by Robin Hobb
“They will. But this time, it is my turn to ask you to be silent while I strike the bargain.”
She gave him a doubtful look but acceded.
They stopped a dozen steps short of the guards, not because the men had made any threat toward them, but simply because they encountered a barrier. Abruptly, weariness and aches flooded Soldier’s Boy’s body and he found himself questioning his reasons for coming here. What would he accomplish? Had he no faith in Kinrove, the greatest of the great? He looked at Olikea. Her face wore a similar bewilderment. She gave him a questioning glance. I deduced it before either of them did. I spoke loudly in Soldier’s Boy’s mind. “Step back. Two steps back will probably put you out of the barrier’s range.”
I do not know if he heard me or if he started to leave. But once he had retreated two steps from the guards, he suddenly shook his head and wheeled round again. He caught Olikea by the shoulder and kept her from going any farther. He focused his attention on the guards. “I want to see Kinrove,” he declared. “Send him word that Soldier’s Boy, Nevare, is here and wishes to speak with him. Tell him it is of the greatest importance.”
They did not even look at one another. “You are not to be admitted. This Kinrove has made clear to us.” The guard who had spoken added, “Know this, Great One. Kinrove’s magic will slow you or anything you might launch at us. But it has no effect on our arrows. They will fly as swift and true as ever.”
“I bring him gifts,” Soldier’s Boy said, as if no warning or threat had ever been made. Without any ceremony, he lowered his treasure sling to the ground. He untied the knots, and unfolded the blanket, baring the contents to their view. They tried to step forward to see it but were constrained, I think, by the same barrier that kept us out. They craned their necks, and their eyes grew wide as he began to sort through the jumbled treasures. Other supplicants ventured closer, their mouths hanging ajar at the wealth so casually transported in the old blanket. When he came to the bagged figurine, he hesitated, and then offered it to Olikea instead. “You, perhaps, will know best what to do with this,” he said.
She accepted it from him, and something changed in her face. Her face held that suppressed gleam of satisfaction that Epiny used to show just before she leapt to her feet to proclaim she had won a game of Towsers. She didn’t open the sack, but she cradled it in both hands. She smiled at the guardians. “Do not tell Kinrove that I wish to see him. Instead, tell Galea that Olikea, Nevare’s feeder, stands before you and holds her heart’s dearest desire in the palms of her hands. And if she can but get Kinrove to admit us, only to speak to him, then it shall be hers. Forever.”
Her eyes flickered to mine as she said that final word, as if fearing she offered something beyond what Soldier’s Boy would permit. But he only gave a curt nod. Then he slowly crossed his arms on his chest and waited. Olikea continued to cup the blanketed image in her hands.
They stood, an emperor’s ransom on a blanket at their feet, and a treasure of unknown value cradled in her hands, and waited. Neither one stared down at the fabulous wealth strewn across the blanket. Neither spoke or moved.
The guards exchanged glances, and then leaned close to each other for a whispered consultation. They agreed on something. One of them went to a sack hanging on a nearby tree. From it, he extracted a horn and blew three sharp blasts on it. The noise was still hanging in the air as the other explained to us, “That will let them know to send a runner to us. When he arrives, he will bear our message back to Kinrove.”
“Thank you,” Soldier’s Boy replied. Without even a small smile, he added, “In return for your swift action, I think that each of you should choose your own gift from us, from the largesse that we bring. It seems only fair.”
He stepped back and then knelt down heavily to spread the treasure more temptingly across the blanket. It was an unprecedented action for a Great One even to notice guards in such a way. They were stunned and instantly avaricious, jostling each other to have the best view of what was presented, all the while glancing at each other to see if one’s fellow was staring at the choicest bit that was offered. They were still leaning as far forward as they could against the magic barrier when the runner arrived. He was full of curiosity and drew as near as he could to view what they were ogling. The guards had scarcely a moment for him. “Go to Kinrove and tell him that Soldier’s Boy–Nevare wishes to be allowed through the barrier to speak with him. And tell Galea also that Olikea, Nevare’s feeder, is with him, and has a gift for her.”
“Her dearest heart’s desire,” Olikea corrected him, holding the draped charm up again.
“Go swiftly, and return quickly with his reply, and from this treasure, you will have your choice of reward,” Soldier’s Boy announced.
I think it had the opposite of the desired effect, for immediately the runner surged forward, vying with the two guards for the best view. One of the guards told him jealously, “But we are to choose first, before you!”
“But which of us?” the other asked in sudden worry.
“I will decide that,” Soldier’s Boy announced. “Once the message has returned that I am to be allowed past the barrier.”
“Go!” one of the guards told the runner crossly. “The message will never be delivered while you stand here gawking.”
The runner made an annoyed sound, but then turned and sped away as swiftly as he had come. The two guards eyed each other for a moment, then went back to lustfully ogling the treasure. Someone tugged at the light cloak Soldier’s Boy was wearing. He turned to see that one of the other waiters had crept closer. “When they let you in, will you ask that I can come with you?” she boldly asked. Her brave words were a strange contrast to her dark-ringed eyes and skeletal form. She was a woman of middle years, unkempt, with the smudges from her cooking blending with the specks on her face.
He didn’t answer her directly. “Whom are you seeking to free?” he asked her.
“My son. Dasie freed him once, and I was so full of joy when he came home. But after three days of sleeping and eating, he became full of restlessness. He said he could still hear the drums. He could not lie still at night, but twitched and jerked in his sleep. Sometimes he would be talking to me and then suddenly he would stop and stare into the distance. He could not remember how to hunt. Whatever he began, he left half finished. Then one morning he was gone from my lodge. I know he is back with the dancers. It isn’t fair. Dasie freed him. He should have stayed longer at home and tried harder.” Her tears were falling, flowing in runnels down her face, as if constant weeping had eroded her flesh.
He looked aside from her and spoke quietly. “I do not know if I can even get myself and my feeder past Kinrove’s guards. And it is very important that I speak with him. I cannot get you in. But I can tell you that if I am successful, your son will no longer dance. And that is the best I can do.”
His words had become softer as he spoke. The woman turned away wordlessly. I do not think she was disappointed; I think she had known most of the answer before she had asked. But Olikea had her own question. “If you succeed, her son will no longer dance? What do you mean? I thought we were going to get Likari back.”
“Likari is part of my goal. But I have a larger ambition.”
“And what is that?” she asked, her voice cooling. I could almost read her thoughts. That the first time, he and his raid on Gettys had done nothing toward getting her son back. She did not want him to have any greater plan now, only to focus solely on getting Likari back.
He took a breath but before he could reply, he was distracted by the sounds of heavy wings beating overhead. A croaker bird’s descending flight is nothing like an owl’s. The creature did not alight in the branches overhead so much as use one to break his fall as he came down. The branch bobbed under his weight, and for a time, he kept his wide wings out, balancing himself until he had dug his claws firmly into his perch. When he was settled, he folded his wings in and spent a few moments fussily settling his pinions. Only when he was
finished did he stretch his long ugly neck out and turn his head sideways so that one eye pointed straight down at me. He opened his beak, and to me it appeared that he silently laughed.
“Has something died nearby?” Olikea wondered aloud. “What brings a carrion bird here?”
Orandula laughed aloud then, raucous caws in succession that split through the endless drumbeat of Kinrove’s dance. Soldier’s Boy refused to look at him any longer, but transferred his gaze to the guards staring at his treasure.
“Who chooses first?” one of the guards demanded of him.
“Don’t ask him! He cannot choose at all!” the croaker bird called down. The words were perfectly clear to me and Soldier’s Boy scowled at them, but Olikea didn’t appear to notice that the bird had spoken.
“Who chooses first?” the guard asked again. I think that his question annoyed Soldier’s Boy, for he abruptly replied, “He does!” and pointed to the other fellow.
The first guard was unperturbed. “Well, let me know what you choose, so I can decide which I want,” he told his partner.
“I’m thinking!” the other man replied testily.
“Let me know what you choose, so I can decide which I want!” the bird echoed him overhead. He followed his words with his sinister cawing laughter. I heard Soldier’s Boy grind his teeth.
Then the runner appeared around the bend in the trail. He ran fleetly and was grinning as if he bore rare good news. He came to a halt and said to the guards, “You may admit them. Kinrove is ready to receive them. He will open the barrier, but only to those two!” He raised his voice to convey those final tidings. The other supplicants had drawn near to hear the runner’s words. They muttered and milled, but did not look likely to make any attempts to breach the defenses.
“How will we know when we may pass?” Olikea wondered aloud, but before her words were finished, she knew. From repelling us, the force suddenly pressed us forward. Soldier’s Boy stopped to gather his swag, then caught Olikea by the hand and led her through with him. Above our heads, the carrion bird suddenly cackled loudly and, with noisily flapping wings, followed us.
“You said I could choose first!” the one guard reminded Soldier’s Boy.
“So I did,” he replied, and once more lowered the blanket. The two guards were not slow to claim their prizes. The runner, who had had less time to gawk at the riches, took longer, but eventually settled on a heavy silver medallion of a running deer on a silver chain. He looped it around his neck immediately and seemed very pleased with it.
“Follow me,” he invited us, and added, “Kinrove will quick-walk us now.”
The promised quick-walk began with a sickening lurch, and proceeded at a speed I’d never known before. In three steps, we stood in Kinrove’s summer encampment. The noise of the endless drumming and the seemingly random blatting of the horns were well-nigh unbearable here. The circle of dancers was smaller than it had been the first time we saw it. It still wove through a village of tents established around a larger pavilion. That surprised me; I had seen few tents at our kin-clan’s summer settlement. But there were many ways in which his village seemed more permanent: the dancers had trodden a trail of bare packed earth through the tents; neatly stacked firewood in a rick waited next to a stone oven near a well-tended cook fire on a stone-based hearth; fish was smoking nearby over another fire, and a platform of poles held ready caches of smoked meats and fish.
Kinrove’s tent was on a raised dais; it was the same pavilion I had seen before, simply moved to this location. Four men stood watch outside it and they were armed with bows, not spears or swords. They had watched our quick-walk approach, and I perceived what an advantage this had given them over us. Kinrove had learned. I did not think that anyone would ever again be able to surprise him in his stronghold.
A waiting man looked us over, then nodded grimly and held the tent flap open for us to enter. Two of the guards followed us, nocked arrows at the ready. I heard again the flapping rush of wings. There was a thud as the croaker bird landed on top of Kinrove’s pavilion. Soldier’s Boy gritted his teeth but did not grant him a glance.
Within the tent was an almost familiar scene. Kinrove, fat as ever, nearly overflowed his cushioned chair. Tables of prepared food awaited his attention, while feeders came and went from them. Galea, his first and most favored feeder, stood just behind him, her hands on his shoulders. They both kept silent as we approached, but the woman did not take her eyes off Olikea’s bundle. Her breathing seemed to quicken as we approached Kinrove. When we were still a good distance from him, he lifted his hand, and “Stand there!” the guard escorting us commanded us. At the same moment, Kinrove’s magic wrapped us and held us where we were. “Put down what you are carrying.”
“They are gifts for Kinrove. I only ask that he hear me out, and he can keep every item that is there,” Soldier’s Boy replied. Before the guard could reply, he rested the blanket on the earth and then opened it wide. With a grunt, he went down on one knee and then two. He began to arrange the jewelry and treasure on the blanket, looking down at it as he did so. “All of this once belonged to Lisana, my mentor. The value of what is here is beyond reckoning. All of this, I offer to Kinrove.”
“In exchange for what?” the Great Man demanded skeptically.
“If you will only listen to what I propose. That is all.”
Olikea took a sudden gasp of air, and then spoke. “And for my son. For Likari. Give him back to us, free of the dance, and all of this is yours. And the Ivory Babe, the greatest fertility charm ever known among the Specks!” She drew the cover off the image as she spoke and then held it aloft, cradling it as carefully as if it were a real child. “Give me back my son, Galea and Kinrove, and I will give you this, that you can have a son of your own.”
Galea’s hands tightened on Kinrove’s shoulders. She leaned down to whisper in his ear, and the mage scowled in annoyance, but listened. He took a deep breath and puffed it out through his lips. But then he said grudgingly, “Kandaia. Go to the dance. Watch for the boy Likari, and when he passes, touch his shoulder and say to him, ‘Kinrove bids you stop and follow me.’”
Olikea gave a cry of joy and clutched at Soldier’s Boy’s arm. “I will tend you as no Great One has ever been tended before. You can speak to me as you wish, use me as you wish, and ever I will still be in your debt.”
“Hush,” he said to her, firmly but without harshness. His eyes had not left Kinrove’s face. With Olikea’s help, he rose to his feet and then said quietly, “Greatest of the Great Ones, will you hear what I have to say? I give these treasures and I speak these words at Lisana’s bidding. She has given a task to me. It is beyond me. And so I come to ask a boon of you.”
“What is this?” Olikea asked in a small, breathless voice.
“What I told you,” Soldier’s Boy replied calmly. “My larger ambition.”
A strange expression wandered over her face. It took me a moment to identify it, and then to my shock I knew it: jealousy. “You came here to do her task, not mine,” she said bitterly.
He turned to her, took her hand, and met her eyes. “I will not speak another word until Likari is given to you.” He turned his gaze to Kinrove. “Given to you, whole and freed of the dance. That is the price of the fertility child. Give back Olikea’s child. Make a child of your own, and someday I hope you will look down into his face and imagine what it would be if a cruel and endless dance stole him from you.”
A flush of anger passed over Kinrove’s face, and I thought to myself that this was not the time to bait the Great Man. Soldier’s Boy had run his head into the noose. Should Kinrove decide to tell his guards to kill us he could easily keep everything we had brought and suffer no loss at all. But Soldier’s Boy either did not realize this or did not care. He turned his gaze back on Olikea and smiled down on her. I could not recall that he had ever before done so. “At least to you I will manage to keep my word. One promise kept in my whole life.”
She opened her mouth to s
ay something but Kandaia had returned, her hand on the shoulder of a skinny lad. For a second I could not recognize Likari. He had gone through a growth spurt. He was taller but thin, thinner than I had ever seen him. His skin and his hair were sweaty and dust clung to him. He stared about the inside of the tent, his eyes dazed and unblinking. Olikea gave a cry. She strained toward the boy, but Galea cried out, “The charm! First the charm, then your son!” I had never heard such ruthless need in a woman’s voice. Kinrove lifted his hand, and Olikea jerked to a halt.
She turned back to confront her tormentors. “Take it!” she shouted furiously. “Take it!” She lifted her arm and would have lobbed the statuette at Galea’s head, but Soldier’s Boy deftly caught it.
He set a steadying hand to her shoulder. “I have what you want. Send someone to take it from my hand. And let her go to our son.”
A small gesture from Kinrove’s hand freed Olikea and she went to Likari in a stumbling run. When she reached him, she fell to her knees and threw her arms around him. He looked dazedly past her, his mouth slightly ajar as he breathed. Soldier’s Boy swung his gaze back to Kinrove. “Free him from the dance,” he said in a low, commanding voice. A feeder had approached him and stood waiting to receive the fertility charm. Another stood gawking at the spread of treasure on the opened blanket.
“He has made his own pact with the magic. I can do nothing about it.”
Soldier’s Boy held the fertility charm in both hands. I felt his magic gathering. “Do you think I cannot shatter this image with my hands? Free him, Kinrove. Release him from your damage, and we will see what ‘pact of his own’ binds him to the magic.”
