Stone of Tears

Chapter 43

Although his sword sat in its scabbard, he was already drawing its magic. Rage surged into him. He summoned it ever onward, letting his barriers fall before its advance.

He was entering a silent world all his own. A world of grim committal to what he was.

Bringer of death.

Sister Verna paled when she saw him pulling Du Chaillu after, becoming even paler when she saw his demeanor.

Without a word to her, Richard snatched his bow off the side of his saddle. He grunted with the effort of swiftly stretching the bowstring to the bow. He yanked two steel-bladed arrows from the quiver hanging from Bonnie’s saddle. His chest heaved with wrath.

The crowd had all turned toward him. Puzzled faces bobbed up as men behind jumped to get a view. The women in black all looked up in his direction. The Queen Mother watched.

Sister Verna’s face was by now bright red. “Richard! What do you think . . . !”

Richard shoved her back. “Be quiet.”

Bow and arrows in hand, he leapt up onto his saddle. The mumbling fell silent.

Richard directed himself to the Queen Mother. “I have spoken with the spirits!”

The back of the Queen Mother’s hand started sliding up the pole, toward the bell’s rope. That was all the sign he needed. She had been offered a chance. The irrevocable commitment had been made.

He loosed the magic within himself.

In one swift motion, Richard nocked an arrow. He drew string to cheek. He called the target. The arrow was away.

The air hissed with the sound of the arrow’s flight. The crowd gasped. Before the arrow reached the target, while the air still sizzled with its sound, Richard had the second arrow nocked and on target.

With a twanging thunk, the first arrow made a solid hit, dead-on where he intended it. The Queen Mother let out a clipped cry of surprise and pain. Penetrating the space between the two bones in her wrist, the arrow pinned her arm to the pole, preventing her hand from reaching the bell’s rope. Her other hand started over toward the rope.

The second arrow sat rock solid in the invisible notch in the air, on target, waiting. “Move toward the bell, and the next arrow goes through your right eye!”

The gaggle of women in black fell to their knees, wailing. The Queen Mother became still. Blood trickled down her arm.

Inside, storms of anger thundered through him. Outside, he was stone. “You will hear what the spirits have commanded!”

Slowly, the Queen Mother let her free hand drop to her side. “Speak their words, then.”

Richard still held the bowstring to his cheek, and had no intention of letting it relax. Though the arrow was aimed at one, his ire was directed at all.

Magic burned through him at full fury. The force of rage pounded through his veins. In the past, it had always been focused on an enemy, someone specific. This was different. It was open-ended rage, rage at all those present, at everyone involved in human sacrifice. This was nonspecific wrath.

That made it worse. It drew more magic.

Richard didn’t know if it was the all-encompassing threat that drew more magic, or if it was because of all the practicing he had done with Sister Verna, enabling him to focus, but whatever the reason, he was calling forth more magic from the sword than he ever had before, more than he had known was there. The magic seethed with frightening power. The very air vibrated with it.

The men about stepped back. The wailing women fell into a hush. The Queen Mother’s face was white against the black of her dress. A thousand people stood in silent terror of one.

“The spirits wish no more sacrifices! It does not prove your devotion to them, only that you can kill! From now on, you must show your respect of the spirits by showing respect for the lives of the Baka Ban Mana. If you do not, the spirits will vent their wrath by destroying you! Take their threat to heart, or they will bring starvation and death to the Majendie!”

He spoke to the men as they pressed forward. “If any of you makes a move against me or these two women, the Queen Mother dies.” They all glanced to one another, seeking courage. “You may think to kill me,” he told them, the target not wavering in the slightest, “but you cannot before the Queen Mother dies. You saw the shot I made. My hand is guided by magic. I do not miss.”

The men backed away.

“Let him be!” the Queen Mother called out. “Hear what he has to say!”

“I have told you what the spirits have said! You will obey!”

She was silent a moment. “We will consult the spirits ourselves.”

“You would insult them? You would be admitting you do not heed their words, but your own worldly wishes!”

“But we must . . .”

“I’m not here to bargain on their behalf! The spirits have ordered I give the sacrificial knife to this woman, so she may carry it back to her people, to show them that the Majendie will no longer hunt them.

“The spirits will warn you of their anger by taking the seed you plant, and only when you send representatives to the Baka Ban Mana and tell them you agree to the wishes of the spirits will you be able to plant your crops. If you do not follow the spirits’ wishes, you will all starve to death!

“We are leaving now. I will have your word that we will be granted safe leave of your land, or you will die right now.”

“We must consider . . .”

“I grant you until the count of three to give me your decision! One, two, three!” The Queen Mother gasped. The women in black gasped. The crowd gasped. “What have you decided!”

The Queen Mother held her free hand up, imploring he hold his arrow. “You may go! You have the word of the Queen Mother that you may leave our land unharmed!”

“A wise decision.”

Her hand closed into a fist, one finger pointing toward them. “But this is a violation of our agreement with the wise-women. The accord is at an end. You must leave our land at once. You are banished.”

“So be it,” Richard said. “But keep to your word, or you will reap the grim rewards of any imprudent action.”

He released the tension from the bow. Standing in his stirrups, he pulled the sacred knife from his belt and held it up high for all to see.

“This woman will take this back to her people, and tell them of the words of the spirits. As to their part, the Baka Ban Mana may no longer make war on the Majendie. You may no longer make war on them. You will be two peoples at peace! Neither may harm the other! Heed the words of the spirits, or bear the consequences!”

His voice dropped to a fierce whisper, yet the wrath of the magic carried the words to the farthest corners of the square, and in the stillness, every ear could hear them. “Heed my orders, or suffer what I will bring upon you. I will lay waste to you.”

Magic lay over the square like fog in a valley, ethereal yet real, a palpable manifestation of his outrage that touched everyone present, and all trembled at that touch. Richard leapt off his horse. The men shrank back a few more steps. Sister Verna was speechless with rage. He had never seen her in such a state. She stood, as if paralyzed, with her fists out before her.

Richard leveled his glare, and his wrath, on her. “Get on your horse, Sister. We’re leaving.”

Her jaw looked ready to shatter under the pressure of how tightly it was clenched. “You are mad! We will not . . .”

Richard thrust a finger toward her. “If you wish to argue with someone, Sister, you may stay and argue with these people. I’m sure they will oblige you. I’m going to the palace to get this collar off. If you want to go with me, then get on your horse.”

“There is no way! We cannot now travel the horn of the Majendie land! We are banished!”

Richard lifted his thumb to Du Chaillu. “She will guide us to the Palace of the Prophets, through the Baka Ban Mana’s land.”

Du Chaillu folded her arms and gave the Sister a self-satisfied smile.

Sister Verna looked from her to Richard. “You truly are mad. We cannot . . .”

Richard gritted his teeth with a growl, the sword’s anger still at full fury. “If you wish to go with me to the palace, get on your horse! I’m leaving!”

Du Chaillu watched as Richard stuck the green-handled knife behind her buckskin belt. “I have charged you with a responsibility. You will live up to it. Now, get up on that horse.”

Du Chaillu unfolded her arms in sudden worry, looking to the horse and back to him. She folded her arms again and put her nose in the air. “I will not ride on that beast. It stinks.”

“So do you!” Richard roared. “Now get up on that horse!”

She flinched back. Eyes wide in fright at his glare, she swallowed, gulping air. “Now I know what a Seeker is.”

She scrambled awkwardly up onto Geraldine. The sister was already atop Jessup. Richard vaulted up onto Bonnie.

With a last, warning look at the men gathered, he squeezed his horse’s ribs and she sprang into a gallop. The other two horses took out after him. The men swept back out of the way.

The magic hungered for blood, raged for it. Richard wished someone would try to stop him. No one did.

“Please,” Du Chaillu said, “it is almost dark. May we please stop, or at least allow me to walk. This beast is hurting me.”

She was holding on for dear life, bouncing in the saddle as Geraldine trotted along. The little strips of colored cloth on her dress were all aflutter. He could hear Sister Verna’s horse trotting along behind, but he didn’t look back at her.

Richard glanced up at the sun setting beyond the thick tangle of branches. His rage was finally withering with the light. For a time, it had seemed as if he would never be able to put it down.

Du Chaillu pointed past him with her chin, to his right, afraid to lift a hand. “There is a small pond there, through the reeds, and a grassy place before it.”

“Are you sure we are in Baka Ban Mana land?”

She nodded. “For the last few hours. This is our land. I know this place.”

“All right. We will stop for the night.”

He held her horse for her as she slid off. With a groan, she rubbed the flats of her hands on her bottom. “If you make me ride that beast again tomorrow, I will bite you!”

For the first time since they had left the Majendie, he was able to smile. As Richard went about unsaddling the horses, he sent Du Chaillu to get water in a canvas bucket. While she went off through the reeds and rushes to the pond, Sister Verna gathered wood and used her magic to set it afire. When he was finished caring for the horses, he put them on long tethers so they could graze on the grass.

“I guess introductions are in order,” Richard said when Du Chaillu returned. “Sister Verna, this is Du Chaillu. Du Chaillu, this is Sister Verna.”

Sister Verna seemed to have cooled, or at least put a mask over her anger. “I am pleased for you, Du Chaillu, that you did not have to die this day.”

Du Chaillu glared. Richard knew she thought of the Sisters of the Light as witches.

“I do feel sorrow, however,” the Sister added, “for all those who will die in your place.”

“You are not pleased for me. You wish me dead. You wish all the Baka Ban Mana to die.”

“That is not true. I wish no one to die. But I know I could not convince you of that. Think what you will.”

Du Chaillu took the sacrificial knife from her belt and held the handle in front of Sister Verna’s eyes. “They kept me on that chain for three moons.” She looked to the green handle and pointed to one of the obscene couplings carved on it. “Those dogs did this to me.” Sister Verna glanced to the knife as Du Chaillu tapped a finger to another scene. “And this. And this, too.”

Sister Verna watched the other’s chest heaving in ire. “There is no way I could convince you, Du Chaillu, how much I abhor what they did to you, and what they intended to do. There are many things in this world that I abhor, but can do nothing about, and in some cases, must tolerate, in order to serve a greater good.”

Du Chaillu patted her belly. “I have lost my moon flow. Those dogs have put me with child! Now I must go to the midwives and ask them for herbs to shed the child of a dog.”

Sister Verna clasped her hands before herself. “Please, Du Chaillu, don’t do that. A child is a gift from the Creator. Please don’t reject his gift.”

“Gift! This great Creator has a wicked way of bestowing his gifts!”

“Du Chaillu,” Richard said, “up until now, the Majendie have killed every Baka Ban Mana they have captured. You are the first to be freed. They will kill no more. Think of this child as symbol of the new life between your peoples. For that new life, for all your children, to flourish, the killing must stop. Let the child live? It has done no harm.”

“The father has done harm!”

Richard swallowed. “Children are not necessarily evil, just because the father was.”

“If the father is evil, then the child will be as he!”

“That is not true,” the Sister said. “Richard’s father was an evil man who killed many people, yet Richard seeks to preserve life. His mother knew that the guilt of crimes does not pass beyond the one who commits them. She did not spare her love because Richard’s father raped her. Richard was raised by good people who taught him right. Because of that, you are alive today. You can teach the child right.”

Du Chaillu’s fury faltered as she looked to Richard. “Is this true? Your mother was treated as I, by an evil dog?”

Richard could only manage a nod.

She rubbed her belly. “I will consider what you say before I decide. You have returned my life; I will weigh your words.”

Richard squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever you decide, I’m sure it will be for the best.”

“If she lives long enough to decide,” Sister Verna said. “You’ve made promises and threats that you cannot fulfill. When the Majendie plant their crops, and nothing happens, they will lose their fear of what you have told them today. What you’ve done will count for nothing and they will once again make war on her people. To say nothing of mine.”

Richard pulled the leather thong with the Bird Man’s whistle off over his head. “I wouldn’t exactly say nothing is going to happen, Sister. Something is indeed going to happen.” He hung the whistle around Du Chaillu’s neck. “This was a gift to me, and now my gift to you, so that you can stop the killing.” He held the carved bone up. “This is a magic whistle. It calls birds. More birds than you’ve ever seen in one place before. I’m counting on you to fulfill my promise.

“You are to go to their planting fields. Keep yourself hidden. Then, at sunset, blow on this magic whistle. You will hear no sound, but the birds will be called by the magic. In your mind, keep picturing birds. Think of all the birds you know as you blow on the whistle, and keep blowing until they come.”

She touched the carved bone whistle. “Magic? The birds will truly come?”

He gave her a one-sided smile. “Oh, yes, they’ll come. There is no doubt of that. The magic will call them. No person will hear the sound, but the birds will. The Majendie will not know it’s you who calls the birds. The birds will be hungry and will devour all the seed. Every time the Majendie plant seeds, you call the birds and take it away from them.”

She grinned. “The Majendie will starve to death!”

Richard put his face close to hers. “No. This is my gift to you, to stop the killing, not a gift to help you kill. You will call the birds to steal their seed until the Majendie agree to live in peace with you. When they have fulfilled their part of the bargain, you must fulfill your part, and agree to live in peace with them.”

He put his first finger right in front of her nose. “If you misuse my gift, I will come back and use other magic against your people. I’ve placed my trust in you to do right. Do not fail my trust.”

Du Chaillu averted her eyes. She gave a little sniff. “I will do right. I will use your gift as you say.” She tucked the whistle into her dress. “Thank you for helping to bring peace to my people.”

“That’s my greatest hope. Peace.”

“Peace,” Sister Verna huffed. She directed a smoldering glare to Richard. “You think it’s so simple? You think that after three thousand years you can simply decree that the killing will stop? You think all it takes is your mere presence, and the ways of people will change? You are a naive child. Though the crimes of the father do not pass on to the son, you have a simplistic way of seeing things that brings harm just the same.”

“If you think, Sister, that I would be a party to human sacrifices for any reason, you are seriously mistaken.” He started to turn away, but then turned back. “What harm have I brought? What killing have I started?”

She leaned toward him. “Well, for one thing, if we don’t help ones with the gift, like you, it will kill them, as it would kill you. How do you propose we get those boys to the palace? We can no longer cross the Majendie’s land.” She glanced to Du Chaillu. “She has only given you permission to pass through her land. She has not said we may bring others through.” She straightened. “Those boys will die because of what you have done.”

Richard thought about it a moment. He was exhausted. Using the sword’s magic had wearied him as it never had before. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. He didn’t feel like solving problems, or arguing. At last, he looked to Du Chaillu.

“When you make peace with the Majendie, before you let them plant once again, you must add another condition. You must tell them that in honor of the killing being brought to an end, in honor of the peace, they will let the Sisters cross their land.” She watched his eyes a moment before she finally nodded. “Your people will do the same.”

He narrowed his eyes at the Sister. “Satisfied?”

“In the valley, when you struck down a beast, a thousand snakes sprang forth from its corpse. This is no different.

“It would be impossible,” she said, “for me to accurately recall all the lies you’ve told today. I’ve reprimanded you before for lying, and cautioned you not to do it again. I told you not to swing the axe today, and you did it anyway, despite my warning. I can scarcely tally all the commands you’ve managed to violate in this one day. What you’ve done has not finished the killing, but only begun it.”

“In this, Sister, I am the Seeker, not your student. As Seeker, I have no tolerance for human sacrifice. None. The deaths of others are a separate issue. You cannot use it as a link to justify murder. There will be no compromise in this. And I don’t think you want to punish me for stopping something I would wager you wish had been stopped long ago.”

The muscles in her face relaxed. “As a Sister of the Light, I have no power to change things, and under obligation to save more lives, I had to uphold what has been for three thousand years. But I admit I hated it, and in a way I’m glad you have taken it out of my hands. But that does not negate the trouble it will cause, or the deaths. When you put the Rada’Han on, you told me that holding the leash to that collar would be worse than wearing it. Your words are proving true.”

Her lower eyelids filled with glistening moisture. “You have made my greatest love, my calling, a misery.

“I am past wanting to punish you for your disobedience. In a few days we will be at the palace, and I will at last be finished with you. They will have to deal with you.

“We shall see how they handle you when you displease them. I believe you will find they are not prepared to be as tolerant as I have been. They will use that collar. And when they do, I also think they will come to regret holding your leash more than do I. I think they will come to regret trying to help you, as do I.”

Richard put his hands in his back pockets as he stared off at the thick forest of oak and leather leaf. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Sister, but I guess I can understand it. Although I admit I have fought being your prisoner, what happened today was not about you and me.

“This was about what is right. As one who would wish to teach me, I hoped you would share that moral stance. I hoped the Sisters would not want to teach the use of the gift to one who could easily bend his convictions to the circumstance.

“Sister Verna, I was not trying to displease you. I simply could not live with myself if I had allowed a murder to take place under my nose, much less if I had participated in it.”

“I know, Richard. But that only makes it worse, because it’s all one and the same.” She unclasped her hands and peered about at the fire and their supplies, finally pulling a cake of soap from a saddlebag. “I’ll make a stew, and bannock.” She tossed the cake of soap to him. “Du Chaillu needs a bath.”

Du Chaillu folded her arms in a huff. “While I was chained to a wall, the dogs who came to mount me did not offer me water so I would smell pretty for you.”

Sister Verna squatted down, pulling supplies out. “I meant no offense, Du Chaillu. I simply thought you would want to wash the dirt of those men off you. If it were me, I would want nothing more than to try to wash the feel of their hands from my flesh.”

Du Chaillu’s indignation faltered. “Well of course I would!” She snatched the soap from Richard. “You smell of that beast you ride. You will wash too, or I will not want to be near you and will send you off to eat by yourself.”

Richard chuckled. “If it will keep the peace with you, I’ll wash, too.”

As Du Chaillu marched off toward the pond, Sister Verna called quietly to him. He waited next to her while she pulled a pot from a saddlebag.

“Her people have been killing any “magic man” they could get their hands on for the last three thousand years. There is no time to give you history lessons.” She looked up to his eyes. “Old habits spring to hand as easily as a knife. Don’t turn your back on her. Sooner or later, she is going to try to kill you.”

Her quiet tone unexpectedly raised bumps on his flesh. “I’ll try to keep myself alive, Sister, so you can deliver me to the palace and at last be free of your onerous charge.”

Richard hurried toward the pond and caught up with Du Chaillu as she was walking through the reeds. “Why did you call that your prayer dress?”

Du Chaillu held her arms out, letting the breeze ruffle the strips of cloth on her dress. “These are prayers.”

“What are prayers? You mean the strips of cloth?”

She nodded. “Each is a prayer. When the wind blows, and they fly, each sends a prayer to the spirits.”

“And what do you pray for?”

“Every one of these prayers is the same, from the heart of the person who gave me their prayer. They are all prayers to have our land returned to us.”

“Your land? But you are in your land.”

“No. This is where we live, but it is not our land. Many ages ago, our land was taken by the magic men. They banished us here.”

They reached the edge of the pond. Puffs of breeze drew up ripples in dark patches. The bank was grassy with thick patches of rushes to each side, extending out into the water.

“The magic men took your land? What land?”

“They took our land from our ancestors.” She pointed in the direction of the Valley of the Lost. “The land on the other side of the Majendie. I was going to our land, with our prayers, to ask the spirits if they would help our land be returned to us. But the Majendie caught me, and I was not able to take our prayers to the spirits.”

“How will the spirits return your land to you?”

She shrugged. “The old words say only that we must send one every year to our land, to pray to the spirits, and if we do, our land will be returned.” She untied her belt and slipped it to the ground. With unsettling grace, she tossed the green-handled knife aside, sticking it in the round end of a branch on a log.

“How?”

She gave him a curious frown. “By sending us our master.”

“I thought you were the Baka Ban Mana, those without masters.”

She shrugged. “Because the spirits have not sent us one yet.”

While Richard was puzzling over this, she reached down, took hold of her dress, and pulled it off over her head.

“What do you think you’re doing!”

She frowned. “It is me that I must wash, not my dress.”

“Well, not in front of me!”

She looked down at herself. “You have already seen me. I have not grown any different since this morning.” She looked up at him. “Your face is red again.”

“Over there.” He pointed. “Go on the other side of the rushes. You on one side and me on the other.”

He turned his back to her.

“But we have only one soap.”

“Well, you can throw it to me when you’re through.”

She came around to the front of him. He tried to turn again but she followed him around, grabbing at his buttons.

“I cannot scrub my own back. And it is not fair. You have seen me, so I should see you. That is why you are turning red, because you have not been fair. This will make you feel better.”

He slapped her hands away. “Stop it. Du Chaillu, where I come from this is not proper. Men and women do not bathe together. It’s just not done.” He turned his back to her again.

“Not even my third husband is as shy as you.”

“Third! You have had three husbands?”

“No. I have five.”

Richard stiffened. “Have?” He turned to her. “What do you mean ‘have’?”

She looked at him as if he had asked if trees grew in the forest. “I have five husbands. Five husbands and my children.”

“And how many of those do you have?”

“Three. Two girls, and a boy.” A wistful smile came to her. “It is a long time since I have held them.” Her smile turned sad. “My poor babies will have cried every night, thinking I am dead. No one ever returned from the Majendie before.” She grinned. “My husbands will be anxious to draw lots to see who will be the first to try to give me another child.” Her smile faded and her voice trailed off. “But I guess a Majendie dog has already done that.”

Richard handed her the soap. “It will all turn out fine. You’ll see. Go bathe. I’ll go on the other side of the rushes.”

He relaxed in the cool water, listening to her splash, waiting for her to finish with the soap. A mist thickened over the pond, stealing slowly, silently, into the surrounding trees.

“I’ve never heard of a woman having more than one husband. Do all the Baka Ban Mana women have more than one husband?”

She giggled. “No. Only me.”

“Why you?”

The water stopped splashing. “Because I wear the prayer dress,” she said, as if it should be self-evident.

Richard rolled his eyes. “Well, what does . . .”

She came swimming through the rushes toward him. “Before you can have the soap, you must wash my back.”

Richard let out an aggravated sigh. “All right, if I wash your back, will you then go back on your side?”

She presented her back to him. “If you do a proper job.”

When she was satisfied, she finally went back to get dressed while he washed. She told him over the chirp of bugs and the trill of frogs that she was hungry. He was pulling his pants on while she called for him to hurry so they could eat.

He threw his shirt over his shoulder and ran to catch up with her as she headed toward the smell of cooking. She looked much better clean. Her hair looked like a normal person’s, instead of a wild animal’s. She looked no more like a savage, but somehow noble.

It wasn’t dark yet, but getting close to it. The mist that had formed over the pond was drifting in around them from behind. The trees were disappearing in the gathering fog.

As the two of them stepped into the ring of light around the fire, Sister Verna stood. Richard was putting his right arm through his sleeve when he froze at the wide-eyed look on Sister Verna’s face. She was staring at his chest, at the thing he had never let her see before.

At the scar. At the handprint burned there. At the handprint that was a constant reminder of who fathered him.

Sister Verna was as white as a spirit. Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her. “Where did you get that?”

Du Chaillu was staring at the scar, too.

Richard pulled his shirt closed. “I told you before, Darken Rahl burned me with his hand. You said I was only having visions.”

Her gaze slowly rose to meet his. Her eyes were filled with something he had never seen in them before. Unbridled fear.

“Richard,” she whispered, “you must not show anyone at the palace what you have upon you. Except the Prelate. She may know what to do. You must show her. But no one else.” She stepped closer. “Do you understand? No one!”

Richard slowly buttoned his shirt. “Why?”

“Because, if you do, they will kill you. That is the mark of the Nameless One.” Her tongue wet her lips. “Sins of the father.”

From the distance came the plaintive howl of wolves. Du Chaillu shuddered and hugged herself as she stared off into the deepening fog.

“People will die tonight,” Du Chaillu whispered.

Richard frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Wolves. When wolves howl like that in the mist, they are foretelling that people are to die violently in the night, in the mist.”