The Search for Kä (15 page)

“She cannot move,” Tarani said flatly, her anger barely controlled.

*
Keeshah,
* I called.
*I need to see what you see.
*

*Yes,*
he agreed.

I reached out to him and blended into the closeness that was so sweet and pure and stirring that we could share it only for brief moments. For a few seconds, I was part of him, receiving the same sensory input, feeling the complicated blend of pride and contentment and good-natured grumpiness the presence of his mate stirred in him.

I saw Yayshah. She had torn and smashed and otherwise cleared away the ground cover and low bushes in a small area, to hollow out a sleeping nest. It was an obvious—and obviously unsatisfactory—imitation of the den in the Valley, where the taller, denser growth had provided a cavelike shelter. Keeshah was in the den, looking up as Yayshah lumbered through the opening. She was huge now, and she walked with a rocking motion to compensate for the balance shift caused by her swaying belly.

She came into the den, crouched awkwardly to rub her cheek and ear along Keeshah's shoulder, and flopped down on her side with her head across his hind legs. Keeshah stretched and yawned, kneaded her back gently with his forepaws, and relaxed again.

I broke the contact, both saddened and encouraged by what I had seen and warmed, as always, by the moment of closeness with Keeshah.

“Yayshah can walk,” I said. “We will move slowly, both of us riding Keeshah, and stop frequently to let Keeshah hunt. If Yayshah's time comes, you will stop wherever we are, and care for her. But we
leave
Thagorn as soon as possible.”

“She will not go,” Tarani said again, trembling.

“She will go if you are convinced it is necessary,” I replied. “Tarani, consider how deeply her
wishes
are affecting you. Her instincts demand a den—but if her instincts were all-powerful, she would never have left the Valley. Look beyond what she
wants
and try to see what she
needs.
Moving will make her unhappy, but I think the three of us can keep her—and the cubs—safe.”

I had taken Tarani's hands in mine, trying desperately to convince her. I felt a deep and very personal commitment to the Sharith. I had been through, too recently, the abandonment of sha'um to be the cause of it for even one more Rider. I had put off our departure until morning out of a simple need for rest and for giving the sha'um a chance to get used to the idea.

I waited for Tarani to decide. If she refused to lead Yayshah out of Thagorn, there was only one other recourse—ask Thymas and the other riders to drive her out. I was not sure I could ask them to do that. I was not sure they would do it. I
was
sure that, no matter how I felt about the matter, Keeshah would defend her.

Please, Tarami
, I begged silently.
Please understand.

Her answer surprised me. She straightened her shoulders, withdrew her hands from mine, and said: “As Thymas said, I am Sharith now; as Captain you have the right to command this, and I will do as you say.” She turned and walked out of the room and the house.

That will get us moving
, I thought,
but this trip may be more uncomfortable for me than for Yayshah.

“On behalf of the Sharith, I thank you, Rikardon,” Thymas said, with more feeling than might be expected from the formal words. “I hope you will have not cause to regret your choice. We will, of course, provide whatever you need for your journey. Where will you go?”

“Toward Raithskar,” I answered. “It may be possible to get there before the cubs arrive.” I glanced at Dharak, thinking of Thanasset and looking forward to seeing “my” father again. “Shola, Thymas—I
am
sorry.”

Thymas smiled—a little shakily at first, but finally with a glimmer of true good humor. “‘You made a sincere and reasoned judgment that happened to be a mistake,” Thymas said. “Learn the lesson you tried to teach us, and do not accept more blame than you deserve.”

“And please,” added Shola, “remember the good you have done, as well.” She stroked her husband's arm. “Dharak will come back to us when Doran returns,” she said, projecting—or pretending—absolute sureness. “Thymas will be a better leader in the meantime, because you showed him his father's confidence in him.”

Thymas's mother stood up and held out her arms to me. I embraced her; she stretched upward to kiss my cheek.

“You and Thymas have had a hurried and tiring trip back from Omergol. Rest now,” she said. “I will see that food is packed for your journey.”

I would not care to relive the hour, just after dawn of the following day, in which Tarani and I convinced Yayshah and Keeshah to leave their den. Keeshah came outside readily, but with questions and dread in his mind.

*
Why go?
* he complained. *
Comfortable. Cubs? Female? Safe?
*

*
I think so, Keeshah,
* I said. *
We'll take every care we can
*

*Female unhappy,*
he predicted, with admirable understatement, and added, with a sense of resignation and forbearance:
*All unhappy *

Yayshah had stayed inside, and Tarani and I stepped through the opening. The interior of the den was dim, but the outline of the female was clear and huge, her eyes shining with reflected light.

Yahshah backed away from Tarani, pressing against the deepest wall of the enclosure. Her teeth were bared and her ears flat against her head.

“You see her eagerness,” Tarani said sarcastically, then focused her attention on the sha'um. She walked forward slowly, making a low and melodious sound. Yayshah growled. I checked my impulse to reach out and drag Tarani back.

I might have questioned the quality of the link between Tarani and Yayshah, and wondered whether the cat's protective maternal instinct might override that special bond, so new to both of them. But I recalled other situations in which I had asked Tarani to face danger—now, as then, I reminded myself that she had accepted the task, and I had no choice but to let her accomplish it in her own way.

All the reasoning in the world could not keep me from crossing my fingers as the woman approached the sha'um and extended her hand toward the cat's muzzle.

Tarani's voice grew louder, and I detected the vibrancy that was always present when she used hypnotic, soothing sounds to assist the effectiveness of her illusions. Tarani was trying to calm Yayshah and ease the trauma of leaving her carefully prepared den, but she wasn't trying to force her will on the sha'um.

Nobody
forced
a sha'um to do anything.

The female hissed and raised a paw. I tensed and grabbed the hilt of my sword, but the paw only touched Tarani's shoulder and rested there. The girl swayed from its weight, then steadied, and put both her hands underneath the sha'um's jaw, stroking backward. Her voice never ceased its humming as she moved closer, brought her other shoulder under the cat's chin, lifted her arms to embrace the thick, furred neck. The glittering of Yayshah's eyes vanished, and I caught the movement as her ears pricked forward.

Cat and woman released one another, and Tarani backed toward the opening, still humming, inviting and drawing Yayshah with her outstretched hands. I retreated to make way for them. When Yaysha's head appeared in the rounded, green-bordered entryway and her eyes caught the sun, she balked. She lifted her head and made a sound that lifted the fur on my arms and neck, a shrieking roar that was unmistakably mournful, and vanished from the doorway.

A growl sounded right behind me, and Keeshah shouldered me aside. He was more gentle with Tarani, nudging her with the flat of his forehead, but he pushed her out of the way, too, and went into the den.

*
I will bring,
* Keeshah said.

Tarani looked at me, her face grim and sad. “She is so afraid, Rikardon.”

“It's all right,” I said. “Keeshah will bring her out.”

I reached for her hand, but it lay unresponsively in mine as we peeked into the den. It was crowded, with both sha'um standing, but Keeshah had moved around until he stood beside the female, pressing against her. He turned his body until she was between him and the door, and started edging toward us. The cub-laden female may have outweighed Keeshah, but she was confused and frightened; he was basically bigger than she, and he had a definite purpose. In a few seconds, she had no choice but to come out into the open.

We gave Yayshah time for her eyes to adjust to the light, then Tarani and I walked to Thagorn's gate. Keeshah stayed near his mate, often with his side pressed tightly to hers for comfort, as we left the city.

The whole contingent of Sharith had massed in the barracks yards, and watched us come down the hillside. Thymas offered his hand. I gripped it and squeezed his shoulder, unable to spare much attention from the sha'um and knowing that he would understand. Tarani was totally preoccupied with Yayshah, whose irregular step and quick starts displayed her continued nervousness.

Shola and Thymas walked beside us the last few steps toward the gate. Tarani led the sha'um on through, but I paused.

Shola handed me the filled travel bags, which I slung over my shoulder. “Give Tarani my thanks and good wishes, Captain,” she said, “and tell her my home and … and my heart are open to her.”

I hugged her. “This comes from both of us,” I said. “I know your message will please her.”

“With all that has happened,” Thymas said, “I have not heard what you found out about Kä.”

“I know where to start looking,” I said. “There was more—it will make a good story for the next time we meet.”

“I hope it will be soon, Captain,” the boy said.

“As soon as possible,” I agreed. “Goodbye, Lieutenant.”

I passsed out through the gate, trotting to catch up with Tarani. We led the sha'um along the road, over the hill toward Omergol. After an hour or so, we stopped to rest. When Yayshah had flopped down and slipped into a light nap, Tarani sighed and sagged down to sit on the ground. Keeshah nosed around restlessly, and silence stretched over the roadside clearing.

“I had to make this choice,” I said, at last.

“I see that,” Tarani answered. “But you were correct about Yayshah's effect on me. I wanted that den as fiercely as she did. I will need some time, Rikardon, to reconcile the Tightness and the pain of your choice.”

“That's only fair,” I said, and turned my attention to planning the trip.

Yayshah's ravenous appetite and unquenchable thirst required us to stay out of the desert, which left us with only one possible route. We followed the caravan road around the tip of the Morkadahls and stayed in the hillside country all the way north, past Alkhum to the low hills from which the Great Wall loomed upward. Our travel pattern was simple, too—we moved until Yayshah stopped, started again when she was refreshed.

At first, Tarani and Keeshah had to reconvince the female sha'um every time we moved from a camp. After a day or so, however, she relinquished her sullenness and seemed actually to enjoy the short spells of exercise.

Tarani and I rode Keeshah occasionally, but Yayshah moved slowly enough that we walked most of the time, sending Keeshah ahead to a likely stopping place, and letting him greet us with Yayshah's fresh-killed snack.

Tarani's mood lightened, but she remained thoughtful and a bit distant, and I was reluctant to push. I helplessly watched Yayshah as her belly grew until it nearly dragged the ground, and still detected no sign that the cubs were ready to meet the world. Paradoxically, as I became more anxious, Tarani became more confident. She said that Yayshah's concern had relaxed as she sensed her cubs were not suffering in the travel, and that she would know when the time was near. No matter where the cubs were born, Tarani said, the actual delivery would be guided by Yayshah's strongest instincts. Tarani never failed to add that, while Yayshah had adapted to the circumstances, she still longed for a dark and cozy den in which to greet the children.

I was so absorbed in the process of traveling, and with anxiety over Yayshah's condition and Tarani's distance, that I was surprised to waken one morning and recognize the familiar farmland that lay northeast of Raithskar. We had spent the moonless pre-dawn hours in a grove of fruit trees.

“We're nearly there,” I told Tarani, “and game will be scarce from here on out. If you and Yayshah will wait here, Keeshah and I will ride ahead to the city, and bring food back.”

“How long?” Tarani asked.

“Only a few hours,” I said. “Will Yayshah be all right?”

The girl knelt beside the cat, laid her hands on the swollen belly. The skin jumped with inner movement, as it had done with increasing regularity during the past few days, and I thought:
It can't be much longer.

As if she had read my mind, Tarani said: “It is nearly time. She cannot say how soon, but soon.”

I looked around. The sheer cliff the Gandalarans call the Great Wall rose from its base only a few miles away to disappear in the cliffs above. I could hear the distant roar of the Skarkel Falls, might be able to see its source, but for the cloaking mist sprayed up by the crash of the water into the deep pool at the base of the Wall.

“Now that we have hit farmland, there will be no real shelter for her,” I said. “Keeshah's house, in my father's yard, is the most suitable place I know. Can she make it that far?”

Tarani closed her eyes.

“Yayshah will try,” she said, and turned a serious face toward me. “Please do not leave us.”

“Won't she need food?” I asked.

“She wishes it, but does not require it,” she said. “At least, not until after she delivers. It is more important that her mate be close by her now.”

I set aside the homesickness that had nearly overwhelmed me, and we moved on together, causing no little stir among the people we passed along the way. For most of the morning, we moved cross-country, seeing only field workers and farmers. Toward noon, however, we struck the hard-packed caravan road that would take us directly into Raithskar. Had Keeshah and I been alone, we would have traveled parallel to the road, to ease the burden on the travelers who guided vlek-drawn carts or caravans of the pack animals. But Yayshah, moving ever more clumsily, was my chief concern, and the four of us took advantage of the smooth roadway, taking up nearly its full span.