Mistress of Animals

by Myers, Karen

  The implications of Najud’s observation struck a chord in her. *She’s treating them like the rest of her animals, not like people. Leaving them as she found them, but making sure they come along with her. She must assume they can take care of themselves.*

  She spent the time while they waited for the riders to get there describing everything around them—the trees with their heavy weight of snow, herself and the clothing she wore, and eventually each of them. She joined the hands of two of them, already tied together, and described them each to the other, and repeated this throughout the group.

  No one resisted her, and level of fear she felt from them diminished.

  Her voice was getting hoarse by the time the riders broke through to the end of her own short path, with Najud in the lead, and she started to describe them as well.

  Jirkat and Ilzay dropped from their horses in haste, and then stumbled to a halt when Penrys blocked their approach to give everyone time to adjust.

  She cleared her throat and told the survivors, still peering about like blind moles, “Here are Jirkat and Ilzay of the Kurighdunaq. Your clan-kin.” Then she stepped aside to join Najud as he approached.

  The astonishment on Jirkat’s face quickly turned to resolution. “Dhalmudhr,” he said calmly, “It’s good to see you alive.” He picked up the leader’s arm and clasped it.

  Ilzay was already moving through the group, naming everyone and touching them, murmuring his name and Jirkat’s, over and over.

  “Can you still find Munraz and Winnajhubr?” Najud asked Penrys as they watched this tiny remnant of the clan reunite.

  “Clear as a bell,” she said. “How long will it take to get back along the path you broke?”

  “Two hours, at least, all the way to camp.” He looked up at the unchanging falling snow. “I think we’ll still have daylight. The faster we can get them mounted, the better.”

  Penrys looked at the horses that had been led by the riders and realized they carried nothing but the pads that would be cinched under the pack frames.

  Najud followed her gaze. “We don’t have spare saddles, but they’ve ridden since they could walk. They’ll be fine.”

  Jiqlaraz watched them and the survivors with equal attention.

  “No horse for me?” Penrys asked.

  “Better for you to go ahead to the boys. Maybe you can talk to Khizuwi from there, tell him what’s coming in detail. Then once we reach them, you can jump forward to Khizuwi and help get things ready.”

  He looked her over as if to judge how tired she was. “Think you can do all that?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Penrys tried to mind-speak Munraz before she landed, but she wasn’t sure how much got through. It must have worked, for he was standing expectantly with Winnajhubr when she swooped in upon them through the falling snow, like some great owl.

  “Twelve of them,” she called, with a smile. “Did Najud tell you? I’m going to stay long enough to guide him in, and then go on to Khizuwi and help him get ready. How are you two holding out?”

  They’d picked a spot at the edge of some trees, and used long tethers on the horses, not wanting to hobble them and hinder their ability to paw through the snow in search of fodder. The snow under the trees was only a couple of feet deep, in drifts, and they’d trampled out a place for a cheery fire of fallen wood.

  “We’re fine, bikrajti,” Munraz said. “My uncle told me everything until he got out of range.” He stared at her. “How far away can you reach Najud?”

  “He’s got maybe a mile or two, I think, but I can reach about five miles now. Used to be less.”

  She smiled at him. “That’s why we had to set up this way station with you two. I couldn’t find the camp from where the survivors were, but I could find you.”

  Munraz blinked. “It’s complicated.” He yawned involuntarily and Winnajhubr poked him.

  “Nothing to do to pass the time,” Winnajhubr apologized for him. “So we took naps.”

  “I know—it’s been a long wait.” She asked Munraz, “Could you bespeak Khizuwi from here?”

  “I tried, but…” He spread his hands in uncertainty. “Can you?”

  “Want to watch?” she offered. His eyes widened and he nodded.

  *You can hear this, yes?*

  *It’s as clear as my elders, when they talk to me!*

  Penrys suppressed a smile. *Good. Now, watch and listen.*

  She felt his hesitation. *Will my uncle approve?*

  *I don’t know. That has to be your decision.* She gave him time—there was no real hurry.

  It was hard to lie to someone this way, where they could feel your own emotions, if not your unvoiced thoughts. Penrys tried to keep her mind still enough for him to become comfortable with a stranger, someone not of his family. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been an apprentice—perhaps he hadn’t been able to mind-speak for very long.

  She felt his excitement return. *Yes, please, bikrajti. I want to learn.*

  *Good, because I like to teach.* She grinned at him, and he hesitantly smiled back. *All right, first I’ll show you Najud and the rest of them.*

  She reached back to Najud then. *Just checking in. I’ve got Munraz with me.*

  Najud’s surprise was as obvious as if he were standing next to her, and then Munraz’s reflected surprise at being able to feel it.

  *Calm down, you two. Najud, I’ll talk to Khizuwi next and then wait until you get here to go on and join him. Anything you need me to warn him about?*

  *Yes—there’s one stranger, a young man. I wondered if Khizuwi might know him.*

  Penrys’s eyebrows rose. *I’ll tell him. They talking yet?*

  She could hear the emotion behind his simple negative. *No, and we’ve stopped troubling them about it for now.* He paused, and then returned his attention to her. *We’re leaving. Stay out of trouble until we get there.*

  His worry and affection were clear enough to her and also, apparently, to Munraz who broke off his contact with her, blushing.

  “I’m sorry, bikrajti,” he stammered.

  “Husbands and wives,” she told him. “Nothing to apologize for, I’m the one that invited you.”

  “Truly?” Winnajhubr interrupted, with a grin. “You and Najud?”

  When she smiled and nodded, he whooped. “I told them so. Jirkat owes me that chestnut mare of his, and Ilzay a knife.”

  “What, they didn’t approve?” she asked, a bit tartly, and Winnajhubr sobered.

  “Oh, no, bikrajti—they thought you wouldn’t want to stay with us and live as we do. Foreigners…” He coughed. “We’ve never heard of one who did. They thought Najud couldn’t do it…”

  His voice trailed off.

  “Couldn’t persuade me to stay?” She watched his young face redden as he pictured the implications and realized just how inappropriate this conversation was with an older woman, betrothed to someone else, and both of them wizards.

  “He can be very persuasive,” she added, with a hint of a leer, just to embarrass them further.

  “Now, if we’re all quite done with poking into my affairs, let’s go tell Khizuwi the news.” They nodded, chastened. “The news about the survivors, mind, not about things that don’t concern you.”

  Inwardly, she couldn’t stop her own heart from singing with the reminder of how the day had begun. She tried to keep it from Munraz as she let him watch while she reached out to Khizuwi.

  *Khizuwi, can you hear me?*

  After a moment, he replied. *Bikrajti? Where are you? Anything wrong?*

  She did her best to broadcast reassurance. *I’m at the intermediate point with our two young men, and Munraz is watching us talk.*

  Khizuwi’s amusement came through clearly. *And can you hear us, nal-jarghal?*

  Munraz’s reply was unsteady but determined. *Yes, bikraj. I’m learning from Penrys. It’s very interesting.*

  *I’m sure it is.* Khizuwi’s sardonic comment was tinged with appr
oval, Penrys thought.

  *To business, now. Khizuwi, Najud thinks it’ll take two hours to reach camp. As soon as he gets this far, I’ll come on ahead to help you.*

  *What do we need?*

  *They’re starving. We need meat broth, and cabbage in it. It’s not likely they’ve eaten any greens for weeks. Twelve of them—I doubt they’ll be able to eat much right away.*

  Khizuwi paused. *Injuries?*

  *There must be some, but they were all walking and nothing was obvious. We can assume frostbite, at least—their clothing is wretched.*

  Now it was her turn to hesitate, conscious of the young Munraz listening in. *I’m more worried about their minds. They’re not talking, and… I think their minds are showing them falsehoods, so they’ve stopped trusting their senses. That’s the only way I can think to put it.*

  Khizuwi’s inarticulate grunt managed to reach her through mind-speech. *Best worry about that once their bodies are safe.*

  *Agreed. Oh, and one of them isn’t of the Kurighdunaq. Najud wondered if he might be one of your young men. From the story about the caves.*

  His surprise was clear, and then followed by hope and caution. *We’ll see.*

  The track they’d trampled through the snow when they left the camp to get the survivors four hours ago was still visible in the failing light as Najud led them all back to the camp. The storm’s gusty winds were much reduced from the day before, and though snow continued to fall, it hadn’t blown and drifted enough to erase the trace.

  Khizuwi and Penrys came out of their respective kazrab to greet them before Najud could call out. Najud wasn’t sure if Khizuwi had heard them coming, or if Penrys had told him. Khizuwi walked past the survivors, drooping on their led horses, and searched their faces.

  “Here,” Jirkat said, and he raised his hand to point at the last one in his own string. Khizuwi pushed through the snow to look at the man, and broke into a smile. “Ariqnas! It’s Khizuwi. We’ve got you back.”

  He walked alongside him, his hand on the man’s thigh, as Najud led all the horses into the space between the kazrab. Penrys finished coiling the guide rope between their kazr and Jirkat’s that she’d lowered to make that possible, and walked over to him when he stopped.

  “How are they?” she said, looking up at him.

  “Unresponsive, but alive,” he told her. “What’s the plan?”

  “We’ll have to divide them among us, of course. Khizuwi and I, we thought it would be best to keep the women together, and the numbers are right, so we’re taking the women, since we’ve got the most space, and I suppose Khizuwi will take his clansman—that leaves three more for him, and the rest in with Jirkat.

  “We’ve got broth keeping warm in each kazr, and warm water, too, along with cloths for bandages and washing, lotions for their skin, and so forth. So, feed ’em, wash ’em, check their injuries, then everyone to sleep, I think. It’s been a long day.”

  He swayed in his saddle. A long day, indeed. But a good one for the Kurighdunaq. He summoned up the effort to dismount and clung to his saddle from the ground after his unsteady feet sank into the snow.

  “Winnajhubr,” he called, “Let’s get the horses stripped and back to their shelter, and bring some more of that grain with you. They’ve earned it.”

  *Keep an eye on him, Pen-sha. Wouldn’t want him to get lost as we lose the light.*

  Penrys’s wordless assent echoed back to him.

  Between them, they sorted out the survivors in a hurry to get them inside, out of the cold.

  Penrys ducked into their kazr, and Najud walked over to the first of the women. “Come with me, lijti, we’re going inside now. Penrys will help you.”

  He tugged her gently by the arm. Her blindfolded face turned first to follow his voice, and then from side to side, as though she were using her ears instead of her eyes to track her surroundings.

  Jirkat and Ilzay had given him their names, and as he guided this one over the threshold and into the warm kazr, he told Penrys. “This is Anah-Zul.”

  Penrys stepped up and took over, cocking her head at the doorway to dismiss him. “Welcome to our kazr, Anah-Zul. Please, come sit over here.” He heard her continuous patter for the comfort of the woman as he left to bring in the next one.

  A couple of hours later, Najud sat on his bed and looked around his little flock, wrapped in blankets and huddled within reach of each other on the rugs.

  Penrys had given each one a few mouthfuls of broth, right at the start, holding the spoon for them. One had broken into weeping at her first taste, she’d told him, but the rest had just swallowed.

  Then, one by one, she had taken each woman back behind a curtain for privacy. She stripped and washed them, cleaned and bandaged any obvious sores, and smeared a thick layer of ointment bound in fat over chapped and frostbitten skin.

  One of them, Lurum, looked to have once-broken fingers, now mended awry, but there was nothing to be done about that. For the rest, Penrys told him, they were thin, very thin, but whole.

  *I’m going to feed them again and let them sleep.*

  He could feel Penrys’s weariness in her mind-speech.

  She went round and sat with each woman, spooning more broth into them and talking constantly, in a low reassuring voice. The ones that had been blindfolded were bare-faced now, but Najud wasn’t sure how much they actually saw.

  It was strange that they hadn’t spoken yet, hard to remember that they were people, since people were never relentlessly quiet like this. They refused to be separated, even to let one of them take the unused bed, and Najud thought that was a promising sign, that they were at least that aware of their surroundings. They turned their heads to follow Penrys’s voice, and his own

  Penrys didn’t have enough clothing for five women, of course, but everyone had gotten some of her spare socks and enough undergarments for decency.

  As he watched, she cocked her head as if listening to one of the silent women. Then she rose and put her bowl down by the stove to keep warm, and helped the woman stand up and wrap the blanket around herself more securely. They walked to the doorway, where Penrys guided her hands to their collective footwear. Once the woman’s hands had recognized her own boots, she helped her put them on and then they went together, out into the snow.

  Of course. He could help with that task, but he thought they’d be more comfortable with another woman than with him. Instead, he stood up and made himself useful inside, finishing the job of feeding them, cleaning up the bowls, and readying the kazr for the night.

  When the last of them had made her guided trip outside and returned, he waited for Penrys to finally slip into their bed and lower the rarely-used curtain around it.

  *All done, Pen-sha?*

  He could feel her halfway to sleep already, snuggling up against him for warmth. She muttered something unintelligible, and he smiled.

  A little song danced through his mind as he remembered how the day had begun. She agreed. She’s mine, now.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, and she relaxed completely.

  Mine.

  CHAPTER 35

  By the middle of the next morning, Penrys had completed her rounds. Each of her charges had been fed again, but they still weren’t talking—cooperative when she or Najud moved them, but initiating little movement unguided.

  Najud had left a few minutes ago to see how things were progressing in the other kazrab. She’d wanted to see for herself, but there was no leaving these women alone, not with a hot stove she wasn’t sure they could perceive. She also wasn’t sure how they might react if both their new guardians vanished at the same time.

  She talked to them constantly, trying to keep her voice from going hoarse as it had the day before when she’d wanted to make herself heard over the storm. The damage had healed overnight, but she expected to be talking like this all day, as a sort of therapy.

  It was very strange listening to herself going on and on in the otherwise quiet kazr, wh
ere only the faint noises of the stove were normally present. The women weren’t deaf—she was sure of that, both from their physical reactions and from what she could monitor of their minds—but she didn’t think much penetrated beside the calm emotion and the sense of another person.

  She could never see another person’s thoughts explicitly, but their emotions and a few images were there for the looking, and sometimes their deeply learned skills. These women knew textiles and weaving, dairy and food preservation. Most of them knew child-rearing. Bimal reminded her of Inghiti, the apprentice herd-mistress that the Winnajjinza had loaned to Umzakhilin—perhaps that had been her job. Najud only knew their names from Jirkat and Ilzay, not their roles in the clan.

  The images she saw in their minds had little association with the world around them. Just behind them, they felt terror and fire. In front of them was smooth grass and pleasant walking. They sat in the kazr, in the midst of deep snow, and saw bare grasslands everywhere they looked.

  The women themselves were hiding behind these images, and she couldn’t reach them.

  What if the images they saw matched reality?

  Penrys gently pulled Bimal around on the rugs until she faced another woman, and then sat next to her. She looked at the other woman, and tried to project what she saw into Bimal’s mind, to override the vision of sunlight and grass.

  “This is Anah-Zul. This is real.”

  She lifted up Bimal’s hand and extended it to touch Anah-Zul’s knee.

  “This is you, touching Anah-Zul. This is real, too.”

  Twice, and three times she repeated the exercise. Then she turned Bimal’s head gently in the direction of the other women. “We’re here in my kazr, all of you. The men are here, too, in different kazrab. See the stove, keeping us warm?”

  Maybe there was a faint reaction, but Penrys couldn’t be sure, so she turned Bimal’s head back to look at Anah-Zul, who reacted not at all to the exercise.

  Once again, Penrys stretched the woman’s arm to touch the other woman, describing what she was doing and actively pushing the image into Bimal’s mind.