Then he sat back and waited.
The tension between them seemed to shoot up and bounce off the rocky ceiling. Everyone in the room was watching by now, knowing something momentous was taking place. Acaraho stood off to the side, transfixed.
Adia sat in motionless silence with downcast eyes, and Khon’Tor worried that he had perhaps overplayed his hand. He knew what he was extracting was unfair compared to what he was granting. He might just have lost his opportunity to give her exactly what he wanted her to have—for the offspring to be taught Whitespeak. But, as an indicator of how badly she wanted it, he was counting on how difficult it must have been for her to approach him in the first place.
Khon’Tor waited as the moments passed, making sure his breathing was controlled and slow, unclenching his jaw and his shoulders; not willing to convey his almost unbearable tension in waiting for her response.
She finally lifted her eyes and spoke.
“The deal is unfair. It is not enough that you grant permission for the offspring to learn Whitespeak; you must also provide a way for it to be accomplished. You must provide the Teacher,” she counter-offered.
Khon’Tor almost let out a loud sigh of relief but caught himself.
He knew he now had the upper hand. By making the counteroffer, Adia had given him the winning move. All he had to do was agree, and the deal was struck. Adia would owe him a debt, the nature and timing of which would be of his choosing and solely under his control. If she fulfilled it, he got what he wanted—whatever that would be. If she did not fulfill it, he still won—perhaps even more so, because if she failed to meet his demand, he would gain ultimate power over her. He knew she would never forfeit the offspring’s life but would forfeit hers instead. He would finally have the control over her that he had wanted for so long.
Using every ounce of his will to hide his excitement, Khon’Tor looked her squarely in the eye and said, “It is done then. The deal has been agreed to by both parties.”
With that, he held up his left hand, palm facing Adia, his eyes still locked on hers. All those watching knew full well what this signified.
It was the highest agreement that could be made between two People—an agreement from which neither party could withdraw. The rules of the agreement were strict, and the consequences for breaking it were so severe that it was reserved only for the most critical issues; the most solemn occasions. It signified a commitment of great importance—an irrevocable and unbreakable vow.
It was the Rah-hora, a sacred obligation of honor among the People.
The room was in total silence; everyone was transfixed on the scene before them as they waited, Khon’Tor’s hand still raised, his palm facing Adia.
Never blinking or taking her eyes off his, Adia raised her hand. She had only heard of the Rah-hora. She had never witnessed it done before, but she knew what was required. However, instead of just placing her palm against his as the ritual required, she slammed it against his. A loud, resounding crack split the silence and echoed throughout the chamber.
It was done. The agreement was sealed.
Even when I’ve beaten her, Adia will not stay down, thought Khon’Tor—only he used a very derogatory term in place of her name. No matter her little show of rebellion. I have won, and more importantly, she also knows I have won. Let her continue her defiance. It will only make my ultimate victory over her that much sweeter.
Adia dug her nails into her thighs. This was a tremendous price to extract. He had forced her to agree to pay an unidentified debt of his choosing, solicited at the time of his choosing. If she did not fulfill that debt, her life or that of her offspring would be placed in his hands to do with as he wished.
Adia knew that by forfeit, he did not mean he would have the right to kill one of them. She knew that was far outside the laws, and as much as he hated her, Khon’Tor would never go that far. She knew it to mean he would have complete authority over the state and condition of the life of either her or Oh’Dar. Not servitude, but a state of domination in which he would make choices for them without opportunity for consent or objection, and with which they must comply. If there was a worse fate than to be at his mercy, she could not imagine it.
Adia was angry. She knew he had backed her into a corner. Had she and Nadiwani not both had such an overpowering feeling about the importance of this for Oh'Dar, she would never have taken the deal. She had just given him enormous hold over her.
She squared her shoulders and rose to leave. Despite her fear, she could not help but deliver one last act of defiance. “Remember, Khon’Tor. Time is of the essence. If you do not hold up your end of the agreement, I am not obligated to honor mine.”
And then she turned and walked away, feeling she had just forfeited her soul to the male who hated her with such a vengeance.
She asked herself, What have I done?
In the back of the room, Acaraho had watched it all unfold. Despite the acoustics, he could not hear the conversation. But he could read their body language, and it was obvious Khon’Tor had the upper hand and was using it to his full advantage. He had never seen Adia so uncomfortable. Confident that he knew why Adia had approached Khon’Tor and for what she had asked, he thought Khon’Tor would simply agree immediately to her request, seeing it as a means by which to turn the People’s favor against her. He had not thought the Leader would leverage the moment to add another advantage.
I underestimated Khon’Tor. Acaraho made a vow never to let that happen again.
When he saw Khon’Tor raise his hand with his palm outfacing, he knew the Leader was initiating Rah-hora. With all his strength, knowing how much Khon’Tor wanted Adia destroyed, Acaraho urgently willed her not to raise her hand.
“Do not do it, please, whatever it is, do not take the deal.”
When Adia’s palm connected with Khon’Tor’s, the sound pierced his heart.
Whatever agreement they had made, it was irrevocable. It was Rah-hora. Realizing the role he had played in creating the scenario he had just witnessed in motion, he also asked himself, What have I done?
As Adia left the room, Acaraho fell in behind her, never forgetting his responsibility to her as her protector. They walked in silence, as was usual, only this time each was internally actively struggling with what had taken place.
Adia believed with all her heart that learning Whitespeak was somehow critical to Oh'Dar’s future. But now, not knowing what price Khon’Tor might extract from her was a burden almost heavier than she could bear. She had never felt more alone. And there was no one she could turn to for counsel.
The nature of the Rah-hora was that no one but the two parties could know what the agreement was. The only way in which the Rah-hora could be broken was for the initiating party to fail to fulfill their end, to release the other voluntarily, or for either party to break confidence and reveal the details. Adia knew there was no way Khon’Tor would default now that he had the upper hand. Sick at heart, she realized he had her exactly where he wanted her.
Khon’Tor was still sitting in the gathering room, congratulating himself on his victory. I did not even have to work for it—it was delivered directly into my hands, so to speak. It would have been binding enough, the spoken agreement between us, but I have to admit that initiating the Rah-hora was a stroke of genius.
Though he did not know when and where he would call her debt due, he relished the thought. Just as the details of the agreement were secret, so were the details of how and when payment was collected, both before and after the event. The parties were never to speak of any of it to anyone.
Picturing how it might play out would keep him up at night for a long time to come.
The Leader finally rose and headed to his quarters. I have not seen Hakani all night. She was not here when I initiated the Rah-hora with Adia. Khon’Tor smiled. She is going to be so disappointed when she hears what she missed.
Hakani and Adia were the two thorns in Khon’Tor’s side, each refusing to stay down after th
ey were beaten, both challenging him publicly. They were in positions of authority under him and should have been complying with his will, not fighting it. Somehow, they were becoming merged in his mind, his anger at each spilling over to the other.
Khon’Tor was so elated that he did not care if Hakani was in their shared quarters when he got there. Nothing could dampen his victory of finally winning control over Adia.
Hakani was indeed in their quarters when Khon’Tor entered. They had spent so much time carefully avoiding each other that it caught her off guard when he appeared. Fully expecting him to take one look at her, abruptly turn his back as a gesture of dismissal and then leave, she was disconcerted when he did neither.
Why is he in such a good mood? He does not deserve any happiness or pleasure. The fact that Khon’Tor was apparently enjoying himself over something was the last thing she wanted to see.
Whereas Khon’Tor would have avoided her a few hours before, he now walked in front of her, on the way cutting too close into her personal space.
From how he was acting, it seemed to Hakani that Khon’Tor was returning their relationship—that currently consisted of distance and evasion—back to battle state.
Their orchestrated avoidance of each other had created a rest period for Hakani. She used the time to reassess her goals. The only pleasure in her life was the thought of inflicting pain on her mate and the Healer; it seemed her life had no purpose other than to cause them trouble. Hakani had resigned herself to the stalemate with Khon’Tor, but if he was reviving the fight between them, she was more than willing to hold up her end.
There is nothing else he can do to me. He has taken away every role I had except the one I do not want—to bear his offspring. The community has turned against me because of that Waschini offspring. I have nothing to lose.
Acaraho and Adia reached her quarters. It was late, and she was exhausted. Once she was safely in, she heard him exchange words with the guard who stood just outside. Usually, Acaraho retired to his quarters, taking his rest when she was taking hers. But for some reason, he relieved the standing guard of the evening shift and stationed himself at the entrance.
Adia dragged herself down the passage, eyes downcast. The show of strength she had put on in the gathering room before leaving—her statement to Khon’Tor that if he did not honor his end of the bargain, she was released from hers—had been a last-ditch attempt to cover her concern at what she had just done. She was worried, but she did not want Khon’Tor to know that.
Nadiwani had been waiting for Adia’s return.
“What’s wrong? Did you ask Khon’Tor about the Whitespeak lessons for Oh’Dar? What happened?”
“Oh’Dar will get the Whitespeak training if Khon’Tor can find a teacher. I made that stipulation,” said Adia.
It was late. “Is Oh’Dar still awake?” she asked Nadiwani. She wanted to cuddle him, hold him close.
“No, I’m sorry. He’s fast asleep. But I can wake him if you want?”
“No. It’s alright. I’m going to go to bed. Will you be staying up long?” Adia asked.
Nadiwani answered that she would be turning in shortly herself, so Adia lay down and prayed that sleep would come quickly.
Whatever was going on, Adia was not talking about it. They usually shared everything, so this was a disturbing turn.
Adia had used the term stipulation. Stipulation to what? thought Nadiwani. Adia’s use of the term made the Helper think of an agreement. Has she had to make some kind of deal with Khon’Tor to gain his permission for Oh’Dar to learn Whitespeak?
The minute she thought it, Nadiwani knew the answer. Of course. Khon’Tor does not do anything for anyone without getting something in return, she said to herself.
Acaraho, Adia, Nadiwani, and Hakani all spent sleepless nights. Khon’Tor, on the other hand, slept like a rock.
The next morning the community was still electrified with talk over what had taken place the night before. If Adia and Khon’Tor were prohibited from talking about what happened, all the others made up for the silence by talking about nothing else.
Those who witnessed it were full of conjecture over what this Rah-hora involved. All knew the rules of the Rah-hora. None of them had ever witnessed one being executed, and neither had the parents or grandparents of most. This was a rare event that would be talked about for generations to come.
Realizing Adia was not willing to talk about the night before, Nadiwani arose and sent word for one of the females to take over the care of Oh'Dar. If she could not find out here what had happened, she would go elsewhere. Someone had to know something.
She entered the Great Chamber, which was a roiling sea of clamor about what had occurred the previous night. She sat at one of the tables with the other females, piecing together what they said had happened between Khon’Tor and Adia. She learned that Adia had initiated a conversation and then Khon’Tor had initiated the Rah-hora. But even without knowing the details, Nadiwani still knew more than most. She knew Adia had been going to approach Khon’Tor about training for Oh'Dar. She knew from her conversation with Adia the night before that Khon’Tor had agreed to provide the training. What was missing was everything else in between. Rah-hora was only invoked when high-level agreements were made, or when one of the parties wanted to ensure there was no way for the other party to back out.
Since Khon’Tor initiated the Rah-hora, whatever Adia had to put up for her side of the bargain is something Khon’Tor wants very much. And whatever it was, at some point it is going to cost her greatly.
“Oh, Adia. What have you done?”
Chapter 12
Awaking at first light, Adia busied herself in her quarters, putting together the last items to go into the exchange basket in return for the warm weather wrappings Is’Taqa would soon bring. The weather had turned cold in the past few weeks, and she worried about Oh’Dar catching a chill. Even though the underground living area was a fairly constant temperature, it was on the cool side for the Brothers, which meant it would also be for Oh'Dar. In addition, cold breezes occasionally blew in, dropping the temperature several degrees. She wished she had thought to ask for furs and blankets. Perhaps she would ask Is’Taqa about this when she saw him.
Adia thought it odd that someone of the rank of Second Chief would be bringing her the wrappings. But then she realized he was one of only three Brothers who knew a Waschini offspring was at Kthama.
Rising and seeing Nadiwani was gone, but that Haiwee was there to look after Oh'Dar, Adia decided to make her way to the Great Chamber. She needed to rest, but for some reason, she felt she had to get away. As she left, she was startled to see Acaraho, having forgotten he had relieved the previous night’s guard.
For the second time in so few days, Acaraho and Adia made eye contact. As he looked into her eyes, she could not contain her feelings, and the tears welled up and spilled over. She was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. Her reserves were gone, and her emotions were too close to the surface to veil.
Acaraho forgot himself and reached out to comfort her. He caught himself but not before his movement betrayed his intention.
Realizing he had been about to pull her into his arms, Adia so wished he had not stopped. She longed for even a moment’s rest in the arms of this riveting man, whose presence was the only thing that made her feel safe anymore.
His expression of tenderness toward her broke her last shard of reserve. Adia turned and ran unceremoniously down the tunnel hallway.
She ducked into one of the small alcoves along the tunnel to pull herself together. She had to get herself back under control. Whatever other trials were ahead of her, it was a long way from over. She was so tired. And she was not feeling well: her head was spinning, and she felt hot, then cold. She just wanted to rest.
Back in the Great Chamber, one of the watchers was looking for Khon’Tor. Informed that the Leader was in his quarters, the watcher set out to find him. Everyone watching knew something else important m
ust be afoot. Nobody hunted down Khon‘Tor, Leader of the People of the High Rocks, in his private living spaces after-hours unless it was terribly important.
As the watcher approached Khon’Tor’s quarters, he made a point of doing so noisily. He did not want to interrupt anything important that might be going on inside. Khon’Tor heard the male approaching and went into the hall to meet him, fully expecting it to be Acaraho, who should himself have risen by now.
Even before the watcher said a word, the alarm on his face and the fact that he was there told Khon’Tor something serious had happened.
“What is it, Akule?” asked Khon’Tor, hoping he had gotten the name right. He was not as close to Acaharo’s guards and watchers as was the High Protector.
“Tell me what you need to and quickly.”
“I have a message from the High Council. I was told to come and tell you directly, no matter what. A contingent of Waschini has entered our territory,” Akule explained. “They said it is the largest group they have ever seen until now. They are riding in on horseback. From the direction they were traveling, their route would bring them across our territory within a matter of a day or two.”
“Thank you, Akule. Please go immediately to the High Chief Ogima Adoeete and make sure he also knows this. If Ogima Adoeete is not available for you to speak with directly, deliver the message either to their Second, Is’Taqa, or to their Medicine Woman.”
Akule left to do as Khon’Tor had ordered. In earlier times—better times—Khon’Tor would have assembled the Healer and his mate Hakani as being Second and Third Rank. But as things were now, the only counsel Khon’Tor was interested in or had any faith in was Acaraho’s. Knowing Acaraho would be in place guarding the Healer’s Quarters, he sent a guard to relieve him.
Khon'Tor's Wrath Page 13
