“You do not think gods may be routed from their thrones, and thrust into the outer parts of the Divine Realms?” Kyprioth asked Ochobu softly. “You do not believe a god may be so battered in combat with his land-hungry brother and sister that he might need centuries to heal? Do not speak of what I should have done, Ochobu Dodeka. You were not at my side on that battlefield.”
Aly wished she could go anywhere else. This was too personal for her. For the first time she felt like a true intruder in the Copper Isles. This was the reason he toyed with her and the Balitangs, this ancient loss. Kyprioth’s playfulness had made the stakes seem small, as if he had meddled with her life for his own amusement. Now she had the truth of it, that the tide was turning in the Copper Isles. She was a pawn, the Balitang children just one more piece, on a board that stretched over miles and years.
Ochobu slid down to kneel before Kyprioth, tears streaming down her face. She had borne even more of the god’s power than had Aly, Ulasim, or Junai.
Aly rested a hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “Maybe she snaps at you because she’s afraid,” she told Kyprioth, though she didn’t quite dare to look into his face. “You gods know you have centuries to turn the tables. We humans don’t. We have short lives that can be made shorter with the stroke of a sword.”
Burning fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up. Aly jerked away from the painful touch. When Kyprioth grabbed her chin a second time, it didn’t hurt. Her knees quivered as she met his bottomless gaze, but somehow she managed to remain on her feet.
“Dear heart, you are wasted in Tortall,” Kyprioth told her softly, his eyes showing her suns and waves that swamped islands, volcanoes, and shivering cracks in the earth. “One of us would have put a fire like yours to use sooner or later.” He let Aly go and regarded Ochobu. “Old woman, let’s have a cup of tea, for old times’ sake.”
Aly helped Ochobu to stand, but she didn’t go with Kyprioth and Ulasim when they followed the woman inside. She stayed in the sun, drying out with Nawat as Junai unsaddled and groomed the horses. It took a while for her head to stop spinning from that long look into the god’s eyes.
A flicker of light at the cottage’s open doorway told Aly that the god had left. Ulasim and his mother remained inside for a while longer, talking. Junai and Aly practiced their combat exercises and Nawat tried to catch fish barehanded in the stream. At last Ulasim left the cottage, saddlebags hung over one shoulder. He and Junai got to work saddling their horses and the swaybacked mare that ambled out of the shelter of the trees when Ulasim left the house. Ochobu finally emerged, carrying a pack. She thrust it into Aly’s hands, then walked over to the clump of brush where the tiny kudarung nested.
“Nawat, put that down,” Aly told her friend, who had secured a wriggling fish. “We’re leaving.”
“But I just caught it,” Nawat complained. “I knew I could.”
“You still know you can. Let the poor fish go,” Aly retorted. “With all the bugs you’ve eaten today, you can’t possibly be hungry.”
She heard a sound and turned, frowning, to see what was the matter with Junai. Her usually stoic bodyguard was actually trying not to giggle.
“If you only knew how strange that sounds,” Ulasim remarked. “You sound like her mother.” He nodded at the red-faced Junai.
Nawat sighed and released his captive back into the stream.
Aly shook her head and strapped Ochobu’s pack to the back of Cinnamon’s saddle. “Well, he has been eating a lot of bugs,” she said, knowing that didn’t explain anything.
Ochobu returned and mounted the swaybacked mare. Three adult kudarung flew in her wake, all of them pitch black with white stars on their muzzles. “They make good messengers for short distances,” Ochobu told Aly. “And if you or the crow bothers them, you can carry your own messages.”
Aly rubbed her sore ear and winced. She had bumped the deepest bite. Holding her much-smeared handkerchief to the wound, she said, “I never bothered them in the first place.”
“I will not bother them if Aly says not to,” added Nawat. To her he whispered, “Not until we have enough nestlings of our own to mob them back.”
“We’re not going to—” Aly began in a heated whisper, trying to deny that they would mate and have nestlings, but realized it was useless. This was just one of those ideas Nawat would have to outgrow, since words didn’t seem to change his mind on the subject.
“Let’s go,” Ulasim ordered. “There is work to be done at home.”
They rode together out of the hollow and back down the road. When they reached the fork that led to Pohon, Ochobu reined up. “Junai, ride in and let Pilia know I am gone,” she ordered. “Ask her if she will keep an eye on things and feed my animals.”
“I cannot,” Junai replied. She pointed to Aly. “She is my charge.”
The old woman glared at her granddaughter. “You think I cannot protect your luarin pry-monkey?”
“Sorry, Grandmother,” Junai said quickly. She kicked her gelding into a trot and headed for Pohon.
Aly watched in awe, then turned to Ochobu. “Will you teach me how to do that?” she asked. “She never listens to me.”
“I will not,” said Ochobu, following Ulasim down the road. “Converse with me only when you must, luarin. I may have to treat with you, but we will not be friends.”
Aly shrugged and let mother and son ride far enough ahead for them not to suspect she was eavesdropping. Ochobu might never like her, that was plain. So long as they could work together until the equinox, Aly didn’t care if Ochobu liked her or not. The old woman had every reason to hate white skins, after all. At least I don’t have to share a small castle with her over the winter, she thought happily. She watched as Nawat ran into the woods a little way to examine something that had caught his eye. He would return when he felt the need.
It occurred to Aly that in her eagerness to get any kind of true mage to Tanair she had never asked anyone what kind of power Ochobu had. Obviously the old woman was strong, to stop bandits from preying on the villages of the plateau, and protective magic was certainly the most important thing for the Balitangs to have. Still, Aly could put Ochobu to better use if she knew the mage’s strengths.
Aly let her mind drift, absorbing forest sounds: songbirds, rustling creatures, squirrel disputes, Nawat’s steps among tree litter. In the distance a crow family discussed the location of a dead animal supper. An eagle’s distant shriek reached her ears, and the whisper of wind in the pines. She closed her eyes, adjusted her mind to bring into play the more complex aspects of her magical Sight, then opened them.
Ochobu’s Gift had been visible from the moment Aly first saw her. Gifts always appeared in her vision as a series of ripples in the air around the mage, as if he or she gave off heat. Now Aly’s deeper Sight discovered more specific powers that appeared as images that glowed then faded over the round curve of Ochobu’s back. She saw a mortar and pestle, a handful of plants, a storm racing over the open fields of the plateau, a charm that turned away harmful magics, a bowl of water for scrying.
“Stop that,” Ochobu called over her shoulder, startling Aly out of her calm state. “It tickles.”
When they got back to Tanair, Aly had a quick talk with the duchess about the morning’s events. “So you’re saying we have a mage now,” Winnamine said when Aly was done. “And we need to make her part of the household, without raising a fuss.”
Aly bowed. “Exactly, my lady.”
Winnamine stared into the distance for a moment, her lips moving as she thought. At last she looked at Aly. “Rihani’s never been comfortable as our sole healer. She is a wonderful herbwife, but has little experience with serious ailments. I think she’ll be relieved if this Ochobu takes over, and she can be of use in making medicines. I also know my woman, Pembery, is less than delighted with looking after Elsren and Petranne during the day. Rihani may take her place, and Pembery shall wait on Sarai and me. And you, my dear, are being promoted again. It is time D
ove had her own maid.”
Aly grinned. “I serve at Your Grace’s command,” she replied, thinking that the duchess would have made a fine general, with her delicate way of rearranging her troops. From what Aly knew of the household, everyone whose job had just changed would like the new arrangement. The change for Aly herself meant that she was now free to ride anywhere that Dove might choose to go.
Once the duchess met Ochobu and explained things to Rihani and Pembery, Rihani took Ochobu to the keep’s infirmary. Aly helped the footmen to move the duke’s and duchess’s things back to their old rooms, now that Bronau was gone. After the adult Balitangs were resettled and the older girls’ rooms restored for their use, Sarai took charge of Aly’s wardrobe. Dove ordered a hot bath for her new maid. “Because you should look nice, and not shed goat hair on my things,” she said primly, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Aly stuck her tongue out at her young mistress and happily climbed into the tub. The main thing she had missed about home, after her family, was the luxury of a real bath. After weeks of washing in ponds or from a basin full of water, a hot bath was bliss.
Aly soaked until the water began to cool. She washed her scant inches of red-gold hair twice, scrubbed until she was crimson with cleanliness, then dried herself with a proper cloth. She noticed that she had put on some weight with the Balitangs, but the meals of leftovers, bread, and cheese had still not brought her to the weight she had at home.
“Try these,” Sarai ordered, opening the dressing room door and tossing in gowns and shifts. “Can you sew?”
“I can sew,” she told Sarai, thinking, Da made sure of that. “Of course, I require the usual tools for it.”
“Use my box,” Sarai offered. “Dove replaced her sewing things with ink and pens and paper. You’ll need to take these clothes in—you’re too big for Dove’s hand-me-downs, and too bony for mine.” She grinned at Aly and closed the door.
Aly spent the rest of the afternoon stitching Sarai’s castoffs to fit her thinner frame. Once she had a complete outfit—a cotton shift and an amber-colored gown—she dressed and hurried downstairs in time to pour the supper wine. Afterward she joined the family in the duke and duchess’s chambers, Sarai’s sewing box balanced on her hip. There she sat and sewed, a perfectly natural evening’s occupation for a lady’s maid. Once Rihani took Elsren and Petranne up to bed, the family shifted in their seats to look at Aly.
“I thought you objected to promotion,” remarked the duke. “You told us that people would notice a servant being somewhere that she shouldn’t.”
“I’ve kept my goatherd’s things just in case,” Aly said. “For now, acting as Lady Dove’s maid will take me to the places I need to go as long as I continue to wear my collar.”
There was a rap on the door. Without waiting, Ochobu came in and closed the door behind her, sealing it with a line of magical fire visible only to Aly. “To foil eavesdroppers,” the old woman explained gruffly. She nodded abruptly to the Balitangs, then took a seat uninvited.
Aly sighed internally at the old woman’s pride, then told the duke, “Your Grace, this is Ochobu Dodeka of Pohon village. She is the mother of Ulasim, and a true mage. Ochobu, I present His Grace Duke Mequen Balitang.” Aly glared at the old woman until she bowed to the duke from her seat. “Her Grace has already made Ochobu’s acquaintance,” Aly continued. “Ochobu, may I also present Lady Saraiyu, and Lady Dovasary.”
The old woman looked the girls over with sharp eyes. Then she bowed, but to that she added the raka gesture of respect, her arms crossed over her breasts, palms on the opposite shoulders. The girls, startled, responded with the same gesture.
To the duke Aly said, “Ochobu is sent by the god to help to protect you.” She crossed her fingers behind her back, praying that no one here would mention which god was involved. She had forgotten to tell Ochobu that the Balitangs believed it was Mithros who had taken an interest in their fate.
“When Aly said she’d found a true healer and herbwife, I nearly collapsed with relief,” the duchess told the duke with a smile. “Rihani is good with herbs and lesser ailments, but I’ve been living in fear that someone would break a leg or some great sickness would reach us. We would be in real trouble.” To Ochobu she said, “You are thrice welcome among us.”
“I could do no less, lady,” Ochobu replied stiffly. “I served the family of the first duchess, and it is my honor to serve her daughters.”
“I would like to learn from you, if it’s agreeable,” Winnamine said. “Unless you prefer not to have someone underfoot? I know many healers don’t. Rihani will assist you, of course, but I think the more I can learn, the more useful I will be.”
Aly couldn’t decipher the look that Ochobu gave Winnamine. Finally the old woman said, “Most luarin do not ask. They order.”
“We are not of that sort,” Mequen replied, his deep voice quiet. “In this house the raka are respected, as my first wife was respected. Winnamine was also Sarugani’s friend.”
“We can gather herbs when we go out riding, like we did for Rihani,” Sarai told Ochobu. “If we know what to look for, we will.”
“Riding?” asked the duke, raising his brows. “Are you not needed here? Lessons, getting our house in order for winter . . . ?”
“We have summer chores well covered,” said the duchess. “The girls feel they didn’t really get to know the local people on their rides with Bronau. Everything was formal, and country matters bore him. I’d like to stay home with the little ones. I feel I’ve been neglecting them.” When Mequen still frowned, the duchess touched his arm. “My dear, the girls will have plenty of time for lessons once winter starts. The villagers say we may be confined to the castle for days at a time. Let them ride now, while they can.”
Mequen took Winnamine’s hand within his. “Very well.” He looked at the girls. “Behave and obey your guards, or you will be confined to the castle grounds until spring, do you understand? We are not in Rajmuat any longer. Trouble can find us here easily.”
“Yes, Papa,” said Dove meekly.
“Yes, Papa,” echoed Sarai.
Aly glanced at Ochobu. The old mage watched the duke, her eyes and face unreadable. Still, thought Aly, she isn’t cursing or spitting on the floor because he and the duchess are luarin. It’s a start.
In a time of fear, the One Who I Promised will come to the raka, bearing glory in her train and justice in her hand. She will restore the god to his proper temple and his children to her right hand. She will be twice royal, wise and beloved, a living emblem of truth to her people. She will be attended by a wise one, the cunning one, the strong one, the warrior, and the crows. She will give a home to all, and the kudarung will fly in her honor.
—From the Kyprish Prophecy, written in the year 200 H.E.,
discovered in Duke Mequen’s books by Aly
13
LADIES OF THE RAKA
The next morning, after Pembery and Aly helped them to dress and make up their room, Sarai and Dove took Aly to breakfast, then to the stable. They passed Nawat, seated in the sun as was his habit, carefully gluing feathers to shafts. Aly stopped for a moment, fascinated with Nawat’s fine touch as he set the fletchings in glue. Sarai returned and dragged her away.
Lokeij’s stable boys had already saddled Sarai’s gelding, Dove’s mare, and Aly’s mare Cinnamon. Fesgao, two of the other men-at-arms, and Junai were already mounted, waiting for them. Aly clambered as awkwardly as she could into the saddle and made a small business of wriggling to settle herself. Their party rode through Tanair at a walk. Many of the people who were out wanted to greet the two Balitang girls personally. Aly was careful to sit her mount like a sack of flour, keeping up the pretense that she rode badly.
Once they were clear of Tanair’s gate, Sarai cried, “Let’s go!” and kicked her gelding into a gallop. Fesgao and one of the men-at-arms followed her, catching up before she was too far ahead. Dove did not even twitch her mare’s rein for a faster gait. Aly, Junai, and the o
ther man-at-arms stayed with her.
“I thought she just did that to show off for Bronau,” Aly commented.
“No,” Dove told her, and sighed heavily. “Every summer, when we go to our mountain estates on Tongkang, she gallops everywhere. She loves to ride. I think she’d do anything in the saddle if she could, including sleep.”
“That talent could be useful,” Aly pointed out.
“Wait till your behind starts to hurt, then tell me if it’s useful,” advised the younger girl. “I really admire Winna. All those rides with Bronau, and never once did she let on she’s got saddle sores.”
“She wants Sarai to like her that much?” Aly was surprised. She knew that the duchess wanted her stepdaughters’ affection, but she hadn’t guessed how far the lady might go for it.
“Well, a little,” Dove admitted. “They get on well enough anymore. Mostly Winna came for Bronau.” She frowned, her small dark face intent on her thoughts. “Winna likes him well enough. I mean, you could tell, she laughed at his jokes, and they talked all the time, but—Aly, she doesn’t trust him. I don’t think she even knows how little she trusts him. She never let them escape their bodyguards on our rides.”
“Interesting,” Aly said thoughtfully, sharpening her magical Sight so that she could keep an eye on Sarai and her escorts, still galloping down the road. “She doesn’t think he’d dishonor Sarai, does she?”
“I don’t know,” Dove replied. “What I know is that Winna understands the prince as well as anybody, even better than Papa. Her not trusting him to behave honorably, that worries me. Doesn’t it worry you? Because I don’t think we’ve seen the last of His Highness, not at all.”
Aly looked at the twelve-year-old. “You’re very observant,” she remarked.
“And cold,” Dove said, her mouth pulled down in distaste. “You didn’t say cold. Everyone does.”
“But you’re not cold,” Aly replied. “You’ve learned to hide yourself. To hide in plain sight.”
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