"Had I been raised as my brothers were, the thought might never have occurred to me. I could have lived exclusively among my own clan for all of my life, and have been content to be war-leader of the T'lil. But my journeys have shown me that there are possibilities beyond what has always been true before. Does that seem strange to you?"
"No. Not anymore."
He stood up straighter, facing her. "I have watched you in the drills. If you were larger, a bit older, you would be a nearly invincible fencer."
"Thank you," she said, puzzled by the shift in the conversation.
"I would like you to know that, had it been possible to defy custom, I would never have insisted on these months of lessons of you."
"I'm used to training," she said. "I've been training from the moment I left my cradle."
"It will be different, once you return from Shom. You can ride as a warrior – then you will feel what it is like to be Zyraii. A child is nothing. You will have rank. Maybe you will find that the desert is not such a terrible place. God made it hard, but that's part of the beauty of it."
His fervor attracted her, but he had missed the point again. She wasn't a Zyraii boy.
"Tell me," she said, her voice regaining some of its curtness, "when thepulstrall is over, will Tebec and I ever be allowed to go to Setan?"
"No," he said, glancing toward the east.
"That's very good," she said. "Most of your countrymen look northwest when I mention the place."
He flicked away the date pit. "What you want has been strictly denied by Toltac, and no one, myself included, will defy that edict." Elenya regretted the withdrawal of their brief camaraderie. "We can help each other, westerner, but only if you give up your fantasies. There is nothing for you in Setan."
"How are you so sure of that?"
"There is a good well, a school for the ken, and some ruins. Despite the stories they love to tell in Surudain and Nyriya, there is no hint of treasure."
"We've tried to tell you it's not treasure we're after."
"Then what is it you want?"
Elenya closed her mouth.
"You see? If your reasons for seeking it were innocent, you would tell me," Lonal said calmly. "Setan is reserved for the ken. I myself have only been there once. Unless you werehai-Zyraii, you would never be allowed near. It is not a place for warriors. In fact, all men must strip off their weapons within the boundaries of the school. I suppose you could have legitimate purposes there – if you wanted to become a priest. Is that what you're after?"
She sighed. "No."
"Then forget Setan. Only those who prove themselves to Zyraii deserve to see it."
As Elenya entered the tent, she startled Peyri. The woman almost spilled the pot of millet that she carried. She set it and its steaming contents in front of Alemar and hurried back behind the purdah, face averted. Elenya was used to it. She was neither man nor woman; to Peyri's mind that left only demons and rythni.
Alemar stared morosely at his bowl as she sat across from him. They began to eat. She still disliked the desert cuisine, but it kept them going. In fact, the aridity preserved meat, her favorite staple, over periods of time that would have rotted it in Cilendrodel.
"What's wrong?"
"Rol has a fever."
Elenya shrugged. "Why should you care?"
"We are responsible for this family," Alemar said.
She winced at his tone. For his sake, she lied and said, "I only meant that he's a strong boy. He'll be well in a few days, probably sooner."
"I hope so. Peyri has lost three sons now. She has never seen one live past puberty."
Elenya briefly pictured Rol's wisps of facial hair, grown since their arrival. To her, it indicated the accelerated life of the Zyraii – Alemar's beard had only recently filled in at the thin places. Most of the tribe married within a year after thepulstrall, and had half-grown offspring by the age of the twins. By forty, their teeth were worn away from the sand that inevitably migrated into the food, and their grandchildren far outnumbered the years they had left to live.
"Well, if it's serious, what can you do?"
"I don't know."
He was angry and feeling impotent. She herself had known the emotion all too often these past months.
"Alemar, how long are we going to stay here?"
He slowly ate a spoonful of millet. She hadn't asked that question since shortly after they had arrived in the Ahloorm Basin.
"Nothing's changed," he said. "We've nothing to gain by leaving except a long run or death."
"Do you care?"
He lifted one of the unlit lamps to fill it with oil, its chains tinkling as he lowered it. Its reservoir wasn't particularly empty. "How do you mean?"
"You get enough to eat. You keep your mind occupied. And those women wait on you as if that's all they were ever meant to do. They'd probably lick you clean if you asked them. I think you're getting to like it here, just the way it is."
He replaced the lamp. His hands inevitably came away oily. He scrubbed them in the cleansing sand. "I wish you'd be kinder to them."
"Why?"
"They're victims, too. They didn't choose us."
"They help keep us prisoner," she argued.
"They've done us no harm."
"Alemar! We came to this country with a purpose!"
"We came here in search of a myth," he murmured.
She sank down to her haunches. Soon she picked up her bowl and jabbed half-heartedly at her food. Alemar remained in the corner by the cleansing sand, doing something out of Elenya's sight. When he returned to his place, he handed her a flower.
She blinked. "What's this?"
"For your hair. I picked it today, when we were in the desert with Gerat. They only bloom one or two weeks a year."
Tears. "Thank you," she said hoarsely.
He arranged the petals over one of her ears. "I know it's been harder here for you than for me. The legend may be true. Maybe not. But we're here now, and have to live as best we can."
"I'm so tired," she said.
They said nothing for a while. The noises of the camp quieted. Alemar blew out all the lamps but one. The rest of the household went to sleep. Soon they heard the distinctive boom of sand shifting out in the dunes, a sound that had shocked them their first nights in Zyraii.
"What is that called?" Alemar whispered.
"Ohoom,"Elenya said. They managed wan smiles. They scooted nearer and nestled against each other, two tiny tidepools in the midst of a beach with no ocean.
XVII
The Zyraii who spoke seemed to loom above the gathering of boys, voice frighteningly deep. He was a figure meant to be obeyed. Alemar and Elenya recognized the title; it meant man-maker.
"You will do as I say in all things," Wilan announced. "When I tell you to speak, you will speak. When I tell you to be quiet, you will be silent. I have the power to send you back to your mothers; thepulstrall can wait for you for another year. Do you understand?"
"Yes," some of the boys whispered.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes!"they replied.
"Good," Wilan stated crisply. He paced the line of boys, all of them in a neat line facing the oasis of Shom, several hundred yards distant. To either side, three other priests waited, imposing in their light blue robes, veils, and cowls, though not as intimidating as Wilan. Alemar and Elenya had been required to dispense with their veils, and they felt exposed in front of Wilan's authority. The men were all strangers.
"You have come here as children. You will leave as men. You will walk the path that your fathers walked, endure what they endured. You have been trained in the things a man must know. Now we will see if you have taken the lessons to heart. Can you hunt? Can you recite the laws? Do you understand the arts of war? Do you know your duty?"
The twins had never seen an Ah-no-ken who so resembled a warrior. For a moment, Wilan met each of their glances. They both had to look away.