Eventually, later in the day, his curiosity getting the better of him, he had Sirj steer their cart closer to the younger of the two Eandi.
"My pardon, friend," he called to the man. "I was wondering if I might ask you a question or two."
The young man eyed him briefly, then nodded.
"I'm Besh," he said, knowing that the man had already heard this, but wanting him to introduce himself. "This is Sirj."
"I remember. I'm Jasha Ziffel."
"It's nice to meet you, Jasha. I was curious as to how you came to be riding with the white-hairs."
Jasha pressed his lips thin, looking pale and very young. His eyes strayed to the other Eandi. "That's a difficult story."
"Your companion-the other Eandi-he says that you're both prisoners of the Fal'Borna."
"That's true, as far as it goes."
Besh frowned. "As far as it goes?"
Jasha shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "Torgan… that's his name. Torgan Plye. He's a merchant; both of us are, actually. In any case, Torgan managed to buy some of the baskets your witch made, and then he sold them to a Fal'Borna sept. I don't think he knew what he was doing, but the Fal'Borna blame him for what happened afterward. He fled, and I went with him. I'm still not certain why. I thought that together we might find the woman before she could kill again. But I also didn't entirely believe Torgan's story, and, just in case he was lying, I wanted to keep him from spreading any more of the disease."
"So you and he aren't actually friends," Sirj said.
A bitter smile touched his lips and then vanished. "Torgan doesn't have friends, at least not that I know of." He faced Besh again. "I suppose you'd say that we're prisoners. But they allowed me to leave the camp in order to get information from other merchants."
"And you returned."
Besh kept his voice even as he said this, but Jasha seemed to hear a challenge in the words. He straightened and nodded once.
"Yes, I did. I could have run away, but they would have killed Torgan-at least that's what they said. And I want to find these merchants. I wanted to find the witch, too. I'm… I'm glad to know that she's dead."
"What can you tell me about the Qirsi?" Besh asked, eager to change the subject.
The young merchant shrugged. "Not much, really."
"Do you know how Grinsa came to be living among the Fal'Borna?" Jasha shook his head. "No, though I gather that it wasn't by choice. He and Q'Daer-that's the Fal'Borna-they don't get along very well." That much Besh had gathered for himself.
He had other questions, but he didn't want to push Jasha too far. Building a friendship under these circumstances was, he decided, a bit like tending his garden back in Kirayde. Patience was the key. He'd established a bit of trust with the man, and no doubt Jasha would be able to tell him more in the days to come. Better then to let their rapport grow slowly.
"Thank you, Jasha," he said, smiling. "You've been most helpful."
The Eandi nodded, but he didn't ride off, nor did he return Besh's smile.
"Why did she do it?" he finally asked. "You knew the woman, right?"
Besh felt the color drain from his face. "Lici, you mean?"
"Was that her name? Lici? I thought I heard you say it before, but I wasn't certain."
"Yes," Besh said, his mouth suddenly dry. "Her name was Lici."
Jasha shook his head slowly. "It's a nice name. Friendly. I suppose names don't mean as much as we think they do." He shook his head again. "You said before that she wanted to avenge some old injury done her by the Y'Qatt. Can you tell me more?"
At first, Besh was reluctant to answer. It was a Mettai matter and all his life he'd been wary of Eandi and Qirsi alike. In the end, however, he decided that he owed Jasha the truth. The young merchant had been forthcoming with him; Besh could hardly refuse to answer his questions.
"As a young girl Lici lost her entire village to the pestilence. She tried to find Qirsi who could heal her family, but she found the Y'Qatt instead of the Fal'Borna and they refused to help her."
"The Y'Qatt wouldn't use magic to heal themselves much less strangers from another village."
"You and I know that," Besh said. "But Lici was a child at the time. She'd never even heard of the Y'Qatt."
"And now there are Y'Qatt children and Fal'Borna children who will grow up hating the Mettai." Jasha looked like he might weep. "We saw a village-a Fal'Borna sept-that had been destroyed by her plague. They'll hate her forever, and because of that they'll hate all of you. This is how wars begin. I don't know how the first of the Blood Wars started, and I'm sure it didn't involve a plague like this one. But that's beside the point. People on this plain will hate the Mettai for generations. Y'Qatt and Fal'Borna children will be taught that your magic is… evil."
Besh smiled sadly. "Aren't they taught that already?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do," Besh said. "That's why Sirj and I are out here, looking for the baskets. That's why we went after Lici. You might even say that's the reason she's dead."
Jasha looked away again, his face coloring. "You're right, of course. I shouldn't have said all that. I know it's not your fault."
"No," Besh said. "It's not. But that's beside the point, too, isn't it?"
The young merchant met his gaze again and nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid it is.
Chapter 16
They made camp for the night by a wide, slow stream that carved through the grasses like the curved blade of an Uulranni horseman.
The stream was swollen from the recent rains, its waters black in the dying light.
While Grinsa hunted for scraps of wood to burn and Q'Daer pulled food from their sack of stores, the merchants gathered stones from the streambed to make a fire ring. The Fal'Borna had said nothing for hours, but Grinsa sensed that Q'Daer remained uncomfortable with their new companions and unhappy with him for asking the Mettai to join them. Perhaps he should have been concerned by this-the two of them had reached something of an understanding in recent days, but it wouldn't take much to undo the small bit of progress they'd made.
Just now, though, Grinsa couldn't bring himself to care. He and the Fal'Borna were never going to be true allies. Grinsa only wanted to get away from E'Menua's sept; Q'Daer could only take this as an affront.
The two Mettai, though, struck Grinsa as well-meaning and sincere. He was eager to speak with them beyond the hearing of Q'Daer and the two merchants, but this proved difficult to arrange. As soon as the company had finished eating their modest meal of dried meat, hard bread, and cheese provided by the Mettai, Q'Daer pulled him aside.
"We need to be more vigilant now," the Fal'Borna said, his gaze straying toward the merchants. "We need to watch them all the time. You know this, right?"
Grinsa frowned. "You think they'll try to escape?"
Q'Daer shook his head. "They no longer need to escape. They have magic now."
He shook his head. "I'm confused. Are you talking about Jasha and Torgan, or the Mettai?"
"All of them, of course."
"I thought that most Eandi hated the Mettai."
Q'Daer raked a hand through his hair, looking exasperated. "They're dark-eyes," he said, as if Grinsa were the biggest fool in the Southlands. "There's no separating them now. Already I've seen both merchants speaking with the new ones. It's only a matter of time before they try to get away."
Grinsa wondered if they wouldn't be better off allowing Torgan to go, but he kept this to himself.
"I don't think we have anything to fear from Besh and Sirj," he said instead. "Or from the merchants, for that matter."