The Song of Homana (20 page)

“Duncan comes,” she said softly.

“In time?”

“I cannot say.”

I crossed my arms and hugged my chest as if I could keep the pain from showing on my face. “Gods—he is my right hand! I need him still—”

“We all need him.” Her quiet words reproved me for my selfishness, though I doubt she meant them to.

A single note rang out from the harp as Lachlan shifted again on his stool. He silenced it at once, very grave of face. “How do
you
fare, Carillon?”

“Well enough,” I said impatiently, and then I realized he referred to the blood on my mail. “I am unharmed. It was Finn they struck instead.” The wolf lay quietly at his side, still breathing; so, thank the gods, was Finn.

“My lord.” It was Rowan’s tentative voice. “Shall I tell the princess the harper is come?”

For a moment I could not understand him. And then I knew. Lachlan had come from Bellam to direct the exchange. Electra for Tourmaline. And now I could hardly think.

Lachlan’s eyes were on me. “Your sister is well, Carillon. Somewhat weary of being held in Bellam’s command, but she has taken no harm. None at all.” I was aware of an odd note in his voice. “She is well indeed…and lovely.”

I looked more sharply at him. But I had no time to untangle the subtleties I heard, or the emotions of the moment. There were other things more pressing. “Where is she?”

“Not far from here. Bellam sent her out with a Solindish guard, and myself. They wait with her. I am to bring the Princess Electra, and then escort Torry back.” He caught himself at once. “The Princess Tourmaline.”

I did not wish to think of Electra, nor even Tourmaline. And yet I must. Impatiently I nodded at Rowan. “Tell her Lachlan is come, and to ready herself. When there is time, the exchange will be made.”

Rowan bowed and left at once, perhaps grateful for a task. There is nothing so helpless as a man who must watch another die.

The flap was ripped aside. Duncan stood in the opening, backlighted by the sunlight, and suddenly the pavilion was filled with illumination. He was a silhouette against the brilliance until he came in, and then I saw how harshly set was his face.

“Alix.” She went to him at once. Duncan hardly looked at me, for his attention was fixed on Finn. “Harper,” he said, “I thank you. But this is Cheysuli-done.”

Lachlan took the dismissal with good grace, rising instantly from the stool and moving out of the way. Duncan pushed the campstool away and knelt down with Alix at one side. He said nothing at all to me.

“I have never done this.” There was fear in Alix’s voice.

The heavy gold on Duncan’s arms glowed in the shadows, reflecting the light that crept in through the gaps in the door-flap. “You have the Old Blood,
cheysula
. You
need fear nothing of this. It is the earth magic we seek. You need only ask it to come, and it will use you to heal Finn. And Storr.” Briefly he cupped her head in one hand and pressed it against one shoulder. “I promise you—it will be well done.”

She said nothing more. Duncan released her and set one hand against the wound in the wolf’s side. Of the two, Storr seemed to have a more fragile hold on life. And if he died before they healed Finn, the thing was futile indeed.

“Lose yourself,” Duncan said. “Go down into the earth until there is nothing but the currents of life. You will know it—be not afraid. Tap it, Alix, and let it flow through you into the wolf. He is
lir
. He will know what we do for him.”

I watched the changes in Alix’s face. At first she was hesitant, following Duncan’s lead, and then I saw the first indication of her own power. She knelt beside the wolf with her hands clasped lightly in her lap, eyes gone inward to face her soul. For a moment her body wavered and then it straightened. I saw the concentration and the wonder as she slipped from this world into another.

I nearly touched her then. I took two steps, intending to catch her in my arms, but the knowledge prevented me. What she did was beyond my ken—what she
was
, as well—but I knew Duncan. I knew he would never risk her. Not even to save his brother.

A tiny sound escaped her mouth, and then she was gone. Her body remained, so still and rigid, but Alix was gone. Somewhere far beneath the earth she roamed, seeking the healing arts her race claimed as their own, and Duncan was with her. I had only to look at his face and see the familiar detachment. It was profoundly moving, somehow, that a man and woman could link so deeply on a level other than sexual, and all to save a wolf.

Cheysuli magic goes into the earth, taps the strength of the ancient gods and lends it to the one who requires the healing. The sword wound in Storr’s shoulder remained, but it lacked the unhealthy stink and appearance. His breathing steadied. His eyes cleared. He moved, twitching once all over, and came into the world again.

Alix sagged. Duncan caught her and clasped her against
his chest, much as Lachlan clasped his Lady. I saw the fear and weariness etched in his face and wondered if he had lied to her, saying it was safe when such magic took a part of the soul away. Perhaps, for Finn, he
would
risk Alix.

It made me profoundly angry. And then the anger died, for I needed them both. I needed them all.

“No more,” Duncan told her. “Storr is well enough. But now it is my task to heal Finn.”

“Not alone!” She sat up, pulling out of his arms. “Do you think I will give you over to
that
when I have felt it myself? No, Duncan—call the others. Link with them all. There is no need for you to do this alone.”

“There is,” he told her gently. “He is my
rujho
. And I am not alone…there is Cai.” He smiled. “My thanks for your concern, but it is unwisely spent. Save it for Finn when he wakens.”

And then he slipped away before she could protest, sliding out of our hands like oil. The shell we knew as Duncan remained, but he was gone. Whatever made him Duncan had gone to another place, and this time he was gone deeper and longer, so deep and so long I thought we had lost them both.

“Alix!” I knew she meant to follow. I bent to pull her from the ground.

She turned an angry face to me. “Do not keep me from him, Carillon! Do you think I could bear to lose him like this? Even for Finn—”

“You risked yourself for me, once, when I did not wish you to,” I told her harshly. “When I lay chained in Atvian iron, and you came as a falcon to free me. Do you think I would have given you permission for such a thing?” I shook my head. “What Duncan does is for him to do. Did he want you with him, he would have asked it.”

She wrenched her head around to stare again at her husband. He knelt by Finn’s side, there and yet not. And Finn, so weak upon the pallet, did not move.

“I could not make a choice,” she said in a wavering voice. “I ever thought I would say Duncan before anyone else, but I could not. I want them
both
.…”

“I know. So do I. But it is for the gods to decide.”

“Has Lachlan turned your priest?” She smiled a little, bitterly. “I never knew you to prate of such things.”

“I do not prate of them now. Call it
tahlmorra
, if you will.” I smiled and made the gesture. “What is there for us to do but wait and see what will happen?”

Duncan said something then. It was garbled, tangled up in the Old Tongue and his weariness, but it was a sound. He moved as if to rise, could not, and fell back to knock his head against the campstool. Lachlan set down his Lady and knelt at once to give him support, even as Alix wrenched herself free of me.

“You fool,” Finn said weakly. “It is not for a man to do alone.”

I stared at him, unsure I had heard him correctly. But it was Finn, white as death, and I saw tears in his eyes.

Duncan pushed himself upward with Lachlan’s help. He sat half-dazed, legs sprawled, as if he could not come back to himself. Even as Alix knelt down before him he seemed not to know her.

I saw Finn push an elbow against the pallet to lever himself up. And again it was myself who pushed him down. “Lie you still.”

“Duncan—” he said thickly, protesting ineffectively.

“Come back!” Alix shouted. “By the gods, you fool—” And she struck Duncan hard across the face with the flat of her hand.

It set up brilliant color in his face, turning his cheek dark red. But sense was in his eyes again. He looked at Alix, at me, at Finn, and then he was Duncan again. “Gods,” he said weakly. “I did not know—”

“No,” Finn agreed, with my hand upon his shoulder in case he moved again. “You did not, you fool. Did you think I would wish to trade your life for mine?” He grimaced then, and instantly hissed as the expression pulled the stitches against his swollen flesh. “By the gods—that Atvian—”

“—is slain,” I finished. “Did you think I would let him finish what he had begun?”

Finn’s hand was in Storr’s matted pelt. His eyes were shut in a gray-white face. I thought he had lost consciousness again.

“Rujho,”
Duncan said, “there is something you must do.”

“Later,” Finn said through the taut line of his mouth.

“Now.” Duncan smiled. “You owe thanks to Carillon.”

I looked at him in surprise. Finn’s eyes opened a slit, dilated black and glittering with the remnants of his fever. “It was
you
who—”

“Aye,” Duncan interrupted, “but it was Carillon who carried you from the field. Else you would still be there, and dead.”

I knew what he did. Finn has never been one for showing gratitude, though often enough I knew he felt it. I myself had trouble saying what I meant; for Finn it was harder still. I thought of protesting, then let Duncan have his way. He it was who had had the raising of Finn, not me.

Finn sighed. His eyes closed again. “He should have left me. He should not have risked himself.”

“No,” Duncan agreed, “but he did. And now there are the words to be said.”

I thought Finn was asleep. He did not move; did not indicate he heard. But he had. And at last he looked at me from beneath his heavy lids.
“Leijhana tu’sai,”
he muttered.

I blinked. And then I laughed. “In the Old Tongue, I would not know if you thanked me or cursed me.”

“He thanked you,” Duncan said gravely. And then, “
Leijhana tu’sai
, Carillon.”

I realized I was the only one standing. Even Lachlan knelt, so close to Duncan, with his Lady gleaming on the table. It was an odd sensation to have such people in such postures, and to know one day it would be expected.

I looked at Lachlan. “We have an exchange to conduct.”

He rose and gathered his harp. But before we left the tent I glanced back at Finn.

He slept.
“Leijhana tu’sai,”
I said, “for living instead of dying.”

I left the tent, my legs trembling with the aftermath of fatigue and tension. I stopped just outside, letting the doorflap fall shut behind me. For a moment I could only stare blankly at the few pavilions scattered across the turf in apparent confusion, lacking all order. I had taken the idea from the Cheysuli, although here we lacked the trees to hide ourselves adequately. We had camped on a grassy plain, leaving the forests behind as we moved closer to Mujhara; closer to Bellam and my throne. The encampment was little more than a scattering of men with cookfires here and there. But it had served us well.

I sucked in a deep breath, as deep as I could make it, filling my lungs with air. The stink of the army camp faded to nonexistence as I thought how close I had come to losing Finn. I knew perfectly well that had my chirurgeons pressed to take his leg, he would have found another way to die. A maimed warrior, he had told me once, was of little use to his clan. In Finn’s case, it was worse; he would view himself as useless to his Mujhar as well, and that would pervert his
tahlmorra
and his very reason for living.

Lachlan slipped through the entrance. I heard the hiss of fabric as he moved, scraping one hand across the woven material. Few of us had tents to claim as shelter; I, being Mujhar, had the largest, but it was not so much. This one served as a temporary infirmary; the chirurgeons had kept
all others free of it when I had brought Finn. He would be nursed in private.

Lachlan’s arms were empty of harp for once. “Finn will live. You need fear no more.”

“Have you consulted Lodhi?”

He made no indication my comment bothered him. “There is no need for that. I asked His help before, but there was nothing in Finn I could touch. He was too far from this world, too lost in his pain and Storr’s absence. But when Duncan and Alix worked their magic—” He broke off, smiling a little. “There is much I cannot understand. And until I know more of the Cheysuli, I cannot hope to make songs of them.”

“Most men cannot understand the Cheysuli,” I told him. “As for songs—I doubt they would wish it. There are legends enough about them.” I stared at the tiny field pavilion farthest from where we stood. It was guarded by six soldiers. “How many men are with my sister?”

“Bellam sent a guard of fifty with her.” His face was grave. “My lord—you do not intend to go
yourself
—”

“She is my sister.” I set off toward the saffron-colored tent as Lachlan fell in beside me. “I owe Tourmaline what honor there is, and of late there is little. I will send no man in my place.”

“Surely you will take some of your army with you.”

I smiled, wondering if he sought the information for simple curiosity’s sake. “No.”

“Carillon—”

“If it is a trap, the teeth will close on air.” I signaled to the soldiers guarding Electra’s tent. They stepped away at once, affording me privacy, though they remained within earshot. “
You
would know, perhaps, what Bellam intends for me.”

Lachlan smiled as I paused before the tent. “He did not divulge his plans to me, unfortunately. He welcomed me as a harper, not a confidant. I cannot say he sends men to take you, but I think it very likely.” His eyes went past me to study the scattered encampment. “You would do well to take a substantial escort.”

“No doubt,” I said blandly.

I turned and pulled aside the doorflap, but did not go in
at once. I could not. The sunlight was brilliant as it slashed into the interior, illuminating the, woman who sat within. She wore a dark brown gown laced with copper silk at throat and cuffs. A supple leather belt, clay-bleached to a soft yellow, bound her slender waist, fastened with a copper buckle. The gown was from Alix, fashioned by her own hands, given freely to replace the soiled gray velvet Electra had worn the day Finn caught her. The new one fit well enough, for they were of a like size, though nothing like in coloring.