Sunmaster, page 17
Every sea witch in the tent drew a soft breath like they wanted to mention Guildmaster Isidri as an example of old women with power in Ilyara, and then all exchanged faintly amused glances as they heard each other beneath Nikki's continuing speech. "I don't expect power. A little respect would be nice. So I'll stay," she said, again in Shenryalan. "If I can."
"You are welcome, ancient sister," Oyun replied, and Nasira translated that, too.
Nikki, who had been a tense and sullen old woman for the three difficult weeks Rasim had known her, relaxed for the first time since they'd left Moran. "Thank you."
Oyun nodded, then turned her attention to Skymaster Karluk and his wife Zyterna. Neither of them had spoken in the time Rasim had been in the tent, except in relief when Lars and the others had been pulled from the gap in the earth. Karluk's dark knuckles were white with the strength he held Zyterna's hand. "And you?" Oyun asked.
"I would like to go home," Karluk said in a low voice. "But Ilyaran custom is that guild members don't marry or have children, and I'm not prepared to give up either my family or my witchery. Not now. Not after all we've been through."
"Nor should you." Nasira had made that choice herself long ago, before losing everything to the Great Fire, and old anger dripped through her voice now. "I might have saved my family, if I'd had access to my witchery. I won't ask anyone else to face that hardship themselves."
"But will the king?" Karluk sounded like he knew the answer, and like it was too much to bear.
Rasim drew breath, but Desimi beat him to it, sharpness in his deepening voice. "The king better not. He's the one who wants to build the King's Guild out of witches who can master more than one magic. If that's really what he wants, he can't punish witches who want to break other Ilyaran rules, right?" He shot a quick look at Rasim, as if hoping he'd said the right thing, and Rasim grinned back at him. Desimi's shoulders loosened and he stuck his jaw out at Sunmaster Endat, who regarded him with a look very like the one people usually gave Rasim.
Karluk slumped, his hand still tight around Zyterna's. "Still, it might be best if we stayed in Shenryal, at least until we know. If the King Horse and Great Mare will allow it."
Irlin smiled. "Perhaps Jerial might find space for you in her tent."
Hope lit not only Karluk's face, but also Jerial's as Irlin went on. "I understand, however, that Ilyarans do not ride. We cannot make Shenryalans of you if you do not sit on a horse, sky-sorcerer."
"I'm sure our children will come to it naturally," Karluk said in a thick, grateful voice. "Zyterna and I may be a little slower, but we'll try, Great Mare."
"I would be honored to teach you the way of the horse." Jerial pulled together a watery, emotional smile, her eyes bright as she added, "Perhaps you'll even learn the King Horse's path," and Karluk laughed, but it was Zyterna who answered.
"I think my husband's Ilyaran goddess wouldn't forgive him for that, but the only gods I've known are those who look away from slavery. I would like to learn more of the King Horse and your Great Spiral, myself." Her Ilyaran had improved considerably since Rasim had met her. He wondered how much time she and Karluk had been forced to spend apart during their marriage, if only a few weeks of speaking it regularly had made her that much more comfortable with it. They must have been apart far more often than they'd been together, in Moran.
For a hard, wrenching moment, he not only approved of Cindu tearing down that city's river walls, but wished he'd been the one to do it. He closed his eyes, trying to move past that dark impulse. When he opened them again, he found Sunmaster Endat's steady gaze on him, like now he thought maybe Desimi was rubbing off on Rasim, instead of the other way around. Rasim didn't know if it was good or bad in either case.
Nasira sighed explosively. "All right. Is anyone else staying or going or changing plans to suit themselves? No? Then, Spiritmaster Oyun, we have a request to make. Rasim would like to talk to your captive about how the Northerners got your drug delzjha, and…" She trailed off, looking around with an expression that slowly grew so dark that all the other sound in the tent gradually faded away as the people gathered there tried to figure out what she was looking for.
"Where," Nasira grimly asked into the silence, "is Prince Lorens?"
"He brought dinner to the tent last night," Kisia said after a moment.
"He was there when I fell asleep," Rasim added. "Did anyone see him at breakfast?"
"I thought he was sleeping." Nasira spoke through clenched teeth. "But he would have woken before we came to see Irlin and Bikat. Someone go ask Pynda if she saw him leave."
Milu shook his head. "He wasn't there. Telun and I were with her until the earth witchery started. Lorens's bed was empty."
Nasira sounded like she was working the ship's ropes in a hard wind, her voice was so tight. "Can anyone think of a good reason for him to have left without warning, apparently in the middle of the night?"
Rasim could, but it wasn't a nice reason. As the silence from the rest of their group drew on, Nasira's gaze landed on him. The suspicions were, and had been, his all along. Evidently that meant he got to voice them. It could be argued that she meant it as an honor, but it felt more like a punishment. "He left as soon as I was rescued. The only reason I can think that he'd do that was he was afraid I would come back with information that could…"
"Implicate him," Nasira said when Rasim ran out of words. "Rasim believes Lorens may have something to do with the drug trade that's brought delzjha into Northern hands."
"That doesn't make sense," Kisia protested. "He had to have known that Milu and Bikat were going to get Rasim. Why wouldn't he have left then?"
"I don't know. Maybe he hoped I was dead. There wouldn't be any point in running if I was dead."
Kisia squinted. "You're right. He should have gone with them and made sure you were dead." Rasim stared at her, and she spread her hands. "Well, he should've! He could have gathered you in his arms and suffocated you or something."
"Only," Bikat interrupted in a very dry tone, "if he got to Rasim first, and I will take it as an insult to all the Shenryalan people if you suggest a lanky Northerner can out-ride even a single one of my guard."
Kisia went from contemplating how best to make sure Rasim was dead to contrite in a single blink, and bowed. "I would never suggest such a thing, King Horse."
Bikat made a sound like he accepted her apology, although Rasim suspected the Shenryalan leader might think they were amusing. Whatever humor he might have shown, however, faded as he said, "Many of us have close bonds with our horses, but I fear there are far too many horses in the camp to be certain whether a few have gone missing. And while I have confidence in our ability to find even a single rider on the plains, we need a place to begin looking. I might suppose we should start with the direction we found you in, sorcerer-child, but if I were a fugitive and at all wise, I would not take that path myself."
"Me either, so I don't know," Rasim said grimly. "Let's ask Qyacha."
CHAPTER 21
They brought Qyacha to the central tent, instead of bringing everyone in it to her. Jerial, supported by Bayar, left before her mother was brought in, and the new members of her family went with them. Rasim imagined Bayar would be doing a lot of translating for the next few hours and days.
Qyacha did not look like a dangerous woman as she knelt in the middle of the great tent. Most of the stern anger was gone from her face, and she glanced around as if a little disconnected from her own body. Rasim knew exactly what that felt like, but couldn't find any sympathy for her.
Too many people were debating what to ask, and who should do the asking. Rasim hadn't exactly thought it out that clearly, but that was why he'd wanted to talk to her on his own. Extra people complicated things too much. After several minutes of listening to the adults debate, Rasim, knowing he shouldn't, wove a little sky witchery and spoke directly in Qyacha's ear. "Did you know Lorens before he came here with us?"
Her gaze went very focused for a moment, but the way her head bobbled as she looked for the person who'd spoken to her told him that she wasn't nearly as alert as she appeared for those few seconds. Then her eyes met his, and the clarity of anger burned in her gaze for another heartbeat or two. "Did you know Lorens before he came here with us?" Rasim asked again.
"Alsari did. Where is my sister?"
"I don't know," Rasim admitted softly. "There was an attack. People died. I don't know if she did or not. The younger woman who took me did, though."
Qyacha's lip curled, but then a wave of detached grief rolled over her. "Darracha?"
"I hope she's all right. I didn't see her again after the attack. Did Alsari give Lorens delzjha?"
A sneer washed over Qyacha's face, slow but sure. "For sorcery, yes."
Rasim's heart clenched. "Is Lorens a sorcerer?"
Qyacha actually laughed, and Rasim, not expecting that sound, didn't catch it well with his witchery. He was suddenly very aware that everyone around them was now trying to pretend like they didn't know he was questioning the earth witch. Maybe they thought she'd stop talking if she realized they, too, were listening. Or maybe they just thought she wouldn't answer if anyone else spoke to her. "Not him. His people." She leaned toward him clumsily, like she wanted to whisper a secret. "The pale ones have hidden sorcery for—"
The next word was well out of his vocabulary, but Rasim thought it must mean a long time. He nodded. "Do you know where Lorens has gone?"
The woman's lip curled again and she looked away with a disdain that would have been cutting, if her drug-slowed actions had been crisper. "Where is my daughter?"
"Free," Rasim said softly. "Found not guilty of your…" He wanted to say 'crimes,' but that was beyond his vocabulary, too. "Mistakes."
"Nnnn. Weak daughter. Bad blood."
"If she has bad blood," Rasim said carefully, trying to get all the words right, "it must be her mother's, because I haven't heard any Shenryalan claim their clan by their father's name."
A low hiss went around the tent from those who understood him, so he thought he'd spoken clearly enough. Qyacha, suddenly furious, threw herself toward him. It worked about as well as his own outraged attempts at violence had when he'd been given zjhala: she lost her balance and began shrieking with anger. Guards stepped in to pick her up and carry her away, and in the aftermath, Rasim felt all eyes on him again.
He sighed and stood up, meeting Nasira's exasperated gaze. "You all would have kept talking about what to ask forever."
"Probably not forever. What did she say?"
"Her sister knew Lorens and traded him delzjha for knowledge of more sorcery. She says the Northerners have been keeping their magic secret for a long time now. Why did they stop using it, if the secret is still known?"
"Dragons," Oyun said. "Dragons go where the sorcery is strong."
"They don't, though," Kisia said. Oyun's eyebrows rose, but Kisia spread her hands. "Ilyara's stronger with witchery than anywhere else in the world, and we don't have dragons."
Oyun's eyebrows flickered back down into a frown, and although her face said she wanted to, she didn't argue. Instead she inclined her head, then left, still frowning at the Ilyarans. Rasim muttered, "What was that about," not really meaning it to be a question, but Nasira, close enough to overhear, shook her head.
"I'm not sure I even want to know. Did she say where Lorens had gone?"
"No. We were trading answers, but she wouldn't answer that one. Maybe Oyun can make her tell the King Horse."
Nasira bared her teeth briefly, then nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears more firmly as she turned to Bikat and Irlin. "King Horse, Great Mare…we may have gained more answers than we expected, in coming here, but I think we had better prepare to leave. If your spiritmaster can't convince Qyacha to tell her where Lorens has gone, or if she doesn't know, then we need to return home as quickly as possible to warn our king that there may be trouble coming from the North, as well as Moran. Will you forgive us for a hasty departure?"
Irlin smiled. "There's nothing to forgive, ship-mother. You have brought our son home to us, and even here, helped to keep him safe from those who worked against him. Shenryal, and our family in particular, is in your debt."
To Rasim's utter astonishment, the two women hugged, and then Nasira led them out of the great tent to begin their preparations to go home.
Despite Nasira's best efforts, it was two full days before the Ilyarans were able to leave. There was ceremony around bringing the outsiders into Jerial's new clan, and because Karluk was Ilyaran, Irlin thought it was important that the Waifia's crew attend. An overwhelming number of people from the gathered tribes also came to celebrate, which Rasim thought was probably on purpose. It would make it harder for her aunts to object, if for no other reason than a big party meant everybody knew about the change in Jerial's status.
He knew that they'd set Qyacha free, hoping that she would go wherever Lorens had gone. Rasim thought she should be smarter than that, but people often weren't, so like everyone else, he waited to hear word from Bikat's riders that the Northern prince had been found. He fretted in their tent the evening before they were meant to leave, pacing and waiting for news of Lorens, or even of Darracha. It was possible she'd survived the stone snake's attack. If she had, he wanted to introduce her to Sesin.
Desimi threw a pillow at him, trying to get him to stop pacing. "Imagine how bored you're going to be when this is over and all you have to do is a journeyman's work."
Kisia snorted. "Rasim won't be bored. He'll end up in the palace with King Taishm."
Rasim shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "I know I'm going to have to tell him about the witchery and I guess I'll be in the King's Guild, if that happens, but I don't think it'll be in the palace."
"I didn't say you'd be in the palace with the King's Guild," Kisia said cryptically.
"I don't know where else it'd be, but I just want to be in the guild. Our guild."
"Captaining the Waifia," Desimi said, for once not sounding entirely rude about it.
"Or sailing under Kisia's command."
"Nah. Kisia's going to become Guildmaster."
"I'm going to have to captain the Waifia first, then, aren't I!"
Both the boys turned to look at her and Kisia raised her chin defiantly. "You've both thought about it too."
"Not me," Desimi said. "Being Guildmaster sounds like too much work."
Rasim hunched his shoulders. "I'm not thinking about anything except going home and getting this whole mess sorted out."
"And becoming Guildmaster," Desimi said to Kisia, and she grinned.
"Not for ages. Captain Asindo's got a lot of years ahead of him."
"I just want to sail on the Waifia!"
Kisia said, "And captain it," and Desimi said, "And then become Guildmaster," and Rasim hid under the pillow Desimi had thrown at him.
"I might stay here in Shenryal," Pynda announced unexpectedly, from where Rasim suddenly guiltily realized she'd been trying to sleep. Her voice muffled by a pillow, but didn't sound very serious. "That way I'll be as far away as possible from the three of you and all the trouble you're going to cause back home."
"You're wiser than any of my journeymen," Nasira said as she came in. "Pack up, all of you, but Oyun wants to see you three first."
"See," Pynda said. "Trouble."
"I didn't do anything!" Rasim sat up, raking his fingers through his hair like he could get the loose curls under control that way. Kisia tossed him a wide-toothed comb and he pulled his hair back, trying to see if it was long enough yet to tie into a knot at the base of his neck. It wasn't nearly, and he gave up, letting it spring free again as he muttered.
"You look fine," Kisia said. "Let's not keep her waiting." They hurried out of their tent over to Oyun's, exchanged brief, curious glances, and waited when Kisia said, "Daará?"
Oyun called, "Daarì," back, and they filed in, squinting at the comparative darkness inside. The tent wasn't as hot as it had been when she'd taken Rasim on the spirit journey, but it was still much warmer than outside. It made Rasim miss the Ilyaran heat.
Before they could say anything, another voice outside said, "Daará?" and Oyun repeated the welcome, allowing Bikat and Irlin to enter. They were both dressed formally in the same elaborate robes they'd worn to greet the Ilyarans at their first arrival. Bikat had silken colors wrapped around his palms again, although Irlin didn't, this time. Bayar, not quite as formally dressed, came a step or two behind them. Kisia's hands twisted before she dropped her eyes, mustered a smile, and looked up again as if nothing was bothering her.
Irlin saw all of that as clearly as Rasim did, and gave Kisia a surprisingly sympathetic look. "You've been very brave for us, Kisia, with little to show for it so far. The clan owes you a debt of gratitude."
"No." Kisia kept her smile in place, although Rasim thought her eyes looked sad. "I'm just glad—" She made a little face. "I'm glad I was there to get poisoned, I guess, because two of those darts would have killed Bayar."
"The King Horse gave us a great gift with your presence and strength," Bikat said. "It is almost unheard of, that a stranger to our camps would sacrifice so much for one of our own. We are, as Bayar told you, an isolated people, unfriendly to outsiders, but in the days you've been with us, we have taken in a great number of strangers. Karluk, Zyterna, their children, Nikki, and even Grandfather Winter, the one you call Kif. We would like to adopt one more stranger into our tribe, Kisia."
"Into our family," Irlin corrected. "I have no daughters, Kisia, which is considered a great shame—not an embarrassment, but a misfortune—among the clans. I have no regrets about it myself, but I wonder if you might allow me to add my name to your lineage, and call you daughter of the heart, myself."
