The River Wall Read online

  Finally, he nodded and sighed. “Yes, I see the sense of it,” he agreed. “But I have one more question,” he said, and I waited. “Assume—as we all truly believe—that Thymas is not Ferrathyn’s channel. In Raithskar, you feel the need to summon the Sharith, so you visit a maufel, who sends a message to Thagorn—despite the fact that the Fa’aldu would be violating their own taboo against visiting the stronghold of the Sharith. Ferrathyn catches the thought and the message from the maufel, and is warned of our movement. Will not all your effort toward surprise be wasted?”

  “It would be,” I agreed, “if we planned to send a message with a maufa. The cubs will be with us; one of them will carry messages for you, and only you. Not as fast as a message bird, of course, but fast enough.”

  “Then you have satisfied all my practical objections,” Zanek said, “even though my feelings still want to go with you.” He slapped my shoulder, his hand lingering to squeeze it for a moment. There was a rough affection and respect in the gesture that caused my throat to tighten up. “I shall do my best with Thymas—deceive him when I must, help him where I can. If you will call Keeshah and direct him, I will be on my way.”

  He turned to Tarani and held out his other hand, which she took. “Care for yourselves well, my friends. I regret the pain I have caused you, but I cannot regret that you are here. I hope we shall be together again soon.”

  “In a world free of Ferrathyn’s threat,” Tarani added. She looked odd and awkward for a moment, then dropped Zanek’s hand and threw her arms around his neck. He staggered back a step, caught his balance, and returned the hug with as much force as it was given.

  After a moment, Tarani stepped back, and said in a shaky voice: “Waste no time in regret, King Zanek,” she said. “Both Antonia and Tarani have gained more than any cost, past or future, can match. I am content.”

  Zanek nodded sharply once, then again, and finally turned away from Tarani to go outside. I followed him out, and was standing beside him when Keeshah bounded from the edge of the clearing to crouch in front of us. Zanek walked toward the big cat, his hands clenched into fists, his arms trembling. He stopped, just before mounting.

  I had already asked Keeshah about taking Zanek into Thagorn, and he had agreed.

  *Man coming?* Keeshah wondered, turning his head as far as he could to watch Zanek. * Hurry.*

  *Give him a moment, Keeshah. This is hard for him.*

  *Boring,* Keeshah snorted, and turned forward, stretched his neck, and laid his head on his forepaws. The muscles of his legs and along his flank relaxed, and his body settled to the ground.

  *Keeshah, don’t—do you want to insult him?* I demanded in a panic. But Zanek only laughed, and some of the tension in his body seemed to leave with Keeshah’s.

  “Sometimes it is easy to guess what a sha’um is thinking,” he said. “I apologize for the delay, but …”

  His voice trailed off, and I said: “I think I understand. You once gave up a sha’um.”

  “No,” he said in a soft, almost guilty voice. “I gave up two.“

  “Doral?” I asked. “I saw him in the Valley, but he was out of reach. When I found out Dharak was really gone, I figured Doral had sensed his passing, even through the instinctive barrier. I don’t know it, of course, but I would suspect that a sha’um who loses his or her Rider would be more stubbornly wild thereafter than those who had never been bonded.”

  “I suspect you are right,” Zanek said. “As you were right about the bond continuing, even though contact seemed to be broken. I did … feel Doral. The shock of Dharak’s leaving restimulated the contact, and he was … inquiring and curious. Grieving, yes—but I believe he would have been willing to accept me in Dharak’s place.”

  He held his arms in a pained-looking huddle.

  “I could not accept, Rikardon. I may not be King now, but the situation is the same—I need my full attention for this task. I knew that, long before I knew what the task was. I could not accept Doral’s friendship. Once before, a sha’um had stayed in the Valley. This time is worse, much worse. Because of me, Doral will die.”

  What can I do? I asked myself, hurting for the man standing beside me. Give him time. That’s all.

  He straightened himself suddenly, and took a deep breath.

  “Doral will remain a treasured and sad memory,” he said, “but dwelling on the past has no profit for me now. Please tell Keeshah that I am grateful for his service, and will try to ride smoothly.”

  I told him. He lifted his head and tightened his muscles in preparation, and Zanek mounted expertly. Keeshah rose, walked a few cautious steps to become accustomed to the slightly different weight pattern, then set off down the pathway that had been cut to our house from the caravan road.

  *Come back as quickly as you can,* I told the big cat. *We need to start for Raithskar soon.*

  *Home?* Keeshah asked me as he disappeared from sight on the twisty path. *Glad. Back soon.*

  I stood there for a moment, staring at the edge of the clearing, wondering what Zanek was feeling, and wondering what we would find when we got “home.”

  23

  In spite of the fact that neither Tarani nor I had benefited from much sleep the night before, we set out for Raithskar with a renewed energy. The sha’um had rested well, and we were able to nap through the first day as Keeshah and Yayshah carried us north.

  As on our most recent trip to Raithskar—during which Yayshah had been heavily pregnant—we followed the green fringe of land around the Kapiral Desert, north through the Morkadahl foothills, then west toward Raithskar. While we did not have Yayshah’s temporary disability to contend with, we did have four sha’um mouths to feed, and the only practical solution was to remain in areas where they could hunt for themselves.

  Tarani and I talked frequently during our traveling breaks, trying to decide on a plan for when we reached Raithskar. In the final analysis, however, we could make no definite decisions until we got there.

  One thing we could agree on readily: we could not take the chance of the presence of the sha’um provoking another attack by the vineh. Ferrathyn may have directed the massive attack of the apelike creatures outside Raithskar’s gates that had taken the life of one of Yayshah’s newborn cubs. But it seemed unlikely that Ferrathyn had been responsible for our encounter with wild vineh on the eastern side of Gandalara, between Grevor and Sulis. The vineh seemed to have an instinctive dislike for sha’um—probably left over from a time when the two had been natural enemies, when the slow evaporation of the Mediterranean had made the floor of Gandalara green with salt-adapted vegetation.

  If the Raithskar vineh caught scent of the sha’um, not only would there be a ruckus that could easily endanger our friends, but whatever hope we had of visiting Raithskar undetected would be destroyed.

  When we were still a full day’s ride from the city, Tarani and I dismounted in an abandoned dakathrenil orchard and prepared to walk the rest of the way to Raithskar. It was not a popular idea.

  *Danger. I come,* Keeshah said stubbornly.

  The cubs were a perfect echo of their father.

  *Don’t leave,* Yoshah pleaded.

  *Go with!* insisted Koshah.

  *Be reasonable,* I said, speaking simultaneously to all three of them. *You’ll just increase the danger by alerting the vineh *

  Wrong move. All I got from that was a surge of savage joy at the prospect of battle. And for these sha’um, it was more than an age-old instinctive hatred.

  *Killed other cub,* Keeshah said. *Fight*

  *No—* I tried to argue.

  *Grown now,* Koshah boasted. *Stronger. Not get hurt*

  *Hurt me!* Yoshah chorused. *Fight!*

  All four of the sha’um paced around us, their tails thickening and their neckfur rising. Yayshah seemed as active and eager as the others, and Tarani turned to me with panic in her eyes.

  “I tried to explain about the vineh,” she said. “Rikardon, she wants to fight them.” I only gestured tow
ard the pacing cats; her gaze followed the direction of my arm, and she gasped. “All of them? Look at them—they want to attack.” Her mouth tightened. “And I understand how Yayshah feels. I fear my arguments carry too little sincerity to be convincing.”

  I reached out with my mind toward Keeshah, seeking the blended understanding we had shared so often. I was shocked when he avoided my attempt, mentally backing away from me. Thinking he had misunderstood, I tried again. He dodged again.

  *Do what I want,* he insisted resentfully. *Fight …* The sha’um did not use the word vineh to describe the creatures who had attacked Keeshah three different times, but the image he sent was powerful and real, and not the least self-deceptive about the strength and dangerousness of the vineh. It was blended with the trembling eagerness that made the sha’um such an effective fighter. Keeshah did not care about the danger to himself.

  For the first time in our relationship, I made a deliberate effort to be scornful toward the big cat.

  *I see,* I said. *You don’t care about revenge for the dead cub. You’re just spoiling for a good fight, no matter what that does to everybody else’s plans. Well, go ahead,* I urged him. He stopped his pacing and stared at me, the silvery flecks in his eyes seeming to swirl as he considered. *Go on!* I said.

  *Go,* he agreed abruptly, and leaped away. Yayshah and the cubs followed him.

  “No!” Tarani cried. “Rikardon, stop them!”

  “Wait,” I whispered, barely able to spare her that much explanation. I was trying desperately to conceal my own dread from Keeshah, and let him see only anger and contempt in my mind. I took Tarani’s hand and pulled her with me. We started walking east, back the way we had come.

  Tarani walked with me, her head turned back to look over her shoulder. “Show anger, if you can,” I told her, keeping my face firmly forward, looking away from Raithskar.

  “What?” she stammered, then recovered. “Oh, yes—I think I see. Yayshah is asking me where we are going.” She shuddered, but squared her shoulders forward. “A terrible risk,” she said, and squeezed my hand. I knew she was frightened—not for any “destiny” or “mission,” but, first and foremost, for the life and safety of her sha’um partner.

  Tarani was right—it was a heart-hurting gamble. I kept my mind open to all three sha’um and tried to stay calm.

  *Go where?* Koshah asked me.

  *Back to Thagorn,* I snapped, and waited. Had my Gandalaran body been able to sweat, I would have been soaked by now.

  *Just came,* Yoshah said. *Why go?*

  *Because of you,* I said, again letting all three sha’um hear the comment, and hating myself for the whiny, resentful, blame-laying attitude I was portraying.

  It’s for a good cause, I told myself. If it works, they’ll understand why I’m doing it. If it doesn’t—well, by God, the words are true!

  I chanced a “glance” along the links, and discovered that the sha’um, already out of eyesight distance from us, were no longer running. They were moving slowly, Yayshah in the lead, the cubs glancing back. Finally, Keeshahs curiosity got the better of his pride.

  *Why go?* he asked.

  *We can’t possibly accomplish what we came for if you pick a fight with the vineh,* I said.

  *Cub dead!* Keeshah shouted into my mind, outraged—with some justice, according to his logic—by the obstacle my uncooperative attitude was placing in the way of his instincts.

  This time, I did not have to fake anger. *Do you think Tarani and I were not hurt by that too?* I demanded. *That’s part of why we’re here. The vineh did the actual killing, Keeshah, but it was Ferrathyn who directed them to attack, Ferrathyn who really is responsible for his death. If you and the others attack the vineh, we won’t have a chance to make Ferrathyn pay for what he did*

  A long hesitation. Tarani was watching my face. “Yayshah complains that the others have stopped,” she whispered, as if the sha’um could overhear us. I had the same skulky feeling. I nodded sharply, but kept on walking, drawing her with me. I was afraid that if we stopped, the sha’um would doubt our commitment and suspect I was trying to manipulate them.

  Guide and protect, I corrected the thought. Not manipulate. Oh, please let this work.

  Keeshah asked: *True?*

  It was the first time Keeshah had ever accused me of lying, and it hurt. It hurt partly because it was true, in a way, and pushed all my guilt buttons. It also hurt because it was evidence of the degree to which, at this moment, Keeshahs instincts outweighed his reason. Under normal conditions, it was impossible for us to lie to each other, and absurd to consider that it might be possible. I let some of that hurt show.

  *Why would I tell you something that I didn’t believe to be true?* I asked him. *I don’t care about the vineh—surely you can tell that’s true—and have no reason to want to protect them.*

  *Want to protect us,* Keeshah said, a bit more gently. A quick surge of emotion accompanied the thought, acknowledging my good motives, and I felt him gathering himself to explain.

  That’s it, Keeshah. Start to think again, and we’ll get through this.

  *Protection not important,* the sha’um said, that rage— which had both an instinctive and a logical basis—boiling up again, but in a more controlled way. *Killing vineh important*

  *Not as important as killing Ferrathyn,* I said. I thought I used “killing” in place of “stopping” in order to make the point with Keeshah, but as I sent the thought to Keeshah, I had a chilling sense of its Tightness. Ferrathyn was fanatic and mad, beyond even the most elementary level of reasoning. There was only one way to stop him.

  *You’d know that, if we blended. I think that’s precisely why you refused to blend just now. You know I’m right, and keeping words and distance between us gives you an excuse for not really understanding.*

  *No!* his mindvoice shouted. But after a moment, he spoke more thoughtfully: *Yes.*

  Another pause, during which I’m sure my heart stopped beating, and he conceded.

  *I will listen,* he said, and opened his mind to me.

  My body went rigid, and part of me heard Tarani gasp.

  I was Keeshah. I felt his fury at the vineh, the full force of the paradox of his instincts. If his family were attacked, he would defend them to the death. Yet he was willing to lead them into a fight which would endanger them, to avenge the lost cub. He was bonded to mate and cubs by instinct and conscious affection, and he fully recognized that they—and he—might die in a fight against the Raithskar vineh. He had an eager image of the fight, a foretaste of the almost transcendent state of fierceness he entered in an all-out battle. The image included Yayshah and Koshah and Yoshah fighting beside him. It accepted the possibility of their deaths, as well as his. And what Keeshah felt was not sorrow, but an overwhelming pride.

  Later, when I could think again, I would remember that intense flash of feelings in connection with another event that had occurred halfway across Gandalara. I would see Thymas swinging his sword, killing a man I thought should live. I would hear him recite, as justification, a traditional litany: “Sharith kill their enemies.” And I would see that event in a more tolerant light, considering that the tradition might be less a product of history than of a secondhand instinct.

  Now, however, thinking was not possible. As I shared Keeshah’s character for that moment, so was Keeshah experiencing the feelings and thoughts uppermost in my mind. I could exercise no control—shielding, choice, deception—in that communication. Whatever was in me at that moment, Keeshah learned.

  As always, the experience was too intense to be sustained. Keeshah and I withdrew from one another, and I took notice of my surroundings again. I was lying down, nearly buried in the narrow-leaved ground cover that floored most dakathrenil orchards. Tarani was kneeling beside me, and relief swept through her tense face when I opened my eyes to look at her.

  “You stopped, and then collapsed,” she explained. “It has not been like this before. What happened?”

  “He
wants the vineh,” I said. “Intensely.”

  She worried her bottom lip, with one wide tusk. “Will they attack?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said to Tarani, then spoke to Keeshah. *What will you do?* I asked.

  *Don’t know!* he answered, with such anger that I flinched physically and startled Tarani.

  *Keeshah, do you believe that Ferrathyn is really the one who killed your cub?* I asked.

  *Believe,* he agreed, still seething with an anger I was at a loss to understand. *Cant hunt man,* he said. *Can hunt vineh. Vineh easier. Everything easier, before.*

  * Before?* I asked.

  *You don’t want man because of cub,* he said. *You want man because of society*

  The tone in which his mindvoice carried the word society answered my question. I took Tarani’s hand and used her weight as an anchor to pull myself into a sitting position. I stared at the green leaves between my knees and concentrated my attention on the sha’um.

  This is what I wanted, in the Chizan Valley, I thought. A rational, reasoning being inside the skin of a sha’um. But that rational sha’um—who understands that a man could murder his child through the agency of a vineh—is still at war with the instinctual one—who can remember the death cry of his son, and sha’um blood on vineh hands.

  *I admit it, Keeshah. I think that stopping Ferrathyn is more important than just avenging the cub, and I would think so even if I weren’t absolutely sure—as I am—that Ferrathyn is responsible for that loss. And I see what you mean about things being easier ‘before’—when you felt no responsibility to anyone besides me, yourself, and your family.

  *Believe me,* I said fervently, *I do understand what you’re feeling. But the fact is, Keeshah, you have changed, you have accepted responsibility for your society—which is now, more than ever before, a part of mine—and there is no going back to the time before. You have to decide whether to attack the vineh on the basis of which responsibility is more important *

  He was silent for a moment, then burst out in a flash of rage.