The Woman Who Rides Like a Man

4 STUDIES IN SORCERY

ONE OF ALANNA’S FIRST ACTS AS SHAMAN OF THE Bloody Hawk was to approach Ali Mukhtab and Halef Seif about training replacements: Kara, Kourrem, and Ishak. “Ishak knows some magic,” she told them. “And all three must’ve developed some control, or this village wouldn’t be here still. It doesn’t take much learning to be a shaman, and they would be better than Ibn Nazzir ever was.”

The men thought her proposal over for long moments, their faces unreadable. Alanna tried to keep from fidgeting. Where would she find other likely candidates, if she couldn’t train these three? Also, giving the outcasts shaman status would go a long way toward redressing the wrong Ibn Nazzir had done them, to her way of thinking.

“To make girls shamans is a new thing,” Ali Mukhtab said at last. “But this tribe has done many things that are new since the coming of the Woman Who Rides Like a Man.”

“Our shaman now is also a woman,” Halef added, smiling just a little.

“You like this, then?” Mukhtab asked. The headman’s smile broadened. “I think it will be very interesting to watch. Certainly the young ones will obey this shaman.”

Mukhtab nodded. “It will be done,” he told Alanna. “May the gods smile on you.”

Alanna levered herself to her feet. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m probably going to need the gods smiling on me.”

The three were waiting for her when she returned to the tent. Alanna looked around, satisfied. The place looked very different from the way it had the afternoon she had first lurched inside. Brass and silver shone softly in the lamplight. The carpets glowed in their original deep colors. The hangings that separated the temple from the living area were spotless. It’s actually pleasant to come home to, she thought.

“You asked us to wait for you here,” Kourrem, ever forthright, told her. “You talked with the headman and the Voice. Are we in trouble?”

Alanna shook her head, accepting the date wine Ishak poured for her. “We were talking about you, yes,” she replied. “But you aren’t in trouble. I wanted their permission to train you as shamans. They said I could.”

For a moment three pairs of eyes—the girls’ dark brown, the boy’s brownish gray—stared at her. Kourrem started to cry.

“I thought you didn’t wish to talk about magic, ever,” Ishak reminded her, puzzled.

Kara had joined Kourrem, upsetting Alanna. “Girls, stop that. I didn’t mean to make you cry; drink some of this wine.” She told Ishak, “I said that without knowing the girls hadn’t been trained at all, and you only a little. Kourrem, Kara, please don’t cry. Yes, I’m sick of magic; but someone has to teach you three, and I’m her. Listen to me.” She sat down on a pillow with a sigh. The girls were reduced to sniffles; she had everyone’s attention. “While I was a page, then a squire, in the palace, there was a man—the king’s nephew, my prince’s cousin. Duke Roger was the greatest sorcerer in the Eastern Lands. He was handsome, well-liked, charming. I felt I was the only person in the world who knew he meant my prince no good, that he caused accidents that nearly killed Jonathan. I think he had me kidnapped by the enemy when we fought Tusaine. Then, when I took the Ordeal of Knighthood two moons ago, I learned he had used his sorcery to blind everyone—including me, in a way—to his plans. He wanted to kill the queen. I accused him before the king and the entire Court. Roger demanded a trial by combat.”

She drew a deep breath. This was painful. “We fought. He—cut through—” She blushed, unsure of what to say. “I had disguised myself as a boy—” She waved her hands around her chest area, turning redder than before.

Quick-witted Kourrem saved her. “You mean you bound your chest so it was flat, and he cut through the binding.”

Alanna nodded. “When he found out—when everyone found out—that I was a girl, he went crazy. He attacked with a sword and with magic, but he didn’t attack just me. His sorcery would’ve killed the king, or Jonathan. I had to stop him, so I killed him. Ever since then, I’ve felt magic—any kind of magic—is too easily used for evil.” She drew a deep breath. “But ignoring magic is worse. It’s like this crystal sword.” She touched the blade she now wore at her waist. “I ignored it, and Ibn Nazzir was able to turn it against me. I have to keep it for myself, and master it, so it can never be used against me again. That’s what you three must learn to do with your magic, or it will turn on you.” She rubbed her nose, embarrassed. She was not one for speeches. She was just realizing that she had let herself in for a large number of them. “We start in the morning. You’d best get your sleep.”

The next minute she was drowning in gleeful teenagers who insisted on hugging and kissing her. She shooed them out and closed the tent flap for the night, shaking her head. “This training will be good for them,” she told Faithful as she prepared to go to bed.

The cat watched her, his tail twitching lazily. It will be good for you, too, he commented. It might even make an adult of you, but I doubt that.

Alanna glared at him as she wound herself into her blankets. “I’m glad I have you to keep me humble,” she muttered as she readied herself for sleep.

I’m glad you do, too, Faithful replied, settling himself by her nose.

The tomb was dark and still. Behind her the door was sealed shut by a slab of rock the palace servants had placed there. Before her, on a granite block, lay the body of Duke Roger of Conté. He looked as if he slept, well preserved by the arts of the Black God’s priests. His black velvet tunic hid the shoulder wound and the thrust through his chest that had ended her duel with him. There was no sound in the tomb. He was dead.

His eyes snapped open. She stepped back, her heart thudding with horror. He smiled.

Alanna threw her covers aside and rolled out of bed, shaking. Lurching to her feet, she ran out of the tent with Faithful just behind her. Once outside she stood panting in the cold night breeze, feeling chills as it struck her sweat-soaked body.

“The first magic you learn is fire-making,” she told her pupils. They were in the desert not far from the village. Alanna didn’t want to be near people or tents, in case of accidents. A warrior of the tribe stood a safe distance away, his bow strung and ready. The hillmen were too near for anyone to risk going far without a guard.

Alanna put a twig down on top of several others. “It’s easy for anyone who has the Gift at all to make a fire or to create light,” she went on, feeling uncomfortable. She had taught combat arts to pages and squires before, but never sorcery; she was worried that she might do something wrong. “You look at what you want to burn—later you won’t have to look at it—and you picture it burning. Then you want it to burn.”

“What if I don’t want it to burn?” Kara asked.

“You have to want it to burn,” Alanna said. “Otherwise why would you be trying this spell?”

“Oh.”

“The source of all your magic lies in your own will,” Alanna continued. “Things happen because you want them to. It’s like anything else in life—becoming a warrior, or a good shaman, or a good cook—it will happen if you want it badly enough. If you focus your will, and see that thing burning in your mind, then what you want becomes real. The thing will burn. Kara, you try first.”

The taller of the girls squinted at the pile of twigs, sweat pouring down her face as she concentrated. A tiny puff of smoke drifted up, but it soon died. “That’s good for the first time,” Alanna told her. “I couldn’t raise a little smoke when I first tried. All right, Kourrem.”

Kourrem scowled at the twigs; her eyebrows knitted together. At last she shook her head. “I don’t think I want it badly enough.” She sighed.

“You want to be a shaman, don’t you?” Alanna asked her.

Kourrem’s face lit up. “Yes!”

“You can’t be a shaman if you can’t do this. Even Akhnan Ibn Nazzir could light a fire.”

Kourrem’s eyes widened with alarm. In the next moment sparks flew from the pile of twigs.

Alanna grinned. “See?” She waited for the flurry of sparks to die out, then pointed to Ishak. “You next.”

Grinning smugly, the youth pointed at the wood. It flared up in a spout of flame, instantly consumed. Alanna looked at him for a long moment, itching to slap the cocky look off his face. She knew the emotion was unworthy of her; Ishak had simply wanted to show off a little. Getting her temper under control, she nodded. “I forgot you already know some fire-magic. Before we go any further, I’d better find out exactly what each of you can do.”

“I can do fire and light,” Ishak announced. “I can find things. Sometimes I can see things that are going to be.”

“He dreamed that you would make our lives good,” Kara put in eagerly. “We laughed at him because he said a woman who was a warrior would be the one. That was the day before Halef Seif brought you to our tribe.”

Alanna nodded. “What about you, Kara? Have you seen things become different because you wanted them to? Do you see pictures in the fire?”

“Things move when I am angry,” Kara whispered, blushing. “Sometimes they fly through the air. Then I am beaten.”

“She makes the wind blow,” Ishak volunteered. “And it rains when she cries. Not always, but sometimes.”

“Weather magic,” Alanna said. “As a shaman you’ll find it useful. Kourrem?”

“I don’t know,” the youngest of them admitted. “Sometimes I see balls of colored fire, and I play with them. The old people like me to come when they’re sick; they say I make them feel better. I thought it was because I tell them stories, but—” Her eyes were hopeful as she looked at Alanna.

Remembering how Duke Baird had tested her on the day Jonathan took the Sweating Sickness, Alanna held out her hand. “I slept badly last night,” she told Kourrem. “I still feel tired. Take my hand and make me feel better.”

Kourrem reached out, then pulled her hand back. “I don’t know how.”

“Find your own strength, and then shove some of it through your hand into me,” Alanna instructed. “Go on.”

Kourrem obeyed. The next moment Alanna felt a tingling energy flooding into her body, making the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. She yanked her hand away, and shook the tingling out of it. “I was only a little tired,” she told the girl, who looked as if she was about to cry. “You didn’t need to give me so much!” She looked at them, bracing her hands on her hips. “We need to think about what you should learn,” she admitted. “You each already know something, or you couldn’t control your magic as well as you do.”

“How do you know that?” Kara asked.

“Because Ishak could have burned up all four of us without any control,” Alanna replied. “Because if you couldn’t rein in your magic, the village would have been destroyed by winds and rain. And Kourrem could have blown me apart with what she did just now.”

“Then why do you take such chances teaching us?” Kourrem demanded. “You didn’t know I wouldn’t hurt you, did you?”

Alanna grinned. “I may not be able to raise the weather or see the future, but I know something about protecting myself; and each of you, if I must.” She scratched her head. “I think we’d better practice the focusing exercise I taught you. Then you’re going to get the tents I asked for and set them up by mine.”

“Why do you want us to set up tents?” Kara asked as they sat on the ground obediently.

Alanna settled beside them, crossing her legs beneath her. “As my apprentices, you should properly live with me,” she replied. “But since there are three of you, I had the tentmaker give me one large tent for the girls and one smaller one for Ishak. Oh, stop that!” she cried as they threw themselves on her, hugging her frantically.

After the evening meal, the apprentices went to furbish up their new homes, and Halef Seif came for Alanna. “The night is cool,” he told her. “Will you go riding with me?”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. It took them a few moments to saddle their horses and tell the sentries which direction they planned to take. Once free of the village, Alanna drew a deep breath of relief. She could smell desert plants, dust, and horses—a dry, reassuring scent that told her more than anything else her life was very different these days.

“I want them to sit with me at the campfire,” she said abruptly, keeping her voice low in case predators, animal or human, were near. “That’s their right as my apprentices, isn’t it?”

“Two of them are girls.” There was little light with which to read his face, and his voice was bland.

“I’m a girl, too.”

“I have noticed.”

Alanna suspected him of teasing her. “I don’t care if they’re three-headed toads,” she whispered tartly. “They’re all going to be shamans, and the tribe must learn to—”

The Bazhir hissed for silence. Faithful was erect in his cup on Moonlight’s saddle, his fur standing up, his tail lashing. Alanna tuned her ears to the night sounds and heard it—rock falling against rock as men made their way through the small gorge just below. Soundlessly she and Halef Seif dismounted; with a touch, she made Faithful stay put. She followed the man to the edge of the gorge, where they flattened themselves on the ground, peering over.

Her eyes had adjusted to the moonless night, and now she could see the shadowy forms of five hillmen stealing along the ground below her. One tripped on a rock and cursed softly while his companions hushed him; Alanna sneered, knowing she would have received months of punishment duty if she had made such a mistake even as a page.

“Raiders looking for our herds.” Halef’s breath stirred the hair by her ear; had she been a few inches farther away she could not have heard him. “I think we will not disturb the guards.” He made as if to rise, then flattened himself beside her once more. “Some light would be useful—shaman.” He was smiling.

Swiftly Alanna reached inside herself, finding that small bit of fire that always burned deep where only she could find it. She drew the fire out, feeling a rush of excitement as it grew swiftly to meet her need. Violet-colored light burst from her palm, making everything brighter. The hillmen yelped, shielding their eyes. Halef Seif scrambled down into the gorge, screaming war cries. Pressed for time and needing both hands, Alanna looked around frantically. Spotting a stone, she pointed at it and gave her magic the command. She didn’t know if it could be done, but there was no time to think. The violet fire streamed into the big rock, filling it as it had filled her. For a moment it seemed to flicker and die—then it became part of the stone, a huge beacon shining on the battleground below.

“Tortall and the king!” Alanna cried, following Halef Seif. She drew the crystal sword, feeling its ominous humming in her hand. Once more its magic reached out, seeking ways to take over her purpose, but Alanna was concentrating only on the hillmen attacking Halef Seif. She set her jaw and held on, mentally telling the sword, Stop that.

Two of them saw her and attacked, one with an axe, the other with a broadsword. She ducked under the swing of the axe-man and came up inside, running him through. For an instant sick, black triumph roared into her mind. She froze, knowing the sword’s magic was turning her fierce pride in being the better fighter into an ugly joy at killing. She trembled, fighting the desire to run the man through again and again, until Halef Seif yelled her name. She whirled in time to catch a descending broadsword on the crystal sword’s hilt. The other sword was bigger and heavier, its owner larger and stronger than Alanna, but the strange gray blade held. It flickered with a ghostly light that caught the hillman’s eyes. Alanna broke away and came back, cutting up and under. The hillman was still staring at her sword; he tried to block, but he was sluggish. The crystal sword flicked up and inside his guard, cutting deeply into his neck. This time she was ready for the rush of power from the sword; this time she struck back at it with her mind, tearing at its source. Had she been forced to describe it, she would have said that it felt like a knot in the threads of power that made up the sword’s magic. Now her mind cut through the knot, pulling it out of the sword’s makeup, hurling it into the night. The last of the would-be raiders had decided to run from the victorious Halef Seif; the evil Alanna had thrown away struck his back, turning him instantly into a pile of ashes.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she whispered tiredly, wiping the blade on a fallen man’s cloak. The sword’s humming was less now, and the ugly triumph she had felt at killing was only a shadow on her memory.

“It was foolish to let such a one escape, to take reports to his tribe,” the headman told her sternly. “And what did happen? You were not fighting with all of you.” His sharp eyes took in the crystal sword as she resheathed it. “The sword is evil. It will turn on you.”

She shook her head. “Very little that is real is evil, Halef Seif,” she replied. “Magic itself isn’t evil, but it can be turned to evil purposes. If you can straighten the magic out somehow—”

“And what if this sword’s magic has been turned to evil for ages beyond count?” she was asked. “What if you are not strong enough to defeat it?”

Alanna poked her chin forward; her violet eyes glittered dangerously. “I’ve promised myself I will master this blade, and I will,” she said between gritted teeth. “No sword—not even this one—is going to beat me.” She whistled and Moonlight trotted down to her, Halef Seif’s stallion following. She mounted up, still scowling at the headman. “And that is that!”

Hiding a smile, the Bazhir mounted his own steed. “As you say—Woman Who Rides Like a Man.”

Alanna had thought that her girl apprentices might protest their inclusion at the tribe’s fire, but she had underestimated their awe of her. Once they realized Alanna would let them continue to wear face veils, they agreed. Kara looked frightened, and Kourrem set her jaw stubbornly, but both ranged themselves between Ishak and Alanna the next night, looking at the ground as silence fell. For a few moments nothing was said. Then the talk began again slowly, as man after man shrugged his acceptance. It was the women who held back that night, and the next, and the next, serving the girls and Alanna with an abruptness that would have been rude if Halef Seif had not been watching. Alanna sighed. How could she get the tribe’s women to accept her and her apprentices? She couldn’t force them to like the changes she had brought to the Bloody Hawk.

Lessons continued, with all of them studying the scrolls on ceremonial magic that lay before the tribe’s altars. Of the apprentices, Ishak did the best with these spells, which covered everything from cleansing the lamps to consecrating a new temple. Alanna watched her boy pupil’s growing cockiness with apprehension. To her, used to the slightest quirks exhibited by the pages and squires she had once taught, it was plain that Ishak was getting dangerously overconfident.

“Can’t you let me move ahead?” he demanded of Alanna one evening as the young shaman and her students relaxed in the common area of her tent. Kourrem was fussing over a loom she had set up, and Kara was helping to thread it; but Alanna could feel both girls listening hard. “I’ve already learned most of the ceremonial magic; can’t you teach me something interesting?”

Alanna stroked Faithful. The cat sprawled over her lap, listening as intently as the girls. “Precisely what did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to learn spells for divination,” he replied, his eyes shining. “I’d be able to see the future. Or you could teach me how to leave my body—”

“No, Ishak.” She said it gently, knowing she was disappointing him. “You aren’t ready for what you’re asking. I’m sorry.”

“I think I am ready!” he retorted, his temper surfacing. He bit his lip, then went on more quietly. “Will you at least let me handle your sword? I could use its magic—”

Alanna shook her head. “No one handles it but me.”

“I want something exciting to do!” he cried. “You won’t let me handle your sword; you won’t teach me advanced magic—”

“The spells you’re talking about are strong and delicate. You don’t have the discipline to proceed slowly. Ishak, listen to me!” she went on as he turned away. “Don’t you know what happens when you attempt magic you aren’t ready for? If you’re lucky, the spell won’t work. If you’re unlucky, it will get out of hand and burn you up. If you tried to use the sword, it would consume you. You’d die, and nothing could bring you back. Learn to be patient. Stop trying to skip steps as you’ve been doing with the ritual spells—yes, I’ve seen you! With magic you must be careful.”

“You’re as bad as Akhnan Ibn Nazzir!” he burst out. “You have a cat that’s supernatural, a token from the Goddess, a magic sword, the Gift—and you want to keep it all for yourself! You don’t want anyone else to have fun!” He turned and ran out.

Alanna shook her head, troubled. “It’s not ‘fun,’” she murmured, more to herself than to Faithful or the girls. She looked at her other anxiously watching apprentices and forced a smile. Ishak would cool off and find something new to be excited about in the morning—she hoped. “Does that thing work?” she asked Kourrem.

Eager to change the subject, the girl nodded. “I’m glad you let me set it up. I don’t feel right, just sitting here in the evening when I could be weaving.”

“Are you any good at it?” Alanna wanted to know.

Kourrem shook her head. “No, but I want to learn.” She squinted at the threads. “I know a little.”

“She knows more than a little,” Kara announced. “She’s a good weaver. It’s important for a woman to do something well, so she can bring honor and good fortune into the tent of her husband,” she added wisely.

“Are you two looking for husbands?” Alanna wanted to know.

“I’m not sure,” Kara admitted, sitting and wrapping her arms around her knees. “While we were outcasts in the tribe, there was still a chance that a man from another tribe might want one of us as a wife. But now that we are shamans, it’s hard to say. The shaman before Akhnan Ibn Nazzir had a wife, but Ibn Nazzir didn’t—he was too dirty. Would a man want to marry a woman who is a shaman?

Alanna remembered that Jonathan had asked her to marry him. “As much as a man will want to marry a woman who is a warrior,” she said reassuringly. “And I personally know two who wanted to marry me.”

Kara’s face lit up. “Kourrem, did you hear that?” she cried happily. “Two men wanted to marry Alanna! Perhaps we have a chance!”

“Um,” Kourrem replied, checking to see that she had threaded the loom properly. “I don’t want to be married yet. I have too much to learn.”

Alanna laughed outright at this. “And I thought I was the only one who felt that way!”

Ishak returned before the girls left, looking contrite. “I have acted badly,” he told Alanna softly. “I will try to slow down. I will listen and do as you say.” Overcome with the effort of apologizing to a woman, even if she was the Woman Who Rides Like a Man, he turned and fled. Alanna frowned, wondering if his show of humility was just that—a show. She fingered the ember-stone at her throat and sighed as the clacking of Kourrem’s loom began. She could only wait for Ishak’s next outbreak and hope that he learned self-control soon.