Moonscatter (15 page)

Teras rubbed his arm. “We were just watching the dancing. My brother and me.”

Tuli nodded, watching the wrinkled face, relaxing at the little man's calm acceptance of what Teras said. She began to think they'd come out of this without more problems, swallowed a smile at the ease with which they they were fooling these people.

“Yoonglins like you ought to be in bed this late.”

Teras licked his lips, scuffed his toes in the dirt. He was enjoying himself, Tuli felt that. Men were sometimes so dumb, they just didn't think anyone younger than them had any brains. His eyes on his boot toes, Teras muttered, “We sneaked out. Climbed down a tree. My brother and me, we do that all the time.” He started to put his hand in his pocket, but the man Thom grabbed his arm. “I'm not gonna do anything.” Teras jerked his arm loose. “I just wanna show you.…” He pulled the sling from his pocket. “See?”

“Any good with that, yoonglin?” The little man looked mild and disarmingly simple; his wrinkles trembling, he was almost beaming at Teras.

“I usually hit what I aim at.”

The little man moved to one side, the firelight catching the folds of skin, deepening the lines until he looked grotesque, as if he wore a mask painted with red and black lines. He waved his hand at a wagon a short distance from the fire. “See that basin on the side of the drogh?”

“Drogh?” Teras was running the sling through his fingers. He was shaking a little, blinking and a bit worried. Tuli looked where the little man was pointing. The basin was a dim round that flickered as its shiny bottom reflected the cookfire close by. It seemed big enough to be a fair target. Tuli crossed her fingers, hoping the fire was bright enough to ease Teras's problems with moonlight.

“The wagon there. Make that basin sing, boy.”

Teras nodded. He reached in his pocket and brought out a pebble. He whirled the sling about his head until it sang, then with a quick expert flick of his wrist sent the small worn stone flying. The basin rang like a gong.

“Good enough, boy.” The little man shoved his hands into the pockets of his short black jacket. “Take back a lappet or two these nights, do you?”

The tension went out of the watchers. They began to wander off, back to their fires or their groups to talk over what had happened.

“Can we go now?” Teras shoved the sling into his pocket and moved a step closer to Tuli. “We didn't mean to bother you.”

“Bring the boys here, Gorem.” Tuli jumped. The big woman's voice startled her. She began to feel apprehensive again when she realized that the woman spoke without any accent. Why this bothered her she wasn't sure, but she dragged her feet as she followed Teras and the little man Gorem around the fire. He stopped them in front of the woman, walked on another step to drop on his heels beside her, his head just a little higher than the line of her massive thighs. Her face was broad across the cheekbones, narrowing to a squarish chin. Her mouth was large and mobile, set now in an intimidating downcurve. “Rane,” she said, “you and Lembas stay, the rest of you scat.” She thrust out her hands, fluttered them as if she shoed away a clutch of oadats.

Rane was the flute player, a tall thin woman in a man's tunic, trousers and boots. She had a mountain-bred's lanky build and pale hair. Her eyes were unexpectedly dark. In the fire and moonlight their color was indeterminate, but they certainly weren't the pale blue usual in her kin. They tilted down at the corners above high narrow cheekbones. She smiled at Teras and Tuli, amused and tolerant but maybe not so easy to fool.

Lembas was shorter, stockier, with arms that looked too long for his broad body. His hair shone like silver in the moonlight; his face was round like a baby's and rather too pretty. He stood tossing a stone idly from hand to hand, his delicately curved mouth set in a slight smile that failed to reach dark eyes.

“Your names, boys.” The big woman leaned forward, the chair creaking under her. “I am called Fariyn.”

“Teras, cetaj, and this is my brother Tuli.”

“Not cetaj, Teras. Fariyn.” She settled back in the chair; it creaked alarmingly with each shift of her massive body but that didn't seem to bother her. “Now then, what are we going to do with you?”

Teras lifted his chin, stared defiantly at her. “Do? Why do anything? Just let us go. We can get back home easy enough.” Tuli nodded vigorously. “Let us go,” she said. “We didn't do nothing.”

Fariyn glanced up, her eyes searching out the circling forms of the traxim, her face grim. She looked from Teras to Tuli. “This is not the time to be fooling about after dark, boys. I think you need a lessoning. Who's your pa?”

Teras pressed his lips together and shook his head. Tuli prodded at her own brain, frightened in earnest now, trying to find a way out of this closing trap. “No!” she burst out, then wished she hadn't when she felt Teras stiffen beside her. “No,” he said firmly. “Da 'ud tear hide off if he found out we were night running. Just let us go, we won't do it again.”

Fariyn rubbed at her nose. “We got trouble enough these days being what they are. Who's your pa?”

Teras shook his head.

Fariyn turned to Rane. “There's a town a few miles east of here, isn't there? You know this part of the Plain better'n me.”

Rane nodded. “About a half hour's ride.”

“Good.” Fariyn scowled at Teras. “You won't talk to us, boy, then we take you and turn you over to the Agli there.”

“No!” Tuli cried out, her shout blending with her brother's. They whipped around and darted away, ducking and dodging as Rane and Lembas chased after them. Tuli stumbled, scrambled to her feet, but Rane's long fingers closed on the neck on her jacket; she twisted hard, a sudden skilled jerk of her hand that brought Tuli whirling around.

“Be still,” Rane said. Her cool fingers slid up onto Tuli's neck, nipped hard suddenly. A roaring filled Tuli's ears and blackness slid across her eyes. Then the pressure was gone and she could hear and see again. “Be good,” the long thin woman said, her voice quiet, a little amused. “We won't hurt you.”

Tuli heard a scuffle, then Lembas came past her, pushing Teras ahead of him. Rane urged her after them, her strong slim fingers a warning pressure on Tuli's neck. The twins were marched back to Fariyn and left standing dejectedly in front of her.

She was smiling, an amused twinkle in her dark eyes. “Boren,” she said, “these two don't seem to relish talking to an Agli.” The little man's wrinkles spread again as his lips stretched in his version of a smile. “So.” Fariyn looked from Teras to Tuli. Her smile faded. “Rane, bring me that one closer.” She pointed to Tuli.

Urged by a hand in the small of her back, Tuli stumbled forward. She knelt at Fariyn's command. The big woman bent over her, looked intently into her face. She slipped long strong fingers under Tuli's chin, forced her head around, drew a firm forefinger along her jawline. “So.” A soft, drawn-out hiss, filled with satisfaction. Fariyn took her hand away and settled back in her chair. “I don't think you're a boy at all.”

Tuli kept her head stubbornly down. She said nothing.

“Go back to your brother, child. I have to think a minute.”

Tuli scrambled to her feet and stood beside Teras, rubbing at her neck where Rane's fingers had bitten hard into the muscle.

Fariyn rubbed her broad thumb against her forefinger, slowly, repeatedly, her dark eyes focused on the fire, a contemplative look on her face. After a moment she scratched at the drooping tip of her long nose, tilted her head back, her eyes following the black shadows circling high above the camp. Finally she nodded as if she'd made up her mind about something. With a vast fluttering of petticoats, she got onto her feet. “Rane, Lembas, bring those two inside. Come, Gorem, there's more here than we want to spread about.” She looked past him at the dark figures around the cook fires. “Yes, well.” She started up the back steps of the drogh, the box swaying back and forth under her weight. The little man followed behind like an oadat chicklet at its mother's tail.

The inside of the drogh was something of a surprise to Tuli. It was lit by several delicate oil lamps with bowls of etched glass. The oil in the reservoirs was scented and filled the small neat room with a smell something like that of fresh-mown hay. The wooden floor was covered by a Sankoy rug that glowed with jewel colors. Along one wall a chest with a padded top served as a seat. It had carved panels with floral designs and pillows piled thick over the embroidered pallet. Fariyn sat in an armchair placed against the wall opposite the door, an elaborately carved seat almost like a throne. She nodded at Gorem who threw two pillows on the floor by her feet. “Sit yoonglins,” she said briskly. “Be welcome in my house.”

Lembas stopped in the doorway, one shoulder pressed to the jamb, his free hand tossing and catching the stone he'd been fooling with before, his eyes turned outside, a sentry watching to see that no one came close enough to overhear what was said inside.

Rane and Gorem sat on the wall seat, Rane at the far end, her face lost in shadows, Gorem nearer to Fariyn.

Feeling helpless and afraid, Tuli did what she was told and sank onto one of the pillows; she crossed her legs and spread shaking fingers on her thighs. Teras stood beside her. His hands were fisted against his side as he struggled with his own inner turmoil. He hated giving away to emotion, needed the feeling that he was in control of his body if not of his life. He faced Fariyn determined to give nothing more than he absolutely had to.

Fariyn sighed. She rested her arms along the carved wood, her fingers closing on the worn finials. “Sit down, boy. We're not going to eat you.”

He flushed, his ears turning pink. Moving stiffly, he folded down, perching on the pillow like a scutter about to run.

“I thank you.” Fariyn smiled, her eyes amused again. She turned to Gorem. “We have a mystery here, friend. Two local lads sneaking out to hunt small game, he tells us, innocent as a new-hatched foal. But one of the lads isn't a lad at all, though a sibling certainly, given the strong likeness between them. Brother and sister, I think. And he won't name his pa, a simple enough thing one would think. And the two of them panic when I talk about giving them over to an Agli.” She chuckled. “Though I don't fault their taste in that.”

“Nor I.” Gorem leaned back against the wall, relaxed, the lamp over his head lighting gleams in his sunken eyes. “It does give us a strong bargaining point.”

Teras glanced at Tuli. She reached out and took his hand. “I don't know,” she said softly, slowly. “Gong?”

“No.” His fingers tightened around hers. “No warnings.”

“What do we do?”

“What we have to.”

Fariyn nodded. “Sharp, aren't they. We don't have to spell out their choices.”

Rane spoke, her voice calm and remote, cool as falling water. “Don't tease them, Fariyn.”

Tuli stared down at her knees. “Nilis wouldn't like that dance.”

Teras grinned. “No way.” He looked up at the painted ceiling, not seeing it, his thoughts written on his face. “The traxim, Tuli. They wouldn't be watching their own.” He turned to gaze at Rane. “Or her, a woman wearing man's clothes. We could ask.”

“Do it.”

Teras faced Fariyn. Beside him Tuli fixed her eyes on the big woman, striving to read behind the smiling surface. “Are you for Soäreh?” he asked.

“No more than we have to be.” The answer came from behind them. Rane earned a sharp look from Fariyn for her interference. As the twins slued around to stare at her, she said, “Sometimes we have to trust. Isn't that what we're asking them to do?” She rubbed her thumb thoughtfully over a section of her jawline. “Besides, Fariyn, I think I know these two.” She smiled as at a pleasing memory. “I stopped at your father's Tar six years ago at spring planting. I was a meie then. My shieldmate and I helped set out the pot-grown diram and strew the maccla seed. You two were a pair of zhag-born brats wilder than panga in rut. Twins. No, Teras, I won't say the name, better not even here, but that's a long way south of here. What happened?” She leaned into the light. “Look close, young Tuli. Remember the night of the Primavar? You were chasing Teras across the green and slammed into me, knocking me sprawling. My face bounced off a crock of cider someone had left sitting beside one of the fest boards. It broke and I got this.” She tapped a short curving scar, a gouge out of her jawline. “I was bleeding like a throat-stuck hauhau, but I grabbed at you.” She chuckled, spread out her left hand, wiggling her thumb to call attention to a ragged scar that circled it near the base. “You nearly bit it off.”

Teras and Tuli scrambled around and scooted closer to her, stared up into jewel-bright green eyes, a dark, shining green like brellim leaves with a faint hint of blue behind the green. Tuli reached up, touched the scar on Rane's face. “I remember.” She grimaced. “Da whaled us some good. And made us stay in our rooms till the whole fest was over.”

Rane chuckled. “Zhag-born brats.” She shook her head, sighed. “You're in trouble, twins. Tell us. Mayhap we can help.”

“If this reunion is over?” Fariyn's voice trembled with laughter, but it brought Teras and Tuli back to the pillows.

“Foarin's tithe. It started with that …” Teras began.

“No. With Nilis,” Tuli broke in.

He frowned. “I don't think so. I think it started for Cymbank when the Agli came. And the weather was so bad we had a hard time getting the winter plantings done. Spring was almost worse. Storms. And come harvest everyone was out in the fields trying to save as much of the crops as we could, even the Cymbankers shut down their shops and come out to help and a lot was lost. We know we're facing a hard winter. Used to be when Hern was still in Oras, a harvest like this, he let most of the tithe go and then this Decsel comes down from Oras from Floarin Doamna-regent saying she wanted the full tithe, same as she'd get from a regular harvest, and the taromate they decided to protest and Da was going to go to Oras.…” He looked down at his hands and in a dull, weary voice told them the rest of it.