Free The Oathbreaker's Shadow by Amy McCulloch Page B

pileof money that Loni added to every month for Dharma. Where was his?
    Borum’s nostrils flared as he stared down at the pile of rust on his stall. ‘I . . . see. Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to go to my caravan to find something suitable. Nothing on display here is in that range. Forgive me.’
    Once Borum’s heavy form had lumbered away, Loni answered Raim’s unasked question.
    ‘I’m sorry, Raim, but I had to give your money to Yasmin for the memory tea. You know her services are very much in demand . . .’
    ‘But she’s my GRANDMOTHER. She took all the money saved for my promise string for what? So that I could have ten seconds of a fuzzy dream? I’m going to be the laughing stock of the Yun with some tatty bit of string to represent me!’
    ‘She came to you as a healer, not your grandmother. If you want to use the skills of a healer, you must pay.’
    ‘That’s just it! I didn’t want to use her skill for something so unimportant. She came to us, remember? So why do I have to pay for it?’
    Before Loni could respond, Borum returned. ‘You have two choices, Raim. Brown or brown?’ He chuckled. ‘I can’t face giving my first Yun the worst of my stock. So take this – it is good quality wool from a yak that I haven’t had a chance to dye yet. It’s not luxury but it is not a disgrace either.’
    Raim took the two pieces of rope in his hands and held up the ends. Immediately a warmth spread through his palms. These ropes would tie together the pieces of his soul. And suddenly it didn’t matter that it was coarse and undyed; it was his to own. The next day, he would reach Honour Age and be able to pledge himself to the Yun. These would be the threads to do it. He opened his mouth to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come out.
    Borum chuckled. ‘You are welcome, Raim-en-Yun! And good luck in your duel tomorrow. Although rumour has it that you won’t need it.’ He winked.
    Raim blushed a deep crimson.
    Raim was still admiring the length of promise string when they were back at home. Loni had left him with his sister, so he could join in a tournament of a complex tile game with the other elders. He gave them strict instructions not to stay up too long after darkness fell.
    There was a steady hum of noise from the thousands of people who were camped around them, but sitting next to Dharma inside their yurt, the low fire warming their hands, Raim felt comfortably alone.
    Dharma was weaving again, and the flickering light from the flames illuminated the delicacy of her work in more detail, making it come alive. Dharma was a life-weaver. Instead of using geometric patterns to represent events, she wove people and the scenery itself into herdesigns. There was no doubt with this kind of work that she would one day be part of the Una tribe of weavers. Raim traced his fingers over the stitches to speakbl whole d of the mountains. Intricate weavings of Tarik and his bride stood stiffly beneath them.
    ‘Do you miss him?’ she asked, continuing her work.
    He shrugged. ‘We all have our duties. We all have to leave sometime.’
    ‘I’ll miss you,’ she said. ‘When you’re Yun.’ She bit her lip. ‘Look.’ She pulled out another loom Raim had never seen before. Somehow she had managed to conceal it from him within her own little saddlebag. She peeled away the thin cotton she had wrapped around it as carefully as if it were made of glass. There were four squares, each a scene that could be added to a carpet. The detail was vivid and lifelike.
    ‘It’s a bit early,’ she said, eyes sparkling with accomplishment. ‘But I wanted to be able to add the squares right away to the present I’m making you, so you can take it with you when you become Yun and you can always remember us. Look, this is you before the fight, in your apprentice clothes. Then here is you defeating Lars.’ Sure enough there he was, knee bent and sword lifted in victory stance. The next square was the crowd waiting with