Lamarchos (5 page)

Carefully she laid her hands on his back drawing a moan of pain from him in spite of the gentleness of her touch. She spread her hands around the arrow so that it was the center of a rough triangle formed by her thumbs and forefingers. Gladness warmed in her as she felt the strong steady pulse of life in him. He was badly hurt and nearly starved but the will to live burned so strong in him that he was far from dying.

Aleytys sucked in the hot, dusty air and let it out in small discrete bundles, sucked in another breath, and let it out, her body slowing into tranquility. Into a quiet oneness with the air and earth. She closed her eyes and reached for the river of black water winding between the stars, her symbolic image of the power that fed her talents. Tapping into the river she sent the power flowing through her arms into the shuddering body beneath her hands. Time passed, how long she had no idea, then she knew the healing was done.

With a sigh she lifted leaden arms and straightened her aching back. The boy was sleeping heavily, the wound a pale pink star, vivid against the sun-bronzed skin of his back. Lying flat beside the wound the broken arrow moved gently up and down with the boy's breathing, gummy with blood and pus, having worked itself free as the wound healed behind it.

She picked it up and tossed it aside into the grass. “Why is his head shaved?”

Kale stared down at the boy. “He will live?”

“Why not? I'm a damn good healer. Why is his head shaved?” She cupped her hand tenderly over the short bright stubble.

“Before his people cast him out, they shaved the hair off his head and body to mark him.” He shifted uneasily. “The stealing … what we plan … it doesn't bother you?”

“The Lakoe-heai know we come as thieves. I don't like it, but what can I do?” She sensed his growing uneasiness around her. “Relax, Kale. They've got some kind of plan to use us. They won't interfere.”

“Oh.” He glanced at the boy again, chewed a minute on his full lower lip, then walked nervously away to look down the road. “There's no need for a guide,” he muttered half to himself. “The road's clear.”

Aleytys stretched and laughed. “All right. All right, Kale. You change places with Stavver if it makes you feel better. The boy can ride with Sharl.”

Maissa came striding around the caravan, her delicate, pointed face drawn into an angry scowl. “What's holding us up?” she demanded.

Aleytys met the cold glare with a quiet smile. “We stopped to help the boy.”

“Well?” The small woman came mincing across the rough soil with its sharp stubs of last year's grass, not yet accustomed to walking barefoot. She stopped beside the boy's body and thrust an impatient toe into his protruding ribs. “A waste of time. You finished?”

“The healing's done. When he wakes, he comes with us.”

“Nonsense! Get back on the wagon and let's get going. We don't need a strange pair of eyes to spy on us.”

Aleytys sighed. “Maissa, if I'm supposed to be gikena, let me be. If we go off and leave him, we'll be outcast ourselves. To take the curse off him, he has to serve me for a time. Anyway, he's a guarantee the others will accept us as what we pretend to be.”

“I'm sure you thought of that all the time. Huh!” She turned and picked her way carefully back to her caravan. She paused at the big wheel and looked back at Aleytys, her dark eyes glinting hardly. “I boss this job—you remember that.”

Behind her Aleytys heard a rustle in the grass and turned around to find the boy sitting up staring at her, his brown eyes huge in his thin face. “Welcome back to the living,” she said briskly. “How'd you get in this mess?”

His white-caked tongue moved painfully over cracked lips. “Pariah,” he muttered hoarsely.

“Miks.”

“What?”

“Bring the waterskin, will you. Our new friend's got a big thirst.”

“Right.” The thief came around the back end of the caravan, swinging the well filled waterskin from its wide, leather strap.

The boy watched the dripping, cool bladder with desperate burning eyes, then he held up trembling hands palm out warning them off. “Pariah,” he repeated, his voice breaking painfully.

Aleytys smiled at him and took his shaking hand in hers despite his attempt to avoid her touch. “I am gikena, boy. When you've had the water, we'll see about taking away the curse on your head. Do you understand? I've already cured the wound in your back. Have you forgotten that?”

Stavver handed him the waterskin and helped him drink. The boy took a mouthful of water then pushed the skin away. His face drawn in lines of fatigue and suffering, he held the cool liquid in his mouth, working it around and around. Then he spat it out and took another drink, a small one. He swallowed. Fascinated, Aleytys watched his throat working, appreciating the stern discipline that controlled his desperate need for water. He drank twice again, then pushed the waterskin away though his eyes followed it greedily.

“I thank you, si'a gikena.”

“Will you tell me your name?” Once again Aleytys smiled at him, warming inside as the wary suspicion left his eyes.

“Loahn, si'a gikena.”

“You will serve me as required?”

He startled her by bowing swiftly until his head touched the earth in front of him. As quickly he sat up, dark eyes bright with renewed hope. “I serve as long as you want—till the end of my life, si'a gikena.”

She laughed and stood up, reaching out for his hand. It felt warm and dry and curiously strong. “It won't be that long, Loahn. Not nearly.” She mounted the steps at back of the caravan. “Come in, but be quiet. My son is asleep.”

The interior of the caravan was hot and close. Loahn looked curiously around. The inside was neatly made, the wide, flat bunks doubling as seating in the day, the mattresses covered with coarse ticking. Below these a series of deep drawers marched in neat rows. One was pulled out and turned into a nest for the placidly sleeping baby. Aleytys stopped to touch him, feeling as always the warm outpouring of love he evoked in her. When she looked up she found the boy looking hungrily at her. He blushed and turned away.

“You lost your mother?”

His thin body stiffened, then he nodded. “When I was a child.”

“Well, sit down. You'd better ride in here. We'll be going on till light fails. Rest and think what to tell me when we camp for the night.” A smile twitched the corners of her mouth upward. “I need to know just what to do about you.”

“Yes, si'a gikena,” he said with careful politeness, the wary look back on his face.

“Olelo, come here.” She smiled at the boy, amused by his skepticism. “I need you to speak for me again, little one.”

The speaker swung through the front curtains. Loahn's eyes widened then he relaxed, his suddenly shaky knees dumping him onto the bunk.

Aleytys chuckled. “So you're convinced at last.”

“Pardon, si'a gikena,” he stammered.

“Nonsense. A little skepticism's a healthy thing. I'd think you foolish if you believed everything anyone told you.”

His mouth curved into a tired smile, his eyes dropping heavily as fatigue flooded over him.

“Unroll the quilt and go to sleep. If you need water, the man and I will be outside. Call. You understand?”

He nodded sleepily.

“When you ride with us, you'll see things—things that may seem strange. If you find yourself puzzled, come to me. Don't talk to outsiders about what troubles you. Understand?”

He settled himself on the mattress, wadding the quilt into a pillow for his head. “No,” he said quietly. “How can I?” He stretched out, laced his fingers together behind his head. “Only that I come to you and accept what you tell me.”

She eyed him coolly, then burst out laughing. “No fool, indeed. You'll accept what I tell you even if you suspect it's not quite the truth?”

He grinned sleepily at her. “When I got my life back, when I saw your beautiful and wonderful and kind face, I gave my soul into your keeping as long as you want it.” He yawned, then waved a hand. “You needn't bother asking, gikena. Just tell me and I'll do it.”

Aleytys crawled through the curtains and joined Stavver on the seat. “That's a sharp one in there.”

“Dangerous?”

“I don't think so. I could always put the curse back.” She glanced at the sky. The streaks of color were beginning to thicken, leaving patches of clear blue sky. “Let's get started,” she said crisply.

Chapter IV

“They're offworlders, aren't they.” The boy's voice came out of the warm darkness behind Aleytys. She swung around and examined him silently, trying to read the set of his too-thin face, the complex mixture of emotions radiating from him. What she sensed most was a calm curiosity which surprised her almost as much as his words.

“What do you know of offworlders?”

The boy sank beside her, resting his thin arms on his knees. A broad smile split his dark face. “My father took me to Karkys the year of my blooding to get my blade.”

“And?”

“We didn't get along well. My father and I.” The boy spoke slowly, his eyes fixed on her, the whites glowing palely in the light of the low hanging moon. “So he ignored me while he did his trading. I sneaked through the Karkesh quarter and out into Star Street. Nobody paid any attention to a scruffy kid or bothered to mind their talk. I watched the starships come and go and saw the strange ones and heard them talking to the hooded Karkiskya.”

“The year of your blooding.”

“I've always been small, looked younger than I am.”

Aleytys tapped her lips with her forefinger. After a while she said, “I told you we came from across the sea, Loahn.”

He snorted softly. “Then you come from across the sea. But you better teach the woman not to give orders like a man.” He nodded at the figures walking around the dying fire.

“Her name is Leyilli.” Aleytys spoke softly. “The long man is called Keon, the other Kale. I am called Lahela.” She lay back on the grass, face turned to the moonlit sky, studying the huge pale circle that floated majestically between the false thunderheads. “One moon seems so lonely,” she murmured. “Where I was born we have two.” She smiled as she heard the boy gasp. “Very perceptive, Loahn. We are all offworlders. Except Kale.”

“The speaker?”

“Don't worry about your curse. Lakoe-heai proclaimed me gikena born and sent me Olelo as a sign of their approval.”

“Why did you all come here, then?”

“To steal, young friend. We're thieves. Name me Lahela if you please. I need to become accustomed to the sound of it.”

“Why tell me, Lahela? What if I betray you first chance I get?” He shifted on the grass coming to bend over her, his thin face grave and questioning in the moonlight.

“You won't,” she said quietly. Then she chuckled. “Don't I have your soul?”

“Tchah! That's a stupidity.”

“Seriously, I do have a lien on your soul. Remember? I am gikena.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “Besides, my dear, I don't say it's impossible for a man to make me believe a lie, at least when I've my wits about me, but so far it hasn't happened. An unkind gift, one I'd sometimes rather do without.” She patted the cheek gently feeling the harsh, dry skin resulting from his recent ordeal. “Do you understand that at all, young friend?”

“Are you so much older than me, Lahela?” He sounded annoyed, jerked his head away from her touch. “I've seen a full eighteen winters.”

“And I've seen only eight.” She chuckled at his exclamation of disbelief. “But it's true, Loahn. On the world where I was born our years are three of yours with a winter three hundred days long. I looked up at two suns, not one. Two moons lit our night skies. And that is true!”

“Ahh.…” She could see his eyes glittering as he looked up at the moon then down at her again. “How old are you, Lahela? In our years.”

“Twenty-four. A double dozen. You see I'm an old lady compared to you.”

“Tchah! Six years! A mouse's sneeze.” He put tentative fingers on her shoulder and walked them down in sly spider pats to touch her breast.

“Loahn.” She caught his hand and held it away from her. “When I took you to serve me, I did
NOT
mean in my bed. That place is already occupied.”

“I have a sadness, Lahela.” He sighed with exaggerated despair. “It's going to be a long service.”

“And you're a graceless scamp. No, don't try me with that plaintive face.” She sat up briskly, nearly knocking him over. “Sit down. Over there. Out of reach. Do you hear?”

“I hear, si'a gikena.” His voice sounded reproachful, but she saw his grin shining in the moonlight.

“Somehow I seem to have lost my mystique.” Aleytys brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. “Loahn?”

“Mmmm?”

“When we meet others, you'll be the respectful and awe-struck acolyte?”

“Of course. I'm not stupid.”

“I never thought that, my friend.” She sat staring blindly into the darkness. The trivial desultory conversation around the fire floated piecemeal to her ears as she tried to pull her emotions into some kind of order. Loahn's eyes slid around again and again to rest momentarily on her then flick away. She sighed. “I wonder what you really think of me. Behind that barrage of words.”

“First,” he said calmly, “I want to make love to you. I have food in my stomach, that arrow out of my back, and hope for the future for the first time in days. The most beautiful woman on Lamarchos sits beside me in the moonlight. How else should I feel?”

“You're direct.”

Loahn chuckled. “I've never found that women are insulted by the asking, rather the reverse.”

“So cynical at eighteen.”

“Rather, intelligent.” He reached out and wrapped long fingers around her ankle. “Lahela …”