The Shore of Women (35 page)

“I fed the horses,” Tulan said. “Even Wild Spirit will take food from me. I wanted them to share the feast.” His smile faded as he sat down next to his guardian. “Will you take the horses away, too?”

“I think we must,” I said. “We’ll no longer be here to teach you more about them.” I was also thinking that, if we could not enter that other camp, we would have to travel on.

Tulan’s mouth drooped. “I’ll miss them, Arvil.”

“You will not miss them,” Jerlan said. “We had no need of such beasts before.”

“I will miss you, Arvil,” the boy murmured. “I will miss Spellweaver, who was to teach me how to ride. I wish…”

“What is it you wish?” his guardian asked. Tulan did not reply. “I believe I know.” Jerlan scratched his head. “I have a question, Arvil and Spellweaver. Might Tulan travel to that other camp with you and the Prayergiver? It may be that he won’t be allowed to enter, but if they admit him, he could live close by their holy vision and be touched by it. I would be happy knowing that Tulan was so blessed, and that would ease the pain of giving him up.”

Tulan gazed at me expectantly. “May I?”

I glanced at Birana. A look of sadness and longing was in her eyes. Could she have grown closer to the boy? I burned with jealousy, then chided myself silently. Tulan was only a boy who could not have left an enclave more than six summers ago. Perhaps Birana only wanted a friend who was not yet old enough to share my longing for her.

“We would gladly travel with him,” I said. Tulan clapped his hands together. “But it is your Prayergiver who must agree to this as well.”

Jerlan put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If that camp accepts you,” he said, “you cannot return here.”

The boy leaned against his guardian. “I’d miss you, Jerlan, but I want to go. I want to be with them both, and hear their tales, and learn more of their beasts. I’ll become a man in that other camp if they take me. Someday I may come here to fetch another boy for them.”

Jerlan ruffled his hair. “We’ll see what the Prayergiver says. He risks much going to that camp, even if he is to bring them news of holiness.” He got up and pulled Tulan to his feet. “We must rest now.”

The heaviness of the food inside me soon brought me sleep. A dream came to me, one in which aspects of the Lady gathered along the shore of the lake and held out their arms to me. Birana was among them, beckoning to me, and the part of my soul apart from the dream saw this as a sign that I would find a true refuge. Their hands gestured to me, and then another hand clutched at me. I was suddenly awake.

I was dragged from under the shelter. Our fire was low, revealing only the shadows of several men. “Seize them,” Irlan’s voice said, “and bear them to the place of testing.”

Two men held my arms against my sides. Two others gripped Birana; she did not struggle against them. We were led swiftly through the empty clearing and along the path by the gardens until we were outside the wall. Guards ran along the top of the wall but made no move to help us when they saw Irlan. One man gestured at a guard, and soon three torches had been set in the ground around us.

“No blood will be shed inside our camp,” the Headman said, “but we will settle this while the others sleep. You won’t have a truthsaying and so I cannot know if you have deceived our Prayergiver. Even one so holy can be led astray. You must therefore contend with me. If there is true holiness inside you, let it shield you now.”

“You had better believe your Prayergiver,” I said. “You accepted his word about the holy vision he saw before. Why do you doubt him now?”

“He traveled there with all the Prayergivers, and all saw the vision. Here, there is no other witness to the vision he claims you showed him. He may see holiness in you, but I see only two who have come here on the backs of beasts and have already begun to alter the ways we follow. I will fight you, who claim to be a man, and if your death proves you aren’t holy after all, the boy will soon lie at your side.”

“You don’t know what you will bring down upon yourself!” I shouted with all my power. One man stepped back while others glanced at one another. Two guards climbed down from the wall and raced back toward the dwellings.

“I am willing to test what I know with my own body, and prove its truth.” Irlan’s chest swelled. He took off his garments until he was bare to the waist.

He was, I saw then, a man uneasy with his power. Perhaps others besides the Prayergiver thought he was full of bluster. I had seen him back down in front of his Prayergiver; now he would prove that he was a man after all.

His men made a wide circle around us. I flexed my arms and took deep breaths as I pulled off my shirt. Irlan reached toward his belt and took out his knife, and I saw how we were to fight. My hand grasped the hilt of my metal blade, but I took little comfort from my knife. Irlan’s stone knife was sharp, and there were cords of muscle under his fat.

More men had now gathered on the wall and others were running toward us from the camp. “He has shared a feast with us,” Jerlan cried from the wall. “You heard what the Prayergiver said. He is to take them from this place tomorrow.”

“If holiness were truly theirs, I would allow it!” Irlan bellowed. “It is that I will test now. You will see that I’m right. Haven’t we thrived since I became Headman? Do you wish to see evil come upon us if these two travel east? Do you want that other band to discover that no holiness is in them and that we have harbored evil in our midst?”

“Headman,” Jerlan responded, “if you contend with this man, you must set aside the bond that binds you to us for that time.”

“And I’ll take up that bond again when he lies dead at my feet. You will see I was right, and there will be no more talk of how I’ve grown weaker in my leadership.”

He faced me, legs apart. The Prayergiver was now on the wall above me, but this matter had gone too far even for him to stop the fight. I glanced at Birana. The men standing with her had released her. Her hands were on her coat, as though she was ready to tear the garment from herself. By revealing what she was, she could save me.

Anger burned in me. “I shall fight, Spellweaver,” I shouted, “and you will watch.” She dropped her hands. This was a matter between Irlan and me, and I would be diminished if she revealed herself to save me. Then I forgot everything except the man who wanted me dead.

I danced toward Irlan, muttering curses in my old tongue. His powerful arm slashed at me. I leaped back, unharmed. His body swayed on his heavy legs. I could dodge his sweeps, but would only tire myself with the effort. He moved and swung his arm, staying close to the circle of men so that I could not get behind him. His knife darted at my face and I ducked. If he got too close to me, he could knock me to the ground with one blow. He slashed at me again and I feinted.

Thus we went on, lunging forward, darting to one side and slashing the air, probing each other for weakness. His body gleamed with sweat from his exertions as he slashed at me. I thought of what I would have to do against him. His sweat became rivers flowing down his chest and shone on his unbearded face. Strong as he was, he had grown too fat to fight easily. I began to see that he might tire first.

We went on in this way until it seemed half the night had passed. I panted for breath. Irlan’s fist grazed my face and nearly sent me to the ground, but I regained my footing.

“Come, Irlan,” I said in the holy speech as I swept my knife before me. “You are Headman of a great band, you are large with the wealth of your camp, and yet you cannot defeat me.” I paused for breath and heard his louder gaspings for air. “I am shielded from you, Irlan. Your knife cannot touch me. When you lie before me, I will set my foot on your neck and grind your face in the dust.”

His face grew red. I went on tormenting him with the foulest words I knew until his face flamed and his breath came from him in great gusts.

He stepped away from the circle and lumbered toward me. I jumped quickly to one side. His back was open to me. Before he could turn, I passed my knife to my left hand and struck him in the lower back with my strongest blow. He staggered. I hit him again and felt him give way.

He fell, and the ground seemed to shake with his falling. I leaped to his head and dropped down to his arms on my knees, pinning him to the ground. He kicked helplessly, his face in the dirt, his body heaving under me. My blood sang in my ears, throbbing with a sound like the Prayergiver’s drum. Very slowly, I made a long scratch along Irlan’s neck with my knife and then another along his back.

I got up. “I have won,” I shouted with the little breath I had left. “You see I had the power of death over him.” My chest heaved as I gulped air. “But he is your Headman, and so I won’t take his life. You must decide his fate.”

All of the men were looking toward the Prayergiver. Irlan sat up, raised one trembling arm, then let it fall. “I am one of you,” he said feebly.

The Prayergiver put out one hand, palm open. “You put off your bond when you fought. You said to Jerlan that you would take it up again when Arvil lay at your feet. He doesn’t lie at your feet. You are no longer one of us. You did evil, Irlan. Now the Lady has shielded him from you and shown what he is. You can no longer be Headman, for you failed the contest you yourself sought. Your contest was to be to the death, and it is death you have won.”

I went to Birana as the circle closed around Irlan. We walked together toward the opening in the wall. None of the men followed us. Irlan’s screams were already sounding through the night as we walked past the gardens. I did not look back. Birana halted, and I heard the sound of retching.

I put my hands on her head, trying to steady her. “You are safe,” I said, “and I’ll sleep soundly now.”

I had thought that only preparations for the journey remained, but now the camp was without a Headman and a new one had to be chosen. The Prayergiver left his hut, took up Irlan’s knife and spear, and went from one dwelling to another as both Prayergiver and Headman to learn what was in the men’s hearts. At the end of the day, he surrendered the weapons to Jerlan, and it was Jerlan who became the new Headman.

This change required more prayers from everyone in front of the Prayergiver’s house, where each man had to pass before the Prayergiver and Jerlan and kneel as he spoke holy words to the pair. Birana and I were the last to honor Jerlan, but because we were not members of the band, we bowed and did not kneel. Jerlan smiled at us then, for if we had not come there, perhaps he would not have been Headman.

Even after this, the band was not ready for us to leave. Jerlan had said Tulan might travel with us. Now he was Headman, and worried that showing his charge such favor might bring about hard feelings. He decreed a contest among the boys, saying that the winner would go with us.

My mind was not on these contests, although I hoped that Tulan would win them. We sat with the Prayergiver as the boys wrestled, shot arrows, ran footraces to the wall and back, threw spears, aimed stones in slings at targets, and threw knives at a bare spot on a distant tree. Jerlan made signs in the dirt at the end of each contest while I watched and longed to be away.

When the contests were over, Tulan had won the footraces and the stone-slinging, while his arrows had found their targets more often than those of others. No other boy had won as many contests, and perhaps the way Birana had smiled at the boy had cheered him. I praised him when he came before his guardian and saw the pride in his face. His journey was no longer a gift, but a prize he had won.

Jerlan stood up, beaming at his charge, and then spoke. “We rest tonight. Tomorrow we shall gather food for the travelers, and on the next day say farewell to them. May the Lady bless us all.”

Before we left, Jerlan wished us well and hugged his charge, and although Tulan’s eyes shone at this leave-taking, he held himself in and did not let his tears fall.

The Prayergiver walked ahead of us as we led the horses through the wall. We walked south and then east, following a faint trail through the wood. When the camp was completely hidden, Birana mounted Flame.

“I would ride,” Tulan said as he gazed up at her.

“You must learn how to sit on a horse first,” she replied. “When we stop to rest later, I’ll show you.” Tulan grinned as she spoke. We had decided to keep Birana’s secret from the boy until we reached the other camp and learned whether those men would accept him, but Tulan was already seeing her as a friend.

The Prayergiver shook his head. “I am too old to learn such a thing.” Old as he was, he walked with the sure step of a younger man. Through the trees, the lake below glistened as the sun shone upon it. I was leading Star and told the Prayergiver a little of how the horse had carried me to this land from the west.

“I’ll tell you this,” the Prayergiver murmured when we were farther ahead of Birana and Tulan. “You have brought me some joy, whatever awaits us, for if I did not have to lead you, I would have remained in my camp until I died. I’m grateful for the privilege of praying to the Lady for my band, but such a life has been hard for me.”

I thought of the Wolf and how he had died as an Elder. “It is not a bad life for an old one to be cared for by those who are younger,” I said.

“But I was a young Headman when the Prayergiver before me died, and the thought of spending my days in my house has sometimes weighed heavily on me.” He glanced back at Birana and made a sign. “May the Lady forgive me.”

“The Lady would understand.”

“The Lady is good, and, had I not been a Prayergiver, I would not have beheld Her form two times.”

These were welcome words, and again I wanted to know the secret of the camp to the east.

“Often,” he continued, “I went to the wall at night and tested myself with one of the guards at the skills of men. Sometimes the men would question me for doing this, but I would say that I had given the days to my prayers and that the nights were my own. I often told the Headman who came after me that he would do well to hone his arts from time to time.”

“Irlan should have listened to you,” I said politely, although I was grateful he had not.