Mistress Fahrar walked over and picked up the cards, scrutinizing Alanna’s work. “Be more patient,” she said, her gray-brown eyes amused. “You’re missing little bits of dirt.” She thrust the pieces of wool back at Alanna. “Start over, and take your time. You’ll be faster as you get accustomed to it.”
She drew a breath, looking around her. “You’re a promising weaver, young Kourrem, but you should be learning your own craft, not teaching it. I am sure your weaving could become better, Kara.” The tall girl blushed and looked at her feet. “And you should have a teacher who is accustomed to teaching, shaman,” she told Alanna firmly. “You will learn from me, with Kourrem’s permission, and I will show these two young women what more they can study. Doubtless this young man can find something to occupy him while we women work,” she added dryly.
For the grateful tears and the relief in the girls’ faces, Alanna could have kissed the formidable lady. Instead she nodded, her face properly grave. “I accept your kind offer, Mistress Fahrar, for my apprentices and myself.” At last! she exulted inwardly. One woman in the tribe has acknowledged that we exist; and I didn’t have to ask Halef Seif or Ali Mukhtab to intervene!
“I am called Mari,” the mother of Hakim replied. “Now, come, you girls. Show me what else you can do.”
When Coram returned a week later, he found things very different. He had much to say about the changes among the Bloody Hawk. Fortunately, he said all of it in private, to Alanna and Faithful.
“I think I’m leavin’ ye in a fairly quiet place,” he began as he unpacked in his tent. Alanna was watching as she scratched Faithful’s ears. “Ye weren’t well enough known here that ye could get into any trouble, and I thought they’d stay away from ye. But I come back, and ye’re the Mother-blessed shaman of the tribe, ye’ve adopted three young ones, and ye’re forcin’ the women to accept two of their own sittin’ with the men—”
“You’re turning purple,” Alanna commented when he stopped for breath.
“Can’t ye stay out of trouble for a few short weeks?” he bellowed.
“I didn’t ask for Akhnan Ibn Nazzir to attack me,” she pointed out. “But he did, and I killed him. I can’t leave the tribe without a shaman, can I? Since I have no intention of being killed by the first rival who comes along, or of staying here forever, I picked three apprentices. It’s not my fault that two of them are girls; but they are, and the tribe has to treat them with respect if they’re ever to be good shamans. And no, I couldn’t have chosen just Ishak. What if something happens to him? All three have to be trained anyway, and Bazhir custom—it’s easier to break the King’s law back home than it is to flout Bazhir custom, have you noticed?—Bazhir custom says I have to train them. Besides, having only one shaman when you can have three is silly.”
Coram sat heavily and accepted the brandy she poured for him. His broad tanned face was wrinkled with concern. “Lass, ye’re settin’ these poor folk on their ears,” he said wearily. “They haven’t changed in centuries, and ye’re forcin’ them to accept things yer own people can’t accept—not easily.”
“But don’t you see? To the Bazhir, I’m a legend. They take things from me they wouldn’t take from anyone else. I don’t ask them to change for stupid reasons. They know having three shamans might make the difference to their survival. Even the women are beginning to accept the girls. At least, Mari Fahrar is.”
Coram drained his cup and shook his head when she offered refill. “I’m worried for ye,” he confessed. “I hate seein’ ye a stranger always. Ye’re an odd lass, but ye’re like my own kin, and I want ye t’be happy.”
Alanna put Faithful down and hugged her friend. “I don’t feel like a stranger here,” she confessed as she wiped her eyes. “It seems to me that I’ve know these people for a long time—all my life, perhaps. I don’t always agree with them, but they make sense to me.”
Gruffly, touched by her affection, he asked, “Do ye commune with the Voice of the Tribes at sunset, then? All the way t’the city Hakim made us stop every night while he stared into the fire.” He shuddered as he finished unpacking his saddlebags. “’Twas spooky.”
Alanna lifted Faithful up again, putting him on her shoulder. “That’s one thing I don’t do,” she said ruefully. “It’s too much like letting Ali Mukhtab have a part of me. I don’t want anyone to have a part of me, not yet, anyway.”
“Not even Prince Jonathan?” Coram asked shrewdly. Alanna blushed a deep red, and he chuckled. “He said t’tell ye he’d be seein’ ye soon, somethin’ about receivin’ instruction from Ali Mukhtab. Oh, I’ve letters for ye, from Lord Thom and Sir Myles.” For a moment the burly man struggled with himself; then he gave in. “There’s another letter for ye as well.” He drew it from beneath his jerkin, handing it to her reluctantly. “I should’ve burned it when he handed it to me. I’d hoped ye knew better than to still be consortin’ with the likes of him.”