Song of the Silvercades

by K S Nikakis

‘I’d hoped he would change his mind, but as he hasn’t … As Leader, it’s now my duty to go south and treaty with the Tain. Caledon says that if the Shargh are victorious, they’ll leave no one in peace.’

  ‘Caledon e Saridon e Talliel?’ asked Eris.

  ‘You know of him?’ asked Kira, her expression softening.

  ‘He’s been here several times over the seasons,’ said Eris, watching Kira closely.

  ‘But … then Tierken must know him.’

  ‘No. Caledon calls himself “Saridon” in the north, and Tierken was away with Poerin when Saridon visited. How is it you know Saridon?’ asked Eris, breaking more bread for Kira.

  ‘I met him after I’d left my people, and I journeyed to Maraschin with him. He took a message from me to my people, but while he was gone I was caught by the Shargh. Then Tierken’s patrol rescued me and took me to Sarnia. I don’t know if Caledon’s returned to Maraschin. He might be dead, for all I know.’

  Kira rose and paced, something else she shared with Tierken, thought Eris.

  ‘If Caledon lives, he’ll think I’m dead, and if he brings Tremen from the forests, I must be there!’

  Kira looked so distressed that Eris thought she might simply flee. ‘I need to gather herbs this day,’ she said. ‘Will you help?’

  ‘Yes, yes of course,’ said Kira, running her hand through her hair distractedly. ‘I’ll get my sling and sickle.’

  Eris collected her sling, sickle and steady-stick, then waited outside under the freylin, caressing its barren wood. ‘Your last season – like mine,’ she murmured.

  54

  Eris could only walk very slowly, leaning on her stick and stopping now and then to gather, or to ask Kira to scramble down to less accessible growths. She and Kira spoke of the herbs they used and the distillations, brews and pastes they made. Eris spoke of the Healers in Kessom as well. There were many skilled in childbirth, bone-setting, soothing coughs, stitching and salving wounds, she said, but the strongest healing ran in Kiraon’s line.

  ‘Both my sons were inclined to healing, but Darid stifled it, for healing has no place in Sarnia. Merench drowned in a storm-flood while gathering. Healing’s in Tierken and Laryia too, but strongest in Laryia.’

  ‘Why is there no healing in Sarnia?’ asked Kira.

  ‘It’s a rejection rooted in the Sundering,’ said Eris, as she harvested shoots of silversalve, breathing heavily as she straightened. ‘But no place is ever totally bereft of Healers, despite the contempt of Feailners and Markens, and the absence of a Haelen. There are birthing women in Sarnia, makers of syrups for coughs and oils for aches – but skills kept behind closed doors wither, growing poorer with the passing of time. Here there’s a sharing and celebration of that which gives life, and so healing stays strong.

  ‘Isn’t it so in the forests?’ asked Eris with a smile.

  ‘Yes. We thank the green and growing, and honour what it gives us.’

  They continued up the path, the houses behind them hidden by sweeps of alwaysgreens, while in front the brilliant snow-capped Silvercades soared. Then there was a shout and Laryia appeared on the path below, clearly distressed and hurrying up.

  ‘There’s been an accident,’ panted Laryia, as she reached them. ‘I’ve been to half the houses in Kessom looking for you. Jafiel’s fallen in the Torlands and broken his ankle. The bone’s through the skin. Leos had to carry him back, and Thalli’s distraught. I think she’s begun to birth.’

  ‘You go,’ said Eris to Kira. ‘Laryia run back and get sickleseed, sorren, bandages and splints.’

  ‘Which house?’ asked Kira.

  ‘The second one on the next path left,’ said Laryia, pointing.

  Kira sprinted away through the alwaysgreens, and before long was beating on the door of the second house. The haggard man who opened it seemed to know who she was.

  Loud groans greeted Kira as she hastened after the man to where Jafiel lay, the bone of his shattered ankle stark against his bloodied flesh.

  ‘You’ve got sickleseed?’ asked the man anxiously, but Kira was busy unbuttoning Jafiel’s shirt.

  The fire-filled tunnel was ferocious. But when she came back into the cool air of the room, Kira was surprised to still hear groaning.

  ‘Who?’ asked Kira, bewildered.

  ‘My wife … our first child …’ said the man, pointing towards the nearest door.

  ‘I need to wash my hands,’ said Kira, breathing deeply to still the nausea. ‘I’ll set the ankle and when Laryia arrives we’ll bind him up and give him something to make him sleep.’

  A woman took Kira to a bathing-room and then Kira came back and eased the bone back into place, the break ragged, but not the worst she’d dealt with. Eris arrived, and then Laryia, but neither spoke till Kira had finished.

  ‘Did you have sickleseed with you?’ asked Laryia in surprise, laying the sorren, splints and bandages on the bed.

  ‘No,’ said Kira, opening the sorren pot.

  ‘But how –’

  ‘I’ll splint the ankle,’ interrupted Eris, ‘if you could reassure Thalli her brother’s on the mend, Kira, and get Leos to rest or we’ll have a third patient. You go too, Laryia, Thalli needs you.’

  Laryia held Thalli’s hand while Kira checked all was well, and a short time later Eris arrived and took Kira’s position next to the bed. Kira curled in a chair and watched, the tiredness that taking pain bequeathed her making it difficult to keep her eyes open. There was really no need for Kira to be there, for Eris was highly skilled, and the birth was progressing well. The babe would likely be born before nightfall, which would be quick for a first child, not that Thalli was likely to appreciate the fact. Thalli was in pain, as birthing women always were.

  The woman who had opened the door to Kira – Samari – mother to Leos and Jafiel, came and went, offering honey cakes, cotzee and biscuit bursting with fruit. Eris and Laryia ate, but Kira was too queasy. Kira dozed and the sky was filled with star-fire by the time Thalli’s daughter slithered onto the bed, sandy-haired like Thalli, with a perfect, serene little face.

  ‘A good birth,’ said Eris, placing the babe in Thalli’s arms, ‘and a beautiful girl like her mother,’ she added, smoothing Thalli’s hair back and kissing her forehead.

  ‘Shall I wake Leos?’ asked Laryia.

  ‘No, let him rest,’ murmured Thalli, her gaze on her daughter. ‘Leos has had a terrible two days, but it’s ended well,’ she added, yawning, eyelids wavering.

  ‘Sleep,’ said Laryia, giving her a hug. ‘I’ll see you both on the morrow.’

  They went slowly back to Eris’s house and Kira also slept, not waking till past noon, and to quietness, Eris and Laryia nowhere to be found. Putting on her jacket, she set off up the path, passing others who nodded to her pleasantly but too restless to do other than nod back. The sight of Thalli holding her new daughter, surrounded by Eris and Laryia, who loved her, amplified Kira’s sense of aloneness. There had been no tenderness from her father, and certainly no love.

  She turned into a grove of alwaysgreens, searching for the biggest bole and climbing, but for once the alwaysgreen brought no comfort. She’d found comfort in Tierken’s arms, and had allowed it to dupe her into believing he would accept the kin-link. Eris’s blunt words had now destroyed the delusion. All she was doing here, and in Sarnia, was wasting time.

  Kira made her way slowly back to Eris’s house, Laryia jumping up as Kira entered the cooking place but Eris continued her grinding.

  ‘I was concerned for you,’ said Laryia. ‘It’s fully dark outside. Where have you been?’

  ‘There’s no reason to be concerned. In the forests I journeyed many days alone,’ said Kira, holding her numb hands to the fire.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ said Laryia. ‘Tierken says you need to eat more.’

  ‘Tierken’s not here,’ said Kira. ‘Don’t fret about me, Laryia.’

  ‘Well, at least have some cotzee,’ said Laryia, subdued.

  Laryia went to their
sleeping-room soon after, but Kira remained, watching Eris work. The cooking place was warm and smelt of maizen bread and herbs. Eris worked in silence, the silvermint she ground releasing a pungent smell that finally soothed Kira’s restlessness.

  ‘Do you have a herb in Kessom called fireweed?’ asked Kira.

  ‘No. I don’t know the name.’

  Kira described it but Eris shook her head, and Kira wondered whether there were little valleys like the Thanaval hidden higher in the Silvercades. She was unlikely to find out, she thought glumly.

  ‘Leos told me what you did,’ said Eris, ‘though he didn’t understand it. Are you the only Healer in the southern forests who can take pain?’

  ‘There have been two others,’ said Kira, rousing. ‘Tremen Leader Feailner Sinarki, and her daughter, Tremen Leader Feailner Tesrina. It’s rumoured the first Kiraon could too.’

  ‘The first Kiraon?’ questioned Eris, stopping her grinding.

  ‘Kasheron’s and Terak’s mother,’ said Kira, puzzled by Eris’s ignorance.

  ‘Who’s the second Kiraon?’

  Kira realised her mistake but was reluctant to lie. ‘I’m the second – Kira’s short for Kiraon. Tierken said not to use Kiraon in the north.’

  ‘He had no right to say that.

  It’s your name,’ said Eris. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Kira, not wanting to cause upset. ‘I realise it would make difficulties for him in Sarnia. I was only called Kiraon by the Clancouncil on formal occasions, and by my father when I was in trouble.’

  ‘Were you in trouble often?’ asked Eris.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You weren’t in accord with your father?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What of your mother?’

  ‘She died after my brother was born.’

  ‘So your clan-kin raised you?’

  ‘My father was the Tremen Leader, so we lived apart from them. I was four seasons when my mother died, so I didn’t need anyone to raise me.’

  ‘Then who looked after your younger brother?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘That’s a big task for a child of four seasons,’ said Eris.

  ‘It was no hardship. Kandor was beautiful. He –’ Kira faltered, struggling with the sense of suffocation.

  Eventually she became aware of the room again, and saw that Eris’s papery hands enclosed hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered.

  ‘There’s no shame in showing grief and no healing without doing so,’ said Eris.

  ‘I don’t have time,’ said Kira, self-consciously withdrawing her hands.

  ‘What of Tierken?’

  ‘I don’t have time for him, either, since he’s denied my people,’ said Kira.

  ‘Yet you love him.’

  Kira blushed. ‘I’ve allowed myself this little time of happiness, Eris, something the Shargh can’t steal from me,’ she said. ‘But it’s only a little time.’

  ‘That’s not what Tierken believes.’

  ‘I’ve told Tierken who I am and what I am. I’ve told him what my histories say and I’ve shown him Kasheron’s ring. That’s all I can do,’ said Kira, rising. ‘Your place is beautiful, Eris, and you’re fortunate it’s a long way from the Shargh. I look forward to seeing more of it on the morrow.’

  55

  Tierken journeyed steadily, choosing the best route through habit, while he considered his time with Poerin. The old warrior had been as irascible as ever, and just as blunt.

  Rosham and his ilk are an enemy just as dangerous as the Shargh, their tongues as apt to injure you as swords. Either force the Marken to bow before you, or one day be prepared to bow before them.

  Then there was Kira’s kinship claim.

  A woman with your face and your tongue, claiming to be Kasheron’s seed, is more likely to be who she says she is than a joke by Irid. When you’ve a choice between the works of gods, and the works of men, the latter’s more likely.

  And on marriage.

  If you want to satisfy your lusts, go to the Caru Quarter. If you want to build alliances, get Rosham to choose your bride. If you want to follow your heart, be prepared for it to take you where your head would never choose to go.

  So much for that! Still, Tierken had enjoyed his time with Poerin, even though he’d had to chop a winter’s supply of wood, and cart enough water to last the old man for a full season. He’d sat and drank with Poerin in front of a crackling fire, listened to his tales as he had as a boy, and felt Poerin’s love surround him as thick and silent as Silvercades’ snow. Poerin had farewelled Tierken gruffly, but his embrace had been that of an old man who knows it might be his last.

  It was deep into the night before Tierken reached the slopes above Kessom, the clear night giving glorious star-storms but also icy air. He wore his fleece cape, but left his ears bare, not wanting to dull his hearing. It was movement, not sound though, which caused him to halt and draw his sword. There was someone ahead and, given the lateness of the night, it was hard to think of an innocent reason for them to be abroad. Tierken made no effort to mask his steps and the figure whirled, turning Tierken’s wariness to astonishment. It was Kira.

  ‘What in Irid’s name are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘Gathering.’

  ‘Where are the Guard?’

  ‘Eris didn’t say I needed them,’ she replied.

  ‘You do if you wander about at night!’

  ‘I’m not wandering. Sorren’s best gathered in the night, as is morning-bright,’ said Kira, standing with her chin up, as she always did when she challenged him. Her proximity roused memories of their last encounter, and Tierken reached for her, gratified when she came to his arms, her need as great as his. They stumbled deeper into the trees, Tierken tossing his cape on the ground and his jacket over them both, sliding off her clothes under its warmth, even as she undressed him. Kira lay atop as Tierken cupped her breasts to his mouth, running his hands down the curve of her back and buttocks, caressing and parting her so that she took him in.

  Kira’s body was in perfect harmony with his, her tongue within him as he was within her, her need riding the same rage of blood as his. Even after the crest of longing had ebbed, her lips moved over his face, and his fingers explored her.

  ‘I missed you,’ said Tierken softly.

  ‘You didn’t say goodbye.’

  ‘I wanted to let you sleep.’

  Kira didn’t reply.

  ‘What have you been doing?’ asked Tierken.

  ‘Gathering, working with Eris, preparing herbs, exploring Kessom with Laryia.’

  ‘Do you like Kessom?’

  ‘Kessom’s beautiful.’

  ‘Is it like Allogrenia?’

  Kira slid into the crook of his shoulder, and lay there, a perfect fit.

  ‘It feels like Allogrenia, but Allogrenia has no mountains and no breaks in the trees, apart from the Arborean,’ said Kira. An owl sounded and she sat up.

  ‘The mira kiraon,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s a grenia owl,’ said Tierken. ‘They favour the allogrenia, hence the name.’

  Kira said nothing and he ran his hand down her back. ‘Lie down, you’ll get cold.’

  Still Kira didn’t speak.

  He sat up, the air ice on his skin. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve been gone from Allogrenia almost four moons,’ said Kira sadly.

  ‘I missed Kessom when I first went to Sarnia but it’s more pleasant now,’ said Tierken.

  Kira started to dress and Tierken followed suit, flicking the leaves from his cape and leading Kira back onto the path.

  ‘On the morrow’s night, all of Kessom will gather in the Keshall to welcome us,’ said Tierken. ‘There will be music and dancing. You’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘I didn’t last time,’ said Kira.

  ‘You will this,’ said Tierken, bringing his arm round her. ‘And so will I.’

  The gathering in the Keshall was nothing like the banquet in Sarnia. There were o
nly a few chairs set for the older Kessomis to rest their bones and everybody else formed a noisy, constantly moving throng. Few called Tierken Feailner, or showed any particular respect, except for some of the young men who were patrolmen.

  Tierken and Laryia were greeted with hugs and kisses, as was Kira, who was regaled with stories of Tierken’s youthful misdemeanours. She’d only been there a short time before she knew that Tierken had been knocked unconscious when he’d been thrown from a stallion Robrin had forbidden him to ride, and received a thrashing for his trouble when he’d recovered. Then there was the time he’d been lost for three days beyond the Kristlin after going off in search of dwinhir nests. And he’d once eaten so many roscakes at a Keshall welcome, he’d been ill for a week.

  ‘I’ve not eaten roscakes since,’ admitted Tierken ruefully.

  Kira laughed, enjoying Tierken’s discomfort.

  ‘I’ll wager you’ve an equally long list of indiscretions, Lady Kira,’ said Tierken, as another group of Kessomis approached.

  ‘Ah, you’ll have to come to Allogrenia to find out.’

  ‘That’s not very likely,’ said Tierken, as a woman with a long grey braid embraced him.

  Kira smiled as the woman kissed her formally on each cheek, but Tierken’s words stung. Laryia appeared with Thalli and Leos, Thalli’s babe snug in a sling.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ said Kira, as Thalli handed the babe to her.

  ‘Two Kiras together,’ said Thalli. When Kira looked at her in surprise, Thalli said, ‘We’ve named her for you, for what you did for Jafiel.’

  ‘There’s no need –’

  ‘There is,’ said Thalli firmly, settling the babe back into the sling. ‘It’s fitting that our Kira knows what you did for her uncle on the day she was born.’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked Tierken, after Thalli, Leos and Laryia had moved away.

  ‘I helped Jafiel with the pain of his broken ankle.’

  ‘With sickleseed?’

  ‘No. I think the music’s about to begin,’ said Kira.

  ‘Then how?’

  ‘I’m a Feailner, Tierken, and in Allogrenia that means a taker of pain, not a carrier of fire like you on patrol. I take the pain inside me.’