'Whatever he is, he's a treacherous dog.'
Atara smiled at this and told him, 'You should be careful how you speak of men on the Wendrush. We of the Manslayers might speak of a man this way, of course, but you should not. And you should know that we eat dogs here. And if Trahadak heard of your slur, he'd roast and eat you'.
Baltasar paled at this, for every child in the Morning Mountains is told stories of the Sarni's cruelties. Then he stroked the hilt of his sword and said, 'He would first be greeted by steel, as he was today.'
'Indeed? Tell me, Sar Baltasar, at the Zakut's encampment you paid tribute to Trahadak yourself, didn't you?'
Now Baltasar's hand tightened around his kalama's grip as he huffed out, 'We Valari pay tribute to no one. The gold was a gift to honor Trahadak for his hospitality.'
'Very well, a gift then,' Atara said, smiling. 'But you sat as close to Trahadak as you and I sit now, did you not.'
Baltasar, who sipped from a cup of brandy with only his father and Maram between me and Atara, nodded his head.
'Very well,' Atara continued, 'then you know Trahadak's face well as my own. Tell me, brave knight, did you see him on the field today?'
'Of course. That is, it must have been he who led that cowardly retreat. The truth is, it's hard to tell. All you Sarni look alike.'
This caused Karimah to burst into laughter. She scooted even closer to Atara and pressed the side of her face against Atara's cheek. Then she laughed out, 'Oh, yes, and we of the Manslayers, who are all sisters, especially look alike. I'm sure you can't tell Atara from me.'
We all had a good laugh at this. Where Karimah's long hair was bleached almost white from many years of sun, Atara's hair shone like living gold. Karimah's face was plump and pretty, except for the round scars on either side where an arrow must once have driven straight through her cheeks; Atara's face was square and smooth and beautiful. In her arms and body, Karimah was almost stout enough to have been Maram's sister. But Atara was long and lithe, clean-limbed and a wonder to look upon, even with the white cloth breaking the perfection of her countenance.
Baltasar, seeing these two women together, flushed with heat as if he had sat too close to the fire. He said, 'What I meant was, with your faces painted blue, who could tell one Sarni from another?'
'We certainly can,' Atara said to Baltasar. 'And that is why I must tell you that it was not Trahadak or any Zakut that we fought today. Nor any clan of the Kurmak, who always keep their word. No, the men we killed were Adirii.'
While I traded knowing glances with Lord Raasharu and Baltasar's face flushed an even angrier red, Atara went on to tell us that a band of warriors of the Adirii's Akhand clan had crossed the Snake River and invaded the Kurmak's country to hunt us.
'But how did they know to find us here?' I asked. 'And the Adirii, for them to ride through Kurmak country, risking war and slaughter, they must have been desperate.'
Desperate for gold, I suddenly thought. Desperate to steal the gold gelstei.
In her eerie way, Atara turned her head toward me as if she could see me and look into my heart. 'All the Sarni on the Wendrush know to find you here, or soon will. The Red Dragon has many spies, and word of your route toward Tria has preceded you and spreads like a wildfire.'
'But this is terrible news!' Maram cried out. He took a long drink of his brandy, and then another.
'No, Maram, perhaps not so terrible as you fear,' Atara reassured him. 'The Red Dragon, it's true, has promised a great weight of gold to anyone who will deliver the Lightstone to him. The Akhand clan must have learned of this and fallen mad with greed. For them to have crossed the Snake, they broke the truce between our tribes and the will of the Adirii's chieftain, Xadharax, who loathes Morjin nearly as much as do we Kurmak.'
Now it was Baltasar's turn to drink deeply of his brandy. To Atara, he said, 'My apologies, my lady - it was wrong of me to have impugned Trahadak, who treated me well.'
He treated you more than well. When he learned that your company would be making its way toward the lake, he sent messengers to alert our Society where we were encamped scarcely half a day's ride away'
'But if Trahadak knew the Adirii were after us, why didn't he send his own warriors to intercept them?'
Atara held a cup of brandy in her hand, but she did not drink of it. She said, 'Because Trahadak didn't know. Indeed, when Sajagax learns of what happened here today, he will be hard put to keep Trahadak from leading all the Zakut across the Snake against those greedy Akhand.'
'But why then,' Baltasar persisted, 'did Trahadak alert you?'
Atara smiled at him. 'Because he knew Valashu Elahad and I were companions on the great Quest.'
'Very well, my lady, but why did you ride here with so many of your sisters? How did you know to find us here?'
It was the same question that I had first asked her. While a sliver of moon spilled a little light down upon us and the wolves out on the steppe howled out their long, soulful hungers, I looked at Atara to see what she would say. And so did everyone else.
In answer to Baltasar's question, Atara brought forth a clear crystal as round as a child's ball. The white gelstei caught the fire's flames and sparks in little flickers of orange and red. Inside its polished curves, for the briefest flash of a moment, I thought I glimpsed an entire world burning up in bright flames.
'You're a scryer,' Baltasar said. He nodded his head as if a great mystery had been made clear to him. 'We've all heard that one of Val's companions was a scryer. But who has ever heard of a scryer without eyes who yet can see?'
Atara's entire being seemed to chill as if she had drunk deeply from an icy stream. She said, 'Can I see? Sometimes it seems I almost can. And sometimes ...'
Her voice died off into the night. The brandy I sipped burned my throat down into my chest; it reminded me that while Atara could often 'see' the forms and features of the earth down to the thinnest blade of grass a hundred yards behind her, at other times she was truly blind - as blind as if the hand of fate had cast her into a black cave.
'Scryers, it's said,' Baltasar went on, 'can see things distant in time. But whoever knew they can see things near in space?'
'Few scryers can,' Atara told him.
'Is that why the chief of the Akhand called you imakla? What does that mean?'
It meant, as I remembered, that Atara was not entirely of this world, that she rode with the immortal warriors of ages past and could not be touched by the hand or arrows of man.
'Please,' Atara said as she put down her brandy and squeezed her crystal sphere, 'let's speak of other things.'
Atara's cup was still full, while Karimah's was as dry as bone. Seeing this, Lord Harsha stood up and limped over to her. From his bottle, he poured forth a few ounces of brandy into her cup. Then he stoppered the bottle with a cork, and laid his hand on Karimah's bare arm, saying, 'Perhaps then we should speak of the beauty of the Sarni women. Perhaps we should make a toast to this and -'
Almost quicker than belief, Karimah drew forth a dagger and held its razor edge to Lord Harsha's wrist. With a smile on her jolly face, she said to him, 'Take your hand from me, Lord Knight, or you shall lose it as you have your eye.'
Lord Harsha's single eye blinked with astonishment. With surprising speed of his own, he jerked back his hand as if from a heated iron. Then he coughed out, 'Forgive me - I forgot myself. It seems that my son-in-law's flirtatious ways have corrupted me.'
Here he nodded at Maram, who mumbled, 'Son-in-law, is it? I thought I was still a free man, at least until next spring, when it might be a good time for a wedding. And as for my ways, I make poems, too, but I'm never accused of corrupting anyone when he is moved to recite verse.'
Karimah smiled at this and turned back to Lord Harsha, and said, 'You are certainly forgiven, then.'
But this wasn't quite good enough for Lord Harsha, who went on to explain, 'You see, it was only my intention to honor your beauty. So fair you are! In the Morning Mountains, we have no women lik
e you.'
Karimah's smile grew broader and bolder. 'Well, you certainly may honor my beauty - from a distance. Indeed, I'd be honored if you did.'
'Then are you imakla, too?'
'I? No, Lord Knight, but I am a warrior of the Manslayers.'
'Then are men forbidden to touch you?'
'Forbidden? Do you mean by law? No - there is no law. There is only this.' Here Karimah held up her dagger, and her smile showed her strong, white teeth. 'It is we who forbid men this. Or not, as we please.'
Maram, who was now a little drunk, couldn't help making a little joke. 'And I must tell you, my, ah . . . father-in-law, that what pleases them usually is not. They may not marry or bear children.'
'Not until we've slain a hundred of our enemies,' Karimah said.
'And how many have you slain, then?' Lord Harsha asked her.
'In my life? After today, eighteen.' 'It is more than most Valari knights ever account for.' 'Perhaps - I wouldn't know,' Karimah said. 'But it is fifty-three fewer than Atara the Blind has sent to the wolves.'
Karimah brushed back the hair from Atara's face as if to array her in splendor so that we all might honor her for this rare and terrible feat. But after Argattha, Atara no longer took pride in slaying men. She sat pressing the white gelstei against her forehead, and she sighed out 'Please, may we speak of other things?'
'Let's speak of sleep, then,' Lord Harsha said. 'It's been a day of battle, and who knows what tomorrow will bring? Maram, are you coming to bed?'
'Soon,' Maram said, yawning. 'As soon as I've finished my brandy. And perhaps had a little more.'
'You've had enough already,' Lord Harsha said to him as he tucked the brandy bottle inside his cloak. After nodding at Karimah, he looked back at Maram and said, 'But at least this is one night we won't have to worry about you wandering into the women's quarters.' So saying, Lord Harsha limped off toward a nearby fire where Behira and Estrella lay sleeping. Shortly thereafter, Lord Raasharu and Baltasar said goodnight as well, and so did Sunjay Naviru. As promised, Maram drank down the last dram of brandy before belching and ambling off to bed. Karimah, however, seemed reluctant to leave Atara alone with me. She stroked Atara's hand and said, 'My dear one, the wolves will be out tonight, the lions, too. If the darkness falls about you, how will you find your way back to us?'
'If I fall blind, truly blind,' Atara said, 'I'm sure that Lord Valashu will accompany me.'
Karimah looked at me long and deeply as she might search the Wendrush's dark grasses for lions. Then she kissed Atara's hand and said, 'Very well, then. We'll be waiting for you.'
And with that, she stood up and walked off toward the Manslayers' campfires glowing against the shadowed steppe away from the river. 'Your Lord Harsha,' Atara said to me, 'should be careful of Karimah.'
'Do you mean, careful of his hands or careful of her knife?'
'I mean, careful of her heart. As long as we make our camp close to yours, there will be a danger for both our people.'
'But surely your sisters must often encounter men.'
'Yes, of course - but not men such as you Valari.'
'Are we so different from your Sarni warriors, then?'
'Yes, you are different. You have no care for counting your cattle or your gold, or boasting of the women you possess.'
'We do not think of ourselves as possessing our women. Is a woman a thing to be owned?'
'Do you see?' Atara said as she faced me. 'Do you see?'
I remained silent for a moment as I gazed at her golden skin and her long, golden hair. Then I said, 'We're warriors, Atara. We slay men, too.'
'Yes, you slay your enemies with such terrible, terrible fierceness, but not because you love killing - only to protect those you love.'
'Sometimes, that is true,' I said. 'But sometimes we're savages.'
'You are savages of the sword/ she said to me/ifcruly, truly. And yet at other times so gentle. So quiet, inside. You sing songs to the stars! And I think the stars, sometimes, sing back to you. In light, in fire. And this fire! It burns so brightly in you. So hot, so clean, so sweet.'
At that moment I was almost glad that she could not let her eyes find mine, for I did not know if I could bear what I would see there.
'And that', she said, breathing deeply, 'is why it is good that we don't make our camp with yours or take our meals together. In any case, what would your women ,say if Lord Harsha or the others had their way?'
'Lord Harsha,' I told her, 'is many years a widower. And the Guardians have no women.'
'So much the worse,' she said. 'But do you mean, no wives or no one to whom they have pledge their troths?'
'No wives. We have pledges, of course. We have our hopes.'
Here I reached out and clasped her hand in mine.This beautiful hand - long and delicate and yet strong from years of working her bow - seemed stiff and cold as if the fire's warmth had touched only her skin but had failed to penetrate deeper inside. Gently, but with unrelenting force, she pulled her hand away from mine.
'No, no, you shouldn't touch me,' she told me.
'Why - because you're a Manslayer who puts knives to men? Or because you're imakla?'
'Because I cannot bear to be touched this way. And neither can you.'
'Has nothing changed, then?'
'Should it have?'
'Yes,' I said, 'truly it should have.'
I thought of Master luwain's hurrying to my father's castle to show me his star charts and of what had later occurred between Baltasar and me in the great hall. I thought of Estrella sitting by a little moun-tain stream and sipping water in all her innocence from a small golder cup.
'I still have my vow,' Atara reminded me.
'You've slain seventy-one men,' I said, 'yet you've only loathing to slay another.'
'And yet I must if war comes, as it seems it must.'
'But war must not come,' I told her. 'We must not let it. And as for your vow, you made it to the Manslayer Society, didn't you?'
'Yes - and to myself.'
'But there are always higher vows, aren't there? Merely in being born, you made a vow to life and to the One, who gave you life.'
She finally picked up her cup of brandy and took a long sip. She said, 'Do we honor life then by breaking our vows?'
'The old age and the old ways are nearly finished, Atara. This is a time of new life - and so for making new vows.'
'To you, then?'
'Yes, to me - to us and all the world. To the new life we'll bring forth.'
'But I'm still blind,' she said. 'Nothing will ever change that.'
I gazed off at the sky, at the constellations spread out across the heavens like a shimmering tapestry of diamonds and black silk. Solaru, Aras and Varshara, the brightest of the stars, poured down their clear, lovely light.
'If this is truly a new age,' I told her, 'then it is truly a time for new hopes.'
She pulled at the cloth binding her face and said, 'Morjin took my hope when he took my eyes.'
'Yet you have your sight - greater than it was before.'
'It is not the same,' she said. 'When you see, as I once did, the sun touches a thing: a stone, a flower, a child. The whole world . . . gives back the light into our eyes, touching us, in glory. Everything is so bright, so warm, so sweet. But now, what you call this sight of mine - it is so cold. It is like trying to touch the world through the iciest of waters.'
'You have your hands,' I told her. 'You have your heart - a heart of fire. No woman could love a child as you could.'
'A child, Val?'
'Our sons. Our daughters.'
'No,' she said, shaking her head. 'That can't be, don't you see?'
'But why?'
'Because it's all buried beneath this shroud,' she said, touching the white cloth. 'Because ... in the light of a mother's eyes, a newborn learns to be human.'
I said nothing as I turned to stare into the fire. Flames still worked at a good-sized log, blackening it, and the coals beneath seemed hel
lishly hot, covered with ash and glowing a deep red. I remembered the coals of another fire in Argattha that had burned Atara's eyes to char; my hands could almost feel the hard edges of the box that Salmelu had delivered to me out of that forsaken place. If we learned to be human from our mothers, who was it that later taught us to be beasts?
'There's always a way,' I murmured. 'There's got to be away.'
'Your way of hopes and miracles?'
'Miracles, yes, if you call them that.'
'What should I call this wild hope of yours then? What should I call you? Lord Valashu? Lord of Light?'
I nodded toward her scryer's crystal, but she seemed not to perceive this slight motion. I asked her, 'What have seen in your kristei, Atara?'
'Too much,' she said.
'Have you seen the Maitreya, then?'
'I've seen many people . . . who must have held the Lightstone. Who will hold it, almost certainly, and always are. But there will come a moment. Then there will be one who will make the cup shine as no one else can. Him I cannot see. No scryer can. In the same way it's impossible to see the Lightstone, we're blind to him in this moment, for their fates are as one.'
'Have you seen who the Maitreya is not, then? Is it possible that I could be he?'
'Do you wish to be?' she asked. She sat very still, and her voice was full of longing and mystery.
'It's said that if the Maitreya fails to come forth, then a Bringer of Darkness will claim the Lightstone instead. And yet this might not be the worst of such a failure.'
'What could be worse than this?'
'That the Maitreya would then also fail to bring forth miracles.'
Atara took another sip of brandy, and I felt the fiery liquid clutch and burn inside her chest. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. The long, deep pain she held inside herself made me want to weep.
'You must know that these miracles you desire,' she said to me, 'I also desire. Desperately, desperately. But I mustn't, don't you see? And you mustn't either.'
'But shouldn't I desire what should be?'
Lord of Lies Page 29
