Page 51 of Something Human

When breakfast was finished, Rus followed Genet out of the house to help with the morning chores, leaving Kuth with the children.

“You don’t like the idea of having a vision, do you?” she said, looking at him shrewdly.

“I wouldn’t say that. I don’t think I’m worthy of it, but … ”

“I don’t know anyone worthier. I’m quite serious.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t believe me.”

You don’t know me as well as you think you do, he wanted to say. Or he thought of saying it, but he didn’t really want to. He wished he could believe she would still call him a friend if she knew the truth, but he wasn’t sure.

After a moment she said, “Kuth says it’s the blow on the head. That it did something to you, and that’s why you seem sad. Is that it?”

“Partly, I think. I still get headaches, and I get tired doing things that should be easy. It’s not … what I’m used to.” Not who I am, he’d thought to say.

“You’ve been sick. You have to give yourself time.”

“What if I can’t fight again, Genet? What is there left for me?”

She frowned at him. “You’re getting well ahead of yourself, I think.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Gunthanaruth’s bard, who came striding up the hill toward them with a greeting. They exchanged some chat, and the bard came back, as Rus had suspected he might, to the subject of the vision.

“I thought I’d get the story from you,” he said. “You know, without … ” He gestured in the direction of the kahar hall. “Your version, I mean. To be sure I have it straight.”

“I’m not sure my version is as interesting,” said Rus. “It seemed to me merely a dream.” And he described it again, adding, “I was ill at the time, from taking too much theraka. It can affect the dreams, I think.”

The bard waved a hand dismissively. “I wouldn’t worry about that. If Unumus Kahar says it was a vision, I’m sure it was. Gunthanaruth will like it, be sure of that.” He flashed a smile. “He’s been wanting Suthus to name a new deputy, you know. Since Duhath was killed in the fall.”

“It will be a good thing for Unumus, then.”

“For Unumus?” The bard looked genuinely surprised. “No, kahar. For you.”

“For—what?” Rus glanced around at Genet to see if she looked as nonplussed as he felt. She didn’t. “You don’t mean that Suthus would name me as his deputy.”

The bard nodded earnestly. “Before the winter is over. Mark my words.”

In a way, it made sense. Rus had time to think about it in the slow tail-end of winter. Of course he knew both Gunthanaruth and Suthus liked him. He had distinguished himself as a bull-fighter, but he was known to have other skills as well, and if he was to be forced to retire from fighting at twenty, he should be put to some good use. He was popular with the other kahar. And the obvious choice was Unumus—unpopular, disliked by the headman, but senior enough that he would expect to be offered it as a matter of course, probably already had plans for what he would do when he inevitably succeeded Suthus, who was an old man now. It did make sense.

It wouldn’t be a terrible thing, to be Suthus’s deputy. It would be an honour, and the duties would be interesting. But it seemed wrong, in a way he could not quite explain to himself. It wasn’t that he believed himself unfit for it because of what had happened with Adares—or it wasn’t only that, it wasn’t exactly that.

But there was the fact that Suthus was old, and even if he lived to be very old, Rus would still be a young man when he succeeded him and became the next stathan. And the thought of that was like a horrible weight settling on him, threatening to crush him.

Was this what it had been like for Adares, he wondered, being made archon of Tios?

He spent a lot of time riding by himself during this period, partly to be away from the kahar hall, partly to rebuild his stamina. It was working, slowly but surely. The weather was improving, the bitterness of winter slowly subsiding, and he felt his strength gradually returning with it, as if he were a plant regaining vigour. He let it take as long as it needed, convinced that was the best way. There was nothing much he needed to be doing.

He had a lot of time to think, and he could almost feel his mind growing stronger, too. One morning, as he rode along the ridge to the south of the headman’s village, with the sun warm on his back, it occurred to him that there was no particular reason why he should never see Adares again.

He turned the thought over in his mind. He had been focused for so long on the impossible, on how he would never touch Adares again, never wake up beside him, never be his lover again. All of that was impossible. Even if he were well enough to make the journey from the Luth lands to Tios alone, he wouldn’t do it, just to show up on Adares’s doorstep and make a nuisance of himself. But if all he aimed for was a chance to see the Phemian again, there were other ways to achieve that.

He thought about it all the rest of that day, and by evening he had a plan.

He thought he would be able to talk Suthus out of naming him his deputy. Unumus wasn’t the only possible alternative; there were others who could do the job, especially if Rus recovered enough to go back to bull-fighting. But in the meantime, Rus’s star was clearly on the rise, and he would make the most of it. Gunthanaruth would soon be thinking about the tribute that he owed to Tios. Rus would offer some suggestions about that.

The next time Gunthanaruth’s bard returned to the summer villages, it was with the news that Suthus Stathan had formally named Lachan Rusanarath as his new deputy, second-in-command of the kahar of all the Luth. The appointment would be confirmed with a ceremony in the spring.