A Journey of the Heart

  "Have you?"

  I nodded.

  Sparrow smiled at me. Then she lay down and put her head in my lap.

  "If I weren't so tired, I'd show you how much I missed you."

  Before I could think of a reply, Sparrow was asleep.

  A quarter of an hour went by. I heard no footfall, but I felt someone behind me. She knelt down and touched my shoulder.

  When I turned to see who it was, my face was inches from Vintel's.

  "May I have my apprentice back?" she whispered.

  I nodded, too surprised to speak.

  Vintel took Sparrow up in her arms, lifting her as she would have lifted a sleeping child, and carried her back to Merin's house.

  Namet saw the difference right away.

  "She has the confidence of undisputed command," she said.

  Vintel's bullying ways were gone. She no longer had to call attention to herself. When she appeared in the great hall, heads turned and voices fell silent. Warriors who had led their own small bands the year before and who would have considered themselves her equals then, now deferred to her.

  "All summer she has commanded them," said Namet. "She has had all that time to instill in them the habit of obedience. And she has had no opposition. Laris and her band are gone, and Arnet's warriors are too few to matter."

  I had noticed too that many of the warriors who stayed closest to Vintel were new to Merin's house. They were the warriors she had sent for from her sister's house. They had joined her at the frontier, and no one now objected to their presence. Our warriors had fought beside them, and those whose safety had depended on them made them welcome.

  "It may be just as well," said Namet. "If she feels her place here is secure, she may be more inclined to ignore you. Do nothing to provoke her, and she may leave you alone."

  I had forgotten how noisy a houseful of warriors could be. There was hardly space in Merin's house for all of them. The great hall was always full. At night those who couldn't find room enough upstairs slept there.

  When they were safe at home, our warriors usually showed their softer side. This year, after their long summer spent in harm's way, they were slow to shed their belligerence and gentle into the people I had come to know.

  Both the warriors and their companions talked endlessly of the fighting they'd seen. Those who had lost friends kept their grievances fresh by telling them endlessly to anyone who would listen. No evening passed without threats made against the warriors of the northern tribes. The air itself had a bitter taste, poisoned by their hatred.

  I wasn't looking forward to spending the winter cooped up with them in Merin's house. For as long as the good weather lasted, I was determined to stay out of doors, where I could feel some space around me and breathe clean air and hear only the quiet sounds of the countryside, where I could forget that I had seen the ugly side of people I cared for.

  One evening I was late coming home. I was sitting on the riverbank, watching the golden light of the autumn afternoon fade into twilight, until my mind forgot to think of anything at all and I lost track of time.

  Maara's voice startled me. "I was beginning to worry," she said.

  She looked so troubled that I tried to make a joke. "Did you think I'd fallen into the river?"

  "No," she said.

  My unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows lay beside me.

  "Do you always bring your bow with you?"

  I nodded.

  "Good," she said, "but keep it strung and ready."

  A chill went down my spine. "Why? Is something going to happen?"

  Her eyes avoided mine. "I don't know."

  "Please," I said. "Tell me. I'd rather know the truth, even if it scares me."

  "I know no more than you do, but I feel uneasy."

  I patted the ground beside me, hoping she would sit with me a while.

  "We should go home soon," she said. "Namet will worry."

  But she sat down.

  I gazed up at stars that had begun to show themselves against the darkening sky. With my friend beside me, I was content, and I didn't want to go anywhere.

  "I don't like it there," I whispered.

  Maara waited for me to explain.

  "It's too loud and too crowded, and everyone seems so strange."

  "They'll change," she said. "In a little while they'll let the wildness go."

  The wildness.

  "Has Vintel spoken to you?" she asked.

  I shook my head.

  "How is Merin?"

  "She's fine. She says she's going to start taking her meals in the great hall, although the noise gives her a headache."

  "That's good," said Maara.

  There was no moon. The dark gathered around us. As the world vanished from my sight, night sounds filled my ears. I heard the river, flowing by on its way to places I would never see. Something splashed into the water, perhaps a fish, leaping at a star. In the grass a cricket made its scratching sound. I had my friend beside me. All was well.

  52. An Undivided Heart

  A fortnight had gone by since our warriors' return, and I still hadn't had a chance to spend any time with Sparrow. Most nights she slept beside me in the companions' loft, but during the day Vintel seemed to have a great deal to do out in the countryside, and she always took Sparrow with her. Soon enough winter weather would keep us all indoors. Then perhaps Sparrow would have some time for me.

  It was a fine autumn day. Maara took me to the practice ground and put a wooden sword into my hand. I felt awkward, and I was glad I had spent so much time working with the shield alone. Making both arms work together was more difficult than it looked.

  An hour later we were both covered in sweat and dust. When Maara suggested we go for a swim in the river, I was more than ready to put my weapons down. After our swim, we lay in the soft grass of the riverbank to dry off. I was looking forward to a lazy afternoon and hoping I could persuade Maara to spend it with me.

  Warmed by the sun, I fell asleep.

  Someone whispered something in my ear. The echo of a dream faded before I could bring it into memory, but my body remembered it. The touch of love on my skin had warmed me in a way the sun could not. The touch returned, but now I was awake. I opened my eyes. Sparrow lay beside me.

  "What a lovely thing to find lying about on a riverbank," she said. She caressed the side of my breast lightly with one finger.

  I was about to take Sparrow into my arms when I wondered where Maara was. I sat up and looked around. Her clothes no longer lay with mine on the riverbank.

  Sparrow stood up and pulled me to my feet.

  "Come on," she said, and drew me in the direction of the willow tree.

  "Wait."

  I wanted to pick up my clothing and my bow, but Sparrow wouldn't release my hand.

  "They'll be fine where they are," she said.

  She took me in her arms and kissed me, and desire made me forget everything else.

  Under the willow tree, we lay down. I was impatient. I tried to help Sparrow unfasten the ties of her shirt, but my hands were shaking, and she pushed them away.

  "What's gotten into you?" she said. She was laughing at me a little, but beneath the laughter I heard her own excitement. She slipped off her boots and trousers. "Have you missed me that much?"

  I reached for her. If I had been honest with myself, I would have known that it was not Sparrow I had missed. I had missed being touched. I had missed feeling cared for, as I always felt cared for after we made love. I knew that others cared for me. My heart knew how much others cared for me, but my body needed to be told, in a language it could understand, that someone loved all of me, enough to create this need in me and satisfy it.

  Sparrow had always been gentle with me. Now I was impatient with her gentleness. Tenderness had been so much a part of the way we touched each other, but this time my body demanded something else. This time we grappled with each other like adversaries. My body spoke to hers in a language that was strange to me, but s
he knew it well. She knew that I was angry with her, because she couldn't give me what I wanted.

  She satisfied my body. That was easy. When I lay quiet in her arms, she kissed my tears away.

  "I'm not crying," I told her.

  "Hush," she whispered. "Of course you are."

  We spent a long afternoon together under the willow tree. Sparrow told me about a few of her adventures that summer. I think she left out the parts that would have frightened me. She never mentioned Vintel.

  "Where is your warrior today?" I asked her.

  "Visiting some farm or other, I suppose."

  "I'm surprised she didn't take you with her."

  "She did. I complained that I wasn't feeling well, and she let me come home."

  I opened my mouth to ask her if she truly was unwell, but Sparrow chuckled.

  "Silly," she said. "I wanted to see you."

  "Oh." Then I worried that Vintel would come back to Merin's house and discover that Sparrow wasn't there.

  Sparrow touched the frown line that had appeared on my brow. "Don't worry," she said. "She won't be angry with me."

  We arrived home in time for dinner. As I took my place at the companions' table, I caught a glimpse of Vintel out of the corner of my eye. She was deep in conversation with several of her sister's warriors, but I was certain she had seen us come in, and I hoped Sparrow wouldn't have to pay too great a price for our stolen afternoon.

  Sparrow went over to Vintel and whispered something in her ear. Vintel smiled. I was relieved for Sparrow's sake. They spoke with each other for a few minutes. When Sparrow turned away and came back to the companions' table, Vintel's eyes followed her until Sparrow sat down beside me. Then Vintel's eyes found mine. A scowl replaced the half-smile on her face, and I quickly looked away.

  "What did you tell her?" I asked Sparrow.

  "I told her I was feeling better."

  "That's all?"

  "And that I'd come to her this evening, if she needed anything."

  I had no illusions about what Vintel might need from Sparrow. I frowned my disapproval.

  Sparrow put her hand on my arm. "She's my friend, Tamras. I don't mind."

  Taia sat down across the table from me. Although she was now a warrior, entitled to sit with the other warriors as their equal, she preferred the company of friends. I admired her for it.

  "I think your sister has picked out her teacher," Taia whispered, giving Sparrow a sly glance.

  "Tamar?" I asked.

  "Do you have another sister I don't know about?"

  I shook my head.

  "She's been pestering me all day, asking questions about a certain someone."

  "I won't be a warrior for at least another year," said Sparrow, "so she had better look elsewhere."

  "I think she'll wait," Taia replied. "I think she might have a little case of hero worship."

  Sparrow frowned. "She'll soon grow out of it."

  "Maybe." Taia chuckled to herself. "But in the meantime, don't be surprised if you catch sight of her every time you turn around."

  Sparrow sighed. "That's happening already. She followed us a few days ago. When we discovered her, it was too late to send her back alone, so Vintel let her tag along."

  That news made me uneasy. I had no objection to Tamar being close to Sparrow, but much of the time being close to Sparrow meant being close to Vintel too.

  It was several days before I could get Tamar alone to talk to her. Whenever I approached her, she always had something urgent that had to be attended to. I knew she was avoiding me, and I finally cornered her. She was sitting by herself in the shadow of the earthworks near the practice ground, watching the apprentices spar from a discreet distance.

  While she was trying to think up yet another reason that she had to be somewhere else, I sat down beside her, and because I was annoyed with her, I spoke more harshly than I meant to.

  "Why do you always do just the thing I ask you not to do?" I said.

  She gave me a blank look. It seemed genuine, not her usual expression of mock innocence when she had done something she knew I would object to. I tried to be more patient with her. "I told you to stay away from Vintel."

  "I do stay away from her."

  "You followed her."

  "Not Vintel."

  "You didn't follow Vintel's band the other day?"

  Tamar's cheeks were tinged with pink. "It wasn't Vintel I was following," she said. On her face was the beginning of a stubborn pout.

  "You can't follow Sparrow and stay away from Vintel at the same time."

  Now her cheeks burned red. "I wasn't."

  I looked over at the practice ground, where Sparrow and Taia were sparring with each other.

  Tamar saw that I had found her out.

  "She's wonderful," Tamar whispered. "Look."

  As I watched my friend spar with Taia, who had begun to show much more interest in becoming an accomplished swordswoman, I realized that what I saw and what Tamar saw were two very different things. I tried to remember how the apprentices had appeared to me before I became one of them. I had certainly felt the warmth of hero worship around my heart, but in Tamar's eyes there was something more. Her face shone with a pride that had something of possession in it, as if Sparrow were perfect, and as if that perfection were Tamar's own discovery.

  "She's head over heels," I said to Maara, as we sat together that evening on the hillside outside the earthworks.

  The sky shone red and gold. Towering thunderheads lost their black hearts in a blaze of color. I watched their eerie light reflected in Maara's eyes.

  Frown lines appeared on Maara's brow. "Does that worry you?"

  "I've been trying to keep her away from Vintel. I don't think she takes my warnings seriously, and if she insists on being with Sparrow every waking moment -- "

  "Ah." Maara's eyes searched mine. My heart heard the question she didn't ask. Did I see my own sister as a rival?

  "Sparrow is my friend," I said. "I trust her to keep the balance between her loyalty to her warrior and her loyalty to me. But Tamar is too young to have a divided heart, and I fear Vintel's influence over her."

  Maara nodded. "Tamar is at the age where one knows everything." A sly twinkle appeared in her eye. "At that age her older and much wiser sister was no different."

  A cloud of doubt settled around my heart. Maara saw that I had misunderstood her.

  "Don't you remember, Tamras?" she said gently. "You insisted that you knew what was best for you, and you were right. Your undivided heart showed you the path you were meant to take."

  I looked away from her at the darkening sky.

  "The path I chose has brought trouble to people I care for," I told her. "It has brought trouble to Sparrow, to Merin, to Namet." I met her eyes. "To you."

  "Not to me," she whispered. "Not to me."

  The words, not yet, echoed in my head. I couldn't say them aloud. While my mind considered the trouble that might still come to Maara through me, my heart grew light with hope.

  Late that night as I lay in my bed in the companions' loft, I thought over what Maara had said. In a way she had accused me of standing between my sister and her heart's desire. Something was drawing Tamar in a direction that she couldn't help but take, no matter how much I might disapprove of it.

  I remembered what that felt like and how, against all opposition, I had been determined to take the path my heart chose for me. Tamar too was following her heart. She would find her own path, and I could either help or hinder her.

  At dawn the next morning I got Tamar out of bed. She was too sleepy to complain. She stumbled after me down the stairs and out the kitchen door. We were sitting together on the damp earth under the ancient trees of the oak grove before she found her tongue.

  "If you're going to kidnap me every morning to keep me from going where I please, I'll find another place to sleep," she said.

  "Hush," I said. "I'll do no such thing. I brought you here because I owe you an apology."
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  I had to smile a little at the look of surprise on her face.

  "I had no right to tell you what to do," I said. "I trust you to find your own way. Even if the path you choose seems dangerous to me, I promise I won't interfere."

  I watched Tamar's expression change. She smiled at me with a shy openness that touched my heart.

  "Just keep in mind the dangers I've told you about," I said.

  "I haven't forgotten," she replied. "I hardly speak to Vintel."

  "I'd rather you didn't speak to her at all," I said, a bit too sharply, and watched the good my words had done undo itself.

  Tamar bristled. "I must speak if I'm spoken to. To do otherwise would be rude and would do nothing but call attention to me."

  I sighed and thought of all the times my warrior had spoken to me as I was now trying to speak to Tamar. Even when Maara said things that hurt my feelings, I knew she spoke the painful words because she cared for me.

  "Forgive me," I said. "I only meant to give you good advice. I can't tell you what to do and what not to do. I must leave that to your own good judgment."

  Tamar's bristling resentment subsided. "My own good judgment?"

  I nodded.

  Her smile returned. "Perhaps it was my own good judgment that kept me quiet long enough to notice what was happening around me. Did you know that Vintel has warriors quartered on the farms along our eastern border?"

  It was now Tamar's turn to enjoy my look of surprise.

  "How do you know that?" I asked her.

  Tamar gave an exaggerated shrug. "I'm nobody," she said. "I'm not even anyone's companion yet. I'm as insignificant as a worm, and no one minds if the worms hear what they say."

  "Have you heard Vintel speak of this?"

  She shook her head. "I've only heard the warriors speak of it, and there are many things they don't say in Vintel's hearing."

  I knew that to be true. What warriors spoke of among themselves generally took the form of a complaint, or criticism of whatever authority they were subject to. It used to bother me, until I realized that it was traditional and was done whether they had anything to complain about or not.

  "How many warriors are there at each farm, do you think?" I asked.

  "Not many. Three or four at most. If they become a burden to the farmers, they'll find themselves unwelcome."