Vault Of Heaven 01 - The Unremembered (16 page)

“Why do you think we’re going to Recityv?” Tahn asked Sutter. His friend had the uncanny ability to guess at such things.

“Recityv,” Sutter repeated, clearly awestruck by the very thought. “Great Will and Sky, that’s—”

“A long journey,” Mira finished.

Tahn jumped in surprise. The Far was right behind them, kneeling at a small spring filling her waterskin, and they’d had no idea she was there. “Several weeks’ journey, so pace yourselves.” She lifted her waterskin and drank. Tahn heard mild reproach in her words, as if she were twice as old and much wiser, though she appeared slightly younger than they were.

“Don’t wander too far when we stop to rest. And don’t leave anything behind, do you understand? I wish you knew how to walk lightly.” She surveyed the ground they’d passed over, and shook her head. “A child could track you. Watch your strides. Choose rocks to step upon when you can.” She plugged her waterskin and turned back toward the horses. Tahn watched her go, each footstep placed quick and light, her cloak filled as a sail in a high wind.

“Forget it,” Sutter said. “You and a Far? Never. She’s too busy bustling about and swinging her swords. Besides, have you seen her smile? Even once?”

Yes,
Tahn thought,
once.

“Recityv,” Sutter continued. “I don’t think anyone in the Hollows has ever been there. We’ll be legends.”

“Legends,” Tahn repeated, distracted. “They say Recityv is one of the largest cities east of the Divide. It’s the home of the regent. And you heard Mira, it’s weeks from here. Why is Vendanj taking us there?” He paused, considering. “Sutter, what of our Standing? Who will steward us if we are gone so long? You talk of legends, but until we Stand, we are still melura.” Tahn stopped and looked toward the vast plain before them. Balatin had told him stories of places beyond the Hollows, but the tales had long since blended so that he could no longer tell truth from fable. Staring into the distance and thinking of the threat of Quietgiven and unanswered questions and the risk that he might never Stand, he finished, “It is of no consequence if we die. Our choices have no bearing.…”

“That’s a cheery thought. Anyway, speak for yourself. I shall be missed.” Sutter doubled his fists and placed them on his hips.

The familiar posture made Tahn laugh out loud. They turned back to the horses, jumping from rock to rock and chuckling as they went.

When they reached the horses, they found Vendanj sitting upon a large boulder and Braethen seated on folded legs before him. Wendra leaned against her horse, resting her head against its neck as she listened.

“Drawing on the Will is not given to all, Braethen. Haven’t your readings taught you as much?” Vendanj took the waterskin from Mira and drank slowly.

“They have, Vendanj,” Braethen said, his eyes bright with the opportunity to discuss such things with an actual Sheason. “But it is not written how the ability to direct its power is conferred on someone.”

“Wisely so.” Vendanj returned the water to the Far and closed his eyes a moment, resting. “It was never meant for a renderer to bestow the power of calling on the Will except by the prompting of his own surest feelings. The art and ceremony of conferring this gift is passed down by tradition. It was thought that if it should need to be written down, that man would have failed to fulfill the reason he was created at all, and so ought to perish.” Vendanj spared looks for all those in his company. “I do not believe we have arrived at such a time, but there are those who believe we have.”

“Who are these?” Wendra asked, still leaning against Ildico, her horse.

“They are many, Anais Wendra. Some of whom caused our flight from slumber this very morning.” Vendanj stood, throwing a short shadow in the meridian of the day. His dark cloak fell to the ground in long folds.

Braethen stood likewise.

Vendanj appraised A’Posian’s son, staring at him in the same manner he had stared at Tahn in the Fieldstone, as though reading the man like a book. An eerie silence settled among them, the wind gone with the clouds, replaced by a high sun that brought the first touches of warmth. The Sheason took a step toward Braethen and spoke. “You are a danger to me unless you understand Forda I’Forza as though they belonged to you as parents. And why, Braethen, did you not become an author? Why play at Sodality in the home of your father?”

Upbraided publicly, Braethen shrank, unable to answer.

“You fail again. What value are you to me if you don’t speak and do so honestly? You must be a bitter disappointment to your father.” Vendanj strode away.

Braethen’s lips parted, but the words came late and sputtered in a whisper.

“He’s a charmer,” Sutter muttered.

Braethen slunk onto the practice field and began to weep. Tahn started after him, when Mira caught him.

“Leave him be. Self-healing is better this time.” The Far gave Tahn a thoughtful look.

Tahn brushed past Mira and followed Vendanj toward the horses.

As he came up behind him, he watched the Sheason deliberately stride from horse to horse, softly feeding each a small sprig from the thin wooden case Tahn had seen before. “Strength to you, Solus,” he said, feeding Mira’s horse. “And to you, Suensin,” he finished, proffering a sprig to his own mount. He stroked the horse’s muscled neck and, without turning, said, “What is your question, Tahn?”

Tahn sputtered syllables, looking for his words. “Why do you assume I seek you with a question?”

“You’ve come only to talk then?”

Tahn approached cautiously, deliberately, coming to stand near Suensin’s saddle. There was only one question, a single thing he wanted to know from the strange man who had come into the Hollows with so much knowledge and led them out just ahead of the Bar’dyn. But he needed to frame his question right.

“You agree to let Braethen come, then you tear him down. You compliment Sutter on his vocation, but question his character. And you tell me I must leave my home to save it. Why the contradictions? Why should we follow you another stride?” Then Tahn came to his real question. “Tell me, why are we going to Recityv? Does it have something to do with why the Quiet invaded the Hollows … invaded my home?”

Vendanj continued to stroke his horse for a moment. He finally stopped. Behind them, Mira had the rest of the group taking to their mounts. “Tahn,” Vendanj said evenly, “you must trust me for now. You must all trust me. There will be time to speak of these things. But your ignorance is still a protection to you. Only watch. Take care in your choices. Your Standing is soon, and we’ve a long road to Recityv. Stay close to Mira.” He looked at Tahn with his focused stare. “And don’t ever let your feelings—even for those you love—get in the way of the correct path, yours or another’s. Such distractions are a weakness that will undo us.” Vendanj paused, his eyes momentarily distant. “Such is like an interrupted song, whose melody, once lost, leaves you in an awful, deafening silence … forever.”

Done speaking, the Sheason looked away. He walked Suensin forward and prepared to ride. Tahn turned in anger and took Jole’s reins. He tried to hide his frustration—Sutter saw right through him.

“What’s gotten under your saddle?”

Tahn shot Sutter a cold look, and kicked Jole into a canter toward the road. The others came after, Mira soon flanking him. He turned the same cold look on the Far, but her stoic countenance robbed him of his ire. He thought he saw the trace of another thin smile on her face before she rode ahead to check the road.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Harbingers

The North Plains rose and fell in long waves, as the road turned gradually northeast. They rode for the better part of two days. Vendanj allowed them a few hours sleep deep in the night, and each time they stopped Mira lined them up to drill with their weapons.

At dusk the second day, they saw the lights of Bollogh far in the distance.

“By all my Skies, Tahn, look at that.” Sutter’s face shone with wonder.

Vendanj rode forward and spoke briefly with Mira. She nodded and again took them off the road, leading them several hundred strides into the trees. “We will rest here,” the Sheason said, coming to the front of the party. “I will return before the dark hour. We will move when I see you again. Braethen, follow me.”

Vendanj and Braethen rode in the direction of Bollogh, which drew comment from Sutter. “I think maybe I want to be a sodalist,” he said.

Mira dismounted. “The Bar’dyn are close, so wear your boots to sleep and keep your weapons at hand.”

“Yeah, this little sword of mine is going to help me if the Bar’dyn stroll into camp looking for a meal,” Sutter said, his sarcasm given with a tired voice.

“Leave your horses saddled, but loosen the cinches,” Mira said, performing that exact task, removing her cloak, and setting out to scout the outlying area.

“Will we have a fire?” Wendra asked.

“Not tonight,” Mira answered. “Get your weapons. We will go through the movements again.”

At twilight they practiced for close to an hour, many swords oft dropped as muscles tired. When the light grew too dim to be useful, Mira released them and headed off into the trees. Tahn followed the Far a short way beyond the horses and watched as she laid out dried leaves and small twigs in the flat areas that led toward their camp. All around the camp at fifty strides she did the same.

“You could help me, woodsman, it’s not a difficult task,” Mira said.

Tahn rushed forward, quickly picking up sticks and laying them down as he had watched her do. Together they worked, Tahn stealing glances at the Far from time to time. She reminded him not at all of a Hollows girl. Besides being nearly as tall as him, she had not grown broad in the hips as did most women in the Hollows. And while her looks were striking, she did not use her eyes and hands in coy suggestion the way melura girls typically did. When Mira had removed her cloak, she had let down her hair; a deep black, when the last rays of sun caught there, a vague tint of red, like fire, lay suddenly revealed. Tahn felt a stirring in his loins.

“You wear your desires too openly,” Mira said, as she finished her precautions. “The art of esteem is subtlety.”

Tahn likewise finished and stood up. They stared together into the west. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I am not easy to offend … or interest.” She let her mouth tug into that barest of smiles. Her face brightened even then; and while she didn’t smile often, when she did, it was as if her smile had never left.

Tahn remembered himself then, the things in his heart besides the growing feelings for the Far. “Tell me why they want me.”

“When Vendanj wants you to know, he will tell you. I understand your desire to know, but I would not betray the Sheason’s confidence. Don’t ask that of me.”

In the distance, a dark bird flew into the light of the setting sun, bearing in their direction.

“He asks me to trust him, but he gives me no reason to do so. If my father were alive, he’d have had answers before agreeing to any of this.” Tahn threw a stick he’d been holding.

Mira canted her head, looking more skyward. “Trust is only meaningful when you must proceed without certain knowledge.”

Tahn thought about that, tried to refute it. Ultimately, he gave up, and turned to the other real questions in his heart. “Is it true that you live a shortened life?” He stopped, wishing he’d framed his question better, and started again. “I mean, the stories tell that Far are blessed with quickness in the body, and that the price is an early death.”

This time, both sides of her mouth found that slight smile. “That sounds like an author’s pen. But yes, it’s essentially true. My people share a very old covenant. Don’t ask me what it is, because I must not say. But in trade for our service to that oath, we never pass the age of accountability. I believe you call it the Change. Our lives end naturally when we have seen the end of our eighteenth cycle of the seasons.”

The bird they watched grew larger against the russet hues of dusk.

“Then you are going to…”

“I still have a few years left. But yes, that is the blessing of our covenant.” Mira touched the insignia strapped high on her throat.

Tahn marveled. All his life he’d wanted to do little more than reach the Change so that he could be taken seriously, could have his choices
matter,
could find a girl … “Maybe it’s the Hollows in me, but it doesn’t sound like much of a bargain. I would think long life a better trade for your service.”

“Such is a common view in mankind. And it is not that I don’t value my life. But my spirit won’t ever have to suffer a reckoning for the stain of misdeeds as one who experiences the Change will. The undying life after this world will be sweeter for that.” In the soft shadows of the failing light, her face looked peaceful.

Tahn gathered the image of her in that moment to hold in his mind.

“Perhaps think of this, Tahn, when the Sheason tells you to watch after your choices. You will encounter the Change, and live past it. And I will tell you this: Our coming to you has much to do with you remaining as free of stain as you are able.” She looked away from the approaching bird for a moment to get Tahn’s attention.