“The rest of the story of Z’Nelia,” he replied.
“Then,” Ashuru said, her voice weakening, “I must be here. Tadisha-” She groped weakly in her daughter’s direction, and Tadisha grasped her hand. “Promise me. Make the healers wake me, too.”
Tadisha looked to the healer, who gave a fatalistic shrug. “I promise, Mother.”
Ashuru drifted off, going automatically into healing sleep. If they had had time to spare, Ashuru could have recovered eventually at this rate. But they did not have that time. Wulfston spent the next two hours joining his powers to those of the healer, aiding Ashuru’s body to heal.
That evening Wulfston, Tadisha, Kamas, and Ashuru gathered at Barak’s bedside. The Grioka watched them warily. “What do you seek of me now? I have Told all I know.”
“I think not,” Wulfston replied. “In fact, you lied to us.”
He heard Tadisha’s sharp gasp-obviously one did not speak so to a Grioka-but Barak appeared more fearful than offended.
“You told us,” Wulfston continued, “that after the battle at Johara four years ago, you left as soon as the lava had cooled. I do not think a Grioka would do that. The story was not complete. You would have waited until Z’Nelia either died or recovered. She recovered, and I think what you discovered the next time you were in her presence sent you into exile.”
Barak nodded. “Blood will tell, Lord of the Black Wolf. You will not let me keep my secrets any more than Z’Nelia would. It is true-driven by a Grioka’s need to know the end of the story, I stayed in Johara while Z’Nelia’s spirit wandered… and returned. Once she was well, I sought audience to my sorrow.
“I learned what truly happened on Mount Manjuro, when Z’Nelia released the fire demon. What I did not expect, though, was that Z’Nelia learned my greatest secret as well.
“Z’Nelia had always been a most powerful Mover, with little ability to See. She returned from the land of the dead with her Seeing powers increased manyfold. She Saw my betrayal of her father, many years before.
“It was not long after the Aresh, the Time of Change,” Barak replied to Wulfston’s look of confusion,
“when the first Movers and Seers appeared in Africa. There were several generations of turmoil, as those with powers overthrew hereditary tribal leaders, and some created new tribes. Often these new leaders would then fight one another. There was war, and for a long time little security for anyone.”
“Yes,” replied Wulfston. “That was very much the way things happened in the lands where I grew up.
Only in my father’s generation did some Lords Adept seek peace.”
“Nerius was not your father,” said Barak. “Listen-I will tell you who you are. In your grandparents’
generation there were born in Djahat, the seat of the Zionae before the Savishnon drove them eastward, twin sisters, both extremely powerful Movers. As they grew to womanhood and came into their full powers, it was inevitable that they would both seek the throne-but only one could have it.
“While their father, Nelatu, yet lived and held the throne, both women married men with strong Mover powers, and bore children. Raduna bore a son, and Katalia a daughter. Raduna’s son was a powerful Mover, but Katalia’s daughter showed only the smallest trace of such power, and no Seeing ability at all.
“To avoid a power struggle for the throne of Djahat at his death, Nelatu declared Raduna his heir, and her son Desak after her. He also arranged marriages for his grandchildren. Desak had just passed his initiation into manhood, and was married to a girl who already showed great Seeing ability. But Katalia’s daughter, several years younger than Desak, was betrothed to the son of a distant cousin in whose line neither Moving nor Seeing powers had ever manifested.
“The children were betrothed in the temple of Shangonu, and lived in the palace. They were daily reminded that it was the will of Shangonu that they love one another, and marry when they came of age.”
Barak gave Wulfston a gentle smile. “It appears that they did not forget.”
“My parents?” Wulfston asked. “But how did they come to be slaves in the Aventine Empire?”
“When Nelatu died, the throne passed peacefully to Raduna-but then came the Savishnon hordes.
Raduna and her husband died in the battle for Djahat, and the Zionae were driven eastward, to take refuge in the mountains near Johara. Desak was powerful, but still very young; Katalia and her husband saw an opportunity to seize the throne from their nephew before he came to his full powers.
“At that time, over fifty years ago, I was newly Grioka. I had completed my apprenticeship, learned all the old tales, and was beginning to Tell my own. I watched the palace being built at Johara, and Told the old tales to Desak, who liked me because I was also young, and eager to Tell of adventure.
“Yes,” Barak sighed, “I was young… and foolish. Griokae should stand outside their Tales, never irivolve themselves. Yet when I knew that Katalia was plotting against Desak, what was I to do? He was the rightful King of the Zionae, Nelatu’s chosen heir. I… told him. I earned his gratitude, and his trust.
“And I learned why Griokae must never become involved. Desak pretended he did not know of the plot against him. He invited his aunt and uncle, and his cousin and her betrothed, to a family dinner-where his Seers revealed their plot! Katalia and her husband were helpless, for Desak had laced their food with kleg. He slaughtered them, before the eyes of their daughter and her betrothed.
“The children were, technically, still that: in the next year, both would have undergone initiation into adulthood, and then been permitted to marry by Zionae law. But on that day they were still children, innocent under our law even if they had known of their elders’ plot, which they did not. I knew that, and told Desak so, staying his hand when he would have struck down his cousins as well.
“I persuaded Desak that his position was precarious enough without slaying two defenseless children. Yet he feared the girl, for Nelatu’s blood ran in her veins, and he saw in her or her children a future threat. He wanted the two dead, but would not kill them himself, so he charged their execution to the one man he thought he could trust.”
“You,” said Wulfston.
Barak nodded. “I could not kill them, but I could not allow them to remain in Africa, either. It is an evil thing to sell another into slavery, but it was all I could think of to preserve both those children’s lives and the unity of the Zionae nation.” He smiled sadly. “But Shangonus plans are not to be so lightly thwarted.
The confrontation was merely postponed, for here you are, the son of those two children, returned to fight Z’Nelia for the throne of the Zionae.”
“I don’t want the throne of the Zionae.”
“Z’Nelia will never believe that. That is why she has tried repeatedly to kill you.”
“How does she know who I am, when until now I didn’t know myself?”
“When she Saw my betrayal of Desak, she knew your parents had survived. And the moment she Saw you she must have known, as I did, who you are. What other pure Zionae, with great Mover’s powers, would come from the northern lands?”
As if out of nowhere, a question formed in Wulfston’s mind. “What is the meaning of Kana la sabenu Z’Nelia?”
Tadisha gasped. “Where did you hear that?”
“On Freedom Island, from a drunken man who tried to kill Chulaika. What does it mean?”
It was Barak who answered: ” Death to the mad witch Z’Nelia.’ “
“I might have known,” Wulfston said. “Tell me the rest of the story. What happened after you sent my parents away?”
“Desak ruled, violently, impulsively-but he kept the lands of the Zionae as a stronghold against the Savishnon. His wife bore him two daughters, but no sons. Although he feared a repetition of what had happened between his mother and her sister, it happened that Z’Nelia had great Mover’s powers, while her sister had none. There was no question as to Desak’s heir.