A Journey of the Heart

  "I thought you'd be downstairs with the others," I said.

  Although the holiday was over, there was still a good deal of feasting and merrymaking going on in the great hall.

  Maara rolled her eyes. "One day of it was enough for me."

  Her mock distaste for our boisterous holidays warmed my heart. I smiled.

  "I've missed you," I said.

  "Oh." She looked puzzled, as she tried to think of an appropriate reply.

  Then I realized that midwinter's day had gone by and I hadn't given her her gift.

  "Wait here a minute," I said, and went to get it from the companions' loft.

  I had traded several of my best rabbit skins for a plain wooden brooch. I stayed up late every night for weeks carving an intricate design into it. When I gave it to her, she said nothing, but her smile and the way she ran her fingers over the design told me that it pleased her.

  Then she gave me the gift she had made for me. It was a bow case made of goatskin, beautifully tanned and very soft. Unlike the stiff and heavy cowhide case I took to the frontier, this one was light and flexible. When I wasn't using it to carry the unstrung bow, it could be folded and put into a tunic pocket, while the other one had to be carried over the shoulder, where it was in the way.

  We were admiring our gifts when Namet looked in the door.

  "Aha," she said when she saw me. "Merin must be better."

  "Yes," I said. "She's mending. She's in no danger."

  Namet came in and sat down beside me on the foot of Maara's bed. She took my hand and gazed into my eyes. "And how are you?"

  "I'm fine," I said.

  "Truly?"

  I nodded. "I've made my decision."

  Namet showed no curiosity, as if she knew what it would be, but I could feel Maara hold her breath, waiting for my answer.

  "If she still counts me worthy of the honor, I will become Merin's child."

  Maara breathed again.

  "What changed your mind?" Namet asked me.

  "I didn't understand at first how my mother could let go of me so easily," I said. "Now I know what was in her heart." I turned to Maara. "You were right when you said my mother would never let me go."

  Namet glanced at Maara and raised her eyebrows. "Is my child already so wise in the ways of motherhood?"

  Maara looked down at her hands, to hide her smile and the color that came into her cheeks.

  Namet turned back to me. "Tell me how your mother can give you away without letting you go."

  "A gift of love never goes from one hand to another without binding the two together," I told her.

  Namet nodded, as if that was the reply she had expected. "Have you given Merin your answer?"

  "Not yet."

  "Then let me counsel you to wait a while," she said.

  "Why?"

  "Tell Merin your intentions, but ask her to make no announcement until she's well again. Then let your adoption take place as soon as possible. I hope it's not too late even to do that."

  Fear prickled the back of my neck.

  Namet turned to Maara. "I should have spoken to you sooner about this. I hoped it would prove to be no more than idle gossip."

  She turned back to me, and in a soft voice, she said, "Whispers have come to me that certain people here have begun to question Merin's strength, if not yet her leadership."

  "She was ill," I protested. "She was very ill, but there's no reason to believe she won't recover. Soon she'll be as good as new."

  "It's not her strength of body that's in question. They question whether Merin's power will return to her."

  "Do they think her power left her just because she fell ill?"

  "Had you noticed no change in Merin?"

  Dread stole into my heart. I felt that Namet was going to tell me something I knew already but hadn't dared to look at.

  "She had a way of paying close attention," Namet said. "She was aware of everything, of what went on inside a person, of what was behind the things a person said and the things she left unsaid. Ever since Tamnet's visit, Merin seems to pay little attention to what goes on around her. I think she pays attention to something else."

  "That may be true," I said.

  "Others have noticed. They have become unsure of her, and her illness has frightened them."

  "What does that mean? Would someone try to take Merin's place?"

  "No," she said. "This house and its land belong to her. No one can replace her simply by saying so, but while she will keep her position, her right to command may be in doubt. Although people will always treat her with the greatest respect, they will follow whoever is strong enough to lead them."

  "Vintel?"

  She nodded.

  "Would no one charge Vintel with disloyalty?"

  "Only if she puts herself forward," said Namet, "and she's too clever to do that. She will wait for others to come to her."

  "Why would anyone come to her?"

  Namet heard the contempt in my voice, and she gave me a sharp answer.

  "Don't underestimate Vintel," she said. "Vintel knows better than to plot against Merin openly. She has begun to change people's minds without their being aware of it. She has said no more than that she hopes Merin will recover, but in a way that says she doubts Merin will recover her power, even if she recovers her health."

  "They will soon learn differently," I said.

  "Are you so confident of Merin's healing?" Namet's eyes held mine. I felt an echo of her power ripple through my mind. I could never be less than completely honest with Namet, nor could I, when she looked at me like that, be less than completely honest with myself.

  "Merin has changed," I told her. "I don't know what that will mean for her strength of leadership, but I don't believe it is a bad thing for Merin."

  "You may be right," she said. "Perhaps in the long run, she will have changed for the better. It's the immediate danger that worries me. The question of your adoption has come at a bad time."

  "Wouldn't it strengthen Merin's position to name an heir?"

  "It would, if she were to name anyone but you."

  I was too surprised speak, even to ask her why.

  "Vintel's cunning has caught me unprepared," said Namet. "She knew you would be Merin's choice, and she has found a way to cause Merin's choice to weaken her."

  "What is Vintel saying?" Maara asked.

  "Nothing she could be challenged for. She hints. She suggests. She makes seemingly innocuous statements of fact. Tamnet is a healer. She has taught the healing arts to Tamras, and in healing there is always a bit of sorcery."

  "That's ridiculous," Maara said.

  "Of course it is."

  "What sorcery could she accuse Tamras of?"

  "As I said, she never speaks directly. She says things that work on people's minds in the dark. How did Tamras the Small defeat a warrior of the northern tribes? How is it that Merin listens to this child as she has never listened to even the wisest of her counselors? How did a child attain such influence? Merin grants her every wish. Is it not possible that Merin has fallen under an enchantment? What dark magic do we harbor here in Merin's house?"

  "And does Vintel suggest where this dark magic comes from?"

  Namet looked long into Maara's eyes. "Your wounds were seen by many who believed them mortal, yet you survived them. You lay under the sword of a chieftain of the northern tribes, yet it was he who fell. What power must be yours, that Death herself fears you? Vintel certainly fears you, and her fear lends power to her words. Tamras may have power of her own, but Tamras is just a child, and a child is easily led."

  Namet's words terrified me. I saw the dark come into Maara's eyes.

  "For some time Merin has not been herself," said Namet. "Now she has fallen ill, and she has sent the healer from her side in favor of this child."

  "That's not what happened at all," I said.

  "Who will deny it?"

  "Merin will."

  "Of course she will, if she is enchanted.
"

  "The healer knows the truth."

  "The healer would deny that Merin sent her away, even if it were true. Would she allow people to believe that Merin has lost confidence in her?"

  "Merin's servant also knows the truth," I said.

  "Does she?" said Namet. "Why then does she whisper that Tamras has taken her mother's place in Merin's bed?"

  I felt my skin grow cold. Nothing Vintel had said seemed as wicked to me as that lie. It made of my love for Merin something unholy.

  "I have not," I whispered.

  "Is the woman a liar then?"

  I paused to think. "She may have seen something she misunderstood."

  "And Vintel may have prepared the woman's mind to believe what would best suit Vintel."

  Vintel had been more clever than I would ever have suspected. She had used the issue of my adoption to weaken Merin while at the same time making it impossible.

  "In my heart I may be Merin's child already," I said, "but I can never now be her child in fact."

  "Why not?" said Namet. "Would you let the lie stand?"

  "How can I disprove it?"

  "Perhaps you can't. People will believe what they believe. Why would that stop you from claiming your inheritance?"

  Namet was testing my understanding.

  "If people believe the lie," I said, "they will believe that I used Merin's heartache for my advantage, and they will never see me as her child, whether she adopts me or not."

  "So evil, from the simple truth, fashions a great and hideous lie," said Namet, "and so Vintel poisons the minds of innocents, until they begin to see as she would have them see."

  "What can I do?"

  "You can begin by refusing to behave as if these lies were true," said Namet. "They're only whispers now. They float upon the air like gossamer, waiting for something substantial to settle on. Give them nothing, and they'll float away."

  "It's easier said than done," Maara murmured, as we trudged through the snow on our way to check our snares.

  I had been lost in my own thoughts. For a moment I didn't know what she was talking about.

  "You must behave as if you know nothing of these rumors," she said, "yet you must be constantly aware of them."

  "I defy anyone to see something wrong in what I've done."

  "Don't fall into the trap of taking offense at what is said behind your back," said Maara. "If any whisper of it comes to your ears, you must laugh and make light of it. Anger will only convince them that you have done something wrong and been found out."

  "But I am angry."

  "Of course you are. Namet has shown you a picture of what Vintel hopes to make everyone believe. She sees the pattern Vintel weaves as if it were whole cloth. But so far others have seen only scraps of it."

  "They will soon piece the scraps together."

  "Perhaps," she said, "but we may yet prove more clever than Vintel."

  Maara and I returned to Merin's house late that afternoon. Before we went out, I had looked in on the Lady and found her sleeping. Now I was anxious about her, and I went to see how she was feeling. I found her sitting in her chair by the hearth, well wrapped up in blankets, her feet on a flat stone that had been warmed in the fire. The window was tightly shuttered against the cold.

  "I thought I might not see you today," she said reproachfully.

  "My warrior needed me," I told her. "I trust the healer has taken good care of you in the meantime."

  She shrugged.

  Although she was determined to be difficult, I found her pout more charming than annoying.

  "I'm glad to find you better," I said. "Can I bring you something?"

  She shook her head. "Sit down."

  I sat down on the hearth.

  "Will your mother come in the spring?" she asked.

  "I expect she will."

  "With your sister?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell me about her. Is she like you?"

  "She's not like me at all," I said. "She's cheerful and light-hearted. She's also full of mischief, and her playfulness will wear you out, but everyone adores her."

  "Has she no serious side?"

  "She hides her serious side."

  "Is she clever?"

  "Yes."

  "And quick to learn?"

  "She is."

  "Does she aspire to leadership?"

  "I believe so."

  "Yet your mother seems to think she would mishandle power."

  A memory stirred in a corner of my mind, of Tamar's eyes when she had challenged me to a trial of strength or skill, and of the anger in them when she failed to win. Sometimes I had seen in her a glimpse of something dark, a wanting, a desire for something that could only bring bad feelings with it, bad feelings that some mistake for happiness.

  "She's young," I said. "She may outgrow her faults."

  The Lady gave me a thoughtful look. "Does power never tempt you?"

  "Perhaps I've never understood it. Why is it worth having?"

  "People believe that power will give them everything they want."

  I said nothing. She knew what I was thinking, that Merin's power had cost her the only thing she wanted.

  "With power one may enforce one's will," she said.

  "On others?"

  "Of course on others."

  "Why?"

  She smiled. "Why does power make you so wary? Have I been such a tyrant?"

  "Not at all," I protested.

  "Perhaps your suspicion of power blinds you to its rightful use."

  "What is its rightful use?"

  "With power one may exercise wisdom on behalf of the unwise. I see no harm in that. Do you?"

  I shook my head.

  "There is satisfaction in doing for others what they lack the ability to do for themselves."

  "I don't doubt it," I replied.

  Still, she wanted something more from me, something I couldn't give her. When she spoke again, her words had an edge.

  "I have kept this land at peace for twenty years," she said.

  I nodded. I agreed with her. Maara had taught me to appreciate what I had taken for granted all my life, that our safety and prosperity came from Merin's power. But was it enough to justify a life?

  "You paid too great a price," I said.

  "A price you would not have paid?"

  Even though life had not asked me that question, I knew my answer to it.

  "No," I said.

  Her eyes grew sad. "Have I nothing then to tempt you?"

  "There's no need for you to tempt me," I told her. "Now I understand my mother's wish, and I am willing to become the child she promised you."

  I had surprised her. She smiled with pleasure.

  Before she could reply, I said, "I think you should first be certain that you've made the wisest choice."

  "Haven't I?"

  "Some people in this house hold the opinion that I have had too great an influence on you already."

  "And why would anyone fear your influence?"

  "They fear who may have influenced me."

  Merin knit her brows in thought. "Your mother warned me that Vintel might be unhappy with my choice. Not that Vintel should have any say in the matter. But I'll bear it in mind that she has an opinion about it."

  "She has more than an opinion. She has already whispered it about that Maara's magic has enchanted you."

  Merin laughed. "Has she indeed?"

  "You don't take her seriously?"

  "I take everyone seriously, but Vintel plays a dangerous game. Has she the subtlety to play it well, do you think?"

  "I think she's powerful enough that she may not need subtlety."

  "Nevertheless," said Merin, "together I'm sure we can overcome Vintel's objections." She gave me an ironic smile. "I don't suppose it will do any good to point out that if you had heeded my advice, Vintel would have nothing to complain of."

  I smiled back at her. "If it gives you some satisfaction, you may point out anything you like. I do
n't regret my choice. If someday your power comes to me, I will wield it well because of what Maara taught me."

  "Well," said Merin, "what do you suggest we do?"

  "About Vintel?"

  "About your adoption."

  "I think we should wait. By the time you're well and strong again, things may be different."

  "I think you will make a wise leader, Tamras," she said.

  Her praise made me blush. "Why do you say that?"

  "When there's trouble, people are always impatient to be doing something, but sometimes the wisest course is to do nothing. Many problems will solve themselves."

  45. A Warrior's Burial

  Six weeks after midwinter's night, a child was born in Merin's house. Reni, one of the kitchen servants, had conceived on the night of the spring festival, and all through the long, tedious winter, everyone in Merin's house had been looking forward to the baby's birth.

  Reni's labor began just after supper. Almost the entire household sat up all night in the great hall, waiting to greet the new arrival. The few who went to bed couldn't have slept much. Warriors who had heard the screams of the dying on the battlefield grew pale when they heard the noise that Reni made.

  In a household of warriors, a midwife is seldom needed, and the healer protested that she was out of practice delivering babies. I had helped my mother deliver lots of babies, so I took charge of Reni's labor. Fortunately Reni needed little help. Although it was her first child, all went well. At dawn she gave birth to a little girl.

  When they heard the baby's cry, the people waiting in the great hall gathered in the kitchen doorway. The healer let them come in for a few minutes, to see the child and say a few words of praise to the mother. Then she chased them all out again.

  The servants slept in a tiny room at the back of the house. It was too cold there for the baby, so we made a bed for mother and child in a corner of the kitchen. For days the kitchen work was constantly disrupted by people coming to visit them. No child ever had so many aunts and uncles. In the spring Reni would take her baby home to her mother's household. A fortress is no place to raise a child. In the meantime we were all delighted to have a new life among us.

  A few days after the birth of Reni's child, something woke me in the middle of the night. I heard a man's voice call my name. It came from below me, from the great hall. I peered over the edge of the companions' loft to see Kenit looking up at me.