The Keeping Place

by Isobelle Carmody

  “Poor little baby,” I said, and sat back down.

  Kella sat beside me. “Sometimes it seems that life is nothing but struggle and sorrow, and yet we spend our time remembering moments in which we experienced joy and believing they are what life is meant to be.”

  “You are thinking of Domick,” I said, giving up any attempt at subtlety, since I was so bad at it.

  “I never stop thinking of him,” Kella admitted dully. “I accept he no longer wants or needs me as a woman. When I was with him, I thought that meant I had become unlovable. But you were right in bringing me away, for I now see his loss of love is no true judgment on me—it is a symptom of his sickening spirit. Because I loved him, I failed him as a healer. But I would not fail now. I have been thinking of it more and more, and I might as well tell you I have spoken to Roland about going to Sutrium again.”

  I wanted to argue, but I could not. Would I be any different if Rushton were in trouble? Kella smiled a little. “Now you look exactly as Roland did when I told him.”

  I stiffened as Ceirwan farsent me to say that the pass watch warned of riders headed for Obernewtyn at a fast gallop. At least two riders were Sadorian by their attire.

  “What is it?” Kella asked.

  “I have to go. Ceirwan sends that riders are coming up the pass.” Kella looked frightened, and I laughed. “Don’t worry. Ceirwan says some of them are Sadorians.”

  Kella’s eyes blazed with delight. “Dameon must be home!”

  5

  FORTUNATELY, CEIRWAN HAD shielded his farseeking, otherwise the steps of Obernewtyn would have been crowded with people longing to welcome the Empath guildmaster home. As it was, only Gevan, Kella, Ceirwan, and I were at the front doors to greet him and his escort.

  Because it was a moonless night, it took some moments to discern the Sadorian tribeswoman Jakoby and her daughter, Bruna. They dismounted and bowed low, palms against their chests, while the teknoguilder Fian leapt from his mount and hurried across, beaming with pleasure.

  “It is good to see ye all. My only regret is that it’s too dark to see th’ mountains. Ye have no idea how often I have missed them these last months.”

  “I am glad to see you again, Elspeth Gordie,” Jakoby said warmly.

  “And I you,” I said. I had forgotten how tall she was. “I did not imagine you would accompany Dameon home yourself.”

  “Where is he?” Kella asked, squinting into the darkness, where two other riders dismounted.

  “Dameon did not come,” the tribeswoman answered. “I will let Fian explain, but it is Dameon’s own choosing. Is there somewhere we can water and feed the horses before we talk further?”

  Gevan looked somewhat embarrassed. “Lady, I am sorry to say this, but here we do not think of horses as belonging to people; in fact, if they desire it, we must offer your beasts asylum.”

  She burst out laughing. “I think you will find them willing to return to Sador.” She turned to me. “Dameon will have let you know that I am hoping to bring back a beastspeaker with us when we return to the desert lands—one who knows the fingerspeech better than the asura. There have been changes in Sador that he will not have had time to relate.”

  “Asura?” Ceirwan echoed.

  “That’s what they call Dameon in Sador, an’ it’s partly why he’s nowt here,” Fian offered.

  “Wait,” I said. “This is not a story for a drafty front step. You have ridden far, and as you say, the beasts must be shown to the farms, where they can find food and water.”

  “I will take them,” Ceirwan offered.

  Jakoby thanked him and turned to the other riders, two Sadorian men. “Harad, you and Straaka will go with the horses.” She turned back to me, the beaded strands of her midnight hair clinking together.

  “There is no need to send your men. The Beastspeaking guild will take good care of the beasts,” Gevan said.

  “I send them only because it would pain them not to go. I will tell you more of these matters inside. I dare say we need a wash, but I would be glad to drink and eat first if you can tolerate our travel sweat.”

  I said heating water for a bath would take some time in any case. “We had best go somewhere quiet, and I’ll have something brought to us. In the dining halls, one look at Fian and we would have no peace until all knew why Dameon had not come.”

  “I will go and organize some food,” Kella said. “But it will not be long before the rumor is out.”

  “We will have a little respite, at least, while rumor pursues fact,” I said.

  Gevan and I led Fian, Bruna, and her mother through the central hall and down a passage to a small room where once I had waited to see Madam Vega after my arrival at Obernewtyn. That was now only a shadowy memory overlaid with many others.

  “You said Dameon chose not to come?” I said the moment Jakoby had laid aside her dusty travel coat. I was unable to ignore the prompting of my heart any longer.

  “He wrote ye a letter, Elspeth,” Fian said. “I have it for ye. But I can guess th’ gist of it is that th’ Sadorians are makin’ him an honorary tribesman, an’ he can’t come until th’ ceremonies are complete.”

  “It is rarely done,” Jakoby said, suddenly sounding grave.

  I did not know what to say. Apart from the honor of it, it would cement our alliance with the Sadorians. But I was bitterly disappointed.

  “The ceremonies and celebrations last a month,” Jakoby said gently.

  Fian rummaged in his pockets and withdrew a rolled sheet of paper. “There are two letters. One for ye, an’ t’other fer Miky an’ Angina. Have ye sent for Rushton?”

  I took the letter and thrust it into my pocket with the same resolution as I pushed my disappointment to the back of my mind. “Rushton has gone to Sutrium. Brydda sent a message asking him to meet with the rebels,” I said.

  The teknoguilder blinked at me in bemusement. “With th’ rebels? Why?”

  “That is what I would like to know.”

  “Perhaps I can guess,” Jakoby said. “There was much discussion about your people after you left, for the rebels were beginning to realize very clearly what sort of leader they would have if Malik took charge of the rebellion. No one said it aloud, but it was clear few liked the idea of being ruled by him after the war. Your offer, along with your superior behavior, became increasingly attractive. And Malik knew it. He may have defeated you, but maybe he showed his nature a little too explicitly, and that has gone against him.”

  I never doubted that the rebels would succeed in their struggle to overthrow the Council, having witnessed firsthand the raw ferocity and single-minded drive of Malik and his followers. I had not needed the Battlegames verdict, delivered by the Sadorians, to know the rebels were gifted warriors—if the ability to wage war could ever truly be called a gift. They surely did not need us to win, but in accepting our aid, they would have gained victory more swiftly and gently.

  But men like Malik did not want a gentle victory.

  “We will learn soon enough what transpires with these rebels,” Bruna said firmly.

  Jakoby’s eyes rested enigmatically on her daughter. “Bruna felt she must accompany me to Sutrium.”

  Bruna lifted her chin a little but said nothing.

  “The tribes still mean to take part in the rebellion?” I asked.

  “We promised aid and broke bread with the rebels over it, and so we must aid them if they desire it, although now that the Council has lost interest in possessing Sador, we no longer have any real need to involve ourselves. The Council’s new indifference is Dameon’s doing, and that is partly why he is to be made a tribesman.” Jakoby’s golden eyes were more catlike than ever when she smiled. “It never occurred to us to allow Landfolk to see how difficult it is to harvest spice, for we did not understand that much of their desire to control Sador lay in a greed to increase its production. Dameon also told us that the Council believed there were great fertile valleys that we were concealing beyond the desert.”

 
Dameon had told me some of this in a letter, but not all. “What did you do?”

  “We took them on a kar-avan tour,” Jakoby said, grinning. “Within days of their return, they took ship for the Land. I do not think they will be back.”

  “Tell her about th’ horses,” Fian urged.

  Jakoby nodded and smiled again. “Dameon will have told you that he taught us what he could of the fingerspeech, but being blind, he could not tell us how to understand beasts. That was Fian’s task, though he warned us he was not very good. Nevertheless, we were able for the first time to communicate with beasts. We had thought them less than humans, but quickly we understood that most are easily equal to humans in intelligence. Our previous treatment of beasts seemed base and terrible in the light of this, and our community changed almost overnight. Ownership of animals is now called slavery in Sador, and I am sure Dameon has told you enough of our past for you to understand our hatred of that trade. Henceforth, horses and their riders are comrades and allies, as equal as man and woman.”

  “What about horses who don’t want to be ridden?”

  “They need not. But life is difficult in Sador for human and beast alike, and we survive only by our unity. Seeing this, most horses are content to remain among us, as long as they are free to come and go as they please. Even so, some do not choose a rider and have formed a wild pack to defend themselves from the giant cats that prowl the desert.”

  “Do they regard the tame horses as traitors?”

  Jakoby shrugged. “I do not know enough animal speech to ask such a question, but the wild herd leader has just proposed that all horses run with the herd as foals, then submit themselves to a period of learning with humans, after which they may either choose a rider or return to the herd. We decided we would no longer buy horses from the Land, but the herd leader has asked that, in repayment for the occasional labor of horses, a certain number of enslaved beasts be brought from the greenlands and freed in Sador each season.

  “Next year, we will make a treaty of honor with the herd leader. This makes it imperative for us to learn more of the fingerspeech so that there will be no misunderstandings between our kinds.”

  “What about other beasts?” Gevan asked.

  “We hope to use the fingerspeech with them, too, in time. The kamuli are as wise as horses, but although they prefer to remain among us, they have no wish for closeness and ask only that we use no rein or whip on them and that we do not take their calves from them. We still hunt wild beasts for meat and for leather, but it has been decided that the tribe will hunt only those that are hunters of men and eaters of meat. Of course, we will not hunt beasts that are pregnant or with young. Some beasts are less wise—chickens are nearly brainless, and snakes reject all approaches. There is a sort of desert dog that is completely insane, and the big desert cats refuse to respond.”

  There was a clatter at the door, and Kella entered with Katlyn, both bearing laden trays. Gevan made space on a sideboard and helped them lay out bread and cheese, a vegetable slice, and pots of butter and mustard. There were also little pancakes dripping with mountain-clover honey, fruit dumplings dusted with sugar, one of Katlyn’s famous preserved berry pies, and a jug of cream.

  Jakoby gazed at the food appreciatively, as Katlyn drew a pottery urn and some mugs from her voluminous apron pockets and poured a measure for the tribeswoman, saying, “’Tis a fement brewed by my bondmate, Grufyyd.”

  Jakoby studied her so intently that Katlyn’s smile faded. “What is the matter?”

  “Nothing is amiss, good woman. I merely saw in your face a flash of another’s. It is my guess that you are the mother of Brydda Llewellyn.”

  Katlyn beamed and agreed that she was. She began to press food on the tribeswoman and her silent daughter, telling them how this or that was cooked or baked. She left only after being assured there was enough for twenty people.

  After Katlyn had gone, Kella said, “I went to tell the futuretellers we needed some beds made up, but they had them ready. They foresaw—” Without warning, something flew in the open window and crashed into the wall beside her. With an exclamation, she hurried over and picked up the small owl I had seen earlier on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” Kella said, tucking the dazed bird into her pocket. “It will follow me in the most exasperating way.”

  “You speak to birds?” Bruna asked.

  “No,” Kella laughed. “A nest full of these fell out of a tree, and I fed them until they could fend for themselves. The others have all flown away now, but this one will not go.”

  “You cannot beastspeak it?” Jakoby asked.

  Kella shook her head. “Birds are almost impossible to reach, and in any case, I am not a beastspeaker. I can merely empathise to them a little.”

  After everyone had eaten their fill, Kella and Fian took the trays away. Jakoby sat back with a groan and belched loudly. “That was a true feast. These greenlands offer a richer harvest than the deserts.”

  Gevan refilled our mugs and insisted on drinking a toast to Sador. Jakoby responded by drinking one to Obernewtyn. They would happily have gone on, but the jug ran out. We talked a little more of beasts in Sador, and Jakoby told me the Battlegames had been modified to ensure animals were not harmed. If they participated, it was of their choosing, and for this service they might ask a boon or payment. Then she spoke of Dameon. “I think he saw the true beauty of the desert more quickly than those whose eyes see only barren white dunes shimmering in the heat. Dwelling among us, he lived with the desert, and that is a powerful thing. Maybe he will not find it easy to leave.”

  “We have need of him,” I said.

  “I do not doubt it. I have never known anyone so strong and yet so gentle.”

  “I don’t look forward to telling everyone that he has not come, truly,” I sighed. “The Empath guild has spent many hours preparing special performances to honor him at our moon fair.”

  “Moon fair…” Jakoby frowned. “A celebration of the new moon?”

  “No, it is a celebration like the bazaar week after the annual Battlegames,” Bruna said, stifling a yawn. “There is feasting and competitions….”

  “Since we cannot easily or safely attend fairs, we have our own,” I said. “Of course, there are no outside traders or jacks, and competitions are more displays than anything else. But there is feasting and dancing and music and a couple of our own ceremonies.”

  “Is it permitted that we remain?”

  “We would be glad if you would,” Gevan said, and I could see he was pleased to think of showing his magi to the Sadorian.

  “The moon fair will not take place for a few days,” I said. “If Brydda is expecting you…”

  “I am in no particular haste,” Jakoby said easily, but her eyes flicked to her daughter. Bruna was fast asleep, curled like a long, thin cat into the side of a deep armchair. All of the haughtiness had gone out of her, and she looked vulnerable and little more than a child with her fingers curled under her cheek.

  “I cannot say as much for my daughter,” Jakoby sighed. “It was her suggestion that I should travel in person both here and to Sutrium. She then asked if she could accompany me, to ‘learn more of the barbarian customs of Landfolk.’ She also professed to be curious to see Obernewtyn with her own eyes, and well she might be, for Dameon has told us much that is fascinating about this valley.

  “But underneath all of these fine-sounding reasons, Bruna hungers to see Bodera’s son, Dardelan. When they first met, she called him a pale, soft boy more like to a woman than a man, but I think her harsh talk against him hid a sweet barb that he had set in her the first time she beheld him. She would like to tear it out of her, my little wildcat, but such a barb is not easily removed. I think she comes to the Land to show herself Dardelan is unworthy of her, but under that she longs to see him. But if he can love her, what then? Her spirit belongs to the desert, but he must take his father’s place in the Land. No matter what comes of this journey, I fear Bruna will suffer�
�and perhaps Dardelan, too.”

  She sighed again, and I thought that for all she was an accomplished warrior and tribal leader, she was also a worried mother.

  She rose then and asked where they were to sleep.

  I took her cue and said I would show her. Gevan rose, too, and bid the Sadorian farewell. When Gevan had gone, Jakoby bent to touch Bruna’s cheek. The girl woke instantly, reaching instinctively for her knife.

  “Come, child,” Jakoby said firmly. “We have yet to bathe before we can sleep.”

  I conducted them to the chamber that had been prepared for them and showed them where the nearby bathing room was. The barrels of water steamed, and Jakoby sighed in pleasure at the sight.

  “So much water!”

  I had barely taken off my boots in my own chamber when Ceirwan arrived. “I sensed ye were awake, an’ I had to tell ye.”

  “What?”

  He grinned, his eyes alight. “One of those two Sadorian men with Jakoby says he is betrothed to Miryum.”

  “Oh dear,” I said, remembering Miryum knocking a Sadorian warrior to the ground because she thought he was making fun of her when he had actually been proposing. The tribesman had later presented her with two horses, and Jakoby had broken the news to us that, by accepting them, the stocky coercer had unknowingly accepted an offer of bonding.

  Ceirwan giggled. “I can’t wait to see her face.”

  I was less amused. “Did he bring the horses he gifted her?”

  “Zidon an’ Faraf. Yes. They both asked to see Innle, an’ Alad started tellin’ them ye were nowt th’ Innle out of beastlegend, but they seemed to ken ye in reality.”

  I nodded and quickly changed the subject by asking Ceirwan to announce the news of Dameon’s delay at midmeal.

  Ceirwan sighed. “I might have guessed I would end up havin’ to break th’ news. Ye ken that in th’ Beforetime, they killed messengers bringin’ unwelcome tidings.”

  “That sounds very shortsighted,” I said.

  The guilden yawned widely. “Well, it is late, an’ I am weary.”