The Sacred Band

CHAPTER SIX

Kelis of Umae feared that the Santoth would be so conspicuous that they would announce their presence to all Talay. As he, Shen, Benabe, Naamen, and Leeka marched up from the Far South, the silent, hooded figures trailed behind them. They blurred when they moved and had faces only at a distance. Near at hand they became less distinct, not more. Though he spent days near them, Kelis was never sure how many there were. He tried counting them, but he got lost, found them blending together, realized he could not remember if he had counted that individual or not. Their silence was more unnerving than anything. It was not simply the absence of noise; it was as if they absorbed the sound around them. Because of this his head often snapped up, seeking them, feeling as if something had been stolen from the fullness of the world in the area they occupied.

Was he wrong for not trusting them? He could not say. Shen treated them like an escort of loved uncles. Aliver had spent time among these same phantoms. They had welcomed him, loved him, mourned him, and even avenged his death. No matter how horrible their violence in battle against Hanish Mein’s forces, they had fought for Aliver. For the Akarans. They had saved countless Talayan and Acacian lives. That counted for a great deal. Kelis just wished they didn’t make his skin crawl.

When they crossed the shallow river that marked the boundary of the Far South, Kelis tried his best to weave through the loose netting of small villages and herding communities without making human contact. Shen looked at him skeptically at times; Benabe did the same at others. He directed them without explaining. When they could not help but thread a rocky band of hills via a valley that spilled down into the Halaly town of Bida, Kelis took Naamen off from the others and conferred with him.

“I don’t know what will happen when we pass through the town. Be ready for anything.”

The young man touched his sheathed dagger with his strong arm. “I am.”

“Shen thinks nothing of meeting other people, but even the Halaly have eyes to see. I don’t know what they will make of the Santoth, or what the Santoth will do in return. If the people fear them, they may allow us to pass. Or not.”

“Should we speak to the old man about this?”

“Leeka Alain is of two worlds now. He doesn’t understand this one fully anymore. I would not share too much with him. Just be prepared to meet whatever happens. We’re guardians. We don’t make Shen’s decisions; we just protect her as best we can, yes?”

Naamen said, “I can’t remember when I had any other purpose.”

Surprisingly, neither could Kelis.

The townspeople of Bida built their houses out of volcanic stone, irregular shapes that they secured together with a concrete made from ash-white sand. From a distance, the town looked like a herd of spotted ruminants grazing among the acacia trees. As they descended toward it Kelis and Naamen led the way, with Shen, Benabe, and Leeka a little distance behind. The shifting wake that were the Santoth was behind them all.

The first villagers they passed were herdsmen driving long-horned bulls. They had full, round Halaly faces, dark in a way different from the Talayans. Their expressionless stares offered neither hospitality nor aggression. They let their eyes flick back to the mother and daughter. And then they looked beyond them. One said something to the other in what must have been a local dialect. They carried on, switching at the bulls to keep them on course. Kelis turned to watch, amazed to see the three men and their bulls walk straight through the gathered host of sorcerers. The Santoth flowed forward without pause, allowing a pathway among them to open so that the villagers passed without even noticing them.

A little farther on, near the entrance to the town proper, a man peeled away from the defensive wall and stepped into their path. He held a spear, a twin for Kelis’s own with its finger-thin shaft and long, flat spearhead, all one piece of iron. “Do you know thirst?” he asked.

Kelis answered, “I do, but there is water in the sky.” The man nodded his acceptance of this truth, and Kelis added, “We are passing through. Simply passing through.”

The man would have been within his rights to ask a host of questions in response. What were Talayans doing walking out of the Far South with a woman and a child? Why were they on Halaly land? Who were all those hooded figures lurking behind them? Any of these, simple as they were, would have been knotted traps to answer, and Kelis felt the responses he had already composed like dry sand on his tongue.

The sensation was such that it took him a moment to understand what the man was saying as he described where the public well was, offering them water if they needed it. He said that the market would close soon, but that if they hurried they could purchase food for their journey. Kelis stared at him. Naamen actually had to tug his arm to get him to move.

“That’s strange,” Naamen said, once they were among the houses of the village.

“What is?” Benabe asked. “That we’re being followed by a host of undead ancient sorcerers? Or that nobody seems to see them?”

“I told you nothing bad would happen,” Shen piped.

They passed through the village drawing no more curiosity than a small group of strangers would normally merit. They took water from the deep well. It was clear and sweet. In the market stalls they purchased twists of dried antelope meat, powdered kive, leaves of bitter tea, and a long chain of purple peppers that Naamen wore around his neck like jewelry. Benabe chose beads to string into a bracelet for Shen.

All the while the Santoth trailed them. Unseen by the villagers, they crowded the streets, wove around and through stalls, brushed past people who gave them no more notice than they would the touch of a breeze.

Kelis tried not to look at them, but it was hard not to. The Santoth took more notice of the villagers than the villagers did of them. One Santoth stopped in the entranceway of a hut and stared in for a long, chilling moment before moving on. A few others seemed to fall out of the collective flow and linger among the shop stalls, running their shrouded hands across the food items. One stood just inches in front of a talking woman, the hooded figure so close that the woman’s breath ruffled the sorcerer’s hood. Kelis’s heart beat faster than if he had been running.

One child suddenly spun around and ran into the wall of Santoth. He went right through them, and the Santoth walked forward with only a ripple of disturbance to mark the boy’s impact. It was only after, when Kelis caught sight of him again, that the child stood, touching his chest with the fingers of one hand, looking around, puzzled. Kelis kept the group moving. His heartbeat did not slow until they were well away from the village, moving into the safety of the plains once again.

T he sight of Umae glowing gray under moonlight was the most tranquilly beautiful thing Kelis had seen in ages. His home. His base for so many years, where his family still resided, a place filled with memories-including many of Aliver. He approached it alone, having left the others a few days’ journey away. Fearing Sinper Ou’s interference, he did not want them anywhere near the town. If anything happened to him-if he did not return at a set time-the others were to carry on north at all haste.

He walked into the sleeping town like a thief, which is just what the village dogs would take him for if they heard, saw, or smelled him. He circled around so that the wind blew his scent away from the village. He knew the route to Sangae’s enclosure and made his way to it, in and out of the shadows, around huts, and along storehouse walls, stealthily, stopping often to listen to the night sounds. He passed right by his mother’s garden wall, running his hand over the sunbaked bricks and whispering a greeting to her. The dog that confronted him as he passed the mouth of Adi Vayeen’s hut he had known from its birth. He chirruped and swept his hand out in the greeting he often used with canines. The dog found his hand and pressed against his leg. Kelis scratched it for a time.

Despite all the familiarity, Kelis’s fingers trembled as he stood in the lane beside Sangae’s sleeping structure. He plucked the thin curtain, a hanging wall swaying on the night’s breath. He flicked it with a motion meant to mimic a gust of wind. In the time it took the curtain to fall back into place, he scanned the room. He crawled through the opening.

Sangae lay sleeping on his side on a woven mat. He was alone, as was his way in recent years, since his first wife had died and he had found most restful sleep in solitude. Kelis had only moved a step closer when the old man’s eyes snapped open. They fixed on Kelis, who must have been a featureless silhouette against the star-touched fabric of the opening.

Kelis said, “Father, forgive the night its darkness.”

The old man took a moment to respond. “I do, for the night air is cool. Kelis?”

“Me.”

Sangae pushed himself up to sitting and received Kelis’s embrace. He squeezed him tight for a moment and then pulled back. He ran his fingers over the younger man’s features. “You are living?”

“I am. We all are. Shen as well.”

“Light a lamp so we can see,” Sangae whispered, motioning toward a tea lamp on the floor beside him. “Keep it low. There is danger here. No, let’s move farther inside first.”

A few minutes later, the two men sat facing each other on low stools in the compound’s storage shed. The lamp cast a yellow glow that etched their features from below; around them were the large vases, shelves of household goods, and stacks of grain sacks. Sangae had called softly for his dogs and tethered them to guard the shed.

Kelis told of their strange journey to the Far South. Sangae listened, brewing a tiny pot of tea above the lamp as he did so. Kelis found words pouring out of him. He had not realized he had held so much in. Running from the laryx pack with Shen strapped to his back. Mountains that moved around them, as if the land were sliding under their feet instead of they moving over it. Flocks of birds that flew above them like thrown darts, only to crash down and die. The way the peaks just ended one morning, and the famous general, Leeka Alain, stood waiting for them, alone in a desert. Walking still farther south, until the Santoth appeared, stones whirling into sand and taking Shen with them for a time, then bringing her back and announcing that they would all march to confront the queen.

“That was wise,” the old man said, when Kelis explained that he had left the rest of the party in hiding well away from the village. “Sinper Ou has spies everywhere. Even here, I fear. He never trusted you. Ioma even less so. Do you know he began sending spies across the plains just after you left? It ate at him that he had let the girl go. He only let me come home because he thought he would catch me at something.”

Sangae poured a small saucer of bush tea and offered it to Kelis. The man took it and sipped. “Ou has many friends, Kelis. And many more wish to be his friend. Money such as his has bought many eyes.”

“Shen has friends of her own. The Santoth, I mean. They have come with us. They want to stop Corinn from doing harm with her magic. They feel it, Shen told me, and know she is opening rips in the world or something.”

Sangae worked his mouth, but found nothing to say.

“I doubt any could take Shen from them against their will. I don’t know what the Santoth are. I don’t know what they really want. I have been with them weeks now, but they don’t reveal themselves. Shen trusts them, though, but-”

“Then you must, too.”

“I don’t,” he heard himself say. “I’ve tried, but I can’t trust them.”

“Why?”

Kelis clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth. “I don’t know. They feel… wrong. They never speak a word.”

“Because their tongues are dangerous. You know that. Perhaps the time has come for them to rejoin the world. If Corinn could teach them… she might become incredibly powerful. Another Tinhadin. That would have frightened me before, but, listen, there is something else.” Sangae placed his old, coarse hand over Kelis’s and squeezed. “Forgive me for not saying this first. I wanted to hear your words before clouding your mind with this. It may not be true, but many believe it. People are saying that Aliver lives. They say Corinn brought him back to life using the song. Word came just last week. Anywhere north of here has heard already. Pilgrims are rushing to Acacia.”

So was a portion of Kelis’s mind. His thoughts flew out of him in such a rush that his body was left momentarily empty.

“There is no better time to take Shen and the Santoth to Acacia. It may resolve everything. Sinper Ou is still a danger, but if you get Shen to her father, he will be no threat. You must take her, just as they asked you to. Stay in your small group. Keep the Santoth hidden. Join the pilgrims converging on Acacia and announce Shen directly to Aliver.”

“And if he has not really returned?”

Sangae worked his fingers into the wrinkled skin of his forehead. “Pray to the Giver that he has. I feel that the fate of the world depends on him once more.”