Renegade’s Magic

But Firada scowled and said, ‘Is that how you address a Great One, Likari! With no title, no bow of the head? Do you presume to tell him how he should eat his food? What sort of a feeder are you? Oh, this boy is much too young! He will bring shame on our kin-clan. Someone else must be found for this task.’

The boy shrank in on himself, crestfallen. He looked up at Soldier’s Boy with wide eyes. They looked hazel now. His specks were shaped like teardrops and dappled his face almost evenly except for the streak down his nose. The rest of his little body was more striped than spotted. The backs of his hands and the tops of his feet were a solid, sooty black. It reminded me of a horse’s markings. Soldier’s Boy spat out a rough pit. As he lifted another fruit from the basket, the boy’s eyes suddenly swam with tears. I couldn’t stand it. I pushed at Soldier’s Boy’s thoughts.

‘He has brought me food, and given it to me quickly. That, right now, is my chief requirement in a feeder. I am sure Likari and I will get along well enough for now, and perhaps even better as we get to know one another.’

The boy’s face brightened as if he’d been given a handful of gold coins. He peered up at his aunt through his lashes and struggled not to grin. He was trying to be respectful of her. Good. Soldier’s Boy pulled the basket closer. The clingfruit was wonderful but he suddenly wanted the mushrooms. He dumped the basket out on the clean moss beside me. The food made a substantial heap. He grinned at it and picked up a cluster of mushrooms.

‘Can you find me more food while I eat this?’

Likari glanced at Firada. Conscientiously, he made a grave bow. ‘Certainly, Great One. As you wish, Great One. I will see what I can find.’

Firada had looked disapproving when I had praised the boy. Now, at this sign of deference from him, she relented. She spoke briskly. ‘Go to the bend of the stream where the three big rocks are. Dig in the sandy spot there. You may find blue molluscs. They are excellent for rebuilding a Great One’s strength. On the muddy bank, you will find fat grass growing. It will not be sweet any more; spring is long gone. But the roots will be thick and nourishing. Fetch those as well. See that you wash them well before you bring them to him. When a Great One is as famished as this one is, he is sometimes too hasty in his eating. He may take in dirt or bones if the food is not prepared correctly before it is offered. And dirt and bones may clog his bowels or put him into a fever.’

‘Yes, Aunt.’ He looked at the ground. ‘Thus did I fear that he would swallow the pit of the fruit as well.’ When Firada looked grim at this bit of cheek, he added quickly, ‘But I should have phrased my caution more respectfully. Thank you for your instruction, and for sharing your gathering places with me. Well do I know that often such places are guarded secrets.’

Firada was mollified. She sounded almost motherly as she said, ‘I wish you to do well at this, if you must attempt it, Likari.’ Then, in a sharper voice, she added, ‘But you must not linger here talking while your Great One waits for food. Go. Hurry. Be back before he has finished what you have brought him!’

The boy nodded violently and scuttled away. Soldier’s Boy was only peripherally aware of his leaving for the food still claimed most of his attention. I think Jodoli understood this. He waited until the mushrooms were gone and most of the clingfruit before he spoke again. ‘It is good that your feeder found mushrooms for you. They will help, and if he can find the blue molluscs, that will be even better. You will need your strength tonight if we are to travel swiftly.’

My mouth was full of fruit. Soldier’s Boy could not speak, so he raised my eyebrows at him.

‘We cannot linger here. We must travel tonight. I spent magic to quick-walk here and to bring Firada, Likari and Olikea with me, all in a single night! Tonight, we must begin our journey back. We will not make it with as much haste. Still, the season is too late for you and your feeder to travel in an ordinary fashion. You will have to spend magic to quick-walk yourself and Likari to the Wintering Place.’

Questions popped into my mind. Why were we going up into the mountains as winter was coming on? Surely it would make more sense to winter in the foothills than to travel to where the cold would be most extreme and the snow deepest? I was not sure Soldier’s Boy knew how to quick-walk, let alone how to take someone with him when he did it. Quick-walking was a Speck magic, a way to traverse a long distance very swiftly. Soldier’s Boy shared my doubts. He hastily crammed the last of the clingfruit into my mouth. As he chewed them, I felt suddenly steadier, more anchored in the world and in the day. He swallowed gratefully, but before he could ask Jodoli any questions, Firada asked one of her own.

‘What of Olikea?’ she asked gravely. ‘Will you quick-walk her back to the People?’

I saw Jodoli’s hesitation. ‘I wished to be full of magic when I spoke to Kinrove. I have already spent more than I intended in coming here and bringing all of you with me. Nevare intends to pay us back, but—’

Before he could say anything more, Soldier’s Boy interrupted. ‘Olikea came here on my behalf. And I suspect that she did not come willingly. I feel a debt to her. I will quick-walk her back.’ He did not wish to be any deeper in Jodoli’s debt.

He looked doubtful. ‘Will you be strong enough to quick-walk yourself, Olikea and Likari?’

‘If I am not tonight, then I will have to stay here and rest and eat and try again.’

Olikea had not gone far. I suspected that she had lingered quite close by, listening to the conversation and watching how I interacted with her son. Now she emerged from behind one of the immense trees. She strolled towards us in a desultory way, but the glances she gave me were still full of both anger and injured pride. She would not look at me directly but instead addressed Jodoli. ‘I would prefer that you were the one to quick-walk me back to the People. Once we are there, I will bring food to you to pay you back. Or, I will go now, to find food so that you will be strong when we travel tonight.’

A spark kindled in Firada’s eyes at her sister’s words. She moved, placing her body as a barrier between Olikea and Jodoli. She narrowed her eyes and her voice sounded like an angry cat’s snarl as she said, ‘I know what you are trying to do. It will not work! You angered your own Great One and he has rejected you. Do not think you can ingratiate yourself with mine! Jodoli has been mine since he passed through his trial! I have fed him, I have groomed him, and countless times I have rescued him from his own foolishness. Now that he stands ready to make challenge to Kinrove, do you think you will come wheedling with sweet words and tasty titbits to steal him from me? No. Step back from him, sister. You had your chance and you wasted it. You will not take mine from me.’

I stared in horrified fascination as Firada set her weight as if she were a man preparing for a wrestling match. Her knees were flexed slightly, her arms held away from her body, ready to grip her opponent if Olikea decided to charge. She gave her head a toss and a shake to clear her streaky hair from her face. I blinked my eyes and saw her as Soldier’s Boy did. My Gernian manners had kept me from staring frankly at their near nakedness. Now with admiration I noted the muscles beneath the ample weight that Firada carried. She was formidable. Her younger sister was taller, and in no way dainty, but if I had been placing a wager I would have bet on Firada to win.

I am not certain that Olikea had been challenging her sister over Jodoli. She looked a trifle surprised and daunted at Firada’s angry defence of her territory. Her mouth worked and then she puffed her lips disparagingly. ‘I do not want him. I want only to be conveyed back to the People. That is all. Everywhere and always, Firada, you think other women want what you have. You are foolish. You value him too much. He has been slow to grow, placid, almost stupid in how he lets you herd him about and pasture him as if he were a Gernian’s sheep. You may keep him, and we shall see how much good comes to you from him.’

She shook her hair back, lifted her chin in defiance and turned her back on both of them. Jodoli, I noted, showed little interest in the exchange. I wondered if he were truly as passive as Olikea named him, or if it was beneath the interest of a Great One to take affront at such an exchange. Firada bared her teeth at her sister. It could have been amusement or satisfaction at having vanquished a potential rival. I had no time to ponder it further, for Olikea strode up to me and stood over me in a manner that was almost threatening. I had never had the experience of looking up at a naked woman who was bristling with fury. It was both daunting and strangely arousing.

‘You are right. It was your foolishness that demanded I come here. You owe me transport back to the People.’

Soldier’s Boy said nothing. I was inclined to be a gentleman and see that she was safely returned to her family. But the Great Man was a bit weary of her exploitation and demands. She still seethed before me. He compromised and spoke firmly. ‘If you wish me to quick-walk you back to the People, I will need the strength to do so. I will attempt it if you aid Likari in finding food for me today. That seems fair to me.’

He would have been wiser not to add the last comment. It was like spark to powder. She exploded with righteous indignation. ‘Fair? Fair? You know nothing of fair. For months, I have brought you food, taught you even what foods you should be eating. I have lain with you for your comfort and release. I have nagged you, to no avail, to allow me to feed and tend you as a Great Man should be attended. I have struggled to make you behave as you should and to teach you your duties to the People. And what has been my thanks from you? Have I been lifted in honour by my people? No! Have you done great deeds for them? No! Instead, you have spoken of the intruders as “my people” and said that there is nothing that will turn them back! Treachery and ingratitude. That is what I have received from you! Insults and disobedience! How is one to be the feeder of such an insufferable Great One? And now look at you! All the work I did for you is wasted. You are thin as a starving man, thin as a man no one respects, thin as a man cursed by the forest, thin as a man too stupid to find food for himself. You will do no great deeds. It will take months, perhaps a year or more before you become as fat as you were. And every day that you struggle to regain the power you wasted, Jodoli will eat and hoard his strength and grow. You will never be greater than he is. And when all the kin-clans gather at the Wintering Place, you will be mocked, and the people who bring you will be mocked. All my work, all my fetching and gathering and tending of you, you have wasted. What good did it do me? What good did it do any of my kin-clan?’

It was like watching a geyser erupt. Every time I thought she would pause for thought, she only gulped down a deep breath and blasted me again. Jodoli and Firada were mute witnesses, horrified in that fascinated way of people who watch an unthinkable event take place. I think Soldier’s Boy took it calmly only because within myself I was so divided as to how to react. The Gernian wished to acknowledge that she had not received what she had expected. The Great Man resented the burden of abuse.

Soldier’s Boy crossed my arms on my chest, only too aware of how the skin hung limp and empty on my forearms and breast. Even my fingers looked odd to me, their plumpness lost. I shared his sudden wave of mourning for all my hoarded magic lost. Olikea was right. I looked like a man without power, unhonoured and thin. I would be mocked at the gathering of the kin-clans. Disappointment flooded me and it turned into anger. He pointed a finger at her. ‘Olikea,’ he said into her tirade. I do not think he used any magic, but she was silenced as suddenly as if he had.

‘If you wish me to quick-walk you back to the People tonight, go find food for me now. Otherwise, I will be too weak. If you do not wish to help feed me, that is fine. Beg passage of Jodoli. But those are your only two options. Choose, and do it quietly.’

She narrowed her eyes and their green made it a cat’s stare. ‘Perhaps I have choices you know nothing about, Jhernian!’ She turned on her heel and strode off into the forest. I stared after her, wondering how I could ever have imagined that she felt love or even affection towards me. It had been a transaction. Sex and food given to me in the expectations that I would acquire status and power, and that she would share in those things.

Firada puffed breath out of her pursed lips, dismissing Olikea’s show disdainfully. ‘She has no other options. She will return, with sweet food and sweet words, to wriggle into your favour again. My little sister has always been thus. My father spoiled her after my mother was taken.’

Jodoli came and ponderously lowered his bulk beside me. Soldier’s Boy suppressed a wave of envy. Jodoli looked very fine, his skin smooth and oiled, his belly sleek and rounded as a gorged forest cat. His hair was glossy, sleeked back from his face and then braided into a fat tail. I looked away from him, unable to bear the sharp contrast with my saggy skin and protruding bones. ‘We must speak, Nevare, of Olikea’s accusations. I know you have been a divided man, unwilling to concede that the intruders must be killed or driven back. But now they have cast you out, perhaps you will feel differently about them. Perhaps you will admit that they do not belong here.’

Soldier’s Boy rubbed my hands together, looking at my fingers. A divided man. Little did he know how accurately he spoke. ‘How do you know they cast me out?’ he asked Jodoli.

‘The magic whispered it to me. You would not come to the forest of your free will, so it had to turn your people against you. Now they have disowned you. When you say “my people” today, to whom do you refer?’

It was not a question just for Soldier’s Boy, a Great Man of the Specks. It was for Nevare to answer as well. Soldier’s Boy spoke for both of us.

‘I do not think I will say “my people” for a very long time.’

SIX (#ulink_69e5efaa-eec3-5aa7-b3bd-68c4fddb09bf)

Confrontations (#ulink_69e5efaa-eec3-5aa7-b3bd-68c4fddb09bf)

As Nevare, I did little the rest of that day. I retreated to the back of my mind and became an onlooker in my life. Soldier’s Boy ate the food that Likari brought him, drank deeply of clean water, and then slept. He woke to the wonderful aroma of hot food. Olikea brought it. A hastily woven net held leaf-wrapped packets the size of my fist and roasted tubers. The packets held chunks of fish cooked with a sour root. The leaves that held them were edible and added their own piquant touch of flavour. He ate the food and commented on it favourably. That was the only conversation between them. Neither apologized or explained where the situation now stood. It seemed far simpler a resolution than could ever have occurred between Gernians.

When Likari brought food, he ate that as well. I do not think that pleased Olikea but she didn’t talk about it. Instead, she took a wooden comb from her shoulder pouch and painstakingly combed out my hair. She spent far longer on the task than it deserved; I had never realized how good such a simple thing could feel. I do not think Firada approved of Soldier’s Boy’s easy acceptance of Olikea’s return. She announced that she was taking Jodoli down to the stream to wash him and to rest there. She stalked away and he stolidly followed her, a placid bullock of a man.

Olikea ignored their leaving. Likari had gone off to look for more mushrooms. She continued to work her comb through my hair. There wasn’t much of it. I had given up keeping it in a cavalla soldier’s short cut some time ago, but there was still not enough to plait or dress in any fashion. Still, it felt good, and the Great Man allowed her gentle touch and his full belly to lull him. He fell asleep.

Strange to say, I did not sleep. I remained awake and aware of all the sensations a man may feel with his eyes closed. I wondered if this was how it had been for my Speck self in the days when I had been so firmly in charge of my life – or thought I had been. In a way, it was pleasant. I felt that I had let go of the reins; surely no one could hold me responsible now for the chaos that my life had become. The early afternoon was warm, summer stealing one of autumn’s days, but here, deep in the shade of the forest, there was a pleasant chill that tickled the surface of my skin. If I lay very still, my body warmth lingered around me, but the slightest breeze stole it away. It did not much bother me. The moss I rested on was deep and my body had warmed it. I was comfortable. I was naked, I realized belatedly. Olikea must have taken my clothing when she rescued me. She had never approved of how much clothing I wore. Her discarding it struck me as foolish. Naked, others would more quickly see how wasted and thin I was. However strange my clothing might have seemed, at least it might have kept some of the disdain and mockery at bay. Among the Speck, few things were more pitied and despised than a skinny man. What kind of a fool could not provide for himself, or earn enough regard from his fellows to have them help him in a time of injury or sickness? I looked such a fool right now. Well, Soldier’s Boy was in command of the body now; he would have to deal with it. I let my mind drift to more pleasant thoughts.

I heard birdsong, the sound of the breeze in the needled trees, and the very light rattle of falling leaves whenever a gust of breeze was strong enough to dislodge them. I could hear them cascading down, ricocheting through the twigs and branches until they finally reached the forest floor. The Speck were right. Summer was over, autumn was strong and winter would be on its heels. Real cold would descend, followed by the snows and harsh winds of winter. Last winter I’d had a snug little cabin to shelter me. This winter, I would face that weather with not even the clothes on my back. A tide of dread started to rise in me, but again I turned it back with the simple demurral: it was not my problem. Specks seemed to have survived well through the ages. Whatever their tactic was, even if it was simply the stoic endurance of cold and privation, Soldier’s Boy would learn it and last the winter.

A bird sang again, loudly, a warning, and then I heard the crack of its wings as it took hasty flight. A moment later I heard something heavy settle into the branches overhead. A shower of broken twigs rattled against my face, followed by the slower fall of leaves. I looked up in annoyance. A huge croaker bird had settled in the tree above me. I grimaced in distaste. Fleshy orange-red wattles hung about his beak, reminding me both of dangling meat and cancerous growths. His feathers rattled when he shook them and it seemed as if I could smell the stench of carrion on them. His long black toes gripped the branch tightly as he leaned down to peer at me. His eyes were very bright.

‘Nevare! You owe me a death.’

The croaked words shot ice down my spine. I arced as if I’d been hit by an arrow, and then peered up at the creature in the branches overhead. He was no longer a bird. He wasn’t a man either. Orandula, the god of balances, teetered on the branch over my head. His long black feet gripped the branch with horny toenails. His nose was a carrion bird’s hooked beak, and the red wattles dangled from his throat now. His hair was a thicket of unruly feathers, and feathers cloaked his body and dangled from his arms. Unchanged were his piercing bird-bright eyes. He cocked his head and stared down at me. He smiled, his beak stretching horribly as he did so. As I stared, fixed with terror, his little black tongue came out of his mouth, dabbing at the edges of his beak and then retreated again.

It wasn’t real. It was too horrible to be real. Every prayer I knew to the good god bubbled to the top of my mind. I tried to form the words, but Soldier’s Boy slept on, his mouth closed, oblivious to my terror. I tried to close my eyes, to block out the sight of the old god, to make him a dream. I could not. My eyes were not open. I did not know how I was seeing him. I struggled desperately to lift an arm and put it across my eyes, but my body did not belong to Nevare. Soldier’s Boy slumbered on. I could not look away from the old god’s piercing gaze. It was horrid to experience such terror, and to feel at the same time the slow and steady breathing of deep sleep and the calm heartbeat of a man contentedly at rest. Soldier’s Boy could sleep but Nevare could not flee from the god in the tree above me. A whimper tried to escape me; it could not. I tried to look away; I could not.

‘Why do they always do that?’ Orandula asked rhetorically. ‘Why do men think that if they cannot see a thing, it goes away or stops existing? I should think any sane creature would want to keep its eyes fixed on something as dangerous as me!’ He opened his arm-wings and rattled the pinions at me menacingly, and the whimper inside me tried to be a scream. His smile grew broader. ‘Yet, without exception, when I pay a visit such as this, men try to avert their eyes from me. It’s useless, Nevare. Look on me. You are mine, you know. Neither your good god nor your forest magic will dispute my claim. You took that which was intended for me. Your life is forfeit. You owe me a death in payment. Look at me, Nevare Burvelle!’ When he commanded me to look on him, a strange thing happened. A chill calm welled up in me, just like the cool air over the water within a deep well. I recognized something in him, or perhaps something in my situation. Inevitability. I still feared him with a heart-stopping intensity but I knew I could not escape him. Struggle was pointless. The calm of despair filled me. I could look on the god I had cheated. I found a voice to speak to him, one that did not use my lips or tongue or lungs. I met his gaze, even though it was like pressing my palm against the tip of a sword.

‘A death? You demand a death? You had a hundred deaths, a glut of deaths. How many did I bury at the end of the summer? Strong soldiers, little children. Strangers. Enemies of mine. Friends. Buel Hitch. Carsina.’ My voice broke on the name of my former fiancée.

Orandula laughed like a crow cawing. ‘You tell me what I took, not what you gave me. You gave me nothing! You stole from me, Nevare Burvelle.’