The Second God (16 page)

“I do not know.”

“Do you mean that they have a name but you don’t know it, or you don’t know whether they have a name?”

He turned puzzled eyes on me. “Well… I have no knowledge of any name being used to describe them.”

“So we are wandering in the nameless hills,” Arran said. “Wonderful.” He was sprawled out in the heather, chewing a blade of grass.

“Not wandering,” I said, poking him with one boot. “Ly knows where we are going.”

“No,” Ly said.

Arran sat up fast. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean that I do not know where we are going.”

“But you have been here before, haven’t you?” I said in sudden fear. “We’re not lost?”

“Lost…” He pondered the word as if he’d never heard it before. “I would not describe it as
lost
, precisely. But I have never been here before, no. I am seeing all this for the first time, just as you are.” He waved a casual arm towards the lake.

“Then someone told you where to go?” Arran said.

I had a thought. “Oh, is this one of your Clan memories? You’ve never been here before, but you remember it, is that it?”

He laughed. “No, no! That is not how it works.”

“Of course it isn’t!” I said crossly, jumping to my feet. “You love doing this, don’t you? Telling half the story, then leaving us to flounder and try to work out what under the moon and stars you’re talking about. Gods, Ly, you’re irritating sometimes!
‘That’s not how it works’
or
‘It’s not quite like that.’
I would really like to know how it
does
work, sometimes, rather than all these half-truths and prevarications.”

I stomped off to the edge of the lake. A family of ducks slowly made their way across the surface, fighting a stiff breeze. For some reason, that reminded me of the lake with the sacred island at Lakeside. I’d stood on the shore there gazing out over the water, just as I was now, trying to get some sense out of Ly. He’d given me no answers then, either. Secretive. Deceitful. Impossible. Yet without his magic, he was the sweetest and gentlest man imaginable.

But there had been magic there, in the sandy shore of that lake. Was that true here? I crouched down and buried my fingers in the damp soil. Nothing, no hint of magic. Yet everywhere I’d travelled in Bennamore, the soil had the slight tingle of magic. Only in Bennamore, nowhere else. For an instant, a longing for my home swept over me.

Ly appeared at my side, his face filled with distress. “Please will you come back?” he said quietly. “I will answer all your questions, I promise. I wish to hide nothing from you, truly.”

“Really?” I spun round to face him. “So why am I always finding out new things, things you could have told me long since if you’d wanted to?”

“Because I do not
know
what you know, what you do not know, what you understand! Things which are obvious to me are incomprehensible to you. I have the same trouble in Bennamore. Your ways are… strange to me. Having a single, all-powerful leader like the Drashona… that is something we do not have in the same way. Even a
byan shar
is not one to be obeyed without question as your Drashona is. And yet, there is the Nobles’ Council, and the Drashona must defer to them and I do not understand how that works. And the heirs… two heirs, and the Drashona chooses them, but they may not be accepted, and even if they are, they may not become the next Drashona or Drashon. And this makes no sense to me at all. Do you see? Every people, every culture is complicated and cannot be described in a few words.”

I so badly wanted to be angry with him, but of course he was right. His Clanfolk were complex and hard for outsiders to understand, but so was Bennamore, I had to concede that. And perhaps if I’d asked more questions earlier, I would have a better grasp of the matter now. But I’d always got my learning from books, and when I’d exhausted the handful of books in the Keep library on the Blood Clans, I’d looked no further. But Ly’s people had no books, no writing of any sort, so naturally he expected me to ask him whatever I wanted to know. Except that I hadn’t known what I needed to know, not then.

So I let him lead me back to where Arran stood, anxiously hopping from foot to foot. And I sat, and Ly and Arran sat either side of me, and I tried to speak calmly.

“Please explain how you know where to go, Ly.”

He sucked on his lip, looking at the ground, before he answered. “The memories are not like my own memories, or yours, of events that we have experienced. I cannot recall them intentionally, and mostly there is no actual memory at all. Sometimes they appear in dreams, or I might get brief flashes, but usually it is just a feeling. Here in this place, I have a feeling that we should continue in that direction.” He pointed up the next hill. “I have a feeling that there is a good campsite down that way. I have a feeling that there is a good source of firewood and fresh water over there. That is all it is. And when we reach the right place for the blood-bonding, I will know that too. Can you understand that?”

I nodded slowly, but my stomach turned over. All I really understood was that we were out in the wilderness with only Ly’s feelings to guide us. And we had no choice but to trust him.

As we walked on that afternoon, Arran came close to me and whispered, “If he really gets us lost, you can always take Sunshine and fly away to safety.”

“And leave you here? I don’t think so. We stay together, no matter what.”

“We are putting a lot of trust in him,” Arran said seriously. “I liked him well enough back at Kingswell, when he was tame, but
this
Ly is someone else altogether.”

“I don’t think he means us any harm,” I said. “Nothing he’s said or done feels threatening to me. And he seems quite confident of the way. So let’s see where he leads us, all right?”

He grunted. “I suppose so, but I do not like following him blindly.”

“It’s this new, confident Ly you don’t like,” I said, amused. “Are you jealous of his god-like powers?”

But he just scowled.

That afternoon was hot, the hottest so far, and the slope we were climbing was the steepest we’d yet seen. I began to lag far behind. Arran slowed his pace to mine, his expression full of worry. I reached out to Ly for a little magic, but the tiny trickle wasn’t enough.

I stopped, flopping onto a rock, exhausted. Ly came bounding back down the hill. “Princess? Do you want some magic?”

Mutely I nodded.

With a quick glance at Arran – was that an apology? – Ly took my hand, and energy-giving magic flooded into me. Almost at once he released me, and the flow stopped instantly.

I jumped to my feet. “Is that it? Why did you stop?”

“Let us try just a little, Princess. If you need more later, then—”

“I need it now!” I yelled, my voice echoing around the empty hills.

“Can you manage to walk a little further?” Ly said quietly. “For I think we are very close.”

“Close?” Arran said, his face eager. “Close to where we will make the bonding camp?”

“I believe so.”

“One of your feelings,” I said sourly, but Ly smiled and nodded.

And so it was. I struggled on up the hill, and there at the top was a strange place, a ring of rocks containing a still lake, dark and eerie. Beyond the further lip, a stream splashed its way into a narrow valley with tree-clothed walls. To one side of the lake, a mass of greater rocks, housing a small cave. And in the air, an almost imperceptible tingle.

“There is magic here,” I said, smiling.

“Perfect,” Ly said.

We had found our bonding camp.

~~~~~

I sat with my back to a rock, my face to the sun, eyes closed. I’ve never been sure whether the sun has a hint of magic in it or not, but I always felt better outside, exposed to its healthful rays. As a child, when my need was great I would be out in the garden in all weathers, my fingers buried in the soil for the trace of magic found there. It was never enough, but it stopped me from being an invalid.

Now it seemed I was slipping back into that state of never being well. Maybe it was the endless walking or perhaps the distance from the familiar magic of Bennamore, but I became weaker with each sun that passed. And yet… here in this bowl of rocks, there was the faintest waft of magic in the air. This place looked untouched, but once, long ago, mages had lived here. Whatever houses they’d built were long gone, and they themselves must be dust by now, but their presence was still here, reassuring me and making me feel just a little better.

I heard the two men’s voices in the distance, moving about, then the sounds of stones being dragged around, and packs opened, as they began the business of setting up camp. Then silence fell. Ly was still close, for I could see his magic blazing in my mind, but perhaps Arran had gone to fetch firewood. I must have slept for a while, because the next thing I knew, Arran was bending over me with a beaker of steaming brew.

We all walked down to the lake and sat on a low rock, feet dangling in the water, sipping our drinks. It felt companionable, yet there was a suppressed excitement in all of us. Finally, we had reached our destination.

“So… what next?” Arran said.

“Now we build our bond-shelter,” Ly said with a smile. “The trees in the valley are perfect for the purpose. That will take us two or three suns, perhaps. Then – the blood-bonding. And after that, we stay here for one moon, sleeping in the bond-shelter.”

“All three of us,” Arran said. “In one shelter.”

“It will be a large shelter,” Ly said. “Very comfortable.”

“That is not…” Arran shifted position. “Look, what happens when we – when Drina and I – want to… you know, be a couple?”

“You may be private if you wish,” Ly said gravely. “You need not do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But the blood-bond changes everything. You may feel differently afterwards. It is usual for the blood-bonded to share sleeping furs.”

“Usual?”

“Amongst the hunter Clanfolk, it is common for a man to be away for many moons, alone in the wild. He may ask a friend – a brother of the heart – to take care of his wife while he is away. They develop a closeness, so that when they blood-bond, it is natural to sleep together. I believed that we also had a closeness of that type, but perhaps I have misjudged.”

Arran gazed at him in silence.

I said nothing. It was for the two men to sort it out for themselves, as it always had been.

“You will understand it better when we are blood-bonded,” Ly said. “We will be different – not three separate people, but united by blood, one group. A nest of the blood-chosen.”

“A nest of the blood-chosen.” Arran repeated the phrase slowly, and although I still understood the meaning directly, his accent enabled me to hear the words, too:
clavaia’an byanna’vyor.
He nodded his head.
“United. One group. Because our minds will be connected.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Ly said happily. “So you see it will not be a problem at all, because when we are blood-bonded, there will be nothing private or secret or hidden. We will be completely open to each other. Is it not wonderful?”

Arran and I were silent.

~~~~~

We spent three full suns hauling wood and chopping vines for ropes and digging holes, erecting first a raised platform and then a rough shelter on top of it. A
clava
. Normally this would be of skin, but we couldn’t carry all we would need, and we had no time to kill and skin enough beasts, and then cure the hides. So the shelter was a similar shape, made with straight poles in a circle and tied at the top, and then brushwood laid against the poles for weatherproofing.

When I say that
we
did all this, of course I mean that the men did most of it. I was fine carrying short lengths of wood for the fire, but anything longer or heavier was beyond me, and my one attempt with the axe lasted all of three heartbeats before Arran took it firmly from my hands. So I tended the campfire, and ensured there was always hot brew simmering. I washed our clothes in the lake, too, and spread them over rocks to dry. It made me feel virtuously domesticated, rather than the useless third member of the party.

Arran was happy to be busy at last. The never-ending climb into the hills had ground down even his good-humour, but now he was content to be working, filling the hours with practical tasks and watching the structure gradually emerge from the piles of wood. And Ly – Ly was the same as he had been ever since the Challenge, quietly confident, giving Arran instructions in his soft voice and showing him what to do.

And all the time his magic was growing.

On the third afternoon, Ly left Arran to finish the outside of the
clava
, while he went hunting. Although it wasn’t really hunting, not when he just sat and called the prey to him. He returned with a great mountain of slaughtered beasts of various kinds.

“Are we planning to feed an army?” I said, as he deftly suspended his kill from a tree.

“Only ourselves,” he said solemnly. “Tomorrow, after the ceremony, we will have a feast.”

“A pity we have no wine,” I said. Even so, my spirits rose. We’d never starved on our journey, but Ly’s meals had had a certain makeshift quality about them.

Ly went off on another foraging expedition, while I shooed away Sunshine and two of her entourage who were hovering hopefully near the freshly killed carcases.

“Go and find your own food,” I told her. “These are for us, not you.”

She eyed me balefully, but there was no rancour in her mind as she flew away. Not much hunger, either, so I guessed that was the eagle equivalent of humour.

We ate frugally that evening, and none of us had much to say. We were so close now. Tomorrow our lives would be forever changed, for good or ill, and we had all gone beyond the point of doubt. We were committed to our new life, whatever it would bring. In silence we tidied up after the meal, and were rolled up in our blankets before the sun had fully set.

Gradually the fire died down and the light faded from the sky. Somewhere a night bird began calling, and then another, further away. The lake plashed gently against the rocks, and away in the distance the outflow burbled down the hill. I reached out in my mind for Sunshine, but she was already asleep. I reached for Ly’s mind, but, as usual now, it was closed to me. I took a trickle of magic, though, and then another. Once, I could take everything, just as I had with the new
byan shar
, but now these tiny amounts were all I could pull from him, and it was like dragging a spoon out of honey.

Disgruntled, I rolled over. Arran’s face was no more than a handspan from mine, and in the dim twilight, I could see his eyes gleaming.

“Not asleep?” I whispered.

For answer, he shifted nearer and stretched forward to kiss me, a long, warm kiss that awakened all sorts of thoughts. A quick shuffle of blankets brought us side by side, and even through our clothes I could feel how aroused he was. He pulled me closer and kissed me again. When we parted, breathless, I murmured, “Do you really want to do this with Ly so close?”

“Yes!” He rolled on top of me. “
He
is the one who says we should share a bed, that there should be nothing secret. That is how his people do it. Tomorrow we will be Clanfolk, so we shall do as Clanfolk do.”

He slid a hand inside my tunic to cup my breast, and kissed me with an urgency I couldn’t resist. I unfastened my trousers and let him do whatever he wanted, which he did with great enthusiasm. But when he was sated and drowsy, I wondered what Ly was feeling, hearing everything from the far side of the fire, and what it would be like if he were right there beside us.

~~~~~

I was awake very early the next morning, too unsettled to sleep much. For a while, I tormented myself by gazing at Arran’s sleeping form, memorising every curve of his face, every eyelash, every hair, in case… But there was little point in following that train of thought. We would do what we had agreed to do, and it would succeed or it would fail, but that was out of our hands. And then we would live with the consequences, whatever they were.

After a while, I heard Ly moving around, building up the fire, fetching water from the lake. Then the chink of the pot being set down in the fire to heat. When I guessed the brew would be ready, I slid out of the blankets without waking Arran.

Ly was huddled over a flat stone mixing dough for bread, one knee bent under him, the other upright. As he kneaded, concentrating, his soft curls fell forwards to cover his face. So familiar, and yet he was so alien too. Sometimes I felt I hardly knew him at all.

He heard me coming and looked up at me unsmiling, his eyes slithering away from mine. “Would you like your herbs now, Princess? The water should be hot enough.”

My herbs, yes. I needed them this morning. A pregnancy would be a very bad idea, especially if it could be either Ly or Arran who sired it. Ly’s children inherited all sorts of bonding powers at birth, with terrible consequences, and we’d long since agreed that all my children would be Arran’s. I wondered idly how Clanfolk managed with their casual bed-sharing arrangements, but perhaps the exact identity of a child’s father was of no interest to them.

“So, what next?” I said, sipping my herbal brew.

He flipped the dough over, and began pounding the other side. “Next? We will have our morning meal, something substantial, since we will not eat again until… afterwards. Then we bathe in the lake, and put on clean clothes. At noon, the blood sharing. Then the feast.”

“Will anything happen… immediately? To Arran, I mean. I assume the effect will be more abrupt in him.”

Ly’s hands stilled, suspended in mid-air. He threw me a glance, then quickly looked away. “Impossible to say. Everyone reacts differently.” He began to flatten and shape the dough, head down.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course,” he said, too quickly. I didn’t think he was. He wouldn’t meet my eye, for one thing, and he seemed jittery, more like the old Ly. Was he bothered about what Arran and I got up to the night before? Well, Arran was right about that, it was Ly’s own custom, so he was going to have to get used to it.

When Arran finally woke and drifted to the fire, we ate our morning meal, and it was indeed more substantial than usual. I was a little tired of cold meat from whatever Ly had caught the previous afternoon, but the fresh bread was wonderful and we ate the last of the cheese with some tiny red berries, sharp but juicy.