As the sun's light broke upon the fillet binding his forehead, I pressed my finger hard into the little zags of the scar that cut mine like a lightning bolt. And I said, 'You have pledged to ride with us, even so. Will you keep your pledge?'
Bajorak looked back and forth between Pirraj and Kashak as anger clouded his eyes. He shook his bow at me and snapped out: 'We Tarun are no pledge-breakers! Hai, but you are a hard man, Valashu Elahad. And a willful one! Let us ride then, if that is your wish!'
And with that, he jumped back on his horse, and with Pirraj and Kashak, galloped back to the bend in the river where most of his warriors were gathered.
Liljana stood with her arms thrown protectively around Daj and Estrella. And she scolded me: 'You were barely cordial to him. I've never seen you be so hard.'
I watched as Karimah returned to the Manslayers, who were getting ready to ride again, fend I said, 'We know little of this Bajorak and his true intentions. And you've been able to tell me little.'
She clapped her hand to her pocket where she had secreted her blue gelstei. 'Would you have me try to tell you?'
'As you tried with the Red Knights?'
Liljana's heavy eyebrows pulled into a frown. 'You're hard with me, too — cruel hard. What have I done to make you so?'
The hurt in her eyes stabbed straight into me. I took her hand in mine and said, 'My apologies, Liljana. You've done nothing. Now why don't we see if we can lose these damn knights before the sun reaches noon?'
After that we set out as before and continued our race acrossthe Wendrush. We drove our remounts too hard; I felt fire in the lungs of these great beasts and spreading out along their blood to torment their bunching muscles and straining joints. It grew hot, not quite so sweltering as in Marud or Soal, but too hot for early
Ashte. The sun rose higher and shot its golden flames at us. I sweated beneath layers of wool, mail and leather underpadding. The wind in my face carried some of this moisture away, but did little to cool my sodden body. I turned to see the others working hard as well. Maram, on top of his bounding brown gelding, puffed and grunted and sweated like a pig. Kane sweated, too, for he was attired no differently. As always, though, he made no complaint. His black eyes seemed to say to me that the Red Knights following us in their thicker armor suffered even worse than we.
The riding quickly became a misery. Biting black flies buzzed around our eyes and ears. I watched Bajorak leading his more lightly-clad warriors ahead of us. Would he honor his word, I wondered? Or did he hope to use us as bait, inviting an attack by other companies of Red Knights and Zayak who would join our pursuers? Perhaps, I thought, Bajorak would then call down a host of Tarun warriors that he might have secreted somewhere among the steppe's long grasses. He would annihilate his enemy and use this incident as a reason to mount a rebellion against Garthax. And he would not care if my friends and I — kradaks, all, except for Atara — happened to be annihilated, too.
My father had once told me that a king should strive to dwell inside others' skins and perceive the world as they did. It should have been easy for me to know the truth about Bajorak, easier than it was for Liljana. But it was harder. In the shallows of the Great Northern Ocean, I had once seen an oyster which closed itself inside its shell when disturbed. So it was with me and my gift. All my life I had avoided the harsh touch of others' passions. And why? Because, like grit in the eyes, it hurt. And even more, because I was afraid. Bajorak had said that Garthax was not his father's equal. Neither, I thought, was I mine.
And so I rode on and on, watching the glints of gold about Bajorak ahead of me and turning to gaze at the red smear of Morjin's knights and the Zayak warriors on their ponies pounding after us across the sunlit plain. We did not escape them all that long day. We were only three miles from the mountains when at last we stopped to make camp by a stream that flowed down from these heights. And as with the night before, our enemy set up their tents only a mile away.
We were all tired and sore from the cruel day's work, and so none of us had much enthusiasm for tending the horses, gathering wood and water, making the fire, and other such things. As usual when the sun went down, Liljana took charge. She insisted on preparing us a hot meal, and it was good to sit down with our bowls of bloody sagosk meat, whose juices we mopped up with fresh rushk cakes. These Liljana made herself, for she had excused both Daj and Estrella from their chores. The children were so weary and worn that they could hardly hold their bowls to eat their dinners. The sun had burnt their faces, and dust dirtied their hair. Although Daj would not allow himself to whine as other children did, much less to weep, I knew that the hard riding had chafed him, nearly flaying the flesh from his legs. Estrella was in even worse condition. She sat very still, fighting to keep her eyes open. Even the slightest motion caused her to wince in pain.
'Ah, that was a day!' Maram sighed out as he worked at a piece of hastily roasted meat. 'The hardest ride we've had since Count Ulanu chased us to Khaisham.'
I remembered that day too well. It had ended with an arrow shot through Atara's lung and the death of our friend, Alphanderry. I suddenly could not bear the iron tang of my meat, and I put down my knife and bowl.
'Ah, oh — oh, my poor, poor aching body!' Maram groaned. He moved stiffly to bring out lis brandy bottle, and he caught Master Juwain's eye. 'Surely sir, this is a night for prescribing a little restorative drink?'
'Surely it is not,' Master Juwain told him, taking the bottle and putting it away. 'At least, not that kind of drink. I shall make us all a tea that will soothe rather than numb us.'
So saying, he found some herbs in his medicine chest and brewed up a pot of tea. The hot drink, sweetened with honey, stole some of the hurt from our limbs. Upon sipping it, Daj and Estrella almost immediately lay down opon their furs. Liljana sat between them, stroking their hair and singing them to sleep. After a while her dulcet voice murmured out above the crackle of the fire as she said to me: 'We cannot travel tomorrow as we did today. They're children, Val.'
Because her words disturbed me, I stood up to walk by the stream. I paused beneath a huge old cottonwood tree as I looked out at our enemy's campfires. Across the stream Karimah had posted sentinels who would sit on their horses all night guarding us from attack. Kane found me there, staring at their dark, ghostly forms as I listened to the water gurgling over rounded rocks.
'You shouldn't be alone here,' he told me as he stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes searched the grass for stalking lions, no less Zayak warriors.
'I shouldn't have brought Daj and Estrella with us,' I told him. 'All on such a narrow chance.'
'You know the need,' he growled out. 'You did the right thing.'
'Did I? Or have I only stolen from them the few days of peace they might have had before. . before there is no peace, for anyone?'
'You take too much upon yourself.'
'No, too little,' I said. 'Daj is as tough as a diamond, but Estrella suffers. Inside, even more than out. I. . cannot tell you. She sees too deeply inside of things. There are places she's terrified to go. And it's as if I am taking her into the worst of these places, back into a black tunnel that has no end.'
'Is it her suffering that grieves you or your own?'
'But there is no difference!' I said. 'Especially with her, it is one.'
'She is a radiant child,' he told me. 'I have seen many moments when her joy, too, became your own.'
'Even then,' I said, listening to the stream, 'it is like drinking too much wine too quickly.'
Kane stared up at the stars, and his voice grew strange and deep as he told me, 'The valarda is the gift of the One. You have yet to learn how to use it.'
'It is a curse!' I said, shaking my head. 'It is an affliction, like a pox upon the skin, like a rupture of the heart.'
At this, he grabbed my arm and shook me as a lion might a lamb. And he growled out, 'You might as well complain that life is a curse. And that light is an affliction because it carries into your eyes a
ll the ugliness and evil of the world!'
'Yes,' I said, feeling the fire inside me. 'It must have been like that for Artukan when the kirax made him gouge out his own eyes.'
Now Kane squeezed my arm so hard I thought my bones might break. 'Tell that to Atara, why don't you? Let her hear you damn your eyes, and hers, and see what she will say!'
I pulled away from him, and looked past the cottonwood's dark fluttering leaves at the sky. I found the Seven Sisters and the Dragon and other twinkling constellations. The stars there were so bright, so beautiful. Which ones, I wondered, burned with the light of my father and my mother and all the rest, of my slaughtered family?
'You saw!' I said to Kane. 'In Tria, you stood and saw with your own eyes as I struck down Ravik with my "gift"!'
'So — so I did. The valarda is a double-edged sword, eh?'
It was bad enough that others' dreads and exaltations should flood into me. But why, I wondered, should my passions strike into them when I lost my head — especially my killing passions?
'I murdered a man!' I shouted at him.
'No, you killed a Kallimun priest who would have killed Atara.'
'You don't understand!'
'Don't I? So, I've seen you kill rabbits and rock goats for food, and how many of our enemy have you sent on with that sword you wear? Killing is only killing, eh? It doesn't matter how we kill, only who.'
The stream purled in darkness, and the wind rustled the steppe's grasses, and the whispering inside me told me that Kane was wrong.
'It must matter,' I said. 'Just as everything we do matters.'
'These are hard times, Val. So, we must do hard things.'
'Hard things, yes.'
'Would it be so hard for you to tell Bajorak that we seek a great treasure in the mountains beyond the Oro River? And that in finding it, we would fight Morjin's gold with our own? Is that not close to the truth?'
I smiled at this as I listened to my heart drumming inside me. I said, 'I have learned. . that the smallest of lies can grow, like a rat's bite beginning a plague of death.'
'We need Bajorak on our side, you know.'
'I will not lie to him.'
'But you cannot tell him the truth about our purpose! What if he is captured, eh? What if he sells our secrets for gold?'
'I trust him no more than you do.'
'Do you trust him to fight, if it comes to that? So. it would not take much, at need, for you to push him into battle.'
I ground my teeth at the fury I felt for Morjin seething inside me. How hard would it be to touch Bajorak — or anyone — with a little of this flame?
'No; I will not,' I said to Kane.
'No? No matter what befalls? No matter which of your friends is threatened? What else won't you do, then?'
I drew in a deep breath and held it until my lungs burned. And then I said, 'I will not torture. I will not sacrifice innocents, not to save you or me, or even the children. I will not use the valarda. . as I would my sword, to strike terror or maim. And never again to kill.'
As Kane glared at me through the near-darkness, I drew Alkaladur and watched the play of starlight along its length.
'So,' he said, gazing at it, 'in such goodness, in such purity of truth, you think to fight Morjin and all his evil deeds?'
I smiled sadly as I shook my head. 'I am neither good, nor pure, nor am I renowned as an exemplar of the truth. Who, then, am I to fight evil?'
'Ha — is that not itself an evil question?'
I said to him, 'I don't understand you! Once, on top of a mountain, you told me that I could not fight Morjin your way without losing my soul!'
'So — perhaps I lied.'
'No, you did not!'
His voice softened then as he told me, 'Listen to me, my young friend: we do what we have to do, eh? Just don't be so sure it's always easy to know what is evil and what is not.'
And with that, he stalked off back toward our encampment. I waited with my drawn sword, watching the world turn into darkness. I breathed in the smells of grass and woodfire and the fresh blood of a lion's kill wafting on the wind. I sensed many things. The horses standing in their small herd nearby were all exhausted and would have a hard time when morning came. I quivered with the fear of the field mice as they looked for the owls who hunted them, and my heart leaped with the gladness of the wolves as they followed the scent of their prey. And in all this immense anguish and zest, I thought, in all this incessant struggle and striving there was no evil but only the terrible beauty of life. It was too much for me to take in, too much for any man. And yet I must, for the stars, too, had a kind of life: deeper and wilder and infinite in duration. How, I wondered, would I ever feel my mother's breath upon my face or hear Asaru laughing again if I could not open myself to this eternal flame?
Just then Atara appeared out of the glare of our campfire and walked closer to me. Then she called out: 'Val, your face — your sword!'
To be open to love, I knew, is to be vulnerable to hate.
'Morjin is out there,' I said to her. My sword glowed red like an ember as I pointed it toward our enemy. 'Can you "see" him?'
Atara drew out her scryer's crystal and stood rolling it between her hands. She said, 'Everywhere I look now, Morjin is there. It is why I am loath to look.'
'Your gift,' I told her, 'is a curse. As is mine.'
I went on to relate my conversation with Kane. She came up close to me and grasped my hand. 'No, it is just the opposite. Kane was right: you have yet to learn how to use the valarda.'
I wrenched free my hand and said, 'If I could, I would cut it out of me, the way I've cut off others' hands and carved out their hearts.'
'No — please don't say that!'
'Such terrible things I have done! And what is yet to come?'
I stared at the Red Knights' campfires, then Atara touched my cheek to turn my face toward her. And she said to me, 'I don't know what is to come, strange though you might think it. But I know what has been. And I know where I have been, with my gift.'
She held up her gelstei: a little white sphere gleaming beneath the white circle of the moon. 'I've tried to tell you what it is like to see as I have seen. To live. Such glory! So much light! Truly, there are infinite possibilities, the dreams of the stars waiting to be made real. I've seen them all, inside this crystal. And here, for too long, I have dwelled. It is splendid, beyond the beating of a butterfly's wings or the sun rising over the sea. But it is cold. It is like being frozen in ice at the top of a mountain as high as the stars. And all the time, I am so utterly, utterly alone.'
'A curse,' I said softly as I covered her crystal with my hand.
'No! You don't see! The price of such beauty has been such terrible isolation — almost too terrible to bear. But I have borne it, even gloried in it, because of you. Your gift. You are such a gift, Valashu. You have a heart of fire, and it is so brilliantly, brilliantly beautiful! Is there any ice it could not melt? No, I know — only you. You bring me back into the world, where everything is warm and sweet. I don't want to know what it would be like to live without you. You are the one being with whom I do not feel alone.'
Her hand was warm against mine. Because she had no eyes, she could not weep. And so I wept for her instead.
'Kane has suggested,' I finally told her, 'that I should use the valarda to manipulate Bajorak. Like a puppeteer pulling on strings.' She smiled sadly and shook her head. 'Kane is so knowing. But sometimes, so willfully blind.'
'How should I use the valarda, then?'
'You know,' she said to me. Her voice was as cool and gentle as the wind. 'You've always known, and you always will know, when the time comes.'
I looked out at the millions of stars shimmering through the night. The black sky could hold their splendor, but how could any man?
'And now,' she said to me, 'you should get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day, and a bad one, I think. Come to bed, Val.'
She pulled at my hand to lead me back to our camp. But I
let go of her to grip my sword, and I told her, 'In a moment.'
I watched her walk back to the fire as she had come, and I marvelled yet again that she could find her way without the use of her eyes. I wondered then how I would ever find my own way to whatever end awaited me. I gazed at Alkaladur, whose silustria glistered with dark reds and violets. The Sword of Fate, men called it. How should I point it, I wondered, toward all that was good, beautiful and true? I wondered, too, if I would ever be free of the valarda. I had spoken of using my sword to make a brutal surgery upon myself, but I might as well try to cut away my face, my limbs and all my flesh — no less my memories and dreams — and hope to remain Valashu Elahad.
'So, just so,' I whispered.
And with this sudden affirmation, my heart opened, and my sword filled with the light of the stars. Then, to my astonishment, its substance began radiating a pure and deep glorre. This was the secret color inside all others, the true color that was their source. It flared with all the fire of red and shone as numinously as midnight blue, and yet these essencese — and those of the other colors it contained — were not just multiple and distinct but somehow one. Kane called it the color of the angels, and said that it belonged far away across the heavens, in the splendor of the constellations near the Golden Band, but not yet here on earth. For most men had neither the eyes nor the heart to behold it.
'So bright,' I whispered. 'Too bright.' I too, could not bear the beauty of this color for very long. And so as the world continued its journey into night and carried the brilliant stars into the west, I watched as the glorre bled away, and the radiance of my sword dimmed and died.
I returned to the fire after that and lay down on my furs to sleep. But I could not. As my sword remained within its sheath, waiting to be drawn, I knew that the glorre abided somewhere inside me. But would I ever find the grace to call upon it?
Chapter 3
The next day's dawn came upon the world with a red, unwelcome glare. We ate a hasty breakfast of rushk cakes smeared in jelly and some goose eggs that Liljana had reserved for especially difficult work. And our riding that morning, while not nearly so fast or jolting as that of the previous day, was difficult enough. We set out parallel to the mountains, and our course here took us southeast over ground humped with many hummocks and rocky crests. We crossed streams all icy cold and swollen into raging brown torrents that ran down from the great peaks above us. All of us, I thought, rode stiffly. We struggled to keep our tired horses moving at a good pace. Often I wondered at the need, for no matter how quickly or slowly we progressed, our enemy in their carmine-colored armor kept always a mile's distance behind us.
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