Tuyo

by Neumeier, Rachel

  I missed my younger sister too much to speak of her, but I did not mind saying that my older sister and my older brothers had been born to my father’s first wife. I did not mind saying I had one younger brother, a son of my mother. My older brothers were warriors, but everyone had known for years that my younger brother would be a poet. “He declared it when he was twelve,” I explained. “No one was remotely surprised. Raga was never inclined to the skills that befit a warrior. When he was very young, only just walking, he picked up my mother’s flute rather than my father’s knife. This is not always a sign that a boy will become a poet, but usually it is a sign he will not become a warrior. Very often the sons of a singer will become poets. My mother is foremost among singers.”

  “So your mother is one of the famous Ugaro singers!” he said. “I would like to know more about singers—and poets—but I’m not certain I even know what questions to ask. Only women become singers, is that right?”

  “The Moon hears the voices of women more clearly than she hears the voices of men,” I told him. “Sometimes, not often, a poet may speak to her so that she hears him as though he were a woman. My brother may be that kind of poet, if he is lucky.”

  “I see. So your brother hopes someday to be as prestigious as a female singer? Ryo, I think your people may hold women in greater esteem than we Lau. That’s not what we’re taught, but I’m beginning to believe it must be true. Or is it only singers you regard so highly?”

  I thought about this. Finally I said, “Every one of our women is a daughter of the Moon. Of course, the Sun is stronger, but when he comes to the winter country, he enters his wife’s tent and owes her respect. Every man, whether a herdsman or a craftsman or a warrior or a poet, has a mother to whom he owes deference; and a wife to whom he owes respect and generosity; and if he is fortunate, a little sister or a daughter, to whom he owes protection and kindness.”

  Lord Aras nodded, considering this. “We Lau believe we owe all women protection and kindness. Respect and deference may not be offered so frequently, and I’m not entirely willing to say all Lau men even meet their obligation for kindness—though I hope no man under my command would do otherwise.” He hesitated. “You Ugaro marry young, isn’t that right? But I don’t believe you’re married, are you?”

  I explained that the sons of a tribe’s lord and the daughters of a singer often marry late. I did not say that a daughter of a king will marry latest of all, because her sons will be numbered among the king’s heirs and so everyone wishes to express an opinion about the tribe she should marry into. Certainly I did not say that my mother had been speaking to the aunt of Darra inKarano. I did not ask whether Lord Aras might someday release me from my oath so that I might return to my own people. Showing concern regarding the matter would have been disgraceful, as there was no possible reason he should be obligated to do so.

  I returned his questions in kind, and learned that he was married. I should not have needed to ask, as he was far too old not to have married. He had passed through fifty-one summers—more than I had guessed. His wife had given him three daughters and, as she now neared the age at which a woman ceases to bear, probably would never give him a son. But he showed no sign of displeasure at this lack. “Lucas is nearly my son,” he told me. “He’s my nephew, in fact. My brother passed into the land of the shades twenty years ago, so he came into my household. He was twelve. A difficult age for a boy to lose his father.”

  I nodded. That was the same for both our peoples, that a boy whose father had died should go to the tent of his father’s brother’s wife. It made me feel more in charity with the Lau, that they would follow at least some appropriate customs.

  After the meal, Lord Aras sent me to the place where I would sleep. “By rights you should sleep in my tent,” he told me. “Please don’t be offended that I don’t find that possible. I trust your oath, Ryo, but my soldiers are less confident, and I don’t want to upset them.”

  “Everyone knows a tale in which a man’s honor is tested past breaking,” I answered. “All those tales are tragic, yet still sometimes a man may break his oath. I cannot protest the caution of your people.”

  He smiled. “You’re commendably agreeable. Thank you. I’ve asked Esau’s file to make room for you in their tent. I believe one or two men of that file may be able to cool the air in the tent. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

  They could cool the air by magic, he meant. I said with restraint, “That will not be necessary, my lord. I am certain I will be perfectly comfortable.”

  I feared I would be far less than comfortable. I believed Esau wished to be friendly, but sharing a tent is different from sharing a meal. Nor could I believe that the soldiers of his file would be pleased to share their tent with an Ugaro. I could see many reasons Esau would be considered a better choice than Suyet, who was so young, or Geras, who was married. But I was still nervous.

  Indeed, when I came to Esau’s tent, all the soldiers stood up: seven Lau I did not know, looking at me with expressions I could not read. I could not tell one from the next, except that one man had a beard shaped differently than the others, and a little crystal gleamed in the pierced ear of another. All these men seemed much like Esau himself: older than I, respected soldiers, confident of themselves and suspicious of me. I thought I had been right to fear they would hate me. I could hardly be surprised. In any long war, men will lose brothers and cousins, nephews and friends, and so the feeling between enemies becomes bitter.

  “It’s all right,” Esau told me. “Go sit down.” He gave me a little push to show me I should go into the tent, and indicated a place to one side. The tent was not so large as an Ugaro tent meant for so many, and not nearly so comfortable.

  I lowered my eyes and sat down, trying to be quiet and not cause offense. If these men chose to show me their dislike of Ugaro, I would have no recourse: I had been ordered not to answer any insult. But no one spoke to me, not at first. After a little time, the soldiers sat down again too. Esau and some of the others went outside the tent, to sit by the fire and talk, but three men stayed inside the tent with me. They watched me. I could not tell whether they were curious or angry or perhaps felt something else, but finally the man with the earring said, “It’ll be strange, but it’s not a problem. We all agreed we’d take the duty. Just don’t draw that knife Lord Gaur gave you, hear? Because there’s no point causing that kind of excitement, right?”

  “Yes,” I said. This did not seem as bad as I had feared. To show I understood my disadvantage, I took the knife from my belt, still in its sheath, and laid it aside.

  “Good,” the man said. That had pleased him. He smiled, his teeth very white in his dark face and the dimness of the tent. “Your name’s Ryo. Mine’s Laraut.” He did not tell me the names of the other men, but he said, “If you’re tired, lie down and go to sleep. We’ll keep watch. You’re safe here, so long as you don’t start something yourself.”

  I still felt nervous, but I unrolled the bolster nearest me and lay down, though I could not bring myself to close my eyes. For a long time, I lay still and listened to the quiet voices of the men who shared the tent with me, and to the muted sounds from the camp outside. The air in the tent grew a little cooler, and I knew someone had worked a cantrip. I tried not to think about that. No one came near me, except later when Esau unrolled his own pallet between me and all the other men of his file. Then I finally slept.

  Several times that night I woke. Each time one of the soldiers was awake and watchful, but each time the man only glanced my way and then looked away, apparently unconcerned. The soldiers’ calm indifference made me feel easier myself, and I was able to lie down again and go back to sleep.

  In the morning, I found the fire had already been lit and a woman had come there, with water to fill a pot for tea and another pot for the grain porridge the Lau like to eat in the morning. She knelt by the fire, arranging kindling, but she looked up when I came out of the tent. Her eyes widened, and she stiffened in alarm, but then
she looked past me at the soldiers. Some of them had gone already about their duties, but Esau had come out of the tent with me and some of the others already sat by the fire. I saw how the woman’s shoulders relaxed when she looked at them. That made me like them better.

  She was a young woman, or I thought she was young, perhaps near my own age. I remembered Lord Aras explaining that soldiers of the lowest ranks did not marry, so I thought she must be a talon wife rather than a jewel wife. Like the other Lau women, she was slender and graceful, taller than I by a hand or more, with her hair cropped very close to her head. Her bones looked as fragile as the bones of a bird. I could not tell whether the Lau would consider her pretty, but I thought she was, though like any Lau woman, she was not womanly in the way of Ugaro women. She wore a plain dress, without the embroidery and decoration an Ugaro woman would prefer, but the cloth was good, dyed a pretty light green. She wore copper bangles on her wrists and one ankle, and little copper rings in her ears. She looked at me carefully, from beneath lowered lashes. Then she spooned some of the porridge into a bowl, which she held out to me, her gaze cast down.

  One of the soldiers said to me, “Geras’ll be by soon to pick you up. Come and eat.” It was the one called Laraut; I recognized him by the little earring he wore. I came to the fire as he had ordered, but as I took the bowl, I said to the woman, “I thank you for your kindness,” as one says to a woman whose good opinion is not something one may assume.

  The soldiers looked at me in surprise. Esau said in an easy tone, “Lalani’s our wife in the talon. I’d tell you to be polite to her, but I don’t need to because you’ll be polite anyway. Lalani, you know our Ugaro’s the son of the inGara lord, so none of your impertinence, hear?”

  The young woman’s manner had been almost subdued, but at this she looked up, smiling, so that she suddenly looked mischievous. She reminded me at once of my younger sister, though she was completely different. She said to Esau, “I know who he is. Everyone knows who he is. He’s Lord Gaur’s personal guest, and if anybody offends him, Esau Karuma will make that person wish he’d kept his tongue between his teeth.” Her voice was light and quick. Looking at me openly for the first time, she said, “I’m pleased to cook for you, Ryo inGaro. Aedani says Geras says Ugaro respect their wives. Are you married?”

  Esau rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I say no impertinence?”

  “Was that impertinent?” Lalani said.

  She spoke so innocently that I knew it had been. I had to laugh. “I am not married,” I told her. I wanted to ask whether she would rather be married properly or whether she was pleased to be a talon wife. I did not ask that. I said instead, “Ugaro warriors respect their wives, or if a man does not, then his wife may put his possessions outside her tent or her wagon so that everyone sees she is unhappy. If she does not relent, he must go to his mother’s tent, or his sister’s. If no woman will permit him to enter her tent, he must go to the kind of tent young men share before they are married. This is not something a man wishes to happen.”

  Now her eyes were dancing. She did not seem afraid at all any longer. She asked me, “But what if a wife does not respect her husband?”

  I smiled back. “He may take his possessions and leave her tent. That is not as embarrassing for anyone, but it is not something a woman wishes to happen. It means the wife of the lord will come to ask her why her husband was unhappy. A husband and a wife are wiser to settle disagreements softly, before anyone is too angry.”

  “A very wise way of handling everything!” Lalani said, smiling. “Perhaps my men will be more respectful if I put their things out in the mud when they displease me.”

  The soldiers grinned, and Laraut said, mock fearfully, “Not all my fancy shirts, Lalani! How would I manage?”

  She laughed and rose to her feet. She said to me, “I should go—there’s a lot to do. But if the porridge does not please you, tell me and I will bring something else.”

  I would rather have broken the night’s fast with more meat and less grain, but I said, “This food is good,” and ate what she had given me.

  Later, when Geras and Suyet came and my guards took me to the horse lines, I found a chance to ask Esau how Lalani had come to be a talon wife. I thought he might be offended, but I wished to know. He did not seem to take offense. He said briefly, “Too many girls in the family. Her father couldn’t afford dowries for them all.” I knew what a dowry was, or I thought I did, but I had never understood why the custom existed. Nor had I ever thought of what might happen to a girl whose family could not pay for her to marry properly. Indeed, there was very little in this answer that I understood, but I nodded and did not ask any more.

  Every day that followed after that was much like the first. I stayed mostly in the company of my guards. I saw plainly that some of the Lau did hate me, but these men kept at a distance; the soldiers I knew better stayed between me and the rest. If any of the soldiers of Esau’s file hated me, I could not tell it.

  Most often I joined Lord Aras for at least one meal during each day. He asked many questions, but usually about things I did not mind explaining, and he was pleased to explain things that puzzled me about the Lau. Even so, I did not readily understand the custom of taking talon wives; or if I understood it, I did not like it. But I saw that Lalani teased the soldiers and was not afraid of anyone, and Aedani, though quieter, showed her confidence in other ways.

  I was not permitted to take up a sword, but Esau and some of the others taught me the weaponless manner of fighting that the Lau call wrestling. The manner of it was not the same as when Ugaro fight with bare hands. For the Lau, wrestling seemed a game or a sport, not a way of settling an argument or answering an insult. Once I learned the manner of their wrestling, few Lau could defeat me, but I discovered I could not beat Esau. No one else could either, so this was not a shameful failure. I enjoyed the practice.

  Suyet and his friends, mostly young men like himself, also taught me a game called sestaket, played with a board and pegs. I was not good at this game and preferred to leave it to the Lau, who could count quickly and remember numbers well.

  During the whole of the eighth day, we moved much more slowly, and the same on the ninth day. When the afternoon of the ninth day came, we paused for a long time. The soldiers halted where they were and sat down in their places, in the dust of the road. Rounds of hard bread and soft salty cheese and olives were passed along the rows, and skins of thin ale. I realized for the first time that few mounted troops were with us. Nearly all the mounted soldiers had ridden on. All of this made me feel uneasy.

  My guards rode a little aside with me so that I could sit in the shade of one of the few trees, not far from the place where Lord Aras conferred with his talon commanders. Geras sent Suyet for food and ale. I was glad of the ale because the dust thrown up by the steps of so many men made my throat hurt, but I could not eat anything. I thought of the map I had seen, with the Lau towns marked south of the towns that had been burned, but not so far south that Ugaro could not strike against them. We might be near one or another of those towns now. I could not think of any reason why we would have halted in this way unless we would go on later, perhaps all through the night, and I could not think of any reason we should do such a thing unless Lord Aras expected to come against enemies and was trying now to set the timing of that encounter.

  I said to Geras, “Lord Aras expects to fight?”

  He could hardly deny it, and after a moment he admitted, “Looks likely.” He pointed south and east. “Kosa Sen’s that way, about ten miles. I’m guessing Lord Gaur plans to press ahead tonight and come to Kosa Sen around dawn, but whether we’re looking at a fight, who knows? Wait a bit and we’ll see.”

  I nodded, but I asked, “He thought Ugaro might strike against one town or another, but how would he know which? Or that a war party would come this night and not earlier or later?”

  “When the trick’s figuring out what your opponent’ll do, Lord Gaur’s as sharp as they come,” Geras
said, blithely confident. “We’ve had outriders way out in front, so I guess someone’s seen something that makes him think there’s a decent chance he’s picked the right place and time.” He did not say that if this many Lau caught an Ugaro raiding party in Kosa Sen, without enough warning for the warriors to scatter, they could certainly destroy it completely. He did not have to say it.

  “It’ll be all right,” Suyet told me earnestly. “If there’s a battle, it’ll be with an enemy tribe, right?”

  Days ago, I had smoothed out the earth in a flat place and sketched for him the way the territories lay across the river. There seemed no reason to hesitate as I had already explained this to Lord Aras, and Suyet had become curious about the winter country and about my people. He was not wrong now, and I nodded, but I did not like to think of all these Lau coming against Ugaro warriors, even if they were enemies.

  Geras tapped me on the shoulder and held out a loaf of bread, saying firmly, “Eat something, youngster. Whatever happens, it’s no good you falling off your horse out of sheer starvation.”

  I was not at all likely to fall off my horse. Still, he was not wrong. I ate the bread and cheese, and the apple Suyet gave me. But I could not help but look away to the east, the way Geras had said Kosa Sen lay.

  Esau said, in an indifferent tone, “The trick’ll be pinning a war party down. Let ’em scatter and the whole business’ll be twenty times harder. Let them get into the town and that’d be even worse. I expect Lord Gaur means to have our mounted talons cut across country, circle down from the northeast, meet the Ugaro before they can get into the town, and force ’em back this way.”

  I did not say anything. That seemed to me very likely correct. It explained why the mounted soldiers had gone on while the rest of us waited here. They would take the Ugaro war party by surprise, before the raid had begun, and they would not permit them to scatter. They would not have to come close enough to suffer from our superior bows; they need not even force the Ugaro to retreat. They would only need to hold them in place while the foot soldiers came up.