33
The attempt to destroy the Ra’ira would have to wait for three months. As soon as we reached Eddarta, we began making plans to accommodate the representatives who would arrive for the meeting. We were hopeful that at least half of Gandalara’s cities and towns would send spokesmen; we were grateful when people actually began to arrive; we were stunned when it became evident that every single social group in the Walled World had responded to Tarani’s call for a united effort.
The Refreshment Houses had sent their Elders, so that there was a miniconvention of Fa’aldu being held in Eddarta. I was delighted to see Balgokh again, the Elder who had first befriended me in this world. I tried to thank him for all the help he had offered me then, and later, among the Fa’aldu, but he waved my thanks aside.
“Since the time of Harralen,” he said, “the Fa’aldu have acted on behalf of all of Gandalara. Though we were not entirely aware of it at the time, any assistance our people have given you has been given in the same cause.”
Tarani was surprised, one day, by a guard bearing a formal request to the High Lord for an audience. Tarani and I were in our sitting room, papers and plans spread out on a low table between us. Tarani frowned, obviously mystified by the message.
“Well, please escort the person back here,” Tarani said, and the guard left.
We got little work done in the next few minutes; Tarani was concentrating more on speculation about her visitor than on calculating food requirements for the first movement stage. When we heard the guards knock again, Tarani nearly jumped from her chair to open the door. I was seated on the hinge side of the door, so I saw only the door, not the visitor. I stood up in alarm, however, when I saw Tarani’s reaction.
The color drained from Tarani’s face, and she stepped back from the doorway slowly, as if hypnotized. Following her progress, at the same slow pace, first the hem of a gown and then the figure of a woman appeared past the edge of the door.
I thought, instantly, of Balgokh and the sense of presence and purpose he always conveyed. This woman was not tall, but she held herself rigidly erect, and seemed taller than her physical height. Her gown was blue, and flowed shapelessly from her shoulders to her ankles. The sleeves were full, but drawn up at the wrist. Only the thinness of her light-colored headfur and a slight hesitation in her walk betrayed her age.
Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were fastened on Tarani. This woman clearly frightened a person I knew to be capable of ruling a nation. I moved around the table, my hand unconsciously seeking the hilt of the sword I never wore “at home.” My foot struck Tarani’s chair, and the scraping sound of its movement seemed to set time moving again.
The woman stopped, and sighed deeply.
“I thought it must be you,” she said, and there was something familiar about her voice. “My child, my child, what have you become?”
“Tarani?” I asked, getting clear of the table so that I could step between Tarani and the old woman, if it became necessary.
The old woman turned her eyes on me, and I was lost in confusion. Her eyes, too, made me think of my Fa’aldu friend. They were eyes which reflected wisdom, and sureness. My every instinct told me this was a person to be respected, even revered. Yet my intellect said that Tarani was afraid of her; therefore, I should fear her too.
I feel sure my body posture conveyed more threat than trust, for it was to me that Tarani spoke.
“It is all right, Rikardon,” she said, coming up to my elbow. “She is an old friend—but not forgotten,” she added, for the woman’s benefit. “If I may ask—I would like to speak to her privately.”
Tarani’s voice was subdued, and she was staring at the floor. I hesitated.
“Do not be alarmed by her first reaction,” the old woman said to me. “When last I saw this child, she had reason to fear my displeasure, but that claim of authority was lost long ago.” There was a bitterness in her words that brought the color back to Tarani’s cheeks in force, and her head came up defiantly.
“It was my only choice at the time,” she said, fiercely. “As it happens, it was the correct choice, as well.”
Suddenly everything connected—the relative ages of the two women, Tarani’s almost childlike apprehension at the other’s sudden appearance, and the touch of familiarity in the older woman’s voice. It had a timbre and a richness similar to Tarani’s.
“You’re a Recorder,” I said.
“She is a Record Keeper,” Tarani corrected me, “a teacher of Recorders. She was my teacher. Her name is Livia.” For the first time since the woman had appeared, Tarani smiled. “Have you come to scold me in person, Livia, as you did in so many letters?”
Livia smiled back, and I felt the tension in the room evaporate.
“I might hope to reclaim you from a traveling show,” she said, her tone still a bit sarcastic, “but I doubt I shall convince the High Lord of Eddarta to return to her studies.” She turned to me. “She was the most promising of all the students who have passed through my school, and I fear I began to see her graduation as my own greatest triumph. When she chose to leave us, I reacted more like a parent than a teacher.”
Tarani walked over to the old woman and took her hands.
“Your affection was never unwelcome, Livia—only your insistence on my return.” She stepped back, turning to me. “Allow me to present Rikardon.”
Livia smiled, and I bowed slightly.
“Rikardon,” I said, “who is now going to leave and let you ‘forgotten friends’ get reacquainted.”
I was the forgotten one then; as I moved toward the door, Tarani asked: “Why have you come all this way, Livia?”
“I am in Eddarta to attend the meeting, representing the school,” Livia said. “I am in your rooms to ask the questions I should have asked, rather than scolding as I did. Why did you leave? What has happened to you since? That message—it was … breathtaking. I came primarily to learn—but it did cross my mind that perhaps even the High Lord of Eddarta might have need of the counsel of an old friend.”
“Yes to the last,” Tarani said fervently, as I was closing the door. “As to my life since leaving you, that is a long tale….”
It was early in the day. I took the interruption as a reprieve from work, and called Keeshah to meet me at the gate of Lord City. Eddartans were becoming accustomed to the sight of sha’um since Thymas had relocated the entire Thagorn settlement to a temporary encampment on the slopes above Lord City. The “extra” sha’um had come along as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and ranged wild on the higher slopes and in the thickly overgrown hills to the east of the city. But Keeshah still attracted considerable attention. The guards, the merchants at the gate, the people moving up the sloping road from Lower Eddarta—all of them stopped to watch as Keeshah came up and crouched for me to mount.
*Run?* Keeshah asked.
*Please,* I said, and he took off.
I leaned forward and hugged the furry back, delighting in the flow of muscle beneath my body. I let my mind slip into the quiet communion with the big cat which gave us both so much joy. I felt the satisfying thrust of his legs against the earth; he felt the sweep of wind across my hairless face, and my different sense of the motion of his own body. We were never so much together as we were during a run like this. Not even the brief, intense moments of blending could yield this sense of unity, of belonging. When it was nearly dark, I roused from that pleasant state, and asked Keeshah to take me back to Eddarta.
*Have to go?* Keeshah asked.
*I’m afraid so,* I said.
*Not afraid,* Keeshah said, with conviction and a little sadness. *Want to go.*
I was amazed—and somewhat embarrassed—to realize that, as usual, he had read my feelings more accurately than I could. I had, indeed, already turned my thoughts back toward Eddarta. I was wondering how Tarani’s reunion was progressing. I was thinking about the planning which had been interrupted. As abruptly as if I had flipped an electrical switch, I had freed myself
of my association with Keeshah and tuned into my association with the future of Gandalara.
*Yes, I do want to go back, Keeshah,* I admitted. *But it doesn’t mean that our run is any less precious to me. Thank you.*
I was struck by a sudden, chilling thought, and Keeshah responded to my emotion by pulling up short, sidestepping, shaking his head so violently that his neckfur fluffed out next to my face and provoked a sneeze.
*No!* he said adamantly. *Different now. Sha’um society. Man society. Same. I will stay!*
I had recalled sharing Zanek’s lifememory in the All-Mind when he had realized that his sha’um would not return from the Valley, for no other reason than the pressure of leadership. Zanek had not been able to spare time for his friend, and his friend had sensed the continual burden of guilt it placed on the King of Gandalara.
I had been thinking how long it had been since Keeshah and I had shared a run, and how long a time it might be before the next one, when the memory had surfaced. The burden seemed similar, and I had wondered if the outcome might be the same.
I no longer wondered.
*You’re absolutely right, Keeshah,* I said. *It’s different now. I’m not carrying that burden alone; I have Tarani, and Zanek, and Thymas to help. Thanks to the communication that occurred through the Ra’ira, everyone is working for the same thing, and my job is a lot easier than Zanek’s was.*
Keeshah had started forward again, and was accelerating into his ground-covering stride when I added grimly: “Except for the paperwork.”
The sudden distraction made him break stride, and I felt the jolt of mischief in his mind just before he veered into a dakathrenil orchard. I shouted with laughter, and bent my attention toward not getting scraped off Keeshah’s back.
By the time we reached Eddarta, it was already night, and both moods—the tranquil pleasure of the run, and the sudden fear—had faded. In its place was a pleasant exhaustion that let me, thoughtlessly, open the door of our suite without knocking.
Livia was seated in a chair, and Tarani was sitting on the floor, her head resting on the older woman’s knee.
“Oh—I’m sorry, Tarani, Livia. Forgive me for intruding.”
“In your own home, young man?” Livia said. “Nonsense. We’ve finished our visit in any case; I’m just sitting here for the company and because my old bones take rest whenever they can get it.”
Tarani stirred and shoved herself up to her knees. She put her hands on the old woman’s arm, where it rested on the arm of the chair.
“Thank you for coming, Livia,” she said.
The teacher patted Tarani’s hand gently. “Do consider what I’ve said, won’t you?”
Tarani nodded. “I promise.”
Livia started to stand up, and was struggling so that Tarani got to her feet, and I moved closer to help, if needed. Livia nodded, chuckled, and said: “I never refuse help, young man. I find movement much more important than pride.”
I took her arm, and together Tarani and I levered her up. She spent a few seconds getting her back straightened out, then she stood as regally as when she had stepped through the doorway.
“Tarani has told me a great deal about you, Rikardon,” Livia said, “but there’s one thing I won’t believe until I hear it from you personally. How do you feel about Tarani?”
I smiled, and tried to catch the eye of the High Lord. I felt a twinge of uncertainty when Tarani refused to meet my gaze. I had been tempted to answer lightly, but I changed my mind and spoke sincerely.
“She is the grandest person I have ever known, Livia. She’s strong, and good, and I love her deeply.”
Tarani looked up at me then, with one of the rare smiles that lit her face, and made my heart jump.
“Thank you,” she said.
Livia looked at Tarani, and then at me. “Well,” she said, “that’s that.”
She walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I put my hands on my hips and looked at Tarani.
“What was that all about?”
Tarani laughed, but not easily enough to satisfy the twinge I was still feeling.
“It has to do with being a Recorder,” she said. “Somil, you see, was an outstanding exception to the normal behavior of a Recorder.”
Somil lived in Omergol. I had known he was something of a renegade because Markasset knew Recorders as quiet people who lived circumspect lives. But I realized that Tarani’s comment related to one particular aspect of Somil’s lifestyle.
“You mean Recorders are supposed to stay celibate?” I demanded, astonished.
“Not exactly,” she said awkwardly. “But—um—physical closeness is not encouraged on a regular basis. The theory is, an emotional bond in the physical world diminishes a Recorder’s bond to the All-Mind.”
“The theory,” I said. “You yourself have disproven that theory a number of times.”
“I know,” she said, and went into the other room.
I followed her and watched for a moment while she changed into the brief gown that was standard nightwear for both men and women.
“You told Livia you would ‘consider’ something,” I said at last. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing we need to discuss at the moment,” she said, smiling, and opened her arms. “Shall we not—um—indulge in some physical closeness?”
It was an obvious ploy to close off the conversation, and it worked.
The next morning, we began our planning again. The days flew by, and suddenly the day of the meeting arrived. There were hundreds of people—far too many to fit in any building in Eddarta—so the meeting was held outside the eastern wall of Lord City. While the intent was to leave the gate and road open to normal activity, almost everyone who climbed the road wandered around to see what was happening.
Tarani and I, and Zanek, had climbed to the top of the wall of Lord City, and it was from there that we presented our plan to the representatives of Gandalara’s cities. There were a few questions, but it seemed clear that, rather than the people here requesting a commitment from their cities, their cities had already made that commitment and had sent their people for information and instructions.
We had gathered an unofficial audience inside Lord City, and when we had climbed down from the wall, Indomel came up to us. I could not restrain a small shudder. The boy might be Tarani’s full brother, but he was as unlike her as a person could be. He had acknowldged defeat in words, but I had the feeling he was still watching for opportunities to strike back. I got fidgety in the same room with him, and I never let him get behind me.
Tarani was facing me, and did not see Indomel behind her. “Everyone displayed such discipline and cooperation, Rikardon,” she was saying enthusiastically. “Dare we hope for things to go this smoothly throughout our effort?”
“Of course things will go well for you, Sister,” Indomel said. I was gratified to see Tarani’s shoulders twitch, as if her feelings about her brother were like mine. “Merely continue to use the Ra’ira …”
Wrong.
Tarani whirled on Indomel, her eyes flashing with anger. The boy shrank back, lifting his arm to ward off a blow, and I could see that Tarani was tempted.
“The Ra’ira never entered Lord City, Brother,” she said. “What we have done is the product of truth and fairness.” She turned to me. “Do you recall our discussion in the Valley of Mists?” she asked. “I believe this is an opportune time to make the trial.”
I nodded. “I’ll send for Thymas.” We had entrusted the gem to the Lieutenant, who had hidden it somewhere in the hills—only he knew where.
Tarani turned back to Indomel. “In one hour, you are to call for Zefra and bring her to Lord Hall. Understood?”
Indomel, cowed by Tarani’s fierceness, only nodded. Tarani stormed off. The small group of people who had witnessed the confrontation got out of her way, and began whispering questions back and forth when she had passed.
Zanek touched my arm, looking as puzzled as e
veryone else.
“I’ll explain later,” I said, and tried to move away.
“If its Thymas you need,” Zanek said, “you’ll find him just outside the main gate.”
It was my turn to be puzzled.
“But Thymas has been in on all the planning, and it was his idea to send a cross section of the Sharith as representatives—some Riders, some not, some men, some women, some of the cubs.” By Sharith convention, boys between fourteen and sixteen who had bonded to sha’um were called cubs. “I thought he hadn’t planned to come himself.”
“He did not come for the meeting,” Zanek said. “He came because I asked him.”
“Why?”
Zanek waved his hand. “We can discuss that later, as well,” he said. “Take your message to the Lieutenant.”
34
I broke away, still wondering. I found Thymas—and Ronar—sitting against the wall of Lord City, surrounded by wide-eyed Eddartan children. They touched and patted the big sha’um, while Ronar closed his eyes and twitched his ears. He lowered his head and pushed outward, lifting a smallish kid off the ground. The little boy screamed with delight. He moved away; a little girl took his place; Ronar gave her the same sort of ride, to the same reception.
“This is a far cry,” I said, “from the day when Ronar wouldn’t let Tarani anywhere near him.”
Thymas grinned and stood up, dusting off the seat of his trousers.
“It is a time of change,” he said, and then grew serious. “Children are more important than ever, now. They will be around sha’um all the time; they must be taught to respect their strength, but not to fear them.”
I was quiet for a second. Then I said: “And this is the man who doubted his leadership ability? His vision?” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Thymas, you’ve grown so much since I’ve known you. I know that seeing you now would fulfill every hope Dharak had for you.”
“I hope that is true,” Thymas said, looking at me squarely, “but I believe I have learned something both you and my father tried to tell me. It is foolish to live by another’s standards. If I am true to myself, and do not willingly shirk responsibility, well, then”—he shrugged—“whatever I do is the best I can do, and is enough.”
The River Wall Page 30
