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

different part of our tribe had come here when their husbands and brothers took on a different kind of duty than they normally held.

We had come to my father’s tent. He put back the entrance, pegging it open, and ducked through. The rest of us followed, and I gestured to Aras and Geras that they should take places near the brazier that stood in the center of the tent. There were many cushions and furs, and someone must have run ahead to set berry liqueur over the brazier to warm and set out the small cups on the enameled table that stood to the side, because there were enough cups for everyone.

My father poured some of the liqueur into a cup with his own hands and offered this to Aras. He said, “I am grateful the scepter-holder and nephew of the king of the summer country answered my request to come. I know you have your own duties in the summer country, but this problem here concerns me more now than it did when my wife wrote to you. And it already troubled my thoughts then.”

“Yes,” said Aras, taking the cup. “I was glad to come, lord. I have been curious about the Tarashana and the starlit lands since your son told me that the people you used to trade with disappeared, but as I had many other concerns and the starlit country is so far from the summer lands, I put that curiosity out of my mind. But now I wonder very much what happened there.”

“I have sent for my warleader. I think it best you speak with him before you see the avila woman. You will wish to speak with my warleader first, and soon enough the Sun will step below the edge of the world. Tonight, I offer you the hospitality of my tent. Or you may raise up your own tent, as you prefer.”

Aras hesitated. I thought I knew why. My father considered it right to offer the hospitality of his own tent—but he would prefer that his guest who was a sorcerer raise up a tent of his own, preferably not too near. Probably that was confusing for a sorcerer who wished to do the right thing and not cause offense. I thought as clearly as I could of what he might do, and he said, without looking at me, “Thank you, lord. I am glad to accept your hospitality tonight. Perhaps, after I see this Tarashana woman, I will find it best to place my own tent there, near the place you have set aside for her.”

“After you have met this woman, if that seems best, you may certainly do that,” my father said calmly.

My brother Garoyo came in then. He knelt first to greet our father. Then, at our father’s gesture, he came to sit with the rest of us. As he was my eldest brother and my warleader, I poured some of the liqueur for him and knelt to offer him the cup. He gripped my shoulder briefly, took the cup, and sat down, acknowledging Aras with a nod and Geras with a glance. He said to Aras, “You will wish to see this avila—this Tarashana.”

Aras smiled, but he answered my brother’s restrained manner with restraint of his own and said merely, “Yes, warleader, but even though I have heard the tale from Rakasa, I would like to hear it from you as well. Please tell me briefly about this woman and how she came here.”

Garoyo tilted his head. “Do I need to tell you anything? Can you not see everything in my mind?”

“I would prefer that you tell me the tale, warleader,” Aras answered. “What I see in your mind as you speak will show me the ... the background for your words. But the tale will be much more clear to me if you speak out loud. Please tell me first about the starlit country.”

Garoyo nodded. “That is a sad country now. The land lies abandoned and lonely. The villages and farms of the avila lie empty. The wind blows through their homes. They left all their possessions and went away.”

“Yes,” Aras murmured. “I see how disturbing you found that empty country. The dark sky to the north ... that is even more disturbing, I agree. I am glad to see these things through your memory, warleader. Thank you for showing me. Will you tell me of the Tarashana woman now?”

“She followed us from her own country into the pass. When I became aware someone followed us, I was not certain what kind of person this might be. I did not think it would be an avila. The path through the mountains is challenging, steep, with little shelter, and this was before spring had come, so the winds cutting through the pass were fiercely cold.”

“Yes,” Aras agreed. “I have read descriptions of the Tarashana. I cannot imagine one of those people would find that an easy journey, not if your people find it challenging. But what other kind of person did you think this might have been?” He was leaning forward, interested in whatever my brother might say. Aras was the kind of man who might have been a poet if he had not been a warleader and a lord and a sorcerer; he always wanted to hear tales of wide travel and unknown marvels.

Garoyo shrugged. “Something drove the avila away, or killed them. I thought we might discover what kind of enemy had done this. But the roots of all these mountains go down into the land of the shades. The shades of the unsettled dead haunt the mountains. They are dangerous because they may try to steal the breath of the living. The taiGara drive them away from our lands, but the mountains that frame the pass belong to no one. I thought that was the more likely danger.”

Aras sat back, nodding.