Mindbond Page 15

  “Right into the tent at night she came, the hind, stepping over our sleeping bodies, and nuzzled her fawn, and it got up and followed her out. And I lay still and thought nothing of it except that you would be mightily dismayed when you woke in the morning and found it gone. Then I slept again, hoping I had made things right for the deer and my luck would change. But when morning came, you were not in your bed or anywhere to be found.

  “I tracked you. Somehow you had followed the deer on those short baby legs of yours, trotting along through the night. But then I lost the trail, and though I searched through the day and far into the night I could not find you.

  “Every day I searched, every day for another turning of the moon, and did little else, and Wyonet and I were in despair, and our two remaining sons were sick and hungry, for we scarcely took time even to find food for them. But in a twilight when the moon was rising—and the moon had come round the cycle yet again—I found you standing with the deer herd in a meadow, standing and suckling at the teats of a fair hind, with one arm across the back of the fawn, your foster brother. And I called you by name, and you ran toward me in great excitement, then stood still and started to weep as the deer fled away from you.

  “But when I picked you up you embraced me. And I carried you homeward to your mother and brothers, and the next day Wyonet and I broke camp and rode to rejoin our people. For many years after that, all went well for me, and our people made me their king. And if there has always been a softness in your heart toward the deer, I have never thought ill of it.”

  Leaning against rock, Tyonoc eyed me in a settled way. The tale was done.

  “Why did you never tell me this before?” I demanded.

  “Dreamer that you were, and are, there was nonsense in your head enough. We did not wish to add to it.”

  I retorted, “Then why do you tell me now?”

  “What can it possibly matter now? Call yourself Sakeema, if you wish, like so many of the others here. You have as much reason as they.”

  “Give me credit for better sense, Father,” I told him coldly. “I am not Sakeema.”

  But if Sakeema was who I deemed him to be, he was a captive in Tincherel, and he faced Mahela’s devouring power.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sometime before dark the devourers came back, bellying in with a rush through the greendeep, swooping up with rippling wings each fell servant to a tall crag of its own, and settling, upright, with their snakelike tails coiled around the spires on which they perched and their wings tightly furled around their bodies, so that they looked like looming gray stumps in the undersea twilight, each one with a staring eye that glinted whitely. Eight of them. Three were missing.

  I cowered when they came. Many others, I saw, did the same. Then, recovering somewhat, I watched them from as close a vantage as I dared, trying to see all eight of them at the same time, alert for any movement they might make. Mahela came out of her ship-dwelling to look at them, then went back in, walking stormily. I watched until it was too dark to see anything but black forms atop the black crags, and I saw no sign of Tassida. Nor, I surmised, had Mahela.

  Nor had Kor, when I mindspoke with him. But he was uneasy on account of the three devourers that had not returned.

  They must be yet at large against Tass.

  Perhaps. What does Mahela say?

  She says nothing, and I assure you, I am not rash enough to ask her, Dan! She is in foul humor.

  That, to me, sounded so much the better for Tass, but all the worse for Kor. I could think of no reply.

  I am up against it now, Dan.

  She gives you no choice?

  Perhaps he laughed, for I sensed a grim amusement. She gives me a choice which is no choice. The devourers, or her.

  Ai, Kor!

  She is—she is only a woman, Dan.

  I smiled, for it was what I had been about to say to him, thought I daresay neither of us believed it.

  You have decided to risk it, then?

  For a certainty! There are many of them, and only the one of her.

  And she might yet be the more perilous.… I did not mindspeak the words, though I might as well have.

  Perils we do not yet know seem the more attractive. Dan, I know I spoke boldly yestereven, but now—I only hope I can give her what she wants of me.

  I fervently hoped it too, but I made my answer seem offhand. Why not? It is easy.

  When I am forced to be false to myself? When I am afraid?

  Odd, how heart chooses suddenly to catch hold. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes. “Do not be afraid,” I whispered aloud. My hands lifted as if to comfort my brother with my touch.

  Dan?

  Here. Kor—it will be all right.

  I am summoned. Until later, then.

  Later.…

  The devourers could be seen only as shadows against the dark. I went down the craggy ways to my father’s tent, to sit with him until he lay down to sleep. Even though I could not see him, even though we did not speak, I did that. Surely Mahela would not commence with Kor until folk were asleep.… As soon as Tyonoc’s breathing had steadied into the rhythm of slumber, I left the tent, went outside. The water seemed very heavy, the undersea night very still.

  Kor?

  No answer. But I somehow knew that he was not sleeping. Afraid of my own sureness in that regard, afraid of—nothing. No time now for fear. He was in peril, or he would be soon.

  Feeling my way with bare feet, I walked up the path between crags, toward Mahela’s abode. Trying to be silent, though there were no guards I knew of. The fell servants still stood furled on their peaks. Perhaps they slept, I thought hopefuly. No, their single eyes glinted fishy white in the faint sealight. It was not wise, or permitted, to be abroad in the night in this place, that I sensed as surely as if I had been told. But perhaps the powers here had no interest in me.

  Kor?

  No answer. Mahela, the wretched, ruthless slut, she had started sooner than I had thought. I would not shout within my mind, I would not panic Kor. Hard put to control my own terror—but I knew I must, for he was lost somewhere, cast adrift from self, and I had to find him.

  Slipping along between crags or behind them, within the watery shadows that have no edge, I made my way toward Mahela’s dwelling. No lights there tonight. Closer … as close as I dared, standing in the shelter of the last black jutting rock before the open slope where her subjects gathered.

  Kor, brother, it is me, Dan. I am here.

  Still no reply. I had to risk.

  Forgetting the night, forgetting the devourers, forgetting that there might be guards. No longer aware of chill water. Reaching out with mind.

  As if to touch him without words, as I had done once or twice before … It was harder now, everything was harder when I was terrified. The old fear, bone deep, gut deep, of being drowned, and not in ocean, either. Drowned in—in Kor himself, if I came too close.… No matter. I searched.

  Kor. Bond brother.

  I felt—whereness, Kor, he was there, very near but withheld from me. Struggling. He needed me.

  Kor, I am here, I am handbonding you. My hand reached toward him through the dark water. My fingers curled.

  Dan!

  Very faint, as if he were far away. Yet I knew he was just within Mahela’s walls.

  I hear you, Kor, I am handbonding you, I am mindbonding you.

  Dan! The word was like a sob, but closer than before.

  I am here.

  Dan, don’t go away!

  I won’t, I won’t! Take hold of me. We two together are strong.

  Handbond.…

  Heartbond, mindbond. Hang on, Kor.

  It is like—being swallowed up.

  Like the devourers.

  No! Worse. Far Worse. The pleasure, the great joy—I want to do it again, I know I will do it again and be—lost from self. She is warm, can you believe it? Mouth, breasts, belly, all warm and marvelous. I hate her.

  I hesitated. Is it necess
ary that you do it again? I asked him at last.

  Yes.

  Then do not be afraid, Kor.

  Silence for a little while. I withdrew my mind from him sufficiently to look around me and see if I was in any danger. But he felt the difference at once.

  Dan!

  Here, I am right here. I am outside, by the nearest crag. I was just having a look at the devourers.

  And?

  They seem to be sleeping now. I no longer see the glimmer of their eyes.

  Good. Dan, stay there. Keep hold of me.

  Of course.

  Even if this takes all night.

  Of course, Kor! I knew his fear. Would I let you drown?

  We were already dead and breathing water—I felt the warm touch of his amusement at the thought of drowning. Mirth even amidst his horror.

  I truly felt it. Him. In me. Or had I been taken into him?

  Ai, my fear, an odd, inward fear, worse than any fear for the body. Fear of losing self … but no, coward though I was, I would not be afraid. No space for fear in that dense night outside Mahela’s dwelling, night as black and greenly shining as cormorant sheen. Terror enough where Kor was. Time enough for my own qualms—later.

  I mindspoke to him—pain in this as much as comfort, but I mindspoke of the Demesne and of the ways of dry land, of sunshine and warm air, summer breezes, hawks soaring. All the creatures of Sakeema. And the colors, seen beneath sky instead of beneath seawater. Pebble colors, pink lichen, aspen leaf. Sunset color, dawn glow, glow of eversnow. And the smell of blue pines, flash of sunlight on the sea surf, glint of wet seaside rock, soft feel of moss. Seal Hold. Mortal voices, kinfolk—

  I should have known that Tyonoc would not sleep soundly through the night, even in the realm of the dead. He had been a king too long for that. I felt his touch, his grasp on my shoulder, knew it without looking at him, vaguely heard his voice in my ears. He began shaking me as if to bring me out of a trance, and I hearkened to him just enough to comprehend what he was saying.

  Dan? Kor heard silence, felt the change.

  It is nothing, Kor. Tyonoc is badgering me. He wants me to come back to the tent. He says it is not safe here.

  Indeed. Dryly. I nearly laughed aloud, but caution stopped me. Tyonoc kept his voice low, though he pleaded with me intensely. I had showed no sign that I heard him, as in fact for the most part I did not. Presently he gave up talking at me, taking a guardsman’s stance over me instead.

  It seems he plans to stay here with me.

  Good. He can watch the devourers for you. Calm, Kor’s mindspeaking, but a labor in the words, as if he struggled against great force.

  Kor, are you all right?

  Just—speak to me.

  Our people, his and mine, not so much different. Fire on the hearth, work done, good food, chatter, small quarrels, the boasting of youths, old women scoffing, maidens smiling behind slender hands. Tassida—I dared to speak to him of Tassida. And children, living children who teased and shouted and played. The younger girls, the little ones of six or seven years, so winsome and imperious, always. Boys, mischievous. And very small children gazing with round eyes. Kor loved children, and they seemed always to love him, to cluster around him. All but the children of Mahela’s realm.

  He answered me from time to time, a single word or a touch, enough to let me know that he was there. Sometimes I felt him struggling and mindspoke him by name, calling on the names of our bonds. I was scarcely aware anymore of the cormorant-colored night—in this place it might go on until world’s end. I was no longer aware of Tyonoc’s presence, for Kor needed me more, that night, battling, if not for life, for something as precious—for selfhood.… At some time I had let myself slide to a seat on the harsh stones at the base of the crag. But when I grew aware of weariness, Kor’s as well as my own, I struggled back to my feet to combat it. Weariness might be dangerous.

  Remember comrades, Kor? Birc, Tyee, Tohr, others? Remember the wolf, the gray wolf on the mountain, maybe the very last? And how it traveled along with us? The wildness in its eyes. And how its fur—

  Warm, he mindspoke. Again. And again, and again, and again. Very softly, a thought as much for himself as for me, drowsy, lulling, like a cradle song.

  Kor! I warned.

  He was gone.

  Not asleep. Gone, utterly, as if he had never been. As if he had gripped my hand in farewell, then let go, saluted, and stepped into a pit so deep, so black—I no longer tried to control my panic. It pushed me forward, into the open. Tyonoc snatched me back—I think I threw off his hand.

  Korridun! Kor, my brother, where are you!

  No answer. Tears choked me so badly that I could not have spoken to him had he stood before me, but my thoughts took their own course.

  Sakeema! By all that is beautiful, answer me!

  Touch of an odd passion in me, no feeling I could name—though I had felt something like it once before, on a beach at the Greenstones. And, as if out of nowhere, a sense of victory. Then—Kor again, somewhere. Hope and vexation surged through me.

  Kor, you ass—

  Still he had not answered, but Tyonoc’s grasp was on me again, tight with a strong sense of danger. He was trying to pull me back. With a start I scanned the night. A swift shadow was moving toward me downslope from the direction of Mahela’s abode.

  Kor, are you all right? Something is coming toward me.

  Ass, yourself, he retorted. It is I.

  “Kor!” I whispered aloud, and Tyonoc stared, loosening his grip, and Kor sped up to us, embraced me.

  Embrace that lasted not nearly long enough. Arms around him, I swayed, staggered by my own relief and love for him as if by a battering wave. He was naked—pity for him overwhelmed me, as if he were no more than a motherless babe. Something heavy, some sort of furred skin or coverlet, trailed from his left hand, brushing my back. He let his head rest for a moment against my neck and shoulder, and I felt his chest heave once, felt also his urgent thought that there was no time for tears.

  “Handbond, quickly,” he murmured. “We both need it.”

  I felt weary enough to fall, faint from the night’s ordeal, and for his part he could only have felt worse. But when I gave him the grip, at once a surge of victorious strength filled me.

  Tyonoc stood by, gaping.

  “Now,” said Kor in a low voice, “hold this.” And he passed me—a pelt, a seal pelt that felt warm, somehow, even in the chill seawater. He held another like it, except that mine was lighter, glimmering sunnily even in the night.

  “Our—our skins?” I could scarcely comprehend.

  “Yes. She had spread them on the bed.” A grim fury sounded in Kor’s voice, but also something of pain. “As if I might not notice. Or to toy with me, to show how consummate is her power over me. She overweens, Mahela does.” His tone had grown yet darker. “I have pleasured her into a stupor. Wait here for me, Dan.”

  “Wait, yourself!” I whispered urgently, for I saw that he had taken his pelt in both hands, ready to put it on. “What if—”

  If he fell to bits, like the unfortunate man Mahela had sacrificed to cow us. “Even that is better than this,” he said savagely, knowing what protest was in me. “I must risk it.” He flung the pelt around his shoulders, and at once he was a seal, shooting upward, a black, skimming shadow amid streaks of flashing green.

  Kor! Come back!

  I have to breathe!

  Breathe! Air! It was a thought almost too immense to hold, as vast as sky, if it did not destroy him. With my own watery breath bated, I waited for what seemed far too long a time, though it could not have been more than a few heartbeats. And then in a greenfire swirl he darted before me again. Gladness shouted in me.

  Kor! You are all right!

  Come on, Dan! he replied with a fierce joy. We are going home.

  All delight and excitement, I held up my pelt to fling it around me—then looked at Tyonoc and stopped.

  “Go on,” he urged, his voice alive with his ow
n excitement, his head high, the lines of his body full of ardor. Like the king I had known of old. With a pang I wished I could see his face.

  “I have to take you with me,” I said, “somehow.”

  Dan, make haste!

  “I cannot leave my father here,” I said to Kor aloud.

  Mahela’s bowels! Dan, if we ourselves escape, it will be—

  “But what we came here to do—”

  “Blood of Sakeema, lad, go!” Tyonoc was exclaiming at the same time.

  What, you wish to see me in torment! An angry, bitter thought, not worthy of Kor, but I had no time to protest it.

  “If you truly escape, it will bring me joy forever,” Tyonoc told me, full of fervor. “Haste, put it on and go!”

  He meant it, he commanded me. I embraced him quickly, then stood and donned the pelt.

  There was no change. I stood as before.

  “Try again.” Tyonoc kept his voice low so as not to rouse Mahela’s minions, but I heard uproar in his tone.

  Dan, please!

  I tried again. Nothing happened. “Wait,” I said softly, “perhaps this is not meant for me.” And before he could protest I flung the pelt around my father’s shoulders. But there was nothing of the seal in Tyonoc, either. He stood as human, dead and immortal as I.

  Dan, you must make up your mind to be a seal again. And I tell you—I had never heard Kor speak so harshly, in mind or in voice—I cannot bear it here, not another moment. You do not know.… Come with me now, at once, or I will go without you!

  “We did not come here for your sake!” I flared at him. “Wait a bit longer, if you have any honor left!” And I set off down the dark ways at a reckless run. Tyonoc ran after me, and in a moment the seal that was Kor flashed past me.

  What are you about? he asked coldly.

  I daresay I know one whom this pelt would change.

  One who lay in a small lodge of peeled spearpine. I thumped urgently against the wall, though I dared rouse her only with a whisper. “Kela!”

  Kor hovered, moaning within his mind. Name of the god, Dan, I cannot bear to see her now that I am Mahela’s plaything! I—