Winterbirth (60 page)

'For leading me to the
kin'thyn.'

Blood was still flowing from the innumerable tiny wounds upon her face. She looked as though she had been mauled in some terrible fight. Anyara almost wanted to look away. Instead, it was Ess'yr who turned and strode off, Varryn following. Orisian gazed after them.

'Lucky you,' Yvane said from behind them, a fraction more loudly than was necessary. All three of them started.

'How long have you been there?' Anyara demanded as Yvane smiled with ill-concealed satisfaction.

'Oh, not long. Lucky you, as I said. Most rare nowadays for Huanin to witness the
kin'thyn
being bestowed. An honour, I should say.'

Anyara realised that her hand had closed about something in her pocket. She fingered it for a few moments, and then an abrupt pang of guilt shook her as she realised what it was. Carefully she withdrew the short length of knotted cord and held it in her palm.

Orisian did not notice, but Yvane did.

'Now where did you come by that?' the
na'kyrim
asked. Orisian looked down at what Anyara was holding.

'I'd forgotten,' she said. 'Inurian gave it to me, after we got out of Anduran. He said…'

'...he said it should be buried,' Orisian finished for her.

'I'm sorry,' said Anyara, and repeated, 'I'd forgotten.'

Orisian gave the slightest shake of his head, and took the cord between finger and thumb. There was a kind of emptiness in his face as he turned one of the knots in his grip.

'It's what . . .' he said, 'it's what the Kyrinin do if they're afraid their body will not be properly buried.'

He held it up, and met Anyara's eyes.

'It's his life. Each knot is a piece of his life.'

'How do you know that?' Anyara asked quietly.

'Ess'yr and her brother made them before we left their camp.'

'Should we bury it, then?'

Orisian did not answer at once. He held the cord as if it was some delicate piece of jewellery. She could not say why, but his expression made Anyara think of their father.

'We should give it to Ess'yr,' Orisian said quietly. 'It is for her, I think. She will know what to do with it.'

'He would have been thinking of you, when he made some of the knots,' Yvane said to him. For once her tone was gentle, careful. 'The knots may be events, or feelings. Or people. He will have put you into some of them, I am sure.'

'Perhaps. I would like to know what they all are; what he was thinking when he made it.' He held it by one end so that it hung loosely.

'Even if he had lived, he would not have told you what the knots were,' said Yvane. 'It is a private thing, a conversation with death.'

'I'll take it to Ess'yr,' Orisian said.

'No.' Yvane's voice was still measured, but firm now. 'He gave it to Anyara. That is important, in the way of these things. She is the one who should give it to Ess'yr for burial, if that is what she thinks it best to do.'

Orisian held the knotted cord out, and Anyara took it. She coiled it neatly in her hand.

'Will you show me where Ess'yr is?' she asked Yvane, and the
na'kyrim
nodded.

They walked silently through the
vo'an.
It was not far. Varryn was standing outside a low hut. He watched them approach and did not move aside from the entrance.

'Be polite,' murmured Yvane, hiding the movement of her lips behind a rub at her nose.

'Varryn, is Ess'yr here?' Anyara asked.

'She rests,' the warrior said.

'Can I talk to her? I have something for her.'

'Not now. She rests.'

'It's important,' Anyara said. 'I think she would want to see me.'

Varryn was unmoved. He reminded Anyara of a Thane's shieldman on some grand ceremonial occasion, rigid with the importance of his role. She did not want to show him the cord - she thought it was something Inurian would have meant for Ess'yr alone - but it seemed the only way to gain admittance. She opened her fingers, exposing the cord in her palm.

'It is Inurian's,' she said. 'Ess'yr should have it.'

And she saw, for the most fleeting of instants, a reaction in Varryn's face. Its presence was too brief, his features too subtly inhuman, for her to be certain of its nature. Perhaps annoyance, perhaps pain. He stared at the cord for a moment or two, then looked away. As she drew breath to ask him again, he moved. A soft prod in her back from Yvane told her not to wait for more of an invitation. She ducked inside the hut.

It was gloomy within. Dark furs and animal skins covered the floor. Grey feathers hung from the hut's wooden skeleton. Ess'yr was lying down. Anyara crouched beside her. Although the poor light hid the worst of what had been done to the Kyrinin's face, the swirling needle tracks were visible, as was her skin's angry reaction. Ess'yr's grey eyes looked out from a wounded visage.

Anyara offered her the cord.

'It is Inurian's,' she said. 'Orisian thought ... I thought it should come to you. For you to . . . bury.'

Ess'yr sat up carefully, protecting her injured ribs. She took the cord. She hardly looked at it, but closed it in her fist.

'Thank you,' she said, so quietly that Anyara almost did not hear.

It felt as though there should be something more to say. Anyara saw no emotion in Ess'yr's face, but those knuckles were white, the pale fingernails digging into the palm of the hand. For the space of a few heartbeats Anyara hesitated and wished that this woman was less of a stranger to her; wished they had something more in common than loss. She rose and turned to go. As she reached for the door flap a thought occurred to her.

'Could Orisian come with you? When you bury it, I mean. Inurian meant a great deal to him, too. It might help him.'

Ess'yr looked up. Kyrinin and Huanin eyes met, and there was a flicker of understanding in the gaze. It lasted only a fraction of a moment.

'No,' Ess'yr said. 'It is not for Huanin to see. It is not . . . allowed.'

Anyara nodded, and went out into the daylight.

'I am sorry,' she thought she heard Ess'yr say behind her.

'Thank you for asking,' was all Orisian said when she told him. He did not seem surprised or hurt at Ess'yr's refusal. Perhaps he knew what to expect, having seen more of the Kyrinin than she had.

Yvane stayed with them. She sat cross-legged outside the hut strengthening the seam on her jacket with a needle and thread she had borrowed from their hosts. She was absorbed in her task, and showed little interest in what Anyara and the others were doing. Orisian was subdued and Anyara thought it best to leave him with his thoughts. She dozed in the hut.

When she woke, feeling better than she had in days, Orisian and Rothe were sparring with sticks on the platform outside. Kyrinin children had assembled once more to observe this strange spectacle. Yvane was also watching, wearing the slightly mocking expression that Anyara thought was on the
na'kyrim's
face a little too often.

Orisian was working hard. There was sweat on his forehead. Anyara knew what an effort her brother had to make when it came to these things. Now there was a concentration in his work that had never been there before Winterbirth.

The mock fight ended, and Rothe patted his charge on the shoulder.

'Good,' the shieldman said. 'Better, at least. Your side?'

'I didn't really notice it.'

'I did, though. You favour that side a little. It unbalances you. But that will pass.'

'And your arm?' Orisian asked, nodding at the bandages around Rothe's wrist.

'Sore. But it does not hamper me.'

'Could you teach me?' Anyara asked.

She expected Rothe to dismiss the idea out of hand. The warriors of Lannis-Haig did not teach women how to fight, even — especially — if they were the Thane's sister. Instead the shieldman smiled, almost sadly.

'Perhaps. It's hardly fitting work for a lady, though.'

'I've come across one or two people who were keen to kill me, these last few weeks. I wouldn't want it to be easy for them, should I meet them again.'

Rothe nodded. 'A knife would be better for you than a sword. Or a short Dornach blade, maybe.

Perhaps when we are away from here, if you still wish it.'

Anyara noted that the shieldman glanced at Orisian with those last words. He wants his approval, she thought. My brother, the Thane. It was an idea it would take her time to get used to.

'Swords are all very well, but they'll not answer every problem,' Yvane said. She had begun sewing once more, forcing the bone needle roughly through the hide.

'Not all, but some,' replied Rothe.

'Blades were little use against some of the
na'kyrim
who lived long ago.'

'A well-aimed bolt always has a use,' muttered Rothe.

Yvane snorted. 'Dorthyn Wolfsbane had his throat torn out by the last Whreinin of the Redjaw tribe. He laid his hands upon the wound and pressed it closed and made himself whole again. Then he split the wolfenkind open from belly to neck. No mere tale, that. Truth. What use your bolt then?

'And when I was in Highfast, I once read a story of Minon the Torturer. If that tale be true - which I don't claim it is - he was nothing until men broke his bones and took their knives to him. It was his very pain that unlocked the deepest wells of his power. What good a blade if it turns your enemy into something worse?'

Rothe shot the
na'kyrim
a dark look and disappeared into the hut.

'Lacks the stamina for a proper argument,' Yvane observed.

'You don't think Aeglyss is like Dorthyn or Minon, do you?' Anyara asked. 'I never saw him do anything . . . powerful.'

'No,' Yvane admitted without looking up from her work. 'I shouldn't think he's anything like them. But you would do well not to forget he's not like you, either. Inurian saw enough in him to worry about it. I think you Huanin have forgotten what it was like to have truly great
na'kyrim
amongst you. The only power you recognise now is the kind that lives in swords and Thanes and a rich man's coin chest. Have you really forgotten what the world was like before the War of the Tainted?'

'I know that the
na'kyrim
then were very powerful, if that's what you mean,' Anyara replied sharply.

'Half the lords of the Aygll Kingship were
na'kyrim,
once. Oh, it was long ago, when the Kingship was still young and there were hundreds upon hundreds of my kind, but it's true nonetheless. Armies marched behind
na'kyrim
captains. They could bend the Shared to any purpose; shape the world according to their will.'

'But not now,' said Orisian softly. Yvane glanced up, but Orisian was gazing out over the lake.

'No,' the
na'kyrim
acknowledged. 'Not now. We are few, and have lost the secrets of those days.'

A Kyrinin woman brought them food. She set down bowls of fish stew and left without a word. The children wandered off, much less interested in the eating habits of their visitors than they had been in the game with the sticks.

As dusk drew in, they retreated inside the hut. Orisian became more and more restless.

'We cannot delay here,' he said to Yvane. 'We have to move on.'

'Tomorrow,' agreed Yvane.

'Will Ess'yr come with us?' asked Anyara. She could see from the look on Orisian's face that he had not considered the alternative. It was obvious Yvane had, however.

'I'm not sure. Probably. I think she feels bound to see you safely to Koldihrve, at least. Varryn, I don't know. He would not have come this far if Ess'yr had not made her promise to Inurian.'

'The
ra'tyn?'
said Orisian, and Yvane nodded.

'Ess'yr promised Inurian she would get you and your sister to safety. It was a promise asked for, and given, in the knowledge that he was dying; that makes it a serious matter, in the Kyrinin way of thinking.

Ess'yr is bound by it, Varryn is not - he's more than a little dismayed that she gave her word, I think. But he will want to stay by his sister, perhaps.'

Orisian looked thoughtful. Anyara wondered how he would feel, when they were eventually - inevitably - parted from Ess'yr. Perhaps he was wondering that himself.

'We will have to speak to them tomorrow morning,' he said. Tell them we are moving on. It's up to them what they do.'

There was food waiting for them outside the hut the next morning. No one save Ess'yr and Varryn had spoken to them in all the time they had been here, Anyara realised. The hut was provided, food appeared and its remnants were taken away, but not a word – hardly a glance — was given them. The children were the only ones to openly acknowledge their presence in the
vo'an.

As soon as they had finished eating, Yvane rose to her feet. 'I will see if I can find us some food for the journey. And find Ess'yr.'

'I'll come,' Orisian said. Rothe would not let Orisian go without him, and Anyara had no wish to sit idly by. They all went.

The
vo'an
was quiet. It was a dull morning, with a lethargic feel in the air as if the valley was waiting for some change in the weather before stirring itself into life. They made their way to the centre of the camp, and came to the place where poles hung with skulls stood by the soulcatcher. There were few Kyrinin about, and none looked up from their chores as Anyara and the others drew near.

The calm was broken by a flurry of activity. Varryn came out from amongst the huts. Other Kyrinin warriors were striding behind him and Ess'yr was at his side, hobbling uncomfortably. Anyara caught the flash of sympathetic pain that crossed Orisian's features at that sight.

'Oh ho, this doesn't look like a cheerful group,' Yvane whispered.

Varryn swept by them.

'We go now,' he said.

Ess'yr paused a moment longer, her expression unreadable.

'We are hunted still,' she said. 'There is another man, with a hound.' She gestured back towards the great rise of the Car Criagar.

'Let's hunt him, then,' said Rothe fiercely. 'There must be a hundred warriors in the camp. We can…'

Ess'yr only shook her head and followed after her brother.