I stroked her back and side. “Do all Lau women look to the time when they will be widowed?”
“Oh ... well, in a way? A good marriage is a fine thing. But a woman usually lives longer than a man, unless she dies bearing a child. A woman is a wife while her husband lives, no matter how many summers she might have, but a widow of the proper age can go out in public and speak to men directly and no one thinks she is wrong or disrespectful or has bad character. I think most women look forward to that, even if they will grieve over the pyre of their husband. I think I would be a good magistra of the women’s court. It’s best if a magistra understands both men and women, and I think I understand men better than a woman who was only ever one man’s wife.”
I had no doubt that if Lalani were a magistra, especially once she came to have so many summers, she would be wise and clever. Her decisions would be just and she would know how to make both men and women see that this was so.
She was silent for a little while, relaxing against me. After some time, she said, “Do you really, honestly think there’s a chance ...?”
“Yes. Aras thinks so. He would judge that better than either of us.” I had to add, “I do not know how strong a chance.”
“May the gods be generous,” she murmured. She added, in almost the same tone, “I have wondered what you might be like as a lover, Ryo. You Ugaro men are so different from Lau men. But even if you didn’t have sixty-three stitches in your stomach, I know you don’t think Lau women are very womanly.”
I had not expected that at all. I looked down at her head, resting against my chest. Then I moved my hand. My hand covered the whole of her breast. That was different from how it would be with an Ugaro woman, but for her it did not seem wrong. I could easily have changed my mind about Lau women. I stroked her side, from her breast to her hip.
She stretched under that caress, but then I made myself move my hand to her back again. Stopping had been harder than I expected, but I said, “You are beautiful, Lalani. You have sometimes made me curious to see how womanly a Lau woman might be when she invites a man to her own tent. But when I am in the summer country, I put such thoughts aside. Here ... even if I did not have sixty and three stitches in my stomach, I would think perhaps this might not be wise. What if you took a child of me? I would not want that.”
Lalani turned her head to look up at me. “It’s true I don’t have the herbs here that would stop me getting a child. But it wouldn’t be so bad if I caught. I mean, for most girls, catching a child from an Ugaro man would be a complete disaster. But for me, well, Talon Commander Sharet would have something to say about carelessness—in fact, quite a few people would have a lot to say about carelessness—but you know, my men would look out for any child of mine. They wouldn’t mind if it were your child. A girl could be a talon wife, but if the gods were kind, the child would be a boy. A boy could be a soldier. He’d be fine.” She met my eyes. “That’s probably not what you’d want for a child of yours, though.”
“No,” I agreed, with restraint.
“No,” she said regretfully. “I didn’t think so. You want to give children to an Ugaro woman everyone respects. You want to marry Darra inKarano. You want your daughters to be singers and your sons to be warriors.”
“So,” I agreed. “Darra might marry someone else. But, so. I would prefer my children to be Ugaro. My daughters might not be singers, but they would be respected. My sons might not be warriors, but they might be poets. Or even respected craftsmen. Even herdsmen. I would not prefer that, but I would not accept it.” I was thinking of Tano, of the problems that can occur when a man does not approve of his son. I resolved that if a moment came when I realized a son of mine did not want to be a warrior or a poet, I would behave in a far better manner than Yaro inTasiyo.
Lalani was saying, “You should tell Aras he should let you go. Then you should marry your Darra before she gets tired of waiting for you. I’m going to go to sleep for a little while.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so glad I found you, Ryo. I’m so glad I’m not alone in this place.”
“Yes,” I said, and leaned my head back against the stone of the cliff, gazing up at the sky. I was very aware of Lalani curled against me, of her shape that was womanly enough in the way of the Lau. I did not mind that awareness, but it made me think of Darra. Thinking of her now was good, but difficult. At least those thoughts would keep me awake. I did not want to sleep now, in this place that was not easy to guard, when I did not know what else might happen.
-20-
I did sleep. I only realized this when I woke. It had been inexcusable carelessness to sleep there, with no one watching for danger. I had never in my life permitted myself to sleep while taking a watch. But I woke suddenly, knowing someone, not Lalani, was very close. I came to my feet in one fast movement, drawing my sword. Lalani gasped as she woke abruptly, but I had no attention to spare for her—
It was a wolf. I relaxed, straightening. This was not the same as the wolf who had been a Lau woman. This wolf was male, larger and heavier, with a broader head. He was laughing at me, as a wolf will laugh, his mouth open a little and his ears pricked forward. Probably he had made himself visible so that he could startle me awake and laugh at me. No doubt my reaction had been amusing.
“Yes, cousin, I know, that was very careless,” I admitted, sheathing my sword. “I would be even more embarrassed if you had been a tiger.” If Garoyo had seen me sleeping when I should watch, he would do worse than beat me: he would tell me to go join the herdsmen for a season, until I had learned to take on a warrior’s responsibilities.
This wolf might be an Ugaro who had become a wolf for the joy of running. I could not tell. The way he looked at me reminded me of the way a respected warrior looks at a boy he is not certain will make a good warrior. But he did not become a man. Perhaps he was the shade of a wolf and not a man.
Setting my embarrassment aside, I said to the wolf, gesturing to the mountainside, “We need to go that way. We are not goats, to climb so sheer a cliff. Perhaps, not too far away, we might find a path easy enough for a man.”
The wolf stood up, shook himself, and trotted away, along the face of the cliff, pausing to look over his shoulder. Other wolves came to him. I could not see them, but there was a flurry of tracks where they greeted one another, and the small sounds wolves make when they meet other wolves of their family. Then all the wolves continued, trotting at an easy pace, the one wolf visible and the others invisible, but all of them laying a clear trail where they trotted across a patch of snow.
Then the visible wolf turned hard to the side and went straight up the cliff, not bounding as a goat will leap from one small foothold to another even smaller, but still trotting easily, one foot in front of the next, as though on level ground.
“That’s ... different,” Lalani said. She stared up the cliff after the wolf, her eyes wide.
No doubt I was staring too. I said nothing, only slung our pack over my shoulder, ignoring the pull of the stitches in my stomach, and followed the wolves. When we came to the cliff, Lalani took my hand and held her breath, shutting her eyes. I looked up at the wolf and set my foot there, on the face of the cliff, where he had gone up.
We were walking somewhere else, not up a cliff, but along a broad ridge, high above the earth. Stars blazed overhead, so near it seemed possible to reach up and touch them. But this was not the high peak of Talal Sabero. No one could touch the sky from this place.
The wolves had gone ... or I thought they had gone. I did not feel their presence near us.
We were not walking exactly toward Aras, but our direction was close to that. To both sides, empty air fell away; mist hid what lay below. Everywhere great mountains rose up, towering. In front of us, but not too close, the long, deadly streak of the shadow of the black tide stretched across sky and stone. Talal Sabero must lie that way. But the Saa’arii tide must have been driven in retreat by the shiral winds, because that flat smear across the sky was surely narrower now, and perhap
s frayed about the edges, and certainly farther from the earth.
Lalani had opened her eyes by now. She looked around, at the ridge and the mountains; then down into the drifting mist. “This place is so strange, Ryo.”
“It is frequently disconcerting,” I agreed.
Far away, wolves sang. We were both silent, listening. Once silence came again, Lalani looked around uneasily. “I would be terrified of them if you weren’t with me, Ryo, but I have to admit, that was very helpful ... oh, there’s another wolf!”
I was fairly certain this was the same wolf, the male, but he came from a different direction—out of the air, I would have said, except I saw the world shift beneath and behind that wolf. I did not exactly see this happen. It was as though I saw it and did not see it at the same time. I thought I saw great trees rising up all around, as though we stood in the midst of the great forest. But I did not see that, or at the same time I saw the stark mountains, pale stone streaked with ice that burned with the light of uncountable stars.
Then the wolf trotted toward us down the ridge of stone, as though he had never been anywhere else. Walking with him, following him—
“Tano!” I said. “I am very glad to see you! I feared the shiral had flung you somewhere very far away, but if it did, I see our cousin led you back.”
“Ryo?” he said. “I think I was somewhere very different.” His tone was uncertain, but he came forward a step, past the wolf, to whom he gave a respectful nod. “Thank you,” he said to the beast. “Thank you, cousin!”
The wolf panted at him, laughing as a wolf laughs. Then it turned and trotted away as it had come, and vanished.
For another moment, Tano stared at the place the wolf had stood. Then he turned to me, breathing deeply, setting himself as a man will when he braces himself to take a blow. “This is the land of the shades,” he said.
I was glad he knew that. The sky was not the ordinary sky and everything else was different; of course he knew it. “Yes,” I agreed.
He nodded, subdued. “I am glad to find you again. If this is the place of the taiGara and not the taiTasiyo, I am glad of that. But I thought it would be different. I thought I would feel different.”
Now I was embarrassed because I had not realized he had had no way to understand anything that had happened. I had explained everything to Lalani, but no one had explained anything to Tano.
I held out my hand to him. He came, still hesitant, and began to kneel to greet me as a young man should greet his eldest brother and his warleader. I touched his arm to stop him and tried to explain properly. “You are not a shade, Tano. Nor am I. You and Lalani are here because you came through the shadow cast by the Saa’arii tide. Aras and I and the others came through the highest inGara tomb because we decided that the enemies of the Tarashana people are also our enemies. Inhejeriel says she can defeat them. We thought it good to help her try.” A new fear came to me. I asked, “Have you eaten anything, have you tasted any water, since you came to this place?”
He took a breath. “No, but ... I ... I ate a little snow.”
I looked at him carefully. He had heft and solidity under my hand. He looked like a living man to me. I tried to believe that a little snow would not matter. I said, “We decided we should help Inhejeriel do this great sorcery she knows, in order to return her people to the land of the living. We hope perhaps this sorcery might return our people as well, those who have been lost. But it would perhaps be best to eat no more snow. We have water.” Stepping back, I swung the pack down and took out a waterskin. “Drink some water now and carry this with you. You are probably hungry.” I gave him a travel stick.
Tano listened to me attentively, and took the stick and the waterskin, but I could see his muscles were tight. He was still braced as though for a blow. He slung the thong of the waterskin over his shoulder, but he did not drink, though he must be thirsty. Anyone might be tense and upset because we were obviously surrounded by peril. Yet I did not think that Tano’s tension came from that. I did not know what the problem was. I thought perhaps it might be better if I pretended not to notice, so I glanced the way we had been going and asked, “You feel the pull?”
“Yes. Not like last time. This is much better.” He managed a smile.
“I am certain this is so,” I agreed, and turned to lift the pack.
“Ryo!” Lalani said sternly. “You are wounded. Let Tano carry that. Take a waterskin first!”
I was embarrassed, but she was right. Both things she said were right. I took a waterskin from the pack, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped back. “The wounds are nothing,” I told Tano. “But, yes, you should carry that for now. Later, when I take the pack, you should have my sword. Whichever of us is less encumbered should carry that.”
“Yes,” agreed Tano, but he looked at Lalani. “Are those wounds nothing?”
“Only a stubborn young man would say so!” she told him. “Three cuts across the belly, each as long as your hand, the deepest into the muscle. Three twenties of stitches, and three more.”
“The wounds have been properly closed. They are not dangerous.” The cuts hurt more when someone made me think of them. I set the pain at a distance and walked away, following the ridge. The pull of the tie was steady, telling me this way, this way. I knew Aras was there, still alive. Not in urgent danger, or the tie would surely feel different. I hoped that would feel different. Now that I had found Lalani and Tano—now that we had found each other—I had much more hope everyone else might also live. If everyone followed that pull, if the shades of wolves came to help, if the gods were kind, then we might all come back together.
The ridge was wide enough for all of us to walk easily side by side. Tano walked silently. He was alert, watchful, but there was still that constraint in his manner. He did not speak to me. This was not a friendly kind of silence. Finally I asked plainly, “Tano, do you believe I should be angry with you? Or do you have some reason to be angry with me?”
He stopped at once and faced me, and I saw that I had certainly been right to speak. His shoulders were rigid; all his muscles were tight. He said sharply, “In the fight, you told me to get back. You thought I would not fight properly, you thought I would prove cowardly or—or—you did not trust me to fight properly—” his voice rose, and he stammered to a stop rather than shout. From the manner in which he braced himself, he thought that I would hit him for speaking to me in that way. He had the look of a boy who would welcome a blow, who would think it proof of injustice and so justify his own anger. Lalani raised a silent eyebrow, careful that Tano could not see that. She had no doubt seen this kind of misjudgment from many young men. I knew the moment more from the other side. I could think of times I had been wrong in the same way. This made me feel many more than five winters Tano’s elder.
“I did tell you to get back,” I acknowledged. “We will walk while we consider the matter.” I started forward again, following the pull of the tie. We would soon come to the place where the ridge fell away into the air. There, we would have to climb down and look for another way up, or hope a wolf or some other shade might aid us, or that the world would shift beneath our feet.
Tano walked beside me, not too close, his shoulders and back still stiff with anger. This was not truly anger. It was the hurt and shame that comes when a young man thinks he has been treated unjustly.
I made certain my voice was completely calm before I spoke. “I did not order you back because I doubted your courage, but because you did not have a sword. A knife is not good against opponents who hold swords, especially when the fight is out in the open. Disobedience at that moment was a young man’s mistake. Consider that fight now. I think you will see that some of our enemies would certainly have gotten past Iro and me. Especially once Suyet fell, Aras needed your help to hold our enemies away from the women. That was where your knife might have made more difference. With the cliffs to limit the direction of attack and you to guard his flank, Aras might have given Etta more time to sing. Th
e gods answered her request very, very quickly. Extraordinarily quickly. In almost any battle, a singer would need much more time than that. If she had needed more time, your disobedience would have left Aras alone to defend her and Inhejeriel and Lalani. That could have been very bad. Do not answer me yet. Consider my words for forty breaths. Then tell me which of us has reason to be angry.” A young man cannot always think clearly when he is upset. I amended this order. “Twice forty.”
For some time, we walked in silence. Tano’s manner was different now. He was thinking about what I had explained. Perhaps he was realizing that I should not have needed to explain.
We had come to the end of the ridge; or rather, to a place where the stone sloped down in a direction we did not want to go. I traced a possible path with my gaze. We could go down here, though we would have to go the wrong way for some time. Once we were down below this ridge, we could walk in a better direction and ... I studied the shape of the distant slope. I thought we could probably climb up again there. But it would be a long way down and a long way back up.
Sighing, I said, “This way,” and set my foot on the downward fall of the ridge—and found, with my next step, that I was walking uphill again. I blinked and paused, turning to see if I could understand where we had come. Then I realized it did not matter; the pull still clearly lay ahead.
Lalani stepped out of the air, hardly an arm’s length away, her eyes wide. Then Tano, not even a heartbeat later. Lalani grabbed my arm to be sure she was with me, that we had not lost each other. “I will never get used to that,” she declared. “Where are we now?”
I had closed my hand firmly on her slender wrist as well, very much relieved and for the same reason. I started to say it did not matter, we would follow the pull no matter the place to which we had come, but Tano said, “This is the slope we could see from the other ridge. Look at the shapes of those mountains there. You see we are almost in the same place, except we stepped across all the distance between.”
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