to ourselves. When you trust someone, you’re putting yourself in the
position of also trusting everybody he trusts, and sometimes that includes
people you don’t even know. I’d rather not do that just yet.’
‘She’s growing very skilled at logic,’ Sparhawk observed. ‘I know,’
Sephrenia sighed. ‘She’s fallen in with evil companions, I’m afraid.’
They left Sarsos later that morning, riding out through the east gate to be
joined by the Church Knights, the Peloi and Engessa’s two legions of Atans.
The day was fair and warm, and the sky intensely blue. The newlyrisen sun
stood above the range of jagged, snow-capped peaks lying to the east. The
peaks reared upward, and their soaring flanks were wrapped in the deep blue
shadows of morning. The country lying ahead looked wild and rugged. Engessa
was striding along beside Sparhawk, and his bronze face had a somewhat
softer expression than it normally wore. He gestured toward the peaks.
‘Atan, Sparhawk-Knight,’ he said, ‘my homeland.’
‘A significant-looking country, Atan Engessa,’ Sparhawk approved. ‘How
long have you been away?’
‘Fifteen years.’
‘That’s a long exile.’
‘It is indeed, Sparhawk-Knight.’ Engessa glanced back at the carriage
rolling along behind them. Zalasta had supplanted Stragen, and Mirtai, her
face serene, sat holding Danae on her lap. ‘We know each other, do we not,
Sparhawk-Knight?’ the Atan said. ‘i’d say so,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘Our people
have many different customs, but we seem to have stepped around most of
those.’ Engessa smiled slightly. ‘You conducted yourself wel during our
discussions concerning Atana Mirtai and Domi Kring.’
‘Reasonable men can usually find reasons to get along with each other.,’
‘Elenes set great store in reason, do they not?’
‘It’s one of our quirks, I suppose.’
‘I’ll explain something about one of our customs to you, Sparhawk-Knight.
I may not say it too clearly, because I am clumsy in your language. I’ll
rely on you to explain it to the others.’
‘I’ll do my very best, Atan Engessa.’
‘Atana Mirtai will go through the Rite of Passage while she is in Atan.’
‘I was fairly sure she would.’
‘It is the custom of our people for the child to relive the memories of
childhood before the rite, and it is important for her family to be present
while that is done. I have spoken with Atana Mirtai, and her childhood was
not happy’. Many of her memories will be painful, and she will need those
who love her near while she sets them aside. Will you tell Ehlana-queen and
the others what is happening?’
‘I will, Engessa-Atan.’ The Atana will come to you when she is ready. It
is her right to choose those who will support her. Some of her choices may
surprise you, but among my people, it is considered an honour to be
chosen.’ we will look upon it so, Engessa-Atan.’ Sparhawk briefly advised
the others that Mirtai would be calling a meeting at a time of her own
choosing, but he did not go into too much detail, since he himself did not
know exactly what to expect. That evening the Atan giantess moved quietly
through the camp, her manner uncharacteristically diffident. She did not,
as they might have expected, peremptorily command them to attend, but
rather she asked, one might almost say pleaded, and her eyes were very
vulnerable. Most of her choices were the ones Sparhawk would have expected.
They were the people who had been closest to Mirtai during her most recent
enslavement. There were some surprises, however. She invited a couple of
Pandions Sparhawk had not even known she was acquainted with as well as a
couple of Kring’s Peloi and two Atan girls from Engessa’s legions. She also
asked Emban and Oscagne to hear her story. They gathered around a large
fire that evening, and Engessa spoke briefly to them before Mirtai began.
‘It is customary among ‘ our people for one to put childhood away before
entering adulthood,’ he told them gravely. ‘Atana Mirtai will participate
in the Rite of Passage soon, and she has asked us to be with her as she
sets the past aside.’ He paused, and his tone became reflective. ‘This
child is not like other Atan children,’ he told them. ‘For most, the
childhood that is put away is simple and much like that of all others of
our race. Atana Mirtai, however, returns from slavery. She has survived
that and has returned to us. Her childhood has been longer than most and
has contained things not usual – painful things. We will listen with love even
though we do not always understand.’ He turned to Mirtai. ‘It might be
well to begin with the place where you were born, my daughter,’ he
suggested. ‘Yes, Father-Atan,’ she replied politely. Since Engessa had
assumed the role of parent when they had first met, Mirtai’s response was
traditionally respectful. She spoke in a subdued voice that reflected none
of her customary assertiveness. Sparhawk had the distinct impression that
they were suddenly seeing a different Mirtai – a gentle, rather sensitive
girl who had been hiding behind a brusque exterior. ‘I was born in a
village lying to the west of Dirgis,’ she began, ‘near the headwaters of
the River Sama.’ She
spoke in Elenic, since, with the exception of Oscagne, Engessa and the two
Atan girls, none of her loved ones spoke Tamul. ‘We lived deep in the
mountains. My mother and father made much of that.’ She smiled faintly.
‘All Atans believe that they’re special, but we mountain Atans believe that
we’re especially special. We’re obliged to be the very best at everything
we do, since we’re’so obviously superior to everybody else.’ She gave them
all a rather sly glance. Mirtai was very observant, and her offhand remark
tweaked the collective noses of Styric and Elene alike. ‘I spent my
earliest years in the forests and mountains. I walked earlier than most and
ran almost as soon as I could walk. My father was very proud of me, and he
often said that I was born running. As is proper, I tested myself often. By
the time I was five, I could run for half a day, and at six, from dawn
until sunset. ‘The children of our village customarily entered training
very late – usually when we were nearly eight because the training-camp in
our district was very far away, and our parents did not want to be
completely separated from us while we were still babies. Mountain Atans are
very emotional. It’s our one failing.’
‘Were you happy, Atana?’ Engessa asked her gently. Nery happy,
Father-Atan,’ she replied. ‘My parents loved me, and they were very proud
of me. Ours was a small village with only a few children. I was the best,
and my parents’ friends all made much of me.’ She paused, and her eyes
filled with tears. ‘And then the Arjuni slavers came. They were armed with
bows. They were only interested in the children, so they killed all of the
adults. My mother was killed with the first arrow. ‘ Her voice broke at
that point, and she lowered her head for a moment. When she raised her
face, the tears were streaming down her cheeks. Gravely, the Princess Danae
went to her and held out her arms. Without apparently even thinking about
it, Mirtai lifted the little girl up into her lap. Danae touched her
tear-wet cheek and then softly kissed her. ‘I didn’t see my father die,’
Mirtai continued. Her voice was choked, but then it rang out, and her
tearfilled eyes hardened. ‘I killed the first Arjuni who tried to capture
me. They’re ignorant people who can’t seem to realise that children can be
armed too. The Arjuni was holding a sword in his right hand, and he took my
arm with his left. My dagger was very sharp, and it went in smoothly when I
stabbed him under the arm with it. The blood came out of his mouth like a
fountain. He fell back, and I stabbed him again, up under his breast-bone
this time. I could feel his heart quivering on the point of my knife. I
twisted the blade, and he died.’
‘Yes.’ Kring half-shouted. The Domi had been weeping openly, and his voice
was hoarse and savage. ‘I tried to run,’ Mirtai went on, ‘but another
Arjuni kicked my feet out from under me and tried to ‘grab my dagger. I cut
the fingers off his right hand and stabbed him low in the belly. It took
him two days to die, and he screamed the whole time. His screams comforted
me.’
‘Yes.’ It was Kalten this time, and his eyes were also tear-filled. The
Atan girl gave him a brief, sad smile. ‘The Arjuni saw that I was
dangerous, so they knocked me senseless. When I woke up, I was in chains.’
‘This all happened when you were only eight?’ Ehlana asked the giantess in
a half-whisper. ‘Seven, Ehlana,’ Mirtai corrected gently. ‘I wasn’t yet
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