Umar Komm finished the names of the gods and nodded to Alanna. She stretched out her hands to the girls, conscious that everyone who had come to the tents of the Bloody Hawk in recent days was watching. The circle of fire lay solidly between Alanna and her apprentices. “If you are pure in heart and strong of will, come forth!” she summoned, using words Umar Komm and the other shamans had taught her that very day.
Kara stood. For a moment she faltered, seeing the magical flames rear higher than her head. Then her mouth firmed, and she walked through the ring. Kourrem followed without hesitation. Alanna and Umar threw up walls of light, and Alanna summoned the apprentices again: “If you will do as the gods require you, come forth!”
The girls walked through the light together. Kara slowed, nearly stopping, for a moment, but both emerged. Alanna and Umar Komm created a deep trench in the 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.
seven
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.