The River Wall Page 2

  A ripple of muscle up Tarani’s back was the only sign she gave of her surprise. The people in the crowd were less subtle—the news of who had stepped forward traveled backward in a wave of whispers.

  After a moment of tense silence, Tarani said: “Volitar is dead now, Shedo. He died protecting me.”

  And trying to make sure Tarani never set foot in Eddarta, I thought. That memory must be hard for Tarani right now.

  The old woman nodded as if she had expected that answer. The crowd murmured, responding as much to Tarani’s obvious grief as to her announcement.

  “We have been told,” Shedo said, “that you are Pylomel’s daughter. Now that I see you, I doubt it less.”

  “Yet you do have some doubt,” Tarani said, “and justly. Physically, I am, indeed, the daughter of Pylomel. Zefra has sworn before the Lords that when she left Eddarta with Volitar, she already carried Pylomels child.” Tarani’s voice went flat and bitter. “Your former High Lord, my father, was fair in one respect: he would not accept rejection from any woman, Lord or Eddartan. Zefra hated Pylomel and opposed the marriage which he had arranged through the death of her father and uncle. In punishment for her dislike, Pylomel used his mindpower to force Zefra to his bed—before their marriage, and against her will.”

  The crowd buzzed briefly, caught by the phrase “against her will.” In Gandalara, where there were no moral objections or health hazards attached to sex between mutually consenting adults, rape was more rare and even more abhorred than in Ricardo’s world. These people must have guessed at the fate of the women occasionally “chosen” from Eddarta as special servants to the High Lord. Tarani had just confirmed that suspicion, and her obvious distress forged a bond of empathy between her and Eddarta.

  “In every other way, Shedo, Volitar was my father. He called himself my uncle, but he was the only parent I knew. It was he who taught me what ail children must learn: what is right; what is wrong.

  “Volitar and I lived quietly in Dyskornis, and I knew nothing of Zefra until less than a year ago. When I first learned her name, I believed as you do, that I had been born of Volitar and Zefra. That belief brought me both comfort—that the man who had raised me with such love and goodness was truly my father—and mystery—why should he have claimed otherwise? It was partially in quest of the answer to that mystery that I first came to Eddarta.”

  Only partially, I thought, beginning to panic slightly. She’s not going to tell them about the Ra’ira, is she? Of course not, I assured myself. I’m just uncomfortable because I’m useless. It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way since we came to Eddarta. I’ll have to remember to apologize to Tarani for never understanding, before now, what it’s like to follow someone in blind faith, with no idea of what will happen next.

  It was no comfort that Shedo’s words seemed to come directly from my own frightened thoughts.

  “Only partially?” Shedo asked. She took a step closer, bending back her head to look up at Tarani. “What of the rest of the answer, High Lord? Why have you come back to Eddarta?”

  2

  Koshah pressed his nose into the back of my right thigh, making the knee bend and nearly bringing me down. *Can’t play right now,* I told him, and absently reached down to scratch behind an ear. Yoshah came up on my left, and the cubs leaned against me, their heads tilted to get maximum benefit from the scratching.

  I hardly knew what I was doing; like the rest of the people there, I was focused on Tarani. She had taken a deep breath, and was looking out over the crowd—not at the mass of them, but into individual faces. The people waited for her answer.

  “Volitar,” she said at last, “did more than merely hate the Lords. He acted for change. Never mind that the effect of the change was small at the time—the nearly momentary disruption of Pylomel’s plans. When the opportunity appeared, he acted.

  “He took action, too, in everything he taught me. He never mentioned Eddarta in the way one might think he would—to feed and perpetuate his hatred. He taught me what he believed in—that power is merely a tool, and nothing to be feared in itself. I did not learn to hate the Lords, but I learned to despise the misuse of power. Volitar knew that I would have a strong mindgift. In this way, he acted to change the way one born Lord viewed her own power.

  “In a way, my becoming High Lord is Volitar’s final action toward change. When I came to Eddarta, my vision was not warped by hatred or a lifetime of fear. I saw good and bad people on both sides of these walls,” she said, waving her arm toward the stone wall behind me.

  “The power in Lord City is obvious and visible, and Pylomel wore his corruption with pride. Yet I see power in Eddarta, too, my friends—power which is no less corrupt because its misuse lies in its idleness.”

  Tarani’s voice had begun to tremble slightly. I stopped petting the cubs and listened more closely. Tarani was saying things to the crowd she had never been able to say to me.

  “Think of me as Lord City,” Tarani said, “and of Yayshah, this sha’um, as Eddarta. I choose a destination, and she carries me there. Yet we travel together. She carries me willingly. If she has needs that conflict with my wishes, she tells me, and I alter my plans in consideration of those needs. The alternative is leaving her and traveling alone—possible, but a dismal prospect, after having known her friendship.

  “For generations, the Lords have been riding Eddarta further into corruption. Yet Eddarta has made no effort to divert them.”

  A cry of protest began in the front ranks of the crowd and swelled. Tarani let it build for a moment, then raised her hand for attention again. Silence came quickly.

  “Each of you sees power in the individual Lord to whom you pay tribute. You look, then, at yourself and see helplessness. Think—is there only one Lord who has built Lord City? No. It is their power as a group that rules Eddarta. And in Eddartans as a group lies the power to resist the demands of the Lords, and to guide the future, not only of Eddarta, but of Lord City.

  “Eddarta’s power has never been used, and for one excellent reason. Until now, it has not been needed. While the demands of the Lords were reasonable, and they returned benefit to Eddarta through more profitable work and guided growth, Eddarta and Lord City moved willingly, and together, in the same direction. When the power was needed, Eddartans were trapped in the habit, built up over generations, of unquestioning cooperation with the Lords.

  “That Volitar was a man of vision is proved by the fact that he saw beyond the habit and recognized the unfairness of what his Lord asked of him. Yet even he did not see the hidden power.” She smiled. “If he had seen it, you would have heard from him, years ago, what I have said today. He chose to act individually because Volitar, too, believed that he had no choice.

  “I came to Eddarta with no history among you, no habits, no preconceptions. It was not my purpose to bring change to Eddarta or Lord City, but events made me the agent of change. It was not by my hand that Pylomel died, but partially on my account—and I felt regret only in the knowledge that Indomel exceeded our father in greed and corruption.”

  Tarani paused to let the crowd accept what amounted to a confession. In that moment, she turned her head slightly, so that she could see me out of the corner of her eye.

  I brought my hand close to my chest and brought thumb and index finger together in the “OK” sign from Ricardo’s world. The corner of Tarani’s mouth twitched upward, but that was all the evidence I needed to know that she had seen it.

  “I knew that I had been the instrument of installing Indomel as High Lord,” Tarani said. “I knew, too, that Eddarta would suffer further at his hands. Finally, I accepted that I could be the instrument of freeing Eddarta from his oppression, that I could act for change. In me you see a bridge, my friends. I am bound to Lord City by blood, and to Eddarta by my love for Volitar. I came back as High Lord, Shedo,” Tarani said, looking down at the old woman again, “to speak for Eddarta’s power before the Lords, and to set the balance right again. Eddarta and Lord
City are partners in the business of living; it is my purpose to speak that truth at every opportunity.”

  Shedo squinted and tilted her head. “I’m too old not to be blunt,” she said. “What you’re telling us—do the Lords know it?”

  Tarani laughed. “I have not stated it so clearly for them,” she admitted. “But then, they have not asked me, either.”

  That brought a few laughs, and Tarani waited for the sounds to die away.

  “The Lords are not fools,” Tarani said. “They have seen Eddarta’s discontent, and have felt its effect in small ways—less artful workmanship, less prompt response, subtle disrespect. They have done nothing because Lord City is as trapped by habit as Eddarta. They have accepted me because they recognize that my vision is more true for being impartial.

  “Do not expect sudden or radical differences, my friends. You will not waken tomorrow to find yourselves treated like Lords. The oppression you resent arrived only gradually; it cannot be removed any less gradually, and still guarantee the survival of anyone, Lord or Eddartan. But the process has already begun, with the gradual elimination of slavery in the copper mines.” The crowd gasped.

  “Details of the process will be announced formally in a few days,” Tarani continued. “The Lords are making an effort to recognize and reward your worth. I ask that you accept their effort with dignity and patience.”

  Tarani sighed and pulled her shoulders straighter. Yayshah sidestepped restlessly.

  It’s about over, I thought. *Keeshah, it’s almost time to go.*

  *Good,* Keeshah grunted, and crouched down to let me mount. *Too many people.*

  When Keeshah surged to his feet, the attention of the crowd shifted to us. Tarani followed the shift, smiled at me, and waved me forward. At my direction, Keeshah took a few steps and stopped beside Yayshah. The two sha’um dipped their heads toward one another, brushing the tips of their ears together.

  Tarani lifted her hand to reclaim the attention of the people, then extended it to me. I took it, impressed as always by the strength in her long, fine-boned fingers.

  “If I owe Volitar for teaching me to deplore the misuse of power,” Tarani said, “I owe this man, Rikardon, for teaching me the proper use of power.”

  I kept my body from registering the shock I felt, but I could not hide it from Keeshah. His head lifted suddenly, and he shifted his weight. At the risk of falling, I kept hold of Tarani’s hand until he had moved back to his original place.

  “Rikardon is the Captain of the Sharith,” Tarani was saying. “His power is not born of mindgift, or of wealth, or even of the strength of his sha’um. His power lies in the way he lives his life—in the example he sets and to which those who know him aspire. He is an honest man, and fair, and he looks beyond his own needs toward a greater good. He is a leader, and it is only his teaching that gave me the confidence to claim my birthright.”

  She sees everything I’ve done to her as helping her? I wondered incredulously. I’d call that a very tolerant and forgiving attitude. I could not look at her, because I knew my face would give away my amazement, and disrupt her farewell message to Eddarta.

  “Rikardon and I are committed to a complex and arduous task which we believe contributes to the good of all Gandalara,” Tarani continued. “It was this task, unrelated to my connection to the Lords, that first brought me to Eddarta. It remains unfinished, and its incompleteness prevents me from committing myself, freely and totally, to my purpose as High Lord.

  “I must leave, now, to finish this duty. I have the promise of the Lords that they will begin to implement the plans on which we have agreed. I want your promise to give them room and time, and to cooperate patiently, to let the change begin gradually, as it must. Will you give me your word, that I may leave Eddarta with a lighter heart?”

  In contrast to other reactions, this time the crowd was utterly silent. It was Shedo who finally spoke up.

  “Tarani,” she said. “I claim kin-right to call you by name, and—” She paused and looked around. “—By virtue of the fact that no one else is talking, I claim the right to speak for Eddarta. In all our history, no High Lord has sought the approval or cooperation of anyone outside Lord City. You’ve talked with us, justified yourself, and expressed a commitment to change. You’ve asked us to join in that commitment. Now you tell us you have to fulfill some secret duty elsewhere.”

  Shedo moved closer to Tarani and placed her hand on the girl’s thigh.

  “You’ve chosen a duty here, too, Tarani, and you’re leaving it unfinished. You have convinced me that you were, indeed, raised by the Volitar I knew. So I will not ask you if you will return to Eddarta; only tell us when you will be back.”

  With no warning, Tarani swung her right leg over Yayshah’s head and dropped down to the ground. Shedo had drawn back in alarm at the sudden movement, so that Tarani landed in the narrow space between her and the female sha’um.

  Tarani gathered the old woman into her arms and held her for a long moment. “I cannot give you a day,” Tarani said, “but there is no power in Gandalara except death that can prevent my return.”

  The old woman pulled away, obviously shaken and touched by Tarani’s sudden impulse. Tarani whirled toward Yayshah, who crouched just in time to accept Tarani’s weight. When Yayshah stood up, the private moment had ended, and Tarani and Shedo were once again representatives, rather than individuals.

  “You have our promise, High Lord,” Shedo said solemnly. “Eddarta will be the partner, and not the opponent, of Lord City. We wish you safety, success in your duty, and swift return.”

  “I hope that I shall always be worthy of your trust, my friends,” Tarani said, then smiled down at the old woman, “And of your kin-claim, Great-aunt.”

  I had envisioned a quick getaway eastward along the wall, but Tarani guided Yayshah to the south, along the road that led through Lower Eddarta. I brought Keeshah up beside the female, and called the cubs to walk at either side of the two adults. The crowd parted in front of us, but closed in on our flanks as people reached out to touch the young sha’um.

  I kept my attention on the cubs as we moved down the slope and through Eddarta. Now, as before, they were enjoying the attention, but I watched for signs of impatience or anger, and made sure they kept up with Yayshah and Keeshah. If they were to slow down and find themselves surrounded and separated from their parents, they might panic. It would hardly do, I thought, to spoil the mood of trust with a sha’um attack.

  The crowd had grown while Tarani had talked. The people at the foot of the slope could not possibly have heard Tarani’s voice. Yet when we reached them, they were shouting support for Tarani and her goals. The news had been passed downslope and into the city, for I saw different faces in the tide of people that swirled around us in the relatively cramped area of the city streets. They had the same things to say, though: hurray for Tarani, have a good trip, come back soon—and don’t forget the sha’um.

  Even the cubs were getting a little tired of it all by the time we reached the southern edge of the city. The main street gave way, here, to divergent roadways that brought people and trade into the city. There was still a crowd, but Tarani had decided, apparently, that she had done enough for her public image. I called Keeshah and the cubs to a halt when Yayshah stopped, and followed Tarani’s example of swinging the rope-linked travel bags off my shoulder and across my thighs. The nearest people got the idea, and started backing away.

  “We travel west,” Tarani said, and the roadway in that direction slowly cleared of people. She lifted her hand again, then lay forward on Yayshah’s back. I stretched out, too, delighting in the feel of Keeshah’s fur against my cheek, and asked the cubs to move between the adults. They had barely taken that position when Tarani looked at me and nodded slightly.

  *Run, kids,* I told the cubs. *Keeshah, keep pace with the cubs; we have to stay together.*

  All four sha’um jumped forward together, and Tarani and I left Eddarta once more.

&nbs
p; 3

  I felt—and shared—the relief of three of the sha’um, as they left the smothering crowd for the open air of the countryside. The roadway lay beside a branch of the river, moving generally westward as it followed the gentle twisting of the riverbed. The sha’um ignored the road and set off across a grassy, open area. The majority of Eddarta’s farming was done farther north, in a fertile delta formed by several branches of the Tashal. But this area south of the most westward branch saw some cultivation, and our run carried us across scattered fields of grain and through an occasional orchard of dakathrenil.

  Dakathrenil trees grew wild all over Gandalara, and their nutty fruit comprised the primary diet of a great many species of small animals. In cultivation, the kinked and twisting trunks were trained so that the leaf- and fruit-bearing branches formed a spreading umbrella barely higher than a man’s head. The dakathrenil provided Gandalarans more than its fruit. As the short-lived trees died, their wood was harvested for craftsmen who had learned to laminate long, narrow slices of the twisting wood into almost any utilitarian object, and to combine smaller pieces into intricate and decorative parquetry.

  The passage of four sha’um did little good to the grainfields, and the lowest branches of the dakathrenil were a definite hazard to the heads of the riders. An hour out from Eddarta, I asked Keeshah to find the road and follow it. Tarani, roused from her rapport with Yayshah, saw my intent and directed Yayshah to follow us.

  Once on the packed dirt of the roadway, Tarani and I slowed the sha’um to a walk. They were “formed up” as they had been when, we left Eddarta—Yayshah and Keeshah on the outside, the cubs between them. Tarani leaned to her right a little, reaching to stroke Yoshah’s head. Instantly, Koshah was shouldering his sister aside, pushing his head under Tarani’s hand. I laughed and leaned to my left, diverting Yoshah’s anger by petting her myself.