Stormlord Rising Page 21

  The other slaves left, but Elmar stayed, sitting close and keeping his voice down as he spoke to her. “Are you comfortable?”

  She hedged. “The pallet is well stuffed.”

  “I managed to get hold of that scimitar. The one Whetstone grabbed. I have it hidden in the supplies.”

  “That was good thinking.”

  “A risk, though. The owner was searching for it when we left. If they think one of us slaves took it they might search us all.”

  “They’ll think it was covered up in that upheaval of sand. Elmar, what happened?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. I spoke to a couple of the slaves who were carting the jars to the encampment when the ground shook, and they never felt a thing, although they did hear the singing. The only folk who felt it were the ones around about us.”

  “Kaneth says he did it. Ravard thinks it was the dune god, protecting his tribemaster.”

  He looked uneasy. “The dunes sing and make sounds. And the Reduners say under each dune a god sleeps. Every now and then he wakes to speak to the shamans…”

  “We are supposed to believe in the Sunlord, not dune gods. They don’t exist.”

  “Don’t know I believe in anything much. But something made the sand move.” He shivered. “Uncanny, it was. I don’t like these dunes. They move anyway, you know, swallowing everything in their path, like some kind of monster eating its way across the land. Put a pike in my hand and an enemy in front of me, and I’ll enjoy a good fight. But sand that moves and sings? Gives me the shiver-shudders.”

  She smiled. “The dunes move very slowly, a few paces each cycle, and I suspect it is the wind sending them on their way across the plains, not any monster or dune god within. Elmar, I need to eat a lot tonight. Meat, if you can get hold of some, to bring my powers up to par. I’m losing blood.”

  He looked shocked. “You’re bleeding?”

  “Yes. I—I may be losing the baby.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the expression on his face told her she had failed.

  “Sunlord help you. I didn’t know. I’ll get some food. And one of the women.”

  “Ask Junial. She told me she sometimes assisted the midwife on her level.”

  She rested, glad not to be jolting along on pedeback, but her peace did not last. Ravard came.

  With sick apprehension, she wondered whether he would wonder what she had been doing standing up on the back of the pede just before she had fallen. She hoped he had not noticed. After all, Whetstone had been attacking him at the time…

  He didn’t appear to be angry. In fact, he looked more uneasy than anything. “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  “Not particularly.”

  He fidgeted awkwardly. “The baby?”

  “I am bleeding.”

  “Ah.” He scratched his ear, once again hardly more than a youth trying to cope with a situation too big for him. Sunlord damn, he looked anxious. Worried, for her.

  She wondered if he ever appeared that way to his men and decided it was unlikely. They gave him a healthy respect and she’d never heard them mock him even when he wasn’t around. No, this boyish, vulnerable side occurred only with her. Spitless damn.

  “I’m sorry. Shall I get one of the women?” he asked.

  “I’ve asked someone to come. Junial. The cook.”

  He looked blank, but nodded anyway. “Food?”

  “Also coming.”

  “Is it, um, serious?”

  “Of course it’s serious.”

  “Oh. I—oh.” He looked down and fiddled with the handle of the dagger thrust through his belt, as if he was an embarrassed lad of twelve, not the heir to all the dunes of the Red Quarter.

  Then she saw the dark patch of Whetstone’s dried blood on his trousers and looked away. Don’t mistake the insecurities of youth for kindness, Ryka.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I dropped the reins and the pede panicked when the sand shifted. I feel responsible. I wish t’apologize.”

  Blighted eyes, she thought, there are times when I almost like him. “Kher, what happened back there? The sand, moving like that—”

  He shrugged. “The sand shifts on the slopes sometimes, and sings. Perhaps it is the dune god, perhaps not. One thing for sure, it wasn’t Uthardim.” His voice was larded with scorn.

  “What did the shaman of Pebblered say?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “The man heard the singing, but admitted that he did not recognize the song.” He stopped and changed the subject abruptly. “If there is anything else you need, send someone t’tell me.” He walked away without waiting for her reply, and she let out the breath she had been holding.

  Elmar returned shortly with a plate piled high with food and helped her to sit up so she could eat it. “What did that bastard want?” he asked.

  “To apologize,” she said and told him what the Master Son had said.

  Elmar started laughing. “He thinks it was his fault you fell? Because he let the reins fall? That’s as good as a double dayjar ration!”

  She wanted to chuckle, decided it would hurt too much and dampened the urge. Instead, she forced herself to eat.

  “At least he has no clue the two of us were thinking of escape. It was a brave thing you did, m’lord,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Weren’t your fault it didn’t work.”

  “There will be another attempt, I promise you. Perhaps when I am more sure Kaneth will join us.”

  The look he gave her was troubled. “I wasn’t about to give him a choice this morning. I was going to seize the pede he was on.”

  “I know.”

  There was so much pain in his eyes. And something else. Love. Not for her, though. It shook her to see the tough warrior so vulnerable. “What happened out there?” he asked. “What made him say he had saved Ravard? Why would he want to save Ravard, anyway?”

  “I don’t think he was trying to do so. The sand collapsed under us, who knows why. Kaneth was just trying to make Ravard think he did it. Because of being Uthardim. The other Reduners are buying it, even if Ravard doesn’t.”

  “I hope you’re right. Because that would mean the old Kaneth is returning, piece by bleeding piece. Oh, he doesn’t remember much past his early boyhood yet, but his—he is coming back. The man. The cynical, sarcastic bastard we used to know and love.”

  Relief suffused her. Soon. Soon we’ll be out of here. Ravard will die and then we can go after Davim.

  He continued to kneel at her side, his large restless hands pulling at his clothing as if he was looking for the scabbard he no longer wore. He said at last, “I gather he knows now he was a rainlord, but you didn’t tell him you were, too. You don’t trust him yet either, do you?”

  “He is so confused,” she said. “Weeping hells, Elmar, he can’t remember a thing that has happened over the past twenty years—none of it! Not the way the young stormlords died, not what Taquar did to us all, not our search of the Gibber for talented children, not even Nealrith’s death. Sandblast it, he doesn’t even remember Nealrith except as maybe a child playing skittles with him! He doesn’t know Jasper exists. How could he have any loyalty to anyone?

  “You were right, and I was wrong. If he doesn’t remember his loyalties, how can he know where to place his honor? I am waiting for a sign that he cares about us. When I have that, I’ll tell him. In the meantime, you must tell him as much as you can, but not all at once. Little by little. A reminder here, a reminder there. Start—start with things furthest away in the past.”

  “I don’t have much opportunity now,” Elmar said. “Most of the time I am tied up with the other men and there are usually guards within earshot anyway.”

  He paused, and when he spoke again it was to reminisce. “I met him first when I was ordered to be his sparring partner in the practice yard, did you know that? Cocky brat he was then, as full of himself as a puffed-up sandgrouse and sure he could best anyone. We knocked the stuffing out of him as fast as we knew how. But he didn’t res
ent it. I liked that. After that, we were a team, Lord Kaneth and me. At first, I was the teacher, him the pupil. In the end, he led, I followed—because he was worth following. We protected each other’s backs. I always knew which way he’d move, and he knew he could rely on me. The best years of my otherwise useless life have been with him. M’lord, it’s breaking me in two to see him like this and to be so powerless to help him.”

  The grief in his voice was profound, confirming something she had long suspected. “You love him.”

  He was silent.

  “Does he know?”

  His laugh had a bitter edge. “Come on, I got better sense than that. Would change things, him knowing. He may have slept with every damned snuggery girl in Breccia, but he’s never looked at a man. Don’t let it bother you. You got his heart, and that’s the way it should be.”

  “And lost it, it seems, because of a blow to his head. Watergiver take it, Elmar; we are a sorry pair, aren’t we?”

  His low laugh was devoid of bitterness this time. “That we are. He wants to see you, by the way. Asked me if I would ask you first.”

  “Maybe it’s Kher Ravard you should be asking,” she pointed out dryly. “He’s the one who owns us both.”

  “You may be out of earshot here, but you’re hardly out of sight with only this bit of canvas overhead. I don’t think the Kher’ll take exception. He saw me bringing you the food and he said nothing. But then, he’s a touchy bastard. Watch him, m’lord. He’s a powerful man on the outside, but the inside quivers.”

  “With what?”

  “Who knows? Fear? Insecurities? Madness? Hate? Rage against the world? That young warrior is two people, not one.”

  She remembered the scars on Ravard’s back, and wondered about his past.

  “I’ll tell Kaneth to come, shall I?” Elmar asked.

  She nodded.

  “Go easy on him. Ah, here’s Junial. I’d better go and eat something myself, before they truss me up for the night like a bale of bab kernels in a burlap sack.” His scarred face seamed in a smile as he left and Junial took his place at Ryka’s side.

  Junial’s advice was to the point. “Move as little as possible. You want to water the plants, you do it right here beside your bed. Bed rest is the only thing I know that can save a babe. But then, maybe it’s better to let it go. After all, what’s the point of letting a child be born to slavery?” She cleaned up the blood, pronounced the amount to be small as yet, and then left, promising to sleep at Ryka’s side for the night if she could, in case she needed help.

  No sooner had Junial left than Kaneth came and knelt at her side. “How are you?” he asked.

  She studied his face in the firelight, the concern in his eyes, but could see nothing there that spoke of love. Disappointed yet again, she said bluntly, “I’ll live. The baby may not.”

  “I can’t apologize enough.”

  “For what?”

  “You were going to stop that man from killing Ravard. If you’d jumped on him as he passed, you might have died. He had his scimitar over his head, ready to strike! I thought you’d impale yourself. All I could think was to stop you. And instead I hurt you.”

  A sign. She had wanted a sign that he cared, even a little. And now that she had it, she stared at him, incredulous. “I wasn’t thinking to save Ravard! I was happy enough to see him die!” The irony stabbed at her, cutting deep. She tried to explain. “I stood up to move to the driver’s saddle. I was going to steal the pede and ride away with you and Elmar in the confusion of Ravard’s death.”

  He frowned, as if he had trouble taking in all she said. Finally he remarked, “They would have killed us with ziggers.”

  “They would never have released them. They would have lost every single slave for a start, not to mention any Pebblered Reduners not wearing the correct perfume—which might have been all of them. You do know that, don’t you? That each dune uses a particular perfume their ziggers are trained to avoid?” And I would have killed any that came after us…

  He nodded. “Yes, yes, I know that.” He rubbed his forehead once more, a gesture she was beginning to dread. “Facts I recall. But I don’t think very well sometimes. Was I always so witheringly slow?”

  “You had a sharp mind once. You will again.” But what the blighted hell makes you think you can move the very sand beneath our feet? “Would you—would you have come with us?”

  To her dismay, he didn’t give an immediate answer, and when he did reply, she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer anyway.

  “I would have wanted to,” he said finally. “But it seems wrong to leave folk in slavery.”

  “A rainlord’s skills are better spent elsewhere.” You hypocrite, she added beneath her breath, and it was herself she meant.

  “But that’s just it, Garnet. I’m not a rainlord. Although I suspect I was trying to call on my water-sense when I tried to stop you.” He made a gesture of frustration. “I’m not explaining this very well. When I saw you—as I thought—preparing to jump on the slave with the scimitar, I was too far away to grab you so I reached out for something to use. Water, I guess. I suppose what I did was instinctive because I certainly didn’t think about it. I just felt something deep in the dune and reached for it. I touched it. But I don’t think it was water. Then everything went horribly wrong.”

  “You really believe you made the sand move?”

  “I think I did something to start the sand moving. And once it started I didn’t know how to stop it.”

  “I think you just said ‘No,’ ” she said dryly, “and it ceased.”

  He wasn’t amused. “I can’t explain it. And I feel so guilty. You were hurt. Worse, now you tell me I wrecked your chance to escape.”

  She didn’t reply. In truth, she didn’t know what to say.

  “Ravard said your baby wasn’t his.”

  “Of course it isn’t!” Her rage bubbled to the surface, even though she knew she was being unfair. “It’s only been what—ten days?—since I had the misfortune to meet Kher Ravard! I was looking through a pile of corpses for the body of my husband at the time…”

  “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  She stared at him, trying not to feel the hurt he had not meant to give her. The concern was still there in his eyes; concern for a stranger who had crossed his path. She wanted to reach out, touch his scar, cup his face with her hand. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, touching their child.

  He said, “I don’t remember what happened in Breccia in the days before I was flung onto the pyre.”

  In his confusion, his hand went to his head again and she wondered if his headaches were bothering him still. Or maybe it’s just talking to me makes men fidget, she thought with a touch of hysteria. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. “The baby is my husband’s. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Kaneth was upset, that was obvious. Her thoughts were in turmoil, but one emerged from the murk, clear and sure: he would not betray her. That danger was past.

  “But there is something you should know,” she added. “I didn’t tell you before, because I wasn’t sure I could trust you. You were so… confused.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m also a rainlord. We’ve known each other since we were children attending the rainlord academy in Breccia.”

  He sat back on his heels, eyes wide. “Weeping shit.”

  She waited for him to say something else. Anything.

  “Then why didn’t you escape before now?” he asked finally.

  “Because I wouldn’t leave without you, you sand-brained idiot! We are rainlords! We—we help one another.”

  Another long silence, as if he was trying to puzzle something out. “Did you go to bed with that sand-tick because of me?”

  She snorted. “Don’t pride yourself! Why the waterless hells would I do that? I did it to get out of Breccia in one piece and save my child. My sister died in my arms in Breccia Hall because she wouldn’t bed Davim, and I didn’t want t
o end up the same way.”

  “Oh, sandblast it. I have to think about this. I—oh, sod the bastard. Ravard’s staring at us with his hand on the hilt of his scimitar.”

  He stood up. “I think I had better go before I embarrass myself by uttering anymore inanities. Can I apologize again for being ten times a sand-stuffed fool? Garnet, is there anything I can do to help you now?”

  “You could call me Ryka, when we are alone, at least. That’s my real name.”

  Breathless she waited for something—some recognition, some indication that the name meant something. But there was nothing. His face was blank.

  He hesitated. “I’d rather not. We knew each other once. I’ve known you for years, it seems. And yet… I don’t know what you were to me. Family? Sister? Lover? Fellow comrade-at-arms? Friend? I don’t know. And perhaps you are wise not to tell me. For now you are just Garnet Prase, and I start afresh even if you don’t. The day I call you Ryka, you will know I remember you.”

  She watched him as he walked away, biting her lip to stop herself from calling him back. Only when he disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the cooking fires did she turn her senses inward to concentrate on saving their child.

  The man who thought of himself as nameless rose before the sun the following day. He walked through the outer perimeter of guards, nodding amiably to the closest of the sentries, who made no move to stop him, continuing on till he reached the top of one of the dune hills. The sky lightened as he went; the stars began to fade, then died in the shimmer of the coming dawn.

  From the crest he could see in all directions. The encampment was beginning to wake. Slaves were out collecting pede droppings for burning in the camp fires, the drovers were cleaning and polishing their mounts. In the other direction, the tent settlement of the sandmaster of Dune Sandsinger was also astir. Unlike the traveling tents of Ravard and his men, the settlement tents were lavish affairs, embroidered and fringed, with a porch and several rooms each, and sides that could be rolled up or lowered. Their kitchens were communal, shared between three or four families, roofed with jute canvas and furnished with tables and benches made of bab wood or stone slabs.