Garoyo glanced from Aras to me. He said in a dry tone, “Those among us who were present for any given part of these events will no doubt be asked to explain everything in whatever amount of detail seems appropriate. My younger brother may wish to remember that those who were not present for a battle have less right to judge events than those who fought.” He held his hand up to the sky, measuring the time remaining before sunset. “If we go down now, we may come there before dusk.”
The people camped below realized we were coming only a little after that. Someone saw us, and word ran from one end of the Convocation to the other in half a heartbeat, as exciting news is always swift to travel even the longest distance. Many people flung themselves onto ponies and raced along the edge of the valley to the foot of the trail that descends from the pass.
Suyet came up beside me. Sweeping his hand out to indicate the view, he asked, “How many people are here, Ryo? I know this can’t be all the Ugaro in the world, but it looks like it from here!”
“Don’t ask Ryo!” Lalani said wickedly. “Don’t you know better than to ask an Ugaro warrior anything to do with figures?”
I could not help but laugh. Of us all, Suyet had perhaps showed the least trouble. This was both because of his own easy temper and—I had realized eventually—because he had become confident and easy with Lalani. That often makes a young man pleased with everyone else in the world. Of everything that had come from our strange and difficult journey, this was also the thing that pleased me most.
“I can count well enough for this. I will tell you in a moment,” I told them, and began to work out the numbers, slowly, using the Lau way of thinking of numbers. I came to an answer that surprised me, so I worked through the figures again. At last I said, “Perhaps twenty thousands.”
“Twenty thousand!” Suyet exclaimed. “Not really?”
“All the Ugaro in the world,” Lalani said, smiling.
“Not nearly all,” I told them, smiling in my turn. “Some people do not wish to travel so far. Most of those here are from the closest tribes. Many fewer of the people will have come from the tribes whose territories lie farthest from inGara lands. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that this many Lau live in just one of your many cities.”
“Avaras, yes, a lot more than this,” Suyet answered. “But not a whole lot of others, I don’t think.”
“A dozen or so,” Aras said quietly.
He could probably name every city in the whole width of the summer lands. I did not ask.
By this time we had come to the last slope. Below us, only one or two bowshots farther, the pass opened up to level ground, where everyone was waiting. My father waited there, at the entrance to the pass, at the place where pillars had been carved and set upright to show where inGara lands ceased and the unclaimed land of the mountain border began. Koro inKarano stood to my father’s left hand, and beyond our king, Royova inVotaro and some other people, but also Darra inKarano. She caught my attention at once. She was very beautiful, and plainly very conscious of her dignity. Though I looked, I could not see any person near her who might be this poet from the east.
My attention was so taken with searching for the eastern poet that for some time I did not notice that to my father’s right hand stood not only Yavorda inGeiro and some other inGeiro people, but also Soro inKera, Lord of the inKera and Hokino’s brother.
When I did notice that, I had to exert myself not to stare. I might have expected many other men to stand at that place before the lord of the inKera. He had made peace with my father, certainly. Our tribes were allies now. Still, I was surprised to see him there.
I said to Hokino, who was walking near me, “The lord of the inKera looks well.” He did. When I had met him before, he had seemed older than his years. That had been a hard time for the inKera; they had suffered more from what Lorellan had done than any other tribe. Now, Soro inKera stood as straight as a young man. He had regained the weight he had lost, so that some of the lines I remembered in his face had smoothed out. His hair had gone tawny-white; there was no black left in his hair now. But that was almost the only sign that he was ten years or more older than my father.
“Yes,” Hokino agreed. “In some ways, the past years have been hard for my people. But making alliances with the inGara and the inGeiro and the inYoraro made everything easier in other ways. My brother also finally chose a cousin of ours, Tyo inKera, to be lord after him, and after only a little quarreling, everyone accepted this decision, so that has lightened Soro’s steps as well.”
I was much too young to make any comment about this, but Garoyo gave him a sharp look. “And did the warleader of the inKera quarrel with this decision? Do the allies of the inKera have reason to expect trouble and confusion among the inKera at some time in the next few years?”
Hokino barely smiled, not at all offended. “The warleader of the inKera found no reason to quarrel with his brother’s decision.” He went on less formally. “Tyo has twenty winters more than I do. That is a better age for the lord of a tribe. Everyone respects him, and though his wife is not a singer, she is both forceful and wise. She is older than my wife, a better age for the wife of the lord. Tyo will be a good lord for the inKera. If he asks me to remain warleader, that would please me, but if he chooses another man to be warleader, I will accept that.” He added in a resigned tone, “I have been gone so long that my brother has probably given the warleader’s sword to another man. Probably another cousin of ours, Senoka. Probably both Senoka and Tyo are here. I will make you known to one other, if you wish.”
“Yes,” agreed Garoyo.
Then we came to the bottom of the slope and passed between the pillars, and there was no more time for talking. Garoyo greeted our father and then our king, and after him Aras did the same, very formally, and then I did the same. Hokino greeted my father and then Koro, but then turned and knelt a third time to greet his brother.
“A much longer adventure than I anticipated,” he said wryly. “If you reproach me for abandoning my duties, lord, I will have nothing to say.”
Soro raised one eyebrow. He said, in his customary unemphatic manner, “Perhaps I should hear more of all these adventures and events before I decide whether my brother deserves reproaches or praise for his actions.” He turned a hand palm up, granting permission for Hokino to rise, and also nodded to Arayo, who, recognized in this way, first glanced very properly at my father for permission and then knelt to greet his uncle. Soro touched his cheek, a kind gesture, before motioning to him to rise. “Our people have settled to the east of the lake, close to the inGeiro,” he told the young man. “If the lord of the inGara does not have some other task that will occupy you, I suspect your mother would be pleased to see her son. And her husband,” he added to Hokino. “But I hope she will be patient a little longer, so that you may first explain everything that happened to those of us here.”
“I think we will all be interested to hear about these adventures and events,” Koro said, his manner almost equally dry. He and my father exchanged a glance.
My father signaled for ponies to be brought up. He said, “We will all go to my wife’s tent,” which was his right because inGara was the host of the Convocation. He added to Arayo, “Go to your mother. Tell her that her husband will come later, or she may come now to my wife’s tent if she wishes.”
Arayo bowed in acknowledgment and walked away, raising his hand to greet someone else. This was a girl, who pressed her pony through the gathering and took him up behind her, then spun her pony about and cantered away. She was a female cousin of mine, a lively, good-humored girl-child when last I had lived among my people. Now she was a pretty young woman, probably still lively and good-humored. It occurred to me that even if my father formally released Arayo, this was a young man who might prefer to stay with the inGara. More often, a young woman who marries goes to her husband’s people, but sometimes it happens the other way.
I glanced at Darra, who met my eyes and smiled. She
was neither lively, nor good-humored, nor a girl. She was forceful, and fierce, and more than old enough to know her own mind. She did not speak—it was not her place to speak before my father or her father—but her smile told me some of the things I wanted to know. I could not smile in return, but I had to make an effort to turn my attention to my father.
Everyone’s close kin had come to greet them, and everyone’s close friends. Very many people went aside as we rode toward the inGara camp, but those of us who had been most involved in every event gave our ponies to the children who came to take them and then continued toward my mother’s tent. This was still a large number.
Her tent was near the center of the inGara camp. Because she had known the Lau would be cold, my mother had set three extra braziers around the perimeter of her tent, in addition to the large one in the center. Already the air within was uncomfortably warm for Ugaro, but Aras and the other Lau straightened in that warmth, putting back their hoods and loosening their coats, so that suddenly anyone could see how hunched and cold they had been before. My mother held out her hands, speaking their names and greeting them in darau, offering them the warmest places, and younger women hurried to offer them hot berry tisane, and very soon everyone had settled.
Though the air was too warm now, in every other way, my mother’s tent was the most comfortable of places. All the walls of the tent were lined with felt dyed in different shades of purple and blue and gold; rugs covered the floor; abundant cushions and furs offered many comfortable places to settle. My elder sister Tasig had come in and sat near my mother, a young infant sleeping in the crook of her arm. We had been gone so long that Tasig had had her baby. More than anything else, that made me feel the time that had passed so strangely. I wondered whether the child was a boy as my mother had predicted. This was likely so. My mother was seldom mistaken in such matters.
Lalani sat beside my mother, and then Aras, with Suyet and Geras near him. Darra sat on my mother’s other side, with Koro beside her and Royova inVotaro at his back. My father took his place on the other side of the fire, with Garoyo beside him and Soro inKera on his other side, and Hokino beyond Soro.
By this time, Yavorda inGeiro had come in as well, and the warleader of the inGeiro, Naroya, and Naroya’s wife Lutra, a singer almost as highly regarded as my mother. Lutra went to sit with my mother—Darra got up, yielding the place because Lutra was older and Lalani did not realize she should move aside. Darra settled beside Lalani, kindly failing to notice when Lalani did not make way for her. They made a remarkable pair, very different from each other, each very beautiful in a completely different way.
Lalani’s lips curved, and Darra raised her eyebrows, and I realized I was staring. I dropped my gaze in polite apology.
Iro had entered as well, but respectfully took a place close to the door, which is the appropriate place for young men. My brother Raga joined him there, along Rakasa and Bara, and one of Yavorda’s sons, and some other young men. Rakasa grinned at me, gesturing that I should take the place beside him. When I sat down there, he murmured in my ear, “I should court an inGara woman, Ryo, and then perhaps my younger brother would not be the one to take part in every adventure!”
I let him see me roll my eyes. He laughed, almost without sound. I felt myself relax a little. Everyone on our side of the tent was beginning to relax merely because of his presence. I relaxed a little myself. Now I could see, as I had not before, that my sister had been right: Rakasa was too easy-tempered to be either lord or warleader, but he would do very well settling the hard tempers of other men.
Other people came in, important people of all different tribes, so that my mother’s tent quickly became crowded despite its generous size. She would have put up one or two sides of her tent, to make space and keep the air from becoming too close and warm, except for the Lau. She was speaking to Aras in her placid way, waiting for everyone else to come in and settle. After a moment, I realized she was explaining that inGara had taken great care of his horses and that all but one had survived.
“We built them a shelter inside the largest shelter for our beasts, so that they have more warmth,” she was explaining. “The darkness is bad for them, as one might expect for animals born to the country of the Sun. We put lanterns in the shelter, with children to watch that the lanterns do not tip or spill. On every bright day, we take them out into the sunlight to graze a little. We put blankets over them, and fasten the blankets underneath their bellies, and wrap their legs in cloth. We cook grain for them and offer this while it is still very warm, and this seems to help them endure the cold.”
“I am very grateful for the kindness and generosity of the inGara people, who have put themselves to so much difficulty in carrying for my horses,” Aras answered, speaking in taksu so that everyone could understand him. “They are fine beasts of their kind, and I was sorry to think I had brought them here to die.”
“They are very fine, we have no doubt of it,” my father said briskly. “We have taken the liberty of putting a pony stallion to two of your mares, on the advice of my son Gayata. He believes the foals may be worth something if they are crossed back to good pony stock. But this is all an unimportant discussion for another day. Now, my guest, let us hear all the tale of your remarkable travels.”
Everyone settled back, each smiling or somber according to his nature. I settled back as well, though I did not like to think about coming to some parts of that tale.
Then Geras looked up suddenly. He said to me in darau, “Ryo, wait a minute. Where’s Tano?”
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I had not realized until that moment that Tano was not among us. But the instant Geras asked me that question, I knew where he must be, and I thought I knew why. I thought this could be bad, or perhaps very bad. I could think of no good reason for Tano not to have come into this tent with the rest of us. I looked at Aras. He had straightened, his hands tensing. His expression became concerned, and then abstracted. I was looking directly at him when his expression became alarmed, and when the line of his mouth hardened.
I had come to my feet without realizing I was moving. Turning to my father, I asked, “Where is the camp of the inTasiyo?”
He did not reprimand me for this unmannerly demand. He began to lay a hand to his knife, but stopped himself almost before he moved at all—I saw the little shift of muscle and position or I would not have known. He said, “My son, is this a problem the lord of the inGara should notice?” in a tone that made it clear I had better be correct in my judgment.
I thought for half a heartbeat. I was not perfectly certain. Everyone was here. Koro inKarano. Everyone. Whatever happened, everyone would know of it. There would be no hope of keeping anything private.
Then I looked at Aras again. His mouth was tight, his expression calm, but with strain behind the calm. He met my eyes, but he said nothing at all.
At this, I became certain. I said to my father, “Yes, lord, this is the kind of problem the lord of the inGara must notice. Where is that camp?”
My father stood up. He moved like a tiger, flowing effortlessly from sitting to standing. He did not often trouble to move like that. His expression did not change, and even now he did not set his hand to the hilt of his knife, but the effort of that restraint trembled through his muscles, more felt than seen. He said to me, “My son, I will show you where that camp lies.” Then he said to Koro, “I will not break the ban. But someone should witness what happens so there is no question later that I did not break it. Royova inVotaro should witness this, so that the king of the winter country need have no doubt later regarding anything that happens.”
This was an insult and an accusation in itself. He might as well have said aloud that he did not trust the inTasiyo to speak truthfully regarding any matter. If he had ever in his life said anything of the kind regarding any other tribe, I could not recall it. If he had ever said anything so directly scornful of the inTasiyo, I did not remember that either.
Koro stood up. He said, “As this ma
tter seems so important, I will accompany you myself. The warleader of the inVotaro may witness as well. Anyone who wishes may witness. I suspect this is a matter for warriors, but perhaps the opinion of women would be good to have as well.”
At those words, Darra rose, and Lalani almost at the same time—I could not help but notice the contrast they made one with the other, strength and grace in very different proportions. And my mother, but more slowly, because she would not move hastily for any reason.
The king’s statement had ensured we would have the greatest possible audience. I had better be right. But I knew I was right. I knew—I trusted absolutely—that Aras would have found some way to warn me if I were wrong.
The inTasiyo camp was not very close to our inGara tents. Everyone walked quietly. My father walked at the front. He did not seem to hurry, but he did not slow or glance aside either. People moved out of his way, looking curiously after us when they saw Koro and Yavorda and Soro and everyone else, women as well as men. Many followed. The audience for this was going to be enormous. I glanced at Aras, but his expression told me little. But he met my eyes, and I was more certain than ever I had been right to move, even at the risk of involving everyone in the problem.
I said to Geras, “However it happens, I am grateful you noticed Tano was missing. I did not notice.” I was angry with myself for that failure, and angry with Tano for what I thought he had tried to do, what he was probably still trying to do. But I did not only feel angry. I felt sick as well. That came from the thought that Tano might have waited in vain for me to come after him, because I had failed to realize he had disappeared.
Geras slanted a look down at me. “I’ve been a troop leader a good long time, Ryo.”
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