I said as he turned away, “I’m not a warrior, I’m a healer.”
26
There is a day, a moment, called the Fullness of Time, when the threads in the All-father’s great earth-weaving are drawn together for one mighty purpose, and all things are connected, all hearts made ready.
—Saying of Tarkwan, past Chieftain of the Shinali
Mudiwar called for his gong to be brought, and he banged it to summon the tribe, though most were already there. I was waiting with Ishtok; his Hena brother, Atitheya; and Boaz, the big red-haired solider who was Embry’s second-in-command. Boaz’s gruff voice and name were familiar to me, and I remembered that I had heard them both down by the river that fateful day I had hidden in the pool. Then, his companions had warned him about speaking treason. Now he was deep in treason with more than words, and an excellent fighter for his new commander. The weariness I had heard in his voice that day was gone now, and there was a fierce joy in him. He was a big man, scarred and tough. Beside him, Atitheya could not have been more different: he was tall and slim, almost elegant, with a beautiful face and manner. He wore his hair in many long fine ringlets twisted with red mud, that swung and clattered when he moved. Despite his gracefulness, I heard that he was a ferocious warrior. A little way beyond us were our horses, saddled for the journey, their saddlebags bulging with gifts from Mudiwar to Yeshi.
Mudiwar lifted his arms and everyone was silent. “This morning,” he said, “we witness the departure of Avala of the Shinali, and my pledge-son Ishtok, our Navoran warrior-friend Boaz, and my Hena son, Atitheya, as they go to the Shinali nation with our pledge of allegiance, and our plan for war. The love of us all goes with you. May Shimit bless your journey, till we meet again.”
To my great surprise the old man embraced me. “My word that made you a slave,” he said, “it is wiped out this day. Go a free woman. And from this day forth, there will be no slaves in my camp, nor ever shall be again.”
I kissed his cheek and thanked him. “I will tell our chieftain, Yeshi, of your greatness,” I said. “He will be proud to call you his ally.”
Then I said farewell to Ramakoda in the Shinali way, and his eyes were wet as he said, “Before this day’s end, Avala, the beacon-fire will be burning on the Igaal Gathering-ground. By dawn tomorrow all our tribes will have gathered together, and tomorrow we will begin the two-day ride to Navora. Take courage, sister of mine: the Eagle’s Time has come.”
I said good-bye to Chimaki, and to Chetobuh. As I said farewell to Embry I felt a deep anxiety in him. “I hope you were right, and that your people are where you say they are,” he said as he gave me the Navoran handshake. “And I hope they are indeed ready for this fight. Because if they’re not, we’ll march without them. Now that this war has started, there’ll be no stopping it, for anything. I hope you understand that.”
“My people are ready,” I said. “The world is ready.”
Lastly, I went to Ishtok’s oldest Hena brother, who was to ride to his people within the hour and send out messengers to rally as many of the Hena tribes as possible. To him I made the Shinali farewell, my hand on his heart. He said to me, “Our hearts are indeed together, Shinali woman. Our priest, Sakalendu, has been already spreading word of battle among the Hena tribes. We may not have time to gather all our tribes together, but those who are ready will make a fair army. Together we shall ride to freedom.”
Then we travelers got on our horses and were ready to go. Mudiwar’s people stood all around, their garments blowing in the wind, their faces solemn and proud and glad. Among them stood the Hena, with their painted clothes and mud red hair. And there were Embry’s men, their blue sashes bright and brave in the morning sun.
Boaz rode to the front of us, and the people parted to let us through, and we moved off. But suddenly Boaz drew his sword, raised it high, and cried out in a voice that rang around the mountains: “For freedom! For the Eagle’s Time!” He rode fast, and as we followed in his dust I heard the people cheering behind us. Once I looked back and saw Mudiwar supporting his son Chetobuh. I remember thinking, in the middle of that soaring joy-wildness, how strange it was that the Igaal allegiance to the Time of the Eagle had hung, in the end, not on anything I did, but on the escape of one broken Igaal slave.
Then we were in the gorge, riding hard, and Ishtok was making mad fox-barks to spur his horse on. I joined him, and we rode, laughing, barking, racing with Atitheya, all of us behind the zealous red-haired Navoran with his drawn sword fiery in the sun.
Outside the gorge a strong wind blew in from the west, bringing the chill of the last snow that remained on the mountaintops, and clouds of sandy dust. To our right flowed the great Ekiya River, which we would follow south until it turned right into the gorge where I had first met Ramakoda; and in the foothills of the mountains we would make our way around to the place where my people dwelled.
We rode with our cloaks across our faces against the stinging dust, but after a while the wind dropped and the air grew warm. We threw off our cloaks and enjoyed the sun. We were covered in dust, as were the horses, and I could not help thinking that it was a good camouflage. Often I looked through my telescope, noticing that Boaz used one, too, searching for signs of Jaganath’s soldiers. We had the whole plain to ourselves, and the snow-topped mountains, and the gleaming ribbon of the Ekiya River. The wide world was beautiful and bare under the summer skies, and my heart sang that at last I was going home—and going with a glorious call to arms.
By evening we were passing beneath the jagged shadows of the mountains that hid Ravinath. Looking across the ranges to the higher peaks beyond, I saw how the pinnacles were strangely shaped, slender and arrow straight, and I knew they concealed the towers. I touched the amulet I wore, and thought of Sheel Chandra. Just for a moment, though I did not even raise the amulet to my forehead, I saw him. He was standing with all the Masters, as they had stood that morning when I was with them and they shielded my people, and he was chanting in that sonorous voice of his. The image passed, had been fleeting like an arrow, yet I knew that they all knew and already had begun their protecting work for the day of battle.
We kept to the foothills until nightfall, when we camped in a small, grassy ravine. We lit a fire and ate the meat we had brought with us. As he looked at the flames Ishtok said, “Our beacon-fire will be burning now, the tribes already gathering. In two days they’ll be at Taroth Pass.”
Boaz told us details of the plan he had worked out with Embry, and I interpreted his words for Atitheya and Ishtok, though Ishtok understood many of them.
“On the day after tomorrow,” Boaz said, “three of our men will enter the city, disguised as market gardeners with vegetables for the palace kitchens. They’ll organize the slaves’ revolt. That evening you’ll be taking us in through the catacombs, Avala. I’ll lead the company. There will be fifty of us, and during the night we’ll arm the slaves, then support them during their uprising the next morning at dawn. The timing of the revolt is crucial; it would take only one slave entering Jaganath’s presence knowing the plot for rebellion, for Jaganath to smell the treachery and end the uprising before it’s begun. Secrecy and surprise are vital, and all the planning must be done at the last possible moment.”
“He truly can read what is in people’s heads, this terrible chieftain?” asked Atitheya.
“Yes, he can,” said Boaz. “I’ve seen men whipped for what they only thought in his presence. That’s why he’s so powerful—he knows everything. Every last secret. But that’s not what makes him so terrible. That man can make you think you’re on fire, and it’s so real you can smell your own flesh burning. I know; I talked to someone he did that to. They never got over it.”
“Who is going to take Jaganath prisoner?” asked Ishtok.
“Well now, that’s the biggest challenge in this whole campaign,” said Boaz. “Personally, I’m hoping that the moment the old tyrant realizes his reign is finished, he’ll commit suicide. Otherwise I suppose I’ll just ha
ve to go and fight the biggest battle of my career, and lock him in his throne room.” He grinned, but I saw the waves of fear go out from him, and they seemed strange, coming from such a mighty soldier. He added, to Ishtok and Atitheya, “You two won’t be coming through the catacombs with me. At dawn you’ll be with your own tribes, waiting to go in through Taroth Pass to support the Shinali and Embry’s men, after they’ve begun the first stage of our attack. Your warriors will be led by Oren. When he gives the signal for you to join in, for the second stage of the attack, you’ll have to ride like the wind.”
“The palace, I’m going there with you,” said Ishtok, and Boaz looked shocked. Ishtok added, his eyes meeting the soldier’s, his face resolute, “I swore to Avala, I would be with her on Eagle’s day. I swore it, with sharleema.”
“I honor your vow, Ishtok,” Boaz said, “but this is a battle we’re going to, not a wedding party. Your father will need you.” Ishtok opened his mouth to speak again, and Boaz said, in a tone not to be defied, “This matter is closed.” Then he went on, “I want you and Atitheya both to remember, in the battle, that when Navoran soldiers kneel with their hands crossed on their foreheads, it’s the Navoran posture of surrender. Spare them. Embry will be telling this to all the tribes. This is a battle to free slaves and to liberate nations from a tyrant, not to slaughter as many Navorans as you can. Most Navorans will welcome you, if you give them a chance. We’re marching to free a city, not destroy it. Now we should get some sleep. We’ve an early start in the morning. We need to find our Shinali brothers and give them the call to arms. We have two days to get them into shape for battle; two nights from now we enter Navora through the catacombs, and the Eagle will be well and truly in flight.”
The sun was barely up when we set out. We walked our horses, for the foothills of the mountains were stony and rough, and between the rocks brown tussock grass sprouted up in clumps, hiding the holes of rabbits and foxes. It was noon when our way turned right into a steep ravine, so narrow and rough that we went in single file, leading our horses. Boaz went first, and we picked our way slowly, deep into the Napangardi Mountains. After a while we came to a little stream, and we rode again, following its shore.
As we neared the canyon where my people dwelled, an unspeakable joy rose in me. Knowing it, Ishtok reached out his hand, and we rode close, our fingers entwined. Atitheya noticed and smiled to himself and said something to Ishtok I did not hear. We went around the base of huge sweeping cliffs towering like sheer curtains of rock, and passed fold after fold, always bearing slightly to the left. To our right, across a flat, grassy plain, were other mountains, steep sided and with snow in the peaks. The stream we had been following tumbled across the plain and under trees. It was a hidden place, sheltered from the winds, and very quiet. Then I smelled smoke and knew my inner seeing had been true.
Boaz held up his hand and signaled for us to dismount. “If I go marching in there, fully armed and unannounced, I don’t think I’ll get a warm welcome,” he said, grinning. “I’ll wait here. Avala, you go to them first, with Ishtok and Atitheya. When you’ve greeted your people and have told them briefly what is happening, then call me.”
I nodded, and Ishtok, Atitheya, and I dismounted. Leading the horses, we rounded the last bend and saw the cave.
It was immediately in front of us, across a short stretch of dusty ground where children were playing and a group of hunters skinned two stags. Beyond them women tended a fire in front of the cave, and the smoke from it rose straight up and was lost in the dizzy heights of the cliffs. Against the wall near the cave two men sat talking, laughing together. One of them was my chieftain, Yeshi. Across the flat ground, on the plain, the archery targets were still set up, though no one practiced there at the moment.
My heart thundered as we stepped out from the shadow. The children were the first to see us, and they stopped playing and pointed. One of the boys called to the men sitting near the cliff, and they stood. At the same moment the hunters stopped their work, and the women by the fire turned and looked at us. We walked on, out into the pale sunlight, the air breathless about us. Even our footsteps, and the dull thud of the horses’ hooves, were quiet in that place.
Yeshi came toward us. As he neared us he saw my face and stopped. A look of astonishment came over him, and he half turned and called out, while still looking at my face, “Bring Ashila! Quickly!”
And then she came. My mother, wearing a dress of pale wool painted with stars, her feet bare, her smile like the sun. My mother, beautiful and with a gray streak in her hair, walking slow, unsure if it was really me. Then she began to run—we both ran—and then we were hugging each other, both of us laughing through our tears, and she was saying a prayer of thanks to the All-father, and touching my face, my hair, as if not sure it was truly me. At last she pulled away a little and looked on my face while she made the Shinali welcome.
“My heart and yours are in harmony,” she said. And how soft her voice sounded, with its beautiful Shinali accents! Then we hugged again, and I could not speak for bliss.
Then my chieftain, Yeshi, came up, and I knelt before him and touched my head to the dust, and he lifted me with both his hands and embraced me and made the Shinali greeting.
“We thought you were dead,” he said, “and here you are back from the shadow lands, happy and in good health. Ashila always said things were well with you, but we thought it was a mother’s empty hope.”
I turned and called Ishtok and Atitheya. Still leading the horses, side by side, they came to us. Their faces were grave, slightly apprehensive.
Then Ishtok came forward, and I said, with pride, “This is Ishtok, youngest son of the Igaal chieftain, Mudiwar. And with him is Atitheya, younger son of the Hena chieftain, Serdar. They come as ambassadors from their people, with messages for you, Yeshi.”
Ishtok came and knelt before Yeshi, as I had done.
Rising, he said, “To Yeshi, chieftain of the Shinali, and to all the Shinali nation: my father, the chieftain Mudiwar of the Igaal Tribe of the Elk, sends greetings, and the vow of allegiance in the battle for the Time of the Eagle.”
Then Atitheya, too, bowed to Yeshi and said, “My father is Serdar, chieftain of the Fox Clan of the Hena nation. This day he does not have it in his knowing that I am here, but they know who are also members of his household, and they swear their allegiance. In days soon to come, my father will also know of the Time of the Eagle and come with all his tribe, and with as many Hena tribes as will join with him, to stand beside you in the fight for freedom.”
As he looked on those young men a light seemed to pass over Yeshi’s face, and he drew them to him and embraced them like sons, and wept, and was not ashamed.
“With all my heart,” he said, “I thank you. I honor you and your tribes. I offer you my love, and the love of all my people.”
He turned and beckoned a man forward. It was Zalidas, just as I had seen him in the vision of the other day, bent and feeble, limping—but it was Zalidas still strong with visions, with sublime faith. Yeshi went to the old priest and embraced him, then knelt at his feet.
“You were right, wise father,” Yeshi said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “All your dreams were right. I thank you.”
Zalidas bent down and said, “Stand up, Chieftain. Of course my dreams were right! And you were right to take heed. Now the time has come, and our people are ready.”
Then Zalidas went and put his hands on the shoulders of Ishtok and Atitheya and blessed them. “We have been waiting for you,” he said. “In this winter just past I had a vision of you. Of both of you. I saw you, Ishtok, on our old Shinali land, and over your head there flew a flag with our Shinali sign for dreams. And you, Atitheya, I saw in battle, fighting Navoran soldiers. I knew you would soon come to us. And I knew Avala would bring you. We are ready to march.”
He turned to me, then, and I went to him, and he placed both hands on my head. There was no weight in his hands, just a brush like an eagle’s feather, the kiss o
f a great blessing.
“You, daughter,” he said, “I saw also in a vision. You wore a red robe such as your father had once worn, and you were in a high place. You have drawn together the tribes and done your work well.”
“I did not do it alone, Zalidas,” I said, taking his frail old hands and kissing them. “I have been given help by many people.”
“I know,” said Zalidas, nodding. “But in my vision I saw someone else, too. A Navoran soldier, with hair like flame.”
“He is here,” I said, loving our old priest, honoring his gifts, and marveling that I had ever been afraid of him or doubted him. How well he and Sheel Chandra would get on, when they met! I said to Yeshi, “A Navoran soldier came with us, a friend and fellow-fighter with Embry.” Briefly, I explained about Embry’s army and about Boaz waiting around the last bend in the cliffs.
“You had better be getting him,” said Yeshi, “this Navoran friend of ours.”
So I went to bring Boaz, and that big man came with a grin wide as his face and laid his sword at Yeshi’s feet and swore allegiance to him and to the Time of the Eagle. And so Boaz, too, was welcomed and embraced and blessed.
I took Ishtok to my mother, and she welcomed him in the Shinali way. “I have been living with Ishtok’s tribe, Mother,” I said. “Ishtok is my truest friend. He took me to our Shinali land once, and we ate a meal on it.”
“You have been looking after my daughter well, Ishtok,” my mother said, smiling. “Caring for her heart, as well. I thank you, with sharleema. You will have many stories to tell at the feast tonight.”