“So much for hospitality,” said Drinagish.
Menish called to Yarol.
“There seems to be some disturbance in the women’s lodge. Keashil has been turned out. She can't sleep in the hall. Find her a chamber of her own, Hrangil’s will do.”
“Hrangil’s things are still in his chamber, Sire. I haven't yet been able to clear it.” Hrangil had many books such as the Mish-Tal, containing the secrets of the Sons of Gilish. He would not have wanted them tampered with.
“Leave them there, Yarol. Keashil already knows Hrangil’s secrets. But if she didn't she'd not learn them from his books. As for his other property, she'll respect it.”
So Menish went to his cold bed, remembering that Adhara had had to do the same while he was away. Or perhaps she slept in the women’s lodge? He had not thought of that before. He went to sleep wondering what those women were planning.
It was not until the noon meal next day that he saw Adhara again. There were no women to be seen in the place all morning, except for Keashil, and no sign of activity from the women’s lodge. People kept asking him what was happening, but he had no definite answers so he feigned ignorance, pointing out that he was not permitted in the women’s lodge to find out. Finally, at noon, they emerged from the lodge looking weary. Menish thought he saw traces of paint on Adhara’s face when she greeted him, but he did not mention it.
The women were hungry and, since no one had been expecting them, the kitchen staff, under Yarol’s supervision, hurriedly prepared more mein. It took time, however, and most of the women were irritable and vented their tempers on Yarol for keeping them waiting.
Menish and Adhara took their meal in their rooms. Adhara was plainly agitated, and just as irritable as the others. She looked as though she had been arguing all night and all morning. Menish waited patiently for her to tell him what had happened.
“This is muck!” she pushed the bowl of mein away and reached for the cup of ambroth.
“It's the same as always. You didn't complain yesterday.”
“They didn't burn it yesterday. It took them long enough to make it, then they burnt it!”
“Are you going to tell me what happened or just complain about the food?”
She glared at him for a moment, then her gaze softened.
“Yes, of course. I'll tell you what I can. We held a council of women, like the clan leaders council, but different. Many of the important women are here to listen to your news of Gashan so it was easy to organise it. For once I was able to address it.”
“What do you mean: ‘for once’?”
She hesitated.
“Only women who have given birth may speak in our councils.”
Her answer opened another window into this world of women for Menish. Women who had given birth wore their hair in braids, rather than loose as she did. He had always thought it an empty tradition, but suddenly it was a mark of status, a badge of importance. And Adhara could not speak in their councils? She who was regent while he was away? He had always assumed that she held a position of authority in Anthor, yet in this world of women she did not. Neither did he, of course. He was not even allowed to attend their councils.
“I see, go on.”
“I said we should hold the rite of Protection. It's an old rite, before the Relanese came it was used as a protection from them. Now it's used to protect herds from raiders. There were objections, of course.”
“Objections?”
“The rite of Protection can only be performed by the owner of the herds. It can't be done for her by anyone else. When it was done to defend Anthor it had to be done by the King.”
“And when the King is a man?”
“No one knows for sure. But we think in the old days it was done by a man or a woman. The Relanese changed that, but that's what I have been arguing all night. It may be still be done by a man… it may be done by you.”
There was something she was not telling him. But she was tired and he did not want to press her.
“And did you convince them?”
“In principle, yes. They agree that you ought to be allowed to do it. There is still a question whether you will succeed.”
“Is it some difficult task?”
“The rite isn't difficult. But whether Kiveli will listen is the question.”
“Don't you still revere Krith, the sky god?”
“Of course. But Kiveli has the power.”
He wondered if he could have reasonably expected any other answer from a religion of women.
It was several days before he heard any more about this rite of Protection. During this time Adhara avoided him, sleeping in the women’s lodge. She would not tell him anything about it, or even when it would take place. The other women also avoided him. Some of them seemed almost hostile and few would speak to him.
One morning Adhara met him emerging from their rooms.
“The rite will take place tonight.”
“What must I do?”
“Eat nothing this evening, bathe and put on clean clothing, and no weapons. I'll meet you at dusk.”
He did not see her again until dusk. Bolythak, who had the management of one of his herds, had wanted him to come and see how well it was doing. He wanted to build up Bolythak's confidence so he went with him, but it meant that he was away from Meyathal at noon and could only eat some wheat cakes in the fields. By dusk his stomach was churning with hunger, especially with the smell of the evening meal in his nostrils. He wondered if they would know if he ate something, but Adhara had trusted him to follow her instructions. He could not break that trust.
Adhara led him to the stables where they found horses and rode out from the palace. It was bitterly cold, but the sky was clear. A fingernail moon shed some light on their path. Menish had no idea where they were going. They stopped at the riverbank.
“Here we must cover your eyes.” Without waiting for his objections Adhara tied a cloth around his head, blocking out his vision. She inspected it carefully (he supposed that was what she was doing) before leading his horse off with her own. “There was debate about tying your hands to prevent you moving the covering. I told them that we could trust you.” After that Menish could hardly disobey even if he were inclined to.
But he did manage to guess where they were going. Some light from the waning moon gave him a sense of direction and he knew every horse path around Meyathal intimately. Although she twisted their path, circling and doubling back to confuse him Menish knew when they arrived at the place called Gomol-thal, the place of death. Menish could picture it in the night sky, rows of high earth mounds, beneath each one a king of Anthor lay. One day, perhaps, his own mound would lie here under the moon. But no, he would lie like his father did in the Mountains of Ristalshuz.
He could hear the muffled whispers and breathing of dozens of women clustered near one of the mounds. He did not know which one it was. There was a fire, he could smell burning and feel the welcome heat on his face. Some of its glow penetrated his blindfold. Was the fire part of the rite, or was it just to keep them warm?
Adhara helped him dismount and led him forward. He still did not know what he was expected to do.
“You're standing before the image of Kiveli. This will be uncomfortable and a little undignified, but it's the custom. Lie down.” Menish did as he was told. “We have a heavy boulder, not too heavy, but not light. We'll place it on top of you. While it's there you must address Kiveli briefly and without flattery, stating your need and why she should help.”
Before he could protest he felt a solid weight on his abdomen. It knocked the air out of his chest and he had to wait a moment before he could begin, but the pressure on him was uncomfortable enough to make him want to get it over with quickly. He wondered if this was some kind of joke, he must have looked ridiculous.
“O Kiveli…” he had to pause for breath. Why did they have to put a rock on his belly? “Gashan will soon attack Anthor… They have the ability to throw fire… and they h
ave other magic… We have only brave hearts and swords… You have helped us before… Help us again… Let none of our people die… in the battle… but destroy Gashan.” He could not raise enough breath for any more words except to say to Adhara: “get this off me.”
The weight was lifted and he filled his chest with air.
“Take a moment to rest if you need it, then you can get up,” Adhara said quietly. At the same moment the women around him began to sing. It was an old song, more of a chant than the kind of thing that was sung nowadays. Menish had heard it before, he could not remember when. It was a hymn to Kiveli, about green grass in the spring and new calves. He listened for a moment while his breath returned to normal then climbed to his feet.
“What happens now?”
“Nothing more. I'll lead you home.”
They climbed onto their horses and Adhara led them away, the women continued to sing. Eventually the song faded away with distance.
“Why the boulder?” asked Menish. “It was strange.”
“For you it would be. The boulder was a symbol of birth. By accepting the boulder you identified with Kiveli the creator and protector.”
“I see why there were arguments about a man doing it. Did Kiveli hear me?”
“Of course she heard you. You did well, my love. But it's Kiveli, not we, who will decide if she'll act.”
Menish held his tongue, but he remembered the same thing being said of Aton when the Emperor was killed. The gods will answer prayers if it suits them. It was not like buying cattle where people could be trusted to keep their bargains. People could be relied on. Gods could not be.
Chapter 31: Voyage
Once clear of the harbour Shelim, who had taken the tiller, turned the boat northwards, for every Vorthenki knew that the dragon isle lay to the north east of the lands of men, far out in the great ocean. Azkun knew they expected him to call the dolphin to guide them, but all he could think of for now was the hymn the Vorthenki folk had sung to him and the promise he had made them.
They sailed on into the dusk with a good wind and a calm enough sea. Althak contrived to ignore Thalissa completely. Azkun needed no special sight to see he was uncomfortable in her presence. He moved about the boat checking the ropes, tightening them or loosening them where necessary while Shelim manned the tiller, and ignoring any offers of help from her.
Early the following morning Althak found that a sack of oats in the hold had split open and an impromptu porridge was forming in the bilge water. They spent about an hour cleaning it out and Azkun found it a foul task. The hold stank of the fat used to seal the wooden hull, a thick, sulphurous smell that caught in the throat like acid. Tenari could not be made to help and Shelim was busy with the tiller. Althak and Thalissa were least disturbed by the stench below deck so Azkun found himself by the gunwales lifting bail buckets of oaty sludge from the deck hatch to empty over the side as Thalissa passed them up to him.
“Why did you come with us?” asked Althak; there was bitterness in his voice. Thalissa paused so long that Azkun thought she was not going to answer, but she did.
“When you've lost everyone dear to you, and you find them again, you can't let them go.”
“How can Azkun be dear to you? You've hardly seen him since he was born.”
“I spent nine long months with him in my womb. I spent three days with Tenari before Menish took her away. They're all I have.”
“Tenari scratched you. What makes you think Azkun has any more love for you?” The buckets stopped.
“Why do you hate me, Althak?”
“Because you are what you are.”
“No, because Menish hates me. I tried to poison him once, no doubt he told you. Olcean, his friend, died instead, but that's not why he hates me. You'd laugh if I told you.” Another bucket appeared in the hatchway and Azkun passed the empty one down in its place. “He hates me because I seduced him.”
There was a splash and a muttered curse. Althak must have dropped the bucket he was holding.
“That's ridiculous.”
“I suppose he has other reasons. I turned Sinalth against him. But that's the main reason.”
“Your brain's been turned by the Chasm. Menish is Anthorian. He's devoted to Adhara. How could you have seduced him?”
“They used to tell me I was beautiful then, even Menish said so. He was far from home, lonely, and I got him drunk enough to forget his wife. Menish claimed the wine I gave him was drugged, but that wasn't true.
“These things do happen, even to a king of Anthor. He hated me for it. He said so. That was why he left me for Thealum and took away my son.” She stopped suddenly and they continued working silently. When she spoke again her voice was cracked with weeping. “It was just a simple pleasure. Why did he hate me so?”
“It was you who tried to kill him.”
“What else could I do? He would have turned Sinalth against me. I didn't want to join the once-loved cast-offs in the women’s bower.”
After that Azkun noticed that Althak did not avoid her so pointedly. He still seemed uncomfortable when he spoke to her, but his hatred of her had faded into mere dislike.
They were three days out from Atonir, and Azkun still had not called the dolphin, when Althak indicated land ahead of them. A bony spine of mountains marched along its back.
“That's the island of Ramuz. We'll stop at a harbour called Tethim to fill our water casks for the long journey ahead. We may find other islands on our way to Kishalkuz, but there are no known lands beyond Ramuz.”
“What people live there? Relanese folk?”
“No, Ramuz has always been Vorthenki. Sinalth launched his invasion from there, and even now Vorish has no power over it. His might lies in his cavalry, not his ships. There the Vorthenki are free to practise the old ways.
“They kill maidens for Kopth, you mean.”
“Not all of the Vorthenki ways celebrate death, Azkun. We're not the folk of Gashan. The priestesses are healers as well. On the eastern coast of Ramuz there's a place where maidens go to learn the craft. They're trained in medicine and herbs as well as the rite of sacrifice. The only rite they do not learn is that of Dragonseed, for no men, nothing male at all, is allowed near there to ensure their purity to Kopth. They even have to send their sheep over the mountains to be put with rams.”
“No, you are right.” He remembered the people singing to him on the pier. “They are only misguided. They are not filled with evil like the Gashans. But I will not show myself to them. I do not want to be responsible for more sacrifices.”
The next morning Shelim turned their boat so that they sailed along the coast and by noon they reached a town of Vorthenki long houses on the shore with a stone pier reaching into the sea. There they moored their boat and Althak went ashore for their supplies. It was important they topped up their fresh water casks before they left the known lands.
By evening they had sailed again, this time on the long leg of their journey, and Azkun knew he must call his dolphin to guide them. The next day, as they rounded the northern tip of Ramuz he stood at the gunwales and waited.
He had not yet attempted to call the dolphin, partly because he wanted to be sure they had left the coasts of men and partly because he was unsure of himself. The things he had done by the power of the dragons up until now had been done at their bidding, they had not been calculated. He had acted on impulse, on their prompting, and their power had been manifest. It was only as they set out on this voyage that he remembered how large the seas were, and how finding one dolphin in them was no simple task. Only the dragons could help him and only when they chose could he call the dolphin.
And there lay another problem. He was the bridge to the dragons, he had told people that, but he was also evil. He had killed a Gashan, he had relied on Monnar magic to rescue them from the marshes. The dragons had kept him alive, curing his centipede bite and preventing him from starving, but he had done no great works in their name since he had murdered the Gashan. Did the
y still want him at Kishalkuz? Dared he go there?
But he did not dare do otherwise. He had promised them dragons, all of them. Menish had not accepted his promise, Vorish had not been without his doubts, but he had promised nevertheless. He had promised Althak, and Althak had given up his friendship with Menish to support him. Shelim, Tenari, the Vorthenki of Atonir, even the folk who had sacrificed to him when he had refused to land there, all of them depended on him. But more than any of these, he had promised himself. That dark part of himself that had murdered the Gashan still lurked in his mind haunting him. Only the dragons would be able to exorcise it.
For the others, all the Gashans could do to them was to kill them. Not so for himself. They could get into his mind with their own evil, they could make him do things and all he could do would be to watch with horror as his personal guilt piled up in death around him. Only the dragons could provide him with salvation from himself.
At this moment he needed their aid to call the dolphin. He did not know how to do it for himself, other than to stand at the gunwale and hope. Already he had sensed Althak’s unspoken questions. Why did he delay? Shelim needed a course to steer, the vaguely north-east direction their prow pointed was not enough. But he did not know how to call on the dragons, it was they who always called on him. And perhaps they would call him no more.
For a night and a day he stood at the gunwales and waited. He had once heard Hrangil say that to invoke Aton the Relanese would sometimes fast and go without sleep. He could not fast for he did not eat. But he could go without sleep and this he did, standing motionless with Tenari at his side as always. He told her to sleep but she remained with him.
During the night Althak and Shelim took turns on the tiller as they sometimes did during the day. The sea swished and foamed about the prow and the pale moonlight from the new moon shone whitely on the foam as if it were bleached bones.
When the greyness of dawn showed in the east, slowly tingeing the clouds with red, his legs ached with cramp and fatigue and his eyes were heavy. He forced himself to go on. After all he was guilty. His invocation should cost something.
Summon Your Dragons Page 38
