The edges of the snow had begun to melt in the bright light of the last day of our mourning. But it was cold, too cold for Penthe to be outside weeping. Io took her mother back to the cave; I had other things to do. I went with the priestesses, helping to carry Deborah. When the high priestess was beneath her blanket, and the others couldn't hear, I asked for him. My brother.
Deborah clucked her tongue and drew her dark cloak around her shoulders. He's weak. Weak babies don't last. He's been alone for three days.
If you can keep him till the snow melts I'll bring him to his father's people.
If I go on feeding him with mares’ milk the way I've been doing, I warn you. It will make him strong, the priestess told me. It will make your heart strong for him as well.
Here was my secret: I wanted him to be strong. I wanted him to live.
When I could finally get away I went to see him. He was in a little cavern that had been chipped into the cave long ago by melting ice. He'd been wrapped in a blanket and he knew enough not to cry. There was a bit of blanket soaked in mares’ milk for him to suck on. He stared right at me, unafraid. Like me, he had yellow eyes. His hair was black, like mine.
Deborah had dragged herself out of her blanket. She was watching us. We were never to name boy babies, for they wouldn't be with us long. They would be disposed of, or given back to the people from which they had come. Name something, and it belongs to you. Everyone knew that.
But I went against the rules.
Anto, I said. It was our word for black horse.
Deborah nodded. She knew I had chosen the right name for my brother. She did not berate me for breaking the rules.
He's the one you dreamt, the priestess said. Now your fortune is upon you.
In the age of
IN THE AGE OF WOMANHOOD you cannot know what will happen. You were one thing as a girl, but who will you become? I had been rain, sorrow, the sister of the bear, the keeper of the horses, and now I was the Queen. We traveled back to our spring pastures, our summerlands. Slowly, in grief for all we had lost. We left behind our Queen and our highest priestess, cared for by her daughter, since Deborah was unable to complete the journey. We left behind the horses that had not made it through the hardest winter in memory. We left behind who we had been when we'd been in service to our Queen. But we were coming back to the summerlands with twelve new daughters, all bundled into blankets that were tied to their mothers’ backs.
It took us nearly a month to make this journey. And in this time I saw Astella and Asteria whispering to each other, arguing, I think. But I never could tell for certain; they always made themselves quiet whenever I was near. My aunt, Cybelle, rode beside me, to give me her blessing and try to stop the talk that I was not my mother's daughter, not the one she'd had in mind as the leader for her people.
Let them buzz, Cybelle whispered. Just like the bees. Soon enough they'll stop and go about their business.
Io rode with her mother, for Penthe couldn't be trusted not to flee and wander back the way we'd come. She had refused to leave the Queen. When we left, we'd had to drag her away from the catacombs and tie her with rope to the neck of her horse. Even now, Io had to keep a close eye on her mother.
In front of us the pastures were green, like a sea. I rode standing up, to honor my mother's spirit. We built our city of tents as soon as we arrived in good pastureland, and mine went in the place of the rightful Queen. That night, before anyone rested or ate, I was bathed in mares’ milk and a huge platter of meat was set before me. I was given new boots and a new shirt, one the young girls had been working on since the Queen had died. People lowered their eyes when they spoke to me, but I could tell, all wasn't well. There were rumors and a division amongst us. The archers stayed off by themselves. They did not offer me their allegiance or sit beside me. They never once called me their Queen.
One night Penthe came to me. She bowed as though I were truly the Queen and I asked her not to do so. She was Penthe, and I was Rain, neither needed to bow to the other. All the same, Penthe wasn't the same as she had been; her hair had turned white and her red henna tattoos were fading. She had one foot in the spirit world searching for her beloved Queen and the other foot in our world.
They say you haven't even killed three men, Penthe said.
I haven't killed three, I've killed six. The Jour who killed Usha, my bear, and two in my first battle.
Penthe nodded, understanding I had not told anyone about this because I had not wanted to attend the festival.
Well, then they say you haven't killed the boy.
Penthe was looking directly into my face. It was the time of bees and there were logs all over our city filled with the Queen bee's servants, each one dripping honey. The air was sweet, but now it was cloying. Too much. Too sweet.
What boy? My chest hurt with my deceit.
You need to get rid of him. Otherwise there might be a king someday who wants a thousand wives to serve him.
That will never happen, I said.
Send him to the next world. Penthe had a huge heart, but not for this boy, my brother the black horse. And let everyone know that's what you're doing. You'll be no one's Queen until you make this sacrifice.
There was a gathering on the first full moon since we'd come to the pasturelands. I covered my face with ochre and chalk. I dressed in my finest clothes. I painted my mare yellow and red, my mother's favorite colors. I came to the meeting with every weapon I had been given as the new Queen, all strapped to my back with rope.
I am going off to kill the boy, my brother, who killed the Queen. This is what you expect of me, and this is what I intend to do.
My aunt Cybelle came to embrace me. A war cry went up and I felt that cry in my blood.
We will wait for you, Cybelle said.
But Asteria came riding up.
You're so ready to be the Queen, Asteria said. But once you said it wouldn't suit you. Perhaps you'd like another who's more sure of herself to step forward.
Even Astella looked at Asteria, shocked by her nerve.
I'm sure of myself I said. At that moment I was. I knew what I was about to do. I had already made choices I hadn't expected; the decisions of a Queen.
My archers would like to come with you. To serve you, of course. In case you say you'll get rid of the child, and then change your mind, we will he there in your place.
If you don't trust me enough to do it, why should I trust you enough to accompany me?
The archers looked at each other; there was no answer for that.
No, I'll leave myself in the morning.
That night as I was getting ready, Io came to me and said she would go with me. To protect me, she said. My sister who had never been in battle, never lifted the scythe I'd had made for her until she gave it back to me.
Stay here and take care of Penthe.
Then let me sing to you so you can sleep and be refreshed for your journey, Io insisted.
My sister wrapped her arms around me and sang me to sleep, the song from the north storm country whose words I didn't understand. Maybe that was why I woke in the middle of the night. Or maybe it was my dream of the black horse calling to me. I would not bother to wait for morning. I would let the dark cover me, and make certain I rode alone.
I sneaked out so as not to wake Io. I covered her with my blankets so she would not be cold without me, then I packed up my weapons, went for my horse, and left.
We raced across the grasslands; I didn't let my mare rest until we neared the place where my bear had been killed. I got off my horse to honor Usha before I went on. When I went onto my knees I found the last of Usha's teeth in the circle where the grass still did not grow. I gathered them into a leather pouch and tied the pouch to my waist. Now that I was Queen I didn't braid my hair, but let it fall loose down my back. I had been given four more lines of blue on each of my cheeks, for courage, for protection, for wisdom, for luck.
I thought about Melek, how close his village was, and I wondere
d if his people had returned. But there was little time to wonder and I knew I shouldn't be thinking about him; I rode hard the rest of the way. When I reached the priestesses’ cave, I tied up my mare, spoke a blessing, and entered into the darkness.
It still felt like winter inside the cave, though there was a fire. Greeya came to me and bowed her head. Her eyes looked red with some foretold sorrow.
How is our priestess? I asked.
Still in this world, but only because she's waiting for you.
I wasn't surprised that the high priestess knew was coming. She likely understood before I die that I would have to make this journey. I went to pay my respects. I'd brought Deborah a comb made of bone for her hair, since even now she was vain, though her hair was snow white; and I'd brought her a bundle of deer meat that would give her strength. We dined together and then I asked for the Black Horse, Anto.
I told you he was too weak to live, Deborah said.
My face must have betrayed me because she laughed.
But I made him strong. He's in his place.
Anto was in his nook in the wall, bundled in a blanket. I could hear him making noises, more like a dove than a horse. When I reached for him, he looked at me carefully with his yellow eyes. He was staring at me as though he knew me, perhaps from another life, perhaps from a world-to-be.
Deborah was weaker than ever, but she dragged herself over. She sat beside me as I held the baby. Mares’ milk can make a baby into a king, Deborah said, considering what we'd done.
They want me to kill him. And he's a baby now. Nothing more.
That's what I did to mine. I looked at Deborah, but she didn't seem to notice. When I had a son I had no choice. It was our way.
The priestess was shaking with the tremor of old age, but also with something more.
It still is, I said.
Is it?
I looked at Deborah and saw the girl she had been, long before she became a priestess, when her hair was black and reached to the earth. He had been her first child, this son of hers, there in the time when she had no choice. She said she'd done it gently, not the way other women did, leaving baby boys on the steppes for the wolves and the ravens. She'd covered his face and sang to him. She'd been with him when his spirit went on. Even still, she dreamed of him every night.
It may still be our way, but don't all ways change, for bad and for good? the priestess asked me. Take a single arrowhead from those scattered around your mother. That will be the foretelling. It will show you the way.
I thought about my own dreams, how in that deep nightworld it was always my duty to run with the Black Horse, not to trap or kill him. I held my brother close. He smelled like mares’ milk and horses. Just a baby. He studied my face. Maybe he was surprised to see yellow eyes, so much like his.
I thought if there was anyone who could tell me what to do it was my mother. I rode to the catacombs, to the secret entrance, and moved away enough rocks to fit through into the chamberway. Since it was pitch-black I took a torch with me; even with the torch, I could hardly remember the way to my mother's resting place. Straight, and then two turns, Deborah had told me, but I circled, lost.
It was hushed and freezing cold beneath the earth. At last I came to the place of my great-grandmother, the Queen who had first spoken to horses. I crept over the rocks that kept my great-grandmother safe from prowlers, then I got down on my knees and sang to her. The bones of her beloved horse had been buried with her, and five other horses as well. The blankets she'd been wrapped in had all been dyed a deep blue, the color of our people. I took the leather pouch from around my waist and took the bear's teeth to leave for her, all but the one I wore around my neck.
Thank you, I said to my great-grandmother. For speaking to horses, for being my grandmother, for showing me the way.
I climbed back past the rocks and went on until I found my mother. The earth was streaked dark and light outside her resting place, as if Penthe's tears had reached here. I thought of the look on my mother's face that day when I brought her the priestess's herbs, how frightened she'd been, and I did not blame her for naming me Rain or for turning away from me.
If I don't deserve to be the Queen, then I will go away, I told my mother. I will respect your wishes.
I waited there for a long while, hoping she would send me a message from the next world. I sang to her, the song Io had taught me, whose words I still didn't understand. I liked how comforting it was. I liked the sound of it, sister to sister, daughter to mother.
The blankets around the Queen were made of felt, the finest ever made, dyed blue in the way of our people. I took one of the arrowheads that had belonged to my mother, as Deborah had told me to do. There were scores of bronze ones, but only one that was yellow. I took that one.
If you wish me to he rid of my brother I will use your arrowhead, I told the Queen. I will be in service to you always, in all things.
I went back to the priestesses’ cave in the dark. Greeya had supper ready and I sat beside Deborah.
What did you decide? the old priestess asked.
Is there a right and a wrong? I needed to know.
There's a done and an undone. You need to ash yourself this: Do you wish to dream of the black horse all your life?
I went to where the baby was. He was asleep, yellow eyes closed. I had the arrowhead in my hand. It felt hot. In the dark it looked golden. So yellow it was like sunlight. What I would have done I am not sure, and I never will be, because the arrowhead began to shift as though it were melting in my hand. When I looked down I saw that the metal had bent at the edge.
Greeya had come up behind me. You took the gold one. She clapped her hands. Deborah said you would. It's the only arrowhead that's not strong enough to pierce through human flesh. It's your answer, she said.
Because of that my brother lived. The priestesses packed up his milk rags, a horn of mares’ milk, his blanket sewn with black thread, and the leather strapping I looped over my shoulders so I could carry him close to my chest as I rode.
I went east, beyond where we'd fought the people of Black Horse's father. It was far past the boundaries of our lands, for we'd chased them all the way to the Black Sea. It took several days to get there, and Anto was as good as any baby could be. My brother did not cry much, only when he was hungry, and I fed him as we rode. He was alive, no dream. Just a baby, nothing more, Black Horse, and he stared at me as he sucked his mares’ milk. I tried not to look at him. He was something I should not have named if I didn't want to care for him, a good baby with yellow eyes.
I tracked Anto's father's people until there was salt in the air. Salt clung to my horse and to me. Anto's father's people had become beach people and had built a city out of stones and shells. I waited on the higher ground above the shoreline, hidden by shrubs, until a boy came by. The boy stumbled into my trap, the sort you make for birds and rabbits. He was so startled he didn't move when I appeared from the bushes and cut him down from the net. I told him in words and motions to find me the man who'd been taken by the warrior women and who had then returned.
The boy held up two fingers. Of course, there had been two men released that night.
The handsome one was the one I wanted. The strong one. Only tell him and no one else I am here.
I waited in the bushes, feeding Black Horse, wondering if a troupe of warriors would come after me and if I'd have to kill them. I heard someone, so I left Black Horse under a thornbush for protection. It was only one man who stood before me. The handsome one. He had stopped a safe distance away.
He let me know his people didn't intend to bother us again.
In return I told him I had a gift for him. Wait here. I went to get the baby. Your son, I said.
The man made a motion that he didn't understand what I was saying, but I knew that he did. He saw Anto's yellow eyes and mine as well. I wondered if this man might have known the one of the fifty cowards who had been my father.
Take him away, the handsome man told m
e. He threw his arms in the air as though throwing Black Horse away. If the baby stays here he'll be killed, the man told me, haltingly, in my own language. He has women's blood in him.
I laughed at what a fool he was. Every man does.
Her blood, the handsome man said. He spit on the ground. Then I saw him for who he was. Another coward. Useless. He wasn't worthy of our Queen's child. He wasn't a fighter or a leader or anything worthwhile.
I rode away and didn't look back. I hadn't said my brother's name before; now I called him Anto. He was more than a curse or dream. I sang him the song Io had taught me and he grew quiet. I would not give him up to just anyone, leave him to the wolves and the ravens. This was what happened when you named someone: You couldn't throw him away.
I stopped at the place where the bear had been killed. I bowed my head and prayed for guidance. When I looked up I saw a sign. Perhaps my mother had sent it to me, perhaps my great-grandmother, or perhaps the guidance had come from Usha, who had protected me when she was in this world and continued to protect me from the next.
For there was another bear, a tiny cub, smaller even than Usha had been when I found her. Cubs are born in time when the world is growing colder, never in the warming weather, so I wondered if this cub had fallen from the great bear in the sky. Maybe it was a gift, as Usha had been.
Wherever the cub came from, it was a fierce thing, male, a brother for Anto. The cub fought nil’ when I picked it up, but it was starving and gave up the fight soon enough; it took one of the milk rags in its mouth and sucked the mares’ milk.
Don't think you are a horse, I told the bear. Remember what you are.
I took a blanket and tied it round the cub, then strapped it to my back. Anto opened his yellow eyes and stared hard at the bear. The ride was long, and both baby and bear were grumpy. But in time, they both stopped yowling and fell asleep. I could feel both of their hearts beating against me as I rode.
I whispered to my sister-horse, Take me where I need to go.
My mare brought me to the grassy field at the base of the mountain where there were brass bells on every door. I waited in the field until Melek felt me there. He seemed to know when I needed him. I could see him look out of his door just as if I had called to him.
The Foretelling Page 7
