Jonathan stirred and sat up, rubbing the blue scar. “I am the Voice of the Tribes,” he rasped. “Ali Mukhtab, who was the Voice, has passed on. I remain.” He stood, leaning on Alanna’s shoulder, and the watchers below cheered until their throats hurt. Men came forward and took Mukhtab’s body as Alanna rubbed away the tears flooding down her cheeks.
“He isn’t gone,” Jonathan told her. “He’s here, inside me. They’re all here—all the Voices.” He looked up at a nearby man. “It won’t be so bad, Amman Kemail. I am not wise, but I can always learn.”
The big headman smiled thinly. “In your moment of becoming, we were each with you—” His eyes flicked to Alanna. “All save the Woman Who Rides Like a Man. You will do, Jonathan of Conté.”
They gripped each other’s arms. “If I succeed, I will owe it to the Bazhir and not to myself,” Jon replied.
Halef Seif approached, bowing deeply to the prince who had become their Voice. “It is time for our people to rejoice in a seemly fashion,” the Bloody Hawk headman remarked. “Ali Mukhtab is delivered from his pain, and the Voice of the Tribes continues. Let us burn his abandoned shell, and send him to the gods with love. Come down to the village. We will remember Ali Mukhtab, and we will drink to our hope for peace.”
“What was it like?” Alanna asked Jon. They were curled up together, Faithful lodged between them on top of the blankets. Dawn was slipping sunlight through the tent flap.
For a long time he was silent. “It was the worst thing that ever happened to me,” he said at last. “Even worse than the place between life and death, when you saved me from the Sweating Sickness. Worse than fighting the Ysandir, in the Black City. It was as if—” He drew a deep breath. “As if thousands of people were screaming inside my head, each wanting to be heard first. As if I were all of those people, only everything bad in our lives hurt more, because the feeling was multiplied. I lived all the lives of all the Voices; there have been four hundred and fifteen of us, Alanna. And I saw my own death. I was a chain. All my links were pulling apart. I lost Jonathan for a while; I was everyone but Jonathan.”
“No wonder you screamed,” she whispered, holding him as close as the cat between them would permit.
“But the things I could see.” He had forgotten her now, remembering. “I could see the magic Faithful gave Ali Mukhtab to keep him alive. I could see the palaces we once had, on the other side of the Inland Sea. I could see us fleeing the Ysandir, and building Persopolis. I could feel the wind in our face as we rode the sands, free from all kings. I could see the gods as they watch us live our lives. The Mother is beautiful,” he said, his sapphire eyes shining with awe. “The most perfect woman, and not a woman at all. Mithros was so bright, the Black God without brightness, yet radiating peace. I could never do it again. But I will never forget that I’m One, and Many. When my life becomes too confining, and when I feel I have no freedom, I can look into myself, and be someone else. I can go somewhere else.” He turned and kissed her deeply, then added, “Alanna, for the first time since I was named, I am free.”
When she left Jonathan’s tent the next morning, Alanna found Halef Seif seated on the edge of the tribe’s well, as if waiting for someone. He rose and walked with her as she went to the corral, watching as she got out combs and began to curry Moonlight. Finally he spoke. “The Voice of the Tribes must return to his home soon.”
Bending down to reach her mare’s hocks, Alanna grunted, “He was lucky to be able to get away this long.”
“It will be good to have a Voice who is the son of the Northern king, even as it is good to have a shaman who is the Woman Who Rides Like a Man.”
Alanna glared at the headman from under Moonlight’s neck. “You haven’t been so formal with me since I first joined the tribe,” she accused. “What’s on your mind, Halef Seif?” When he hesitated, she added, “I thought you, of all people, would be honest with me.”
“Will you leave the tribe now?” he asked. “Will you be returning with him, to live in his house and be his wife?”
Alanna swallowed hard; this was being honest with a vengeance! “I don’t know,” she admitted, busying herself with the mare’s tail. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I haven’t come to a decision.”
“He ordered his horses for today,” the headman said implacably. “Surely he expects you to accompany him, if you will be his bride.” Seeing Alanna turn pale, he added, “He ordered that your horse be prepared, too.”
Alanna felt the beginnings of irritation. “He had no right to do that. I haven’t given him my answer yet.”
“Perhaps he believes he knows what your answer will be.”
Alanna put her combs away. “I’d better talk to him.” She slipped beneath the rope that enclosed the horses, and glanced up at Halef Seif. “No one is to ready Moonlight for a journey until I say so.” She strode off, telling herself that Jonathan was tired, and had probably forgotten to ask her if she planned to go with him when he left today. For that matter, she remembered, he hadn’t even mentioned he was leaving.
Relax, her sensible self remarked as she entered the prince’s tent. Becoming the Voice would probably drive less important matters from his head—and he dare not stay here much longer.
Jonathan was conferring with Myles and Coram. Already a boy from the tribe was packing his things. The prince smiled at her. “My love, I’ve instructed Kara and Kourrem to pack for you,” he announced. “If we leave after twilight, we should have several hours of cool riding—”
“May I speak with you alone, Jonathan? I know Coram and Myles will excuse us.”
Seeing the scowl on her face, Coram needed no further urging. He left. Myles looked from Alanna to Jon, plainly worried. “It’s all right, Myles,” the prince assured him. “We’ll be ready in an hour or so.”
Myles stopped beside Alanna. “Don’t say anything you might regret,” he cautioned.
“I won’t.” Alanna gripped the ember-stone at her throat, telling herself that what she had just heard was rooted in a simple misunderstanding, one that would be made right. Myles sighed and walked out, closing the tent flap after him.
“You didn’t mention you were planning to leave today.” In making an effort to keep her temper, Alanna sounded clipped and terse.
“I thought you knew.” Jonathan was rolling up a map, not looking at her. “If I had been with anyone but Myles, my parents would have torn up the countryside looking for me by now. I must get back.”
“I did not say I was returning with you, and you didn’t ask me before you ordered people to do my packing.”
“I assumed we’d begin preparations for the wedding. I didn’t think you would want to wait.”
“I haven’t told you yes,” Alanna reminded him, her voice tense.
He looked at her, startled. “But—I know how you feel about me.”
“Being married to you is a great responsibility. I need more time to think about it.”
“More time!” He’s actually amused, Alanna thought, her anger mounting. “Be serious. After all these years, I’d think your answer is plain.”
She had clenched her jaw so tightly it hurt to open it. “Not to me.”
Jonathan slapped the rolled-up parchment onto the table, his patience nearing an end. “Stop it, Alanna. I’ve made enough allowance for maidenly shyness from you—”
“Maidenly shyness!” she yelled. “Since when have I shown maidenly shyness!”
“Keep your voice down!” he snapped. “Do you want the whole tribe to hear? What’s gotten into you, anyway? I thought it was all settled.”
“I said I wanted time to think!” Although her voice was quieter, her snapping violet eyes revealed her undiminished fury.
Jonathan’s smile was full of masculine superiority. “That’s what all women say when a man proposes.”
“Do they indeed?” Alanna snapped. “And you’re such an expert on marriage proposals, I suppose!”
“As much as you are,” he snapped back.
“When I say I want time to think, I want time to think!”
Jonathan sighed wearily. “All right, you’ve had time to think. What’s your answer?”
“That I need more time to think!”
Jon stared at her for a moment, color mounting into his cheeks. “This is ridiculous!” he cried. “All right, I should’ve remembered you don’t like people making plans without your say-so, but I thought everything was settled—”
“It isn’t! How dare you take my acceptance for granted?”
“Well, you certainly didn’t give me a reason to believe you’d refuse, did you?” he demanded, his hands clenched with anger. “Think carefully before you annoy me further, Alanna of Trebond! There are women who would do anything to marry me—”
“Then why didn’t you ask one of them?” Alanna said. “You know what your problem is, Jonathan? You’ve been spoiled by all those fine Court ladies. It never entered your mind that I might say no!”
“And who would you take instead of me, O Woman Who Rides Like a Man?” he demanded. “I suppose George Cooper’s more to your taste—”
“George!” she gasped, surprised at his new angle of attack.
“Do you think I’m blind? I’ve seen the way he looks at you!”
“What about all those women at the palace and the way they look at you?” Alanna demanded. “And I know you’ve had affairs with some of them! They’ve made you into a conceited—”
“At least they’re women, Lady Alanna!” he said. “And they know how to act like women!”