by Dave Smeds
* * *
XXI
LONG BEFORE THEY REACHED the oasis where the main camp of the T'krt was situated, Alemar and Elenya could smell the rich odor of cooking meat. Pork, and lots of it. Though they were many leagues from the Ahloorm, someone must have done some travelling and staged a massive hunt, for it was only there that the boars could be found. It was not until they rode into sight that the twins could guess the reason.
A party of Po-no-pha chanting the T'lil song of life were marching toward them, veils undulating with their singing. The parade surrounded the initiates and lifted them from their saddles onto their own shoulders, carrying them in that fashion the remaining distance to the camp. The entire community had gathered. Jathmir and Toltac, impressive in their red robes, waited at the forefront of the throng. After the new men had been lowered to their feet and lined up, the two Bo-no-ken bowed deeply.
Hands reached forward and removed the veils from the initiates’ faces. Jathmir turned to the crowd.
“Behold, the future of our tribe!"
Then the formality vanished. Relatives rushed forward, friends cried congratulations, and the pits containing the roasting meat were opened. The feast began.
Shigmur found the twins. “Well done. I see you made it through the recitations?"
Alemar sighed. “I never knew God could have so many laws, but we remembered them all.” His Zyraii was fluid. Elenya was almost as proficient. However, there was no question that remembering and repeating the laws of the So-de'es had been the most difficult trial within the rite of passage.
“Good. Now when Urthey finds her tent, you can really enjoy being a family man,” Shigmur said.
“I can?"
Shigmur cleared his throat. “You mean no one has told you?"
“Told us what?"
He pointed up at Urthey. The tiny moon was scarcely visible in the daylight. “Urthey finds her tent” referred to the wandering moon's arrival in the constellation the Zyraii called the Tent, which Alemar knew would occur in about ten days.
Shigmur paused. “Never mind,” he said mischievously.
The twins couldn't coax anything more out of him. He invited them to the party that his family, in cooperation with Omi, Peyri, and their children, had prepared.
* * * *
Elenya was stuffed. She lay on the ground behind her tent, staring at the blood of the darkening western sky. Alemar and other nearby revellers were out of sight. She was feeling good. The food and wine had been superb. Many of the tribe had complimented her on her completion of the pulstrall, and she could tell the comments had been sincere. Even the weather had been blessed. She felt warm and secure. One hand wandered to her crotch and smoothed the wrinkles in the cloth. She murmured, and continued to stroke lightly with the two middle fingers.
“Good evening."
She sat up abruptly. The shadow standing nearby held out a skin of wine.
“What do you want?” she asked sharply.
“I've been throughout the camp to congratulate each of the new men,” Lonal said cordially. “I saved you for last."
“Thank you, war-leader."
“I would have thought you'd be too drunk now to have so much frost in your mouth,” he said, the white of his smile brightening the dusk.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “I was enjoying being alone."
“It looked that way."
“Blasphemer.” Her cheeks were burning.
“Your grasp of our language has certainly improved.” Lonal laughed. “How does one swear in yours? My tutors never taught me."
She pursed her lips, bound not to speak. He waited patiently. Eventually she relented.
“You can't swear in the High Speech. It was the formal language used in the schools and at the royal courts of the Calinin Empire. You'd have to use one of the vulgar forms, and those are unique to each region."
He nodded and sat down beside her, offering her the wineskin. She took a deep draft. “What would the greatest insult be in your country?"
“To call someone a northerner."
“Why?” He was sitting so close she could catch his scent, even over the feast odors on her lips.
“Cilendrodel is at the far north of civilization. Only savages live in the forests and wastelands beyond. I suppose we're sensitive about our provinciality. Barbarian is a big slur as well—anything that implies one is not part of cultured society."
“I see. Well, northerner, it is good to be able to profane one another."
“Yes, it's very manly,” Elenya said.
He sighed. “I am trying to be friendly."
“I'm not,” she answered.
He frowned. “I wonder how good you would be at a manly sport."
“Oh? Which one?"
“I might challenge you to a wrist-wrestling contest."
Wine exaggerated her guffaw.
“Are you a coward?” Lonal suggested.
She lay down on her stomach and put out her left arm, her strongest. He scuttled into position and locked his palm around hers.
“On the count of three,” he said, and began counting.
She pulled immediately. She almost had him down before he tensed. Suddenly his arm felt like iron. He held it there for several moments, while she continued to try to force him down the last few inches. At his leisure, he applied more force and simply laid her arm down.
“I hope a scorpion crawls into your bedroll tonight,” she said.
He didn't let her up. The grip was so tight she had to scoot forward in order to relieve the pain. They were now so close their breaths mingled. “You're goading me like a child. What is it you want?"
She angled herself so that the front of her robe hung open, granting Lonal an enticing view of her cleavage. When his glance shifted, she leaned quickly forward...
...and kissed him.
Lonal's eyes went wide. He sat back, widening the distance between them, watching her carefully. “Why did you do that?” he demanded.
“I wanted to."
“Are you trying to seduce me? I thought you didn't like me."
“I don't."
“Then why?"
“I wanted to see what your reaction would be.” She helped herself to the wineskin. “I wondered if you'd still be able to think of me as a man with my legs wrapped around you."
He took the wine away from her. “Perhaps you've had too much of this."
“Perhaps not enough."
He shook his head. “You're too good a fighter to waste as a breeding ewe."
She leaned toward him. He shifted away.
“I think you're tempted,” she said. “Am I right?"
He hesitated.
“You're too honest,” She smiled. “You want to say no, but you know it wouldn't be true. Why not do what you feel?"
“Men don't love other men,” he said firmly.
“I don't believe that."
“There may be those who do, but they are brought to punishment if their habits are made public. A war-leader cannot be so daring. He must be a paragon, or lose the loyalty of his people."
“I am an invented man, and everyone knows it."
“But they obey the edict."
“Especially you,” she said hotly.
“The law is a powerful force among my people. I would be stupid not to use it as best I can."
She grabbed the wineskin back from him and turned away. “Leave me alone,” she murmured.
He waited several moments, then climbed to his feet and did as she asked.
* * * *
The celebration lasted for two days, then life resumed its normal routine in the T'lil camp. The new men strutted about enough to get used to their new status, then their seniors began to reteach them humility. Families who had gathered from far ranges for the occasion returned to their herds, leaving a few of their young men. Fumlok told the twins that the latter were preparing to patrol the trade routes. There had been trouble with some of the caravans this season, though he would not specify what k
ind. They were told to make themselves ready as well.
Urthey waxed, showed its red-and-orange face, withered to a crescent, and entered the constellation of the Tent. That night, Elenya preceded Alemar to bed. He lingered in the common section, caught up in contemplation. On the whole, life among the T'lil had improved. Their newly instated adulthood had eliminated much of the distrust they had been subject to. They were officially T'lil. Their skills could now be looked on as community assets, and therefore the tribe was more prepared to accept and compliment them. And the ceaseless lessons were behind them.
He could hear activity on the other side of the purdah. The wives had been carrying themselves more proudly in the past few days. The improvement in the status of the twins evidently reflected upon the women.
Eventually Alemar retired to his niche, though he was not sleepy. He could hear soft snores through the cloth that separated his and Elenya's sections. He had only just lain down when the curtain to the common area parted.
Omi stood in the opening, holding a lamp in front of her naked body.
His heart skipped a beat. She knelt down just inside the entrance and waited. The flickering light danced across her body. She was not beautiful. The stretch marks on her abdomen told the story of the children she had borne. Yet Alemar was not repulsed. He saw something alluring in her shyness. She smelled female.
“What is it?” he murmured.
Her breathing contained a hint of panic. “It is the Night of the Wife. The proper interval has passed since the pulstrall ended."
“I don't know what that means."
“You are a man now. A wife must serve her husband."
“Oh."
When he failed to say more, Omi bit her lip. “You do not desire me? I am ugly?"
“No, no. It's just unexpected.” Alemar almost didn't get the words out. His mouth had turned to cotton.
“I can go away,” she said. “It is not demanded of you."
“Do you want to go away?"
“I ... I want to serve my husband."
Alemar took a deep breath. He stared at the matting, mind in turmoil, trying to ignore Omi's presence. He stayed that way for a long time.
When he glanced up, Omi was trembling. Tears welled on her eyelashes as she turned to go.
Tears did not come easily to Zyraii faces, not even those of the women. As she reached for the curtain, his paralysis vanished. "Na," he said.
Omi stopped, automatically obedient. Timorously, she placed the lamp to the side and crawled closer to Alemar. He frowned when she paused.
“What's wrong?"
“We didn't know what to do,” Omi said slowly. “We needed to ask you. Your brother—Peyri will go to him later if he wishes. What is correct?"
Alemar smiled. “Tell Peyri to stay where she is. My ‘brother’ will not be offended. I will explain things to him in the morning."
Omi suddenly beamed. She almost pranced out of the niche, disappeared behind the purdah, and popped back into sight happier than Alemar had ever seen her.
“We try always to be good wives, but some things are easier than others,” Omi explained, snuggling into Alemar's bedroll as he lifted the blankets.
The sensation of a warm body against his seemed foreign. Omi scooted against him and lay on her back, eyes shyly downcast. Alemar was on his side. At first, he only stared at her—at the crinkles of her nipples, the pattern of her body hair. Finally he reached out and cupped one of her breasts.
It was soft, a membrane of fluid, mobile and yielding to the touch, not firm and definite of shape as he had expected. It seemed odd to find such a pliant spot floating on such hard, prominent ribs. And it was cool, unlike the rest of her torso. He held it until it warmed under his palm.
She stroked his side, callused hands surprisingly gentle. She was looking at him now, searching his face. It was his turn to avert his glance. He felt terribly young. He was as exposed as he had been on Dark Night. The scab was gone now, but he was still changed, and it had stolen his confidence.
Omi realized what was happening. She uttered a short laugh, the first compassionate laugh he had heard in this land, sweet enough to assuage his nervousness. She made him lie back and gently proved to him that some things were the same as before.
* * *
XXII
HER FATHER HAD LEFT FOR the main house only a minute before Lerina heard a knock on the door. He must have forgotten something. Then why the knock? She glanced out one of the windows and saw the silhouette of a man. She couldn't make out his features, but she didn't need to. She rushed to fling open the door.
He was dressed in black seal hide, the uniform of an Elandri diver, his hair still tousled from his swim. He was more handsome than she had remembered. She stared. He did likewise, a long time straight at her, then at the baby at her breast.
“I waited to name them,” she said. “I wanted you to be here to help me choose."
He took the baby from her and cradled it. It protested. “Ssssh,” he told it. “You may never see your father again. Have some respect.” To their delight, the infant obeyed, burbling contentedly and falling asleep in his arms the way newborns will.
“So small,” he murmured.
“They didn't feel small coming out.” She smiled. “And they're twice as big now as they were then."
“Is this the boy?"
“No, the girl. I was considering calling her Elenya, after my mother."
“A good name. How about Alemar for the son, both for my own father and my famous ancestor, the Dragonslayer? At least he will bear some mark of his heritage."
Lerina's eyes went wide. “You weren't joking—you are the king of Elandris!"
He chuckled. “No.” He suddenly realized where they were and entered the cottage. Lerina closed the door. “I am a cousin of King Pranter, so distant that were I not royalty, no one would have bothered to calculate the relationship."
She raised the baby boy out of its cradle and brought him forward. “But you were worth a healing spell."
“Not for that reason, exactly. Any of the Blood who can make the talismans of Alemar work—the belt in my case—is looked after by the king."
“The talismans?"
“We have a great deal to discuss,” he said. “How long until your father returns?"
She knew then that he was here only for the night at most. But by heaven, she would make the most of the hours they had.
* * * *
Lord Dran had apparently been contentedly asleep. He shuffled into the great hall of Garthmorron Hold, Lerina in the lead. Dran was a stout man. The grey in his voluminous beard made him appear almost elderly, though Keron knew him to be just over forty.
Outside an owl screeched. Mice rustled under the floor. It was that hour when one's own breathing sounds like a gale. The light came from a few candles, supplemented by the nearly dead embers in the fireplace, just enough to define the carvings, brasswork, tapestries, and paintings that decorated the walls.
“I'm sorry to disturb your rest, my lord,” Keron said. “It was important to talk to you when no others could hear."
Dran looked askance at Lerina, then to the quiet figure of Cosufier Elb-Aratule, who waited in the background near the hearth, then back to Keron. “Just who are you, sir?"
“I am Keron Olendim, admiral of the northern fleet of royal Elandris. I am the father of Lerina's twins."
The sleepiness vanished from the lord of Garthmorron's eyes. “You are a bold man to come here. What is to stop me from rousing my household?"
“Nothing,” Keron answered seriously. “Though capturing or killing me might take more than you imagine. I believe you will be well satisfied to have heard me out, however."
Dran turned to his gamekeeper. “Cosufier?"
“Hear him,” Lerina's father said simply.
Dran sank into one of his sumptuous sofas. “Very well, then. I'm listening."
Keron produced a pouch and inverted it. He caught the amath pearl as it rol
led out and lifted it up for Dran to see.
“Take it. Examine it."
Dran's hands trembled as he reached for it. Cradling it carefully, he placed it next to the candle and peered at the iridescent surface for a full minute.
“This is real,” he whispered.
“And it is yours,” Keron said. “Assuming, of course, you agree to my plan."
Dran sat up straight. “You'll not bribe me into your war, sir. We've suffered enough disruption of trade. Garthmorron is neutral."
“The war may force you into a decision of one sort or another before too many years,” Keron said. “But I respect your position. I am not suggesting a political alliance. This is a personal matter."
“Go on,” Dran said, suspicion evident, though he kept a paternal grip on the pearl.
“You lost your wife and son a number of years ago, and have not been inclined to remarry. Garthmorron is at present without an heir."
“That is correct."
Lerina had taken a seat next to Keron, who put his arm around her. “I cannot stay here to care for my children. I am married, with sons and daughters, and an important station in Elandris. Soon, I suspect, my duties will not even allow me to return to Cilendri waters at all. I have two choices. I can be separated from Lerina and our offspring, or take them with me."
“And I would go,” Lerina interjected.
Keron's expression was bittersweet. “It hinges on you, Lord Dran. You see, these children are of the Blood. They are the descendants of Alemar Dragonslayer. As such, they have potentials and a heritage which must not be wasted. I would gladly take them to Elandris, and endure the mutters behind my back, and will if necessary to ensure that, should they be the ones to remanifest the great wizard's full power, they will be properly trained to apply those talents to our efforts against Gloroc. But I prefer not to do so. In Elandris, they would be targets. In the last decade, Gloroc has begun to systematically assassinate any who carry Alemar's blood. He has already succeeded in killing two of my children—one of them a girl child of four years.” His voice became husky.
“You want to hide them here,” Dran said.
“Yes. If the Dragon doesn't know about little Alemar and Elenya, he can't hurt them. At the moment, only we in this room, and two of my most trusted men, know of their origins. I will not even tell the king unless it seems necessary. It is my wish that no one else learn of them. Even the children themselves must not be told until they are of such an age that their discretion may be trusted."
