and perhaps she was even blessed
by the ownership; today, under this sky, with the smell of the earth in
her nostrils, the soil beneath her nails, the harvest beside her bent
back, she felt so. And she knew it as the Lord's will, and the Lady's.
Some served. Some ruled.
But the Voyani were as old as the land. They traveled, many
upon the horses of the open plains, and many not; they moved in groups,
and they defended each other as fiercely as blood-born clansmen. But
they took no serafs. They owned no land. They carried no war with them.
It was said that they were not averse to robbing the clansmen
they found who were poor and unable to defend themselves properly, and
Ashaf knew it for truth. Yet they were suffered to survive, and survive
they did, trading and bartering and carrying information from one
Terrean to the next. They even moved out of the Dominion from time to
time, seeking the merchants in the Northern Empire. It was said that
some, one or two, settled there, like so many of the poor, free
clansmen who could make no mark for themselves in the Dominion. The
North took the weak ones, and accepted them; the Lord let them go. The
Lord had no use for weakness.
It was also said, although she did not know if it were true,
that serafs who escaped their clan could travel with the Voyani and
find both home and freedom in Essalieyan. She and her husband had
spoken of it in whispers when their first child was born. Perhaps the
Lady had heard them. Perhaps the Lady had been angered by it. Perhaps
the Lady had chosen to keep the children within her reach.
Too much darkness. During the Sun's dance. She shook herself.
"Why are the Voyani here?"
Valla shrugged.
"Which family?"
"Hers. Yollana's."
Ashaf felt a little chill in the sun's heat. She raised a
hand, adjusted her hat, feeling the edge of the wide brim as if its
presence were a comfort. "Has she come to trade?"
"I think it's too early for that. We're just starting our
harvest."
"Then what?"
"Yollana," Valla replied, lowering her voice, "is
moon-touched. She goes where she goes. You know that. I've even heard
that the Tor—"
"Enough," Ashaf said, raising a hand and touching the moving
lips of a careless young woman. The gesture brought the silence that
she hoped for—and demanded. Whether it was true or no, it was never
safe to speculate, beneath the day's open sky, about the habits and the
secrets of powerful men. The wind carried careless words farther than
arrows and spears.
Yes, she knew Yollana well. What girl, with a heart full of
foolish dreams in these, the richest lands of Annagar, did not? What
girl, with such a heart, could resist the trek over fields and hill,
before night had fully set, to offer the mysterious Voyani woman what
little food or item she could find in order to procure both a blessing
and a hint of the future?
She had already faced Yollana once, in the year before her
first marriage to the man of her desire. She could remember, clearly,
the icy night of Yollana's face, the darkness of unblinking eyes, as
Yollana had promised her that she would have her heart's desire. The
first intimation that her heart was a thing to be feared. She would
have others, but like so many things, the first was a scar that time
did not diminish.
That year, she had discovered that nightmare and dream come
from the same place. And it was nightmare that returned her to it, time
and again, stripping her of the strength of wisdom and experience,
paring her down to a girl's fear and helplessness.
Her arms ached, and her back, as the minutes dwindled into a
stream of time; hours passing.
Things happened, when they happened, in threes. Three
visitors: Isladar of no clan, Evayne of Nolan, and now Yollana of the
Havalla Voyani.
I am too old
, she thought.
I
haven't
the strength
. But she wiped her dirt-crusted hands on the
thick cotton drape of her long skirts and shielded her eyes against the
sun's fall. She could see the Voyani wagons at the crest of the
by the ownership; today, under this sky, with the smell of the earth in
her nostrils, the soil beneath her nails, the harvest beside her bent
back, she felt so. And she knew it as the Lord's will, and the Lady's.
Some served. Some ruled.
But the Voyani were as old as the land. They traveled, many
upon the horses of the open plains, and many not; they moved in groups,
and they defended each other as fiercely as blood-born clansmen. But
they took no serafs. They owned no land. They carried no war with them.
It was said that they were not averse to robbing the clansmen
they found who were poor and unable to defend themselves properly, and
Ashaf knew it for truth. Yet they were suffered to survive, and survive
they did, trading and bartering and carrying information from one
Terrean to the next. They even moved out of the Dominion from time to
time, seeking the merchants in the Northern Empire. It was said that
some, one or two, settled there, like so many of the poor, free
clansmen who could make no mark for themselves in the Dominion. The
North took the weak ones, and accepted them; the Lord let them go. The
Lord had no use for weakness.
It was also said, although she did not know if it were true,
that serafs who escaped their clan could travel with the Voyani and
find both home and freedom in Essalieyan. She and her husband had
spoken of it in whispers when their first child was born. Perhaps the
Lady had heard them. Perhaps the Lady had been angered by it. Perhaps
the Lady had chosen to keep the children within her reach.
Too much darkness. During the Sun's dance. She shook herself.
"Why are the Voyani here?"
Valla shrugged.
"Which family?"
"Hers. Yollana's."
Ashaf felt a little chill in the sun's heat. She raised a
hand, adjusted her hat, feeling the edge of the wide brim as if its
presence were a comfort. "Has she come to trade?"
"I think it's too early for that. We're just starting our
harvest."
"Then what?"
"Yollana," Valla replied, lowering her voice, "is
moon-touched. She goes where she goes. You know that. I've even heard
that the Tor—"
"Enough," Ashaf said, raising a hand and touching the moving
lips of a careless young woman. The gesture brought the silence that
she hoped for—and demanded. Whether it was true or no, it was never
safe to speculate, beneath the day's open sky, about the habits and the
secrets of powerful men. The wind carried careless words farther than
arrows and spears.
Yes, she knew Yollana well. What girl, with a heart full of
foolish dreams in these, the richest lands of Annagar, did not? What
girl, with such a heart, could resist the trek over fields and hill,
before night had fully set, to offer the mysterious Voyani woman what
little food or item she could find in order to procure both a blessing
and a hint of the future?
She had already faced Yollana once, in the year before her
first marriage to the man of her desire. She could remember, clearly,
the icy night of Yollana's face, the darkness of unblinking eyes, as
Yollana had promised her that she would have her heart's desire. The
first intimation that her heart was a thing to be feared. She would
have others, but like so many things, the first was a scar that time
did not diminish.
That year, she had discovered that nightmare and dream come
from the same place. And it was nightmare that returned her to it, time
and again, stripping her of the strength of wisdom and experience,
paring her down to a girl's fear and helplessness.
Her arms ached, and her back, as the minutes dwindled into a
stream of time; hours passing.
Things happened, when they happened, in threes. Three
visitors: Isladar of no clan, Evayne of Nolan, and now Yollana of the
Havalla Voyani.
I am too old
, she thought.
I
haven't
the strength
. But she wiped her dirt-crusted hands on the
thick cotton drape of her long skirts and shielded her eyes against the
sun's fall. She could see the Voyani wagons at the crest of the
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