As the honored guest who had been fed and pampered with ceremonious attention, it was Toli’s turn to repay the favor by telling his people a story. He stood and raised his hands above his head for silence, in the tradition of the best storytellers.
But before he could begin, Hoet stood too and laid a hand on Toli’s shoulder saying, “I claim the first story in honor of our brother.”
The Jher gathered around the shining fire, nodded, and whooped their agreement. Toli sat down as Hoet raised his hands and began to speak. “One day long ago, in snow time, when all the forest sleeps in white blankets and the cold makes the deer’s coat shaggy and warm, men of the white race came to the forest on horses. They ran wildly among the trees, and noisily, for the deer fled from the sound of their passing and we heard them from far away, for they had no forest feet.
“They came near our wintering place, though they did not know this. We watched them from afar, and one night encircled them as they sat before their crude fire.” Here all the listeners hooted good-naturedly at the careless white travelers. “When Whinoek’s fire once more filled the earth with light, we approached these white men and one of them attempted to speak our tongue.” Hoet laughed and all the others laughed, too. Though they had all heard this story countless times, all strained after every word as if it were uttered for the first time.
“This one, Bushface, told us of grave danger in the forest. The vile Shoth pursued them with thirsty knives and hunting birds with poison in their talons. He asked for help. In this, Bushface showed much wisdom, for surely the white men would have sunk down to their deathsleep before one more night had passed.”
At this all the Jher clucked their tongues; some smacked the earth with their hands at the mention of their hated enemy’s name. “Should we help them? I asked myself. The answer was not quickly coming-it circled around me like a young deer at a forest pool. For they were white men, the same who cut down trees and kill the deer in numbers and make stone dwellings on the earth. But the Shoth are our enemy, as they are the enemy of all civilized people. So I decided to help them, for Bushface was a man with much power in him, and there was with him a woman, a kdnikf-the word meant wife of the leader-“whose hair shone like the dancing fire. I did not wish the evil Shoth to have such fine hair hanging from their spears. And with them also was a young boy in whose eyes I saw the look of one who is chosen for greatness. I knew I must help them. But how?”
Toli listened to the recital of the events that had changed his life forever, and it seemed that he was once again the young Jher sitting before the fire as he had so many times, listening to the tales of his elders and the deeds of heroes of his race. He remembered back over the years to the day when the white men had come into their winter camp; they looked cold and frightened and extremely awkward in his young eyes.
But the strangers had horses. Oh, how he had wanted to ride a horse! He could still feel the thrill of seeing the animals for the first time up close-so beautiful, so graceful they were, and strong. In his boyish heart he vowed he would give anything to ride one of those horses. So when Hoet’s gaze fell on him he had leaped quick as a fawn to present himself for the task of leading the white men through the forest to the Wall of Stone.
Hoet had sent him then, and the rest had become legend among the people of the forest: Bushface he had come to know as Durwin, Hawknose became his friend Theido, Firehair was the beautiful Alinea, and Kenta, the boy with glory on him, he chose as his master, Quentin, now become the Dragon King.
In the eyes of his kinsmen, Toli had acceded to the highest of honors-serving a man of renown. For though he was of the white race, Quentin was also the leader of his people and that, for the Jher, gave Toli the highest acclaim; there was no higher position a Jher could aspire to than to fulfill the role of servant to a great leader.
“… And so he has returned this night to us,” Hoet was saying, “to his own people once again. The glory of his deeds casts Whinoek’s favor upon all of us, and we are accounted worthy.” The old chieftain turned proudly to his guest.
If they only knew how I have failed, Toli thought. Would they still receive me with celebration and feasting? No, they would feel disgrace and shun me; my name would be no longer spoken among them. I would be forgotten.
When Toli turned again to those before him, he found all eyes on him. The fire crackled and the sparks leapt high into the night sky, glittering in all the black eyes watching him expectantly. They were waiting for him to speak now. Hoet had given him the honor of speaking last; his would be the story of Jher tribesmen carried with them to their sleep, an honor ordinarily reserved for the oldest and wisest among them, Hoet himself.
He stood slowly, unable to put his feelings that moment into words. What can I tell them? he wondered. What could I say to them that they could possibly understand?
The dark eyes watched him; a murmur arose and made its way around the ring. Will he speak? What will he say? Why does he wait? Speak, great one!
The murmur became a voice ringing in his ears: Tell them! it cried. Tell them how you have failed!
Now an awkward silence spread through the waiting crowd. Toli felt their eyes up on him. “I…” he began, then faltered. “I-cannot.” He walked away from the circle of friends. The only sound to be heard was the fluttering of the fire as he withdrew into the darkness.
TWENTY-THREE
“YOU DID not think that I would let you leave me behind?” Esme’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. Outside, the sky lightened in the east to a dull gray, becoming pearl-like pink near the horizon where the sun would rise.
Bria smiled, the light softening her features. “In truth, Esme, I did not think you would care to come with me. It is a long journey to Dekra, and an uncertain errand at that. It is something I feel I must do.”
“And you must do it alone?”
“No, my mother will go with me.”
“And I will go with you, too. Chloe has already packed a few things for me, and as you see”-she indicated her riding clothes-“I am ready to go.”
Bria laughed and hugged her friend. “Then you shall come along, by all means. Forgive me. I should have invited you. I merely thought that… Well, we will go together, and I will welcome the company.”
Esme smiled too. “It will make me feel useful to you. And I must admit that I have always wondered about this mysterious city of Dekra. There are many strange stories about it-is it really enchanted?”
“Yes, but not the way you mean. Its enchantment grows from the love of its citizens. It is, as you shall see, a most remarkable place.”
“You have been there many times?” Esme fell to the task of helping Bria ready herself for the journey.
“Not many, but a few times. Quentin and I would go there occasionally before the children were born. The last time was for Yeseph’s funeral, a few years ago. Quentin talked about going back there to stay, but after Yeseph died he never spoke of it again. He is King, and the King must remain on his throne in Askelon.” She shrugged, and Esme finished tying the points at her sleeves. “Now then, let us go wake the girls.”
The little Princesses were already awake and chattering like squirrels when the two women entered the bedroom. Chloe was there, along with their own nurse, packing their clothes into carved chests for the journey. When they saw their mother, they jumped up and flitted across the floor to embrace her.
“Mother, oh, Mother! Is it true? Can we really go with you?” they begged. “We will be good, and we will be quiet. We promise it. Oh, please?”