The Song of Homana (33 page)

We met under a sky slate-gray with massing clouds. Rain was due in an instant. It was nearly fall, and in four months the snow would be thick upon the ground. For now there was none, but I wore a green woolen cloak pulled close against plain brown hunting leathers. Finn, bare-armed still, and cloakless, pulled in his horse and waited. The wind whipped the hair from his face, exposing the livid scar, and I swore I saw silver in his hair where before it had been raven’s-wing black. He looked older, somehow, and more than a trifle harder. Or was it merely that I had not noticed before?

“I wanted to come,” I said. “Lachlan said no, but I wanted it. You seemed so distraught.” I shrugged, made uncomfortable by his silence. “But the courier had come
in from Lestra…” I let it trail off, seeing nothing in his face but the severity of stone.

“I have heard.” The horse stomped, a dark bay horse with a white slash across his nose and a cast in one eye. Finn hardly noticed the movement save to adjust his weight.

“Is that why you have come back?”

He made a gesture with his head; a thrusting of his chin toward the distances lying behind me. “Mujhara is there. I have not come back yet.”

The voice was flat, lacking intonation. I tried to search beneath what I saw. But I was poor at reading Cheysuli; they know ways of blanking themselves. “Do you mean to?”

The scar ticked once. “I have no place else to go.”

It astonished me, in light of where he had been. “But—the Keep—”

“I am liege man to the Mujhar. My place is not with the clan, but with him. Duncan has said—” He stopped short; something made him turn his head away. “Duncan has not—absolved me of what I tried to do. As the
shar tahl
says:
if one is afraid, one can only become unafraid by facing what causes the fear
.” The wind, shifting, blew the hair back into his face. I could see nothing of his expression. “And so I go to face it again. I could not admit my fear—
i’toshaa-ni
was not completed. I am—unclean.”

“
What
do you face again?” I asked, uneasy. “I would rather you did not see Electra.”

He looked at me squarely now, and the strangeness was in his eyes. “
I
would rather not see her, also. But you have wed her, and my place is with the Mujhar. There is little choice, my lord.”

My lord
. No irony; no humor. I felt the fear push into my chest. “Did you truly intend to slay her?”

“Not her,” he said softly, “Tynstar.”

The anger boiled over. I had not realized how frightened I was that he might have succeeded; how close I had come to losing them both.
Both
. Had Finn slain Electra, there was no choice but execution. “Electra is not Tynstar! Are you blind? She is my wife—”

“She was Tynstar’s
meijha
,” he said quietly, “and I
doubt not he uses her still. Through her soul, if not her body.”

“Finn—”

“
It was I who nearly died!
” He was alive again, and angry. Also clearly frightened. “Not Electra—she is too strong. It was I, Cheysuli blood and all.” He drew in a hissing breath and I saw the instinctive baring of white teeth. “It nearly took me down; it nearly swallowed me whole. It was Tynstar, I tell you—
it was
.”

“Go, then,” I said angrily. “Go on to Homana-Mujhar and wait for me there. We will face whatever it is you have to face, and get this finished at once. But there are things I have to discuss with Duncan.”

There
was
gray in his hair; I saw it clearly now. And bleakness in his eyes. “Carillon—”

“Go.” I said it more quietly. “I have a war to think of again. I will need you at my side.”

The wind blew through his hair. The sunlight, so dull and brassy behind the clouds, set his
lir
-gold in the grayness of the day. His face was alien to me; I thought again of the vault and oubliette. Had it changed me so much? Or was it Finn who had been changed?

“Then I will be there,” he said, “for as long as I can.”

An odd promise. I frowned and opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but he had set his horse to trotting, leaning forward in the saddle. And then, as I turned to watch, he galloped toward Mujhara. Beside him ran the wolf.

I rode into the Keep just as the storm broke. The rain fell heavily, quickly soaking through my cloak to the leather doublet and woolens beneath. The hood was no help; I gave up and pushed it back to my shoulders, setting my horse to splashing through the mud toward Duncan’s slate-colored pavilion. It was early evening and I could hardly see the other pavilions, only the dim glow of their interior firecairns.

I dropped off my horse into slippery mud and swore, then noticed Cai was not on his perch. No doubt he sought shelter in a thick-leafed tree, or perhaps even inside. Well, so did I.

Someone came and took my horse as I called out for entrance. I thanked him, then turned as the doorflap was pulled open. I looked down; it was Donal. He stared up at me in surprise, and then he grinned. “Do you
see
?”

I saw. His slender arms, still bared for warmer weather, were weighted with
lir
gold, albeit lighter than the heavy bands grown warriors wore. And in his black hair glittered an earring, though I could not see the shape. Young, I thought, so very young.

Duncan’s big hand came down on Donal’s head and gently moved him aside. “Come in from the rain, Carillon. Forgive my son’s poor manners.”

I stepped inside. “He has a right to be proud,” I demurred. “But is he not too young?”

“There is no
too young
in the clans,” Duncan said on a sigh. “Who is to say what the gods prefer? A week ago the craving came upon him, and we let him go. Last night he received his
lir
-gold in his Ceremony of Honors.”

I felt the pang of hurt pride. “Could
I
not have witnessed it?”

Duncan did not smile. “You are not Cheysuli.”

For four days, once, I had been. And yet now he denied me the honor.

I looked past him to Alix. “You must be proud.”

She stood on the far side of the firecairn and the light played on her face. In the dimness she was dark, more Cheysuli than ever, and I felt my lack at once. “I am,” she said softly. “My son is a warrior now.”

He was still small. Seven, I thought. I did not know. But young.

“Sit you down,” Duncan invited. “Donal
will
move his wolf.”

I saw then what he meant, for sprawled across one of the pelts carpeting the hard-packed earth was a sleeping wolf-cub. Very young, and sleeping the sleep of the dead, or the very tired. He was damp and the pavilion smelled of wet fur; I did not doubt Donal had been out with the wolfling when the rain began.

Donal, understanding his father’s suggestion at once, knelt down and hoisted half of the cub into his arms. The wolf was like a bag of bones, so limp and heavy, but Donal dragged him aside. The cub was ruddy, not silver like Storr, and when he opened one eye I saw it was brown.

“He is complaining,” Donal said, affronted. “He wanted to stay by the fire.”

“He has more hair than you,” Alix retorted. “Lorn will be well enough farther back. This is the Mujhar we entertain.”

I waved a hand. “Carillon, to him. He is my kin, for all that.” I grinned at the boy. “Cousins, of a sort.”

“Taj is weary of Cai’s company,” Donal said forthrightly. “Can
he
not come in, too?”

“Taj is a falcon and will remain outdoors,” Duncan said firmly as he sidestepped the flopping wolf-cub. “Cai has stood it all these years; so will Taj.”

Donal got Lorn the wolf settled and sat down close beside him, one small hand buried in damp fur. His yellow eyes peered up at me with the bright intentness of unsuppressed youth. “Did you know I have two?”

“Two
lir
?” I looked at Alix and Duncan. “I thought a warrior had only one.”

“Ordinarily.” Duncan’s tone was dry as he waved me down on the nearest pelt. Alix poured a cup of hot honey brew and handed it across. “But Donal, you see, has the Old Blood.”

Alix laughed as I took the cup. “Aye. He got it from me. It is the Firstborn in him.” She sat back upon her heels, placing herself close to Duncan. “I took
lir
-shape twice while I carried him, as wolf and falcon both. You see the result.”

I sipped at the hot, sweet brew. It was warm in the pavilion, though somewhat close; I was accustomed to larger quarters. But it was a homey pavilion, full of pelts and chests and things a clan-leader holds. A heavy tapestry fell from the ridge-pole to divide the tent into two areas; one, no doubt, a bedchamber for Alix and Duncan. As for Donal, he undoubtedly slept by the fire on the other side. And now with his wolf.

“How fares the girl?” Duncan asked.

I smiled. “At two months of age, already she is lovely. We have named her Aislinn to honor my mother’s mother.”

“May she have all of her
jehan’s
wisdom,” Duncan offered gravely.

I laughed. “And none of my looks, I trust.”

Alix smiled, but her face soon turned pensive. “No doubt you have come to see Finn. He is no longer here.”

The honey brew went sour in my mouth. I swallowed with effort. “No. I met him on the road. He is bound for Homana-Mujhar. And no, I did not come to speak to him. I came to speak of Homana.”

I told them what I could. They listened in silence, all three of them; Donal’s eyes were wide and full of wonder. It was, no doubt, the first he had heard of war from the Mujhar himself, and I knew he would always remember. I recalled the time I had sat with my own father, listening to plots and plans—and how those things had slain him.
But death was not in Donal’s mind, that much I could see. He was Cheysuli. He thought of fighting instead.

“I must have allies,” I finished. “I need more than just the Cheysuli.”

“Then you offer alliances.” Duncan nodded thoughtfully. “What else is there to give?”

“My sister,” I said flatly, knowing how it sounded. “I have Tourmaline to offer, and I have done it. To Ellas, to Falia, to Caledon. All have marriageable princes.”

Alix put a hand to her mouth and looked at Duncan. “Oh Carillon, no. Do not barter your sister away.”

“Torry is meant for a prince,” I said impatiently. “She will get one anyway; why should I wait? I need men, and Torry needs a husband. A
proper
husband.” I could not help but think of Lachlan. “I know—it is not a Cheysuli custom to offer women this way. But it is the way of most royal Houses. How else to find a man or woman worthy of the rank? Torry is well past marriageable age; the dowry will have to be increased. There will be questions about her virginity.” I looked again at Donal, thinking he was too young. But he was Cheysuli, and they seemed always older than I. “Bellam held her for years; he even spoke of wedding her himself. There will be questions asked of that. But she is my sister, and that will count for something. I should get a worthy price for her.”

“And allies for Homana.” Duncan’s tone lacked inflection, which told me what he thought. “Are the Cheysuli not enough?”

“Not this time,” I answered flatly. “Thorne enters in more than one place. Bellam came at us straight away. But Thorne knows better; he has learned. He will creep over my borders in bits and pieces. If I split the Cheysuli, I split my strongest weapon. I need more men than that, to place my armies accordingly.”

Duncan studied me, and then he smiled. Only a little. “Did you think we would not come?”

“I cannot
order
you to come, any of you,” I said quietly. “I ask, instead.”

The smile widened and I saw the merest glint of white teeth. Not bared, as Finn’s had been; a reflection of true amusement. “Assemble your armies, Carillon. You will
have your Cheysuli aid. Do whatever you must in the way that you must, to win the allies you need. And then we shall send Thorne back to his island realm.” He paused. “Provided he survives the encounter.”

Alix glanced at him, and then she looked squarely at me. “What did Finn say to you when you met him on the road?”

“Little.”

“But you know why he came…”

I shifted on the pelt. “I was told it was something to do with cleansing. A ritual of sorts.”

“Aye,” Duncan agreed. “And now he has had to go back.”

The cup grew cool in my hands. “He said he had no other place to go. That you had, in essence, sent him out of the Keep.” I meant to keep my tone inflectionless and did not succeed. It was a mark of the bond between Finn and me that I accused even his brother of wrongful behavior.

“Finn is welcome here,” Duncan demurred. “No Cheysuli is denied the sanctuary when he requires it, but that time was done. Finn’s place is with you.”

“Even so unhappy?”

Alix’s face was worried. “I
thought
he should not go—”

“He must learn to deal with that himself.” Duncan took my cup and warmed it with more liquor, handing it back. It was high honor from a clan-leader; I thought it was simply Duncan. “Finn has ever shut his eyes to many things, going in the backflap.” An expressive flick of his fingers indicated the back of the pavilion. “Occasionally, when I can, I remind him there is a front.”

“
Something
has set him on edge.” I frowned and sipped at the liquor. “He is—different. I cannot precisely say.…” I shook my head, recalling the expression in his eyes. “What happened with Electra frightened me. I have never seen him so.”

“It is why he came,” Duncan agreed, “and why he stayed so long. Eight weeks.” His face was grim. “It is rare a liege man will leave his lord for so long unless it has something to do with his clan- and kin-ties. But he could not live with what he had done, and so he came here to renew himself; to touch again the power in the earth
through
i’toshaa-ni
.” He looked tired suddenly. “It comes upon us all, once or twice; the need to be
cleansed
.”

The word, even in Homanan, had a nuance I could not divine. Duncan spoke of things that no Homanan had shared, though once I had shared a fleeting moment of their life. Such stringent codes and honor systems, I thought; could I bind myself so closely?