reaction. He knew Bikkim, and the dog could damn well learn to trust his knowledge.
“Daughter! Since when?” demanded old Doha, who like Holla was of the Sayanbarkash, a cousin to his grandfather. “Does your mama know, Holla my lad?”
“I didn't know,” he told Doha pointedly, and let him snigger.
Holla had been visiting Timhine in Lissavakail ever since he let curiosity draw him up into the mountains on his first journey along the desert edge; almost long enough to explain the girl, who looked, to a taller lowlander's eye, younger than she was. Let them think Timhine had farmed her out for shame at a mixed-blood child, so that he never knew of her existence till now. Mountain folk were notorious for distrusting those who married out of their own god's reach, and made rumours of lowlander blood, even four generations back, an excuse for any oddity or deviation. Probably fear of that as much as his wandering had turned Timhine away in the end.
“Yeah?” Bikkim scratched at the wisp of beard he was trying to grow. “She doesn't really take after you. Lucky for her,” he added, dancing out of reach of another, more comradely, swipe. “What raiders? Are you sure? There haven't been any large parties take the mountain road in months. I mean, everyone'd be talking of it in the market, if there had.”
“Some warlord calling himself Tamghat, a wizard—I mean, I think I saw…” Explaining grew too complicated. “A warlord, and just about an army. Slaughtered half the town and I think he burned the temple.”
“Oh.” Bikkim subsided, offered the goddess a wary smile. “Sera prevent that they come down here, if they're capable of taking on Attalissa's sisters, whoever they are.”
Bikkim obviously thought Holla was exaggerating. He would have thought so, if it had been Bikkim telling tales of armies where no army could be.
“Uh, your woman up there, Timhine…?”
Holla shrugged. “She's safe, I guess. Married and gone to the high valleys, and left the girl for me.”
Gaguush strode over, red-dyed coat swirling around her, waist-length black braids caught up in glossy loops. She was mistress of the caravan, gang-boss, as well as owner of most of their camels.
“I heard. A warlord with a raider army in Lissavakail, you say? How in the cold hells did they get up there, without going through here?”
At least Gaguush didn't question their existence. Holla shrugged. “Passes from the west, maybe? Magic? I don't know. But they're there.”
“Yeah, I trust you didn't end up looking like that just getting drunk and falling over. I don't suppose it matters where they came from. They likely to come here, you think?”
“They might.” Holla dismounted and lifted the goddess down. “We should get out of here, be gone before they do. See to the horse for me, Bikkim? And maybe you should borrow another and ride out to tell your parents about the warlord and the raiders. The Serakallashi council will want to know.”
There were no priests in Serakallash, only a council of sept-chiefs. Bikkim's parents counted among them; the boy didn't need to work as a caravan guard, but he was young enough to think the roving life an adventure.
The council would doubt, of course, and say Holla's fear turned a dozen desperate men to an army. If they sent scouts to investigate, he hoped they would go warily.
“Bikkim? Don't mention the brat, all right?”
“Why not?”
“Just don't.”
“Fine. I won't. But she's nothing to be ashamed of. Are you, sweetheart?”
Attalissa, clinging close to Holla's side, gave Bikkim a cold stare. He laughed at her, leading Master Mooshka's weary dun off towards its stable. She switched her stare to Gaguush.
“She's yours?” Gaguush's generous mouth thinned. She had always been sour about Timhine; she had never stopped him riding up to Lissavakail, either. “Are you sure? Doha, go tell Mooshka Holla-Sayan's news. He'll want to know. Tell him we're leaving early.”
“He'll
“Daughter! Since when?” demanded old Doha, who like Holla was of the Sayanbarkash, a cousin to his grandfather. “Does your mama know, Holla my lad?”
“I didn't know,” he told Doha pointedly, and let him snigger.
Holla had been visiting Timhine in Lissavakail ever since he let curiosity draw him up into the mountains on his first journey along the desert edge; almost long enough to explain the girl, who looked, to a taller lowlander's eye, younger than she was. Let them think Timhine had farmed her out for shame at a mixed-blood child, so that he never knew of her existence till now. Mountain folk were notorious for distrusting those who married out of their own god's reach, and made rumours of lowlander blood, even four generations back, an excuse for any oddity or deviation. Probably fear of that as much as his wandering had turned Timhine away in the end.
“Yeah?” Bikkim scratched at the wisp of beard he was trying to grow. “She doesn't really take after you. Lucky for her,” he added, dancing out of reach of another, more comradely, swipe. “What raiders? Are you sure? There haven't been any large parties take the mountain road in months. I mean, everyone'd be talking of it in the market, if there had.”
“Some warlord calling himself Tamghat, a wizard—I mean, I think I saw…” Explaining grew too complicated. “A warlord, and just about an army. Slaughtered half the town and I think he burned the temple.”
“Oh.” Bikkim subsided, offered the goddess a wary smile. “Sera prevent that they come down here, if they're capable of taking on Attalissa's sisters, whoever they are.”
Bikkim obviously thought Holla was exaggerating. He would have thought so, if it had been Bikkim telling tales of armies where no army could be.
“Uh, your woman up there, Timhine…?”
Holla shrugged. “She's safe, I guess. Married and gone to the high valleys, and left the girl for me.”
Gaguush strode over, red-dyed coat swirling around her, waist-length black braids caught up in glossy loops. She was mistress of the caravan, gang-boss, as well as owner of most of their camels.
“I heard. A warlord with a raider army in Lissavakail, you say? How in the cold hells did they get up there, without going through here?”
At least Gaguush didn't question their existence. Holla shrugged. “Passes from the west, maybe? Magic? I don't know. But they're there.”
“Yeah, I trust you didn't end up looking like that just getting drunk and falling over. I don't suppose it matters where they came from. They likely to come here, you think?”
“They might.” Holla dismounted and lifted the goddess down. “We should get out of here, be gone before they do. See to the horse for me, Bikkim? And maybe you should borrow another and ride out to tell your parents about the warlord and the raiders. The Serakallashi council will want to know.”
There were no priests in Serakallash, only a council of sept-chiefs. Bikkim's parents counted among them; the boy didn't need to work as a caravan guard, but he was young enough to think the roving life an adventure.
The council would doubt, of course, and say Holla's fear turned a dozen desperate men to an army. If they sent scouts to investigate, he hoped they would go warily.
“Bikkim? Don't mention the brat, all right?”
“Why not?”
“Just don't.”
“Fine. I won't. But she's nothing to be ashamed of. Are you, sweetheart?”
Attalissa, clinging close to Holla's side, gave Bikkim a cold stare. He laughed at her, leading Master Mooshka's weary dun off towards its stable. She switched her stare to Gaguush.
“She's yours?” Gaguush's generous mouth thinned. She had always been sour about Timhine; she had never stopped him riding up to Lissavakail, either. “Are you sure? Doha, go tell Mooshka Holla-Sayan's news. He'll want to know. Tell him we're leaving early.”
“He'll
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