No one among the inTasiyo moved. I had despised them already. Now I was hard put to say nothing. But it was not my place to speak. And I did not know what else I might say that would do more than what Tano had done or what my father had said.
Koro said, “Very well. This matter is settled. I will now consider—”
Unexpectedly, Soro inKera spoke, interrupting the king. His unemphatic tone was exactly as always. He said, “The inKera have no interest in taking in any honorless person, but I hope no one would say that we are unable to teach our children how to behave properly. If someone presented a child to us, we might take that child.” He added to Koro, “I ask your pardon for speaking over your words, o king. I apologize. I will take your blow for it, if you wish.”
Koro made a gesture that dismissed the discourtesy. He said, “We will pause for forty breaths. Then I will consider the charge the inTasiyo have made against the inGara.”
For forty breaths, everyone waited, not speaking. None of the inTasiyo moved, though some looked from their warleader to Koro, or to my father, or to Soro inKera. I thought that even Soro’s words had not been enough, generous though his offer had been. Then, just as our king drew breath to speak again, a woman moved.
This was a young woman, hardly older than a girl. She held a baby in the crook of her arm. She took a step away from the other women among whom she had stood. Someone there hissed in shocked disapproval, and one of the other women caught at her, but the young woman pulled away with sudden force. She ducked her head and flinched from the hissing, but she walked quickly to Soro inKera, knelt, and laid her baby on the frozen ground at his feet. The child woke and waved her arms, but did not cry. The woman said, not looking up, her voice hardly audible, “Take her, take her! Surely there is a woman among the inKera who has milk for her. Let her be that woman’s daughter.”
“This child is inKera now,” Soro said gravely. “Does her mother ask to become inKera?”
The young woman looked up. She was not weeping, though tears stood in her eyes. She said, with even more concentrated bitterness than Tano, “The inKera do not want to take in people who have no honor. You will not want me, lord. If any other tribe will take me, I will go to that tribe.” She looked up and around, defiant, and declared, “I would be any man’s second wife, or his third wife. It would be better to be the third wife of any man of any tribe than to be the first wife of the son of the lord of the inTasiyo.”
She was brave, that young woman, but her heart was bitter. Soro must have thought he could manage this woman’s bitterness—or he must have thought his wife could manage her—because he said to her, “Ask.” This was an order.
“Please, lord,” the woman said at once. “Please, I ask to come into the inKera.”
“This woman is inKera now,” Soro said. He added to her, with no change to his tone, “If you lacked honor as an inTasiyo, that will not be so when you live among the inKera.”
That was a warning. But the woman did not hesitate. She gathered up her baby and went to stand among the inKera.
For a moment, it seemed no one else would follow this woman’s example. I looked at the inTasiyo, all of them, gathered in this camp, but then I had better sense and looked at Tano instead. He was on his feet now, standing near my father, his hands resting on his younger brother’s shoulders. He was not looking at Yaro inTasiyo. He was looking at some other inTasiyo people, his gaze intent, urgent. I was not surprised to see someone there, a young man, lift a child into his arms and walk forward. A woman tried to stop him, but he knocked her hand away. The child cried out, reaching for her, but hushed when the young man murmured to him. This young man came to Soro, his pace measured, and dropped to his knees. “I have seventeen winters,” he said, bowing his head. “Perhaps the inKera will not have a place for me. But my brother has only five. Please, lord, accept him as inKera. If you will accept me as well, I will take care of him so that he is no trouble to his new people. I will try to behave properly and bring honor to the inKera.”
Soro nodded to him. “You are both inKera now,” he said.
After that, it was very fast. I was surprised how fast. Another young man, and a woman, not as young. Another young man after that, not as young as the first, closer to my age. Soro took them all, though with a long pause before he accepted that last young man.
My mother had moved aside. I saw her speak to my elder sister. Tasig turned and murmured to another woman, not inGara, who looked around and then made her way through the gathering to speak to another woman. That one tilted her head, considering the words that had been spoken to her. Then she called out, “I am Irana inRasiko. A long time ago, a sister of my mother went to the inTasiyo. This woman’s daughters and granddaughters are my cousins. If my cousins wish to come to the inRasiko, I will speak for them to the lord of the inRasiko.”
A woman took two girls, each by the hand, and hurried forward. An inTasiyo man thought he would stop them, but many inRasiko stood among those watching and their hisses of disapproval made the man hesitate. The woman and the two girls disappeared among the inRasiko, who opened a way for them and then closed up again behind them, laying their hands to their knives in warning to show that they would not permit any inTasiyo to come after them. A different girl, older, and a boy the same age, followed more slowly, each of them first prodding the other and then holding back in turn. The girl said to the inRasiko woman, “Would you speak for my brother? He is also your cousin.”
The woman looked this boy up and down. Finally she said, “Yes, I will speak for him.” Like the mother and her daughters, these two also went among the inRasiko.
By this time, many inTasiyo were going one way and another, too many for me to see everything that happened. I heard one man say to another, “Cousin, will you present me to the lord of the inKoresko?” and a woman say to another woman, “Aunt, do you think your mother might speak for me to Etanig inSorako?”
But I also saw another man had come to Soro, not an old man, but older than those who had come to him first. This man might have owned perhaps twenty and ten winters. That man, Soro turned away, saying, “A warrior who has come to his full strength should be old enough to know he follows unworthy men. You should have gone to a different lord long before this.”
The man bowed silently, rose, and walked away. He did not go back among the inTasiyo. He picked up a bow and walked away, not toward the lake where all the wagons and tents were set, but into the steppe. Three more men picked up bows; one rolled up a blanket with a craftman’s tools laid out on it. They walked away after the first man. Two women went with them, quickly snatching up bowls and blankets and hurrying to follow. The steppe in winter is difficult land for people afoot, especially when many people had been hunting small game near this place for many days. But they would probably survive, if they were careful and did not meet serious mischance.
Another man went, not to Soro inKera, but to Royova inVotaro. “Warleader,” he said, kneeling, and laid his sword at Royova’s feet. “I can fight,” he said, bowing his head. “Try my skill, warleader. I will be loyal.”
The inVotaro is a tribe all of warriors. Men are not born into the inVotaro, for if they marry, which is seldom, their wives take the inKarano name. But the inVotaro do not lack for men. They take those who are too quarrelsome for an ordinary tribe, or who cause trouble in other ways. Royova inVotaro would know very well how to deal with a man who might have bad judgment, or might have lacked the courage to defy a bad lord, or who might have disgraced himself in some other way. He said to the man, “You are inVotaro now. If you live another year, you may be worth something. Do not try my patience for that year.”
The man picked up his sword, rose to his feet, and moved to stand among the inVotaro. Seeing that, three other men, younger, also moved to offer their swords to Royova
When quiet came again, perhaps one out of four of all the inTasiyo were gone. They had become people of other tribes, or they had walked away. The lord of the inTasiyo, Dury
o, was sallow with shock and dismay. Yaro inTasiyo was not like that. His expression was calm, but his eyes were flat with hatred. He was looking at my father. All this time, as so many of his people deserted the inTasiyo, Yaro had not looked away from him once.
My father returned that look as steadily. He knew inTasiyo had been destroyed. They both knew it. Everyone knew it.
Koro raised his hands to reclaim everyone’s attention. Then he said, “A charge has been set against the inGara. I will consider that charge now. Sinowa inGara, have you anything to say regarding this matter?”
My father faced him. He said, “I think everyone knows what happened here. The actions of inGara warriors are my responsibility. I will accept whatever judgment you see fit, o king.”
Koro nodded. He said, “This young inGara warrior acted disgracefully. As the inTasiyo warleader already punished his act, I declare the matter settled. I dismiss the broader charge.”
My father inclined his head. Yaro began a furious protest, but Koro held up his hands for silence. He said in the same level tone, “If you wish to bring a formal charge against another tribe, do that before you deal out punishment yourself. I dismiss the charge. The ban holds. For the remaining days of the Convocation, or for as long as inTasiyo exists, I forbid any contact whatsoever between inTasiyo and inGara. Should inTasiyo have any allies, I forbid the people of those tribes to quarrel with inGara or with the allies of inGara.” Our king did not appear to notice the burning look Yaro inTasiyo bent on him. Koro merely looked around, marking where everyone stood. Then he turned his back, dismissing the entire incident. He said loudly, “Let all those who went into the land of the shades come into the camp of the inKarano and tell me of all these important events. I wish to hear how everything happened.” Then he walked away, toward his own camp.
I threw a swift look toward Tano, but he looked well enough. Tired, from the drawn look of his face. Contained. He stood firmly, his shoulders straight, one arm around his younger brother. He was looking at me, but when I met his eyes, he dropped his gaze at once.
So. Still, I thought he had not done too badly, considering what—I was absolutely certain—he had meant to do.
-31-
We did not go back into the inGara camp, but farther south, to the place where the inKarano had camped, close to the edge of the lake. It was not a long way to walk, but certainly more than long enough for everyone to think about what had happened. Tano walked behind my father, his gaze lowered. His brother clung to his hand, walking very close to him. It is not really proper for a boy of eight or ten winters to hold tight to his brother; a boy that age should straighten his shoulders and pretend he is not afraid. But Tano did not push him away or correct him, and everyone pretended not to notice.
Suyet came to walk beside me. He said, “I think I got most of that, Ryo. Pretty brutal, not that I’m saying they didn’t deserve it. What’s going to happen to them now, the ones that are left?”
“I can pretty well guess one thing that might happen,” Geras put in. “You better watch your back, Ryo—and your father better watch his. You put an enemy up against a wall like that and likely enough you’ve got yourself a problem. Even after you cut the tail off a snake, the head’ll still bite you.”
That was an odd phrase, but clear enough. “Yes,” I answered. “Garoyo will direct our warriors to take precautions. I am certain he is doing that now.” My eldest brother was not near us; he would be speaking to one warrior and another, setting careful guard over our people and our herds. I went on, answering Suyet. “That tribe has been ruined. Their allies will desert them; their enemies will bring charges against them; if they have dependents among the weaker tribes, those dependents will now refuse their orders.”
My mother, walking near us, nodded when she heard my words. “Everyone will look scornfully at them. Those who are not ashamed yet will see that everyone believes they have reason to be ashamed. That will make them reconsider. More of those people will go every day.” She paused. Then she added, her tone regretful, “Women who wish to leave one tribe can usually find another to take them, but this time the women of other tribes may refuse to accept those women. If a woman of that people comes to me tomorrow and asks me to speak for her, I will have to consider very carefully. A woman should have better sense than to support her husband and brothers in dishonorable actions. Those who did not choose to leave the inTasiyo today probably lack the courage or the wisdom desirable in a woman.”
It was not my place to speak regarding the inTasiyo women, but I added, “Warriors who cannot go anywhere else will go to the inVotaro. Those who do not want to beg for a place will walk away.”
“That’s one thing about you Ugaro,” Geras commented. “You’re tough. Not a man among you would hesitate to just walk off. Your women, too, I don't doubt. All that wild, empty land out there, and it doesn’t scare you a bit.”
He was speaking darau. I answered in taksu to remind him he should speak in that language. “We know how to live here.” I thought of how the Lau lived, in towns and on farms, and understood for perhaps the first time that a Lau on his own probably would not be able to survive, even in his own country. That made some things about Lau more clear to me. Even after all this time, I still learned more.
Hokino, beside us, commented, “I think in another year, the name inTasiyo will be spoken only in tales. People will tell the story of the inTasiyo to warn their children of the fate that comes to a tribe when people do not behave properly. If Duryo inTasiyo has any pride, he will kill himself, but I think this is unlikely.”
“Brutal,” Suyet repeated. He hesitated. Then he said, “I mean no offense, but honor is so important to your people. How can they have been like that, and people did not walk away until today? How could no one have noticed? Or cared, or did anything about it?”
I had to admit I did not know.
Aras said, his voice quiet, “They all participated. That was partly how Yaro maintained his power. He directed his cruelty against specific targets. Not just his son; I expect he did it to anyone who challenged him. He was charismatic enough to get everyone else to join in that cruelty. Anyone who committed shameful acts to earn his approval would find it difficult to stop taking his orders after that.”
My mother turned her head and looked at him, her eyebrows rising.
Aras opened his hands. “I have seen problems like that before. There was the most remarkable cult that appeared in Avaras some years ago; that was something like this. Taking that cult apart required quite a bit of delicate work. This was much easier ... once someone put the inTasiyo in a place where one or two well-aimed blows would shatter them.”
Someone, yes. “Cult is not a word I know,” I said.
“Hmm. I am not certain how to explain it. Something like a tribe that forms around a man like Yaro. The people hold tightly to beliefs no one else shares, and they feel those beliefs make them superior and justify cruel or dishonorable behavior toward other people.”
“Is this caused by the influence of a sorcerer?” Hokino asked him. “But Yaro inTasiyo was not a sorcerer.”
Already, he spoke of Yaro as though the man were dead.
Aras answered, “No, warleader, this is not a matter of sorcerous influence ... well, I suppose it might be, sometimes. But the man at the heart of the cult in Avaras was not a sorcerer. His charisma was something else.”
He said charisma in darau. There is no word exactly like that in taksu. I said, “When people want to follow a man and take his orders, the word the Lau use for that is charisma.”
“Strength of will,” Hokino said. “Forcefulness.”
Both of those words were somewhat close to the meaning. “Yes,” I said. “But more than that. Forcefulness alone will not make everyone think it right to obey.”
Hokino made a gesture conceding this.
Suyet was frowning. “All right,” he said. “If you say so, my lord, fine, but why his own sons? That makes no sense at all.”
“A man has the right to punish his sons as he sees fit,” I explained reluctantly. “Probably it began that way. But when a man handles a son badly, someone should correct him. No one among the inTasiyo had the strength or forceful character to correct Yaro for anything.”
“Someone probably tried, and Yaro probably made an example of him,” Aras said. He added, “That’s a guess.”
“My uncle,” Tano said, very softly. He had been listening to all this, though he had not shown that until now. He glanced at Aras, not at me. Then he lowered his gaze again. “My ... Yaro hated my mother, because she let him see she hated him, so he ... he wanted to punish her. He could not beat her, but a man may punish his sons in any way he wishes. My uncle, her brother, challenged him and tried to make other people challenge him, but Yaro ... that was a bad time. I was a child then. I did not understand anything that happened.”
“You understood some of it,” Aras said.
“A little. Eventually. Especially after—” Tano stopped. Then he said, even more softly, “After I saw how the warleaders of other tribes behave. After I had some time to think about the difference. I understood some things better then. But not all of that, everything you said.”
“Cults are rare. I would imagine this problem is even more rare among Ugaro than among Lau.”
By this time, we had come into the inKarano camp. Some people must have hurried ahead to make everything ready, because five of the very large tents had been opened up and fastened together to make one very large tent. Braziers stood all around the edge of this tent, and three more in the center. Tisane was brewing. Bowls had been stacked ready by the braziers, and cushions set all about.
Darra inKarano was there already. I had not realized she had hurried ahead of us, but now I guessed she had directed all these preparations. She would have known exactly how her father wanted everything arranged. Now she sat in the place appropriate for important women, on the far side of the great tent, behind the braziers. Many other people had already come here, and more came in with us, many men and some women, so that suddenly even this enormous tent was very crowded.
Tarashana Page 49