Shock coursed through Kyra’s veins, ice-cold, numbing. The Valley of Veer? “No,” she stuttered. “That can’t be true.”
“Save your distress,” said Astinsai. “I am not finished yet. The girl—your mother—was married off a few months later to a suitable young man from the clan of Tenaga. Meanwhile, her lover escaped from the Order of Khur the night before he was to be executed. He went on to form a clan of his own, an outlaw clan, vicious and violent, that has grown in strength and cunning until it is now the most powerful one in southern Asiana. You know which one I mean.”
A roaring filled Kyra’s ears. Astinsai was talking of the Tau clan. Kai Tau and her mother. Her mother and Kai Tau . . . no, it was impossible.
“The past is past,” said Astinsai softly. “We cannot change it. We can only change our own perception of it. For years, I blamed myself for what happened. Then I realized it would have happened anyway. Kai would have found his path to evil with or without me.”
Kyra’s mouth was dry, her throat tight. “You helped him to escape, didn’t you?” she said in a ragged whisper.
Tears glimmered in Astinsai’s eyes. “Kai was always my favorite. I believed in him. I knew he was telling the truth and that he had been terribly wronged. Yet, had I guessed the carnage he would wreak in the name of vengeance, I would have cut my own throat before I freed the bonds that had been laid on him.”
The firelight flickered, casting shadows on the tent wall. Kyra’s hands were like stones on her lap, her katari cold within its sheath. “You have not told me why I was spared.” Her voice sounded flat, distant to her own ears.
“I made a prophecy to Kai before he left that he would die by the hand of a daughter of Veer, and no other. This is his penance and his destiny. He waits for you, all these long years, to free him from the evil he has done. Not until you kill him will he know any rest.” The Old One closed her eyes. “That is all I have to say. Go now, for I am tired and can speak no more.”
*
Kyra stumbled out of the tent and into the cold, quiet night, her mind full of tortured images. Her sweet-faced mother, in the willing embrace of the brute who would destroy the Veer clan. The blood-soaked bodies littering the streets of her village. The broken limbs and the stench of death. The circling vultures and the darkness behind the door. Except that the darkness was inside her now and there was no escaping the horror of it.
Was Kai Tau her father? Had she killed her own half brother in the name of vengeance? And if so, what kind of monster did that make her?
It was a long time before she could calm herself. She walked away from the camp until she could no longer see the flickering lights of the lamps and stoves. The moon had slipped below the horizon and the stars and planets shone with undimmed splendor. Kyra sat on the sand, gazing at the vast, silent space that surrounded her, listening to the slowing beat of her own heart.
Chapter 16
Forms of the Dance
Dawn found Rustan in the grove beyond the camp, practicing breath control as he waited for his pupil to arrive. He had told her to meet him in the grove at first light; the tall shrubs would shelter them from the midday sun as well as from the sharp wind.
He breathed in the frigid air, trying to relax his mind and his body. Little as he liked the task that had been given to him, he would fulfill it to the best of his abilities. He had risen two hours earlier to prepare the forms of bare-handed defense that he planned to teach Kyra today.
Except that she wasn’t here yet.
Rustan pushed aside his irritation and focused on his breath. This time alone in the grove was a gift, and he would use it well. He settled down to meditate.
The sun had slipped into the sky when racing footsteps alerted him to Kyra’s arrival.
He opened his eyes and regarded her as she stood before him, panting. She looked even younger than she had yesterday, with her hair tied back and her slight frame lost in the oversized robe that Shurik had given her. The dark circles under her eyes betrayed that she had slept little.
“You’re late,” he said evenly.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“No matter,” he said. “It is only our first lesson. But it should not happen again. To be late is to be disrespectful. And where there is no respect, there can be no learning.”
The Markswoman did not respond; she merely gazed through him, as if her mind was elsewhere, on more important things.
Rustan rose and said, more harshly than he had intended, “I have no more desire to do this than you. But the Maji-khan has assigned me to teach you, and I intend to do the best I can. What about you—what do you intend?”
Once again, she did not respond, only looked at him bewildered, as if he spoke in a strange language. He noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed. Had she been crying?
Rustan relaxed his tone somewhat. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said. “If you’re afraid . . .”
Kyra thrust her chin out and glared at him. “I am not afraid,” she said through gritted teeth. “I will do what I must.”
“It’s your funeral,” said Rustan, relieved that she had started talking to him, even if it was through gritted teeth. “Personally, I think Tamsyn will take less than a minute to disarm you, which is why it is important to learn bare-handed defense.”
“I am not that easily disarmed,” snapped Kyra.
“No?” said Rustan. “Let us see.”
He raised his palm and uttered a word of power that Barkav had taught him a few months earlier.
Kyra gasped as her katari flew from its scabbard, straight into Rustan’s waiting hand.
She reached for it, pausing just short of snatching it back. “How did you do that?” she asked, scowling. When she saw Rustan was smiling, her scowl deepened. “Do you laugh at my incompetence?”
Rustan stopped smiling at once, sensing her humiliation. “No. I was only able to call your katari to me because it knew I meant no harm, that I was demonstrating a lesson that may prove valuable to its mistress.”
“And the lesson is what?” said Kyra as he handed the katari back to her. “How easily you can kill me?”
“The lesson is, expect the unexpected,” said Rustan. “The Hand of Kali is skilled in all the arts of katari-play. Your only hope is to stay calm no matter what move she makes. Anticipate her when you can—after all, you have known her for years—and when you cannot, be ready with counterattacks of your own. Inner Speech is not allowed in the course of the formal katari duel. This is to your advantage; use it. Focus on the bond you both have with your blades, for that bond will be crucial in the outcome of the duel.”
He stopped. Kyra was no longer listening to him; she was studying her katari, turning it this way and that.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“I can still feel your hand on my blade,” she replied. “You shouldn’t have taken it from me like that.”
A wave of frustration broke against Rustan’s core of inner calm.