By the time they ran out of stones, with just enough time before sustana to gather more, Shahin had eaten three grasshoppers and more ants than he had bothered to count. Akil had missed once or twice, too, and made a point of finding insects that he thought would disgust Shahin.
He caught himself beginning to doze more than once as he ate the starchy mash they served at midday, but after sustana Akil led him straight back to their pile of stones. By the end of the day, the boy had pronounced him “pretty good, for a beginner.” Three days later, he was sent out with the goatherds.
* * *
Much as with the Chèin’ii, he was expected to work as soon as he was able, and herding was a good place to start. The herd was kept commonly, and there were three or four youths besides Parviz, his mentor among the herders, moving with the goats this morning. And, of course, Kamari had become a fixture with the herd.
“Ordinarily we’d be preparing to travel at this time of year, but Hekevidya has forbidden it until she can divine the proper path,” Parviz told him as they walked out to a patch of pasture. The Bezrashi village was in a narrow arm where the savanna reached into the desert. He had a pleasantly quiet voice, one pitched just right to calm the animals, and his gaze always seemed to fall on something just out of sight on the horizon.
“So, are her divinations generally accurate?”
“The Hekevidya must learn the ways of the stars as well as she learns the movements of the body. If they are unclear, she seeks clarity and interprets only what she must. It is the way of things.”
“So she practices magic?”
“No, of course not! Bending the spirits to one’s own will is forbidden. She merely reads what they are already trying to tell us.”
That didn’t sound like much of a difference. “You seem awfully well-versed in this for a goatherd.”
Parviz’s smile was shy. He didn’t seem to have any other sort, although he used it often. “I was to succeed Hekevidya when she passed on, but I’m afraid I haven’t the knack for it. Akanksha is her apprentice now.”
“The knack… for treating the sick?”
“For reading the stars. Or for explaining things. When you treat a goat, it doesn’t have a choice in the matter. You can soothe it into compliance. People aren’t so easy.”
“I suppose we aren’t, at that.” Shahin chuckled. First Nikita, then Zena who had to put up with me as a patient in short order… Nikita. Dare I hope she survived?
“Is something the matter?”
“No, just remembering an acquaintance of mine.”
“Someone else caught up in what nearly killed you?”
“…Yeah.”
Parviz nodded. “Hekevidya said it was demons that pursued you. That must have been terrible.”
Shahin hadn’t thought it possible that the boy’s voice could become any softer, but it did. So, she actually believed me? That’s new. He shivered, remembering the bugs’ cry. “Talk of monsters is better suited to fireside, after the younglings have gone to sleep.” Younglings? I spent more time with them than I thought.
“Hmm. Probably. So, what were you before?”
“In my first life, or the one I was starting over?” He strained for a smile.
“Three lives, in less than the space most men live one? Clearly the spirits have blessed you.”
“If you say so. The first was lonely, the second was short; I suppose if this one is better it’s a blessing of a sort.”
“If you prefer not to talk of it, we can speak of other things. There is much you have yet to learn of us, after all.”
“That sounds like better conversation for a day that should be pleasantly dull, doesn’t it?”
“You may be right.” There was that shy smile again. For all that it fit the boy’s features it was beginning to seem a little off. Parviz was a good kid, a dreamer, and that was certainly a dreamer’s smile. But it was also a woman’s smile on a boy’s face. Shahin ignored it as best he could.
They walked on in this way until the sun had climbed half a fist further in the sky. One of the boys near the front of the herd called a halt. They had reached the morning’s pasture, a strip of beard grass and thorny bushes that faded into sand in three directions within fifty paces. A few khejri trees dotted the land, and Shahin thought he heard bird calls.
“So what do we do to pass the time?”
“When the goats don’t need our attention? We usually play music or tell stories, but Hekevidya told me you’d never slung before two days ago. Why don’t you practice some? You want to be able to hit a kitendua’s nose if it comes for the goats.”
“That’s an awfully small target.”
“It’s also the most effective. A sling isn’t likely to kill it anyway, but the nose is tender and it should leave. Anything else and it’ll either get mad or ignore you.”
“Target practice for me, then.”
The does and rams browsed happily while the kids mostly played among themselves. The one time Shahin saw one about to wander off he sent it scampering back to the herd with a bullet in the dust. He was rather pleased by that shot, but it was another one that impressed the herders.
The goats had browsed over nearer the trees, and Shahin thought he saw signs of water not much farther on. He had picked one of the smaller trees, probably a hundred paces or so away, for his target and begun throwing.
His arm was tiring of the motion, but he thought he had a couple more good throws in it before he needed a rest. This throw was not one of them; it went far enough wide he may as well have thrown it behind him, but instead of the expected puff of dust from its landing they heard the distinctive scream of a large, startled cat. Shahin saw it stand and nonchalantly stalk away, its large, irregular spotting undulating along its side and down its deeply sloping back. Only then did he realize that the drone of wind from Parviz’s pipes had cut off.
“Well done!” This was Tveda, who was standing nearest to Shahin.
“I wish I could say that was on purpose.”
“Did you see it before you threw?”
He shook his head. “That was dumb luck.”
“I’ve never seen ‘dumb luck’ work quite that well before.” Tveda clapped him on the shoulder, but forgot to hold back.
Shahin shook his head as he straightened himself. “That was my wildest throw in two days. I was aiming for that skinny little tree over there.”
“Had you hit it often?” Tveda raised a hand to shade his eyes, peering at the tree.
“Maybe half the time?”
“Impressive. Akil was right; you are good for a beginner. Are you sure you didn’t see the cat move or something?”
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“Well, luck or skill doesn’t really matter this time. That’s one less cat we have to fight, so well done!” Tveda laughed, a deep belly laugh, and the others joined in as boys do. They made enough noise that the browsers looked up from their forage and the kids joined in.
* * *
As they walked back to the village the boys were still talking about his errant shot. He kept going over the moment in his mind, trying to remember if there was anything that could have tipped him off. Every time, though, all he saw was the tree trunk before he felt the awkward jerk in his arm a half-second before he released. There was simply no more to it than that. Parviz and Tveda were loudest in proclaiming he was just being modest when he tried to explain. He gave up on saying anything until they told the story to Zena.
“They’re giving me too much credit, I’m afraid.”
“Shahin, that tree you were aiming at. About how far away was it?” Tveda asked.
“Oh, probably no more than a hundred paces.”
Tveda’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“Hekevidya, that sapling was at least double that when I looked. He’s thrown for three days, and he was hitting it about half the time based on his own estimate.”
A sapling? It was young, certainly, but not that young. Ther
e was no way it was that far off. His thoughts must have shown.
“Among your less serious injuries when we found you were several knots on your head. It’s not inconceivable that one or more of these caused a change in your perception,” Zena said.
“But wouldn’t that change the way I see everything?”
“Who knows? I only know that I’ve heard of such things happening. We will test this, and see if our foundling is exceptional or if Tveda has bad eyes.”
“Yes, Hekevidya.” Tveda’s response was meek.
Shahin nodded acknowledgment as well, biting his tongue. His temples were suddenly throbbing.
“Now. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than wear out my patient any further. Yes? Good.”
The young men hurried out of Zena’s hut before she could put them to work on something unpleasant.
“Now. Let me have a look at you.”
She didn’t learn much that evening. The next morning, when the throbbing in his temples had become pains stabbing their way in circles around his skull, was another story. She determined they had been pushing him too hard, and so he would aid the weavers once his head was well again.
It was the worst headache Shahin had ever experienced, but by midafternoon that day it had receded to a dull ache, and by dinner had fled completely. Zena never told him what she had discovered that day, and when he pressed all he got was a blank stare, but she seemed satisfied. Around the dinner fire that evening she was absent, which was odd; always before she had kept close to ‘monitor’ him.
As happened with the Chèin’ii, he fell in most naturally with those who spent the most time around animals. Parviz and Tveda were glad to see he was feeling better and sorry to hear that he would not be going back out with them. They agreed, though, that it was probably better for him to keep out of the sun for a while.
Shahin wondered if all the unsettled tribes were this welcoming. He knew it couldn’t be true, but this was twice now he had been welcomed by complete strangers. First the Chèin’ii, who had never pried deeper than his skills, and now the Bezrashi. He felt oddly comfortable here, talking and joking with goatherds around a bonfire on the edge of the Qaehl.
Late in the night Shahin was awakened by the sound of someone walking into the hut where he was still being kept for observation. He rolled over and saw the silhouette of the old woman.
“Did the ‘stars’ tell you anything tonight?”
The silhouette stopped. “Nothing you need worry yourself about. Why are you awake?”
“I heard footsteps.”
“Would you like a tonic?”
His tongue recoiled at the suggestion. Not only did it taste foul, it caused horrific dreams from which he could not wake and fogged his mind in the morning. “No, thanks.”
“Then go back to sleep. There is no safer place.”
The disquieting sound of that phrase turned circles in his head as he drifted back to sleep. There is no safer place.
* * *
When he woke the next morning, those same words were foremost in his mind. The Bezrashi are remarkably calm. Do they know what’s going on? He was going to help the weavers of the village today. That would be a good way to find out.
He was introduced to Lila at breakfast that morning, much as he had been introduced to Parviz the morning before last. Lila was young, doe-eyed and still unwed but courted by every unmarried man in the village. Why Zena thought that should matter to him was another mystery. She was instructed to teach him well but not exhaust him. Shahin glared at Zena for that, not that it did any good. It would be a relief to finally be judged “well” and be out from under that woman’s thumb. I’ll be well soon enough, he reminded himself. But, what am I going to do then? He ate with Lila and a few of the other weavers to get an idea what they were expecting of him.
Not much, as it turned out. They all knew he was city-born, so they assumed he was ignorant. He’d developed a reputation as a quick study, though, so for today they wanted him to watch, learn, fetch, and carry. By the sounds of it, this should be another dull day – if perhaps less so than watching goats had been.
It soon became clear that, while there were both men and women weaving, they wove different things. A girl’s apprenticeship was considered lighter work than a boy’s, and so Zena had found yet another way to humiliate him by placing him with the women.
After a brief demonstration they set him to carding wool. He saw older women not far away spinning it, while women of about Lila’s age sat and created wonderful designs of plants and animals and geometric patterns with the dyed yarn on their shuttles. The looms themselves were nothing more than straight poles, hung either on the wall or laid out on the ground over worn and dusty rugs, with strings pulled tight between them.
Carding yarn required little enough attention that he could watch their work unfold before them. The largest piece looked like it would be a rug bigger than some of the huts. As birds and trees sprang forth from the tiny threads the women were casting back and forth he nearly forgot what he was doing more than once.
The first time he noticed one of the women looking at him he hastily returned his attention to his work as though he really were a child caught daydreaming. Only, the feeling of being watched had nothing to do with a scold.
“So Shahin,” Lila asked mid-morning, her fingers not slowing a hair as she chatted. “How did you manage to come by such a lovely horse?”
“Kamari? Wonderful animal, isn’t she? Smartest horse I ever met, and one of the loyalest. The Chèin’ii I was riding with all loved her, too, before everything went to pieces.”
“You rode with the Chèin’ii?” Lila’s question could have come from a child at Carnival gates. The women all stopped what they were doing to listen.
“For a little while, yes.”
“Oh, that must have been wonderful! Are the stories true?”
“Well, that depends on which stories you’re talking about, now doesn’t it?” Shahin smiled while he started a new clump of goat hair. “They treated my injuries, welcomed me like long-lost family, and put me straight to work learning trick riding, of all things. I can tell you Kamari wouldn’t carry me until I stopped smelling like the srani’s herbs! Their caravans are run like a massive family, but I am informed by reliable sources that they keep track of who is actually related.”
“They would have to,” one of the older women snorted, not slowing or even pausing her spinning.
“That is one of the stories I’d heard.”
“Wait, they treated your injuries?” This was a woman within a few years of Lila who shared the other woman’s doe eyes and easy smile. Shahin thought they might be sisters; there was a certain cut of the jaw in common, and something avian about the slope of their noses.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“That time? That was when I broke my ribs in the first place. I was a courier at the time…” He told the story, leaving out what exactly it was that ate Teqrab and panicked Govad, not ending until he had finally arrived battered, bruised, and on foot. “I couldn’t bring myself to go back alone after that. When I heard the Chèin’ii were in town, and me used to a life on the road anyway, suddenly the idea of going back at all was dreadful. So I asked to join.” Shahin called his gaze back to the present and realized that the younger women had gathered close to listen. Very close; Lila and her sister both had sympathetic hands on his knees, and others were almost close enough to touch him. He froze, staring at the hands, wishing they would move away but too embarrassed to say anything.
“Back to work, girls. When Hekevidya finally tells us it’s time to move, we want these off the looms!” This from the same woman who had harrumphed over the Chèin’ii. They scattered back to their looms, but Shahin never once looked up without seeing one of them looking at him. Usually it was Lila.
Without quite realizing how, Shahin carded three large baskets worth of goat hair over the course of the day. He also learned a
great deal; first about the village, then about weaving, and finally about how much the Bezrashi already knew. None of that compared with how jumpy he felt after spending the day around those young women. By midafternoon he thought he knew how a rat must feel hiding from a jackal. By the time the sun set he wanted to run and hide.
Around the dinner fire, he found himself a place with the goatherds, and sooner rather than later the elders began passing around skins of ut’sharmka. They claimed the fermented goat’s milk was excellent for the constitution. It tasted the way feet smell at the end of a long day in the sun, with salt added for good measure, and burned like fire going down. Even the children drank it with relish. Shahin threw back the contents of the wooden cup he held, trying not to taste it, and stood up.
“There has been a great deal of curiosity over the circumstances surrounding my arrival,” he began. “For the last bit of the journey, I’m afraid you’d have to ask the horse.” He heard laughter scattered around the fire, but the other conversations were quieting down. “It’s not a pleasant tale to tell, but sooner or later you will come face to face with these circumstances. It’s best if you know what’s out there.” He looked around the fire, watching their faces. The Elder nodded in acquiescence. He could not see Zena.
“Three months ago, give or take, I was a courier based out of Udhampna Pradesh.” Blank stares. So, nowhere near Udhampna, then. “I was given an urgent message to carry to Q’uungerab. Urgency pays well, so I accepted. A week out of the city I was attacked.” None of them seemed to recognize the name Q’uungerab, either. How isolated is this place?
“The attack was by a predator I had never seen before, a nightmare that rose up out of the sand and took one of my camels in a single strike. The camel I was riding bolted, and that saved my life.” He pressed on, glossing over the underground ruins this time, until he got to the attack on the Chèin’ii caravan.
“They were ant-like scorpions, taller at the back than a horse or a camel, and longer than any of the wagons. We set some wagons ablaze, which bought the caravan time to run away, back to Q’uungerab. That was the second time I encountered the beasts.”
Advent of Ruin (The Qaehl Cycle Book 1) Page 19
