Tuyo

by Neumeier, Rachel

  “After what he did to your family, your claim is much stronger than mine,” he said. “He’s been a political enemy of mine all my life, but he’s a personal enemy of yours. Think what he did to your brothers. Your mother. Your sisters.”

  I did not have to think of it. The memories were burned into my mind in bitter images. I whispered, “He should have contented himself with my death. That would have been his right. Nothing about his death will content me. But I will take what vengeance I can.” I realized I was speaking aloud and bowed my head in apology. “Forgive me, my lord. I do not mean to impose on your time.” I could not recall why he had summoned me or what we had been talking about. I did not really care. Most of my attention was on the days ahead, on the time it would take to come to the border. On the vengeance Lord Lorellan had promised me when we came there.

  Too many days. But I would wait. I had waited so long already, and so hopelessly, until Lord Lorellan had freed me. I could wait a little while longer before I took the revenge I was due.

  “You may go,” Lorellan said kindly. “It’s almost dawn. Markas will escort you back to your tent. But we’ll delay a little here before we ride on. Rest. Be sure and eat something. You haven’t been eating enough, Ryo. You’ll soon need your strength.”

  I bowed to show I would obey, and rose to my feet. I was stiff, and my back hurt, which seemed strange. The beating Lord Aras had ordered had been very bad, but it was the least part of what he had done to me and it had been many days ago. I could not truly be feeling pain from that. This must be a memory of that pain, lingering because in my anger and grief, I clung to it.

  I went out of the tent, and paused, puzzled, because I had forgotten where my own tent stood. Markas put his hand on my arm to guide me. I jerked away from him, but then I did not know why I felt offended. He had not meant any insult. Lord Lorellan had commanded his people to treat me with respect.

  For an instant I seemed to recall Lau soldiers teaching me to play a game called sestaket, with pegs that moved on a board. But the faces I recalled were not the faces of Lorellan’s soldiers, but of enemies. Esau ... he had been the one to take up the whip when Lord Aras ordered I should be beaten. The one named Geras had done worse than that. During that bitter raid upon my tribe, after Lord Aras had accepted me as tuyo but then pressed ahead anyway, that was the man who had impaled my younger brother through the belly and laughed as he struggled and writhed.

  It had taken Raga a long time to die. I prayed he had not been aware of what had been done to the rest of our family. His own death had been terrible enough.

  I would never have permitted men who had done such things to teach me a game. It had been someone else. The Lau all looked alike to me.

  The men had brought me to my tent, and I went in. When someone brought food, I remembered Lord Lorellan’s command and ate it. It tasted of ashes and dust. I lay down after I had eaten and stared at the darkness of the tent.

  After a little while, I got up and went out of the tent. A man stood there, guarding me. To keep me safe, because some of the Lau soldiers did not like Ugaro. Even though Lord Lorellan had ordered them to respect me, he had thought it best to appoint men to guard me. He was overcautious, but generous in everything.

  “Go back in your tent,” the man ordered me.

  He was not a man I had sworn to obey. I began to step past him. When he grabbed my arm, I seized the sword from his belt and slammed the hilt of it upward into his jaw with all my strength. The crack of his teeth snapping together sounded loud to me, and when he fell, that made a loud thudding noise as well. But no one else seemed to have heard. This was the time before dawn, when men sleep most heavily. When Garoyo had planned raids, we had waited for this time to attack.

  Garoyo was dead. After Lord Aras had ordered all the other warriors killed, he had staked my eldest brother out in the snow and cut off all his fingers, one joint at a time. Then—I did not want to think of what he had done after that. I tried to push the images away. But I had seen everything, and I could not forget.

  I knew the place where they held my enemy. I knew it was the right tent because of the guards, and because it was the part of the camp where one would keep a prisoner: in the center, surrounded by many, many soldiers on all sides. I went there openly. I was not disobeying Lord Lorellan. He had not forbidden me to go there.

  One of the soldiers guarding that tent said something to me, but I did not pay attention. The other started to put a hand on my arm, but whatever he saw in my face made him hesitate.

  “Do not offend me,” I said to them both. “Lord Lorellan commands that you respect me.”

  The soldiers looked at each other and backed away, and I stepped between them and went into the tent.

  He was there. He was not asleep. He was on his feet, facing me. His face was still, his expression remote. I had seen him look like that so many times.

  Lord Aras had looked exactly like this when he ordered me beaten. When he had his men shoot down the injured warriors of my tribe, and put my brother to death in such a terrible way. When he had my mother thrown onto the fire, and killed my elder sister, flinging her corpse down atop the tiny, torn body of her little son, my nephew. He had no kindness in him. He had shown me that.

  He had looked exactly like this when he killed my father. Unmoved. Impenetrable.

  Only when he had taken my younger sister had he shown the lust and cruelty that ruled his nature. I knew what was behind the still expression he showed me now.

  He said, “Ryo,” very softly.

  I could hardly endure the sight of him. I longed to break his composure. I said, my voice thick, “Why are you on your feet? Kneel when you speak to me.”

  He dropped to his knees immediately. But he did not plead. He said, speaking quickly, “Your mind will break through false memories and recover true ones once you’re away from the sorcerer.” His voice was quiet, but intense. He added, looking at me carefully, “Or it should. I must admit, I’ve never imagined anything like this. Ryo—”

  Lord Lorellan put back the tent flap and came into the tent.

  Stepping close, I hit Aras across the face. I did not put all my strength into the blow. I knew I was not to kill him here. Not yet. It was important to Lord Lorellan that I wait. I was willing to wait. Not long. But a few more days would not matter.

  Aras caught himself without quite sprawling, and moved to gather himself back to kneeling. I hit him again, a little harder, and this time he went down all the way and did not try to get up. It would be very easy to beat him to death—

  “Ryo!” said Lord Lorellan.

  But I had sworn to wait, and besides, it would be too easy a death. I stepped back. “I am sorry, my lord,” I said sincerely. “I did not wish to disturb you. I would not have killed him. I know you do not wish it to be done here.”

  “You killed Taras,” he reproved me.

  Turning, I knelt at his feet. “I am sorry,” I said. I had to think for a moment to remember who Taras might be. The soldier I had struck outside my tent. That was probably the man. I said, “I am very sorry, my lord. I do not know how I could have been so careless. But you did order your people to respect me. He should not have laid his hands on me. But if I have displeased you, I am sorry for that.” I bowed my head. “I deserve your punishment for it, my lord.”

  He sighed, looking down at me.

  I waited. If he ordered me beaten, it would be nothing I did not deserve. The twinges of the ghost pain made themselves felt. The pain seemed real. I had never realized the memory of a savage beating could linger so in the mind, many days after the pain had gone. I did not want to suffer such a beating again. But I knew Lord Lorellan was too generous a man to have me beaten so brutally.

  If he did, I would accept it. He had been so generous to me. I should not have killed the man. I had no idea why I had done it. I would not protest any punishment he gave me, so long as he did not change his mind about allowing me to kill Lord Aras myself.

  �
��I suppose I should have expected something of the kind from an Ugaro,” Lorellan said, and sighed. Then he said to me, speaking clearly and slowly, “Ryo. Get up and go with Markas. Go back to your tent. Rest. We’ll ride out soon, but you may have an hour to rest. I won’t change my mind. You’ll have your revenge soon enough.”

  I bowed to the ground.

  “Don’t kill anyone else,” added Lord Lorellan.

  “No, my lord,” I promised. I got to my feet and looked at Aras with disdain. He had not tried to get up. He lay where he had fallen, only he had drawn in his arms and lifted his head a little. He was not looking at me, but at my benefactor. His gaze was steady. He should have been shaking with terror. The hatred swelled up within my heart. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to know what death was waiting for him. I wondered whether Lord Lorellan would punish me if I hit him again, and whether I cared.

  He turned his face aside. I saw his mouth tighten, and knew he was afraid at last, and I was pleased. “The tales of your death will frighten children until the stars fall from the sky and the world ends,” I promised him. I turned and went out before I could disgrace myself by disobeying Lord Lorellan.

  We rode all that day. When the heat came, they brought a litter for me, and Lord Lorellan cooled the air within the litter with a powerful cantrip. I should have been embarrassed to need such care, but I was too much occupied with considering what I would do to Lord Aras when the time finally came. When the terrible memories of my family and my tribe pressed on me, I pushed them aside and thought of the revenge I would take.

  When I rode astride, Markas rode on one side of my horse, and a soldier named Baran rode on the other side. When we halted and my tent was raised, they stood outside it. They were partners, though they did not seem to be friends. Once I had been guarded by men who were friends as well as partners, but I could not remember their names. It was not important. I put it out of my mind. I had no idea why I disliked Markas and his partner so much. They had never done anything to earn my enmity.

  Twice Lord Lorellan brought me to his tent for a long time; once for nearly the whole night. I did not remember what we discussed and did not care. Hatred and anger and grief filled my heart until there was no room for anything else. When he rode near enough to me, I watched Lord Aras constantly, thinking about what he had done, what I would do to him in turn. He never looked at me if he could avoid it. I knew he was afraid, and this gave me a bitter pleasure.

  I did not have any other chance to approach him. I did not try to make such a chance. My thoughts were enough, and the knowledge that every day brought us closer to the borderlands, and the river, and my vengeance.

  -19-

  The days blurred into one another, but we came to the borderlands at last. I could not be sure how many days had come and gone, and I did not care. But I was glad for the cooler air here, where the breath of the north wind sometimes came. I remembered when I had found the borderlands far too warm, and smiled at my ignorance. I had had no idea.

  I had been so much more innocent, in so many ways.

  Or, no, that did not make sense. By the time I had first seen the borderlands, all my people were already dead, their bodies left in the snow for the wolves. I had not been remotely innocent any longer.

  Frowning, I put the confusion aside. It did not matter. What mattered to me now was that my vengeance was at last at hand.

  Lord Lorellan left his men near a village, where they would make their camp and carry out whatever instructions he had given them. I did not care about any of that and forgot about them the moment they were out of sight. My benefactor himself rode with me east of that place to a more private spot. Markas and Baran rode with us as well, and between them, his wrists bound, Lord Aras. That, I cared about very much.

  When we came to a place that seemed good, Lord Lorellan drew up his horse. His hand was too heavy on the reins, and the animal threw up his head and fretted, but that was completely unimportant. What mattered was my benefactor’s generosity to me. I dismounted and stood on the bank of the river, where the grassy verge fell away to the ice below. Markas dismounted as well, and pulled Lord Aras out of the saddle, pushing him down to kneel on the ground. He and Baran stood on either side of him. Baran watched me, but Markas watched Lord Lorellan. My benefactor was smiling at me. No one looked at Aras except me. I barely paid attention to anyone else. Aras gazed at the earth where he knelt.

  Soon I would make him forget everything but me, and pain.

  I knew this place, where we stood. It was familiar to me. To the east, hills rose up, the rocky slopes given to timber because they were no use for farming. To the west, not so far away, lay the town of Dumau Sen. Beyond that, much farther west and north, lay the bones of my family. I saw again my father’s dead face turned up to the sky, my mother’s body thrown into the fire ... my little sister, whom death had not gathered up soon enough.

  Lorellan turned his gaze from me and smiled down at Aras from the back of his tall horse. It was the smile of malice triumphant. I did not think about that, but lingered on the vivid, terrible memories of what Aras had done to my people. I kept my eyes on Aras and saw his shoulders tighten. But he did not look at me even then.

  Lord Lorellan turned his attention, and his smile, to me. “This is a good place,” he said. “See, you can cross the river immediately when you are finished. No one can possibly pursue you. You’ll have no need to be quick. But you must be sure to leave the body recognizable. That isn’t too much for me to ask, is it?”

  “No, my lord,” I agreed. “It is a small thing.” I thought of what I would do to Aras, dwelling on each detail. I would not touch his face. Except perhaps his eyes, that had looked upon my little sister as he forced himself on her. For that, I might put out his eyes.

  His hands twitched upward and then stilled again.

  I smiled, glad to let him see the thoughts in my mind. Very soon I would do much worse to him. After it was done, I would be so very glad to go back into my own country ... except that nothing waited for me there. My home was gone, my people were gone.

  He had done that. For what he had done, I would carve every bone from his hands. First.

  “Whatever you wish,” Lord Lorellan said, smiling still. He gestured to his men. “I doubt you’ll need any help, but Baran and Markas will stay to make sure.”

  I nodded, but most of my attention was bent toward considering the small, delicate task of taking the bones out of a living man’s hand. It would be much like jointing a bird. I would take care to pop the joints and pull out the bones without making very large cuts. I wanted those long hands of his recognizable after it had been done. That would please Lord Lorellan, and it would please me to do it.

  “Very good,” Lorellan said. “Remember your promise to me, Ryo. Do whatever you want, as slowly as you want, but he must be dead by dawn and the body must be recognizable.” He turned his horse and urged it away.

  The long, swinging walk of a Lau horse covered a great deal of ground with every stride. Already Lord Lorellan was over the crest of the hill behind us. If he kept that pace, soon he would be a bowshot away. Then two. I put him out of my mind, turning to examine Aras once more. I remembered how impenetrable he had seemed to me at first. Now I had no difficulty seeing that he was afraid. His face was smooth, but his mouth gave him away. And the tightness of his chest and arms. And the shudder of his breathing. He had not looked up, and did not now.

  I said, “Shall I tell you what I will do? After the hands?”

  He did not answer.

  I told him some of it. He listened, his head bowed, flinching now and then. Baran moved a step away from me. Markas merely looked bored.

  Finally, when I could not bring myself to delay any longer, I drew the knife Lorellan had given me and stepped toward Aras. Baran backed away, and Markas moved away as well, leaving Aras to kneel alone. He lifted his gaze at last. “Ryo—” he began, but there was nothing he could say and he stopped.

  “Do you
wish to beg?” I asked him. “I remember how my sister begged you for mercy. I remember it very clearly. You gave her none.”

  He said nothing.

  I took one more step forward, raised my right hand, flipped my knife to grip it by the blade, and threw it with all the rage I had held back so long. The knife took Baran in the belly, but I saw no more than that because I had already flung myself at Markas. He grabbed for his own knife, but I hit him in the chest and took him to the ground. Despite his astonishment, he fought hard. But he was not as strong as I was, and Esau had taught me Lau wrestling.

  I remembered that, a flashing, broken memory that I was sure was true because I used the moves Esau had taught me, a hold that forced his torso around at an awkward angle so that he could not use his knife. Then I stopped wrestling and used a different kind of blow I had learned much longer ago, from my brother.

  Pushing away from the body, I turned quickly to make sure of Baran. A thrown knife seldom takes a man out of a fight for long, but he was dead. Aras had gotten to him first, grabbing the knife with his bound hands and completing the killing stroke. Baran lay in a curled position, most of his blood pooling beneath him.

  Aras stood a few steps from Baran’s body, still holding the knife, though awkwardly. He had been trying to cut his bonds, but had not managed it yet. He dropped the knife immediately when I looked at him. “Ryo—”

  “Be quiet,” I snapped at him. “Do not speak to me.” Shuddering with hatred, I bent and pulled the coat Markas was wearing from his body. It was the kind of coat the Lau wore in the borderlands, too light for them in the winter country, but better than nothing. I thrust Markas’ knife through my own belt and turned back to Aras. He had not moved. He looked at me, his expression questioning.

  Seizing him by the arm, I thrust him over the verge of the riverbank to the ice below. “If you feel the ice crack, drop to your belly,” I ordered, following carefully. I did not want to hear his voice, but I asked reluctantly, “Would Lorellan have heard them die?”