Compis: Five Tribes (8 page)

“Really?” she asked. She didn't believe him, since it was obvious he liked her.

“I'm not just saying that because I think you're enchanting and I can't get you out of my mind,” he said, laughing.

She looked down at her hands.

“I almost wish,” she said, looking back up at him without finishing her sentence.

“That you could choose, Nikka?” he leaned forward and ran his hand down the side of her face, brushing aside a curl with this finger.

“Maybe,” she whispered, afraid to say more.

“Would you choose Ignis? It would be a mistake. We have nothing to offer. We're poor and almost without magic. Any other tribe would be a better choice.”

“You're right,” she said, but she didn't move away from his hand, where it still lingered at her cheek.

“I wouldn't want you to choose Ignis, if you could.”

This time she did move back, surprised. “You wouldn't?”

“No, but I do wish we had more time,” he said, and slipped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her toward him inch by inch.

She felt his breath soft on her lips, and felt her eyes close as he touched his lips to hers.
This is no pity kiss, Nikka. What are you going to tell yourself now?

She'd tell herself to be quiet and enjoy it. So she did.

Her lips were as he remembered, soft and warm and her breath was fruity from the juice she'd been drinking. His fingers traced the hairline of her neck, enjoying the silky feeling of her curls and the softness of her skin. Nikka seemed hesitant at first, as though holding back, her mouth still, but then after a moment her lips moved against his and he felt the warm stirrings of desire. He pulled back, slow as not to startle her, but he didn't want to go too far. She was only 17, after all. As a man of 20, he needed to remember that this was only about the gathering. Nothing was ever going to happen outside of that, and taking things too far would only shame them both.

Her eyes opened and she studied him. “Why did you stop?” she asked him, grabbing his hand where it was slipping from around her neck. She twined her fingers with his and brushed her lips across one of the knuckles. He sighed, and brushed his thumb across her mouth.

“Oh, this is such a mistake,” he said, without thinking.

She pulled back, frowning. “Well, I thought you were enjoying yourself, but I see I was mistaken.”

“Nikka...”

“No, it's fine. I don't know why I wasted my time coming out here with you. I don't know why I was looking forward to it.” She stood up, jostling the remainder of the juice in her cup. He stood, as well, in one quick motion.

“Nikka, wait, please,” he said, taking hold of her arm. She paused and he turned her toward him. His left hand grabbed her other arm with a light touch and he pulled her closer, looking down at her irritated face.

“This is a mistake for me, because when I'm with you all I can think about is you, not the tribe you will be Initiated into in mere days. I forget that I'm Ignis and my future is most likely written for me. I'm worried about how I'm going to feel when I see you up on that stage and your robe turns any color but gold.

“I'm an idiot for getting all caught up in you, your smell, your smile, your soft curls,” he said, moving them and tipping her head back in the process.

He leaned down as she reached up, and they met in another kiss. It was even better this time, because he knew she was feeling what he was.

Hold yourself together, Zyan
, he told himself,
this is only a fling. It is nothing and it has no future.

When they parted again, he ignored his brain, which was still screaming at him to LET GO, and he pulled Nikka in to his chest and held her, feeling something akin to what he felt about Alea—protective—and rested his chin on her head. They stood that way for a few minutes, Zyander enjoyed the smell of her hair, flowery and light, then he let her go, smiling down at her with a smile that he hoped said, “I am interested in you, but not for longer than this gathering.”

She frowned again, stepping back.

“I see, and I suppose I understand. This will be an entertaining week, but that is all it can be,” she said.

He took her hand, drawing her outside and under a nearby tree.

“It's probably safer out here,” he said with a sheepish smile. He hated to be the type of person she couldn't be alone with, but the truth was, he lost his head around her.

They sat in front of the tree, its wide trunk comfortably supporting both of them, as long as Nikka was snuggled against his shoulder. She settled against him without apology.

“If we only have a week,” she said and left the rest of her sentence unspoken. “Tell me something of your life.”

Zyander slid his arm to hold her and wrapped a curl around his finger, staring at it for a moment. It was hard to think of something that wasn't depressing.

“My home has been in my family for many years. It was built long before the sickness came, and once many generations used to live there. My father tells me that some time ago, our house was filled with parents and grandparents and great grand parents and great great great great grandparents. We are a long lived tribe, like the Sanguis. And unlike the Aeris, we tend to breed true, even now, as you will see.

“This is all to say, our house is large, our land is large and bleeds into the forest around it. In some places, our land runs into Napalin, the Great Forest. And this is what I will tell you about.

“When I was first Inducted into my tribe, I would sit with my father in our family workshop and try for hours to make the most basic spells work, but my powers are weak. I could never complete a task, because I would use up all the energy that I had to work with. As I said before, this was when I was new to the secrets of my tribe, so I had little control over the overwhelming frustrations I suffered while trying to work spells. At one point, I threw down the moonstone I was working on, and ran from the house out into the gardens and found a path I had never noticed before.

“Napalin is a mystical place, and there are things in it that no one could explain, except maybe the oldest of the elders. Even then I'm not so sure. In my haste to remove myself from the house, I ran down the path as fast as I could and ended up smack in front of the most interesting little cottage I've ever seen.

“It had a nice tall door—for you can see I'm not the short stack you are—and two high windows. The interesting part about it, however, was that it was built into a tree, a very large tree. The roof of the house was no shingled roof, but a twisting mass of bark, swirling up into the dark maelstrom of leafy branches. It was an amazing sight, this tiny little house carved—or better yet, enchanted—into that giant old tree.”

Zyander looked up at the tree they were under, which, being old was quite large, but it carried none of the magnificence of the tree in his story.

“You went in, of course,” she said.

“Of course,” he said, smiling. “I stepped through the door into a room that was made for comfort. On my left was a small wood stove, with an outlet pipe that I couldn't find the exit for when I went back outside. Next to the wood stove was a big soft chair covered with a fuzzy red fabric and a short bookcase filled with book titles I've never seen. On my right was a small round table with two chairs seated around it. It was set for one person and straight ahead was a little cook stove with a kettle steaming with hot water.

“I pulled the kettle off the stove and set it on the trivet that was waiting for me at the table. The cupboard next to the stove held tea and sugar, and the cold cabinet had cream, jam, and small trussel cakes. I sat down and had a fine meal for myself—which was wonderful, because all the running had worked up my appetite.

“After finishing my meal, feeling satisfied and drowsy, I collapsed in the chair and let the warm fire lull me to sleep. When I woke, I felt much refreshed, and I said my thanks to the empty air and left the cottage as it was. I tried many times to find that path on my own, but I was never successful. Yet every time I've needed a place to run away to, somehow that path has moved itself beneath my feet. The room has always been there waiting with whatever I need, which most of the time is a place to think and be away from the pressures of my tribe.”

“Who do you think made the house?” she asked.

“I'm not sure. I asked my father if he knew anything about a cottage in the woods, but he didn't and something about it made me keep its unique properties a secret. If you ever get a chance to visit, we'll have to see if we can find it.”

She was silent for a while. “I'd enjoy that,” she said.

Luka had left May behind with a kiss, and hurried on to where he knew Keran's camp was. Keran had pulled in his wagons a few days ago, forming a semi-circle in the area that the High Council had designated for him. The bright, colorful wagons were all the colors of the tribes, plus more than he could put a name to. Each wagon seemed to have a different theme, as well.

One of the wagons was painted light blue with feathers and white wings on it. Birds swirled on the wind and the sun's rays glistened over the sides of the wagon. Another of the wagons was filled with ocean waves, cheery boats, fish splashing happily and a mermaid waving to all passersby. His favorite was the wagon with a starlit night painted on it. It had all the constellations sprinkled over it in their spreading way--
The Five Sons
,
The Bearded Goat
, and his favorite,
The Sword of Zython
. He walked over that way to look at it again. There was a part of him that wanted to study the night sky and lie awake to see his way past all the stars he knew. Maybe he could discover new ones.

“Do you like that one?” said a voice next to him. He looked up to see Ryd's sister, the tall girl that had been pointed out before, next to him, red braid hanging over her shoulder. She smiled. “I know you, you're acquainted with my brother, yes?”

“I met him the other day, and we've talked a bit,” said Luka, without committing to anything.

“I'm Malina,” she said. “Come, Luka, I'll bring you to him.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“He's with Keran, but they won't mind if you join them,” and gesturing for him to follow, she led the way to the winged wagon.

She opened the door and said something inaudible then turned to him and waved a hand for him to enter. He wasn't that tall, so his crouching was minimal as he stepped onto a foot stool and then inside the cool wagon.
It
is
cool,
he thought, though the day was warm. He wondered if there was a spell involved.

The wagon was one of the more spacious, meant for eating and sleeping, so it had a sleeping area to the left, and to the right a fold-out table and bench. Keran and Ryd sat on one side eating some sort of bird. The smell made Luka's mouth water, and he remembered he hadn't eaten lunch.

“Luka, join us for lunch!” said Keran. He pointed to the bench across from him and Ryd nodded, smiling.

Luka slid into place and nodded to both men. Ryd laid a plate and ware for him, and then spooned out some meat and vegetables. Then he poured Luka a glass of cool wine and set it next to the plate. Needing no further invitation, Luka proceeded to eat, enjoying the mix of herbs and spices and the moistness of the meat.

“So, how goes the life of an Initiate?” asked Keran, between sips of wine.

“We got to see the High Council meeting today, and we go back again tomorrow, which is a relief, for I can not bear the thought of missing the conclusion to today's meeting. Have you heard of what happened?”

“I have. We have been forming contacts among the Five Tribes,” said Keran. “I am interested to hear your thoughts, however. Ryd says you are a deep thinking fellow. What did you think of today's events?”

“I think that though some of the conservatives may object, you will be granted a permanent merchantship to our gatherings, with some fair conditions attached.”

“Yes, that is what I believe, as well,” said Keran.

“There was another theory indirectly brought about,” continued Luka. “One of the Duor arguing in your favor mentioned that you are now filling a niche that the Ignis are losing ground on. It brought about an interesting idea among some of us... that maybe your end goal is to become a tribe and fill the void that Ignis has left. Or maybe even replace them altogether.”

Ryd and Keran exchanged a glance and neither spoke.

“Tell me that's not true! ” He didn't know any of them very well, but Zyander was a nice enough person. He didn't deserve betrayal.

Keran laughed. “Luka, calm down! We admire the Ignis and seek no harm for them. And besides, we have no desire to be a tribe. If we were a tribe, where would the misfits go? Who would serve those who don't fit into the Five Tribes?

“We the tribeless have an important purpose, and my goal is not to usurp any other tribe, but to offer an option to those who have no other place to go. You know that, Luka.”

He was a fool, but he'd gotten so caught up in the events of the day that he'd forgotten to use reason.

“You're right, I'm sorry. You've never led me to believe you wanted anything but fair trade and a measure of legitimacy. It was quite the meeting and I guess I was swept away in all the hubbub. What do you think they'll require of you?”

“We're not sure, although Mordra gave a hint of what it might be,” said Ryd.

“They'll probably make us swear an holy oath to Iam or some such nonsense,” said Keran with a snort.

“Don't you believe in Iam?” asked Luka. It was a shocking idea.

“Does anyone? Of all the people I've talked to, only the Divinaris believe in Iam. To everyone else Iam is just a name to throw around at ceremonies.”

“Not to us,” said Luka. “Not to me.”

His faith was something he didn't talk about, because up until now, he didn't feel he had to. He'd always assumed that everyone in the tribes believed the same as his family. He thanked Iam every day for his good fortune in meeting May and prayed that they would be together. Without that hope for the future, he didn't know how he would be so calm right now, with the Initiation ceremony three short days away.