Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) (18 page)

“Sounds about right,” Kalie sighed. After all, the man had already gotten what he wanted. And if he wanted more, after carousing with his friends all night, he had only to wake his sleeping wife and demand it.

“It will likely be a short feast. No one wants to face an early start and a long ride while sick from too much kumis. We can go back now.” Riyik stood and reached to pull Kalie to her feet.

“We’d be done already?” Kalie blurted, recalling some of her own sweet nights in the fields. In the time she and Riyik had been here, Kalie and her partners would have barely begun.

Riyik looked at her curiously, and Kalie felt herself blush crimson. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just…another of our differences.”

“Someday,” said Riyik. “I hope you will decide to show me just how different.”

Riyik had spoken lightly, as if in jest, but Kalie sensed he was serious. And she could think of nothing to say in answer. The ride back was uncomfortable for both of them.

Once they reached the camp, however, they were quickly swept into the loud and wild feast, already in full swing. Kalie was able to enjoy some of the food, and ignore most of the warriors’ toasts, which all seemed to involve advice for Riyik about beatings or sex—or both together.

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soon, Kalie was again whisked away by a gaggle of women, this time to the tent of which she was now the mistress. She lay on her fine new sheepskin blankets, not sleeping as the sounds of celebrations grew less noisy and finally died; not even when Riyik crawled quietly into the tent, and lay down in its far side.

As his breathing slowed and he began to snore, Kalie wondered: was that what she was waiting for. Proof that he would keep his word, even after the wedding? Fine then, she should be asleep now. But she remained stubbornly awake.

A new thought struck, but perhaps not so new after all. Was she hoping Riyik would break his word? Cross the barrier between them, and do what she wanted, but no longer possessed the ability to ask for on her own?

The thought appalled her, but there in the darkness, with no one to hear her thoughts, Kalie could finally admit that she did want Riyik. That was nothing to be ashamed of, she told herself. Strange as it seemed, Riyik was a good man. There were probably others here who were as well. Kalie should be pleased to learn the damage done to her might not be permanent after all. To trust a man again, to take pleasure in his touch…that would be a fine thing.

If it were possible. If she wasn’t here on mission to save her people, which would probably require her to kill indiscriminately, or somehow induce these people to kill each other. Without regard for who was good and who was bad.

Not the best time to be thinking about romance.

Besides, Kalie was not completely certain she was barren. She couldn’t risk becoming pregnant now.

At last she drifted into a peaceful sleep, and dreamed of the Goddess in her maiden form, who whispered to Kalie erotic suggestions that no maiden had any right to know about.

They began the journey to the site of the final gathering of summer the next day.

In the course of that journey, Kalie became mistress of an Aahken household, which consisted of her daughter, her stepson, her husband, Agafa and the only two shadow women left alive who had not found anyplace else to live. While others might whisper that Riyik must be a poor warrior indeed to provide only the lowest order of slaves for his wife, at least he finally had a proper household, which, everyone agreed, Kalie managed quite well for a barbarian.

Managing Riyik’s household turned out to be easy for her, in part because she wanted to pay him back for his many kindnesses to her. But also because she left most of the actual work to the other women—far more skilled at it than she—while she concentrated on the work that brought her to this land.

She watched Haraak, spying on his meetings when she could, and receiving information from a growing network when she could not. Three tribes were to join with the Aahken at the Gathering, and form Haraak’s mighty federation: the Wolf, the Hansi, and the Spears of Malquor. No assassinations occurred on the journey, but both Kalie and Riyik heard whispers of several such plans.

She took pleasure in watching Varena walk with her head high, sometimes in the company of highborn girls who had snubbed her before, but more often with the few friends she had had when she was Maalke’s slave: daughters of slave women, with little hope of being more than slaves themselves. To them, Varena was a fairy tale made flesh and blood; they seemed to gain strength just by touching her. And when other women in the camp shook their heads at Varena’s bizarre habit of sharing food and friendship with those who were now her inferiors, Kalie beamed with pride.
 

Varena was not the only one whose status had risen. Kalie tried to follow Varena’s good advice when women whose previous behavior towards her had ranged from indifference to outright cruelty, now greeted her politely or sought to include her in their gossip. She smiled, and listened, and whenever possible, asked them questions about why they did things a certain way, or how a particular custom had come about.

But inevitably, someone would make a remark so casual in its cruelty, or show pride in something so appalling, that Kalie would lose her tight rein on her temper, and tell them that this wasn’t a good time to talk, she had to go boil a baby like a good Ahken woman, or that she preferred the company of human beings not animals.

Not surprisingly, most of them walked away as angry as Kalie herself was. A few, however seemed genuinely confused, and stayed to ask Kalie what she was talking out.

And perhaps because now her time and labor belonged to her, or perhaps because she was finally free of some of the rage she had carried for so long, Kalie took the time and made the effort to explain to these women exactly what she meant. She finally found the words that could convey her own confusion at the behavior that she saw among the people of Aahk, and how different it might be if the women—all the women—worked together, rather than against each other.

Kalie wasn’t surprised when most of them shook their heads and walked away, but she was when the rest stayed to hear more. There were other changes afoot as well; so subtle Kalie could almost believe she was imagining them—yet they were there.

Children always occupied themselves on the seasonal treks with games of make believe, and as long as they kept moving and did their required chores, the adults never stopped them. But from the first day of this late summer journey, Kalie saw little girls playing at being goddesses and priestesses. They weren’t getting it right: the goddesses they played were all consorts to male gods, and the priestesses acted like haughty first wives. But blended into those games were enough elements of Kalie’s recent teachings that she worried for their safety. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop them.

Older girls and several women approached her in all seriousness, asking for more stories of her homeland, medicines to prevent conception, or just a sympathetic ear. Kalie treated every question, every confidence as the fragile treasure that it was, and prayed more than she had in her life that the Goddess would guide her answers.

One thing Kalie could not do, however, was follow her Goddess’s advice about Riyik.

It should have been easy: they got along well during the journey, telling each other stories of their childhoods, working together to help Yarik walk, teasing Varena about possible suitors, and even speculating about what life would be like for them when they journeyed west to Kalie’s home.

Best of all, whenever there was time after setting up camp for the night, Riyik continued teaching Kalie to ride. Blossom became her horse, as much as Thunder was Riyik’s. Riding together, Kalie decided, brought them closer than even sharing a bed would have.

Yet whenever Riyik grew silent and brooding, Kalie found all she could do for him was give him space to think. She couldn’t even ask him what was wrong. Perhaps it had been trained out of her, although she had no fear he would beat her, as Maalke would have beaten Altia for disturbing him in such a mood.

Kalie suspected Riyik’s concerns had more to do with his own loss of status than about what sacrifices he might have to make when leaving his people. He had clearly fallen from Haraak’s favor, and while speculation ran high as to why, no one seemed certain. Riyik was not invited to Haraak’s meetings, and warriors who had once offered him their daughters no longer sought him out for anything. Kahlar, his own tribal chief, still sought his advice, but now he did so in secret, never inviting Riyik to his tent.

Kalie had feared this was because of his marriage to her, but Brenia laughed when she brought it up. If anything, the opposite was assumed: highborn women who disapproved of a slave marrying so far above herself seemed to find it amusing that the upstart foreigner had not gained what she hoped; had not married so well after all.

And she had to admit, Riyik seemed happy enough. He spent most of their travel time in the company of lower ranked warriors or men who, like himself, preferred riding alone. Some of the latter group were highly ranked, and might have had a place in Kariik’s council, but to a man, they scorned the company of the puppet king or Haraak’s dreams of conquest. The rest were viewed as misfits, just a step away from a mysterious “accident” any time they rode out with the others.

With these men, Riyik now talked and joked and practiced his skill at hunting and fighting. On the fourth night of the journey, Riyik invited them—and their wives and children, for those who were married—to share a meal together. Kalie was nervous at first, but soon found herself enjoying the company of this small group of women. And when Riyik asked her to tell tales from her own world, she realized who they were: the people whom Riyik was considering bringing to the west.

Taking a deep breath, Kalie began to tell stories she had never before told in this land: tales of courageous women who braved impossible odds, and compassionate men who wept tears of magical power. And tales of the Goddess.

Some of the men laughed at things that were not meant to be funny. Others grew bored and made excuses to leave early. But some listened with interest. And some, after thanking both Kalie and Riyik for a fine evening, left in thoughtful discussion with their wives.

“Very clever,” Kalie whispered later that night, when Riyik returned from walking the perimeter of the camp.

“What was?” Riyik asked.

“Suggesting that I tell stories from my home. Already I can see that some of them might be able to make a life there.”

“Not all of them, though,” said Riyik. “I’m looking for men who won’t try to set themselves up as kings the moment they see how your world is run, and it’s a dizzying feat. It’s not that the men who were here tonight are greedy or ambitious, it’s just that it’s been bred into their bones to take anything that another man isn’t strong enough to keep.”

“Some of them were listening to what their wives had to say about the stories. Those might be the ones to start with. Men who can do that might have an easier time in a world where all women speak their minds.”

Riyik nodded, but seemed unconvinced. “I won’t bring anyone to your home who might harm it. You know that, don’t you Kalie?”

Kalie felt a rush of tenderness to this man: her enemy; her friend. “I do know that, Riyik,” she began haltingly. “Just as I would never ask you to kill those you are oath bound to serve, to protect me. If you are troubled…” She had no idea how to say the rest, and was relieved when the whisper of bare feet on hard ground alerted them to the presence of a veiled woman who dropped to her knees on the ground where they lay.

“Forgive me, lord,” she whispered, clearly expecting to be beaten for disturbing a man and wife in bed, yet just as clearly puzzled by their separate bedrolls. “My master has sent me to ask that Kalie attend to his wife in her labor.”

“Cassia?” Kalie asked, sitting up.

The timid slave nodded. Kalie realized she was one of the new ones Maalke had bought with the horses Riyik had given him in exchange for herself and Varena. “How far along is she?” Kalie asked, pulling on her robe and searching for her veil.

The girl only shook her head, trying to hurry Kalie along without actually touching her.

Cursing herself in the language of the beastmen, Kalie followed the slave to where Maalke’s household camped. She had barely spoken to Cassia since the start of the trek. Every day, she had intended to find her, ask how she was, and brew her new medicine. Yet every day, it seemed, she was distracted by some new question about how things were done in the West, some new rumor of Haraak’s plans, or the chance to learn more of the art of horseback riding.

Cassia lay between two braziers, breathing deeply between contractions. Her panicked face relaxed when she saw Kalie. Maalke’s other slaves—all young and pretty—fluttered around uselessly, while Altia looked on dispassionately. Irisa, Kalie noticed, lay beside Maalke, feigning sleep. Apparently, the woman who had once wished miscarriage or death on her rival was hoping to avoid any participation in the birth.

Maalke stood up from his place next to Irisa and loomed menacingly over Kalie. “She has waited a long time to give me son,” he said, glaring haughtily at his former slave. “See that she does so. And see that she lives through it, to bear me another.”

Kalie stared across the brazier at the man who had once filled her nights with anguish and shame. A strength she had never known filled her being as she saw only a pathetic old man who could not even voice what little feeling he had for his wife without veiling it behind threats. Though less than two hands of years separated them in age, Kalie knew that Maalke would not live to see another son after this one. His color, his breathing, and the kumis on his breath all spoke of a disease eating him from the inside.

“I come here out of love for Cassia, and no other reason,” Kalie said, meeting his gaze with cold contempt. “You no longer tell me what to do, Maalke. Don’t ever try to again.” Then she turned her back on the gaping warrior, and set about making Cassia more comfortable. But not before she enjoyed seeing Maalke blanche, and hearing the gasps of the slave women.

“Get me a torch,” Kalie told one of the slaves as she rearranged the cushions and blankets that Cassia had tangled. Hesitantly, the woman did so.

“When did the pains begin?” Kalie asked as she adjusted the light and began to examine Cassia.

“This afternoon.” Cassia teeth clenched as another contraction gripped her.

“Why didn’t you call me then?” Kalie asked in disbelief.

Between contractions, Cassia had time to grow confused and hesitant. “I could not simply…send for you, Kalie. You are a free woman of high standing. Having once been my slave—and I knew how you felt about that—I did not know how you would feel about me now.”

“And I never bothered to see how you were,” Kalie sighed. “Cassia, I hated being a slave, but I never hated you.” Not entirely true, at least not at first. But that hardly mattered now.

“I was hoping I could hold it off. We’ll arrive at the gathering place in two or three days—“ Cassia broke off as another spasm took her.

They were coming very close together. It might not be so long. But how much harm had the grueling journey done to Cassia? Could Kalie have found a way to keep labor at bay until they arrived? She shook the thoughts away. “Have you sent for Brenia?”

Cassia shook her head. “You were the first person I thought of.” She gripped Kalie’s hand, looking frightened and much younger than her twenty years.

Kalie squeezed back reassuringly. “Let us ask her to join us. I have assisted in many births, but I would like the help of one who has been through it herself.” One of the slaves hurried off to get Brenia.

“It’s a moon early,” Cassia whispered.

“But far enough along for the babe to be born strong and healthy,” Kalie said. She knew many babies born this early were fine, but in this land, with their beliefs that the weak should die, even simple techniques that could help a premature baby through the first critical days might not be available.

But it was the mother that concerned Kalie more. She didn’t think that Cassia would be able to just drop the baby and get up with the dawn to resume the journey, as a nomad woman was expected to do. And if she could not, what then?