The Glass Mountains (20 page)

“Perhaps we’ll meet your friend and everything will go smoothly.”
 

“My friend would kill me, and perhaps you, too.”
 

“Then how can you two be friends?”
 

“We’ve known each other since childhood, but if we meet tonight he will have his duty to the army and I my obligation to you and my desire to live. If I see him first I’ll kill him first; if he sees me first, he’ll kill me first—if he can. But you’re the real catch, not me. So I hope you’re lucky tonight and that your luck protects us. Even as I risk my life, I find I have no desire to suffer for you. I seek to aid you, not to die.”
 

“I had no idea we would be in such danger. What difference should one day make? Why did you let me stay?”
 

There was a long pause. “I don’t know, when you asked ... But it was a mistake, certainly.”
 

For a moment his voice sounded so stricken it was as if his eyes could penetrate the trees, and see his father lying at home, and see himself making his first wrong decision after a lifetime of making correct decisions. He fell into deep contemplation, quickly, the way a person might fall off a cliff, but then just as quickly he shook himself out of it. I turned in the direction of Bakshami, but my eyes couldn’t penetrate the trees. Shami barked. But it was only an animal scurrying through the trees.
 

“Quiet,” I snapped. I needed to repeat myself three times before Shami came to attention.
 

“She’s no better trained than that?”
 

“I didn’t raise her.”
 

“Something is wrong,” he said. “If we get separated, keep going east. Is that clear? No matter what happens, go east. Can you feel which way east is? You must be able to feel the way.”
 

“But where will you be?”
 

“I hope to be with you, but it may not be possible. And one more thing.”
 

“Yes.”
 

“If there’s trouble keep only your knife. Don’t worry about the pack on your back. Whoever is chasing you will probably be able to move more quickly than you and will certainly be stronger, so you’ll need every advantage. If there’s trouble and the dogs are with you, don’t bother about them. Because whoever is chasing you won’t care about the dogs. Nobody gets promoted for capturing dogs, even Bakshami dogs. Are you ready? It’s not far to the border.” I felt stuck there, my legs heavy and metallic.
 

“If they catch me will they let me integrate?” I said.
 

“That choice will be gone if they catch you. But they won’t.”
 

“Now I feel Tarkahna is the lucky one for having made a different decision.”
 

“You’re lucky, too, but your luck will have to carry you someplace different. Remember what I said about seeing things for what they are. If you can’t do that, we’re going to be wasting a lot of time, and maybe wasting our lives here tonight.”
 

“I’m ready. I just got scared for a moment. I’m going to find my parents.”
 

We hurried into the night. Such was my alertness that my confidence rose, and I felt as if I were invisible and soundless.
 

Even I could hardly hear the sound of my footsteps as I moved across the dirt. Fear gave way to the exhilaration of the adventure. The air was dead tonight, and such sounds as I heard clearly came from the area closest by, from the dogs or myself. Moor was so quiet I knew he was there only from instinct. I tried to concentrate on knowing which way was east. Now and then I needed to readjust my direction somewhat as Moor guided me along.
 

The forest’s darkness shocked me, like no darkness I’d ever encountered. The difference between opened eyes and closed ones was barely perceptible. At times I thought closed gave me an advantage because it heightened my other senses. I concentrated on going east. The border is east, I said to myself with every step. The border is east.
 

I’m not sure how much time passed. But suddenly Moor grabbed my arm and pulled me mercilessly through the forest, half dragging me. Branches ripped into my clothes and skin, and I felt blood falling down my face. And I could hear something chasing us. I released my pack and stupidly tripped over it, almost bringing us both down. The noise of my pack falling sounded like an avalanche to my ears. I clutched my knife tightly, but it still didn’t feel like an extension of my hand.

“Run,” said Moor, and suddenly he was not with me any longer.
 

There was the sound of quick movement through the forest, but I kept east. I repeated “east, east” to myself like a ritual chant. The sound of movement wasn’t getting any closer to me, but farther away, and when I heard a bark I realized it was the dogs running. If I could catch up with them, I would feel safer. Bits of moonlight filtered through the trees now, and my eyes devoured the light. I still seemed to be moving in the right direction. I knew whoever was giving chase, if indeed anyone was, was more adept at moving through this forest, meaner and stronger, but I did not believe that person could outrun me. Moor might have thought otherwise, but I knew my speed and grace to be considerable. And yet someone was gaining on me.
 

I hoped it was Moor. I continued to run, I hoped, east.
 

Unbelievably, before me I saw dim light, and I knew I approached the Mallarr border. Moor had said the Soom Kali respected the border because the Mallarr were clients of Artroro. I crossed the border as several Mallarr soldiers looked on with amusement. “Hey, girlie, girlie,” they called out in high silly voices. They laughed but then came to attention, and I turned to see a Soom Kali man standing at the border behind me.
 

“Mariska,” he said. “I’m Moor’s friend. He’s hurt. You must come back and help him.”
 

I walked back toward the border as the Mallarr soldiers hooted. “Crazy girlie, first she runs out, and now she returns!” But I didn’t cross over.
 

“Is he badly hurt?” I called out.
 

“It’s his leg.” He saw my hesitation and continued. “But don’t come after all. He asked me to tell you he loves you and to go on without him. I can show you where he is if you wish, but he wanted you to leave him.”
 

That sounded true to me. That would be exactly what he would want.
 

“Put down all your weapons and go in front of me,” I said.
 

He set down one weapon, but I saw a knife in his belt, a knife he no doubt used better than I used mine. “That’s right, I don’t blame you for doubting me. You’re a smart girl. No wonder Moor loves you so very much.” He took several steps away from me with his hands up, and his mouth stretched into a disarming smile. His smile was quite beautiful. I took one step over the border, and he took a step back. This man did not seem so strong, so fast, or mean.
 

The man stepped back once more, still smiling. I relaxed a bit and had scarcely loosened my grip on the knife when his smile turned into a sort of grimace. It was amazing how the slightest adjustment in his mouth changed his gorgeous smile into something almost like a contortion of his lips. He did not grimace at me, however, but at Moor, who had just approached. The Mallarr soldiers fell silent as knives flew through the air, Moor’s knife hitting his target in the heart, his friend’s knife hitting Moor’s leg, and my knife arcing uselessly to the ground.
 

For several moments Moor and I stood there. Dark liquid trickled from Moor’s friend.
 

There was nothing but silence, or else the ringing in my ears drowned out all noise from outside. Moor reprimanded me. “I said don’t stop going east. He might have killed you.”
 

Moor was staring at his friend. “Forgive me, if you can,” I said.
 

“For what?”
 

“For having caused you to kill your friend.”
 

“I haven’t killed him.” The man on the ground groaned softly, and Moor kneeled to examine him. “But he’s going to die, I’m certain of that. His heart is cut.”
 

His friend groaned louder. “Kill me, please. This last favor I ask you.”
 

“Forgive me,” said Moor.
 

“All forgiven, friend.”
 

Moor stabbed the man through the heart again, wincing just slightly, and then cleaned off his knife with leaves. “Pick up your knife,” he said shortly. His friend didn’t move again. His clothes rustled in the wind like the dead leaves around him.
 

“How old is he?” I asked.
 

“My age. We were born within a day of each other.”
 

We walked quietly back over the border, Moor limping. The soldiers walked toward us.
 

One of the soldiers stopped us with a gesture. “The girl is Bakshami,” said the soldier, “but what are you? You look like a Soom Kali to me. You’re not allowed in this country without a warrant, Soom Kali.”
 

“He’s Bakshami,” I said. “I know he’s very tall. Everybody made fun of him as a child because he was so tall.” The man looked at me with amused disbelief, and I realized that a reckless lie might do more harm than the truth. But I couldn’t stop myself. “It’s true,” I pleaded.
 

“I know it’s not true, so don’t lie until you learn how to do it. But I have no desire to make a scene. Making a scene sometimes costs a life. Probably it would be your life, Soom Kali, but it might be mine. I’ve witnessed that taking a life means little to you. Making a scene also sometimes prevents the earning of money that might otherwise have been earned. In Soom Kali at least they know how to take care of their soldiers. But a soldier’s pay is low here.”
 

Moor opened my pack, which I noticed for the first time he carried, and pulled out a single gem, one of the smallest ones. The soldier’s eyes lit up. Moor handed the gem to the soldier, who bowed slightly and walked away with the gem in his pocket. When the other soldiers crowded around the one with the gem, he ignored them and continued walking. They looked toward us, but Moor was already pulling me away.
 

We walked just out of sight before he collapsed and opened up his own pack. He took out a metal container and spread foul-smelling ointment on his leg. Then he tied a piece of cloth around his thigh. “It’s nothing. I’ve been injured worse many times.” Perhaps I looked as aghast as I felt, because he smiled cockily and lifted the leg of one of his pants. Several scars marred the skin. “The Soom Kali learn how to use knives by using them.” He pointed at one of his scars. “My friend also gave me this scar. We played often as children, and even then we were almost evenly matched.”
 

“I tried to make the knife become a part of me. If it had I might have killed one man to save another. In my sector no one kills another person.”
 

Moor nodded with understanding and stared back again toward his home, stared in that way that made me believe he could see through trees. I noticed for the first time that his jacket no longer bulged with a weapon. He seemed terribly vulnerable.
 

“Where is your weapon?”
 

He checked his jacket distractedly. “Gone,” he said simply. There was something inconsolable in his eyes, and I knew it was I, flirting with my own power over him and causing him to ignore his own good judgment about staying an extra day, that had brought that look to his eyes. In the distance were only a few tattered buildings. We huddled into some bushes and sat quietly. I slept on his shoulder and dreamed about the past, about the round leaves of tansan trees dropping to the dusty ground, and about the circles of dust that surrounded my sector. As I’d once dreamed about being a woman, I now dreamed about being a girl full of longings to leave those trees and that dust. And when I woke up I was a woman, and the trees and dust of my childhood lay far away.

Part Five

1

Mallarr was a small, corrupt monarchy that served as one of the buffer sectors between Soom Kali and Artroro. Because Mallarr had aligned itself with Artroro, Soom Kali dealt cautiously with it. The Mallarr government supposedly allowed no Soom Kali in their sector, but because of the corruption of almost everyone in Mallarr, we easily found someone to fly us to the Artroro border. Moor wanted to get as quickly as possible to Artroro, where we hoped to lose ourselves in the crowds. He was worried about his friend’s death. Soldiers were accorded great status in his sector, and the murder of a soldier meant almost as much as the murder of a prominent leader. The killing joined Moor and me closer together, but I hated being tied together in this way. It was as if my whole life—past and future—were now colored by this killing. I would not have blamed Moor for hating me, but he did not. He took responsibility for his friend’s death, just as I did. But at the same time he possessed a coldness that I knew all warriors possessed at times. He hired us a plane, and I saw nothing in his eyes but coldness. I knew he would not let me use my power in this way over him again.