Tarashana Page 10

  “So,” Bara said. His tone was neutral, but he did not protest again.

  -6-

  At dawn, Tano inTasiyo was still there, at the foot of the fir where he had curled up the night before. He was sitting so still and the daylight was so muted that I was not certain he was there until I looked twice.

  Suyet, who had taken the last watch of the night, told me, “He went down to the stream a little while ago, and then a little farther, out of sight. Then he came back. I don’t know as I’d’ve had the guts, if I were facing what he’s facing. Eighty, that’s brutal, especially for a boy that age.”

  “It is much less than he deserves.” But I was glad he had not run away. I added, “I would have been ashamed for all Ugaro if I had been forced to ask Aras to wait while I tracked him.”

  “I guess you’d really have cut off his hands and feet?”

  I would have had no choice, as I had said I would do it. “Yes.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a good reason not to run.” Suyet looked at me, hesitating. But he chose not to say whatever else might have been in his mind.

  I sat down by the fire and picked up the whip I had made last night. I had not finished it. Some of the work was difficult to do by firelight. By the time I finished, everyone was awake and stirring about the necessary tasks of the morning, saddling the horses and checking their feet; packing the little tents we had brought for Lalani and for Aras, and the canvas and blankets for everyone else.

  Nothing was to be gained by waiting. I beckoned to the inTasiyo.

  He rose, slowly, and came to me, and knelt, his head lowered. Everyone else stopped whatever they were doing. Geras was frowning. Suyet was rubbing his mouth, anxious and unhappy. Lalani was very serious. There was nothing I could say to any of them. They were not Ugaro.

  Bara stood, his arms folded, utterly impassive. Rakasa was watching me, his mouth crooked in wry sympathy. As Naroya’s son, he had probably corrected young men before, though he was not the kind of man who would enjoy picking up a whip. He knew I had three or four fewer winters than he did. He might have guessed I had never done it.

  Aras had moved to the opposite side of the small clearing. I thought suddenly that I should send him away first—he and the other Lau could ride some distance away, and Rakasa and Bara and I could find them later, when this was finished. But he turned his head as I thought this and shook his head. I looked at him for a moment, waiting to be certain he would not change his mind. He did not move, so I finally nudged Tano inTasiyo’s knee with my foot. When he looked up, I indicated a spruce with no low branches in the way and ordered, “Take off your shirt and stand against this tree.”

  He fumbled with the laces of his shirt because his hands were shaking. He should not have shown fear in that way, but I had stood for enough severe beatings myself to know the last moments before the whip comes down are hard to bear.

  Then he had his shirt off, and turned to set his hands against the spruce’s trunk, and I said, “Wait.”

  He turned back to face me. When I gestured him down, he dropped back to his knees again. He was looking directly at me now, tense. I could not imagine that he had expected me to ignore what I had seen, but I could not tell what he expected me to do or say. Stepping forward, I gripped the back of his neck and shoved his face to the earth. He did not resist, but let me push him down. I ran the palm of my other hand down his back. The scars were faintly perceptible to the touch, a little different from the unscarred skin.

  I had not, of course, seen my own back after Lorellan had ordered me beaten. But now I thought I knew how my skin might have looked after that. The close-set marks on this young man’s back were still a little flushed rather than the pale color of old scars that have had time to fade. This had been done perhaps twice twenty days ago. Probably not more than that.

  Now I was much less surprised this young man had tried so hard to escape from tribes who might have been expected to let him go with a beating. Even his lies surprised me less. He would be much more afraid of the whip than any young warrior who had never been punished so severely. An echo of that terror still plagued me. I looked at Aras, wanting to demand, Did you know this? I stopped myself from that with an effort. Instead, I let the young man go, stepped back, and asked, “Who did this? Why was it done?”

  Tano inTasiyo straightened, but he did not lift his head or look at me. His gaze was on the earth. He spoke quietly, but clearly enough no one could have mistaken his words. “My father did it because I am a coward.”

  I found myself exchanging a glance with Rakasa. He showed no expression at all now. He said nothing. Nor did I. Finally I asked Tano, “In what way did your father come to know this of his son?”

  He answered even more softly, still not looking up, “I could not stand. I have never been ... I have never been able to stand. There ... have been other things. As when I told you I was inRasiko. Things of that kind.”

  “Lies and dishonesty, because you hoped to escape punishment.”

  “Yes,” he said, barely audible now. “As you say, warrior.”

  He had plainly been punished anyway. With extraordinary severity. If I had lied to my father, and lied again ... I tried to imagine that. He might have beaten me like this. But I thought my father would have found something else to do, something that would make his son braver rather than more cowardly.

  I met Rakasa’s eyes, raising my eyebrows in silent query. He gave me a little nod. So. I had never been more grateful that he was a man of easy temper. I looked down at the young man. “This time you will stand properly,” I told him. “Get up and put your hands against Rakasa’s hands.”

  It was the way young men teach a boy to stand. Except a boy would be able to trust the young men who taught him. They would be his brothers or his cousins, and he would trust them to be careful of his pride. He would know they wanted him to be brave. They would expect him to be brave, and if his courage failed, they would help him recover it away from the gaze of everyone else and teach him to do better.

  I knew very well how different this would be.

  I took up the whip I had made and nodded to Rakasa. He said, his tone calm and steady, “Tano, do not look at the ground. Look at me, or look past me, at the branches against the sky. Relax your hands. Do not grip my fingers. Relax your shoulders and neck. Yes. Like that. Better. The pain will be bad. Accept that and set it aside. Stand without flinching. Deeper breaths. Good.” He waited for some time, his gaze on the young man’s face. Then he looked past him and nodded to me, and I stepped to the side to get the right angle and brought down the whip.

  It did not take long. Three fingers of time, perhaps four. It seemed longer than that. Rakasa kept the count, saying quietly, “That is ten. That is twenty. That is twice twenty. There will only be that many again.” Twice, Rakasa looked past Tano to catch my eye and I paused and waited while he said patiently, “Relax your hands. Relax your face and look past me. Relax your shoulders. Breathe slowly. The pain is not important. It will soon be over. Breathe more deeply. More deeply still. Better. Like that.” The second time Rakasa signaled me to pause, perhaps a finger of time passed before he gave me the sign to continue. From time to time I heard one Lau murmur to another, but I paid no attention. I trusted Rakasa to keep the count. I was concentrating on making every blow exactly like the one before. This was harder than I had realized it would be. I wanted to bring the whip down more gently. But that would shame inGara honor. Though inTasiyo honor was not my concern, such a thing would also shame this young man.

  When it was over, the young man’s whole back was almost blood-red, from the top of his shoulders to the top of his buttocks. The scars that lay across his back now seemed nearly white against that color. There were even more scars than I had thought. Some of them were older than others. The whip I had made would not add to that number; I had made it thick and flat enough that it had not drawn blood. Tomorrow the new welts would lie vividly red across the old scars, but in three days, perhaps four
or five, there would be no marks left from this beating.

  The young man had stood through the whole beating. His breathing had changed, and he had caught his breath sometimes, and of course sometimes Rakasa had had to speak to him or ask me to pause. But Rakasa had never, not once, had to grip his hands to keep him in place.

  Rakasa did have to steady him as he turned, and came the few steps to me, and knelt. All those small movements are very hard after a severe beating, so I could not set serious fault against him for needing that much help. Once he was kneeling, Tano managed the bow on his own, and Rakasa stepped back.

  I said, keeping my voice level, “The trespass of this inTasiyo has been punished as I consider fitting. I say that the honor of inGara has been upheld.” Then I tossed the whip aside and walked to the horses without looking at anyone. Everything was ready. The horses were saddled and waiting. I mounted my gelding and said curtly, “I will ride in front. He will come with us.” Then I rode out of the clearing, north.

  I did not want to stop that day. But eventually we came to a place with good grass and I could not pretend it would not be sensible to pause there, where we could rest the horses and let them graze for a little while. I slid off my gelding’s back, slipped his bit, and sat on the grass nearby, watching him graze and thinking about certain things. The Lau took out some of the hard cracker they eat when traveling, when there is no chance to make or buy bread. Lalani brought me a piece of the cracker, and I took it without speaking to her, only nodding my thanks. In a few days we would run low on travel rations and we would have reason to hunt. I would be better pleased with meat, however much the Lau preferred bread.

  Tano inTasiyo ate his cracker quickly, with less of the caution of someone who has recently been near starvation. He was not wearing his shirt. His back was still very red, the welts swollen, many now showing white edges. Probably he would not want to wear anything against his skin for at least two more days.

  He had moved stiffly, dismounting, and Rakasa had said something to him. After that he had done better.

  There was no water in this place. Everyone brought out waterskins. Tano flinched, startled, when Rakasa nudged his arm and offered him a waterskin. He took it hesitantly and drank some of the water, and looked uncertain whether to give the skin back. Rakasa was not inGara, so the insult would be less, but no inGeiro would want to touch anything after an inTasiyo touched it either. Rakasa gestured that he should keep the waterskin and walked away. Bara gave him his own waterskin, and Rakasa drank from that one instead.

  Aras turned up beside me. I had hardly noticed him approaching, but I was not at all surprised he had come. He stood easily, looking away to the north. His manner was relaxed, but his mouth was a little tight. “Do you have anything you wish to say to me?” I asked him.

  Now he turned and smiled at me. “No, not especially. The day’s improving, isn’t it?”

  It was not. Clouds were coming in from the northeast. By the look of them, they would thicken. Probably it would rain before dawn tomorrow. Already the breeze smelled damp to me. But I said, “Perhaps it is.”

  He touched me on the arm, a friendly gesture, and walked away again.

  After a little while we went on. I rode some way in front, my bow in my hand, and was pleased to find a chance to shoot one of the small deer when she unwisely broke cover not far before me.

  That evening, we camped in a rocky place high up on a ridge above the forest, where the breeze would keep away insects and there was space for us to spread out. There was enough grass to keep the horses content, and they would not want to go down from the ridge into the forest, so they had been turned loose to graze.

  While everyone else set up our camp, Tano stayed to one side, very quiet. He looked at me now and then as the meal cooked and the Sun strode into the west, throwing his light back against the thickening clouds to the north and east. Quick glances, toward me and away again. Finally Rakasa lost patience and told him, “If you have something to say to Ryo, stop hesitating and go to him and say it.”

  The young man flushed and bowed his head, then came to me and knelt at a small distance, waiting for me to give him permission to approach. Everyone pretended not to watch him or me, which is a pretense at which Lau are not so practiced as my people.

  I nodded to Tano to show he could speak to me if he wished, and at once he rose, came closer, and knelt again. I thought I knew would he would say. I thought he would thank me very humbly for my generosity and ask me—if I did not seem angry—whether I might let him go soon. I was only surprised he had not waited until after we had eaten the evening meal. But perhaps he did not expect to be given anything to eat.

  He did not say that. Instead, he bowed low and said, “I apologize for my cowardice, warrior. I am very sorry to have made ... made such a display of myself, and I beg your pardon.” He took a breath, and added, not looking up, “I deserve punishment for it.”

  I was completely taken aback. I glanced past him, at Rakasa, who shook his head, raising his eyebrows. Finally I asked Tano, “What cowardice?”

  He flinched as though he thought I were mocking him. “I could not stand properly.”

  This surprised me again. I thought of one reason and another he might have said such a thing; one reason and another he might have come to me in this way. A young man who has just taken one beating will hardly ask for further punishment unless he thinks he has no choice. But perhaps all the reasons I thought of were wrong. Finally, I said, “You did well enough. I saw no evidence of cowardice.” Looking beyond him, I asked, “Rakasa?”

  “My opinion is the same,” he said promptly. “I did not see cowardice this morning, and I hardly think I could have missed it. Bara?”

  Bara was standing nearby, his arms folded, frowning. He said in a curt way that was not like his usual manner, “My opinion is the same. This inTasiyo did well enough.”

  I said to Tano, “We all agree. Perhaps the inTasiyo have a different standard for their young warriors.”

  He was trying not to show his surprise, but plainly he was as taken aback by our judgment as we had been by his. “I—you—he had to help me,” he protested. “Twice you had to stop and wait.”

  “Twice forty is very severe. That would be severe for an older man than you. It would be severe for anyone.” I met his eyes. He was breathing fast, looking at me, still not certain whether we were mocking him. I said firmly, “You did not do badly. You do not need to be ashamed regarding anything that happened today.”

  He ducked his head. That did not prevent me from seeing how he flushed, and paled, and then flushed again. That reaction made me think I was right about the decision I had almost made. Since the moment would not improve, I said, “Tano inTasiyo, all day I have been considering what I should do with you. I am not certain whether I should let you go, or whether I should take you to my father, or whether I should do something else. It may take me some time to decide what I should do. While I consider the matter, I want you to take oath to obey me. I want you to swear that until I release you from your oath, you will obey me as though I were your eldest brother. You may have this whole night to consider the matter. At dawn, I will hear your answer.”

  That made him forget the other things that had worried him. He stared at me. Then he said, “I do not need the night to think. Until you release me from this oath, I will obey you as though you were my eldest brother—as though you were your eldest brother. I swear it before the gods. I—” he took a breath. “I will keep this oath. I will keep it.”

  My eldest brother was warleader of the inGara. He must know that. I was certain he knew exactly what he had sworn. He had given me a much stronger oath than I had asked, even though he could not possibly have guessed what I meant to ask him to do until I asked him. That told me something about him I had already suspected: this was a very intelligent young man. It told me something new as well: he made important decisions very fast. That is something that can be good or bad.

  He had not s
worn by his father’s honor or by his mother’s name. That told me yet another thing about him.

  I said, “I take you into my honor. The touch of your foot does not offend inGara land. The touch of your hand does not pollute inGara possessions. You may eat our food and drink from our streams without giving insult to inGara. I will deal with you exactly as I would deal with a younger brother. I swear this before the gods.”

  He was staring at me in astonishment.

  Rakasa shook his head. “I cannot wait to hear what you tell your father, Ryo.”

  “I will tell him the truth,” I answered. “That it seemed good to me to make the decisions I made. I do not imagine he will be pleased. If he is sufficiently displeased, I may need to ask you to help me to stand. Fortunately, you seem practiced at that task. I wish to speak to this young man alone. Perhaps everyone else will withdraw.”

  “I have no doubt you have many things you wish to discuss,” Rakasa said, but he walked away. Everyone moved away and went about other tasks and pretended not to be interested.

  I studied Tano for a moment. He waited, tense and quiet, his gaze lowered. Finally, I said, “You have learned somewhere to tell lies.” I did not say anything about how I thought that might have happened. I said instead, “This is not remotely acceptable in any brother of mine. You will not lie to me again. Never. Nor to anyone else while you are my brother.”

  “Yes,” he said, very quietly, acknowledging this order. The color had come up into his face again.

  “We are going north, to my mother’s camp, which is at this time as far north as one can go, at the foot of the Fangs of the North. Now you are going there too.”

  “Yes,” he said again. He did not ask any questions.

  “I told you that you were stupid to think of going into the summer country. I was wrong. It was a bad choice, but for an inTasiyo warrior in your position, it was undoubtedly the best choice you had.”