Oath Keeper

by Jefferson Smith

  “You have the tongue of a jay-hawk,” Kijamon noted. “Quick and bold, yet full of laughing. Hold it still but a moment longer while I explain my boon. And then you may set it free, so that all might see where it may jab next.”

  Tayna shrugged. “Okay. That’s fair. Ask away.”

  “On three occasions you have stood by House Kijamon and rendered great service. In the first, you revived a son of this House from the brink of death by flame, snatching him back from the Grey Shepherd’s flock. In the second, you rescued that same son of this House from capture by another grim keeper—a Gnome King, no less—who has turned against all the Peoples of this land. And in the third, you preserved a great trust of this House—the Wagon of Tears—and held it safe from those who would use it to disrupt the Djin.” All around the table, heads were nodding in agreement as the old man concluded his list and looked around. Then he drew a deep breath.

  “Do you—?” He paused and leaned his head toward Abeni, pitching his voice in a loud stage whisper. “What’s her true name? Surely it isn’t really ‘Little Fish?’”

  Abeni smiled. “The Little Fish does not know the full name of her House,” he said. “She seeks it still, but the name of her heart is ‘Tayna.’”

  Tayna couldn’t remember if Abeni had ever actually said her name before, and much as she liked their playful bantering and mutual name-calling, it made her feel good to hear him say it now. But she had to pay attention, because Kijamon was going back into preachy mode.

  “Do you, Tayna, attest these services to be true? That they have been rendered of your heart, without expectation or deceit?”

  “Well, sure. I guess. But Abeni did lots of great things for me too. You should have seen him tackle me out of the flames, and then when we were in the Cold-”

  “It is well that you would share honor, but do not diminish that portion which is your own. You attest these services to be true?”

  Tayna nodded. “I guess so.” Kijamon cocked his head at her and then flashed a stink-eye of mock irritation. “Okay. Yes.” Tayna put one hand over her heart and raised the other in the air. “I, Tayna, do solemnly swear that these services were true and honest and wholesome, like little kids, and oatmeal.” Kijamon smiled. She had no idea where this was going, but she got the sense that they were trying to do something nice for her, and since that didn’t happen very often in her life, it wasn’t something she wanted to miss. Maybe they were going to give her a souvenir boh-cho mug. She liked those.

  “Having attested to these services, freely rendered, I, Kijamon, Lord of House Kijamon, extend to you the Keshwa-Ji. The Inclusion. Will you, Tayna, known in this House as Little Fish, do honor to Kijamon and Shaleen, and take their House to be your own? Will you stand as honor-daughter to House Kijamon?”

  That’s when Tayna lost it and started to cry.

  * * *

  Celebrations continued around the forge for several minutes, as each member gathered Tayna into an embrace and welcomed her into the House. It was not an adoption, they explained. She was an adult, and as such, had no need for the protective swaddlings of childhood. There was nothing similar to it in Grimorl customs that she knew of. It was something like a business merger, except warmer and more personal, involving people instead of companies. But the two sides did not become one. It was an alliance in which each became a part of the other. Tayna had joined House Kijamon, and House Kijamon had joined House Tayna, should she ever start a House of her own. Technically, it did not extend to her family, should she ever find them, but in practice, they too would be treated as members of House Kijamon until Kijamon found reason to declare otherwise. But Tayna didn’t get far in her exploration of all the maybes and mightbes. When the hugs and smiles had all been shared out and enjoyed, Kijamon raised his hands.

  “Now we must return to the other honor matter before the House,” he said, and the family settled themselves back into place around the forge, although Shaleen couldn’t help but reach over and squeeze Tayna’s hand, offering her a warm smile to go with it.

  “The Gnome Court has made petition,” Kijamon said. “They claim that there is an unbound criminal hiding on the lands of this House, and that, without standing, she must be delivered to them and bound over to the honor court of the Gnome King.” Everybody around the forge was now beaming. At her. At Abeni. But most of all, at Kijamon, now shown to be a Master Sneak of the highest order, in addition to his other lofty accomplishments.

  “After considerable search,” the shining-haired old man continued, “it is the finding of this House that no such unbound person could be located. The only girl present who could fit the charge is fully bound to House Kijamon, and therefore has its protection. The matter must be sent to the King of all Djin, for only he can deliver an entitled bondsman into the hands of a foreign realm. The honor of this House has been satisfied. This discussion is concluded. The King will be informed in the morning.”

  Then Kijamon clapped his hands together and the preachy expression was gone, leaving an impish grin in its place. He leaned over to pat Tayna’s shoulder. “That ought to buy us some time at least,” he said. Then he dipped his mug back into the pot to get some more boh-cho.

  * * *

  The sky was still brilliant out through the window slots when Tayna excused herself from the chatter around the forge and stepped through the door that divided the open workshop from the living quarters. But night sets quickly in the mountains. One moment, the sun is low in the sky, blinding you with its cheeky glare, and the next, you’re plunging off a ledge you missed in the total darkness. So she was surprised to find Shaleen already preparing for bed.

  “I’m sorry,” Tayna said, backing quickly out of the room.

  “Come in,” Shaleen called. “Let’s get you settled.”

  Tayna stepped cautiously back in. The room looked comfortable. Big enough for two, but not ostentatious. “I’m not really tired,” she said, fumbling around for something to say in what still felt like an awkward moment. “It really isn’t very late yet and I-”

  “Two squares to dark,” the older woman said, gesturing high on the wall behind her. The roof of the Wind Forge was a vast arch that spanned the entire structure, sloping back to catch the full warmth of the sun. Along its lowest extent, evenly spaced holes in the stonework allowed natural light into each room of the studio, casting squares of brilliant light onto the stone walls above Tayna’s head. In this room, two identical magenta squares were visible where the reddish evening sunlight gleamed onto the blue of the stone. As she watched, Tayna could just see that one of the squares was getting narrower, as the sun set behind the mountain ridge and its shadow crept slowly across the face of the Wind Forge.

  “Not much accustomed to the high places, are you?” Shaleen asked, conversationally. “Days last longer up high, but they start and end more suddenly. Best come along before you bang your nose in the night. Don’t want you looking like a Gnome now.”

  Tayna followed her through what appeared to be the master bedroom, into another, smaller room beyond. This one had no sun clock on the wall—just one narrow slot of a window to let in air and the diffused, indirect light of a sunset sky, but this end of the studio was already in the shadow of the mountain, and it was only dimly lit.

  “Dark rooms are best for busy young Djin boys,” Shaleen said. “This was Abeni’s room, when he was small. You’ll be comfortable in here, I think.” Tayna looked around. Like the other rooms of the studio, it was tidy and simple. Not much decoration, but then, when the walls are made of blue stone and etched with intricate veins of gold, silver, and crystal, how much extra decoration did you need?

  The only ornaments at all were a few small shapes—toys by the look of them—arranged on the low table beside the bed. One, a round leather orb, caught Tayna’s eye. It was the size and shape of a baseball. When asked about it, the woman looked at her curiously. “You’ve never seen a coverlight?” she asked, and Tayna shook her head. “Odd. I thought they were common.�
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  So Shaleen showed her that the leather had a seam, which could be opened and closed, much like the seam on her boots. When the orb was open, a pale whitish light spilled out from the glowing stone inside, lighting up her hands and the walls around her. Shaleen explained that too much darkness was sometimes difficult for Djin children, especially before they could work magic of their own. So parents often placed coverlights like these in their rooms. With one, any child had power over their darkness, and this helped them to overcome their fear of it quickly.

  There were a few other oddities on the table, but Tayna didn’t want to get that look again. The one that said, “What kind of weird kid are you that you’ve never seen one of these?” So she thanked Shaleen again. “Everything looks fine.” Then she yawned, surprising herself and earning a laugh from her hostess.

  “It is as I told you. Little more than one square now until dark. Sleep will find you. You’ll see.” It only took her a few moments to show Tayna the low, hard bed, with its single blanket and strange bag-of-gravel pillow. Shaleen had turned and was about to leave when Tayna had a sudden, horrible realization and stopped her.

  “Um, Shaleen?”

  The woman turned back into the room. “Was there something else you needed?”

  Tayna wanted to die of embarrassment, but she knew there was no way she could wait until morning. “Er, is there, um, like, a bathroom?”

  “You wish to bathe?”

  Tayna’s cheeks reddened. “Uh, no. Maybe you call it a washroom?”

  Shaleen cocked her head, apparently bemused over what Tayna could possible be talking about, but having realized her need, Tayna’s situation was now suddenly urgent and she unconsciously began the dance of the full bladder. Shaleen burst out laughing.

  “Oh! You mean the Void! Come girl, this way.”

  So ten minutes later, after what were, without doubt, the three most embarrassing questions Tayna could ever remember having to ask, she was finally alone in her bed, just as shadows of sunset plunged the room into darkness. And as Shaleen had predicted, the darkness of night and the chill of the air wrapped themselves around her and dragged her quickly down into sleep.

  She did not resist.

  Later that night, Tayna woke again. “Damned boh-cho,” she muttered, and she fumbled around on the low table beside the bed, feeling for the coverlight. Her hand closed on something, and immediately, a shock ran through her body, but the soft blue glow that crackled from between her fingers lit the room. Not the same coverlight, but it would light her way to the void just as well.

  When she climbed back into bed, she set the coverlight back on the table, but it did not go out. Tayna was pretty sure this one hadn’t had a cover. It had been bare and cold when she’d picked it up. But there was no way she was going to be able to sleep with that glaring in her face all night, so she pulled the second blanket from where it had been folded at the end of the bed, and tossed it over the light. Voila. Instant darkness. Without giving it another thought, Tayna rolled over and went back to sleep.

  This time, her dreams were entirely waterfall-free.

  Chapter 19

  Eliza sat in the crotch of a tree, near the traveler’s dehn, watching the creepy little Gnome— Check that. Watching Mehklok wriggle his delighted little tush into the mud of the river bank. A shudder of revulsion ran through her, but Mardu had made her promise not to reveal how much she hated the disgusting little worm. Because they needed him. So Eliza would just have to suck it up and play nice-nice with her former abuser. Figures.

  Beside her, Scraw was doing his best to be even more revolting than the Gnome, working his pointy little beak up a long branch, digging and poking under the loose bark. Occasionally he would throw back his head in delight as he choked down another grub. Eliza shuddered every time. She was convinced his whole grub fetish was just more crow humor, meant to freak her out. So with the others occupied, this might be their last chance to chat without interruption for a while.

  Where next? she sent.

  I have given this much thought, Mardu replied, as Scraw found another package of ugh! and choked it down. We must convince three kings to set aside their war and return to the Anvil—to the very Bloodcap—and there to renew the Oath.

  And don’t forget about the part where they sacrifice family members, Eliza added. That should make it easier. Everybody loves a family barbecue.

  Mardu twisted Scraw’s head around and threw a glare of resentment at her.

  Oops. Sorry. I forgot.

  The problem, Mardu continued, as though nothing had happened, is how to convince them of our cause. To their eyes, we are but a mute girl, a cross-tempered crow, and a Gnome, and it has been the slaughter of Dragons even to assemble this many. Without followers—without a visible people behind us—we will appear as little more than a deluded rabble, demanding concessions from our betters. Not leaders of men, treating with equals.

  You mean Captain Creepytime is part of the team now? He’s not, like, a follower? To pick grubs for Scraw or something?

  “Scraw!” the crow interjected, voicing his approval of the suggestion.

  Don’t you see, Eliza? Friend Mehklok may be key to our success. He is an ordained chaplain of an ancient order, who has built his life from convincing villagers to align themselves with hopeless causes. His are the skills that will complete our company and bring success to our mission.

  But how does he help? We almost had four new recruits today, but dingus scared them off. What about that do-what-I-say magic you did back there, when you froze everybody? Can’t you just do that instead, but you know, bigger? Make them obey you? And if you did that, then we wouldn’t need him for anything.

  Eliza tasted Mardu’s frustration and a hint of sadness over the link. No, Mardu replied. An oath made under compulsion has no substance. And what is more, the Flame of the Dragon That Was draws vim from Methilien himself, and from the remnants of the original Oath, but something is wrong. Something has changed. Even with the Oath in tatters and the Dragon withholding his vims from the Peoples, there should still be vim aplenty within the world. Enough for me to command the entire Gnomileshi Horde to sing songs of love and bake pies, yet there is not. I should not have used what little store I had. We will lament its loss before long, I think.

  Great, so your batteries are dead. I get it. No hocus-pokus-take-the-oathus. Not any time soon, anyway. How long will it take to recharge?

  I do not know. None of this is as it was supposed to be. I am having to… wing it.

  “K-keh” Scraw said, lifting one of his own wings to salute the joke. Eliza smiled with him.

  Okay, so no recharge, Eliza said. What about new batteries then? Can you switch to alkalines? Or car batteries or something? Maybe plug into a wall socket back home? Or maybe we don’t even need magic. What if we built up a big group of foll—

  Hold, Eliza.

  What? Oh. Sorry. I tend to just spout garbage when we’re brainstorming. That’s kinda what I do. And then Tayna usually stops me in the middle and says—

  Yes, that might work.

  Eliza’s eyes widened with surprise. How did you know? That’s almost exactly what—

  You were jesting, but there is wisdom in the words, even if you did not intend it. Suddenly, Scraw stopped his grub hunt and flapped back down to perch in front of Eliza. I must seek something upon the wind, Mardu sent. Scraw and I will return shortly. Hold here until our return. Then they flitted off the branch and vanished through the foliage. Eliza didn’t even have time to ask where they were heading.

  When fifteen minutes had passed and still Flame Girl and Robin had not returned, Eliza began to wonder just how long they might be gone. Was she supposed to wait here for an hour? Or a week? As she was pondering that, Mehklok grunted in satisfaction and began splashing muddy water up over his head. His back was toward her, and he was completely oblivious. His hearing would be impaired by all that mud and water. It would be one minute’s work to hop down from this tree, an
d sneak up behind him… There were plenty of fist-sized rocks scattered around by the river… Not that she would ever do that, of course. But it was a fun way to pass the time, and she soon lost herself in dreams of violent revenge.

  What are you doing? A flutter of wings startled her out of her fantasy, announcing that Mardu and Scraw had returned. She opened her eyes and smiled guiltily.

  Um, nothing. But you first, she answered. Where did you go and what did you find?

  Scraw cocked his head at her, curiously. As you will. Your earlier words hinted at a solution. A possible source of vim. In honesty, it was not one I would ever have considered, yet you said we might ‘plug into a wall socket back home.’

  Eliza laughed. You mean you’ve figured out how to power magic with electricity?

  No, but there is one thing your world does have that might give me power. Power enough that we may yet bargain earnestly with kings.

  Ooo! Is it Pop Tarts? I miss Pop Tarts.

  No, Mardu said, shaking Scraw’s head at Eliza’s burst of silliness. It is the Dragon Grimorl.

  We will draw our strength from the other Dragon.

  * * *

  They were heading south and west, toward the distant tug that only Mardu could feel. From time to time, Scraw would flap off, up into the forest canopy, and beyond, seeking altitude. Up there, separated from the confusing scatter of Methilien vim trickling in and around and through everything around them, Mardu could open her senses to the wind and seek out for that… otherness. She still couldn’t say what it was, exactly. Only that it was a relic of some kind. Some token of the Dragon Grimorl. It called to her from the south-west. Perhaps two days distant.

  And it shimmered with power.

  If Eliza had taken the time to think about things from Mehklok’s point of view, she might have been surprised by what she saw. To him, it was just he and the crow following their enigmatic young woman leader through the Forest toward their holy duty. Like a stone thrown straight and true, directly along the path of greatest good. But sadly, she did not take the time. All Eliza could see was herself stumbling around half blind, stared at by a lecherous mud monkey as she lurched along behind a schizophrenic crow with delusions of godhood.