“I’m all right,” Telemakos said, subduing himself.
“Thank heaven you were not carrying the baby!”
Telemakos rubbed his shins. “I lose my balance easily. I have not got used to being lopsided.”
“Your father made note of that in the instruction he sent concerning your wounds, and I have noticed it myself, watching you play with the lion. You used to move like a fox, quick and quiet. You are more cautious now.”
Athena stirred, muttering about the poor bird. She meant Menelik’s pigeon.
Abreha let go of Telemakos so that he could settle the baby more comfortably. He backed down the stairs, holding Athena firm in one arm, and helped Telemakos to his feet with the other. “Perhaps you do need a soldier’s training. We might be able to drill your poise back into you. Well, a light javelin would suit you, Telemakos Morningstar. We will fit you with a dart of some kind. As you say, you are not a sunbird.”
Telemakos touched the whitewashed wall to steady himself. He managed to speak with level gratitude. “Thank you, my najashi. I would pledge such a weapon to your service.”
“Withhold your pledge awhile,” Abreha said. “When you’ve learned to use such a weapon, I’ll remind you of your offer.
“And,” the najashi added thoughtfully, “Tharan will train you to ride like a desert soldier. All the best spearmen ride. You may find it difficult at first. Tharan always makes the cadets start off blindfolded.”
XIII
TAMING THE LION
TELEMAKOS STARED AT THE abacus before him. He covered his eyes, held them closed, and uncovered them. He could do it himself without shuddering. He covered them again. When he looked at the abacus, he could not remember what he had been figuring.
I used to practice, he remembered. I was going to cross the pool in the lion pit with my shamma over my face, but then Solomon tried to eat me.
“Magus,” Telemakos said to Dawit, “however long I stare, these clear glass beads trick me like fury. Could I learn to count them by touch, the way you do?”
Dawit said indifferently, “Close your eyes and try it.”
“Tape them shut, so I don’t cheat,” Telemakos said.
Dawit unwrapped his sash and held it up. It was of heavy silk, dark blue, the ends decorated with trees embroidered in copper thread. “Come, then.”
It’s all right, it’s all right, Telemakos told himself, if I can do this here, I can do it tomorrow morning on the training ground.
But when the rough silk touched his eyelids, Telemakos fought like a cornered leopard.
Dawit did not draw back in dismayed concern like everyone else. He held on, and pulled the silk tight. Beneath the astronomer’s robes, his long limbs were strong as iron bands; he was taller and heavier than Telemakos, but his chief advantage was that he wrestled purposefully, while Telemakos struggled without knowing where he was or who he was fighting.
Dawit overpowered him. When Telemakos came to his senses, he was lying on his back on the floor, with the broken abacus beneath him, scattered beads pressing into his shoulders and spine. Dawit’s sash was fixed firmly over his eyes and crossed down around his neck. Dawit held him still, gripping the ends of the sash on either side of Telemakos’s throat, poised to subdue him further.
“Did you fight like that the first time they did this to you?”
He had not fought at all. He had let them do it. His life had depended on his willing obedience. It was a question Telemakos could not answer. He choked back a sob, twisting his head aside to try to work it free.
“You must know you cannot bear such treatment. Why did you ask me to do it?”
Telemakos hiccupped.
“Breathe,” Dawit told him. “I will hold you here until you explain yourself in a rational manner.”
“I am—” Telemakos swallowed, and managed to croak, “I wanted to practice. Tharan is to give me riding lessons, and the najashi says I must be blindfolded to improve my balance—” He broke off with a sharp cry, struggling again like a bird in a snare.
“Eh,” Dawit grunted. “You are a deal more damaged than you let on, and it was not all done by wild beasts. Were you sequestered? Or punished for seeing something you shouldn’t have? Or just tormented by other boys? Well, I see why you want to practice. I’ll help you, if you allow it. Turn around so I can tie this fast.”
He rolled Telemakos over beneath him and fixed the sash in a tight knot behind his head. Telemakos cringed, sobbing.
“Get up and stop quaking. Give me your hand.”
He helped Telemakos to his feet and guided him to one of the hanging stars. Telemakos closed his fingers around cold quartz and silver wire.
“Tell me its name,” Dawit ordered.
Telemakos stifled another sob. “How?” he gasped.
“You must find it out.”
Telemakos took a tentative step forward, holding on to the crystal star on its cotton thread. It was a small one. He found another quite close to it, took hold of the second, and let go of the first. Since the execution at al-Muza he had dreamed of scorpions but not of Hara.
“Lesath? The sting?”
“You’re guessing. Concentrate; it is only a task, a lesson you must complete.”
Telemakos thought about stars. He remembered how it had made him cry, to see them again after three months. Dawit would never see them at all anymore. Telemakos stepped sideways and found a third hanging crystal. He stood clinging to it, the wire cutting into the inside of his fingers. He tossed his head, as though he could shake free of the binding.
“Think,” the Star Master ordered. “You are not a horse, to shy at shadows and flags in the wind.”
Telemakos ground his teeth together in determination and paced out a purposeful plot of nine stars.
“The Hunter,” he said at last. “The first star was Mintaka.”
“Damnably well done. Come back to Rigel,” Dawit commanded. Telemakos made his way across the constellation, and Dawit met him. He untied the blindfold.
Telemakos sighed, simply grateful for the reprieve.
“Take the sash,” Dawit said. “Bind it on yourself this time, and find me the Polestar.”
Think about the stars, Telemakos told himself.
He gripped one end of the cloth in his teeth and wound the sash around his head. The Polestar. He tucked fast the leftover measure of silk. Think. You are not a horse. He caught hold of the nearest star and drew a deep breath.