“Yes, Ryo,” he said earnestly. “But you know I am hopeless with a knife.”
“I know someone should teach you to do better. Perhaps Elaro could do that, if you will not listen to a brother who is a warrior.”
“A poet should learn enough that he does not need to say he cannot use a knife,” Elaro said to Raga. He stood up, went to stand facing the target, and threw his knife. It snapped hard into the cowhide, a fingerbreadth from the center.
Darra was watching us. Her expression was calm, and she was pretending to study the sestaket board, but I felt her attention.
“Now you, Ryo!” Raga said, probably so that no one would make him try it. But I did not mind the request.
Getting up, I drew my knife and came to face the target. It was not far away. One does not generally throw a knife at a distant target. “Fingers, so,” I said. “Thumb, so. Wrist relaxed, as Elaro told you.” I threw the knife, which went, gratifyingly, through the exact center of the cowhide target.
“You should learn that,” Elaro told Raga.
“I will learn that,” Tano said to me. “I will challenge Raga every day until he learns it too.”
That was clever. That would make my younger brother practice properly. I smiled at Tano. “Good.”
He bowed, happy to have pleased me. Then he said more tentatively, “I have practice swords here, Ryo. I was going to spar with Arayo, but if you do not have anything more important to do, would you spar with us?”
“I would be pleased to do so,” I said. Then I said to Elaro. “Perhaps you can fight with a sword as well as you throw a knife.” I did not permit myself to speak in an unfriendly way, but I met his eyes directly so that he could not mistake that this was a challenge and that I would think less of him if he refused.
“Not as well as a warrior,” he answered. But he stood up readily enough, and we all went out of the tent.
I sparred Tano first. He tried the trick I had shown him, but he did not do it exactly correctly. I showed him why that throw is not good against an opponent unless it is done exactly right. Then I let him up and showed him his mistake. “Try again, against Arayo,” I suggested. “Show Raga, if you have not done so before. Suyet will show you if you make any mistakes.”
“No blades, two falls out of three?” Suyet said to the young men. He was smiling, cheerful. “Learn this, and then I will show you another trick that might work better next time you spar Ryo.”
I laughed and gave a gesture of assent. Then I watched them for a short time, pretending not to be aware of Elaro, also watching. Darra and Lalani has set aside their game and come out of the tent to watch as well. I pretended not to notice them.
“So,” Elaro said to me at last. He picked up both practice swords, left to the side, and offered me one. I took it.
Almost at once, we both knew he could not possibly win the match. He was older than I, heavier, and not slow. But he did not have the deeply ingrained skill of a warrior his age, or the aggression of a warrior of any age. Arayo could have beaten him. Even Tano might have beaten him. He was better defending than attacking, but not good enough to prevent me from striking past his guard. I gave him a blow that, in a real fight, would have cut his leg out from under him—even with blunted swords, he would feel that bruise. He might have ceded the match to me then, but I did not give him time. I pressed him, making him back up, and cut hard across his side, a blow that would have sheered straight through his lower ribs and his belly had the swords been sharp.
“Enough, enough!” he said then, speaking with some difficulty because that blow had left him gasping and breathless. He tossed his sword to Tano and held up his hands in a gesture that meant the same thing. I stepped back. Once he had recovered somewhat, he knelt to acknowledge defeat.
I gave my practice weapon to Tano as well and signed to Elaro that he should stand, though I did not offer him my hand to help him up. “For a poet, you did well,” I said. This was true enough. I tried not to sound grudging.
“Not that well,” he answered, his tone rueful. “I manage better when the fight is real, fortunately, or I would not have lived long enough to show you my lack of skill.” He got to his feet, cautious of his bruises. Neither of us looked at Darra. He said, “Later, when I am not so stiff, I will ask these young men to show me their clever tricks. That is the kind of trick a poet may do well to learn.”
I nodded.
“Ryo,” Darra said, coming up to us. “Will you come with me now to my wagon? I have some things I wish to say to you.” She spoke quietly, in a tone I could not remember hearing from her before. Not angry, nor decisive, nor forceful. Almost tentative. That was not her ordinary manner. She looked into my face, but in a way that suggested she found this difficult.
I was almost certain I knew what she wanted to say. I said nothing, only turned to walk with her. Elaro did not move to join us. I did not want his company, but when we came to the edge of our camp, I signed to an inGara man I knew, a cousin of mine, a respected warrior some winters older than I, to walk with us. The inKarano camp was not a long distance from the inGara camp, but I remembered very clearly what my eldest brother had said, and what my father had answered. No one would dare offend the daughter of Koro inKarano ... but still, I thought it best if she did not walk between one camp and another with fewer than two warriors to accompany her. “I know you are watching here,” I said to my cousin, whose name was Kotaya. “But if you have a moment, I think perhaps it would be better if you walk with us.”
Kotaya nodded, greeting Darra with a respectful nod. “A wise caution,” he agreed, and fell in on her other side. He went on. “This is a difficult and uncomfortable situation, but I do not think it will last long. The inTasiyo will surely go back to their own territory very soon.”
“They will surely do so,” Darra agreed. “Many have gone already. But Royova does not trust they will go without turning about. I know some inVotaro warriors have followed those people, with orders to watch until they cross the boundaries of inGara territory.”
“Yes,” said my cousin. “I have heard that too.”
I had not, but it seemed a good precaution, and one that freed some inGara warriors from the need to follow in that way. That was useful, as our people had many other tasks requiring attentive care. No one would attack the inVotaro camp. They could spare warriors more easily than we could.
The edge of the inKarano camp, as that of the inGara camp, had become much more clearly defined. As we had done, the inKarano had moved their tents and wagons close together, and warriors watched everyone who came and went. Two inKarano warriors nodded to me, which today was not only a greeting, but signified permission to pass into their camp. Turning, I gestured thanks to my cousin, who nodded and turned back toward our own camp. Then Darra and I walked on, past the inKarano warriors, toward her own wagon, set, like my mother's tent, near the center of the camp.
When we came to her wagon, Darra first put the entry back for me and then lowered it behind me. Water was already steaming in a bowl set above a brazier, and three lamps, already lit, stood, each on its own small table, at three sides of the wagon, which was beautifully appointed, with many fine things to every side.
She did not pour tisane into any of the bowls stacked beside the brazier. She gestured permission for me to sit and knelt in her own place, opposite the entry. Then she folded her hands in her lap and looked at me for what seemed a long time.
Plainly she did not want to speak. Or she did not know how to say what she wished to say. Finally, I said, so she would not have to say it, “I understand everything. You have decided you do not wish to marry me. You wish to marry Elaro inPorakario. Your female relatives approve this choice, your father approves, everyone approves. I understand. He is a good choice. I am here so seldom, and only the gods know whether that will ever be different. No tribe can object to a man who is not related to any of their rivals or their enemies, so that is—”
“Ryo,” she said. “Stop.”
I stopped, uncertain in what manner I might have offended her. But Darra did not look at me as though she had been offended. She was trying to keep her expression calm, as befits a woman, but her breaths came a little fast, and the tension in her wrists and hands showed me that she was upset as clearly as though she had said so aloud.
She said, “Everything you say is true. Elaro is a fine man and a good choice and I do wish to marry him.”
Careful of my expression, I nodded.
But she went on as though I had not. “But I wish to marry you as well, Ryo. Please do not answer yet.” She leaned forward urgently. “Please permit me to finish speaking.”
I had not even drawn breath to answer. I was far too astonished to say anything. I had not expected anything of the kind; what man would? But I gestured that she should go on.
Darra sat back a little, still tense, but not as much now that she had begun to speak. She said, “When a man takes a wife, and then some years later a second wife, and later again perhaps a third, everything is easy. That way, everyone knows which of his wives should take precedence. When two women wish to marry one man at the same time, that is unusual, but not that unusual, especially if the two women are sisters or cousins and do not care as much which of them takes precedence over the other. When one woman wishes to marry two men, that is different. When the two men are neither brothers nor friends, it is very different.” She looked at me earnestly.
I did not know what to say. But she went on. “Please do not speak yet, Ryo. Listen. I would understand completely if you refused. This is an extraordinary thing to ask of any man. I understand this. But I would like to marry you. I wish to bear your daughters. Any daughter of yours and mine will probably be a singer of great renown. I would also be pleased to bear your sons. My father would be glad to consider your sons among his possible heirs. Some tribes would not like to see the son of an inGara become the king of the winter country, but many would be pleased. Many would say that the sons of a man who went into the land of the shades and returned will be lucky and strong and wise. I think your sons would be all those things. Also, besides all those considerations, I would like to marry you because I have the greatest regard for you.”
I nodded to show I was listening. As I recovered from my first astonishment, I might have begun to feel angry, but her words made that impossible. I was not angry. I was not even certain whether I was upset. Probably I was still too surprised to be upset.
She went on. “But what you say is true. You are seldom here in the winter country. Also, your life has become very unusual. Life is uncertain, and only the gods know what the coming years may bring. But your life has become more uncertain than most. Perhaps when next you leave the winter country, you will never return. Perhaps a long time might pass before I even knew of your death. I do not want to wait and wait and wait, not knowing whether my husband walks in the land of the living or the land of the shades. But there are other considerations as well. The daughter of a king should not wait in that way. She must have sons, or all the important tribes will begin to argue too much regarding the king’s choice of heir. I do not want that. I will not let that happen if I can prevent it. I want my father to have many grandsons. I want my sons to be strong and forceful and honorable and wise, so that when he says This is the one I wish the tribes to accept as their king, all the tribes will agree with his choice.”
She stopped, sitting back, breathing deeply. Then she said, “I mean no offense by this suggestion. If I have offended you, I apologize and ask your pardon. If you do not want to consider this idea, I ask you to pretend that I never spoke these words.”
“I am not offended,” I said. “You owe me no apology.” I was silent for a little while. Then I asked, “You do wish to marry me?”
“Yes,” she said steadily. “I would like that very much, Ryo.”
“You wish to marry Elaro inPorakario as well.”
“Yes. I think that would be better. And, though I hope very much this does not offend you, Ryo, I would like to do it.”
I was silent for a little while again. Then I said, “I understand your reasons. All your reasons are good ones. I cannot argue that my life is not uncertain. I thought ...” I stopped.
“You thought I would say I could not marry you.” She gripped her hands together, then made herself set her hands palm-down on her knees, relaxed and calm. “If you do not agree to what I suggest, then you are right, I cannot marry you. I hope very much you will agree, but I will completely understand if you refuse.”
She had said that twice now. She might be trying to make me believe that, or she might be trying to make herself believe it. I spoke slowly, my thoughts finally beginning to come more smoothly again. “Elaro inPorakario probably knew what you would ask me. He is probably waiting somewhere not far away, ready to come into this tent and discuss this matter. Perhaps you might go to him and say that he may do that now. Perhaps you will not come with him, but permit the two of us to discuss this privately.”
“Yes,” Darra agreed. She rose, moving with her customary grace. She tried to look unconcerned, but I saw she was anxious. She had never looked more beautiful to me, but I did not like to see her anxious and worried. But there was nothing I could say to her yet. She went out.
In a little while, not long, the poet from the east came into the wagon. He crossed the space quietly, sat down across from me, and waited, his eyes lowered. Though he was ten winters my elder, and a poet besides, he did not say anything, but waited for me to speak first.
He was certainly well to look upon. I decided any woman would think so. His face was broad and his bones strong. The slight reddish tint to his hair was unusual. I suspected a woman would like that too.
I took care to keep my tone steady and unconcerned. “You knew what she intended to suggest. How long have you known?”
He raised his gaze to meet mine. “For many days. As I have had all those days to consider the matter, may I speak?”
“Yes,” I agreed. With some effort, I set aside the astonishment I still felt and the anger I was beginning to feel, and prepared to listen carefully to his words.
“You are the son of the lord of the inGara and also the son of a great singer, perhaps the foremost singer among all the tribes where the inKarano rule. Among the inPorakario, my father was respected, but he did not hold an important position. My mother was respected among the women, but she was not a singer. You are related to everyone in this part of the winter country. I am not related to anyone here. Even though I am ten winters older, I will yield precedence to you.” He paused.
I nodded to show that I was listening, but I did not answer. I wanted to see what else he would say, and I was not remotely concerned to make him feel more comfortable. If he had not shown deference to me, I might have risen to my feet and walked out already. I might not. But I might.
He went on, speaking with calm self-possession I might have liked in someone else. “You are a warrior. I am not. We both know that if we fought seriously, you would have everything your way. You showed me that, but you did not have to show me. I knew it already. I will never challenge you. If we quarrel, I will step back. But I will try not to quarrel. Whether Darra sets her tent among the inKarano or the inGara, I will take a husband’s place with her. But when you come to her tent, I will step back. If you prefer, I will leave the camp entirely. I will go somewhere else and stay away as long as you are present in the camp. I will set jealousy aside. I will not permit bitterness to come into my heart. I ask that you resolve to do the same.”
I nodded a second time.
“Children will come, if there is no serious mischance. They will say they have two fathers. We will both say a boy is our son. We will both say a girl is our daughter.”
This was the only possible way to handle that matter. I nodded once more. I could see a different problem. Whatever Darra's children said, whatever anyone said of them, there was every chance that Elaro would be here in the winter country and I would not
. Our children would know him as a man, but me they would know at a distance, almost as a story. This thought did not make it easier to calm my temper. But that problem was not Elaro's fault. It was no one's fault. If he had never come from the east, that problem would be the same.
“These are my thoughts,” he finished. “I ask that you take forty breaths to consider my words. Twice forty. I will count.”
I made a gesture of assent. But I did not have to think very hard. When he signaled that the pause had ended, I said, “Some of your suggestions seem good to me. If we both decide to marry Darra as she suggests, then I agree I will take precedence, for all the reasons you say. I also agree with your suggestion regarding children.” I paused to let that part stand in the air long enough for both of us to agree that those matters were settled.
Then I said, “I mean no offense when I say that some of your suggestions are much less wise. You say that in any quarrel, you would step back. That is not a just way to manage disagreements. You are right that you cannot fight me in any serious manner. It would therefore be wrong for me to fight you. If you offend me, I will strike you. If I offend you, I will accept a blow. If we quarrel in a manner that cannot be settled that easily, then we will ask Koro inKarano to judge between us.”
“Yes,” Elaro agreed. His mouth crooked up. “If we must go to the king of all this part of the winter country for judgment, I am certain we will both try hard not to quarrel.”
I nodded. “You have realized that is a reason I suggested this. You are right. That is one reason. Koro would not be patient with any kind of stupidity.” There was another reason. If I made any serious mistake, I was absolutely certain Koro would not hesitate to say so and correct me. I thought if I agreed to this uncommon kind of marriage, my certainty in that regard would serve to check my temper. I thought, if I agreed to this, that might be a very good thing.
Tarashana Page 54