The Broken World Book One - Children of Another God (6 page)

He glared at
her. "Anyone who licks the arse of a Mujar isn't fit to be called a
Trueman. They have no pride! No emotions! They're damned
indestructible scum!"

"But they rule
the world."

"They don't
rule anything! They sit around doing absolutely nothing all their
lives. They don't have a will of their own, and no one can inflict
his will on them."

Talsy
concentrated on her food, losing interest in the discussion. She
had her answer, although it did not please her. Borak scowled at
her, clearly annoyed. Her withdrawal from the conversation had left
him in the lurch just as he warmed to his subject. She finished her
meal in silence, unwilling to continue the dispute.

Talsy gazed out
of the window, chewing her lip. Her father climbed into the cart
while the skinny pony stood patiently between the shafts. Two weeks
had passed, and at last Borak was going to the village again for
supplies and to chat to his cronies in the tavern. She had endured
the wait with well-concealed impatience. Her father only left the
house to hunt, but then she had to go with him. She recalled the
day they had hunted a bog boar, leaving early in the morning. To
hunt such a dangerous animal required a bit of ingenuity, and a
long forgotten, but clever hunter had come up with a fairly safe
method. It involved building a rude platform in a tree beside a bog
boar trail. A barbed harpoon attached to a strong rope was then
tied to the base of the tree.

The hunter
waited on the platform for several freezing hours until a bog boar
wandered past. Then he had to throw the harpoon accurately enough
to impale the animal so the barbs found purchase in its flesh.
After that, all he had to do was wait for the bog boar to die. This
could take hours, or, if the throw was really bad, days. One
unfortunate hunter had hooked a bog boar's hind leg, and the
enraged beast had kept him trapped in the tree for three days until
a wolf pack chanced along and dispatched it.

Borak's throw
had killed the beast in less than an hour, and they dragged the
carcass home to freeze on the roof. It would provide food for
several weeks.

Talsy had
kissed and hugged her father goodbye with such effusion that he had
raised his brows in surprise, and her heart ached. If her plan
worked, she might never see him again. As soon as the cart rattled
away down the frozen road and vanished behind a belt of forest, she
approached the Mujar. Talsy loosened the rope with shaking hands,
excitement and nervousness vying within her. She had decided to
release him even if he left her behind. He did not deserve to be
thrown into a Pit.

As the rope
fell away, the Mujar raised his head and inhaled. He opened his
eyes and shoved her away, leaping up. Talsy sprawled with a yelp of
surprise and pain. He headed for the door, crossing the room in a
few long strides, and Talsy thought she had lost him. Then he
slowed and turned. His pale eyes swept the cabin and settled upon
her, a frown tugging at his brows.

Talsy held her
breath, wondering what he would do. He could call up the wind and
turn into a bird, or blast his way through the door. Instead, he
walked back to her, looking curious and puzzled. She scrambled to
her feet, her heart hammering. His glance raked her, and she was
acutely aware of her tousled hair, scuffed sheepskin boots and
coarse woollen shirt stuffed into worn brown leather leggings. When
his eyes returned to hers, his expression remained perplexed, as if
his inspection had told him nothing about her.

"Gratitude."

She knew the
ritual now. "Wish."

He inclined his
head. "Wish."

Talsy licked
her lips, hoping she would choose the right words. "I... I want
clan bond with you."

He frowned.
"What clan?"

"Me. I - I want
to serve you, give you comfort... I can hunt, provide food, build
shelter, cook..."

The Mujar held
up a hand. "One person is not a clan."

"Two people...
you and me. I - I can provide all the comfort you require.
Anything. Just take me with you!" The last words came from her
heart in a desperate plea.

He regarded her
with flat, blazing eyes. "And in return?"

"Er..." Talsy
hesitated, uncertain. "Help? Transport?"

He appeared to
consider, turning away. His eyes scanned the room again, lingering
on the fire. "Do you understand clan bond?"

"Yes. You're
free. If you want to leave you will."

He nodded, then
turned and pinned her with a hard stare. "That is not a Wish."

"It isn't?"

"No. It is an
offer of bargain, of service."

Talsy racked
her brains for a suitable Wish. She did not want to waste this
valuable favour he was bound to grant in return for freeing him.
"Um... protection?"

He glanced
around. "From what?"

"Anything.
Whatever comes along."

"If I accept
clan bond with you."

"Yes."

"And if I
don't?"

Talsy bit her
lip. "Then I'll make a different Wish."

Chanter
approached the fire, holding his hands out to it. The flames leapt,
tickling his fingers. It was good to be free of the collar. The
Powers answered his call, filling him with their comforting
presence. He considered the Lowman girl's bargain. Normally he
would not have accepted, for one person was not a clan, nor was
two. The comforts she offered were tempting, but he could manage
without them. That her Wish was part of the bargain made it hard to
refuse. He owed her a lot of gratitude for freeing him, but he had
another Wish to fulfil, and she would slow him down. There was no
time limit on the first Wish, however, so what difference did it
make? Turning, he found her watching him, wringing her hands.

He inclined his
head. "I accept clan bond, and your Wish protects you."

The girl
sagged, apparently relieved and happy, judging by her broad grin.
He shook his head in confusion at her odd emotional response and
raised a hand, holding it out, palm up.

"No harm."

"What - what
does that mean?"

"It means I
shall not harm you."

"Oh." She
looked puzzled. "But I thought Mujar couldn't harm anyone."

"We don't like
to hurt people, but we can."

"I see."

"And you?" he
enquired.

"What?"

"What is your
answer?"

Talsy stared at
him in confusion, then it dawned on her, and she cursed her
stupidity. "Oh, no, I wouldn't try to harm you."

He hesitated.
Evidently her reply was wrong, or at least, badly phrased. He
seemed to come to a decision. "I am called Chanter."

Talsy had the
impression that his name was not something he gave to just anyone,
and remembered his refusal to give it to her before.

She smiled. "I
- my name's Talsy."

Chanter studied
her as if he tried to plumb the depths of her soul with his
brilliant eyes, and she shivered. When he seemed satisfied with
what he saw, he turned to scan the room again. He walked over to
the water jug and filled a cup, sipping it. Talsy rushed to gather
provisions, stuffing a tent and cooking utensils into a bag.
Donning her best fur coat, sturdy boots and gloves, she picked up
her hunting bow and quiver. Staggering under the bag's weight, she
went to the door and dumped it.

He raised his
brows. "You're going to carry that?"

She nodded.

"How far?"

Talsy frowned.
How far would she get in the snow with such a heavy bag? Without
it, however, she could not provide the comforts she had
promised.

Struck by a
thought, she asked, "Are you hungry?"

Chanter
inclined his head, and Talsy gave herself a mental kick. Of course
he was hungry after not eating for three weeks. She took the pot of
last night's stew from the window ledge and set it on the fire.
Several hours remained before her father returned, so she had time.
Chanter wandered around the room, fingered the steel teeth of her
father's wolf traps and gazed at the collection of hunting spears
propped up in a corner. He then sat at the table and watched her,
making her face grow warm.

When the stew
was hot, he ate a copious amount with great relish, scraping the
bowl clean. She led the way outside and turned to him as she closed
the door.

"Which way?"
she asked with a smile.

He regarded
her, then gestured. "That way."

Talsy slogged
away in the direction he had indicated, her feet sinking into deep
snow. The course he had chosen led away from the village in the
next valley, and would take them deep into wild forests. The bag
dug into her shoulder, but then it was lifted off her and she
turned in surprise to find Chanter shouldering it with obvious
ease.

He met her
eyes. "Transport."

Talsy grinned
and preceded him along the trail, her heart buoyant. She had never
been so happy in her life. All eighteen winters of it.

Although her
spirits remained high, by late afternoon her legs ached and her
throat and lungs burnt from gasping frigid air. Chanter set a
gruelling pace she found hard to match, and he often had to wait
for her to catch up. Although there was no impatience in his eyes
at these times, she strived to walk faster. When she stumbled up to
him for the umpteenth time, gasping, he looked concerned.

"Rest. You'll
injure yourself."

She sank down
on a rock. "Don't you ever get tired?"

"No."

"I'm slowing
you down."

He nodded. "Of
course. If not for you, I would fly."

Talsy gazed at
the sky. "I wish I could."

"Tomorrow we
will travel faster."

"How?"

"You'll
see."

When her
gasping eased, he led her onward through the woods at a far slower
pace. Talsy stumbled after him, amazed by his stamina. She had
always thought she was fit and strong, but he made her seem weak.
Refusing to give in to her exhaustion, she pushed herself to the
limit of her endurance and tried not to show it. By the time he
stopped at sunset, her muscles protested every step and her head
swam. She erected the tent, eager to provide the comforts she had
promised.

The Mujar tried
to help, but the tent seemed to baffle him, and he did more damage
than good. When he pulled it askew for the fifth time, she begged
him to leave it alone. He sat on a rock while she finished pitching
it and collected firewood. After arranging the wood, she rummaged
in her bag for the tinderbox she was sure she had packed. Some
minutes later, she came to the unhappy conclusion that it was not
in the bag at all. Despair flooded her. Without a fire, she could
not cook the food she had brought and provide Chanter with the
comforts she had promised - her side of the bargain. If she fell
short on her side of the deal, he might leave her. Talsy turned
stricken eyes upon the Mujar, whose brows rose at her
expression.

"What's
wrong?"

She swallowed.
"I - I didn't bring the tinderbox."

"Ah." He rose
and came over to squat beside the pile of wood. "You want to make
this burn."

Talsy nodded.
"But without the tinderbox I can't, so I can't cook supper
and..."

Chanter cocked
his head and regarded her with gentle eyes. "And that's your side
of the clan bond."

Talsy burst
into tears as her tiredness and the feeling of inadequacy that had
plagued her all day found release. The Mujar looked astonished,
studying her twisted face with obvious fascination. He wiped a tear
from her cheek and tasted it.

"Shissar."

Talsy gulped,
distracted. "What?"

"Shissar. The
Power of Water. It comes from your eyes. Sea water too, very
strong."

"Those are
tears. Haven't you ever seen someone cry?"

He nodded.
"Yes, but not up close. Just a lot of wailing, hair-pulling and
breast-beating."

"When you were
in a clan?"

"Yes."

"What happened
to them?"

Chanter
shrugged. "They died."

"How?"

"Black
Riders."

Talsy sniffed,
wiping her nose. "Why didn't you protect them?"

"They didn't
want me to."

She pondered
his reaction to her tears again. "Have you never cried?"

"No."

"Even when you
were a child?"

Chanter
considered. "I was never a child."

"But..." She
stared at him, confused. "How were you born?"

"I don't know."
He appeared to lose interest in the subject, and glanced at the
pile of wood. "Do you want this to burn?"

"Yes, but
without the tinderbox..."

Chanter placed
his hand on the wood. The air filled with a roaring crackle, and a
wave of scorching heat and thick smoke enveloped her. Talsy yelled
and jumped up to flee the inferno. The sounds and sensations
vanished, and Chanter gripped her flailing arms, forcing her to
stop flapping them.

"It's all
right," he said.

Talsy swallowed
another yell and looked around in wide-eyed confusion at the
peaceful snow-covered forest. A faint taste of soot lingered on her
tongue, and the wood burnt merrily, mocking her panic with its tame
glow.

Chanter
released her, frowning. "I should have warned you. The
manifestation of Crayash can be frightening, I suppose."

She took a deep
breath to steady her tattered nerves. "No, I should have known
nothing can harm me when I'm with you."

Chanter
laughed, revealing perfect white teeth. "Is that what you
think?"

"Isn't it
true?"

His smile
faded. "You're a strange creature. Perhaps because you're still
young. One day, you too will hate Mujar."

"No,
never."

He wiped a tear
from her cheek. "Such certainty."

Talsy looked
away, startled and confused by his touch. Chanter studied her, then
returned to his rock to gaze into the fire. Talsy quelled a pang of
disappointment that surprised her and rummaged in the bag for her
pots. While she waited for the meat to cook, she pondered him.
Since he had agreed to clan bond, he seemed more talkative and
friendly. Already she knew her father was wrong about Mujar in
several ways. They were not stupid or emotionless, nor were they
like animals. The more time she spent with Chanter, the more
god-like he seemed.