Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) (6 page)

Kalie knew she would never have the answers. If she asked any of the women who had lived beside Maylene, she would hear only how honored Maylene had been to bear the prince’s child, or how romantic it was that the prince had loved a useless barbarian, and raised her up to ride by his side.

Lost in thought, Kalie nearly collided with a woman from one of the other camps. “Sorry—“ she began, and then stopped.

“Kalie?” The woman pulled aside her veil, and Kalie found herself gazing into the face of someone who might be the last of her comrades still living among the Aahk.

“Larren!” Kalie flung out her arms and moved forward to embrace her. Larren hesitated a moment, then stepped into the embrace. Kalie felt the bulge in Larren’s middle, and realized she was pregnant.

“You’re alive!” said Kalie.

“Yes, and so are you,” said Larren. They laughed together over the absurdity of the exchange, then fell into an uneasy silence.

“I just came from Kariik’s tent,” Kalie said. “Are we all that’s left?”

“Other than Kestra, you mean? Yes, I fear we are.”

“How has it been for you?”

“So much harder than I ever expected. But that wasn’t your fault, Kalie. I just didn’t really understand that life could be like this for anyone. Or, that if I came here, I wouldn’t be able to change it.”

The bleak resignation in her voice frightened Kalie. “You’re not in it alone anymore. Maybe, now that the two of us are together—“

“We’re not going to change anything! Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“You’ve given up?”

“Haven’t you?” Kalie did not know how to answer. After a moment, Larren continued. “Only those who’ve died have shown any real courage. Dara chose to die quietly, but with dignity. Traea chose to take some of those bastards with her when she left. And me…” Larren put a hand on her stomach and looked away.

“You do what you have to do to keep your child safe,” Kalie said softly, trying to show that she didn’t judge Larren for it.

But the younger woman only laughed bitterly. “I’d rid myself of this thing, if I had the right herbs! When we first came here, I swore I’d never bring a child into a world such as this. Now, I can’t even keep that vow! What about you?”

“It appears the healers back home were correct: I can’t conceive. At least I haven’t yet.”

“Praise the Goddess—“ Larren broke off. “That’s something I haven’t said in longer than I can remember. There are days when I think that I dreamed the life we used to have; that this—“ She swept an arm to indicate the grassland stretching to the horizon—“is all that’s ever been, and ever will be.”

Kalie was trying desperately to think of something to say to that, when Varena came running through the crowd that swirled around them. “Kalie! Thank the gods I found you! You must come quickly!”

“What is it?” Kalie hurried over to the panting girl.

“Cassia!” Varena gasped. “She’s lost the baby.”

Kalie raced back to the tent nearly as panicked as the girl behind her, her mind leaping from her encounter with Larren to this new crisis. What could have happened? Was Cassia in danger as well? Could she do anything to save her if she was?

Inside the tent, the air was subdued. Irisa sat smirking in one corner, combing wool while she nursed her new son. Altia’s two daughters sat silently by the pot that held the evening meal, stirring occasionally, and looking frightened. Altia herself sat beside Cassia, in the second wife’s sleeping cubicle, with the curtain drawn back to admit light. Cassia lay rigid, her face pinched and white, her mouth a tight line. As Kalie approached, Altia reached toward the stained rags between Cassia’ legs. Cassia glared at the senior wife, and Kalie saw she held a knife.

Altia backed away, and then noticed Kalie. “She won’t let anyone near her but you! Foolish, since this all of this is your fault, but there you are. See what you can do for her.” Altia moved away.

Kalie knelt beside Cassia and called for Varena to bring her a lamp. With the extra light in place, she gently removed Cassia’s clothing, trying not to let her hands shake. Cassia relaxed noticeably, but her face only shifted to bleak acceptance. “What happened?” Kalie asked.

“Nothing! I was sewing. I felt a cramp. Then, the bleeding started.”

“Just one cramp? Try to relax; I have to see between your legs.” Cassia lay rigid, as if by not moving she could keep the baby from slipping from her body.

“Only one bad one. There may have been some other small ones.”

The first thing Kalie noticed was that there was very little blood. It was a frightening amount, of course, but at nearly six moon spans, there should be more. Was this a sign of even worse trouble, with a dead child trapped within Cassia’s body? Or could it mean, just possibly, that the child still lived?

Kalie’s fingers gently probed Cassia’s abdomen. It was still the size one would expect this far along. Maybe this would be a slow loss, or…something moved under Kalie’s fingers. Cassia gasped, her hands flying to her belly. “Kalie?” she whispered.

“Lie still! Breathe slowly.” Kalie went limp with relief as she realized the child was not dead. For a moment she wanted to strangle Varena for frightening her, then forgot that thought as she struggled to remember what might be done to help Cassia hang on to this tenuous bit of life.

Kalie bundled up furs and cushions, and used them to prop up Cassia legs. “Stay like you are, on your back, but keep your legs up, and keep breathing like I showed you. You’ve had some bleeding, but the baby still lives. I’m going to make you some tea.” And anything else I can think of!

Cassia fixed Kalie with a desperate gaze. “Can you save my baby?” she whispered.

For a moment, Kalie was filled with avaricious thoughts of how good life might become for herself and Varena if, against all odds, this baby survived. Just as quickly, she remembered the healers of Hot Springs, forgotten for nearly a year, and a memory of what it meant to be a healer. “I don’t know,” she told Cassia. “But I will do everything in my power to do so.”

By then, the rest of the household realized something had changed. “What are you doing?” demanded Altia.

“She didn’t miscarry,” said Kalie, as she rummaged around for what she needed. “At least, not yet. If I can find the right herbs, she might yet deliver a living child.”

“What?” cried Irisa, leaping up. The baby, dislodged from her breast, began to howl. “Her baby’s dead! I saw the blood!”

Kalie paused, her hand clasping a piece of snakeroot. “Saw it, Irisa? Or caused it? You seem rather upset at what should be happy news. After all, a good concubine rejoices at her master’s children.”

Altia turned on Irisa. “You were the first to rush to her side, when she cried out. And you declared the baby lost just moments later. Is there something you want to tell us?”

Irisa clutched her baby before her like a shield. “I have done nothing!” she shrieked, but Kalie saw that the younger woman was sweating. Of course, the tent was stifling hot. “Nothing but say what everyone here already knows: Cassia is barren! It is Kalie’s fault for putting her through all this again; keeping a doomed child alive inside her, until it dooms the mother as well!” She turned to Kalie with venomous eyes. “Keep plying her with your foul potions and black arts and both will die—then Maalke will kill you as well!”

Kalie thought furiously. Had Irisa been in the household for both of Cassia’s other miscarriages? There might be no connection at all. But if there was…Kalie shuddered. How could anyone live like this?

She met Irisa’s gaze with a deadly look of her own. “Irisa, if you gave her anything, I need to know what it was!” The other woman stared back, her face suffused with hatred, but said nothing. Kalie thought desperately for some way to bargain. “Just tell me, and I promise, Maalke will never know.” Foolish, she chided herself. She could hold her own tongue, but couldn’t speak for anyone else in this cursed tent! Besides what store would Irisa set in promises?

“If you don’t tell us, and she loses the baby,” said Altia, “we will tell my husband it was
your
doing.”

Kalie stared at the woman. Was Altia actually trying to help? Or was the old goat just grabbing a chance to do in an annoying competitor? This seemed to be a day for questions.

Irisa turned back to her work without another word. Altia shrugged and did the same. Kalie set about doing a job for which she lacked training, resources and information, and told herself to be grateful for the silence.

She remained trapped in the tent, by Cassia’s side for the next two days. There was no further threat of miscarriage, but Kalie insisted that Cassia must remain in her blankets until the baby was born. This pronouncement had the effect of reconciling Altia and Irisa.

“Women of Aahk do not laze around in bed for three moon spans!” Altia had spat.

“Besides, what warrior would want a wife or a baby who were so weak they needed such measures to do what all others can do normally?” Irisa had demanded.

Kalie said nothing, only waited for Maalke’s return, where she had no choice but to present the situation to him.

To everyone’s surprise, Maalke had agreed to Kalie’s suggestions. Then Altia had flown into a rage and demanded more slaves, claiming she couldn’t run a household without them, what with Tasine gone, Cassia useless, and Kalie busy tending to Cassia. They fought most of the night, but by morning, Maalke had agreed to purchase at least one new slave before the men left for the summer sacrifices. Kalie didn’t like the way he looked at Varena when he said it.

Cassia finally permitted Kalie to leave the tent the day before the men left. There was to be a great feast that night and Kalie’s labor was needed. Varena had already collected the day’s fuel supply. Now she helped Kalie dig a pit that would be used that night to roast the goat that Altia had butchered. The pit would be lined with stones, heated by a fire above it, and the goat stuffed with vegetables, all of which Kalie and Varena were to gather.

As they scoured the area around the camp for wild foods that hadn’t already been stripped by other women on the same errand, Kalie noticed a number of women busy with nets near the lake. She asked Varena about it.

“Most of the nets belong to Leja,” said Varena, delighted as always to be the one Kalie turned to for information. “The rest to the other chief’s wives. Men sometimes hunt ducks and geese with spears, but that’s mostly for target practice. With those nets, Leja can sometimes bring down…” Varena apparently couldn’t count that high.

“Mmm, sounds delicious.” Kalie tried to remember the last time she’d eaten roasted duck with fruit sauce or goose stuffed with oysters. “Will that be part of the feast?”

Varena shrugged. “Maybe. Some of the women will make a special dish, if their men like birds. Most men prefer deer or boar—game they hunt themselves. But Leja and the other chief’s wives will feast while the men are away.”

While Kalie liked the sound of celebrating the time away from the men, she wasn’t happy with the ever-present hierarchy. The chief’s wives owned the nets; the chief’s wives decided who got to eat bounty that should be shared by everyone.

“Varena, is there any rule against individual women hunting for ducks and geese?”

“I don’t think so. But only chief’s wives have nets—and they don’t share.” Varena looked pointedly at Kalie, as if fearing another speech about the weird customs of her people. “How could anyone hunt birds without a net?”

“Come with me,” said Kalie, a smile sliding across her face. “I’ll show you.”

Kalie led Varena to the huge waste trench that was, mercifully, dug downwind of the crowded camp. While each camp had its own privy for human wastes, this trench was for all the garbage accumulated in the course of nearly two thousand people gathered in one place for an entire season. As much as she hated the endless traveling, Kalie had to admit that even this tough corner of the earth couldn’t survive the abuse of beastmen living in one place year round.

As smelly as the trench was, it held a wealth of useful objects, if one knew how to look. Kalie noticed that she was not the only forager here today. Ragged women sought scraps of food and pieces of hide to patch shoes, clothing and other necessities. Shadow women, they were called. Women without protection.

Kalie recalled what she had learned of them before winter set in, when they had to find a tent to stay in, or die. They were women who had been cast out of their tents and families for various reasons, and had to live as best they could, begging and selling their bodies. There were never more than a few at any one time. Cassia had said it was because most Aahken women were honorable, and unlikely to merit such punishment. Kalie suspected it was because most who did were quickly killed, and that allowing a few to linger this way provided entertainment for the men and a warning to the women.

She finally found what she was looking for: a section of sheep skeleton with several ribs still attached. Two of them had the right shape, so Kalie took them both.

It was a busy day, and only Cassia’s long nap that afternoon afforded Kalie the time to shape the curved bones into throwing sticks. As Varena watched in fascination, Kalie turned the discarded ribs into simple weapons of deadly efficiency.

That evening, with preparations completed and the warriors of the tribe busy with some esoteric business of their own, Leja and the other chief’s wives set their nets and waited for the birds to return to the lake for the night. Many women watched with envy; others with bleak and hungry resignation.

Savory blue smoke hung over the entire camp as meat roasted slowly in pit ovens, or turned on spits above fires. Then, above the noise of camp, came the honking of geese. Kalie had shed as much of her clothing as she thought she could get away with. Now she hitched up her skirts for greater freedom of movement. The nets were ready, and soon the sounds changed to squawks of anger and fear. Those not snared sought to flee. Kalie knew the geese that escaped would not soon return; this was her only chance.

She flung her first stick into the midst of a confused gaggle of birds. As she watched in wonder, not one, but two birds fell into the shallows at the edge of the lake. She followed with the second, but it fell into the water without catching anything.

“Hurry!” she cried to Varena. They raced to the spot. Varena, still dressed properly, was far behind Kalie, who was more interested in finding her weapons than retrieving the geese.

“Here!” said Varena, spotting the stick and grabbing it.

“Good work!” said Kalie. “Get the geese, while I try to get one more.” She knew she’d have only one more chance. The ragged remains of the flock were flying east, struggling to gain altitude. She cast her stick again, watching the tiny perfection of the disappearing birds; the deep blue of the evening sky. Then one figure fell from the flock, like a star from the skies. The rest disappeared into the darkening sky.

Kalie pushed through the noisy crowd of women who were excitedly collecting the prizes of the hunt, avoiding sharp beaks as they wrung necks with quick efficiency. She had to travel beyond the edge of the lake to find the last goose. She found her stick as well.

It was only when she had her prize safely in her arms, reciting the familiar words of thanks to the dead creature, and savoring the quiet solitude of the night that Kalie noticed Varena had not followed her. She was alone. How long had it been since she enjoyed the luxury of solitude among the fresh smells of summer, watching the stars slowly fill the sky? How long since she had felt the exultation of a successful hunter?

But to leave Varena alone with valuable food was like tying a rock around her neck and telling her to go for a swim. Kalie headed back to the to the torch lit camp where a buzzing like angry bees was centered on the place she had just left.

Varena was fighting to hold onto the two geese, stoically ignoring the blows to her body, as a shrieking, red-faced Leja demanded she release them. At least three other women—probably Leja’s slaves—sought to take them from her, but only succeeded in getting in each other’s way, and making it easier for Varena to hang on.

Kalie flung herself between Leja and Varena in time to catch the next blow—on her chest, because of her height difference—and face the chief’s wife ready for battle. Every woman in the camp was looking on, delighted.