Renegade's Magic ss-3 Page 27

  Something seemed to have been settled between the two women, something I did not grasp. They were both very pleased with themselves, as if they had reached an important accord. After that exchange, they traded, but in an oddly congenial manner. I sensed that Moma gave us very good value and she insisted on choosing for Olikea the largest dried mushrooms and the preserved herbs with the best color. She carefully folded our purchases into little packets made from woven reeds. The packets filled a substantial net bag. Some of Lisana’s jewelry she took in exchange, but the most of it Olikea returned to the pouch. At the last, however, Olikea held out a pair of large silver hoop earrings rimmed with drops of amber.

  “Always you have been so kind to me,” Olikea told her. “Ever since I was a little girl, you always had a kind word for me. Please accept these as a gift, as a sign of our friendship. I know it would please my Great One if you wore them as a sign of the warmth he feels toward you.”

  Olikea held them out in her palm, not to Moma but to me. Subtly she jostled her hip against mine. Soldier’s Boy took her hint. He lifted the earrings from her hands. Holding them delicately, so they dangled appealingly, he offered them to Moma. “I would be very pleased to see you wearing these.”

  She lifted one hand from her cane. Her fingers were like a careful bird’s beak as she plucked the proffered earrings from his fingers. She did not hesitate. “Help me, please,” she begged Olikea in a hushed voice, and the young woman obliged. The silver and amber earrings dwarfed all the ones the old woman already wore. They glittered in the sunlight. Moma gave her head a slight shake and the earrings swung against her neck. “All will notice these,” she said with quiet satisfaction.

  “That they will, and by them know how kindly you have treated this Great One and how highly he regards you.”

  Moma nodded her head low to me and then reminded Olikea, “But you have not told me his name.”

  “He has two, and both lie oddly on my tongue. The first is Soldier’s Boy. The second is Nevare Burvelle.”

  “I fear these are not lucky names,” Moma replied with concern.

  “I am one who believes that a man makes his own luck. I do not fear my name,” Soldier’s Boy said aloud.

  “Wisely spoken,” Olikea observed, but her quick glance entreated silence from him. “And now we must go,” she continued to Moma.

  “Will you journey back to your kin-clan tonight? Or stay another night near the Trading Place?”

  Olikea appeared thoughtful. “I think we shall spend another night here, if only to enjoy the foods of the market, and to look at the beach and the water when the evening light is kinder to us.” She paused and added significantly, “I think we will take our evening meal there, if anyone cares to seek us out.”

  Moma gave a happy sigh. “I think that is wise. Good evening to you, then.”

  And yes, as we departed, it was evening. We had passed the whole day in our trading and Soldier’s Boy was suddenly both very weary and ravenously hungry. My feet hurt and my leg muscles ached from walking on the sandy paths. I felt a pang of dismay at how much farther we must walk and how long I must wait either to eat or rest. Soldier’s Boy had a more direct solution.

  “I am going to go sit on the rocks and soak my feet in the seawater pools,” he announced. “Find Likari. Have him bring me food there. Hot food, and wine of the forest to drink. Do not be long.”

  I saw a ripple of surprise pass over Olikea’s face. It occurred to me that she did not comprehend completely that Soldier’s Boy was the one she must deal with now, and that the compliant Nevare Burvelle was beyond her reach. She licked her lips, thought for only an instant, and then replied. “Yes. That is good. We will attend you shortly.” She took a short breath and then added cautiously, “If anyone seeks to speak to you, you should tell them that they must wait until your feeder has fed you.”

  “Of course,” he replied, as if he had never considered otherwise. And then they parted, with Olikea hurrying toward the food booths and vendors and Soldier’s Boy leaving the path to walk toward the beckoning sea.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE INVITATION

  He crossed a gray sandy beach to an outcropping of darker stone. There he moved unerringly to a place where the rounded stones were interspersed with tide pools. The thin sun of autumn had not much warmed the water, but cold as it was, I am sure it was still much warmer than the waves that crashed and rolled against the outer beach.

  He sat down heavily on a throne of stone and grunted as he tugged off his new boots and peeled down the woolen socks. My feet had never seemed so far away from my body as they did when he bent over his huge belly to reach them. He had to hold his breath, for the action pinched his lungs. He tossed both boots and socks casually to one side and then sat up with a groan. He took a long breath and then slowly lowered his feet into the water.

  His foot basin was a tidal pool, fringed with dark seaweed and mysterious with foreign life. As his feet entered, the flowers on the bottom of the pool abruptly closed and retreated to their roots. I had never seen such a thing happen and was startled, but Soldier’s Boy only laughed with pleasure and lowered his feet into the icy water. The cold was a shock and he gasped and lifted his feet, but then dipped them in again and then out. After several such treatments, the water did not seem so cold, and he lowered his feet to soak them. He sat staring out over the moving water. Then he spoke aloud. “We could be very powerful.”

  I became small and still, a rabbit crouching in the underbrush, pretending to be invisible.

  “If you joined with me willingly now, I do not think there is anyone who could stand against us. Know that if you do not willingly join me, eventually you will still become a part of me. Bit by bit, I expect you shall erode and dissolve into my awareness. What will you be a year from now, or five, Nevare? A discontented memory in the back of my mind? A small touch of bitterness when I look at my children? A pool of loneliness when something reminds me of your sister or your friends? What will you have gained? Nothing. So come. Be a part of me now.”

  “No.” I thought the word at him fiercely.

  “As you will,” he replied without rancor. He turned his head and looked back toward the market stalls. He widened his nostrils and took a deep appreciative breath of the salty air and of the mouthwatering food smells that rode on it. His mouth ran with anticipation and he gave himself over to thinking of roast pork so tender it would fall from the skewer, of crisply browned fowl cooked with sea salt and stuffed with onion bulbs, of apple-bread thick with nuts and dripping melted butter. He sighed happily, enjoying the anticipation, relishing even his hunger. Soon he would eat. He would eat with great pleasure, savoring every bite, knowing as he enjoyed the taste and the aroma that it was contributing to his power, to his well-being, to his reserves of strength. He contemplated the coming meal with a simple and joyous satisfaction that I don’t think I’d ever taken in any experience. I knew a moment of greenest envy, and then my small emotion was washed away in his leap of pleasure.

  His wait was over. Down the beach, leaping impatiently ahead and then doubling back, came Likari. He capered like a dog enjoying a long-promised walk. His trading must have gone well. He wore a peculiar cap, red and white striped, with a long tail. At the end of it was a set of bells that jingled as he pranced. Behind him came two young men. Between them they bore a long plank as if it were a stretcher for an injured man. Upon it were bowls and cups and covered plates. At the sight, Soldier’s Boy swallowed and then could not help but smile. Behind the food bearers, walking more decorously than Likari, came Olikea. She had sold off her Gernian dresses, and wore now a long loose robe of bright scarlet, gathered with a sturdy leather belt. The belt was studded with silver, and at every stride, black boots trimmed with silver flashed into view. Behind her came three servants bearing her day’s purchases. Soldier’s Boy watched with pleasure as the parade drew nearer.

  He was not alone in his anticipation. Great gray gulls, on seeing the approaching foo
d, circled overhead, tipping their wings to hover over it. Their raucous cries filled the air overhead. One, bolder than the rest, swooped in to try to steal from the feast bowls, but Olikea gave a shout and sent him fleeing.

  Likari spotted him and ran ahead, full of smiles. He reached Soldier’s Boy, dropped down to the ground beside him, and breathlessly said, “We bring you a feast, Great One!”

  The boy had not overstated it. By the time the men carrying the stretcher of food reached them, Likari had set up stones to support it. The men carefully lowered their burden and then stood back from it. Olikea had arrived by then. She paid them off and dismissed them with a flourish, telling them to return later to retrieve their master’s dishes and cutlery. The other serving men set down their burdens. Olikea dismissed them as well, telling them to come back later to assist us in carrying our purchases back to our camp and to bring a beast to pack the kegs of oil. Only one she kept, telling him to keep the gulls from troubling us as we ate. As the rest trudged off down the beach, Olikea sat down gracefully beside our makeshift table. Soldier’s Boy had eyes only for the steaming vessels of food and the tall glass flask of deep red wine, but my mind was chasing itself in circles. I had always thought that beyond the mountains, our king would find only primitive tribes to trade with. But here we were sitting down to a rustic picnic served on glass and ceramic dishes brought to us by servants of some master who operated a food booth. I felt anger at myself that I had so misread the Specks and their trading partners. The culture and civilization on this side of the mountains might be vastly different from Gernia, but I was coming to see that it was no less sophisticated and organized. I’d been blinded, I decided, by my attitudes about technology. These people who walked naked in the forest and lived so simply by summer enjoyed all the trappings of a different sort of civilization in winter. Obviously these people had followed a different path, but my assumptions that they were lesser, that they were simple primitive folk in desperate need of Gernian civilizing, reflected only my own ignorance.

  My musings did not distract Soldier’s Boy from his meal. Rather, it was the other way. As the covers were lifted from the dishes and the aromas wafted up, his anticipation welled up and drowned me. My thoughts were tossed and turned in his sensory enjoyment of the meal, and at last I surrendered all thought and simply let myself focus on the experience.

  It had been so long since I had eaten without guilt. Before the magic had infected me, at the Academy, food had simply been sustenance. Most of it had been simple and honestly prepared, good in its own way, but certainly no one had taken care to make it enjoyable. At its worst, it had been bland and edible. At its best, it had been tasty. Before that, at my home and at my uncle’s home, there had been well-prepared meals, and I recalled hazily that I had enjoyed them, and had even looked forward to some favorite dishes.

  But never had I sat down to a sumptuously prepared meal, a meal tailored especially for me, and immersed all my senses in it as Soldier’s Boy did now. I did not know the names of the dishes, and many of the ingredients I could not identify. That did not matter. To begin, there was a flesh dish, bite-sized chunks of meat cooked in a ruddy sauce. This was ladled up and served over a steamed black grain. The grain was chewy and added a nutty flavor to the dish. It was presented to Soldier’s Boy with golden sliced fruit swimming in its own juices and sprinkled generously with little pink berries that I did not know. The fruit was sweet, the berries sour, and the syrup that surrounded them was touched with mint. A large glass goblet of what he thought of as forest wine was poured to accompany it.

  And that was only the first course.

  Some dishes I knew. The fragrant freshly baked barley bread, the thick pea soup, a whole roasted fowl stuffed with the onions that he had scented earlier, a rich yet simple cake baked from sugar, eggs, and a golden flour, sliced apples baked with spices and sweetened with wild honey, and little speckled hard-boiled quails’ eggs. Likari shelled these for him, dipping each one in a sprinkling of spices before passing them to me. They were heaven, each a small package of piquant flavor.

  Soldier’s Boy groaned with delight, loosened the white belt, and waited while the final dish was prepared for him. He had eaten without thought, without concern for what that much food might do to him or what others might think of his appetite or his greed. Yet it did not feel like gluttony to me. He had eaten as a child eats, with pleasure in the textures and the tastes of the food.

  I envied him so much I hated him.

  By the time they were finishing their meal, the sun was sliding down behind the mountains. The water had crept closer to the shore and was lapping at the rocks. The lower tide pools were already covered, and it seemed that with every breaking wave, the ocean crept closer to us. I’d read of tides, but never really seen one turn before. The oncoming water, venturing so steadily closer, filled me with a strange uneasiness. How far would it come? Soldier’s Boy did not share my worry. Olikea was ignoring the advancing water, scanning the beach behind us. Likari, sated long before Soldier’s Boy was, had left the table and was frolicking at the water’s edge. As each wave came toward him, he would race along its white foam edge, splashing in it.

  Soldier’s Boy surveyed the emptied plates and flasks with satisfaction. Then he gave a great yawn. “It is nearly time to go,” he told her. “The tide is coming in.”

  “Let us linger just a little—Oh! Here they come!” The sudden smile of anticipation that lit her face puzzled me. Soldier’s Boy’s gaze followed hers. Someone, or several someones, were approaching us carrying lanterns. The lights bobbed and swayed as they came nearer. I thought it would be the servants come to reclaim their master’s serving plates and vessels. Olikea reached up and smoothed her hair and sat up a bit straighter. I recognized the grooming of a woman who expects important visitors. I wondered if Soldier’s Boy did.

  As the lanterns drew closer, I could see that they were carried on poles. Two boys held them aloft, and walked to either side of a plump young woman. A boy in his early teens walked behind her, carrying a wooden box. We watched them come, and as they drew nearer, Olikea frowned. “She’s little more than a child,” she said, displeased. As they got closer, she added quietly, “This is not what I expected. Let me be the one to speak to her.”

  Soldier’s Boy made no response to that. Neither of them stood, but Likari came hurrying back to us to gaze curiously at the approaching procession. I think that Soldier’s Boy shared with me the deep comfort of a very full belly. He was thinking more of a good sleep than he was of anything else. He continued to watch the emissaries as they approached but did not stand or call out a welcome. Olikea, too, waited in silence.

  “Who are they?” Likari demanded.

  “Hush. They come from Kinrove, unless I am mistaken. Likari, say nothing to them. Only I am to speak.” Her wine cup still held a few swallows of wine. She lifted it in one hand and leaned across the “table” to ask me, “Are you full, Great One? Are you well fed?”

  “I am that.”

  “Then I think we are finished with our trading here. Tomorrow we will journey home to my lodge. All that will make you comfortable awaits you there.” She spoke these words in a clear and carrying voice that was certain to reach the ears of the approaching people. She glanced at them and then put her gaze back on me as if they were of no concern to her at all.

  They stopped a short distance away. The girl cleared her throat and then called out, “Olikea. Feeder of the Jhernian Great One! We come as messengers and gift bringers, but we do not wish to interrupt a meal. May we approach?”

  Olikea took a small sip from her wine cup and appeared to consider the request seriously. Then she replied, “My Great One says that he is sated. I suppose you may approach.”

  The lantern bearers advanced, and when they were close to our impromptu table, they halted and wedged their poles into the rock. The light from the lanterns swayed and leapt over us. Wickerwork enclosed the lanterns and cast strange shadows over us. The plump girl
approached. She was dressed all in white, and her robe and shoes were immaculate. Her smooth black hair was drawn back from her face and held in place with several dozen ivory pins. She was a Speck, but the uneven lighting from the swaying lamps made it hard to see her markings. She lifted her hands and splayed them on her breast, revealing over a dozen sparkling-stoned rings on her fingers. She nodded her head in a formal greeting to us, fluttered her hands in the Speck gesture of subservience, and then spoke. “Word has reached Kinrove that there is a new Great One at the Trading Place, a man never before seen, and from a people long judged to be our enemy. This is a surprise to all of us. This has filled the Greatest of Great Ones with a desire to meet him. And so I am sent to offer the new Great One an invitation to visit the camp of Kinrove and his feeders tonight, to accept his hospitality and to exchange what news there may be. His feeder is invited also, of course. The feeders of Kinrove send to her these gifts that she may be pleased with them and persuade her Great One to come with us tonight.”

  The girl made a gesture and the young man came forward. As he came into the light, I saw that he was round-faced and heavy-bellied. His legs and arms looked soft and rounded rather than muscled like a man’s. He approached Olikea, and then sank slowly down before her. Olikea said nothing. The boy made an elaborate show of opening the chest. Once it was open, the woman approached. She lifted out a lacy veil edged with tiny chiming bells. She displayed it to Olikea, shook it to make the bells ring, and then folded it and offered it to her. Olikea accepted it gravely but still said nothing.

  Again the girl reached into the chest. She brought out simple wrist bangles. At first glance I thought they were metal, but they clacked softly against one another as the girl displayed them. They were wood, then, but made from a wood so black that it resembled stone. There were six of them, and again the girl offered them to Olikea. Olikea held out her arms and sat without comment as the woman slid three bracelets onto each of her wrists.