ROAD TO CORDIA (8 page)

     “Yes, but…?”

     “But?”

     “But why would you do that?” she asked.

     His mobile face wore a wounded expression. “Because you’re a person and I’m a person,” he said. “And I’m the one who knows the way. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

     Ja'Nil felt like the rudest, nastiest, meanest, rottenest person in the whole world. Even Sildy wouldn’t be as rude as she was being to this nice man.         

     He studied her carefully and then grinned cheerfully, “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Being cautious is sensible. Besides, I‘m going that way myself.”

     “To my village?”

     “To Cordia. The road to Cordia branches off the road you want.” He stood up and began kicking dirt onto the fire until it was completely out. He picked up his backpack and looked at her expectantly. “Coming?”

     She nodded.

     O’Keeven was charming and funny, and he seemed to think she was the same. He liked the fact that she was tall. He said she wasn’t skinny, that she was willowy. He admired her profile, her curly hair, her sense of humor. He smiled his wonderful smile, and his eyes shone with admiration. He was interested when she told him about how out of place she was in her village. He commiserated when she confided her fears about not being able to pay the priests for her adult ritual. When she complained about Sildy and Rog, he said they sounded like idiots. He was wonderful!

     They walked and talked for hours; she barely noticed the time passing.

     He even wanted to know if she had a boyfriend. Imagine her having a boyfriend!  He seemed to think the reason she wasn’t appreciated in her own village was that people were used to her, they still thought of her as a child. They didn’t realize she was just about grown. Anyway, they were probably jealous of her.

     Listening to him, Ja'Nil had to agree. That explained so much. It wasn’t her; it was everyone else. Except…

     Before she could explore that thought further, O’Keeven stopped walking. They were out of the woods now. They had come to the crossroad.

     O‘Keeven bent and picked up a few small rocks and began to juggle them. He barely seemed to notice what his hands were doing.

     “Now, all you have to do is follow that road.” His right hand reached out and pointed, then continued juggling without a break in the flow. “You follow it for about two days. When you come to a bridge over the salt inlet, you cross the bridge and turn right. Should take you another day, then you’ll be back in your village.”

     Ja'Nil looked glumly down the road he had indicated.

     “How will people take it when you return without a healer?” he asked. “Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t worry about it. Doesn’t sound like they expect much of you anyway.” He smiled down at her. “They don’t know you like I do.”

     “I wish you were coming with me,” Ja'Nil blurted out.

     He shook his head. “I have business in Cordia. Of course, you could always come with me.”

     “What?”

     He waited.

     “I could?”

     He smiled his beautiful smile. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners. He tossed the rocks away and stood there with his legs slightly parted, feet solid on the earth, his thumbs hooked in the straps of his backpack. His dark red hair gleamed against the beauty of his dark skin and the green of his tunic. The sun seemed to shine directly down on him, infusing his whole appearance with a magical glow. Next to him, Ja'Nil, despite her shabby tunic, uncombed hair and slightly rank odor, felt empowered by his beauty and confidence. Surely, just being in O’Keeven’s presence would lend her a consequence she did not herself possess. If she went to Cordia with him, who knows what could happen. Maybe she would even find a healer.

CHAPTER 8

     When O’Keeven turned down the road leading away from her village, she followed him. It was a beautiful day. First Sun was shining benignly down on the world. The road led through an open meadow. On either side of the road were wild flowers, purple, orange, and yellow. A soft breeze carried their myriad scents to Ja'Nil causing her to take deep, happy breaths.

     O’Keeven set a good pace, but she was a strong walker and he was so entertaining and made her feel so good about herself that she barely noticed. After a mile or two, they left the road and cut through woods and open meadows. “Quicker this way,” O’Keeven said. “Prettier, too.”

       They saw no other travelers. It was as though they were the only two people in the whole wonderful world. When First Sun had set and the second sun (known as Little’un) was low in the sky, they started looking around for a campsite. They had just spotted an open space near a fast running creek when O’Keeven stopped walking and slowly pulled out his knife. His eyes were fixed on a large green striped rabbit. Dinner. O’Keeven took a step forward. He drew back his arm and threw. The rabbit gave a gigantic jump to one side and then ran as fast as his green striped legs could go. It was still out in the open but making rapidly for the tall grass. “Damn,” said O’Keeven. “There goes our dinner.”

     Ja'Nil bent down, grabbed up a rock about half the size of her hand, and threw it. The rock whizzed past O’Keeven’s head and caught the rabbit right between its large, fluffy ears. It dropped in mid-hop. O’Keeven ran up to the stunned animal, pulled another knife out of his boot and cut its throat.

     “Where did you learn to throw like that?” he asked. For once, he did not sound admiring. Ja'Nil was confused by his tone. Her ability to hit what she aimed at was the one thing even the people at home had approved of.

     “Never mind,” he said. “Where’s my knife?”

     “Over there,” she said, pointing.

     “Get it.”

     She went and got it for him.

     While he was cleaning the rabbit, Ja'Nil gathered wood and built a small cooking fire. She sharpened a green piece of wood about the width of her thumb, threaded it through the rabbit as she had seen her father do, and then proceeded to roast the rabbit over the cook fire. O’Keeven dug out some herbs and salt from his backpack and sprinkled it over the cooking rabbit.

     “Here, I’ll do that,” he said. “Get us some water.” He handed her the stoppered, pear-shaped flask.         

     After they had dined on well-seasoned rabbit and fresh water, O’Keeven’s good humor returned. He pulled a well-worn pack of cards from his backpack and entertained her with card-tricks. He shuffled the pack of cards, then spread them out in a fan shape, face down, so he couldn’t see what card she chose. After she picked a card and returned it, still face down, he shuffled the deck again, and then had her turn over the top card. Invariably, it was the one she had chosen. They did it three times.

     “How do you do that?”

     “I saw the card in your mind.”

     “My mind?” She laughed nervously. “You can’t read my mind… can you?”

     He smiled.

     “Nobody can read another person’s mind.”

     “Are you sure,” he asked. “Traveled extensively, have you? Met lots of different people?”

     “No, but…”

     He laughed. “It’s just a card trick, Ja'Nil, don’t worry about it.”

     “Oh, I’m not worried about it. I know it’s not really possible.” But she wasn’t at all sure. Was she traveling with a man who could read her every thought? Were there really such people? All her self-doubts came crashing back.  However, the fact that he still seemed to like her was proof that he couldn’t really read people.

      She yawned. Her eyeslids were so heavy.

     “Here,” he said. “You can have this.” He handed her a thin blanket.

     “Thank you.”

     He rolled up in his own blanket, turned his back to her, and seemed to fall asleep immediately.

     It was not a cold night, but the blanket he had given her was welcome. She wrapped it around herself, yawned again and slipped off the edge of wakefulness into sleep. If she had bad dreams that night, she didn’t remember them when she woke.

* * *

     On this, their second day of traveling together, they stayed mostly on the road. O’Keeven entertained her by telling her outrageous stories about the places he had been and the people he had met. The stories were both sweet and funny. Ja'Nil laughed with delight. He showed her how to juggle and told her she had a natural talent and with just a little practice would be as good as he was. He admired the way she carried herself. He admired her grace, her wit, and the sound of her laughter. He seemed to admire everything about her. Ja'Nil felt happiness unfolding in her like a dry desert flower under a spring rain. The world was filled with bright colors and sunshine. Anything was possible.

     By the afternoon, they began to meet other travelers. But the other travelers looked at them suspiciously and did not return their greetings.

     “People aren’t very friendly,” said Ja'Nil.

     “No,” agreed O’Keeven.

     “I thought travelers would be friendlier.”

     “They usually are,” said O’Keeven. He looked worried.

     “Do you think something’s wrong?”

     “I think --” he began, and then stopped short. Ja'Nil turned to follow his gaze.  Coming quickly across a field were four men on horseback. The other people on the road also froze, and then began walking rapidly on. “Come on,” said O’Keeven, grabbing her arm and urging her forward. “Don’t look around,” he told her.

     “Who are they?”

     “A patrol.”

     “Whose? The Queen’s?” she asked.  

     “If they stop us, let me do the talking.”

     The four horsemen thundered down to the road, easily jumping the ditch that separated the road from the fields. Their horses were magnificent, each at least sixteen hands high with powerful back quarters and beautifully formed heads. Their manes and tails were a flaming red, and their sleek bodies were colored in red and black stripes. The four horsemen rode them as if the animals and they were one creature. The men all wore red jerkins with a black patch on their shoulders. In the middle of the patch was a picture of a horse with a red mane, rampant.   

     Ja'Nil was so fascinated that it didn’t occur to her to be afraid. It was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance. Their grace and command, their very colors were theatrical and enchanting. Enchanting until she noticed their iron tipped lances and the way the horses were crowding the slower moving travelers, knocking several to the ground. Acting in perfect concert, the horsemen rounded up all the travelers on the road, including herself and O’Keeven, and herded them into a small circle. The faces of the Red Horse Riders were hard, and their eyes cruel. One of them smiled when his horse knocked down an old man.

     “Clan?” They asked each traveler.

     There were Foresters, Fisherfolk and Weavers. There were Wheelers and Dealers and Sailmakers, Farmers and Diggers, Sellers and Buyers.

     “Fisherfolk,” said Ja'Nil, pointing to her emblem.

     “Player,” answered O’Keeven, when asked.

     “Where’s your emblem?” One of riders asked O’Keeven.

     O’Keeven just spread his hands wide and shrugged.

     Ja'Nil was growing frightened. She had never heard of one’s clan emblem being used as a passport. It was simply a custom to wear an emblem or “shield” showing who your people were. There was no law saying you had to… was there?

     One of the riders gave a shrill whistle, and down the road appeared a large wood covered box of a wagon pulled by a team of very large, red striped, dray horses.

     Ja'Nil, O’Keeven and all the other travelers were crowded into the wagon. There were wooden benches around the sides, but no windows. At the last minute, a man from the Sailmaker clan panicked and refused to get into the wagon.

     “I don’t like closed places,” he said, backing up. “I’ll walk. Just tell me where to go and I’ll walk there.”

     “Get in.” 

     The man continued trying to back up. The horsemen crowded around him. “Get in,” they kept saying. The man of the Sailmaker Clan shook his head. Suddenly, he bolted. Yelling loudly, and waving his arms, he charged between two horses. The horses, frightened by the noise and sudden, wild movement, jumped aside. The man was running down the road, silent now, his legs pumping furiously. Ja'Nil expected the riders to go after him and crowd him back to the wagon. Instead, one of the riders stood in his stirrups, hefted his lance, and with a wild war cry, threw it at the running man.

     It hit him right between his shoulder blades, slipping into his flesh, through his lungs, into the very heart of him. He stopped abruptly, the quivering lance sticking straight out from his back. As Ja'Nil watched, redness, shaped like the petals of a scarlet bora flower, formed around the shaft and spread outward. The man dropped to his knees and then, with unhurried grace, lay face down on the road.

* * *

     The wooden wagon was crowded and uncomfortable. Every dip in the road, every bump, was magnified so that people were thrown against each other, or fell and bruised themselves and others. No one spoke; eye contact was accidental and furtive. Sweat ran down people’s foreheads and stained the clothing under their arms.

     Ja'Nil kept swallowing convulsively. She wedged herself into a corner and drew her knees up to avoid being stepped on. O’Keeven leaned against the wall next to her.

     She was going home, she decided. As soon as they were released and away from these horrible horsemen, she was going directly home.

     The wagon was not well made. The sides had probably been put together with green wood, which separated as it dried out. Dust from the road swirled around making the captured travelers cough and sneeze. There were two small children traveling with their parents. One of them started crying. Ja'Nil wanted to cry along with her.

     “Shut that kid up!” said one of the men.

     “She’s frightened,” said the mother.

     “Shut her up or I will,” said the man.

     “Don’t talk to my wife like that,” said the father in an almost apologetic voice.