Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

  ‘No insult intended,’ the man replied, rising. ‘I’m off for a game of sweep-seven. Coming?’

  ‘No. I’ve got other duties.’

  Kira gazed at the grass sightlessly, wondering what exeal meant. Tierken had broken some sort of rule in kissing her, he’d said so himself, and he’d been angry with himself afterwards. But apparently he could kiss her, and more, because she was exeal.

  ‘Are you recovered from your sickness of last night?’ asked Jonred courteously.

  ‘I am well this day. I thank you.’

  Jonred’s eyes narrowed, and she looked away, wondering if her face showed her feelings.

  Then Tierken approached, leading a horse. ‘Ready for your first riding lesson?’ he asked cheerfully.

  She nodded, standing up and brushing the grass from her breeches, then following him to where the steep crest of land merged back into the plain. The Ashmiri houses had gone.

  ‘Do you fear horses?’ asked Tierken, noting that she was subdued.

  ‘They’re strange to me. Before I went to the Tain lands, I’d only ever seen the running horse chimes we hang in our houses,’ said Kira.

  ‘They like chimes in Kessom, too,’ said Tierken, busy with the harness, ‘though not in Sarnia. Kessom chimes are wood, Sarnia’s mainly stone, but you can trade for metal and glass chimes at Mid-market.’

  ‘Metal’s forbidden,’ she said automatically.

  ‘Ah yes, but it tinkles beautifully,’ he said with a smile, finishing adjusting the harness.

  He began the lesson in the same way he’d been taught: the position of the saddle rug, the parts of the saddle, how to adjust the stirrups, how to ensure the girth was the right tightness, the parts of the bridle, how to put the bridle on, the importance of not injuring the horse’s mouth. He got Kira to undo the girth, shift the saddle, redo the girth, take the bridle off, put the bridle on. Her slightness made all the tasks difficult. A typical Kessomi, he thought, then caught himself. Tremen, he corrected, whatever that was.

  At least she didn’t show any fear, and Frost was at ease with her, snuffing at her face as she struggled with the bridle strap, making her laugh.

  ‘Frost likes you,’ said Tierken, his resolve not to pursue her evaporating like cotzee dregs on coals.

  ‘And I like Frost. He’s very beautiful.’

  ‘Not as beautiful as you,’ said Tierken softly.

  ‘Don’t tease me.’

  ‘Tease you?’

  She shrugged, her gaze fixed on Frost, who now cropped the grass. ‘I don’t like being called beautiful.’

  ‘Why? Who’s called you that?’

  ‘Kest,’ said Kira reluctantly.

  ‘And Kest is?’

  ‘Protector Commander Kest of Morclan.’

  ‘He’s in charge of the Tremen fighters?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘The Protectors.’

  ‘What about the Tallien in Maraschin. Did he call you beautiful as well?’

  ‘I’ve been teased by many people,’ said Kira, still watching Frost. ‘Do you like having gold eyes, Tierken?’ she asked suddenly.

  ‘No,’ he said honestly.

  ‘Neither do I. I was never “Maxen’s daughter” or “Merek’s sister” or “a member of Kashclan”; it was as if my eyes were more important than me. I was even named for them.’

  ‘What? Kira?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘There’s a gold-eyed owl in the forests called the mira kiraon. Kira’s short for Kiraon.’

  Tierken did his best to mask his surprise but his guts churned. She had his face and eyes, and Kessomi healing skills. Now she had the same name as the Terak’s most revered queen. It was hard to believe it was simply chance.

  Too many chances, Tierken, make up facts. Face them or face the consequences. The former is usually harder, but less deadly, he could hear Poerin say.

  Harder and more complicated, thought Tierken, and he didn’t want any more complications to his rule in Sarnia. It would be more difficult for Kira, too, if those in Sarnia must deal with a woman who used Queen Kiraon’s name, as well as being a Healer.

  ‘Kiraon was the mother of the man who founded our peoples, and greatly loved,’ said Tierken. ‘Out of respect, her name’s not been given again, so I suggest you continue to call yourself Kira among the Terak.’

  Kira nodded. ‘I don’t want to cause upset in your lands,’ she said, and paused. ‘What does the word “exeal” mean?’

  ‘Exeal?’ She’d used the Terak word. ‘Where did you hear that?’

  ‘One of your men said it when he looked at me.’

  ‘Which one?’ demanded Tierken.

  ‘I don’t know his name. What does it mean?’

  ‘An outsider, not kin-linked or treatied. Once all the inhabitants of these lands were wanderers, single families or families linked by blood, like the Bishali, a people who still roam the northwest. Then bloodlines formed into groups – bound together by treaty, alliance and marriage – and these into what we are today. The coming together of the Terak, Kessomis, Kirs and Illians made us one people, kin to each other. As the Terak Kirillian, we’re treatied to the Tain and the Ashmiri, but we’ve no obligation to those who are exeal.’

  ‘So the Terak Kirillian must aid peoples who are kin-linked or whom you have a treaty with?’

  ‘Yes, although treaties and alliances vary. Our treaty with the Ashmiri only obliges us to allow them to graze where they wish and for them to refrain from attacking us, whereas our treaty with the Tain obliges us to come to each other’s aid in war. Why do you ask?’

  ‘The Tain are under Shargh attack.’

  ‘They haven’t requested aid,’ said Tierken.

  ‘But if the Tain did request it, or a kin-linked people, would you give aid?’

  ‘We’re obliged,’ said Tierken, attaching a longer rein to the bridle. ‘Now, it’s time to learn how to mount.’

  36

  Getting on and off Frost was a struggle, and Tierken made Kira do it over and over again. Then it was moving in rhythm with Frost’s trotting, then cantering, bringing him to a halt, turning him, making him trot and canter again, then walk. Kira felt like she couldn’t do a single thing right. She sat too heavily, jerked Frost’s mouth, ‘which you should never do’, held the reins too loosely, too tightly, unevenly, failed to grip well, almost fell off – and so on.

  When Tierken finally called a halt, she slithered off Frost and had to hang on to his neck till her legs could support her.

  ‘Kashclan thanks Frost,’ she muttered.

  ‘Doesn’t Kashclan thank the Terak Kirillian?’ Tierken asked her.

  ‘Not until my backside stops hurting.’

  He laughed then, his good mood lasting back to camp, and even through the meal, where he insisted she eat more nuts and drink cotzee, before he allowed her to crawl into her sleeping-sheet. She’d slept solidly and without dreams, until Jonred’s hand shook her awake, telling her they must soon be on their way.

  They breakfasted quickly and the last stars faded as the horses cleared Cover-cape Crest and picked up speed. Kira was glad to be behind Jonred, whose broad back sheltered her from the freezing wind. As daylight grew the wind dropped, but she noticed the men increasingly looking up at an even sheet of yellow-tinged cloud. The colour was almost oppressive.

  ‘Snow clouds,’ Jonred told her over his shoulder. ‘We’ll be fortunate to make the Breshlin before it starts. And still one cursed day to winter,’ he added in Terak.

  Kira spent the journey considering what she must do once she reached Sarnia. She would have to seek an audience with the King as soon as possible, perhaps pretending to the King’s advisers that she was acquainted with King Beris to gain it. She would also need to be careful in how she revealed the kin-link, and tactful in the way she requested he honour his obligation to her people. The thought of men like those she travelled with being wounded or killed was abhorrent, but the Terak presence might be enough to dissuade the Shargh from their murderous attacks. Kira ha
d reluctantly authorised Caledon to seek Tremen volunteers, but if she gained Terak help quickly her own people could remain in the forests.

  Something floated across her face like ash, settled on her cape and dissolved into a spot of wet. Kira roused and looked up in wonder. The air was full of drift. Snow was unusual in the forest, the little which fell dropping in clumps from the canopy. Kira hadn’t realised it floated like lissium blossom, and laughed in delight.

  ‘Snow this early isn’t amusing,’ said Jonred.

  ‘We go to Ember Keep,’ said Tierken to Jonred, bringing Kalos alongside him.

  ‘Yes, Feailner.’

  ‘We’re turning north-west, to a place called Ember Keep,’ explained Tierken to Kira in Onespeak. ‘There’s good shelter there. The snow will probably delay us a day.’

  They began to gallop and the snow thickened until the sky seemed to join the earth, riders emerging out of the flurries, then disappearing again. Jonred eased Storm back to a canter, then a trot. Kira still found the snow beautiful, but she was tired, and sore from her riding lesson, her hands red and tingling where she gripped the saddle-strap.

  It was drawing into evening when a long howl cut the silence and Kira cringed instinctively. It died away, then another followed, then several more.

  ‘Sarsalin wolves,’ muttered Jonred, spitting over Storm’s shoulder. ‘Snow and wolves! Meros is in a nasty mood.’

  Marin appeared out of the murk, his eyebrows and beard stiff with snow.

  ‘The Feailner’s taken the Kirs and Illians west. If the pack hunts east of the Finewater, there’s likely Kir herders in need of help. You’re to go direct to the Keep and use the east approach. We’ll join you there.’

  ‘The east approach?’ said Jonred in surprise.

  ‘The east,’ repeated Marin.

  ‘Yes, Commander.’

  Marin vanished into the moving wall of snow and another patrolman appeared.

  ‘Let the men know we’re to use The Steps, Vardrin,’ said Jonred.

  ‘The Steps? In this weather?’

  ‘You forget the safety of our guest,’ said Jonred.

  Vardrin’s eyes flicked to Kira. ‘I’ll tell the men,’ he said, and spurred away.

  ‘The Keep’s near, but the way we go is steep,’ said Jonred, turning in the saddle. ‘You need to hold on tightly, and if I tell you to dismount, keep hold of my cape. It’s the safer of the two ways, but if we do come under wolf attack, do exactly as I say immediately. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Kira, heart beginning an uneven thump.

  The other men moved closer, carrying their bows with arrows set, as the ground rose with surprising suddenness. Kira blinked the snow from her eyes, not daring to let go the saddle-strap to use her hand. The climb became ever steeper, and Storm snorted as he climbed, his sweat hot in the air.

  ‘’Ware rocks!’ exclaimed Vardrin from behind.

  Kira tightened her numb fingers even more. There was nothing beautiful about the snow now.

  ‘Time to walk,’ shouted Vardrin, a while later.

  ‘Not yet –’ began Jonred, but the snow gave way under Storm’s haunches. There was a violent jolt that broke Kira’s wooden grip and she slipped off Storm’s sharply tilted back and landed on the edge of the path. Then the snow-crust crumbled away, and she slid into darkness.

  37

  Kira slid faster and faster, spreadeagled across the slope, gouging with both hands in an effort to slow herself. Then her boots struck something solid and she jerked to a stop. The slope was so steep she was almost upright. Her breath heaved and her scraped hands and belly burned, but she daren’t move, lest she plunge further.

  The men screamed her name, but the pain was too great to scream back. After a time, Jonred bellowed for quiet and Kira summoned up all her willpower and took a deep breath.

  ‘Jonred,’ she called, trying not to move.

  ‘Kira!’

  ‘Down here. Something’s stopped me.’ It was hard to shout with her chest flat against the slope.

  ‘Stay where you are! Don’t move! Don’t move, Kira!’ shouted Jonred, his voice frantic.

  Kira guessed the drop below was very deep. She had no idea what had stopped her; a jut of rock, she hoped, not a log, ready to roll. There was a shrub several lengths to her right – out of reach – but nothing else, just blackness and the swirling snow.

  ‘I’m coming down,’ came Jonred’s voice again. ‘Don’t move! Just call out so I can find you.’

  ‘All right,’ she yelled back.

  It became very quiet, the snow falling over her like a blanket, and Kira had the terrifying fear that the patrol had gone on and left her.

  But Jonred’s booming voice came out of the blackness ‘Call me, Kira.’

  ‘Jonred,’ she called.

  ‘Keep calling,’ he ordered.

  Kira couldn’t see or hear any movement above her, but she called his name, paused, then called once more.

  ‘Call me again,’ he shouted, a blotch appearing to her right.

  ‘Jonred,’ she bawled.

  ‘I can see you. Don’t move. I need to get you secured.’

  He manoeuvred closer, passing a rope under her arms and about her chest, pulling it tight and fastening it to his waist.

  ‘The best way up is for you to put your arms round my neck and hook your legs about me,’ he said.

  Kira winced as she gripped her good wrist with her skinned hand, and they began their slow and painful ascent. She was shivering uncontrollably, both from shock and the cold. It was a long way back to the top, and a cheer of relief greeted them when they finally reached it. Jonred undid the rope and stowed it in his pack, but didn’t let go of her nor mount his horse again. Vardrin took Storm, and Jonred took her, and the whole party went forward on foot.

  ‘It’s not much further, then we’ll get the fires going and some hot food into you. Meros must have looked after you. If you’d kept going …’ Jonred cleared his throat. ‘It was my mistake for not having walked earlier.’

  ‘It wasn’t your mistake, it was my fault for not holding on properly. You told me to hold on. It was my fault,’ repeated Kira, thinking of Slivkash.

  Jonred said nothing, gripping Kira’s arm as they walked.

  ‘In any case, there’s no harm done,’ she said. ‘There’s no need for it to be discussed further.’

  They went on, finally coming to the lip of a massive cave. It was open at the front, where most of the roof had fallen in, but the back still provided a large area of good shelter. The eastern part of the Keep was harder to reach than the western part, being sheer rock on all sides, except for the ‘steps’ they had climbed in by. In the dark and snow, it was a treacherous climb for the men and horses, and for anything else that sought entry.

  Four fires were set at intervals along the front of the cavern, built from the pile of windfall stacked against the back wall. Kira guessed they were for protection against wolves or other creatures as much as for warmth and cooking.

  The raw flesh on her belly stuck to her shirt and she winced, knowing she needed to wash it and then salve it. Jonred had told her there was water in the western part of the Keep, but also ordered she remain by the fire.

  The men gathered at the other fires, bows on their shoulders, the horses tethered deeper in the cavern. Jonred handed Kira a bowl of nuts and a mug of cotzee and Kira ate, her gaze on the flickering curtain of snow falling beyond the cave’s entrance. The food and fire made her drowsy and she rested her head on her arms, careful to keep her skinned palms clear of her breeches.

  She dozed until a hand on her arm brought her awake, and she stared around, disoriented. It was Tierken, his face weary. ‘You should be in your sleeping-sheet. It’s no way to rest, sitting up,’ he said, settling beside her.

  Kira’s neck was stiff, and she rubbed it with the back of her hand. The other fires were surrounded by sleeping men, despite a cacophony like a thousand tippets.

  ‘What’s that
noise?’ she asked.

  ‘The goats in the west Keep. We’ve brought what’s left of them in for the night. They’ve lost five to wolf attack – which is a lot to a Kir herder.’

  ‘Do wolves often attack the herds?’ asked Kira.

  ‘Wolves are opportunistic. These snows are unseasonal and the herders were caught out, away from shelter. A bad combination,’ he said, his voice thickened by exhaustion. ‘How did you find the journey?’

  ‘Very cold. I’ve never seen snow like this before.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘No. Just cold,’ she said, eyes on the fire.

  ‘Jonred reports you fell from Storm and came within a length of dying,’ said Tierken, his hand turning her face to his. ‘Don’t lie to me, Kira. I won’t tolerate deceit.’

  ‘I don’t want Jonred beaten for something that wasn’t his fault.’

  ‘He told me it was his lack of judgement.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ said Kira, jerking her face free. ‘He told me to hold on tight and I didn’t. Beat me if you need to beat someone!’

  ‘Jonred also told me you escaped injury,’ said Tierken, ignoring her challenge.

  ‘I’ve just grazed myself, that’s all. I need to wash, so I can use salve.’

  ‘I’ll take you now,’ said Tierken, holding out his hand, and grimacing when Kira made no move to take it.

  ‘It’s not you,’ said Kira quickly, turning her palm so he could see it.

  ‘By Irid! Are the rest as bad?’ he asked, taking her elbow and helping her up.

  ‘No. The others are just grazes.’

  ‘It’s dark in the tunnelway,’ said Tierken, selecting a piece of wood from the fire and leading her to an opening barred with sturdy branches at the cave’s back.

  ‘The barrier’s to stop wolves or fanchon coming up from the west Keep,’ he explained, as they made their way down the narrow tunnel. The smell of stone gave way to the odour of wet animal hair and dung, and a storm of bleatings. Beyond the goats, the herders gathered round a single fire. There was an older man with silvery hair, three younger men, several women – one nursing a child – and some small shapes that looked like sleeping children. A white horse loomed out of the darkness.