Tarashana Rachel Neumeier (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📖

unless I am very, very certain that something is a matter for a singer to decide.”

Our father nodded to her. Then he said sternly, “Iro inGeiro, I am certain you agree this is not the time to quarrel.”

Iro bowed his head and answered, “I do agree, lord.” Turning to me, he said, “I will respect your orders, Ryo, and I will not quarrel.”

That was an important promise, and one I knew had not been easy for him to give. I nodded acknowledgment.

“Go, my son,” my father told me, his tone flat and hard. “Go, and be certain no Gara person is left desolate in some place that is right neither for the living nor the dead. Go, and punish our enemies. Then return.”

“Lord,” I acknowledged.

Aras put in, quietly, “I will do everything I can to see that all your people return safely to this side of the tombs, Sinowa.”

“Yes,” said my father, meeting his eyes.  “I know you will. My wife will send word of your courage to your king, and to mine.”

Aras bowed his head for a moment, and then turned away, tilting his head back to gaze up toward the heights. Some of the tombs of the inGara were visible, carved into the stone over the ages of the world by the labor of many hands and the requests of many singers.

“Yes,” I told him. “That is the way we will go. It is a long climb to the oldest tombs. We will not come there today, but tomorrow.”

At first the slope was not too steep. Sparse grasses clung here and there, where a little soil had gathered. Soon, as the path steepened, turning back and forth across the face of the mountain, there were no places like that and the only growing things were lichens, flat and silvery against the gray stone. In many places, the stone had been carved into shallow steps. Etta set the pace as she found comfortable. The Tarashana woman was almost exactly my sister’s height, and though far less sturdy, she also carried less weight and showed no signs of difficulty. With their long legs, the Lau undoubtedly found the pace very easy indeed.

After some time, the path turned again and we began to pass by the lowest of the tombs. Each head stood upright in its own niche, those dead most recently set nearest the front so that they could look over our lands and see their children. Etta touched her fingertips to her mouth in a gesture of greeting to any taiGara who might be present. I did the same, and Iro as well.

We climbed for a long time, pausing now and then to rest. Everyone managed well enough, even Inhejeriel, though anyone could see she would not be able to climb all day. Eventually I signaled a halt. Clouds, thickening all day, had by this time turned the sky the color of pewter from one edge of the world to the other. Inhejeriel’s luminescence had gradually became more evident as the daylight dulled, so that now she glimmered with gentle light. This was beautiful, but disconcerting. I thought it would be a long time before I became accustomed. But that was not what concerned me now.

The mountain blocked most of the wind, but gusts came sideways along the face of the cliffs. The wind was colder here than at the foot of the mountain. I found it merely brisk, but Inhejeriel and Aras and Geras had laced their coats tightly and bowed their heads against the wind. And the clouds were darkening, heavy with the promise of rain.

“Etta,” I said, and indicated a tomb some distance above us. “Go ahead of us and ask the taiGara for permission to rest there.”

“Yes,” she agreed. She looked at Aras, who was pretending he was not tired or cold, and at Geras, who was also pretending that, somewhat more successfully. Then she looked at Inhejeriel, who was not managing that kind of pretense. The Tarashana woman stood with her head bent and her arms tucked close to her body. She was shivering, perhaps with cold or perhaps with weariness. Her breaths came fast and hard, though she had not been carrying anything at all. “Yes,” Etta said again, her tone different this time because she saw I was right. She turned and scrambled upward, moving quickly.

“Seriously, Ryo? We’re supposed to rest in an ossuary?” Geras said to me in darau, his voice low.

“It is not an ossuary,” I told him. “I know you cannot like entering one of our tombs. I know everything is different for you Lau. For a long time, all your customs troubled me very much. I understand our customs must seem wrong to you now, but I promise you, there is no danger here. The taiGara are our people. Besides, there is no place to rest in these heights except within a tomb. Also, I think rain may come soon.”

Inhejeriel leaned against the face of the cliff, weary enough to rest anywhere, but Aras had turned to gaze down and down the long way we had come. I could see from the set of his back that he did not like the idea of going into a tomb any better than Geras. He did not turn, but he said, “It’s true this path wouldn’t be improved by rain.”

“Well,” Geras said. “No. That’s a point.” But his expression when he looked after my sister was unhappy.

I said, still in darau, “This is not a bad place, not unlucky, not dangerous. Please, Geras, do not be concerned. We can make a fire and heat water for a tisane. We will be comfortable there.”

“Right,” Geras said. “Comfortable.”

“Of course you’re right, Ryo,” Aras said, turning suddenly. He was smiling, a wry expression. “Very well; a tomb it shall be.” He used the Ugaro word, not the Lau ossuary, and went