Tarashana by Rachel Neumeier (little red riding hood ebook TXT) 📕

and—I had realized eventually—because he had become confident and easy with Lalani. That often makes a young man pleased with everyone else in the world. Of everything that had come from our strange and difficult journey, this was also the thing that pleased me most.

“I can count well enough for this. I will tell you in a moment,” I told them, and began to work out the numbers, slowly, using the Lau way of thinking of numbers. I came to an answer that surprised me, so I worked through the figures again. At last I said, “Perhaps twenty thousands.”

“Twenty thousand!” Suyet exclaimed. “Not really?”

“All the Ugaro in the world,” Lalani said, smiling.

“Not nearly all,” I told them, smiling in my turn. “Some people do not wish to travel so far. Most of those here are from the closest tribes. Many fewer of the people will have come from the tribes whose territories lie farthest from inGara lands. I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that this many Lau live in just one of your many cities.”

“Avaras, yes, a lot more than this,” Suyet answered. “But not a whole lot of others, I don’t think.”

“A dozen or so,” Aras said quietly.

He could probably name every city in the whole width of the summer lands. I did not ask.

By this time we had come to the last slope. Below us, only one or two bowshots farther, the pass opened up to level ground, where everyone was waiting. My father waited there, at the entrance to the pass, at the place where pillars had been carved and set upright to show where inGara lands ceased and the unclaimed land of the mountain border began. Koro inKarano stood to my father’s left hand, and beyond our king, Royova inVotaro and some other people, but also Darra inKarano. She caught my attention at once. She was very beautiful, and plainly very conscious of her dignity. Though I looked, I could not see any person near her who might be this poet from the east.

My attention was so taken with searching for the eastern poet that for some time I did not notice that to my father’s right hand stood not only Yavorda inGeiro and some other inGeiro people, but also Soro inKera, Lord of the inKera and Hokino’s brother.

When I did notice that, I had to exert myself not to stare. I might have expected many other men to stand at that place before the lord of the inKera. He had made peace with my father, certainly. Our tribes were allies now. Still, I was surprised to see him there.

I said to Hokino, who was walking near me, “The lord of the inKera looks well.” He did. When I had met him before, he had seemed older than his years. That had been a hard time for the inKera; they had suffered more from what Lorellan had done than any other tribe. Now, Soro inKera stood as straight as a young man. He had regained the weight he had lost, so that some of the lines I remembered in his face had smoothed out. His hair had gone tawny-white; there was no black left in his hair now. But that was almost the only sign that he was ten years or more older than my father.

“Yes,” Hokino agreed. “In some ways, the past years have been hard for my people. But making alliances with the inGara and the inGeiro and the inYoraro made everything easier in other ways. My brother also finally chose a cousin of ours, Tyo inKera, to be lord after him, and after only a little quarreling, everyone accepted this decision, so that has lightened Soro’s steps as well.”

I was much too young to make any comment about this, but Garoyo gave him a sharp look. “And did the warleader of the inKera quarrel with this decision? Do the allies of the inKera have reason to expect trouble and confusion among the inKera at some time in the next few years?”

Hokino barely smiled, not at all offended. “The warleader of the inKera found no reason to quarrel with his brother’s decision.” He went on less formally. “Tyo has twenty winters more than I do. That is a better age for the lord of a tribe. Everyone respects him, and though his wife is not a singer, she is both forceful and wise. She is older than my wife, a better age for the wife of the lord. Tyo will be a good lord for the inKera. If he asks me to remain warleader, that would please me, but if he chooses another man to be warleader, I will accept that.” He added in a resigned tone, “I have been gone so long that my brother has probably given the warleader’s sword to another man. Probably another cousin of ours, Senoka. Probably both Senoka and Tyo are here. I will make you known to one other, if you wish.”

“Yes,” agreed Garoyo.

Then we came to the bottom of the slope and passed between the pillars, and there was no more time for talking. Garoyo greeted our father and then our king, and after him Aras did the same, very formally, and then I did the same. Hokino greeted my father and then Koro, but then turned and knelt a third time to greet his brother.

“A much longer adventure than I anticipated,” he said wryly. “If you reproach me for abandoning my duties, lord, I will have nothing to say.”

Soro raised one eyebrow. He said, in his customary unemphatic manner, “Perhaps I should hear more of all these adventures and events before I decide whether my brother deserves reproaches or praise for his actions.” He turned a hand palm up, granting permission for Hokino to rise, and also nodded to Arayo, who, recognized in this way, first glanced very properly at my father for permission