Hammerfall

He fell to Tain’s bullet, and there was power, to be had, and both the Haga and the Keran moved in on it, possessed it, guarded it from mishap, supplied him with what he needed. Could he fault them for seeing to their own? Memnanan could only be grateful to have added their force around him, with Tain threatening the caravan, but he saw abundant reason Memnanan might not be easy with the situation, too, and had an idea now why Memnanan might have come to stand over his healing carcass… to estimate the chances of his recovery, and whether he might take that power back again, and whether he could.

He had to talk to Memnanan at the earliest opportunity—once his head stopped reeling.

“So how long will this truce among the tribes last?” he asked.

“They’re staying,” Hati told him. “Aigyan and Menditak have sworn water peace forever. They’ve merged the camps.” Hati waved a gesture forward. “Aigyan’s up there, leading. He insists on that.” And back. “Menditak is just behind the Ila’s company, next behind her men, ru

A lasting peace. Access to each other’s wells, fiercely defended for generations. The Ila all but imprisoned in the camp and effectively deprived of her priests. He was gone one day and two, and the rules of march all changed.

“What did the Ila say about it? What did Memnanan say?”

“The captain took the offer for the Ila’s sake. What was he going to do? I told him the Ila shouldn’t give the tribes any orders, that they’re too valuable to offend, if you were down, and I warned the captain they won’t talk to her, so not to expect it. But they have talked to the captain, all the same, and he’s talked to his men, and we’re guarded on every side. They don’t intend to see any more shots fired into this camp. They want you and me and Norit in tribal colors. Less of a target.”

“A damned good idea,” he said. The tribal presence more than thickened the head of the column and made sniping into it more difficult. The union of Haga and Keran carried an unprecedented force of tribal will, as well. If the tribes were upset about what Tain had done, and if the Haga and the Keran now ruled the Ila’s camp, then the Ila’s camp became a tribal camp—if Tain violated that, there was a price on his head, on the part of every tribesman.

Tribal unity—and around the Ila.

And around him, and Hati, and Norit… Norit, who added in the villages, and, he saw, also in dark-striped cloth.

“It’s not been easy,” he said to Hati, grateful for her levelheadedness.

“No,” Hati said. “It’s been hell. Don’t leave me like that. Don’t ever leave me like that.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I was crazy. I was crazy for a few days, and you weren’t. I wouldn’t even listen to Luz. But I’m sane now. And won’t ever be crazy again. I promise you that.”

“I hold you to it.” They were within the witness of all Tofi’s workers, packing the baggage. Her hand stayed steady, holding his arm, while she had the rein of her besha with the other, but her voice was a soft touch, a gentle forgiveness. “Let Tain ride up and down out there where the vermin are. Let him take his chances being eaten alive. We all need you. I need you. And the Ila won’t get you either.”

“No,” he agreed. He saw one of Tofi’s slaves rode up with Osan in tow, saddled and ready for him. Bosginde and Mogar rode next behind that man, and got down to help him up to the mounting loops and into Osan’s saddle, holding Osan from his usual step forward.

That meant Osan swayed, taking his weight, and his head did, and he forgot all about tribesmen and dark riders and vermin mobs.

He hit the saddle, and the feeling passed. He took the rein when they passed it to him, and being on Osan’s back was good, despite the giddiness of the perch. It was far better than lying under Lelie’s weight and better than the occasional jolts of the priests’ handling. He saw that the priests had taken up the litter, and walked near them, still carrying Lelie.

“Hand the baby up,” he said.

“You’ll drop her,” Hati said, and it was true: his side was sore, and that arm was not dependable. In the end Hati mounted up and took the baby up to her own saddle. Then she excused herself and rode up the line to Norit, where she gave Lelie to her own mother.

Marak let Osan travel up through the moving line and met Hati halfway on her way back. There were tribesmen on either hand, as they had drifted back. The colors were Haga.

He rode forward with Hati, and also overtook Norit, who failed to notice his presence. She rode with Lelie half in her arms, half-sitting on the padded saddlebow, and talked to her daughter.

It was, for that moment, and rare that he was sure of it, only Norit in that Haga-robed body. Luz was silent, in his mind, in his ears and, he hoped, in Norit’s.

“ Luz,” he said under his breath, reeling with the strangeness of the day, but rewarded by what he saw, Norit happy, and for a moment sane. “Luz, do you see what’s going on? I’m up and riding. We’re on the road. The tribes have come around us to protect this camp. There’s no danger at the moment. You can let Norit alone. Give her a day. A day to herself.”

He heard nothing by way of answer. But that silence was what he wanted.

Then Tofi overtook them.

“You’re alive,” Tofi crowed. “And riding! It’s a miracle of the god!”

“It’s the damned tower’s doing,” Marak said. “If I thought it was the god, I’d complain to the priests and the Ila. It hurt like hell.”

Tofi thought that was fu

“I’m glad you’re all right, omi. All of us are glad.”

“So am I,” Marak said. He heard that omi. He saw the decent respect give way to outright fear, which he had no wish to have in those close to him.

His fatherhad wanted fear like that among his subordinates… fear, and worship. Tain had trusted no one who failed to be awed by him, but Tain’s son trusted no one who did fear him… that was his rule. He had never wanted to be worshiped, or to become the focus of dim-visioned men who wanted to be governed by fear. He had been an outright fool to go after his father alone, knowing the quality of the men who surrounded Tain and fed him with their worship, men in whose eyes Kaptai’s murder had to be justified, because everything Tain did had to be justified. He had been a fool to go by his father’s rules, in his father’s territory. He knew that now. He was lucky to have fallen in with the Rhonandin instead of his father’s men, because it never would have been a fair fight. “I shouldn’t have gone after him,” he said to Tofi. “But I lived through it. Tain got away, and good riddance. It was a damned waste. His whole life is a damned waste. So are the men with him.”

“It’s not goodfor you to kill your father,” Tofi ventured to say to him. “It’s not good for you, omi, no matter what your father’s done. You can’t. Don’t go back there again.”

He could have taken offense at Tofi’s meddling in his private business. But Tofi’s was the courage and truth and constancy to a course that he saw Tain’s teaching had never given him: Kaptai had, if anyone. “I don’t plan to try again,” he said to Tofi. “Be glad we’re not farther back in the line. It’s hell back there. Good luck if we don’t lose half the caravan, if they don’t just walk off the trail on a cloudy night. And there’s nothing we can do about it if it happens. That’s the hell of it.” He looked out to the edges of the column, past the shield the Haga tribesmen posed, riding on the edges of the column. Their way lay among low dunes, over hard ground, rises too shallow at their highest to hide a rider.

That was good. So was the Haga’s added protection for the Ila’s camp. He raked his memory, trying to remember how long this area lasted, or where they were on their journey. He had no idea how long he had lain on the litter.