The Glass of Dyskornis (26 page)

There were deep creases across her brow, and shadows under her eyes. “You’ve been worried about me. And Thymas,” I added. “How is he?”

“Hurt badly, I think,” she said. “He hasn’t awakened, yet.”

I lifted my head and looked around. We were in the upper room of Volitar’s residence. Thymas lay on a pallet not far from me. His skin was pale and waxy. He didn’t look at all good.

“How did you get me up here?” I asked.

“Keeshah helped. I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, after that man tried to kill you. Keeshah has stayed nearby most of the time; you are safe here.”

“You sent Lonna to me,” I said. “She saved my life.”

“Fair payment,” she said, awkwardly, “of a debt long overdue.”

“At Inid, you told Thymas you had put Molik in the past, where he belonged. The incident in Thagorn belongs there, too.” I brought my left hand across my body and opened it to her. “Agreed?”

She caught my fingers tightly with both her hands and smiled shakily. “Agreed.” She let me go, and my hand dropped to my chest. Its weakness surprised me.

I must have lost a lot of blood.

“Do you think you could eat something?” she asked, noticing my sudden alarm.

“Now that you mention it, I think I could eat a lot of something.”

She brought me a thin rafel, and helped me to sit up and lean against the wall. A folded pallet protected my injured shoulder. My right arm was useless, my left hand weak and awkward. I didn’t object when she offered to manage the fork-tined spoon for me. The rafel was hot and filling; I had to quit after only a few bites. I felt stronger, but very tired.

“Keeshah said he didn’t kill Ronar,” I said, as Tarani helped me to lie down again. “I’d expect him to be howling to get to Thymas.”

“He was doing that, last night,” she said. “He was in a lot of pain, I’m sure. I tried to help him clean the deeper wounds, but he wouldn’t let me near him. I think he might have attacked me again, if Keeshah hadn’t been right there with me.

“This morning, he was gone.”

“Couldn’t you have just put him to sleep,” I asked, “and fixed him up, whether he liked it or not?”

“A sha’um?” She actually laughed. It was a rich, deep sound. I liked it. “A sha’um won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“But—Keeshah in Thagorn—Ronar and Keeshah both, the morning you came into our camp—”

“And when Ronar tried to kill me? How effective was my power then? I had shocked Thymas by wanting to ride, and Ronar had stopped trusting me. So I was helpless against him.”

I stared at her, thinking about it.

Is she saying that if a rider is susceptible to her power, so is his sha’um?
I wondered.
No, that doesn’t work. I’m immune, but she can charm Keeshah. And her illusions worked for Thymas, even when Ronar continued to be unmanageable.

She said “trust.” Certainly Thymas’s devotion had a large dent in it, after Tarani and I rode off together, but his trust didn’t get damaged until we reached Chizan. How does that apply to Keeshah, though? After the performance in Thagorn, I really thought that Tarani was in Worfit’s pay. Didn’t I?

*
Keeshah, Tarani says her power doesn’t work on you unless you want it to. Is that true?
*

*
Yes.
*

*
Why did you let her put you to sleep in Thagorn?
*

*
You said to find her. I found her. Sleep felt good.
*

I counted to ten, slowly. Could he really have taken my instructions that literally?

*
I thought she was a criminal!
* I insisted.

*
No, you didn’t.
*

I started to argue, but stopped myself. The day of our picnic, Keeshah had read my feelings on a deeper level than I could reach consciously.

*
What
did
I
think of her?
* I asked him.

*
You knew her. You wanted her.
*

So he had sensed what I had felt on meeting Tarani, that strange feeling of recognition and immediate interest. Probably those had been no more than her resemblance to Gharlas and my fascination with her power—but they had been sincere at the time.

But—after the assassination attempt—

*
Did I trust her, Keeshah?
*

*
Yes.
*

I accepted it. I had kept reminding myself not to believe her, while she was telling me about Volitar and Molik. I had never once taken my own advice.

I sighed, and smiled at Tarani, who had watched me steadily through the few seconds my conversation with Keeshah had taken.

“I think I understand,” I said.

“Good. Because I believe you’re like the sha’um. My power will work if you let it. You’ll need deep rest to heal properly. Will you let me give you sleep?”

Thymas will be awake soon
, I thought.
That is, if he’s going to wake up at all. It will be easier for her, if there is only one of us to care for at a time. I remember how Keeshah felt—so peaceful.

“I’ll try,” I told her. I closed my eyes.

The humming started, and I focused all my attention on it. The tones vibrated through my body, draining the tension from the muscles, pulling away the pain, slowing my mind.

My body was heavy, relaxed, peaceful. My mind floated in blankness, listening. There was almost a melody to the sounds Tarani was making. If I listened closely, I would be able to find it, remember it. I searched for the melody … searched for it … searched….

The first sensation to greet me, when I woke up this time, was intense hunger. I sat up, amazed that my shoulder flexed easily, though it twinged mightily.

Tarani had her back to me. She was giving Thymas small spoonfuls of soup.

“Hey!” I said. “Welcome back to the living!”

Tarani jumped at the sound of my voice, splashing soup on Thymas’s bare chest. His middle was wrapped in bandages.

“Good morning,” Tarani said, laughing and mopping up the mess. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” I said. “But I can wait.”

Thymas turned his head toward me. There was color in his skin again. There were also deep lines around his mouth, and a shadow in his eyes.

‘I’m glad you’re still with us,” I said gently, sobered by his pain. “How is Ronar?”

He took a shallow, careful breath. “Hurt, but healing,” he panted. “Like me.” Suddenly he burst out: “Why aren’t we dead? Because of us, Gharlas got away!” His shoulders had come off the pallet, but they fell back now, and his arms folded across the bandage. He closed his eyes, and suffered in silence.

When his breathing became even again, I said: “Thymas, listen to me.” He opened his eyes. “Nothing that has happened can be changed now. Don’t agonize over it. Concentrate on getting back your strength.”

His eyelids flickered, then closed. Tarani put her hand on his forehead, hummed a single tone, and he was sleeping deeply.

Tarani fed me, helped me take care of some necessary functions (and put down a fresh pallet, hanging the old one out on the porch to air), then put me back to sleep.

I was able to get up and around on my own the next morning. After Tarani had tended to Thymas, I insisted that she get some rest, herself. She curled up in the corner and slept for the rest of the day. I was glad to see, when she got up, that the hollow look around her eyes was gone. She woke up Thymas to give him some dinner; I helped her lift him and put down a fresh pallet.

Two days later, the three of us walked down the hill to the nearest public bath-house. Dyskornis wasn’t like Raithskar, with water supplied through pipelines and tanks to every house. Water had to be delivered in velk-drawn carts, and nobody in Dyskornis would come near Volitar’s house. We—and Keeshah—were major celebrities. There was usually a small crowd of curious people, looking up at the workshop from a safe distance down the hill.

Tarani had walked into town once to get water and supplies, and again to arrange for her uncle’s cremation. But she had been anxious about us, and in a hurry to get back. Now we made the trip together, moving at a pace comfortable for Thymas, who still hurt a lot. We were glad of the fresh air, and of the prospect of being clean again. It surprised me to think that it had been more than two weeks since we had left Thagorn, but it seemed a much longer time since I had last bathed.

Free, at last, of the dust we had carried out of the Zantil Pass, we walked back up the hill. Keeshah, who had planted himself conspicuously outside the bath-house, ran across the fields around us, rolling in the grassy plants and jumping around like a kitten. His wounds were no more than dark, thin lines. Tarani’s skill had helped all of us to heal ourselves much faster than usual.

All at once, Keeshah stiffened up, and his neck fur began to rise.

Ronar was limping toward us across the field. He was skinny and bedraggled.

I had put Thymas’s right arm across my shoulders to help support him, when he had admitted to being tired. Now he pushed me away and moved out, slowly, on his own.

*
Stay back, Keeshah,
* I warned.

Tarani and I watched as Thymas went out to meet Ronar. The boy’s pale golden head fur stood out sharply against the cat’s blood-darkened shoulder as he hugged his sha’um. Then they walked together toward Keeshah, who crouched defensively.

*
Steady. Wait and see what they want.
*

Thymas stopped and stood unsupported, weaving slightly, while Ronar moved closer to the other sha’um. Ronar stopped about three yards from Keeshah, and looked back at Thymas. Then he took two more steps forward, and lowered himself stiffly to the ground. He flopped over on his side, and stretched out his neck, exposing his throat to Keeshah.

“No!” Tarani gasped.

But Keeshah didn’t close in for the kill. He lifted his head, and sounded a high-pitched roar of triumph, an acceptance of Ronar’s surrender.

Thymas collapsed to the ground. Tarani and I rushed over to him. He hadn’t passed out; he’d just lost the strength in his legs.

“Keeshah would have killed Gharlas,” Thymas gasped, as we reached him, “if Ronar hadn’t interfered. My sha’um hated yours, because I hated you … Captain. I never kept the spirit of my promise to Dharak. And now I have let the Ra’ira escape.”

I couldn’t stand the misery in his face, his voice.

“Not for long, Thymas,” I said. “We’ll be going after him, as soon as you’re well.”

“As soon as I—but he has four days’ head start already!” Thymas protested. “You and Keeshah are healed—go after him now, before he gets away again!”

“Here, look at the sha’um,” I said, lifting his shoulders from the ground. Ronar had rolled up into a crouch, and Keeshah was licking a nasty-looking wound just behind the other sha’um’s head, where Ronar couldn’t possibly reach. “We’re a team, Thymas. When we go after Gharlas, we’ll go together.”

After Tarani and I had helped Thymas back up the hill, and he was resting, Tarani put Ronar to sleep in the shade beside the workshop. She came back in, and found me sitting at one of the work tables, working with brush and parchment.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing letters,” I said. “When I left Raithskar, I had planned to be back by now. There are people there who will worry.”

“Family?” she asked.

My mind was still on the letter, so I answered absently: “Yes, Markasset’s father and aunt.”

“Thymas told me that
you
were Markasset, before your name was changed.”

Oops.

I looked up at her. She was standing with her arms folded over her chest, her hip braced against the table. She was looking at me speculatively.

“ ‘Double-minded’?” she said. “I think I’ve suspected it all along. You’re a Visitor, aren’t you?”

I had a strong urge to tell her the absolute truth, to explain to
someone
that I was alien to this world. But I checked it.

“Yes,” I said. “And, before you ask, you’ve never heard of me. I’m
not
Serkajon.”

She laughed, and again I thought how much I enjoyed the sound of her laughter. “I was thinking exactly that,” she admitted.

“My being a Visitor—does it bother you?”

She sobered, and looked at me directly with those expressive, dark eyes. “It’s why we’re here right now, isn’t it?”

I sighed. “I can’t help but think so, Tarani. A moon ago, I was making plans to settle down in Raithskar, and let Zaddorn—the Chief of Peace and Security—take care of Gharlas. Then things started happening.

“First, I was running from Worfit. Then I was chasing you. Then I was trying to help Volitar. But all of it led me to one place—this workshop, face to face with Gharlas. It just seems that I was meant to find out what the Ra’ira is, and how dangerous it can be. Gharlas will turn the world upside down, if I don’t stop him.”

“If you don’t stop him,” she repeated thoughtfully. “You—because you can resist his power, even as it is increased by the Ra’ira. Thymas—he is part of it, too, I sense that. And me, Rikardon. You have been led to me, because I am a weapon of opposition. I will be coming with you, won’t I?”

I held out my hand, and Tarani placed hers in it, briefly. “I didn’t feel I could speak for you, Tarani, but I hoped you would want it this way. We won this battle, by virtue of surprise. He must have learned about me through the Ra’ira’s thought-reading power, but he didn’t see the significance of my ‘doubleness” until we tested one another. He won’t underestimate me again. And he still has every reason to want that duplicate stone—

“It
is
here, isn’t it?”

She jumped slightly, startled.

“I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve been back in the workshop since I took Volitar out … just a minute.” She went to her knees on the floor, and crawled under the table.

“The hiding place is exactly where you told Gharlas it was?” I asked.

“Surely,” she said, her voice sounding odd through the wood and tile of the tabletop. “I was afraid he would know it, if I lied.” I heard something scrape, then Tarani backed out from under the table and sat on the floor. In her hands, she held a brass-hinged wooden box.

“Volitar told me where this was, many years ago,’ Tarani said. “He wanted me to know about it, in case of sudden death, but I’ve never seen what is in it. I suppose, now, that he was in constant fear of being recognized and killed or, worse, sent back to Eddarta.”