He sighed, but this time he did not protest my use of the taksu term. He frowned, considering my question. “Perhaps. I’m not certain. If she couldn’t, she would probably know someone who could. But that ... would that be better? I suppose you could be much more certain that no Lakasha would ever come to the winter country ...”
Of course he knew that had been my thought. Also, I would care less if one of the Lakasha-erra held that kind of leash. I would hate that, but if a Lakasha tightened that leash, it would not be so deep a betrayal. Also, if Tesmeket-an did such a thing, I would be able to bend all my effort toward killing her. She was a powerful sorcerer—all the Lakasha-erra were powerful sorcerers—but she did not know Ugaro at all. I thought I might be able to kill her. She was not a friend. I would not hesitate to kill her if I could, if she used her leash in any way.
His mouth had tightened, but Aras did not protest anything I was thinking. He said, “Certainly I would be willing to ask Tesmeket to do it. I’m sorry, but that does mean you will have to come back into the summer country with me after all. Farther into the summer country than you’ve come before; Tesmeket very rarely ventures farther north than Avaras. I’ll have to write to Soretes, request permission to leave the borderlands ... never mind. That doesn’t matter now.” He paused, looking down. Then he went on, not raising his gaze from the earth. “I could send you south with Geras and Suyet. I could travel separately, keep enough distance between us that you wouldn’t have to feel any concern—”
“Aras,” I said. He stopped, his gaze coming up again, and I said, “I am very angry. But I am not afraid of you. I want your leash broken because I loathe what you did. I do not care that your reasons were good. I do not care that you will never have any reason important enough to do it again. I want that leash broken because I do not want anyone to hold that kind of power over me, but if someone must hold it, least of all do I want that to be you. It is unspeakably wrong that anyone should have that kind of power over anyone else, but it is much worse when a friend does such a thing to a friend. If someone must set a different leash in my mind to break yours, let it be someone who belongs to the country of the Son of the Sun. Let the whole width of the summer country lie between me and that sorcerer. If a Lakasha sorcerer comes north, our singers will show her why she should have kept to her own land.”
“I’m sure they would,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t argue with any of that. You’re perfectly right. I ... are you certain you won’t let me apologize?”
“You drank the wine I gave you. You thought I would kill you as you slept.”
“Well ... yes. I hoped you might be deceiving me, or that you might change your mind, but neither seemed likely. You’ve gotten very good at confounding my sorcery when it’s important to you.”
“When I am angry enough, it is easier. If I gave you that kind of wine again, you would drink it again.”
He spoke softly. “Yes, I would.”
“I would not claim to know what the days might bring, but I doubt I will see any reason to do so. I am not afraid of you. I loathe what you did,” I said forcefully. “I forgive the act because it was not as wrong as letting the Saa’arii take the victory. But I do not forgive you for doing that to me. I will not accept your apology.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“But I accept your regret for the exigency that drove the act. I will be angry for a long time. But you let yourself be made helpless. You put yourself into my hands, even though you thought I might kill you while you slept. That is enough for me to let the matter rest. I do not want to speak of it again unless there is reason to speak of it.”
“All right, Ryo.”
I studied him for some time. He had lowered his eyes again. His shoulders were relaxed. He was waiting. He could probably see into my mind better now. I had spoken the truth when I said I would be angry for a long time. But I had also spoken the truth when I said I preferred to let the matter rest. I did not want to speak of it because I did not want to think of it. I was tired of all those thoughts, of the rage and grief and hurt and shame that would not resolve to anything better.
I said, “Nothing will be as it was. But everything can be better than it has been this past time. I will go back to the others. So will you. We will show everyone that we have come to an accord. No one will speak words of blame against anyone else. Everyone will speak of quiet things, unimportant things. When the pass opens, we will go back into the winter country. Then we will go back to the summer country. Then you will see to it that someone, Tesmeket-an or another of her people, breaks the leash you put in my mind. When that is done, you may apologize to me and perhaps I will hear you.”
“All right,” he said again. He sighed, a long breath, and got to his feet, a little stiffly. He did not offer a hand to help me stand. Probably he knew that if he had, I would not have accepted his help.
-28-
For all this past time, of all things other than speaking with Aras again, I had been most afraid of meeting my younger brother. That fear came back to me as we neared the village where everyone else had been living—every other Ugaro—and where everyone must now be waiting for me. And waiting to see whether Aras might come here with me, or whether I came alone.
I did not even know whether Raga might prefer one decision or the other. I had failed him once. He might think I had failed him again, when I chose not to kill Aras. I could not say he would be wrong to say so. And this time the choice had been entirely my own.
I had never cut my hair. I had thought of it, but then the thought had passed out of my mind. When I had thought of it again, the idea has seemed stupid to me. It had seemed a gesture that denied what Aras had done to me, that tried to hide what he had done. Especially from myself. So I had chosen not to cut my hair, despite the shame that tightened my stomach when I thought of everything that had happened.
I had run away and left Raga to die. My brother had died. Arayo as well. They had both died in that place, torn apart by our enemies. They had died knowing I had abandoned them.
Thinking of that was unbearable.
Aras flinched when that familiar desolation came back to me. He said, not looking at me, “Your brother doesn’t blame you for anything. Truly, Ryo.”
I did not doubt this. I thought he had most likely forgiven Aras as well. It was my brother’s nature to forgive an injury done to him. But whatever Raga thought about what had happened, he would remember my abandonment. He would remember that I had turned my back to him when he needed me, that I had run away and left him to die. I knew that when I met him, I would see that memory in his face.
Aras breathed out, a slow breath. This time he said nothing.
I thought now I should have cut my hair after all. At least then Raga would see the memory was as bitter for me as it must be for him. I touched the hilt of my knife as I walked. I could still do it, though waiting this long to acknowledge a disgraceful act was shameful in itself.
“It would upset him,” Aras said, his voice soft.
“Do not show me that you see my thoughts,” I snapped. I had ceased to mind this, but I did not like it now. I added, cruelly, “Do not advise me regarding matters of honor.” I meant to hurt him, and was ashamed of that, but not as ashamed as I should have been because I also felt he deserved to be hurt. I knew Aras saw all those thoughts too. He said nothing.
Then we came to the village. This path was lined with the kind of trees that dripped with radiant white flowers; the fragrance came to me, a little like honey. The earthen houses spread out around us, easy to mistake for gently rolling hills, but surrounded by gardens and fruit trees. Here and there, Tarashana people went about their ordinary tasks. I saw Ugaro people among the Tarashana, not in the fields or gardens, but weaving or making rope, preparing food or carving tools out of wood.
Ugaro are not avila, not dirt people. We do not tend fields nor grow crops. At most, our herdsmen may throw out the seeds of the grasses we prefer to grow where the herds of our cat
tle or the steppe deer have grazed too much, then keep herds away until the new grasses have grown up. But my people are not accustomed to sitting idle, either, and their pride would not suffer taking food from avila with no return. I was not certain why I felt better to see Ugaro going easily among Tarashana, but the sight pleased me.
Fields spread out all around the village, with curving orchards between each field and the next. Many Tarashana people tended those orchards or worked in their fields, bringing the land back to fruitfulness after its long time fallow.
The village itself had been heavily planted with the flowering trees the Tarashana like so well and plant near all their homes. There were so many of these trees that it seemed we walked through an open woodland, where many slender paths led to small clearings, each with its gently rounded home that seemed part of the earth. Here and there a bird fluttered, or a small animal like a squirrel whisked up a tree. We passed very few people. These were Ugaro, who glanced at us and then politely away again. They knew there had been trouble between Aras and me, and would not put themselves into that trouble unless they had some important reason to do so. We say a quarrel will grow big enough to fill all the eyes that look at it. People look away so that a problem will not grow bigger than it must. Probably they also knew Hokino had put himself between us. When a warleader moves to deal with a problem, other people step out of his way.
Near the edge of the village, there was a place where three houses ran together, with a garden where they came together. The place was comfortable and pleasant, as everything the Tarashana made was comfortable and pleasant. The taut anxiety that thickened the air here could hardly be set against the Tarashana.
Geras and Suyet were sitting close together in the center of the common garden, on a wide woven mat spread on the ground. Coals glowed in a firepit near them. Lalani sat beside Suyet. Her arm was around his waist, and her cheek rested against his shoulder. Suyet had put his arm around her, too. Garoyo stood beside Geras and Hokino beside Suyet, making certain both soldiers stayed where they were. Even from a distance, I could see that Suyet was anxious and unhappy. Geras’ expression was set and hard, and that was worse. I saw at once that Suyet did not really believe I might kill Aras, but Geras was certain I would do it—he thought I had done it, and that they only waited to hear it was finished. He might set the fault for the act against me or against Aras or he might not set the fault against either of us, but he thought he had failed in his duty. He took fault to himself for that. Anyone could see it. Certainly I could see it.
The young men sat in a similar group, but a little distance away. Normally young men who had no important tasks would be challenging one another to spar or to some other kind of contest, or they would go hunting, or race their ponies, or something else of that kind. Now, all three only sat quietly, waiting. Arayo was making or mending something of cloth or leather. His head was bent over that small task. Raga was gazing into the firepit, his manner unhappy. Tano looked at his hands where they were folded on his knee.
Iro stood a little apart from the others, leaning against the bole of a tree at the mouth of another of the sheltered paths. He saw us first—he had been watching, and he was not concerned with the Lau soldiers. He did not move or speak, but his glance flicked from me to Aras. He did not smile, but he met my eyes, nodded, turned, and walked away, down the path.
I knew he would be going to my sister, to tell her I had come back, if she were close enough to the world to hear him. I wanted to go to her myself, but I knew I had to speak to everyone else first, even though I did not want to do that at all.
As soon as Iro moved, Garoyo turned and looked at us, and at once everyone else followed his movement.
Suyet jumped to his feet, stumbling a little in his haste. “Ryo!” he said. “Lord Gaur! I thank the gods!”
Lalani rose as well, not stumbling at all, as graceful as ever. “I did tell you,” she said, but her gaze on my face was questioning.
By this time, Geras was also on his feet. He drew a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “All right,” he said. “All right, then.”
“I’m very sorry, Troop Leader,” Aras said to him. “I know it wasn’t at all fair to you, and I apologize profoundly.”
Geras opened his mouth, shut it again, shook his head, and finally said, “It—I—just please don’t do that again, my lord.”
“Right, no, please don’t!” Suyet agreed, his tone fervent.
“No,” Aras said gently. “I very much hope there will be no need to do anything like that again.”
“But, Ryo!” Suyet said. “Are you all right?” He started forward, but then hesitated, the way a man will when he is uncertain his approach will be welcome.
“Suyet,” I said. “Geras. I also apologize.” I looked around at everyone else. Everyone was up now. None of my own people had said anything yet. If the Lau had not leaped up, every Ugaro would have stayed where he was, pretending to take little interest in our arrival. That kind of reticence is meant to make someone uneasy in his approach feel more comfortable. Obviously the Lau had an entirely different idea about how to act.
I said, “I apologize to you all. I permitted my unhappiness to make everyone unhappy. This was disgraceful behavior. I should not have needed the warleader of the inKera to tell me so. I ask that everything in the past be set in the past if ... if everyone is content that it should be so.”
Hokino glanced at Garoyo and inclined his head, deferring to my brother. Garoyo spoke firmly. “Everyone accepts your apology, Ryo. Let us all set everything in the past, exactly as you say. Come, if you wish, and sit with us.”
He meant he did not want any formality. Taking him at his word, I walked toward the others, to take a place there. I pretended to pay no attention to Aras, who stood where he was for another moment before following me, then moved to sit a little distance away, not too close to anyone. Everyone was beginning to settle again. Even though Lalani was present and began to rise, Raga gestured to her to sit down. Then he moved to pour some of the tisane into a bowl for me himself, which was a proper gesture from a younger brother to an elder.
I took the bowl Raga held out to me, sipped the hot liquid to show I accepted what he gave me, set the bowl down, and looked at him. I had no idea what to say to him. There was nothing I could say.
My younger brother sat down beside me. No one was looking at us. Everyone pretended to pay no attention, which is proper manners when something between two people might be difficult.
I said finally, “Raga, I know I asked that everything be set in the past, and I also know that no apology is possible, but—”
“Ryo!” my brother said, gripping my wrist to stop me. “I have wished for many days to say this, so please listen. I set no fault against anyone for anything that happened, not against you and not against Aras. No fault,” he repeated emphatically. “If you feel you must ask my forgiveness, then I will forgive you, but please, I ask you to set aside every memory of that moment, as I do, and let all bad feeling go, as I have. I am very glad you did not kill Aras! I thought you would do it, I was afraid you would do it. I would not have said anything against the act, but I am very glad you did not. That would not have been a just return for his act, and even if it had been, certainly it could never have been right for you to do it.”
Several things in this speech surprised me. I might even have been offended, except that it was Raga who said this. I could not possibly be offended by anything my younger brother said to me. Still, I demanded, “How, not just?”
Raga looked at me in surprise. “Ryo ... he had to help Inhejeriel, not only because this was the only way to bring everyone back into the land of the living, though that was so as well. But all the Tarashana, Ryo! All the starlit country! Obviously Aras had to do everything to support Inhejeriel because doing so was the only way to strike a hard blow against the Saa’arii, who had done these terrible things. Besides, they would otherwise have remained a danger to us all, to the whole winter country! A
rayo agrees with me.”
“I do,” the young man said, reluctantly but promptly. “Please do not be angry with your younger brother for speaking in this way, Ryo. Our people would not want the Saa’arii as close neighbors. The Tarashana are much to be preferred. What Aras did to you was wrong. Everyone knows it. What he did to himself was perhaps as bad. Everyone knows that as well. But for very many reasons, his act was still a right thing to do, even if it was also wrong.”
“These words befit the son of a warleader,” Hokino said. His tone was quiet, but unyielding.
Garoyo was looking at me, not at Hokino. He said, “Ryo, you do not need our younger brother to explain anything to you. But that does not matter. When a sorcerer uses his curse against a man as Aras used his against you, whatever his reasons for doing it, no matter how good those reasons may be, it is always just to put the sorcerer to death for that. Choosing otherwise is not justice, but mercy.”
Raga leaned forward, his manner earnest. “But Aras did not want to do it! He might not even have realized what he made you—” He faltered at last, stammering over that terrible memory.
“No,” I said. “He knew exactly what he did.” I looked toward Aras. On the other side of the fire, Aras turned his head, and everyone else fell silent.
“I could not fail to know,” he said quietly. “I saw the situation clearly through Ryo’s eyes. I knew precisely what I was doing, to him as well as to you, Raga, and Arayo. I entirely agree with the warleader of the inGara.” He hesitated, looking to me. “Are we talking about this?”
“No,” I said flatly. That was why he had asked, because he knew I was completely unwilling to speak any further to anyone regarding the matter. I did not want to answer anyone now. I did not want to talk about anything that had happened.
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