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  “Are you sure it is Antonia who remembers?” I asked. “Your link to the All-Mind is so strong, Tarani—might you not be subconsciously sharing memory with your own ancestors, who might have stood here and wondered about the strip of blue on the horizon?”

  She considered. “It may be that, yes,” she said, and sighed heavily. “Mysteries within mysteries.” She put her hand on my cheek and caressed it. “I see the burden this has been for you, Rikardon. I see, too, that you were right to keep silence about Antonia. Because of her, I know now, I can accept awareness of your strange world. Had you spoken earlier, while I lacked that understanding, my fear of the strangeness would have forced me to deny your truth—possibly even to deny you.”

  Her fingers glided down my cheek to my neck, played there with a light touch that sent my blood singing. But Tarani wasn’t aware of the effect she was creating; she was turned inward, thinking.

  “How?” she asked softly. “Why?”

  I held her upper arms in my hands, drawing her attention back to my face. “We may never know how,” I said. “But haven’t we been working for why for a long time now?”

  “You mean the Ra’ira?” she asked. “That might explain why we are here,” she said, “but why is it we and not two other people with human minds that are not subject to the Ra’ira’s power? That is—I mean to say, why were you brought here?”

  I’m sure my mouth dropped open. “Do you mean to say that you know why you were brought here—Antonia, that is?”

  “I—well, of course not. I only suggest there may have been a certain logic to choosing Antonia. Her memories show it clearly: she was to die within a few moons of an incurable internal infection.”

  The wave of grief took me by surprise, so that I staggered back from Tarani. She followed me, concerned. “It’s ridiculous,” I said, “but I am stunned and sorry—she was so young, Tarani, not at all like me.”

  “Like you?” she said.

  “I had heard my own deathbell toll. But I was older, and my life had been full. It could not hurt me so much as it must have hurt her.”

  Tarani was silent for a moment, reaching into the well of strange memory. “More and more,” she said, “I come to admire this woman. She was hurt, yes, but not beaten. She put the knowledge aside and resolved to live her life as normally as possible, asking for no pity, allowing no regrets. She had pride and strength, this one.”

  “As does this one,” I said, taking her face in my hands and leaning forward to kiss it.

  2

  Keeshah ran another long session, covering the miles with amazing speed. At other times, I had guided his run/rest cycle to coordinate with ours, or to conserve his strength. This time, however, I owed him a long rest when we got to Raithskar. I let him set his own pace, knowing he would not extend himself past his capabilities. Tarani and I clung to his back, allowing ourselves to be lulled by the flowing front-to-back rocking motion, at least as much as the need to hang on would allow.

  When Keeshah stopped again, the grayish bushes had a touch of green in their scrawny leaves. He was panting heavily. *Need sleep,* he told me, apologizing.

  The concept of “sleep,” as opposed to “rest,” and the tone of apology I sensed from him told me something I didn’t want to know. I moved along his side, combing sand out of his fur with my hands.

  *Keeshah, you’ve pushed yourself too hard. And there’s only one reason why you’d do that—because you thought I wanted it.*

  *You want home,* he said.

  I felt a twisting jolt of guilt. It wasn’t the first time Keeshah had read my feelings more accurately than I could. It was the first time it had resulted in possible harm to the big cat. Keeshah had not eaten in three days. That would hardly kill him; he had a capacity for storing food and water that matched the size of his body. But now was not the time to be pushing him hard, when his reserves were low.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck.

  *Thank you, Keeshah,* I said. *We’ll take it easy from here on out, all right? Want some water?*

  I gave him another double handful of water, which left Tarani and me with barely a day’s ration. She didn’t object. She came up to us after Keeshah had lain down, while I finished combing the exposed side.

  “He is weary,” she said. “Will he let me help?”

  I asked Keeshah. *Will you let Tarani help you sleep deeply?*

  *Yes,* he replied, lifting his head to look at Tarani. *Grateful*

  I nodded, and stepped away as Tarani took my place beside Keeshah. The sha’um pressed the side of his face against Tarani’s hand, then lay his head on the ground and closed his eyes. Tarani settled herself in a kneeling position. Her hands stroked the big cat, and her voice rose and fell in a gentle, tuneless hum. I felt myself following the sound of it, letting it carry my thoughts into a soothing pattern which slowed gradually… .

  I had to move away from them before I also fell into the deep, healing sleep Tarani’s hypnotic power could engender. When Keeshah was out, Tarani joined me and we stretched out among some bushes.

  “It is not like Keeshah to overtire himself,” Tarani said. “He must be very eager to reach Yayshah.” She must have felt me tense up, because she asked: “What is wrong?”

  “I’ve been pushing him,” I admitted. “Without meaning to—but pushing him, just the same.”

  I didn’t need to do any more explaining than that. Tarani had been throne to point out to Thymas and me that she could read our true feelings through the actions of our sha’um. She was quiet for a long time.

  “We have had a moment for ourselves,” she said at last. “But I have felt it myself—the need to be active again, to continue with this task that has been so strangely set for us.” She touched the hilt of the King’s sword. “I must take this to Eddarta, as soon as Yayshah and the cubs can make the trip.”

  “Have you any idea when that will be?” I asked, perhaps a little too sharply.

  “Has Yayshah not endured enough hardship for our sakes?” she said. “Displaced from the Valley, deprived of a den, and forced to travel throughout her pregnancy? I will not ask her to move again until she assures me she is willing.”

  I bit back another sharp remark and tried to understand her feelings. “I don’t mean to push you, love,” I said. “It’s only that I have been thinking of the vineh. Because the Council controlled them and bred them for city workers, there are many more of them close to Raithskar than a natural colony would have produced. Free of the Ra’ira’s control, they’re reverting to their wild state. You remember what they were like outside of Sulis.”

  She nodded and shuddered slightly. Two sha’um and three people against twenty disagreeable, adult male vineh. We had won—barely. Thymas and Ronar, his sha’um, already weakened, had taken the worst damage and had been quite some time recovering, even with the help of Tarani’s healing sleep.

  “These aren’t quite that bad—they’re out of the habit of being nasty. The ones we ran into on the way out of town were easier to deal with than the Sulis group. But it won’t take much time before they’re a real threat to the safety of the people in and around Raithskar.”

  “I understand that you feel a loyalty to your people,” Tarani said.

  Something in her tone made me say, “They are your people now, too.”

  “I have no people in that sense,” she said. “Volitar trained me to a life view that allows me nothing in common with Zefra and Indomel, my true family—for which I can only be grateful. Knowledge of my heritage and this present task prevents me from accepting the comfort of Thanasset’s home as my own. I have you, and Yayshah, and now this sword.”

  I held her close for a moment, distressed by what she had said, but unable to comfort her.

  “It’s not only that I’m afraid for them,” I said. “I’m impatient because I feel responsible and committed, and because I can’t do anything for them. The next step is yours, and your movement is restricted by consideration for Yayshah. I don’t que
stion the Tightness of it, Tarani; it just makes me uncomfortable, caught between the need to go and the need to stay, with no real power to choose.”

  She spoke with her head against my chest. “As always, it is better when we speak truly and frankly,” she said. “I know that Yayshah would be quite comfortable staying in Raithskar until the cubs are fully grown. I also know that her desire is born of the instincts and habits she has already abandoned, and she must adapt to the needs of her family—and I include us, as well as Keeshah, as her family. I promise I will judge the time to leave by when she and the cubs are fit to travel, and not by when Yayshah is ready to leave, which she may never be.”

  “That’s fair,” I said. “Meanwhile, I’ll try to control this itchy feeling and be civil to you.”

  I felt her smile. “Will you sacrifice so much?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but asked another question. “How much further to Raithskar?”

  “Keeshah has covered a lot of ground,” I replied. “I think Raithskar is no more than half a day away from here.”

  “Then let us also rest,” she said, and started rocking her body to wear a form-fitting groove in the sand. I did the same, until we lay side by side, separated by a few inches of sand, our hands joined. “A long, true sleep will bring us more refreshment than the brief rests we take as Keeshah runs.” She sighed. “I look forward to being with Yayshah when she is again sleek and able to run. Already, she has the same longing.”

  I squeezed her hand.

  “The two of you are a pretty impressive pair,” I said.

  Night came and went while we slept. It was Keeshah who woke first. He roused us by belly-creeping until his head was on the ground, inches away from us, and letting go with his loud bass roar. Tarani and I shot straight up off the ground. Our waking minds rapidly processed the initial perception of danger into the anger-relief reaction of realizing it was a joke, but not before we had nearly strained something trying to get our swords out in the split-second of time while we were reacting and not thinking.

  *Keeshah, that wasn’t funny!* I said—but I was laughing. I was also shaking.

  *Home soon* he said. *Glad. Hurry *

  He butted his head between us and swung it, knocking us apart. A paw swept out at me; even though I had a flash of warning and tried to dodge, the clawless swat caught the backs of my legs and knocked them out from under me. He tried the same trick on Tarani, but she was forewarned and jumped to avoid Keeshah’s slash.

  I could feel Keeshah’s delight; he abandoned me and went after her. Tarani, her body trained for both dance and sword, skipped and dodged his swings. The sha’um had such speed that he could have run right over her, but he accepted limits to the game and merely stayed within range to be able to knock her for a loop, if he could only connect. Tarani was laughing with all the joy of a child playing with a kitten. I felt warmed by Keeshah’s good mood and the feeling of family watching them play together gave me.

  Keeshah swung his right paw, and Tarani ran in on the sha’um’s right side, sprang off on both feet, and vaulted over his back. The move surprised Keeshah, and in trying to keep her in sight, he twisted himself off balance, fell, and rolled over. He surged to his feet and they faced each other warily, catching their breath.

  Suddenly, Tarani lay down on her side, grabbed her knees and tucked her head down against them. Keeshah crouched, all claws out and dug into the sand, ready to move in any direction. She lay motionless, and I thought: Tarani never played with a kitten and a ball; this idea came from Antonia’s memories. It’s about time Tarani got something she can really appreciate from her association with Antonia.

  Keeshah crept up on the curled-up Tarani, his tail whipping back and forth, sweeping up an occasional puff of sand. He patted her tentatively with one paw, drawing back twice before he actually touched her; she rocked a little, but kept her pose. He swung with a little more strength, and she rolled over her arms to rest facing the other way, still curled. He tucked his nose under her head and sent her into a lopsided somersault.

  I could sense Keeshah’s appreciation of the toy Tarani presented him as he came forward more confidently, and I laughed at the shock he felt when she unfolded suddenly and grabbed his head. He retreated backward, dragging her twenty yards or so through the sand and scrub brush, then pinned her body with a paw and pried her off of his neck. He was still in that pose, one paw resting on Tarani’s waist, when his head and neckfur lifted simultaneously and he called the warning: *Danger.*

  Keeshah whirled to face north, his head high and questing for the source of what he had scented. Tarani hadn’t heard Keeshah’s mental warning, but she couldn’t mistake his reaction. She was on her feet immediately, the steel sword in her hand. I saw her look down at it, momentarily surprised by its different weight and balance.

  I had my sword ready, too, and was running to join Keeshah and Tarani when vineh seemed to boil up out of the sand.

  The Gandalaran deserts looked flat, but weren’t. The ground has a rolling quality, rising into low hills and falling into shallow depressions. Let a few bushes take root in a hill and, even though there is nothing taller than waist-high as far as you can see, there is a respectable amount of cover for someone—or something—wanting to hide. And the pale tan of a vineh’s curly fur was further desert camouflage.

  The vineh had stalked us with a cunning I had to respect. They had approached from downwind, creeping to within fifty yards of us without alerting Keeshah to their presence. I counted fifteen before I got too busy to worry about it.

  Almost as many as we faced near Sulis, I thought. And we’re one man and one sha’um short. But we also have more experience.

  I slashed up at the face of the nearest vineh; he flinched back, and I carried the momentum of the swing around and down, slicing into a leg and bringing the huge apish thing down. As Rika’s point slashed across his throat, I sensed another behind me and dropped into a crouch, avoiding the long, reaching arms. I pivoted in the crouch and drove my sword upward, gutting the second beast.

  I had a moment to spare, and noticed that a vineh had one of his iron-strong hands clamped around Tarani’s left arm. He couldn’t take advantage of the hold because she was moving, tugging with her body to keep him off balance. She couldn’t deal with him more thoroughly because she was keeping another vineh at bay with her sword, driving him ahead of her with quick, cutting touches.

  I was behind Tarani; I brought my sword down on the forearm of the vineh who held her, drew his attention, and finished him. Tarani dispatched the other one, but three more came after us, reinforcements right behind them.

  The action had taken us some distance from Keeshah, and the vineh were quick to come between us and the sha’um. *Watch your flanks, Keeshah,* I reminded him. There was no response, only the surge of battle rage that, even more than his formidable weaponry, made the sha’um so dangerous.

  They’re not harrying him from behind, the way the others did, I thought. And they’re concentrating on us, rather than him. Maybe these “domestic” vineh have accepted Gandalarans as their most powerful enemy. They do seem less hostile generally—if you can call an ape that outweighs you and is trying to kill you unhostile. I wasn’t wrong about the ones we met on the way to Kä, either. These are a little awkward, as if their fighting instincts aren’t totally reactivated yet.

  Their strategy proved their undoing, because it placed the bulk of the group smack in the middle of a five-point attack machine: my sword, Tarani’s sword, and Keeshah (two paws, one set of teeth). The battle was noisy, but the sound had an unreal quality. Keeshah’s coughing roar mingled with the snarls and shrieks of the vineh as they fought and fell; I heard both Tarani’s voice and my own crying out with the effort of a swing or calling a warning. Yet there seemed to be an unusual quietness, and I finally figured out what was missing: the sound of metal on metal. I was using the muscles and judgment and techniques Markasset developed for fighting armed men, but these were animals, and the only thing our
swords struck was flesh.

  I wouldn’t say that we had never been in danger from this group; it took all our alertness and every bit of our energy to keep away from the strong, horny-nailed hands and the underslung jaws. I will say that, once we had the group in the pincer movement, our defense was well on its way to being a slaughter.

  I was glad when one of the larger males, trapped in the center of the group and protected from attack by the bodies of the others, paused and rode out the jostling, looking around. Apparently he saw what he should have seen, because his lips pulled back from the heavy tusks. He barked three short sounds and started battering his way out of the middle, heading for the northern edge of the group.

  The others caught on, and all that lay between a potential slaughter and a total rout was opening the pincer.

  *That’s enough, Keeshah,* I ordered. *Pull back and let them go* The sha’um fought on. *Keeshah!* I felt him rising back to rationality through his battle lust. He took one last swipe at a beast already bleeding in a couple of places, and stepped back. His roar of victory followed the vineh.

  I looked around, a little stunned by the sudden end of the battle. Pale-furred bodies lay everywhere, leaking dark-red blood into the sand. I felt my stomach turn over, and remembered that Gandalarans seldom vomited; it wasted water, and their evolution had acquired that trait only for dealing with life-threatening situations, just as it had rejected the capability of shedding tears for purely emotional reasons.

  Tarani looked grim, too. I took her elbow and called Keeshah to follow as we marched away from the carnage toward Raithskar.

  3

  We were within sight of the city walls when the vineh attacked again. This time they appeared from grain fields on either side of the main road, which we had been following for the past hour or so. Keeshah became aware of them a second or two before they would have liked, so that they had to leave their hiding places from fifty yards ahead and come after us.