The cat walked toward him, her golden eyes trained on his widening ones. She stopped at his feet, her gaze assessing him up and down. Orryn trembled, but the feline did not seem to notice, and leaned into him, rubbing her body against his, a deep purr rumbling from her throat. Orryn pressed his back to the wall as the cat slid slowly past him.
“Or’n?” Tygg asked, but Orryn’s attention was fully on the creature now exiting through the drape.
“Are you not well?” Tygg asked, stepping toward him.
Orryn pointed to the drape. “That was a—was a—”
“Was a what?”
“By your gods did you not see the beast?”
Tygg looked puzzled. “What beast?”
“What beast?” Orryn sputtered. “The lion, you fool! The one you swept off the damned bed!”
“I cleared the bed of pillows, Or’n. That is all.”
“Pillows?”
Tygg laughed gently. “Aye. Women have such an affection for them. I have never understood the reason for it.”
“You—you didn’t see the creature, then?” Orryn sank into the nearest chair and leaned his head in his hands. “I think I’m going to be ill.”
Tygg slid a chamber pot between Orryn’s feet. “I will speak with Sachmei,” he said. “Perhaps more brew will help.”
“That’s probably what put me in this state to begin with,” Orryn said. He lifted his eyes, but Tygg was no longer there.
Orryn rose and slowly walked the perimeter of the room, on alert for any new surprises that might come his way. At the moment his instincts were screaming for him to run, but his common sense demanded that he stay. The emotions raging unchecked through his body were driving him into unknown territory. Never had he been so long without lavation; a week perhaps, no more. It was always difficult, regardless of how many days had lapsed, but it had never been as unbearable as it was now.
The Sovereign was the only person who could perform the cleansing Orryn so desperately needed. It was she who had perfected the art of drawing emotions from the human psyche. “Like pulling worms from the mud,” she’d been known to say. The emotions she extracted always returned in time, like nasty habits that could only temporarily be kept at bay. When they regained their hold, as they were with Orryn now, it was like being pushed to the brink of madness. He shook his head, trying to jar some sense into it, but he knew his current state was the best it was going to get. For now, he was only seeing lions. And there were far worse nightmares than that.
Tygg stepped back into the room, leaving the drape open to the main room beyond. He handed the blue bottle to Orryn. “Sachmei says one more sip should help, not hinder.”
Orryn glanced through the drape toward Chandria across the way. The girl appeared to be unconscious; there was no sign of her moving, though Sachmei was still weaving the needle through her wound.
“Swear to me,” Orryn said, eyeing Tygg darkly. “Swear that if this makes me sleep, the Imela will be here when I awake.”
“Of course,” Tygg replied. “I swear it,”
Orryn tipped the bottle slowly to his lips and gulped the contents down.
“Enough!” Tygg said. He pried the bottle from Orryn’s hand.
Orryn wiped his mouth, realizing he had probably swallowed enough to lay him flat. But perhaps that was for the best. He had given up every pleasure to become a Pedant, had even endured torture in order to remain one. The raging emotions he felt now, however, were so much worse. He stepped to the bed and sat down on its edge. He had been trained not to trust Taubastets, but he could not dismiss the fact that Tygg had once spared his life, and he had little choice but to trust him now. He could only pray that this was not the last mistake he would ever make.
CHAPTER 7
Tygg watched with amusement as his daughter knelt by the cot, staring at the Imela.
“Why does she still sleep?” Panya asked.
“Why do children always question the obvious?” Tygg replied. “Do you not see the wound in her leg?”
Panya scrutinized the swollen leg lying atop the blanket. “Of course I see it. It is ugly and it smells.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Well, move away then. No one told you to stick your nose in it.”
Panya stood and reached for Tygg. He swept her into his arms and nuzzled her cheek. “I think it is time you went out to play, little one.”
Panya turned her gaze to the Imela. “Will you petition for this one, Tygg?”
Tygg laughed with surprise. “I had not thought to do so; what makes you ask?”
“Sachmei thinks you need a new one. But I think she wants it to be her.”
Tygg set Panya down. “A new one will not replace your mother, kit,” he said.
“I know. But she is gone, and we are here.”
“Indeed we are,” Tygg said. “Is that what you wish, Panya? A new one?”
“Only if you wish it, Tygg.”
Tygg turned his eyes to Chandra, then to his daughter. “I will not petition for the Imela,” he said. “She is not meant for me.” He cocked his head. “Do you wish me to petition for Sachmei?”
Panya’s eyes brightened, betraying her thoughts.
Tygg remained quiet as he thought on it. Nauney, his wife, had been dead for five years now, well past the stage that most men Tygg’s age waited before petitioning a new one. Tygg had never seriously considered taking another wife. Nauney was gone, but his heart was still with her, and though he loved Sachmei, the Cloud Walker had not named her in his future.
Sachmei threw back the drape leading from the outside and swept into the den. She strode toward them, her presence commanding the room. A cape was draped around her shoulders, and a basket of produce was propped against her hip. She paused. “Panya, you are here already?” she said. “I expected you to stay at Dodie’s much longer.”
“The cub insisted on coming home early,” Tygg said with pretended annoyance. “And she has done nothing but stare at the Imela ever since.”
Sachmei clucked her disapproval.
“I want to see the Imela when she wakes up,” Panya pleaded. “I want to see her eyes.”
“They are green,” Tygg said. “There is nothing else to know.”
“He is right, little one,” Sachmei said.
She tilted the basket forward. Panya peeked inside. “Ah Sachmei, pomegranates!”
“Yes. I must prepare our guests a meal. They will awaken soon and will no doubt be hungry.” She unfastened her cape and draped it across a chair, then turned and headed for the kitchen.
Tygg glanced toward the bedroom. He had checked on Orryn several times since lifting the man’s feet onto the bed the night before, and to his knowledge he had not moved a muscle since.
“You coming, Tygg?” Sachmei called from the kitchen.
“Aye,” Tygg said, and turned to follow. “I must speak with the Cloud Walker,” he said upon reaching her.
Sachmei frowned as she pulled a bamboo steamer from a shelf and set it atop the long trestle table that divided the space. She split open a pomegranate and began scooping out the seeds. “What will you say to him?”
“I will say that I believe the Pedant is harmless.”
“And?”
“And that the Imela is Taubastet.”
“You are certain of this?”
“Aye.”
Sachmei huffed. “I think there is more that you will tell him.”
“I am certain the Pedant will not leave willingly without the Imela. I cannot help but wonder why.”
“Perhaps he is a slave to the gods also,” she said sharply.
“What do you mean?” Tygg asked.
“You know full well what I mean.” Sachmei plopped some pulp into the steamer basket, then grabbed a knife and went to work on a bundle of carrots. “You are obviously determined to keep the two of them together,” she said. “Why else would you insist he be here? You could have simply taken the girl and left him on the trail.” She paused and flashed her eye
s to his. “Tell me, Tygg. I have a right to know. Is this the future your Cloud Walker would have you weave?”
Tygg stepped closer. “Forgive me, Sachmei,” he said gently. “I know this is difficult for you.”
“Difficult?” Sachmei slammed the knife onto the trestle. “Is it difficult that the man I love has promised his soul to a wall?”
Tygg heaved a sigh. “No matter how long you live here, Sachmei, you will never understand our ways.”
“I am from Sister World,” she said. “What do you expect?” She grabbed up the knife and continued to chop. “Well if you feel this girl has relevance you had best consult Baunti first. There is no sense riling the Pedant and tempting your destiny before its time. The path of the Pedant and the Imela may yet prove to be false.”
Tygg placed his hands on Sachmei’s shoulders. “I will go to Baunti now, before Or’n awakens.” He glanced at the drape. “Will you and Panya be all right while I am gone?”
“Of course,” Sachmei replied. “I gave the fool an extra dose of elixir this morning. As I did you last night.”
“You what?”
Sachmei smiled and turned to face him. “You needed your sleep and I knew you would be hovering over the Pedant like a guinea hen with a chick.”
Tygg felt a surge of aggravation. “Sachmei! You know I made a promise to keep him safe. How could you have forced me to sleep?”
“I did not force it, I encouraged it,” Sachmei said smugly. “I slipped a bit of the brew into your beverage last night.”
Tygg hissed through his teeth, but before he could sputter another word, Sachmei reminded him of his duty.
“You had best get going,” she said, nodding to the door. “The Syddian will not sleep forever. He is a stubborn one, that one.” Tygg scowled but did not argue.
~~~
Tygg slipped through the drape and quietly headed to the far side of the bedroom where a large wooden trunk rested against the wall. Other than Panya, the trunk and what it held were all that remained of Tygg’s life before Nauney’s passing. But it also held symbols of his people’s future, a future he had vowed to make happen. That future was now on its way to becoming a reality. He had already taken the first step, taken when he brought the Pedant and the Imela to Adjo.
He lifted the lid of the trunk and leaned it against the wall, then pulled out his best tunic, the one he always wore when he went to take council. Though he would first seek the wisdom of Baunti, one of the spirit elders, there was little doubt he would next be seeing one with a higher power: Yatka, the Cloud Walker.
Tygg yanked on the tunic, then reached into the trunk and pulled out a leather collar. He moved to the dressing table and sat down on the stool. Placing the collar upon the tabletop, he lit a tapered candle and moved his gaze to the reflective plate leaned against the wall before him. His features seemed to waver, his pale green eyes glowing like a cat’s as they stared back at him.
For a moment he did not recognize himself, or perhaps it was what he had become that he did not recognize. Was he actually about to risk all of Orryn’s ambitions in order to facilitate those of his own? And the Imela . . . was she really so disposable? He lifted the collar and wrapped it around his neck, tying it at the back, then ran his fingers along it. It was studded with dozens of polished red jaspers, tooled by the elders to protect him from temptations that might sway him from his path.
He studied his appearance, noting the state of his kohl and his hair, and realized there was much need, but very little time, to make them more presentable. He dipped some oil from a nearby crock and fingered it through his hair, pulling it into its usual wild, black mane. Satisfied with the results, he grabbed a piece of kohl and dragged it around his eyes and down the sides of his nose. He twisted his mouth, knowing he usually did a much better job of it. But time was short. This would have to do.
He rose and snuffed the candle, then made his way toward the bed. Orryn was still asleep, his breathing heavy, but Tygg could not help but wonder how easily the man could be awakened. He reached out and placed a hand on Orryn’s shoulder. “Or’n,” he said, giving a shake. But the Pedant’s breathing did not alter. “Or’n,” Tygg repeated more firmly. Again no response. Tygg removed his hand but continued to stare down at him. He replayed the question Orryn had asked the night before, a question Tygg still had not answered. “What do you plan to do with me?”
“What the wall tells me I must,” Tygg said. “I am sorry, friend.” He stepped from the bed and headed toward the exit.
CHAPTER 8
Tygg hustled up the cliff path, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he bypassed the dozens of dens tucked in the rocks alongside it. People watched and whispered as he passed, but that did not surprise him. Bringing a Pedant into Adjo was unprecedented, at least one that was not a prisoner of war, and word that he’d done so had spread quickly. Fortunately there would be no open retaliation for his act. The chief of the tribe had made it clear the circumstances, though unusual, were sanctioned by a Qwa t’sei. And a Qwa t’sei was an oath no Taubastet dared dispute.
He directed his feet toward the path that would take him to Baunti. It was there, in the topmost cliffs, that the wisest of the Taubastets could be found. The Cloud Walker himself, as well as the spirit elders who served him, lived in the compound near the Circle Chamber, a sacred place where it was believed knowledge of all things could be found. The knowledge itself was painted upon the walls of the cave, and at first glance looked like nothing more than a kaleidoscope of images splashed upon the rocks. But the images were much more than that; they were depictions of the past and the present, and even more importantly, revelations of the future. The writings contained thousands of messages, most delivered to the walls by Cloud Walkers of old. But the Cloud Walkers that had left their marks in this cave were only a few of the dozens who had planted their visions throughout the island.
The site to which Tygg was currently heading was under the stewardship of the Taubastets, but the Tearians to the east had one also, as did a clan far to the north. At one time the Nahanna, an order of women with great spiritual gifts, had been stewards of another Cloud Walker site not far from this one. But it was destroyed during the War of Shade, along with the women who had vowed to keep it safe. The protectors of the current locations had come to understand the importance of the writings within the caves, not only to the inhabitants of Aredyrah, but to Sister World, that place from which the Imelas hailed. As a result they had a long-standing agreement to study them and to guard them.
A young man stepped suddenly onto the path and stopped to face him.
Tygg was relieved to see it was Haisa, Nauney’s brother.
“Tygg,” Haisa said in friendly greeting. But there was worry in his eyes.
“The Path be with you, Haisa,” Tygg said in acknowledgement, but he did not break his stride and passed him.
Haisa turned and hustled to keep pace. “Please, Tygg,” he implored. “Do not do this.”
“I go to consult with Baunti,” he said as casually as he could. “Nothing more.”
Haisa grabbed Tygg’s arm, stopping him short. “You would lie to me, Tygg?”
“I will consult the Cloud Walker if Baunti feels I must,” Tygg said. “I am duty sworn. You know that.”
“Do not be a pawn in their games, Tygg. Only the gods have sway over our destinies. No person can manipulate what is meant to be. Not even you.”
“What the gods desire of this world is more than clear, Haisa. It is written on the wall. I have seen it. But in order for these events to happen, we must set them into motion. Why else would the gods have given us their messages? Why else would they ask us to set our Qwa t’seis?” Tygg shook his head. “The Cloud Walkers are given their visions so that future generations will heed their words and use them as a guide. I, for one, intend to follow the path the gods set for us.”
“The gods, bah!” Haisa said. He released Tygg’s arm with a shove. “Not all of us share your respect for them. You
know as well as I the messages the Cloud Walkers placed upon the walls have more than one meaning. The spirit elders have been studying and debating them for years. No, Tygg. You are not following the Qwa t’sei the gods set for you. You are risking your life for the ambitions of a few old men.”
“The wisest of men,” Tygg reminded him. “It is my life. My choice.”
“And what of Panya? Does she not factor into this?”
“Of course she does! Do not test me, Haisa. We have been over this before. Now step aside.”
Haisa stood fast for a determined moment more. “Very well,” he said. “Let us pray the gods do not ask for your daughter as they did your wife.”
“Enough!” Tygg shoved past him, but he hated the bitterness that had passed between them. He knew the gods expected sacrifices. Nauney had been one of them, but Panya? Surely the gods would not take her from him, not after the loyalty he had shown them.
Tygg marched on, his breath quickening. The incline was steep, and though he had traveled it many times, it never failed to leave his lungs burning. The path took a sudden turn, leading him around a wall of granite dotted with woven drapes and wooden pole ladders. Each ladder led to the living quarters of the spirit elders, those whose duty was to study and share the knowledge found in the cave.
He stopped before a tattered drape and paused to gather his wits. He had passed through this faded portal many times during the past five years, ever since his wife had died and he had come begging for answers. Tygg had been a broken man then, unable to see any future without Nauney, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, even to care for their infant daughter. He had not been a believer then, and for that Nauney had died; he was sure of it. The guilt of her passing had weighed like a stone in his heart, but Baunti had taught him that restitution could be made—if he followed the path the gods set for him.
“Baunti,” Tygg said, waiting respectfully outside the drape. “May I seek council with you?”
“Aye, boy. Enter,” an elderly voice replied from the other side.
Shrouded Sky (The Veils of Lore Book 1) Page 5
