Windwalker - Elaine Cunningham [103]
"Why not? Zofia is the only one who actually knew Sylune. For reasons of her own, she is willing to let things stand. What I would like very much to know, however, is what these reasons might be."
The warrior fell silent. "She is an Oracle. No one in Rashemen sees the future as clearly as she."
"And?" Liriel pressed, sensing more.
"She is my grandmother."
The drow nodded, encouraging him to continue. After a moment, it occurred to Fyodor that she didn't automatically make the connection.
"Family is considered of greatest important in Rashemen. We form close bonds, we stand for each other. You remember when the gods walked and magic failed?"
"Yes."
The answer was terse, closed. Fyodor did not press the point, not sure he wanted to know the kind of turmoil this had caused in Liriel's home city.
"When the berserker warriors go into battle, the natural magic of our battle frenzy is strengthened by ritual. For some reason, no one could say why, this magic twisted in me. In this I was not alone," he added softly. "A few witches and some of the artisans were never right again. All were slain.
"It was deemed necessary," he said hastily, though Liriel had not condemned this harsh verdict. "The witches bond together in circles to cast their magic. One person's weakness endangers all. Some thought warriors should receive the same sentence."
"Zofia didn't agree."
"No, and because she sees more than most, the others listen when she speaks. She entrusted to me the Windwalker, one of Rashemen's great treasures, and gave me a chance to find my way home."
"Because she is your grandmother." Liriel spoke the words aloud as if she thought the exercise might help her understand what they meant. Coming around full circle, she added shrewdly, "And because she is an Oracle. Maybe she foresaw some great destiny for you."
The young man shook his head. "She told me only that I would find my own destiny, one that could change the course of Rashemen's history."
Liriel quickly made the connection. "That would be me?"
"Zofia is willing to wait and see."
They fell silent as the drow thought this over. Fyodor, too, had his own thoughts to consider.
Despite Zofia's tacit approve, he was dismayed by the deception in which he found himself. Though no untrue words had actually been spoken, a lie had been crafted, and both he and Liriel would have to live it as long as they remained in his homeland. This galled him. He himself believed in speaking simple truth, but he had seen enough of subterfuge to know that truth has a way of coming out. Attempts to conceal it usually made matters worse.
"Don't think that I'm unaware of the risk," Liriel said softly, uncannily echoing Fyodor's thoughts. "If this little game goes awry, you should call xittalsh."
She noted his puzzled expression and struggled to explain the drow concept. "In my homeland there are contests of arms, fought in special caverns to entertain those who watch. Do humans have such things?"
"We do, yes."
"Some of the fighters are slaves, others monsters, some are professional fighters who thrive on the battle, but sometimes fighting can give a drow a second chance. Let's say that two drow are caught in a conspiracy. One is undoubtedly guilty, but the other's involvement is not so clear. That drow can call xittalsh, and claim the right to establish her innocence."
"They fight in the arenas. If they win, they live," Fyodor concluded.
Liriel nodded.
"Even though they may be guilty. Even though everyone knows that they are guilty."
"They live," she said bluntly. "If we are caught, you must tell them you knew nothing of my true identity. Go on as you did before we met. Fight for Rashemen. That will make most people believe in your innocence. Win enough battles, and in time even the doubters will cease to care."
They rode for a long time before Fyodor trusted himself to speak. "Do you think so little of me to believe that I could do such a thing? There are pledges between us-pledges of honor and promises of the heart. These things I should throw away so I can keep breathing a few