Mistress of Animals

by Myers, Karen

  “I know it must be you that pursue her. Two is not enough. You need trackers, and you may need force to pry our kin away from the qahulajti. You realize, from your tale of the packs at the base of the lud in High Pass, that she must have reached out and seized them from that far away.”

  Penrys nodded at that. She hadn’t missed that implication.

  “So you need companions. Jirkat will go with you, leaving his brother to deal with his family’s goods, and Ilzay. Young Winnajhubr, too, if you’ll let him. I can’t send enough to make a real fighting force—I’m sorry.”

  “Those would be very useful, zarawinnaj,” Najud said. “If we find your clan-kin, we can’t possibly shelter them all—we’ll have to find a clan to settle with for the winter.”

  “No, you can’t pack equipment for so many and expect to make any speed. Jirkat has his kazr which will hold three, and I will gift you with my son’s kazr—you can’t do this with your kamah, not in winter. If he or his wife is recovered, I will replace it for them with something magnificent in gratitude.”

  Najud glanced at Penrys. “We’ll leave in the morning, zarawinnaj.”

  “Good, then that is settled.” He leaned back again. “You said there was another matter?”

  Najud rubbed his mouth. “Something for you to think about, for the future. You know how Qawrash im-Dhal in the east sends the Grand Caravan three times each year up toward well-populated Kigali?”

  Umzakhilin nodded.

  “I’ve participated in those caravans, several times,” Najud said. “I know how the settlement works, where they begin, and how they support the traffic. I know how the caravans themselves function—how they are led, what supplies they need. I understand the business.”

  Penrys watched, fascinated.

  “Now, when we were in Neshilik, I proposed, to both the town council in Gonglik and the Raseni occupiers, that a new caravan route be created, at the High Pass. It would terminate in Gonglik, but might well go on all the way to Dzongphan, in Rasesdad. Three-way trade between the three countries.”

  Umzakhilin cleared his throat. “Sounds ambitious. And you a bikraj.”

  “I don’t want to just settle as some bikraj in a clan, supported by his kin and otherwise left alone or, worse, holed up in some mountain cave.” Najud looked over at Penrys. “I’ve also traveled and seen the caravan trade, and I know I can do this, if the countries will agree. I’ll take charge of that part.”

  “What I want you to think about,” he said, “is what role you might want the Kurighdunaq to play, if it happens. The base for such a caravan would be below the High Pass, and no clan claims that currently, is that right?”

  “Yes,” Umzakhilin replied slowly. “The tribe claims it, but no clan uses it. It’s closest to our clan’s customary tarizd.”

  “Then—forgive me—if the Kurighdunaq are truly reduced in numbers, or even if they aren’t, you may find yourselves in a position to create such a caravan base. It could be a permanent settlement, a new location for the zudiqazd, or even a seasonal settlement, just when the caravans run, like a zudiqazd in reverse, empty in the winter. If you have a surplus of goods or herds after your people are found, that would also have a market there.”

  Penrys smothered a smile. Umzakhilin looked a bit stunned by the proposal, as well he might.

  “I know this is a strange idea,” Najud said, “but some of the eastern caravan bases originated in this way, before settlement year-round was more common there. Now there are more people in the east that want to trade goods with Kigali than those markets can support. A new market in the west, one that could take advantage of goods from the western fisheries and farms, one that might bring unique goods from western Kigali or even Rasesdad into Zannib, well, that’s not a small thing to consider. It would mean new ways for your people, but it would also mean wealth and independence.”

  Najud smiled, and then stood up. “Thank you for listening. I’ll leave these thoughts with you and see you in the morning.”

  Penrys joined him as he strode out through the doorway with an almost visible bounce to his step. She waited until they were outside and well away to comment. “Pleased with yourself, are you?”

  He grinned back at her. “Why not? Doesn’t hurt to plant the idea. And it would be a good solution for him if the news is bad, as it probably will be.”

  “Surely he’d have to contend with his gharqa, the leader of the tribe, to do something that radical,” Penrys objected.

  “That’s what being a clan-leader, a ujarqa, is all about—finding the best path for a clan, even if the way is strange and new. We’ll see what happens.”

  CHAPTER 17

  It was a chilly morning, the overcast skies a reminder of weather to come. Penrys was glad of the thigh-length sheepskin coat Hadishti had found her and her thick gloves. Her warm cloak was rolled and tied behind her saddle, the heavy Kigali stock saddle that was such a contrast to the sparse Zannib saddles with their bright fabric saddle-pads.

  All five of them were planning to lead a pack train of the shaggy Zannib horses, five each, and Penrys had hers already in hand, on the south side of the winter camp.

  The visitors were awake and beginning the process of transforming the empty zudiqazd into a living village again.

  Winnajhubr stood by his horse a little ways off and spoke privately with his sister Yuknaj, while Khashghuy on the ground conferred with his mounted brother Jirkat.

  Umzakhilin and Hadishti had already bid them good luck and now came over to speak to Penrys and Najud.

  “Are you sure you have what you need?” Umzakhilin asked Najud, looking up at him from the ground.

  Najud nodded. “The things we left with you, the donkeys and the Rasesni mares, and the goods they were carrying—well, if we send word, someone can take them on to the Zamjilah clan for us, else we’ll pick ’em up when we return.

  “I’ve planned the supplies for the best news, that we find a couple of hundred people alive, somewhere, but four or five days away from the nearest zudiqazd, and maybe in deep snow and on foot, with only summer clothing.”

  Umzakhilin nodded soberly.

  Najud waved back at the pack trains. “So, we’ve brought four of the large kazrab, stripped of all the furniture—just raw shelter and a place for a fire.”

  Penrys said, “The rest is our own small shelters and gear, food, grain for the horses. And as many blankets and bandages as we can carry.”

  A flicker of concern crossed Hadishti’s face. “And the pots of salve I gave you, for burns or frostbite?”

  “That, too,” Penrys confirmed.

  Najud said, “We’ll find a trail—Ilzay is sure of it, if we can keep the snow off—and we’ll only divert to a nearby zudiqazd as our supplies need replenishing. If we find anything, we’ll send word back.”

  “News travels slowly in winter,” Hadishti said.

  “But it does travel.” Umzakhilin said. “You said you would find bikrajab as you went along.”

  Najud nodded. “Most of them will come when called to stop a qahulajti.”

  “Even in winter?” Penrys could hear the skepticism in Umzakhilin’s voice, but Najud just shrugged.

  “We can only try. We’ll coordinate all messages either to you, here, or to my family, in the Zamjilah zudiqazd. You’ve got my letter for them, explaining the situation. That’s quite a distance, but we don’t know yet what direction this qahulajti took. If she went west, the word will go to you directly. If east, then perhaps the Zamjilah clan. I think north is unlikely, since she came from there, but south could be a real problem—colder, fewer people, and further away for messages, especially in the winter.”

  Umzakhilin said, “No use anticipating the problem until you’re faced with it.”

  The noise of a dozen riders entering the camp from various directions drew everyone’s attention. They cantered over to the zarawinnaj to report. A little while earlier, Ilzay and several of the visitors had ridden from the camp a mile or more to ta
ke advantage of the early morning light to see if they could pick up the trails of the stock and people entering the camp, and then leaving again. Each rider had been responsible for a wedge of ground that he examined closely.

  “We found it, zarawinnaj,” Ilzay reported. “The trail in roughly follows the spring route, as we thought it might.” This last was directed to Najud, who nodded his understanding.

  “There’s a similar trail, faint but visible, headed out to the southwest. As long as the snow holds off, we should be able to follow it.”

  “How old?” Umzakhilin asked.

  “Only about a month. They’re moving much more slowly than I would expect.” Ilzay shrugged. “Hubrahi brought back some droppings to show you.”

  “Then we’ll be leaving, zarawinnaj,” Najud said. “The season’s against us.”

  Ilzay picked up the lead rope of his pack-string, which had been tethered waiting for him, and Penrys walked hers over a little way to let Jirkat and Winnajhubr hear the news.

  As she reached them, she overheard the last of Khashghuy’s conversation with his brother.

  “Find her for me, tigha,” he said, and clasped his brother’s arm.

  Najud, behind her, explained. *They were planning to marry during the magham, the winter festival.*

  Penrys grimaced. *None of them will escape sorrow, no matter what we find.*

  Half a day out of camp they found their first body on the trail—one of the cattle, a bull by the heaviness of his horns. A broken leg explained its collapse. Little was left besides the bones and hooves, the hide and its hair.

  Najud bent over the carcase with Ilzay. “See the tooth marks?” he said.

  “Wolves. But look here.” Ilzay pointed out some clumsy cuts along the ribs. “Those are knives.”

  Najud tugged a segment of the crumpled and dried skin loose and looked at the edge where it had been pulled from the exposed side.

  “Some of this was cut, not torn.”

  “So,” Ilzay said, “it looks like someone with a knife sawed through the hide enough to peel it back a ways and cut off some meat.”

  “Probably took more than one man to do it. Why not just grab the belly meat instead?”

  “I don’t know,” Ilzay said. “Maybe the wolves had already gotten it?”

  Najud grunted at that. Usually the people killed the animal, and then the wolves got what remained. The organ meats went first, and then the animal was completely butchered until all that was left for the wolves was the scraps. Even the big bones were taken, for the marrow. Horns and hide, anything useful—it would all be salvaged.

  This painted a very different picture, of an animal brought down by accident, and maybe killed by wolves, with people coming along afterward, before they were finished.

  The image of the wolves with the chained girl that Umzakhilin had described came to his mind. Were the people standing in line with the wolves, hoping for their share of the kill?

  “At least some of them still have knives,” he commented.

  A mind-call from Penrys lifted his head, and he searched the sky to the southwest.

  *I’m coming in. I found a body.*

  *So did we, a bull carcase.*

  He felt Penrys’s hesitation. *No, a human body. Nothing but bones.*

  CHAPTER 18

  Najud found it hard to reconcile this version of Penrys with wings, all bundled up in the sheepskin coat from Hadishti, her knit cap and a scarf protecting the exposed part of her face, with the lightly clothed one he’d first seen, a couple of months ago.

  The thought of her wings wrapped around him sometimes in the night brought a private smile to his face. She’s like an owl this way, all fluffed up for the winter.

  When she landed, she unwrapped her scarf and gave him a quick, nervous twitch of the mouth. Jirkat and Winnajhubr waved at her from the ground, and she lifted her gloved hand, but even the bull carcase failed to hold her attention.

  “A skull,” she said to Najud, “Small, it was, and some bones and scraps of clothing. A hundred yards or so left of the trace. I built a pile of rocks on the edge of the trail to mark the spot where you should turn off. Maybe four miles further along?”

  She glanced uncertainly at the animal carcase. “Ilzay, I think there were tooth marks on the bones.”

  “Like these?” Ilzay drew her over to the bull and showed her examples.

  She nodded as she looked at them.

  “There was much less left, though.”

  “People are frail,” Ilzay said, “not tough, like cattle. Sometimes all you find is a skull—everything else has been carried away.”

  She swallowed, and Ilzay continued, “By the close of winter, the rodents will gnaw at the hides and bones, and the hair will slip away, or end up in a mouse’s nest. If the season is hard enough, nothing of him will remain,” he hooked his thumb at the bull, “except the skull and sometimes the horns.”

  She turned to Najud. “I came back, ’cause… If we’re finding bodies on this trail, there must be bodies on the earlier one, too, the one from the summer encampment, though I must have missed the exact route they took when I flew over it.”

  Najud looked at her in understanding. “You think someone should tell them, back in the zudiqazd.”

  “Don’t you? Wouldn’t they want to know?”

  Jirkat nodded. “Someone should go back to Umzakhilin.”

  Penrys shook her head. “No, I’ll do it. We’re not far away yet. You keep going and I’ll catch up again. I don’t want to lose any more time. Every day we delay…”

  Najud agreed with her. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  She wrapped the scarf around her exposed face and launched again, like an improbably ponderous goose. *I’ll get something to eat back there. Don’t wait for me. Keep going.”

  His three remaining companions looked to Najud for guidance. “This won’t be the first person we find,” he said. “We’ll need to keep the count of the dead as we go.”

  Ilzay said, quietly, “Let it be me. Jirkat and Winnajhubr have at least one left living in the zudiqazd, whatever news we may get on the road ahead. I have none. I’ll keep the tally.”

  He turned to the bull’s skull and busied himself with cutting off the horns. Jirkat walked over to lend him a hand so they could get moving again as soon as possible.

  Najud left them to it. Umzakhilin had told him, before they left, that the count of people missing from the clan was two hundred and sixty-nine, though there were infants that would have been born in the zudiqazd since the taridiqa began this year, and some of the aged might have died, so the number couldn’t be exact.

  He’d seen the sticks used as tally records, the marks a shepherd made to check the headcount of his flocks, tolling them off quickly in couples with the old rhyming words—ishqa, imgha, nudi, nari—and so forth, notching the stick for each twelve couple—a jal, a flock of twenty-four. The odd one, any half-a-couple extra, was mawik.

  So, the headcount of the missing was eleven jal, imgha and mawik. It sent a shiver down his spine to count people as though they were sheep, the way the qahulajti had called them a herd.

  “The horses have had enough of a rest,” Najud called to Ilzay. “We’ll mount and eat from the saddle, soon as you’re done.”

  Ilzay raised a hand in acknowledgment, and Winnajhubr reached into one of his saddlebags to grab some food and stuff it in his belt pouch for easier access. Najud decided to do the same.

  Four miles to the first mark on the tally stick.

  Coming back, two hours later, Penrys spotted her companions from the air where she expected to find them. The horses had been tethered to get what grazing they could but not unloaded, since they would go on from here.

  It was awkward to carry things not attached to her body while flying, and the bulky garments which did a barely adequate job of keeping her warm in the cold wind left her few options. After she landed and took a few stumbling steps to absorb her momentum, she hurried to strip o
ff her gloves and unfasten the long, uncomfortable tool, strapped diagonally to her chest.

  They all looked up from the rock cairn they were building as the spade Umzakhilin had pressed upon her clanked to the ground, a wooden pole with a cross piece, riveted onto a pointed metal blade.

  At Najud’s raised eyebrow, she said, “Yes, Umzakhilin said you would be raising cairns, but then Hadishti reminded him that rocks are not always easily found, and so…” She waved her hand at the spade on the ground and shrugged.

  “His word was that he would scour the spring route all the way to the summer encampment, weather permitting, and see to the rites. He asked that you save what remembrances you could…”

  Ilzay pointed to something on the ground a few yards away, and Penrys walked over to take a look. A thin goat-hide lay there, with a section carved out, and on it was a newly-made leather pouch and, weighted down by a cobble against the wind, a few scraps of cloth and a bone bracelet, child-sized.

  “Oh. I see. Do you know…?”

  Winnajhubr told her, “That’s Khimar, the daughter of Suragh. I know the bracelet—she used to play with my sister Anah-Jilah.” His voice choked.

  Penrys remembered the child’s pack they’d found on the High Pass, in front of the lud. Was his little sister’s body somewhere on the spring route that Umzakhilin’s people would be searching?

  They found two more bodies that day and built the cairns for them, and then stopped early to camp by a small stream, depressed and not yet efficiently settled into a smooth routine for the journey.

  Despite everything, Penrys was eager to erect the first kazr that she would get to use herself. She had helped raise them and take them down several times by now, pitching in on their way to the zudiqazd, and then retreating regretfully to the chilly kamah she shared with Najud.

  They expanded and attached the first lattice sections on either side of the door and its frame, then tied the remaining lattice frames to the first until they met in a circle about five feet high. The two long decorated poles that held the painted zamjilah, the spoked roof crown, went up next, and Penrys held the assemblage erect herself, since it was the least skilled job. Najud and Winnajhubr stood outside on opposite sides and inserted the thin, gaily painted roof rafters one by one, first the narrow tongue into the empty sockets along the side of the raised zamjilah, and then the hooked ends onto the top of the lattice, where they were lashed into place.