by Diana Rivers
“The first food I stole I would much rather have earned, but I was given no chance. After that it became easier. I watched how the foxes did it and the rabbits and the rats. I learned some of my best lessons from them. After a while I lost any compunction I may have had. Having found no work and having grown hungry enough, I soon learned this new trade, not so honorable, perhaps, but still requiring skill. Indeed, I became the thief and the liar my father had marked me for, and very good at it besides. But not lazy, no, never lazy. I worked hard at this new occupation and discovered I had a gift.
“One of my first pieces of thieving was a set of boy’s clothes stolen from a washline. With these I began to pass as a boy. As I grew older I stole more clothes to fit my growing body and turned into a young man, that being an easier way to move with freedom in the world. I kept some women’s clothing, however, for occasionally this was better suited for a particular piece of work. Sometimes the best way was to shift quickly from one to the other and so disappear almost in an instant.
“For that first year or two I was on my own, moving fast and learning to stay alive. Then, gradually, I began to meet others like me, others with powers. I began to understand that I was not the only ‘unnatural one,’ the only ‘freak of nature,’ as my father had been so fond of calling me. I knew then that ‘we’ existed, though as yet we had no name for what we were. By the time I saw you, I had gained enough experience. It was easy for me to see through your disguise.”
I had been growing drowsy. Now, suddenly my curiosity was awakened, “Who was the first one? How did you know each other, or did she seek you out?”
Pell pulled her arm out from under my head, yawned and stretched. “Are not you weary of all this and ready to sleep? Surely, I have been talking for hours.”
“Only answer me this, then I will leave you in peace.”
“I have your promise, then?” She drew me back into her arms. “The first one, eh? That would have been Jhemar. I remember it all very clearly. I probably had some thirteen years at the time, give or take a little.”
“Sometimes I would sit at a Wanderer’s campfire out of loneliness and because they asked no questions. This night I thought myself the only woman in a circle of men, though of course I was in disguise, passing as a man myself. There had been a good deal of singing of old road songs, all pleasantly melancholy, to which I added my own voice, keeping it as low as I could. There was also much drinking of yors and quillof. This I mostly avoided whenever possible, as it might make me careless, and I needed to always keep my wits about me. Now I want you to understand that since the Wanderers were good to me, I was as honest with them as I could afford to be. In their circles I was not a thief. I never stole from among them and told no lies that were not absolutely necessary, though as I have already said, they asked few questions and expected the same restraint from others. Also, I knew I could count on some food there and that helped keep me honest.
“It was getting late. I was yawning and thought to sleep soon when one of the Wanderers stood up, stripped off his shirt to wash, and to my amazement I saw, gleaming before me in the firelight, the breasts of a woman. My mouth fell open in shock. This woman, Jhemar, continued her washing calmly enough, ignoring my stares. But the men, of course, began to laugh and tease me, saying, ‘What? A big boy like you? Have you never seen a naked woman before?’
“In my confusion I stammered, ‘Yes...no...but...’ as I blushed hotly. They, of course, were all slapping their knees and doubled up with laughter. When I had recovered and was able to talk again, I struggled to explain through their noise, ‘It was only my surprise. It was so unexpected. How can one woman travel safe this way with a whole troupe of men?’
“There was a shocked silence then when they understood my question. Mackero, the one who seemed to be the leader of this band, said with some dignity, ‘I like to think that any woman can travel safe with the Wanderers, that, in fact, we would offer her protection. In that, we have our own code and are not like other men, not like the Ganja. To force love, to take another’s will, is that not a form of murder? Now that you have sat by our fires and been one of us for a while, I hope you will remember that, no matter what the temptation to do otherwise. Let me tell you now and clearly, boy, if ever you force a woman against her will, you will not be welcome again in any Wanderer circle anywhere.’ There were some threatening mumbles of agreement from around the circle. Now I was in total confusion and embarrassment. I could not imagine what to say to all this, except perhaps to jump up and strip off my shirt, which at that moment I was not quite ready to do.
“Mackero saved me by going on, ‘Of course, this woman that you saw tonight is different. This Jhemar has no need of our protection. She has her own. No man can touch her against her will, and woe to him who tries. The more force he attempts, the more will come back at him to his own harm. But understand, boy, that knowledge is not for the world out there, not something to go flapping your lips about in the village pub. If you are to share our fire, you must also abide by our ways and keep our secrets.’ He leaned forward to fix me with his eyes, wanting to make sure that young as I was, I understood the seriousness of all this.
“‘Yes, yes, I pledge you my silence,’ I said instantly. ‘I pledge it with my life, and I will take heed of all that you told me.’ In my excitement I could hardly breathe. My heart was beating so fiercely I had to press a hand against my chest. ‘She seems to have some magic, this woman. What else can she do?’ I asked, trying to still the excitement in my voice.
“‘She has a way with creatures better even than the Wanderers. I hear she can call them in her head and that she even converses with them there. I, myself, have seen her draw birds to her shoulder and coax a song from them, but say nothing of this outside our circle, is that clear? There are too many in the world out there who are jealous or vengeful and see evil in everything they cannot understand or control.’
“‘Very clear,’ I answered, ‘And very true.’ Now my heart was pounding so loud I thought surely they must all hear it. There was another like me in the world, and I was about to meet with her.
“Meanwhile, this woman named Jhemar had long since done with her washing and already left for bed. It took a while of stumbling among sleeping bodies and being cursed for my clumsiness before I finally found her sleep mat.
“‘Jhemar, Jhemar,’ I called softly, hoping not to wake the others.
“At last she whispered back angrily, ‘Go away, boy. You were rude enough at the fire. They must already have told you it is no use with me. If you keep on this way you will soon wake the whole camp and have them all on your tail. Go away now.’
“‘Please, Jhemar, I must speak with you.’ I was almost in tears, afraid that I might lose this one chance. ‘Please, please.’
“‘Very well, then, come sit on my sleep mat, but try no foolishness with me.’ Gratefully, I came and settled by her. ‘Now what is so urgent that is must be settled in the middle of the night this way?’
“‘I was afraid that by morning you might have gone away. Give me your hand. It is better than words.’ Like you, she hesitated, full of suspicion, but I tried to speak in her mind at the same time. She let me take her hand, and I pressed it over my breast.
“‘Ah, so you go in disguise, also. But what has that to do with me?’
“‘You and I have powers. I think you were born under the Great Star the same as I was.’
“‘The Great Star?’ She sat up now, fully alert. ‘Can you repel harm back to the sender and talk with creatures and lift heavy things as with an extra hand? I thought I even felt something in my head, but I tried hard to shut it out. I had heard there were others like me. You are the first I have met.’ She lit a candle to peer at my face, staring a long time into my eyes with that flickering light between us. Suddenly her whole manner changed. ‘Well, well, what a wonder. Welcome, stranger who is not really a stranger, who is more family to me than my family has ever been. Welcome indeed! I am very glad you
persisted. Forgive my rudeness. Come share my mat so we can talk. We have much to tell each other.’ Now she was as excited as I was. I slipped in beside her. We talked all that night till dawn lightened the sky, trading stories and pledging to seek for the others.
“And that is what we did. We followed the rumors and the stories. We found others, many others, some hated, some in hiding, some loved and protected, cherished in their families for being special. And now the edict has been posted and the game has changed.” As Pell spoke these last words the sky was indeed turning bright with the dawn, as if it were her story, repeating itself.
I lay for a while in silence, thinking of all she had told me. Then suddenly I burst out, “What are we, Pell? What are we? We have no name. We are nobody’s children. Nobody wants us.”
“Not so,” she answered fiercely. “We are the Star’s children. The future wants us.” She leaned over to kiss me, and instantly our bodies were tangled with each other. This time I determined I would be the lover and Pell the loved one. I used all the skill I knew already and all I had learned from her. Though I still felt a little clumsy and rough-handed, still I had the thrill of feeling her rise under my hands and hearing her cry out in pleasure. Before we were done the sun was shining in, touching our faces and flashing on my quick-moving hands.
After that, though there was little enough affection or gentleness between us, we used our bodies often for release from the fears and pains we lived with. Puntyar, Muirlla, whatever names they had, it was better than the loneliness of missing Kara, though of course it could not stop that, it could only dull the ache a little.
Chapter Seven
Up until now Pell had come home alone from her nightly forays. This time she returned early, and she brought back with her two others, two who formed a strange contrast to each other. One of them was Jhemar, the very same Jhemar of whom Pell had just spoken, standing there in the flesh. A tall, mannish-looking woman with an in-turned countenance, she was so silent at first as to seem almost sullen. There was nothing in her of grace or ease, yet something in her presence inspired instant confidence. Zenoria, on the other hand, was lively and talkative, with a bright, open countenance, as sunny as her companion appeared dour. She was a small, restless woman, very dark-skinned, in size almost like a child, yet her hand in our hand clasp was strong as any man’s.
They had come with several extra horses. If not for the warning of Pell’s owl hoots, I would have been much afraid. In fact, I had already leapt to my feet, dumping my work on the ground. I had been sitting by the fire, altering the last two saddles, feeling very much like the wife left home by the hearth. After our late night, I had slept a good part of the day, waking just as Pell was about to leave. She told me I was not to go out that night, saying that it was too dangerous with so many troops about and that first I needed more experience.
“And how am I to get that experience if you keep me shut up here?” I demanded indignantly, but secretly I was glad. That part of me that fought each time with fear was relieved to sit safe by the hearth. As soon as Pell left, I had set myself to cooking a big pot of soup out of whatever I could find at hand, hoping in that way to make myself useful. ‘Grandmother soup’, my mother used to call such mixtures. The aroma of that bubbling pot had soon filled the shelter, somehow keeping me company there in Pell’s absence.
Now the other three had come to join me by the fire, or rather Pell and Jhemar joined me, drinking bowl after bowl of my soup. They were dipping in chunks of bread that Pell cut off with her knife. “Not stolen,” she said with a grin as she reached out to offer me a piece speared on the blade. “Baked by a friend.” It tasted like my mother’s bread and so was both sweet and bitter in my mouth.
Jhemar looked up from her bowl and gave me a nod. “Good soup, almost as good as the Wanderers make.” I understood from her tone that this must be the highest praise.
Zenoria ate with us in spurts, but when her energy or excitement grew too much to contain, she would jump up and pace about, sometimes going up and down the whole length of the shelter. At some moment she spun on her heel and came toward us, gesturing with both hands. “Do you know what the talk is in the taverns now? I have heard, not once but several times, that all the Zarns have issued a death edict on us. Not just the Zarn of Eezore, but all four of them, even the Zarn of Macktesh. It must be the first time in a thousand years all four Zarns have agreed on anything.”
“And there must have been a good deal of bargaining back and forth between them to get to that,” Jhemar added. “Maybe even some marriages made on it.”
“All of them, eh?” Pell was nodding. “So, we are really something to be afraid of. Perhaps they know more about us than we know about ourselves. I would have given some good gold coins to have been a fly on the ceiling at those meetings and know what they say of us. It would certainly help us with our plans and our strategy.” As she said this, she set down her bowl and jumped up. “Here, let us map out together what places we have already covered between us.” With stick in hand, she began drawing one of her endless maps in the dirt as they talked. It was so long she had to keep clearing new places to extend it this way and that.
“This whole countryside is crawling with guards,” Jhemar said. “They are everywhere. It is hard to ride on any roads without crossing paths with them sooner or later, even on little-used farm tracks.” She took the stick from Pell’s hand and began making marks of her own. “We have seen them here and here and here, and a large contingent of them is camped here by the river, fifty or more, I would say. I think it is a base of sorts.”
Pell took up another stick. “Tazzi saw them all through here when she rode back from Gaitherill last night. I have seen them in these places as well,” she added, pointing. “They want this quickly done. They must be much afraid if they think they must send out such an army after a pack of young women, hardly out of wet-pants. Mark on there where you have already ridden with warnings.” They went on for a while in this way, marking and talking, while I sat forgotten, drinking my tea and watching them. At last Pell stood up to ease her back. “The game changes, the wheel rolls faster and faster. With so many of us shaken loose we will soon need a better place to gather. Not here. There is not the room. Besides, I think the Twisted Forest grows more quarrelsome and recalcitrant with each new day, trying to block out intruders.” They went on then to talk of possible places, none of which, for one reason or another, seemed to satisfy them. After a while Pell and Zenoria fell to trading stories, from which I gathered they also had known each other for some time. Jhemar sat silent and watchful, and I began to doze.
In the morning Zenoria was gone. She had ridden off on some mission of her own, having first taken the extra horses to hide with the others in the high meadow. Jhemar, however, was still there. Later, it seemed, she and Pell were planning to ride out together. Already they were bending over the dirt-drawn map. I had awakened hearing Pell say, “...fire.” And Jhemar replying, “...need a healer.”
Pell, sensing me awake, gave a nod in my direction. “Tazzi says she is a healer. She has even brought her healer’s pouch with her.”
“But is she some half-trained village Witch or a true healer? This will not be easy, and there will be more and more of it. I wonder if any healer will have the stomach for it in the end.”
Stung, I got up and came to stand over them. “Since I was seven I have been the apprentice healer in my village and since ten, the only one. In that time, only twice have I lost a life to anything except extreme old age or violent accident where the Goddess had already set her hand and made her choice.”
Jhemar looked up at me. “Well, what do you know of fire and burns?”
“Probably as much as any other healer. Houses and barns burn down in my village just as they do elsewhere. People are trapped or are burned escaping. I have done good work on burns and with little scarring left to mark the place.”
“Good,” Pell said, “Or certainly the best we have with us at the moment.�
�� She bent back to her map. I felt myself dismissed, as if I had been a soldier reporting to his captain, not a woman answering her lover. Forgotten again by those two, I went about getting my breakfast.
Later Pell told me I was to stay at the shelter again come night, but she wanted me to ride to the swamp that day. There I was to gather whatever herbs and roots I might need for burns or infections. “Since there are so many guards about and you ride out in daylight, be very cautious. Try to stay out of sight and watch the trail behind you. I will send you a different way, slightly longer, but it will keep you off the roads altogether. Jhemar and I are going to sleep part of this day. We will need whatever strength we have for the coming night.” She gave me careful directions, but again not one word of where she went or what she did—not even a hug when I left.
Never in my life had I been ordered about by anyone, not even by my father—though he no doubt would have been glad enough to do so. And certainly not by my mother. With my mother, though she loved me much, there was always a tinge of fear and puzzlement in her treatment of me, the sort of wary respect a child sometimes gives to an adult. Pell, of course, had no such fear or respect. She simply put me to use in whatever way she felt was best. In spite of my moments of resentment, I was growing accustomed to her ways. I knew there was no unkindness meant, no intention to hurt under the brusqueness of her manner. I had begun to think it easier to do as she said than risk having her ask me again, “Have you a better plan, Tazzi?” and finding myself with nothing new to offer.
It was a beautiful day to ride out, full of spring smells. I took no saddle and carried only a small waist pack. In this I stuffed some trail bread and some dried fruit and carried my knife for cutting and digging. To bring back my harvest, I had two well-crafted saddle bags that lay across the horse’s rump and hung down behind my legs.
If not for the Twisted Forest around me I might have enjoyed that ride alone. It was the forest that oppressed me at that moment more than my fear of the guards. This place seemed to grow increasingly malignant with each passing day. It was hard not to feel that this was meant personally for me, and perhaps it was. Still, spring was well on its way. Even in that blighted place, wild flowers and herbs grew in a carpet on the forest floor. Several times I stopped to pick some blue thistle or some perthali and even a little sweet-moss that was so rare in other places. With effort, I kept my calm, even when my hair was caught and snagged or my back raked by some bent, clawing branch that seemed to have intention in its reach. Altogether, I must say, it was a great relief when I noticed the trees begin to straighten to a more normal form and then to thin. Even Marshlegs seemed aware of the difference and went along with a lighter and springier step.
