Jean Lorrah - Wulfston's odyssey

Tadisha stared at him. “How could you know? You said she was veiled, that all you could see were her eyes.”

“Yes,” he remembered, “her eyes. My memories of my mother are vague, but I remember her eyes.

Deep, penetrating, sad-just like Chulaika’s. Somehow I knew before I even reached Africa that Chulaika’s hatred was toward blood kin.”

He glanced at the dogs, who were playfully wrestling with each other, growling and barking. “It’s why I named those two Traylo and Arlus, without recalling where the names came from. It was a story Nerius told Aradia and me, one time when we were fighting worse than usual.

“I was about twelve, and my powers were taking that leap at puberty that’s also accompanied by lack of control. Father had determined that my powers were likely to become as great as his and Aradia’s… and she resented it. At the time, I thought that was all she resented, but now I realize that Father was spending much more time with me than with Aradia.”

“Kamas and I went through just such a situation not so long ago,” said Tadisha.

“I suppose siblings always do,” said Wulfston, “but your mother didn’t let it get to the stage at which you did something unforgivable, any more than Nerius did. He separated Aradia and me-sent her off for a month with Lady Lilith, and me to an ally of his named Hron. Of course we discovered how much we missed each other, but when we came home the first thing Father did was to sit us down and tell us the story of Traylo and Arlus, brothers of equal powers who fought all their lives over who should hold power in their lands. In the end they killed each other. Nobody won, and their people were left leaderless.”

“We also have such cautionary tales,” said Tadisha.

“There are others,” Wulfston agreed. “The reason the tale of Traylo and Arlus had such impact, though, is that it came with the object lesson-after being separated for a month, Aradia and I knew that we loved and missed one another and Nerius, and no power struggle was important enough to tear a family apart.”

He thought for a moment, and then added, “Our alliance is like a family. Lenardo became family when he married Aradia. Julia became family when Lenardo adopted her.” He turned to look at Tadisha. ”

I wish…”

But he could not complete the thought-it was the wrong time and place.

“I wish I could be a part of such a family,” Tadisha completed it for him. “But that family is far away, and I have obligations here. Your family here-”

Wulfston shuddered. He still did not feel related to Norgu, Z’Nelia, Chulaika, or Chaiku, no matter what Barak said. “If you insist that blood will tell,” he replied, “then you can never trust me. I couldn’t trust myself if that were true!”

Tadisha grasped his hand. “Oh, no-I didn’t intend- Wulfston, I only meant that you have family here, and thus responsibilities.”

“I have responsibilities because I have given my word, not because I share some ancestors with the people who have attacked you. I will discharge those responsibilities, just as you will discharge yours, Princess of the Karili.”

They looked into one another’s eyes, they held hands, but they might as well have been standing on different continents. Her future lay here, in Africa, while his lay far across the sea, in the Savage Empire.

“If we defeat Z’Nelia,” Tadisha murmured, “who will rule her lands? Norgu is not to be trusted, nor Chulaika, nor Chaiku if his mother raises him. Wulfston, you are of that family. Take the throne. The Karili Assembly will support you. Form an alliance here. Bring peace to Africa. We need you-”

“No, you don’t,” he told her firmly, easily identifying the strong temptation he felt as a desire to stay with Tadisha, not any rightful claim to the throne of the Zionae. “Your mother has already sown the seeds here with the Karili Assembly. I saw that Assembly stand up to Norgu. He will undoubtedly take Z’Nelia’s throne; as her son he has a rightful claim to it. And you, your mother, your brother, and all the Movers and Seers of the Assembly will pool your strength to force him to use his powers for good… until it becomes a habit.”

Reluctantly, he pushed Tadisha’s hand aside, then turned and walked away from her toward where the troops were quartered who would be under his direct command in the battle to come.

Part of this army would be moving out in a few hours, and they were gathering supplies, packing wagons, and preparing tack for the ride.

Through the camp some boys pushed a cart with barrels of water from the town’s wells, and men came forward to fill their water-bags.

Wulfston saw Zanos join the queue, his white skin and red hair a beacon even though his large frame was not unusual among the Warimu. He was glad to see the gladiator, and farther down the line the Night Queen crew members.

Zanos reached the head of the line. The boy turned the tap, and water poured into Zanos’ water-bag until it was about half full; then he twisted off the flow.

“Fill it,” Zanos said in broken Warimu. “I’m strong enough to carry it full.”

Wulfston recognized that the water boy was Karili. He shook his head and said in his native language, “It cant be filled any further.” Seeing that Zanos didn’t understand, he tried Warimu with an accent even worse than the gladiator’s. “I can’t fill it further.”

“Of course you can!” Zanos insisted. “Turn it on again!”

Wulfston half-saw, half-Read the mixture of annoyance and mischief in the water boy. He resented this strange white man trying to tell him his business, so he opened the tap again, more water tumbled into Zanos’ bag-

The water-bag swelled, and then burst at the seams, drenching Zanos and rousing a hearty roar of laughter from the men behind him.

Zanos face flushed with momentary fury, and he raised his arm as if to strike the boy. But before Wulfston had need to stop him he pulled his own punch, looked down at the limp water-bag, then up at the boy on the wagon, and burst into laughter.

Turning the threat into a clap on the buttocks that almost knocked the boy off the wagon, Zanos said,

“You’re right, boy! I should have listened to you. You go on doing your job right, no matter what anybody tells you!”

Wulfston recognized the skill of a man who had spent a lifetime performing in public, who dared not appear a poor sport. In fact, had he not been able to Read that the reaction was habit rather than feeling, he might have thought the old Zanos was returning. As it was, he sensed melancholy beneath the forced good cheer.

The Night Queen crew did not, however; they threw jeers and japes at Zanos, who fended them off with what appeared to be easy humor.

Zanos was obviously in control of himself. Wulfston decided not to approach him, and instead went on to inspect the troops assigned to his command.

These were not his people; he would command their respect only after they had fought together.

Wulfston found the officers had their men’s respect, so he merely introduced himself, gave them a straightforward idea of what they could expect from his powers, and told them to follow their officers’

orders.

When they moved out the next day, Ashuru told him, “Your troops are impressed with you.”

“How could they be? They don’t know me.”

“Nor do you know them… and you know it. I gave you experienced warriors, and you wisely left them to the leaders they know. By showing your respect for them, you gained their respect, Lord Wulfston.”

She eyed him speculatively. “I do not know why it should surprise me anymore to find you a wise and skillful leader.”

On the road, there was no chance for Wulfston and Tadisha to be alone-or at least none came naturally, and Tadisha showed no inclination to create such an opportunity. A few hours’ ride from Djahat, Tadisha and Ashuru began to See ahead, Norgu, Kamas, and Wulfston letting the women’s stronger powers focus on Z’Nelia’s lands. Barak was told what they Saw.