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ground before them. For the third time, Alanna summoned: "If you will do your
duty by your people and your tribe, come forth!"
This task was the hardest, because it required the most determination. Few
sorcerers lifted themselves from the ground; it cost too much strength to go
a
very short distance. Alanna doubted that she could do it, drained as she was
by
keeping Ali Mukhtab alive.
Kourrem hesitated, fighting to strengthen her resolve. She was forbidden to
use
thread, or to move rocks to fill the trench. She had to fly over it.
Kara stepped forward, her lower lip gripped between her teeth. Very slowly
she
floated across. She was nearly on the other side when Kourrem flew to catch
up.
Both of them collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. They stirred only when
Umar
Komm lifted Kourrem as Alanna lifted Kara.
"You are now shamans of the Bazhir," Alanna told her apprentices.
"Welcome to our Brotherhood." Umar Komm smiled.
7 The Voice of the Tribes
The next morning Alanna turned her duties over to Kara and Kourrem. "This
way,"
she explained, "everyone knows you work with my approval and help. Have you
decided which of you will be head shaman? If you disagree on something, one
of
you must have the power to make the final decision."
For a moment they looked at each other warily. Alanna knew she had given them
a
difficult choice, but she also knew they had to be the ones to make it, not
she.
"Kourrem," Kara said. "She doesn't have trouble deciding things, the way I
do.
And she can stand up to the men better than I can."
Alanna hugged the taller girl around the shoulders. "If it was necessary, you
could stand up to the men, Kara." She looked at Kourrem. "Do you think she is
right?"
Kourrem shrugged, smiling ironically. "I don't know if she's right or not,
but
I'll be head shaman, I guess. We can't do everything without each other to
help,
in any case."
Alanna picked up her healer's bag. "I'll tell Halef Seif and Ali Mukhtab,"
she
announced. "For now, I suggest you continue your studies with the other
shamans."
For the next fifteen days Alanna spent most of her time with Ali Mukhtab. The
Voice was clearly failing; his flesh hung from his bones; his skin was gray,
his
eyes dull. Somehow he found the strength to teach Jonathan, his voice droning
for hours as he fought to instruct the Prince in the many laws of the Bazhir.
During that time Jonathan worked harder than Alanna had ever seen him work
before, both to master his studies and to win over the Bazhir headmen and
lawmakers. Carefully and determinedly he sought out and spoke with each man,
drawing opinions from them with a diplomacy Alanna did not know he possessed.
It
was at such moments that Jonathan seemed most alive and happy. The rest of
the
time he was restless and edgy, complaining about the sand and the heat and
the
lessons with Ali Mukhtab when he was alone with Alanna. He didn't ask her if
she
had made a decision about their marriage, and she was glad he hadn't.
Only once did he publicly lose his composure. Leaving the Voice's tent after
her
morning spell-working, she found the Prince waiting for her. He was frowning
in
a way she knew too well, lately.
"Let's go riding," he said abruptly, not appearing to see how worn and
gray-faced she was. "I want to get away from here."
She stared at him. "Jon, we can't. He's ready for your lessons now."
"I don't care," the Prince snapped. "I've had lessons since I set foot in
this
village. I'm going riding." He turned away, and she seized his arm.
"You can discuss your boredom and whatever in private all you please," she
hissed. "But the man in there is hanging on to life because you need to know
what he has to teach you. I'd appreciate it if you stopped acting like a
spoiled
brat. If you want the Voice's power, you have to learn the Voice's lessons!"
"I didn't ask him to choose me!" Jonathan whispered hotly, putting his broad
shoulders between them and the staring tribesmen. The Bazhir were startled to
see them arguing, even if they couldn't be heard.
"But you're willing to take what he's offering!" she whispered back. "You of
all
people know everything has its price. And don't tell me you're tired of
paying!
This isn't the time, or the place!" She stared at him, until he looked away.
Without another word he entered Mukhtab's tent.
That night he was all tenderness and apologies, and Alanna's anger faded. She
loved him with all her heart. But marriage?
The next evening she and Myles dined alone in the tent she had been given
after
turning the large one over to Kara and Kourrem. Once the meal was over, she
steeled herself to ask for her foster-father's advice.
"Myles, what happens when Jon marries?"
The knight glanced at her sharply. "The first duty of any noble wife is to
give
her husband an heir. The succession must be assured, particularly when a
throne
is involved; that is especially true for any woman who marries Jonathan.
Should
something happen to the King, gods forbid it, and to Jon, there are no close
Cont relatives. Roger would have inherited had he lived I know, that's what
he
planned! but there was no one to succeed Roger. His father died when he was a
boy; his mother died giving him birth."
"Like mine," whispered Alanna.
Myles nodded. "Sadly, it often happens.
Roger's sole close relative was the King. The Conts rarely have large
families," he added with a sigh. "Now there are only third and fourth
cousins.
It means civil war if Jon dies without an heir."
Alanna had nothing to say to this: Myles had confirmed her fears. She fought
down panic, thinking, I'm not ready to have children!
"What?" Myles had spoken again.
"I said, did you accept Jonathan?"
"I still need to think about it."
"You do?" The man was obviously surprised. "The way he's been acting, I
thought
you said yes."
"Are you serious?"
"I see you together often enough. If he weren't sure of you, I should think
he'd
spend more time wooing you, winning you over. Well, perhaps I'm wrong. I'm
not
omnipotent." Myles picked up Faithful and deposited the cat on his lap,
stroking
the animal's ears with gentle fingers. "Why are you still considering, if I
may
ask?"
"You remember what I said, about maybe Jon wanting to marry me for all the
wrong
reasons?" Myles nodded. "Well, nothing that's happened since has changed my
mind. I know he's working hard, learning to be the Voice and getting the men
of
the Bazhir to like him, but when he's not dealing with them, he seems well,
spoiled. I never really thought he was that way at the palace. Any Prince is
somewhat spoiled, of course. Wouldn't you be, with people buttering you up
all
the time?"
"I don't think either of us, runs that risk," Myles said gravely, his eyes
dancing.
"Perhaps responsibility would steady Jon," Alanna admitted with a sigh. "I
don't
think he's a bad person at all; in fact, I think he's a very good one. But
lately I'm not sure if I like him very much. I keep telling myself he'll get
over it, but what if he doesn't?"
"Many young women would give all they possessed to have your opportunity."
There
was no way now to tell what Myles was thinking.
"Not me," Alanna snapped, fingering the ember-stone. "I've been happy since I
came here, and I like it. I don't want to give that up. I don't want to be
well-behaved, as a nobleman's wife should be. The King and Queen would try to
make me stop dressing comfortably. They might even try to make me stop
healing.
I couldn't go wherever I wanted. No risks, and no adventures." She blushed
with
shame. "I love Jon, but I've got too many questions to decide to be hurried.
I'm
not certain I'm ready to marry, even if he is."
She was astounded to realize the look in her foster-father's eyes was of
pride.
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