As soon as he said so, I could see that he was right. “Good,” I said. “Let us hope that happens again, each time we come to a place where the climb would be that hard.” More than that, I hoped we might step across all the distance between ourselves and Aras, but as that had not happened yet, it seemed unlikely. Sometimes a man wonders why the gods cannot make everything easier. But at least we need have no doubt that the gods favored our efforts. They had made that very clear.
“Yes,” said Tano. Then he knelt. Bowing his head, he said, “I should have obeyed you. You have reason to be angry, but I do not. I was seriously at fault. I apologize for speaking to you so stupidly. I—” he braced himself and finished. “I deserve punishment for my stupidity and my disobedience.”
“You do,” I agreed, keeping my tone mild. “If we both return to the land of the living, I will concern myself with that matter. For the present, I wish you to tell me that in another such battle, you will obey me. Do not speak too quickly. Think for forty breaths. Be certain that another time, you will not make this kind of mistake. Then you may tell me so. Get up. You may count while we go on.”
We went on, climbing steadily. I could not see how the land lay very far ahead of us, but now I was less concerned about that. I thought probably the gods would shift the land around us again if we came to a difficult place.
Tano walked beside me. His shoulders were not as tight now, and his breathing was better, slow and steady. After a little while, he said, “Another time, I will obey you, Ryo.”
“Even if you do not understand my order?” I asked him. “Even if you are angry because you think the command slights your courage or your skill?”
“Yes. I was stupid. Another time, I will know better.”
“All young warriors are stupid in this way. I have been. You may be again, but perhaps you will learn more quickly than I did.” I added, “Also, if you had not been near enough to knock me down, the shiral would have struck me while I was on my feet. Who knows what might have happened? The wind might have flung me into the cliff with force enough to break my bones.”
I looked up the slope the way we were going, then around at the mountains surrounding us. This place was by no means as open and easy as the previous ridge. The stone was broken in one place and humped up in another and sliced into the sky in a series of sharp-edged pillars in a third. Sighing, I walked forward, following the tie.
We walked for what seemed like a long time, more steeply uphill, along the side of the mountain, on something that was almost a path. Every other direction seemed too difficult. I hoped mountain goats had made this path, if indeed it was a path. I did not want to meet any other kind of shade that might have made it.
After some time, I could not guess how long, I paused, gesturing to Tano to set down the pack. We had come to a higher place with good visibility in every direction, so this seemed a good place to rest. It seemed to me we had been walking for a long time, though the Moon had, of course, not shifted her position much. I had ceased to expect that she would. She had turned a little, so that she showed a broad crescent rather than her whole face. The Dawn Sisters had walking along a higher path, as though they meant to go higher up in the sky than the Moon now stood. They never did so in the land of the living.
Lower and closer, like a kind of mist or cloud, but very different, the Saa’arii tide lay across the sky. It was not close. But it was closer than it had been, and lower in the sky. That flat emptiness looked stranger and more disturbing than ever. Streaks of cloud drifted that way, then vanished. They might have passed behind that emptiness. But I felt that they disappeared in some other way, that nothing at all lay behind that black tide, that the sky itself was somehow missing where that emptiness lay.
“I can go on,” Lalani said. “I’m not tired.”
She was obviously tired. “We will rest a little while,” I said. “Sit down and breathe. This place is not bad. The wind is cold, I know, but we can see a long way. Watch for the shadow of some man or beast whom you cannot see.”
We all sat down. Tano and I passed a waterskin back and forth. Lalani waved it away.
The wind in the mountains has a thousand voices. Where sharp edges of stone cut the wind to pieces, the wind may at times sound like wolves, like singing, like moaning. But now, as we rested in that place, I began to think I might hear something else. A woman, a girl, crying aloud. The sound was the wind. It must be the wind. But I could not help but think of Etta. That was not her voice, the sound was too high and thin. But it still seemed like a woman to me. I thought of Inhejeriel and frowned.
If I heard her at all, she was not far from where we had paused to rest. It would not take a long time to go make certain that I heard nothing but the wind. I got to my feet and took a step in the direction of the voice I might hear.
Tano looked up at me in surprise.
I said, “I think that could be Inhejeriel’s voice,” and took another step.
“Inhejeriel, really? Let’s go find her!” Though plainly still tired, Lalani jumped to her feet.
Tano rose more slowly. He said uncertainly, “I do not hear her.”
“I think I do,” I said. The sound came again and I added, “I am sure of it,” and took another step.
Lalani said suddenly, “It is a voice. I hear it too. She sounds so unhappy!” She started to go that way. Obviously that would be dangerous for a Lau woman. I caught her wrist to stop her, but then I thought I should go with her. That would be safer for her, and then we would both know if we heard someone. I said, “Stay behind me,” and began to go toward the voice.
Tano caught my arm. I shook him off, and he said in a different tone, more urgent, “Ryo, I think Aras is pulling more forcefully now. Do you feel that? I think he needs us to come more quickly.” He picked up the pack.
I paused. I was not certain. Perhaps the tie might pull more urgently. It might be so.
“Ryo!” Tano said. “I hear your sister! She is singing. That way! Do you not hear her?”
I turned. He was looking away, in the direction of the pull. He said, “She is there, with Aras. Closer than we thought. If you cannot hear her, you are not listening.”
I listened carefully. The sound of a woman wailing came to me more clearly than ever. I looked that way again.
“That is only the wind across the stones,” Tano said impatiently. He swung the pack to his shoulders and walked away, following the pull. Over his shoulder, he called, “I am very sure, Ryo.”
Perhaps the other sound was only the wind. I exchanged a glance with Lalani. She said uncertainly, “It could be the wind.” Then her mouth tightened and she said, “Or, you know what, it could be sorcery. That actually feels a lot like someone with nudge.” She looked toward the sobbing voice, but her expression was different now.
“It is not sorcery,” I snapped. “Do you think I would not recognize sorcery?”
“Oh. True. In that case, I guess ... “ she took a step toward the voice.
“Ryo!” Tano called. “I think Etta is singing. I think she must be facing enemies!”
He began to run, not toward us, but away, toward Aras. I could see he must be certain. Turning, I jogged after him. Lalani came with me, though she turned once to look back. Then she faced forward again and lengthened her stride, until I had to work hard to match her pace.
Behind us, a voice cried out, then fell away to sobs. I started to turn, but Lalani caught my arm and Tano called, “Your sister cannot be far! A hand of time, two hands, we should come to her soon.” He began to jog again.
For a hand of time, two hands, we all ran along the curve of the mountain—or Tano and I ran. Lalani walked fast, keeping up easily. The world did not shift around us, or if it did, I could not tell that it happened, but even so, I felt we ran a long way. Eventually, I paused.
Tano said over his shoulder, “She is close now,” and went on.
I could not hear anything but the wind. The pull of the tie felt exactly the same to me, neith
er less urgent nor more. I looked around at the mountains and the sky, at the Saa’arii emptiness that now stretched a long way across the sky and the world. The wind moaned across stone, and sobbed when the direction shifted a little, but none of the sounds seemed like the voice of a person.
Realizing I was not following him, Tano turned and came back, stopping a little distance from me. “Ryo?” he said. “Do you hear anything now?”
“Was that a shade?” I asked him. “Did I try to go to a shade? You lied to me about hearing my sister. You do not hear Etta at all.” That last part was not a question. I knew it was true. I would have had to be very stupid not to realize that.
Tano dropped his gaze.
“Don’t be upset, Ryo,” Lalani said quickly. “At first I thought it was a person too. Then I thought it was sorcery, then I thought it was a person again. No one could be blamed for being fooled. Lying was just a way to get away from an enemy.”
I said to her, “You understood before I did. I did not understand that a shade could make me feel that way, or behave in such a stupid manner.” Then I said to Tano, “I admit now that sometimes—very, very rarely—a person might have good reason to lie. I do not set fault against you for that. You did well.”
He said quietly, “I thought you would say so.”
He had not been certain. I said, “I do say so. You did well, Tano, but ... how did you know that was a shade?”
He did not answer at once. A possible reason occurred to me. I did not like that thought, so I did not ask again. I said, “We will go on, but perhaps we may take an easier pace now.” I started forward. Tano turned and walked beside me, and Lalani came up beside us.
After a little while, Tano said, “I ate a handful of snow. I think that may be why I heard the shade in a different way than you heard her.”
Yes, that had been my thought. I thought that was very likely the reason. I said, “Perhaps you are only less accustomed to trusting those around you, and thus you were suspicious of that sound. Lalani has not touched any food or water from this land, and she was suspicious as well.”
Tano nodded and looked around me toward Lalani. He spoke in his careful darau. “What made you think that sound was wrong?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. One of my older sisters has a little nudge. Not much, of course, but I learned to ask myself Do I want to do this? when she asked me to do something. I learned that practically before I could walk. This wasn’t the same, but I guess it wasn’t that different.” She shook her head. “Why did it do that, Ryo? The other shades weren't like that at all.”
“The other shades have been settled in themselves. They have a proper place within this land. That shade was unsettled—the kind who has no place. Shades like that forget their names and their honor. They wish to steal the breath of a living person and take that person's name. If that shade came into the land of the living, she would try to steal someone's breath. She would fool herself into believing herself alive, for a short time. She might find a way into the land of the living and fool living people for a little while. That is dangerous, but usually the taiGara keep shades like that away from our tombs.”
Lalani nodded thoughtfully. “It's all very different from anything we say of the land of the shades. Everything here is different.”
“Aras said you Lau believe that shades must find their way to a place of judgment.”
“Oh, did he explain that? Yes, that is what we say.” She glanced up at the broad streak of Saa'arii emptiness that sliced through the sky. It looked very much like a hole in the world that might well lead into the endless dark.
The shadow of that dark tide looked so disturbing that I found it far too easy to believe that it might spill through the Ugaro part of the land of the shades into the Lau place of judgment. I wondered whether it might have done so, and what might be happening in that place if this were so.
We walked on for a long time in silence. It seemed a long time. Time here was as strange as distance and direction, or so it seemed to me. The only thing that moved any great distance through the sky was the dark tide. Every time I looked at it, that smear had taken more of the sky and come closer to the earth. I tried not to look at it, but we often walked toward it, sometimes at an angle and sometimes directly. It was growing more difficult to look at anything else, even though I knew I should be watching for the shadow of a tiger or for any other danger.
“We were in that,” Lalani said in a low voice after a while. “Tano and I.”
“Yes,” I agreed. My brothers might still be trapped in that emptiness. Lost, as Inhejeriel said. Desolate. I looked at that strange place in the sky and thought anyone lost there would surely be desolate.
Twenty and twenty and twenty inGara people were probably lost there. Perhaps more than that. Unless Inhejeriel could bring them out, all those people might be trapped forever.
“What was it like?” I asked. I did not really want to hear their answer. I knew from the way Suyet had behaved, even the way Lalani and Tano had behaved, that it had been terrible. But I had to ask.
“I don’t really remember,” Lalani said. “I ... I was alone. I’m not sure there was anything else. I don’t know how long that lasted. Then I heard, felt, I just knew where Aras was. That was the first time I knew where anyone was. The first time I felt anything was anywhere.” She shuddered.
“I was alone,” Tano agreed in a low voice. “But I felt enemies waited somewhere in the darkness. Only it was not exactly darkness. I do not know what that place was.” He glanced up at the sky, the looming shadow of the Saa’arii tide, then dropped his gaze.
I said, “Even if we must go into that place, we will still know where Aras stands. You did. You would again.” The tie he held to me was very deep and strong. I was certain I could not be lost, even in that shadow of the black tide. Almost certain. Unless Aras died. I did not say that. I asked, “Lalani, are you tired?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to stop. I want to get somewhere and do something. I want this to be over. I want to go back to the land of the living and sit around a comfortable fire and help your mother and sisters make sugar dumplings, and then I want to go home and see all my men, and tell them about all the excitement they missed. Esau’ll be so jealous, Ryo! He’s supposed to be the one who gets the strangest and most dangerous assignments!”
She did not mention Suyet, who might not be with us then. Probably he would not be. I did not say this. Instead, I said, “Esau will not believe this tale. No one would believe it.”
“I don’t believe it, and I’m living through it,” she agreed.
“Look!” Tano said suddenly. “That is not a shade.”
-21-
I turned fast, following his gaze, and at once saw someone, a man, an Ugaro, a young man—Iro inGeiro. I recognized him then. I had hoped first this man might be my brother, either of my brothers, and that had made me slow to recognize Iro. But of course we had always been much more likely to find him than either of my brothers.
He had been sitting still, on the mountainside, not far above us, but he stood up now and came down to meet us. As he came closer, I saw that he moved carefully, more carefully than should be necessary for an uninjured man, though I saw no evidence of any specific injury. He carried no sword. When he had come close enough to speak without raising his voice, he said, “I knew you were coming this way. I heard your voices. If you do not want everyone to hear you, then you should perhaps speak more quietly.”
Obviously this was perfectly true. I set temper aside. I knew it was good we had found Iro, though I would rather have found anyone else. His voice was hoarse. When I heard that, I thought I knew why he moved as though wounded in some manner. He had not asked for water, though he had seen we all carried waterskins. A very proud young man. I said, “Tano, give him a skin of water. Iro, drink only a little and then wait.”
Iro met my eyes, his mouth thinning, but I looked at him and he caught himself before he answered sh
arply. He said, “Yes.”
“You might have known that,” I said. “But perhaps you might not. Water is everywhere in the winter country, so a man seldom becomes very thirsty.” The Lau probably had a word for lack of water that was like starvation, but I did not know it.
“Yes,” Iro said again. “I should not have shown offense. I apologize.”
I answered, “I noticed nothing in your manner that offended me.”
Tano swung the pack to the ground and now took out another waterskin. He gave this to Iro, who drank at once, but only a few mouthfuls, as I had said. He said to me, “I was inexcusably careless not to carry water with me.”
He had not wanted me to say that to him. That was why he had spoken first. “I was careless not to realize everyone should carry a waterskin,” I agreed, keeping my tone mild. “Tano, how much water do we have?”
“Five more skins, Ryo. We could each take another, someone two more, and each take some of the journey sticks, and perhaps the blanket. Then we could leave everything else here, if you thought that might be better.”
I nodded. “Take everything out of the pack. Give Iro the extra waterskin. Iro, can you walk now? We can wait a hand of time if that would be better.”
He answered, as I had known he would, “I can certainly walk as far as necessary.” Then he asked, “Have you any reasonable estimate for how much farther we must walk?” He slung the second waterskin over his shoulder and tucked a handful of travel sticks away in the pocket inside his shirt. Then he turned to follow the pull, and we all began to walk again. Iro left the first waterskin unstoppered and sipped a little every twenty steps.
I had expected to come to Aras long before this. I could hardly believe the tie could reach so far that we might walk for this long and not find him. If we had needed to climb great distances down and then up again, yes, but not with the land shifting around us in ways that made our travel so much easier. Yet the feel of the tie had not changed at all, and plainly we had not come close enough yet for him to speak to me by means of sorcery. I hoped this did not mean he was so far away that all the distance we had already covered meant nothing. I did not want to say any of that.
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