He shrugged. “It’s a lesson to me, I guess. You don’t owe me an apology for that one. Next time I’ll bet the other way.”
“I think I do owe you an apology, Esau. I hope you are not in difficulty with Talon Commander Harana.”
“Don’t bother yourself about that. Harana’s all right. He knows he shouldn’t’ve grabbed you. I’ll find him later when he’s had a chance to get ahold of his temper. I’ll apologize for being forward and maybe disrespectful, and I’ll say I’ll put myself on report. He’ll tell me he’ll let it go with a reprimand, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“A reprimand does not concern you?”
He snorted again. “Got a thousand of ’em. One more’s neither here nor there.”
The ride to Kosa Sen did not take long. The distance was not great, perhaps ten bowshots. But someone had plainly ridden ahead at a faster pace, because by the time we came to the village and I slid down from my horse, Geras and Suyet were there to meet me. I began to apologize to them, but Suyet seized my forearms in a hard grip, which for Lau soldiers is like an embrace. He said, “Ryo! I thank the gods!” Then he said to Esau, “You see? I told you!” And to me, “I told him!”
I had no idea how to answer him.
“Lord Gaur’ll want to see you immediately,” Geras said to me, his tone kind, but without any give to it. He ordered Suyet, “Run on ahead, lad, and tell him we’re on our way up.”
“Right, yes!” Suyet whipped around and ran, fast as a deer with his long legs. Esau rolled his eyes. Geras turned to me and said, “Lord Gaur’ll be very glad to see you. But he’ll be angry, there’s no help for that. Stand up straight and apologize right up front, that’s the best way. That’ll put it behind you.”
I nodded, but I was not really listening. Now that I had come to this moment, I was afraid again that I had been wrong. Any man who walks knowingly back into a sorcerer’s power after once escaping ... any man who does such an extraordinarily foolish thing should be afraid that he is about to make a terrible mistake. But it was far too late to make any other choice. Still, it took all my resolution to take that first step forward.
In a very little, we came to the tavern where Lord Aras had taken rooms, and went in. People turned to see, villagers and soldiers. I paid no attention, but went straight up the stairs, as Geras directed me, and turned to the left toward the only open door. I went in.
Lord Aras had been sitting at a table looking at papers, exactly as always. Though he had a stylus in his left hand, he was not looking at the papers. He was looking at me.
Despite all my careful judgment, terror ran through me. Ignoring Lau customs, I dropped to my knees and bowed with my face to the floor.
A silence drew out, sharp and brittle.
Finally Lord Aras said, “If you would leave us alone, please. Don’t argue. Ryo isn’t going to attack me. Shut the door on your way out.”
None of them argued. They were gone in a moment.
I had not moved, and did not now. He was right that this time I would not try to kill him. I was not even certain why I felt such a thing would be impossible. Not only because of my oath, though that was part of it. Perhaps he had put into my mind that I could not do it.
I heard him push back his chair and get to his feet. If I had not already been kneeling, I knew my legs would have folded beneath me. If I had been wrong in my judgment of his nature, then he would do some terrible thing to me now. Probably I would not remember it afterward, and that would be even worse.
Lord Aras said quietly, “I won’t hurt you. Please look at me, Ryo.”
I wondered if he needed to meet my eyes in order to see my thoughts. I doubted this. I thought he saw into my mind whenever he cared to look. Nevertheless, I flinched from this order. It was shame as much as fear. Neither excused failure to do as he commanded. Slowly I straightened my back. Slowly I lifted my head. He stood now in front of the table, almost close enough to touch me. His arms were folded. His expression was impenetrable as always. His gaze was intent, serious, searching. I forced myself to meet his eyes and not to look away.
“Why did you run?” he asked me quietly. “Why did you return?”
“Why do you ask me anything? Can you not see every answer you seek in my mind?” I asked him. These were not actually questions. I knew he could do it. I knew I was not wrong.
He did not answer at once. The pause seemed long to me. At last he said, his voice quiet, “Not easily, in fact. Your anger and fear get in the way of your thoughts. All strong emotions make it difficult for me to see your thoughts clearly. That’s one of the ways in which you can defend your mind from me.”
This was not at all what I had expected him to say. I stared at him, speechless.
“Of course, it’s difficult for a man to think clearly when he’s very angry or very frightened. This is a skill that improves with practice. Karoles positively enjoys temper, but I don’t think you’d find the method suits you. You could think in taksu rather than darau. Most people frame their clearest thoughts in words, and for that I must know the language. I speak four languages of the summer country, but I speak only a little taksu.”
I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice, “No doubt you have learned more taksu from me.”
His answer came grave and level, with no trace of either apology or anger. “Yes, I have. You’ve been useful to me in several ways. You’ll be far more useful in the future if you can manage to be less afraid of me, and of course we’d both be more comfortable. My wife sings. Songs run through the surface of her mind, or poetry, nearly all the time she is awake. I can hardly see her thoughts at all. She says she’s fortunate she was born with music in her fingertips and songs in her mind because otherwise I would never have consented to marry her. I’m the fortunate one, obviously. Until I met her, I thought I would never marry.” He was smiling wryly at my astonishment.
I had completely forgotten that he was married. It seemed indescribably strange to me that a powerful sorcerer might have a wife who knew what he was, and yet loved him and was not afraid of him. “Do your daughters also know?” I asked him. I could hardly believe this might be so, but he nodded gravely.
“They do. My oldest daughter, Selili, finds it easiest not to worry about what I might see in her mind. When she was still quite a young child, she told me that if she always does what she thinks is right, she never has to feel ashamed, so she doesn’t have to fear what I might see in her thoughts.”
He was smiling at the memory, as a man will who is proud of his daughter. My fear eased a little. He gave me a small nod and added, “When she does wish to hide something from me, Selili is skilled at deflecting her thoughts. You’ve done that on occasion yourself. For example, when I ask you about your father, sometimes you immediately think of your mother. You could learn to do that deliberately. Anything that makes you feel strong emotions works best for that, so for you, thinking of your mother is very effective. Or your ... she must be your sister?”
I knew whom he must have seen in my mind. “My younger sister. She has thirteen winters now.”
“My other two daughters are close to that age. Like their mother, they’ve learned to sing.”
“They all know what you are. Everyone knows.” I still could hardly comprehend this.
“Hardly ‘everyone.’ My family, my king, my talon commanders. A very few others. I told you the truth when I said that sorcery is illegal among my people. Though not as profoundly forbidden as among yours, of course. Is that why you returned: because you realized that after having come under my power, your people wouldn’t take you back?”
I thought of my father, of the death required for an oathbreaker, of my mother. The images that came into my mind now were so vivid it was almost as though I actually saw my father stepping toward me with the knife in his hand; actually saw my mother’s face as she watched him do it.
Lord Aras flinched. It was very slight; something I saw in his mouth and in the way he glanced away for
an instant. I shuddered with relief because I knew at least I had been right about this one thing: his nature was not that of a cruel man and he hated cruelty. This certainty settled in my stomach. My fear eased further, and I saw him react to that as well.
I realized what this meant. “You can see my thoughts more clearly now?” I said. It was half a question, but only half. I was certain of the answer.
“Yes. You’re still angry, still afraid, but not as much. You’re also more curious now. Curiosity doesn’t block me at all. Your father would actually kill you because you had fallen into the power of a sorcerer?”
“No, not for that.” I hesitated. “Do I need to tell you? You do not see it?”
“It’s more precise if you explain, and I would prefer that you explain.”
I said, “My father would not put me to death for coming under your power. But I put his honor behind my oath to you. If I broke that oath, he would have no choice but to put me to death for that.”
“So you came back,” he said, understanding. “You could do nothing else.”
I thought of how I had considered going to find Hokino inKera. Lord Aras’ mouth tightened again. I met his eyes, nodding to acknowledge his reaction. “It is your right to give me any death you wish. But if you put me to death, I think you will choose a kinder death than the one due an oathbreaker. Also, I hope—I ask—that afterward, you will send my head to my father so that my skull may be set in the tomb of my people.”
“You think I might put you to death?” He looked at me carefully, in that way I now knew meant he was looking into my mind. “You do think so. Ryo, you didn’t break your oath to me. If you had, I would forgive it. You had suffered a severe shock; I understand that. But you haven’t broken your oath. You came back. Here you are.”
I bowed my head, dropping my gaze from his, though I knew it would not help. Taking a breath, I made myself look up again. “You might be generous enough to say I have not broken my oath to you, though obviously I have. But I know that you are a sorcerer. What can you do but put me to death? How else can you be certain I will not tell everyone, your people and mine? You could order me to be silent, but you know now that I may disobey any command you give me. I have shown you that.”
“That’s an extremely harsh assessment, Ryo. I don’t think that’s at all accurate.”
He was trying to find a way not to punish me as I deserved. I was not even surprised. But I still thought he would probably put me to death once he had thought a little more. Even if he did not want to do it, he would decide that I was more dangerous to him than useful. But I was almost entirely certain he would not do anything terrible to me with his sorcery. This was an unutterable relief.
I said, “My people believe that sorcerers are always evil. This I have come to doubt. If I am wrong, if you have made me believe things that are false, if you made me take oath to you, then you will do whatever you wish to me now and I cannot prevent you. If that is so, I have no hope. But if I am right, then you will not do such a thing. If you decide you must put me to death, I will not protest it. There is no possible way I could protest it. But you would be kind to do it and have it over.”
For a little while he was quiet. I wished, suddenly and shamefully, that I could see his thoughts as he could see mine. His mouth crooked at that, with irony or humor, and he raised an eyebrow. “Can you look at me?” he asked, his tone quiet and serious. When I met his eyes, he went on, still quietly. “I don’t intend to put you to death, Ryo. Even if you weren’t useful to me, even if I thought your oath to me was worthless, that would be a terrible thing for me to do after extending guest-right.”
I thought if he had reason enough, he would do it. I started to say something, I hardly knew what, but he lifted a hand to check me and went on. “Listen to me, please, Ryo. Before the gods, on my father’s honor, I swear that I have not and I will not go into your mind to change anything you remember or feel. I won’t do anything of the kind unless you give me leave to do it, and I will never do it to harm you. I know sorcerers can sometimes force a man to obey. I swear I have not and will not do anything of the kind to you. When I was younger than you are now, I took oath that I would never do such things.” He paused. Then he asked, “Can you believe me?”
I was staring at him, blank with surprise. I had spoken the truth when I said I did not believe he was evil. But still, I was not certain I could trust his oath. It is a terrible insult, to say to a man’s face that you will not take his oath. Among Ugaro, even to imply doubt would see drawn knives and blood. I knew he must see my uncertainty in my mind, and bowed to the floor in apology.
“If I were the same man, exactly the same, but not a sorcerer, would you accept my oath?”
I would. I would not hesitate. I knew he could see that in my mind as well.
He sighed. “Well, I have sworn it, and it is true. Perhaps you will believe me a little now and more later. I’m not angry. I’m not angry, Ryo. Can you look at me?” He came forward a step, lifting his hand. Not as though he meant to hit me, but as though he would touch me, my shoulder or my face. Despite my growing certainty that he would not do anything terrible to my mind, dread ran through me. He dropped his hand immediately, stepping back, his mouth flinching in the way I was already coming to recognize.
I saw a truth I had not understood before. I said, “When you must put someone to death, you suffer for it.” I hesitated. Then I said, “You would not need to kill me yourself. You would not need to witness it.”
“I think I would,” he answered, his tone dry. “If such a thing were to be done at all. Please never suggest again that I might avoid my clear duty in such a manner.”
I had not thought of it in that way, and immediately bowed low yet again. “I am sorry,” I said sincerely. “I would not ... I did not mean it as an insult.”
“I know. I forgive it. Ryo. Look at me. Do you intend to disobey me again?”
“I do not think I intend that. But how can you trust me now?”
“Do not betray my secrets to anyone. That is an order. Do you intend to disobey that command?”
“No, lord. But—”
“‘My lord.’ You are still under my authority, Ryo.”
“Yes, my lord. But—”
“I think,” he said, “That you are simply going to have to accept this on faith: I do trust your oath, and I will not put you to death. Have you got your balance yet? Can you stand up?”
I certainly had not recovered my balance, but I thought I could probably stand.
“Good,” he said, his tone kind. “I hope you’re not too tired, because we’ll ride out shortly. I’ll speak to you again tonight.”
It might have been a warning or a promise. He did not mean it as a threat. I was almost certain he did not.
Sighing sharply, he said, “Of course it’s not a threat. I’ll speak with you tonight, when I hope we’re both calmer.” He raised his voice without waiting for an answer. “Geras!”
After a moment, Geras came in. His expression was blank, in the way of a man who is worried but does not want to show it. He looked at me first and then at Lord Aras. The warleader said to him, “Troop Leader Geras, please see that Ryo has anything he needs. He’ll want something to eat soon, I expect. Please inform Talon Commander Ianan that we’ll depart in an hour.”
“Yes, my lord,” Geras answered. He put a hand down to me. I took it and let him help me stand. I might have needed his help; I felt shaky. Precarious. I hoped this did not show. I knew Lord Aras would see it, but I did not look at him and he had already turned his attention back to his papers, pretending he saw nothing.
“Well,” Geras said when we were out in the hall and the door was shut again behind us. He looked me up and down, quickly but comprehensively. “Your skin looks whole, so far. Was he very angry?”
“Not nearly so angry as I deserve,” I said truthfully. “He said he will not put me to death.”
Geras stared at me. “He won’t put you to death! No, I al
most think he won’t! Generous gods, boy, why would he do such a thing?”
I realized that Geras, like Lord Aras, thought I had not broken my oath, or, being Lau, was ready to forgive it. Either way, he thought that was the extent of the trouble. He did not realize I had discovered a terrible secret Lord Aras did not want revealed.
I could say only, “He said he would send for me tonight.”
“Huh. Then I think we’d better see you’re available when he sends for you.” Geras looked me over again. “You going to run away again between now and then?”
He had the right to ask me that. I bowed my head to him in apology. “I will not. I am sorry. I know you were worried.”
“I was.” He headed down the hall, jerking his head for me to come with him, and went on. “An Ugaro alone, anything might have happened! You young fool, what were you thinking? Whatever that warleader told you about whatever woman, you were stupid to sneak off like that!”
I was relieved; no one genuinely angry scolds like that. “I stayed out of sight.”
“Oh, you stayed out of sight! If anybody’d spotted you, you’d’ve had half a hundred Lau farmers after you! Do you think Lord Gaur put me and the others with you for a joke?”
I did not want to argue. I said nothing.
After a moment Geras added in a kinder tone, “Well, it turned out better than it might’ve. Next time tell me if you’ve got a problem, and we’ll come up with a better idea than you sneaking off by yourself.” He set a hand on my arm while I was still staring in astonishment at this offer, drawing me to a halt before we reached the stairs so that he could look me in the face. “Whatever the problem was, you’ve got it settled now, you and Lord Gaur?”
His grip was not that of a man escorting a captive, but a friendly gesture. Though I felt raw and exposed from my interview with Lord Aras, I did not mind it. I said, “Yes,” though I was not sure this was true.
Geras looked at me hard. “Food,” he said. “You’re looking dead peaked. We’ll get you squared away in no time. You tired?”
“No,” I said, which was not true, but I felt better now in my heart and that made my weariness less.
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