the Year the Horses came

by Mary Mackey

  When the horses were bridled, the three women mounted and formed a line with Timak at the head and Hiknak and the sledge horse bringing up the rear. Just in time, too, because as they settled into place Zuhan motioned to Changar. Bowing to the Great Chief, the diviner lifted a white flute-shaped instrument to his lips and blew a single high-pitched blast. Later, Marrah learned that the marching trumpet was made from a human thigh bone, but even when she was mercifully ignorant of that, the sound sent a chill through her. The mare must not have liked it either; she laid her ears back and pawed the ground, and it was all Marrah could do to keep her from bolting out of line.

  At the sound of the trumpet, the whole camp began to move: first Zuhan and his bodyguards, then Changar and Arang, then the women and children of each family on a first-come-first-serve basis, with the late ones straggling to catch up. As the women and pack-horses lurched into motion, the men out on the steppes began to drive the horses and cattle forward with high-pitched yips. Slowly, like a great river, the herds began to stir, sending up clouds of pale dust that stained the sky. Soon the place where they had camped for so many days was nothing more than a long line of flattened grass, with holes where the tents had been and small humps of bones and other garbage. Already crows and buzzards were circling overhead, ready to swoop in and clean up the scraps.

  Their progress through the tall grass reminded Marrah of the ride from Shambah to Slehan's camp, only it was slower and much less brutal. No one went thirsty, and around midday the whole tribe stopped to feed the children, water the horses, and eat a cold meal. That evening they pitched camp before dark, lit small cooking fires, and unpacked enough blankets and baskets to make themselves comfortable. The next morning, just after sunrise, Changar blew the marching trumpet, and they took to the trail again.

  This went on for several days. Marrah saw Arang all the time, sometimes with Zuhan and sometimes with Dalish, who appeared to be giving him lessons in Hansi. As they rode along side by side, Dalish would point at a bird or a plant and her lips would move, and Arang would nod and look as if he was trying to repeat what she'd just said, but the two of them were always too far away for Marrah to hear. She tried not to feel left out, but it was hard. The best she could do was wave to Arang and give him knowing glances. It was all very frustrating, especially on the third day when she was sure she saw Stavan walking in the dust beside the cattle. It might only have been one of the older herdboys, but even the chance that it was him excited her so much she thought of nothing else.

  The warriors rode behind and beside the great herd, pushing the animals forward slowly and cutting off any strays who tried to wander in the wrong direction. The women were ordered to keep their horses in check, and the children were cautioned not to yell or make sudden movements. If the herd stampeded, it could take days to round the animals up. In the morning everyone checked the sky. Violent thunderstorms could sweep across the steppes, coming out of nowhere. Many of the horses were so wild a single bolt of lightning could set them running, and when the horses ran, the cattle often ran with them. At night, people sat around the campfires telling stories of tribes that had been wiped out by their own herds.

  But this was a fall march, not a summer one. Except for one afternoon of drizzle, the sky stayed as clear and blue as a string of clay beads, and even the wildest horses spent most of their time cropping grass. Only one thing of real interest happened as they moved south. One morning Hiknak rode up beside Marrah and began in a hesitant way to talk.

  "Why don't you order me around?" she asked, pushing a string of dirty blond hair off her thin forehead and looking at Marrah shyly.

  Marrah smiled at Hiknak, thinking how childlike she looked under the paint that rimmed her eyes. It was always hard to remember she was a woman, even though the Goddess knew Vlahan and Timak had beaten the childish joy out of her long ago. "Why should I order you? Doesn't Timak give enough orders for any ten people?" She was glad she finally spoke enough Hansi to carry on a conversation.

  "But you're Vlahan's wife, and I'm just his concubine. You're supposed to curse at me and kick me every once in a while, or people will think you don't care that he takes me into his bed."

  Marrah laughed. "Little sister, I'm never going to kick you or curse you or even raise my voice to you if I can help it, and as for Vlahan I suspect that both of us would just as soon the clumsy brute screwed his horse as either of us."

  Hiknak turned bright pink and giggled. "Don't let Timak hear you say that," she warned, looking nervously in Timak's direction. She lowered her voice. "She thinks he's a stud from heaven."

  Marrah was intrigued. "But you know different?"

  Hiknak nodded. "Oh, yes. I came to Vlahan a virgin just like you; if I hadn't still had my maidenhead, Zuhan's warriors would have raped me to death or made me a slave. But I had a friend in my father's camp."

  "What was his name?"

  "Her name was Iriknak," Hiknak said softly. "And a sweet, good woman she was too. She was my uncle's youngest concubine, just my age, with the kindest voice and the brightest smile you'd ever want to see. Vlahan killed her, and someday I'm going to return the favor. I'm telling you this because I've been listening to what goes on between you and him at night, and I know you must hate him too." And with that, Hiknak gave her horse a kick and rode off, leaving Marrah speechless.

  Well, well, she thought, let that be a lesson to me never to underestimate anyone.

  At last, for reasons Marrah never quite understood, the tribe arrived at a more permanent camping place. As far as she could see, the water was no better and the grass no taller than it had been where they'd camped the night before, but everyone seemed delighted by the choice, and as the women and children unpacked the tents and delved to the bottom of the leather bags, a rumor ran through the camp: this was where they were going to spend the winter unless Han sent Changar a sign to tell them to move on.

  Marrah liked working with Hiknak a lot better now that she knew how the girl felt about Vlahan, and as the two of them set up the tent under Timak's disapproving glare, they gave each other little secret signals of reassurance and rebellion. The site Vlahan had selected was at the edge of camp, and as Marrah pounded in the tent stakes she looked longingly at the tall grass. If she could find a free moment to slip away, perhaps Stavan would notice and follow her. But it was all idle speculation. The tent was set up, the bags unpacked, the fire lit, fresh dung spread out to dry, and supper cooked, and it was nightfall without her being able meet Stavan anywhere but in her imagination. Meanwhile, Vlahan was off at the Great Chief's tent, drinking kersek with the warriors to celebrate the tribe's arrival at their winter campground, and no doubt he would come home drunk and demanding, and the night would end in the usual miserable way.

  Unfortunately, she was right. They waited up for Vlahan until even Timak looked as if she could hardly keep her eyes open. The fire died down, was fed, and died a second time. Finally they heard him coming. He was singing something, a Hansi war song perhaps. Marrah caught the word "wolf" and the word "enemy" before he stumbled through the tent flap. When Timak tried to help him take off his boots, he cursed and pushed her aside. Grabbing Marrah by the arm, he pulled her into his bed, but the kersek must have been particularly strong or he must have drunk more of it than usual because instead of climbing onto her he fell asleep almost at once.

  Well, that's a mercy, she thought as she lay next to him, listening to his thunderous snores. Not only is he unconscious, he looks as if he's going to stay that way. Relieved, she turned her back, closed her eyes, and drifted off into the first real sleep she'd had in weeks.

  She woke sometime later with a start. Vlahan had clasped his hand over her mouth. Curse him to a thousand Hansi hells! Why did he always have to want her night after night? She started to struggle even though she knew it wouldn't do any good. If he was going to wake her, let him wake Timak too. Why should anyone get any sleep around here if the master was drunk and demanding? But before she could make a sound, Vlah
an moved closer. It was very dark, but not so dark that she couldn't see it wasn't Vlahan at all. It was a blond-bearded man with white-blond hair. It was Stavan!

  Great Goddess! What was Stavan doing in Vlahan's tent? Had he lost his mind? Behind her, only a palm's breadth away, she could hear Vlahan snoring softly. Timak and Hiknak lay nearby.

  Impulsively, she reached up, threw her arms around him, drew him down, and kissed him. He kissed her back quickly and silently as a shadow. His lips were sweet, and he smelled warm and familiar. It had been so long since they last kissed. Perhaps he was only a dream. Perhaps in a few seconds he would disappear and she would wake to find the sun up and Timak yelling at her to go out and gather dung. But Stavan didn't feel like a dream or taste like one. It was incredibly exciting to be lying next to Vlahan kissing him — incredibly exciting and incredibly dangerous.

  Stavan clearly had no intention of dying at Vlahan's hands if he could help it. Releasing her, he pointed to the bottom edge of the tent, indicating that he had come in by pulling up a stake. Follow me — he gestured, and she nodded — but be careful. He pointed to Vlahan, and she nodded again. As soon as he was sure she understood, he kissed her hands and waved goodbye. Then, so quickly that he seemed to disappear, he rolled under the bottom of the tent.

  Marrah inched away from Vlahan, holding her breath, terrified he might wake up, but he went on snoring. She slid across the rugs without a sound and crawled under the loose edge of the tent. An instant later she was kneeling on the cold ground under a sky full of stars looking at Stavan. She felt like a bird that had escaped from a cage. She wanted to kiss him and hold him and run with him and never look back, but she had too much sense to do any of these things. Instead, she only looked at him and breathed so quietly her breath was less than a whisper.

  Stavan put a finger over her lips and cautioned her to be absolutely silent, but she wouldn't have made a sound at that moment if the Goddess Herself had commanded her to. The camp was still, but as usual not everyone was asleep. Here and there among the leather tents, fires burned. Sometimes the shadow of a sentry passed in front of the flames. Marrah knew there would be more armed sentries at the perimeter, in addition to the boys who always slept with the horses and cattle. Even though Zuhan had wiped out the Tcvali, no Hansi camp was ever left unguarded. She crouched lower and tried to stay calm. They were in a very dangerous situation.

  Motioning for her to follow him, Stavan dropped on his belly and began to snake his way toward the tall grass. She crawled after him, filled with a happiness that just barely overcame the terror of moving through the darkness past the dogs and sentries. The ground smelled like dust and dung, and once she almost sneezed but caught herself in time. Fortunately they only had to crawl a short distance before they reached the grass. Once it had closed around them, they rose to a crouching position and ran as quickly and quietly as they could.

  Marrah was never sure exactly how Stavan knew where he was going or how they managed to elude the boys who guarded the herds. All she could see was grass and a patch of night sky that moved as they moved. As they trampled the grass, their feet made a cracking sound that seemed terribly loud, but evidently it wasn't. Perhaps the wind made such sounds at night, or perhaps the sentries couldn't tell them from the horses and cows. They ran on and on until she felt she might drop from exhaustion, and then they ran some more. The backs of her legs ached and she longed to stand up, but she knew if she did she'd be taller than the grass.

  Finally they did stand, and then they ran faster than ever. There was no moon, only the dim glow of starlight and the swaying stalks. At last, when she was about to reach out and beg him to stop, he stopped without being asked. For a long time he froze, listening intently. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the hoot of an owl, but otherwise there wasn't a sound. The sky to the east was dark without a trace of Zuhan "s campfires.

  "We can talk now," he whispered, but instead of talking they fell on each other and kissed. Breathless, she pulled away.

  "You crazy man," she cried, returning to kiss him on the eyelids, the cheeks, the chin. "You dear, brave, crazy man! You wait all this time to speak to me and then you come to me in Vlahan's very tent! What if Vlahan had wakened?"

  Stavan laughed. "I may be crazy but I'm not stupid. I drugged the bastard's kersek. A herd of wild stallions could stampede through his tent tonight, and he'd go on snoring." He took her hand. "But come. We can't stand here talking. There'll be time for that later." He led her through the tall, sweet-smelling grass again, moving so quickly she didn't have enough breath to ask for a more complete explanation. Before long she heard a horse whinny softly and smelled the warm musk of its body. A few moments later they came on a gray mare bridled and ready to ride and, hobbled next to her, a black gelding.

  "Mount up," he commanded. He offered her his cupped hands. "I want to talk to you, but I want to do it somewhere the sentries won't stumble on us." She mounted the mare and he mounted the gelding and they rode quickly through the darkness along a narrow trail that looked like some kind of animal track. Finally he motioned for her to rein in the mare. Getting off, they led both horses through waves of tossing black grass, down into a gully sheltered from the wind. They hobbled them next to a small thicket of stunted bushes and sat down on the sand.

  He took her hand and held it for a moment, and she suddenly felt shy. It had been over three years since they'd been together like this. On the banks above them, the wind rustled the dry grass. A lock of hair blew across his forehead, and he pushed it away with his free hand.

  "We have to talk quickly. There's not much time. Someone might wake up and miss you. We're going to escape."

  "Yes!" she cried, and as she spoke she felt the wind blow up and under her, lifting them both into the dark, free sky. She drew him to her and gave him another quick kiss. The blood beat in her temples like horses' hooves, and she imagined herself riding west with him and Arang and nothing between them and Shara but a wide, windswept plain. "Tell me everything. Tell me what I can do. I'll do whatever needs to be done."

  And so he told her, stopping often to kiss her and hold her, and as he talked she began to feel like her old self. Every word he said gave her hope. Soon she wasn't Marrah the slave wife any more; she was the girl who had jumped off the cliffs of Xori into a tossing sea, the woman who had walked across half the world; she was Marrah, daughter of Sabalah, Marrah who could hold her own against any man.

  First, he said, she had to understand that she was watched more than she realized. Changar had set the eyes of the Hansi on her, which was why he hadn't been able to come to her sooner. But last week and again tonight he'd taken the chance because something was about to happen that would change everything: Zuhan was going to make Arang his heir — not in four years or so, as everyone had always assumed, but in five days, maybe less. Right now Arang was already surrounded by Zuhan's bodyguards most of the time, but once he was designated the heir, he would be surrounded by guards of his own every minute of every day just like Zuhan was. They had to make a run for it as soon as possible: tomorrow if they could, or the next day at the very latest, while Arang still had some freedom.

  It was a bad time to go, he wouldn't lie to her. Winter was coming, and Zuhan was bound to send armed warriors after them; the Hansi trackers were the best on the steppes. He'd wanted to wait until early spring when they'd have a better chance of surviving, but they had to go now, so here was his plan: Arang still had a little freedom — more than she did — since no one actually thought a ten-year-old would try to escape with winter in the offing. He couldn't risk talking to Arang, but she could. She should make some excuse to see him — almost anything would do since she was known as his aunt — and when they were alone together, she should tell Arang to ask Zuhan to let him spend a night with the herdboys. Arang should complain that he hadn't been allowed to play with other boys and speak very respectfully of a desire to look after his grandfather's cattle. With a little luck, Zuhan would be flattered and cons
ent.

  That night when everyone was asleep, Stavan would come for her, lead her out of the camp, and bring her here, where he'd have fresh horses and supplies waiting. Then he'd go back and get Arang. With a little luck, they should be well on their way before anyone realized they were missing. They'd ride north and east, not south and west, and when they were sure they'd lost the trackers, they'd double back. If everything went well, they'd reach the forest lands before the big snowstorms hit. If not, they'd winter over in one of the western river valleys. There were caves where they could take shelter, and they wouldn't starve as long as he had a bow.

  As Marrah listened, she grew more and more excited. It wasn't a perfect plan; it was dangerous and she knew she should be thinking of everything that could go wrong, but instead she thought of how sweet it would be to go back to Shara. She thought of her grandmother and her friends; of the fresh, salty smell of the Sweetwater Sea; of olives, and figs, and wine, and bread, real trees, and honey-colored cliffs; but most of all, she thought of how much she hated Vlahan. If she escaped, she would never again have to feel his sweaty body grinding against hers or smell the sour odor of kersek on his breath. She would lie next to Stavan at night, making love only when she felt like it, and every breath she took would be a breath of freedom.

  Suddenly she realized what was wrong with the whole plan.

  "But what about Dalish and Akoah, and the five Shamban women Slehan has, and the four that went to Zuhan? What about them?"

  The look on his face told her everything. "Fourteen people?" he said softly. "Fourteen, Marrah, and ten of them women who can barely stay on a horse — how far do you think we'd get before the warriors caught up with us and killed us all?"