The Marat's eyebrows went up, and once again that broad-toothed smile briefly took over his face His voice came out in a basso rumble "I look at you, valleyboy "
Tavi blinked at him "You speak Aleran?"
"Some," said the Marat "We call your language the trading tongue Trade with your people sometimes Trade with one another The clans each have their own tongue To one another, we speak trade Speak Aleran "
"Where are you taking us?" Tavi asked
"To the horto," the Marat said
"What's a horto?"
"Your people have no word "
Tavi shook his head "I don't understand "
"Your people never do," he said, without malice "They never try"
"What do you mean?"
"What I say." The Marat turned back to the trail in front of them, idly ducking under a low-hanging branch. The gargant swayed a bit to one side, even as its rider did, and the branch passed the Marat by no more than the width of a finger.
"I'm Tavi," he told the Marat.
"No," the Marat said. "You are Aleran, valleyboy."
"No, I mean my name is Tavi. It's what I am called."
"Being called something does not make you that thing, valleyboy. I am called Doroga."
"Doroga." Tavi frowned. "What are you going to do to us?"
"Do to you?" The Marat frowned. "Best not to think about it for now."
"But-"
"Valleyboy. Be quiet." Doroga flicked a look back at Tavi, eyes dark with menace, and Tavi quailed before it, shivering. Doroga grunted and nodded. "Tomorrow is tomorrow," he said, turning his face away. "For tonight, you are in my keeping. Tonight you will go nowhere. Rest."
After that, he fell silent. Tavi stared at him for a while and then spent a while more working his wrists at the cords, trying to loosen them so that he could at least try to escape. But the cords only tightened, cutting into his wrists, making them ache and throb. Tavi gave up on the effort after an endless amount of squirming.
The sleet, Tavi noted, had changed into a heavy, wet snow, and he was able to lift his head enough to look around him a little. He couldn't identify where they were, though dim shapes far off in the shadows nagged at his memory. Somewhere past the lake and Aldoholt, he supposed, though they couldn't be heading anywhere but to Garrison. It was the only way into or out of the Valley at that end.
Wasn't it?
His back and legs were soaked and chill, but only a while after he noticed that, Doroga glanced back at him, drew an Aleran-weave blanket from his saddlebags, and tossed it over Tavi, head and all.
Tavi laid his head down on the saddle-mat and noted idly that the material used in its construction was braided gargant hair. It held his heat well, once the blanket had gone over him, and he began to warm up.
That, coupled with the smooth, steady strides of the beast, were too
much for Tavi in his exhausted state. He dozed off, sometime deep in the night.
Tavi woke wrapped in blankets. He sat up, blinking, and looked around him.
He was in a tent of one kind or another. It was made of long, curving poles placed in a circle and leaning on one another at the top, and over that was spread some kind of hide covering. He could hear wind outside, through a hole in the roof of the tent, and pale winter sunlight peeked through it as well. He rubbed at his face and saw Fade sitting on the floor nearby, his legs crossed, his hands folded in his lap, a frown on his face.
"Fade," Tavi said. "Are you well?"
The slave looked up at Tavi, his eyes vacant for a moment, and then he nodded. "Trouble, Tavi," Fade said, his tone serious. "Trouble."
"I know," Tavi said. "Don't worry. We'll figure a way out of this."
Fade nodded, eyes watching Tavi expectantly.
"Well not right this minute," Tavi said, after a flustered moment. "You could at least try to help me come up with something, Fade."
Fade stared vacantly for a moment and then frowned. "Marat eat Alerans."
Tavi swallowed. "I know, I know. But if they were going to eat us, they wouldn't have given us blankets and a place to sleep. Right?"
"Maybe they like hot dinner," Fade said, darkly. "Raw dinner."
Tavi stared at him for a minute. "That's enough help, Fade," he said. "Get up. Maybe nobody's looking and we can make a run for it."
They both stood up, and Tavi had just crept to the tent's flap to peek out, when the flap swung out, letting a flood of pale sunlight in along with a slender Marat youth dressed in a long leather tunic. His hair had been pulled into a braid identical to Doroga's, though his body was far more slender, and his features far finer, sharper. The youth's eyes were an opalescent swirl of colors, rather than the dark brown of Doroga's. His eyes widened upon seeing them, as though surprised, and a chipped dagger of some dark stone seemed to leap into his hands and swept at Tavi's face.
Tavi leapt back, fast enough to save his eyes, but not quickly enough to avoid a swift, hot pain, high on his cheek. Tavi let out a yelp, as Fade whimpered and jerked frantically at Tavi's shirt, dragging him back and unceremoniously to the floor behind himself.
The Marat blinked at them, startled, and then demanded something in
the guttural Marat speech, his voice high and, Tavi thought, perhaps nervous.
"I'm sorry," Tavi said. "Urn. I don't understand you." From the floor, he showed the Marat his open hands and tried to smile, though he supposed it looked rather sickly. "Fade, you're standing on my sleeve."
The young Marat scowled, half-lowering the knife, and demanded something else, this time in a different-sounding tongue. He looked from Tavi to Fade, face twisting into revulsion as he studied Fade's scars.
Tavi shook his head, glancing at Fade, who moved his foot and warily helped Tavi to his feet, watching the young Marat with his eyes wide.
The tent flap opened again, and Doroga entered. He stopped for a moment staring at Tavi's face. The burly Marat growled something in a tone that Tavi recognized extremely well-though he normally heard it from his uncle after something had gotten complicated.
The youth spun to face Doroga, hands sweeping behind his back and hiding the knife. Doroga scowled and rumbled something that made color flush the youth's cheeks. The youth snapped something back, to which Doroga replied with an unmistakable negative slash of his hand, together with the word, "Gnah."
The youth thrust up his chin defiantly, snapped something in terse terms, and darted out of the tent, past Doroga's reach, moving as quickly as a frightened squirrel.
Doroga lifted a hand and rubbed at the side of his face with it, then faced Tavi and Fade. The Marat studied them both with his dark eyes and grunted. "My apologies for the behavior of my whelp, Kitai. I am called Doroga. I am the headman of the Sabot-ha. Of the Gargant Clan. You are Alerans and my prisoners. You are the enemy of the Marat, and we will partake of your strength."
Fade whimpered in his throat and clutched at Tavi's arm hard enough to make it go numb.
"You mean," Tavi asked, after a moment's silence, "that you're going to eat us?"
"I do not wish to," Doroga said, "but such is the decree of Clanchief Atsurak." He paused for a moment, eyes focused on Tavi, and said, "Unless this judgment is contested by our laws, you will give your strength to our people. Do you understand?"
Tavi didn't. He shook his head.
Doroga nodded. "Listen to me, valleyboy. We-the-Marat prepare to
move against the Alerans of the bridge valley. Our law calls you enemy. No one speaks otherwise. So long as you are enemy of the Marat, you will be our enemy, and we will hunt you and take you." He leaned forward, speaking slowly. "So long as no one speaks otherwise."
Tavi blinked, slowly. "Wait," he said. "What if someone says that I'm not an enemy?"