Sunmaster, page 5
"I wouldn't tell anyone not to listen to their most trusted advisors. I might ask what those advisors had to gain from giving the advice they have—" A gasp went around the quiet, gathered crowd as that was translated— "but your shaman reminds me of my old guildmaster. She might be conniving and manipulative, but she doesn't hurt people. She just likes setting situations up so people can find the best in themselves."
Anything else he might have said was lost in a rush of noisy commentary from the tribe. Suggesting that their shaman was conniving and manipulative had obviously offended many, amused others, and shocked everyone. Sunmaster Endat put a hand over his face and drew it down, gazing incredulously at Rasim through his fingers. After several minutes the crowd settled down, although they had a less friendly air about them than they had before. Rasim sighed. "The point is I can't, or won't, tell you to ignore your advisors. I can tell you I trust these people, but I know you don't have any reason to trust me."
"Except you claim to have saved our son, and brought him from the horseless lands back to us."
Rasim said, "Well, they have horses," and winced as Endat gave him a truly appalled look. "Yes, except for that. But we didn't do that to earn your trust. We did it because it was the right thing to do and we were coming to visit you anyway. There's been trouble spread all over the continent and we were afraid Shenryal was suffering from it, too."
"Yes," Bikat replied. "Your Sunmaster has spoken of these things. The great fire in your home city, poisoned lakes in the Northlands, and so on."
"Right," Rasim said desperately. "Coups in the Islands. It's as if someone is trying to destabilize places all over the points of the compass, and the last point is here, in the steppes. And Bayar is your heir. The King Horse's son. Kidnapping him has brought you all to the brink of war, hasn't it? Even though war isn't the way of your people? So it might be a different approach than what they've done elsewhere, but they're still trying to drill holes in your hulls." At Bikat and Irlin's blank looks, Rasim searched for an idea that might translate. "Trying to loosen your saddle straps?"
"Girth," Bikat said with amusement, but nodded, clearly understanding now. "Go on. Your Sunmaster spoke of the Moranese as the, mmm, instigators."
"I think so, but I'm not sure. They're at the center of the compass point, anyway, and the slaves we rescued, some of them talked about how their masters had plans for beyond Moran itself. But that was before half the city got drowned."
Endat said, "What?" and Rasim gave him a defensive look.
"It's been a really busy month!"
"Rasim…" Endat's controlled calm visibly slipped. Rasim braced, surprising himself with a sudden ferocious willingness to argue with the Sunmaster, if necessary. He wasn't happy about what had happened in Moran, but he wasn't going to let someone who hadn't been there yell at him for it, either.
Before Endat got the chance, there was a commotion outside, and Bayar burst into the tent to rush into his parents' arms.
CHAPTER 6
The guards hauled Rasim and Endat outside before either of them had a chance to catch their breaths, much less speak to Bayar. The ancient shaman, Oyun, hustled past them, going into the tent as they left it. Rasim was impressed the old lady could move that fast. Seconds later nearly everyone else poured out of the tent, many of them with tense, pinched expressions that landed on Rasim and tightened further. One girl, though, three or four years older than Rasim, gave him a brilliant smile of gratitude before another woman, tall, with grey-streaked hair and a grim set to her jaw, pulled the girl out of Rasim's sight. He stood on his toes, trying to see where they'd gone, but Kisia shouted "Rasim!" and he spun toward the sound of his name.
Kisia fell off a horse and tumbled toward him for a hug. Desimi followed with less grace, if possible, although Sesin dismounted like she knew what she was doing. All of the riders exchanged looks, but didn't stop them, and the guards who gathered around them eyed one another uncomfortably, as if they weren't sure what to do with the outsiders. Kisia hissed, "What happened to you? You flew away—you flew away, Rasim!"
"Where's Captain Nasira? They keep asking questions and I don't know what to tell them." Rasim returned her hug, unbelievably glad to see her, and almost as glad to see Desimi.
"She's on the way," the bigger boy said. "We were already down this side of the mountain and trying to track where the dragon had gone when the riders showed up. Bayar made some of them stay behind to bring Nasira and Lorens, but the rest of them insisted on escorting him home as fast as they could."
"Well, Endat and Telun and Milu and everybody are here but I think they're in some kind of trouble." Rasim faltered as even more Shenryalans began to gather around the great central tent, so hushed that speaking at all seemed rude. Rasim's hands went cold with worry and he didn't know why. Nor did he dare ask, with the weight of silence all around.
It went on for an unbearably long time. The sun shifted across the sky, but tension kept everyone on their feet, surrounding the tent. Rasim thought that somewhere in the camp, people must be going on with their day like everything was normal, but he could hear almost no sign of it, save a dog whining and a few babies crying, as if they, too, felt something important was happening and were worried about the outcome. Kisia's hand stole into Rasim's and she glanced at him, wide-eyed, but he shrugged, unable to tell her what was going on. Desimi crowded closer, too, and Sesin joined them, the four of them huddled together and watching the central tent like everyone else. Rasim knew he was hungry and tired, and knew that neither of those things would matter to the people gathered around the tent.
Finally, a voice rose from within, crying out something joyous in the Shenryalan language.
The roar that answered reminded Rasim of the Moranese slave arena, only there was no blood lust in it, just gladness. Before its strength died, it shifted into song with high tonal ranges and a low, deep thrum that sounded instrumental but came, Rasim realized after a moment, from people casting their voices almost too low to be heard. Kisia's shoulders dropped in relief and she whispered, "Bayar is still one of his people. He was gone so long, he was afraid his soul might have been corrupted and they'd throw him out. He thought that maybe because he's the King Horse's son they might try what he called a three-moon cleansing, but he thought if they had to try that he was pretty much lost anyway."
Rasim and Desimi both blinked at her in astonishment, and Desimi whispered, "When'd he tell you all that?"
Kisia shrugged uncomfortably. "We've been talking a lot."
"I guess so!"
"Rasim, what's going on? What's—"
Any hope Kisia had of answers died as Oyun left the central tent, her hands lifted high as if in triumph. She had silk wrapped around her hands now, all sorts of colors that matched the dyed tents and the bright flags that flew above them, and the rich shades of clothing everyone wore. Rasim shifted from one foot to another, finally daring to look around a little at where he was, and the people around him, but Oyun drew everyone's attention as she spoke at length. Once in a while, Kisia whispered, "She's talking about us," or, "She's reassuring them," and every time she did, Desimi squinted at her.
"When did you learn so much Shenryalan?" he hissed in a momentary lull.
Kisia shrugged again, more stiffly than before. "I told you, Bayar and I have been talking a lot. I guess we were practicing."
"Uh-huh."
Before Desimi could say anything else, Oyun came forward. Rasim wasn't at all surprised when she grabbed his head again, hauling him down to sniff him thoroughly. This time she released him with an expression of satisfaction that ended in a sharp nod. Rasim smiled weakly in return. At least she hadn't hauled him off to her tent to make him throw up again.
Instead, she shouldered past him and grabbed Kisia's head. She yelped with offense, her expression one of barely controlled outrage as she submitted to the shaman's sniff. The old woman let her go with a sharp, pleased-sounding laugh, and clapped Kisia on the shoulder so hard the girl staggered. She rubbed her shoulder and stared at the old lady, clearly bewildered.
Desimi, who had a neck like a bull even at thirteen, ducked his head on his own so he didn't get yanked around. Oyun grunted approval and lingered over her inhalation, then, eyebrows drawn deeply down, took another breath of the big Seamaster journeyman. A frown dug into the lines around her mouth and between her eyebrows, and she took a third, even deeper breath before finally stepping back to stare frankly at Desimi for several long seconds. Then, swiftly but with great deliberation, she shook the silk wrappings around her hands loose and re-wove them into bands of green, brown, blue, and gold before opening both palms to the young man in a flash of color. Desimi shot a look of confusion toward Kisia, whose knowledge of Shenryalan tradition obviously didn't cover this. She shrugged and Desimi, left to his own devices, looked back at the shaman and offered a slight, cautious bow.
Oyun gave another grunt of satisfaction, reached up to pat his cheek, and finally seized Sesin to sniff her, too. Interest creased her tattooed forehead, and she stepped back to survey all the Ilyaran journeymen before grunting a final time and turning on her heel to return to the enormous tent. Desimi hissed, "What was that about?" and the others shrugged.
"She's a shaman," Rasim whispered, using the Shenryalan word Bayar's parents had used. "I think we'd say spirit master, maybe? She knows things about people. She knew I was—"
Before he finished, the tent door opened again and Oyun marched out as imperiously as she'd entered. This time, though, Bikat and Irlin followed. Bayar walked between them, Irlin's hand on his shoulder. None of them made any effort to hide the tremendous emotion they felt. Bikat's face was bright with tears, and Bayar and Irlin's smiles made them look even more alike than Rasim had thought. All three of them came to a stop in front of the gathered Ilyarans, and Bayar's parents both lifted silk-wrapped palms to Desimi, Rasim supposed, because Oyun had done that. Desimi, still bewildered, shot Rasim a look, then bowed to them the same way he'd done to the shaman. They inclined their heads with evident satisfaction, then turned joyfully solemn gazes on Rasim. "Our son has told us a different story than yours, sorcerer-child," Irlin said. "Bayar has said that without you he would still be enslaved, or more likely dead and his soul lost to the spiral of stars."
"Maybe, but…" Rasim shrugged uncomfortably. "Agnet did a lot more."
Interest creased their faces and they conferred quietly, speaking far too quickly for Rasim's limited grasp of their language to understand. After what felt like a very long discussion, Bikat spoke in a deep, quiet voice. "What do you know of the customs of our people, sorcerer-child?"
"Um." Rasim cast the same sort of nervous glance at Desimi that Desimi had given him only moments earlier. "Not very much?"
"I thought not. It is considered the mark of an old and generous spirit, one that has often ridden through the spiral, to praise the efforts of others when they are themselves praised. Of course, this is known among our people, and so to be, mmm. Modest?" He nodded as Rasim bobbled his head in agreement with the term. "To be modest becomes, in its way, a method of earning further praise. But you did not know this, and still spoke of this woman Agnet as the true hero."
"She was." Tears suddenly filled Rasim's eyes. "She was a fighter, and she wanted freedom, and if she couldn't have that, she wanted a good death. She ended up with both, and saved Bayar. And then really Desimi and Kisia—" He gestured to the two now beside him— "did most of the rest, along with our ship's crew. I was just…there."
Bikat said something loudly to the gathered tribe, and a laugh ran through them. Heat rushed up Rasim's cheeks even if he didn't know what had been said, and Bayar's mother gave him an amused look. "He speaks well of you, sorcerer-child. You are not what we expected, when we were warned of sorcery from afar. You say this one," she nodded at Endat, "and the others are like you, thinking only of helping, but someone took our son, and we must have a path forward, when we find the kidnappers."
Desimi said, "Well, I'd kill them," and a burst of unexpected, overwhelming frustration slammed through Rasim. He forgot to be on his best behavior and spun toward the bigger boy with an inarticulate roar.
"That's a stupid answer! That's just doing what your anger tells you to do! If I did what my anger told me to I'd have punched your stupid face and lost any chance I ever had of getting a place on the Waifia! You have to be smarter than that, Desimi! You have to think more! It would be awful to kill somebody who had nothing to do with Bayar being kidnapped, even if you were angry at everybody who used magic right then! You'd be taking your anger out on the wrong people! Maybe the people who kidnapped him deserve to be killed, I don't know, but Sunmaster Endat, and then we, were the next people who use witchery to come along, so do you think we should get killed because some slaver stole Bayar from his family?"
Desimi recoiled, as much from Rasim's approach as the onslaught of words. "What? No! We didn't do anything wrong! We brought him back!"
"That's what I'm saying," Rasim shouted. "That's why you have to use your big thick head to think with, Desi! You can't just go around punishing people for what other people did, even if you're mad at the whole world!"
Kisia touched Rasim's arm, trying to calm him. He turned away from Desimi, panting with effort, and she lifted her chin to meet Bikat's eyes. "Rasim isn't wrong, you know," she said to him. "He's shouty, but he's not wrong."
Bayar's father addressed her as directly as she'd spoken to him. "It is difficult to be one who clearly sees the long path, especially, perhaps, when one is still a child. In our culture," he said to Rasim, "you would be sent to study with Oyun, who would show you the shaman's road, and as you aged you would be called upon to speak with the spirits and guide our people toward their ever-changing destiny. There is no such path in your land?" When Rasim shook his head, Bikat smiled, almost sadly. "A shame. To learn from Oyun might ease your heart."
Rasim put his hand on his chest, trying to make himself breathe slowly. "I guess it might not seem like it right now, but I think she's helped me a lot already."
A glimmer of humor washed through Bikat's face. "Well, there are no dragons," he said. "Perhaps that is sign enough of what she has done for you."
Desimi elbowed him. "What'd she do?"
Rasim elbowed him back. "I'll tell you later."
Kisia smacked both of them, and Bikat struggled not to laugh. "Bayar says your mothers come to join us. We will speak with them about how—"
Desimi said, "We don't have mothers," and this time Kisia elbowed him.
"He means Captain Nasira. Shenryalan priests are mostly women, and they guide their clans' spiritual lives and make the decisions as to where they ride and when they rest. 'Mother' covers a lot of territory in Bayar's language. And they pluralize it because they draw on their ancestors' knowledge and wisdom, and also because they make a lot of group decisions."
All the Ilyarans were blinking at her by the time she was done, and Desimi raised his hands in exasperation. "You're turning into Rasim, just having to know everything."
"I don't have to know everything!" Rasim protested. "And I said the same thing about not having mothers!"
Desimi looked mollified as Bikat and Irlin exchanged glances over Bayar's head, the King Horse clearly giving up on whatever he'd intended to say. Instead, Irlin offered, "Perhaps you might like to eat," in a gentle voice. "All of you have traveled a long way, and the sorcerer-child has certainly undergone a great trial in the little time he has been with us."
Rasim, who had remembered his hunger earlier, remembered it again, and the volume his stomach rumbled at made everyone around him grin. "Come," Bayar said. "Mother and Father say that your friends are in a nearby tent. I'll bring you to them. The rest we can determine later."
Kisia smiled uncertainly at him. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to let my parents out of my sight."
Bayar crooked an uncertain smile back at her. "I fear if I do not leave their sides immediately, and prove to myself that I can return, I may never leave them at all." He offered Kisia his hand, and she loosened hers from Rasim's to take it. A lump formed in Rasim's chest as they walked a step or two ahead and he thumped his stomach, even though it didn't feel like hunger. Bayar led them around a half-spiral path to a large, but rather plain, tent not too far from the central one. There he bowed and left them again, with Kisia lingering at the tent door to watch him go before she joined them.
The group within were mostly Ilyarans, although Lars, the round-shouldered Northerner Rasim had befriended was also there, and looked up with a smile as Rasim yelped with delight to see everyone. Pynda, a broad-shouldered Sunmaster journeyman who had been sullen even before her friend's death in the North, didn't even look up, but Milu, a gangly Stonemaster journeyman in his twenties, lurched to his feet to offer hugs. His partner Telun, built like a slab of stone himself, rose to squish them all in greeting. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?" Rasim demanded.
"We're being not on a boat," Milu said happily. "Nothing else matters."
All three Seamaster journeymen said, "Ship," and Milu grinned as he and Telun sat again, with Milu leaning back into the broader man's embrace. "Are you all right?"
Rasim made a face. "We're here. What did we miss?"
"The Northerners sailed us to a cove at the foot of a mountain pass. We walked from there, three days into the steppes, before we saw a single soul. Then a whole—herd—of them arrived, out of nowhere. I think they would have killed us all, if Kif hadn't been with us."
