by Diana Rivers
At some point Ebron stood up, raised his glass of quillof, and made a toast. “To my brother, Lorren, whose fame reaches far and wide.” There were cheers in response. Slightly unsteady on his feet, Ebron sat down again abruptly. Waving his empty glass in Lorren’s direction, he said in a somewhat slurred voice, “Older brother, you have made quite a reputation for yourself. When we reached the edge of the Zarn’s lands and the beginning of Koormir territory, all I had to say was your name and that I was your brother. The Kourmairi escorted us from one settlement to the next, shouting, ‘Lorren’s brother, Lorren’s brother’ as if that were something very grand. Your name gave us safe passage. Twice I was even lent a fresh horse. And so I came here more swiftly than I could have imagined, and with very little sleep along the way.”
“Why not stay with us, Ebron, now that you are already here?” Yolande spoke quickly, reaching over to cover his hand with hers. There was a plea in her words.
Ebron shook his head. “You know I am on leave and must go back in seven days. But I have only five months left of my guard-bond. After that, I will come back for a longer stay. You may even get tired of seeing my face.”
“Is it the end of my duty you are serving out?” Lorren asked, with an edge in his voice. “It is not fair that it should fall on you. How can I let you do that?”
“It is of no matter. It will soon be over and I am glad to see you safely here. Besides, there is nothing you can do one way or the other to change that now.”
“Ebron, do not go back to that killing, I beg of you. There is no need. You can stay here with us and find everything you need in this settlement.”
“No, Lorren, we have already gone over this territory more than once. I am not ready to lose everything: father, home, city, my mother’s memory, my place in the world. I am not ready to be a marked man for the rest of my life, never able to go back. I do not have the courage for it—or the foolishness. I am not you, Lorren. Besides, I left Father with no farewell spoken between us.”
Looking at his wide, innocent face, almost as pretty as a girl’s, and seeing his boyish charm, I could not imagine this man as a soldier and a killer. Then I thought about the young soldiers, boys, really, who had surrounded Hamiuri’s cabin. They would have burned me alive if they could have and with no questions asked. They had surrounded other women with fire. Had Ebron done such things? Could he? I was afraid to look into his mind and afraid to ask. A soldier does what he is commanded to do. A soldier is not a Hadra who cannot be compelled to act against her will.
I wanted to shout at Lorren that he should plead with Ebron not to return to Eezore. No, not plead. As his older brother, I wanted Lorren to order him to stay. How could he possibly let Ebron go back to add to that horror? Then I thought with bitterness, What does it matter? They will find another one, quick enough, to take his place. He had not the strength to stand against everything in his life. Not even Lorren had made that choice of his own free will.
“Our poor father,” Lorren said suddenly. “He thought he had two fine sons, and look at all the trouble we have caused him.”
I was amazed at his tone of compassion. “You are not angry for the way he treated you?”
Lorren shrugged. “Angry? Why should I be angry? My father is not a bad man. He is just a man like any other, one of many such men who do exactly as their fathers have done. He would not know how to think a new thought if his life depended on it, and now I have turned his whole world upside down. Besides, he may have been the one who saved my life.”
Ebron’s stay among us was for me a mixed blessing. I felt much pain and confusion around this young man who looked so like his brother that sometimes I still mistook them for each other. As Lorren’s brother, he was my friend and bound to me in a web of love. As the Zarn’s soldier, he was my sworn enemy and a danger to all I loved. His presence reminded me of the smell of burning flesh and of the women who had died in agony in my arms.
Several times he drew me aside, full of puzzlement and curiosity, wanting to talk to me of the Hadra and of our powers and of how we had come to be. I evaded his questions as best I could or gave answers that made us seem stronger and more invincible than we really were. Even talking to him for long seemed unsafe. How did I know if I spoke to the friend or to the foe? They always seemed to be shifting places under his charming, boyish exterior. How did I know what use he would make of my words later, when I, myself, was no longer there to weigh in the balance?
And still we spent many hours together. We rode a few times along the river and even climbed up into the hills one afternoon toward sunset. Looking down at the view of Zelindar and Wanderer Hill, I begged him once again not to go back to Eezore.
“It is only for a short while, Tazzil, a few months at the most. Then I will be free of my duty to the Zarn and can do as I please.”
“And how many will you kill in that time, to keep your place in the world?”
“No one, if I am lucky. The captain said I would probably be assigned to guard duty in the city for a while.”
I shook my head. “When it comes to it, you will do whatever you are told to do. You would even try to kill me, if those were your orders.” Though he shook his head emphatically, I noticed he did not deny my accusation in words. In the end, I was both very sorry and very glad to see him leave.
* * *
It was Hereschell who brought us the terrible news when he came for the Fall Gather. Ebron had been killed a few weeks before in a border skirmish between the forces of the Zarn of Eezore and the Zarn of Mecktesh. His death had come just two months short of his end of service.
Chapter Seventeen
Almost a year had passed since Ebron’s death. Except for the shock of that news, it had been a wonderfully uneventful year, full of small pleasures and accomplishments. Perhaps things had been going too well for those children of misfortune, the Star-Born. Though we still posted sentries, it was more out of habit now than out of fear. Occasionally we had Kourmairi visitors from Norn’s camp, but they were always so courteous and friendly I sometimes suspected this was Norn’s way of watching over us. I had almost stopped looking behind me, guarding against an enemy that was now so distant. It had been months since I had sniffed the air for the warning scent of fastfire. I had even grown accustomed to the sounds of peace: women singing, often with Tama and Cruzia taking the lead; Kara and Vestri or some of the Sheezerti playing their flutes; Kazouri’s deep, booming voice keeping time to the blows of her mallet; drums around the night fire—our daily music weaving itself through the fabric of our daily lives.
When I heard our sentries sound the alarm, I was on top of Third Hill with Kara and Vestri. We had been making plans for the shape of the city, drawing streets in the dirt with a stick as Pell used to do, only these were streets that did not yet exist and would someday be our own. From that vantage point, we could see Zelindar below us, laid out like a giant map.
We rushed to the edge to look over and saw in the distance what looked to be a group of Norn’s men riding in with a man between them, much as the Wanderers had brought Lorren to us that day.
By the time we had run to the bottom, the men were already there and a circle of women had gathered. The one who rode between them was Rhomar, the man who had been Zheran’s husband. A chill went up my back and I shivered. No good could come of that man being here.
It was plain he was very angry. He was trying to shake off the restraining hands of the other men. “I demand to speak to my wife, Zheran, and to Tazzia the Puntyar,” he shouted, looking all about as if searching the crowd for our faces.
I pushed my way forward till I stood quite close. “I am here, Rhomar. What do you want of me, and why have you come to disturb our peace this way?”
The look he turned on me was so hot with hate he would have scorched me on the spot if he had the power to do so. “Where is my wife? I will speak when she is here and not before.”
“She is not your wife anymore, Rhomar, and she is under no obligatio
n to speak to you.”
As I said those words, I saw movement on the other side of the circle and heard Zheran say, “I am here, Rhomar. What do you want with me?”
At the sound of her voice, he whirled about and seemed ready to fling himself from his horse.
Norn’s men restrained him, and one of them said, “No violence, that was our agreement. You are not to touch anyone in anger.”
“You whore!” Rhomar snarled at her. “Look at this filth you live with.” Then he shook his head and took a deep breath as if to get himself under control again. “Your children need you. I have come to take you home and make a decent wife of you again.”
I shuddered to think what methods he might use for accomplishing that end. Zheran came no closer; she never took her eyes off him as she spoke. “I am no longer your wife, Rhomar. When I went to Mishghall, you told me not to come back, that our marriage was over. You took away my children. Now I have a new life and other children who need me. My old life with you is over.” Though she sounded calm enough, I could see she was trembling.
“Not so fast. I did not come all this way empty-handed and with no cards to play.” He pulled something from his pack, then unwrapped it and held it up. With a sick lurch of my stomach, I saw in his hand the account I had so painstakingly written for Alyeeta. I had not seen it since we had left the winter caves. In truth, I had not even looked for it, but had always thought it was packed away safely among Alyeeta’s books. Rhomar was taking malicious pleasure from my obvious dismay. He waved the pages at me. “Puntyar, I think this belongs to you. You left this packet in a dark corner of our meeting house. We have done some rebuilding since then. As you can see, it has come to light. Careless of you but very useful for me. Now I have come to trade it for my wife. I have something of yours and you have something of mine. Very simple. This can be quickly done, and I can just as quickly be on my way home with what is mine.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. I wanted to leap at his throat. I wanted to beat him into the ground. I could do nothing. My powers kept me a prisoner. Zheran had quickly slipped around the circle till she stood next to me. “Make the trade,” she whispered in my ear. “I will find some way to get free of him.”
“No,” I answered fiercely, gripping her arm in fear. “No! Do not go near him. He is full of violence. Once you are in his hands, he will never let you go again, even if it means keeping you a prisoner, even if it means killing you.”
“But all your work, Tazzil.”
“Let it go, Zheran. It is not worth your life.” All around us, women were shouting at Rhomar in a fury of frustration, while he grinned with pleasure. Kazouri took two strides in his direction, but he raised the packet and shouted, “If anyone tries to get this from me, I will start tearing pages.” I saw her stop almost in midstride and stand still with her fists at her sides. Norn’s men were conferring with each other. They might have been able to overpower him, but who knew what would have been left of my writing after such a tussle.
We were all trapped in indecision. Twice Zheran tried to go to him, but I held her back, whispering desperately, “Please, Zheran, stay away from him.” Finally, I pushed her behind me. When some minutes had passed and she did not come, he said loudly over the uproar, “I am running out of patience. You are all making this more difficult than it needs to be. If my wife is not released to me in another minute, I will begin tearing pages. I will keep on tearing until Zheran comes with me or until there is nothing left to tear.”
Suddenly, I heard Alyeeta’s voice thundering from the back of the circle, “OUT OF MY WAY!” Instantly, the way parted for her like water, and she was standing in front of Rhomar with a fierce scowl on her face. I had stepped aside, quickly pulling Zheran with me. The hair went up on the back of my neck, and my head began to throb.
“Are you the old Witch who was a friend of Nhokosos?” he asked insolently.
“I am that old Witch,” Alyeeta said slowly, giving weight to each word.
“He is no longer headman.”
“Too bad, he was a good man. Your people could do much worse and probably have.”
“Some of us thought him a fool.”
“It takes one to know one, Rhomar. Remember, I am also the old Witch who cast a spell on the Zarn’s soldiers and sent them fleeing in all directions.” Then she reached out her hand. “Now hand me that packet. That account belongs to me. It was written for me, every word and every page. If you destroy any of it, I am the one you will have to reckon with, not Tazzia or Zheran.”
“Take care, old Witch. Nhokosos did not end his life well. The same might happen to you.” At those words, Ozzet began wailing for her grandfather. It was the first anyone knew of his death.
Alyeeta seemed unmoved. She never took her eyes from Rhomar’s face. “Are you really threatening me, here in my own settlement, with all these women around me and Norn’s men beside you? You are either a very brave man or an even greater fool than I could have imagined.” Her voice was like a knife of ice, not loud, but it cut through to the soul. I shivered again, wishing myself elsewhere.
I could feel Rhomar’s anger humming in the air like waves of heat, but Alyeeta’s fury was like the winter’s cold. It poured from her and made my head ache. The look on her face was the most terrible I had ever seen. Not even when Rishka had first come to us and taunted Alyeeta into a silencing had I seen such a look on her. I wanted to move away, out of her range, but I was frozen to the spot. Everyone else was totally still and silent, staring at those two.
Then Alyeeta said again, “Hand me that packet. It is mine. Do it now, before something happens that you will regret. Then you can leave here safely.”
Rhomar gave a roar of rage. “I have had enough of waiting! I warned you! Now I start with the first page.”
“HAND ME THAT!”
At that moment, everything happened at once. Rhomar made as if to tear the first page. Alyeeta raised her arms so that her fingers were pointing straight at him. A terrible loud hum came from her throat that made the ground shake under our feet. With a cry Rhomar dropped his trophy and slouched back on the horse, his face twisted in pain. Kazouri leapt forward to retrieve the packet. Alyeeta reached for it. Kazouri looked at me as if for guidance but instead put it in Alyeeta’s hand, moving as if with no will of her own. Most of the women had stepped back to escape that blast of sound. I was staggering on my feet, retching and clinging to Zheran. Rhomar slid from his horse and stumbled away, holding his head and groaning. It had all happened as quick as the blink of an eye.
With a nod, Alyeeta slipped the packet into her pouch, then said in her normal voice, “Man of Darthill, I thank you for returning what was mine. Go home now and do not think to come here again, not for any reason whatsoever. Not if you value your worthless life. I will come in the spring to mourn the death of my friend with those of his people who loved him. I hope for your sake you were not the one responsible.”
Three of Norn’s men went to stop Rhomar’s lurching steps and help him back onto his horse. The fourth, Joshan, came to stand in front of me. He was so shaken he could barely speak. “I deeply regret what happened here. We knew the man was full of anger, but we had no idea what he intended. He would have come here anyhow. We met him on the road and tried to dissuade him, but he said he must see his wife, so we thought it better if we came with him. I am so…”
Seeing that he was about to apologize once again, I raised my hands to stop him. “Joshan, this was no fault of yours. It would have been worse without your presence, maybe much worse. We thank you for your kindness and concern. Give our regards to Norn, and say we are grateful for his protection.”
Joshan made a slight bow. I did the same in return. Then, without a backward glance, he was on his horse and down the road after the others. I had a feeling he was only too glad to be gone, away from spells and witchings. When I looked around, Alyeeta had vanished. The others were talking excitedly among themselves. Zheran was sobbing wildly, with Olna holding h
er and the two little girls clinging to her skirt. I was swaying and about to faint when I felt strong arms around me. Teko and Murghanth had come up on either side of me.
They guided me back to the shelter. As we went, Murghanth elaborated in gory detail on what she would have done to Rhomar had her powers not prevented it. She went on in this way until Teko hushed her forcefully. Then she started in on Alyeeta. “That Witch, she is no better than the man. I wish we could have gotten rid of both of them at once, and good riddance to the lot. Her tongue is sharp as a pig-sticker and her spells are enough to make you vomit. I think she has…”
“Please, Murghanth,” I struggled to say. “Please stop. Alyeeta has saved us from this and much worse besides. She is my friend…” Much as I wanted to distance myself from Alyeeta at that moment, I could not bear to hear her spoken of so harshly. I was feeling very faint again, though: all I remember after that was Teko saying, “Tazzi is right, Murghanth. Now that is enough,” before I slid into darkness.
When I came back to myself again, Zheran was sitting on the bed by me, watching me anxiously by the light of one candle. The girls were asleep on their pallets. My stomach was still lurching about wildly and my head ached and throbbed. With a groan, I raised myself on my elbow.
Zheran touched my face gently with her fingers. “I was afraid for you, Tazzil. Your face was so strange. You looked so ill.”
I shook my head and it still rang painfully. “I am not sure which is worse, Rhomar or Alyeeta.”
Zheran smiled ruefully. “I have no question which is worse for me. I may appear to speak up bravely when Rhomar is near, but all the time I am shaking inside. Even after all that has passed, that man still has the power to frighten me. Alyeeta…” She shrugged. “You are far more susceptible to Alyeeta than I am.”
