Will Shetterly - Witch Blood (7 page)

He disappointed me. I cannot say what I noticed first, perhaps that he was old. His hair and his beard were streaked with grey, the color of sand on a rainy day. Now that we were near adults, I saw that he was short, shorter than most of the men and some of the women of Loh. His clothes were dyed black, which I had never seen used for clothing, but they were only loose cotton pants and a shirt like most of our villagers wore, and his hemp sandals might have been made by the village ropemaker.

Sanleel nodded to him and said, “Priest,” and I turned back to stare at him. That explained the people’s reaction, for the feast-singers loved to tell us of the followers of the Warrior-Saint. Those followers could slay thirty warriors as quickly as an eye blinks. Unarmed and without iron or steel, one was the equal of ten witches. A Priest could swim among a pack of sharks for pleasure, or call a whale to beach itself so a village would not starve. Some said Priests could fly, and others that they could not, though they could leap so far that birds became envious and walked henceforth in shame.

That Tchanin was a Priest only confused me. I had thought Priests were taller than palm trees, that their clothes were made of woven moonlight.

Tchanin nodded as deeply to Sanleel as she had to him. “Sanleel Lohchief ?”

“Yes.”

“I learned your name in Rassoe. I am Tchanin Townhound. I was sent here from the White Mountain.”

Sanleel looked at Farek’s body, then back at Tchanin. “Departure and arrival in the same evening. It is unusual.”

“Yes. I am sorry to come at such a time. Farek Lohsinger’s fame was known on the White Mountain. I had hoped to hear her.”

My mother had been in a crowd of children and parents, but she stepped forward then to say, “I am her daughter. Hear me.” She wore the tan pants and shirt of our people, and twin braids on one side of her head told that her lover was away. Her voice was thick from happiness milk or grief. I thought I had never seen her more beautiful, or more fearsome.

Another woman, one of her friends, reached for Mima’s arm to restrain her. Mima snapped her wrist free. “I am Jisan, child of Farek! Hear me!” She began Kinti’s Lament, and even I could tell that her voice was very bad. The other villagers joined in the song after a few minutes, and then Tchanin added his voice, and we sang late into the night.

Tchanin built a hut near the beach, on a bluff not far from our village. Many of our people offered to help him, but he only accepted aid to raise a high center pole, five wall poles, and the radiating beams for his roof. The adults seemed to understand his desire to work by himself. Perhaps they were grateful that he did not demand that the Lohfolk build him a palace. The children were fascinated with this strange little man who talked oddly and lived alone, and since he did not chase us away, we played near his home whenever we could during his first days in Loh.

For the most part, he ignored us. I and a few others helped at times, though I’m not sure now that we helped at all. We gathered rushes and pulled weeds and used sticks to turn a patch of ground for a garden. We turned twice as much ground as he later planted. He never laughed at us to say that we had been overzealous or that he had been clever in keeping us from underfoot.

Most of the children soon tired of Tchanin, for he ignored our pranks and thanked us for our help with a simple nod, and sometimes, a softly voiced “Good enough.” After a few weeks had passed, only four of us still went to visit the Priest. I went because I had found him first and therefore thought I had a claim to him. Bellis went, I think now, because she thought the Priest was attractive, not so much for himself as for the awe in which he was held. Svanik went because the Priest did not send him away, as most Loh did. And Vayil went because she wanted to become a Priest someday.

And since I know that Feschiani will ask who these children were, I will write of them now. Bellis was my oldest sister, and her body had already begun the woman’s quest to align with the moon. Svanik was the crippled boy, who fell or was thrown into a fire shortly before I was born. Half of his face was scarred and stretched unnaturally, so at times he drooled when he talked. His every expression was a grimace. Vayil was an older girl, the firstborn of the Searich line, whom everyone loved because she was attractive and well-spoken.

Feschiani will say that is not enough. Well, Bellis was sterner to me than my mother and not half so demonstrative in her affections. Svanik hit all the younger children when he could, and we called him Coconut Face when we could, and I am not sure who began this pattern. Vayil rarely noticed me, since I was young, but I had watched her play spearball and wished that when I was older, I would play as well as she.

Loh’s woodworker brought planks to Tchanin so he could have a floor. He had already made a roof of lashed fronds and constructed frames of bamboo for three of his five walls. He worked the wood floor with a sanding stone that the woodworker had lent him, and after some time, Vayil, Bellis, Svanik, and I helped while he watched.

I should not suggest that we were a band. Bellis was too old to be friendly with Svanik or me, and so was Vayil. Bellis and Vayil had fought over something, I no longer remember what, and so they did not speak to each other. Sometimes one would look at the other when she was looking away. Whenever the other caught the first looking at Jier, she would raise her head haughtily, and on occasion, laugh. When Tchanin gave us a task, Vayil and Bellis rarely worked together. I usually worked with Bellis, because she was my sister. No one liked ugly Svanik, though he would work with whoever accepted him. When we rested in the heat of the day, we rested apart, Svanik under one tree, Vayil under another, Bellis and I under a third.

During one resting period Tchanin said, “Well, then. You come when I do not invite you, and you work when I ask you, and you come again knowing that I will give you more work. I think you are all fools.”

Bellis flushed at that, but Vayil laughed. Svanik’s grimace, like most of his expressions, might have meant anything. I laughed because Vayil did, and because Bellis was embarrassed.

“If you will not stay away when you are not asked to come,” Tchanin said, with a slight smile beginning to lift the ends of his grey moustache, “then I will ask you to come tomorrow morning at dawn. Perhaps the invitation will keep you away.”

It did not. Bellis and I arrived before dawn, but Svanik was already there. Perhaps he had slept in the woods nearby. I knew that he often slept outside his family’s hut. His brothers and sisters were among those who called him Coconut Face.

Tchanin was not in the hut. There was enough light for us to see his mat and the small bundle of things he had brought from the White Mountain. We did not enter, though we would not have stayed out of another family’s hut, especially one with two walls open to the weather. But one of Farek’s best songs had been about a Priest who could kill by setting Death on to any object, and Death would take the next person who touched the thing. Tchanin had said that none of us should touch his possessions. None of us did.

Vayil came running into Tchanin’s yard just as the sun began to rise. “Where’s Tchanin Priest?” she gasped.

“Here,” said Tchanin coming from the beach. His hair and his beard were wet from bathing, and in his black clothes and in the early light, he looked like a visitor from Undersea.

“Gather around,” he said, and we came close to him, still standing apart from each other.

“Closer,” he said, beckoning with both hands. Reluctantly, we stood beside each other. “I have watched each of you these last weeks. Do you all want to study with me?”

We each said we did with words or nods.

“Then I will teach you, if you are willing to learn. But learning is always painful, and the least pains are physical. Do you understand what I mean?”

Vayil turned her head to one side to question Tchanin, but Svanik brought his hand to his scars and nodded slightly.

Tchanin smiled at him. “I thought you would, Coconut Face.”

Svanik glared at the Priest. I laughed and said, “Coconut Face!” Bellis nudged me to be quiet, so I repeated it louder, “Coconut Face!” Svanik turned from Tchanin to me and hit me below my eye. I fell down, more surprised than hurt, but when I understood what had happened, I yelled in pain so someone would hit Svanik. Tchanin looked at me and said, “No one loves you, Rif. No one.”

I don’t know if Bellis would have said something, for Tchanin immediately turned to say “And no one desires you, Bellis, and no one ever will.” Vayil clenched her fists then, and Tchanin laughed at her. “You would oppose me? You? You’ll never amount to anything, Vayil. You’ll disgrace your entire family.”

“You eat shark guts!” Svanik said. He never mumbled when he was angry. He threw himself at the Priest to hit at his stomach, but Tchanin caught him with an outstretched arm and continued to laugh mockingly. “Coconut Face. Melt Face. Sucker Fish Face.”

“Stop that!” Bellis yelled. “Stop that now!”

“Or what?” Tchanin asked. “Perhaps if I desired you, I might listen to you. Who’d desire you?” He glanced at Vayil. “Do you like watching this, coward? You’ve fooled everyone into thinking—”

“Shut up!” Vayil cried, rushing at Tchanin.

“—you’ll amount to something.” Tchanin pushed Svanik into Vayil, and they both stumbled to the ground. “You never will.”

Tchanin looked at me. “And what about you, Rif? Does it bother you that no one loves you?”

“No!” I brought both arms up suddenly, flinging sand at his face. He covered his eyes with his sleeve and laughed again, but there was something different to this laugh, something less malicious. As Tchanin brought up his arm, Vayil and Bellis and Svanik threw themselves at him together, knocking him back onto the ground and scrambling to get atop him and hit him. He rolled away from them with surprising ease. Standing before they could reach him, he immediately brought the palms of his hands together and bowed to us. He gave us all a gentle smile. “Your first lesson is over. Come back when you wish.”

“You stink!” Svanik said.

Tchanin nodded. “Yes. Go, now.”

“No one wants you!” Bellis cried.

“Certainly not.”

“Come on,” Vayil said. “Let’s go.”

“Yes,” said Bellis. She and Svanik turned and followed Vayil out of the clearing. I stared at Tchanin and at the departing children. When he said nothing more, I left too.

I stayed away from Tchanin’s hut for several days. At last, I had to know what he had meant for us to learn, and so I went.

When I arrived, he was in the clearing before his hut, showing Svanik how to do the snapping front kick. Tchanin looked over at me and said, “Ah, Rif. Come. Svanik needs a partner.” I started to speak, then hesitated and took my place in front of Svanik. Tchanin showed me the block to use for blows aimed below the waist. We took turns, kicking and blocking each other. After a bit I began to smile at Svanik when one of his kicks almost struck me, and I learned to recognize the grimace that he meant as a smile.

Tchanin clapped his hands to signal an end to the practice. He had us bow to each other and to him. When he turned to go into his hut, I said, “Priest, I—”

“Address me as Master,” he said quietly.

“Master. Why were you mean?”

He glanced up, then back at me.

“Please,” I said. “Why?”

“I said I would be. I’ll be meaner yet, if you continue to study with me.”

“Vayil thinks you did it so we would all become friends. Because we fought you together.”

“Ah.”

“Bellis thinks you’re mean.”

“And what do you think, Rif?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you’ve been thinking about this?”

I nodded.

“Then you must have an opinion.”

“I think you’re a greater fighter than Difrek Sharkslayer.”

He smiled. “I think you’re wrong.”

“I think you should have told us why.”

“Why, Rif?”

“To help us learn.”

“And why should I help you learn anything?”

I squinted as I thought, and finally said, “I thought you wanted...”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. I thought you wanted to teach us...” I shrugged, unable to finish the thought.

“No, Rif.” He looked out at the beach, and then he smiled. Beckoning to Svanik, he said, “Tell Rif what you thought.”

Svanik stared at his feet. “That we’re stronger. When we’re together.”

“Why didn’t you say so!” I yelled at Tchanik.

“Calm yourself, Rif. Never shout when you can speak softly. It is more polite and more efficient.”

“So?” I screamed.

“And if you shout at me again, I will hit you.”

“Oh,” I said quietly.

Tchanin laughed. “Rif, I may never explain myself again. I should not explain myself now, but you are young, and I am not proud of my first lesson. Listen, then. Anything I tell you, you will hear, and you may then forget. What I make you discover for yourself, you will remember.”

“Why’s it important?” I asked.

“For now, it’s not. But the Art is always more than it seems to be, Rif. I would not say that if I did not know you are too young to understand it.”