The Glass of Dyskornis (6 page)

He waved his hand impatiently, as though Worfit, who had threatened my life and damaged his home, were of no importance.

“Your reasons for going to Thagorn,” he said. “To rest and take some time to think. Are these your only reasons?”

“Yes.”

“But why Thagorn? Why not Omergol, or all the way to Chizan?”

I was thoroughly confused, and beginning to feel a little impatient, myself.

“Father, I don’t have any idea what you’re getting at. Why don’t you ask for the information you really want?”

Thanasset sighed and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment, then suddenly stood up and began pacing around the room.

“Ever since we had that short talk yesterday, Rikardon, I’ve been worrying about this. When Milda said you planned to go to Thagorn, it seemed to confirm my guess.” He stopped his pacing, and leaned on the back of a chair. “Are you taking it upon yourself to find the Ra’ira and bring it back?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud.

“It’s rather more likely,” I told him, “that I’ll swim up the Skarkel Falls. Why would I have lied to you about my motives, if that were true?”

“Two men have died, already, because of their involvement with Gharlas,” he said. “It was conceivable to me that you would want to protect me from worry for your safety. I viewed it as … considerate, rather than deceptive.”

There are three men dead
, I corrected him silently, sobered by the thought.
Hural and the man who killed Markasset, both of whom were Gharlas’s accomplices, and the man I killed the last time I left Raithskar.
The worry lines were still present in Thanasset’s face.
He doesn’t just want the truth
, I realized.
He wants to be convinced that it’s the truth.

“I haven’t had a chance, yet, to tell you about the Sharith. Let me tell you now, so that you’ll really understand why I’m going to Thagorn.”

He nodded and sat down, and I related everything that had happened to me in the stronghold of the Sharith. I told him about Dharak’s strength, and Thymas’s impatience. I described the valley, and the call of kinship I had felt when I had looked at it that night. I told him about the huge Hall, built to hold men riding sha’um. Last of all, I told him what Dharak had said about my future place with the Sharith.

“So I’m going back to Thagorn to tell Dharak exactly what I’m telling you now, Father. Zaddorn seems confident of finding Gharlas through his contacts with other peace officers. He’s a good man, and I believe him. I have no intention of chasing Gharlas clear to Eddarta on my own.”

Milda appeared at the doorway with a big bowl of fruit and two glasses of fresh, cool water. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” she said. She stared pointedly at my clothes as she set the things down on a table within our easy reach, and asked: “Did you have a good time last night?”

I grinned at her. “None of your business.”

She laughed and went out of the room. I was relieved to see Thanasset smiling, his face smooth again. “I hadn’t noticed what you were wearing,” he said. “It’s obvious you haven’t had any sleep at all. Do you still plan to leave today?”

I was already munching on a tart, thick-skinned fruit, and I had to sip some water and swallow before I could answer. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll feel that you and Milda are safe from Worfit. I’ll bathe and change clothes and pack—I should be ready to go by noon. I’ll be able to nap while I ride.”

“Then you won’t be going to the Council meeting, after all?” Thanasset asked.

I shook my head. “I’ll write a note to Zaddorn, but I hope you’ll take my answer to the Council in person.”

“What
is
your answer?” He was suddenly tense again.

“Only that I can’t decide right now. I’ll be back in a moon, perhaps less time. Maybe if you explain that I have some business to complete before I can commit myself—?”

“Of course. I’m sure they will make the offer again, when you return. Though Ferrathyn will be disappointed not to see you before you leave. He has taken a great interest in you. Did you know that it was he who suggested creating a special post on the Council for you?”

“No, I didn’t,” I admitted.
Ferrathyn’s a nice old guy
, I commented to myself.
It’s too bad he and Zaddorn don’t get along better. Power politics, I suppose. But it’s no wonder Ferrathyn expected me to accept the position—I’m sure he set it up simply as a favor to me and Thanasset.

“What about you, Father? You seemed really to want me to take the job of the thirteenth Supervisor.”

“You haven’t decided
not
to take it, have you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well then, since you’ve convinced me that all you want is a vacation, and you’ll be coming back to us soon, I feel better about—well, about everything. We’ll find a way to handle Worfit. And I hope I’ll see a Supervisor-in-the-making when you return.”

It surprised the hell out of me that I could ride right up to Thagorn’s gate without being challenged. The explanation occurred to me as soon as I heard the voice bellowing from the top of the wall that filled the narrow opening to the valley.

“What in the name of Kä are you doing out of uniform outside the city gates? You’ll serve a seven-day cleaning the bath-house for this!”

Of course, their sentries aren’t looking for strangers on sha’um! Any who may have seen me probably thought the same thing this guy does—and they probably chuckled about the reception I’d get. Latrine detail, yet!

I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked up at the man leaning over the edge of the wall. He was wearing a round-topped uniform hat. Its wide brim cast a shadow over all of his face except his mouth and jaw. His angry grimace displayed one snaggled tusk that looked awfully familiar.

“Don’t you think, Bareff,” I asked mildly, “that you ought to let me join up before you start giving me penalty duty?”

“What?” He leaned over so far that I thought he might fall. Then: “I’ll be a vlek’s daddy. Rikardon?”

I copied the gesture he had used to introduce his sha’um to me, nearly two weeks ago. I leaned forward, and drew my right hand along the side of Keeshah’s jaw.

“And Keeshah,” I said. “Will you tell the Lieutenant that we’re here?”

“Why, I’d be pleased right out of my senses to do that little thing for you, Rikardon,” he said. “The Lieutenant won’t be surprised, will he?”

I hid a smile. “No.”

“Nobody tells me
nothing
,” he grumbled. Before he turned away he grinned down at me. “But I’ll swear to Zanek it’s good to see you again. It’s been downright dull around here since you left.”

Keeshah moved restlessly as we waited in front of the gate. I had sensed a growing ambivalence in him as we had approached Thagorn. He was both eager and apprehensive about meeting the sha’um of the Riders.

We had made the trip from Raithskar in a week, without rushing. We had stayed overnight at the Refreshment House of Yafnaar, where Balgokh, the eldest of the family of desert-dwellers, had invited me to dine with the entire clan in an inner courtyard. Such invitations were rare, and I had accepted gladly.

In return for a wonderful meal, I had answered the questions that they were too polite to ask: about the theft of the Ra’ira, now common knowledge in broad terms, but full of rumor concerning the details; about my adventures in regaining my memory (I gave them an altered version of the truth, omitting the fact that it wasn’t
my
memory that I had found); and about all I knew of the history of Serkajon, his sword, and the Sharith.

Balgokh had announced that Keddan, one of the three men who were with me when I woke up at Yafnaar, had settled a marriage contract, and his bride had already set out from Kanlyr, near Eddarta. I had presented Balgokh with a gift to express my appreciation for his help, and asked that it be earmarked for the new couple, to which he had agreed with pleasure. The gift had been one of Milda’s embroidered hangings, depicting the sha’um which Thanasset had once ridden, and it had delighted Keddan.

From Yafnaar, I had gone to Omergol and hoisted a few with Grallen, the proprietor of the bar where I had unknowingly offended two Sharith, and found myself with a fight on my hands. Much later, those two men had brought me into Thagorn. Just now, one of them had gone to fetch Dharak, the Lieutenant.

During the few minutes that Keeshah and I stood there, I tried to ignore the heads bobbing up above the edge of the wall, and the whispers that ran along overhead.

They’re figuring out who I am and wondering why
I walked
into Thagorn last time
, I speculated. I wonder if everybody here knows about the Ra’ira, or if Dharak has managed to keep it quiet. Well, I guess I’ll find out pretty soon, now …

The massive gate was swinging inward slowly. It opened to reveal Dharak, standing beside a rangy gray sha’um. He put his hand on the cat’s neck and they started toward me.

He’s walking out to meet me!
I thought.
Uh-oh, I don’t like the look of that. Dharak, please don’t …

“Markasset, son of the sons of Serkajon,” he began, in his rich and resonant voice, “be welcome in Thagorn as the new Captain of the Sharith.”

You did it!
I groaned to myself, and closed my eyes for a moment.
Now what do I do?

I knew what I couldn’t do. I couldn’t embarrass the old man by stamping my foot and shouting “no” out here in front of God and everybody. There had been a giant communal gasp from the Sharith who had gathered curiously around the gate. Dharak had pulled off the surprise of the century, and I could see, from the way his mouth was twitching at one corner, that he was enjoying the effect he had created. I couldn’t spoil it. I had to go along, at least for now.

It seemed eminently unfair to have this man, who had led the Sharith for most of his life, standing down out of respect for a newcomer, so I said: “Ride with me, Dharak.”

He smiled broadly. “It will be my pleasure, Captain.” He mounted his sha’um, brought him alongside Keeshah, and touched his cat’s jaw. “This is Doran,” he said.

I returned the introduction. Then, side by side, Dharak and I rode through the gates of Thagorn. We followed the main avenue of the city, which ran straight out from the gate between a long line of barracks buildings on the right and, atop a rise some distance away, the Hall on the left. The way led directly to the widest bridge across the river. Before we reached that bridge, we turned left toward the only family residence on this side of the river: a big, rambling house, traditionally the home of the Lieutenant and his family.

I had to struggle to keep my eyes forward in good military fashion. The exhilaration of riding
with
someone made me lightheaded, but full of strength. I was intensely aware of the motion of Keeshah’s body under me, of the rippling muscles of the sha’um beside me, of Dharak on his back. It was a fresh-air feeling, a sense of freedom and power. And of belonging.

I had known I wanted this, but I hadn’t suspected the depth of the need.

To belong
, I reminded myself, as I dropped to the ground in front of Dharak’s house. I was trembling with reaction to the swelling pride my entry into Thagorn had stirred in me.

But not to lead. I’ll tell Dharak the truth, first chance I get.

Keeshah had been nervous, so close to a strange sha’um, but he had held his place at my request. As soon as he and Doran were free of their riders, they separated and faced each other, their nostrils distended, their tails fluffing slightly.

*
Will you be all right?
* I asked Keeshah.

He didn’t answer specifically, but he was radiating a don’t-bother-me-right-now attitude. I knew I couldn’t help him, so I resolved to mind my own business and let him do things his own way. After all, unless I was in danger, Keeshah never mixed into my relations with other people.

“Welcome back, my friend,” Dharak said to me. “You couldn’t have arrived at a better time. Come in the house. We have a lot to talk about.”

We certainly do
, I agreed grimly as I followed him through the door. His wife, Shola, gave me a warm greeting and led us into a small room, where two places were set and a rich stew was steaming in the bowls. She excused herself from joining us, on the grounds of having eaten earlier. I caught a meaningful glance between her and Dharak before she left, and I figured that he had asked for privacy.

“I have heard, of course, that Thanasset was cleared,” Dharak said, after we had finished eating. He had explained to me, before I left last time, that the Sharith had a network of friends who provided Dharak with information about the “outside world”—via
maufa
, the fast-flying Gandalaran message birds, I presumed. “I’m glad of it. What are your plans now?”

“All I want, for the moment, is to rest here awhile and get to know you and your men better,” I said.
Get it over with
, I told myself. “Dharak, I’m not your Captain. I don’t
want
to be your Captain.”

“I saw as much in the look on your face today,” he admitted. “But I had good reasons for greeting you in that fashion, Markasset. The Sharith
need
a Captain right now. I managed to keep your identity to myself, but news of the Ra’ira’s loss has created a serious problem here. A faction of young men—led, I’m sorry to say, by my son, Thymas—is very close to breaking discipline and riding out after Gharlas.

“That would be a terrible mistake for three reasons. First, outsiders have an unflattering opinion of the Sharith already. I doubt that a group of headstrong yougsters—and their sha’um—would improve it any. Second, I would have no choice but to forbid their return.” His voice wavered a little.

And one of those in exile would be your son
, I thought.

“It would cost us a third of our Riders,” he said. He looked out of the window and sighed. “There were a thousand Riders when we settled here. Now there are less than a hundred.

“Last and most important,” he continued more briskly, “they have little chance of success, and every opportunity to cloud the trail you’ll be following.”