Page 12 of The Summer Pass

“My lord?”

He looked up, squinting against the sun, to find Gurti standing by the tent opening.

“Sorry,” he signed. “I didn’t see you there.”

He gathered up the message tablets so he could get to his feet.

“I know you have much on your mind,” said Gurti, “and I would not trouble you, but … ”

“Come in,” Vanu said aloud, gesturing to the tent. “No trouble.”

She smiled wearily. “You are very kind, my lord.”

“You had a message today?” he signed when they were seated on the cushions.

She nodded. “I sent word of Faru’s death to his kin on Korudukha. I did not expect any reply—to tell the truth, I did not think any of his brothers still lived. But it seems his youngest brother, Gurda, has survived him.”

“Ah,” said Vanu. He thought he knew where this might be going.

“The Gukhártus have always honoured the old traditions, and Gurda’s wife has recently died, so he writes to offer me marriage.” Her face twisted in a grimace. “Indeed, I believe he will compel me if I do not return the bride price which his family paid mine.”

“I understand,” said Vanu. “Whatever you need. Tell me.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Oh, my lord, no! I could not possibly accept that.” She seemed genuinely shocked.

“You are under my protection. It is my duty.”

“It is no part of your duty, my lord. Your resources are not infinite, and my bride price was … Faru’s family greatly desired the match, and my family was opposed. It was very large.” She clasped her hands in her lap, strong fingers twisting together. “I sound ungrateful, and I don’t mean to. It is so kind of you to make the offer, Vanu, and I shouldn’t be surprised at it—I know your kindness well enough by now. But I really can’t place this kind of burden on your treasury now—it wouldn’t be prudent. And then there were those swords … My bride price included two swords that had been passed down in Faru’s family—Gurda will certainly remember those and want them back. No, what I need to do is go to Manáshta and see my own family.”

“You’re from Manáshta? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, just downstream from your home at Tagra Degra. Though I left to marry Faru when you were just a boy.”

“And will your family give you the swords?”

“If they still have them.”

“If it’s what you want to do, of course you should go see your family. I was afraid you were going to say you should marry Faru’s brother on Korudukha. Call his bluff, like.”

Gurti laughed aloud. “Yes, I do think he’s more interested in the bride price than in me. But I am not tempted to call his bluff. I prefer my freedom.”

He nodded. “Do you want me to send Tirtu to Manáshta with you?”

She hesitated only a moment before nodding. “If you would. I think he would ask your leave to come if I said I wanted him, but—well, it will be easier all around if you give him the order.”

“That’s what I thought. He’ll be relieved to get out of whatever’s coming here, I think. He doesn’t seem to have the stomach for a campaign. Don’t tell him I said so.”

“Of course not, my lord. Talking of that … I mean to bring Otoni along—she’s having a bad time with that woman from Tawakhura, and she’s worrying that she should have stayed behind instead of riding with us. I thought also you might send Susami and Atari with us. Hearing about the raiding these last days has made us all uneasy. I would like the girls to be well away from this place.”

For a long moment, Vanu said nothing. His instinct was to refuse flatly. He wanted his girls beside him, where he could protect them. He had done it before, and he would do it again. But he had to admit that the situation was much different than three years ago. Then he had been in control, had known the lay of the land and where all the game pieces were, and even when driven into a corner he had been able to retreat to the safety of Umtúshta. He didn’t even know what the state of the defences at Ara Tawa were yet. And there was another player now, this Boar, of whom he knew nothing, and who was playing a foolishly dangerous game.

Not only that, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he wasn’t the same man he had been three years ago. He craved drink sometimes with an intensity that frightened him. He knew he couldn’t go back to it—three years ago he had been in danger of losing his edge to it, of being drunk when he needed to make some vital decision, or hungover or distracted by the craving when he needed to think clearly. Who knew whether he hadn’t made mistakes because of it, that he hadn’t even noticed? But he’d lost his edge now whether he drank or not. His heart raced in panic when he looked at the fucking scenery sometimes. If the moment came when his girls needed protecting, would he be able to do it?

“I will think about it,” he told Gurti.

The bell hanging outside the tent flap jingled, and a moment later Barda put his head inside.

“Hello, Ma! My lord, I’ve done what you asked, and uh, I’m here to report back.”