She ignored his request. “Did the queen do this to you?”
“Do what?”
“Your ear is smashed, and your head is bleeding.”
“I fell.”
Tuni swore and spit on the ground. “Tell me the truth. Was it the queen or did that wild mare kick you?”
“Sula? Never.”
“Then who did this? Was Mut behind it?”
Rahkki tightened his lips. “No, it wasn’t Mut.”
Tuni squeezed him, probably harder than she realized. “You’re as stubborn as Brauk.”
“It’s so bright,” he said, blocking his eyes from the sun.
Tuni trotted into the Borla’s emergency medical tent and laid Rahkki on an open cot. “This boy needs help.”
The Borla turned from his smoking candles and glanced at Rahkki, his eyes dull and drooping. He shook his head. “No. Too busy.”
“What?” Tuni sputtered.
“I’m fine,” Rahkki whispered, tugging on the sleeve of her tunic. “Just take me to my brother.”
Tuni folded her arms and glared at the Fifth Clan’s healer. “I know you have your priorities, and this boy’s not a Rider or a warrior, but he’s a child.”
The Borla’s expression pinched into something unrecognizable, something between pity and fear. “He’s not a child. He’s twelve. Take him away.” He waved his hand as if blessing Rahkki. “I have wounded warriors to see.”
Tuni swore again, so low only Rahkki heard her.
“Please, Tuni. Let’s go.” Rahkki understood the lay of things. The clan Borla took orders from the queen, and the queen had no interest in keeping Rahkki alive. She couldn’t kill him outright because of the deal she’d made with Uncle Darthan, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make Rahkki’s life miserable, or deny him medical care. “Take me to the animal healer,” he whispered.
Tuni whipped her gaze from the Borla to Rahkki, and understanding dawned. She scooped him back into her arms and carried him to the animal healer’s shed, north of the Kihlari barn. Here the medicine woman named Brim Carver treated pets and working animals. Tuni didn’t knock; she burst inside Brim’s work space and laid Rahkki down on a flat wooden table.
The animal healer turned around. “Oh,” she said, blinking at Rahkki lying on the gurney. Her voice was high-pitched and sweet. “That’s not a dog.”
Tuni frowned at her. “Can you fix him?”
Brim leaned over Rahkki’s head and examined him with sure fingers. The skin on her face was deeply lined but looked soft, like melted wax. Crinkling lines reached out from her eyes like wings, and they made her appear to be smiling even when she wasn’t.
“Your eyes are as bright as coins,” she said to Rahkki. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
“It’s better if you don’t ask questions,” Tuni interrupted.
Rahkki realized then that Tuni had guessed the truth—that it was the queen’s guard who’d done this to him. And if Brim knew that, she might refuse to treat him. But looking at her kind face, Rahkki doubted it. Still, he kept his answer brief. “I got hit in the head, that’s all I remember.”
“Please lift your shirt,” Brim said.
Rahkki lifted it and winced.
“Hmm,” said Brim. “Whoever did this didn’t stop at your head.” She looked at Tuni. “See the marks, here and here.” She pointed at Rahkki’s ribs.
Tuni sucked in her breath. “By Granak,” she whispered, clenching her fists.
“I need to feel your belly and your bones and listen to your lungs,” said Brim. “It might hurt, so no barking.”
Rahkki glanced at Tuni. She nodded, assuring him.
Brim’s cold hands touched Rahkki’s bruised flesh, and he clamped shut his mouth to keep from groaning. With each hard push into his belly and ribs, Brim yelped, “Ouch, ouch,” making Rahkki smile. Next she brought out a wooden cone and listened to his lungs as he took deep breaths. “I hear the ocean,” she exclaimed, making even Tuni laugh.
Then Brim soaked a cloth in water and washed out his bleeding head wound. She continued her yelping. “Oh, that stings. Oh, I can’t stand it.”
And it did sting, and it did hurt; but Rahkki was transfixed by the animal doctor’s reactions, watching her say everything he felt. She’s crazy, he thought.
When she finished cleaning the wound, she frowned. “Well, I have good news and bad news.” She sat heavily on an old teakwood chair. “The good news is that you’ll
live to fight another day—or maybe that’s the bad news, because you’re clearly not good at it, although I haven’t seen the other guy—but still, you’ll live, and that is ultimately good.”
Rahkki glanced at Tuni, and she raised her eyebrows.
“What’s the bad news?” Rahkki asked, wondering if it had to do with the ringing in his ear.
“After a thorough examination, I’ve concluded you’re definitely not a dog. I’m sorry.” She patted Rahkki’s shoulder.
“That is unfortunate,” Tuni said, her mouth twitching.
Rahkki sat up, but Brim discouraged him. “Not yet, young warrior. Let me bandage you and make you a packet of medicine. Then you can go and rest, but no sleeping. Not right away. Can you watch him until evening?” she asked Tuni.
“I’m off patrol, so yes, I can watch him.”
Brim nodded and went to work, bandaging Rahkki with sure hands. She treated the cuts on his head with salve and then wrapped him in a snug, clean narrow cloth. “Is this ear singing to you?” she asked, pointing to the smashed left ear.
Rahkki nodded.
“Sing with it,” she suggested, and her sweet, high voice broke into a lullaby.
Rahkki listened, letting her song float around him like the gentle arms of a mother. Tuni lowered herself onto a bench and listened too. Brim made three packets of powdered medicine for his swelling and pain, and then put her supplies away. When she was finished cleaning up, she was also finished with her song.
Tuni reached into her purse and pulled out two coins. “Here.”
But Brim covered Tuni’s hand with gnarled knuckles. “Nope, I don’t take payment for humans.”
“But you treated him,” Tuni protested. “Here’s two dramals. I’ll bring more if it’s not enough.”
Brim clucked and shooed her hand away.
Tuni looked helplessly at Rahkki, who sat up. “Thank you,” he said to Brim.
The animal doctor nodded and fluttered off to the back of her shed where she had a patient—a real dog—recuperating in a cage. Ten warhorses, two baby goats, and a sow pig stood in stalls, also recuperating from various ailments and injuries from the recent giant attack.
Understanding that they’d been dismissed, Rahkki and Tuni turned to exit the shed. Before they left, the Headwind slid her two dramals onto Brim’s chair. She gave Rahkki a sly wink, and they slipped out into the sunshine.
31
The Blanket
AS RAHKKI MADE HIS WAY BACK TOWARD THE training yard, leaning lightly on Tuni, the Headwind reopened the subject Rahkki didn’t want to discuss. “It was the queen who hurt you, wasn’t it? I knew it the second her Borla refused to treat you. Why? What happened?”
“I tried to free Sula,” Rahkki confessed. “I know she’s too valuable to lose. I just wanted to help her.”
Tuni swallowed this quietly.
Rahkki stared at the ground. Tuni was his friend, but she was also a Headwind in the Sky Guard—the flying army that would hunt down Sula if she escaped. He didn’t know what to say. “I made a mistake,” he offered, but really it was the opposite; he was trying to correct a mistake. The Kihlari were the sacred Children of the Wind; the clan should have left the wild ones alone.
Tuni dropped low and faced him, her brown eyes sparkling and her dark-red hair loose around her face. “I wish we hadn’t captured them,” she whispered.
Rahkki’s eyes widened.
Tuni glanced up at the clouds that drifted overhead. “There was something so beautiful about t
hose wild Kihlari,” she said. “Seeing them free and fighting for each other, living in a herd like horses, it was . . . incredible. Our Kihlari are used to us, but Sula and Firo, they don’t belong here.”
Rahkki nodded. “But the auction is in four days, and Sula doesn’t understand what’s going to happen to her.” He dropped his face into his palms. “I would buy her if I could.”
Tuni took his chin in her hand and lifted his face. “I would buy her for you if I could,” she said. “You’d make an excellent Rider.”
Rahkki laughed so hard he choked. “I wouldn’t,” he protested. “Why does everyone think that?”
“Because you used to love to fly, remember? By the age of three you were riding Drael to the lowest clouds
and back. The clan knew you were destined to become a Rider.”
Rahkki remembered very little about that. What he knew now was that he was afraid of heights—it was a secret he kept close.
Tuni chuckled. “I remember your mother’s frequent and frantic searches through the fortress, shouting for you. But you were always with her stallion, Drael, sleeping in his stall or sneaking him out of the barn to fly.”
Rahkki’s emotions swirled like a cyclone, making him dizzier and dizzier. He staggered sideways. “I need to sit down.”
“Of course.” She paused and brightened. “I’ll take you to the shade.”
They’d reached the training yard where Harak and his friends had gathered at the tables beneath the palm trees, avoiding the afternoon heat. They were all playing stones with furious concentration. Rahkki guessed they were trying to distract themselves from the chaos and destruction around them, if just for a moment.
Tuni led him to the table and lowered Rahkki onto a bench. She handed him her water skin. “Drink,” she said.
Harak moved closer to them. “Ay there, little farmer,”
he drawled. “Want to play stones with us? Yeah?”
Rahkki shook his head.
“I’ll front you ten jints,” said Harak’s friend. “A small bet for a small boy?”
Rahkki enjoyed a game of stones as much as any Sandwen, but he had no energy or inclination to play.
“Let him rest,” Tuni said.
Harak pointed at Rahkki’s bandages. “What happened? Fall off your pony?” He chuckled, referring to the stubborn white steed Rahkki had ridden back from the farm.
So fast Harak didn’t see it coming, Tuni coiled back her fist and punched him square across the jaw, knocking him off the bench. Rubbing her knuckles, she turned to Rahkki. “I’ll be over there washing Rizah if you need me.” She strode away, followed by the laughter of Harak’s friends.
The tall, green-eyed Rider pulled himself back up to the table. “I think she likes me,” he said, causing more laughter. “Let’s play then, yeah?”
Harak went first, taking a handful of stones and dropping them strategically into the cups on the playing board.
Rahkki listened to the Riders, the clanging of the stones, and the exchanges of coin; but he was thinking about the night he’d escaped Lilliam. Uncle had reminded him that Drael had saved his life. Rahkki closed his eyes, thinking of his mother. He exhaled, remembering her soft skin and her long, fragrant hair. Then he forced his mind back to the night she’d died, trying to rip the veil that shrouded that evening.
A vision of Drael appeared, and the bay stallion’s image stung his heart like a hornet. How he’d loved that Kihlara! Then, in his mind’s eye, Rahkki was riding Drael, hurtling across the night sky with his arms wrapped around his brother’s waist. Next he saw blood dripping, and he heard the amber-winged horse scream in anger or pain, he couldn’t be sure. Rahkki’s belly looped, and he threw his hands out like he was falling and opened his eyes. “I can’t,” he said out loud.
“What’d you say?” Harak asked.
Rahkki shook his head, making it throb worse.
“He said he can’t play. The little farmer has no money to bet,” said the Rider sitting next to Harak.
His words struck Rahkki square in the gut; they were so painfully true! He had no money. No way to help the wild mares. Rahkki stared at the Kihlari barn, thinking of the upcoming auction. Oh Sula, he thought. What’s going to happen to you?
Then Rahkki spotted Koko leading Kol toward the stable. The stallion’s leg was dressed in herbs and wrapped in cotton bandages. Long scratches marked his flanks, but the wounds had been cleaned and treated. Kol nickered softly, and Rahkki’s belly lightened. He leaped up—too fast, and after swaying a moment, he caught up to Koko and entered the barn with her. “What happened?” he asked her. “Where’s my brother?”
“Here.” Brauk limped out of the tack room.
“You’re hurt,” Rahkki said, panic bubbling up from his gut.
“Steady, little brother,” said Brauk. “It’s a few bruises. I’m not gonna die. Not today.” He frowned. “What happened to you? And why are there land soldiers in the barn?”
“We’re guarding the wildlings,” explained the younger, brown-haired soldier. “Queen’s orders. Until they’re sold.”
Brauk grimaced at the mention of Lilliam. “And you?” he said, turning to Rahkki and inspecting his bandaged head. “What happened?”
Rahkki glanced at the two soldiers, willing them not to challenge the lie he was about to tell. “I fell off that
stupid pony I’Lenna used to ride,” he said, snatching the idea from Harak’s assumption.
His brother laughed. “It’s always the ponies, isn’t it? Stinkin’ ponies.”
The older soldier glanced up at them and then back down, deciding not to intervene. No one in the clan wanted to set off Brauk’s anger at Lilliam again. Not after Brauk had finally pulled himself out of the deep hole of hatred in which he’d rooted like a pig for years.
Meanwhile, Rahkki gazed at his brother’s wounds—a cut leg, bruises up and down his shield arm, a deep gash along the side of his head, just below the helmet-line—and he blinked hard. Brauk could never die, not any day.
His brother’s eyes turned cold. “Come on, Rahkki, don’t do this.”
Rahkki nodded. “I just—”
Brauk’s hands tightened like the bite of a crocodile. “We’re at war with the giants, do you understand that?”
“Aren’t we always?” Rahkki shrugged away from his brother.
“This wasn’t the usual raid,” Brauk answered. “The Gorlanders almost breeched the fortress, until our archers drove them back. They brought elephants, and they’re working together. They’ve dug into the forest at the base
of Mount Crim, and they’re preparing another attack, I’m sure of it. We were able to turn the Sixth and Seventh clans back home. The Second through Fourth clans are stuck here, for now, and there’s no sign of the First.”
Rahkki brightened as a hopeful thought struck him. “Has the auction been canceled?”
Brauk glared east. “No bleedin’ chance of that. We won’t let the giants change our plans.” Then he marched back to the tack room and Rahkki followed. Brauk shut the door and lowered his voice. “There’s more, Rahkki. The clan is fed up with the queen.”
“Fed up? What do you mean?”
“There’s talk of an uprising,” Brauk whispered. “Some are meeting in secret.”
Rahkki’s first thought was for Princess I’Lenna. If unhappy clansmen were meeting to overthrow her mother, she was in danger! “How serious are they?” he asked.
“I don’t know; I’m staying out of it.”
“You are?” Given Brauk’s feelings about Lilliam, this surprised Rahkki. “Why?”
His brother squatted to Rahkki’s height, his golden eyes meeting his. “Plots and secrets aren’t for me. If I wanted to usurp the queen, I’d shoot her straight through her wicked heart.” Brauk drew back his arm and pretended to
loose an arrow. He grinned. “Talking is for tots, Rahkki. When the time is ripe—thwack! She’s gone.”
“You wouldn’t!” he rasped.
Brauk
shrugged and limped back to Sula’s stall. Rahkki trailed after him, stunned. His brother inspected Sula. “She looks good, really good. She’ll fetch a pretty price.”
Rahkki’s upset stomach churned harder at the thought of someone purchasing the silver mare. He’d come to think of her as his mare.
Brauk turned and leaned on the stall door. “So I was looking through my trunk, and guess what? My little sawa blade is missing.”
A small smile crept across Rahkki’s face.
Brauk grinned and dipped his head gallantly. “Rumor has it you battled three giants, saved Uncle’s farm, and protected the wildling mares.”
Rahkki’s smile faded. “Actually, a giant tied me up and stuffed me in her lunch sack. It was full of ants—”
“Shush.” Brauk laughed, and his big, gleaming smile was the sun. “Never dispute your own legend, Brother. Let it bloom.” He opened his fist slowly, his fingers unfurling like flower petals.
Rahkki exhaled. “Okay.”
Then the clouds returned, crossing his brother’s face.
“Follow me; I have something to show you.”
Rahkki followed Brauk out of the Kihlari barn, glancing at Sula as he left. She returned his gaze with eyes full of anguish. He smiled at her, hoping to soothe her. Then he shuffled to catch up to Brauk. His brother limped, but his back was straight, his shoulders square. He led Rahkki to Fort Prowl, spoke his credentials, and the guards admitted them through the dented gates.
Inside the compound, soldiers, messengers, and clansfolk scurried about, their faces full of purpose. A line of villagers and soldiers waited to see the queen. Rahkki glimpsed her as they passed her chamber. She sat back on her tall throne, her skinny limbs poking away from her round belly like sticks, and she appeared crushed by the weight of her unborn baby.
Brightly woven reed mats decorated the floor, and dyed tapestries hung on the walls. A table laden with steaming boar’s meat, salted fish, cut melons, fresh goat’s milk, and rice wine stretched for fifteen lengths behind her. Her two youngest children played at her feet. Rahkki looked closer, trying to remember the days when his mother had sat on that throne.
Across the Dark Water Page 18
