Night Calls the Raven (Book 2 of The Master of the Tane) (28 page)

He battled with himself for a long moment. It repulsed him to even think about doing it. It was contrary. It was not who he was. It was acting against himself. It was right there and he knew he could manipulate it, but his MarGua Tane revolted against him doing so.

His whole body was starting to shake now and beads of sweat began pouring down his face. He could do this. He could make this work. Be contrary. Be the opposite. Suddenly, his lips parted and a single word escaped just barely above a whisper. “Shonosh.” He’d said it and beneath his hand a pocket of flame briefly flared out around his fingers before blowing itself out in a tiny puff. Almost immediately he lurched forward and emptied his stomach onto the ground.

Bren was instantly by his side prattling back and forth between “you did it” and “are you all right?”

Dor lifted a hand to wave him away and then rolled over, his face blanched with a line of spittle running to his chin. “I feel dirty.”

“Of course, you do,” Bren grinned. “You are lying in the dirt.”

Dor shook his head. “No, I feel dirty inside. I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t do that again.”

“But you did do it,” Bren pressed excitedly. “You were able to go against your Tane and force out that of another. After all your hard work, you should be ecstatic.”

Dor pushed himself onto his hands, the color very slowly returning to his face. “Yes, I know, but I don’t. I feel undone.” He wiped the bile off his lip and then turned away and spit. “I don’t think the QenChe Tane is right for me. Not if I have to feel like this every time I use it.”

*     *     *

Dor stared down at Tam, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept soundly. Not long before he’d been awakened by her screams as she threw another fit wrestling against her restraints and spitting out at him every foul word she could think of. Her eyes had burned with pure hatred as she promised to get loose and kill him for keeping her from it. He would die, she yelled, for taking hers away.

He just watched her, almost in tears with pity for what she was suffering. Wanting to grab her and hold her and make it all better but knowing that to get too close would almost certainly end his life. He didn’t quite know why, but even though he knew it was the
dranlok
that was making her say all those things about him, it still hurt to hear her say them.

Now she was resting quietly, worn out from her earlier exertions. The mush might not have kept her totally free of the wrenching withdrawals she was suffering through, but it had put color and meat back on her body. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and then traced his fingers down her cheek and along her arm to her hand. Before he knew what he was doing, he felt his fingers wrap around hers and stay there. Though her hands were rough and calloused from the ordeal she’d been through, he couldn’t think of feeling anything more pleasant in his life. Looking at her hand in his own he was surprised that it felt so natural there, surprised that he had even taken her hand at all and that he was not repulsed by it.

Looking at her face he was shocked by what he saw. It was beauty. He’d never seen it before; he’d never really taken the time to look. But it was there and he could no longer deny it. Tam was beautiful. Even after all that she had been through, and maybe partially because of what she’d been through, Dor could not deny how beautiful she was to him. He looked at her lips and suddenly felt a strange desire to touch them with his own. He hesitated but then gave into the urge knowing that no one would ever know. He would do it quickly.

Slowly moving his face forward he gently pressed his lips against hers. She moaned slightly causing him to jerk away and almost topple over in his chair. Regaining his balance he looked back at her, fearful that she had awakened and knew what he had done. Suddenly, he felt foolish and embarrassed. “Tam…” he stammered but was cut off.

Her voice was soft and musical to his ears. “That was nice,” she whispered and Dor felt his heart quickly rise in his chest before instantly being crushed as she ended with, “Thane.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Thane woke late in the afternoon only to find his clothes gone and his wounds cleaned and bandaged. The smell of fresh baked bread and steamed vegetables tempted his nose and worked on his empty stomach that roared loudly in protest for being neglected. Grabbing for a piece of bread he jumped slightly as Jne materialized out of a dark corner at the other end of his tent. “I will pour you something to drink.”

“What are you doing here?”

Jne raised an eyebrow and swallowed hard, choking down the harsh reply that would have been her nature to give. But she was
Jinghar
and would fulfill her debt with honor. Grabbing a glass and a pitcher from the nearby table she poured as she approached him, presenting him with the drink before answering. “This is my dwelling.”

He grabbed the glass and stared dumbly at her now standing as if at attention.
“Your tent?”

“Yes,” she answered flatly.

“But all this time…” he started but was cut off.

“Yes, all this time you have stayed in my tent while I have slept outside. It is our way—your way. I brought you in. Your life became my responsibility.”

“Until your first opportunity to kill me.”

“You look healthy enough to me,” was all she said before setting the pitcher on the table and returning to stand by his bed.

Thane rubbed the back of his neck. His arms and legs were sore and he still felt tired, but after all that he had been through he figured he couldn’t complain much. “What is this stuff?” he asked, swirling the opaque liquid around in his glass. He sniffed it but his Tane sounded no warning.

“It is
vokna
. Drink it. It will give you strength.”

He put the glass to his lips, keeping his eyes on her the whole time. She would not try to poison him would she? What about her honor? But this was Tjal honor he was dealing with. Maybe it was honorable to poison someone to be released from blood debt; he still wasn’t quite sure what that meant either.

Sighing, Jne put out her hand. “I will drink first if it would make you feel better.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s all right. I’ll drink it.” He lifted the glass and poured the liquid into his mouth. After all, if it were poison, his Tane would have warned him. There was no reason to fear. The liquid was sweet, almost too sweet for his liking, but was cool and felt good against his dry throat. Soon he felt his limbs warming and the aches in his arms and legs started to dissipate. “Not bad,” he said before swallowing the rest. “It’s a little sweet, but you were right. I do feel much stronger. What’s in it?”

“It is a mixture of strained horse manure, saliva, and water. The old ladies make it.”

He suddenly felt his stomach turn.

“I will give you more,” she continued, grabbing the pitcher from the table.

“No,” he cried, pulling his glass away. “I think that I will just have some water.”

Jne shrugged. “As you wish,” she said grabbing his glass and dipped it into a bucket under the table.

He accepted it gladly and quickly drained it before shoving a piece of bread into his mouth. Jne seemed indifferent to the whole scene, grabbing his glass and refilling it with more water before returning it to him. He chewed and swallowed the bread and ate a few carrots before the
aftertaste of
vokna
was finally dulled in his mouth enough to calm his stomach. He expected Jne to make some kind of comment about him being weak or chide his behavior but she merely refilled his glass and returned as if waiting for him to do or say something more.

He regarded her for a moment. Something was different. “Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, I like it, but why are you being so nice?”

“I am
Jinghar
. And you are Tjal. Were your people not nice to each other?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “That is, for the most part. But you have never been nice to me before. In fact, I always thought you hated me.”

Jne’s face softened for a brief moment. “You were Renja then. I had no commitment to you. Now you are Tjal. We are equal. Save, of course, that I am
Jinghar
.” Her eyes dropped and her voice softened. “I also knew all along that it would fall on me to test you at steel. I did not want to hold back or shame you by becoming close to you.”

He stared at her. She was such a dichotomy. “Oh,” was all he said.

“Now, I have a question for you,” she said, returning to her rigid self. “What happened to your ears?”

Thane stared at her for a moment while reaching a hand up and touching the point at the top of his right ear as it poked out through his long black hair. He hesitated.
All this time they had seen his ears but not said anything about them or done anything to even call attention to them. He sighed. He couldn’t hide who he was now. “I am Chufa,” he said simply.

Jne repeated him, her tone reflecting a question.
“Chufa?”

He shrugged.
“Yes, Chufa. That is who, or what I am. We are an ancient and lost race. We live far away from here.”

“Then why have you come?”

Years of pain and rejection suddenly flooded in on him bearing down on him with its tremendous weight. His memory had fully returned, and with it came the pain of his life and the loneliness he had felt for so long. He had not come by choice, but had been forced out. He was an outcast. But the memories of his battle with the dragon were also fresh in his mind; the memories of self-awareness and acceptance of who and what he was. Recognition of his gifts and embracing what that meant for him. He was an outcast, but he knew he had worth. He might live out the rest of his days alone but he would not allow himself to be ruled by self-doubt and loathing. No longer would others determine his value. He was Thane of the Five Tane.

Suddenly, the pitiful memory of Tam popped into his mind making him catch his breath. “I have to go,” he whispered.

“Back to your former people?” Jne asked simply.

He looked at her as if forgetting she had been in the room with him all along. “No. I have to help a friend.” He started to rise but quickly remembered that the only thing he had on was a blanket. “I need my clothes.”

Jne walked to one of the chest of drawers by the far wall and started pulling out clothes. “I will pack for us. We can leave within an hour if you desire.”

He stopped her. “Wait, wait. I am going alone. You have nothing to do with this.”

Jne did not even slow in her packing as she answered. “I am
Jinghar
. I will go wherever you go, Renja of the Chufa. I will repay my debt.”

He shook his head. “No. That’s not necessary.” Lifting his hand he waved it around in the air. “I release you from your debt and service. You are free. You are no longer
Jinghar
. There.”

Jne threw some clothes at him, completely ignoring what he’d just said. “Here, put your clothes on. You will shame yourself walking around like that.”

He looked at the baggy black pants and black shirt that had landed in his lap; the typical garb of a Tjal male. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? You can’t come.”