“Your harness is loose.”
The man scowled. “It is uncomfortable.”
Tryss met the man’s eyes. “I’m not surprised. Fitted properly, it should move with you. Hanging like this it will only hamper you. When you first carried a bow you would have been conscious of its weight. You would have been taught that you must strap it tight against your body or it could be dangerous in flight. The same is true for this harness. Like your bow, you will soon grow used to the feel and weight of it. Fit it properly and I’ll—”
A loud whoop and laughter smothered his words. Tryss turned to see a group of boys, led by Sreil, land nearby. Small packs were strapped to their backs. Seeing them, Tryss sighed with relief. The packs were filled with replacement darts and arrows for the harnesses. The Siyee too young or too old to fight were making them in great numbers. He knew these Green Lake tribesmen would be more enthusiastic about learning to use the harness if there was the prospect of actually killing something.
The boys distributed the darts and arrows while Tryss gave instructions on how to set them into their harnesses. He noted that the sullen man had tightened his harness straps at last. Sreil sent the boys home, then turned to regard Tryss.
“Can I talk to you for a bit?”
Tryss nodded. He turned to the warriors. “Find me something worth hunting,” he told them. “I’ll catch up.”
Several of the men grinned. They turned away and leapt off the cliff. Tryss watched them, making sure all the harnesses were working well. Three days before, a badly made harness had seized up. Its owner had not been far from the ground but he had broken both legs in the fall. Since then Tryss had recommended that harnesses be inspected carefully every day by a member of each tribe proficient in their use and making.
“I spoke to Drilli again,” Sreil said.
Tryss’s heart skipped a beat. He turned to regard Sreil expectantly.
“And?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Sreil added. “Her father practically keeps her locked up in their bower all the time now. I think he suspects something. Mother wasn’t all that subtle about what we were up to that day we met with the Snake River tribe. I wouldn’t be surprised if—”
“Sreil! What did she say?”
The boy grinned. “You are tense today. Anyone would think you were about to get married.”
Tryss crossed his arms and glared at Sreil. Since Tryss had started training the Speaker’s son, he had been pleased to find he got along well with the boy. Nothing bothered Sreil. He found something funny in every situation. Sometimes his sense of humor was deliriously dark, at other times infuriating. Like now.
Sreil put up a hand as if to ward off a blow. “Stop that glaring. You’re scaring me.”
Tryss continued glaring.
“All right. She said ‘yes.’ ”
Two emotions swept through Tryss: relief and a giddy terror. Drilli wanted to marry him. She was willing to defy her father and leave her tribe to become his wife.
He was going to get married.
It’s not like we can’t change our minds in a few years, he told himself. If she decides she doesn’t like me after all.
Still, it meant the end of their childhood. They would be adults, expected to contribute to the tribe to the fullest. Not just the simple chores he did every day for his parents, but the work of gathering food, making bowers and fighting.
Which I’m already doing now anyway. Instead of going home to my parents I’ll go home to Drilli... and maybe a child too, in a year or so.
He smiled, picturing himself playing with his own little son or daughter. The thought was appealing. The things he could teach them...
I just have to survive this war first - and she has to survive having the children.
He turned his mind from that thought. He could not go through life always afraid the worst would happen. People overcame their troubles as they came to them. For now, all he needed to deal with - other than training warriors - was getting Drilli away from her father so a marriage ceremony could take place. For that he needed Sreil’s help.
“So who is going to do the ritual?” he asked. “Your mother?”
Sreil grinned. “No,” he said. “She doesn’t mind people suspecting she had a hand in this, but she doesn’t want anyone knowing for sure. Performing the ritual would make it obvious that she planned it. Once we get Drilli away I’ll fetch one of the other Speakers. The head of the Temple Mountain tribe is still here. I bet he doesn’t know what’s going on.”
“What if he refuses to do it?”
“He can’t. He has to do it. It’s law.”
Tryss took a deep breath. “So when?”
Sreil grimaced. “That depends on Drilli’s father. We’ll have to wait until he and her mother leave her alone in the bower.”
“Can’t we arrange something? Give them some reason to leave?”
Sreil smiled. “Of course. Yes, that’s what we’ll do.” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“For you, maybe,” Tryss retorted. “I’m going to be dying of nerves.” Then he grinned. “I’m glad you’re enjoying helping us, Sreil.”
The other boy shrugged. “I’d better go and start plotting. I think your students have found something worth hunting.”
Tryss searched the sky until he saw the Green Lake warriors. The men were flying in circles, and as he watched, one dived down into the trees.
“I had better make sure they’re being careful.” He nodded at Sreil, then leapt off the cliff and flew toward his latest group of trainee warriors.
30
Danjin’s new clothes - the uniform of an adviser - were stiff and tight. Until now he hadn’t thought it possible that anything could be less comfortable than the fancy garb a nobleman was expected to wear in public. The thick leather vest of the uniform, designed to emulate armor, fitted too closely over a white tunic that looked like a frugal attempt to mimic a priest’s circ. Clearly, whoever had made the uniforms could not decide whether advisers were military or priestly, so they’d mingled elements of both styles of clothing.
The door to his bedroom opened. He turned to find Silava staring at him.
“Appalling, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “If you have an opportunity, lose the vest rather than the tunic. I suspect you’ll look fine in just the tunic, but you haven’t got the body for wearing only the vest.”
He patted his chest and stomach. “What do you mean? Aren’t I manly enough?”
She smirked. “I’m not answering that. If you do rid yourself of both the vest and the tunic, be sure to time it well. Your adversary will probably be blinded by all the white skin. Or laugh so much he drops his sword. Either way, it might give you a chance to run away.”
Danjin huffed with indignation. “Me? Run away?”
He expected a quip about his fitness, but instead her expression became serious.
“Yes,” she said. She walked up to him and gazed into his eyes. “Run away. I’m too young to become a widow.”
“I’m not going to... wait a moment. Too what?”
She pinched his arm, somehow managing to hurt him despite the thick cloth.
“Ow!”
“You deserved that. I’m trying to tell you how much I’m going to worry about you.”
Several cheeky replies sprang to mind but he pushed them away. He gently wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The material of the vest resisted the movement and he felt a stab of resentment that even embracing his wife was difficult in this ridiculous garb.
Silava sniffed. He drew away, surprised. She wiped her tears and turned from him, embarrassed.
“You will... you will be careful?” she asked quietly.
“Of course.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise I will be careful.”
She nodded and drew back. “I’ll hold you to that.” The sound of footsteps approaching drew their attention to the doorway. Their serv
ant appeared, breathing heavily.
“Fa-Spear has arrived.”
Danjin nodded. “I’ll be down to join him in a moment.”
He turned to his wife and kissed her. “Goodbye for now, Silava.”
Her eyes glistened, but her voice was normal as she replied, “Goodbye for now.”
He hesitated, reluctant to leave her when she was upset, but she waved a hand impatiently.
“Go on. Don’t keep your father waiting.”
“No, that would never do.”
She managed a smile. He winked at her, then left the room. As he started down the stairs to the ground floor he drew in a deep breath and steeled himself for his father’s scorn.
It was cold outside, despite the bright morning sunlight. Fa-Spear was waiting in a covered platten. Danjin stepped out of his house and into the vehicle.
“Father,” he said in greeting.
“Danjin,” his father replied. “What a beautiful day to set out for war, eh? I wonder if the gods arranged it.”
“Whether they arrange it or not, every rain-free day will be appreciated,” Danjin replied.
His father leaned back in his seat and called to the driver to move on. As the platten sprang into motion, he regarded Danjin in his typical calculating manner.
“You must be feeling proud today.”
“Proud?”
“You are risking your life for your country. That is something to be proud of.”
Danjin shrugged. “I will not be in any great danger, Father. Certainly nothing equal to what my brothers have faced recently. It takes a braver man than I to venture into the south at this time.”
His father’s eyes gleamed. “Indeed, their job is one that involves taking many risks.”
Danjin chuckled. “Yes. Though it didn’t surprise me when Rian observed that Theran has a habit of taking unnecessary risks.”
“Rian said that?”
“Yes. He also said Theran is not good at following orders either, but I guess that doesn’t come easily to a man who is used to having a free rein.”
Fa-Spear stared at Danjin, his eyes slowly narrowing.
“What do you know of Theran’s travels?”
Danjin shrugged. “Everything he bothered to report. Nirem and Gohren were much more reliable. And careful.”
“You... you knew all along.”
Danjin met and held his father’s eyes. “Of course I did.”
Fa-Spear stared at Danjin, his expression neither approving or disapproving.
“Was it your idea?”
“No,” Danjin answered truthfully. “Even if it had occurred to me, I would not have suggested it. I could not have deliberately sent family members into danger. Rian raised the matter with me beforehand and kept me informed of their activities.”
“I see. Why didn’t you tell us you knew?”
Danjin smiled. “It wasn’t necessary. These sorts of matters are best left undiscussed. For everyone’s sake.”
“So why are you telling me now?”
“Because Rian and his people are too busy preparing for war to tell you the latest news, so I offered to pass it on myself.” Danjin paused. “Theran was taken captive as we suspected, but our people managed to rescue him. He, Nirem and Gohren are on their way home.”
His father nodded, the relief clearly written in his face. The same relief Danjin had felt at the news. While he might not get along well with his brothers, he did not want to see any of them enslaved or killed.
Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to go on. “There is something else you should know, Father. When Theran was captured he was tortured. He revealed many names, including Nirem’s and Gohren’s. Because of this, neither Theran, Nirem or Gohren will be safe if they sail in southern waters. The White have released them from their duties. I recommend you do not send them—”
“No!” Fa-Spear’s eyes blazed. “Theran would never—!”
“He did,” Danjin said firmly. “No man can guess how well he, or another, will stand up to torture. The White know this and do not judge him. They are grateful for all he endured in order to bring us information about the Pentadrians.”
His father looked away, his brow a mass of wrinkles. How forgiving will you be, Father? Danjin thought. You never did have any tolerance for weakness, especially not in your sons.
Fa-Spear was silent for the rest of the journey. The Temple grounds, once neatly scythed grass, were now a mess of mud, tents, carts, soldiers and animals. A long line of platten had formed along the road to the Tower. As the occupants of each disembarked, the vehicles were driven away to a waiting area behind the main Temple buildings.
When their platten finally stopped before the Tower, Danjin waited for his father, as the head of their family, to step out, but the old man did not move. He looked at Danjin, his expression serious.
“Take care of yourself, Danjin,” he said quietly. “You may not be my favorite son, but you are my son, and I do not want to lose you.”
Danjin stared at his father in surprise as the old man rose and climbed down from the platten. He shook his head, then followed.
So this is what it takes. Well, I don’t intend to go to war every time I want him to show he values me in some small way.
“I must take my place,” Danjin said as the platten moved away. “Take care of yourself, Father. And my brothers.”
“I’ll probably have to spend the next year recouping losses from the trade deals we’ve lost in Sennon,” Fa-Spear grumbled quietly. “Go on, then. Go take your place in this unprofitable but necessary war.”
Danjin smiled. Back to his old gruff self. He nodded politely, then turned away to look for his fellow advisers.
The White’s advisers would travel in a tarn together, once the parade left the city. Danjin hadn’t been told where to meet them, but he had a good idea how to find them. After searching for several minutes he saw a small group of men and a few women wearing the same uniform as his own. They looked about as comfortable as he felt, he noted.
They stood in a rough circle beside the platform that had been built for the White to address the army from. Their attention was on something or someone in their midst. As Danjin reached them he saw that Rian was talking to them. He stepped into a gap in the circle.
“Adviser Danjin Spear.” Rian glanced at him, then around the circle. “Now that you are all here there is someone I must introduce.”
Rian glanced over his shoulder, then stepped back. To Danjin’s surprise, a Dreamweaver woman stood a little apart from the group. Rian beckoned and she stepped forward, her gaze wary.
“Dreamweaver Adviser Raeli. She replaces Dreamweaver Leiard, who has resigned in order to dedicate himself to training his student.”
The advisers nodded politely, but the woman did not smile or return the gesture. She met Danjin’s gaze and he realized he had been staring at her out of surprise.
“Then I wish him well,” Danjin said to her. “I found him a useful and reliable fellow adviser.”
The woman acknowledged this with a shallow nod, then looked away. Danjin glanced at Rian. Did Auraya know of this turn of events? She hadn’t mentioned it last night, when she had spoken to him through the ring. He considered asking Rian, but the White had turned abruptly to stare in the direction of the platform. A crowd of high priests and priestesses had gathered before it. Beyond them were the rest of the priesthood. Beyond that was the army. Danjin could just see the plumes on their helmets - blue for the Hanians and red and orange for Somreyans.
“I must leave you now,” Rian stated. “We are nearly ready to begin.”
He made the one-handed gesture of the circle, which all advisers apart from the Dreamweaver woman returned, then hurried away to join Juran, Dyara and Mairae at the platform. After a brief exchange of words, the four White ascended the stairs.
The crowd immediately began to quieten. The White formed a line. As the third strongest, Auraya would normally have stood in the middle of that line,
Danjin noted. Was she watching now?
Of course she is, Danjin thought. But she will be linking with the other White. They’d have the best view from up there. It must be quite a sight.
Juran stepped forward and raised his arms. When the last few voices had dwindled to whispers and murmurs, he let his arms fall to his sides.
“Fellow Circlians. People of Hania and Somrey. Loyal friends and allies. I thank you all for answering my call to arms.
“Today we will set forth for the Plains of Gold. There we will meet with the forces of Genria, Toren and Si. We will form a vast army. It will be a sight to inspire awe. Never before have so many nations of Northern Ithania united in one single purpose.
“It will also be a terrible sight, for what brings us together is war - and not a war of our making. A war brought to us by a foolish and barbaric people, the Pentadrians.” He paused. His voice had been dark with contempt when he had spoken the name of the heathen cult.
“Let me tell you what I know of these Pentadrians. They claim to worship five gods, as we do. But these gods are false. The Pentadrians must enslave and seduce men and women into worshipping them, and they have set forth for Northern Ithania with the intention of forcing us to do so as well. But we will not!” His voice rang out, strong and angry.
Several voices in the crowd rose in reply, shouting denials.
“We will not exchange our gods for these corrupt sorcerer priests!” Juran continued.
“No!” came the reply.
“We will drive them back to their heathen temples.”
“Yes!”
“We will show them what it is to worship real gods, with real power.”
The crowd began to cheer. Juran smiled and let them yell their enthusiasm for a while before speaking again.
“The gods have entrusted us, the White, with great power in order that we can protect you. We have called together an army of our own. We Circlians are not a violent people. We do not relish bloodshed. But we will defend ourselves. We will defend each other. We will defend our right to worship the Circle of Gods. And we will win!”
He raised a fist and shook it at the crowd. The response was deafening. Danjin resisted a smile. With the sun shining and Juran’s confidence infecting all, it was hard to imagine them losing this battle. Not that I can imagine us losing the battle anyway, he mused. How can we fail, when we have the gods on our side?
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