Sunmaster, page 6
Rasim's head came up in surprise. He'd thought of Kif a few times, but the old Northerner had slipped his mind. "Kif, right. Where is he?"
"He spoke to them for us. He told them who he was, and said he was an exile, and then he invoked…" Milu shook his head. "Something. And it made them stop in their tracks."
"The blood of his daughters." Pynda spoke in a low voice. Rasim, who hadn't heard her speak since Daka's death, felt a wave of relief that she was talking again. Her gaze was hard when it met his, as if she was challenging him to say something. He didn't, and after a moment she went on. "The Shenryal trace their bloodlines through the women, so Kif calling on the blood of his daughters meant he was asking for the protection of their bloodline, which he had earned as the chosen husband of their mother. They had to respect that, or lose honor in the endless spiral."
"That worked even though he was an exile? Doesn't that mean he could have stayed when his wife died?"
Pynda shook her head. "No. It was his wife's sisters who cast him out when she died. They were adults, so they had a lot more power than his daughters, who were children, did. But his daughters are adults now and their aunts are mostly dead, so Kif calling on their bloodline was meaningful enough to at least get us to the encampment in one piece."
No wonder Kif had been so angry with the Shenryalans, Rasim thought. To lose his wife and then be sent away from his children must have been unbearable. He was an old, old man now. To return to the steppes so late in life was in itself a challenge against the unfairness that had cast him out so long ago. Rasim could hardly contemplate the courage it had taken the old man to even try.
Having said her piece, Pynda fell silent, waiting for Milu to pick up the story again. He did, using witchery to create a little map in the hard earth, with shapes and shadows coming to life as riders and tents while he spoke. Rasim watched, fascinated, and Telun squeezed the slender Stonemaster journeyman in his arms.
"You're showing off."
"A little," Milu murmured. "Anyway, they brought us hundreds of miles inland on those sturdy little ponies. I felt like my feet would drag on the ground, when I wasn't rattling my teeth together or rubbing the sores out of my back and bum." He met Rasim's eyes and said, "I don't travel well," rather drolly, and everyone, even Pynda, laughed quietly. "When we arrived they took Kif away and we haven't seen him since, but we're not dead, so he must have said something in our favor."
"Maybe," Rasim said, not helpfully. "It's against their beliefs to kill people. They consider it a corrupting act, a stain on their souls."
Telun's heavy eyebrows rose and he looked into the distance, not that they could see much more than legs and torsos from their vantage on the ground. "They look pretty war-like for pacifists. All that armor."
"I think their spirit master can grant them permission to kill, but there's a whole cleansing cycle that has to be done, and even then it's still a pretty awful thing to do. But they thought they were going to have to go to war to get Bayar back, so they were preparing for it. Their great gathering—we haven't missed it, have we?"
"Not yet. The gathering is in two days, but I think they were kind of planning to just stop for a few minutes on the day and agree that riding out to the continent to get Bayar back was what the King Horse wanted, and then cross the mountain border by the afternoon," Telun said. "You showing up changed everything. I think they're trying to figure out what to do now."
"Thank Siliaria," Rasim said with feeling. "Imagine an army this size sweeping out of the west and rushing across the continent with no warning. I don't think anything could stand against them."
"Except Ilyara," Kisia said proudly, but Pynda shook her head.
"You're wrong, though. It turns out the horse clans have magic."
CHAPTER 7
"Hah!" Rasim brought his hands together with a sharp clap. "I knew it. Oyun said she wouldn't tell me, but I knew it! Well," he added in a mumble mostly to himself, "she said she wouldn't tell me how they chose people to study witchery, I guess. I guess that's not quite the same thing."
"They work earth and wood," Milu said almost dreamily. The shapes he'd built in the hard ground reformed into a witch creating a bowl before settling back down to just be dirt again. "That old woman sniffed my head and sent me to study with one of their witches. I don't know why, if they don't trust us, but I've learned so much. Earth-working is close to stone shaping, but…mellower. The stone is deep and hard and slow, and earth moves much more easily."
"But you could do that already," Rasim said. "You shaped the clay in the north."
"Oh, but that's…" Milu paused, somewhere between dismissive and confused, but Telun grunted an affirmation.
"Milu keeps saying anybody can do it, but he's wrong. Most Stonemasters can't even come close, I told you that. These steppes people might be able to, but not Ilyarans."
"There isn't much wood out here, is there?" Kisia looked around like she could see through the tent walls into the far distance.
"There are few trees in sheltered areas. Wood-shaping witchery is rare and prized. They use it to make the frames for their tents, and to keep them supple long past when they might have otherwise dried out. They work fire and air, too, just like we do," Pynda said.
Rasim lifted his head slowly. "So, but, wait, if they have witchery, how do we even know that the shaman's vision was of outside sorcery? They said—" He got up, going to the tent door. There were guards outside, which didn't surprise him much. "Excuse me, but can I talk to King Bikat? King?" he added in more of a whisper, to his friends. "Is that right?"
They shrugged as the guards looked blankly at him. Rasim groaned and took a step outside, which earned him crossed spears in front of his path, although they were careful not to touch him. "I just need to talk to the King Horse and the Great Mare," he said, mostly in Shenryalan. "Please?"
The guards looked at each other, at him, and back at each other before one sighed enormously and left. Rasim smiled hopefully and the remaining guard pointed imperiously back into the tent. Rasim, shoulders hunched, scooted back in and waited impatiently, dancing from foot to foot and shaking his head when the others looked questioningly at him. He was afraid if he spoke he'd lose the idea, like it would fly away never to be heard again.
It felt like forever before the tent flap opened again and the guard ushered him out with another sigh. Clearly if it had been up to her, Rasim would not be brought to the King Horse. Kisia and Desimi jumped up and followed him, sticking close. The guard hesitated, then rolled her eyes in an act of resignation that crossed language barriers. A moment later they were ushered into the central tent, where all the attention turned their way immediately. Many of them were people who had been there the night before, when he'd first been presented to the Shenryalan leaders, and not all of them looked friendly.
Rasim's stomach clenched with nervousness. Somehow he hadn't expected everybody to fall quiet and wait expectantly, but since he was there, he swallowed and said, "You said sorcery from afar, didn't you?" to Bayar's parents. "Untrustworthy sorcery from afar?"
"We did." Bikat drew the words out as if he was both curious and reluctant to learn Rasim's thoughts.
Those thoughts burst out of Rasim in a flood. "But Telun and Milu just said the horse clans have witchery! So how do you know it's not magic from somewhere on the steppes that threatens you? These grasslands go on for thousands of miles. That's pretty far. Ilyarans are the obvious answer, since Endat and everybody showed up here before Bayar came back, but if you have magic of your own, isn't it more likely that your sorcerous threats would be internal? We could be the threat," he admitted, "and I don't know, maybe we really are, but I think you should at least consider looking closer to home."
He had become accustomed, in the short while it had happened, to hearing the echo of a translator sharing Ilyaran words with the tribe. That echo had stopped early in his speech, as if the translator thought his words might be dangerous. It felt very, very quiet in the big tent all of a sudden.
In the silence, Irlin, the Great Mare, spoke. "Do you know the difference, sorcerer-child, in the argument that you have made, and the one that your elder here has made?" She nodded to Endat, and when Rasim, confounded, shrugged, Irlin said, "He argued as you have, that our enemy may lie closer to home, but never once did this elder sorcerer suggest that he and his companions could be the threat. What would you make of that?"
Rasim wished people would stop asking him questions like that, and avoided Master Endat's eyes as he answered. "If I were the suspicious type I'd think maybe he was just trying to make you look elsewhere so he could go about his wicked business. If I were the very suspicious type, I might say what I've said to make you think I'm trustworthy because I'm willing to consider myself as a potential problem."
To his surprise, Bikat laughed. "But you are not a suspicious type, are you, sorcerer-child?"
"No," Rasim said dismally. "I'm more a 'shout everything I'm thinking at everybody' type." Absolutely everyone who understood him laughed, and he slumped in embarrassment. "But really, I don't think Sunmaster Endat is the suspicious type either. I'm not sure it would occur to him that it could look like he was trying to misdirect you."
"Then he is not a good diplomat," Irlin said, "and you are more suspicious of soul than you imagine."
Rasim made a face. "I don't think I am."
Irlin's eyebrows rose slightly, and too late, it occurred to him that people probably didn't argue with her very often. She and Princess Inga of the Northlands would probably have a lot to say about him, if they got together. He sagged, then shrugged. "Either way, the captain and probably Prince Lorens are on their way here and maybe they'll be…" He trailed off, thinking about Captain Nasira, and mumbled, "Well, Lorens will probably be more diplomatic, anyway, and maybe you can all figure out who's really the enemy here."
Bayar, who had been listening quietly off to one side, seated in a chair built to suit his height, chuckled. "Are you sure you can bear not being part of that discovery, Rasim?"
Rasim made another face, this time more deliberately, at his friend. "I keep telling people I don't really want to be in the middle of all these messes. I just want people to think about what's going on, so they can make smart decisions."
By that time the translator was doing their job again, and Rasim sort of wished they weren't, when a muffled sound of outrage rushed around the tent. "I'm not saying you won't make smart decisions otherwise!" he howled in dismay. "It's just, a lot of the time people don't!"
He had the distinct impression Bayar's parents were once again struggling not to laugh at him. Others in the big tent were clearly not as amused. Rasim caught a dire look from the grey-streaked woman he'd noticed the evening before, as Irlin said, "But you, with all the wit and wisdom of your thirteen years, do?"
Rasim inhaled to answer and a big hand clapped itself over his mouth. Desimi pulled him backward, and Kisia whispered, "Maybe you should stop talking now, Rasi."
Unable to speak anyway, he nodded and made a muffled sound of agreement that caused Desimi to very cautiously loosen his grip over Rasim's mouth. Irlin, now definitely amused, said, "Perhaps not all Ilyarans are terrible diplomats," to her husband, who grinned and turned to Rasim.
"You wanted to speak of sorcerers from afar, and who they might be. Is there anything else of importance you wish to discuss now, sorcerer-child? Because I believe there should be hot food in your tent by now, and I know a hungry child's face when I see one. I cannot promise we will say nothing of relevance in your absence," he said, his now expression so sincere he was obviously laughing, "but perhaps with a full belly you will be more prepared to permit the adults to stumble along on their own."
Kisia's hand stole to Rasim's upper arm and squeezed like she was warning him not to say something wrong. He said, "Food would be good," in a low, mortified tone, and they were escorted once more to their tent, where an entire low table of unfamiliar, amazing-smelling food had been laid out. Telun and the others were already seated at it, cross-legged and reaching for the things they liked best. Rasim sat, and Desimi sat beside him on purpose so he could grab the things Rasim reached for first. After a minute, Pynda smacked Desimi's hand with a long-handled spoon, and he yelped, pulled back, and looked injured at her.
She snorted. Desimi grinned, but didn't try to steal any more of the food Rasim was trying to collect. There were meat-filled dumplings with a spice he'd never had before, one that filled his nose with its strength, and sweet barbecued meats that stuck to his teeth and fingers as he chewed happily. A sour cheese went well with the dumplings, and Milu warned, "That one's spicy," just as Rasim bit into a tightly-wrapped piece of meat with something fragrant in its interior. His vision went blurry as heat filled his mouth, and Milu, grinning, handed him a cup of unfamiliar milk that helped lessen the heat a little.
"It's the only one that's really spicy," Milu said apologetically. "I've gotten used to it so I didn't think to warn you in time."
Rasim wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and sniffled as his sinuses melted. "It's good," he said after a second, more careful bite. "I just didn't expect the spice. What is it?"
"We don't know." Telun sounded complacent. "They won't really talk to us, except teaching Milu earth witchery. Sometimes the old lady looks at me like she want something, but I don't think she knows any Ilyaran."
Rasim nearly said, "She does," then decided if Oyun wanted Telun to know she spoke Ilyaran, she would have told him. Instead he put another bite of cheese in his mouth, then discovered it went even better with the spicy meat than it had with the dumplings. He alternated bites and mumbled contentedly.
"I want to see you do that again," Desimi said to Milu. "When we're done eating."
"Mmhmm." When he'd finished, Milu rose and beckoned Desimi over to the side of the tent, where he cleared a space to practice earth witchery.
Kisia watched them, then leaned toward Rasim. "Think Desimi will pick it up?"
"Earthmastery? I don't know. Stone witchery, probably. He's such a strong natural sea witch, but Milu is like him with stone. I don't know if anybody who isn't, or at least, any Ilyaran who isn't, could learn to do earth witchery."
"What about you?"
"Me?" Rasim shook his head. "No. Not earth magic."
Kisia hesitated. "I saw what you did in Hongrunn. The sculptures."
"What?" Rasim's attention snapped from Desimi to her. "You what?"
"I followed you up the mountain," she said cautiously. "You knew that, because I met you up there. But when you went around the shore bend and didn't come back…I came to look. You were there with all that cold stone, concentrating, and then it started to shape itself, and I knew it was your way of…" Her mouth pinched and twisted as she tried to fight off sudden tears. "Of saying goodbye. Especially to Stonemaster Lusa. You made that beautiful sculpture for her. Of her. For all of them." The tears spilled down her face and she wiped them away roughly. Rasim, his heart aching, put his arms around her and they both held on for a minute, overwhelmed by the losses and trauma of the past few months. Finally Kisia took a shuddering breath and straightened away from Rasim, wiping her nose and eyes again. "So I knew you could do it, even before you told anybody."
"I thought you might have suspected," Rasim said hoarsely. "From the way you looked all thoughtful. But you didn't say anything, and I wasn't going to say anything myself, so…"
"I thought it would make you snap closed like a clam if I did," Kisia confessed. "So I decided I'd better keep my own mouth shut until you were ready to talk about it. What's it like, using more than one magic?"
"I don't know. Sky witchery dances. It's light and bright and quick, like really clear water. I can't feel anything when I do stone witchery, though. I think if we hadn't spent all those days in the mine, with the mindkiller keeping me from using sea witchery…I think maybe I never would have learned to master stone witchery at all. It just feels empty to me, and I keep being surprised when it works. It'll be interesting to see what it feels like to you, when you learn."
"I don't know if I will. I'm already too old to be learning witchery at all, much less more than one kind."
"Do you want to?"
Kisia shrugged thoughtfully. "King Taishm wants me to, so I've been trying. I studied with Sunmaster Endat on the Waifia on the way to the Northlands, and I've been listening to Sunmaster Arrat on the way here. But…" She cast him a quick look, as if afraid she would find him judging her, then smiled with a strange combination of defiance and apology. "According to Ilyaran tradition, I'm already doing something impossible. I started learning sea witchery at age fourteen. So I think I don't really want to learn another magic. I want to be…" She lifted her chin, more defiant now. "I want to be good," she said in a low, passionate voice. "I'll never be Isidri or Desimi or you, I know that. I don't have the same raw power. But I want to be so good that no one can ever doubt I made the right choice. That no one can even doubt that Ilyara made the wrong choice when it decided only orphans would learn witchery. I want them to wonder who else got left behind because of tradition, and I want them to have to change their ways going forward."
She clamped her mouth shut suddenly and hunched in on herself, like she was afraid she'd said too much, but Rasim grinned hugely. "So you're like me, then. You don't want much."
She gave him a dirty look that dissolved into an embarrassed smile, and knocked her shoulder against his. "Not much," she agreed. "Just to change the way we do everything, forever."
"You, me, and…" Rasim glanced toward where Desimi was sitting with Milu, and fell silent to see Desi shaping an exaggerated female figure in the earth, not with magic, but just with his hands and the dirt.
Kisia followed Rasim's gaze and her mouth pursed in an amused line. "Siliaria help us if Desimi is going to change the world."
"Yeah, well, somebody's got to shorten our sails, right?" Rasim grinned. "Who better than Desimi?"
