Season of the Dragon, page 7
Dini droned far too long for Quen’s taste. She spoke of Santu being free of the burden of the shell he’d carried in life like a lumbering ranju, slowed by having to always take his house with him. “And may Santu follow the eternal river to find peace within the waiting arms of the sister, Lumine, the goddess of many faces and keeper of Enara, the Waters of Life.”
It was exactly where the Nilva should end, yet Dini continued. Quen’s patience was at an end. She sighed and crossed her arms.
Liodhan, immersed in his grief, sent no chastisement her way. But Rhoji jabbed her in the ribs. Quen shot him a glare, but his eyes sparkled wet in the bright light of the two suns. Rhoji’s tears unexpectedly moved her. She redoubled her effort to be still and prayed to Lumine for the patience to listen to Dini until the end.
Dini asked a question, and Liodhan nodded. A man from Jima Clan, Lio’s herdclan, came forward and handed a lit torch to Liodhan. Lio touched it to the dry grass at the edge of the pyre. The reeds caught quickly, and sparks flew. The flames licked at the grasses, as dry as the sands from the summer’s heat. Within seconds the fire danced at Santu’s unmoving feet while drummers pounded a steady beat.
A child cried out, and his mother pulled the young one’s hands from his eyes as Santu had once done to Quen. She recalled him whispering in her ear, “Watch, Quen. The flame releases us. Our spirits travel with the smoke to join the river’s Dark Waters. We must then make the ultimate choice of our lives. Will we become Vatra’s flame and sit at the side of Hiyadi? Or become as ethereal as the wind and dance for eternity with Juka? Some choose to sink deep and become one with Menauld, nourishing the growth of new lives as soil.”
Quen had asked her Pahpi what he would choose.
“Ah, all parts are required for the whole of everything, to be sure, but I hope to become rain and river and flood. To nourish the land and at long last find the loving arms of the Sister.”
As the flames licked at Santu’s unmoving feet, his words echoed in her mind. “Death—the flames—are not to be feared, Quen. Our bodies return to the sands, and our spirits to the Great Sea when it is our time.”
But it wasn’t Pahpi’s time. That dragon stole his time. The thought slithered inside her skull like a clutch of newly hatched rock snakes. Still vibrant, Pahpi wasn’t yet elderly. She still had much to learn from him. I never got to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say… I’m sorry. Quen blinked back tears of grief, but the anguish of guilt was too much. Her sobs were quiet, and the heat of the pyre dried her tears as quickly as they fell.
The flickering firelight made the amber pendant around Santu’s neck shimmer. The bit of yellow-gold hardened sap contained the last remnants of the woman who had birthed her but who Quen had never known.
A woman who had apparently made a bargain with Vay’Nada to birth a third child. In Bardivia, the city-state of Quen’s birth, the Consular was supposed to emulate the Trinity in all things. They considered it an ill omen for a Consular’s wife to have only two children. Quen could understand her mother’s desperation for a fertile womb. But to promise a child to the Shadow…
Her mind was a vortex of unanswered questions and disquiet. The drums beat in time with the crackling of the fire, the flames rendering the man she loved into a pile of faceless ash. He would become just another bit of dust she’d sweep from her room in the endless battle against the Sulmére’s sands.
She’d stared fixedly at the amber, winking at her like an eye. The pendant was the last remnant of the only person who had answers to her raging questions.
Quen leaped forward through the flames. Her fingers grasped the round pendant and clutched it with all her strength. It was hot but not yet melted, and she clasped it as though letting go would end her.
Strong hands tugged at her waist, and screams pierced the air.
Heat scorched Quen from thighs to waist. Someone tackled her and rolled her like a barrel of ale.
Lio’s voice was harsh. “What were you thinking? Throwing yourself onto the flame won’t bring him back.”
She rolled over to face him. A single tear dangled at the corner of her eye, but an impish smile played at her lips. Quen held up the pendant triumphantly.
Lio took the pendant and inspected it. A soft sigh escaped his lips. “Oh, Quen.” Fresh tears twinkled in his deep-brown eyes.
Her lips were set in a thin line. “I’ll get justice for him, Lio. Justice for them all.”
He put out a beefy hand to help her up. Quen’s outer tunic was gone below the hips, and the fire singed her split skirt, but the calf-leather apron had saved her from severe burns.
Lio didn’t let her statement go unanswered. “As Vas O’Nai said, ‘Do not think yourself more powerful than the gods. Let the Great Father exact vengeance, not our hand.’ Vaya di Solis has its own way, Quen. And time. No one escapes the judgment of Hiyadi. Not even a dragon.” He handed the pendant back to her.
She took the small bit of amber, its leather cord now singed, and thrust it into the small pouch at her waist. She’d never been a fan of advice from long-dead prophets. They had a way of leaving words to support every side of an argument, making them useless at resolving human quandaries. Quen could cite verse too. “Didn’t Vas O’Nai also say, ‘Mere humans cannot divine a god’s design, so we must not deign to determine their path’?”
Lio sighed but nodded his agreement.
“What if I am the way Hiyadi will bring justice?”
Lio’s jaw tightened. “Your mind thinks loudly. Do you plan to chase after a dragon, throw dirt in its face, and kick it like you did Rhoji when you were children?”
Quen attempted to protest, but Lio cut her off. “You are a woman now, Quen, and it is time you take your place in the order of things, as we all must do.” Lio wiped a tear from her cheek, his hands roughened by work. “Pahpi’s death is a pain we all suffer. But for Hiyadi’s sake, Quen, I’ll not allow you to waste your life on a path of vengeance.”
Quen knew where this conversation would lead. Lio was First Kin, and as she was not bound to a herdclan, she must abide by the ‘law of the house’—Lio’s law. And since he was a devout follower of Vaya di Solis and especially of Vatra Pillar, he saw clanbinding as the only viable path for Quen to live an honorable life.
Quen sniffed and wiped her face on the billowy sleeve of her tunic. “I’m going to become Jagaru, Lio. I will hunt the murderous dragon and bring justice to the people of Solia.” Her voice was low and without a hint of a question.
Liodhan pinched the top of his nose as their Pahpi had often done when tired of a conversation he wanted to end. “By Sulmére law, I’m now your First Kin, and you must do as I command, and—”
“Command? Listen to yourself, Lio. That’s Jiniro speaking, not you.” She huffed. “Think about what Pahpi would say—on what he would do. You may be First Kin now, but you don’t rule me. I have every right to become Jagaru.”
“It is not an honorable life.” Lio’s voice had risen enough that the small band of Jagaru standing a few paces behind them likely heard. He looked momentarily flustered by his outburst and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m looking out for you. You are young and do not fully see the consequences of your choice.”
Red-faced, Quen faced him with fists on her hips. “And what herdclan would have me? It may not be the life you would choose, but Jagaru are not pesha, Lio. I’ll have purpose.”
Lio smiled and held her gently by the shoulders. “You are well-loved by us, sister. Zarate spoke with my Clan Father, and he has agreed to take you into the Jima Clan. You will join in binding by the end of spring and ride with the herd and your mate this fall for the winter grounds. Then we will be family always.” He looked at her kindly, unaware she would be unhappy with this proclamation.
“I thought we already were family forever.” Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and her throat burned with anger. “I’ll never accept Jiniro’s authority over me.” Everyone knew Jiniro adhered to old ways, and to customs leaving women little freedom once they birthed their first child. He’ll never allow me to hunt a dragon.
Lio released her, his eyes now like two smoldering coals. “You would shame Zarate. Shame me. We worked hard on your behalf to make this arrangement. It wasn’t easy to convince Jiniro to take a chance on you, what with your issue with animals. And he remembered your barbed tongue at my biding ceremony last year. It also displeased him that you spend more time drinking at Yulina’s and in knife-throwing contests than learning how to be a proper herdwife.”
Even more reason to not join your herdclan. “Pahpi would not want this for me.” I’d rather take vows at Val’Enara than submit to Jiniro ruling my life.
Lio closed his eyes and shook his head. “Pahpi indulged you, Quen. He lived in a fantasy world sometimes, ignoring the Dynasty edicts when he felt like it, not working harder on arranging a proper binding for you.”
Quen wanted to smack Lio, and her hand twitched with the desire. Years of Pahpi’s training in the ways of Still Water had conditioned her to search for inner peace when Vatra’s fires raged in her. Quen stayed her hand. The drumming had ceased, and though she didn’t strike out at Lio, her thundering heart still simmered below the surface. Their disagreement forged a chasm between them, and Quen worried they could never repair it.
Dini pressed her soft hand to Quen’s arm and placed the other on Liodhan. “Come, you two, end your quarrel. Death brings us closer to life,” she said.
Quen wasn’t in the mood for mystic words. “Death is death,” she said. She thrust her chin out and drew herself up, facing Liodhan. “You can separate me from the herd, even whip me.”
Lio’s eyes softened. “I’d never—”
Quen held up her hand. “You can try to force me to obey, but I’m no kopek or drey. I’m not one of the herd, Lio, and I never will be. That is something neither of us can change, no matter how much we may want to. I appreciate what you and Zarate have done for me. But I’ll never fit into Jima Clan. We both know this.”
Lio swept his hand up and unwound his keffla. “I know no two rivers are identical. But do you truly want to become Jagaru—to never have a family?”
Rhoji had been quiet, engrossed in the flames, his siblings forgotten. He removed his keffla too, his cheeks wet with tear tracks making their way through the ever-present Sulmére dust. “She will be with family.” He glanced over his shoulder at Eira. “I’ll not leave the work of avenging Pahpi’s death solely on Quen’s shoulders. By rights, it is the First Kin’s task.”
Lio began to protest, his eyes dark with rising anger.
Rhoji shook his head and put up a hand. “We know you cannot take up the task. You have a new family to watch over.” Rhoji’s eyes were red and glistening. “Pahpi would want you to watch over Lumina, not chase after a dragon.” He gently squeezed Lumina’s tiny foot sticking out from the edge of the sling Zarate carried her in. “I must take up the burden, since you are unable.”
Lio’s eyes were now filled with tears. “What are you saying, brother?”
“I am saying Quen will not be alone because I, too, will join the Jagaru. We will hunt Pahpi’s murderer together.”
Rhoji cast another glance back at Eira and smiled.
First Kin duties, my ass. He wants to be with Eira! In an instant, so much about Rhoji that had puzzled Quen now made perfect sense. All the offers for binding he’d denied. His indifference toward women who practically threw themselves at him.
It seems we both have secrets to keep, Rhoji. Quen would keep his secret safe along with her own. He has as much reason as I for ranging beyond the confines of the Sulmére. In the Sulmére, though it was common for herdswomen to love one another even if bound to a man, it was unthinkable to form a binding between two men. But she’d heard that in Qülla, it wasn’t uncommon for people to join in family with people of the same sex.
Rhoji caught her staring at him, and he blanched, but only for a second. He quickly averted his gaze and turned his attention to Zarate and Lumina. Act the part of First Kin if you like, Rhoji. So long as you don’t stand between that dragon and me.
Chapter 6
Salvaging
Salvaging what they could from Santu’s Stand took less than a day. Since throwing herself on Pahpi’s pyre ruined Quen’s leathers, she was relieved to find an unburned leather riding girdle under a pile of charred wood. She also found the remnants of her favorite book, The Saga of Ilkay. The book had been her mother’s when she was a girl. As the only possession left to her by her deceased Madi and the only bound book she owned, Quen had cherished it. Quen pressed it to her chest and whispered her favorite passage.
“Fear not the beast’s fires, Ilkay, for Lumine blessed you with the Waters of Life. Carry them in your heart always, for the Shadow feeds on chaos and fears nothing more than the glassy stillness of calm waters.”
She sniffled and wiped ashes from the singed cover. Though she’d learned enough about Stillness to keep her shadow soul hidden, she’d never felt like the Waters of Life filled her heart. Not like Ilkay. I have two hearts, and both pull me toward chaos. She dropped the ruined book in the rubble.
Quen wanted to leave Solia immediately after the Nilva, but Rhoji asked Druvna to stay and help the Solia people who’d lost their homes to settle into Otara. Druvna agreed, though it likely had nothing to do with aid to Solia. He needed time to track the dragon. Without a Juka-jod, people gifted with tracking abilities aided by magic, Druvna’s pod relied on intuition and gossip from arriving merchants and herdclans for tracking. Helping survivors was noble, but staring at black-coal reminders of Solia’s people tortured Quen. With each passing hour, her itch to hunt the dragon grew. The sooner we leave Solia, the better.
Jima camped at the western end of the swollen Lakmi river. Rhoji, Quen, Shel, and Eira camped outside Liodhan and Zarate’s tent. A benefit of staying a few days was the opportunity to help tend to Lumina, Lio and Zarate’s baby. The babe was bright and her giggle infectious. Quen had spent little time with babies. Finding delight in Lumina’s company surprised her.
Yet Nevara’s haunting words overshadowed the joy she experienced holding Lumina’s tiny hand. “Wherever you go, tragedy will follow.” Whatever Quen was becoming, she had no place around the helpless babe. I must get far away from Lumina. I don’t think I can survive losing her, especially if I’m to blame.
The second evening after the fire, they shared a family meal with Liodhan, Zarate, and little Lumina. It was the best meal they were likely to have for weeks. Rhoji and Eira made a spicy stew of smoked fish Zarate brought from Quipwi, served with fresh jiri fruit, leavened bread, and drey-milk cheese. Quen patted her full belly. I’m like a plump Qülla noble.
Quen hadn’t seen Aldewin since the Nilva. She’d begun thinking he’d moved on without them. But he showed up after the meal and joined smoking a communal pipe. Liodhan had fresh heja tobacco he’d traded for in Quipwi. Aldewin offered to add a ‘medicinal herb’ that he said calmed the nerves.
After a few rounds of smoking, they were relaxing by the fire. Druvna waddled into camp, Mishny at his side. Both virtually crackled with excited energy, especially compared to the drowsy lot with an herb-induced calm.
Druvna’s green eyes were wide with excitement. “Enjoy the comforts as you can now, ’cause tomorrow we ride. Our pod is goin’ back on the road.” His boisterous voice broke the after-supper stillness of the tent camp.
“What’re you on about, Druvna?” Shel’s voice was languid from the tobacco and herbs, her eyes narrow slits.
Druvna opened his mouth to answer, but Mishny cut in before he could get a word out. “They sighted a dragon northeast of here. We’re heading toward Juinar at Hiyadi’s first light.” Her expression hovered between a child eating her first cream cake and a young hunter bagging her first kill.
Quen had been lounging on a plump cushion, her head resting on her arm and nearly asleep, but she was on her feet in an instant. “Is it the same dragon with purple scales? Who told you?”
Mishny regarded her coolly, still maybe deciding whether she liked Quen. “There are refugees on the Trinity Road, heading south. They spoke of more dragon fire to the north, toward Juinar.”
“Why are they heading south?” Eira asked.
Druvna sat heavily on a pouf. He pulled out his own pipe, lit it, and took a long draw. Smoke tendriled into the twilight sky, and he shook his head. “Say they goin’ to Volenex to join some fool dragon cult. Say that they baptize ‘em with fire down there so they’re immune from dragon fire.” He chuckled a raspy laugh. “Some people’s got curds for brains.”
Rhoji, Eira, and Shel laughed along with Druvna while Aldewin lay back on his elbows, his eyes closed. What does he think of all this? And why is he so silent? It’s infuriating!
While the others chortled about the foolish things some people believe, Quen couldn’t stop thinking about Nevara. Nevara had said Quen belonged to Volenex. Now Druvna was talking about the mysterious home of the Dragos Sol’iberi, the dragon cult Nevara had mentioned. Quen’s gut seized into a knot, and her neck bumps tingled. An idea bubbled from deep within. I should go to Volenex. The shadow heart quivered, and Quen concentrated on Still Waters. The Nixan is trying again to steer me. But I’ll hold tightly to my skin and go with the Jagaru as planned. Quen didn’t enjoy having to argue with herself.
“Right, Quen?” Rhoji kicked her foot.
“Sure.” Wrapped tightly in thought, she didn’t know what she’d agreed to.
Druvna stretched his arms overhead, his long pipe still between his teeth. “To Juinar, at first light. The Jagaru wait for no one, so if you whelps aren’t mounted and ready, we’ll be leaving your sorry arses here in the ruins.” He glared at them as if to show he was serious.
