There were many people around his tent, and it was obvious that it had just been set up. Men were pounding in the stakes and stretching ropes. Carpets and other goods were being unloaded from horses. He was slightly amazed at how he had acquired a retinue of his own. The small group of assistant/bodyguards provided by Zarruk had grown after each fight. He was not entirely sure who these people even were. Gettain, one of Zarruk’s most trusted men, was in charge of them, and Atark was willing to trust him, too. He did find it a bit disconcerting to have all these people hovering around him, but he also had to admit it was nice to have someone else set up his tent. Thelena was there, and she was directing the activities. She had become the qoyen of his household and was doing an excellent job. Despite their suspicions and jealousies of her, no one dared disobey her orders when it came to his property.
He looked at her closely as he dismounted. She looked very pale and drawn. The latest batch of sacrifices had certainly pained her, but she refused to go away or to take anything stronger than wine. He wished there was something he could do to ease her suffering, but he was also proud of her. She bore her pain without complaint. He smiled at her, and she returned it when she saw him. He wanted to be with her and talk with her, but she was busy and he needed to do something, too. He directed one of the men to set up the small tent in a spot away from the others, and then he found the wooden box and carefully took it off the horse it had been strapped to.
Unfortunately, with the army grown as much as it had, finding a secluded spot for the small tent meant making quite a walk. He was wishing he had ridden by the time he got there. But at least there was no possibility of Thelena eavesdropping this time. He knew she had done so several times. He didn’t exactly object, he was simply worried to allow her to get too close to the Ghost.
Once the tent was set up, he sent the man away and then went inside and closed the flap. A short while later, the image of the Ghost was floating before him.
“So, another victory, but not a complete one,” said the Ghost.
“Yes. The enemy huddles behind stone walls, and for the moment we cannot get at him. In time, yes, but it could be weeks.”
“Or months. Winter will come sooner than you think. You cannot be caught here, still outside the walls, when the snows come.”
“I see little choice but to wait. The spells I know cannot bring down stone walls.”
“I know of spells which can.”
“Indeed? Can you teach them to me?”
“I have given you a great deal already…”
“And I have paid you back in full! Victory after victory…”
“They are but trifles!” said the Ghost and the image flickered red. “Three hundred years ago, this Berssia was nothing! A collection of rude villages, ruled by petty knights. The true east lies farther on. You have scarcely begun to give me the revenge I have paid for! You are still in my debt.”
“You may not have my daughter!” snarled Atark.
“I did not ask for her. But perhaps another. Some young shaman with the talent might consent to the bonding. You cannot imagine what I am enduring in this existence.”
“I am sorry. I could release you…”
“No! Not yet! Not while the great task lies undone!”
“I…I will consider it,” said Atark after a long pause.
“Do so. But you cannot wait for the spell you need. I will teach it to you now.”
“Thank you.”
“But be warned: this spell’s power exceeds that of the others you have used by many times. You will be tested as never before.”
“I understand. I am not afraid.”
“Good. But you will need many more sacrifices. Many more.”
* * * * *
Kareen waited patiently in line to get her sack filled with flour. There was a huge stack of barrels of the stuff that had been looted from the city, and it was being doled out to those that wanted it. While she waited, she stared at the city in the distance. Much of it was still smoldering, but she could just make out a Berssian flag waving defiantly from one of the taller buildings. The city had not fallen yet, and that made her feel very good. The Kaifeng were not completely invincible after all!
But then she turned back to look closer by and her heart sank. No, they might not be invincible, but that was little comfort to those who had been captured by them. A great many camp followers had been with the army and they had nearly all been caught. There had been others who had not escaped across the river in time, and they were being hunted down, too. A steady stream of warriors were coming into camp with the captives. The captives were mostly women, some battered, some naked and bound over saddles, others simply trudging along behind the horseman with a noose around their neck, a dazed expression on their face. There were a few men, too, and some children. The children usually were taken away by Kaifeng women. The men were taken to the large pen that had been built near one edge of the camp.
The pen for the sacrifices.
Kareen shuddered when she thought about that. She could still scarcely believe that the Kaifeng would slaughter helpless men to power Atark’s magic. It was incredibly barbaric, even for a barbaric people. After the great battle, Thelena had come out of her fit and then immediately left the tent. She had been so unsteady on her feet, Kareen had gone with her. They had swayed and staggered toward the battleground, and then she had spotted Atark, standing on a wooden platform. They had gotten closer and Kareen recoiled when she saw what was lying on the ground. Over a hundred bodies and their severed heads lay there with their blood soaking into the earth. They were all bound hand and foot, and she was quite certain they were all prisoners taken from the fort. She had nearly vomited on the spot. Then she turned and ran back to the tent, leaving Thelena standing there. Later, Thelena had explained what it was all for. The woman was still slightly drunk and dazed, but the explanation left Kareen more dazed still.
Is this to be our fate? she wondered numbly. Our men to be slaughtered like hogs and the rest of us to serve in the tents and beds of our conquerors?
But all was not yet lost. For her personally, yes, she had resigned herself to that; but the Berssians were still fighting, and the other kingdoms of the east would, too. Even with Atark’s terrible magic, perhaps they would not conquer all.
She reached the head of the line, and the woman there shoveled the flour into her sack. She gave Kareen a startled look as she finished. She was getting a lot of that lately. Her clothes and her braids made her look like a Kaif at first glance. She supposed as more and more of the new slaves adapted to their lives that would stop; but for now, she was an oddity. She closed up the sack, slung it over her back, and started for the tent.
There was very little order to the Kaifeng camps. Clans and tribes all stayed in the same area, but there were no neat rows of tents as you would find in an army camp. Animals were kept in separate areas normally, but usually not too far away. Kareen had to wend her way around tents and pens to get ‘home’. It was very strange: in some ways, the tent really was home now. It was the only place she felt even a little bit safe. She was nervous when Atark was there, but when she and Thelena were there alone, it was much better. She found that she could lose herself in simple chores and forget where she was—almost.
She rounded a tent and suddenly found herself face to face with two men. Her heart froze. They were two of the Kuttari men who had been stalking her. They grinned when they saw her. One of them said something and the other laughed. She was getting better at understanding the Kaifeng tongue. She thought the comment had been about her clothes—followed by something rude. One of them took a step toward her, but she stood her ground. She glanced around and saw that there were a dozen people within earshot. That had never stopped them before, but Thelena had taught her something to say, and now she said it—loudly.
“I…I am bringing this to the tent of Atark the Great. I must not be delayed in serving him.” Her pronunciation was terrible, but the men both rocked back
in surprise. All the heads of the nearby people turned in her direction. “Please let me pass.”
The men scowled and glanced around uneasily. Finally, they muttered a string of what must have been curses and then stalked away. Kareen let out a long sigh. Her legs were shaking, but she felt exhilarated, too. She smiled and then hurried home.
She reached the tent without further trouble and put the sack of flour where it belonged. Neither Thelena nor Atark were there. She looked around the tent, but there was nothing out of place or in need of cleaning that she could see. It was hours yet until she had to start working on dinner. Some of Atark’s relatives tended all the animals, so for once, she had little to do. She sat down, closed her eyes, and rested.
A short while later, she became aware of a clamor of voices in the distance. At first she ignored it, but finally she got up and went out of the tent and listened. A lot of people seemed to be talking and laughing. She was reluctant to leave the tent—especially after her close call—but her curiosity was aroused, too. Sometimes there were groups of dancers or jugglers or tumblers who came through the camps. She had seen them several times, and they were quite good. Perhaps she could risk going to see them now? The tent, for all of its reassuring safety, offered little in the way of diversion.
The guards outside the tent were glancing in her direction. As far as she could tell, they were strictly there to protect Atark and Thelena. They never interfered with her coming or going, but she must look a bit suspicious hesitating there. She made her decision and walked toward the noise.
She got closer and the laughing was louder. Perhaps it was the tumblers, they had been quite funny. But as she got closer yet, a chill went through her. She suddenly realized which part of camp she was heading for.
The pen the sacrifices were kept in.
What was going on? Were the Kaifeng tormenting those poor, doomed men? The thought made her angry. She nearly turned around and went back, but something drew her on. It was like she wanted something to fire her anger. Yes, anger, that was what she needed. For weeks she had been filled with fear and pain and shame and despair. She needed to be angry. The need drew her on.
She reached the rear of a crowd of people. They were mostly women and children. The majority of the Kaif warriors were still off collecting booty and rounding up more slaves. The women and children were all laughing and talking. Kareen slowly worked her way through the crowd to where she could see.
As she had feared, the center of attention was the pen and the men inside. But not just the men. She now saw that the real reason for the attention was the fact that the men were being fed—and the people feeding them were some of the newly captured slaves. A hundred or more of the women were bringing food and water to the men. They were all battered and undressed to some extent. A few sobbing girls were completely naked. Many were stripped to the waist. Small Kaifeng boys with switches were herding and prodding them. The prisoners looked on in shock and anger.
Kareen was furious. The swine! It wasn’t bad enough that these men had been abused and would soon be murdered. No, they had to see the shame and degradation of their women, as well! The only thing worse would be if the Kaifs actually…
She froze in mid-thought when she spotted a cluster of the guards off to one side. No, they had not spared them that either! Bastards! She choked off a scream of outrage that was building inside her. If she drew attention to herself, they might well drag her out there along with the other slaves. A part of her almost wanted for that to happen. She was tempted to grab a jug of water or a tray of bread and walk out there proudly—not ashamedly!—and serve her men. Her men! Berssians though they all were, those were her men!
She moved closer and looked at the faces of the prisoners through the wooden stakes of the enclosure. Some of them looked dazed, others looked fearful or ashamed. But most of them were angry. They accepted the food and water, but they spoke kind words to the weeping women and cast hate-filled looks at their captors. They were prisoners, but they had not been beaten. She felt a thrill of pride. She moved farther around the pen. She wanted to see all the men. Remember their faces. She could do nothing to save them, but she would remember them. Each and every one. She felt the urge to strike a laughing Kaifeng woman next to her. But she had a better idea. A strange, crazy mood was filling her. First she had stood up to the Kuttaris who wanted to rape her. Now…now… She was mustering her courage to go out there. To bring water to her men. She could not imagine what would happen to her or how severely she might be punished, but she did not care. She would do it. She would find a jug of water—no!—she would find a skin of wine! She would find it and then take it to those men. She would take it to that one, that young man right over…
Matt!
She fell to her knees.
“Matt!” She gasped out his name but it was lost in the noise around her. Her brother! Her brother was alive! He was right there! Twenty yards away! Her hands were shaking and she could not seem to catch her breath. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her brother was alive!
But not for long.
The icy chill blasted the joy right out of her like a winter gale snuffing a candle. He was there with the other sacrifices. And as soon as Atark needed more sacrifices for his magic, Matt would be bound like a hog and dragged into position and…
No!
She had to do something. She had to try and save him somehow. He had not seen her—had not even noticed her in her Kaifeng dress. All her plans for an act of defiance evaporated. She wanted to rush to her brother and kiss him, but she could not. She must do nothing stupid yet. Nothing to draw attention to herself or get anyone angry with her. She did not know what she was going to do—but she was going to do something!
She sprang to her feet and fled.
Chapter Twelve
Kareen collected the plates from dinner and began to clean them. She glanced up as Atark left the tent. He was going to a meeting of the Kaifeng leaders and would not be back for hours. Thelena helped her for a few minutes but then stood up.
“I have to go out for a while. I’ll be back later.”
“Yes, Thelena. I’ll finish this and prepare the beds.”
The woman paused and stared at her. “Is everything all right, Kareen? You’ve hardly said a word. Did…did anyone bother you today?”
“No. They left me alone. I am fine. Just a little tired.”
“All right. I’ll be back.” Thelena left, and Kareen was alone in the tent. She finished her chores and then went to her little pile of blankets and began to shake.
She had been right weeks before: there were no limits to fear. She had thought she had found the limits lying there naked in front of Atark, or while she was being gang-raped that same night. But she had been wrong again. She was far more frightened now than she had been then. Far more. For tonight, she would not just be raped or tortured.
Tonight she would commit murder.
She had been thinking about it for hours. Ever since she had returned to the tent after seeing Matt. She had to save him. She had to. But how? No one would help her. She was nothing to Atark, and Matt would be even less. Atark was the only one who could order Matt spared, and he would not. Thelena, Thelena would care, but would she help? Kareen was not sure, and she could not take the chance. If she refused, it would spoil any chance at all.
So she had to do it herself. But what? Help Matt escape? How? He was in a pen guarded by warriors. She could not get him out of the pen without being caught, nor overcome the guards. That was hopeless. But if she did not do something, then Matt would be sacrificed to fuel Atark’s magic. And probably very soon. There was no time. What could she do?
The answer had come while she was cutting up some mutton for the dinner. She had stopped and looked at the small knife she was using. Matt would be needed as a sacrifice for Atark’s magic, only if Atark was alive to use the magic! It was a wonderfully simple answer to her troubled mind. Kill Atark as he slept tonight. That would save Matt and perhaps save
all the east as well. It was Atark who used the magic that let the Kaifeng win. If he was gone…
Part of her realized that it might not save Matt at all. They might still kill him anyway. And it would surely mean her death as well. And she trembled at the thought of hurting Thelena so. She knew how much she loved her father. But she had to do something and this was the only answer that she could see. She had the little knife. After Atark was asleep, she would creep slowly to his side and slit his throat. Then she would flee. She would run and run until they caught her and killed her. She was afraid. She had never been so afraid, but she would do it! She took the little knife out and stared at it. She would do it. She would take the knife and…
“It won’t work, Kareen.”
She shrieked at the voice. Thelena! Thelena was standing in the tent. She had come back without a sound and there she was! Kareen hastily hid the knife, but it was too late.
“What…what do you mean?”
“You saw Matt in the pen today, didn’t you? That’s what was wrong with you. I just saw him there now. You saw him. Don’t deny it.”
Kareen just stared with wide eyes and fingered the knife under the blanket. If she had to, could she kill Thelena, too?
“You’re planning some crazy way to rescue him and escape, aren’t you? It will never work and then they will kill you, Kareen. I don’t want that.”
Kareen’s mouth worked but no sound came out. Thelena had caught her, but she had guessed completely wrong about what her plan was! She could not let her guess the truth!
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