The White Road

CHAPTER 33 Hard Choices

RHAL STOPPED at the same island to change sails. From here it was less than a week back to the waterfall encampment.

Alec hadn’t slept much better than Seregil for the past few nights. In the dark, the thoughts that had been lurking at the edges of his mind since they’d burgled Yhakobin’s workshop could not be kept at bay.

When they dropped anchor in the little cove, Alec turned to Seregil suddenly and said, “Are you up to a walk?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go ashore. Just you and me, this time.”

Alec was grateful that Seregil asked no questions as he rowed him ashore in one of the boats and put in at the same beach where the four of them had skipped stones together.

Alec was in no mood for that today. Taking the lead, he walked up the short beach and over the ledges beyond. Great flocks of grey-backed gulls rose with raucous screams of protest and circled stubbornly. Thick forest lay beyond, and as they made their way along a deer path that wended between the tall pines and oaks they found themselves stepping around stick rings of last year’s gull nests, some still holding shards of speckled brown eggs in a bed of matted white down.

It wasn’t curiosity or the pleasure of being off the ship that drove Alec deeper and deeper into the woods. The words he wanted to say were burning his heart, and once he began, there would be no taking them back. So he walked on, and Seregil followed in silence.

Birds chirped and sang overhead, and somewhere nearby an osprey was defending its territory with harsh cries. In the distance the gulls croaked and argued as they returned to their nests and ledges.

Alec had to remind himself to go slowly. Seregil didn’t complain, but Alec caught him holding his side. Alec thought he’d pushed him too far when Seregil paused at the foot of an ancient oak and bent over, but it was only to pick something up. It was a long barred owl feather. He twirled it between his fingers, then presented it to Alec. “You have something on your mind, talí.”

Alec took the feather and stared down at it. “I’ve been thinking about Sebrahn.”

“I thought you might be.”

This was more difficult than he’d feared. He sat down on a log and took a deep breath, owl feather clutched, forgotten, in one hand. His eyes stung and his throat felt tight as he said, “I think—I think you were right. We should let Rieser take him back to Ravensfell. He’ll be safe there, and there are others like him and—” He fought back tears as Seregil sat down and put an arm around him. “If we keep him, he’ll always be in danger. We’ll always be looking over our shoulder for someone trying to take him.”

“You’re right, talí. I know you think I’ve been wanting to get rid of him—Oh hell, you know I have, but when the time comes, it’s not going to be easy for me, either, if you can believe that. Whatever else he is, he’s a part of you, and I owe him everything I have in the world for saving you. But it will be safer for him.”

Alec took a shuddering breath as he struggled with what he had to say next. “Since we left him? I’ve missed him, but—well, we couldn’t have done all we did with him there, could we?”

“No, talí.”

“And that’s what we’re meant to do. When I met you and you brought me into your world, that’s where I wanted to be. I still do.”

“I’m glad.” The emotion behind the words spoke volumes.

“And once it’s over and we’re back in Rhíminee, I want to stay there. I want the Rhíminee Cat to hunt again, and visit your whores in the Street of Lights and play the nobles in Wheel Street and—”

“We will, talí,” Seregil assured him, then laughed softly. “And I promise you, I’ll never complain of boredom again!”

Alec managed a weak smile. “I doubt that.”

They sat in silence for a little while with the sunlight streaming down through the branches all around them, listening to the sound of the birds and the breeze and the distant sigh of the ocean. Finally Alec stood up and said resolutely, “I’ll tell Rieser when we get back to the ship.”

Seregil gave him a sad smile. “I’m glad you came to it on your own, Alec. It had to be your decision.”

Alec held up the bent feather. “Should we burn it?”

Seregil took it and tucked it behind Alec’s left ear, then touched the dragon bite there. “No, let’s save it. A gift from the Lightbearer. I think Illior must be pleased enough with you for now.”

Alec’s heart felt a little lighter, now that he’d voiced his decision. “I’m going to miss him,” he said as they started back for the ship.

“I will, too. But who knows? Maybe he was meant to be with the Hâzad all along.”

Alec mustered a shaky smile. “Are you talking fate again?”

“If I am, we’ll never know what else might have happened. And I know what this means for you; I don’t think the Hâzad are going to change their attitude toward uninvited guests in their valley. It’s too bad, really, to come so close but not get to meet any of your mother’s people.”

“Why would I want to? I saw enough of them at Sarikali.”

“You saw the ones who killed her. You don’t know that they’re all like that.”

“They’re Hâzad. They wouldn’t welcome a half-breed like me.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re Bôkthersan now, and well loved there.”

And I’ll get a warmer welcome, next time, if I don’t bring a threat with me, Alec thought. But right now that wasn’t much comfort.

Aboard the ship again, Alec went straight to Rieser’s cabin and found him awake.

“I have something to tell you,” he said, standing just inside the door.

Rieser’s eyes were dull with pain, but he lifted his head and beckoned him closer. “What is it?”

“I’ll give you Sebrahn when we get back.”

“Of course. But it’s better that we aren’t forced to take him from you, Alec Two Lives.”

“But you would have, if I didn’t give him up?”

Rieser closed his eyes. “What choice do I have? Can you get me some water, please?”

Alec filled the cup from a waterskin hanging on the wall and helped him drink. “I don’t want to fight you, Rieser, but I’m not going to go with you.”

“You could be with Sebrahn.”

“Until someone sticks a knife in my back.”

“I would present you to our khirnari. She’s a wise woman, and would see your worth, as I have come to. You and your companions could have killed me at any time, or abandoned me after I was wounded. You still could, but I don’t think you will. You have great atui, all of you.”

Alec’s eyes widened at the unexpected compliment. “Even Micum?”

Rieser actually managed a strained smile. “Even Micum. If there were more Tír like him …”

“And me? I’m half Tír. I was raised among them. There are more like us, whether you want to believe that or not.”

“But too many of the bad ones. Would you wish on any of my people what happened to you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then believe me when I tell you that things are best left as they are. So far we have held our valley. If the Tír move north again, though? I think this time it will be war. Our valley is too precious to us.”

Alec thought of the clan house at Bôkthersa, of the lake and the village and the people who lived there in peace and prosperity. “If it comes to that, you should fight. But then people will know for certain where you are.”

“We’ve grown in number since those early days. We could take your town of Wolde with ease.”

“I hope it never comes to that.”

“So do I.”

“But I’m still not going back with you.”

Rieser sighed and would say nothing more.

As soon as the sails were changed, Rhal had the sailors hoist all canvas and pounded on for Skala. Rhal either shared their concern over Rieser or was anxious to have him off his ship; it was bad luck for a sick man to die on board. In the meantime Rhal’s shore party made their preparations, grinding swords and cutlasses to a razor edge and checking the buckles of their cuirasses and chain. Chain mail shirts were found for Seregil, Alec, and Micum, as well. This time they were prepared to meet the Ebrados.

Nowen had stopped sending scouts into the hills behind the waterfall. Turmay had made it clear that it was an intrusion into Retha’noi land and that the number of people up there had increased, though he could or would not say how many, only that it was more than the number of Ebrados. All he would say was for them to stay out of the hills.

Owls hunted and hooted in the darkness close by. There were so many here, for some reason. One little one had come down and perched on Sebrahn’s shoulder the other night. It had even let him stroke its back and wings. When it flew away, he followed it with his eyes, then pointed after it and said “aldrakin,” whatever that meant. Some Tír word probably.

She looked around the fire that night, listening to the owls hunt and counting her people. Rane and Sona were on watch at the edge of the forest; the Retha’noi hadn’t circled around there—yet. With Thiren dead and Rieser gone, that left only eight of them: Taegil, Morai, Relian, Sorengil, Kalien, Allia, and Hâzadriën, who did not fight.

And there was Sebrahn. He’d used his song magic against them once; would he do the same to the Retha’noi? She doubted it, after the conversation she’d had with him that afternoon.

Kneeling before him, she’d taken his hands and he did not resist. He just stared up at her.

“Will you sing for us, if we need you?”

“Hurt?” he replied with no hint of expression.

“Hurt those who hurt us.”

“Baaaaad.”

“Yes, they are bad. Will you help us?”

“Help. No. Bad. Ahek no bad.”

Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound like a yes.

She scanned the heights, counting fires. There were six visible, and she could see dark figures crossing the firelight.

How many of you are there? How are we supposed to get back through the mountains when the time comes?

And then there was Turmay, who came and went between the two camps, and seemed troubled. But he still would not speak of what was going on. Nowen began to think of killing him in his sleep. She wished Rieser were here to make such a decision. The Ebrados did not take killing lightly.

Manab, an elder of Sky village, ran a hand down the length of his oo’lu. “I say we kill them all now.”

“No, we must wait until the ya’shel returns,” Naba replied. “And this book Turmay speaks of.”

“What do we care for books?” Orab, chieftain of the Blue Water Valley village, scoffed.

“They are powerful things, books. So Turmay says,” Naba told him. “This one tells how to make the abomination, and the ya’shel with two lives carries the blood of abomination in his veins. Turmay says to let the Retha’noi kill the ya’shel. He says that the tayan’gil can kill, but only a few. Let it kill them. Then we will strike.”

“Turmay does not want any killing,” the witch woman, Lhahana, reminded them. “They may be outsiders, but they do not wish to stay, any more than we want them to. Why spill blood on our soil unnecessarily? Do you want their ghosts to take this sacred place? Bad enough that the lowlanders use our road. They do not come that often and they do not stay. Ghosts will.”

Naba nodded. “Better to see what the Hâzad people will do. Turmay says they want the two lives dead, too. Let them take the wrath of his ghost.”

And so the talk went on, into the night.