Irsud Page 7

  As Aleytys sank back on her heels, Aamunkoitta pulled her wrapper around her and tied the belt with shaking fingers. “Kiitos, taikagarna,” she mumbled. Then she shrank into herself and plucked half-heartedly at the scattered sheets and towels.

  “Aamunkoitta.”

  The hiiri slewed around clutching a sheet to her breast. “Kunniakas?”

  Aleytys jumped to her feet. “Come with me.” She shivered. “I don’t like this place right now. Come outside into the sun and talk with me.”

  Aamunkoitta stroked a hand over the smooth material of the folded sheet. “Outside?”

  “In the garden, idiot. Come on, I want to talk to you.” She hesitated in the doorway. “You have somewhere you’ve got to be?”

  The hiiri nodded slowly. “I’ll be punished.” “Even if I was responsible for keeping you?”

  “Who’d believe?”

  “Ah.” Aleytys ran across the room and jerked the tapestry aside. “Guard!”

  The lanky nayid turned a stolid mask to her, but her antennas twitched nervously. “Parakhuzerim?”

  “Send word to.…” She twisted her head so she could see the hiiri. “Who?”

  “Ardubel Budurit.” Aamunkoitta’s voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper. Aleytys faced the guard again.

  “Send word to the Ardubel Buburit the hiiri Aamunkoitta is required by the Parakhuzerim for the rest of the day.”

  “I cannot leave my post.” The guard’s face was bland, stubborn. Aleytys felt the smug satisfaction radiating from her as the nayid enjoyed thwarting her.

  “On her belt.” The hiiri’s gaspy voice sounded behind her so faintly she could barely hear it. “A caller. The hyonteinen can call from here.”

  Aleytys glared at the nayid, anger rushing up her body like a flame. Instead of calming herself, she roared with rage at the nayid: “Call!”

  With fumbling fingers the guard pulled the black box from her belt, a vein throbbing in the long thin neck as she tapped a code on its face.

  A tiny voice like a mosquito hum answered. “Im? Who?”

  “Masart Nunana. Message for Ardubel Budurit.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Parakhuzerim keeping hiiri Aamunkoitta till curfew. Parakhuzerim demand I call.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  The guard tapped the surface once and slipped the hooks back over the belt. Then she eyed Aleytys warily. “Is that all?” The muscles of her face were hard with resentment. “What else do you require, Belit?”

  Aleytys clamped her mouth in a grim line. “Service,” she spat. “Keep Gapp out.” Eyes burning she glared proudly at the nayid then let the tapestry fall between them.

  “River pig.” Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Aleytys ran across the room to the glass wall. “Come on out into the sunlight. I need the fresh air and warmth.”

  The small yellow sun was warm and pleasant on the stone bench. Aleytys stretched, yawned and sank down on the seat. She patted a second yawn and said lazily, “Sit down, Aamunkoitta. Ahai, Madar, what a morning.”

  The hiiri looked warily around then perched on the edge of the seat.

  “Relax, Aamunkoitta. Ahai, what a name!” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Does it mean something?”

  “Dawn, Kunniakas.” Aamunkoitta relaxed slightly, moved back farther until she was almost leaning against the back of the bench. She radiated wary respect. “My aiti—my mother … her birth dream over, the burning fenkolin hajuvesi was the sun coming up. So she called me after the rising of the sun. Aamunkoitta.”

  Aleytys propped her feet up on a rock and rolled her head back and forth, stretching her neck. It felt good, soaking in the warmth, stretching, exploring this new and interesting being. “If you don’t mind, I’ll call you Kitten.”

  “And does that mean something?”

  “A small charming furry creature.” Aleytys yawned. “You called me hieno nainen first time.”

  “That is female person of high rank.” The hiiri glanced slyly at Aleytys. “Kunniakas, you are one of power?”

  “Hm.” Aleytys contemplated her toes, wiggled them briefly. “Yes, no, whatever.” She linked her fingers behind her head and sniffed disdainfully at the egg-yellow sun. “You call me Kunniakas. What does that mean?” She yawned again and slid her buttocks over the smooth stone.

  “One honored by the henkiolento-maan, the spirits of the earth.”

  Aleytys laughed suddenly. “Here we go again.”

  “Huh?”

  “Spirits of the earth.”

  The hiiri spat twice on the earth and closed her hands into fists leaving first and small fingers extended. “You know them?”

  “Let’s say I’ve been involved with ones like them on other worlds.”

  “Ah.” Aamunkoitta folded her hands in her lap. “You’re not hiiri.”

  “Obviously.” Aleytys chuckled. “You mean why did I help you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why! You were being beaten, Kitten. You think I could walk away from that?”

  “Why not? I’m no clan-brother of yours.”

  “Well!” Aleytys examined her curiously. “So.” She pursed her lips at the yellow sun. “I expected nayids to be different. Never mind. Just figure I don’t like Gapp.” She sat up and shook the hair back from her face. “Will she make trouble for you?”

  The hiiri shrugged. “Why should she change?”

  “Can’t you get back to your people?”

  “What people?” Aamunkoitta spread her hands over her thighs, staring down at them. “Most of my clan was killed a year ago. The rest … sold. Some here. That’s all I know.”

  “What happened?”

  “I’m poletti hirvi. Poletti kissa came on us. A raid for horses, slaves in early summer. Each hutikuu the kipu holds slave market here.” She pointed at the outer wall of the garden.

  “Hutikuu?”

  “A month in the fall.” She sighed. “Some of us they buy, any not sold the raiding clans strangle.”

  “Strangle! You own people?”

  “No, no! Only the clan is mine. The others are strangers. No business of mine. Besides, extra mouths in the long trek to the winter place would be stupid. There’s little enough food at the best of times.”

  “You mean, if you got away from this place any hiiri who found you would either strangle you or sell you back?”

  Aamunkoitta looked puzzled that such a simple thing would be so hard for Aleytys to understand. “Rape me first, then, unless I put a knife in him, yes. Without a clan, there’s no place I can go.”

  Aleytys wriggled her shoulders impatiently. “Madar! No wonder the nayids run things. Don’t your people ever work together?” As she finished the question she felt a deep uneasiness stir within the small woman. “Look, Kitten, I’m no nayid either. If I can help.…”

  “Ah!” The hiiri slid off the bench and knelt in front of Aleytys, placing her hands palm down on Aleytys’ knees. “Taikagarna,” she whispered. “Kunniakas. Kuu Voiman. Shaman. Kuu of the night, Aurinko of the day. Save my people. Help my clan. Drive the hyonteinens from our land. Lend your power to the Paamies.”

  “Paamies?” Considerably startled, Aleytys stared at the eager intelligent face. The mask was gone, the change striking. The hiiri had finally capitulated, had accepted Aleytys as a force to cling to.

  “Use your good sense,” Aleytys said hurriedly. “Get back on the bench. If the nayids are watching, and you know they’re like that, you must wake their suspicions acting this way.”

  Aamunkoitta snorted. “Those stupid skat would think I’m making love to you.” Nonetheless she settled herself back on the bench.

  “So.” Aleytys grinned at her, delighted with this new development. “You weren’t quite telling the truth before.”

  Aamunkoitta flicked a brief tight grin at her in return. “It’s what the hyonteinens want to believe. We help it along.” She went abruptly serious. “And unfortunately, there are clans where it’s true. But n
ot all. Not all.” She closed her hands tightly, one around the other until her knuckles turned yellow-white. “At times,” she said very softly … paused … glanced at Aleytys, cool speculation in her large brown eyes.… Aleytys could feel the euphoria engendered by the healing and her own offer of aid dying into an everyday cynical suspicion of everyone and everything outside her tight little circle.… Picking her way carefully, the hiiri went on. “At times one is born, One with signs, when kuu swims in the house of Loki, one who is … has … is a johtaja. In the time of wintering when the clans come together, if the signs are right …” The hiiri hesitated, flashed a swift glance at Aleytys, then went on. “For the woman trade. And sometimes a man is such … he has the power in him … he is johtaja … then he is … he … I don’t know exactly how to say this, this damn language … he is named Paamies. For him the clans will fight forswearing even bloodfeud and deathright.”

  “Ah.” Aleytys rubbed her fingers together, then examined her palms. “So you have a Paamies.” She touched the rising excitement in the hiiri, the tough suspicious core. “And you work for him even here. That’s the real reason you stay.”

  The hiiri fluttered her hands frantically. “No, you’re wrong,” she whispered urgently. “What could I do? Don’t even think.…”

  “Calm down, Kitten. Forget it for now. How many hiiri in this place?”

  Aamunkoitta bit her full lips and once again she knotted her fingers together. Then she pulled her hands apart and held them up. Each hand had three fingers and an opposable thumb. “Five hands plus three,” she said huskily.

  “Twenty-three … hm … think about this. If you want to get out, all of you, when I jump the wall, let me know.”

  “Jump the wall?” The sullen stupid mask slid back over her small sharp features.

  “Hah!” Aleytys jumped to her feet. “Escape. Run away. Break out of this prison. And you know exactly what I mean.”

  “I have work here,” Aamunkoitta said quietly.

  “And I have thinking to do. You mind leaving me alone a while?”

  Aamunkoitta got to her feet, dipped her body in a deep but graceful bow, and shuffled over the grass into the dark rectangle that marked the entranceway. Aleytys watched her go then stretched out full length on the stone bench, resting her head on her folded arms, letting the water music play over her tired body.

  CHAPTER VIII

  “Swardheld.” Aleytys turned over and stretched out on the bench, clasping her hands behind her head, lazy and comfortable on the warm stone with the water magic from the dancing stream running along her nerves, soothing her into a glowing dream state. The breeze played in her hair, dancing the tendril curls in small tickles around the edge of her face. “Open those black eyes and talk to me.”

  A deep chuckle vibrated within her. Eyes crinkling with laugh wrinkles, Swardheld rumbled, “Guda morga, freyka. A pleasant day.”

  She snorted laughter. “Nothing like a little exercise to warm up the body.”

  “Stirs the blood, sharpens the appetite.”

  “Makes colors brighter, smells stink stronger.…” Aleytys wriggled on the bench, itching all over with erupting giggles. She wiped her streaming eyes. “Sweet bit of exercise. Minor surgery by an amateur cutter, a neat little whipping with near rape by a horny female bug. What have I left for spice in my life?” She giggled again, feeling absurdly content. “And here I am,” she murmured. “Talking to the inside of my head. Am I crazy?”

  “And all this under a skimpy yellow sun.” His voice was full of mock sympathy and she felt the laughter behind it. “Know what you mean, freyka. A sun that’s worth having should compel a little respect. That pale thing up there … why, you could sit naked at noon.”

  “You’re a dirty old man, Swardheld.” Then she lay back and closed her eyes. “Why are you, who are you, my friend?” The bubbling humor that filled, her a moment before slid gently away. “What are you?” She tapped her temple and heard the faint delicate chime of the diadem. “What is this thing?”

  She felt the hesitation but no aura of reluctance. Rather a search for words to explain a complicated state of being along with a fringe of uncertainty about just what she wanted. “You know my life,” she said impatiently. “You know how the diadem leeched onto me. Am I going to be another set of eyes in the back of some poor idiot’s mind? Is that what happened to you? Were you a person … Madar! You’re a person now … I think.…” She frowned then sighed. “Ahai Madar, words are stubborn things.”

  The rumbling chuckle blew like a bracing wind through her disordered mind. “A step at a time, freyka. You do hop about.”

  “Well?”

  “Yeah, time was I had a body of my own.”

  “Oh?”

  “That was a bit ago, freyka. Let me see.…” The black eyes half closed in the effort of memory, then slid to the right. “Harskari.”

  Yellow eyes opened. Aleytys went rigid at this sudden intimation of other personalities inhabiting her skull. A cool contralto answered Swardheld’s basso query. “Five thousand of Jaydugari triple-years, Swardheld Foersvarat.” The amber eyes shut and the new personality was wiped away.

  “How many more of you in there?” She pushed herself up and sat stiffly erect on the bench, hands clutching at her temples, a tremor of fear sweeping through her body. Eyes shut, face twisted into a frown, she concentrated her being in a demand for answer.

  “Just me.” Huge purple eyes blinked open, accompanied by an aura of charm and bright intelligence. “Shadith, singer and maker of songs, wanderer hither and yon about the universe. We are three, le-any. Sorceress. Singer. Swordbearer. Caught in a golden web spun by a spinner a thousand thousand years dead.”

  Swardheld grunted. “She gets drunk on words, give her half a chance,” he explained gravely. “But if you listen long enough she usually says something worth listening to.”

  Shadith’s voice, rich and filled with music, shining like spun silver, broke into an affectionate laugh. “He wants you to think his brain’s all muscle, but don’t believe it.” Aleytys glowed with the deep feeling the three shared, giving her a tentative comprehension that it might not be so bad after all to join these phantoms. She shunted the thought aside for later consideration and turned her mind back to the expectant pairs of eyes.

  “A step at a time. You’re the one I knew first, Swardheld. How’d the diadem find you?”

  The black eyes narrowed, then Swardheld grunted. “Scram, Shadith. The child’s not used to all this yammer in her head.”

  Aleytys thought suddenly, all I see are eyes, why am I so sure he’s male and she’s female? But the auras were so vivid there was no mistaking them.

  With a ripple of laughter, Shadith acknowledged the thought, then turned her eyes to Swardheld. “Leave you with the stage, you mean, old growler.” The purple twinkled. “’Bye, Aleytys. See you later.”

  Aleytys settled herself back on the bench, stretched out on her stomach, head resting on crossed arms, hair flowing over her shoulders. The breeze slipped along her back, ruffling the rose chiffon, playing in the strands of her hair while she gazed dreamily at the lacy shadow of the mimosoid playing on the surface of the water as the stream glided over a smooth patch of mottled gravel.

  “Mmm.” The black eyes took on a long-distance stare. “Time past I was sired in the mountains of Eldstad.” He chuckled. “Grew to manhood there. I wasn’t what you’d call one of your better citizens. To be blunt, a damn nasty brat.”

  Aleytys gasped. He twinkled at her. “I’ve had a few years to think, freyka. Don’t know why someone didn’t bust my head for me except my father was weapon smith to the Jaegere fa Poaeng. One thing I got was good training in two paths—metalworking and fighting. What with this and that, I left the borg before I spent fifteen winters. Stole a sword from the Jaegere. Repellent brat. I don’t doubt he was glad to see the back of me. But that sword’s the only thing kept me alive the next few years.” His voice slowed and the black eyes stared into the dist
ance, through and far, far beyond the bone of her skull. Then he shook himself out of the reverie and went on.

  “The land was cut into a hundred little fiefs. Always fighting. A couple big cities where the fiefholders called themselves kings. And they all had pampered cadres of mercenaries. A man who could swing a sword’d never starve. I learned a lot those days, had some of the rougher edges knocked off me mainforce, picked up a good double handful of dirty tricks in the fighting game, survived and got a little name for myself time I was nineteen. I didn’t give a damn about anything those days. Ignorant brawling lout keeping alive because I was quicker than most.

  “I’d have drunk myself slow and dead except Ledare Noje Omkringska walked into my fate. The stupidity of Jaegere Tjockskelle had nearly got me killed so I cursed him to his face, kicked the teeth in on his official hero, and stormed out of borg Sjobarre barely ahead of a flight of arrows.

  “By the time I came up with Omkringska I was sore as a bee-stung bear, hungry as a fimbul-winter wolf, and parched with a thirst water wouldn’t dent. I ran into him and he had a couple veterans hammer some sense in my thick head and fed me, then offered me employment.

  “I said my head was thick, but I wasn’t stupid even then, just stubborn and hot-tempered. He was quite a man, cunning and ambition and courage enough to conquer the whole damn continent. Did it, too. Took him five years. Time enough to grow me out of my conceit. He took a liking to me, saw something in me no one else bothered to scrape the crust off to find. Taught me the difference between strategy and tactics. I guess every man needs someone to trust. He could have walked on me with red-hot spikes and made me like it and he knew it. Ah well … he stuck those little fiefs together one after the other and made them like it, too.

  “Five years. Then he had time to look around. Marry. Beget heirs for the dynasty … the old, old story … the woman betrayed him with her cousin, a greedy snotty little princelet … a pinch of poison finished him. Bitch tried for me too, but I was drunk to eat that night. All that fancy court life got on my nerves. But in the morning Omkringska was dead, the princelet giving orders, and I was running fast and light with an army on my tail.