The Assassins of Tamurin (5 page)

They approached almost timidly, as if Master Lim might yet leap to his feet, draw his sword, and fillet them like a pair of fish. In fact I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t. But I’d seen enough of death to know that he would never sing his way down a road again.

“Sit still, girlie,” the walleyed man said. “Don’t go running off now, till we see what you’ve got in that bag. If you try to scoot. I’ll put an arrow in your back, understand? Is he dead?”

The bowman said, “Dead as old leather,” and slung his bow over his filthy tunic.

I began to scream then, and wouldn’t stop until the bowman hit me across the cheek. It wasn’t a hard blow; I’d had harder from Detrim, but it stopped my shrieks and I began to sob with hopeless grief. I was too frightened to run away, and in any case my legs wouldn’t have carried me.

They ignored me while they stripped poor Master Lim of all he’d owned. I couldn’t look, but I heard them sounding pleased over the sword and arguing about how much the sivara would bring. Then they got around to me. They took my bag, the only gift Rana had ever given me, all my food, and even my walking stick. The walleyed man then grabbed my cloak and was going to rob me of that, too, but the bowman said, “Leave it, she’s got little enough.”

“What for? What do we care?” the other demanded. But he stopped.

The bowman looked at me and said, “I had a daughter near your age once. Wasn’t your father, was he?”

“No,” I croaked. I had no idea what they were going to do next. We Durdana didn’t sell or buy human beings, but I knew other nations did. Maybe the men would take me far away to Abaris or the Yellow Smoke Islands and sell me there.

“Who was he?” the bowman asked. “Uncle? Something else?”

“My friend,” I whimpered. “He was my friend. He could sing and play music and you killed him!” I was suddenly beside myself with fury, enraged at what they’d done, at the waste of it, and I screamed, “You killed him for nothing! Nothing!”

They looked away as if shamed. I didn’t know it then, but they were probably farmers driven off their land by hunger and violence, as desperate as me and likely no more evil.

“He should have been more careful,” the walleyed one said sullenly. “You can keep your cloak. Go on, run off now. We won’t hurt you.”

“You already have,” I said wretchedly. “Let me keep his sivara for him, at least.”

They stared at me as if I’d taken leave of my senses. Then, without another word, they turned and hurried into the forest the way they’d come.

After they were gone, I cried over Master Lim. When I ran out of tears I arranged his body with as much dignity as I could; at least the bowman had taken the arrow away, so I didn’t need to attend to that. I had neither the tools nor the strength to bury him, and I had no fire to bum a lock of his hair for the ritual ashes. But I whispered some prayers and scattered some flowers over him, hoping their beauty would help his idu-spirit find rest in the Quiet World.

Mid-aftemoon had come and gone by the time I finished. I now wanted to curl up near Master Lim and sleep for a long time, but I knew I had to go on. We had just begun to eat when the bandits came, so my belly was almost empty, and it would remain so till I reached Gladewater. Even then I’d have to work before somebody would feed me, so I had no time to lose. I left poor Master Lim behind, and tried not to think about how the carrion birds, which were already gathering overhead, would treat him once I was gone.

For a long time all I could think of was how close I’d come to a new life and how two stupid and worthless men had swept it all away. If I’d felt glum before I met Master Lim, I felt worse now, and was so wrapped in my misery that at first I didn’t notice the faint sounds from ahead. When I did, I stopped short and listened. The road was so twisty that I couldn’t see what was making the noise, but it sounded like people thumping the ground with heavy wooden mallets.

I wasn’t going to be surprised again. I slipped off the road and hid in some tassel bushes, through whose slender leaves I could see without being seen. The noises got closer and louder till I felt the earth quivering under my bare knees. Suddenly, from around the next bend, came a throng of at least thirty men, wearing armor lacquered in hues of tan and slate blue. On their heads were spiked helmets, and they rode enormous brown animals whose tread made the ground shake, and I realized, with terrified delight, that these must be
horses.

I knelt behind my bush, rigid with indecision. The men didn’t look like bandits, and I was desperately hungry. Also I had nothing left to steal, at least nothing that people like these would want.

And then I saw, in the middle of the riders, two grown women and two girls. That made my choice for me. I scrambled from behind my bush and jumped into the road, almost under the hooves of the lead horse.

I didn’t know about horses then, and bedlam followed. The animal whinnied with alarm and shied violently, almost pitching its rider from his saddle. The other mounts, taking fright from the first, reared and pranced and tried to run off into the bushes. Horrible curses seared the air as the riders struggled to control their mounts. Terrified of the flailing hooves and the bellowing men, I threw myself to the ground and wrapped my arms around my head.

The racket died away, replaced by the nervous stamping of the animals and the mutters and snarls of the men. I gingerly raised my head and saw a number of iron-tipped lances pointed at my face. The blades looked very sharp.

“What in the gods’ name do you think you’re playing at?” It was the lead rider, the one whose horse I’d frightened. He was a big man with sweeping russet mustaches and a strong.

hard face. He’d have been about Detrim’s age, but my Foster Father had never worn such gear as this. The hem of his armored tunic had gold edgings, his helmet spike was gold, and his sword hilt was set with bright jewels. I realized to my horror that I’d almost unhorsed the leader of this amazing band. He must be a very mighty lord to wear such riches, and I’d already made him mad at me.

I struggled to my knees and he saw I was a child. He lowered his lance, as did the others. I spotted some suppressed grins, and my hopes rose a little. They might give me something to eat after all.

“My lord,” I quavered, “I’m sorry I frightened your horse, if that’s what it is. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know it was so easy to scare them.” I had noticed vaguely that he spoke not quite as I did. I didn’t realize then that I was hearing the accents of the north.

A couple of the grins widened. In the comer of my eye I saw the women watching me. One was a small round lady of bland appearance and early middle age, wearing a brown traveling duster and a broad-brimmed leather hat to keep off the rain; the second woman was young enough to be her daughter and very beautiful. The two girls, who were not much older than I, regarded me curiously, as if I were some exotic forest animal that had jumped out of the thickets for their entertainment.

And then I noticed that they were paler of face than the villagers who had surrounded me all my life. They didn’t look quite like the people of Riversong. In fact, they looked like me.

I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t say a word. The horses tossed their heads and waved their long silky tails and peered sideways at me. Several were short, sturdy-looking beasts that bore huge wicker panniers. Others, longer in the leg, were obviously spare mounts, since they carried no burdens. There must have been nearly fifty of the creatures.

The lord scowled down at me from his vast height and said, “Where’s your village, girl? Are we nearly at the Wing?”

“N-no, you’re not, great sir,” I stammered. “It’s almost two days farther on. I’ve been traveling and I’m hungry because some—”

“But is this the road to Riversong?”

Why would people like these want to travel to such a place? “Yes, great lord. I come from there.”

He began to speak again, but the small lady said, “Ekrem,” in a quiet voice, and he instantly fell silent. Then she edged her mount toward me, and as I saw how Ekrem moved from her path, I realized that it was not the gilded and armored warrior who led these people but this unremarkable woman with the round kindly face.

I was still on my knees. “Get up, girl,” she said. I obeyed. It would have been hard not to; her voice, though soft, had a compelling power.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Lale, honored lady.”

“Family name?”

“I don’t have one, honored lady. I’m a foundling. I have no ancestors.”

Her green eyes narrowed slightly. “You have the look of a northerner.”

“I might be, ma’am. I was washed up at Riversong in a boat. Nobody knows where I came from.”

“Ah. Why are you so far from your village?”

“I left, honored lady. They wouldn’t give me enough to eat. I’m going to High Lake to find something better.”

“Are you, now?” she asked. And then she said, “Have you met a man on this road? He is a fabulator named Lim. You will have seen him in Riversong some months ago.”

At this reminder of poor Master Lim, I burst into tears; I couldn’t help it. Then, through my sobs, I told her what had happened. She listened carefully and her round face became hard as I wept out my story.

When I sniffled into silence she said, “And your name is Lale, and you came to Riversong in a boat, and you have no family.”

I nodded. Her eyes never left my face. I wanted to ask how she knew Master Lim, but it seemed impertinent when she and I hadn’t been properly introduced. So, remembering a phrase I’d heard in one of Lim’s songs, I ventured, “Honored lady, may I have the honor of knowing who it is who addresses me?”

Her mouth twitched at one comer. “Where did you hear that manner of speech?”

“From Master Lim, honored lady.”

She said, “There’s nothing wrong with your memory, is there?” And then she said, “Since you ask, I am Makina Seval, the Despotana of Tamurin.”

A Despotana? Plunged utterly out of my depth, I could only goggle at her. She looked so little like a ruler. Where were the jewels, the scarlet and gold gossamin, the great carriage? Or the look of majesty and the regal bearing, for that matter? Aunt Adumar, if you’d washed her hair, would have resembled a Despotana more than this short, plump woman. And I’d never heard of a Despotate named Tamurin.

But she paid no attention to my discourteous stare and said, “Ekrem, have her ride with one of your men. We’ll find Lim.” Before I knew what was happening, I found myself squashed between a soldier’s armored chest and his high saddle front, and he was telling me in very strong terms not to grab for the reins even if I was falling off. An instant later the horses were thundering down the road with me clinging desperately to the pommel, and Ekrem out in front with his lance at the ready. I realized the two girls must be riding as hard as the men and I felt a stab of envy. I wanted to be able to ride like this, too.

I had never realized that horses could cover ground so fast. In a tenth of the time I’d needed to walk the distance, we were rounding the curve where the log was. A cloud of snail kites and carrion hawks poured into the air and I felt sick, knowing whose flesh they’d been at.

We halted. Master Lim was still there, but I didn’t look closely at what was left, because I wanted to remember him handsome and alive, and not dead and horrible. My soldier dumped me onto the ground and I sat by the roadside while Ekrem went to inspect the remains. I heard the Despotana say, “Nothing?” and Ekrem answer, “No, my lady, they took his last stitch.”

He cut a lock of Master Lim’s hair for the ritual ashes and set some of his men to digging a grave. Nobody paid much attention to me, but they didn’t tell me to go away either, so I stayed put. Then other soldiers began unloading the pack horses and I realized they were setting up camp. The sun was now well into the west, rain clouds were gathering again, and I wondered if the Despotana might be gracious enough to give me shelter as well as a meal.

The soldiers were very quick and practiced. In short order the horses were tethered in neat lines, the roadside had sprouted tents, cooking fires were alight, small iron cauldrons had appeared on tripods over the flames, and I smelled herbs simmering. My mouth watered. Surely they wouldn’t begrudge me a little something, if only for telling them what had happened to Master Lim?

I’d already noticed that the two girls had been watching me. Finally they came over to where I was sitting. I didn’t know how to act toward aristocrats of my own age—or of any age for that matter—and, besides, I was tired. So I didn’t act particularly respectful but simply nodded and said, “Hello.” They were dressed in traveling clothes much like the Despotana’s, but wore no hats. One seemed about a year my senior, the other a bit older than that. Both had straight brown hair trinmied into sleek helmets, beside which my long tangled mane looked like a pile of underbrush.

“Hello,” the older one said. The stockier of the two, she had a round face like the Despotana’s. “I’m Sulen. This is Dilara.”

Dilara was thin and sinewy, her eyes dark green on each side of an upturned snub nose. Her mouth was a touch too large for her chin, which was square and firm. She eyed me thoughtfully. I eyed her back.

“Are you running away from home?” she asked in a manner that suggested she knew all about such undertakings.

I nodded. Their accent was like Ekrem’s. “Are you the Despotana’s daughters?” I asked.