The Hadra

by Diana Rivers

  With a groan, Nhokosos threw up his hands, saying, “As you wish, Alyeeta. I put my trust in you. May it all go well.”

  “Thank you. Much better. Think on it, Nhokosos, in all the long years I have known you, has Alyeeta ever failed to do a thing she set herself to do?” With those words, she grabbed the arm of a passing Kourmairi. “Give us a hand with these baskets, man. Time is wasting. The ewee will soon be out.”

  The man gave a rough laugh. “Witch, do you think the flood toads will frighten away four hundred Shokarn guards?”

  “Perhaps as well as you could,” she answered tartly.

  Then Pell was standing in front of us. “Before you leave, Alyeeta, I need to know something more of your plans.” Her serious tone cut through Alyeeta’s banter.

  Alyeeta answered with the same seriousness. “Have your women ready to stand at the river with the people of Darthill, if it comes to that, but give us this night and most of the morning to see what we can do. The Shokarn troops cannot begin crossing before noon, at the very earliest. Trust me, Pell. Ask me no more questions. I will do the best I can. Perhaps there still is a way to avoid all this bloodshed.” Pell was silent a moment, staring into Alyeeta’s eyes. Then she gave a nod, put her hand on my arm for one brief moment, and stepped back to let us pass.

  Soon we were ready to go. We went on two horses: myself and Ozzet mounted on the first, and Alyeeta following on the second horse, which was laden with the baskets. The Hadera Lossi pressed in to say their good-byes. Kourmairi women crowded around to wish us well, while their men hung back, making rude comments to one another that were meant for our ears, comments on what would likely happen to two women challenging the Zarn’s army, all of them bloody, ugly, and not very reassuring. I leaned forward and whispered to Ozzet, “I do not think any of them expect to see us again.” We found ourselves trapped in this press of people until Alyeeta shouted, “OUT OF OUR WAY!” With that, everyone backed away in haste, and a path opened before us.

  Relieved to finally be under way and free of the noise of the village, we rode in silence for a while, but I could sense the turmoil in Ozzet’s mind. Finally, she turned and said, “There is so much I want to ask you, Tazzi, I hardly know where to begin. But now is not the time. If we live through this coming day, then perhaps we can sit together in some quiet place and you can tell me the story of how you all came together and of your journey here.”

  “Granted,” I said, nodding. “And in exchange, you can tell me how you have survived this past year despite the Zarn’s edict.” She nodded in return.

  Before long we turned toward the river, and the pathway steepened sharply. I could hear the rush of water off to the right, almost like the sound of a waterfall. Soon Ozzet stopped her horse. She made a signal like the triple call of a night bird to the Kourmairi sentry. Almost instantly, a young man was at our side. Silent as a wolf, he had moved quickly through the darkening woods. Ozzet bent and said some words in his ear. He nodded and waved us on. At a sign from Ozzet, we slipped off our horses and turned them over to the sentry. Ozzet took one pack and I took the other. On foot, Alyeeta and I followed Ozzet up ground that grew steeper with each step. I could sense other watchers, but none came out of hiding to challenge us. Soon we came to a stop at the edge of a gorge.

  I sucked in my breath. The sight, even at dusk, was both glorious and terrifying. Below us, the ground dropped away into a deep chasm, cut through solid rock by the force of the water. The wide Escuro, trapped in this narrow way, was roaring and raging, booming with a sound like thunder. Water, white with froth and foam, sprayed up in huge geysers when it collided with great jagged rocks that had tumbled into the riverbed. In the dimming light, the wet walls of the gorge gleamed like dull silver. Crossing this gorge, and bound to a stout tree on either side, was a fine little spiderweb of a bridge, made of ropes and vines. The narrow slats that formed the walkway were wet with spray. The bridge itself was swaying slightly in the breeze that rushed up from below.

  Even Alyeeta seemed impressed. There was a slight tremor in her voice when she asked, “Is that really the bridge we are to cross?” I had to smile when I thought of Alyeeta saying boldly that we would find our own way to this place.

  “There is no other,” Ozzet said jauntily. “I will take the packs now, and you both hold tight to the ropes.” I wanted to protest that our pack baskets would be too much for one person and that we should each carry our own share, but peering down through the slats of the bridge had rendered me speechless with fear. When I turned to look at Alyeeta, her eyes were wide and her face was a strange shade of gray. I had never seen her afraid before, but all she said was “I hope the Goddess sees fit to send us back by a different way.”

  “Follow me,” Ozzet said with authority. “Watch my back, look straight ahead, and whatever happens, do not look down. You will get accustomed to it after a while.” She slung the packs on her shoulders, one on each side, and stepped onto that aerial spiderweb with what seemed to be perfect confidence. It swayed sickeningly over the chasm, and my stomach clenched. I had an attack of absolute cowardice. Neither foot would move. At that moment I would gladly have turned back, only all the alternatives I could think of were even worse.

  “Go,” Alyeeta said sharply. “You are holding us up.” I noticed that for all her impatience, Alyeeta did not try passing me.

  “Come on,” Ozzet called out cheerfully. “It gets better. You just have to put one foot in front of the other.”

  Gripping the side ropes with sweaty hands, I took one timid step onto the bridge. Instantly the whole world lurched and swayed as my stomach jumped up into my throat.

  “Move! Move!” Alyeeta hissed from in back of me. Terrified, I took one more step and then another. The world did not end. I was on the bridge, following Ozzet’s back, one step after the other.

  It never got easy, but after a while it was not so bad, though the one time I looked down persuaded me never to do that again. I could hear Alyeeta in back of me, gasping with fear. Ozzet went before us, balancing both baskets like an acrobat. Indeed, she had such fine balance she might have been a Sheezerti performer in the streets of Eezore. I think I held my breath the whole way across and did not let it out again until I felt solid, unmoving ground under my feet. I took a few more steps to be sure of my safety. Then, with no pride whatsoever, I threw myself down on the ground. With a groan, Alyeeta collapsed beside me. Ozzet patted me on the back. “You see, just as I said, not so bad after all.” I could not find the voice to answer. For that moment, even Alyeeta was speechless.

  Chapter Four

  As soon as we could catch our breath, Ozzet said urgently, “We must go quickly, while there is still some light. Stay close and pay attention. The way here is well hidden, which is why the Shokarn guards have not yet found the bridge. This path is also very difficult.” We followed her silently through the gloom. The path was indeed narrow and twisting; very rocky and treacherous underfoot. It was as steep going down on this side as it had been steep going up on the other, but after the terrors of that bridge crossing, everything else seemed easy.

  At last we reached the level of the river. The noise of the water was deafening. The ground under our feet shook from the impact of rolling rocks colliding with one another. Nonetheless, it was evident from the high-water marks that the river was already drawing back. Ozzet shook her head. “We have so little time left. Whatever you plan to do, I wish you luck. Just follow the river down, and you will come to their camp.”

  Alyeeta took a little silver whistle from her pouch and dangled it in front of Ozzet. “Listen for the sound of this whistle. Three times and then three more when it is over. One long single sound if we have trouble.”

  Ozzet nodded, looking very serious. “May the Mother keep you and guard you. May we meet again among the living.” She set down our pack baskets, kissed me on both cheeks, hugged Alyeeta, and vanished silently into the dusk.

  “As long as we do not have to go back over that bridge, all i
s well,” Alyeeta muttered. “Better to take on a hundred armed guards, single-handed, than to repeat that ordeal.” She picked up one of the packs. I slung the other onto my back and followed after her. Darkness was quickly closing in. Long before we came upon the Zarn’s men, I could feel their presence and had to struggle to control my fear. Finally, after rounding a sharp bend in the riverbank, we spotted the first of their fires and heard the distant sound of voices. Alyeeta put out a hand to stop me, then quietly pulled me back out of sight. Evidently, we had not been seen by their sentries.

  She signaled for silence and set down her pack. Then she squatted down, took some things from her pouch, laid them out in a pattern, and drew figures around them in the sand. At the same time, she began motioning with her other hand, while chanting in a harsh whisper, using words I could not understand. I sat down quietly, leaned back against my pack, and said nothing, having learned not to question or interrupt at such times. As I watched her intoning, I let my vision blur and my mind go blank. She always seemed very far away when the magic was on her, so different from the loving Alyeeta I had shared a bed with or the sharp-tongued Alyeeta of our daily lives.

  Suddenly she came back to herself, gave me a shake, and put away all her treasures. “Now, remember, let me do most of the talking. Stay silent, act stupid, be watchful in all directions, but do not give an appearance of watchfulness. Remember to be old and dumb, two things which will make them feel superior and dull their suspicions.” As I hefted my basket again, she pushed my head forward and shoved one shoulder down, so that I was hunched and crooked. “Stay calm and unafraid at the center, no matter what I do. Sometimes I may seem quite mad and sometimes a great fool. Stay calm even if I am raving, but remember to look properly frightened yourself at those times. Hold my skirt if at any moment they close in on us or seek to separate us.”

  “Alyeeta, whatever happens, I would rather be here with you than be waiting anxiously for your safe return.”

  “Is that why you consented to come with me?”

  “That and my curiosity.”

  “Well, well, imagine that. It was certainly not your courage that drove you to it.” She said this in her most derisive tone, then with a sudden change of mood, she added, “Oh, Tazzia, you have trusted your life to me. I hope I am not as much an old fool as the Kourmairi seem to think.” She gave me a sudden hug. Just as suddenly, she let me go, picked up a walking stick from the driftwood piled up by the flood, bent herself over it, and set off. “Come, my poor, simple sister, we go to sweeten the night for these soldiers and make a little money.” Right before my eyes, I saw Alyeeta transform herself into a mindless old woman. As she hobbled along, she began to chant loudly, “We are bringing fine food and drink for you, parmi sweet-cakes and good quillof too.”

  We heard a loud shout, and then many other shouts echoing down the shore. A horn was blown. More torches were lit. First we were met by a sentry and then by several soldiers. Soon many more guards crowded around us. The sentry wanted to block our way. He threatened us with his sword, but one of the soldiers had raised the cloth on Alyeeta’s pack. The aroma of fresh parmi-cakes floated on the damp night air. Instead of being attacked on the spot, we were escorted into camp by a pack of hungry soldiers.

  Alyeeta was describing in detail the tastiness of her cakes and about to gather some coins for them when we heard a thunder of hoofbeats coming up the shore. The men parted. A young captain rode up in haste and threw himself from his horse. He grabbed Alyeeta’s arm, shouting to his men at the same time, “Fools, how do you know this is not poison she wants to feed you?” I had to restrain myself from throwing my body between them.

  Alyeeta instantly bowed and groveled. Her voice cracked and quavered as she pleaded, “Please, Captain, release me. You will break my old bones and frighten my sister, who has not much wits to start with. If you suspect poison, then feed us some of our own cakes, whichever ones you choose, and watch us for the results. But, truly, the cakes are good and hot and fresh, made of the best parmi-fruit. And the quillof is not strong, but very sweet, more like syrup than liquor.”

  “Set down your basket, old woman, and tell the brainless one to do the same.” He took two cakes, handed one to each of us, and said sternly, “Eat these while we watch and wait. And drink some of your own brew as well.” We sank down on the ground. There we ate and drank, surrounded by a large circle of curious men. By now this little drama had drawn most of the soldiers of the camp. Putting my witlessness on display, I ate slowly, allowing a little food to dribble down my tunic while I stared blankly into and through their faces. The tangy smell of parmi was strong in the air, for the cakes had been well covered and were still warm. The men began to grumble impatiently. The captain, meanwhile, was watching Alyeeta intently. “Where are you from, old woman?”

  “We are Wanderers from the far north, above Pellor, but we just passed through the settlement of Kornfell. They thought you might be pleased to have some refreshments more interesting than camp food.” The settlement she mentioned was one that had remained nominally loyal to the Zarns.

  When it was clear we were not going to die, the captain said grudgingly to his men, “Eat what you please, but keep a close eye on them both.” As he rode off, a brisk trade in cakes and quillof syrup began. More and more men came to clamor for their share. Our baskets were soon empty and our little pouches full of jangling coins. Those who had gone without could be heard grumbling and complaining to the others. A few good-natured and halfhearted arguments broke out.

  Finally, Alyeeta held up her hands for peace. “We will come back tomorrow and bring more. Those who were cheated this day can be first tomorrow.”

  “We will not be here tomorrow,” several of them said, and another added, “Tomorrow we cross the river and march for Mishghall. First we will crush that settlement of vermin on the other side. They have destroyed all the bridges and forced us to ford the river in flood time.”

  During this swirl of activity, I tried to keep my eyes sharp, as Alyeeta had told me, without betraying my wits. Sometimes, when the men came too close, my palms sweated and the hair on the back of my neck went up. Alyeeta, on the other hand, seemed relaxed and easy, totally who she appeared to be. She even took out her jol pipe and begged some jol from the nearest soldier as a way of striking up a conversation. He was soon telling her how, sometime the next day, the guards were going to cross the river and go on to subdue the rebellious city of Mishghall. As his tongue loosened with quillof, he talked quite freely of their intention to massacre all the Kourmairi men and even bragged of what body parts they would cut off for trophies. After that, he said, they intended to set fire to the city, but not before raping the women and carrying some off for later pleasure. In spite of his bloody words, he seemed a rather foolish and good-natured young man, with a frank, open face—kind enough in his own way. Alyeeta gave him every encouragement to talk, even a little free quillof from our stock. From his loose mouth, she soon had most of the strategy of the Zarn’s army—or at least as much of it as he knew. At last, more than a little drunk, he fell asleep against a tree.

  Meanwhile, games of chance had broken out. Alyeeta went to watch some dice throwing, with me trailing after her. She took several swigs from our one remaining jug of quillof—or at least appeared to do so. Soon she began to cough and laugh and make disparaging remarks about the players and their plays. At last, in exasperation, one of the men growled, “Throw the dice yourself, old woman, if you think you can do better.”

  Alyeeta immediately stepped back, protesting, “No, no, this is not my money. Much of it belongs to the women of Kornfell who helped to make the cakes. I cannot wager another’s money in a game of chance. It would not be right.” She continued, however, to make a show of drinking and went on with her insulting comments.

  “But some of it must be yours. Put up a little and let us see what you can do. After all, you have more than enough to say about our skills.”

  “No, no, it would not be righ
t.” She was vehemently shaking her head. This banter went on for some time while more and more soldiers gathered, drawn by the commotion. Soon we had a circle around us, jeering at her or cheering her on. At last one man called out in exasperation, “Put up your money, woman, or shut your mouth and let us play in peace.” Several others shouted their agreement. Finally, with a great show of reluctance, Alyeeta took out a small pile of coins. “I will wager this much and no more,” she said, stacking them in front of her on the blanket.

  Plainly showing the effects of drink, she was quickly losing her little sum. Turning quarrelsome and bad-tempered, she kept challenging them all to more throws. Still more of the men had come to watch. I heard shouts from all sides: “The Witch is betting.” “The Witch is losing again.” “Come watch the Witch!” While she cursed and grumbled and lost more money and then still more, I tried hard to remember Alyeeta’s words about keeping calm and clear, no matter what madness she displayed. At last, almost in tears, she shook out her empty purse. Then she turned to me. “Sister, I must borrow a few coins from you. I cannot let these men best me this way. Surely my luck will turn.”

  I shook my head vigorously, fluttering my hands in helpless protest as she took some coins from my little pouch. The soldiers were all shouting mocking encouragement. On her next turn she won a little, and after that a little more, until she was winning more often than she was losing. Soon there was a pile of coins in front of her again. After a while she had gained back all she had lost. She started to gather up her coins, saying, “Well, we are even now and I have learned my lesson. I will not leave myself open to chance again.” Some of the men barred her way, yelling and clapping and shouting, “Just one more turn, grandmother, just one more.”

  “Only one more,” she agreed with drunken affability. Again she won, and again made as if to gather up her winnings. Again she was reluctantly persuaded to play one last time. Soon there was a large pile of coins before her. Determined not to be bested by an old Witch, the soldiers were borrowing from one another just to stay in the game. Wagers kept growing larger and more desperate. The frenzy around us was building. Then I clearly saw Alyeeta tap a die with her finger and roll it over after it fell. Again she won. My stomach clenched in a knot. If I had seen it, surely others would too. The next time she tapped a die, the young man who was losing most recklessly and desperately saw it and shouted, “Cheat, cheat, I saw her move the dice. She has been cheating us this whole time.”