When she did not speak at once, my father glowered more darkly still. “Well? Answer.”
The woman had folded her hands tightly before her. She looked at my father, then my mother, then Aras. Finally, she tilted her face toward the lucent sky. She said, Sije-Aras, you know I speak the truth. Great lord, tal-Marag ... what I must do is a thing Tarashana have done. The great sorcerer tal-Ysejahadris reclaimed her lover from the long circle because she was his remembrance. This is what I must do, will do, it is almost the same, I can do this. If you help me come there, to the high place below the world, that place is everywhere within the land of the shades, it must be, it must rise up from the place your people go. Help me come there and I can return our people to the world, all our people. Sije-Aras, you know this is the truth.
“She is not certain she will be able to do what she says,” Aras told us. “She is afraid she may fail. But she is determined and stubborn. She is so determined and so stubborn that she hid for many seasons from the enemies of her people, and then followed the warleader of the inGara into the pass, and then lived silently here without speaking a word for all these many days. All this because she is determined to do what she says she must do.” He paused. Then he said, “She would indeed say anything and do anything to persuade you to help her, but she believes that if she can save ... remember, restore ... her own people, then she can do the same for yours. That is the truth.”
Inhejeriel regarded Aras with her wide, storm-colored eyes. I thought she had not believed Aras would see so much, but she said to my father, Yes, yes. This is the truth. I promise before every one of the uncountable stars, I swear by my name and by my teacher’s name, tal-Shalaseriad, and by the name of tal-Ysinien herself, I will put all my strength and skill to lead your people by that way that will return them to the world. But at worst, at worst, I will remember their names and bring them fully into the land of the shades, in the way your people should go. I will not leave any of your people desolate. She paused, lowering her eyes to her hands, breathing deeply and slowly. I understood that this time, at least, she had made an oath that mattered to her.
“I think—I am certain—she is speaking the truth,” Aras said quietly. “She may not be speaking all the truth, but what she says is true and she will try as hard as she can to keep those promises.”
I am speaking all the truth I know, the Tarashana sorcerer said to my father. She held out her hands to Iro and to me. The strength of warriors is a gift that shelters the weak from peril. Protect me from all the perils that lie between this place and the high place below the world. Only help me come to that place and I swear I will redeem you and all your people if by any strength or skill I can do so. She turned to face Etta, lifting her decorated left hand in a formal gesture that was not like any Ugaro gesture. The patterns on her skin shone like wet ink, so deep a blue the lines were nearly black. The shaped intent of a singer guides the world to be as it should be. Lend me your song so that I am not lost, and I swear that I will spend all my strength and skill to lead you and all your people by the path that returns to the world.
My father began to answer her. I interrupted him in a disgraceful manner. “Lord, if all the inGara, if all Ugaro, face some great threat from beyond the mountains, then the lord of the inGara must ready our people to face that threat. I ask that you permit your son and your daughter to take up this task. I swear I will not disgrace you or our people by any failure of courage or resolve.”
My father glowered at me. But he did not rebuke me for speaking over his words. He snapped, “I have not the least concern that my son might disgrace the inGara. If anyone takes up this task, you may take it up, Ryo. But—”
Before he could speak as he wished, perhaps realizing that this might be her chance to win what she wished, the Tarashana woman turned to Aras. Sije-Aras, you have the skill to set the deep bond, the enduring bond. If you hold that bond between us, Sije-Aras, and between all and each, then neither warrior nor singer can be lost. I ask you also to descend the paths to the heights below the world—
“Wait, no!” Geras exclaimed, before she could finish. He had been watching all this with his customary steady patience, listening carefully, waiting to see what everyone would decide. Plainly he had been following the taksu well enough, because now, facing Aras, he said forcefully in darau, “No, my lord! Bad enough anyone takes the word of this gods-hated Tarashana sorcerer or goes anywhere with her, but you are absolutely not going to go into the land of the shades! I wouldn’t trust this sorcerer to tell the truth any quicker than I’d trust a fancy-fingered gambler to set up a friendly game of sestaket. Tell me you’re not thinking of telling her you’ll do it!”
“I don’t think I can promise that,” Aras said, in the mild way that meant he did not mean to be dissuaded from a choice he had made. “I do have considerable confidence that she’s telling us the truth, and this black tide sounds like a problem someone needs to sort out.”
“Someone, maybe! I don’t see it’s your business to see to it, my lord! Sounds to me like the Tarashana have a big problem, and the inGara might have some kind of problem too, and I’m sorry for that, but no part of this is your problem. This is nothing to do with you or the summer country!” He sent an apologetic glance my way, but finished with some force, “What do you imagine your uncle’ll say if you get yourself drowned in some gods-hated black tide, whatever that is, by people with a name he’s never heard and probably can’t pronounce?”
Aras said gently, “Troop Leader Geras, if this goes badly, I don’t imagine I’ll have to listen to my uncle’s recriminations. I’m afraid you’ll be the one to hear whatever he has to say, as I’m going to have to ask you to take my scepter to him and explain—”
“I will not!” snapped Geras. “You’re not going, my lord, but if you are, I’m going with you.”
Aras began, “Troop Leader, I shall remove you from your position, if—”
“No,” I said, and he stopped. Everyone was looking at me, but now I did not know what to say.
My father had not needed to speak darau to understand some of this argument. He said formally, “My guest, please attend.” When Aras turned to him, surprised, he said, “When my wife and I asked you to come, we asked only for you to speak to this Tarashana person so that by your arts you might explain to us the things she could not or would not say. This you have done, coming all the long way from your country in answer to our request. That journey is as a single step compared to the journey from the land of the living to the land of the shades. This problem is not one that can be properly laid at your feet. No one would say you are in any way obligated to answer this Tarashana woman’s request.”
This had given me time to think more clearly, so I said, speaking to my father, in taksu, “Lord Aras is accustomed to solving everyone’s problems. Many times, too many to count, he has turned aside from his own path to solve some difficulty no one else could solve. The Tarashana have a very big problem, an extraordinarily big problem. He will set himself to solve it if he can. We inGara have been caught up in this problem and he wishes to solve that also.”
Then I said to Aras, in darau, “But it is important that you understand, my father is correct. These problems are not yours to solve. Should you nevertheless step forward, then Geras is right to declare he will go with you. You know that. You should not give a command you know will not be obeyed, especially when you understand perfectly well it should not be obeyed. If you choose this journey, if we all choose it, if my father permits that choice, then of course Geras will come with you. My mother can write to your uncle.”
Aras considered me. Then Geras. Finally he said, “Troop Leader Geras, I should not have tried to force you to step aside from your clear duty. That was an abuse of my authority, and I apologize.”
Geras, unusually for a Lau, dropped his gaze. He said uncomfortably, “I wouldn’t exactly call it abuse of authority, my lord.”
“No? I would call it by that exact term. Of course, I also
have no choice but to call your action a plain refusal to obey the direct order of a superior, among other possible charges.” He paused. Then he added, “I do look forward to answering the charges, should a report ever actually go up to your talon commander. I hope you’re looking forward to that as well, Troop Leader.”
“My lord—” Geras stopped, plainly not knowing how to answer this.
“I value your steady good sense, Troop Leader. Thank you. Now, I don't believe I adequately explained my thoughts. Let me try to do that now.” Aras looked around at us all. Aras switched to taksu. “I agree that this is a very different problem than any I expected to face. But I fear everyone may be thinking along too narrow a path. Let us consider that the people of the sunless sea apparently have the strength and ambition to take at least a large part of the starlit lands for their own and the ruthlessness to eradicate a great many Tarashana in order to do so. Now we have seen that they also have the strength to strike an effective blow against the Ugaro in their own country. Consider what Inhejeriel has said: that these people wish to drown all the lands of the world. Given everything these Saa'arii have done already and everything I see in this Tarashana woman's mind, I am genuinely concerned that these people may present a threat to the summer lands as well. Perhaps not at once, perhaps not soon, but eventually. If Inhejeriel Kiolekarian taja-Shalaseriad may potentially hold the key to driving these people back, then I believe it is my duty to consider assisting her to do so.” He faced Geras again, adding in darau, “Troop Leader, did you follow all that?”
“Yes, my lord, well enough.” Geras hesitated. “You seriously think those people could be an enemy that matters to us? Or is that just an excuse to step forward when you ought by rights to step back?”
Aras showed no sign of offense at this question. He answered, “Troop Leader Geras, I give you my word, I do think these Saa’arii could present a possible threat to the summer country. Most likely not for some time. But if we hold a weapon now, today, then I would hate to throw that weapon away and turn my back on this problem, at the risk that our children or their children might someday have to face this enemy unarmed. We know the Ugaro and in general, despite an occasional misunderstanding, we do rather well as neighbors. I wouldn't care to look across the river and find they’ve been replaced by a ruthless, dangerous people whom we don’t know at all. Especially if these people have found a way to cast those who oppose them into a kind of darkness removed from the sight of the gods.” He paused. then he went on. “Of course, perhaps these people will not become a direct threat to our own country. But if they do, just think how provoking it would be to know we might have stopped them, and didn’t even try.”
Geras frowned at him, plainly unhappy, but seeing the force of these arguments.
My mother said thoughtfully, in darau, “This is plainly a matter for warriors. But it seems to me that my friend Aras Eren Samaura is wise.” Shifting to taksu, she went on. “This enemy that has carried away so many inGara people may be a danger to all Ugaro, maybe all the winter country. This enemy of the Tarashana people, these Saa’arii, have now made themselves our enemies. We should punish their encroachment if we can, and teach our enemy to fear our anger. This is a matter for warriors to consider, but that is my opinion.”
She spoke in a calm, dignified manner that made her words all the more powerful. If the Saa’arii had heard those words, they might have been wise enough to understand they had made a serious mistake in striking across the mountains into inGara lands.
My father had sheathed his sword at last. He stood with his arms folded, frowning, but now he gave a curt nod. “My wife’s opinion seems wise to me,” he said. He glowered at Inhejeriel. “Where is this high place below the world, this place above and below? Speak plainly.”
Inhejeriel bowed her head, not answering at once. For some breaths she did not answer, gathering her thoughts, or perhaps trying to hide her thoughts. But Aras, though he watched her steadily, said nothing.
Finally, raising her head to look my father in the face, the Tarashana woman said, Not far from this place, between our lands, marking the border between our countries, a sacred mountain stands. Sabahaje. She turned, not rising to her feet, but lifting a hand to point to the north and east. From the highest peak of that mountain, a woman may touch the sky. From that place, a woman may step into the sky. That is the high place. But not here, not here. Below the earth, where Sabahaje pierces the heavens—
Etta exclaimed, “Talal Sabero! That is the mountain she means.”
I thought she must be right. Our people also say that from the highest peak of Talal Sabero, a person may reach up to touch the sky. And the Tarashana woman was pointing directly toward that sacred mountain.
In the land of the living, no path leads to Talal Sabero. No tombs have ever been carved into the stone of its flanks because that mountain belongs to the gods alone. But long ago, so long her name had been forgotten, some brave young singer climbed to that height and asked the gods to send their high winds to carve a pillar there. Even now, sometimes young men may go there to prove their daring, and to leave a strand of their hair bound to that pillar, for luck. Not all those young men return. That is a dangerous and difficult journey
Iro said quietly, “I know that mountain a little. I have climbed to that height twice, once when I had fourteen winters and again when I had seventeen.”
Everyone looked at him, surprised, except Etta, who smiled proudly. After the first moment, I thought I understood. Iro was the kind of young man who would have had a difficult fourteenth year. He would have been impatient to become a man, impatient to win regard from his brother and from older warriors and from his father. I suspected that he had gone the second time to impress my sister. I was impressed myself, though reluctantly. I had never climbed Talal Sabero.
“Well done,” my father said to Iro. To Inhejeriel, he said, “Is this correct? Is this the place you mean?”
Yes. Yes. The high place below the earth, Inhejeriel said. Sabahaje, where stone pierces the sky and the songs of the stars can be heard. All the names, all the names of the lost, I must give the names of my people to their stars. Then the stars will sing back the names to the world and the lost will be remembered. All my people and all your people, all, all the desolate lost.
My father frowned at her. “So. I warn you, Inhejeriel Kiolekarian taja-Shalaseriad, if you fail in this, take care you do not find yourself within my reach either in the land of the living or the land of the shades. If you do worse than fail, if you betray my people, then the inGara will consider not only the Saa’arii but also the Tarashana, should any survive, an enemy people.”
Bowing her head, Inhejeriel said, I will do as I promised, great lord. I will do everything I promised I would do.
“I hope this is so,” my father said grimly. “My son, my guest, come away from this place and we shall discuss this ... this ...”
“Mad endeavor?” Aras suggested, smiling as a man will do when important matters have been settled in a way that satisfies him. He went to take his pony’s reins, and as though that were a signal, everyone else moved to do the same.
-15-
We left Inhejeriel kneeling alone in her place and went back down the slope to the place our people had so recently camped. I cast one look back over my shoulder. She did not look in any way like a woman who has won her way in a difficult contest; nothing of the kind. By this time, the Sun had stepped below the edge of the world. Clouds had begun to gather in the north, dimming the early light of the Moon so that soft luminescence that surrounded her seemed brighter than before. Nevertheless, if I have ever seen anyone look more weary and forlorn, I could not recall it.
When we came to a place where stones had been arranged in a hearth around a firepit, with fuel laid nearby, my mother took a coal she had carried packed in dry moss in a horn. Iro and I set all our tents one against another, lacing the hides together to make one larger tent. Neither of us had to say anything. We both agreed that ev
eryone would want to stay close together this evening and through the night.
My mother settled near to the fire, with my father near her. Her expression was placid. His was closed and hard. Each would want to think through all that we had learned. Aras sat down on the other side of the fire and gazed into the flames, equally silent. I touched Iro on the arm and gestured toward the caves carved into the roots of the mountains, where food was stored.
The interior of the cave was cold even near the narrow opening. Iro pulled the heavy straw mats out of the way and made his way through the gap between the blocks of ice, still thicker than a man’s arm even half a season after they had been cut from the lake. Many kinds of foods—dried meat and heavy rounds of cheese, grain, dried fruits and mushrooms—were stored behind the ice, hanging in baskets or set within jars of glazed clay. Each kind of food was stored in a different kind of container, so we could find what we wanted by touch.
I took two baskets from near the entrance, giving one to Iro. “I will get the journey sticks,” I told him. He nodded and turned aside to collect the kinds of foods Etta and my mother would want to prepare tonight. I went past him to another part of the storage cave, where bundles of sticks made of pounded meat and dried berries and rendered fat had been wrapped in thin hide and stacked ready. This is a food we carry when we do not intend to take time to hunt. These sticks are light to carry and keep a long time—many seasons, in our storage caves. I took a whole basket of these sticks and followed Iro out of the cave. We walked together back toward the fire.
Etta took the basket from Iro and began to cut dried meat into pieces and add it to the water in one pot. My mother began to make barley flour into a dough with some fat and water. No one spoke while the women worked. Everyone was still thinking. I divided the journey sticks into six portions, wrapping each portion in a piece of thin leather.
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