"What has changed, Rali?" he asked. "Once, the Maranon Guard was your whole life. Being a soldier was your girlhood dream come true."
I drank more wine. Then: "I grew weary of taking young women out to die," I said. "I"ve ghosts enough for company as it is. I don"t need more."
"Then you"re through with soldiering?" he asked. "I"m not certain," I said. "But as long as Orissa is safe, I doubt I"ll take up arms again." "So what is that you want?" he pressed.
Unaccountably, tears rose in my eyes. "Just to be left alone," I said, struggling not to weep.
Amalric came to me, and put his arms around me. "They won"t do that, Sister dear," he said. "It"s your misfortune to be a hero who lived."
I drove off the self-pity and wiped my eyes. "It"s also my misfortune," I said, "that soldiering is all I know."
"That"s not true," my brother murmured. "There"s more to you than sword and shield. I"ve known that since I was a hero-worshipping boy pestering his sister to be always in her company."
I looked at the mossy stone that was my mother"s shrine. Searching for guidance, I suppose. But none came. There was no sudden shimmering of an image coming to life. No scent of a sandalwood ghost, or whispered warnings, or advice.
A gentle wind blew up, carrying the smell of the river. And with it came the memory of a hard ship"s deck, crackling sails, leaping seas, the smell of salt, the feel of cold spray needling the flesh, and the horizon - teasing like a gossamer-veiled dancing girl - always retreating before your eyes.
"I have an expedition leaving in a month," Amalric said.
And I thought: Yes!
"There"s tales of rich trading opportunities," he said, "far to the south where no one has ever been before."
And I thought: Yes ... yes!
"I won"t lie to you that it won"t be dangerous," my brother said. "There"ll be cold and hunger and only a small chance of success. But mere will be adventure, Rali. New lands. New people. New hopes. These things I can can promise." promise."
And I thought: Please, yes.
"The expedition has need of an Evocator," he said.
My heart dipped. "But they"d never allow it," I said. "No woman has been an expedition Evocator in all the history of Orissa."
Amalric said: "Then it"s time we started. After all, you"re Rali Emilie Antero. And you can be anything you like. What do you say. Sister dear? Will you sail?"
And I said: "Yes!"
So, there you have it, Scribe. The tale of a warrior some are fools enough to praise as a hero. You"ve got most of the journal bundled up now, and soon it"ll be ready for the bookstalls.
I wonder what others will think when they read it? Sometimes I imagine a little girl turning the pages, curled up in her bed at night; reading by fire beads under the covers so her nurse won"t catch her. I wonder what that little girl will think. Will she want to defy tradition and trade her dolls for a sword? If she does, is that what I desire? To be honest, I"m not certain. What would be best of all, I believe, is that she"d be her own woman; refuse to be anything but equal to any man in whatever life she chooses.
And perhaps, Scribe, when next that child hears a gull cry, she will think of me.