Friends (2013) - Adams, Robert

“Ah, I see,” he said, nodding with the same odd lightness behind his sobriety. “To have failed to assist us would have been dishonorable, but disobeying your father’s wishes is not. The matter is now clear to me.”

“1 scarcely disobey my father’s true wishes,” Lisah replied as haughtily as she might, praying to Sun and Wind that the blush hot on her cheeks might not be visible to the awful man who continued to regard her. “When he returns to his senses he will find it again possible to admit that one may not withdraw one’s word with honor, and that duty must be attended to even if unpalatable. ! now do no more than honor my word and attend to duty.”

The girl began to turn from him then, intending to retrieve her gear and replace it on her mare, but a big hand came to her arm, halting her.

“You speak of honor and duty as though well familiar with them, girl, yet does your understanding of the two seem rather flimsy to me,” Sir Bryahn said, the lightness gone from him, his voice filled more with steel. “Should it be your wish to run petulantly from your true duty like some spoiled, pouting child, you may do so, but you may not tarnish the word ‘honor’ by linking it to such an act. There is no slightest trace of honor or duty in what you do.”

“How dare you!” Lisah hissed, her right palm aching to be clapped to her hilt. Had the swine been other than her father’s guest she would surely have drawn on him, and that despite the plate he wore. His helm had been left behind on his kak, the doing of a fool if ever there was one. One of her arms masters had taught her a ploy . . .

“I dare quite easily,” the beast returned, folding metaled arms across metaled chest. “Have you never been taught that a child’s first duty is to its sire and family, not to its own desires? From what I have already learned of your father, I would strongly doubt that the omission was his. Think you are alone in wishing to do one thing, while needing to do another? We all of us do as we must, and therein lies true honor.”

"Your words make as much sense as the cawing of a crow,” the girl pronounced, hoping to push the man into drawing on her instead. “I most certainly am aware of my duty to my family and my father, which is one reason why I ride from here as I do. Had my father been in his right senses, never would he have spoken to me as he did, insisting that 1 withdraw an already-given word. It was he I learned the meaning of honor from, and none of this ‘he is male, you are female’ foolishness. Honor is the same for all.”

“Indeed it is,” Sir Bryahn allowed, nodding carefully. “It is, however, not seen the same by all, most especially not by one who lacks full knowledge. All Kindred family members know that a daughter must wed at her father’s direction, the while a son need not do the same. Our combined escort numbers a full two hundred men, girl, a large number of them Kindred. Should you doubt my word, you may put the question to each and every one of them.”

Lisah stood wordless at this revelation, having no need to do as Bryahn had suggested. The man’s mind was just then fully open to her as it had not previously been, and the truth in his words shone forth from his thoughts as the moon shone forth from the sky. In no manner was it a lie he spoke, and she abruptly felt that to have been chopped with his sword would have been far kinder.

“But—then—my having left would be no other thing than dishonorable,” she whispered, raising one hand to her whirling head. “And yet, what else is one to do when faced with such— injustice ? How does one find an honorable course in such a morass, even should there be one? And how very unlikely it is that there is one; honor, in all probability, will prove to be no more than illusion.”

The tormented girl turned to bury her fists and face in the mane of her mare, bitter disappointment and the pain of incomprehension slicing her from within. Ail things she had ever been taught were now suspect, for how many other hidden snares might there be among them? Freedom was not freedom and words might be broken at will, and each time her father had told her that she was the most precious of all his get, he had surely lied. She was the least precious of all, for she was female, unfit, even, to have the full truth spoken to her.

“Honor is no illusion, Lisah, nor are you faced with the sort of injustice you currently picture,” Sir Bryahn’s voice came, now gentle and filled with compassion. “As 1 said earlier, one without full knowledge merely sees it differently.” “In what other manner is one to see it?” the girl demanded, disillusionment making the words harsh, her fists still tight in the mane. “To disobey my father would be dishonorable, but to obey him would be to dishonor my word, and dishonor as well my sense of pride. Am I a mule, to be given to the first man my current owner approves of, to be bred for the pleasure of a distant herdmaster? Perhaps you picture yourself a mule, my lord. I most emphatically do not.”

“Hardly a mule, Lisah, for mules cannot be bred,” was the reply, spoken in a voice which strove not to be amused. “And also do I believe that the High Lord would be aggrieved to hear himself referred to as a herdmaster. He, like us, does as he must, for the entire Confederation is his concern. Our concerns are more modest, however, and what you have said is entirely wrong. Have you the courage to give heed to a truth which disagrees with your sense of the proper?” “I no longer have a sense of the proper,” the girl returned, freeing one hand to stroke her mare. “You may speak whatever words you will, for 1 care not.”

“Moping suits you not at all, girl,” the man retorted, firmly taking Lisah by the arms and turning her to face him. “Much do I prefer your smile, and perhaps we may return it to you. Let us speak first of what you see as injustice. You believe your father should not have the right to marry his daughter to the man of his choice?”

“When that daughter’s brothers may do as they please?” Lisah replied with a sound of disdain. “Certainly not.”

“Ah, but that daughter’s brothers may not do as they please,” Bryahn pounced, a faint gleam in his moon-silvered gray eyes. “They do indeed have the right to choose their own wives, but there are other things they have no choice whatsoever in. Should your brothers all have chosen to remain at home, sniffing the flowers in the fields and forests rather than riding off to hone their battle skills, would they have been permitted to do so?”

“After the disinheritance, certainly,” Lisah grudged, attempting to picture a wandering flower-sniffer as Clan Chief rather than an acclaimed warrior. She recalled having said that her brothers had been permitted to ride off to battle; “required” might indeed be a more accurate word.

“And yet, I doubt that needing to ride off to battle strikes you as too terrible a fate,” Bryahn said, grinning at the answer Lisah had given. “Perhaps we would do better discussing another aspect of a man’s duty to sire and Clan. Is your brother Captain Dharrehn your father’s heir?”

“My brother Tohm is heir, with Djorj after him,” Lisah replied, curious as to the reason for the question. “Dharrehn is third-eldest now, with Arthuh gone to Wind.”

“As I was third-eldest of five,” Bryahn said with a nod. “Your brother captains a company he has great pride in, but 1 would have you tell me what would be required of him were he suddenly to become eldest, named heir, and summoned home.”

The girl stared in considerable dismay, never before having considered the point, and the man who watched her nodded again.

“I believe you understand,” he said, faint satisfaction evident. “Should he be named heir and summoned home he would need to go, likely without his beloved company, possibly with them in escort, but he no longer their captain. Duty to sire and Clan would require him to reclaim his word concerning all other commitments, and none would think any the less of him for it. I, too, was faced with such a thing when my eldest brother fell, leaving me the last of the five. My father had begun to feel the weight of his years, and had no wish to cause discord among my sisters’ husbands. You may see now that you were not singled out as one whose given word had no meaning. One who is duty-bound has no choice in the matter.”

Lisah digested the words spoken to her as she stared at a plate-covered chest, some measure of composure returned but by no means all. Matters seemed less black than they had; however, less black was more often gray than white.

“I still see no hint of the smile I seek,” Bryahn said, and then his hand came to her chin to raise her face. “I would have preferred not mentioning this, but there is one additional thing a man has no choice in. Should he find the woman who would make him the best of wives, he must be sure not to release his already-acknowledged claim on her. Should he do so, his father might well claim her in his stead, and then rather than wife, she would be mother to him. My father was delighted with the skill you showed during the attack, and told me that sight of you has made him feel young again. Surely you can see now that 1 have no choice save to press my claim for you, Lisah. I could not bear having you become my mother.”

Despite her previous upset, Lisah could not help but smile at that, so foolishly outrageous was the picture evoked. That the situation described was more than possible seemed to add to the humor of it, and the two smiled widely at each other. It came to Lisah then that perhaps her lot was not quite as bad as she had thought it to be; as she could not join her company and had no wish to remain longer in her father’s city, she needed to find some destination that would suit her. This Bryahn of Dunkahn was still unknown to her, but his words had brought a clearer sight of her proper path, the one to take her through the morass with honor intact. There was one other point, however. . . .

“I seem to hear the echo of ‘herdmaster’ in your thoughts,” Bryahn observed, deliberately putting his arms about her and drawing her close. “The position of herd stallion has always been considered more noble than brood mare; however, no herd stallion worth his salt would allow a passel of yapping, panting observers to bring distress to his favorite mare. What say we have five or six before we let on that we’ve done more than nod to each other?”

This time Lisah laughed full out, wishing that the chest she was being held against was not encased in blasted metal. On second thought, Sacred Sun had done right well by her, and perhaps her father had done the same. This man not only saw through to problems clearly, he made the effort to show her the solutions.

“Would you truly keep the Undying High Lord at arm’s length merely to please a brood mare?” she asked, oddly eager to hear what his reply would be. “I feel it only fair to warn you that should he appear at the wrong moment, demanding to see our issue, I am quite likely to take a sword or dirk and determine for myself just how undying he truly is.”