The Search for Kä (14 page)

“Yes, Recorder,”
I said.

“Hold closely to me as we leave the All-Mind,”
Somil ordered, and I obeyed.
“I shall withdraw our minds from the All-Mind,”
he said. Brilliance faded into absolute darkness.
“And mine from yours,”
he added. I seemed to slide into something very cool, and an emptiness appeared where Somil's mind voice had been.

I opened my eyes. The dimness of the room seemed to have a different quality. I looked around and found that no daylight came through the narrow windows, but a shaded lamp stood on a ledge below them, casting only a little candleglow into the darkness. I was very cold; my arms responded sluggishly, the skin tingling, as I brought them over my chest to enfold some warmth.

“Do not rise,” Somil said. His voice was weak, but still had that commanding quality. I saw his arm reach out to a table near him, and heard a soft, mellow tone—a chime of some sort.

The drape was moved aside immediately, and the two young girls hurried in, one carrying a tray of food, the other a fully bright lamp. They set down what they carried and came to kneel beside us. The girl who had opened the front door tended me, massaging my arms and legs briskly, helping me to sit, offering me a dish of steaming rafel. Hunger nearly doubled me over when I smelled the food, and I ate it greedily. Somil was attacking his dish with equal ardor.

“How long—” I began.

“It is nearly dawn,” the girl beside me said. “It is the longest dear Somil has been away; we feared greatly for you both.” The girl beside the Recorder did not touch him as he ate, but her eager expression made me think that a massage and a hot meal were not the only rituals of renewal Somil demanded after a trip to the All-Mind. The expression changed to surprise and hurt when Somil pushed her gently off his resting ledge and asked both girls to leave the room. They protested, but went.

Somil looked at me across the food tray.

“It is rare that I learn so much of the seeker,” he said slowly, “or that what I do learn only leads to greater mysteries. It is fitting that you should seek out Zanek—for are you not, as he was, a man committed to his destiny?”

My hands tightened on the bowl I held.

“Do you
know
what my destiny is?” I whispered, but my hopes fell when he shook his head.

“The future is yet unformed,” Somil said. “I cannot say why or how it is given to some men to guide its forming, but I have seen it, in Zanek. I have met it, in you.”

There was a commotion at the doorway, the voices of the girls protesting and another voice speaking angrily—Thymas. “I hear their voices,” Thymas said. “I have to talk to him. Stand away!”

“Can you rise?” Somil asked me urgently. I nodded. “Then go and calm him,” he ordered. “He must not enter this room.” I stood up, a little shakily, and stretched my arm to the wall for support as I moved toward the doorway. “I say again, Rikardon, that what I have learned of you remains yours.”

I turned at the doorway and said: “Thank you, Recorder.” Then I shoved aside the tapestry and stepped into the anteroom, colliding with one of the girls who blocked the doorway.

Thymas had drawn his sword, but the girls had called his bluff and held their ground. Relief flooded into his face when he saw me.

“Rikardon, we have to go back to Thagorn. Right away.” He put away his sword, without apology, and drew a many-folded slip of paper from where it had been tucked into his belt. There was a solid deliberateness to his actions that was more alarming than his normal barely controlled wildness. “The messenger found me here just after nightfall,” he said. “I did not dare disturb you, but when I heard voices …”

I took the paper from him—the pattern of its folds was typical of a message sent in the breast-packet of a maufa, the Gandalaran message bird—and opened it, stepping away from the door as Somil emerged from the inner room.

It was a hasty scrawl that said as much, and was as unsettling, in its disarray as in its words:

“Is this Dharak's writing?” I asked the boy. He nodded. “Then let's get going,” I said.

“Not before I am paid,” said Somil. He was leaning against the wall, one arm around a girl, the other extended toward us.

Thymas muttered something, drew out the two gold coins, and dropped them on Somil's open palm. “Thank you,” Somil said, closing his hand around the coins. “Do come again, if I can be of service.” His words and manner were cynical, but I heard sincerity in them, and touched his shoulder in farewell before I turned to follow Thymas out into the street.

We dashed into Grallen's hotel and stayed only long enough to retrieve our bags and pay the extra night's rent on the room. Then we ran down the stair-stepped entry avenue and out of Omergol. Ronar was waiting for us; we mounted and started for Thagorn.

*
Keeshah,
* I called. *
Is anything wrong? What's happening there?
*

I had wakened him; his mind voice was sleepy. *
Nothing wrong,*
he said.
*Female always hungry *

I let him drift away, back into his sleep.

“Keeshah can't tell me what's wrong,” I said. “Yayshah's fine; that's all he cares about right now.”

“Thank you for asking,” Thymas shouted back.

I could feel the tension in the boy's body.

“Lighten up,” I urged him. “You'll wear Ronar out before noon.”

Only consideration for his sha'um could have penetrated his fear, but I felt him nod and make an effort to relax. I patted his leg in an effort to offer some comfort.

I knew what he was thinking, and it scared me, too. The only way I knew for Thymas to become Lieutenant was through Dharak's death.

Ronar, of course, was sensitive to Thymas's distress and urgent need to reach Thagorn, and the sha'um pushed himself to his limits. Thymas had left Somil's house briefly, during the night, to gather supplies for the trip, and I could only admire the commmon sense of his planning. The bags we had retrieved from the Green Sha'um Inn contained a small portion of food for him and me—cooked meat, bread, small fruits—but by far their major load was in chunks of raw meat wrapped in oiled cloth. They were no more than mouthfuls to Ronar, but in combination with a recent full meal, they were adequate to sustain a minimum energy level in the sha'um.

We ran straight to Thagorn, taking frequent but very short rests. The shock of Thymas's news had driven out the fatigue I had felt on returning from the All-Mind, but it caught up with me quickly, so that I spent the greater part of the trip in an unsatisfying half-doze. At midmorning of the next day, a shout from Thymas opened Thagorn's gates for us, and Ronar delivered us to the door of Dharak's house.

We slid to the ground from the sha'um's back as Shola came running out the front door. As anxious as Thymas was to get some answers, he took a moment to caress the panting cat in gratitude for his effort. Then he turned to meet his mother and hold her tenderly until the spasm of sobbing passed.

Tarani waited in the doorway, greeting me with a nod and a sad smile. Shola took Thymas's hand and led him into the house, Tarani moving ahead of them. I followed.

Dharak was in a corner of the room that served as a parlor. He was sitting very still and looking out the lattice-paned window at the river. What he was
seeing
was beyond our guessing. His face was smooth and blank. Only the slight, regular, usually unnoticed movements of breathing told us he was alive.

Thymas went slowly to kneel by his father. He touched the thick white hair, so like his own, smoothing it back from the pointed window's peak in the center of Dharak's forehead. He pressed the old man's hand and spoke his name. There was no response.

Without moving from his father's side, Thymas whispered: “What happened?”

Shola clasped her hands tightly. “He flew into a mad rage,” she said. “He blundered about the house, striking walls and tables—not intending damage, I think, but simply not caring what was in his way. He went to his desk and wrote that note to you, then screamed for Bareff until he came. After he had given orders for the letter to be sent, he … faded to the way you see him now.

“He goes where he is led, eats and relieves himself when directed, sleeps—or, at least, lies quietly abed—when he is told.” Her hands began to twist together, as if they were doing it without her knowledge. “I am so glad you have returned, Thymas. It has never been like this before—terrible, yes, but not like this.”

“Before?” I echoed. “This has happened before?”

“Not this precisely,” Shola answered. “But yes, of course—this is not the first time Doran has left for the Valley of the Sha'um.”

Thymas jumped to his feet. “Doran gone? But it is too soon. I remember the last time—it was only five years ago, was it not, mother?”

She nodded, and burst into sobs again. Tarani moved to her and put an arm around her shoulders; the older woman leaned gratefully against her.

A gnawing feeling had attacked my stomach and was working its way toward my toes and fingers. I ignored it, in full confidence that it would have its say soon.

“You yourself told me,” I said to Thymas, “that the sha'um don't make their visits to the Valley on an absolutely predictable schedule. There is no calling Doran back. Take this,” I said, pulling the many folded letter from my belt and giving it to him, “and find Bareff. You'll need to make plans.”

The boy took the paper, nodded grimly, and left the room.

“The letter,” Shola said, “I could not see what was in it before Dharak gave it to Bareff. What was in it?”

“Dharak named Thymas Lieutenant,” I said gently. She gasped with surprise, and I touched her hand. “He may have meant the appointment to be permanent,” I said, “but I doubt it. It sounds to me as though he knew he was not going to be able to function, and he wanted to give Thymas a sign of his confidence in him. When Doran returns, so will Dharak.”

She caught my hand and clung to it. Her face showed the strain of her grief and fear; her eyes seemed to have sunk even farther under her prominent supraorbital ridge, and there was a grayish cast to her skin. “I am grateful you are here, Captain,” she said, and went across the room to sit quietly by her husband.

Thymas burst into the room, Bareff hard on his heels. “I met Bareff coming to report to me,” Thymas explained. He looked into my face and narrowed his eyes. “I think you have guessed the news he brings.”

I sighed. “A lot of sha'um have left for the Valley in the past few days, right? Some of them much earlier than expected? Most of them older, sha'um who have been to the Valley at least once before?”

It was Bareff who answered. “The men were in all divisions, so it took us some time to notice the coincidence.” He shrugged. “Figuring out
why
was the easy part.”

Tarani moved into the center of the group, her manner defiant. It was clear to me that she had figured out what was happening, and had been preparing for this moment. “Yayshah was promised shelter until her cubs are delivered,” she said, facing Thymas. “He spoke for the Sharith; we expect you to honor his word.”

Before Thymas could answer, I asked Tarani: “When will the cubs be born?”

She hesitated a moment, and did not turn around when she answered. “I cannot say for certain.”

“Two days?” I pressed. “A seven-day? A moon?”

She whirled on me then. “As long as it must be,” she snapped, “we shall stay in Thagorn.”

“Bareff,” I asked, “how many sha'um are gone?”

He spent a second or two in thought, then answered. “Twenty-two.”

“That's more than a fifth of all the sha'um in Thagorn, Tarani,” I said. I gestured at Dharak. “More than a fifth of all Riders—disabled from their duty, disturbed and miserable. What's more,” I added, unsure whether either Thymas or Bareff had considered this, but needing to make my point with Tarani, “the season is wrong for their going. The females are bearing now; they won't tolerate mating for several moons. That means the sha'um will be gone for a longer time than usual, and there is a greater chance they won't return.”

“Is Yayshah to be blamed for that?”

“Not ‘blamed,'” I said. “But I believe her presence here caused it, by stimulating the physical need of the sha'um to seek out mates. So far, only those who have felt it before have been susceptible. The first to go would have been those who were closest to their regular time but, as you heard, Doran might have waited two more years, but for Yayshah. The longer we stay, the more the normal pattern will be skewed.”

Thymas spoke up. “My father understood, when he granted the shelter you requested, that the effect of a female sha'um in Thagorn could not be predicted.” He reached out, touched Tarani's arm, dropped his hand. “You and Yayshah are Sharith now, and must consider the good of all. I will support Dharak's word, if you require it, at whatever risk to the rest of us. But I ask you to release us from his promise, and take Yayshah away from here.”

Tarani seemed to consider his request for a moment, then she shook her head. “Nothing is worth the cost of Yayshah's cubs—to force her to travel now would be dangerous for all of them.” There was an odd trembling in her voice.

“Then it is settled,” Thymas said, his shoulders slumping. He looked at his father with pity and fear. “Yayshah shall stay.”

“For one more day,” I said. “We will depart Thagorn tomorrow morning.”

I did not give Tarani a chance to voice the protest she obviously intended.

“You said that asking Yayshah to move ‘might' be dangerous for her cubs, Tarani. That possibility must be weighed against the certainty of further disruption of Thagorn. The promise of shelter here was mine, as well, but I'm Captain and responsible to and for the Sharith. Tell Yayshah we have to go.”