The Oathbreaker's Shadow (15 page)

Strangely, Raim found himself admiring the Alashan and their nomadic lifestyle; it reminded him of home. He was dreading spending the rest of his days in Lazar, chained to a single place, which only added to the horror of being exiled there. The Chauk were too ashamed by their actions to continue living a nomadic lifestyle: nomads were proud, free people, and by breaking their oaths they became so full of guilt they were too heavy to move like free men, and had to spend the rest of their days imprisoned in Lazar. At least, that was what his grandfather had told him. But was that true? So many of the old, deeply ingrained myths and beliefs had been dispelled for him lately, he was no longer sure.

An old woman, her form crooked and bent with age, sat cross-legged, digging a narrow hole in the ground with her index finger. The entire tribe began to gather around her. A man stood next to her with what looked like an extremely long, flexible pole that was folded over in many places. Raim crept closer. The pole was actually a hollow tube of plant stem covered in a kind of glaze.

He desperately wanted to ask Wadi what they were
doing, but instead he relied on craning his neck and standing on his tiptoes for a better look.

‘Thank the gods, I was getting thirsty.’

‘You don’t deserve your water, scum.’

Raim jumped at the sound of Ryopi and his haunt’s voices – he hadn’t realized the man had come so close. Several of the Alashan noticed, though, and they hissed at Ryopi to move away. He cowered and crept backward until the protests died down.

Curiosity got the better of Raim, and he knew the only way he would get an explanation was by swallowing his pride and standing with Ryopi. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Ever wondered how the Alashan find water in the desert? Well, you’re about to find out. That’s the Old-maa right there; she’s the Alashan’s leader. She might look like an old crone, but don’t let appearances fool you.’

Raim couldn’t believe it. The ground here was as dry as the sand dunes – Wadi had said as much when she told him to abandon all hope. Gods, Khareh would have done anything to be here, witnessing this. It was one of the greatest mysteries surrounding the Alashan and the great barrier to crossing the desert itself: how do you find water?

The Old-maa detached a brown bag from around her waist and placed it on the ground next to her. She reached inside and pulled out a worm about as long as Raim’s hand and as thin as his little finger. The woman held the wriggling thing by the tail and dangled it over a tiny cup of water. Raim gasped as the worm opened its mouth to
display rows upon rows of teeth, which it gnashr, just out of its reach. All the Alashan, except the woman holding the worm, dropped their foreheads to the sand in a low bow. Raim quickly followed suit. In unison they spoke a brief prayer, which Ryopi translated for him:

Sita bring us life,

Sita run thy course.

Then Old-maa whipped the cup away and dropped the worm into the tiny hole she had been digging, and plunged the long straw the other man had carried in behind it.

The tube disappeared into the hole, the straw unfolding and unfolding many times over, until there was only an inch of grass visible. The woman lowered her mouth over the opening and drew in a deep breath. The effort pulled the skin even tighter around her gaunt face so that her cheeks almost disappeared beneath the shadows from her brow. When she lifted her head up again she held the worm delicately between her teeth and the opening of the tube was pinched tightly shut between her fingers. The worm’s shape had changed drastically. The first of its previously thin and wrinkled segments was now fat and bulbous and it seemed more energetic, thrashing its body around in an effort to break free of the woman’s grasp. Deftly, she dropped the worm back into its bag.

Beside Raim, Ryopi let out a long, admiring whistle.
He wasn’t the only one – the Alashan looked especially impressed, and Raim saw Wadi clasp her hands together in delight. ‘Only one segment, she truly is one of the best,’ Ryopi whispered. Raim didn’t quite understand, but the action wasn’t over around Old-maa.

The man who had previously held the tubing moved first. He unlatched his water skin from around his neck and held it just above the woman’s pinched fingers. Old-maa let go and water spouted out of the tubing and into the bottle. Not a drop was lost. In turn all the other Alashan filled up their bottles, the water gushing as if it would never run out. No water ever touched the sand, though. They were far too careful. Raim felt a rush of relief and happiness overwhelm him. He thought he would never have the taste of fresh water again, especially not here, in the desert. The Alashan were miracle workers. He didn’t know how the worm found the water, or how the tubing worked, but at that point he couldn’t have cared any less. All he wanted was a drink and soon he was going to get it.

After the Alashan had each had some water, Old-maa’s piercing gaze turned to the Chauk. Raim stared back at her openly, but Ryopi tugged on his arm and hissed, ‘Keep your eyes down. You don’t want to miss out on a drink, do you?’

Raim shook his head violently, and cast his eyes to the sand. He got in line behind Ryopi, but the other Chauk kept pushing him out of the way until he was the very last
in the line-up. He was the new exile, and even amongst this group that made him the lowest of the low.

And when he shuffled forward for his turn, Old-maa deftly tied the end of the straw and passed it back to her helper to pull out of the hole. She barked at Raim in their strange language, snapped her fingers twice right in his face and then turned to shout at the rest of the tribe. For a moment, Raim was speechless. But thirst drove him to action. ‘Please, I need water.’

Wadi stepped forward, and Raim felt relieved. She had helped him with the jarumba root; she knew he needed water desperately. But his relief turned to fear when he looked into her eyes and they had lost all trace of their previous warmth. ‘Our leader, Old-maa, has decreed that you have not yet earned your water. She is asking if any are willing to do battle with you. It works like this: you fight one of us and if you survive then you are worthy of help. Since there is debate among us as to your status, and you yourself insist right hand. They far awayfe that you are not fully Chauk, you must prove yourself.’ Then, she said in both languages: ‘I will do it.’

She unbuttoned the clasp at the nape of her neck and let her cloak drop to the ground. She wore loose indigo trousers and a similar-coloured top that wrapped around her torso and her neck, accentuating her broad shoulders. Also around her neck was a pale sand-coloured pendant, the size of Raim’s palm. She tucked it beneath the folds of the cloth.

‘Don’t think because I speak your language that I am any less Alashan,’ she said, the challenge in her tone increasing. She pointed to one of the men and signalled an order with her hands. He dis appeared for a moment, and then brought back a case with two short daggers in it. Wadi picked them up and spun them in her palms. The moonlight reflected off the metal edges. She thumbed the edges of the blades, then turned and threw one of them at Raim’s feet. ‘We are seeking an honest fight.’ She seemed to repeat the words in her language, as they all nodded slowly in response. ‘I am expecting a good one, what with that other knot you showed me.’

Mesan stepped forward, and Raim understood that he was going to adjudicate the fight. He made a motion with his hands that was easy for Raim to interpret. He wanted Raim to remove his shirt and cloak, so that he could battle in proper Alashan style.

Raim hesitated for a moment, but there was more insistent sign language, so he dropped his cloak to the floor and tore off the remnants of his shirt. All of his clothes were ripped and filthy, the complete opposite of the neat Alashan garments.

The only thing left was his Absolute Vow, hanging around his neck, and Dharma’s scarf, which was still wrapped tightly around his wrist, covering the scar.

‘You can hide it, but we all know what you are.’ Wadi’s entire face was wrinkled in disgust.

And Raim’s inner Yun warrior jumped at this moment
of weakness in his opponent and in a single swift movement he scooped up the blade and lunged for Wadi, narrowly missing her chest with his swipe. Surprising the enemy was always an asset. He could sense training in Wadi too, as her reflexes threw her backward and she quickly recovered her composure. She tried for intimidation. ‘You are exiled from Darhan, but you are not Chauk. The Alashan will never accept you – you will never become one of us. You belong nowhere, you are nothing.’

He was unfazed. Mhara had said much worse to him, and he had been much more in awe of her than of Wadi. ‘If I am nothing, then I have nothing to lose.’

Old-maa stopped the talk with an impatient snap, and they began again. Raim began to sidestep in a circle in the same counterclockwise direction as Wadi. As he sunk into his training, his steps grew springy and agile. The circle grew tighter. When they clashed, Raim knew he was in his element.

She was strong. The combat was much more physical than Raim was used to. There were no swords here, no great stretches of distance between them. Their blades were each neutralized by the body ced at the wate