Jabone's Sword (43 page)

Kasiria found herself pulled along to a big rectangular rock building with a red tile roof smack in the middle of the compound as the afternoon rain started—it rained almost every day for about an hour and then it stopped. When she'd asked them jokingly one day if they'd ever had a drought none of them had even known what she was talking about.

"A long time without rain?" Kasiria had explained.
They'd all just laughed at her and since they'd all nearly drowned in the territories she didn't know how to explain that in her country they often got their rain too much or not at all.

"We used to have them here when I was a child," Tarius had said, "but the weather has changed and we no longer either have the droughts or many hurricanes as we did in my youth.

Inside the building it was dry and she felt an almost spiritual presence as she entered.

"This is our meeting lodge. It also serves as an infirmary and in case of attack it's where they would bring the children and those who can't fight. That is why it is made of rock," Jabone explained. "And of course we do rituals here, ceremonies, and feasts."

Kasiria nodded then watched as the Katabull throne was carried in and set towards the front of the hall. She thought it was funny the way it was always carried anywhere the Great Leader went. Tarius the Black said she just found it to be an annoying custom, but had never been able to talk her people out of it.

Tarius walked in then and sat down. To Kasiria's amazement Jena sat down right beside her.
But not exactly in her lap,
Kasiria thought with a smile. When Tarius started giving what were obviously orders there was no doubt that she was ruler of these people. Even though Kasiria could only understand about one in ten words Tarius was saying and grew more certain every day that she was never going to be able to learn to speak Kartik, she could tell that Tarius spoke with authority and that when she did her people listened.

Kasiria was growing more bored by the moment.
Gods! It is exactly like when my father holds court, so boring I'd rather be watching moss grow. At least then I know what they're talking about. Of course I think that only serves to make it all the more boring.
She and Jabone were sitting on a bench against the wall, just holding hands. Meanwhile when she looked around to find her friends, Jestia and Ufalla were necking in a corner of the hut seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world and Tarius and Eric were gone altogether. She looked back at Jabone who smiled at her but said nothing, but she could guess what he was thinking—that if she wasn't so repressed they might be doing the same things his friends were. She was just glad he'd stopped scowling long enough to smile. Then thinking maybe she could put a real smile on his face and her own while she was at it she whispered in his ear, "Do we have to be here?"

"No," he whispered back. "She's just mostly saying who's going and assigning commanders to the different units saying what's to be done here in her absence and who's to be in charge of what while she's away."

"Is there somewhere we can go?" she asked shyly.

He smiled back and nodded, "I have my own room." He stood up helped her up and then together they started for the door. They were almost through and she could see it had stopped raining already.

"Ah Kasiria," the Great Leader said, and Kasiria turned quickly no doubt looking as startled as she felt.

"Yes Great Leader," she said bowing.

There was a huge gasp from all the Katabull assembled and then much muttering as if she had committed a great error. Which Jabone confirmed as he whispered in her ear, "Never bow to anyone, least of all my madra."

"That's right, Kasiria," Tarius said, then said something to her people in Kartik the gist of which was that they must excuse her daughter-in-law's out country manners and strange gods, which seemed to calm them. "Never bow to anyone in the Katabull Nation. It is a great insult to us," Tarius explained to her. "All are the same."

"I'm sorry Great Leader," she said.

"It's all right, girl, you didn't know and you are mated with my cub so don't call me Great Leader, you may call me Madra or Tarius but not Great Leader, you cut me to the quick. Now you can do what you were going to do later. Jamie?" A Katabull rose from where he was sitting on a bench and nodded. She gave him some orders in Kartik and he spit something back

"Go with Jamie, Kasiria. He will fit you in the armor of the Marching Night."

She thought of the armor and what getting it meant and her heart leapt in her chest. "Thank you great . . . Tarius," she said, and stopped herself just short of bowing.

Tarius smiled broadly and said to Jabone lifting both hands palm up in the air, "Until now only your mother has ever called me that," Jena popped Tarius in the ribs with her elbow and Kasiria felt if her face got any hotter she would catch fire. "Jena why don't you and Jabone go home and pack to leave?"

Jena stood, whispering something in Tarius's ear that made the Great Leader smile and then she walked over to join them.

Kasiria looked at Jabone; he was scowling again.

Jamie motioned for Kasiria to follow him, which she did, Jabone walking with them holding her hand. She noticed Jena was following and she must have seen the confusion on Kasiria's face.

"Jamie is part of our pack. We will go past our home on the way to his foundry," Jena said. "Son, do not look so defeated. She will only be gone for a short while."

Jabone nodded silently.

A short while later they stopped outside a hut Jamie said something to Jena then Jabone let go of her hand and bent down to kiss her, a wistful smile on his face. She laughed at him and he shook his head and went into the hut with his mother as she continued to follow Jamie.

He led her to a hut close by with a forge and anvil out front covered by a hexagon-shaped thatched roof held up by six poles around the outside and one pole in the middle. She realized as she walked inside following him that Jamie must be the armorer for the pack of the Marching Night because the walls of his hut were lined with different weapons and armor—all new, all the stuff the Marching Night wore.
All this, that huge defensive wall, that meeting hall, the way their compound is laid out . . . Ready, they are ready yet there haven't been any real battles here in years. This is why Jabone is so mad at my father because these people have been ever vigilant, always watching for their enemy. They probably dress in full armor and go out in groups to patrol the beaches looking for any sign of their enemy and if they find any they quickly put them down. And what did we do? We ignored Amalite raiding parties attacking small groups of our people and the Amalites under our rule in that area until they have grown so large on our flesh that they were able to wipe out an entire village and a troop of well-trained men. Two troops if Tarius the Black is right—and she usually is.

She felt a little uncomfortable having a man putting her in different pieces of armor, cinching in here and tucking flesh there—touching places she didn't really think he should be touching—having her move whatever part of her body the armor was on and either yanking it off and trying another or leaving it in place if it fit. Finally he was happy that the suit of—including a helmet—all fit her properly with very little adjustment. Then he patted her on the ass to let her know he was finished.

"Hey!" she protested. Then she saw the look on his face and realized that if he was just now getting fresh he'd missed an awful lot of better opportunities since she was in full armor now. She remembered that roughly two thirds of Katabull were queer so in all likelihood he wouldn't have been interested in her anyway.

She walked around in it, loving the feel of this wonderful, well-fitting Kartik armor that allowed her a full range of movement. As she jumped around in different positions to test the fit she no longer had to wonder how it was that Ufalla, Jabone and Tarius had been actually dancing in theirs. It was light weight, it was comfortable, and it gave. Then she stopped and worked her elbow watching the connecting bands on her elbow cup. They really were giving. She saw instantly why they did it if not how but she looked at Jamie and smiled, "Katabull armor?"

Jamie nodded. "Aye." Then he rattled off a bunch of things she could only about half understand. The belts that held the armor in place were made from some strange fabric that stretched out and then retook its shape. Jamie popped the band holding her vambrace in place and said, "Rubber." It allowed a Katabull to "change" in their armor without readjusting it or just being damned uncomfortable like she'd been when she'd changed in her Jethrikian armor. She had been lucky her chainmail shirt had been large to begin with or she probably would have split it, or it her.

"Thank you," she said nodding and speaking loudly as if this would help him understand her. He laughed at her and said something she understood to mean,
Go on you get out of here.

She thanked him again though she wasn't quite sure he understood her. Then she walked out of the hut and almost into Tarius the Black. "Walk with me," she ordered, and Kasiria was obliged to do so. "You look like one of us now, much better. Jena has made you a cloak as well."

"Thank you," she said. "These," she said popping one of the bands on her vambraces. "What are they made from?"

"We call it rubber, it is made from the sap of a tree," Tarius said.

"It's amazing."

"Well . . . Katabull armor needs to be able to give. There are a couple of things you should know about us. The first one you already learned, never bow to the Katabull. We are all followers of the Nameless God. Do you know anything of our beliefs?"

"Some." She told her what Jabone had told her.

"Well that's about it; not really a lot to know. Don't growl in a Katabull's face unless you are prepared to wrestle them. Never tell them to do something, always ask them. Among the Katabull they will call you princess because you are Jabone's wife not because of your father, but most days they won't treat you any differently than they do anyone else."

Kasiria nodded. Tarius walked them all the way to the lake and then walked over to an old log that hung out over the water on the end and sat down. "This has always been our son's favorite spot so when Jabone was gone I would come and just sit because I felt close to him here. Does it surprise you that I could be so sentimental?"

"Not at all," Kasiria said honestly. "It is yet another thing your son shares with you and a good trait."

"Do you know how a warlord gets to be a Great Warlord?" Tarius asked, apparently turning the conversation in a totally different direction.

Kasiria shrugged and answered, "By winning many battles."

"No. By not losing any, because if you lose you die and then who cares about your bones?"

Was Kasiria supposed to understand that? What had Jena said?
The Katabull are a very philosophical people who sometimes seem to be talking in riddles but everything they say makes perfect sense to them. If you think on what they've said long enough it will make sense to you, too.
So Kasiria would just listen carefully and hope she could figure it out later.

"A Great War lord wins by always calculating in their head, asking themselves questions like . . . How many of the enemy are there? Where are they? Where is the sun? How hungry are my people? How hungry are theirs? You carefully add and subtract all these different factors and that's how you know when, where, and how best to attack—all by the numbers. I run most things in my life this same way weighing and counting and asking 'til I have an answer. I used to think Jena was the only thing that had ever confounded me, but the truth is I knew what being with Jena was going to do to me I just reached a point where I didn't care. No there is but one thing I could never figure well, in all my life one factor that constantly refused to be counted and calculated. In matters concerning your father the real conclusion always eluded me. I never knew how that game would play. I'd have everything all planned out, know just what I was going to do, and then . . . I could never figure him into any equation and come out right. Things concerning he and I have never made any sense, never added up right. Now there is you. Things which should have been impossible given the odds happened always when it concerned Persius and I. Are we always to be somehow tied together? Is it some plan of the Nameless One who makes no plans? How can you be what you are and his daughter? How could I have ever calculated that you and my son would find each other there across the sea both you and he so far from your homes, find each other and fall in love? The odds are as against that as they were against me plucking an arrow out of the sky to save Persius. As me living through him trying to kill me. What does it mean Kasiria? What does any of it mean?"

"I don't know," Kasiria said, and thought,
I only understand about half of what you're saying. Math and the infinite . . . what?

"I think it means that life being what it is we can't always figure on what fate will bring our way." She took the sword scabbard and all off her back and it was only then that Kasiria noticed she'd been wearing two swords. She got up, walked over to Kasiria, and handed her the sword. "I want you to have this, Kasiria."

"Your father's sword?" Kasiria asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Tarius said, nodding her head.

"I . . . I couldn't." But she didn't try to give it back.

"Take the sword, Kasiria. It is my father's own blade with which he slew many Amalites. It has been cleaned and sharpened but to be truly cleansed it must be bathed in Amalite blood. Bards say I am the greatest fighter who ever lived, but to me Kasiria my father will always be the greatest fighter who ever lived. His death sent me into your country and set your father and I on this strange course we have taken where we do not seem to be able to be rid of each other. It seems only right that you have the blade." She smiled at Kasiria. "Besides, who else would I give it to? My son has his own sword, my non-blood kin Ufalla and Tarius have their own swords. Jestia doesn't need a good sword and I have a feeling this blade would only get the witch in trouble. Jena, well not only could you not pry the sword Jena's always used from her hand without a fight but my father's blade is too long for her. You're my kin now and I doubt you'd go through the ritual." Kasiria looked at Tarius's hand with the missing finger and made a face. "So, let my father's hand guide yours."