From Across the Clouded Range (99 page)

“
As for you, Arin,” Belab
turned to the Darthur leader, deference entered his voice but did
not cover the stern tone. “We of the Uhramar Ashüt agreed with you.
We recommended this action, but we did not send Ipid to his city on
false premises. I was there when you told Ipid what would happen
here. You deceived him. When he was a te-adeate that was of little
concern – does one feel guilty when they trick a cow into accepting
the knife? But when the battle finished, Ipid became k’amach-tur.
Then your deception was to one of proven honor, as he had always
been. We all understand why you acted as you did, but the truth
remains that you have not acted honorably toward this
man.”

Arin listened to the diatribe like a
lord hearing an unwelcome judgment from a just counselor. He did
not like it, but he knew that it was right and that he would only
hurt himself by fighting further. He nodded to Belab, returned his
sword to its sheath, and motioned to Ipid. “Get up, Ipid. Belab is
correct. I have treated you dishonorably, and I will apologize.”
The words were spoken formally and in Darthur, but Ipid was still
too stunned to understand them. The very idea of Arin apologizing
was beyond comprehension. “Though the Eroth Amache was real, I
misled you regarding what would happen after. In so doing, I hurt
your honor. As this stands as a gap of honor between us, how will
you seek to fill it?”

Ipid did not know what to say. He was
stunned by the significance of an apology from Arin, but was not so
easily overawed as to think that it made up for what he had done.
Around the table the te-ashüte muttered among themselves. It seemed
that this was more than a simple apology like so many uttered and
immediately forgotten. At the same time, Arin stared at Ipid
stone-faced as if expecting some kind of response. Ipid could not
image what was expected. Was he supposed to say that it was
alright?

Ipid’s attention was drawn
suddenly to a hand on his elbow. He turned and looked into Belab’s
cowl. “An apology to the Darthur is a very significant thing,” he
said. From the reactions of the men around them, Ipid could tell
that they could not hear the words. “Because Arin admits to taking
your honor, you have several options to replace it. You can
challenge him to a duel, bearing in mind that you will actually
fight Thorold and it will be to the death.” Belab paused, smiling
at the absurdity. Ipid nearly laughed despite himself. “You could
have your wives negotiate a number of horses and cattle that would
settle the debt, but that would be difficult as you have no wife
and Arin’s is a thousand miles away across mountains and
deserts.”
Arin has a wife?
Ipid was so stunned he barely heard the words
that followed. He could not even imagine it. “Finally,” Belab
concluded, “and most relevant here, you can hold the debt as open.
This is complicated, but it basically means that you can ask Arin
for a favor at some later time to fill the gap. If you haven’t
already guessed, I would suggest this course.”

Ipid took a moment to digest what he
had been told. In the end, the choice was obvious. “So what do I
do?”

“
Tell him that you do not
wish to challenge his honor but do not have a need for his
livestock thus the debt must remain open until an opportunity
arises to fill it.”

Simple enough, Ipid thought. He nodded
to Belab, who released him and returned to his seat. He spent a
moment thinking through what he had to say, finding the most
appropriate Darthur words then echoed Belab almost
verbatim.

When he was done, Arin placed his hand
on his chest and bowed. Ipid returned the gesture. There was
another murmur from the gathered clansmen. “Thank you, Ipid
Ronigan, for giving me the opportunity to repay you,” Arin
formalized the pledge. “Until I do, may we live as if the service
has been done and the debt is no more. Speak not of it unless you
plan to call for payment, as any man of honor would do.” The two
locked eyes and nodded. Ipid did not feel any better – and knew
that the sight of his city is ruin would restore every bit of his
ire – but at least he had gained something, had gained one card to
play.

“
There is one more thing
to attend to before we return to the festivities.” Arin returned to
his normal administrative tone as if nothing unusual had passed
between them. “Belab has told us that there was an untrained te-am’
eiruh in the midst of your people during the battle. This person
inflicted many casualties upon our armies. In particular he nearly
annihilated the stoche that accompanied us. Belab has warned us
that this person poses a great danger to both this army and your
people. We ask you to help us find him.”

Ipid paused in thought. He
remembered what Eia had said, but Arin’s words invigorated him at
the same time.
Annihilated the
stoche.
It was almost too good to be true.
“I don’t know how I can help,” he said cautiously. “I had never
heard of a te-am eiruh before the Darthur came. I do not know of
any in our world and would not know how to find one.”

“
We know this,” Arin
replied. “Belab tells me this is a special case, but he has seen
this person. He was in our camp just last night, in this very room.
He is one of the village boys that murdered a clansman in his
escape. Thankfully, Belab saw the boy for what he was and made a
picture of his face. We hope you can give us a name to accompany
the face. Though he will have to answer for the man he killed, it
is not our goal to hurt him. If he surrenders or is brought
peacefully to us and then submits to be trained by the te-am’
eiruh, he will not be punished. In all other cases, he must be
destroyed.”

Ipid found himself terribly torn. He
remembered what had happened that morning, remembered Eia’s
reaction, remembered the fear in her eyes. But he could not imagine
helping Arin again, could not imagine turning over the one weapon
his people seemed to possess. But if Eia was correct and that
weapon was unleashed unwittingly on innocent people, if they rather
than the stoche were killed, how would he live with
himself?

Numbly, he walked to Belab. The old
man pulled a sheaf of paper from his robe, carefully unfolded it,
and handed it across the table. Ipid held it so that he could see
it without the aid of his long-abandoned glasses. The image on the
page was faint but drawn by a skilled hand. He took in the lines of
the drawing, but he did not need to study them to know the face
that they depicted. He clutched the paper in horror. He begged
himself to remain calm, to not give away what he saw because
staring back from that sheaf of parchment was the image of his son,
a perfect picture of Dasen.

#

“
May I speak with you,
Lord Ronigan?” Belab’s voice pulled Ipid from his daze, and he
turned in time to see the old man’s shrouded form just before his
hand latched on his elbow. The old man’s grip was skeletal and
strong, but at least it was not as icy as Eia’s.

Ipid did not want to speak to anyone
and was dismayed that Belab had caught him. Somehow, he had managed
to make it out of the inn without revealing that his son was the
boy in the picture, but he did not know how. It had taken every
ounce of willpower he possessed to keep the recognition from
showing on his face. His anger over Arin’s betrayal was gone. He
was not thinking about his home or the people that had died this
day defending it. All he could think about was what Eia had told
him that morning and what that meant for Dasen.

“
I know it is your son,”
Belab said without emotion as they walked from the inn.

Ipid stopped in his tracks and looked
nervously around to see if anyone else might have heard. The other
te-ashüte had dispersed and were lost to the festivities in the
camp. He was alone with Belab, an island of solitude in a sea of
celebration. Ipid turned his attention to Belab and focused on the
task at hand. “How . . . what . . . what do you mean?” He tried to
look surprised, but it was far too late.

“
You cannot hide it. I
have known for some time. I felt his presence as soon as we arrived
on this side of the Devil’s Teeth. It was easy to learn his name
from the villagers. The connection to you was just as obvious. I
had only hoped that we could find the boy and train him before this
happened, that we could spare you this, but the Twins had other
plans.”

“
What . . . what are you
going to do?” Ipid was so upset and confused that he could barely
talk.

“
Exactly what Arin said.
We are of one mind on this. Now that he has discovered his powers,
we have no other choice. He is too dangerous. Either he must be
trained or he must be destroyed. I know that is hard for you to
hear, but I must think of the thousands who may suffer if I allow
him to continue as he is.”

“
You can . . . you cannot
kill him,” Ipid begged. He clutched at Belab, pleading. He could
not lose Dasen. After everything that had happened, he could
not.

“
I desperately hope that
we will not have to.” Belab sounded sincere. “But now that he has
shown that he can use his powers, we must use any and every
possible means to counteract him.”

Ipid tried to interject, but Belab cut
him off. “Despite what you think, I do not do this to aid the
Darthur. Though I am bound to them, I do not share their ambitions.
I do this to protect your people and mine. Your son is dangerous.
He has the power to kill thousands without even knowing what he is
doing. If it had been men rather than stoche on the field today, I
do not think even I could save him. All my people would be at risk
of retribution. I cannot allow that to happen, not
again.

“
So, Lord Ronigan.” Belab
gathered himself and looked deep into Ipid’s eyes – his own mere
shimmers of light from within his hood. “Please, carefully consider
your position on this. Dasen’s only hope is that he come to us
peacefully. If you can help us with that, it will save him and
potentially countless lives. You should also know that Arin will
find out your association soon enough. You gain no favors by
keeping this secret.”

Ipid had nothing to say, so he just
stood dumbfounded, unable to think, unable to speak. The silence
grew, but Belab did not release him. Ipid did not know what the old
man wanted. He did not know what he would say even if he had
decided to help.

“
I will leave you to
consider,” Belab finally conceded. “You have been through much this
day. You cannot be expected to make rational decisions right now.”
The old man looked up so that the light of the nearby camp revealed
the outline of a sympathetic smile.

“
Eialia told me that you
saw the battle,” Belab continued after another long pause. They had
stopped walking and were standing in the middle of the empty main
street of Wilmont, halfway to the te-am’ eiruh section of the
village. The mention of the battle was enough to make Ipid’s blood
rise even through his greater concern – he had not forgotten the
role of the te-am’ eiruh and their creatures.

“
Calm yourself.” Belab
stroked Ipid’s arm. “I know that you are upset, but you handled it
as well as you could. What I said in the inn was true. This
betrayal was necessary. It will save lives, but you have further
turned it into currency. The apology you extracted from Arin is a
rare and powerful thing. If you use it wisely, it may make the loss
of an abandoned city seem petty.”

Ipid opened his mouth to
protest –
how could any apology be worth
the loss of ten thousand (or more) lives and the devastation of an
entire city?
– but Belab spoke first. “You
know better than to let your anger dominate you. You are needed.
Your people need you, and they need your head to be clear. You are
an important player in this game whether you know it or not. You
may not believe it, but Arin trusts you and likes you. That is an
advantage that few are afforded. You need to stay focused on the
big picture. This will be a long and bloody war. Thousands upon
thousands will die. Your part will not be defined by one battle, by
one city. Your part will be defined by a hundred little things,
which taken together turn the tide, but only if you see them and
seize them. Keep your eyes always open, Ipid Ronigan. Chart your
course carefully, and you may be the hero who saves your
world.”

Belab moved his hand from Ipid’s arm
to his chest and placed his palm there while he mumbled a few
words. Ipid felt a warming inside as his concerns faded. It was
similar to the sensation he had felt that morning when Eia
collapsed, as if his fear and anger had been sucked away. “You
should not worry on these things tonight,” Belab advised as he
stepped away. “Go now and spend the evening with your people. Try
to follow the Darthur tradition. It is one of their better ones.
Celebrate your freedom tonight. Tomorrow, there will be time to
mourn.”

Epilogue

Cary did not bother to yell his
approach as he galloped, full rein, down Liandrin’s wide main
boulevard. The city was asleep at this predawn hour, and even so,
his voice had no chance to rise over or outdistance the ringing of
his horse’s hooves. He was fortunate to have arrived when he did.
Even a few hours earlier, and the drunks would have been weaving
across the streets. More than a few wouldn’t have reacted in time,
would have been trampled beneath his horse’s steel-shod hooves.
Cary was glad it had not come to that, but he would have done it,
would do anything, kill anyone to deliver the red pouch tucked
against his back.