Sword Bound

Chapter 24

DEL AND I DECIDED TO SPEND THE NIGHT under the big tree beside the house and leave at first light. I hoped to ask Harith a few more questions when he awoke. Neesha was to let us know when he regained consciousness. By dusk, I learned Harith still had not done so. I had seen my share of broken heads and began to fear he wouldn’t wake at all.

I went in search of Danika, found her in the house, and asked her to join me outside. We wandered over to Sabir and Yahmina’s corral containing two sorrel geldings and a bay mare. Danika, staring into the corral, said Harith had bred the mare and one of the geldings.

We talked horses briefly; it was what she knew, and it gave her a short respite from constantly worrying about Harith, though I didn’t blame her in the least for it. But after awhile her attention left the horses, and we turned our backs on them, leaning against the corral poles.

“Danika. I have to ask this.” I glanced at her sidelong. “You said you watched the raiders carry off Rashida?”

After a moment, she answered. “I knew it was happening, yes.”

I found that strangely evasive. “She screamed and ran, you said, and a raider swept her up.”

Danika didn’t look at me but stared at the house. “Yes.”

“In which direction did she run? I mean, Del and I can check tomorrow to be more certain of things—we’ll look at the hoofprints and footprints if we can find any—but whatever you can tell us would be of great help.”

More hair had come down from Danika’s coil. A couple of locks hung beside her face. By rote, she removed the clip from her hair and let all of it come down. She busied herself winding the hair into a thick, twisted rope, then coiled it against her head again and reclipped it. It was, I knew very well, a means to delay her answer. Which of course was answer enough.

“They beat Harith,” I said. “They abducted Rashida. Danika…I very much doubt they ignored you.”

“I was tending Harith,” she said quickly. “I couldn’t see everything. And then…the fire…”

Quietly, I said, “You’re not able to tell us in which direction the raiders went, are you? Because you didn’t see it.”

Her face, even in profile, was stony. She hugged herself tightly. Then, abruptly, she stood up from the corral poles and faced me. “Why does it matter?” she asked bitterly. “You said it yourself: You can look at the hoof- and footprints tomorrow if Harith doesn’t come to.”

“And should it rain between now and tomorrow morning? Clouds are coming in. And should Harith not come to by then?”

She was angry as she stared at me, with shame mixed in. “Yes,” she said curtly, “they raped me. While two beat Harith outside and one chased after Rashida, the others took me into the house and raped me. I didn’t see in which direction they rode once they left me, because I was still in the house. I couldn’t—couldn’t go outside immediately. When I did, Harith was unconscious, Rasha was gone, and the house was on fire.”

I drew in a deep breath that filled all my lungs and expanded my chest. It was difficult not to get angry on her behalf, but I felt it would not aid the situation. “I’m sorry, Danika. But we needed to know which way they went. Harith will tell us, or the hoofprints will.”

She brushed away tears, clearly annoyed that she’d cried again. “Was it necessary to ask me these things? To shame me?”

“Shame has no part in this,” I told her. “There is nothing for you to be ashamed of. What they did was against your will. Just as Harith could do nothing as they beat him, nor could Rasha when she was abducted. It was all done to you, to all of you.”

This time she did not attempt to rid herself of tears. Her voice was choked. “I heard her screaming from inside the house. I thought at first they were raping her, too, but when I got outside, she was gone. And I realized they’d taken her.” She drew in a shaky breath, met my eyes. “I could do nothing. I heard it when they beat Harith, I heard it when they stole Rasha, and I could do nothing!”

Without emphasis, I said, “Nor were you meant to.”

It stopped her tears, stopped the pain a moment. She stared at me.

“Tell me this, Danika, because I know you can. Harith may not recall clearly. Were they Northerners? Southroners? Borderers?”

“All,” she answered promptly. “Two Southroners, three Northerners, and one I believe is a Borderer. You don’t find red hair often.”

People took me for a Borderer because my hair, eyes, and skin were not dark enough for a Southroner—plus I was too big—but not fair enough for a Northerner. I didn’t fit. Not here. I was pure Skandic. Born in the South but not of it. It could be the same for the red-haired man, that he was from elsewhere. Or his people were. Neesha himself was half Borderer, half Skandic.

“Neesha’s staying to help,” I told her. “One thing he can do is ride over to the house and pick through it. There may be belongings there that survived.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Danika said dismissively. “It’s Harith and Rasha who matter.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but it’s something he may do. A task. And whatever he finds, if anything, may mean something to you, to Harith, to Rasha, when you’re a family again.”

That, she had not thought of. After a moment she nodded. “I will, then. I’ll send him over there.”

I knew better than to offer an embrace. Del had told me it took her a very long time before she could tolerate a man’s hand on her after she had been raped repeatedly. In truth, Danika and I were strangers to one another. We’d made us a son one night, we’d shared dreams that night, but twenty-five years was a gulf we couldn’t cross.

“Thank you,” I said. “And be very certain Del and I will bring her home to you. I can’t say when—I wish I could—but it will happen.”

I couldn’t tell her it had taken Del five years to find her brother. Five years would feel like one hundred to Danika. It was enough, for the moment, that she knew it would be done. Though she would count every day.

Harith did not awaken. Yahmina and Danika began to put together a meal for all. Sabir stayed with Harith after shooing Neesha away, and my son came to the tree camp as Del and I stayed out of the way. He was distracted, but also wanting company.

“Sit,” I said. “Have aqivi.”

Frowning, still lost in thought, Neesha set out his bedding and unrolled it. His saddle once again served as half-pillow, half-chairback. Del and I lay back, arms thrust beneath our heads, but Neesha sat upright. He took the bota of aqivi and drank absently, then handed it back.

“I’ll ride with you tomorrow,” he said. “To the house. My mother wants me to see if anything survived the fire.” He paused. “I think it’s make-work.”

“Does it matter?” I asked. “You might well find some things.”

He nodded, distracted. “Sabir found my mother and father. He was on his way to Istamir for Marketday; they grow crops, as you see, and sell them in town. But he found my parents, cleared the wagon of produce to make room for them, and brought them here.”

“It was well done,” Del said quietly.

Neesha’s voice was curiously flat. “I think he might die.”

That brought silence. Del was not one for attempting to assuage fear with falsehood. I took my lead from her when at last I answered. “He might.”

“Even if you find Rasha—”

“When,” Del declared.

He looked at her. “What?”

“When we find Rasha.”

It annoyed Neesha. “When. If. It doesn’t matter. Once Rasha is home, it will be only my mother and sister on the farm.”

“Have they coin?” I asked.

Neesha shrugged. “Possibly. I’ll look tomorrow. But most of our coin eats grass and stands on four legs.”

“Hire help,” Del told him. “They need not be alone. Their crop is different from most and requires more labor, but the end is the same: it’s sold.”

I knew what was nagging at him. “Hired help frees you,” I said.

“Hired help,” he said, “is not the same as a son.”

“You’ll know,” Del told him. “When we bring Rasha and the horses home, you’ll know the answer.”

Neesha took the bota back, unstoppered it and drank deeply. He set it down again, then rose. “I have to go in,” he said. “I can’t stay out here, wondering whether my father will live or not. I have to be there with him.”

“If he rouses enough to be coherent, please let us know,” I said. “We need to know in which direction the raiders went when they left.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “My mother can tell you, can’t she?”

The awkward moment had arrived. It was for Danika to decide whether to tell her son what had occurred, not us. I thought Del might answer, being a woman familiar with rape, but she didn’t. It was up to me.

“Well,” I said tentatively, “she’s got much on her mind. And she was tending your father; it might have been difficult for her to see.” Which I knew was a lame answer because any mother would run after a screaming daughter being carried away by raiders. But it was the only one I had.

He was too distracted to parse that out. He merely nodded and headed back to the house.

“He’ll know,” Del said. “She won’t have to tell him. When his mind is clear, he will realize what happened.”

I took up the bota. “Maybe so. But let’s hope it’s after we rescue his sister and the horses.” Because if he knew now, he would undoubtedly insist on accompanying us. And he would be so full of rage and revenge he could actually harm our efforts. There would be no patience in him to sort out the best way to take the raiders. He would simply get himself killed. And poor Danika would have no daughter, no son, and possibly no husband.

“Something else we must ask of her,” Del said, “though tomorrow will do. How many horses were stolen, and is there a way to know them as belonging to this farm?”

“Neesha can tell us the last,” I answered, “but he’s been gone too long to know how many. Hoolies, I hate to bother Danika again.”

“There is another thing she must be asked. Again, Neesha’s been gone too long and girls grow quickly. It must be Danika.”

“What must be asked?”

“Is there a way to know Rasha when we see her? Alive—or dead?”

“Hoolies, Del, that’s cold!”

“It needn’t be phrased that way to Danika, but it’s what is needful. And you know it, Tiger.”

So it was. And I hated it.

I woke up at some foul point of the middle of the night; foul because I hate it when I can’t sleep through until morning. And then I can’t go back to sleep right away, either. So I lay there staring up at the night sky, aware that Neesha’s bedding was still here, but he was not. I suspected he was in the house, sitting by his father.

Then I realized that Del’s breathing was not of someone asleep, either. “You awake?”

She didn’t sound in the least groggy. “I am.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Oh, no. I’m thinking.”

I rolled over onto hip and elbow to face her, even though I couldn’t see much of her face in the darkness except what the stars illuminated. “Thinking about what?”

“Thinking,” she said, “about how I’m going to kill the raiders.”

I stroked her arm, slid my hand down to draw designs on the back of her palm. “Well, you can’t have all of them. I want at least half.” I lifted her hand, threaded fingers into hers, kissed the back of it. “That’s three for me, three for you.”

“How many doesn’t matter,” Del said. “It’s how they will die.”

Since I knew very well it wasn’t always a decision we could make about how someone died—they usually had an opinion about it, too—I humored her. “How, then?”

When she spoke, her tone was incredibly casual considering what she actually said. “First, I will cut off the hands. Then the feet. And as he realizes what has been done to him, and that he is dying, I will cut off the head.”