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Topiara - Chapter 8
Farranby marveled at Lyara's control of her temper whenever she had to deal with Dynia. The blonde fiancée of his master's son had taken every opportunity to argue decisions that were not hers to make and complain loudly to her maid when her wishes were ignored or she didn't get her way. Knowing that the safety of all of them depended on calm nerves and a clear head unfogged by anger, he managed several times to place himself between the antagonists and shouldered the brunt of Dynia's subsequent abuse.
As it was, Lyara's nerves were stretched to the breaking point by the third morning, when she once again was faced with the now-familiar argument to bring a rapid close to Dynia's devotions. Although she had no proof that she could offer in evidence, she had the unsettling feeling that they were being followed and stalked by someone who, so far, had managed to keep their whereabouts well hidden.
"No! We will not move until the prayers to Kodao Chi are finished. You promised my father that . . ."
"And I warned him that I would gladly leave you behind and return the payment to Lord Dilan if you gave me too much trouble," Lyara snapped back, her patience long since at an end. "These woods are not a safe place to tarry for any rea son, and your stubbornness endangers us all."
Dynia's eyes narrowed angrily, but Lyara saw the glimmer of apprehension her words evoked. "You wouldn't dare leave me behind! My father would . . ."
"Your father," Lyara's ebony eyes snapped at her in equal anger, "accepted my warning and conditions about the possible consequences of your behavior by sending you out in my care. And if we are to get to Tandri and your precious wedding on time, you will have to begin to cooperate, or be left to your own devices." She shifted, balancing on the balls of her feet as if preparing for a fight. "And now I will tell you one time more. Finish with your devotions immediately and get on your pony. Farranby and I leave in but a few moments, with or without you." She turned quickly on her heel and stalked away, leaving Dynia stomping her feet in frustration.
Farranby gave Lyara a sideways glance as she joined him in tightening the girthstraps of the ponies. "You know, I'm almost ready to go on with you if you did decide to leave her behind," he commented, returning his attention to the straps. "I feel as if I am doing Dilan a disservice by allowing this, this egotistical witch to take her place at Choran's side."
"How good are you at defending yourself and others?" Lyara asked, not even hearing his comments in her effort to stifle her anger.
"Fair, I guess," Farranby replied, shocked. "Why? Are you expecting trouble?"
"We're getting fairly close to the same woods where Karlo was killed, and I've been getting hunches that we're being followed. The sooner we get to Changdu, the happier I'll be."
"Do you think they could be the same ones who killed Karlo?"
Lyara shrugged. "If they are, they probably would have tried to stop us long before this. No," she said as she gave a final jerk on the girth of the last saddle, "It could be Kauw lut marauders looking for captives and easy stealing." She whirled to glare at the two women, who had finished their prayers and were finally ambling in the direction of the ponies. "About time!" she snorted as she quickly sprang into Surefoot's saddle. "On your ponies quickly! We travel far and fast this day."
Farranby gladly made a show of hastening Dynia and Kori, her maid, to their ponies and boosting them none too gently into their saddles before mounting his own pony. With Lyara leading the way, the five ponies broke into a trot on the narrow path, with Farranby in his place behind the rest watch ing the woods to either side with care. Lyara's hunches were no trifling matters, he had learned that lesson well through experience; if she said they were being followed and stalked, chances were that they were.
As the day wore on, Dynia's complaints grew louder and more strident. She complained that she was thirsty; her legs were sore, that she simply had to get off her pony and walk for a ways. Lyara ignored her as best she could, keeping Surefoot moving quickly enough that Dynia would have had to gallop to catch her up to voice her complaints in person. As usual, the sour aristocrat eventually tired of receiving no reply and grew silent, sinking into a sulk that lent the rest of the party a sense of peace to follow their own thought.
When it finally did come, the attack came completely without warning. Three burly figures clad in heavy furred cloaks suddenly appeared at the edge of the pool of light from the campfire, brandishing metal swords that reflected the campfire ominously at the four seated near its warmth. Lyara rose quickly, her hand sinking to her own sword and half-drawing it from the scabbard.
"Well, well," the tallest of the newcomers sneered in heavily-accented Talandrian, "We seem to have found nothing but women and old men this time."
"The Talandris are growing careless, sending their maidens out with no protection," chuckled another.
"Approach at your peril," Lyara cautioned, drawing her sword free and wielding it in an experienced manner. "We are no easy targets to be taken without a fight." At her side, Farranby rose with his own sword in hand.
The tall Kauwlut's voice took on an obviously feigned tone of outrage and pleading. "We only wish to warm ourselves at your fire. You would deny this to fellow-travelers?"
"Lyara's eyes narrowed. "You mock the rules of decency by entering our camp with swords drawn, if warming yourselves were your true intent. If warmth is what you wish, leave us and make your own fire."
A gasp from Kori and muffled sound behind her made Lyara whirl about and slash out with her sword with deadly accuracy. A fourth Kauwlut, who had been sneaking up on her from behind, crumpled at her feet clutching his belly, where Lyara's blade had torn it open. Immediately she whirled back to face the three remaining raiders, whose faces now were grim and foreboding.
"So," the tallest Kauwlut growled. "You choose to make this difficult for all of us." He motioned to the man on his left to take the two women who sat cowering by the fire. "You will regret your actions, young one."
Farranby circled behind Lyara to face the raider approaching Dynia and Kori, keeping his sword poised to strike at the first aggressive action. The Kauwlut circled warily, shifting the heavy blade back and forth from one hand to the other in a most disconcerting fashion. Farranby maneuvered to keep himself between the raider and the women and watched the manner in which the Kauwlut handled his weapon in hopes of finding a weakness that could be exploited.
"Surely you have no wish to die, young warrioress," the tall rider taunted as both he and his remaining companion also began circling warily. "We would not harm any of you. There would be no dishonor in surrendering."
"What do you know of honor?" Lyara snarled back as she stepped backwards to put the fire directly behind her. "Those who prey on the weak and unprotected have none."
As if the insult were a signal, the two Kauwluti gave loud shouts and charged at her. It was as if Lyara had returned to the training yard in Tandri. She whirled and dropped quickly, evading the slashing swords to bring her own across near the ground and cutting through skin and bone of the leader's ankle.
Farranby, startled by the shouts and then screams from behind him, turned his head to glance at the action. It was the opening the third raider had been waiting for, and he silently stepped forward and sank his blade into the steward's side. But before he could withdraw his sword, the injured man brought his own weapon around in an arc and down on the Kauwlut's shoulder, nearly severing the man's head from his torso. Holding his side in hopes of keeping the bleeding controlled, Farranby made his way painfully to where Lyara was sparring desperately with the one remaining Kauwlut.
The Kauwlut was an excellent swordsman, crafty in ways Lyara only vaguely understood. She knew that the chances of her coming away from this battle unscathed were increasingly remote, and the knowledge lent desperation to her thrusts and parries. Already she was beginning to tire, and she didn't know how much longer she would be able to defend herself against his superior skills. As if to punctuate her plight, the dancing blade traced a searing line across one thigh and brought a sharp gasp from the tiring Guide.
Farranby limped unnoticed and silently around into position behind the Kauwlut, stepping over the writhing body of the leader and then dispatching him with a single, vengeful thrust. The Kauwlut fighting with Lyara sensed the movement behind him and whirled to face this new challenge. Lyara took advantage of the man's momentary lapse and ran her sword deep into the man's side, and Farranby brought his own sword up and sank it into his chest. The two men fell together as the young woman staggered back.
Lyara quickly glanced at the fireside and saw that both Dynia and Kori were hiding their faces in their skirts in abject terror, but seemed otherwise unhurt. She bent over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath for a moment before pulling the heavy corpse of the Kauwlut off of the wounded steward. Farranby's tunic was completely drenched in crimsom, making it hard for her to tell the extent of his injury.
She looked over to the two women and called out to them, and the sound of her voice brought both faces slowly out of hiding, but Kori quickly flung herself at her mistress in terror. "Kori, come help me with Farranby. Dynia, fetch my green pack from my pony, and hurry!"
Shocked into obedience, both rose and did as they were told without a word. Lyara then gently removed the soaked tunic and sucked in her breath at the sight of the gaping wound that pumped ever more blood. As Kori finally made her way around the still bodies to Lyara's side and crouched down ready to help, Dynia arrived and thrust the smallish green leather pouch into Lyara's face.
"Will he live?" Dynia asked, struggling to regain her composure and superior tone with little success.
Lyara merely looked up at her with a glare, and then pointed to Dynia's packs. "Bring me one of your undergowns to use as a bandage." Dynia stared at her, and then began frowning. She opened her mouth to argue, but was stopped by the murderous look in Lyara's face. "Do it, now, or you'll be making bandages for yourself as well!"
By the time Lyara and Kori had managed to pack Farranby's wound so that it wouldn't bleed so profusely and wrapped the shallow yet painful gash in Lyara's thigh, the faintest hint of dawn was peeking through the leaves of the towering trees. Already, by the fire where she had retreated hours ago, Dynia was stirring and swallowing her complaints about the crude conditions rather than voicing them, as was her want. Kori looked at Lyara and shrugged. "What do we do now?"
Lyara stood and stretched carefully, wishing she had been able to rest instead of standing watch for the entire night. "We'll have to get him to Changdu as quickly as possible, and that means we mount up. Now." She went to her saddle packs and drew out a length of rope. "You two help me get him into his saddle. We'll have to tie him on so he won't fall."
Dynia stood with her back to Lyara and ignored the order, the last of her fears and shock dispersed. She was about to drop to her knees and begin her morning devotions when a strong hand on her elbow hauled her up roughly. "I've had about all I can take of your high-and-mighty attitude!" Lyara spat at her, her face pushed uncomfortably close to Dynia's. "This man is a trusted servant of your future husband's, and unless you want me to report that you didn't have the common decency to help him, you had better climb down out of your tower and get over there and help me. There will be no devotions today, or any other day until we reach Tandri, is that understood?"
Dynia drew herself up regally and looked down her nose at Lyara. "My father will hear of your ill treatment of me, I swear it," she whispered.
"Only it you survive the trip to Tandri," Lyara shot back as she turned on her heel. "And the way you are going, you may have more to fear from me than any Kauwlut raiders from this point onward! Now get over here and help us!"
Much as she would have preferred to gallop the ponies as fast as they could go, Lyara forced herself to keep a sedate walking pace so as not to jar Farranby any more than necessary. Kori had taken charge of watching over Farranby, who was tied securely in his saddle and slumped over the neck of his pony. Dynia rode with her eyes looking straight ahead, ignoring both her Guide and the wounded man to her right.
The sun stood high in the sky when the trees finally began to thin, and soon the party had come upon the small shrine that stood just on the outskirts of Changdu. Remembering the circumstances that had made her stop here before, Lyara forced the group to a halt and drew three shimmering silken hoods from her saddlebags. "Here, put these on. The people of Changdu will respect no woman who comes unhooded."
Dynia looked at the material Lyara had tossed her, and Lyara almost expected her to toss it back again in disdain. She was surprised, then, when Dynia made no comment but pulled the lightweight hood over her head and gathered her reins. Almost smirking her satisfaction at not having to argue the point, Lyara pulled her own hood on, checking that Kori had done the same, and then signaled for the group to move on.
Being close to midday, the marketplace was crowded with people who watched the women enter the town with curious respect. Lyara halted the ponies in front of the inn and motioned the other women to stay in the saddle while she looked for aid for Farranby. A tattered figure hurried toward her as she dismounted.
"I knew you would return," the vender said, gazing in concern at the slumped Farranby. "What happened to him?"
"Kauwlut marauders attacked us," Lyara explained quietly. "Do you have a healer here?"
"My sister sometimes works as a healer," the vender said quickly. "Let me have someone watch my stall, and I'll take you to her." The short fellow hurried away into the crowd, and returned a short time later. Lyara remounted Surefoot and, grasping the reins of Farranby's pony, followed him across the square and down a narrow sidestreet.
At the vender's call, and old woman pulled aside the cloth coverings of a door in a squalid hovel at the edge of town. "Wat'y'a want, ya'ole' pfoof?" she growled, and then her eyes opened wide as she saw Lyara and Kori helping Farranby from the saddle. "Kandor's mercy, bring him in!" She turned to her brother. "Why din'ya tell me there's one in need?"
The vender made his way to the side of Dynia's pony. "Allow me to help you, Lady," he said, offering his help for her to dismount. Lyara nearly laughed aloud at the disgusted look on Dynia's face as she was forced to allow the man to lift her down from the saddle. Brushing aside his hands, she pushed past him to where she could seem to be helping the wounded man into the hovel. They half-dragged, half-carried Farranby to a low straw pallet near the filthy wall and laid him down gently.
The old lady clucked and chattered busily as she went about removing the tunic and stained bandage to get at the wound. "They's not be many who don' end up comin' to Talia some time or's other when'em's hurt. I'se th'best in t'whole of Changdu, whey's all knowin' that. I'se evin cured a traveler or two in me time, the truth is. Seen it all: broken legs an' arms, bruises, babes as won' come, babes as comes too soon, cuts, . . . Kandor's mercy!" She stopped her monologue abruptly as she took off the last of the bandage. "What's t'cause of this hurtin'?"
"She says a Kauwlut sword, Talia," the vender spoke up before Lyara could say a word.
"Hmmm." Talia sucked in her lips and rocked back on her feet for a moment. "Kauwlut don' clean their blades like civilized folks does. Makes it hard t'tell if they be infection comin' on or what. This could be a tricky'un." She turned to her brother. "I'm in need of some things from t'market." She rattled off quickly a list of herbs and articles, and the short vender scurried through the cloth door to fetch them for her.
"Might a'well make y'sel's ta home fer now," she smiled at the two women who stood gaping. Her sweeping arm motioned to the crude bench against the wall. "They's places t'sit, clean water in t'jug if ya thirst." She waddled to a low shelf and gathered a shallow censing bowl and some powders, which she carried to the side of Farranby's pallet. She noticed the questions in Lyara's eyes. M'teacher alaz tol' me not to depen' on herbs t'do the cures all t'time. They's times it don' hurt to have Kandor doin' part o' t'work too." Lyara nodded in understanding. Local deities were often evoked to aid in healings all over Talandria.
Dynia sniffed and would have made a snide comment had she not caught Lyara's glare. She instead carefully brushed the dust from part of the bench and seated herself gingerly on the edge. Kori would have sat down as well, but a glare from her mistress made her reconsider and remain standing. Kori looked at Lyara in resignation, and the young Guide felt her patience coming again to an end. "Sit down, Kori," Lyara said quietly, her eyes daring Dynia to countermand the order.
The sweet smell of honeywood smoke filled the cramped hovel from the censing bowl. Talia bustled around Farranby, muttering under her breath. When the vender returned, he thrust a small, bound package into his sister's hands and stood back. Lyara, dazed by the deeply buried memories the sweet smoke evoked of similar times in her early youth, moved without thinking to the head of the pallet.
Talia's mutterings rose and fell hypnotically now, entreating and cajoling as she sprinkled some powdered herbs into the wound and, using a clean cloth to gently force the powder inside the hole. Going to the hearth, she lifted a burning taper and came to the side of the wounded man as if to light the powder within the wound, but something stopped her hand. The muttering chant stopped suddenly, and she turned to face the onlookers.
"They's a Power here greater than mine," she accused, looking sharply from one woman to the other. "Who be it? Who be it?"
The old woman's eyes rested finally on the pale girl at the head of the pallet. Lyara gazed at Talia without seeing her, without seeing anything in the room. Drawn backwards in time to her earliest childhood, she was hearing the throbbing of huge drums, the united chanting of hundreds of voices, the face of the Wolf-Faced One on the war-shield which always hung at the door of her father's tent. From the small pouch secreted in the pocket of her trousers, a sensation of heat slowly flowed both down her legs into the ground and upwards into her torso and arms.
Something within her compelled her to reach out her hand and grasp that of the astonished healer. At Lyara's touch the old woman stiffened rigidly, and then dipped the taper toward Farranby's wound. A flash of light, a puff of acrid smoke and a low moan from the unconscious man were the result. Lyara came to herself suddenly, with confused images and sounds rattling about in her mind. Talia pried her hand loose from Lyara's grasp and bent forward to check on the condition of the wounded man, who opened his eyes and gazed about weakly.
"Be ya' healer as well as Guide then, young Lyara?" she asked respectfully, and Lyara stared at her dumbfounded that the old woman knew her name without needing to be told.
"I . . . I don't think so . . ." she stammered, rubbing her hand to get rid of the heat that had oddly built up within it.
"Yer frien' will be able to travel on the morrow," Talia said finally. "I'll see to't that yer clients are well-kept in the inn this night, but we two must have a talkin' afore ya' return t'Tandri."
"Anything would be better than staying here," Dynia found her voice finally, as well as her scornful tone. It, if nothing else, brought Lyara back to the reality of her world. She shot the blonde yet another withering glance and then turned back to the healer.
"How do you know my name?"
"Vernon, take t'other Ladies t"Donvan an' make sure they's well-kept. He'll not be likin' it much, but they's did come hooded proper and deserve repect." Talia shook her finger at her brother. "I'll be findin' a way to close his inn be there one sniff of fonny dealin's about this night, you can tell him that too." Vernon smirked and motioned to lead Kori and Dynia out.
"Wait!" Lyara called, and she walked up to Dynia. "I'll be by for you at first light in the morning. If you're up earlier than that, you can do your devotions before I come. But when I get to the inn, be ready to leave or make Changdu your home." Dynia sighed as if impatient with the demands of a small child, but then nodded. Lyara stepped back, and Vernon led the women from the hovel.
"Lyara," Farranby's weak voice called to her from the pallet as he made an effort to rise.
"Rest, Farranby," Lyara soothed, pushing him back down flat. "We found a healer for you, and she says you'll be ready to travel with us tomorrow."
"What about . . . Dynia and the maid?" He gazed around the hovel without finding them and then struggled to rise again.
"Relax, they're safe at the inn tonight."
Satisfied at last, Farranby sank back into the thin pallet and almost immediately dropped off into a deep sleep. "He'll rest well this night," Talia nodded knowingly, "An' his side be painin' him the morrow and for a few days t'come, but he'll be on t'road wi'ye, ne'er fear." She took Lyara's arm and led her to the bench Dynia had just vacated. "Now, young Lyara, I willna be askin' where 'ya came upon t'Power ya'be carryin', 'cause t'Power be findin' t'right person t'bear it when it needs."
"Power?" Lyara said half-evasively. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ye've na need t'hide t'fact from ole' Talia. They's not many who be knoin' just what it be ya'carry in ye pocket, but m'teacher tol' me t'be watchful for one who bears Power wi'out knowin' what it be he has. Be it a stone, or a small flute ya' be carryin' in that pouch?"
"A stone, I think." She dug into the pocket and pulled out the small pouch. She went to open it and show the contents to the healer, but the old woman covered the hands and the pouch with her own. "Nay. It not be fer ones like Talia t'be seein' Power. And I warn thee true. They's be those who be anxious that ye not carry Power like that fer long. They be fearful that the Power be findin' one who be a channel and hopin' they theysel's be that channel."
Lyara retightened the drawstring and then sat looking at the pouch in her hand. "What do I do with it, then?"
Talia threw her head back and laughed hard. "What ya' should do wi' it? Why, use it, girl! Ya' be a channel for its Power, and it have found ye. They's much in yer life what needs uncoverin', that's what ya' be seein' when the Power were workin' through ye."
"I was told," Lyara said softly with a gulp, "that I should take it to the Oracle."
The old woman nodded. "Yea, an' that be not a bad idea. He be one who could tell ye wha' use ya can make o'it. If he still be alive yet, that is."
Lyara was shocked. "What do you mean? The Oracle's immortal!"
"Nay. That be only 'case Oracles live so long, us common folk cann'na remember a time when he weren't Oracle. But each Oracle decide when his time be done, and t'teachers of magic and healin' be told to teach their students to watch for t'signs of one wi' Power on 'em. Go to t'Oracle, if he lives, and he can help ye. But if he be dead, turn yer life to findin' t'small set o'pipes what be the companion to t'stone ya carry."
"And what if I find these pipes? What then?"
Talia shrugged. "I be not knowin', Lyara. T'teachers be not knowing either. But that be t'way of things when ya' speak o' Power or Magic. Remember, though. If Oracle be dead, go South. T'pipes live in the South when they not be needed. That be t'legend. Together, they be Power without rival, treble t'Power of one alone."
Lyara shook her head, overwhelmed by all the legends and tales the old woman was relating and astounded that she, a simple Guide and Navigator, would even be thinking of having anything to do with such an exalted person as the Oracle himself. "How do you know all this, old woman?"
Talia chuckled. "I'm be a Changdu witch, but m'teacher be trained by Oracle himsel'. T'wer Oracle who started t'teachin' about t'Power. No doubt Oracle be knowin' you's got 'stone. If ya be meant t'search out t'pies, I be sure ya'll know it at t'right time comin'."
The Guide stood up, still shaking her head. "I'll have to think this through. I can't believe that I've been chosen to..."
Talia rose and escorted her to the door of the hovel. "T'choice be made, if not by you, by t'Power what knows best of all. Use t'gift ya carrry if ye must t'defend or t'help, but ne'er t'destroy or kill. That be bringin' t'killin' back on ya'sel'. Keep t'Power on yer person at all times, ne'er let it get away from ye, or ya'll lose yer channel wi'it." She patted Lyara on the back as they stepped through the curtained doorway. "I be not needin' t'give ya blessin' on yer way. Ye be havin' all the blessin' ye needin' in yer pocket."
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