LITMIR.BIZ

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Southern Seagan was now governed by Mirayan lords and a wise man does not fight against his lord's kind.

      She looked round at the variety of faces in the room. 'Are all these people Mirayans? I wouldn't have picked them all as such.'

      'Miraya's ten times the size of Yarmars. We don't all look the same, though most of us are taller and fairer than the natives. Though not you, I see. Where are you from?'

      Yani was watching the barkeep and another man easing Bullyboy and Ratface outside, with an expertise that showed long practice. The raven's eyes glittered with satisfaction.

      Yani's eyes grinned. 'I feel a shameful pleasure at teaching those fellows not to pick fights with strangers.'

      'Shameful?'

      'It is wrong to take pleasure in violence.'

      'You're a warrior, aren't you? Violence is your trade.'

      'I suppose so. I like to fight well and I love to win, but a good warrior should not enjoy violence for its own sake.'

      Chapter 4

      Ezratah felt a sudden liking for Yani. He knew he should probably disapprove, but his pleasure at winning the fight seemed as innocent as a child's with a toy. The natives often had a certain appealing simplicity about them. Now, how to bring up the subject of the meeting at the stones?

      'You must be going to fight in the St Stefan's day tournament,' he said to open the subject of travelling.

      'Tournament? In Olbia?'

      'Yes. Didn't you know? This is an important feast time. The midsummer festival of light is over and the harvest festival of Stefan, the warrior saint, occurs. Prince Alexus Scarvan hosts a tournament for all warriors, native and Mirayan. So you are not going to fight in it?'

      'Oh yes, if there is a tournament and I may fight in it then I shall certainly do so.'

      'So what takes you to Olbia in the first place?'

      'To fight in the tournament,' smiled Yani teasingly. 'As you say, it is the feast of St Stefan.'

      For a moment Ezratah was at a loss for words. A native had never spoken teasingly to him before. It was as if this fellow believed himself equal and something in Ezratah protested this. It took him a moment or two to regain his balance. In the meantime Yani took over the conversation.

      'Are you going to Olbia too? Is there a tournament for mages?'

      'I would have thought you were a mage yourself when I met you earlier,' Ezratah said. If the fellow was going to treat him as an equal there was no need to tiptoe around him, was there?

      'Why?' Yani said with a wide-eyed innocence that Ezratah suspected was satirical.

      'You used magic to get into that stone circle.'

      'Did I? I really wouldn't like to say. They are a Tari secret, the stone circles.'

      'Tari?' Ezratah asked.

      Suddenly the table lurched. The mage's ale toppled into his lap.

      'Fire and earth!' Yani swore. 'Get away, you beast. It's a dog.'

      Ezratah pulled his robe away from his body before the beer could soak through to his skin. Using magic, he pulled the liquid off his robe and dropped it back into the cup. The unseen dog was well gone by the time he had leisure to pay attention to it.

      The wench came to the table to replace Ezratah's beer with one that was not full of dust and bits of cloth. 'Lord,' she said softly in Seagani, and Ezratah was surprised to find that she was addressing the Tari. 'Lord, it is not safe for you to stay here tonight. Some of the other guests are angry that you beat their friends. They are sure to attack you in the night.'

      'It's a cruel night to be out on the road. You are certain of this?'

      The wench went back to the bar for another two cups of ale.

      When she returned she said, 'When you leave here, turn to the left. There will be someone there who will lead you to a safe place to stay.'

      'Why does she call you lord?' Ezratah asked when she was gone. 'Are you one?'

      'No,' Yani said 'But her people have great respect for mine.'

      'Your people? The Tari? And why is that?'

      'I've never been much on history,' Yani shrugged.

      'Fascinating,' Ezratah said sarcastically. 'So no one ever explained to you why they respect you?'

      'If you ask them, perhaps they will tell you,' Yani replied blandly. She lifted up her cup and drained it in one gulp. 'Ahh!' she said with a sigh of satisfaction. 'Well now. I think it is time to go. The wench is nodding at me.'

      She stopped and looked at Ezratah for a moment as if considering something. Then she said, 'Tell me, how will the other Mirayans take your disloyalty? You are welcome to come with me if you wish.'

      Ezratah thought he would probably be safe enough in a backward place like this. He was unlikely to meet anyone with comparable magical powers. But he had no wish to lose track of the Tari, so he accepted the invitation.

      As they walked through the bar, there was a low cheer of approval. Several people put out their hands and the Tari shook them all and muttered some words. At the door Yani turned, touched the posts and to Ezratah's astonishment, said, 'May the Circle of Life enfold and bless this house and everybody in it.'

      There were nods and smiles all around.

      It was raining heavily outside. Yani and Ezratah pulled their cloaks around themselves as the cold drops hit them in the face. When they moved away from the door of the tavern a figure slipped forward, took the Tari's arm and led them down the street and into a stinking, muddy lane. Soon they found themselves on the outskirts of the settlement, moving very unsteadily down a slippery path that led through a grove of trees.

      A sacred grove, thought Ezratah with a tingle of excitement, before he remembered that such things no longer existed here in Southern Seagan now the religious edicts had been passed. Prince Alexus Scarvan had outlawed all the sacred groves in Southern Seagan and the shamans who served in them. A little voice at the back of his mind began to accuse him of idiocy. Here he was, alone and unprotected among people who were not his own kind and who had all sorts of strange beliefs. He had even heard stories of human sacrifice in the sacred groves.

      Bent forward into the pouring rain, they passed through more trees and by a rickety hummock that was probably a Seagani bothy. Another bigger building loomed ahead. Its door was opened and candlelight beckoned. A barn. More substantial than many Seagani buildings and - Thank Mir! - weatherproof. Ezratah took off his cloak and shook it out. The place was lit by a lantern resting on a little table. There was a man with long, curling hair sitting on a low bench. His face registered shock when he saw the two of them. Ezratah could not tell if it was he or Yani the man was shocked by, but his expression changed quickly to one of bland calm. He had a hard, clever face. Ezratah thought he looked utterly untrustworthy.

      Their guide turned out to be a heavily pregnant woman. She turned to Yani and said, 'Lord, do you wish for food?'

      'Thank you, but I have my own food. I would not place a burden on this family.'

      'It is no burden, lord. We often have extra for guests and it would be an honour to serve you,' the young woman said. Then she turned and saw that Ezratah was Mirayan. Dismay showed on her face.

      'There are no beds for natives at the inn so my father rents space here,' she said defensively in trade talk.

      'Do not fear,' Yani said in Seagani. 'He aided me against the others and has also offended them.'

      The girl nodded and went away, though she shot a suspicious glance at Ezratah as she went. Ezratah wondered if he should continue pretending that he didn't speak Seagani. He had a feeling he had already revealed himself.

      Yani turned to the man at the table and introduced himself and Ezratah.

      'I

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