The Glass of Dyskornis (21 page)

“Uh—” the Elder began, confused. “I should say he was all right,” he said then. “At least, he wasn’t injured in any way, though he seemed … distant, preoccupied. In fact, it was his companion who introduced him. The name he was given was Shandor, I believe. Yes, Shandor.”

“And his companion?” I asked, exchanging a look of total bewilderment with Tarani.

“His companion I know well,” Nerral said, with the neutral tone I had begun to recognize as passive disapproval among the Fa’aldu. “It was the caravan master, Gharlas.”

Tarani started to say something, but I put a hand on her arm and squeezed. “You say the man you know as Shandor had been here twice before? Was Gharlas with him then?” Nerral nodded. “How long ago?”

“Oh, it has been moons,” he said, “since I last saw him—though Gharlas, of course, comes through here regularly. I’m sorry I can’t give you a more precise answer, but I would say it has been over a year ago, and then his visits were two or three moons apart, as I remember.”

With my hand still tight on Tarani’s arm, I thanked Nerral, and went through the formal request for shelter for the night. Again, I was asked to be the guest of the Fa’aldu, but this time I protested. We had two sha’um to feed, I said, as well as ourselves. I admitted we had nothing to trade, but would he not bend the rules far enough to accept coin payment, only this once?

Tarani broke away from me at that point. “We do have something to trade,” she said, and slipped her travel bag off her shoulders. She rummaged in it for a moment, and brought out the beautiful gown she had worn on stage at Thagorn. Nerral caught his breath as the soft blue fabric spread out in the breeze, and sunlight glinted from the hundreds of tiny beads which decorated the collar and armbands.

“The dress will be useless to your women as it is,” Tarani said. “But the fabric is fine quality and these beads—” she ran her thumb across the glittering surface of one of the armbands “—were made for me by Volitar, after he finally accepted the idea of the show.” Abruptly, she extended the dress toward Nerral. “Take it, please,” she urged. “I will not need it again.”

The elder’s hands enfolded the soft stuff carefully. “This is part of your life, Tarani. I thank you, and I hope that the giving of it brings you good fortune. Come in, and be welcome, all of you.”

We gave him our swords, and a boy led Thymas and Tarani away, while I made arrangements for meat and water to be left outside the wall for the sha’um.

It’s all right to start without me this time, Keeshah. I need to talk to Tarani.

Inid was twice the size of Relenor and twice as crowded, a fact I might have predicted by the number of caravans traipsing across the Zantro Pass. We had been able to buy meat for the sha’um out of one of the supply herds.

There was no question of private rooms at Inid. Tarani and Thymas and I would be sharing again. I hoped we’d all make it through the night alive.

As I approached our room, I could hear voices through the door. I hesitated with my hand on the latch. I told myself that it might be best not to interrupt. Nobody wants to admit to a desire to eavesdrop.

“—Gharlas?” I caught the end of Thymas’s question.

“I don’t know any Gharlas,” Tarani said. “I told you, I heard his name for the first time in Molik’s office, after he had taken Volitar.”

“In his office?” the boy sneered. “Not in his bedroom? I saw the way he looked at you—that was not a passion two years dead.

“And you lied to me,” Thymas went on. “First you had ‘borrowed money from him.’ Then he had ‘taken advantage of you.’ You ‘hated him.’ Hate? A Sharith kills his enemies, Tarani. You spared Molik when you had the chance to see him dead.”

“Don’t think that was an easy decision, Thymas,” Tarani retorted. “I did hate him—enough to kill him, myself, if Rikardon hadn’t stopped me.

“In that moment when my word could destroy him, I had to see things clearly. Molik did nothing except agree to a business deal. He was weak, and that was unfortunate. But I have been blaming myself for his weakness, then blaming him for my guilt. I was making him more important than he was. His passion was fresh, yes—because he knew he still had a hold on me.

“When I faced Molik’s death, I finally put him where he belonged—in the past. You were wrong to kill him, Thymas. I am free of him now. To let him live, wanting me, and knowing I was out of reach—that would have been a more severe punishment.”

“A Sharith kills his enemies,” Thymas repeated.

“I am not Sharith,” Tarani said. “I won’t be going back to Thagorn with you, Thymas.”

I caught my breath and held it.
You fool, go away
, I told myself.
This is none of your business, remember?
I didn’t move.

Thymas’s voice was hard. “We’ll talk about this after we have your uncle safe again. You’re upset now, because I killed Molik in spite of what you said.”

“We have been playing Molik’s game without realizing it,” Tarani said. “In Thagorn you wanted to see—and I let you see—only the part of Tarani which might fit into the Sharith life. I didn’t deceive you deliberately. I told myself that it was what I wanted, too. I was trying to run from a past that I, myself, was keeping alive.

“I have great respect for the Riders and the women of the Sharith, Thymas, but I don’t belong there.

“If you don’t believe me, ask Ronar.”

“Ronar? But he doesn’t hate you, Tarani,” Thymas said. “He only … doesn’t want you … to ride.” His voice slowed, stopped.

The silence stretched out until I was about ready to go in, just to end it. Then Tarani said gently: “You understand now, don’t you? Ronar doesn’t accept me because
you
can’t accept me. Not the whole person. Not the real Tarani.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand,” Thymas said angrily. “Someone has come between us, all right, but it wasn’t Molik. Keeshah lets ‘the real Tarani’ ride. So Rikardon—”

Id heard enough; I opened the door. Both of them looked at me when I entered the room. I didn’t bother pretending that I hadn’t heard anything.

“Thymas, for once in your life, listen to what somebody says,” I ordered. “Tarani rides with me because she can’t ride with you. It’s that simple.

“Now, Tarani, what, in the name of Zanek, is Volitar doing with Gharlas?”

“That’s what I want to know, Captain,” she said. “Who is Gharlas? Is Volitar still in danger?”

“Gharlas stole—”

“Tarani is not Sharith!” Thymas interrupted.

“You sit down and keep quiet, Thymas.” The boy’s face clouded, and he headed for the door. “Do as I say!” He stopped, considered, then walked back to sit sullenly on one of the blockbeds.

“Gharlas stole a gemstone called the Ra’ira from Raithskar,” I resumed the story. “Have you heard of it?”

“Only that it is beautiful, and highly regarded by the rulers of the city.”

“The Council of Supervisors,” I supplied. “The Ra’ira is a symbol, historically, of the right to rule. Gharlas is convinced that he can re-create the Kingdom and rule it from Eddarta, with that stone as proof that he is the rightful King.”

“He sounds mad,” Tarani said. “And dangerous.”

“Very dangerous. He has the same kind of power you do, Tarani, but without your conscience. What did Nerral’s description of Volitar remind you of?”

She saw it immediately. “Compulsion?” She shivered. “It would be necessary, to involve him in something dishonest. Volitar has a high sense of honor. The compulsion—it must be terrible for him.” She shuddered. “But what use can Volitar be to Gharlas?”

“Just what does Volitar do?” I asked. “I mean, what kind of glass objects does he make?”

“You saw the beads on my gown,” she said. “He delights in fine work like that, and he has won a reputation for brilliant, precise colors in his glass. Sometimes, for his own amusement, he creates glass pieces that look exactly like gemstones …”

Her voice trailed off.

“What does the Ra’ira look like?”

“It’s an unfaceted blue stone about this big,” I said, shaping it with my hands. “The color seems to darken toward the center, and there is a suggestion of a crystalline pattern as you look through it.”

“I have seen something like that,” she said. “Wait, let me think this through—” She paced around the room for a few seconds, then began talking as though she were explaining something to herself.

“The nervousness I’ve thought to be a sign of age—could it have meant that he was frightened of someone? That’s been going on for two years now, at least. And I knew he took a trip, but he didn’t mention going to Raithskar with anyone.”

“He went to Raithskar? A year ago?” I demanded.

She stopped pacing. “Yes, he left with no warning at all. I found a note from him on one of my visits to his workshop. There were other incidents this past year. I always send Lonna ahead with a message for Volitar, when I know I’ll be in Dyskornis by nightfall. Three times, he sent a return message saying not to come see him, he was too busy. Two of those times, I respected his wishes, though it was very unusual, and it worried me. The third time, I decided to go anyway.

“As I arrived at the workshop, I saw someone leaving hurriedly. I got only a glimpse of him, but he was standing in the light of the doorway for a second or two. What does Gharlas look like?”

“Tall,” I said, pulling out Markasset’s memory. “His features are a lot like yours, actually, except his eyes are set closer. There is an intensity about him—”

“What color is his head fur?” Tarani asked.

“I’ve no idea,” I answered. “I’ve never seen him when he wasn’t wearing desert headcovering. Thymas? Do you know?”

“Dark,” muttered Thymas. “His head fur is almost as dark as Tarani’s.”

Tarani was nodding. “Yes, that fits the man I saw. I remember noticing the head fur particularly, since it is so uncommon. To be sure … Thymas, look at Rikardon, and see the man who was running from Volitar’s workshop.”

I felt nothing as Tarani cast the illusion, but Thymas’s eyes widened. “Yes, that is Gharlas.”

“Volitar was beside himself when he saw me,” Tarani continued her story. “He wouldn’t calm down until I assured him that the man could not have seen me well enough to recognize me again. Then he refused to say anything else.

“He also covered up something hastily when I walked in and surprised him,” she added. “It looked like the blue gem you’ve described.”

I felt as though I had lost my step on a treadmill. “How long ago was this?” I asked.

“Three moons ago, more or less.”

“Then it couldn’t have been the Ra’ira itself,” I mused. “And if it was a duplicate—that was long before the theft. Why didn’t Gharlas take the thing with him, and use it to replace the real one? It might have given him some extra time.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t a good enough copy?” Tarani suggested. “I still don’t understand how Volitar could have gotten involved in this. He couldn’t have made a duplicate—if that’s what it was I saw—under compulsion. A compelled person surrenders will and initiative, and all creative thought. Any artistic effort would fail.”

“Let’s get down to the big question,” I said. “Where are Gharlas and Volitar right now?”

“I’ve sent Lonna to Dyskornis,” Tarani answered. “It is an easy trip for her from here, since she doesn’t have to cross the mountains. She will be back by morning.”

“If Volitar is in Dyskornis, we’ll go there tomorrow,” I decided. “If he isn’t, we’ll assume that Gharlas—for whatever reason—rescued him from Molik’s men in order to take him to Eddarta. We’ll head in that direction.

“Either way, Tarani, we’ll find Volitar and ask
him
what the Kingdom has been going on.”

In the morning, Lonna was back. Tarani spent a few minutes in silent communication with the bird, then turned grimly to Thymas and me.

“Volitar is at his workshop in Dyskornis,” she announced. “Gharlas is there, too. Lonna’s images … Gharlas wants some information from my uncle.”

He’s torturing the old man
, I translated.
Can’t he use his power to find out whatever he wants to know?

We walked to the gateway with Nerral, accepted the return of our weapons, and said goodbye. Ronar and Keeshah were waiting for us, not too close together. Ronar was edgy and threatening, Keeshah quietly suspicious.

Tarani said our sha’um reveal how we feel about her. They certainly speak for the way Thymas and I feel about each other, too.

“Keeshah looks so thin,” Tarani said. “Should I not ride in the net again?”

“Let me ask him, first.” I did, and he assured me that he was feeling strong and fit.

*
Not much exercise in the city,
* he explained. *
Running feels good. Even with two.
*

“He says he’s fine,” I told Tarani.

I didn’t mention that I didn’t want to trust her to the cargo net. I wasn’t sure I could count on close cooperation between the sha’um today. Thymas was quiet. I couldn’t read his mood.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Molik may not have been much help regarding Gharlas or Volitar, but that tidbit about Worfit’s reward for me was invaluable. I hadn’t wanted Molik’s death, but I had to admit that I was breathing easier because of it. If he had decided to break his word, one message to Dyskornis would have had every rogue in the city waiting for us; we’d have had to fight our way to Volitar’s workshop.

That kind of reception was still a possibility. There was a lot of traffic on the trail between Dyskornis and Inid, and almost every caravan carried a cage or two of maufa. In the interest of not being recognized, we traveled across country, at some distance from the trail.

Coming down the steep slope from the Zantro Pass toward Inid, we had been treated with a view of a desert more vast than the Kapiral, but the point of the Korchi triangle had blocked our view northward. As we rode toward Dyskornis, the countryside changed dramatically.

Most of the morning was spent in that desert, which crawled right up to the barren foothills of the Korchi. There wasn’t much to see—salty emptiness off to our right, and the mountains to our left. I fell to wondering about the map I had seen at Relenor.

That map showed the Great Wall ‘way north of us
, I thought.
But the Korchis are so high that their tops are masked in cloud. From out in the desert, wouldn’t these steeply climbing foothills look just like a wall? The mountains south of the Kapiral desert—they must be the same range that form the south wall of the Chizan passage, and they could all be part of the Korchi—were like this, too. They got so tall, so suddenly, that they’d look like a wall from a distance.