Authors: Randall Garrett
Thanasset stepped in, sounding anxious. “There is no trick to using the Ra’ira,” he said. “New Supervisors learn it quickly.”
“New Supervisors,” Ferrathyn reminded him, “have someone to teach them.”
“Indomel wanted Tarani to help him learn,” I said. “I think it was the main reason he let her stay alive.”
“Then the lady Tarani
can
use the stone’s power?” Ferrathyn asked quietly.
“We’re not sure of that,” I told him. “She was able to read the inscription on the Bronze while she was holding the Ra’ira, but she can’t say whether it was her natural ability, the stone’s power, or her training as a Recorder that let her do it so easily.”
Ferrathyn looked at Thanasset with mock seriousness. “This detail of her being a Recorder—you failed to tell me that, my friend.”
Thanasset smiled. “I warned you the story would be clearer from Rikardon. Yet you chose to take my secondhand account—”
“Thanasset told me your joints were troubling you,” I said to Ferrathyn, smiling at the interplay between the old friends. “I’m glad you felt well enough to come this evening. Should your trouble return on the next occasion, Tarani and I would be honored to come to you.”
“The honor would be mine,” the old man said. “I regret that I have missed meeting the next High Lord of Eddarta, yet again. Do you see any difficulty in her enforcing her claim?”
I opened my mouth, closed it again, and then laughed.
“I
see
no difficulty,” I said. “We have the King’s sword, and her mother’s support, and the weight of the other Lords’ dislike for Indomel on our side. But if difficulties could be anticipated, they would cease to be difficulties, wouldn’t they?”
Both men laughed with me, but I could see their hearts weren’t in it. Ferrathyn, in fact, looked a little ill. A slight tremor stirred the long sleeves of his tunic, where his wrists lay along the arms of the chair.
“It will be several moons before we can bring the Ra’ira back,” I said. “I think I ought to tell you that I took it on myself to tell Zaddorn the truth about—”
“You
what?”
Ferrathyn interrupted, snapping forward in his chair. The trembling in his arms was more noticeable as he clutched the arm of the chair, and his eyes were flashing. “Rikardon, you had no right—”
I felt myself growing angry. “I had as much right as anyone else who knows,” I said, “and far more reason. You forget, I have
faced
the vineh; I know what Zaddorn is up against. And I don’t mean to criticize, but I think keeping the truth from him this long was not only unfair, but dangerous to the citizens of Raithskar he is bound to protect.”
Thanasset had stood up, and now he came between Ferrathyn and me, holding a raised hand toward each of us.
“There is no reason for anger in this,” he said. “Each of you has done what he believed right, has he not?”
The tension lasted a moment longer, then Ferrathyn took a deep breath and relaxed back into his chair. I realized I was leaning forward, too, and made myself sit back.
“You are right as always, my good friend,” Ferrathyn said, reaching out to touch Thanasset’s arm. “It seems you were right to begin with, when you urged taking Zaddorn into the confidence of the Council. I would apologize for opposing you, but the issue seems inconsequential now.”
“Everything is inconsequential,” Thanasset said, “except getting back the Ra’ira.” He looked at me. “I hesitate to ask, son—having you and Tarani and the sha’um here these few days has been a memorable joy—but …”
“You were gone when I woke,” I said. “This is the first chance I’ve had to tell you—we have decided to start the journey back to Eddarta tomorrow.”
Thanasset’s expression flickered between relief and sadness.
“Milda will be upset,” he said. “She spends hours with those cubs.” He sat down. “You will all be missed.”
“Are you taking the young sha’um with you?” Ferrathyn asked, surprised. “Will that not slow your journey?”
“Better a slow journey than none at all,” I said. “Neither of the sha’um would go without the cubs.” I leaned over and slapped Thanasset’s knee lightly. “I know for a fact that Milda hasn’t been out there playing with the cubs all alone,” I said. “They love you both, you know. They will miss you.”
“I expect you will want an early start,” Ferrathyn said, and stood up. I felt glad to see that he did move easily now. Standing, he was barely taller than my head while I was sitting. “I shall not keep you longer.”
Thanasset was up again, protesting. “But it is your first visit in so long,” he said. “Stay a while, and talk.”
“About what?” the old man asked, raising an eyebrow. “The vineh? The Ra’ira? They are the only things worth discussing these days, old friend, and I for one hear enough about them both during the Council meetings.” He turned to me, and pressed my shoulder. “I suspect that telling Zaddorn the truth about the Ra’ira belongs on the long list of good things you have done for our city, Rikardon. I apologize for my outburst. I will inform the Council of his knowledge tomorrow and I—um—”
“I’m sure Zaddorn understands why he wasn’t told at the beginning,” I said.
The old man smiled. “Thank you for trying,” he said, “but I see no way out of it. I shall have to apologize to Zaddorn.” His eyes twinkled. “I find it hard to predict whether I shall choke on the words, or Zaddorn will die of shock. If your mission were not so urgent, I would invite you to stay and watch.”
After Ferrathyn left, Thanasset and I returned to the sitting room and our glasses of barut.
“Zaddorn told me that Ferrathyn had changed,” I said. “I see it, too—he looks older, and that flash of anger was unlike him.”
“The crisis has put him under great strain,” Thanasset said. “And Zaddorn has not helped the situation. He knew the story about vineh illness was a lie the moment he heard it, and he has been pressing Council members at every opportunity for the truth.”
“Challenging Ferrathyn’s leadership,” I said, “just when he felt it had to be strongest, and just when the theft of the Ra’ira had weakened it. Keeping Zaddorn ignorant probably has been a symbol to Ferrathyn, a confirmation of his position as Chief Supervisor. I pulled that symbol away from him by telling Zaddorn the truth.” I shook my head. “No wonder he blew up at me. Apologize for me, the next time you see him, will you?”
“I will not,” Thanasset said. “You were right. Even Ferrathyn saw that, as soon as he calmed down. Not only have you given Zaddorn help in the defense of the city, but you have, I hope, put that symbol to rest, so that Zaddorn and the Council can begin to work together again.”
“What is the Council doing, now that the duty of watching the vineh with the Ra’ira is nonexistent?” I asked.
Thanasset laughed bitterly. “We are paying the price of luxury,” he said. “Organizing work crews to do the cleaning and repairing the vineh used to do. Spending hours each day answering the complaints of people who are impatient with dirty streets, outraged by the idea of cleaning out their own bath filters, or afraid for their safety. Trying to teach people the value of their own labor.”
He sighed.
“It would be a thousand times easier with the Ra’ira,” he said. “I believe I understand how sorely the Kings were tempted.”
The look of shock on my face brought a real laugh from him.
“I am joking,” he assured me. “The Council has reached unanimous agreement: When the Ra’ira is returned, the vineh will be guided westward, to an area where other vineh colonies are located. Then the Ra’ira will be destroyed.”
“How?” I asked.
“How? Smashed, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“Because Serkajon threw it into the rakor forge, and it wasn’t harmed,” I said.
Thanasset gaped at me. We had talked of the time I had spent in the All-Mind, and of what I had learned from the lifememories of Zanek, the first King, and Serkajon, the Sharith Captain who had brought about the end of the Kingdom. Somehow, the detail of Serkajon, while Zanek was Visiting in his body, trying and failing to destroy the blue gemstone, had been omitted.
After a moment, Thanasset threw off his surprise. “A way will be found,” he assured me grimly. “The Council failed its charge by using the monstrous thing. The only way to make up for that is to destroy it. Just bring it here,” he said. “We will find a way to insure it will never be used again.”
In Ricardo’s world, it would have been a tearful farewell. As it was, Milda shifted unpredictably from looking calm and brave to a tearless, desperate sobbing that was heartbreaking to hear. She smiled as she handed me the travel bags she had packed, and sobbed when she hugged me. Tarani hugged her, and they both broke down. Thanasset and I were quieter, but no less emotional than the women. He pounded my back and held me fiercely when I hugged him good-bye. The straight, firm line of his mouth softened and trembled when he bent to caress the cubs one more time.
Thanasset, Keeshah, and I waited beside the double gate for the women to finish their farewells.
“Your garden is ruined,” I said, waving toward the small hill that had been green and flowery only a few days ago, but was trampled and scarred now.
“In the best possible cause,” he said. “I shall take great pleasure in rebuilding it with a large, a very large, open space around the sha’um house.”
I laughed and slapped his back.
“You’re sure you have enough coin?” he asked.
“Plenty,” I assured him.
For some time, I had been wearing a belt with commemorative gold coins sewn inside it. I had changed two of the coins for smaller denominations which were easier to spend, and had traded the rest for less distinctive gold coins of the same value—which were now resewn inside the same belt.
Tarani broke away from Milda, who knelt to embrace the cubs as they ran up to her. Tarani and Yayshah joined us beside the gate. The girl extended her hand toward Thanasset. “You and Milda have been most gracious,” she said.
As he had done when he greeted her, Thanasset took her hand, lifted it, and kissed the palm. “You are a part of us now, Tarani,” he said. “You leave behind an emptiness that we will mourn until you return.”
“I—” she began, but words failed her. The brief awkwardness ended when he opened his arms and she flew into them to hug him.
There seemed to be no more reason to delay. Keeshah’s mind was pushing at me to get going. Yayshah was nudging Tarani from behind, betraying her eagerness to get out of the city. The cubs were alert and curious, not really comprehending what was happening, but ready for the adventure it promised.
Beyond the gate, we could hear people moving about and talking quietly. “Word has spread of your leaving,” Thanasset said. “The people do not know of your mission, but your very presence here has offered them a target for their restless interest, a distraction from the danger. Many will be waiting to watch you leave. Do you see? It is an
event
for them.”
“Yes, I see,” I said, then turned to Tarani. “Ask Yayshah if you may ride.”
“She is willing, I know,” the girl answered. “But did you not tell me that tradition demands walking within the city?” She paused, looking from me to Thanasset, then she smiled her understanding. “I see too,” she said. “The distraction of the ‘event’ outweighs tradition in this case.”
*
Keeshah, I will ride
* I told the big cat.
He registered surprise, but crouched down to let me straddle his back. For now, I left the travel packs slung by their joining rope over my shoulder, and sat up straight. As Keeshah stood up, I could see over the fence. A crowd had indeed gathered, and a murmur traveled quickly down the street as the nearest people saw my head and shoulders appear above the fence.
Yayshah crouched and Tarani mounted much more easily than had been possible when Yayshah had been hugely pregnant. Tarani adjusted her travel bag rope on her shoulder as Yayshah surged to her feet; she nodded. Thanasset opened the gate, and waved at me as Keeshah led the procession into and down the street, through a city packed with cheering people.
The cubs walked between their parents, their energy and curiosity making them zigzag back and forth in the clear lane between lines of people. When the kittens got near the edge of the crowd, a curious twitch occurred in the sea of heads, as some people lunged forward to touch the kittens and an equal number flinched back in fear of the consequences.
*Stay in line,*
I told the cubs, with little hope of obedience. Koshah and Yayshah were frisky, getting more excited by the minute. But they made an effort to comply, and kept their zigzag pattern closer to the center of the lane.
*Thanks,*
I told them.
*We’ll have the chance to run soon, I promise.*
The crowd made me nervous, and that made Keeshah edgy, and his nervousness compounded mine. Yet we gave Thanasset the show he asked for, the sha’um walking with their stately grace up to and through the huge open gate marking the entrance to Raithskar.
Shouts of good will and joy followed us through the gate. Raithskarians knew very little about the present-day society that had grown from the Sharith, the cat-mounted army which had served the Kings. But every Gandalaran knew that only males left the Valley of the Sha’um, and only men could bond with and ride them.
I felt no compunction about accepting the attention of the crowds. Tarani and Yayshah and the cubs were exactly what Thanasset wanted. They were an historical event in themselves.
The crowd followed us for a way outside the city, but stopped when the man in the gray baldric waved them back. The color of his baldric marked him as part of the Peace and Security Force of Raithskar. He was one of several sentries who ringed the city. All of them were armed with swords, daggers, and hollow-bone whistles.
He waved us to a stop, and I slid off of Keeshah’s back to speak with him. He greeted me and nodded to Tarani, then spoke quietly. He looked young. I could tell he was nervous.
“The Chief told me you would be leaving this way,” the man said. “He asked me to wish you a safe journey, and report what we know of vineh groups.”
“Did he warn you the sha’um might stir up another vineh incident?”