Etta looked up at me, smiling, and I smiled back.
As we came closer to the camp, Aras stumbled suddenly. I caught his arm, steadying him, and he straightened at once and went on. I realized then that he must have come close enough to see more of the thoughts of those waiting for us. He was surely too proud to miss a step in fear, but I could guess that the sudden awareness might come as though it were a physical blow.
“Ryo—” Aras said under his breath.
“Be quiet,” Garoyo ordered. “This is not the time.” We were coming close now. I could see them waiting. Most of the warriors were seated on the ground or on logs, but those who were foremost among them stood. I saw Naroya, warleader of the inGeiro, on his feet; and Yavorda, lord of the inGeiro. To the other side, I saw Royova inVotaro.
Then we came the few more steps necessary to see past the rest, and I saw my father, standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face, straight ahead, standing exactly between all the others, at the center of the gathering.
-24-
I had not expected this at all. The stab of relief I felt was so strong and so unexpected that I stumbled myself. Aras turned and caught me. He was not smiling. His expression was more contained and more intense than a smile.
Garoyo had stopped, a little distance in front of us. He glanced at our father and bowed his head, but he faced Yavorda because we stood on inGeiro land.
“This seemed too difficult for inGeiro to sort out on our own,” Yavorda told him. “And it did not seem properly a matter for us to judge—nor even for Royova inVotaro.” He did not glance at Royova when he said this, which was more than I could likely have managed in his place. He merely went on. “I thought it best to wait for the lord of the inGara. He has come, and he has heard everything. Now this is for him to judge.” He did not sit down, but he folded his arms to show that he was finished speaking.
My father stepped forward, and my brother faced him. They looked more alike than I had realized, though our father’s face was lined and his hair grizzled tawny-white, which is the way for Ugaro as we age. He glanced briefly at me, looked thoughtfully at Aras, and studied my brother for a long moment. Finally he said, “So, my son, are you the slave or the fool of this sorcerer? Are you his dog, or in any way subject to his will?”
Addressed in this way, Garoyo knelt, but he did not bow his head. He looked our father in the face. “No, lord.”
My father turned to me. “My son, I believed you dead. Yet here you are. This Lau warleader spared your life and treated you generously, though he is a sorcerer.”
I stepped up beside my brother and went to my knees. “Yes, lord,” I said.
“Are you his slave, or his fool, or his dog, or in any way subject to his will?”
“No, lord,” I said. Then I blinked and said, “I beg your pardon. I misspoke. I swore an oath to obey him.” I paused. Then I said clearly, “I swore to obey him as though he were my father. I swore I would obey him as though I were his son. I meant no disrespect to you, lord. But that is what I swore.”
I was aware of the stir among the warriors. My father’s eyes narrowed. Other than that, I saw nothing in his face. He said quietly, “That could put you in a difficult place now, my son.”
“Yes, lord,” I agreed. “I did not think of this moment when I gave that oath.”
“I release you from it, Ryo inGara,” Aras said, in taksu. He had knelt too, behind my brother and me.
My father frowned at him. “Are you dissatisfied with my son’s obedience? Has he failed in respect? Has he shown himself lacking in courage or honor?”
“No, lord,” Aras said. “In everything he has done, Ryo inGara has demonstrated the honor and courage of the Ugaro people. I free him now because I have no right to hold him when his father stands before him.”
My father immediately shifted his attention back to me. “Are you in any way subject to the will of this sorcerer, my son?”
I said, “No, lord.” I had not expected to feel the sense of loss that cut me. I put it aside and kept my gaze steady on my father’s face.
My father turned to my sister. “My daughter, are you the slave or the fool of this sorcerer? Are you his dog or subject to his will?”
“No, Father,” Etta said earnestly.
He said in a pained tone, “You promised I would give the inGeiro anything they asked.”
“Yes, Father,” Etta said in a very small voice. Because she was a girl, she was not kneeling, but she looked very young and small: the only girl among all the warriors. The women were elsewhere. I wondered whether my mother had come. I thought that if my father decided he must put me to death, I would like to see her first. I could not guess whether he would permit it.
“I am sorry, Father,” Etta said. “I had to do something very fast, and that was what I thought of.”
Our father sighed. He said to Garoyo, “You said you would stand behind that promise.”
“Yes, lord,” my brother agreed. “I wished very much for the eldest son of your second wife to be cured of the madness set into his mind, so I said this. I will not protest your judgment if you say I was at fault for my words.”
Our father answered, “I set no fault against you, my son, though in the future, I hope all my children will try to be more moderate in their promises.” Turning to Yavorda, he said, “Ask what you will.”
Yavorda inclined his head. “I want all the land from our border as it is now, west to the middle of the gap that runs through the Little Knife, for a day’s ride north and south of the Knife. And I want to have this decision taken out of my hands.”
“All that land belongs to the inGeiro now,” said my father. “The decision I take for my own.” Neither he nor Yavorda looked at Royova inVotaro, though Royova was frowning, his expression hard and disapproving. He was a big man, very tall for an Ugaro, almost as tall as a Lau, but broad to match his height. I had seen him fight once when I was a boy. He had awed me completely. That had been eight winters ago, ten maybe, but save for tawny streaks in his hair, he hardly looked older and certainly no softer. He had at least thirty more winters than I, but it is the way for Ugaro to keep our strength for a long time and then age all at once in our last years. I had no doubt Royova inVotaro was still astounding boys, and grown men, with his speed and skill and sheer power.
From his manner, my father might not have even known Royova was present. He said to Etta, “Child, your mother is waiting in her own tent, that way.” He nodded the way he meant, toward the center of the camp. “Go to her.”
Etta gave the small bow a daughter owes her father and obeyed. She did not look back.
As soon as she was gone, my father drew his knife and offered it to me across his forearm. “If I order you to take my knife and put this sorcerer to death immediately, will you obey me?”
I took the knife, turned it in my hand, and drove it to the hilt in the snow between us. “No, lord.”
“If I say this proves you are his slave or his fool or his dog or subject to his will?”
“I am his friend, lord, and I will not do it.”
“If I say you are a disobedient son and lacking in respect?”
“I would be sorry my father had reason to say such things of me, but I would not do it, and I would not beg your pardon for refusing.”
“So.” He looked at me for a long time, his expression unreadable. He said, “You swore to obey another man as though he were your father. You declare now you would refuse my orders and that you would not even beg my pardon for it.”
I bowed, and straightened, and braced myself as he raised his arm.
He did not hit me. He touched me lightly on the cheek with the back of his hand, the merest token of the blow I had earned. I tried to keep my face still, but probably everyone saw my astonishment at such leniency. Certainly my father saw it. But he only said, “Give me back my knife.”
Jerking it out of the snow, I held it out, hilt first.
He took it and stood looking at me,
tapping the blade thoughtfully against the palm of his other hand. Finally he asked, “If I step forward to put your sorcerer to death at this moment, will you set yourself in the way of my knife?”
I answered, “I would never wish to do such a disgraceful thing. I ask my father not to put me to that test.”
“So.” He touched his hand to my cheek again. Then he turned to Garoyo. “And you, my son: if I ordered you to put this sorcerer to death, would you obey my command?”
Garoyo said in a level voice, “No, lord. If you give me that order, I will set my sword at your feet and you may give it to whomever you chose. But even if I had no sword, I would step between any knife and this sorcerer.”
“You would also defy me.”
“In this matter, I would be forced to it, lord. I would take the disgrace on myself because honor compels me beyond even the obedience I owe my father.”
“To protect a sorcerer.”
“No, lord. To protect an honorable man to whom I owe a debt.”
“What debt do you owe this man?”
“He spared my brother’s life although he had no obligation to do so: that is one debt. He cured my brother of madness: that is another debt.”
My father nodded. He looked at Aras. “Both my sons refuse my orders. Do you hold either or both subject to your will, in any way great or small, in any manner obvious or subtle, by any means at all?”
Aras met his eyes. “No, lord.”
“Yet you are a sorcerer. You do not deny it.”
“No, lord. It is true. But long ago I swore I would not make men subject to my will by means of sorcery. Your sons make their own choices, in this and every matter.”
My father considered him. “You took my son as tuyo, but you did not put him to death. You took him into the summer country and bound him by oath to obey you, but not by sorcerous means. But you made a mistake. My son was taken by your enemy, also a sorcerer. This sorcerer set a madness upon my son to make him kill you. Because he is your friend, my son resisted this madness, defied your enemy, and brought you here. Now you have freed him from that madness. This is my understanding. Is this how it happened?”
“Yes, lord,” agreed Aras. “All of that is how it happened.”
“Do you see my thoughts now? Are you looking into my mind?”
“Yes,” Aras admitted. “I cannot not look. But your thoughts are not clear to me. Your joy at finding your son before you is so intense, it is difficult for me to see anything else.”
I blinked. My father’s expression did not change. He said, “Your enemy put many lies into my son’s mind. He made him believe many things that were not true. This is the means he used to make my son into his weapon against you.”
Aras hesitated. Then he took a breath and answered, “Yes, lord. But I had already taught your son to conceal his thoughts from a sorcerer and recognize false memories. Using what I taught him, Ryo fooled our enemy completely. Then for many days he fought powerful compulsions to kill me. In all the winter country, probably no other Ugaro could have resisted for even an hour the compulsions our enemy put into your son’s heart.”
My father had let him speak. But now he said, with an edge to his voice, “My son is a brave man. No one doubts it. But so much braver than every other Ugaro warrior?”
Aras shook his head. “No, lord. It is not courage you and all your people lack, but training and experience in this other kind of battlefield. To my enemy, it would be as though even your bravest warrior stood before him weaponless and bound hand and foot.” He paused. Then he said, “When a man has no weapon, what he needs is for someone to give him a sword. If you will permit me, I will set a false memory into your mind—”
A frightened, angry mutter, on all sides. My father stilled this with an uplifted hand. Royova lifted one eyebrow. I knew my father must have felt a sharp thrust of fear and anger into his heart. Any man would. But he showed nothing.
Aras went on as though he had never been interrupted. “If you put me to death, my enemy will still live. Who knows what weapon you may need in your hand as the future unfolds before you? If you permit me to do this, I will show you how to recognize a false memory. If my enemy bent his full attention upon you, this would not be enough. But if you only endured a moment of his attention, it would help. I ask you to allow me to do this. I would teach everyone to recognize sorcerous lies if I were permitted to do so. But whether or not you permit it, I swear before the gods, I will not use any sorcerous means to influence your choices or your actions. If you put me to death, I swear I will not attempt to use sorcerous means to prevent you. To this I bind myself by the honor of my king and uncle, and by my mother’s name.”
There was a long silence. I had not expected anything of that. I could not guess what my father might do or say. If he gave permission, I was not sure what Royova inVotaro might do. He might consider my father tainted by sorcery. I wanted to protest. But Aras was right. It was not a weapon he was trying to give my people; it was a shield, and one they needed. I said nothing.
Finally my father nodded. He said to Aras, “You may set a memory into my mind. I wish to see what this is like. Put a memory of my son into my mind. Not a false memory. A true one. Show me ... show me the moment you found my son waiting for you.”
Aras answered, “I will give you that memory if you wish. But I have a different memory I would show you, if you permit me.”
“Show me what you choose. Show me something in the way that it happened.”
“Yes,” said Aras.
There was a little silence while they looked at one another. Then my father smiled. A moment later he gave a sharp crack of laughter, half raising his hand. Then he glanced at me and lowered his hand again. I could not imagine what memory that could have been.
Then my father returned his attention to Aras, who immediately bowed his head and said, “I did not intend disrespect.”
“You intended to correct me,” my father said. He was amused. “But I forgive it. You were not wrong to say it.”
“You know you were not there. Yet you still feel that it happened. Do you see how you try to explain to yourself how you came there, even when you know it was impossible?”
My father frowned, his attention turning inward. “Yes, I see that. How very strange.”
“That is how it is. There are other ways for a man to recognize a false memory, if he is not certain. The memory is too bright; it is too clear. You see how that is. If you notice that, you should doubt that memory. You should look for ways the memory does not make sense. When the memory might have been true, it is harder to resist the urge to explain away the things that make no sense.”
“Yes,” my father acknowledged. He blinked and focused on Aras. “This is a dangerous curse. I knew that. But I see it myself now. You are a dangerous man.”
“Not to you,” Aras said, his voice quiet.
My father frowned at him.
I wished very much to know what memory Aras had put into his mind, but it was not my place to ask. But Royova inVotaro demanded, “What did he show you?” He added, barely quickly enough for courtesy, “If you are willing to say, Sinowa inGara.”
There was a little silence as my father considered this demand. Then, though his mouth did not curve, I could see he almost smiled. He said, “Yes, I will tell you.” He looked at me. “I saw you in the summer country, fighting with some Lau warriors. Not fighting. Playing. Not with weapons, but with empty hands. You won twice, pinning your opponent and making him yield to you. The third Lau defeated you, but you did not mind it. You were laughing. You were happy.”
“That day,” I said, remembering. I smiled. That had been a very good morning. Nothing bad had happened yet. I had learned not to be afraid of Aras. I had been happy. “Yes. The Lau call it wrestling. Esau is the only man who can beat me every time. I made him work for his victory.”
“I was standing to one side, watching you,” my father told me. “No one noticed me. You did not see me. Then he stood
beside me.” He indicated Aras with a tiny movement of his hand. “I did not see him come. He was just there. He said to me, ‘That is a young warrior any man would be proud to call his son. His father should tell him so. What if the gods are unkind and the chance is lost?’”
I had not expected that. I felt as though the breath had been driven from my lungs.
“He was right,” my father said. “I could not answer him. That is why I laughed.” He had not been speaking loudly, but now he spoke more quietly still. “Ryo, I have always been proud of you. I wish very much to hear everything. All that happened, in the way that it happened. I know I will be proud of what I hear.”
I swallowed. “I hope you would be, Father. But I have often disgraced your teaching. I have often been ashamed of myself.”
“That is how a young man should feel,” answered my father. “Conceit is bad for the heart. But I doubt very much I will be ashamed of you.” He came forward and touched my cheek gently with the tips of two fingers. “The gods have been kind.”
Then he stepped back and said to Royova, not quite looking at him, “Are you answered, inVotaro?”
“I am answered,” Royova agreed, frowning. “If you will permit, inGara.” He barely waited for my father’s nod, but looked at me and said, “This sorcerer you say is your friend. The other you say is your enemy. Tell us something that shows us all the difference between this sorcerer and the other one. Not something false. Something real, that a man can understand.”
I thought about this. I thought of something that made the difference very clear. The heat came into my face, but I thought this was a thing that might make everyone understand. I said to my father, “You will not be proud of me when I tell you this, lord. But this is something any man can understand.” Then I explained about listening to a private conversation between Aras and another man, and how he had ordered ten strokes of the whip because I had not been able to persuade him that twenty would be more appropriate. No one laughed, certainly my father did not laugh, but I saw he was amused.
“His sorcery shows him pain and fear. His nature is generous, so he is kinder than he should be,” I explained, in case anyone had not understood this. Then, bracing myself, I went on, “His enemy, Lorellan, ordered me beaten as well, not for any fault of mine, but to punish Aras. I do not know how many strokes Lorellan ordered—”
Tuyo Page 32
