‘I couldn’t stand him. My hands started to shake every time he came near me. Would you believe I was actually happy when Martel killed him?’
‘Sparhawk!’
‘You don’t need to share that with Vanion, little mother. I’m not very proud of it. What I’m trying to say is that people sometimes hate us for personal reasons that have nothing at all to do with our race or class or anything else. Ehlana probably dislikes Zalasta just because she dislikes him. Maybe she doesn’t like the way his eyebrows jut out. You should always consider the simplest explanation before you go looking for something exotic.’
‘Is there anything else about me you’d like to change, Sir Knight?’
He looked her up and down gravely. ‘You’re really very small, you know. Have you ever considered growing just a bit?’
She almost retorted, but then she suddenly laughed. ‘You can be the most disarming man in the world, Sparhawk.’
‘I know. That’s why people love me so much.’
‘Now do you see why I’m so fond of these great Elene oafs?’ Sephrenia said lightly to her sister.
‘Of course,’ Aphrael replied. ‘It’s because they’re like big, clumsy puppies.’ Her dark eyes grew serious. ‘Not too many people know who I really am,’ she mused. ‘You two and Vanion are about the only ones who recognise me in this incarnation. I think it might be a good idea if we kept it that way. Our enemy – whoever he is – might make a slip or two if he doesn’t know I’m around.’
‘You’ll want to tell Zalasta though, won’t you?’ Sephrenia asked her.
‘Not yet, I don’t think. He doesn’t really need to know, so let’s just keep it to ourselves. When you trust someone, you’re putting yourself in the position of also trusting everybody he trusts, and sometimes that includes people you don’t even know. I’d rather not do that just yet.’
‘She’s growing very skilled at logic,’ Sparhawk observed.
‘I know,’ Sephrenia sighed. ‘She’s fallen in with evil companions, I’m afraid.’
They left Sarsos later that morning, riding out through the east gate to be joined by the Church Knights, the Peloi and Engessa’s two legions of Atans. The day was fair and warm, and the sky intensely blue. The newly-risen sun stood above the range of jagged, snow-capped peaks lying to the east. The peaks reared upward, and their soaring flanks were wrapped in the deep blue shadows of morning. The country lying ahead looked wild and rugged. Engessa was striding along beside Sparhawk, and his bronze face had a somewhat softer expression than it normally wore. He gestured toward the peaks. ‘Atan, Sparhawk-Knight,’ he said, ‘my homeland.’
‘A significant-looking country, Atan Engessa,’ Sparhawk approved. ‘How long have you been away?’
‘Fifteen years.’
‘That’s a long exile.’
‘It is indeed, Sparhawk-Knight.’ Engessa glanced back at the carriage rolling along behind them. Zalasta had supplanted Stragen, and Mirtai, her face serene, sat holding Danae on her lap. ‘We know each other, do we not, Sparhawk-Knight?’ the Atan said.
‘I’d say so,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Our people have many different customs, but we seem to have stepped around most of those.’
Engessa smiled slightly. ‘You conducted yourself well during our discussions concerning Atana Mirtai and Domi Kring.’
‘Reasonable men can usually find reasons to get along with each other.’
‘Elenes set great store in reason, do they not?’
‘It’s one of our quirks, I suppose.’
‘I’ll explain something about one of our customs to you, Sparhawk-Knight. I may not say it too clearly, because I am clumsy in your language. I’ll rely on you to explain it to the others.’
‘I’ll do my very best, Atan Engessa.’
‘Atana Mirtai will go through the Rite of Passage while she is in Atan.’
‘I was fairly sure she would.’
‘It is the custom of our people for the child to relive the memories of childhood before the rite, and it is important for her family to be present while that is done. I have spoken with Atana Mirtai, and her childhood was not happy. Many of her memories will be painful, and she will need those who love her near while she sets them aside. Will you tell Ehlana-Queen and the others what is happening?’
‘I will, Engessa-Atan.’
‘The Atana will come to you when she is ready. It is her right to choose those who will support her. Some of her choices may surprise you, but among my people, it is considered an honour to be chosen.’
‘We will look upon it so, Engessa-Atan.’
Sparhawk briefly advised the others that Mirtai would be calling a meeting at a time of her own choosing, but he did not go into too much detail, since he himself did not know exactly what to expect.
That evening the Atan giantess moved quietly through the camp, her manner uncharacteristically diffident. She did not, as they might have expected, peremptorily command them to attend, but rather she asked, one might almost say pleaded, and her eyes were very vulnerable. Most of her choices were the ones Sparhawk would have expected. They were the people who had been closest to Mirtai during her most recent enslavement. There were some surprises, however. She invited a couple of Pandions Sparhawk had not even known she was acquainted with as well as a couple of Kring’s Peloi and two Atan girls from Engessa’s legions. She also asked Emban and Oscagne to hear her story.
They gathered around a large fire that evening, and Engessa spoke briefly to them before Mirtai began. ‘It is customary among our people for one to put childhood away before entering adulthood,’ he told them gravely. ‘Atana Mirtai will participate in the Rite of Passage soon, and she has asked us to be with her as she sets the past aside.’ He paused, and his tone became reflective. ‘This child is not like other Atan children,’ he told them. ‘For most, the childhood that is put away is simple and much like that of all others of our race. Atana Mirtai, however, returns from slavery. She has survived that and has returned to us. Her childhood has been longer than most and has contained things not usual – painful things. We will listen with love – even though we do not always understand.’ He turned to Mirtai. ‘It might be well to begin with the place where you were born, my daughter,’ he suggested.
‘Yes, Father-Atan,’ she replied politely. Since Engessa had assumed the role of parent when they had first met, Mirtai’s response was traditionally respectful. She spoke in a subdued voice that reflected none of her customary assertiveness. Sparhawk had the distinct impression that they were suddenly seeing a different Mirtai – a gentle, rather sensitive girl who had been hiding behind a brusque exterior.
‘I was born in a village lying to the west of Dirgis,’ she began, ‘near the headwaters of the River Sarna.’ She spoke in Elenic, since, with the exception of Oscagne, Engessa and the two Atan girls, none of her loved ones spoke Tamul. ‘We lived deep in the mountains. My mother and father made much of that.’ She smiled faintly. ‘All Atans believe that they’re special, but we mountain Atans believe that we’re especially special. We’re obliged to be the very best at everything we do, since we’re so obviously superior to everybody else.’ She gave them all a rather sly glance. Mirtai was very observant, and her offhand remark tweaked the collective noses of Styric and Elene alike. ‘I spent my earliest years in the forests and mountains. I walked earlier than most and ran almost as soon as I could walk. My father was very proud of me, and he often said that I was born running. As is proper, I tested myself often. By the time I was five, I could run for half a day, and at six, from dawn until sunset.
‘The children of our village customarily entered training very late – usually when we were nearly eight – because the training-camp in our district was very far away, and our parents did not want to be completely separated from us while we were still babies. Mountain Atans are very emotional. It’s our one failing.’
‘Were you happy, Atana?’ Engessa asked her gently.
‘Very happy, Father-Atan,’ she r
eplied. ‘My parents loved me, and they were very proud of me. Ours was a small village with only a few children. I was the best, and my parents’ friends all made much of me.’
She paused, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘And then the Arjuni slavers came. They were armed with bows. They were only interested in the children, so they killed all of the adults. My mother was killed with the first arrow.’
Her voice broke at that point, and she lowered her head for a moment. When she raised her face, the tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Gravely, the Princess Danae went to her and held out her arms. Without apparently even thinking about it, Mirtai lifted the little girl up into her lap. Danae touched her tear-wet cheek and then softly kissed her.
‘I didn’t see my father die,’ Mirtai continued. Her voice was choked, but then it rang out, and her tear-filled eyes hardened. ‘I killed the first Arjuni who tried to capture me. They’re ignorant people who can’t seem to realise that children can be armed too. The Arjuni was holding a sword in his right hand, and he took my arm with his left. My dagger was very sharp, and it went in smoothly when I stabbed him under the arm with it. The blood came out of his mouth like a fountain. He fell back, and I stabbed him again, up under his breast-bone this time. I could feel his heart quivering on the point of my knife. I twisted the blade, and he died.’
‘Yes!’ Kring half-shouted. The Domi had been weeping openly, and his voice was hoarse and savage.
‘I tried to run,’ Mirtai went on, ‘but another Arjuni kicked my feet out from under me and tried to grab my dagger. I cut the fingers off his right hand and stabbed him low in the belly. It took him two days to die, and he screamed the whole time. His screams comforted me.’
‘Yes!’ It was Kalten this time, and his eyes were also tear-filled.
The Atan girl gave him a brief, sad smile. ‘The Arjuni saw that I was dangerous, so they knocked me senseless. When I woke up, I was in chains.’
‘This all happened when you were only eight?’ Ehlana asked the giantess in a half-whisper.
‘Seven, Ehlana,’ Mirtai corrected gently. ‘I wasn’t yet eight.’
‘You actually killed a man at that age?’ Emban asked her incredulously.
‘Two, Emban. The one who screamed for two days also died.’ The Atana looked at Engessa, her glistening eyes a bit doubtful. ‘May I claim that one as well, Father-Atan?’ she asked. ‘He might have died anyway of something else.’
‘You may claim him, my daughter,’ he judged. ‘It was your knife-thrust that killed him.’
She sighed. ‘I’ve always wondered about that one,’ she confessed. ‘It clouded my count, and I didn’t like that.’
‘It was a legitimate kill, Atana. Your count is unclouded.’
‘Thank you, Father-Atan,’ she said. ‘It’s a bad thing to be uncertain about so important a matter.’ She paused, collecting her memories. ‘I didn’t kill again for almost half a year. The Arjuni took me south to Tiana. I did not cry at all during the journey. It is not proper to let your enemies see you grieve. At Tiana, my captors took me to the slave-market and sold me to a Dacite merchant named Pelaser. He was fat and greasy, he smelled bad, and he was fond of children.’
‘He was a kindly master then?’ Baroness Melidere asked her.
‘I didn’t say that, Melidere. Pelaser liked little boys and girls in a rather peculiar way. The Arjuni had warned him about me, so he wouldn’t let me near any knives. I had to eat, however, so he gave me a spoon. He took me to his home at Verel in Daconia, and I spent the entire journey sharpening the handle of my spoon on my chains. It was a good metal spoon, and it took a very fine edge. When we got to Verel he chained me to the wall in a little room at the back of his house. The room had a stone floor, and I spent all my time working on my spoon. I grew very fond of it.’ She bent slightly and slid her hand down into her boot. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’ The implement she held up was a very ordinary-looking spoon with a wooden handle. She took it in both hands, twisted the handle slightly and then pulled it off the shank of the spoon. The shank was thin and narrow, and it came to a needle-like point. It had been polished until it gleamed like silver. She looked at it critically. ‘It’s not quite long enough to reach a man’s heart,’ she apologised for her spoon. ‘You can’t kill cleanly with it, but it’s good for emergencies. It looks so much like an ordinary spoon that nobody ever thinks to take it away from me.’
‘Brilliant,’ Stragen murmured, his eyes glowing with admiration. ‘Steal us a couple of spoons, Talen, and we’ll get to work on them immediately.’
‘Pelaser came to my room one night and put his hands on me,’ Mirtai continued. ‘I sat very still, and so he thought I wouldn’t resist. He started to smile. I noticed that he drooled when he smiled like that. He was still smiling – and drooling – when I stabbed both of his eyes out. Did you know that a man’s eyes pop when you poke them with something sharp?’
Melidere made a slight gagging sound and stared at the calm-faced Atana in open horror.
‘He tried to scream,’ Mirtai went on in a chillingly clinical way, ‘but I looped my chain around his neck to keep him quiet. I really wanted to cut him into little pieces, but I had to hold the chain in both hands to keep him from screaming. He began to struggle, but I just pulled the chain tighter about his neck.’
‘Yes!’ Rather astonishingly, it was Ehlana’s doe-eyed maid Alean who cried her hoarse approval, and the quick embrace she gave the startled Atana was uncharacteristically fierce.
Mirtai touched the gentle girl’s face fondly and then continued. ‘Pelaser struggled quite a bit at first, but after a while, he stopped. He had knocked over the candle, and the room was dark, so I couldn’t be sure he was dead. I kept the chain pulled tight around his neck until morning. His face was very black when the sun came up.’
‘A fair kill, my daughter,’ Engessa said to her proudly.
She smiled and bowed her head to him. ‘I thought they would kill me when they discovered what I had done, but the Dacites of the southern towns are peculiar people. Pelaser wasn’t well-liked in Verel, and I think many of them were secretly amused by the fact that one of the children he usually molested had finally killed him. His heir was a nephew named Gelan. He was very grateful that I’d made him rich by killing his uncle, and he spoke to the authorities on my behalf.’ She paused and looked at the princess, who was still nestled in her lap holding the gleaming little dagger. ‘Could you get me some water, Danae?’ she asked. ‘I’m not used to talking so much.’
Danae obediently slipped down and went over toward one of the cooking-fires.
‘She might be a little young to hear about certain things,’ Mirtai murmured. ‘Gelan was a rather nice young man, but he had peculiar tastes. He gave his love to other young men instead of women.’
Sir Bevier gasped.
‘Oh, dear,’ Mirtai said. ‘Are you truly that unworldly, Bevier? It’s not uncommon, you know. Anyway, I got on quite well with Gelan. At least he didn’t try to take advantage of me. He loved to talk, so he taught me to speak Elenic and even to read a bit. People in his circumstances lead rather tentative lives, and he needed a permanent friend. I had been taught that it was polite to listen when my elders spoke, and after a time he would pour out his heart to me. When I grew a little older, he bought me pretty gowns to wear, and sometimes he’d even wear them himself, although I think he was only joking. Some of his friends wore women’s clothes, but nobody was really very serious about it. It’s something they laughed about. It was about then that I started to go through that difficult time in a girl’s life when she starts to become a woman. He was very gentle and understanding, and he explained what was happening so that I wasn’t afraid. He used to have me wear my prettiest gowns, and he’d take me with him when he was doing business with people who didn’t know his preferences. Daconia is an Elene Kingdom, and Elenes have some peculiar ideas about that sort of thing. They try to mix religion into it for some reason. Anyway, the fact that Gelan alway
s had a young slave-girl with him quieted suspicions.’
Bevier’s eyes had a stunned look in them.
‘Maybe you should go help the princess look for that water, Bevier,’ Mirtai suggested to him almost gently. ‘This was a part of my childhood, so I have to talk about it at this time. You don’t have to listen if it bothers you, though. I’ll understand.’
His face grew troubled. ‘I’m your friend, Mirtai,’ he declared. ‘I’ll stay.’
She smiled. ‘He’s such a nice boy.’ She said it in almost the same tone of voice Sephrenia had always used when saying exactly the same thing. Sparhawk was a bit startled at how shrewdly perceptive the Atan girl really was.
Mirtai sighed. ‘Gelan and I loved each other, but not in the way that people usually think of when they’re talking about a man and a woman. There are as many different kinds of love as there are people, I think. He had enemies, though – many enemies. He was a very sharp trader, and he almost always got the best of every bargain. There are small people in the world who take that sort of thing personally. Once an Edomish merchant became so enraged that he tried to kill Gelan, and I had to use my spoon to protect him. As I said before, the blade’s not quite long enough to kill cleanly, so the incident was very messy. I ruined a very nice silk gown that evening. I told Gelan that he really ought to buy me some proper knives so that I could kill people without spoiling my clothes. The idea of having a twelve-year-old girl for a body-guard startled him at first, but then he saw the advantages of it. He bought me these.’ She touched one of the silver-hilted daggers at her waist. ‘I’ve always treasured them. I devised a way to conceal them under my clothes when we went out into the city. After I’d used them on a few people, the word got around, and his enemies quit trying to kill him.
‘There were other young men like Gelan in Verel, and they used to visit each other in their homes where they didn’t have to hide their feelings. They were all very kind to me. They used to give me advice and buy me pretty gifts. I was quite fond of them. They were all polite and intelligent, and they always smelled clean. I can’t abide smelly men.’ She gave Kring a meaningful look.