The Woman Who Rides Like a Man (11 page)

"Can't ye stay out of trouble for a few short weeks?" he bellowed.

"I didn't ask for Akhnan Ibn Nazzir to attack me," she pointed out. "But he did, and I killed him. I can't leave the tribe without a shaman, can I? Since I have no intention of being killed by the first rival who comes long, or of staying here forever, I picked three apprentices. It's not my fault that two of them are girls; but they are, and the tribe has to treat them with respect if they're ever to be good shamans. And no, I couldn't have chosen just Ishak. What if something happens to him? All three have to be trained anyway, and Bazhir custom—it's easier to break the King's law back home than it is to flout Bazhir custom, have you noticed?—Bazhir custom says
I
have to train them. Besides, having only one shaman when you can have three is silly."

Coram sat heavily and accepted the brandy she poured for him. His broad tanned face was wrinkled with concern. "Lass, ye're settin' these poor folk on their ears," he said wearily. "They haven't changed in centuries, and ye're forcin' them to accept things yer own people can't accept—not easily."

"But don't you see? To the Bazhir, I'm a legend. They take things from me they
wouldn't
take from anyone else. I don't ask them to change for
stupid
reasons. They know having three shamans might make the difference to their survival. Even the women are beginning to accept the girls. At least, Mari Fahrar is."

Coram drained his cup and shook his head when she offered refill. "I'm worried for ye," he confessed. "I hate seein' ye a stranger always. "Ye're an odd lass, but ye're like my own kin, and I want ye t'be happy."

Alanna put Faithful down and hugged her friend. "I don't
feel
like a stranger here," she confessed as she wiped her eyes. "It seems to me that I've known these people for a long time—all my life, perhaps. I don't always agree with them, but they make sense to me."

Gruffly, touched by her affection, he asked, "Do ye commune with the Voice of the Tribes at sunset, then? All the way t'the city Hakim made us stop every night while he stared into the fire." He shuddered as he finished unpacking his saddlebags. "'Twas spooky."

Alanna lifted Faithful up again, putting him on her shoulder. "That's one thing I
don't
do," she said ruefully. "It's too much like letting Ali Mukhtab have part of me. I don't want anyone to have a part of me, not yet, anyway."

"Not even Prince Jonathan?" Coram asked shrewdly. Alanna blushed a deep red, and he chuckled. "He said t'tell ye he'd be seein' ye soon, somethin' about receivin' instruction from Ali Mukhtab. Oh, I've letters for ye, from Lord Thom and Sir Myles." For a moment the burly man struggled with himself; then he gave in. "There's another letter for ye as well." He drew it from beneath his jerkin, handing it to her reluctantly. "I should've burned it when he handed it to me. I'd hoped ye knew better than to still be consortin' with the likes of him."

"George!" Alanna said gleefully. "Is he all right? Has he been—well, safe?"

"He's flourishin', that one," Coram snapped. "And when are ye goin' t'give over befriendin' a rogue like him?"

Alanna grinned impishly. "When you stop drinking." She laughed as he swore, and returned home to read her letters.

George's missive was short, but its contents made her blush. She knew her old friend loved her, and she loved him in a more-than-friendly way, but Jonathan had always been first. George knew it and understood, but his words told her that he continued to hope.

Myles's letter was long and chatty, giving her the news of everyone at Court, nobles and servants. More than any other high-born person Alanna knew, Myles made friends with everyone, not just his social equals. He was able to tell her about Cook and Stefan the hostler with as much detail as he gave to the King and Jonathan. Only when she reread his letter did she notice that he said nothing about Thom.

Thom's own letter more than made up for Myles's omission:

Dear Alanna,

Coram tells me you've been adopted by a bunch of uncivilized desertmen. How odd of you! He tells me now you're a 'man of the tribe,' which is what you've always wanted, I suppose. No, don't scowl at me.

 
(Alanna
was
scowling.)

I am enjoying myself here. Everyone is very polite, and the library has some classics of sorcery even my Masters didn't possess. My education grows by leaps and bounds. I have attached some of the late Duke Roger's followers, including the lovely Delia of Eldorne. I have no interest in the lady as such, but I believe she may know where some of Roger's most secret manuscripts are hid. She had hinted as much, and I feel that she doesn't lie.

I enjoy the luxuries: exotic foods, fine clothing, having servants to wait on me. I will travel at some point, but only when there is nothing more to be learned here.

Try not to be too disgusted with me.

Love, Thom.

*

Shortly after Coram's return, Mari brought Farda, the tribe's midwife, to make her peace with the new shaman. Within minutes the two were trading secrets of healing. The next day Farda took over instructing the apprentices in herbs: from that moment on, most of the women made their peace with Alanna and her young people. Some would never be won over and would always view the new ways with suspicion, but they were a minority. Knowing to whom she owed the new warmth, Alanna tried to thank Mari Fahrar. The old woman brushed her words aside.

"All things change," she told Alanna frankly. "It does not hurt men to know women have power, too."

Alanna had to laugh. Until Mari and Farda entered her life, she never realized that the tribes-women viewed their men not with fear, but with loving disrespect. Sometimes she felt that
she
was the one getting the education, not her pupils.

Kara was just beginning to work on her control of the wind when the men of the village went hunting for night-raiders: hillmen who carried off a herd of sheep and the boy tending them. Alanna and Coram were teaching the boys archery when the lookouts sounded an alarm.

Coram swore. "They lured the men off a-purpose!" He turned to the boys. "Let's see what yer marksmanship's like on movin' targets."

"What about their shamans!" one woman cried. "They attack first with magic!"

Alanna could feel the unnaturalness of the fierce breeze. "Kara! Kourrem! Ishak!" she yelled, remembering too late they were in Farda's tent, across the breadth of the village. It would cost precious moments to fetch them—

The three apprentices ran up, panting, chasing Faithful. "The cat said the hillmen are attacking and you want us," Ishak gasped. "I don't know how we understood—"

"
I
didn't understand anything," Kourrem pouted. "You and Kara said—"

"Hush!" Alanna ordered. She looked at Coram. "I have to be a shaman—" she began.

The former guardsman was still instructing the boy archers as women and children streamed past them into Alanna's big tent. "Do what ye must do," he said tersely. He grabbed a strong young woman by the arm. "Ye! Grab a spear and stand t'the defense!" She stared at him for a moment, then ran to obey. The older men of the village, those who hadn't been included on the hunt, were already gathering around Coram, accepting his leadership. More women were grabbing spears and axes, leaving their children to the charge of others in the tent.

Alanna led her apprentices to a hill overlooking both the tents and the eastern approaches, from which the now-shrieking winds came. Kara saw the attackers first, hidden behind a wall of dust.

She pointed out five green-robed men astride ponies. "Their shamans wear green too," she shouted over the wind. "The dust before them is alive. When they came before, Akhnan Ibn Nazzir could not fight them, and the dust devils killed three men."

"I'm not Akhnan Ibn Nazzir!" Alanna shouted back. Drawing the crystal sword, she focused her attention on the length of the blade, holding it directly before her. Now was the time to put its energy to use: it would extend her ability to command things to break and split far more than she could have done normally. She shouted the spell, sending her energy streaking down the smoky blade and into the earth just a few yards in front of the on-coming riders. The earth grumbled and cracked, forming a deep trench. Their own frontal vision ruined by the dust devils, the hillmen in the first rank rode into the trench.

"That'll stop 'em for a minute!" Alanna yelled. "Kourrem, do you have some string?" The girl pulled several hanks of thread from her pocket. She was never without them, these days. "Try to hobble as many of their ponies as you can!" Kourrem grinned and started to work, her heavy brows pulled together as she worked.

"Kara!" Alanna continued, "force the wind back into their faces!" Both girls tore off their veils in order to see more clearly as Alanna turned to her third apprentice. "Ishak—d'you remember how to throw fire?"

"Yes!" he cried.

"When they get close enough, scorch them out of the saddle!"

Ishak bellowed, "What about the dust devils and their shamans?"

"Leave them to me!"

The sound of the high winds changed: Kara was at work, her burnoose whipping frantically around her. The first pony stumbled and fell, thanks to Kourrem, tossing his rider. Flames soared from Ishak's fingers, enveloping a big man.

The hillmen were leaping their ponies over the trench. Once more Alanna pointed the crystal blade and sent her Gift into the ground before the dust devils, breaking it open. The brown columns of dust passed over the second trench as easily as they had the first, and Alanna turned her attention to them, reaching out with her mind to see what they were.

They were mindless blots of energy, wielded by the shamans and collecting desert sand and dirt to give themselves shape. She knew better than to use the sword to split them in two: then she would have twice as many dust devils to contend with. Instead she sent a whip of violet fire at the shamans, determined to end the problem at its source. One dropped to the ground when her magic reached him, screeching in agony. A second streak of fire, red in color, picked off another shaman—Ishak had seen her purpose, and was helping.

Varicolored shields were forming around the remaining three; the element of surprise was gone, and they were defending themselves. Now Alanna called up a sparkling, amethyst-colored wall that encircled one of them, cutting off his air. His pony panicked and reared, dropping him in the dirt as he fought to breathe. When she was sure of his death, Alanna applied the same trick to another shaman. The remaining wizard was already fighting off Ishak's red flame—and losing. With the deaths of the last two, the dust devils collapsed.

Hillmen thundered past them, their numbers reduced. Kourrem sagged and dropped, exhausted from the effort of maintaining five spells at once. Kara was looking white and ill, but with the deaths of the shamans the winds had also stopped. Alanna made her sit down. Ishak was still flaming the raiders, laughing merrily as they tried to put themselves out.

"It's beautiful, Alanna!" he cried loudly, not realizing the winds were gone. "The power is beautiful!"

"Look!" Kara gasped, pointing to the west. Halef Seif and his men were riding furiously into the village, their swords ready. Caught between Ishak, Coram, and the fiercely fighting old men, women, and the boys, as well as the young warriors of the tribe, the hillmen didn't stand a chance. Alanna picked off those who tried to escape, so that none survived the raid.

The moment the fighting was over, Alanna ushered her apprentices back to the well. Here Farda was already putting women to work cleaning and bandaging wounds. Alanna made Kara and Kourrem sit, then briskly rolled up her sleeves. "Anyone killed?" she asked Farda, washing her hands.

The big midwife shook her head. "Hassam and Mikal are the worst hurt—Hassam with a head wound, Mikal with an open gash on his thigh. Will you see to one?"

Alanna nodded and entered her immense tent, feeling Ishak behind her. The wounded lay quietly on the carpets placed before the plain altar, waiting for someone to see to their hurts. Clearly Farda had taught the women how to care for injuries, because every matron in the village was cheerfully at work. Some of the hurt, such as Hassam, were boys, but they were as silent as the men.