Tarashana Page 14

  I pulled myself with more difficulty into my horse’s high saddle and followed. For the first time, it occurred to me that even if every lie Lorellan had put into my mind had been true, my feeling that all my people had been destroyed would have been wrong. Even during the war with the Lau, when almost all of the inGara warriors had gone south to fight, when even Gayata and many of the men here had gone south, all these women and children had still been here, on the steppe with our herds, safe from anything Lau could do. The lies a sorcerer puts into someone’s mind seem true even when one knows they are false. I knew that, but I thought the stupidity of that idea should still have struck me. Lorellan had not even put into my mind any lies about Gayata’s death or the deaths of his wives. I had not noticed that lack until now.

  He was saying expansively to Aras, “You will all stay with me tonight, and as long as you chose. I am certain my wives will offer you the hospitality of their wagons. I am Gayata inGara, son of Sinowa inGara. Tell me all your names.”

  We all rode slowly toward the wagons while Aras gave everyone’s names. When he came to Lalani, my brother smiled up at her—on his pony, an Ugaro man is very much shorter than a Lau woman on a tall horse—and said with obvious sincerity, “I have heard now and then of a Lau woman with the courageous spirit to come into the winter country, but very few brave enough to come as far into the north as this! My wives and my female cousins and the other women will be pleased to welcome a brave Lau woman into their wagons.”

  Lalani blushed, the color hardly perceptible beneath her smooth brown skin. She had lowered her gaze modestly, forgetting that among Ugaro it is men and not women who must be careful not to give offense. Even as I thought this, she remembered, and raised her eyes to look my brother in the face. “I will be so happy to meet the wives of Ryo’s brother,” she said in her very good taksu. “I look forward to meeting your wives very much!”

  “Excellent!” said Gayata. “And who is this? I do not know him.” He was looking at Tano, who was gazing steadily at the mane of his horse.

  I said, “This is Tano inTasiyo, who swore to obey me as though I were his oldest brother and his warleader. I took him into my honor and swore to conduct myself toward him as though he were my younger brother.”

  There was a short silence. Tano did not look up. Gayata finally asked, “How did this happen?”

  I said, “It seemed to me an appropriate manner in which to handle a problem, so I decided to do it. I am perfectly certain no brother of mine would treat my younger brother with disregard or unkindness.”

  “So,” said Gayata. This time the silence was longer. “No inTasiyo is a brother of mine,” Gayata said finally. “But if he is your brother, Ryo, he may come into this camp. You took him into your honor?”

  “I did.”

  Gayata shook his head, but he said, “Very well. If my wives offer this young inTasiyo a place by their fire and food to eat, I will say nothing about it. Marya will offer. She would feed anyone.”

  I said politely, “The warmth of the hospitality of my brother’s wives is known to everyone.”

  Gayata eyed me. “It will be known even better after this. How do you intend to explain this new brother of yours to our father?”

  “As I explained it to you,” I said.

  “I have no doubt that will be an interesting moment.” He studied me for another moment, then shrugged and waved to us all to accompany him toward the wagons. “Never mind, Ryo! Leave that aside and tell me everything about the summer country. I have never been there.”

  We stayed with my brother and those people for two days and three nights, letting our horses rest as we traveled northward at the slow pace of the ambling herds. All the wagons traveled upwind of the herds to keep the dust thrown up by uncountable hooves from blowing into our faces. Ugaro wagons are very much more comfortable than Lau wagons, as Ugaro tents are very much more comfortable than Lau tents. In this season, the heavy felt had been rolled up and put away, leaving panels of thin wool and lattices of carved bone, none of which closed out the constant winds of the steppe. Rugs and cushions arranged around low lacquered tables made everything comfortable.

  Marya and Tayasa were sisters, inKarano originally, who had both decided to marry my brother at the same time. That is rare; more often a warrior will marry one woman and then perhaps take a second wife at a later time, but they both seemed happy with the arrangement. They had nine children between them, five sons and four daughters, the oldest of whom had eight winters, the youngest still at the breast. No one troubled to remember which child had been carried by which mother; all the children ran together and called both Marya and Tayasa mother.

  On the afternoon of the second day, after Geras watched a six-winters child fall off a moving wagon and bounce up and run under the wagon, dodging the wheels, and out the other side, to catch a pony and jump up to ride bareback, he said to me, “I’d say I’m learning more about Ugaro just watching that sort of thing than I’ve learned from two years in the borderlands. Your children are practically indestructible, for one thing.”

  I laughed. “Lau children are like the fawns of the little deer,” I told him. “Those chase games your children play always make me think so. Ours are like bear cubs: they tumble over themselves and each other, but they are seldom hurt by it.”

  We were walking alongside one of the wagons, a little distance from it. The pace was easy even for an Ugaro, far less a long-legged Lau. Lalani was driving the wagon, with Tayasa sitting beside her. They had become friends at once. Lalani now wore a silver armband, and Tayasa one of Lalani’s bangles, the bronze one with the blue beads. Suyet was walking beside the wagon. He was laughing at something the women had said. When he put a hand up toward Lalani, she gave Tayasa the reins, reached down to take his hand, and helped him up beside them.

  “That boy wouldn’t be suited as a troop leader, but he’ll likely make commander,” Geras observed, watching them. “He works well with everyone, and he writes a fair hand, and his family's good enough. Plus he loyal as they come and doesn't mind Lord Gaur's a sorcerer, so that's something right there. I'd be surprised if Lord Gaur doesn't put him up as adjutant to Talon Commander Sharet as soon as we're back. Lalani's got that figured, even if he hasn’t. I’ll drop a word in his ear, because he better think about whether to step forward or back. If he upsets that girl, Esau’ll break every bone in his body, if Laraut doesn’t get to it first.”

  I thought I might have followed this, but I was not certain. I knew an adjuvant was a soldier who stayed close to a talon commander, making himself useful in many ways. I knew this was a position a man might take before being made a commander. I thought I understood why Geras said these things when he thought of Lalani, but I was not certain. I asked, “Suyet might marry Lalani? A proper marriage? This is your meaning?”

  He looked at me in surprise. Then he grinned. “Right, Ryo. I forget there are still things you don’t see. That’s definitely my meaning. It wouldn’t be a bad match. Pretty good for both of ’em, especially Lalani. Don’t mistake me,” he added, seeing me begin to speak and then change my mind. “She’s a fine talon wife. Gets on with every man in her file, gets on with everybody. Of course, there’s not a man in the whole talon who’d dare put a hand wrong with her, which likely helps there. She’s hard-working too, and sensible. And modest when she should be, though I grant, you’d hardly know it to look at her now.”

  This last might have been a criticism, because the Lau put great importance on what they call modesty, especially for younger women. But Geras’ tone was indulgent.

  He went on, “From his side, well, a commander could do a lot worse for a wife. Some merchant’s sheltered daughter who doesn’t know the first thing about soldiers, say. A dowry’s all very well, but if a man’s got two coins to rub together, then he’d do well to look first for a girl with good sense and good temper. His family probably wouldn’t approve, but her file would, so he’d better think it through a couple different ways. I’ll tell
him so and then we’ll see.”

  I was interested in everything Geras was explaining. Though I would not ordinarily have asked, as he had spoken so openly, I said cautiously, “The men of her file would approve?”

  “Sure. They're fond of her, but it's hardly true love, Ryo. Just as well. That'd get in the way. Not a man among 'em would mind seeing their girl take a step or two up.”

  I thought of other questions I wished to ask, but then Suyet jumped down from the wagon and started toward us and the moment was past.

  Tano inTasiyo had been walking near the wagon as well, and stayed there rather than following Suyet. He almost always stayed near the women, whose tolerance prevented any inGara warrior from treating him with too much open scorn. He kept his head a little bowed, watching everything but never looking directly at anyone. His manner was so practiced that it had occurred to me this might not be the first time he had conducted himself in this manner, silent and inoffensive, among the people of a tribe where he was not accepted.

  Geras, following the direction of my gaze, asked me, “So, Ryo, how is your father going to react to that boy? Fine—young man, whatever. What I’m asking is, if your father gets mad enough, any chance he’ll take that out on us? On Lord Gaur? Because that would make any problem my business.”

  “No,” I promised. “He will be angry with me, not with anyone else.”

  Geras eyed me. “Uh huh. All right. Just how angry is he likely to be with you, then? I’m asking because, no offense, but that wouldn’t necessarily suit Lord Gaur real well either, so that’s also my business.” Then he said, in slow but improving taksu, “I mean no offense by asking. I will take your blow for it if you wish.”

  “That’s almost right!” Suyet told him cheerfully, now close enough to hear what we were saying. He corrected Geras’ pronunciation and added, “Plus you’re supposed to look down. Not that it’s any of my business, but what did you say?”

  “He is asking about Tano,” I said. “Geras thinks he is responsible for everyone.” I added to Geras in taksu, “I took no offense, but it was right to offer to take a blow. When there is any doubt regarding the matter, that is almost always right.” Then I switched back to darau and went on. “There is no need for so much concern. My father will be displeased with me, as has occurred in the past and will no doubt occur again in years to come. If he punishes me, I will endure that, as I have in the past and may again in years to come.”

  Geras eyed me. “That’s all very well, but I am responsible. You’re the one who asked me to lend a hand, so don’t try to tell me otherwise now. Young men sometimes don’t think ahead when they most ought to. If you ask me, this better not be one of those times.”

  Everything in this was exactly like Geras. I took enough time to show that I was considering his words carefully. Then I said, “I think everyone is too much concerned. My father cannot demand I withdraw my oath to the young man. However angry he may be, he will know that.”

  Nevertheless, that night, I finally asked Gayata whether he knew the tale that lay behind that enmity. We were sitting around the fire, talking and telling stories. We had already eaten most of the food, but we were enjoying the sugar dumplings Tayasa had taught Lalani to make.

  Sugar is rare and precious in the winter country, so Lalani had brought some cones of sugar as gifts. That was why the women had made the dumplings. Lalani had also brought generous packets of raisins, and the women had added a few of those to the sugar at the heart of each dumpling. Everyone greatly favored this addition.

  “You should trade for raisins,” Lalani told Tayasa and Marya and the other women who had come to the fire to eat with us that night. “We grow many-many grapes in Gaur. Better kinds than any in the borderlands. We make wine, but we make raisins too. You could also trade for sugar. We make more sugar in Gaur than anyone makes in the borderlands. It's too cold there for the right kinds of plants.”

  Marya ate another dumpling and said thoughtfully, “Perhaps we might do that.”

  “An exclusive arrangement between inGara and Gaur might benefit both people—you should ask for that.”

  Leaving the women to their business, I said to Gayata, “Recently I have begun to wonder about the enmity that lies between the inGara and the inTasiyo. You are older than I am, so perhaps you know something about how the bitterness came about between our tribes.”

  On the women’s side of the fire, no one noticed I had asked this. They were discussing ideas about trade and not listening to the men. But on our side of the fire, everyone was suddenly listening. Aras looked up sharply, not at me, but at my brother. Tano set down the bowl he had been holding and folded his hands tightly in his lap.

  Gayata was nodding, unsurprised. “I was thinking I should find a chance to ask you if you understood the problem,” he told me. “It seemed to me that you might not understand the matter as well as you should. It concerned my mother, so I can tell you how it happened.”

  Already I was surprised. “Your mother was involved?” I added to the Lau, “My father’s first wife, a woman named Tasig, who had been of the inGeiro. She was not a singer, but she was greatly respected. She died some years ago, of the woman’s sickness.” I did not know the word for that illness in darau, so I touched my chest to show the sickness I meant.

  “Our women sometimes have that too,” Aras said quietly, and to Gayata, “I regret your loss.”

  “Yes,” said Gayata, inclining his head to accept this expression of sympathy. “This problem with the inTasiyo happened long before that, when my mother was young, only a little after she had married my father. At that time the inGara and inTasiyo were neither allies nor enemies. Our lands lay too far apart for our people to encounter one another often, and we did not have allies or enemies in common, so we had no reason to notice people of the other tribe. Then there was this Convocation. My mother had been married to our father for less than one year. She had sixteen winters. He had nineteen.”

  “Very young,” said Aras. “I imagine Sinowa inGara was hard-tempered when he was that age?”

  Gayata nodded. “Hard-tempered and proud of his new wife. Yaro inTasiyo was much the same. Yaro was heavy for his age, strong, tall. He came to his size young. Many young women admired him. His grandfather was lord of the inTasiyo, so many young women admired him for that as well. Perhaps he was not accustomed to encountering young women who did not admire him. During this Convocation, he encountered Tasig and thought her beautiful, as no doubt she was. He thought she should forget Sinowa inGara and come with him.”

  “Wait!” Suyet said. “She was married! Surely even among Ugaro, a woman can’t just leave her husband and go off with another man?” I looked at him, and Gayata raised his eyebrows. Suyet added hastily, “I do not mean to offend! If my words were careless, please correct me.”

  Gayata smiled. The story was not one he wished to tell and he had been frowning, but he liked Suyet, as everyone did. He said, “You gave no offense. One does not expect a young woman who has recently married to do such a thing, but sometimes it happens. Then people talk for a year about whether someone was at fault and against whom the fault should be set.” He turned back to me. “I can tell you how it happened, but this is not how the inTasiyo tell this story. They lied about how it happened then and they still lie today.”

  I nodded. Tano gripped his hands together so hard his knuckles had paled. He had not looked up, and did not now.

  “Tasig told Yaro she was content with her name and her people and her husband,” Gayata told us. “But Yaro did not like this answer. He took her by force to the place his people had camped. This was near the end of the Convocation and different tribes were leaving every day. No one thought anything when the inTasiyo suddenly set out for their own lands. But before they had gone any great distance, Tasig stole a pony and escaped. She told Sinowa what had happened. He did not wait to set a charge against the inTasiyo or against Yaro. If he had done that, everything might be different, but he went at once after the i
nTasiyo. He fought Yaro.” Gayata paused, looking at me. He glanced at Tano, whose gaze was still fixed on his tense hands.

  “Yaro inTasiyo won that fight,” my brother told us both. “Later, after he had recovered from his injuries, Sinowa brought the charge against the inTasiyo. They lied, denying everything, and too much time had passed for anyone to know what was true. The Convocation was long past, every tribe scattered. Doroya inKarano was king then. He declined to decide the matter, saying the two tribes involved should settle the problem.”

  I said, “He should have decided. When two tribes say different things and no one else knows what is true, that is a time the king should decide.”

  “That may be so,” Gayata agreed. “But everyone involved was young. I am sure Doroya thought the young men would raid and fight and perhaps one would kill the other and the matter would go no further than that. But the trouble quickly became wider than anyone expected. First Sinowa slipped all the way west to the inTasiyo lands. He meant to kill Yaro, but he killed someone else instead, one of Yaro’s brothers. This was an older man, a respected warrior. The inTasiyo were very angry. Sinowa barely made it back into inGara lands, and there was a battle when he did, because the inTasiyo warriors pursuing him met inGara warriors. Four inGara warriors were killed, all respected warriors, and some number of inTasiyo. After that, for two years, warriors of both tribes raided back and forth with increasing bitterness. Allies of both tribes were drawn into the trouble and raided one another as well, until anyone would have to agree that the trouble had become a war.”

  “That part, I knew,” I said.

  Gayata nodded. “Yes, everyone knows that part. You also know that, no matter how many people were killed or what else happened, no one was content to say the matter had been settled. Doroya saw that if he did nothing, then the war between the inGara and the inTasiyo would not stop until some tribes on one side were destroyed, and by that time some other tribes would have been weakened, and then their enemies would attack them, and the trouble would go on and on.”