Tarashana

  TARASHANA

  Tuyo: Book 3

  by

  Rachel Neumeier

  Rachel Neumeier

  © 2021

  Cover art and design © Trif Book Design 2021

  Contents

  -1-

  -2-

  -3-

  -4-

  -5-

  -6-

  -7-

  -8-

  -9-

  -10-

  -11-

  -12-

  -13-

  -14-

  -15-

  -16-

  -17-

  -18-

  -19-

  -20-

  -21-

  -22-

  -23-

  -24-

  -25-

  -26-

  -27-

  -28-

  -29-

  -30-

  -31-

  -32-

  -33-

  -34-

  -35-

  -36-

  Endnotes

  Acknowledgments

  Other Work

  -1-

  The first arrow missed only because the gods were kind.

  Aras had only just then swung up to the back of his horse, but the headwoman of Tavas Sen came after him, wanting to say something else. Aras turned and then slid down from the saddle to speak to her. His movement was sudden, and that was why the arrow cut sharply through the air a fingerwidth above his head rather than striking his chest.

  Half a breath later, a second arrow followed the first, but by that time Terau had knocked Aras down and covered him with his own body. The second arrow struck Terau in the back—it was a good shot by a determined bowman; if Terau had not knocked him down, that arrow would certainly have struck Aras. Then twenty soldiers threw themselves in the way of other arrows and the danger was past.

  I had not been watching for attack, so the first arrow took me as much by surprise as anyone. But the second showed me where to look for the bowman. It had come at a slant from the south, and from above, so that was very clear. This new house had been built to one side of the town, in a place where the land sloped up toward low cliffs that ran for a long way to the south and east. That was where the bowman had stood to shoot his arrows; if not at the top of those cliffs, then on a ledge partway up, or perhaps the roof of some building there.

  I was already mounted. My horse was dancing, excited and upset because everyone was running and shouting. When I pulled his head around and urged him forward, he was glad to shoulder through the gathered people and leap into a gallop. All the people had gone to the square to see Aras, so no one was in our way. I kept my head up and my eyes on the cliffs, and I saw the man go up and over the edge of the cliff, silhouetted against the sky. He was tall and dark, a Lau, but I had known that. I could not see anything else of him. But I could see the rope he had used to climb. I saw it swing and twist, a narrow line against the pale stone, as he pulled it up after him.

  I was not the first to come to the foot of the cliffs. A handful of soldiers reached the place before me, but though they were furious, they were baffled: the cliff face was too sheer for them to climb.

  Esau, coming up beside me, said curtly, “There’s a path up to the top, but it’s nearly a mile east—and too steep for horses.” Of course Esau would know these things; he had been a soldier a long time and he always knew how the land lay. Even as he spoke, some of the soldiers rode away, east, to find that path. Anyone could see that was hopeless. The assassin would be far away before they found his trail.

  I pressed my horse to go past the others and tried to make him stand alongside the cliff. He was a good horse, but the soldiers here were talking in loud, angry voices, and that upset him too much for him to stand still. Esau dismounted and came to hold him for me. He did not ask me anything. He said, “Throw the rope down, hear? And wait at the top, Ryo! Don’t go after him on your own—he’s got that gods-hated bow, he’ll shoot you and that won’t do anyone any good, understand?”

  I did not answer. I had jumped to my feet in the saddle, and I urgently needed to find handholds on the cliff-face before I made a fool of myself by falling off my horse. Besides, although I certainly meant to throw the rope down if the assassin had been so unwise as to leave it there, I had no intention of waiting at the top for anyone. Esau knew that.

  By this time all the soldiers had realized what I was doing. They came to stand beneath me, which I knew even though I did not look down. They might try to catch me if I fell. That would not help me and it might hurt them, so I hoped Esau would make them move out of the way. I was now perhaps three or four times my height from the ground, not very high. I could probably fall that far without breaking any important bones, but if I fell on top of a Lau, his bones might well break.

  At the top, the cliff was perhaps four times as high as I had already climbed. If I fell from that height, that would be too far even for an Ugaro. But I did not intend to fall.

  I did not have the length of limb that would have helped a Lau climb, but my grip was stronger, and my arms much stronger. An Ugaro warrior five years older than I might have weighed too much to make this climb, but I was young enough that I could cling to small handholds and pull myself up. Also, I was very angry. I was too angry to be afraid until a small ledge broke under my foot, and then I did not have time to be afraid. I might have fallen then. I swung by the fingers of one hand, probably for less time than it seemed. Finally, scrabbling with my fingertips and my feet, I found a rough place for my left foot, not really a ledge, but enough to push myself up. That was the worst moment in the climb. After that the rock was more broken and there were better places to set my feet.

  The rope was lying at the top, abandoned, still tied to one of the pines that grow in high places in the borderlands, where the earth is too dry for other trees. The assassin had not taken time to cut the rope and take it with him. That had been a mistake. The bow was lying there too, likewise abandoned, and that was a much worse mistake. I threw the rope down. Then I looked for the assassin. I had taken too long to make that climb; he was not in sight. The land was not level here, but folded into many ridges and slopes. The narrow tops of the ridges were clean of everything but tough grasses and little plants; below, in the gullies, were pines and tangled brush. The assassin could not have had a horse waiting here for him; the land was too rough for horses. He could not be far.

  The assassin might have run away, perhaps to a place he did have a horse tethered and waiting. Or else he might have slid down into one of these gullies, to a hiding place he had made earlier, where he would wait very quietly while people came to search and then gave up and went away. Or else he might have done something else, something I had not thought of.

  Finally, I went to the ridge I thought seemed most likely and looked there. I went slowly at first, looking at how the grass lay, until I saw a place someone had set his foot and then another place like that. Once I was sure the assassin had run that way, I followed, running along the top of the ridge, watching less for where he had stepped on the sparse grasses and more for a place he might have gone down into a gully to either the right or the left. I did not really think he had turned aside to hide. I thought if he had planned to do such a thing, he would not have run along this ridge at all. But I might be wrong, so I looked for places he might have turned.

  An Ugaro cannot run nearly as fast as a Lau, but we can run longer—in our own country. In the heat of the summer lands, we are at every kind of disadvantage. It was hot now. Though the winds from the north keep the borderlands from the full heat of the lands further south, this was the middle of the afternoon and well into summer. A Lau would not even notice the heat; to them the borderlands are cool even in summer, but I would be able to p
ush myself hard for only a short time. It might be enough. I thought the assassin might not have run as fast and hard as he could. He might not have realized he should run fast. If I had not climbed up the cliff after him, he would have had a much longer start.

  Then I saw him. Some way ahead, the ridge slanted sharply down into a gully and then a different ridge ran away, more east than south. That was where he was. I could tell from how he held his body and his arms that he was not running, only walking fast. That was why I had come up on him. Perhaps he was tired, or perhaps he had a horse somewhere close and did not feel he had to run. He had not looked back yet. If he did that now, he would see me. Then he would certainly run. I was breathing hard, and the fierce light of the Sun dazzled me when I tried to look too far ahead. My head was starting to pound in a way that I knew meant I was beginning to feel the heat too much. But I was too angry to stop.

  If he ran, I would never be able to come up on him. At best I might be able to show the soldiers who followed us both the way he had gone. I thought that would not be enough. I thought if he saw me now and ran, he would probably get away. The thought made the heat seem like nothing.

  I jumped down from the top of the ridge and scrambled into the brush below. The shrubs were coarse, with small leaves and many thorns. When I was in the summer lands, I seldom wished for a shirt with sleeves, far less for a light coat, but I would have liked either now. I pushed through the brush, not trying to be quiet. Leaves crunched under my weight, and twigs snapped. I thought the assassin was still too far ahead to hear any of those sounds, however loud they seemed to me. I hoped that the sides of the gulley would block the noise. Some small animal whipped away from my feet; I heard it go. There are many more serpents in the summer lands than in the winter country. Many of them are venomous. I had not thought of that until I heard that sound. I set the thought aside, shoved my way through the last of the thorns, paused for an instant to be sure of my directions, and then scrambled up the slope.

  The shrubs here were shorter and less thorny, useful for hand- and footholds as I pulled myself up. I did see a serpent. He was slate blue, with a narrow head, harmless. That was just as well, as I saw him only after I had already grabbed a shrub directly beside him. The serpent slid away. I set my foot where the shrub had rooted, pressed my hands flat on the rocky soil, and pulled myself up the last little distance.

  The assassin was not so far ahead now. I had cut off some of the distance between us. He had not heard me. I began to run, pushing myself hard. I stooped as I ran, to pick up a fist-sized rock, and then another one the same size.

  He turned to look behind him. I saw him begin to turn, I saw the movement of his shoulders, and threw the first rock. It hit his back—I had meant to hit his neck or head, but I hurried my throw. The distance was too great for the blow to hurt him much, but it surprised him and made him stagger. I threw the second stone and hit his leg, and stooped for a third without pausing and threw that. And missed entirely, which was embarrassing, but he had fallen to one knee when the one hit his leg. It took him half a breath to recover and regain his feet, and by that time I was close enough that the fourth rock almost made him fall. Though he was up again at once and running, I had closed more of the distance. But now he was running hard and I did not see any more rocks of a good size to throw.

  Before us, not far, stood a grove of trees, oaks, not the great trees that grow further south, but the kind with jagged leaves that grow where the land is dry. In their shade, a horse was tethered. The land ran down more smoothly past that place, still rocky and too steep for fields or pastures, but obviously not too difficult for a horse. I tried to run faster, but I was already pushing myself as hard as I could. The assassin was gaining with every step. He would come to that place too much before me.

  I drew my knife. It was too far to throw a knife, and I knew that, but I had nothing else. I kept the knife in my hand, never wise when one is running, but I did it. I could count the oaks—there were seven—and I could see that the horse was a bay mare, small for a Lau horse, and nervous because men were running directly toward her. She sidled and tossed her head, pulling against the reins that tethered her.

  The assassin reached her and seized her reins, pulling her loose. She swung around, turning in a circle, too frightened to stand for him to mount. That cost him a moment. He dragged her to a halt and got one foot in the stirrup, and I threw my knife as hard as I could. It hit the mare high in the rump and spun away. The cut was nothing, but she reared, squealing and crow-hopping. She spun in a tight circle as the man dragged at the reins, and reared again, tore herself free, and bolted, leaving the man flat on the ground.

  He staggered to his feet, but the effort took him several tries and then a flung stone knocked him down again. He managed to get up once more, but then I was on him at last.

  He fought me. He fought hard, but he did not really know how to fight. He was not strong enough to fight me anyway, and then he might also have been dizzy from the mare throwing him down or from that last rock, which had struck his head. But he would not stop. He had a knife and I did not, having thrown mine at the mare, but even so he could not really fight me. I felt sick from running a long way in the heat, and I was much too angry to care whether I hurt him. But I did not want to kill him. I wanted to throw him down before Aras, for Aras to do with as he wished. So I hit him hard, on his side below the arm, where the nerves run. He dropped the knife, crying out—that is a blow that will blind a man with the pain for a breath or more, and cripple the arm for some little time afterward. He curled away from me, panting, but he also fumbled for the knife with his left hand and tried to kick out. Completely out of patience, I flung him over onto his back and hit him a fingerwidth below the ribs, hard enough to stop his breath.

  That ended it. He lay fighting to breathe, opening and closing his mouth, which would not help. Before he could recover, I shoved him roughly over so that he lay face down. I pulled his shirt off—he struggled at that; he was without doubt stubborn. I grabbed the back of his neck hard enough to hurt him and pinned him down, and got his shirt off him, and used it to tie his wrists behind his back. Then I dragged him up and leaned him against the nearest tree and had time, finally, to look at him.

  He was much younger than I had expected. I saw that first. He was my age. His beard was sparse, as it is for Lau of that age. Twenty summers, twenty and one, twenty and two, near that. He was thin. As I had taken his shirt, I could see how thin. The Lau are a slender people, but this went beyond that. I thought he had not eaten enough for a long time. He was not what I had expected. I did not know what kind of man I had expected, but not a young man like this.

  He gasped and shuddered, trying to breathe. I was breathing hard too, because of running so hard in the heat, but it was worse for him because of the way I had hit him. I had crouched in front of him so that I could look at him at nearly the same level. Now I set my palm flat on his abdomen, pressing firmly, rubbing in a circle to help the muscles loosen from the spasms. He flinched from my touch, which I ignored. I said, “That will ease soon. Can you speak yet? Who are you? Why did you try to kill Aras?”

  That was a stupid question. I knew why he had tried to kill Aras. There was only one reason anyone would try to kill Aras. He had tried to do it because Aras Eren Samaura, Lord Gaur, was a powerful sorcerer. He had tried to do it because sorcerers were evil.

  I was not as angry now. I told him, “Be still and I will not hurt you.” Then I went to collect my knife and his. The mare was gone. She had been too frightened to stop quickly. I looked along the ridge, back toward the cliff. I could see Lau against the sky, still distant, but coming this way. I could not tell whether they had seen any part of my struggle with the young assassin. I could see some of the men were following the wrong ridge. I thought they had not yet realized where I was.

  The young man was trying to twist himself free of his bonds, but he stopped when I came back and looked at him. He was breathing more easily now. I had h
is knife in my belt and mine in my hand. He looked at that, not at my face. I thought he was afraid, so I sheathed it.

  He said, “Please, kill me.”

  I was so surprised that at first I thought I had imagined his words. But he said it again, his voice trembling, “Please, please kill me. Don’t take me back to him. Please.”

  Now I understood. I said, “Perhaps Lord Aras will put you to death for what you tried to do. But he is not a cruel man. Whatever else he does, he will not do terrible things to you with sorcery.”

  He breathed for a little while. In and out. Slow breaths. Finally he said, “It’s not your fault. It's what he's done to you. You can't understand. I know that.” He hesitated. Then he said in a different tone, hard and crisp, “I tried to kill him. I'll try again the second I get a chance. You protect him. That’s what you do. You should kill me. I’m a danger to him as long as I’m alive. He’d be safe if you killed me.”

  I turned these words over in my mind. Then I said, “You think he has made me his thrall, that he makes me protect him that way, by putting his will on me. You are wrong. My judgment and my choices are my own. He does not use sorcery in the way you are imagining. I know you will not believe me, but my words are true.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. The Lau who had followed me were closer now, but I thought they still had not seen me. I took off my shirt and waved it in the air. That caught their attention. Satisfied, I began to put my shirt back on, but I was too uncomfortable from the heat and dropped it instead.

  “Ugaro savage,” sneered the young man, looking me scornfully up and down. “Wolf-loving barbarian. Tell me, does your sister have a man of her own, or does she crouch like a bitch for a dog wolf? I’ve heard that’s how Ugaro women get with pup.”

  If he had tried that first, I might have killed him, unless I cut out his tongue instead. As it was, his words were so extraordinarily offensive that it was impossible not to understand what he was trying to do. I did not even hit him. I asked instead, “Does your arm still hurt?” I knew it did. A blow like that will hurt for a long time. I said, “If you say such a thing again, I will hurt you much worse than that. But I will still take you alive to Aras, so you will have suffered for no purpose. Do you wish to say anything of the same kind now that I have explained this?”