The Plains of Kallanash (65 page)

“Then it’s better for all of us that your mission failed,” she said crisply.

“Yes! I agree! But if we go back now, having failed, I do not know what will happen to us.”

Another sharp burst of fear spiked through him. Nothing good would happen to him, he had said, and Mia could well believe it. A ruthless people indeed.

“No.” She spoke louder than she intended, making him jump, for her mind was filled with his fear. Dethin stirred, and his hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. “No,” she said, more quietly. “There has been enough blood spilled, one way or another. Let us have no more of it. I daresay it will not be easy for you here, marked as you are…” She pointed to his hands, the tattoos visible.

He spread his hands out, palms upward. “They will fade. On us, tattoos are not permanent. But I will always be different in other ways.”

“Your looks, you mean?”

“That, and the accent, and the different beliefs. It is hard to shake off the customs imbued since birth.”

“There is no reason why you should,” Mia said. “Different doesn’t mean wrong.”

He beamed at her, looking almost childlike. “You are very generous, Most High. I am grateful.” And he bowed, hand to chest.

As he leaned forward, she caught a flash of silver chain at his neck, and was reminded of Dondro’s pendant, still sitting in the bag at her waist in its soft velvet pouch. Did they all wear one, then? On impulse, she pulled the pendant out and dangled it by its chain so that it spun and sparkled in the light.

Cristo gasped. “
Grash’on chaylan!
It is Dondro’s, is it not?” She nodded, dropping it into his cupped hands. He held it reverently, murmuring a few words in his own language. He looked at her with glowing eyes. “Thank you, thank you! This is his
chaylan
, a part of his spirit. Now I can send it back to his—”

“Family?”

“No, we do not have family as you do. I do not know the best word – court, perhaps. His court. They will be very happy to have it, so they can hold the proper rituals for his spirit. Thank you!” Another burst of his own language, then he rose and bowed again, more deeply.

Mia rose too, shaking out the creases in her tunic. “That’s settled then. Stay, if you wish. Do your research. One day, perhaps, I may even forgive you. But for now, I don’t want to be reminded.”

He shot to his feet. “I understand. Thank you. Thank you so much!” He was bowing again, a low submissive stoop, but she walked away without a glance, as Dethin fell into step behind her.

~~~

Hurst returned late one afternoon with Tanist and Klemmast, trailing a great swarm of Skirmishers who wandered wide-eyed around the tower, and amused themselves by racing up the ramp and then jumping over the edge.

“Why did you bring so many?” Mia said, as she helped Tenya carry an extra haunch of meat from the store room. “A little warning wouldn’t have gone amiss, either. Meat will be late, now.”

“No matter, there’s plenty of wine. But you know Tanist – he likes to include everyone.”

Tenya glowered at him. “They’ll all be dead drunk before the food arrives, and
I’m
not carting them off to bed.”

“Leave them be,” Walst said, passing around jugs of wine. “They’ve been camped out in the barrens for weeks, in the snow and wind, and there’s been fighting too. They need some relaxation.”

“I’m very happy to leave them be,” Mia said. “Shall we take our own food to the apartment?”

“And drink,” Walst said. “Don’t forget the drink.”

But it proved too difficult to extract Hurst from his many relatives, so they ate in the kitchen, Hurst surrounded by an increasingly raucous crowd, Mia and Dethin squeezed into a corner. The moon was rising before they were able to get Hurst to bed, where he instantly fell asleep. Mia joggled him as she climbed in beside him, but he was oblivious. She turned to Dethin.

“Well, you can’t complain that he’s too far away, can you?”

He chuckled, and, tossing his shirt to the floor, slipped into bed alongside her.

~~~

Mia was thoughtful after her talk with Cristo. Before that, thinking about him had brought all the painful memories flooding back, so she had deliberately set him – and all the Trannatta – out of her mind. If she had thought at all about Tanist’s plans for them, she’d supposed they were getting exactly what they deserved. The Karningplain would be better without them.

Now she was uneasy. The reality of the rebellion wasn’t quite as rosy she’d hoped. It was true that few people had died, so her fears of a terrible massacre had been unfounded. Nevertheless, there were rifts that would never heal
– with her own father, for instance. She had shed many tears over that. She didn’t regret her choice or doubt the rightness of it, but it had made an enemy of him. That was like a spear in her heart, a wound that would never completely heal.

And if some of her own people were now enemies, some of her enemies turned out to be less villainous than she’d thought. Even Trannatta were people, too, with their own feelings and conflicts, struggling to do the best they could in difficult circumstances. Not all of them were evil. There was good and bad everywhere. The war had been won; their society had had a rotten heart, and the putrid, infected flesh had needed to be incised from the body of the Karningplain. Now history would judge them by how they managed the peace, whether they kept that body in good order or allowed it to fester again.

The following day, Mia waved Tanist over when she spotted him at the morning meal. He beamed at Mia, grinned at Hurst’s bleary-eyed state, and then cast a calculating eye on Dethin. He filled his plate with cold meat and fruit, stepped over a couple of forms fast asleep on the floor then came and sat opposite the three of them.

“What’s on your mind, Mia?”

“The Trannatta. Are you determined to send them all away to the north coast?”

“Well, apart from a few helpful ones, yes. Now don’t get all soft-hearted on me, Mia, by the Gods. This is war, you know. There’s no room for sentiment.”

“I know. But we went to war because they sent
us
into exile. Now we’re doing exactly the same to them.”

“That was only part of it. The fear, the torture, the unspeakable things they did to us
– to
you
, Mia. They killed your child and took away any chance of having another.”

Tears prickled, but she blinked them away. “And if you send them back to their people, those things will be done to them.”

“Good. Mia, you were not so squeamish over Dondro.”

She looked down, smoothing her tunic. “I know. I was so angry, then. Besides, there were few options. He couldn’t be released, and we could hardly keep him locked up for ever, not out there, in the middle of a war. He had to be executed, I can see that. But I didn’t like the manner of his death. I understood the desire for revenge, but it’s not civilised, Tanist. Is that how you want to begin the new era, by adopting the methods of the old regime? Can you really be happy sending thousands of people away to be tortured? Meanwhile, you’re leaving all the non-Trannatta Slaves in place, even though many of them were complicit in these crimes, and you’ve opened the borders to every murderer and rapist and thief in the Karningplain.”

Tanist shifted in his chair, watching her. Then he tossed his knife down, and leaned back, folding his arms. “And what would you have me do? Show mercy to the people who kept us in subjection, while refusing it to our own people -
our own people
– who may or may not have committed crimes in the past? May I remind you, these Trannatta are
not
Karningers at all. Their craft town here and their lair under the Great Temple are outposts of their empire on the north coast. They get their orders from there, they come and go as they please, they don’t belong here.” He glared at her, then added, “Anyway, it’s not thousands. A few hundred, maybe. A thousand at most. Not much more, anyway. Gods, Mia, what am I supposed to do with them anyway if they stay?”

“What they already do. Run the sky ships. Make clocks and silver jewelry and locks. Drain the swamps. Research, like Cristo.”

Tanist frowned. “You’ll never convince me they’re all law-abiding honourable folk.”

Mia smiled at him, patting his hand. “Of course not, no more than Karningers. But if you give them the opportunity, you might find plenty that are. Let them choose.”

“So they smile and say, yes, of course we’ll behave and the next thing is we have a revolt on our hands.”

Dethin leaned forward. “They don’t fight. And we have the swords, remember?”

“Make them swear an oath,” Hurst put in. “Like we did when we became Skirmishers, swearing to defend the Karningplain. Although – we swore on the Book of the Hours.”

“It’s still the official religion,” Mia said. “But that won’t work for Trannatta. You’d have to get them to swear on something else
– their
chaylan
, maybe. The silver necklace thing.”

Tanist raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. So we let the Trannatta stay if they swear an oath? You think that would work?”

Mia nodded. “Why not? But not just the Trannatta. It should be the same for all of us – every Karningholder, every Slave, every merchant and farmer and brewer. We should all be required to swear loyalty to the new Council.”

A broad grin broke on Tanist’s face. “I like that idea. I am the face of the new Council, so everyone has to swear allegiance to me. I’ll put it to the other Councillors.”

The next morning Hurst woke to find Mia gone, and only Dethin in the room
; the first time such a thing had ever happened. Dethin was rummaging in his box, sorting out plainer clothes.

“Is Mia up already?” Hurst said.

“Some time ago,” he answered without looking up.

“How about you? You all right?”

Dethin’s head lifted sharply. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No second thoughts? Not torn, even a little bit?”

“About what?”

“Going to find your family. We can wait, you know. There’s no rush to leave here, and there’s a storm of paperwork to be done before Mia can go home anyway.”

“Oh, that.” Dethin sat back on his heels, then turned round to face him fully. “Look, even as a boy, I never had much in common with my family. They would spend whole days huddled indoors with their books, and all I ever wanted was to be out in the air with a sword in my hand. Well, I got more than I bargained for in that way, but all those years as a barbarian haven’t made me any better suited to their way of life.
You
are my family now, you and Mia. You called me brother, Hurst – you can’t imagine how much that means to me.”

His eyes blazed with fire, and Hurst had to look away for a moment before answering. “Good, because that’s how I see it, too.” Then, after a hesitation, “Look, I wasn’t sure about you at first, for obvious reasons, but… well, you’ve looked after Mia.”

Dethin nodded. “I always did, although I appreciate it might not have looked that way. When I first saw her at Third Section – I couldn’t leave her with Bulraney, I just couldn’t. It was unthinkable. But then, having rescued her from that – that
animal
, I had to do exactly what I’d tried to protect her from. I had no choice. I
felt
I had no choice.”

“We’ve all had to do unthinkable things, these last few weeks,” Hurst said gently. He’d never heard Dethin speak so openly, with such feeling.

“I know. But I hated it.” Hurst raised an eyebrow, and Dethin laughed. “All right, I’m only human. Sex with Mia is always good.”

“And you love her.”

“Of course. Who could
not
love her?”

“Jonnor!” Hurst said in a heartbeat, and they both laughed. He felt again the warmth of comradeship he should have felt with Jonnor but never had. He slapped Dethin genially on the shoulder. “And she loves you, brother.”

That wiped the amusement from his face. “No. It’s always been you. Come on, you lazy sod, time you were up.”

Tossing the bed covers aside, Hurst looked surreptitiously at his leg. It was true that he’d had no pain from it for a while, but he’d assumed that was because he was tower-bound and less active.

“Do you really think it’s straighter than it was?” he asked Dethin.

He smiled. “I do. You probably don’t notice it, but I honestly think the tower has improved it. Maybe it will never be completely right, but I’m sure it’s better than it was.”

“D’you suppose it will improve my face, too?”

Dethin laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with your face. Ask Mia.” And he bent again to the box, pulling out a neatly folded shirt with a cry of triumph.

Hurst froze. “Brother, your back!”

“What about it?”

“Your scars – they’re almost gone.”

“Seriously?”

They stared at each other. “This tower – it’s weird,” Hurst said, uncomfortably.

~~~

Hurst had never much thought how Dethin would fit in to Karning life. He’d assumed rather vaguely that he would be a more compatible version of Jonnor – helping with whatever replaced the skirmishes by day, sharing Mia by night, something more than a Companion if not quite a husband.

It was Tanist who pointed out the obvious flaws. “You and Mia can go back to your Karning, you’re still Karningholders, after all
– well, a bit more paperwork to do, but soon. But the Warlord has no place there, no role to play and – this bed-sharing won’t work. There are rules.”

“The rules are changin
g—
” Hurst began, but Tanist waved him to silence.

“They’re not changing as much as all that, Hurst. Only Karningholders are allowed in the high tower.
He’s
not part of the marriage, and no amount of rule-bending is going to make him so.”

Hurst was forced to acknowledge that he was right
– Dethin wouldn’t be allowed in the high tower, so how was it going to work? He was thrust into gloom.

Mia was more optimistic. “We’ll find a way. We run our own Karning, so we can make what arrangements we like. Henissa and Bernast won’t object.”

“But what about the guards? It’s their job to protect the high tower to keep everyone out but us. Dethin won’t be able to get in.”

“Then we’ll all sleep in the family wing,” she said impatiently. “We’ll sort something out. The most important thing is to stay together, isn’t it? Hurst? Dethin?”

She took one hand from each of them, and they both nodded.

“But if it gets difficult,” Dethin said, his voice low, “if ever I’m in the way… You know, don’t you, that you only have to say the word, and I’ll be gone?”

“You’ll never be in the way,” she whispered.

“We belong together,” Hurst said fiercely.

“Thank you.” A twist of a smile. But he didn’t look convinced.

~~~

The snow kept them at the tower for some weeks longer. People came and went, the sick and injured arrived and were healed and left again, but the three of them stayed on. The message system stabilised, the new Council established regular meetings, and still they lingered. Word arrived that Henissa had given birth to a daughter, and within hours Bernast woke, in the same way as Mia – instantly, and with no ill effects or lingering weakness. The former barbarians continued to trickle back to their homes and apply for registration, but many vanished into the Karningplain or took over Godstowers or abandoned buildings, preying on settled communities.

Parts of the tunnel were also falling under bandit control. A group from Third Section
, who had walked all the way, arrived exhausted, filthy and near starvation, after several clashes with armed groups. One of the arrivals was Morsha, but she had no knowledge of the rest of Mia’s Companions.

“I was at First when word reached us, and naturally I went to Third to look for Mia,” she said. “You’d all gone, of course, but quite a few wanted to follow, and knew how the gates worked and everything, so I just tagged along. Took us a long time, though, with the food running low and injured men. And we had no idea how to get out
– no choice but to keep going. You’ve no idea how good it is to have hot water again.”

Four weeks after the Great Temple was taken, a milder spell of weather turned Hurst’s thoughts to home. There were eighteen who wished to go, Karningers and former barbarians. They had decided to ride, a journey of several days, because the sky ships were awkward for such a large group. None of them wanted to walk all the way through the tunnel again, even without the prospect of fighting their way through. The horses were kept on the far side of the Ring of Bonnegar, so they walked through the tunnel to the nearest Godstower, grateful they now knew how to open the door.

Hurst thought he would be sad to leave the tower behind, their home for more than two months now, but as soon as he settled into the saddle he laughed in sheer delight. It was like a long-awaited release from prison, or a return to health after protracted illness. He was giddy with joy and he saw the same enchantment on all the faces around him. For a while they let the horses have their head, and raced down the wide track as fast as the slope allowed. As they descended onto the plain, the forest loomed ahead of them, and they slowed their pace to stay within sight of each other.

They rode in easy fashion across the barrens, first through deep forest, making camp in clearings near the track, and then across the open plain, sleeping beside the stone-built shelters provided for the purpose. Twice they encountered groups of Skirmishers patrolling. The first was in daylight, a cousin placed there by Tanist to watch for trouble.

“Keep your eyes open,” he advised Hurst. “There are some odd people around just now. That’s what happens when you open the border – the barbarians get everywhere. If you ask me, we were better off when we killed them on sight.”

“They’re as civilised as you or me, given the chance,” Hurst said, although he wasn’t sure it was true. Was civilisation a natural state all men were capable of, or merely a veneer over a deeply barbaric nature? He thought of Bulraney and wondered.

“Do you want an escort? You are few, and have women with you.”

“We’ll be fine. Only one more night and then we’ll be into the Karnings.”

Even so, they slept with weapons to hand and kept a full watch, sleeping crammed inside the shelter for protection rather than out in the open. In the middle of the night, Dethin woke him.

“Many horses,” he whispered.

After an hour or more, the sound of hooves was audible. They sat, barely daring to breathe, swords in hand, but the large group rode on and the sounds diminished and disappeared.

Hurst was relieved to escape so easily. After that, they proceeded cautiously but met no trouble. In the Karnings they passed through, the roads were clogged with people moving from place to place, not just the bright red wagons authorised by Council to transport former barbarians home, but small farmers’ carts and groups on foot, carrying bundles of clothes or tools, with pots dangling.

“They’re allowed to travel now,” Gantor said, when Hurst expressed surprise.

“Who would have thought so many would have wanted to?” Mia said.

Some groups were in festival mood and waved cheerfully at them as they rode past, but others were surly, watching them with grim expressions, and some were terrified, leaping out of the way. A few were provisioned with knife or home-made spear or the occasional sword of a retired Skirmisher, but Hurst’s group was mounted and well-armed and no one threatened them.

Dethin watched it all with open interest, staring at every craft town or village they passed through, and chatting to anyone who fell into his orbit as they waited to cross bridges or for service at inns. Hurst had never seen him so outgoing and friendly, even as a boy, and it pleased him to see the effort he put into relearning all the ways of his home. He would fit in very well at the Karning.

Finally they were there, riding through the arch with the alarm sounding above them, servants rushing here and there to take the horses and unload the packs, everyone smiling. Henissa raced out with a great squeal, hurling herself at Bernast before he was properly dismounted, then kissing Mia, Tenya and Morsha, and even Hurst, before starting again with Bernast. Marna was there, weeping over Mia and Morsha, and Torman, Jonnor’s missing Companion, but there was no sign of Jonnor himself, or Tella.

They all went through to the guest hall, where dusty outer clothes were taken away, food and wine was laid out, and everyone was introduced. One by one, the arrivals were led off by Henissa to their rooms to refresh themselves. Last of all, she came to Hurst, Mia and Dethin. Mia had written, not explaining the situation, but requesting a specific guest apartment for them. Henissa had other ideas.

“Will you come this way?” she said to Dethin. “I will show you to your room.” She used no honorific, but Hurst forgave her for that. It was awkward when so many arrived at once, and with some very odd histories.

Mia stood up. “No, Henissa, not that corridor. Did you not receive my message? The three of us will share the blue suite.”

“Oh, yes, but… I thought you weren’t serious. You and Hurst are in the high tower, naturally, and – erm…” She waved vaguely towards Dethin.

“We will share,” Mia said, in a tone that allowed no argument. “The blue suite is perfect.” Hurst knew she had chosen it because it had two bedrooms, which they hoped would forestall some of the questions.

“Very well,” Henissa said, compressing her lips in disapproval. She led the way in the opposite direction, towards the area of larger apartments set aside for more important guests.

They waited several days before discussing their arrangement with Henissa. Bernast was of course aware of it already, and must have explained to Henissa, for her face clouded as soon as Mia began talking. Hurst said very little and Dethin nothing at all, but Mia made a fine job of it. She even dredged up some examples from history of lovers from outside the marriage who had been admitted to the high tower. There was no provision in law for any formal arrangement, and no likelihood that the Council would take up the idea in the future, but they hoped to come to some informal agreement.

But Henissa would have none of it. It was too unconventional, she argued, too lax to be considered. There were so many changes already, there had to be lines drawn somewhere or there would be chaos. There could be no respect for a husband who allowed his wife to behave so, she said, glaring at Hurst, nor for a wife who kept both husband and lover. It undermined the institution of marriage, the running of the Karning, the very fabric of the law. It was quite impossible.