Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno

by Malan, Violette

  “Egoyin! What are you thinking of? What is the Princess of Arderon doing in that stall while you stand by?”

  It wasn’t until she heard Falcos Tarkin’s voice that Alaria even remembered the messenger who had come for her—and been sent away—more than an hour before, just at the most interesting moment. Alaria met Delos Egoyin’s eyes, and the stableman moved his head a shade to the left and back again. Such was the authority in the Tarkin’s voice that even the mare took her attention away from her foal long enough to shake her head at the man. Alaria rose slowly to her feet.

  “In Arderon we do not show respect to people by expecting them to stand idly to one side while there is work to be done,” Alaria said, taking her time to approach the opening where Falcos stood. “And to serve horses is an honor to all people. Even our Tarkina attends the births of royal horses.”

  Well, officially at least, that’s true, Alaria thought. Whether the ruler of Arderon actually got down on her hands and knees and dealt with the afterbirth was something she would have wagered against.

  Falcos Tarkin stood quite still, the muscle in the corner of his perfect jaw jumping, when suddenly he took a deep breath, came into the stall, and plumped himself down on the small bench placed there earlier for Alaria.

  “I knew that,” Falcos said, sounding tired. He leaned back again the boards and shut his eyes for a moment before straightening and looking down at his clasped hands. “I’m sorry. I spoke without thinking. Of course I studied your customs carefully when negotiations for the marriage began—I’m sure you did the same.” His voice was softer now, and the mare and foal paid him no mind.

  “Cleona did,” Alaria said.

  A few minutes passed with only the sounds of the foal suckling and the mare shifting her feet as she looked from her son to the Tarkin of Menoin and back. The mare accepts him, Alaria thought. Not everyone could come into the stall with a breeding queen.

  “Do you want to go home?”

  Alaria sucked in her breath, turning sharply to look at Falcos Tarkin, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip. “I’ve already said that I know my duty,” she said finally.

  “And I thank you for that. But set aside your duty just while we sit here, and tell me what you wish for.”

  Alaria lowered her eyes and scrubbed at her dirty hands with the cloth she had hanging from her belt, but she kept silent. After all, talk would change nothing.

  “Come, there is only old Delos here, who put me on my first pony.” Falcos turned to smile at the old stableman, before turning back to smile at her, the first genuine smile she’d seen on his face, Alaria realized. It transformed him completely, his cold marble beauty warm now, and human. “And the horses certainly won’t be shocked if we ignore protocol a little and just speak like ordinary people.”

  Alaria involuntarily smiled at the mare with her new foal. “I don’t want to go home,” she heard herself say. “There’s nothing for me there but to be the younger sister.” She looked Falcos in the eye. “To find a rich woman’s son to marry so as not to be a drain upon my older sister and my family’s stables.”

  To her surprise Falcos’ smile widened. “Well, I’m probably rich enough to qualify,” he said.

  Alaria found herself smiling back. “I didn’t come here to be married,” she reminded him. “I came so that my cousin, my friend, wouldn’t be alone.” She glanced at Star Blaze and back at Falcos. “And I came for the . . . the adventure of the new herd. The importance of that work.”

  Was it her imagination, or did his smile grow a little smaller before it widened again? “We’ll have to check the precedents. This is not Arderon, and we may find ourselves having to explain why the Tarkina is in the barns with the horses. I must ask Kalyn, he’s sure to know.” Falcos suddenly stroked his chin in so exact an imitation of the clerk’s movement that Alaria laughed. I’m giddy, she thought. It’s the foal. Though it was good, very good, to speak to someone as a friend.

  “It would be pleasant,” Falcos continued in the same bantering tone, “if you chose to stay for more than your duty and the horses.”

  Alaria felt her face grow hot. These were the words, if not precisely the tone, of flirtation. And yet there was nothing in his face of the conceit she would have expected to find in so handsome a man. He did not seem to feel that his beauty alone was enough to entice her. And he was kind enough, gentle enough—or at least so it seemed—to make all this feel like a courtship and not a political agreement. A friendly gesture, in its way, and Alaria felt again how badly she needed a friend.

  So much had happened, and so suddenly, that she hadn’t felt alone, really alone, until now. She glanced at Falcos again, but he had let his gaze drift, so that he seemed to be studying Star Blaze and the foal. There was a stiffness in his bearing, however, that hadn’t been there a few moments before. Was it possible, Alaria thought, that Falcos Akarion, Tarkin of Menoin, was shy at having spoken to her? Was he as badly in need of a friend as she was herself?

  “I have said that I would just as soon stay,” she said, trying to keep her own voice light. “Even if, for the moment, it is only for the sake of the horses.”

  Did she imagine it, or did Falcos relax?

  “Then it appears that, for the sake of the horses, we will marry.” He put out his hand to her, and she took it. It was warm, and the palm surprising rough for a man’s. He has held a sword, she realized. She would have to stop thinking in this old way. She would share the rule of Menoin now.

  “I will return after the midday meal, Delos Egoyin,” she said, turning to the old stableman. Her hand was still in the Tarkin’s. “Let me know immediately should any of the others show signs that the foals come.”

  “Of course, Lady.” The old stableman was unexpectedly gruff, but Alaria saw there was a twinkle in his eye.

  So talk could change things, Alaria thought, as she walked out of the stable hand-in-hand with the Tarkin of Menoin. Or, at least, it could change the way you felt about things.

  “We are neither of us Knives,” Parno said. “But we have seen and treated many injuries over the years, Dhulyn Wolfshead more than I.” He looked from Singer of the Wind to Sun Dog. These two held the authority between them, that much was clear.

  Dhulyn was squatting on her heels, speaking directly to the injured Horseman. “I can understand if you would rather I did not touch you.” She shrugged. “If you are afraid that I am insane . . .”

  “No,” the man ground out between his clenched teeth. “Not afraid.”

  Parno caught Sun Dog looking at him and answered the man’s sparkling eyes with a broad grin of his own.

  “It was ever so with Gray Cloud,” Sun Dog said. “He is vain of his courage.”

  “Many men are,” Parno said.

  With delicate touches, using only the tips of her fingers, Dhulyn prodded at the injured man’s arm, his shoulder, and the upper part of his back before patting him on his good shoulder and straightening to her feet. “There is too much swelling,” she said, as she joined them. “Even if the bone were not broken—and I can feel it move—there is too much swelling to put the shoulder back together. If he had said something right away . . .” She shook her head and shrugged. “I do not have the skill to set the bone,” she said finally. “I have seen it done, I understand the theory, and I would attempt it were it not for the swelling, but as it is, I think I would do more harm than good. I fear even a skilled Knife cannot now not make him completely as he was before.” She fell silent and looked away, toward the horse line.

  “You have thought of something, however,” Parno said.

  “If they know how to use the Path from this side, we could take Gray Cloud through. There are Healers in Menoin.”

  “It shows your good heart, Dhulyn Wolfshead, and the quality of your honor that you think of delaying your own task to help Gray Cloud.” Singer of the Wind had come to join them.

  “And what of yourself, Singer of the Wind?” Parno said. “You’ve passed through the Sun’
s Door, haven’t you?” Dhulyn turned toward him, eyebrows raised, and Parno laughed. “Well? Don’t looked so astonished. We’ve been told that they use the Path as a test for their young men. It stands to reason, of the people here right now, he’s the most likely to have done it.”

  “Of course,” Dhulyn nodded slowly. “A test for shaman.” She eyed Sun Dog. “And perhaps for chiefs.”

  But Sun Dog was shaking his head. “Any who wish to may make the attempt,” he said. “But few, and those usually among the most powerful of our mages, can pass through the Door of the Sun at will.”

  “And then only alone,” Singer added. “I might pass through myself, but I can bring no one with me. That the two of you managed tells us much of the bond between you.” He patted Dhulyn on the shoulder. “Do not be concerned for Gray Cloud. We may have no Healers here, but at least among the Espadryni, there are Mages.” He turned away. “Star Watcher, Moon Watcher, come,” he called. “You have heard the nature of the problem. Exercise your talents on your cousin Gray Cloud.”

  The young man who had been left to guard the camp was joined by another, so like him in appearance that it was obvious they were brothers.

  “But, Grandfather, you said I could try the next curing.” Ice Hawk appeared at Singer of the Wind’s side, lips pressed in a thin line. Something in the boy’s tone told Parno that the title was here no courtesy, that he really was the old man’s grandson.

  “Sun, Moon, and Stars are not aligning for you today, Ice Hawk. You are not ready for so complex a cure as Gray Cloud must have. Go and help the Watchers, learn.”

  The Watcher brothers, with Ice Hawk tagging along, eased the injured Gray Cloud to his feet and led him toward one of the skin shelters on the far side of the fire pit.

  “Am I correct in thinking that a guard is not kept on the Sun’s Door?” Dhulyn said, as they all settled once more into their seats.

  Both Sun Dog and Singer of the Wind turned to look at her.

  “You’ve said that not all among the Espadryni can pass through it,” she pointed out. “But we are seeking at least one man who has done so repeatedly.”

  “Perhaps it’s easier from our side,” Parno said. “After all, we have passed through ourselves, and likely our Brothers as well.”

  “Ah, but you knew of the Door and that there was a Path. This knowledge is held here only by the Espadryni. The Door has been our charge since the time of the Green Shadow, and knowledge of it has disappeared from the men of the fields and cities.”

  But Dhulyn was shaking her head in tiny arcs, her brows furrowed. “Since the time of the Green Shadow—it has been here as well?”

  “Of course. Why else did the Caids create the Marked, except to defeat the Shadow?”

  “And it was defeated?”

  “Oh, long ago. But we believe that it found some way even then to strike out at us, even as it was dying. It was after its defeat we discovered that the Marked were broken.” There were murmurs and nods of agreement among the listening Horsemen.

  Dhulyn and Parno exchanged looks. Their own experience with the Green Shadow was not so very far behind them. Clearly there was more different between the two worlds than the survival of the Espadryni.

  “Might one of the other Tribes . . .” Dhulyn, once more cross-legged, rubbed her palms on her knees. “Would they harbor such a killer? Or, without your knowledge, would they travel the Path of the Sun?”

  The Tribesmen fell silent.

  “I do not know how things are on the far side of Mother Sun’s Door,” the shaman finally said. “But here the Tribes of the Espadryni live in a spirit of trust with one another.”

  Dhulyn drew her eyebrows down in a vee. “I believe you, Grandfather. But in our land, other nomads, other Horsemen, go through periods of hostility with each other.”

  Singer of the Wind shrugged, showing his understanding of such things. “We have, perhaps, better reasons to prevent us, than these others can know of. If we fight among ourselves, what would become of the Seers? We must stand united, of necessity, against those who might break our Tribes.” He held up his hand. “But let me speak of these things with the others, so that you may be reassured. Stay with the Mercenary Brothers, Sun Dog, give them any aid they require while I am occupied.” He gave Dhulyn and Parno each a sharp nod before going off, not to where the Watcher brothers were helping Gray Cloud but to the far side of the vale, where he began the easy climb out of the camp.

  “Where does he go?” Dhulyn asked as she and Parno rose to their feet out of respect. “To whom will he speak?”

  Sun Dog smiled at them as he dusted off his leggings. “You are news of importance, Dhulyn Wolfshead, you and your Partner. And also, you have asked him a question, so Singer of the Wind will tell all the Tribes about you, and ask about both your killer and your missing Brothers.”

  “And he can do this? Speak to other Mages mind-to-mind?” Parno hoped his eager interest would be mistaken for simple curiosity. Dhulyn would know better, of course. But she would also understand and sympathize with his interest in anything that smacked of talking mind-to-mind, especially after their long months with the Crayx of the Long Ocean. But to these Horsemen, who knew nothing of their pasts, any excessive interest might appear intrusive, and anything intrusive had the potential for danger.

  “He will read the clouds,” Sun Dog said. “It is a thing the best of our shamans can do.”

  Parno glanced up, but the sky was remarkably clear, even with the sun beginning to lower toward the western edge of the world.

  “No, no,” Sun Dog said, laughter in his voice. “He will call the clouds to him, using them to write his message in the sky. Those who can will see it and read what he has written.”

  “That is great magic indeed,” Dhulyn said. “Beyond what Mages can do in our world.”

  “We cannot work such magics with all things,” Sun Dog said. “The farther removed something is from its natural state, the less power we have over it.

  “I know that all Mages and shamans must have a source for their power,” Dhulyn said. “Which is true even of the Marked, in their way.”

  “Ah,” Sun Dog nodded. “It is the natural world itself from which we draw our power, everything beneath the Sun, Moon, and Stars. We belong to it, all of the Espadryni, and our magics are such that can affect it and are affected by it.”

  They had been walking as they talked, away from the tent where the Watcher brothers tended to the injured Gray Cloud, but now footfalls sounded from that direction, making Parno turn to find Ice Hawk coming after them.

  “It is done,” he said. “Gray Cloud sleeps. And my grandfather?”

  “With the clouds,” Sun Dog said.

  “If I may,” Dhulyn said. “As it now seems likely that we will remain here until at least tomorrow, I should attend to our horses.”

  “Ice Hawk will assist you,” Sun Dog said.

  “With pleasure,” the boy said. “I would enjoy a closer look at your horses.”

  Dhulyn touched her fingers to her forehead and made a fist of her hand, fingers toward Parno. In Battle. Parno returned her salute and held up his open hand, palm toward her. And in Death.

  As courtesy required, Dhulyn allowed Ice Hawk to lead the way to the horse line, even though she could see Bloodbone and Warhammer from where they had been sitting. Both horses were still bridled, and still wearing saddles. When she and Parno had arrived in the Espadryni camp, they had done no more than set the heavier packs on the ground, things they could afford to lose if they had to leave quickly. If, as it seemed, they were to spend the night, she could make the horses more comfortable. And besides, she thought as she slung her saddlebags over her shoulder and untied the bag that held Parno’s pipes, there were things they would prefer to have with them.

  “You have been here almost a full moon, Singer of the Wind said.” Dhulyn looked over Bloodbone’s back to find Ice Hawk’s eyes fixed on her face. He immediately dropped his gaze to her hands.

  “On
e of the things I do remember from my childhood among the Espadryni of my land is that it is discourteous to stare.”

  The boy blushed and shifted his feet. “Your pardon, Dhulyn Wolfshead. I was looking for what my grandfather saw in you.”

  Dhulyn pulled Bloodbone’s saddle off and laid it on the ground next to the packs. “And can you see it?”

  Given this tacit permission to look, Ice Hawk resumed his scrutiny of her face. “I believe so. There is something in your face that is not in the faces of our Seers. There is a depth to your eyes when you look at me.” He gestured to his own face, blushed again, and dropped his hand. “This is my horse, Dusty,” he said, putting his open palm on the nose of the horse tied next in the line to Bloodbone. “Will you touch him for me?”

  Puzzled but willing to play along, Dhulyn stepped around Bloodbone and laid her hand on the sand-colored horse’s shoulder. Dusty turned his head to stare at her, a black blaze above his eyes giving him a comically serious look. When she did not move, he stretched his nose out toward her, as if he would snuffle her face with his reaching lips.

  “You see?” Ice Hawk said. “He is not nervous with you, shying away from your hands. It is not your own horses only, but ours as well, who trust you.”

  “Why should they not? I am good with horses.” Dhulyn gave Dusty a final pat and walked back to where Warhammer was snorting at her impatiently. He was used to waiting for Bloodbone to be seen to first, but he seemed annoyed at the idea that any other horse should take his place.

  “But our horses have been magicked against the Seers.” Ice Hawk followed her and, after receiving her nod, began to remove Warhammer’s bridle.

  Dhulyn paused, her hands on the tie that kept giving Parno trouble. “Magicked how?”

  Ice Hawk turned from her and drew a symbol in the air. Dhulyn could just persuade herself that she could see the flash of color that followed the movement of his forefinger. A smaller glow, of the same nameless color, flashed from the forehead of each of the Espadryni horses. “They will not allow a Seer to mount them or to lead them anywhere.”