the Year the Horses came

by Mary Mackey

  Marrah, who was very surprised at this, asked what kind of gifts the priestesses of Nar were keeping for her, and Sabalah admitted she didn't know. "They wouldn't tell me. All I know is that they come directly from the Goddess Earth, so they must be very powerful. But in the end, it doesn't matter. You have to go to Nar on your way east, because even if the priestesses have changed their minds and given the gifts to someone else, you need to ask their blessing. They're very holy and very powerful. It's said that as long as they tend the caves, the world can never end. They're remarkable women." She paused for a moment as if lost in memories Marrah was too young to share. Then, clearing her throat, she got down to details.

  "The forest crossing will be difficult; I won't pretend it's easy to get from one sea to the other, but you should be able to find the caves readily enough if you follow the song-map I made when I came west."

  "The one you taught me when I was a child?"

  Sabalah smiled. "The very one, and how sweet you looked singing it in perfect Sharan. But, as you probably remember, it was an east-west map. Now we must sing it in reverse, west to east."

  "Can that be done?"

  Sabalah nodded. "All song maps are reversible. I've sung my song west to east many times in secret over the last three days, getting it ready for you in case..." Her voice trailed off, and her smile disappeared. "I'd planned to follow my song back to Shara, but it won't be my song any longer; it will be yours. You'll add verses telling of your adventures, and when you come to Shara you'll sing it to your Grandmother Lalah." She put her arm around Marrah and drew her close again. "Listen. The Goddess has given you a good memory, and except for reversing the direction, I've only made a few changes, most of them at the beginning." She closed her eyes and sat perfectly still for a few seconds. Then, taking a deep breath, she began to sing, not of the Caves of Nar or Shara but of Xori and its longhouses and the Sea of Gray Waves:

  The way to Shara is long,

  she sang,

  and the first steps are hardest,

  but Marrah and Arang

  are Sabalah's children.

  They watch the Goddess Stone

  grow smaller and smaller

  but they go on bravely;

  they don't turn back.

  They follow the whale road

  past the great wombs of Hoza

  to Gurasoak, where the river

  flows out of the forest.

  They follow their mother's song to Shara,

  and Sabalah blesses their every step....

  Her voice grew sweet and more plaintive. It was hauntingly beautiful, and as Marrah listened, already grieving for all the friends she was about to leave behind, her mother's song entered her heart and comforted her.

  A few days later, having secured Ama's permission, Marrah, Arang, and Stavan left with two traders from Zizare who were sailing south to Gurasoak with baskets of ceremonial jadeite axes. The last thing Marrah saw as the boat rounded the point was Sabalah standing on the beach, supported by Bere and Uncle Seme.

  "The dear Goddess bless you, my children," Sabalah cried, until Marrah could no longer hear her, but she did not break down again and she did not call them back.

  When the boat was out of sight, Sabalah turned to Bere and Seme. Seme's face was streaked with tears, and Bere, who had spent the night with Marrah, was crying openly, but Sabalah had no sympathy to spare. Her own tears had dried up days ago, and all that was left was a rasping grief that stuck in the back of her throat. "Carry me back to Ama's longhouse and lay me down beside my own fire," she commanded.

  Seme picked Sabalah up in his arms, carried her to the longhouse, and laid her gently on a pile of sheepskins in front of her own fire. Ama was waiting for them, holding a pair of stout wooden tongs.

  Sabalah looked at the fire and then at Ama. "Are the stones hot enough yet?" she asked. Ama nodded grimly. "Good," Sabalah cried. "Then take one from the fire and put it against my foot and burn out the corruption. I want to live long enough to see my children again." And shoving the end of her leather belt between her teeth, she lay back, closed her eyes, and let Bere and Seme hold her down as Ama reached into the fire, pulled out a red-hot stone, and thrust it against the circle of black flesh on the sole of her foot, crying, "Sabalah, forgive me!"

  Sabalah took me belt out of her mouth with shaking hands; there were tears in her eyes, and they saw she had bitten through the leather. "There's nothing to forgive," she said. "Do it again if you need to; get it all." And putting the belt back between her teeth, she gripped Bere and Seme's arms, closed her eyes, and thought of Marrah and Arang waving to her, getting smaller and smaller as they sailed away.

  BOOK TWO

  * * *

  Sabalah's Song

  Between the Blue Sea

  and the Sea of Gray Waves

  lie the Caves of Nar

  where the animals dance.

  They danced for our ancestors

  when the world was ice.

  They will dance for our children

  when our bones are dust.

  Walk softly, walk lightly,

  the Earth is sleeping.

  Walk softly, walk lightly,

  She is pregnant with dreams.

  SABALAH'S SONG

  VERSES 11-13

  CHAPTER SIX

  From Gurasoak to the Caves of Nar

  Mother Asha sat on a litter made of wood and wicker. The litter, which she had designed herself, had a high woven back, armrests, comfortable down-filled pillows, and even a small wooden rail that she could prop her feet on when her ankles began to ache. Big enough to be comfortable but small enough to fit through the doors of the longhouses of Gurasoak, it was the only litter of its kind in the land of the Shore People, and she was secretly vain about having created it. But this particular morning she was hardly aware of the soft pillows, and instead of leaning against the backrest she was leaning forward, her black eyes snapping with excitement as she listened to Marrah of Xori explain why she, her brother, and the stranger called Stavan were headed east.

  "So you're following your mother's song. How I envy you." Mother Asha tapped the arm of her litter impatiently, thinking how nice it would be to be able to walk such a long distance without worrying about your knees giving out. "For nearly fifteen years now, ever since I became the Mother-of-All-Families, I've sat here and listened to traders from the Blue Sea tell me about the lands beyond the forest. I was here when your mother first walked out of the wilderness carrying you on her back, and I was the one who adopted the two of you and sent you to Xori to live with Ama." She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in old memories. Just when Marrah thought she'd fallen asleep, she opened them again and sighed.

  "I've always wanted to see the temples and great cities your mother sings about, but I never will. I'm far too old, and no doubt before you come back from Shara — if you ever do come back — I'll be dead."

  Marrah started to object, but Mother Asha silenced her with a wave of her hand. "No, let's not fool ourselves. I'm not afraid of going back to the Mother. To tell the truth, I sometimes long to shut my eyes and rest forever in Her loving embrace, but you, who are young and strong; probably fear death, which is a good thing. You'll need that fear where you're going. I've seen more young people die from taking foolish risks than from playing it safe, and you're twice as rash as most of them." She extended her hand and placed it lightly on Marrah's head. "So go with my blessing." She paused and noticed Arang standing to one side, looking at her with wide, curious eyes. "Come here, boy, and let me bless you too, for it's a long path for a child to take."

  Marrah bowed and nudged Arang forward, feeling relieved. She hadn't been sure how Mother Asha would react to the news that she was about to take her eight-year-old brother all the way to Shara, but as always, Mother had understood without having to be told why the Goddess had commanded Sabalah to send both her children. Arang spoke Sharan. If something happened to Marrah — to put it bluntly, if she died or became too sick to go on
— it would be up to him to deliver the warning.

  Arang knelt and bowed his head as Mother Asha blessed him. He knew he should thank her, but he was too awed. She must be the oldest woman on earth. He wondered if it was true that the Mother-of-All-Families could make Goddess Stones rise up just by waving her hands at them.

  Mother Asha saw his nervousness and smiled. "Don't be afraid, boy. I don't bite." She laughed such a good-natured laugh that Arang found himself laughing with her. "You look like a brave boy." She had learned long ago that it was better to tell children they were good than to command them to be good. "You'll be a big help to your sister."

  Arang turned red with embarrassment. "I hope so, dear Mother," he managed to stutter, and then, alarmed by his own courage, he backed away from her litter so fast he nearly bumped into Marrah.

  Mother Asha smiled, amused by how impressed he was. The little boy obviously thought she was as wise as the Goddess Herself. She wished she still believed there were grown-ups who knew everything. The truth was, she muddled along like everyone else, and some mornings she wondered if she had any more sense than an eight-year-old.

  She turned her attention back to Marrah, who was also waiting expectantly for some words of wisdom. "I don't know much about the lands you'll be passing through once you reach the Blue Sea, but I've heard any number of tales about the forest crossing. The country between here and the coast is mostly wilderness. There are a few settlements along the river, but most of the people follow the old ways, only taking what the Goddess gives them in the way of game and wild plants. The traders tell me most of the mother tribes think it's wrong to cut open the body of the Goddess Earth and plant seeds in her, and I've heard that bands of them sometimes come into back-country settlements to beg the village mothers to stop farming."

  "Are they dangerous?" Marrah asked. It was a question that would never have occurred to her before she met Stavan.

  Mother Asha shook her head. "No, only the wild animals are dangerous. There are lions in the forest. Two years ago, one killed a trader. He was walking at the end of the line a little behind the others, and a she-lion crept up and took him so fast he didn't even have time to scream. Later, she tried again, but this time the traders were ready for her, and they scared her off. That sort of thing doesn't happen very often, but even so, you should never camp without a fire." She suddenly realized she was probably scaring Marrah, not to mention the boy, who already looked frightened enough to wet his pants. That was the trouble with sitting at home all the time. You forgot that people who were actually going into the forest might not appreciate knowing what dangers lay ahead. It was time to change the subject.

  "As for the Forest People, as I said, they're not the least bit dangerous. They disapprove of our ways, but they tolerate them. Like us, they worship the Goddess and respect Her commandments. It's just that sometimes their idea of loving you involves sitting you down and treating you to a long harangue on how you would be happier if you followed the ways of the ancestors. But I'm not sure you'll ever see them. The forest is huge, and they tend to avoid any contact with the outside world. I used to think that was because they were shy, but a trader recently told me it's because they think we smell bad from eating so much milk and cheese."

  Marrah was looking puzzled. "My mother's song doesn't mention any Forest People."

  Mother Asha chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Sabalah wouldn't have enjoyed being treated like a jar of sour milk. Maybe she decided not to honor them by including them in her song, or maybe she never met them. As I said, the forest stretches for many weeks in all directions. More than one trading party has disappeared between here and the Blue Sea. Why only five years ago — " She stopped, realizing once again that some things were perhaps best left unsaid.

  "But never mind all that. All things considered, the land route is best. It's an easy walk, really, well marked and level most of the way. They say the river forks six times. I don't know which fork takes you to the Caves of Nar but the traders will, even if they haven't been there themselves. The Caves are often visited by pilgrims who come to ask the blessing of the priestesses." She sighed. "I do envy you. Whatever they give you will be priceless."

  She suddenly felt weary, as if her duty had been done, but she could not dismiss Sabalah's children until she had given them her final blessing. Reaching into the embroidered leather bag that hung from one of the arms of her litter, she drew out two shell necklaces and sat for a moment holding them in her hands. The necklaces were like the ones children wore except that each was decorated with a small triangular shell pendant.

  "Come here and let me put these on you. They're pilgrim necklaces. I don't imagine you've seen them in Xori; it's not a place pilgrims come to. But east of here, people will take one look and know you're traveling under the special protection of the Goddess. If they have food, they'll give it to you even if they don't eat themselves." She paused, suddenly overcome with forebodings. What was she sending Sabalah's children off to? She fastened the necklaces around their necks and placed her hands on their heads one last time. "Remember that wherever you go, you'll always be walking on the body of the Goddess Earth. When you miss your own mother, try to remember that the greatest Mother of all is close enough to touch."

  She cleared her throat and motioned for Marrah and Arang to rise. "Enough of this. I'm much too old for goodbyes, so when you leave tomorrow morning, don't bother to drop by my longhouse to say farewell, just leave quietly and try not to wake the dogs."

  Marrah thought perhaps she had misunderstood. "Did you say we're leaving tomorrow, dear Mother?"

  "You are unless you want to spend the winter in Gurasoak. Three traders came in from the Blue Sea about two weeks ago. They've been waiting for jadeite axes to come down from Zizare — waiting with far too little patience, I must say. Now that the axes have arrived, they're planning to start back tomorrow at dawn. I've already asked if they'll take the three of you with them, and of course they will although they grumbled about having to guide you to Nar. They seem to be afraid that if they make the detour they may arrive at the Blue Sea too late to catch the last boat going east before the winter rains, but in the end they agreed." She grinned. "After all, how could they refuse? You're pilgrims, and it's their sacred duty to see you safely to Nar, or anywhere else you care to travel, but just to make sure I reminded them — most politely, of course — of two good reasons for giving in gracefully: first, it's bad luck to stand in the way of a priestess who wants to pray at a holy place, and second" — her grin deepened — "I told them there were other traders up the coast who would give anything for two baskets of fine ceremonial axes."

  "But dear Mother," Marrah objected, "there aren't any traders north of Gurasoak. We've just come from there, and — " She stopped, suddenly understanding. "Of course, we might not have seen them."

  "Yes," Mother Asha said with a perfectly straight face, "it would have been easy for you to miss them, particularly since the weather's been so stormy."

  Marrah, who knew for a fact that there had been nothing but a few days of light rain since she left for Gurasoak, nodded solemnly and agreed that the storms had indeed been terrible.

  As soon as Mother Asha dismissed her, she found Arang some breakfast and then went in search of the traders. It proved to be a short search, since everyone in Gurasoak seemed to know where everyone else was at all times.

  "The southerners are in the guesthouse," a little girl not much older than Arang informed her, pointing in the direction of a small building that sat at the edge of the village. The girl scratched her elbow and eyed Marrah with friendly curiosity. "If you want to talk to them, you'd better do it now. My mama says they're leaving for the Blue Sea tomorrow before sunrise."

  Marrah thanked her and hurried to the guesthouse, where she found a man and two women busily packing jadeite axes into wicker carrying baskets. The baskets were about three feet long, flat on one side and tightly woven to keep out rain and dust. Each had several leather straps that co
uld be worn across the chest of the person who was carrying it, plus a head strap for balance. There were six, Marrah noticed: five standard-size ones and another about the size a child Arang's age could carry. Evidently the packing was being done in a hurry, since packets of dried fruit and beef jerky lay scattered on the floor, mixed with water skins, flints, extra head straps, and several other tightly wrapped bundles that probably contained trade goods.

  "Welcome to the House of Chaos," the man called out cheerfully when he saw Marrah. Letting the basket he had been packing tumble to the floor, he strode across the room, and before she realized what was happening, he knelt, kissed her hand, and rose in a single motion so graceful that it looked like a dance. "I'm Rhom of Lezentka, the most beautiful village on the coast of the Blue Sea, favored by the Goddess and warmed by the sun, where the dolphins dance and the air smells like honey. You must be Marrah of Xori, going south on holy business — Marrah of the dark eyes, who'll capture the heart of every man she meets."

  Marrah laughed and turned to the women. "Does he always talk this way?"

  "Always," one of them said. She spoke slowly with a heavy accent. "He's full of more hot air and goat dung than anyone else you'll ever meet. Just ignore him, and sooner or later he'll move on to a new victim."