There was a time Dhulyn would have said she wasn’t Seer enough to qualify, but she had a better understanding of her powers now. “You will be like your grandfather one day, then. A powerful shaman.”
Ice Hawk blushed again, reminding Dhulyn of just how young he was. “Singer of the Wind says I have great potential. My connection with the natural world is strong.”
“Your Seers are like the other Marked, I assume?” Dhulyn finally worked the knot out of the tie and pulled the lacing loose. “They renew their life force from rest and food or from dance and music?”
“Are all Marked the same in this then?”
Dhulyn smiled. Like a true Mage, Ice Hawk valued information. “And obviously they cooperate to produce children?”
This time the expected blush did not come. “I’m not sure what you mean.” He took Warhammer’s saddle from her hands and set it on the ground next to Bloodbone’s.
Dhulyn frowned. She should have realized that with so little experience of the Marked in general, the boy might know even less than she did herself. “The Sight rises out of the same life force that builds a child,” she said. “A Seer cannot bear a living child unless there are others who will take her Visions for her as the child grows within.”
“I see.” Ice Hawk grew still, his lips pursed in a silent whistle. Evidently she had given him something to think about. “Then they must cooperate, as you say. It must be part of the Pact they have with the Tribes. They bear children, as you can see, and we boys live with our mothers until we have seen our birth moons seven times, when we come to live with our fathers. The girl children stay with the Seers.”
“Singer of the Wind asked me if the women of my Tribe cared for their children,” Dhulyn said. She cleared her throat, remembering the touch of her mother’s hand on her face, the feel of her mother’s lips on her forehead. They were finished with the horses, but Ice Hawk showed no inclination to move. “He seemed to say that your Seers did not love their children.”
“They do not.” It was clear from Ice Hawk’s voice that he merely made an observation. “They cannot. It is what makes them broken. But they will care for our health. It is part of the Pact.”
“And your shamans, your Mages, they cannot cure the Seers?” Dhulyn watched Ice Hawk carefully. She did not want to think ill of these people, who might be all there was under Sun, Moon, and Stars of her own Tribe, but she wondered why they didn’t fix the women? Was having the Visions so important to them?
“It has been tried. Ever since the first, and many times since then. Many believe it will never be done, but my mother—” Ice Hawk broke off to look at Dhulyn, and he licked his lips before continuing in a rush. “I heard my mother say that one would come with knowledge of how to help them.”
Dhulyn pressed her tongue to her upper lip, blinking. “Did she tell you anything more?”
The boy shook his head. “She would not even admit a second time to as much as I had overheard,” he said.
“He is looking at her like a man dying of thirst who sees a spring before him. Is he safe with her?”
Parno grinned. “As safe as he would be with his own mother.”
“I hope safer than that,” Sun Dog said. He smiled, but stiffly.
Parno studied the other man’s face, but his expression remained the same. “She will not seduce him, if that’s what worries you. He’s too young for her, for one thing, and for another she finds that kind of adoration uncomfortable.”
Nodding, Sun Dog turned away from where Dhulyn still talked with Ice Hawk. “You said the killer you seek struck three days ago, when the moon was newly full?”
“That’s right.”
“We were not here then. And we have seen no one of the fields and cities for a moon at least.”
“And why does this seem to disappoint you?”
“In part because if we had met with your killer, your task would be simple, and you would return quickly to your own place on the other side of Mother Sun’s Door. But also because, since Dhulyn Wolfshead told us what happened, I have hoped it was not someone from our world.”
Parno could understand that, he thought. That such a thing could happen at all was horrible. To believe that it was one of your own people—what would the man’s family think?
If he has family. Parno’s blood suddenly ran cold. Your family knew you best. How likely was it the killer’s family was still alive?
“Other than what Sky Tree tells us of these demons, there are no tales of such killings as your Partner described to us,” Sun Dog was saying. “Not in any of the histories of our people, and our histories go back to the time of the Caids.” He looked sideways at Parno. “I could not say for certain about the people of the fields and towns,” he said. “But I think even we must have heard if such a thing as this had happened there.”
“If it had been discovered. Could the killer be a Marked one?” Parno asked.
Sun Dog pressed his lips together in thought. “They are tested for Marks and put to death as children. Except for the Seers.”
“How sure are you? Yours may not be the only people who are hiding Marked ones.”
Sun Dog was nodding, considering Parno’s point. “Under the Sun, Moon, and Stars everything is possible,” he conceded. “But it is unlikely. We do not live among other people. We do not hide only our Seers; we hide ourselves, the whole of our people, every Tribe and clan. If we did otherwise, our women would be exposed. How do you hide a Marked one from your neighbors and friends? Particularly when those same neighbors and friends are always looking out? How can you hide that children were born to you? Even if you move to another city or village, you must produce the proof that your child has been tested and been found whole and safe. And except for the Espadryni, who would hide a Marked one, even of their own blood, knowing what they are?”
Parno searched Sun Dog’s face but saw no awareness of irony there. At that, he supposed there might be a difference between wanting to save your children and wanting to save your whole race. Without the Seers, there would be no Espadryni.
“You say it is unlikely that other Marks are being hidden. But we in the Mercenary Brotherhood don’t deal with likelihood, we deal with possibility. We plan for what can happen, and worry less about how likely it is.”
Dhulyn laughed, and both men turned to watch where she still stood with Ice Hawk.
“With what I have said in mind, how safe is it for my Partner to travel among your people?”
“Safe enough now that Singer of the Wind has read the clouds to the other Tribes.”
“And if we must look beyond the lands of the Espadryni? If we must travel to the people of fields and towns?”
“Singer of the Wind has said you are honorable people, both of you. So you will not tell the world what you know of us; our secret is safe with you.”
This was not phrased as a question, but Parno nodded his agreement all the same.
“If it becomes known that our women are Marked,” Sun Dog continued, “there would be war between us and the people of the fields and towns.”
Parno raised his hand. “Say no more. We’re well used to holding our tongues. Even in our world, for example, where the Marked are respected, we don’t make a show of my Partner’s Sight.” And if no one knows of the Espadryni women, then Dhulyn is in no danger either, he thought. Well, not more than usual.
Dhulyn and Ice Hawk joined them, both smiling. “Can Singer of the Wind tell when he is being lied to?” she said.
Sun Dog shrugged. “If a man knows how to tell the truth carefully, he may lie to anyone.”
Dhulyn took in a deep lungful of air and exhaled slowly. That much was true. Even drugs such as fresnoyn could be circumvented by someone who had been Schooled in the drug Shoras. She would have to rely on her own instincts when she questioned the Seers. She turned as the others fell silent. Singer of the Wind reappeared from behind the small hill where he had gone to read the clouds.
“I have shared the news of the
Mercenary Brothers, Dhulyn Wolfshead and Parno Lionsmane,” he said. “It is now safe for you to go among our people as you will. But I have news also to give to you. Did you not say that in addition to this killer, you seek two Brothers of your own, Mercenaries like yourselves?” He gestured with a sweep of his hand to their Mercenary badges.
“They have been seen?”
“The Salt Desert People found them, four days’ ride to the south and west of here. One of them dead and the other injured in the leg. I have told the shaman of the Salt Desert People that they may expect you. So much the clouds told me and nothing more.”
These last words were so obviously ritual that neither Dhulyn nor Parno asked anything further. They would have to wait until they met with their Brother to find out how he had been injured and the other man killed.
“You are right, Grandfather. We will go first to our Brother and give him what aid we can.” And learn from him, Dhulyn said to herself, what, if anything, he knew of the killer.
“Now,” Singer of the Wind said, “it is late. Tonight we rest, and tomorrow, when Our Mother is once again with us, we will set you on your way.”
Ten
PARNO LET THE last note of the Lament for the Sun die away, releasing the pressure on the air bag of his pipes slowly until chanter and drones fell silent. The Horsemen drummed the ground with the palms of their hands, making a sound, the Mercenary thought with an inner grin, not unlike the thunder of distant hooves.
“Come, Lionsmane, another tune!” There was general approval for this request, but Parno held up his hands, palms out. “Another time, perhaps,” he said, smiling. “We have had a long, tiring day, my Partner and I, and with your goodwill,” he nodded to Singer in the Wind, “we will take our rest.”
There were nods and good nights, and even a few touches on the shoulder, as Parno carried his pipes to where a separate fire had been made up for them at the edge of the camp farthest from the horse line. Parno suspected that had he been alone, the men of the Espadryni would have been happy to share their fire with him all night. But even though Dhulyn had been passed as “whole” and “safe” by their Cloud Shaman, and the men were clearly fascinated by her, they would not have been comfortable with her sleeping among them.
Dhulyn had water heating in a small pot and had laid out a pattern of vera tiles in the light cast by the fire. She looked up and gave him the smile she saved only for him. Parno took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and feeling the muscles of his neck and shoulders relax.
“Charmed them as usual, did you? They’ll all sleep the better for your music.”
“Are you saying my playing puts people to sleep?”
She frowned, her head on one side. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I am.”
Parno grinned and sat down beside her, starting to take his instrument apart. “Careful now, wouldn’t want the warmth of your affection to burn me, my heart.” He looked back at the larger fire and the men still seated around it. “I must say, though, that I find our present circumstances somewhat ironic.”
“How so?” Dhulyn turned a vera tile so that the symbol on it was upside down.
“These are your people, and I sit with them at their fire, and you sit here alone. I confess that when I saw the riders coming toward us were Espadryni, I understood—truly understood—your past worries about my possible return to my own people.”
Dhulyn shifted until she was sitting cross-legged. “And why should you have this sudden knowledge now?”
“It was never a danger before, not in this way,” Parno said. “You remember when we were last in Imrion, you worried that I might want to leave the Brotherhood, return to my own family—”
“But this is not the first time we have met with Espadryni,” Dhulyn said.
“True,” he said, mindful that his Partner must be upset to have interrupted him. “There was Avylos of Tegrian. You did startle me when you called out to him in your own tongue, and I realized he was a Red Horseman. I felt a stabbing coldness, here.” Parno indicated the center of his body, under the ribs. “And I wondered, I have to admit. But Avylos was still only one man. One man could not replace your whole family, your whole Tribe.”
Without raising her eyes from the pot heating on the fire, Dhulyn reached out and touched him on the chest, in the spot where he’d said he’d felt cold. “Don’t be so certain.”
Parno smiled, but he shook his head. “I’m part of the Brotherhood, we both are. In Battle.”
“And in Death. So Avylos worried you, but not for long and not greatly. And now?”
“Now I realize I never had the same worry you did, that I might lose you to your family. You’ve never had any family to return to, until now.”
Dhulyn took a deep breath and let it out noisily. “Forgive me, my soul. Are you worried, then, or not?”
Parno shook his head. He wasn’t sure he could explain it. Dhulyn, Outlander as she was, and for all her reticence and reserve, was better read than he was and was more comfortable with words. “I’m saying that a year ago I might have been, but after all we’ve been through in the last few moons . . .”
“When I thought you were dead,” Dhulyn said, her rough silk voice very quiet.
“When each of us thought the other was dead.” Parno put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “After that,” he said, “we’ll never doubt each other again.”
“Oh, we might, we’re human. But we won’t doubt for long.” She covered his hand with her own.
Parno nodded. “What if we can’t get back? What if we need to make a life for ourselves here?”
“Somehow I don’t think there will be much welcome for me here, not among the Tribes anyway. Not unless . . .” Dhulyn’s voice died away, but Parno waited. No point in rushing her.
“Ice Hawk says someone will come with the answer to the problem of the Marked. That he overheard the Seers speaking of it when he was a child.”
“You think we might be this ‘someone’?”
“Do you have such an answer?”
Parno shook his head, but slowly. What about his Pod sense? “Not unless there are Crayx in the oceans here, and they know it.”
“Nor I, though that is a good thought. But if we must remain here, we are still a Brotherhood. Ourselves and the third man the Salt Desert People have.”
“You could start your School. What? Don’t tell me that’s not your plan. It would only mean you started a little early, that’s all.”
“It’s too early to be discussing these things, that much I do know,” Dhulyn said, her eyes flicking over his shoulder. “Company.”
Leaning back on his hands, Parno looked over his shoulder. Sun Dog was approaching their fire with the boy Ice Hawk in tow.
“The boy’s curiosity is greater than his courtesy,” the young man said. “I come with him to be sure it is not too great.”
“You may join us,” Dhulyn said. “Is guarding the candidate of the Sun’s Door somehow part of your apprenticeship?”
“I am no one’s apprentice, Mercenary.” The tone was wary.
“Are you not? You seem to work in partnership with the Cloud Mage. I thought you might be his pupil.”
Sun Dog laughed, his face clearing. “Singer of the Wind is Cloud Shaman, true enough,” he said. “But in our Tribes the most powerful shaman is always partnered with the least powerful, lest he become too narrow in his vision. Thus, I am Horse Shaman—at least of this group.”
“And one day of the whole Tribe,” Ice Hawk put it.
“It doesn’t trouble you, to be the least powerful?” Parno glanced up from wrapping his pipes in their silk bags. The Espadryni had settled themselves cross-legged, one to each side of the small fire. Parno was a little surprised that it was Sun Dog who sat next to Dhulyn, but perhaps Ice Hawk had realized that by sitting next to Parno, he might gaze at Dhulyn to his heart’s content.
“Why should it? I have the opportunity to become a chief, as I would have also if I were the most powerful shaman. Did you not
have two chiefs then, in your Tribe, Dhulyn Wolfshead?”
“I do not know how my Tribe was governed,” Dhulyn said. “I was too young. But what you say strikes me as very reasonable. I know that all Mages do not have the same level of power—any more than all Marks have the same level of skill—and your method of dividing the chief’s position would ensure that all would feel equally represented.”
Sun Dog nodded, but his lips had compressed into a tight line at Dhulyn’s mention of the Marked.
Parno glanced at Ice Hawk as Dhulyn threw a handful of dried chamomile flowers into the water she’d been heating.
The younger Horseman had shifted until he was sitting with his feet flat in front of him, knees bent, forearms resting on them, right hand clasping the fingers of the left. A defensive position, Parno noted, apparently casual, but with arms and legs creating a barrier. But then again, not a good position from which to actually defend yourself. By the time you could get your arms and legs out of the way and pick up weapon, you’d be food for worms.
“We have a saying in the Mercenary Brotherhood,” Dhulyn said, just as if there was no silence to break. “That knowledge is a good tool.” She had set out two round clay cups and now hesitated. She smiled her wolf’s smile, shrugged, and poured some tea into each cup, handed one to Ice Hawk, one to Sun Dog, and kept the small metal pot for herself and Parno to share.
“What knowledge can we give you?” Sun Dog said, accepting his cup and inhaling the fumes of the herb. “We cannot help you find the killer you seek.”
“That knowledge would be a knife in the hand, for certain,” Dhulyn said. “But spoons are good tools also, and cups and bowls. Tell us something of the Tribes of the Espadryni and of the Door of the Sun.”
Sun Dog tilted his head back, and his eyes sparkled. “I should make the boy recite his lessons. But, in reality, as the Horse Shaman of this group, this task falls to me.” He took a sip of tea. “There are three Tribes, the Long Trees, the Salt Desert, and Cold Lake, and we take it in turn to send our most promising young men to the Sun’s Door,” he began. “If they make it through and come back, they might one day rise to become Cloud Shaman, if not . . .” He shrugged. “Some go in and are never seen again. Some never gain entrance. Some, like myself, decide not to try.”
Path of the Sun: A Novel of Dhulyn and Parno Page 18
