Then the battle swept over her, desperation and agony and wild exultation all blended together. She struggled to merely remain standing, and Odiana clung to her, helped her to keep her balance. The two watercrafters could barely manage to hobble from the warehouse to the quiet spot between one of the barracks. Isana’s newly opened senses that had served her so well in the darkness now incapacitated her, and she sank to the ground, to her knees, curling her arms up over her head while she tried to tune down some of the emotions that pounded in her. Dimly, she felt the ground shake again, heard the bellowing of some enormous beast, an equally enormous voice roaring a challenge.
By the time she lifted her head, Odiana was gone. Isana looked up to see one dirty foot vanishing up onto the roof of the barracks building. She shook her head, still dazed, and moved until she could see the wild chaos of the courtyard, and the gargant with its ferocious rider as it turned to flatten a Marat warrior beneath its feet in a sudden rush of fierce anger and swiftly fading pain.
“Oh, no,” she whispered, her eyes opening wider, lifting up to the gargant’s rider again, and his passengers. “Oh, child, what have you gotten yourself into. My Tavi.”
CHAPTER 42
Tavi swallowed, his hands tightening on Doroga’s belt. The gargant beneath them stirred restlessly, but other than that, the courtyard was nearly silent.
Bodies lay everywhere. Tavi tried not to look at them, but it seemed that everywhere he moved his eyes, someone had died. It was horrible. The bodies didn’t look like people should. They looked misshapen and wrong, as though some careless child had been playing with his wooden soldiers and idly thrown them away after breaking them. There was blood, and that made his belly shake, but more than that, there was a horrible sadness in seeing the torn and broken forms, Marat and Aleran, man and beast alike.
It seemed such a waste.
The courtyard had grown almost quiet. In the gate and spread in a loose half-circle around it were Atsurak and his Marat. Loosely grouped around the stables were the Aleran defenders, among them Amara and his uncle.
Atsurak stared at Doroga, and the big Marat’s eyes were flat with cool hatred.
Doroga faced Atsurak steadily. “Well, murderer?” Doroga demanded. “Will you face me in the Trial of Blood, or will you turn and lead your clan back to your lands?”
Atsurak lifted his chin once. “Come die then.”
Doroga’s teeth showed in a fierce smile. He turned back to Tavi behind him and rumbled, “Get down, young warrior. Be sure you tell your people what I said.”
Tavi looked up at Doroga and nodded. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Doroga blinked at him. “I said that I would help you protect your family.” He shrugged. “A horde stands in the way. I did what is necessary to finish what I began. Climb down.”
Tavi nodded, and Doroga shook out the saddle cord. Fade swung down from the gargant’s broad back first and all but hovered beneath Tavi as the boy came down. Doroga barely used the strap, but landed lightly on the courtyard and stretched, tendons creaking. He spun the long-handled cudgel in his fingers and stepped toward Atsurak.
Tavi led Fade around Doroga’s gargant, stepping wide around its front legs and the wet splatter on the stones there. Tavi’s belly heaved about restlessly, and he swallowed, hurrying across the stones to his uncle.
“Tavi,” Bernard said, and enfolded the boy in a rib-creaking embrace. “Furies but I feared for you. And Fade, good man. You’re all right?”
Fade hooted in the affirmative. There was the sound of running footsteps, light on the stones, and Tavi felt his aunt Isana, unmistakably his aunt, even if he did not see her, wrap her arms around him and hug him tight to her. “Tavi,” she said. “Oh, Tavi. You’re all right.”
Tavi pressed up against his aunt and uncle for a moment and felt the tears in his eyes. He leaned against them and hugged them back. “I’m all right,” he heard himself saying. “It’s all right. I’m all right.”
Isana laughed and kissed his hair, his cheek. “Fade,” she said. “Thank the furies. You’re all right.”
After a moment, Amara said, “Bernard, they’re not looking. If we rush the hordemaster now, we can get to the knife.”
“No!” Tavi said, hurriedly. He freed himself from the embrace, looking at the Cursor. “No, you can’t. Doroga explained this to me. It’s a duel. You have to let him have it.”
Amara looked at him sharply. “What duel?”
“What knife?”
Amara frowned. “The knife proves one of the High Lords is behind this attack. We can catch him, if we recover it, and keep him from doing something like this again. What duel?”
Tavi tried to explain. “Doroga and Atsurak are both headman of their clans. They’re equals. Atsurak can’t order another clan to follow him as long as their headman stands up to him in a Trial of Blood — a duel, but no one had the courage to stand up to him before now. Doroga has challenged Atsurak’s decision to attack us, before all of the rest of the Marat. If he defeats him in the trial, then it breaks Atsurak’s power, and the Marat leave.”
“Just like that?” Amara demanded.
“Well, yes,” Tavi said, defensively. “If Doroga wins, it means that the Marat will understand that The One supports him and not Atsurak.”
“The one what?”
“The One,” Tavi said. “I think they think it’s some kind of fury that lives in the sun. When they have a big decision, they have a trial before The One. They believe in it completely.”
He felt his aunt’s hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find her looking down at him earnestly. Her head tilted to one side. “What happened to you?”
“A lot, Auntie.”
She smiled, though there was a weary edge to it. “It shows. Are you sure you know what you’re saying?”
“Yes ma’am,” Tavi said. “I know.”
Isana looked at Bernard, who looked at Amara. The Cursor drew in a slow breath, her eyes in turn moving to Tavi. “Tavi,” she said, keeping her voice quiet. “Why did Doroga choose now to challenge this Atsurak?”
Tavi swallowed. “Um. Well, it’s kind of a long story. I’m not really sure I understand everything that happened myself. Doesn’t really matter, does it? If he’s here?”
Outside, there were high-pitched whistles sounding, and the frantic howls of the Marat and their beasts had subsided to a low rumble.
“Giraldi?” Amara called up to the battlements. “What’s happening?”
“Crows take me,” called a panting voice back from the walls above the gates. “The Marat were fighting one another,then they all started blowing whistles and falling back from the fighting. They’re drawing into tribes it looks like.”
“Thank you, Centurion.”
“Countess? Orders?”
“Hold the walls,” Amara responded, but her eyes went back to Tavi. “Do not attack unless first attacked.”
Tavi nodded to Amara. “This is what Doroga told me would happen. The Marat tribes fight all the time. They’re used to it. The whistles are to call a halt to fighting and let the headmen talk.”
Bernard blew out a breath and looked at Amara. “What do you think?”
The Cursor reached a hand up and pushed a few loose strands of hair back from her eyes, staring at Tavi. “I think your nephew, here, has managed to learn more about the Marat than the Crown’s intelligence service, Steadholder.”