw me. He had sixteen winters now, so he was too old to run to me like a child. But he walked fast, and embraced me when I held out my arms.
“I missed you entirely when you came last time!” he said, as though this were my fault. “I missed everything! I was on the steppe, and there you were in the forest, Ryo, persuading our father to tolerate one sorcerer and battle another! I wish I had been there.”
“I was very glad you were safe,” I told him, pushing him back so that I could look at him. I did not say that for some time I had believed him dead in a terrible way, that Lorellan had made me believe everyone I most loved had died terribly. Even after so long, even when all those lies were long faded and I no longer remembered them clearly, I remembered the grief they had caused. I said, “Look at you! You have become a man. But as you are a poet, I hope you are not behaving as foolishly as a young warrior.”
“Not nearly as foolishly as you did!” he told me, grinning. “I still have the lion skin you gave me. I cherish it, as I am sure I will never kill a lion myself. But this time you have brought me something even better: a Lau sorcerer! I would be very sorry if somewhere in this world a sorcerer walked, a reasonable and honorable man, and I never met him.” He glanced to the east, where Aras still stood alone, facing the rising Sun.
“You have met an avila,” I pointed out.
“Yes, and now you will meet her too. She is beautiful in the way of her kind—the tales are true, Ryo; she does indeed reflect the light of t
he stars! Although one cannot see this during the day, unless the skies are very heavily overcast. She is very interesting, almost as interesting as the only Lau sorcerer in the world who does not suffer from madness. You must make me known to him, Ryo, but perhaps not yet, as he seems much occupied. I wonder if he would teach me the prayers the Lau offer to the Sun? I do not know them. But perhaps the request would be offensive.”
I laughed and slung an arm over his shoulder. “You may ask him. You may ask him anything you wish. He is very unlikely to be offended. I think he will like you very much, Raga.”
Tano had come out of the tent now, and stood near Arayo, not looking at me. They were much too far away to overhear, so I said to Raga, “I hope you were not offended that I said I would deal with this other young man as though he were my younger brother.”
“No,” Raga said, surprised. “How would that offend me? I was surprised, I admit that. He is interesting too, Ryo. Everything you do is interesting these days! My life is entirely boring! No inTasiyo ever runs up to me to beg for mercy. I am sure nothing like that will ever happen to me, and perhaps that is as well, because I would have no idea what to do with him. You always know what is right to do.”
I laughed. “What a great pity that is not true.” I walked with him toward the other young men. When we were close enough to speak easily, I nodded to Tano and said to Raga, “Show Tano where the meat left last night was put away. Bring food for the Lau—if there is bread, they would like that better than meat. Aras will be finished soon. Then I am certain my father will want to escort him to see the avila woman. All the Lau will probably come with him. Or perhaps otherwise, I do not know, but either way, I think all three of you should come.”
“Oh, yes, we should certainly come!” Raga said at once. “I know the Tarashana woman a little, so I will explain to your sorcerer the small things I know.”
Tarashana Page 18