The Princess Who Tamed Demons (21 page)

The roll of the dunes and the repetitive gait
of the horse's stride were having their own calming effects on not
just me, but the children too. Mhirra lolled back against my chest,
blissfully less than aware. Ankhar was more stubborn, probably
determined to absorb every second of the new strangeness that was
riding a horse for the first time. Even so, I could feel the boy's
hands grip me less and less tightly as we topped one rise after the
next. His head pressed into my back and his body turned sluggish,
shifting only minimally with the horse's stride. I kept us at a
sedate pace so that neither of the children might be startled
awake. Meanwhile I watched the horizon, which now looked like it
had been layered by a thin slice of cream, all I could still see of
the more distant Tajmari riders.

Later, Ghayth rode back briefly to check on
us, his chest puffing with pride. I could tell that he relished the
role of being our escort. It made the Verse-preacher feel crucial
and important. The more I interacted with him, the more I was
becoming familiar with the monumental ego somehow constrained in
that head of his. I thanked him, assured him of our gratitude, and
patiently listened to his plan for how his men would clear a path
for us to the Great Amir's palace, never mind that I hadn't even
requested he take us that far. After Ghayth had left again, Linn
and I were effectively alone, perspiring in the sadistic sun but
otherwise just pleasantly enjoying the relative peace of each
other's company. Of course I had to shatter it with my big
mouth.

"You don't like him much, do you?"

Linn's mouth pursed, as if he'd bitten a
rotten apple. "Is it that obvious?"

"I'm afraid so." I gave my wizened companion a
probing look.

"Would it surprise you to learn that I don't
approve of his methods?"

Linn twisted the stopper off of his calabash,
offering me a drink. I took a swig, handed it back with a nod of
thanks.

"No…that wouldn't surprise me. Do you think we
can trust him?"

Linn chuckled. "Unless I'm a fool, there's
only one right answer to
that
question."

"That would be a '
No
' then," I said,
surprised at how disappointed my tone sounded. "Can I make a
confession?"

"There's no need. I can already guess," Linn
said. "You want to trust him. Believe in him at your own peril
though. As I said, I don't like his methods, and methods can never
be completely separated from everything they touch."

I sighed. "I hope you are prepared to admit
that there are good people in the world who use questionable
methods."

"I believe the term you're looking for is
'scoundrel,'" Linn teased, and then his eyes turned serious again.
"It is not that Ghayth may not be a good man, Najika. But in my
experience it is very difficult to walk the tightrope of good
intentions and questionable methods. Not unlike walking a rope
bridge which is frayed on both ends."

I considered my friend's analogy. I couldn't
deny that Salib's brutal murder in front of me had changed my
estimation of who Ghayth was. He could clearly be ruthless under
certain circumstances. To me, though, he was ruthless in the sense
of an alpha wolf—fiercely protecting what was his, or what he
thought to be his. Adjudicating according to his own savage idea of
justice. It didn't mean I approved of his ways, but I understood
them. Abruptly I felt a prick of recognition. Something in Linn's
response suddenly intrigued me.

"When you spoke just now of someone walking
that tightrope, if I didn't know better, I would say that you were
referring to yourself."

Linn grimaced, showing me that I had hit my
mark. "A younger man. A different man." He laughed, but bitterness
spoiled the mirth. "There was a time when I believed that shrewd
alliances could provide all the safeguards I needed no matter how
risky or dubious the method. When I acted just like Ghayth,
protecting what I believed was mine even if heads needed to roll—no
pun intended." The librarian gave me a dour look.

"I'm sorry if I…I did not mean to bring up
difficult memories."

Linn's gaze sharpened on me. "Nonsense, girl.
You knew exactly what you were doing just now. I have told you very
little about my past, and this was your way of throwing your hook
into the water to see if the big fish would bite. Do not bother
denying it." My cheeks reddened. I opened my mouth to speak, but he
shushed me with a hand and a small smile. "And it just so happens
that the fish
will
bite, this once. You do remind me of old
times, and not all of them sad!" He grunted. "If you will listen, I
will tell you of the foolish thing I once did. Fortunately even
fools can be lucky."

My ears perked up now, concern vying with my
curiosity. I checked on Mhirra and Ankhar, and both children were
still soundly asleep.

"As a young man I was full of myself, and I
could talk the scales off of a serpent. The gift for storytelling
which I seldom use now except among close friends, well, back then
I used it for a different purpose. I inspired men to follow me. I
became the head of what you might call a 'tribe' or a 'clan' though
I know in the Black Kingdom you have no real concept of
such."

"I know what a tribe is," I said defensively.
I had been taught histories of other places. How ignorant did he
think I was?

"Shush." Linn's eyes clouded over, and I could
tell that he was remembering something with conflicted emotions.
"In those days I loved raiding, and always being on the move. The
mountains where I grew up provided the ideal valleys and rugged
hideouts to give us the advantage over the imperials. The imperials
were slow, they knew nothing of the land, and we often ambushed and
killed them before they could return to share what little knowledge
they had managed to gain. Yes, that's right, I may be a librarian
now, but in those days I was a bandit." He sighed, his mood
changing.

"Whenever we raided a village we had strict
rules. We would only harm people if they resisted, and we would
only carry off food and wealth, never women or children. We fought
other bands of raiders less honorable than ourselves, scrappy and
protective about 'our' territory. What we lacked in brutality
during our raids we more than made up for in how we treated our
enemies." He grew solemn, and I could barely hear his next
words.

"We devised ways to torture men that I still
dream of one day purging from my mind." He chuckled half-heartedly.
"Not that I can say I don't deserve to be haunted by them." He
sighed, as if shedding the last doldrums of pain, and suddenly his
tone brightened. "But I had one good thing come out of those wasted
years. Xuya."

"Xuya?" He had spoken the name like a delicate
flower. Like an irreplaceable treasure.

"My wife." His eyes crinkled with humor and
this time his chuckle was genuine. It filled me with warmth, and my
ears sharpened.

"Xuya. It's a beautiful name."

"Ahh. Yes, she was too—though we did not meet
under the best of circumstances." He gave me a sly look. "In fact,
it makes your first encounter with Drake seem tame by
comparison."

"Oh really? Now this I have got to
hear."

"It had been over a week since we had raided
our last village, and I was restless. My men were still exhausted
from one of our longer treks through the moors. We had a backlog of
stolen goods to assess before taking them to market. I had assigned
some of my trusted men to make the preparations, and meanwhile we
were stuck in limbo.

So, one bright morning while mist still clung
to the ground I woke up early, fed and watered my horse, and took
off for the next valley. I rode for hours, until both my horse and
I were lathered in sweat. The sun seemed to pierce the canopy of
the trees at just the right angle to tax my strength as the day
wore on. That night I camped alone, listening to the eerie hooting
of the great horned owls and the rustling of the nocturnal ocelots
prowling along the forest floor. The next day I rode on, still
restless, and then curious as the slope opened out onto a valley,
verdant-green and in full bloom. Where the slope met more even
ground I stumbled across a village, but right away I knew something
was not quite right."

I felt myself drawn in by his words, making
predictions about what would happen next. Perhaps this story
interested me more than all the others he had told because of that
personal connection, his own experience shining through with his
words.

"The fields were abandoned even though it was
mid-morning, prime hours for work. The houses sat empty, and in
some cases doors stood ajar to reveal the haste of those who had
left. I furtively made my way to the main commons of the village.
It wasn't much. Maybe half the size of the practice yard in the
Great Amir's palace courtyard, a layer of trampled earth with a few
tufts of grass clinging to life. And when I approached the village
green I saw a huge crowd, all eyes and ears riveted toward the
center. There, tied to a wooden stake with leaves and wood piled at
her feet, was Xuya."

"They were going to burn her?" I couldn't help
myself from interrupting.

"Yes, and without so much as granting her
modesty or dignity." Linn's eyes darkened like an unexpected solar
eclipse. "The village elders had accused her of being a witch, and
burning was the customary 'cure' for witches—men being held to a
different
standard, of course."

I shook my head. "That's awful, being wrongly
accused." I brightened. "And so romantic. Did you cut through the
crowd and rescue her before escaping into the woods?"

Linn stifled the urge to laugh. "Perhaps your
head is filled with a few too many romance tales." His eyes
twinkled with amusement as he continued. "No. Xuya
was
a
witch. They had accused her correctly."

I gaped.

"At the time I didn't know the full truth,
which she would tell me much later. She was a closeted witch who
only wanted to use her powers to heal or to protect, but when she
saw how much people hated who she was—how her abilities alone could
make people turn from being a dear friend to being consumed by
hatred for her—she decided to let them take her. She had the power
to free herself, but she had chosen not to use it. I sensed that
sadness in her as I saw her tied to the stake, but it didn't
dissuade me. I knew then that I wanted her. She looked beautiful
and kind." Linn laughed, seemingly at himself. "I know it sounds
foolish. The concept 'love at first sight' is a dangerous myth. But
what I saw in her in that moment could better be called 'trust at
first sight.' Have you ever met someone and instinctively felt
completely at ease around that person?"

I nodded.

"That's the spark we had in that moment.
That's something which I can attest truly does exist." He sighed.
"So, there she was, tied to the stake and helpless. In I rode on my
tall horse, respectable in my raiding gear with splinted
battle-mail and twin wakizashi blades strapped to my back. I drew
them and spurred ahead through the crowd, bellowing a challenge at
the top of my lungs. Those undisciplined farmers parted before me
like cattle, and the three elder judges overseeing the proceedings
turned their severe expressions on me. Those elder judges were
stoic, iron-hearted men, but I could sense their fear.

I drew up before them, positioning myself
between Xuya and the crowd. I looked at Xuya and then I looked at
the judges. Insults from the crowd lashed me from all directions.
'You have no business here, stranger! Go back wherever you came
from!' When I drew my bow, nocked an arrow and pointed it at the
face of the nearest judge, all three judges suddenly felt an
earnest need to be more hospitable, and they called for the crowd
to be silent.

I told the judges, 'I have a proposal for you,
in the interests of justice. Before I tell you my offer, know this.
I am a great shaman with men who follow me into battle without
question. If I am proven wrong, then I will go quietly and leave
you to your justice. Yet if I am proven right, you will allow this
woman to freely go with me.' I had their attention now. Even the
crowd was lured in by my words, intrigued by what this offer could
possibly be."

"Did you think that Xuya was a witch at the
time, though? How could you know?" I had to ask, unable to help
myself.

Linn nodded. "I did. It wasn't something
tangible, not at first, at least not by human senses. But my horse
kept pawing at the ground and turning back to stare at Xuya dead-on
even when I pulled forcefully on the reins. I knew that animals
were more sensitive to magic than humans—one of the many ways they
have more sense than we do. I took Dark Cloud's odd behavior as a
sign, and the more I saw the anger simmering underneath Xuya's
sadness, the more I became sure that Xuya was a witch, and that she
had more power than the villagers realized. She just needed a
reason to live, some
connection
."

"So what did you do?"

Linn grinned proudly. "I did what any
chivalrous bandit would do. First I dismounted and took my
traveling blanket from the saddle. I stepped up to the stake and
wrapped the blanket around Xuya to give her proper respect. Then I
looked up into her eyes very intently so that she could see that I
knew what she was, and that it didn't matter to me."