She looked up at Umar Komm. “He’s all right.” Glancing at the other shamans, who were lifting Ali Mukhtab, she whispered, “The Voice?” She knew the truth even as she asked.
Jonathan stirred and sat up, rubbing the blue scar. “I am the Voice of the Tribes,” he rasped. “Ali Mukhtab, who was the Voice, has passed on. I remain.” He stood, leaning on Alanna’s shoulder, and the watchers below cheered until their throats hurt. Men came forward and took Mukhtab’s body as Alanna rubbed away the tears flooding down her cheeks.
“He isn’t gone,” Jonathan told her. “He’s here, inside me. They’re all here—all the Voices.” He looked up at a nearby man. “It won’t be so bad, Amman Kemail. I am not wise, but I can always learn.”
The big headman smiled thinly. “In your moment of becoming, we were each with you—” His eyes flicked to Alanna. “All save the Woman Who Rides Like a Man. You will do, Jonathan of Conté.”
They gripped each other’s arms. “If I succeed, I will owe it to the Bazhir and not to myself,” Jon replied.
Halef Seif approached, bowing deeply to the Prince who had become their Voice. “It is time for our people to rejoice in a seemly fashion,” the Bloody Hawk headman remarked. “Ali Mukhtab is delivered from his pain, and the Voice of the Tribes continues. Let us burn his abandoned shell, and send him to the gods with love. Come down to the village. We will remember Ali Mukhtab, and we will drink to our hope for peace.”
“What was it like?” Alanna asked Jon. They were curled up together, Faithful lodged between them on top of the blankets. Dawn was slipping sunlight through the tent flap.
For a long time he was silent. “It was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he said at last. “Even worse than the place between life and death, when you saved me from the Sweating Sickness. Worse than fighting the Ysandir, in the Black City. It was as if—” He drew a deep breath. “As if thousands of people were screaming inside my head, each wanting to be heard first. As if I were all of those people, only everything bad in our lives hurt more, because the feeling was multiplied. I lived all the lives of all the Voices; there have been four hundred and fifteen of us, Alanna. And I saw my own death. I was a chain. All my links were pulling apart. I lost Jonathan for a while; I was everyone but Jonathan.”
“No wonder you screamed,” she whispered, holding him as close as the cat between them would permit.
“But the things I could see.” He had forgotten her now, remembering. “I could see the magic Faithful gave Ali Mukhtab to keep him alive. I could see the palaces we once had, on the other side of the Inland Sea. I could see us fleeing the Ysandir, and building Persopolis. I could feel the wind in our faces as we rode the sands, free from all kings. I could see the gods as they watch us live our lives. The Mother is beautiful,” he said, his sapphire eyes shining with awe. “The most perfect woman, and not a woman at all. Mithros was so bright, the Black God without brightness, yet radiating peace. I could never do it again. But I will never forget that I’m One, and Many. When my life becomes too confining, when I feel I have no freedom, I can look into myself, and be someone else. I can go somewhere else.” He turned and kissed her deeply, then added, “Alanna, for the first time since I was named, I am free.”
When she left Jonathan’s tent the next morning, Alanna found Halef Seif seated on the edge of the tribe’s well, as if waiting for someone. He rose and walked with her as she went to the corral, watching as she got out combs and began to curry Moonlight. Finally he spoke. “The Voice of the Tribes must return to his home soon.”
Bending down to reach her mare’s hocks, Alanna grunted, “He was lucky to be able to get away this long.”
“It will be good to have a Voice who is the son of the Northern King, even as it is good to have a shaman who is the Woman Who Rides Like a Man.”
Alanna glared at the headman from under Moonlight’s neck. “You haven’t been so formal with me since I first joined the tribe,” she accused. “What’s on your mind, Halef Seif?” When he hesitated, she added, “I thought you, of all people, would be honest with me.”
“Will you leave the tribe now?” he asked. “Will you be returning with him, to live in his house and be his wife?”
Alanna swallowed hard; this was being honest with a vengeance! “I don’t know,” she admitted, busying herself with the mare’s tail. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I haven’t come to a decision.”
“He ordered his horses for today,” the headman said implacably. “Surely he expects you to accompany him, if you will be his bride.” Seeing Alanna turn pale, he added, “He ordered that your horse be prepared, too.”
Alanna felt the beginnings of irritation. “He had no right to do that. I haven’t given him my answer yet.”