Tuyo

by Neumeier, Rachel

  That made the soldiers change their minds. Suddenly they were all pretending they were not interested at all.

  “That’s got it,” Geras said quietly.

  I soon saw that this was true. Word obviously spread quickly, and although many men still turned to look at me, they did not try to come close and seldom reached to touch the hilt of a weapon.

  As we came among the tents, I saw that women rather than men tended many of the cooking fires, and moved here and there about other tasks. I could not help but stare. Ugaro warriors do not take their wives or sisters or daughters into a camp of war, except sometimes a singer, and that is not the same at all. Perhaps these soldiers were so many they did not fear defeat and so were not concerned about risk to those to whom they owed protection. Such arrogance seemed most unwise to me, for only the gods know what the turning of the days may bring. But it was hardly my place to speak on such a matter. I made no comment.

  The cooking fires were big, with stones laid in them for cooking, or pots set directly into the coals. Eight or twice eight soldiers sat around each fire, sometimes more, many with one or two women preparing food for them. As we passed one of the cooking fires more closely, I looked at the women with interest, for I had seen few Lau women in my life. I had not been old enough to escort our women when trade between our people and the Lau had been easy.

  We take young women or girls occasionally in raids against other tribes of our own people. The young men who go on such raids carry blunted weapons; the girls who will be carried away sew the white tails of ermine onto their sleeves to show that they are the ones the warriors should take up. After they bring the girls back to their own people, the young men court them with great care. It is enormously embarrassing when a girl sends word to her brothers that she is unhappy and wishes to go back to her mother’s tent. Everyone knows a story about a young man who pressed a girl too hard and lost her in that way.

  But Ugaro warriors never carry away Lau women. All the stories we tell of such incidents make it clear that neither they nor their children can bear the cold of the winter country. The occasional children born to both kinds of people live in the borderlands among the Lau. One sometimes sees a Lau with a little Ugaro blood, but the reverse is very rare.

  Now I saw for myself that no Lau woman would be fit for the winter country. There were two women at the fire we passed most closely, and both straightened and turned and stared, wide-eyed, as I and my guards came near. It was hard for me to judge Lau ages, but they seemed young to me. Still, they were nearly as tall as the men—certainly taller than I. They cropped their hair even shorter than a Lau man would, right against their heads, but of course for a woman it is different. A man never cuts his hair except to show he is ashamed. I could not imagine why a woman would do such a thing, but she may do it if she wishes and it will not suggest to anyone that she should be ashamed.

  These Lau women were beautiful as the small deer are beautiful, but they were not very womanly. There was no roundness to them. They had delicate features, graceful necks, small breasts, long limbs, narrow waists, slender hands, and small feet. They wore simple garments of undyed cloth that swept from collar-bone to ankle but left their arms bare. Their brown skin was fine and smooth.

  One of these women murmured when she looked at me, a wordless sound of astonished alarm, and many of the soldiers at that fire immediately got to their feet, setting their hands to their weapons. I stopped. I could hardly see how this could end well, but I did not have any idea what to do. If I looked away and walked past, even that would not help: I could tell they would come after me.

  This time it was Esau who stepped past me and thrust out a hand, shoving the nearest man back hard. He said, his tone bored, “Get your ear to the ground, man. Don’t you know this Ugaro is Lord Gaur’s personal guest?”

  The soldier plainly thought he might not care and did not like to be shoved, but another man grabbed his arm and said in an undertone, “That’s Esau Karuma, out of Ianan’s fifth division.” At this, not only the one soldier, but most of the other men near enough to hear, drew back and looked away. Suyet leaned near, grinning, and whispered, “Most famous brawler in the whole army.” Esau pretended he did not hear.

  Geras glanced at Suyet and said, a little sternly, “Run ahead and tell our division what’s toward. Let Aedani know we’ll have a guest for the noon meal.”

  My youngest guard nodded, still smiling, and jogged ahead of us. I went on with my other guards, though now I took more care and did not look at the women so openly. Finally it seemed we had come to the right place, because although many soldiers looked up when they saw me, their manner was not the same. These soldiers were much less hostile.

  “Our talon,” Geras said with satisfaction. “Here, our division’s this way. Those tents there.”

  Among the Lau, a file is eight men and a division is eight files. I knew that was twenty, three times, and four more. A talon is eight divisions, which was too many for me for me to think about properly. I asked, “How many talons are here?”

  Geras gave me a straight look. “Nine of Lord Gaur’s, and three that belong to Lord Kasurat. Every lord of the borderland counties has called up his own men, and our king sent four lords general before he gave up and sent Lord Gaur, so there’re concentrations like this up and down the borderlands. How many Ugaro are across the river?”

  Far, far fewer. He knew that. He meant me to think about it. I did. I wondered whether Royova inVotaro knew so many Lau soldiers had come to the borderlands of the summer country. If I had not given my oath, I might have gotten away to warn the inVotaro warleader. Now I could not.

  At last my guards turned off the path to go among the tents. The soldiers here sat comfortably around fires, eating their noon meal. Around the fires we approached sat twenty men and a few more, Suyet among them. Also three women, two young and wearing undyed cloth as before, but one older, perhaps the age of my oldest brother, perhaps older than that. This woman wore similar clothing, but I guessed she must be a woman of higher status, for hers had been dyed in the rich, bright colors the Lau prefer. Though the garment was almost as simple, the color was like rubies poured into cloth, and a sash yellow as sunlight crossed between her breasts and wrapped around her slender waist. She wore three slender golden bangles around one wrist, and little red crystals in her ears. I had known Lau women and sometimes men pierced their ears, but I had never seen it before.

  I pretended not to notice the women, though they jumped to their feet and backed up a little when they saw me. But the men looked more at Geras than at me and did not get up or show offense that I had come there.

  Geras held out his hand to the older woman, who hesitated only an instant before she came forward. She was fine-boned and delicate as the younger Lau women, with none of the roundness that comes to Ugaro women with age. She looked at me with great curiosity and, so far as I could tell, no fear, though when I met her eyes, she lowered her gaze from mine at once.

  “Ryo inGara, my wife, Aedani,” Geras told me. He was watching me carefully, as one would expect at such a moment, but he said to his wife, “Dani, this is Lord Gaur’s Ugaro, Ryo inGara, son of the lord of the inGara. I promise you, Ryo is a polite and respectful young man. He speaks darau, probably better than I do.”

  I had been surprised and a little shocked that Geras would be among the Lau who had brought a wife into a camp of war, set in a place where battle might come. Nor had he warned me he would bring me to his own wife’s tent. But at least now I understood how I should behave, which made me feel better when surrounded by so much that was strange. I nodded to the woman and said in my most polite manner, “I thank you for your hospitality, Aedani, and for the place you offer me at your fire.”

  There was a little stir among the men. Two of them laughed. I did not know what had amused them and pretended not to notice, because if I noticed such a thing I would be offended, and Lord Aras had commanded that I refrain from answering any insult.

 
; Geras’ wife looked up again with wide eyes. Her gaze went to her husband and then returned to me. But then she smiled and answered courteously, “I am pleased and honored that any guest of Lord Gaur should choose to eat with my husband and his men. Please, sit and be welcome.”

  Though polite, this seemed a strange way to speak. Among Ugaro, if a woman is present, the tent and the fire belong to her. When a woman prepares food, she offers it to whomever she pleases, with no obligation to serve anyone. A man whose mother or wife or sister is displeased with him must shift for himself, and soon grows weary of the plain fare men know how to prepare. Now I wondered whether, among Lau, or at least among soldiers, perhaps the tents might be more like those of young unmarried men and so belonged to the soldiers, even though Geras’ wife was here. I set the puzzle aside to consider at a later time.

  Geras went aside to talk to other soldiers somewhere else, but Esau and Suyet stayed with me, one to either side. I looked into the fire so that I would not give offense by looking at any of the Lau, though it should be for Geras’ wife to decide whether anything I did offended her. I wondered whether the younger women were her daughters or her younger sisters or the wives of other men, but I did not ask. They did not come near me or look directly at me, but moved softly around the fire, giving the men food and cups of thin ale. I tried not to seem to look at them, but their very quiet drew the eye.

  Geras’ wife Aedani brought me food herself. This was a round loaf of bread that had been hollowed out and filled with a thick, spicy stew of cracked wheat and lentils and beef. Besides this, there were crocks of soft, white cheese sweetened with honey, and apples to eat with the cheese. It was not like any food Ugaro would make. But it had been a long time since I had eaten anything, and I found, despite my unease, that I was very hungry.

  At first no one said anything. Then the men began to speak to one another, ignoring me. The women did not take a place by the fire, nor did they speak to each other or to the soldiers, but brought more food and then stepped back, their eyes lowered. This seemed strange and uncomfortable, but I did not comment.

  At last Suyet asked me in a friendly way, as though continuing an earlier conversation, “But how did you know the killing cold was coming, Ryo?”

  His expression was guileless, but everyone immediately stilled to hear what I would say. It was obvious what Suyet wanted from me. After a moment, I answered, “I felt it. The pressure of it. I heard it, the silence of it. The birds become still first, and the little animals. At home, our dogs know it before we do, and our ponies. There is almost always enough time for everyone to find shelter.”

  Everyone was listening, of course. Suyet nodded and said, his manner as easy as though we spoke privately, “Our horses had no idea, but of course they wouldn’t. You saved us all. You saved Lord Gaur. Why did you? Everyone is wondering.”

  I thought about the kind of truth I would not mind telling all these Lau. Finally I said, “If you had been pursuing my brother or going toward my mother’s camp, that would have been different. I would have said nothing. But you were going back to your own country. You were almost at the river. Lord Aras had been generous to me. My people have seen one and another Lau warleader, but I think perhaps we have not seen one like your scepter-holder. I would not have wished him to die there in that way.”

  There was a little stir when I said that. The soldiers liked that I had said it. But one of them leaned forward, looking hard at me. “Word is, back in the winter country, before the river, you tried to kill him. That true?”

  I felt the heat rise into my face. “I made a mistake. I thought he was a sorcerer. He was extraordinarily generous to me.”

  The man continued to frown at me. “When there’s a gods-hated sorcerer causing problems, Lord Gaur takes care of it. He takes care of whatever problems other people can’t deal with. That’s why he’s here, dealing with your gods-hated—”

  “Hold hard,” Esau ordered, glancing up.

  He had not spoken forcefully, but the other man sat back a little and said in a different tone “—dealing with the problems here.”

  “Yes,” I answered quietly. “He has explained that to me.”

  Suyet told them, his manner as easy as before, “Ryo’s taken oath to Lord Gaur. He gave him a knife. Would someone please give Ryo an apple?”

  Aedani took the fruit from one of the other women and brought it to me herself, quietly, bowing her head as she offered it. I smiled at her in thanks as I took it, and for a moment she met my eyes. Then she stepped back again.

  “There you go,” Suyet said to me in the same cheerful tone, “Cut it for us, Ryo. Let’s see how sharp that knife is.”

  I thought now I knew why Lord Aras had chosen both Suyet and Esau for my guards. I drew the knife. It was certainly sharp. I cut the apple into quarters and cored the pieces, then cleaned the knife with a cloth Aedani gave me, taking the chance to examine it. The blade showed the ripples of the best workmanship. Gold wire had been inlaid along the guard in a complicated pattern. No one could doubt that this knife had belonged to the scepter-holder. I slipped it away and ate my piece of the apple, slowly, thinking about the gift of that knife and the way Suyet had made certain everyone knew of it.

  The apple was crisp, sweet with the autumn that lingered so long in the summer country. None of the fruits of the winter country are so sweet and mild. We had traded for fruit of this kind, before the war.

  One of the soldiers, not the one who had spoken before, said after a little while, “So you took oath to Lord Gaur. Your people keep their oaths, do they?”

  That made Esau straighten sharply. It would not have been right to permit a Lau to answer that kind of insult on my behalf, so I said, meeting the soldier’s eyes, “I am certain you do not mean to express doubt of inGara honor. I am certain of this because doubts of that kind demand drawn knives.”

  I did not touch the hilt of my knife, but everyone paused in whatever else they were doing. The two younger women backed away from the fire and from me, but I noticed that Aedani did not step back in that way. She stayed where she was, smiling a little. I was pleased to see that Geras’ wife was brave, as a soldier’s wife should be, but I looked steadily at the man who had spoken carelessly to me.

  The soldier leaned back a little and raised one hand, fingers spread, a conciliatory gesture that obviously meant the same thing among Lau as among Ugaro. “Not how I meant it, and I’d be sorry if you took it that way. It’s just, we worry about an Ugaro near our lord.”

  “So,” I answered, accepting this. It was close enough to an apology, and the concern was not unreasonable. I said, “I will answer your question, which I take merely as a request for information. Somewhere in the winter lands, there may be a tribe whose warriors take their oaths lightly. But inGara is not that tribe, and the sons of Sinowa inGara are not those warriors.”

  There was a little pause. Then the man said, “Well, that’s fine, then.”

  For a wonder, not even Suyet said anything else to me, and slowly a murmur of conversation began again, about the weather—many of the Lau apparently found it cool—and the food, and about what orders the soldiers might receive soon. Everyone knew a courier had brought word of an Ugaro victory some little distance to the east. They wondered whether they would go east to answer that, or what other command might be given.

  At last Geras came back, walking slowly, still deep in conversation with another man. When he came to the fire, he nodded to everyone and smiled at his wife, but he did not speak to her. Instead, he said to me, “All right, about time we got back to the house.”

  I stood up with the others and said to Geras’ wife, “I thank you for your kindness, Aedani. The food was not like my mother or sisters would make, but it was good.”

  This time none of the soldiers laughed. The woman answered softly, not raising her gaze to mine, “One more is no trouble. As long as my husband approves, any guest of Lord Gaur’s, or any polite young man, will always be welcome by any fire I�
��m tending.”

  So, this showed me something of the differences between Ugaro and Lau. I bowed my head politely and allowed my guards to show me the way they wanted me to go.

  “This was your wife,” I said to Geras, meaning to ask whether the fire had been hers or not. But his raised hand checked me.

  He told me soberly, “It’s not polite to speak directly to another man’s wife in public, Ryo, unless she’s your sister, or maybe a cousin. But of course it’s fine if you do; I don’t mind and Aedani won’t be frightened. She’s a sensible woman.”

  “We do it the way Suyet did it: say ‘someone should do this,’ or ‘someone might do this,’” Esau advised me.

  “You can speak directly to the other women, the talon wives,” Suyet put in, apparently taking my incredulity for offense. “Just, you should be a little careful with the jewel wives, that’s all.”

  “You know what we mean by that? Talon wives and jewel wives?” Geras asked me.

  I did not, and said so. I could not remember such terms from the tales I had read.

  “I’ll explain them to you later,” Geras promised me. “Anyway, it’s not a problem. Speak to Aedani if you like; it won’t cause trouble for her or me.” He looked at Esau. “It didn’t cause trouble, right?”

  “That didn’t cause trouble,” Esau answered, his tone judicious. He looked at me. “You weren’t going to draw on that fool who opened his mouth a little too wide.”

  “I could not,” I pointed out. “Lord Aras forbade me to answer any insult with blood. But I would have been ashamed to permit the man to speak slightingly of inGara, so I answered in a way that would make him think again about his words.”

  “So you did.” Esau looked at me for another moment. Finally he said to Geras, “No, there was no trouble.”

  “Hmm,” said Geras, but he did not say anything more.

  By that time we had come back to the town, and to the house, and to the warleader’s rooms. Geras rapped on the door and went in for a moment. Then he came out again and told me, “He’s ready for you. Go on in.”