slew my grandfather when my father was a boy. And my father revenged the family by killing Kan's first born. So there is much spilled blood between us.'
Iraj said one dark night Fulain gave Kan and his horse soldiers free passage through his land, joining him in a series of surprise attacks. Many died, including the cousin who would have been regent. When Fulain had the rest of the family under his heel he demanded Iraj's head so there would be no one to dispute his claim as clan lord.
'My mother begged one of my unclesher sister's husbandto help, Iraj said. I was forced to flee my own home and hide out with his peoplethe Babor clan. But there were so many spies about it wasn't safe to remain long. My uncle was ashamed to send me away. But he has his own wives and children to look after so he sent me here to hide from Fulain and Kan.'
To Safar the tale had the ring of legend about it. He felt like a child listening to his father tell stories of old days and wild ways.
'Will you never be able to return? he asked.
Iraj jammed a stick into the fire and flames leaped up to carve deep shadows on his face. He looked older in that light. And quite determined.
'The war in my family continues, he said. But it is a silent war of spies and night raids. When it's safe my uncle will send for me. And then I will be tribal lord.'
'How can you be sure? Safar asked. What if Fulain and Kan keep the upper hand?'
Iraj went silent. He stabbed moodily at the fire. Then he said, I must believe it, don't you see? Otherwise I might as well take my own life now.'
Safar didn't see. Why should Iraj die because he couldn't be lord of his tribe? Why not stay in Kyrania where no danger could touch him? He could live a long peaceful life. Marry one of the village women and be happy with all the beauty and bounty of Kyrania. But he said none of those things because he could see from Iraj's agitation it would only upset him morealthough Safar didn't understand why. Instead, he asked him about the customs of his own people.
'It's nothing like here, Iraj said with unconscious disdain. We don't farm. We aren't slaves to the land. We fight for what we want. And we fight more to keep it. For I tell you, Safar, I learned at my father's knee that men will either love you or fear you. There is no in-between.'
He said his family had roamed the broad Plains of Jaspar for centuries. They were the fiercest of the tribes that remained after Alisarrian's kingdom broke up. They lived by raiding weaker tribes and looting villages and cities in distant lands. In recent yearseven before his father became illthings had not gone well.
'Our horse herds are not so numerous as before, he said. And a plague took many of our camels. Other tribes have made bargains with the kings of the cities who once paid us tribute. We became surrounded by powerful enemies who are envious of our lands.
'My Uncle Neechanthe one who supports meblames my father for what's happened. Iraj sighed. I suppose he's right although I hate to admit it. I loved my father. But I think he was born too rich. His father was a great war lord and perhaps this weakened him. We used to live in yurts, tarrying until the grazing grew sparse, then packing up and moving on. Sometimes we took to the plains just because the notion sparked us and we traveled whichever way the winds blew. Now we live in a grand fortress my grandfather built.'
Iraj said life was luxurious in that fortress. There was gold to buy whatever the family cared to purchasetapestries and carpets and slaves to tend every need. They supped on food made lively with rare spices, some so deliciously hot that the meal was followed by iced sherbets made from exotic fruit gown in distant lands. There was a garden with an ornate fountain in the courtyard of Iraj's home and his father had liked to take his ease there, musing on the antics of the fish, munching on honeyed figs while sniffing at gentle breezes carrying the scent of oranges and roses.
'I think such rich living lessened my father's will to fight, Iraj said. When he'd drunk too much winewhich was often in his later dayshe'd curse those riches and swear that on the morrow he'd pack up our household and take to the Plains of Jaspar again. Living in yurts and going a-raiding like his father had as a young man. But in the morning life would continue as usual.
'I know he felt guilty about it. He even admitted it several times, warning me about the hidden dangers of so many riches. I think this is why he made me take the sword vow. So I might accomplish what he could not. Now the honor of my family is on my head.'
'I'm sorry, Safar said, thinking this was a burden he wouldn't want to carry.
'Don't be, Safar, Iraj said. This is what I want. The gods willing, one day I shall restore my family to its former greatness. His voice fell until Safar could barely make out his next words. And more, he murmured.
Just then a flaming object shot through the heavens and the boys heads jerked up in awe. It hung above them, a vast swirling ball that chased the night from the hills. Then the ball exploded, bursting into a fiery shower.
Safar gaped as the glowing particles floated down until they filled his whole vision with dancing light. There were so many it was like snow from a rainbow and then they were drifting over him and he instinctively stuck out his tongue to catch one like a child marveling at snowflakes. To his surprise one floated into his mouth, which was immediately filled with a taste like warm, honeyed wine. Safar's whole body tingled with pleasurable energy and he suddenly felt above all mortal things.
He heard laughter and looked at Iraj. A glowing blanket of particles swirled around him and his features seemed comically twisted like a pot collapsing in a kiln. He was pointing at Safar, laughing, and the young man knew he must look the same. Then the particles vanished and all was normal again. For some reason Safar was left feeling somber, moody, while Iraj was still chortling.
'You are lucky for me, Safar, he said. I tell you my deepest secrets and immediately we are blessed by a sign from the heavens.'
'But a sign of what, Iraj? Safar asked. How do we know it has to do with us?'
'It was too wonderful to be anything but a blessing, Iraj replied.
That night, while Iraj slept peacefully, Safar remained awake, wondering what the heavenly display had meant. Was it a sign? If so, what did it portend? His senses were acute and every sound stood out clearly from the usual night muddle of chirps and frantic scurrying. He heard a cricket sing and at first he thought it was a spring song to its mate.
Then he heard, It's coming! It's coming!'
Another cricket said, What's coming? What's coming?'
And the first answered, Better hide! Better hide!'
Then a soft wind blew up and the crickets fell silent. The silence came so abruptly it seemed to have substance, an object Safar could feel and turn about and examine if only he could touch it. In his mind he made a bucket of fresh clay. The silence, he thought, was in that bucket and he began to clean the clay, washing out twigs and pebbles. And then he found it. He fumbled it upa broad, unusually shaped pebble. Blood red.
His spirit self looked into the stone's polished surface, saw his eye reflected back, and then he was falling… falling…
He stretched his arms and let the spirit winds carry him. At first he thought he was returning to the conquered city he'd seen before. But the winds bore him up and he was speeding across plains and deserts and then seas. He flew for what seemed an eternity, shooting from dark horizon to dark horizon until those horizons became gray and then startling blue as night turned to day and emerald seas churned beneath him.
Surely, he thought, I must have flown far enough to be on the other side of the world. The place Gubadan's books called World's End. Just as he wondered when he'd stop he came to a mountainous isle in the middle of a vast ocean.
He heard chanting and drums and strange horns bellowing mournful notes that drew at him like a great tide washing to shore. Safar let the tide of notes carry him to a great grove of towering trees all heavy with ripe fruit.
Among those trees handsome people danced to the beat of big drums with skins made of thin bark. Several men blew through huge shell horns, making the mournful sound that had drawn him here. The people were naked and their sun bronzed bodies were painted in glorious colors. A tall woman danced in the center, high breasts bobbing to the wild, joyous rhythm. Her shapely hips churned and thrust in the ancient act of mating. Safar's young body reacted and he became powerfully aroused.
Suddenly she stopped, eyes widening in such terror that Safar's lust vanished, to be replaced by a feeling of immense dread.
