Kirith Kirin (The City Behind the Stars) (25 page)

The storm continued, furious, a battering like nothing I’d seen since the morning I left my father’s farm. I found Nixva with his family, other daughters and sons of Keikindavii. Taking his bridle in hand, I told him we had to get to Illyn Water, and I mounted. I waited on his back for a moment, watching the path, empty still. Since I could do nothing else, I prayed for their safety.

My own required that I get away from this place as soon as possible. Nudging Nixva with my heels, I headed him for the forest.

We rode for some time through the resounding storm, and I began to wonder if we would find Illyn that day. Rain beat down in a thousand rhythms, leaf to leaf, drops and streams, an endless pulse receding in every direction. The sound was soothing. My heartbeat steadied and my head cleared as we drew away from Aediamysaar.

We were heading east, toward low hills. The storm had followed us. Overhead trees lashed wildly, branches tangling and splitting. Nixva was surefooted as any horse could be, and cut through the rain and wind effortlessly. I lay my head in his mane for a moment, feeling safe and warm against him.

When I sat up again we were at Illyn Water, where the storm was also blowing. Commyna met me, she on horseback, cloaked in a flowing gown, eyeing the heavens like a field marshal. “Thank the Eye,” she said, “I was worried sick. Tell me what happened.”

I told her, quickly. She let me finish and reflected a moment. “That agrees with what we saw.”

“You know what happened?”

“Yes. The Sister Mountain is one of the places we monitor.”

“Why did Kirith Kirin take me there?” I asked.

“To test you. To see if you were a sorcerer. When an adept crosses the inner stone ring, bright runes appear in the pavement. In most cases.” She was smiling as if she had been very clever.

I looked at the ground, suddenly bereft. “Why would it matter so much?”

“Haven’t you guessed? He thinks you practice magic in camp. He thinks you’ve enchanted him. He thinks that’s why he’s fond of you.”

For a moment even the storm made no difference, I heard nothing. I felt nothing. Finally I said, “And I can’t tell him any different without telling him about you.”

“Certainly you can,” Commyna said, with lightning illuminating her features. “By the way you behave.” Seeing me still confused, she said more plainly, “Don’t judge him, or anyone else. You don’t know everything. You care for him, that’s plain. Let that be enough for the moment.”

The storm grew fierce. I asked, finally, “Why didn’t the stones change on the mountain? Why didn’t the runes appear?”

Commyna smiled. “My sisters and I prevented it. But that was also what awakened the power of the place, and what drew the attention of the Wizard.”

I framed one more question in my mind, though by now I knew the answer. I asked, as we were heading through the gray rain for the lakeshore, “What power could you have over the stones on Sister Mountain?”

“Can’t you guess?” Commyna asked in return. “We made the mountain and put them on it.”

2

Following my time at the Lake I was returned to a region near the Prince and the other Jhinuuserret, a few hours ride back of them on another of the cleared roads. Vissyn brought me to the place, actually riding along the road for a while, to make sure I had my bearings. This time I was not returned to the same moment that I had left, but emerged into temporal Arthen on the following morning, when the skies over Ym were country-clear and blue.

Vissyn parted from me in the shadow of a sheer hill with a rocky slope, around the base of which ran the road I would follow. At the top of the hill stood a low ruin, stone walls distinguishable as fortifications as well as the time-wrecked base of a tower. I asked what the place had been and Vissyn answered, “This was one of the fortresses guarding the approach to Montajhena during the war between the Evaenym and Falamar. At he height of the war Montajhena commanded all the country from this hillside to the south Kellyxa.

“Did it have a name?”

Vissyn smiled. “Everything Jisraegen has a name. But I can’t read the name of this place from the stones.” She turned her horse to go. “Follow the road from here,” she said. “Kirith Kirin is ahead of you, you might catch him by nightfall, or at least by morning. He and his friends think you’re lost in the wilderness.”

“I’ll tell them I found the road and followed it thinking they might have done the same.”

She agreed this would be a good story. Bowing her head, she signaled her horse and vanished.

I leaned forward and stroked the firm muscles of Nixva’s neck. He turned to eye me sidewise, making it plain he was ready to go. I said to him, “Teach me to be calm like you are.”

He shook his head, the black mane shimmering. He seemed ready to laugh out loud. Sighing, I nudged him with my heels and he gladly galloped forward.

The day passed in a kind of silence that had become rare for me. I spent the time in solitude, not a soul in sight, only Nixva and me under fair skies. I had some food in my saddlebag and stopped to eat it in a dense part of the forest where faris and oak were mixed, both nearly submerged under heavy nets of dark elgerath, the wildly colored varieties that grow in higher altitudes, blues like bolts of lightning, reds like rubies and oranges like fire. My thighs ached from riding. I ate strips of dried venison and drank cumbre from my flask while Nixva ate grass and sweet leaves. Though the glade was beautiful we did not linger.

In the afternoon Nixva stretched his legs and maintained an awesome pace, eating up the road with his strides, but still we had not caught the others by sunset when we stopped. I found a rock promontory and sang the Evening Song. I had no muuren stone with me, and so had to guess the proper moment. I lit a torch the hard way, with ifnuelyn and tinder, and we rode beneath the light of that and the two moons.

More hours passed, and still we found no camp, no horsemen, nothing but dark road and whispering trees. Finally we stopped for the night. I gathered a pile of wood and built a fire, meaning it to frighten away prowlers. My store of food was low but I had enough to settle the grumbling in my belly. I spread my blanket on the lush, springy grass and with the fire to lull me I soon slept.

Twice I woke and built up the fire. Nixva murmured to me each time, telling me we were safe.

In the morning I had no jaka and no bath either. I changed tunics anyway and began my ride quickly, singing Velunen from Nixva’s back. Once again the lake women never summoned me to Illyn. By midheaven I had not caught Kirith Kirin either, and was beginning to wonder if he had abandoned the road for another path.

But in afternoon I found a camp by the roadside, near one of the obelisk markers. Mordwen was fanning a small flower of flame while Imral Ynuuvil set up a viis-tent beside one that was already staked in place. It was a marvel to watch him perform the task, neat-handedly, no wasted motion. No one else was in sight.

I dismounted some distance from the fledgling fire and walked with Nixva’s reins in hand. Mordwen saw me coming and straightened, soundless, electrified. When he found his voice he said, “Look who’s here, Imral.”

The Drii Prince turned. His pale eyes gave me a slight shock. He patiently finished tying the stake he was presently working on. Touching the unicorn necklace at his throat, he said, “Jessex. It’s good to see you. We were worried.”

“I’ve been trying to find you since yesterday,” I said, swallowing. “I got lost in the forest around Aediamysaar. I’d almost given up.”

“You frightened us half to death,” Mordwen said, “running away like that. You could have wandered around Ym for months before we found you.”

Imral’s tone was matter-of-fact, “We spent hours searching for you before we realized there was too much country to cover. Kirith Kirin was very concerned.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to tell you. I couldn’t stay there.”

Imral considered this. Then he said, with evident feeling, “Why don’t we leave it alone? What happened on Aediamysaar is something I’d like to forget.”

That closed the talk, and I was left to settle into camp. I unsaddled Nixva, leaving him to tell his kinfolk about where we had been while I made myself a pallet against a tall boulder, in a bed of abundant grass.

The fire was crackling steadily by the time the hunters returned with their trophy, two lorus-hares shot through the skull. I was beyond the boulder out of sight, singing Kithilunen quietly, a whisper not even my shadow could have heard. Kirith Kirin asked if Imral would skin the hares and Imral answered that he thought I could probably do it as well as he could, and called me.

I ran up shyly. Kirith Kirin stood there dumbfounded. I watched him. I could see he was confused. “I’m glad you found us.”

“It was luck. I found the road and followed it.”

He said nothing else. It was clear he was not entirely comfortable with my presence and so, stung, I withdrew to my work, borrowing Mordwen’s good Cordyssan hunting knife for the skinning. Karsten knelt to help me, saying nothing.

The hares were warm, their rich blood staining my hands. I felt vaguely sorry as I gutted them and cut them to pieces, scraping their hides free of vestiges of fat, detaching the limbs, the tender breast-meat, spearing the stuff on sturdy branches and hanging it over the fire to cook. When I needed instruction Karsten patiently told me what to do. Mordwen stirred wild onions and mushrooms in a pot, and tea was brewing as well, the various smells hovering over us. Evening had quickly blossomed into night, starless and moonless, it appeared, as some nights are, though we dread them.

When a feeling of quiet had descended, with Kirith Kirin and Imral Ynuuvil sipping wine out of sight, Karsten said to me in a low voice, “Don’t mind him so much. What happened on the mountaintop rattled him.”

“Did you know why he was bringing me there?”

After a moment’s consideration she nodded. “We’ve used Aediamysaar for that same purpose before, and as far as I know others have used the stone circles as a test for sorcery for ages. If a person is wearing so much as a charmed rune-necklace the stone-writing will appear, I’ve never seen it fail.”

“Would it be possible for anyone but the Diamysaar to tamper with the mountain? To keep the stones from lighting?”

She weighed her answer carefully. “I’ve known my share of wizards, and none of them ever attempted to stand on Aediamysaar. Not even Jurel Durassa. Falamar was afraid to go near the place because of his kinship to Cunavastar. Drudaen has apparently inherited his father’s fear, and has always avoided Ym country.”

This made me thoughtful for many reasons. I could feel Karsten watching me but was too preoccupied to say anything. She eyed me with sudden suspicion. “Are you saying the runes should have become visible?”

I gave no answer. But now that the thought had occurred to her it would not be denied. “He thinks you’ve bewitched him, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s done all this. That’s why he brought you to the mountain.”

I sat unmoving, staring into my curved fingers, the laced shadows.

“I don’t think he meant you any harm, Jessex. But if you had ever seen the havoc a magician can wreak among humans, you’d understand why we fear them.”

We had done as much as we could about supper. Karsten said she was going to find a friend with a skin of wine, and she would provide for me when she did. She kissed my brow, almost shyly. I began to wonder if I myself understood all that I had told her by my silence.

I sat watching the roasting game, knees tucked under my chin, the warmth of night wind on my face. Under my breath I was singing, “Muraelonyi” mixed with a country dance song I had known since I was a boy. Thoughts came and went without pattern. I could have sat there till the stars came back and felt as happy.

We ate supper together. I had never felt so relaxed with the twice-named, free to be quiet in their presence, free of the worry that polite conversation might lapse too long. We sat listening to the songs of night birds and insects, the whispering wind in the trees. After a while even Kirith Kirin was at ease. Wine passed round, no one caring how much I drank. When Karsten murmured once about my age Mordwen reminded her my naming-day had just passed, the forty-third day of Khan. Being fifteen, I was now responsible for monitoring my own drink, as practice for my coming adulthood.

Kirith Kirin started to tell a story about Kentha Nurysem, who had often spent mid-winter near Sister Mountain. From the way he talked about the famous sorceress, I could see that she was on his mind for some reason, that this was not the first time her name had come up.