Path of Fate (7 page)

“Habelik—do you really want the war to go on? You’ve already lost your brother and two nephews. Do you want to lose your grandsons too?”

His head snapped around, eyes bulging.

“That’s why, Reisiltark. A treaty means they’ve won, all those deaths for nothing. Nothing! And what about Mysane Kosk? Do we just let them get away with slaughter?”

Reisil was aware that a dozen pairs of eyes rested on her in a pocket of silence. She licked her lips. Then she gave a little shrug, spreading her hands.

“You are right, Habelik. What was done at Mysane Kosk cannot be undone and they will get away with it. They already have.” She paused, letting that sink in.

“Even if we keep fighting, what happened at Mysane Kosk doesn’t change. All the dead stay dead and Kodu Riik will bury many more. So I ask you again, is that what you want? Is it worth it?” She shook her head. “It’s no easy decision and yet you must decide, you who lost family and friends. But I wonder, will you choose for the rest of Kodu Riik? For the towns and villages that have been burned to the ground, for the men and women and children who fight over moldy crusts like mongrel dogs? You have seen the squatters. Do you think that they would rather eat and heal than die for what cannot be changed? Does not that decision rightfully belong in the hands of Iisand Samir?”

Her voice cut with a flinty edge and she paused, her green eyes raking over the rigid faces before her. A circle of quiet rippled out from her words as if they were stones splashing into a still pool. She let her voice soften. “I do not disparage your losses. You have a right to your hurt and anger. But I marvel that you would willingly sacrifice any more.”

“Well spoken,” Varitsema said, resting a long-fingered hand on her shoulder. He was a talented weaver, as Juhrnus’s mother had been, and his fingers were laced with fine white scars and calluses. “Listen to our tark’s wisdom, my friends, even if you will not hear mine. The Iisand Samir has entrusted us with this great task. Let us not fail him. Let us show the Patverseme vermin that we have prospered during this war, that we open our gates because we are strong and unvanquished. Let us welcome them as a Kaj of the first tier welcomes a petitioner, and let them stand in awe of us!”

His voice rang with charismatic power and Reisil felt her own heart swell in response, relishing his praise and the way he’d said “our tark.”

Just then, a flickering shadow swept like lightning beneath an arcade arch. Reisil paled as Saljane lighted on one of the carved roof beams, her wings outstretched, looking once again like an avenging spirit, her amber eyes glowing like embers.

She let out one of her cries, the strident
kek-kek-kek-kek
echoing in the sudden silence.

Again.

Demanding. Haughty. Proud.

Everyone gazed up at the goshawk in wonder. She screeched again and mantled, shifting back and forth on the beam, the wood splintering in her grip. Beneath the white streak across her brow, amber eyes darted over the assembly below, her beak wide in a silent scream.

“Sweet Lady! She’s magnificent! And so big!”

“Blessed Amiya, have you ever seen such a thing!”

“Look at her eyes! She’s got a head of steam about something. Raim! Have you got something to feed her?”

At Varitsema’s request, the tall, spiderthin proprietor vanished into his kitchen only to reappear several minutes later with a pan of roasted meat. Behind him came two boys dragging a cadge that they had quickly retrieved from Raim’s cellar storeroom of
ahalad-kaaslane
equipment. Every kohv-house owner and innkeeper in Kodu Riik kept such a storeroom.

The portable perch’s crossbar was as big around as Reisil’s leg, and only lightly used. She wondered a little wildly when was the last time Raim had needed it.

Hoping to avoid Saljane’s notice, she tried to squirm back through the oscillating tide of bodies behind her. They hemmed her in, shoving her forward, eager for a glimpse of the goshawk. Slowly she found herself pushed nearer and nearer. Nearly crying with desperation, she turned and scrabbled at the bodies blocking her.

Too late.

S
o close, Reisil could see every fine detail of Saljane’s crisp, slate-gray wing feathers, showing here and there a trace of immature brown. Saljane gave another of her strident cries, and it seemed to Reisil to be an accusation.

The young tark held herself still, forcing herself to meet Saljane’s fiery gaze, waiting for the bird to reveal her perfidy to the town. Despite her fear, she felt a certain relief and a thin sliver of regret that she experienced nothing of the unbearable intimate connection they’d shared only that morning. Just ashy gray vacancy. Yet spitted on the molten steel of those eyes, Reisil couldn’t help herself. Words rose in her mind, placating and defensive.

~
Please understand. I am fated to be a tark. I cannot be
ahalad-kaaslane.
I am not for you and you are not for me.

There was no sign that Saljane heard or understood her. The goshawk blinked slowly and then a sound caught her attention and she jerked away. Reisil felt herself go limp as relief turned her bones to water.

Raim set up the cadge and attached a feeding tray amidst the sudden joviality occasioned by Saljane. He piled the meat on the tray and tipped his dark head to the bird, sweat from the heat of the kitchen dampening his brow.

“Bright morning, Lady of the heavens. Welcome to my kohv-house. May it please you to break your fast with us.” He gave a graceful little bow to the goshawk and gestured to the cadge and meat, and then stepped back, giving Saljane plenty of room to land if she so chose.

She did.

Reisil bit back a protest, her momentary relief evaporating like morning mist as Saljane lunged off the beam. The goshawk clutched the wooden crossbar, talons gouging into the oak as her tail flared for balance.

Saljane swiveled her head, gazing unblinkingly at the hushed crowd. Reisil held her breath, her heart stopping as those fierce eyes skimmed over the room.

Reisil almost sobbed with relief when Saljane turned to the feeding tray, snatching hungrily at the meat and bolting it down in choking gobs. A wave of muted clapping swept the room and then the murmurings of excited conversations.

“Upsakes, Sodur—can you say, has she come here for one of us?”

Sodur eyed the voracious goshawk with a crooked grin. “Undoubtedly. She’s been traveling a long way and not bothering to eat. I would guess she was in a hurry, and now is not. Whoever she’s looking for must be here.”

Upsakes nodded agreement. “I expect her
ahaladkaaslane
is very close by.” Reisil stumbled as he thrust past her to view the feeding goshawk more closely. “It won’t be long before Kallas gives Kodu Riik a new
ahalad-kaaslane
. Three in just this year. The Lady smiles on you all!”

“It is a sign,” Varitsema pronounced suddenly. He stood back on a bench so all could see him. He spread his thin arms, hands lifted high, his long robes billowing. A broad smile lit his pale, hatchet face. “Can it be a coincidence? The Lady has sent this goshawk to bless this treaty between Kodu Riik and Patverseme. She wishes us to welcome the Dure Vadonis into our walls. We cannot disappoint Her, not after such a token!”

A rumbling murmur and scattered clapping met his shouted last words. Varitsema nodded, pleased. Now, instead of feeling coerced into welcoming the Patverseme delegation, Kallas would be convinced that is was a celebration of the Lady’s favor. Blessed Amiya indeed.

Reisil took advantage of the moment to escape, easing her way through the thicket of townspeople. There was nothing else for her to do here and she didn’t want to give Saljane the opportunity to notice her again.

But first she had a gift for Raim—all the repayment he would take for the meals he had given her over these last months.

She stood on tiptoe, searching for the kohv-house proprietor. She caught sight of him across the room, propped against the kitchen doorway, intent upon the commotion. Reisil grimaced.

It would be easier to go out under the arches and return through the kitchen. But jealous of his domain, Raim allowed no one nonessential to its workings within the inner sanctums of his kitchen. Only Roheline, his wife, did he allow within, and then with strict dictums against touching or interfering. The potboys and scullery staff he suffered from necessity, but he prevented intrusion of the serving maids by passing prepared food through the window between the kitchen and the dining room.

Reisil edged her way around the inner wall by the enormous fireplace, empty except for an arrangement of dried flowers and brilliantly colored ribbons. Roheline’s handiwork, as were the delicate paintings of flowers, fruits, grains and grasses twining up the pillars and tracing the edges of all the doors and arches. Reisil often came to the kohv-house before dawn to have breakfast and watch the rising sun touch life to the rich hues of Roheline’s paintings.

Someone lurched into her and she stumbled. Ale splashed the side of her face and trickled down her neck.

Her face burned hot and her teeth clamped together, hearing Juhrnus snigger beside her.

She spun around and he held up empty hands.

“Not my doing, little sister.”

Anger hardened Reisil’s jaw. Maybe he hadn’t done it, but his pleasure in her embarrassment was galling.

She raised her chin, green eyes hard as agates. She was not an imposing figure, but neither was she small, and she refused to feel like a mouse to his cat. She faced Juhrnus squarely, her mouth flat, her eyes narrowed.

“Is there a problem, little sister?” he asked in that sneering tone of his. Reisil gritted her teeth. She was so tired of him getting away with that
little sister
business! Words boiled up and burst on her lips, searing her tongue, but she closed her teeth on them, refusing to cause a scene by railing at an
ahalad-kaaslane
. Even Juhrnus.

Then an idea struck her and she paused. How simple! How had she not thought of it sooner?

She smiled.

“Big brother, I must apologize. I have been remiss. I haven’t yet congratulated you.” She gestured at the sisalik, her smile widening at his nonplussed expression. “May the sun shine on you both all your lives.”
Until you burn red and your skin peels and splits and your hair falls out and—
“I am preparing a gift for you. You will need a medicine pouch for your journeying. I have only to label things carefully so that you will not poison yourself, or give yourself the flux—accidentally.”

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms.

“So the kitten has claws. Who’d have thought?”

“And who’d have thought I’d find you standing so far back, in the rear of trouble. But then, you’re always
behind
the trouble, aren’t you?”

“Careful how you go, little sister. Don’t forget I’m
ahalad-kaaslane
.”

“And don’t
you
forget you’re
ahalad-kaaslane,
big brother,” Reisil retorted, her heart thundering. It wasn’t much, but standing up to Juhrnus after all these years was like climbing to the top of a mountain or swimming across the ocean. Exhilarating, empowering.

“Please, don’t let me keep you from your work,” she said, gesturing to where Upsakes, Sodur and Felias continued to mollify the townspeople. “You’ve been so helpful today. Almost like you were actually here.”

He flushed and and opened his mouth, but she didn’t wait for his response. Hugging her victory to herself, she tunneled away through the crowd.

She found Raim in his kitchen. He smiled welcome as she leaned in the serving window but did not stop kneading his dough.

“Bright day to you, Reisil. A blessed day indeed. You have seen?”

She nodded. “The Lady is generous.” She changed the subject, not wanting to talk any more about Saljane, not wanting to even think about her. “I have brought you some of that perin thistle we talked about, and berigroot.” She put the two pouches on the counter. She’d harvested them on a recent overnight trip up the Sadelema.

Raim dusted off his hands and took the pouches reverently in his hands. “Magnificent! You are the tark of my heart,” he said, opening the perin thistle and sniffing. “Ah, like a blessing from heaven. I thank you. Will you sit and eat?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve more errands.” She no longer felt hungry.

“Do you think anyone will mind?” He waved a flour-dusted hand at the thickening crowd. “Today is a new holiday.”

“Teemart has a fever and I promised his mother I would look in,” she said, trying to sound regretful.

“Nurema? I would not be late to her door for all the world. Such a tongue she has, like a whip of nails. Ah, well, such is the life of the tark. Sun shine bright on you, and thank you for these.” He tapped the pouches. “I will set you a feast next time.”

“Then I will make sure next time comes soon.”

Reisil remembered Meelaru. “Raim, when all this settles down, could you ask Sodur to go see Meelaru? There’s a woman there, another refugee—I think he can help her.”

“Another one?” Raim shook his head. “My heart weeps for them all. I heard of this plan to begin a new town. Varitsema does not like it, but it is a good thing. I shall tell Sodur. You had better go before Nurema gnaws herself into a frenzy.”

Reisil waved good-bye and squeezed out through one of the arches. She turned her feet back toward the main gate, swinging into a swift walk, padding past shops built of gray flagstone, bright Lady Day banners fluttering in the wind.

As she walked, the specters of Saljane and Juhrnus rose in her mind. She felt a certain amount of elation. She had finally confronted Juhrnus. And she had twice stood her ground and rebuffed Saljane.

Rebuffed the Lady,
she reminded herself and suddenly her elation drained away, her shoulders slumping. She trudged on, her stomach roiling.