Part 2 (1/2)

”Oh, but I can't leave,” he said, this time the open innocence anything but real. ”Even if we overlook the fact that people like me don't ignore the orders of High Masters like Fearin, we still have to remember that my food is over there with yours. If I have to move it back to my tent before I can eat it I'll just about have to swallow it whole to keep from being late to the gathering. And I'm afraid you were wrong a moment ago. That doesn't cover everything, but that tunic over there should.”

He flicked a finger to my right, toward the foot of my bed, and when I looked I saw a sleeveless tunic of green and silver that would probably fall just below mid-thigh on me. The wet slave rag I'd taken off was nowhere in sight, and that annoyed me. If I decided against joining that group I'd hardly be able to take my new finery with me, but the one piece of clothing I'd brought here was now gone. Well, if and when the time came I'd see to it that somebody returned the rag or replaced it. I could always go back to the forests naked, but I was still human enough to prefer being clothed.

It didn't take long to get into the tunic, and that was a faint disappointment for my ... company.

Ranander had seated himself on the far side of the white cloth, and staring at my body until it was covered didn't seem to embarra.s.s him. As far as I was concerned there wasn't much for him to stare at, but I suppose some people are easily satisfied. Especially people who aren't treated well by those around them.

”Those scars don't bother you as much as they would someone else,” he said as I walked over to sit on my own side of the white cloth. ”I'm glad they don't, because they don't bother me either. You have a nice body, and once you get used to eating on a regular basis again you'll be back to looking the way you should. Girls can be thin, but they shouldn't be gaunt.”

”I'm glad you approve of the way I look,” I said, reaching first for the pitcher of wine. ”If you were unhappy with me I'd probably be very upset. When and where is this gathering going to be?”

”It's going to be where it always is,” he answered, taking a cup and holding it out in a wordless request to have it filled. ”After we eat we'll go over to Fearin's tent, and once everyone is there and the guardsmen are in place around the tent we'll start.”

”Why would Fearin need guardsmen around his tent?” I asked, putting the pitcher down after pretending I didn't see Ranander's raised cup. ”If his Power can't keep the unwanted away, nothing can.”

”Fearin can't use his Power during a gathering,” Ranander said, finally losing most of that boyish-friendly look as he stared at me. ”There's a reason for that, which you'll find out once the gathering starts. Right now I'd like to know the reason you're treating me like something not really worth your time and attention. Were you a slave so long you've forgotten how to get along with people?”

”There's a difference between knowing how to get along with people and wanting to,” I said, leaning over the cloth to see which of the food I most felt like starting with. ”I wasn't the one who asked you in here, so I don't have to bother pretending to be polite. I'm also not the one looking for friends, so any time you don't like what you hear you don't have to hesitate over leaving.”

”There's something wrong with what you just said,” he told me, and I looked up after taking a small wedge of cheese to see his frown. ”What you said isn't precisely untrue, but it also isn't completely true. You want me to leave, but you don't want me to leave; that's the closest I can come to defining two feelings that would be fighting one another in somebody else, but aren't in you. You want both things just about equally.””Personally, I'm for the feeling that says I want you to leave,” I informed him around a mouthful of cheese, privately wondering just how deep his talent was able to go. ”If I had to guess, I'd say that second feeling was more a matter of your imagination.”

”I don't imagine answers,” he said with a small shake of his head, immediately and completely dismissing the idea. ”Either I know or I don't know, nothing in between. And I must say how awfully well educated you sound for a former slave. Are all Kenossi that well educated?”

”No,” I answered very shortly, looking down at the food again. ”And I thought you were in a hurry to get through this meal so you could leave. So far all you've done is talk, wasting time which could have been better spent moving your food to your own tent. Why don't you - ”

”Now just you wait a moment,” he interrupted, this time sounding annoyed. ”I told you that after this meal we would leave, and I think you know it. You seem awfully anxious to be rid of me, but it doesn't have anything to do with my knowing things. Would you like to tell me what it does have to do with?”

”It has to do with you,” I said, looking up again with my own annoyance. ”You're dull and boring and I have no interest at all in a.s.sociating with you. And you also don't know how to take hints, so let me say this straight out: go away!”

”Well, how about that,” he drawled, his head to one side as he began to grin at me. ”Most of what you just said is a total untruth, except for wanting me gone, which is still part yes and part no. You don't find me boring at all, and once you sleep with me you'll probably like me even better.”

”Sleep with you?” I repeated with an incredulous laugh, finding it hard to believe he'd actually said that. ”I'm not even enjoying sharing a meal with you. The only way I would ever sleep with you is if I were unconscious or dead. What's the matter, can't you even get any of the camp women to look at you?”

”The camp women have done more than look at me and they're decent enough, but I want something else,” he answered, his widened grin saying my attempted insult was too far off the mark to touch him. ”You intrigue me, Aelana, and I want to learn more about you. Do you distrust my interest because you think you're not pretty enough to attract a man?”

His question was more serious than the rest of what he'd said, but not so serious that I was supposed to be upset over it. What I was supposed to do was take his interest as a sincere attempt at gentle flattery, but that was something else that would never work out.

”Why don't we wait until you have learned more about me before we discuss all this interest you feel?” I suggested, then deliberately looked away from him and back to the food. ”And if that gathering will be waiting for us, then they won't appreciate us taking our time. Besides, I've had more than enough conversation for a while.”

My cutting everything off that abruptly surprised and bothered him, but you really do need some response to keep a conversation going. Ranander tried both talking and asking questions, but when I continued to ignore everything he said he finally gave up. We shared a tasty meal in even tastier silence, and I discovered that the sleep I'd had seemed to have given me more strength for eating. I finished part of a small bird that had been baked in honey, three mouthfuls of a vegetable mixture, a bite of heavy bread, a second small cheese wedge, and a full cup of wine. By the time I finished I felt close to bursting, but after almost two full seasons it was a feeling I reveled in.

For some reason Ranander didn't eat much more than I did, and we were already out of my tent before the words began to come from him again. I let the words flow around and past me as we walked toward the deep blue tent that was Fearin's, aware of the way the man beside me was trying to lighten my mood, aware but hearing none of it.

My mood was as dark as the sky had grown, as deep as the night was beginning to be.

Occasional bursts of laughter floated to us from two or three points in the surrounding guardsmen's camps, but the sounds felt as out of place as their campfires in the forest looked.

Anyone who built a campfire could never truly be a part of the forest, and as far as humanitywent, my campfire had long since been built.

There really were guardsmen ranged around Fearin's tent, but not immediately around it. They stood at least five strides away from it in a circle, each guardsman no more than two strides distant from the ones to either side of him, all of them armed with sword and spear as well as wearing heavy leather.

Ranander and I were stopped beyond the circle until an officer was called, and only when he pa.s.sed us did his men step aside. I felt my curiosity stirring over what they might be guarding so closely, but it was just a pa.s.sing thought. By now I knew there would be revelations galore in the tent I walked toward, and at least one of them would center around me.

Stepping through the entrance flap was like stepping into a room in one of those palaces I'd heard about. The golden floor weaving was as soft and thick as fur, golden panels of silk adorned the deep blue tent walls, thick blue pillows were scattered all over the floor weaving, and small, dark wood tables were arranged here and there among the pillows. Four golden stands held candles in each of the four corners of the tent, and three females moved around serving the four men taking their ease in the place. They all looked up as Ranander and I entered, but the first to speak was Lokkel the Healing Master.

”Really, Ranander, I would have thought that even you knew better than to be late to a gathering,” he said in a tone that was sharp enough to cut with, his dark-eyed look withering.

”Making the rest of us sit around toying with our thumbs is boorishly inconsiderate.”

”Possibly he was too busy toying with something of his own to think about us,” the fighter Garam suggested in a lazy drawl, arrogant insult clear in his own dark eyes. ”If it wasn't Ranander we could consider it the slave he was toying with, but even if he had the stomach to touch her he probably wouldn't know what to do. You really should find someone to give him lessons, Fearin. Leaving him as he is tends to be an embarra.s.sment to the rest of us.”

”Since we are a.s.sembled later than we should be, let's get on with it,” Fearin said, apparently not noticing that he'd interrupted the fighter Talasin just as he was about to speak. ”Ranander, you and Aelana sit there to complete our circle, and as soon as you both have wine we'll begin.”

The man of Power had indicated two places on the floor weaving to his left, between him and Talasin and somewhat opposite Garam and Lokkel. Garam sat to Fearin's immediate right with Lokkel to his right, and I was glad not to be seated in their part of the circle. I was about to sit nearer Talasin than Fearin, but Ranander put a hand to my left elbow, s.h.i.+fting me over.

”I don't want any wine,” I said to Fearin as I reluctantly sat not far from him, finding it impossible not to notice the way Ranander avoided looking directly at the loud-mouthed Garam. The man I'd shared a meal with was much more subdued in the company we'd come into, and all good humor seemed to have gone out of him.

”You'll take what you're given, slave,” Garam said before Fearin could respond, his arrogance even thicker than it had been. ”In a collar or without it, you'll still do as you're told.”

For some reason good food and comfortable, uninterrupted sleep tend to make one less willing to be imposed upon rather than philosophic and patient. I suddenly found myself voicing a deceivingly small hissing growl at Garam, a phrase in the tongue of the Strong and Victorious which meant, ”The sight of your blood will give me a great deal of pleasure.”

The phrase was a standard response to a challenge that would be eagerly answered by the one speaking, but the mighty Garam didn't seem to count knowledge of that tongue among his possessions. The fighter was excruciatingly unimpressed by what he saw and heard, but another of our number reacted differently.

”Aelana, the wine is necessary for the gathering,” Fearin said quickly, surprise lowering his brows a bit. ”Just take the cup, and then the servants can leave.”

Only then did I notice that one of the camp women was standing behind me to my left with a cup of wine in her hand. Ranander already had his cup, and the other two women were over by the tent flap, obviously waiting for their third to finish her serving and join them. There seemed tobe nothing for it but to take the cup, and once I did the woman turned and hurried out of the tent behind the other two. We six on the golden floor weaving were then alone in the tent, and the next thing I expected was that gathering to get under way.

In some way. What I didn't expect was the way we all just sat there, Garam and Fearin sipping their wine, Lokkel and Talasin staring into theirs, Ranander so deep in thought he seemed to have forgotten he had any wine. Along with sipping wine Fearin seemed to be studying me, so after enough heartbeats had gone by to make me feel I'd aged, I took advantage of having the High Master's attention.

”Is this all there is to this gathering of yours?” I asked, making no attempt to keep the impatience out of my voice. ”We all gather here and just sit staring at one another?”

”We're not just sitting here staring at one another,” Fearin answered, a faint smile playing around his lips. ”At first we were waiting for the servants to leave the area completely, and now we're waiting to be noticed. The next effort belongs to someone other than us.”

I was about to demand to know who this someone else could be, but Fearin suddenly straightened where he sat as his complete attention went to the center of our circle. I had enough time to notice that the others were doing the same, and then I had time for nothing but staring.

In the center of the circle a white mist had begun to form, a mist that could have been produced by the use of Power but clearly didn't have that as its source. When Power is used you can feel a light, faint tingling in the air, but right now the feeling was entirely different. There was a ...

heavy sharpness of some sort all around, an experience that can't be described in any other way.

The mist that formed was very compelling, but then something began to form inside the mist that was even more riveting. The shape was manlike in form but much larger, and as more and more details came clear it became evident that no man had ever looked the way that form did.

It was very large and hugely muscled, with mahogany-red skin and black hair and eyes; its face was more beautiful than any man's could ever be, but the sternness of the expression was impossible to miss. I nearly gasped when I realized who it was - who it had to be - and finally understood why Fearin couldn't use his Power.

”We give you greetings and welcome, Lord,” Fearin said after rising to his feet, his bow low and sincere. ”Once again you honor us with your presence.”

”Your gathering was late, High Master,” the form rumbled in a very deep voice, faint annoyance rather than accusation to be heard. ”Since this undertaking is not my only concern, try harder next time to be more prompt. How go the preparations?”

Fearin began to tell the form details of numbers and troop distributions and estimated marching times and such, but I paid no attention at all to what he said. All I could do was stare at that form, trying to tell myself I was mistaken, but I knew I wasn't. We were all of us right now in the presence of Diin-tha, G.o.d of justice and revenge. Fearin and the others moved in the cause of a G.o.d, and that made everything a good deal more complicated than I'd expected.

”You continue to do well, Fearin,” Diin-tha said when the High Master finished his recital, faint approval showing on that very beautiful face. ”Accept the victories that come as your own as you have so far done, and when you reach your ultimate objective we'll find our enemies unprepared for the true state of affairs. You may now retire.”