The Fire Seer and Her Quradum (3 page)

Mandir angled a thumb at the door. “I need to talk to some people before tomorrow. Will you...er, will you be here later?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She rested her chin on her hand, admiring him. She’d take Mandir any way she could get him: dusty and scruffy from the road, or freshly bathed and sweet-smelling, as he was now. “Would you like to stay the night?”

Mandir grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

∞

The next morning, Mandir headed into the town of Rakigari to buy supplies for his journey. Taya had stayed behind at the temple to meet with the elders, and they’d arranged to meet at the horse seller’s around noon, just before he was scheduled to ride out. He could help her look at horses and have a chance to say goodbye.

Filling his saddlebags didn’t take long. When he found himself with extra time on his hands, he pointed the blood bay’s nose toward Neshi’s house, though he feared he might be unwelcome on short notice. Neshi was a busy man who dealt with more serious problems than Mandir’s. But when Mandir arrived, Neshi beamed at him, called him
rintu
—dear one—and touched fingers. He told Mandir he could spare him half an hour, if Mandir would save him time by washing the bandages in the bucket he’d just filled with boiled water.

So Mandir did the laundry, wondering what Taya would think if she saw him submitting humbly to such a task. Would she think less of him? Perhaps she wouldn’t, having grown up in a farming family where everyone helped with the chores. When he finished, Neshi invited him back to his private residence, a pair of modest rooms attached to the hospital where he treated his patients. One of Neshi’s followers had prepared a pot of lassi. Neshi took it and poured a cup for each of them.

Mandir wrapped his hands around his cup and sipped. It was good lassi, sweetened with honey, which softened the tang of the fermented goat’s milk. “I’ve a lot to tell you about things that happened in Hrappa.”

“If we’ve much to discuss, perhaps you could come back this evening at suppertime.” Neshi glanced out the window at the sun. “I can only spare half an hour right now.”

Mandir shook his head. “Some other time, then, since I’m riding out this afternoon. For now, I want to tell you about this mission I’ve been assigned.” Moving straight to the point, he explained that the Coalition was sending him to his father’s house to retrieve a boy with the Gift. “I know that if I were a better man, I would
want
to go,” he added. “I know you will tell me I’m not showing enough compassion for this boy Setsi. But I worked so hard to leave Tufan and that household behind, and I’m afraid that if I go back...” He trailed off. He didn’t know exactly what he was afraid of, just that the thought of being there made his blood run cold.

“Explain. What is it you fear?” prompted Neshi.

“I’m not sure.”

“Think it through,” said Neshi. “Do you fear you’ll be mistreated again?”

“I
know
I’ll be mistreated,” said Mandir. “But that’s not what I fear.”

“Perhaps you fear that you’ll turn back to the boy you once were and lose the progress you’ve made.”

Mandir rubbed the back of his head. “Maybe.” That was part of his fear, but not all of it. These days, he understood that Tufan couldn’t
make
him be cruel and nasty; how he behaved was entirely his own choice.

“Your father and brothers have not sinned against you in a long time,” said Neshi. “Yet you hold a grudge against them which poisons your soul. Is it not time to let this resentment go?”

Mandir shook his head. “No. The things my father did...” He hesitated. “My resentment will last a lifetime.”

“You have sinned against others and been forgiven. Why do you not pass this kindness on to others, and forgive them for their failings?”

“They aren’t
failings
,” said Mandir. “You make it sound as if my father made a mistake, as if he beat and ridiculed me by accident. Tufan is deliberately cruel. It excites him. If I forgave him, he’d take that as an invitation to hurt me again. He hasn’t changed.”

“You have changed,” Neshi pointed out.

“Because I felt remorse for what I’d done,” said Mandir. “Tufan never feels remorse.”

“You haven’t been there in a while. What is it now, nine years since you’ve seen your father?”

“Nine years, yes.”

“What about your brothers—could you forgive them?”

Mandir sighed and dropped his chin into his hands. “I don’t know. It might be different for some of them, but...” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to go, yet he knew he was in the wrong and making excuses for himself.

“I ask again, what are you afraid of?” asked Neshi.

“I told you I don’t know.”

“Then it’s a good thing I
do
know,” said Neshi.

“You know what I’m afraid of? Tell me.”

“You’re afraid of the boy you used to be,” said Neshi. “You lack the courage to face that boy.”

Mandir sat up, stung. “I don’t lack courage. The things Taya and I did in Hrappa—I can’t tell you about them because that would get people in trouble, but I faced serious threats. I put my life at risk more than once, and always for the benefit of others.”

Neshi waved his hand and paused to sip his lassi. “You are a
quradum
. You have always welcomed physical challenges. What you fear is a threat to the soul. That terrifies you. You would rather fight a lion with your bare hands than closely examine what lies in your heart.”

Mandir was shamed into silence. He’d had almost exactly that thought yesterday, but he hadn’t said it out loud.

“Let me tell you a story,” said Neshi. “A
true
story. It is not well known.”

“All right.”

“In your education at the Coalition temple, did you learn anything of the mountain people?” asked Neshi.

“Of course,” said Mandir. “Since it’s our job to contain them. They’re not like us, in that they are not a unified nation. They are many separate tribes who fight amongst themselves over territory. We exploit this fact by stirring up trouble between the tribes when they gather on our borders.”

“What you say is true—most of the time. But hundreds of years ago, a great leader arose among the mountain people. Her name was Twisting Arrow. She united the tribes into a vast army and invaded the river country.”

Mandir nodded. Thus far, he knew this story. The mountain people, led by Twisting Arrow, had defeated his people and occupied the river country for over a hundred years. During this time, the mother tongue—the original language of his people—was almost obliterated.

“The king of the river country at the time of the invasion had three sons. The eldest son, he sent with an army to face the forces of Twisting Arrow, but that army was destroyed, and the son was killed. The king kept his middle son at the palace, to help defend it when Twisting Arrow’s forces reached it. But his youngest son, who was but nine years old, he hid in a small, distant village to preserve his life.

“Twisting Arrow’s army swept through the river country. They captured the palace and executed the royal family—except for the youngest son, who was far away and unknown to them. His name was Telal. He received word of the deaths of his father, mother, and brother. He grieved for them, made offerings, and swore that someday he would avenge them.

“Now Twisting Arrow held the river country and ruled over it. She replaced the magistrate in Telal’s village with one of her lieutenants, and Telal became this lieutenant’s servant. He ingratiated himself with her and made himself invaluable. When the lieutenant was promoted, he moved with her to the palace, where his pleasant manner and harmonious words charmed Twisting Arrow, who took him as her own servant.

“One day, Twisting Arrow was on a hunting trip. She and Telal became separated from the others. Twisting Arrow’s leg pained her from an old injury. She was weary and desired to rest. So it was that she laid her head in Telal’s lap to sleep, and at last, Telal had the opportunity he had long sought.

“He drew his knife, grabbed Twisting Arrow by the hair, and placed the knife at her throat. ‘I am the son of the king,’ he told her, ‘the son of your enemies, and today I avenge the deaths of my father, my mother, and my brothers!’

“‘Have mercy!’ cried Twisting Arrow. ‘I beg you to spare my life.’

“‘I cannot,’ said Telal, though he had in some measure grown fond of Twisting Arrow. ‘I am the last of my line, the only one remaining to avenge this crime.’

“‘If you kill me, my lieutenants will find and kill you,’ said Twisting Arrow. ‘Is that what your father desired when he hid you away—for you to die at my people’s hands?’

“‘My life is forfeit either way,’ said Telal. ‘If I kill you, I die. If I don’t kill you, I die. Now that you know who I am, if I release you, you would surely put me to death.’

“‘Not so,’ said Twisting Arrow. ‘For if you grant me my life, I will grant you yours. I swear by the Great Monolith that if you free me now, you will always be safe and under my protection.’

“Telal had served Twisting Arrow long enough to know that when she swore an oath, she kept her word. But he had devoted his life to avenging his family. He did not want to yield now, when he had Twisting Arrow at his mercy.

“‘If you take your vengeance on me, my lieutenants will take their vengeance on you,’ said Twisting Arrow. ‘Then your supporters in the villages will avenge you by attacking my people, and my people will avenge those deaths by killing yours. It will never end, Telal, this cycle of revenge and death.’

“Telal saw the truth of her words, and his heart softened. He pulled his blade from Twisting Arrow’s neck and helped her to rise. They touched fingers, spoke words of forgiveness, and swore never to harm one another again. Telal became one of Twisting Arrow’s lieutenants. He married and had children. Long after his death and hers, the mountain tribes began to quarrel amongst themselves, and their alliance fell apart. Rebelling villagers drove the mountain people out of the river country forever, and Telal’s grandson took the throne—a grandson who would never have been born if Telal had not forgiven a terrible crime. And that, Mandir, is the power of forgiveness.”

Mandir smiled. “Or the power of rebelling villagers. Neshi, I see what you’re trying to say with this story, but I’m not sure I agree with the message. You’re saying I have to forgive my father—”

Neshi shook his head. “I’m not saying that.”

“But your story implies it. Telal forgave Twisting Arrow, who committed a terrible crime against him, and you hold this up as a righteous act. Therefore I should forgive my father for his crimes against me.”

“Forgiveness is no simple matter,” said Neshi. “You may wrestle with the idea of forgiveness all your life. I know I do.”

Mandir smiled. “You don’t wrestle with anything.”

“How wrong you are,
rintu
,” said Neshi. “Sometimes forgiveness is the right choice. Sometimes it is not. In this case, Telal forgave Twisting Arrow because in doing so, he saved lives. Killing her would not have restored his family, nor would it have ousted the mountain people from the river country. His vengeance would have accomplished nothing. He
saved lives
, Mandir. That was the point of the story.”

Mandir furrowed his brow. “If not my father, who are you telling me to forgive?”

“You must make that judgment yourself,” said Neshi. “I remind you of the power of forgiveness because anger and resentment twist your heart into knots. You would rather let this boy Setsi rot at your father’s house than go there and help him. But if you go, and if you let go of some of this resentment and hatred you carry, the knots in your heart will begin to unravel. I think you will feel a vast relief and see things a lot more clearly.”

That was encouraging. “I’ll think it over.”

“And perhaps when you’ve learned how to forgive others, you will be ready to forgive yourself.”

“Perhaps,” said Mandir.

“You realize that as a grandson of the king, you are descended from Telal,” said Neshi.

“Yes,” said Mandir. “I’m also descended from Tufan.”

“As you journey to your father’s household, I’d like you to think about which of those two ancestors you want to emulate.”

“Maybe I don’t want to emulate either of them,” said Mandir.

“We shall see.” Neshi beamed at him. He reached out and touched fingers. “You have come far,
rintu
. And your journey is just beginning.”

Chapter 3

Taya vaulted up on the pretty bay mare.

“Try out her gaits,” urged the horse seller. “She’s got a lovely, smooth trot.”

The mare hunched her back, threatening to buck. Taya had a feeling she wasn’t going to get a trot out of her, and if she tried, she might end up face down in the dirt. Not especially eager to visit Rakigari’s infirmary, she slid off the mare. “This one’s not what I’m looking for.”

She was beginning to lose heart that she would find a suitable horse. At first she’d been impressed by how many animals the seller had on the premises, but each horse seemed to have a problem that rendered it unfit. She’d ruled out several that were too young, and the first horse she’d tried under saddle had gone lame after one circle about the grounds.

Then she’d tried a gelding that had skittered away when she tried to mount, and a stallion that had snapped at her. She’d tried a chestnut mare who was tractable and kind, but each stride of the mare’s canter ended in a twist, wrenching Taya’s back. She couldn’t travel any distance on such a horse, though she felt sorry for the mare, who couldn’t help it that she had poor gaits.

She handed the bay’s reins back to the seller. “Got anything else?”

“There’s the black gelding,” offered the seller.

“He’s two years old.”

“Nice thing about young horses—they haven’t had time to learn any bad habits.”

“He’s a baby,” argued Taya. “He needs more time to grow.”

“I’ll have a new shipment in five days. You could come back then.”

Taya frowned. A new shipment of scrubs and rejects, by the look of this place. Perhaps she could borrow a Coalition horse and travel to another city, where she might find a seller with animals of quality. But she was on a tight schedule. Mandir was supposed to ride out today on a mission that was time-sensitive, and she had every intention of going with him.