The Hadra

by Diana Rivers

  “Easy for you to say,” she answered, drawing back. “Look at you here, the chosen leader, with a house and a family, love and respect, and a whole city rising around you. What do I have? Four fatherless children, an old mother who is dependent on me, and no place to lay my head down.”

  “We will make a place for you here, Ghira, and for the children too. You will never have to run again.”

  “An easy offer to make. How can I stay here with two boy-children? Besides, I have no wish to live in a place that is all women. What kind of a life is that? It is not natural. It might please you and the other Puntyar like you, but I need a man in my life.”

  Friana had been listening to all this. “Ghira, you can ride with me back to my settlement. The man I was married to is dead. I have nothing left to fear now, and my son is still living there. These women have been kind and loving to me, taken me in and sheltered me through a dangerous time, but this is not my place, either. Maybe it is time to go home now to my own people. You can come with me and take your chances there.”

  “A fine, generous offer, but what am I to do with all these children?”

  “Take the older two,” Friana suggested. “Take the boys with you and leave the girls with your mother, if she is willing, or perhaps with the other women here.”

  My mother, Nairenyati, said she would be pleased to keep the girls. Ishnu was quick to add, “I would be glad to help you with them.” She had been leaning over my shoulder, listening intently to everything that was being said. Instantly she made herself into a little mother for the girls, setting the baby, Bethlee, on her hip and taking Bonisha by the hand.

  I was shaking my head with amazement, still trying to put it all together. “And what about my brother? Where is Kerris? Did he die with Jortho fighting the Shokarn?”

  My mother looked embarrassed and confused, but Ghira spoke up with no shame at all. “Gone to Eezore to join the Thieves Guild. He left after the earlier raids; said he was going to Eezore to see the city that had plagued our lives. He planned to join the Guild there. They had already approached him at the market in Koormir, because he made such good knives. They also had observed a few displays of his light fingers. He said if the Zarns were going to come so far to raid our villages, then he would take some misery back to Eezore, where the trouble came from, and earn his living at the same time. We heard from him a few times. He sent us some goods and some coins when times were hard, but since we fled westward, there has been no word. He probably thinks us dead.”

  “If he is still living, I can get word to him,” I said. “Pell has connections with the Thieves Guild.” Ghira shrugged, as if it did not matter to her one way or the other, but I saw my mother’s face light up. I nodded my reassurance. “We will tell Pell, and the Wanderers can take back word.”

  In the end, Ghira stayed only a few days with us before she was on her way again. I wished her luck and sent her off with some provisions and a second horse. But, in truth, I was not sorry to see her go. Friana I would miss, though what she said was true—she was not one of us and never could be.

  My mother, who was renamed Renya among us, became an instant favorite with the women of Zelindar, Hadra and Kourmairi both. She seemed quite content to stay where she was, saying, “I have seen enough of men in this lifetime. If I want to see more, I can visit Wanderer Hill or the Kourmairi settlement of Indaran, where Ghira has gone. I do not have to live with them.”

  Four days after my mother came to visit, I resigned as councilor and asked Kilghari to take my place. Kilghari agreed, but only if I would replace her on the council. The women of Zelindar approved of my choice. Finally, in my thirtieth year, I was free to set down my burden. Zheran was overjoyed. She had been after me for some time to do this. I needed the rest. I needed to step back and not be held responsible for everything—or, perhaps, not hold myself responsible for all of it. And in truth, I was exhausted to the core, deeply weary, much as Pell had been. I thought the change would be good for Zelindar as well. I had pushed and driven and argued and insisted, all necessary at the beginning. Perhaps now it was time for a gentler hand on the reins. The choosing was easy and almost unanimous.

  Suddenly I was free. FREE! On those lovely fall days, I took long walks with my mother on the beach, catching up on all that had happened in our lives since our disastrous parting so many years before. After a while, that drawn, gray look left her and some color came back into her face. Every day she looked younger and walked straighter. Sometimes the babies came with us. My mother would carry one, while I took the other on my hip or back.

  Sometimes Ishnu came with us, tending to the little ones and basking in my mother’s kindly love and approval, and sometimes Zheran accompanied us, leaving other women in charge of the children. Zheran and my mother formed an easy friendship. Other Hadra, Pell or Lhiri or Tama, might join us part of the way, wanting to get to know my mother better. Kara often sought her out so they could talk of Nemanthi and the past. Altogether, I think those were the happiest days of my life since childhood, happy except for the terrible loss and grief of Lorren’s death that lay under everything else in my life. So many times I found myself wishing my mother could have met him.

  After a while, my mother became part of Zelindar, as if she had always lived there. She organized the care of our new little ones so their mothers could be free for part of the day, and Ishnu became her assistant. She learned to read from Alyeeta, whom she admired but never really trusted. She even read my account. Zheran had brought it out, saying that she thought I could be trusted with it now. It was my mother, with Zheran’s help, who finally convinced me to begin writing on it again.

  One morning, thirty or so Hadra, organized by Kazouri, appeared at our house and began cutting and stacking rocks for an addition, so that my mother and the babies would have space that winter. It was very much needed, and, I must admit, I was most grateful. Our family had grown. Now our daughters had a grandmother and babies to play with. Though Ursa was often gone on the boat with Nhari and Ozzet and Cruzia, this was still her home, and, of course, Nhari had moved in with us. Now that I was finally taking time to write the rest of my account, I needed the space to do it.

  Sometimes on those winter days when we sat by the fire, Yolande would come and join us. When Yolande and Zheran and my mother and some of the other Kourmairi women got to talking together, I often felt like the outsider among them. Then I would go to find some Hadra company. Or I would climb up to the cave to sit with Alyeeta and the other Witches, who had all come together in Alyeeta’s house for the winter.

  Though we were very close at that time, Alyeeta and I never became lovers again. I think that would have stopped even if Zheran had not spoken to me that day. That part of our connection was over. More exactly, that part of Alyeeta’s life was over. It was her mind, or rather her spirit, that occupied her now, not her body.

  I think we were both saying good-bye to each other that winter. At some moment, Alyeeta took my face between her hands and looked deep into my eyes. “We are very different at the core, you and I, Tazzia. Witch and Hadra are more different than you understand. Our Witch magic is in our spells. Your power is in absolute truth. You are not even able to lie. We create illusion. You go to the deepest layer of reality. You are your power, and you were born to it. You need no spells, no words, and no learning. You only have to tap into what lies at your core. Sometimes you only have to exist; that is enough. I have envied you for it and hated you for it and loved you for it all these years.” She kissed me on the forehead and I saw her lips quiver. Then she pushed me away roughly and turned the talk to other things.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  That next spring, two young men found their way to us with the help and guidance of some Wanderers. The older of the two I would have known as Zheran’s son even if no word had been spoken; Morkel’s resemblance to his mother was that strong. The younger one, Arnath, unfortunately reminded me of his father, glaring at everyone and everything in that same sullen
and superior way. Zheran, of course, was delighted to have them with her at last and so could overlook a great deal of folly. I, on the other hand, found it hard to suddenly be dealing with an angry young man in the only home I had. Ursa and Nhari more or less ignored them, but it made my stomach turn to watch the way Ishnu fussed over them both. The difference was that Morkel returned her attentions with kindness and a warm smile, while Arnath grunted or grumbled, scowling no matter what was done for him.

  That Arnath! He filled the house with his gloomy, truculent presence. Whenever I came in, I felt as if I were stumbling over him, even if his feet were not out in the passageway, which they often were. He was sneeringly critical—even contemptuous—of everything in Zelindar. Of course, I had been to Darthill and knew that things there were not so grand; knew, in fact, that Zelindar was far superior in many ways. But I kept my silence and tried not to respond to his bait, otherwise we would have been at it day and night.

  Zheran loved having them with her and was as proud as an Oolanth cat with her cubs. She would look from one to the other of them and burst out, “So hard to believe! I thought I would never see you again. And now you are really here under my roof…”

  Though I took pleasure in Zheran’s pleasure, this invasion put an end to my writing. In my secret heart I hoped her sons would soon be on their way, now that they had re-established contact—or at least that her younger son would find some other place to perch himself. I was very glad at the moment that Zheran did not have the Hadra gift of reading minds. My thoughts would have been exceedingly hurtful. But, of course, her mind was not on me or my thoughts. Ursa and I did not have to read each other’s minds. A shared look across the table would do when Arnath was being particularly obnoxious.

  I think it was Zheran’s guilt for abandoning her children that made her overlook such boorish behavior, but when Arnath said, for at least the tenth time, “In Darthill it is better than Zelindar because…” I wished I did not have Hadra powers and could simply smash the chair over his head as he deserved. Of course, I would not have done that to Zheran’s son. Instead, I left the house once again, seeking refuge for the day with Pell and Tama. At other times, when he was too much for me, I would stroll down the beach, or climb up to the Zildorn to see how the building was progressing. After all, it was spring. There were many places for escape.

  What gave me some hope was that Arnath talked constantly of leaving as soon as he could persuade his brother to go. For me, it could not be soon enough. In that, at least, we were on the same side. Then it happened. It was like an explosion among us. Suddenly, Morkel and Ishnu looked at each other in that certain way and fell in love. After that, they had eyes only for each other—nothing else mattered. When I saw the despairing look on Arnath’s face, I could almost sympathize. He was no more eager to stay than I was to have him there.

  Now every time I came into the hut, I felt as if I were intruding, stumbling over love—or perhaps suffocating on it. The air was thick with it, making it hard to breathe. It filled all the space. Before, with Arnath, it had been ill humor that crowded the space, and now it was an excess of affection. I am not sure which was worse. Zheran and my mother, Renya, added their cloying enthusiasm. I had to remind myself to be as happy for Ishnu with her love as I was for Ursa with hers, though at least Ursa had shown the good sense to take some of her passion elsewhere. Morkel was a fine young man, there was no denying that. And he clearly had a central place in Zheran’s heart. She was so happy to see her children together, she could hardly contain herself. Perhaps I was jealous. My mother was taken up with the babies and Zheran with the young people, and now they were even talking of a wedding. There seemed no place for me there.

  It was almost by default that I took up with Arnath: he seemed to feel even more displaced than I did. After a while, he stopped complaining so loudly and being so disdainful about everything. He kept saying he was only waiting for his brother to be done so they could leave together, but he knew as well as I did that his brother was not leaving anytime soon, if ever. I sensed that he himself was not much more comfortable in Darthill than he was in Zelindar. After a while, I saw that his nastiness was only a cover for all the pain and confusion of his life: his father’s violent death and everything that surrounded it; his mother’s desertion and this strange, incomprehensible, new life of hers.

  “Why? Why did she leave us? I thought she was happy at home. And to live like this, in a crowded little hut. We had a fine house, one of the best in the village. What else did she need? She could have had anything, whatever she asked for.”

  Anything but herself, I thought sadly, but I did not try to explain. It was too soon for him to hear such things. With one excuse or another, we took long rides together while he talked out his grief and bewilderment. Sometimes I tried gently to explain, especially when I felt the questions were real and not full of accusations. Mostly I just let him go on and on. Finally, I ran out of errands to invent as an excuse for riding out. When I tried to get him to come to Wanderer Hill with me, he refused, saying, “That woman will not want to see the son of the man responsible for her husband’s death.” At last, on the pretext of needing to talk to Lomaire about some trade, I told Arnath I was riding to the Kourmairi settlement of Zelandria. I asked him to accompany me, saying I might need his help.

  He talked the whole way, pouring out his heart. He even told me that he had known his father planned to kill Lorren and had conspired with Garrell to do so. After some subtle probing, I got him to admit that he was really afraid of going home. He did not trust the men who had been his father’s friends. They were the ones who had supported Rhomar in his vengeful plot and probably also the ones who had disposed of Nhokosos.

  In spite of myself, my heart was beginning to warm to this boy who had been like a thorn in my side. Still, there were things he needed to hear. When we were approaching the village, I dropped back to ride next to him. “You cannot be as contemptuous of Zelandria as you have been of Zelindar. Lomaire is a proud man. He is proud of what has been done here in so short a time and will take offense at insults.” I had the momentary pleasure of seeing him flush with embarrassment at the thought of all his mean words to us. Then, just as quickly, I was ashamed of my own meanness.

  When we got to Lomaire’s house, who should I find sitting in the yard under a huge gobal tree but my sister Ghira? As I introduced Arnath, she rose to greet me with a big smile and even a hug. She seemed genuinely glad to see me. This was very different from our last meeting. She even filled three mugs of water from a crock, offered us some fruit from a big wooden bowl, and invited us to join her on the bench. When she sat down again, a little girl came running up and climbed into her lap. It seemed as if the child had done it so often she did not have to ask. “His children are wonderfully kind. See, they love me already, especially little Nanomi.” She spoke quickly and hugged the child to her as if for protection against any judgments I might make. “Friana brought me here for a visit and I have been here ever since. Lomaire and I are planning to marry at midsummer and invite everyone from both settlements, and Wanderer Hill and Zelindar, as well. Will you come?”

  “Of course I will come. Nothing could keep me away.” I knew Lomaire had lost his first wife in the fighting, leaving him with two small children. His second wife had died in childbirth after her second baby. There was no doubt he was looking for a mother for his children. But when he came striding into the yard a few minutes later, I saw the look of lust and love that passed between them and knew this was not just a match of convenience.

  There were more excited greetings and a flurry of plans. Then I chanced to glance at Arnath and see his hurt, sullen look. His face was all closed down with pain, an outsider once again. Quickly I introduced him as Zheran’s son, but that may have been no better. When Ghira rose, saying, “I need to go to the well for more water,” I said quickly, “Arnath can help you with that.” He shot me an angry, accusing look, but he went anyhow.

  As soon as he was
out of earshot, I told Lomaire as quickly as I could of Arnath’s predicament. Lomaire nodded while I talked. When they came back, carrying the full water pail between them, Lomaire hardly waited for them to set it down before he said, “I know you are planning to ride home soon, young man, but I have much work to do here before the wedding and I am terribly shorthanded. Everyone is busy elsewhere. I wonder if you could spare me a week or so of time before you leave. I promise I will reward you well. I would not think to ask, except we are all family of a sort here and I am close to being desperate.”

  I saw the spark of hope in Arnath’s eyes, though he answered with restraint, “I would be pleased to stay and help you, perhaps for even longer than a week, if my brother is not yet ready to leave.”

  Before my departure, Ghira filled a little sack with sweets for our mother and entrusted it to me. “Will you take her a message for me, Tazzia? Tell her I love her and miss her and that I am very happy here. Tell her I will come to visit soon, to see her as well as the little ones.” I promised to take her message and refrained from saying that the little ones were doing very well without her. Not till I was mounted and ready to go did she say one word to me of what had passed between us the last time we met. Then she looked up at me with a plea in her eyes. “I hope I am still your sister, in spite of all my harsh words. I allowed the unhappiness of these last few years to turn to bitterness. I am happy with this man. There is love here. I feel more like my old self every day.”

  I nodded. I understood about bitterness. “You will always be my sister, Ghira. I rejoice in your happiness and wish you well and am very glad to have you back in my life. I have grieved for you, Sister.”