Dave Smeds - The Sorcery Within

But – was it worth the loss of cargo like his carpets or his birds? The wealth he had with him now, though only a small part of his fortune, was still staggering. It would serve no one if turned to ash. He had depended too much upon minor magicians. And what good were the best mercenaries against warriors who could rise from the dead?

He called his quartermaster to him. The words nearly choked him; he uttered them only through clenched teeth:

"Pay them."

AS THEPO-NO-PHA RETURNEDto the main T'lil camp in the pastures of the Ahloorm Basin, Omi ran frantically out to meet the twins at the corrals.

"Come quickly," she said.

"What's wrong?" Alemar asked.

"It's Rol."

They left their oeikani with another Po-no-pha and hurried back to their tent. Omi ran to the partition and lifted the cloth, beckoning them into the women's section. The twins knew it was serious. This was the first time the wives had ignored the sanctity of the purdah. Peyri was stooped over Rol, who lay stiffly on his mat, a feverish sudor on his brow. He grimaced and held his lower belly.

Meyr and Sesheer got out of the way, and immediately Alemar was kneeling next to the boy, face grim.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know," Peyri said. Her tone surprised Alemar. There was no fear in it, only the resigned attitude of someone who has lost all hope. "It was the same with his older brother."

Alemar drew back the thin sheet and examined Rol. The boy, who in times past had shrunk from any contact with his foster father, seemed too deep in pain to care. Alemar noticed the tautness of Rol's abdominal muscles and pressed, once, lightly, on the right side above the pelvic bone. Rol cried out.

"Pus gut," he said, in Cilendri. The words were an echo from the past. Behind his heart, he felt a sore, kicked feeling, like that he had felt as a child when ridiculed by his companions or cheated of a special treat. But this was an adult hurt, not capable of being put from his mind like those of younger days.

Elenya put a hand on his shoulder. He took it within his own. "Are you certain?" she asked gently.

"Just likeher," he said hoarsely.

The twins felt the women watching, understanding neither the reasons for their reaction nor the foreign language. Alemar felt an old, useless anger grow and was determined that – this time – he would do something to stop it.

"Where can I find a healer?" he demanded abruptly. "A Hab-no-ken?"

Peyri only seemed more despondent. Finally Omi replied, "Rol is only a boy. Hab-no-ken are not summoned to heal a boy."

This made him more angry. "What is the use of healers if they won't heal?"

Omi shrugged – a Zyraii woman's shrug. "Rol is not important enough. Lonal would have to send Po-no-pha many leagues."

"Iwill go."

"Lonal will not let you," Peyri said with certainty.

"We'll see," Alemar said tartly.

"I thoughtyou were a healer," Lonal said.

"Of wounds and injuries," Alemar answered. "I can do nothing for Rol. A Hab-no-ken must be brought."

"No," Lonal said.

"Why not?"

"He is only a child. Should I waste the time of warriors on his behalf? The nearest Hab-no-ken is in the hills." He indicated the rugged terrain to the west. "It is a day's ride there, and another back."

"No one would 'waste time' but me."

"Do you think I would let you go alone?" Lonal sighed, as a parent would when a child is being petulant. "Have you no pride? A man should not be frightened that God has chosen to test his son."

"Next year, Rol will be one of your warriors. Would you abandon him then?"

"That is not the issue. What use is sickness, if not to weed out the weak? What better way for a warrior to play the Bu, than with nothing between himself and fate?"

Alemar showed teeth. "Should I unheal Shigmur, then?"

Lonal shook his head. "I am not arguing that the healers' work is not good. But if we depend on them, we will lose the cutting edge that the desert demands. Rol will have to wait until a healer visits the camp of his own accord."

"That may be too late."

"It is all I will offer."

"I'll duel you," Alemar said.

Lonal stopped. None of the others present spoke.

"If I win, you'll let me go. If you win, I'll do as you say," Alemar continued.

Lonal pursed his lips, scanning the surroundings. R'lar and Shigmur stood near him. Elenya was near her brother, with their wives cowering in the background. Several children played not far away. "The boy is not even your blood kin," he told Alemar.

"Choose your weapon." Alemar's hand wavered near the pommel of his saber.

But Lonal did not move. The two men stared at one another. Soon even the children became silent and began to pay attention to the confrontation. A locust hopped noisily between the two men.

Abruptly, Shigmur stepped forward. "I will go with him, war-leader."

Both Alemar and Lonal looked at the war-second in surprise. Alemar noticed the shift in Lonal's mood and tried to control the sweating of his palms and the slight quiver of his fingers. The pommel was hard and warm.

Finally Lonal shrugged. "According to reports, a Hab-no-ken has been spending his Retreat near the spring of Triple Spires." The war-leader pointed again to the western horizon. "Maybe you will find him there."

Alemar blinked. "I can go?"

"It seems to matter to you, far more than a duel matters to me." Lonal turned to Shigmur. "Take Zhanee and go with him. Be back within three days."

"Thank you," Alemar said.

"Don't. You have no guarantee that the healer has finished his meditations. He may choose not to come. The Hab-no-ken are not bound to cure all the ills of the world. But I'll allow you the chance. Remember it."

"I am surprised," Shigmur said, the bounce of the saddle warbling his words.

"Why?" Alemar asked, eyes riveted forward, though the hills that defined the western boundary of the Ahloorm Basin were still hazy and purple in the distance, and the configuration called Triple Spires would not be visible for many hours.

"Since he came of age, Lonal has not lost a duel. It has been two years since anyone in the camp challenged him to theju-moh-kai. I thought he would fight you, just for the fun of it."

A small chill flowed down Alemar's spine, though if it had been necessary, he would not have hesitated to fight. The son of Keron Olendim was no petty swordplayer.

They veered away from a stand ofelbraksh. Zhanee skirted the far side of the brush, his short bow strung, alert for game, leaving them alone for the moment. "I want to thank you for stepping in when you did," Alemar said.

"I owed you that," Shigmur said. "But I don't believe it had anything to do with Lonal's decision."

"No?" Alemar listened more carefully. Though he had come to know Shigmur better than any of the T'lil warriors, the war-second had always been tight-lipped about his own opinions.

"Lonal needs your cooperation. I think he understands now that he can't force it out of you. This trip is his way of showing you that he can be flexible."

"That would be nice." A sand-runner burst out of hiding nearby, snapped up an insect, and was gone again. "Why is it that he is so driven?"

Shigmur wiped the sweat off of his brow and readjusted his cowl. "Lonal is weighed down by his destiny." He sighed. "He bears the legacy of his father. I do not envy him the burden."

"Who was his father?"

"Joren," Shigmur said reverently.

"A great man?"

"He was a war-leader such as the T'lil have not produced in three centuries, though on the surface he seemed a simple man. He had faith in God's good will, a ready laugh at the antics of children. You'd never catch him lost in somber thought like you do Lonal. But when it came to battle, he could pluck a hair off the balls of a rival war-leader's oeikani before the other was aware that his camp was being raided. He made the name of the T'lil one to be respected. None would attack our caravan when he was present. The T'lil nation could have doubled in size if he had wished it, but he believed in peace with our brothers born of Cadra. He saved his enmity for the traders. When the men of Azurajen came to build a fort at the pass of Zyraii-ni-Zyraii, Joren was there to stop them. He held them at bay for two weeks, and would have won the battle altogether had he not been betrayed by the Buyul and the Fanke. All Zyraii sings of that last stand, and therefore expectations are laid on the son of Joren."