A Daughter of Kings, Part I

by Louis Piechota

  Chapter VII

  “The Caravaneers”

  Consciousness returned slowly. The first thing Alirah became aware of was a long, low grinding sound, instantly recognizable from her early childhood: wheels turning slowly over dry earth. She could feel herself rocking slowly and being jostled now and then by bumps. The motion made her feel sick. It was all she could do not to throw up even before her eyes opened. When they did open, they were met with faint, diffused sunlight peaking around canvas.

  For few minutes panic surged within her. She had no idea where she was. It took a while for the awful memories of her fight with Riuk to return, and when they did they offered no comfort. She did not quite believe she’d seen Kelorn at the end. She imagined, terrified, that Riuk and the Taragi must have taken her as a prisoner.

  Alirah struggled to sit up, but every effort to move made her vision spin and stoked the nausea in her belly. Her head ached and her throat burned with thirst. All her muscles felt weak. Only on the third try did she succeed in propping herself up on one arm and looking around for a moment.

  She lay upon cushions in a covered wagon. A soft, down pillow lay under her head. Mysterious packages and bundles of cloth rose around her like the sides of a nest. At her feet a flap in the canvas led out to a platform at the front of the wagon where the driver must have sat. A young girl sat inside the flap, perched upon a box. She was maybe ten or eleven years old, with dark hair and bronze-brown skin. While she looked oddly familiar, Alirah was certain she’d never laid eyes on the girl before.

  “Wha… Where am I?” whispered Alirah. “Who are you?”

  The girl only stared at her for a moment with huge, dark eyes. Her mouth hung open in wonder and fright. Then without a sound she darted out through the flap in the canvas and disappeared. Alirah sank back onto her pillow.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  She was not left alone for long. A minute later the flap of canvas was pushed open again. Relieved, but alarmed at the same time, Alirah tried to sit up to meet whoever was coming in. She had no more success than she’d had on her first attempt.

  Seilann climbed inside. At first Alirah did not recognize her. Her jewelry and scarves and colorful skirt had gone. She wore snug riding pants instead, along with high boots and a plain, linen shirt. Her dark hair fell in ringlets about her head and she gazed at Alirah with big, luminous eyes. Alirah realized for the first time that she was gorgeous, and that the young girl who’d fled looked just like her. She guessed that the child might be Seilann’s daughter, though Seilann herself could not have been much past twenty-five.

  “You?” croaked Alirah.

  “Yeah, me,” said Seilann, smiling wanly.

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  “Shh…” Seilann whispered, gently. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  Tears had sprung to Alirah’s eyes. Though anyone else might have suggested the pain in her head, or the terror of the night before, Alirah herself had no idea why she should cry. She wiped her tears away furiously. By the motion she discovered that her arm and especially her shoulder were horribly sore; the swordfight had overtaxed them. The new discomfort made her feel even worse. She grit her teeth and was silent, afraid to speak lest she burst into tears. At last Seilann spoke in a slow, soothing voice.

  “To answer your second question first, you are about ten miles from Rusukhor. You are travelling with the Khor’dua caravan. Your friend Kelorn is travelling with us. He has your horse and all your other gear.”

  Alirah realized she was still wearing the clothes she’d had on at Surim’s, but someone had taken her shoes off and set them beside her. Her sword in its scabbard lay there as well. She felt a sudden flood of gratitude that nobody had taken it away from her.

  “What happened last night… was it last night? How long have I been asleep?” The questions poured out of her quickly and threatened again to bring sobs with them. She felt a sudden, startling longing to see Kelorn, and anger that he wasn’t there at her side.

  Seilann laid a hand upon her shoulder. She continued to speak in the same slow, calming voice.

  “It was last night. You have been asleep for about fourteen hours.”

  “I thought Riuk… I thought he was going to kill me,” whispered Alirah.

  Seilann sighed heavily and took a deep breath. “I thought so too. A few of us rushed forward to try to help, but it all happened so fast, and two or three of the Taragi were still trying to keep people away as if the duel was still going on. Although that was all disgusting nonsense from the beginning, of course. Someone had finally woken up Surim. He rushed in to try to save you, but Riuk just threw him aside.”

  “I saw that, I think,” said Alirah. “It was wonderful of him, all the same.”

  Seilann nodded. “Old Surim is a good man, and has been a good host at his caravanserai since before I was born. Seeing him tossed about like that, as much as anything else, really angered a lot of the people at his caravanserai. Riuk and his comrades are very lucky to be alive.”

  “What happened then? Did Kelorn fight him?”

  “Yeah. Your friend appeared out of nowhere. He threw himself at Riuk and knocked him aside. Then they fought, but it was hardly fighting… I’ve never seen anyone move so quickly or so well as your young friend. He drove Riuk back, disarmed him, and wounded him badly. All in about ten seconds. What with the cuts you’d already given him, it’ll be a long time before Riuk bullies anyone again. If he ever does. I think Kelorn would have killed him, too, but Surim interceded again. The old Jeddein declared there would be no murder in his house and stepped in between them. Kelorn stopped at once and hung his head as if he were ashamed, though I can’t imagine what for.”

  “By then, a lot of people were getting in the way: Surim’s own guards and some of our own young men. I’d sent the girls who were with me back to our camp at another caravanserai. They came back with about fifteen of our own men in a fury. They’d told them what the Taragi had done…”

  Seilann paused. She’d been looking into Alirah’s eyes as she spoke, but now she gazed at the rumpled bed sheets.

  “I want to thank you, Alirah. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t said anything. Or what might have happened to you because you did. The whole reason I came out with those girls was to make sure something like that didn’t happen.”

  “Something like what?” asked Alirah. “What were they trying to do?”

  Seilann hesitated, then smiled sadly. “If you don’t know, then I’m not going to enlighten you right now. But thank you all the same. In any case, all those young Taragi are lucky they didn’t get lynched then and there. They got beat up quite a bit, of course; but Surim and his men managed to stop our own from killing them.”

  “So what did happen to them? And to us, Kelorn and me?”

  “When the fighting was over, your friend was distraught. He was terrified you’d been killed. It took a while to convince him that you’d only been knocked out. I told him and Surim everything that had happened, or at least all of it that I’d seen. We all agreed that it’d probably be best if you two got out of Rusukhor as quickly as possible.”

  “If we got out?” Alirah cried, indignant. “What did we do?”

  “Humiliated and defeated a Taragi prince. That is not a safe thing to do in Rusukhor these days, unfortunately. The Taragi have been hanging over Rusukhor like a dark cloud for a year or so. The Lords of the City are over-anxious to maintain the peace. Now Riuk and his boys have all been arrested, but I’m sure they’ll try to put the blame on you and Kelorn. To appease the Taragi, the guards will be forced to arrest you too, and hold some sort of trial. You wouldn’t be in any real danger, I’m sure. There were too many witnesses. But it’ll be a lot easier and simpler if you just disappear.”

  “Kelorn said you were headed for Arandia. Our caravan was setting out eastward today anyway.
Eventually we’ll turn south and go down towards Arjuun, but our paths will lie together for hundreds of miles before that. So I talked him into coming with us. He was reluctant. He insisted you two would be better off on your own, somehow, but that’s ridiculous and eventually I convinced him so. We gathered up your stuff, and two of Surim’s boys carried you over to our camp on a litter with our own men as an escort. We set out just after dawn. Now it’s the middle of the afternoon, and here we are. How are you feeling?”

  “Terrible. And thirsty,” said Alirah.

  “I’ll bring you some water. After that you should sleep some more, if you can.”

  After some water and a little soft, spongy bread, Alirah did fall back asleep. When she next awoke twilight had come. It was very dim inside the wagon. This time, while her head still hurt and the world still spun a little when she moved, she was able to sit up. The young girl was again sitting watchfully at the front of the wagon. She was illuminated by a tallow candle which flickered beside her.

  “Hello again,” murmured Alirah.

  The girl gave her a bashful look that was half a smile and half an expression of fright.

  “He…hello.”

  “What’s your name?”

  The girl stared at Alirah blankly for a moment, then understanding lit up her eyes.

  “Meiri!”

  “Hello, Meiri. I’m Alirah,” she pointed to herself. “Do you speak common?”

  “No… Learning.”

  Alirah hesitated a moment, trying to figure out how to make herself understood. At last she just spoke slowly and raised up one arm to try to indicate that she wanted assistance.

  “Well, Meiri, can you help me outside?”

  With the girl’s help, Alirah managed to put her shoes on and buckle on her sword belt. She felt absurd wearing the weapon when just sitting up made her dizzy, but she did not want to leave it behind. She doubted she’d ever have gotten the sword back if Riuk had succeeded in taking it from her.

  Climbing slowly and carefully out of the wagon, Alirah found herself on the edge of a large camp. The covered wagon in which she’d slept was one of more than a score which had been drawn up in a wide ring. Inside the ring a few dozen big, draft horses shuffled around and munched on dry grass. Scattered around outside the ring she saw and heard many campfires crackling merrily. The scents of wood smoke and cooking food mingled with the smell of weary horse. Laughter and cheerful voices speaking in the Dua tongue reached her ears. Overhead, stars were rapidly glimmering forth in an indigo sky.

  “Here… Here…” said Meiri, tugging eagerly at her arm.

  The young girl led her around the inside perimeter of the ring. Passing between two wagons they emerged next to one of the campfires that lay a little apart from most of the others. Kelorn and Seilann sat beside the fire on a couple of old, sawn logs that the caravaneers must have brought with them for use as seats. They were speaking together in low voices, but when they saw Alirah both jumped up in concern.

  Kelorn looked pale even in the dim light, and bitterly tired. His face was set in unnaturally grim lines. A fresh bandage had been wrapped around his thigh. Alirah guessed he must have reopened his old wound. Though he jumped up quickly, he then hung back. He gazed at her intently, but he neither moved nor spoke as Seilann rushed forward and helped her down onto another log-seat.

  “I had not meant for you to be up and about yet,” said Seilann. She immediately began fussing about Alirah, checking her forehead for fever and probing the back of her head very gently. Alirah winced.

  “Well, you have a nice big bump back there still, but that’s a good thing. At least, I think it is.”

  Meiri asked a question in her own language. Seilann nodded in reply and the young girl bolted away like a startled deer. Alirah watched her run along the ring to another fire a few dozen yards away. There she plopped down and started chattering excitedly with a few other children.

  “My daughter,” said Seilann.

  “I thought so. But you don’t look old enough.”

  Seilann grinned. “I’m not.”

  “Are you okay?” asked Kelorn.

  “Yeah. Sort of,” said Alirah, trying to smile. “My head hurts and my arm hurts and everything keeps spinning, and I’m terribly hungry and thirsty. Otherwise I’m great. You?”

  He shook his head dismissively. “I’m fine.”

  “I’ll get you some food and water,” said Seilann. “You two probably want some privacy anyway.”

  Kelorn started, as if privacy was the last thing he wanted, but Seilann strode off quickly toward another one of the fires. A dozen or so men and women sat around it and a big, iron cauldron was warming beside the flames. For a moment Alirah watched her go, then she turned back reluctantly to face the young Druid.

  He sank wearily back onto his seat and sat gazing at her across the little fire. A sudden and dreadful guilt came over Alirah. She blushed and hung her head as Seilann’s words rang in her ears. Your friend was distraught... He was terrified you’d been killed… For a few long seconds they just sat there without speaking. Then finally Alirah looked up at him again.

  “Are you angry with me?” she asked, softly.

  He smirked. “Why should I be? You just did exactly what I told you not to do and exactly what I was afraid might happen, happened.”

  Her guilt vanished as her anger flared. “Only because I met a crazy evil thug! And where do you get off telling me what to do! I’m not twelve and you’re not my father to send me to bed, whether I ought to go or not!”

  The effort of yelling made her head spin again and she felt a throbbing pain behind her eyes. She squeezed them shut and pressed her hands to her face with an involuntary moan.

  “I’m sorry,” said Kelorn quickly, starting from his seat.

  “It isn’t your fault,” she murmured, waving him away. Her voice was thick.

  “I know that, I just…” He shook his head in frustration. “I’m sorry about last night. About what happened. And I’m not angry with you, not anymore.”

  She looked up again, surprised. “You’re not?”

  “No. I’m just glad you’re okay…ish. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you sooner.”

  She felt an unexpected wave of relief, as if his understanding meant more to her than she’d realized. She grinned wanly at him.

  “Well that isn’t your fault either, of course. And you did pretty good once you showed up. Or so I hear.”

  For an instant his face lit up like a star. Then he blushed and lowered his eyes.

  At that moment Seilann returned. She bore with her a boxwood platter laden with two steaming bowls of stew, some flatbread, and a water jug with two cups. She distributed the food and drink, and then from a pocket she produced a little cloth bundle of finely crushed leaves. A strong, bitter scent arose from them.

  “Mix this with some water and drink it down, if you can,” she said to Alirah. “It’ll help with the pain in your head. You won’t enjoy it though. I recommend that you get it over with before you eat.”

  Alirah wrinkled her nose, but she mixed the leaves with some water and drank in one long, difficult, draught. The stuff tasted even worse than it smelled. After she had finished her cup it took her a long minute of coughing and gagging before she was able to speak again.

  “Thanks,” she muttered.

  “It’ll help, I promise,” said Seilann.

  “I’m sure it will,” said Alirah, still coughing a little. Then she added, urgently: “And thank you, really thank you, for the food and water and everything else. It’s wonderful of you to help us so.”

  Seilann shook her head. “It is I who should thank you, as I’ve already said. But eat now. There will be time enough for talk later. I will leave you in peace.”

  Seilann returned to the other campfire. Alirah and Kelorn both dug in hungrily. The stew was thick with beef and vegetables, and it was amply
spiced like much of the food of Rusukhor seemed to be. The spongy flatbread soaked up the broth wonderfully. Kelorn devoured his whole bowl and all his bread in just a few minutes, as though he hadn’t eaten for days. Alirah had to eat more slowly, especially after the vile medicine, but she finished everything she was given. When she was done she noticed the pain in her head had begun to subside.

  At length Kelorn spoke slowly. He sounded as though he had to force his words out with difficulty, though his tone held nothing but admiration.

  “You know, you did pretty good last night too, from what I hear.”

  “Thanks,” said Alirah, blushing faintly.

  “I hate bullies, and I think it’s wonderful that you stood up to him… I can’t believe you curtseyed to him.”

  “It seemed like it needed to be done.”

  He grinned. “It did.”

  For a minute they just gazed at each other, smiling. Alirah felt her cheeks begin to glow more brightly. She felt as if she should say something more, but she had no idea what. At last Kelorn shook his head, as if breaking free of a spell.

  “Do you see what I mean, though?” he asked. “About the sword? You aren’t safer because you carry it. You just make yourself a target for jerks with something to prove.”

  Alirah’s smile vanished at once. “I don’t care.”

  He went on, heedlessly. “It’s great that you’ve learned to use it. But the people you might actually have to fight with, the ones who’ll think it’s okay to harass you about it, will be big men who’ve been swinging the things around their whole lives. You’re just not going to be big enough or strong enough to…”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Alirah cried. She leapt to her feet. “I told you I don’t care! My father gave it to me and I’m proud that he did! I’ll wear it when I want to and use it when I have to!”

  Her voice had risen to a shout. Out of the corners of her eyes she saw heads turning at the other campfires. Kelorn wilted under the noise and attention. He looked bewildered, and Alirah could not help but feel a faint twinge of pity even though anger still burned within her. She lowered her voice, a little, but she held her head high and her eyes shone.

  “You’re just saying what happened last night was my fault!”

  “No I’m not! I just…”

  “Yes you are! Or close enough. But I don’t care! It’s my sword and I won’t let Riuk or anyone like him, or even you, tell me I can’t wear it. You want to keep me safe? You want to protect me? Wonderful! Then help me train. I can get stronger and I know there’s a lot more I can learn about fighting, if someone will teach me. But I’m not looking for your permission, or your approval!”

  Without waiting for him to reply, Alirah turned on her heel and strode away. At first she had no idea where she was going, she just wanted to get away. After a few steps she realized the only place she knew to go was the wagon she’d slept in, so she headed in that direction. She still tottered a little as she walked, and had to stick her arms out once or twice for balance.

  She was not at all sure of her guess as to which of the wagons her bed lay in. By that time night had fallen completely. The big horses within the circle of wagons were mere shadows that snorted and shuffled a bit as she slipped by them. Luckily she guessed correctly, and on the second attempt she managed to clamber up inside. She did not think it was very late, and she did not intend to go to sleep. She only wanted privacy. Yet she’d hardly lain down before a black, dreamless slumber bore her away.

  The next morning she awoke very early. Only a dim, gray light filtered into the wagon, and it was still chilly. Her head still hurt, though not nearly so bad as it had the night before. Her sword arm and shoulder, however, were if anything even more stiff and sore. Outside the wagon, despite the early hour, she could already hear a soft murmur of voices and clatter of activity. She smelled new fires being kindled with dew-damp wood.

  Cold, hungry, and anxious for a change of clothes, she got up and crawled out from under the canvas. Kelorn lay asleep across the seat of the wagon. His cloak was draped over him for a blanket and some extra shirt or other bit of clothing was rumpled up under his head for a pillow. She was so startled to find him there that she gasped in alarm. Then she grumbled under her breath.

  “Oh, of course you’d sleep there!”

  With some difficulty she managed to climb around him and get down from the wagon without waking him up. Kelorn had tethered Tryll and Melyr to one of the wagon’s big wheels. While both horses looked at her curiously, Alirah retrieved her riding clothes from Tryll’s saddle bags and then climbed back up into the wagon to put them on. When she was dressed she climbed out again, much more swiftly for all the practice. She left Kelorn snoring softly and went in search of breakfast.

  Though dawn had not yet broken in the east, Alirah found that the camp was already abuzz with activity. The caravaneers were wasting no time in getting back on the road. Everyone, kids included, seemed to have at least one job to do, from striking tents to shaking out and rolling up sleeping mats, to getting the many wagons hitched. She found Meiri waiting anxiously beside one of the cooking fires, where two older women were doling out breakfast. The young girl waved shyly. Alirah waved back and smiled. By the time they were scraping the last bits of porridge out of their wooden bowls, Alirah had made her second friend among the Khor’dua.

  As the caravan got underway Alirah found herself riding alongside Kelorn and Seilann at its head. By then the morning sun shone down bright and warm in a pale, cloudless sky. The day promised to be hot. In the daylight Alirah got a better view of both the caravan itself and of the land into which it had ventured.

  The canvas of all the covered wagons had been painted in deep shades of red and maroon. All of the Khor’dua also seemed to wear at least a little of this color as a kind of badge or uniform. Alirah saw red skirts, red tunics, red arm bands, and red kerchiefs. There were more than a hundred caravaneers in all. Maybe two thirds of them were young or working-age men. The rest were mostly grown women, but there were also a handful of children like Meiri, and a few elderly folk still hale enough to travel.

  As the caravan rolled out, most of the young men mounted upon horses and fanned out on escort duty. While they wore little in the way of armor and were mostly armed only with bows and knives, they had the bearing of grim soldiers sworn to defend their home. With a few exceptions like Seilann, the women, children, and elderly either rode in the wagons or else walked alongside them, tending to the caravan’s pack animals.

  The Khor’dua had made their camp for the night near the eastern limit of Rusukhor’s wide, circular valley. They spent the morning climbing up the rocky hills which rose upon the valley’s edge. The road wound in tight switchbacks up a narrow crease in the hills, which a little rivulet had formed in eons past. This was the same road that Alirah had glimpsed from afar. It was cut deep into the earth, and despite the confines of the ravine it was wide enough in most places that two of the big wagons could pass each other with ease.

  By early afternoon they were out of the valley and back onto a high, grassy tableland not much different from the terrain which Alirah and Kelorn had ridden across three days earlier. The caravan stopped briefly for a cold lunch, and then hastened on while the day lasted. As the wagons rolled out again, Alirah and Kelorn rode out into the grasslands with Seilann and her father, Durgann.

  Durgann was the leader of the caravan. He was a bald, grimfaced man of about fifty, squat and strong. He rode a big, black charger and a Jeddeinin scimitar hung at his belt. Gold rings adorned his fingers and a gold chain hung around his neck beneath his tunic. He led them up to a low rise where they could look back at the whole length of the caravan as it spread out upon the road.

  “So my daughter says you are to accompany us,” he said, glancing at Kelorn but looking mainly at Alirah. “She has told me of your good deed, and I thank you for it. Out of my tha
nks, and because I trust my daughter’s judgment, I have let you accompany us so far. But if you are going to travel with us, I must know more about you. Who are you? Where do you come from and why are you making this journey? Arandia is far away, and it is plain to see that neither of you are natives of Rusukhor.”

  “We…” Alirah began, then stopped, flushing under his sharp glance. She had no wish to lie, but she did not know how much she should say.

  “We mean no disrespect,” said Kelorn, after a moment. “But our business is our own.”

  “Of course it is!” agreed Durgann. “And it can stay your own as long as you don’t stay with us. But I have a hundred and forty six lives in my charge, to say nothing of thousands of setains worth of spices and other goods. You want to keep your secrets? Fine. But keep them away from us.”

  “I… I have the Sight,” said Alirah, hesitantly. Seilann’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but Durgann did not so much as blink. “Kelorn is a Druid. He’s taking me to Illmaryn so that the priestesses there can teach me to control it.”

  Durgann grunted. “That’s nice of him. It’s only what, four hundred leagues away? More than that? Did he have nothing better to do?”

  Kelorn blushed red. He started to stammer a reply, but then trailed off awkwardly. He and Durgann glowered at each other for a moment before the leader of the Khor’dua turned back to Alirah. She sighed and took a deep breath.

  “My people are the Kwi’Kiri,” she said softly. “But my father is Ethyrin son of Elidan, and he is the rightful High King of Arandia. Kelorn came to find him because Arandia needs help. My father will not abandon our people, his people now, or return to Arandia and start a war there. But I know… somehow I know… that I’m supposed to go there. That I can do some good. So Kelorn is escorting me there.”

  Durgann raised an eyebrow. He stared at her for a long moment before speaking.

  “I thought the rightful king of Arandia is Archandir the Terrible.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  His lips curled into a grin. “Really? I wouldn’t let him hear you say that.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  He barked out a short laugh. “Good! So you are in no danger then? At least until you get to Arandia? Nobody is pursuing you that you will bring upon us?”

  “No. Not unless Riuk decides he wants another go at me.”

  “He won’t,” said Kelorn quickly.

  “He’d better not,” growled Durgann. “If he or any of his lads turn up out here I’ll kill them myself, and not quickly. Not in a fight.”

  He took a deep breath, then continued in a gentler tone. “Very good. Then you may accompany us as far as you wish. But you’ll pull your own weight. Princess or not, you’ll help with the work and the chores as we go. You’ll get no special treatment.”

  “I didn’t ask for any,” said Alirah.

  “That goes for you too,” said Durgann, turning to address Kelorn. “And if we’re attacked you’ll help us to defend the caravan. There is no shortage of brigands along the Great Roads, and I’ve heard you’re pretty good with that sword.”

  “He’s amazing with it,” murmured Seilann.

  Kelorn shrugged. “I’m okay. And whoever’s attacking you would be attacking us too, so I’ll be pretty motivated.”

  “Good,” said Durgann, grinning. “It’s settled then. And don’t worry about your secret; it’s safe with me. Now let’s hurry up and get back. Every time I leave for two minutes someone starts a fight, or breaks something, or both!”

  For the rest of the day the caravan rolled on at a slow but steady pace. At sunset the Khor’dua took their wagons off the road and formed them again into a wide circle. They put their draft horses and stock animals inside this ring, then set up their own camps around it. Families set themselves up together, while others tended to group themselves according to age and gender.

  At first Alirah assumed she would lay out her bedroll and sleep near Kelorn, just as she had done in the wilderness. She and Kelorn started to settle down next to one another, but now in the company of other people they both felt very awkward doing so. Alirah might have imagined it, but she felt as if many people were sneaking glances at them. She noticed that all of the Khor’dua women were pitching tents or disappearing into the wagons for the night; only the men slept out under the stars. Eventually Seilann came and led her over to a couple of pavilion style tents which she and her friends from Rusukhor were pitching alongside each other. Kelorn stayed where he was. He slept rolled up in his cloak, in the middle of a little circle of open space like a hole in the encampment.

  As the days passed Alirah and Kelorn quickly settled into the routine of life in the caravan. They shared their meals with the caravaneers. Every morning and every evening they would help with whatever tasks needed extra hands. During the day Alirah usually rode along with Seilann, her father, and a few others at the front of the convoy, talking ceaselessly to help the slow miles pass by.

  Kelorn occasionally rode with them, but more often he rode out on escort duty like the other young men. He’d spend hours riding all by himself, a quarter of a mile out from the road and a hundred yards from any companion. Alirah felt sorry for him. She could not imagine that he wasn’t bored and terribly lonely. But in the evenings he seemed happier and more relaxed than he yet had on their journey together.

  About a week out from Rusukhor, the caravan came upon a grove of cottonwoods and tall willows that grew beside a swift, stony river. At least Alirah called it a river. At a dozen yards across, it was as large as any stream she’d laid eyes upon in her life, but Kelorn laughed and told her she would see real rivers as they rode further east. The road arched over the stream in a bridge of hewn stone that was so old and covered with earth and lichen that it hardly seemed to have been built at all. Alirah thought it looked more like a bizarrely convenient feature of the natural landscape. The caravan set up its encampment on a flat meadow just beyond the bridge, which was bounded on one side by the water and the other by the trees.

  That evening, while supper was cooking, Alirah sat and talked to Meiri, Seilann, and the other young women. In the middle of their conversation, Kelorn approached them shyly. He moved slowly, almost as if drawn against his will. He nodded once to Seilann, Meiri, and the others. They all gazed back at him with odd little half-smiles that obviously made him uncomfortable, and which suddenly annoyed Alirah. She scrambled to her feet and led him back a few paces away.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hi.”

  He hesitated for a long moment, then took a deep breath and stammered: “So… I was thinking… You’ve told me a few times that you know how to use that sword you wear.”

  “I have. I didn’t think you’d listened.”

  “Well, why don’t you come and show me, then?”

  “What do you mean, show you?”

  “I just… You’re right, I think,” said Kelorn. “I shouldn’t just tell you not to carry the sword. You shouldn’t have to be afraid to wear it. There probably is a lot I can teach you. There’s a lot that I’ve learned. So… Come and show me what you can do. If you want to.”

  Alirah hesitated for a moment, surprised. Then she grinned.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  She followed Kelorn to the far end of the meadow where it squeezed between a bend in the river and a particularly dense stand of willows. There the young Druid hesitated, as if debating whether to start pushing his way through the undergrowth to find an even more private spot. They’d put some distance between them and the rest of the caravan, but they could still be seen. Alirah felt certain that Seilann and the other girls, at least, were all watching them, and for once she shared a little of his bashfulness.

  At last Kelorn turned back to face her and drew his sword. Alirah drew her own sword and held it aloft before her. The setting sun shone bright and red upon the blade. By then her muscles we
re no longer sore and she could handle the weapon with ease again. She stood poised and ready on the balls of her feet, excited and utterly determined to prove herself.

  “Okay,” said Kelorn. “Now I want you to attack me...”

  “Attack you? With my sword?”

  “No, with your shoes.”

  She made a face at him. “Shouldn’t we use sticks or something instead, if we’re actually going to go at each other? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He shook his head firmly. “Not this time. I need to see you use your real weapon. I want to see how well you can attack me and for how long. You won’t actually be trying to hurt me, I hope. Just swing at my sword. But if you’d rather not do that, I can attack you and see how well you can defend yourself.”

  “No, no, that’s okay,” said Alirah quickly. “I’ll attack you. I just think you’re nuts.”

  For a few moments they faced each other, standing about five yards apart. Alirah hesitated. She’d sparred with her father any number of times as she’d grown up, but then they’d been using sticks rather than actual swords. They’d only had the one sword between them anyway. Now, without anger and terror coursing through her veins she found the thought of striking at another person vaguely appalling. At the same time, he stood there expectant and obviously serious. There was no hint of amusement in his expression, no subtle sign that he was only humoring her. She felt both happy and grateful that he’d changed his mind, and she was determined not to give him an excuse to change it back. So, at last, she grit her teeth and lunged at him.

  Her sword fell heavily upon his and rebounded off of it with a loud clang. Quick as lightning, she replanted her feet and struck again. Again he moved his blade to intercept the blow. The two swords met with such force that she felt the shock all the way up her arm and shoulder.

  For more than a minute Alirah pressed her attack, now thrusting and now slashing high or low. He met every stroke with his own sword, but she noticed with pride that he was driven back a few steps toward the riverbank. Still, the blows she landed did not seem so jarring to him as they felt to her. And all too soon she began to get tired. Her sword began to feel as if it was made of lead. The muscles in her arm and shoulder started to burn, and her speed flagged dramatically.

  Then, suddenly, Kelorn swung back.

  So far he’d done nothing but block her attacks, as he’d said. But now as their blades met he shoved his to one side and knocked hers out of position. At the same time he drove forward, forcing her to stumble away from him. His face had become an unreadable mask. Alirah could not suppress a cry of surprise and fright.

  Is he still angry after all? Did he bring me over here just to teach me a lesson or something? Put me in my place?

  Desperately she lashed out again, and she was no longer certain whether she should just aim for his blade. As a result she lunged half at his chest. Kelorn had to jerk his body aside with a grunt to avoid getting slashed. He recovered quickly, however, and swung back. This time when his blade met hers he twisted it sharply. Before she knew what was happening her sword was torn from her grasp. It sailed a few yards through the air and landed with a thud beside the willows.

  She flung herself after the weapon, snatched it up, and rounded upon Kelorn once more. Too late. Before she could bring up her blade she found his own hovering just an inch or two from her heaving chest. She recoiled instinctively, and as a result plopped back down onto the grass.

  For a second she could only sit there, gazing up at the young Druid in open-mouthed fright. But Kelorn did not attack. He stood poised for a moment but then took a step backward and sheathed his blade. She must have looked foolish, for a faint grin stole onto his face.

  Alirah forgot her fear at once. She leapt to her feet, furious.

  “What was that?”

  “I decided to take a few swings at you,” he said simply.

  “That’s not fair! You said you were just going to block me!”

  “I wanted to see what’d you’d do. How you’d react. It’s part of how they train us on the Holy Isle: surprises are part of the lessons.”

  “Great. Sounds wonderful,” she snarled. Hot tears brimmed in her eyes. She could feel herself shaking as much from anger as from exertion, but she could not have said who she was angrier at: the young Druid or herself. She felt as if she’d been tricked and toyed with, and that she’d proven herself worthy of such treatment.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, seeing her embarrassment. “You did good! Better than I did, the first time. I stopped and started to ask a question or something and the Armsmaster just knocked me down and yelled me. I… I hated him for it. I almost ran away…”

  He trailed off, and a shadow passed over his face. Suddenly, with doubled Sight, Alirah saw another Kelorn who was a few years younger and a bit heavier. He lay on his back upon a muddy swath of grass, gazing up with eyes that glistened with hate and tears at a wiry little man. That man was no longer looking at him, but rather barking out instructions to a watching crowd of young men and boys, many of whom were snickering. She felt a twinge of sympathy, but it did not take away her anger.

  “So you figured you’d go ahead and do the same thing to me?” she asked. “How nice of you.”

  Kelorn flushed. For a moment he looked abashed, but then he shook his head firmly. “No, he was right. You don’t do anyone a favor by going easy on them when you train them to fight. So much of knowing how to fight, how to survive, is just teaching yourself to react quickly. And you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself! I mean it, you did good! You obviously do know what you’re doing. Or at least the basics of it, anyway. And you both swung harder and kept swinging longer than I thought you’d be able to. You’re stronger than you look.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it,” she muttered.

  Her arm trembled so badly that she had trouble as she finally sheathed her own sword; it took her three tries to do so. Kelorn took a step towards her and half extended one arm, as if to comfort her with a hand, but then he drew back and sighed.

  “No, I’m sure it doesn’t,” he said. “But you’ll get stronger as you practice. You’ll never be able to rely on strength in a fight, but you’ll be able to keep going longer and strike with more surety. And there are ways to use an opponent’s size and strength against him. The Armsmaster on Illmaryn is a wiry little man whose hair went gray a long time ago, but I’d bet on him over the biggest dumb barbarian you could find. I’m not as good as he is, but I… I promise I’ll teach you everything I can.”

  He finished with the same slow earnestness with which he’d first told her she was right to wear her sword. Something in that tone of voice, or the look in his gentle eyes, drove away the last of her anger. He had not meant any trick, had not meant to teach her any lesson but to fight better. Alirah felt a very different kind of warmth bloom up into her cheeks, and she smiled.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Very much.”

  He smiled back. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Alirah shook herself.

  “Well… Okay then. Now let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving!”