Tuyo

by Neumeier, Rachel

  That fear had occurred to me. I was ashamed he had seen it in my face. Or maybe he only thought of what any young man might fear in my place, and so spoke to that. I bowed my head to show that I accepted his word. Then I remembered I should not and looked up in confusion.

  Lord Aras made no comment about my mistakes. He gestured to the bolster. “Lie down, Ryo. Go to sleep.” He blew out one lantern and then the others and waved the other men out before him, leaving me alone except for one soldier who stayed by the door, watching me. One Lau soldier should not be able to prevent me from doing anything I chose, except that if he called out, twenty other soldiers would certainly come.

  Night had come long since, but the coals in the brazier glowed dully, preserving the tent from falling entirely into a thick darkness. The soldier by the door stayed in that place. Lord Aras had said no one would come near me, and I could not see any reason he should have lied in that or in anything. I turned my back to the soldier, and tried to stay awake and think about everything that had happened. But I was too weary. Almost at once, my thoughts dissolved into meaningless scattered memories and feelings, and I slept.

  -3-

  When I woke, at first I did not know where I was. A tent, of course, but it was not my mother’s tent, nor the tent I had shared with other young men. The scents were different; not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. Oil and smoke and spices ... I jerked the rest of the way awake and sat up, abruptly remembering everything. My heart pounded in my chest as though I had woken into a night terror.

  This was the tent of Lord Aras, warleader of the Lau, to whom I had been given as tuyo. His pallet was across the tent from my place, but he was not there. No one was in the tent except me. Only a little light came through the canvas, but enough to know morning had come. I had slept a long time. Nothing had woken me. I was embarrassed to have slept so deeply in the tent of ... perhaps not an enemy, but then I did not know what other word to choose.

  I could not lie still and pretend I had not woken, though I was briefly tempted. Getting to my feet, I went to the entrance of the tent, put back the flap, and looked out at the day. Already most of the other tents had been taken down. A soldier waiting outside the tent turned toward me, and I bowed my head in respect. I said, “I do not wish to cause trouble. There is a trench?”

  The soldier showed me the place. Then he took me back to the warleader’s tent and gestured for me to go back in. I obeyed, stooping to enter the dim, close warmth. I knelt on the floor of the tent and thought, in some amazement, about everything that had happened during the previous day. I would not have believed such events if they occurred in a tale I heard or read. I waited to see what might happen next.

  After a little time had passed, not long, I heard men approaching—steps and voices. I recognized the warleader’s voice. Lord Aras. His tone was brisk, but I heard no irritation in it, only impatience. I remembered I should not kneel and got to my feet instead.

  Lord Aras ducked through the doorway of the tent, his scepter in his hand. He glanced around swiftly, and lit the lanterns one after another, each with nothing but a brief moment of attention.

  I had not realized he was a sorcerer until that moment. The possibility had not occurred to me at all. I stood where I was, in the center of the tent, struck motionless by terror and revulsion.

  He turned sharply to look at me. “Ryo?”

  I should have tried to strangle him in his sleep after all. The only good time to strike down a sorcerer is in his sleep. I had missed the chance. If I tried to kill him now, quickly, before any of his people could come in, could I possibly do it? Probably it would be impossible. No sorcerer can be taken by surprise when he is awake.

  I had slept a whole night in his tent. He might already have set his sorcerous leash on me, on my will or my heart or my mind, so that I could not raise my hand against him. I could not feel anything different in myself. But I did not know what that kind of sorcery would feel like. Perhaps one would not be able to tell.

  “Ryo—” he began, beginning to step away from me.

  Before he could get away or call for help, while I might still have the chance, I threw myself at him.

  Of course I had no weapons, but I hit him bodily, flinging him down, driving my fist toward his throat with all my strength. I meant to crush his throat so he could not breathe, if I did not break his neck outright. But he was fast. He took the force of my blow with his forearm, though with a sharp grunt of pain, and twisted hard, trying to throw me off. He was not nearly as strong as I was; the Lau are not, but he fought hard. Before I could strike a decisive blow, many soldiers were there, kicking me and striking with the flats of their swords, forcing me back.

  I did not understand at first why they did not kill me. Then I realized that Lord Aras was speaking sharply to them, bidding them hold. This terrified me. Garoyo would never have put me into his hands if he had known the Lau warleader was a sorcerer. Never. In all our tales, there is no worse fate than to fall into the power of a sorcerer. I should throw myself at his men and make them kill me now. But I knew they would not. Their master wanted me alive.

  He had gotten to his feet. I had not even injured him badly; he had not needed help to stand. I flinched when I realized I had met his eyes, and at once bowed my head to avoid his gaze. In tales, sometimes that could help.

  He spoke to me with quiet urgency. “Ryo, it was only a cantrip. A small thing, not sorcery. I am a very minor magician, I promise you—and sorcery is different from ordinary magic. Sorcery is illegal among my people too, surely you know that? Ordinary magic is small and not frightening. Anyone might use a little cantrip to light a lantern or chill wine or—or drive mice out of the pantry. That was not sorcery. Ryo, can you hear me?”

  He was speaking softly and clearly, as a man might speak to a frightened dog. Perhaps that was the way a sorcerer spoke to a man he wished to make into his dog. Sorcerers leash men, putting obedience into their hearts and bending them to whatever use they wish. But still I could not feel anything different in my mind or my heart.

  He had not stopped me with his sorcery after I knocked him down. If his people had not saved him, I could have killed him. I did not understand how I could have come that close to killing a sorcerer. I did not understand why he did not put his will on me now.

  “Ryo,” he said. “Can you hear me yet? Lighting those lanterns was an act of minor magic, a kind of magic that is different from sorcery. We use cantrips of that kind for a thousand small tasks. That’s not sorcery, Ryo. It’s not sorcery. No one has done anything to you with sorcery. Certainly I haven’t.”

  I nodded to show I had heard him. I did not believe him, but I tried the idea in my mind. Magic, not sorcery. A kind of magic that was not the same as sorcery. It was true that lighting a lantern with a glance was not like the sorcery my people feared. I drew in a slow breath. Magic to light lanterns and chill wine. Not the same as sorcery. It seemed possible. But in the tales we Ugaro told, sorcerers could do both kinds of things. In the Lau tales I had read, that was true as well. But he said the things were different.

  I had come close to killing him. I came back to that. I did not understand how I could have come so close if he were a sorcerer. He had not used sorcery to stop me. He said he was only a minor magician. He said his people used this magic casually. Certainly he had brought flame to those lanterns as though it were nothing to cause anyone to comment. He had not expected me to care that he did it. I thought of the impatience with which he had glanced at the lanterns and realized that he had not expected me even to notice that he did such a thing.

  It seemed possible I had misunderstood. I began to believe I might have made a terrible mistake.

  Another breath. Finally I looked past the soldiers and met his gaze, trying not to flinch. “A ... cantrip,” I repeated carefully. “This is magic. I saw these words in the Lau tales I read. But I thought it was all sorcery.”

  He nodded understanding. “I promise you, simple magic is not the same as
sorcery. Magic is much more common, but it’s small and unimportant and harmless. I give you my word, I swear before the gods, no one has done anything to you with sorcery. Truly, Ryo.”

  I thought this might be true. I could not see why he would trouble to lie to me, if he were a sorcerer. His men looked impatient now, disgusted, as though I had been stupid and they scorned me for it. They did not look like the slaves of a sorcerer defending their master because their will had been stolen from them. I was not certain what that would look like, but I thought not like this.

  Perhaps Lord Aras spoke the truth. I was beginning to see his words might be true. I was beginning to believe they must be true. He was looking at me steadily, waiting for me to think. No sorcerer in any tale would have waited so patiently.

  Nothing made sense unless he spoke the truth. I had been wrong. He was not a sorcerer.

  I could not imagine what he must think of me. Or, no. I could imagine very well what he must think. I could feel the heat rising into my face. There was nothing I could say. No apology could possibly be sufficient. I went to my knees, bowed with my face to the floor, and waited for the earth and the sky to fall upon me.

  Nothing happened. Lord Aras murmured to his men, bidding them put away their weapons. They were reluctant, for which I could not blame them, but he was patient and would not give way. “He won’t do that again,” he told them. “I’m grateful for your vigilance, believe me, but there’s no danger now. No, of course I can’t take your sword, Lucas, you know better, but if you would hand me my scepter, I would be grateful; I’m not altogether certain I can bend well enough to pick it up. Very well, yes, you may stay with me. If the rest of you would please go. You all have far more important tasks to see to, so if you would kindly be about those rather than hovering here. Go on, please.”

  They did not want to obey him; some of them argued that he should kill me immediately, or at least bind me hand and foot. I could hardly set any fault against them for that. In their place, I would have said the same. But though Lord Aras spoke softly, he was inexorable, and soon he had his way. There was another little pause, and then he said to me at last, gently, “Ryo, can you look at me?”

  I straightened and looked him in the face. I studied him carefully, as though I might see behind his narrow, fine-boned Lau face to the truth. Of course one cannot tell a sorcerer from other men merely by looking at his face. But I knew he could not be a sorcerer. If nothing else, I would have known by the way his people argued with him. No one can dispute like that with a sorcerer. A sorcerer makes men obey; he does not argue.

  Besides Lord Aras, only the talon commander remained in the tent. He did not look angry now, though very much on his guard. His sword was in its sheath, but he stood with his hand on the hilt, all his attention on me. I was not afraid of one Lau, even if he had a weapon and I did not. But Lord Aras was right: obviously I would not attack again. I had made mistakes enough in my life; what man has not? But never any so disgraceful as this.

  I said, “I am very sorry, lord. I did not ... I was . . .” I did not know how to finish my apology. There was no way to finish it. I said, “My actions were unpardonable. I will not protest any punishment you give me.”

  He shook his head a little. “I hardly think punishment would be appropriate. I’m sorry I frightened you. Everyone knows better than to use casual magic around Ugaro; certainly I know better, but I’m not from the borderlands and I forgot.” He too watched me carefully, no doubt in case I might suddenly attack him a second time, or panic and flee, or do some other mad thing. But he said, “I know how your people hate and fear sorcery and sorcerers. The first mistake was mine. The customary penalty for attacking a scepter-holder fortunately doesn’t apply, as you’re not a subject of my king. I think we might do best to set the whole incident in the past.”

  Now I was staring at him. I had not expected any answer remotely like this, and I did not know what to say.

  He went on, his tone now wry. “Though I admit, it might be easier to forget this accident if you hadn’t hit me so hard. Lucas, please try to relax. Ryo isn’t going to attack me again, and I could use your assistance. I think one or two ribs are probably cracked.” He began to take off his coat and shirt as he spoke, his movements cautious.

  His talon commander took his hand off the hilt of his sword and came to help the warleader, though with one eye still on me. “You might have mentioned this earlier,” he said testily. “Let me do that. No, stop trying to help.”

  Lord Aras dropped his hands to his sides and stood still, smiling a little, while the other man eased his shirt off. A Lau’s skin was the same rich brown all over, apparently. The muscles of the warleader’s back and arms were much more defined than those of an Ugaro man. I saw the difference clearly now. No wonder the Lau suffered from cold. They had no fat at all over their muscles. It was strange, more different than the color of their skin. When I looked closely, I could see that where I had struck him, there was some swelling and softness, and the skin was a little darker, almost purple instead of brown. He had shown no signs of pain ... no, he had. There had been a slight stiffness, and he had said he did not want to bend to pick up his scepter. But I had not realized I had broken his ribs.

  I bowed to the floor and said, “I beg your pardon, lord. I am very sorry for the blow. Is your arm broken as well?”

  “Very nearly,” he answered, sounding amused. “No, I don’t believe so, though the bruise is going to be impressive. When you speak to me, say my lord. You are still under my personal authority. And please get up. Haven’t I said we’ll leave this in the past?”

  “Your arm too?” demanded Talon Commander Samaura, coming back with a strip of cloth to use for a bandage. He looked at his warleader’s arm and clicked his tongue. “Let me see you move your fingers.”

  “It’s merely bruised,” Lord Aras told him. “I think.” He flexed his arm gingerly, opening and closing his fingers. The talon commander gave me a hard look, and Lord Aras added, still mildly, “Don’t blame Ryo. My carelessness was to blame.”

  I had straightened again, though I did not get to my feet. I was certain the talon commander would not like me to stand. I said, forcing myself not to lower my gaze when the warleader looked at me, “I am grateful for your leniency, my lord. But I do not understand why you do not punish me for so serious a mistake. At the very least, I should be beaten. If a prisoner had raised his hand against my father in such a way, his hand would be struck off, and that would be counted generous.” For speaking a false accusation, I should have my tongue cut out, but I did not say that. That was a worse and more shameful punishment even than losing a hand, but I knew he would not do it; not after he had spared me so that he could make use of my ability to speak darau.

  He said gently, “I think you’re quite a bit harsher with yourself than necessary, Ryo. You were badly frightened. Any Ugaro would have been as frightened—and I doubt many would have listened to any explanation. I just hope next time you’ll allow me to explain before you try to kill me. Lucas, my ribs?”

  “If you’re sure you’re ready,” the talon commander said drily. First he ran his hand across the injured area to be sure no ribs were badly broken. The cracked ribs were the low ones, too far from the lungs to be dangerous, so that was better than it might have been. Evidently none of the bones was too badly broken, for the talon commander wound the bandage tightly around the warleader’s chest, as one does, and tucked in the end, as one does, and did not sound too unhappy when he said, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t slip your mind to have a real physician look at this, but I think it could’ve been worse.”

  “It could definitely have been worse,” Lord Aras answered, smiling at him. “If you’d help me with my shirt again. Thank you.” I would not have noticed the way he held his arm a little closer to his body on the left side if I had not known.

  Then he turned to me. “We’re going to withdraw south in about ten minutes,” he told me. “I believe your brother will respect t
he tuyo custom and decline to turn and attack, but who knows how near allies might be? I doubt very much that inGara’s allies would hesitate to attack us if they get a chance, regardless of whether the tuyo custom binds your brother. What do you think?”

  This was all true—although allies of my people would not like to attack across the body of an inGara tuyo. If Ugaro and Lau had not been at war, such a thing would not even be considered. But as it was, the warleader was right. I said, “I think that could be so.”

  “Then it seems best not to delay unnecessarily.” Lord Aras nodded to the talon commander, collected his scepter from the table where he had laid it aside, beckoned to me, and went out of the tent.

  I got to my feet, wary because I thought Talon Commander Samaura might chose to show his anger now. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword again, his grip hard enough that his knuckles had paled a little. I said to him, “The fault was mine. I will take your blow if you wish.”

  He looked at me hard. But he said, sounding resigned now rather than angry, “Far be it from me to punish you for an act Aras forgives. Though if you do anything like that again, I’ll do my best to make you wish you’d just suffered the fate customary for a tuyo.”

  I had no doubt he meant it. I bowed my head and obeyed his gesture, going in front of him out of the tent.

  -4-

  Almost all the Lau had already gone, riding south in their formations. There were twenty and twenty and twenty again in the formation we joined, and I knew because I asked Talon Commander Samaura that ours was the last of eight such formations. Counting like that, I could see that Lord Aras had brought a full talon. That was even more than I had thought. My stomach clenched to a hard knot, thinking of so many soldiers coming unexpectedly against the camps of my people.