Tarashana Rachel Neumeier (top 10 motivational books TXT) 📖

“Yes,” I said, and nodded to Inhejeriel to go in front of me. She climbed fast at first, to show she could, but soon slowed. I picked her up and carried her the last small distance. She turned into me like a child, putting her arm around my neck, and tucking her head against my chest.

When we came to the tomb, Etta beckoned, so I went in without hesitation. I set Inhejeriel down in the center of the open space. She clung to my arm, looking around, her eyes wide and pale. Her own radiance showed much more brightly in this dim place, sliding over the bone and catching in the eye sockets of the many skulls set in their niches all around us. All those skulls looked upon the center of their tomb, and beyond the tomb, out to the sky. It seemed to me I felt the taiGara looking at us from the empty eyes of those skulls, though I knew this was foolish. Any of the taiGara who might be here would certainly have come forward to look carefully at those who had come here, not stayed back along the walls.

I set a hand on Inhejeriel’s fragile shoulder. “You are safe here. Any guest of inGara is safe here.”

Yes, her silent voice whispered, and she moved a faltering step to sink down by the fire Etta had already started.

This was a big tomb, so deep five men could have lain down head to foot. The space was almost as broad as it was deep. Certainly there was plenty of space for us. I said, “Come in out of the wind,” because Aras and Geras were both hesitating at the entrance.

Iro brushed past the Lau, glanced around, knelt, and bowed low. “I am Iro inGeiro,” he said. “I ask shelter of the taiGara.” This was all he needed to say because of course inGeiro were welcome in any inGara tomb. After a respectful pause, he stood up, came forward, and settled beside Etta.

“Tell them your names and that you came to inGara lands as friends,” I said to the Lau.

Aras set his hand on Geras’ arm. “Spending the night here will be a most unique experience for both of us.” Then he stepped into the tomb and knelt, Geras a heartbeat behind him. They gave their names, and Aras said out loud, “We entered inGara land with permission, because we were requested to come by Marag inGara and Lutra inGeiro. We are friends of both peoples.”

“Perfect!” Etta told him. “That is appropriate and respectful. Come to the fire. It will not be very warm, but soon there will be something hot to drink and that will help. Ryo, it may rain anyway, but should I ask? I think it would be better to ask than wait. If the clouds open now, the rain will fall and then the clouds pass on, so the morning will be fair.”

I agreed with all this. “Ask,” I told her. “Geras, please pour water from the skins into our bowls, then bring the waterskins to the entrance of the tomb. Iro—”

“Yes,” he said.

We both left the tomb and began to stretch out the oiled skins with which we might catch rain and direct it into our waterskins. Etta went a little way up the path to find the quiet solitude that is best for singing. She pulled off her dress as she went, bundling it up so the cloth and leather would not get soaked through in the rain. Iro and I took off our shirts and put them in the tomb where they would stay dry. After a short time, Etta began to sing, her voice as pure and clean as the stone of the mountains, as the wind, as the sky itself. I paused to listen.

High above, lightning flashed. A breath later, thunder boomed.

“We will certainly have plenty of rain,” Iro said. He had straightened. He stood gazing up the mountain, the way Etta had gone. He was not smiling. The expression on his face was proud and possessive. He was sure of her, then, and he had forgotten that to show such a thing to me might be taken as presumptuous. I said nothing.

The skies parted, and the rain came, a violent downpour. Iro went to help Etta come down from the high place she had chosen. I let him go, bending to the task of filling every waterskin to bursting.

Before long, there was indeed a hot tisane. Aras made it, as Etta was vague and absent. It will take a singer some time to recover when the gods bend low above her to listen to her song. Aras took a handful of dried mint and some dried berries and crystalized honey and made the tisane sweet, as he preferred it. Iro silently passed journey sticks to everyone. No one complained, though the sticks were not much like the hard cracker the Lau carry when they do not have time to buy or prepare other food.

Outside the tomb, the rain fell hard. The lightning had walked away, east and south, so now the thunder was far in the distance. Inhejeriel fell asleep with half a journey stick in her hand, her head pillowed on one of the packs. Geras stood up, gathered up a blanket and settled it over her, turned back toward the fire and realized I was looking at him. He shrugged. “She’s a little thing,” he said in darau. “I know she’s a sorcerer, I know she’s got all kinds of pull, but she’s still little and exhausted. Six, seven hours climbing way up this mountain’d wear anybody out, never mind a little thing like that.” He looked over at Aras. “She’s not got me, right?”

“You’re fairly resistant to her sorcery, Geras,” Aras promised him. I knew he meant his