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

“Yes,” I said. “There is nothing to do but explain everything exactly as it happened.” I looked up the slope again, toward Aras. My father was beside him now. They spoke to one another, a few quiet words, and then they began to come toward us, walking together. Geras appeared at the top of the slope, following with long strides.

Garoyo came to us first, running, from the north and west. He had been close, moving from one of our sentries to another, guarding against just such an ambush. I realized, now that it was too late, that Yaro had very likely been waiting near this place for Garoyo, not for anyone else, not for me. He might have taken a woman if the chance had come; perhaps he might have intended that. But when he had seen this was impossible, he had instead concealed himself here, where my brother and our warriors would certainly patrol. But he had not attacked any other warrior. I thought he had almost certainly intended to attack Garoyo. Only I had come to this place first, and he had changed his mind.

Garoyo might have thought the same; I could not tell. He gave Yaro a swift look up and down, and then turned away. He said to me, “Take off your shirt. Let me see your chest.”

“The cut is not bad,” I said.

But sometimes, when a fight goes fast, one does not feel how severe an injury is. I took off my shirt. Both of us ignored Yaro. Plainly he was not dangerous any longer. Many other people had come by this time, and many more were still coming. Someone pointed at Yaro and started to say something, but Garoyo said curtly, without even glancing that way, “Be quiet. That is not for any of us to judge,” and the man closed his mouth and stepped back, lifting his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“This is not bad,” my brother said to me, much more gently.

I could not bring myself to answer him.

He cut a strip of cloth off my shirt for a rough bandage, using the rest of the shirt as a pad. By the time he had finished that, our father and Aras had both come to the place. Most of the other people moved away, leaving a clear space around them. Around Aras. They were afraid of him again now. I could hardly set any fault against them for that.

“Koro will come,” my father said to me.

“Yes, I have absolutely no doubt that everyone will come,” I snapped, unable to prevent myself from speaking sharply. Garoyo cuffed me lightly, and I clenched my teeth together hard and bowed my head in apology. My father pretended he had not noticed my tone and did not rebuke me.

“How long can you hold him?” he asked Aras. Unlike mine, his tone was completely neutral.

“As long as necessary, lord,” Aras answered. “I see little use in letting him go now.” He looked at Yaro, then away again. “I wish I had seen him earlier. But so many people nearby make it impossible to see one more man. I did not know he was there until I heard Ryo’s fury, and knew he thought he was about to die.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, Ryo.”

“The fault is not yours,” Garoyo told him before I could. He added to our father, “The fault is mine. Despite all my care, this enemy found a chance to attack one of our people and a guest of our people. This time, I will certainly lay down my sword. I ask you to give it to a more worthy man.”

Our father nodded acknowledgment, but he said, “You took appropriate measures to prevent such an attack from occurring, warleader. If no one had walked so far from the men you set to watch, our enemy would have found no opportunity. As it was, he could make no chance save against a warrior. If that warrior had been more alert for the possibility, this would not have happened.”

“This is true,” I said at once. “I should not have walked so far from the camp, but if I did, I certainly should not have been so disgracefully careless as to allow myself to become distracted. I think he meant to attack you, warleader. I am certain he meant that. But I gave him a much better target.”

“I am still at fault, that he came so close to our camp and chose his moment as he pleased.”

“Enough,” our father ordered. “We will consider this matter at a later time.” He was watching Koro inKarano approach. We were all watching our king approach, with many inKarano and inVotaro people. Darra was coming as well, walking with her father. Also Elaro Porakario. Royova inVotaro had not come yet, but I could see mounted warriors riding toward us, fast, all their ponies at a canter, which is not the way one ordinarily rides through the camps. Probably Royova was among those warriors.

My mother had come now as well. As I had known would happen, everyone was coming. Already many people were present, of many different tribes.

Koro did not hurry. He came slowly, perhaps in part because a king should not so forget dignity as to run, but probably to give other people time to come to the place. When he finally came to the top of the slope that ran down to the lakeshore, he waved away everyone else and came the last small distance by himself. When he reached us, Koro nodded to my father. Then he looked thoughtfully at Yaro inTasiyo, still standing absolutely still, very plainly unable to move. Finally he looked around at everyone else. He said, to my father, “This place is good for a gathering. People on the slope above will be able to see everything that happens. Will inGara