by Kate Elliott
“Take a meal with me tomorrow, holy one,” Mai called after him. He acknowledged her invitation with a wave as he strode up the hill into the lower town.
The fruit was perfectly ripe, fresh, moist, and sweet without tartness.
The chief meanwhile took his hand off his sword hilt and called over one of the guards. After a consultation, the soldier hurried after the envoy.
“I recognize him, Mistress,” said Tuvi. “He walked with the caravan most of the way over the Kandaran Pass, and at some juncture left us and walked on ahead. He might be a holy man. I hear some among them walk into the empire to buy silk for their temples. Or he might be somewhat else.”
“He can’t be a spy for the Red Hounds, surely. He’s local, a Hundred man.”
“Locals can be bought. I’m not saying he was. He might be what he seems. I’m saying it’s best to observe caution.”
She thought of the demon who had ridden into her house and murdered two Qin soldiers. Indeed, the demon’s actions had sent Mai and her household into exile in the Barrens.
“I’ll be cautious,” she assured Tuvi. “Yet I have so many fine guards that I cannot help but feel well protected.”
He smiled.
“When do you think Anji will return?”
“That I cannot say. Yet look who approaches. A reeve may bring a message from the captain.”
“Chief Tuvi?” The reeve wore a cap against the glare. He looked Mai up and down in a way that made the chief place himself between them.
“I am. You are?”
“This is the captain’s wife, I take it. For once I must say that Joss did not exaggerate.”
The words had no charm, and she wondered whether he meant them to cut, or whether he could not manage to utter a pleasing compliment because he expected it to be thrown back in his face.
“I don’t know your name,” said Mai in as pleasant a voice she could muster, although his sneer set her on edge.
“I’m Volias.”
“Greetings of the dawn, Volias.” She was careful to seem warm without being effusive. In the market, she would have to work doubly hard to overcome his readiness to take offense, his surety that he would be rejected or mocked. “Are you come from Argent Hall? I am anxious to hear news of the captain.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I came through Argent Hall, but I’ve no message from the captain for you, verea. I’m here from Clan Hall.” He shifted his gaze to the chief. “I’m taking the lad, Pil, like you requested, Chief Tuvi. It’s been agreed he can train at Clan Hall.”
Tuvi nodded.
“Why?” Mai asked. “Is there a problem because he is Qin?”
“Pil is no longer appropriate for the Qin troop,” said Tuvi.
“Because he is an eagle rider, not a horseman? I thought Anji agreed that if the eagle chose him, then he would be allowed to train as a reeve.”
“That’s not why.”
In the Mei household, she had learned when a man’s expression told you he had nothing more to say on a subject. So she smiled with her blandest face, and nodded politely at the waiting reeve to show he could leave.
He blinked, as though the sun had gotten in his eyes. “Listen, verea. I have got news for you, now that I think of it.”
“From the captain?” The eagerness broke in her voice. She coughed to control it, smoothed a hand over her belly. In answer, the baby moved rather like a fish might slip around within grasping hands.
“Neh, I never saw the captain. These days I mostly fly messages between Clan Hall, Nessumara, and Argent Hall. Joss some weeks past told me to keep an eye open for a scouting party sent out by the temples and council. Naturally they’ve been keeping under cover, so I didn’t expect—”
“Did you see Shai?”
The reeve’s frown made her heart go chill.
“It happened that I spotted the scouts outside Horn, combing through the remains from a battle fought a few years back. It was a stupid thing to do, coming to earth. A band of men attacked them. I had to fly out immediately. I don’t know what happened. Likely they hid. There was plenty of cover.”
The chief caught Mai under the elbow. He whistled sharply, and said to a guard, “Priya’s in the market. Also, a drink.”
The reeve’s words kept stinging. “Maybe I alerted the bandits, or maybe they were already stalking them. I’m sorry if my flying in to warn them brought about the attack.”
“Best you find a place to sit down, Mistress,” said Tuvi in a firm voice.
“I warned him about the demon, though,” finished the reeve.
As the sun rises, shade retreats. Light lanced her eyes, and one moment she was standing, and the next seated awkwardly on the ground with Chief Tuvi kneeling beside her.
“There, now, Mistress. We’ll get you a cup of rice wine. Then we’ll take you back to the house.”
Down here she had settled back into shadow, but her head still hurt as though she had been standing in the sun all day. “What did I do?” she whispered.
“You wisely sent warning,” said the chief sternly, “given the serious nature of the demon’s threat. As for the rest, the scouts knew the risks. Those you are not responsible for.”
But his words, like the shade, offered no comfort.
40
A whimper woke Shai just before dawn. It took him a moment to remember where he was: starving, thirsty, and a prisoner of a remnant of the army that had been defeated at Olossi and now fled north toward their allies. He was curled around Eska, the youngest and weakest of the girls. She still slept, her thin face looking gray and unhealthy in the twilight. He uncurled to a crouch, surveying the captives. He’d quickly learnt that the children who were not yet fourteen—the ones who hadn’t celebrated a ceremony called their Youth’s Crown—were not abused even by these crude soldiers except of course that they were daily hit, whipped, and at risk of being killed. The older ones—the eldest besides him was sixteen—were not so fortunate.
Yudit’s eyes were already open. Seeing him, she nodded but stayed curled on the damp ground, knees tucked up to her chest as if that could protect her from the nightly assaults. On hands and knees, anxious not to alert the soldiers, he negotiated the cluster of prisoners until he tracked down the one crying: Dena, the other twelve-year-old whose hair the cloaked lord braided.
He placed a hand on her back. “Hush now,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
He knew better than to warn her that crying could get her murdered. They all knew, and to say it aloud would only frighten them more. Nor did he bother to ask what was wrong. If they wanted to speak, they would; otherwise, he respected their silence.
She pressed her face against his chest until her shudders ceased. “Shai, you’ll always stay with us, won’t you?”
“I’m here.” The dawn whistle blew twice. “Get up now, Dena. Roust your banner. Get them up and moving.”
“Yes, Shai.”
Judging it safe to rise as the soldiers were now beginning to move, he hurried over to Yudit. “How are you this morning?”
“I can manage,” she said wearily. “Jasya and Wori are bleeding again.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them. Get your banner together.”
She began moving children toward the stream to drink before they formed into marching ranks. Mercifully, it had not rained last night and their clothing mostly remained dry but for dew and the moisture seeping up from damp earth. Four days ago, a boy sick with a phlegm-ridden cough had been cut out and killed before Shai could get to him. Now Shai watched constantly for signs of increasing sickness.
He walked through the assembling banners and chose the six strongest children. When the call came for prisoners to take down the canvas under which the soldiers sheltered, he led this group through their routine: stakes pulled, rope coiled, canvas shaken out and rolled up and bound onto the packhorses. He slouched through the tasks, grinning at the soldiers.
“Cold today,” he said to the sergeant. “Didn’t rain last
night.”
“A wise observation,” replied the sergeant. “Now get on with you. We’re moving out.”
“Need wood chopped?” he asked a cadre of soldiers, who laughed as they shouldered axes and staves.
He peered into the surrounding woodland, but the lord—who always slept well away from the camp—had already departed on his daytime scouting. The watchful boy walked into camp lugging folded canvas over his thin shoulders.
“Vali,” said Shai, stepping closer. “You are well today?”
The lad shrugged, his gaze downcast instead of prying.
“Dena was crying this morning,” added Shai.
“It’s my fault. I asked the lord for more food last night. Like you asked me to do. He got angry. I guess he took it out on Dena.”
“Neh. It’s my fault for suggesting it. It was brave of you to ask. Never doubt that.”
“Heya! Heya! Up now! Get in line!”
The sergeant strode along the line with whip in hand. He was the kind of man, Shai had decided, who liked to wield his power to make people cringe, and he had a habit of whipping at dawn whichever girl he had raped the night before. There he strutted, and Shai quickly cut back to the line, falling in beside Yudit just as the sergeant reached her with whip raised. Shai made a show of blundering forward, just in time to catch the slash across his own back.
“Cursed idiot!” The sergeant raised the whip again, but the line lurched forward as the vanguard got moving, distracting him.
Yudit tapped Shai’s wrist. “Eska’s stumbling.”
Back stinging, he walked backward as the others walked forward, and hoisted Eska to his back before her faltering drew the attention of the soldiers. Fortunately the whip had only welted him this morning, not drawn blood, so the pain wasn’t too bad as her weight—such as it was, her being little more than skin and bones—rubbed his bare skin. But he was thirsty, and of course the hollow in his stomach was a constant torture. Yet he must not show the weakness he felt. Up and down the line of prisoners, faces turned to mark his progress at the rear of the ground. He nodded at Wori, with his tear-streaked face, and at Jasya, who had bruised eyes. Yudit plodded along, her chin lifted with stubborn defiance, and when Dena began dropping back through the line, Shai handed Eska to Yudit and carried the heavier Dena instead.
The soldier called Twist walked up alongside. “Heh. You there, packhorse. You tasted the girls yet? Or are you fashioned for men, eh?”
“Greetings of the day to you, ver,” said Shai with his biggest grin. “You got food, maybe? I’m sure hungry.”
Twist snorted and called to his comrades. “Cursed fool says the same thing every day. You think we should set him on the girls tonight, like? We could see if he’s hung like a horse, way he packs them all day, eh?”
So they laughed, and when they laughed they weren’t likely to be beating on the children.
All morning they struggled to keep the pace set by the soldiers. For days and days and days they had pushed north along the ragged skirts of a range of hills, through sparsely inhabited countryside. At midday they paused to water the horses at a stream. After setting down Dena, Shai ranged the line, making sure none of the children drank too much, which would cause them to founder, or too little, which would weaken them further.
“Drink more,” he said, coaxing Jasya.
“I’d be better dead.”
“If you let yourself die, then they’ve won. We’re going to win by surviving.”
She sighed, but she drank.
Once the horses were watered, they marched on. And on. To his sight, the woodland never seemed to change, but just as they waded across another stream, Yudit whispered, “we’re getting close to a village,” seeing something in the way trees were spaced and bushes flourished in open spaces. The children pointed at berry-laden branches, but none dared leave the line of march to grab them while the soldiers watched.
A command rang down from the vanguard. Abruptly, the captives were herded into a tight group and left with six guards while the rest ran down the path. The children shivered as they heard screams and shouts in the distance. Vegetation rattled in the woods, sounding exactly like folk running for their lives. Eska began to snivel, shocked by fear, and Shai hugged her against him to stifle her sobs. Of the rest, some stared at Shai while others covered their faces with their hands.
To his horror, a pair of ghosts drifted into view, wisps with still enough self-identity that one could identify them as farmers by their misty garb. They were so busy talking to each other, as if intent on escape, that they did not notice Shai’s attention.
“Eiya! I thought we’d escaped the calamity! Now they come down on us, when they missed us last time! Did you hide the feast bread and the nai cakes?”
“Eh, I did. Under the boards on the weaving house porch. Good thing the children are still hidden at the refuge. Think you we bought time for the women to get away?”
“I heard them running out here—”
A living cry roused their guards. “Heya! Heya! Bring in the prisoners! We’ll have roofs over our heads tonight, lads!”
As they marched in, Shai walked beside Yudit. “Listen,” he whispered, “I’ll create some manner of diversion. There might be loose boards on the porch of the weaving house, and food hidden beneath it. Be quick, if you can find it. Don’t let the soldiers see. Everyone gets a share.”
She looked startled, but nodded. The woods opened up into a small settlement, a village of three longhouses and a number of outbuildings, including a weaving shed. One of the longhouses and half of the outbuildings had been burned recently and left in disrepair, but the soldiers ripped through the intact ones, looting anything they could carry and smashing cupboards and walls as they laughed and howled. A trio ripped the roof off a thatched altar, while others trampled on prayer banners. Three farmers lay dead on the dirt, and two had faces Shai recognized: They’d been the ghosts on the path. Soldiers hooted as the sergeant opened the gate to the byre and was bowled over by a pair of nervous ewes rushing to escape.
Shai had spent much of his youth herding sheep up on Dezara Mountain, a good way to stay out of family quarrels. He knew every kind of story about shepherds, single men too poor to avail themselves of brothel fare, lads working the upper pastures for months at a time. Sometimes they did for each other, no shame in that up in the highlands among lads. But one time—hu!—he’d come across a man working at a ewe. Never would he forget that sight.
“Heya! Twist!” he shouted in a louder voice than he’d known he possessed. “I fancy those ones!”
He galloped after the ewes, grabbed clumsily at them and missed, purposefully tripped over his own feet in a mud-slopped puddle, and generally made such a horse’s ass of himself that the soldiers, roaring with laughter, all rushed to watch, cheering him on. He was soon winded and aching, but he kept on until Yudit made a show of getting in his way, and then he collapsed, heaving on hands and knees while the soldiers caught the ewes and, just like that, killed both to make a feast. The prisoners, rounded in to haul wood and set up camp, were all surreptitiously licking their fingers and wiping their mouths on their arms.
“Heya!” he said to the sergeant. “I know how to carve up a sheep.”
“Heh! Heh! Seems you do. But we’re eating these, not devouring them.” He walked away without handing Shai a knife. Indeed, the soldiers did all the work skinning and butchering the sheep, keeping the prisoners away from anything sharp. The big open hearth soon blazed, and Shai’s mouth watered as meat began to sizzle.
Yudit crept up beside him and slipped a pair of nai cakes, like flat bread, into his hand. “How did you know?” she whispered.
“Eh, ah, it’s a trick we did at home, eh?” He gulped them down when no one was looking.
She pressed leaves into his palm. “Se leaves. Very nourishing.”
They had an unpleasant, spicy flavor, but they went down easily and for all that they weren’t much to taste, they were filling. For the first time
in days, he didn’t feel light-headed.
“Did you really?” she asked him.
“With sheep? I did not!”
She laughed, and he saw she’d been teasing, that she’d understood all along, and the sight of a smile briefly on her face made it all worth it.
“Heya, girl!” called the sergeant, beckoning to Yudit. She winced, let go of Shai’s hand, and rose. “Heh. He may have broad shoulders and brawny arms, but he’s not fashioned for the likes of you, eh?” The soldiers chortled. Head bowed, Yudit trudged over to the sergeant, and he led her into one of the longhouses. The men’s blood was up after the fight, and they quarreled, there being too many soldiers who wanted a piece and too few captives old enough to be marked for the taking.
“What about one of the younger ones?” said one of the soldiers, eyeing Vali and Dena, who sat apart with their perfectly groomed hair now rather undone by a day’s hard walking.
The others jeered and cursed. “What? That’s disgusting.”
“If the lord does it, it must be good for the rest of us—”
“Shut up! You gods-rotted imbecile. You want to get us all punished?”
“Hush! Lookya. Here he comes.”
The lord, his leaf-green cloak swagged behind him, walked into the clearing leading his winged horse. All fell silent, heads bowed, and after a troubling silence in which no one spoke, the sergeant burst out of the long-house, tying up his trousers.
“Eh, lord, sorry to keep you waiting. What’s your wish?”
“Why have you stopped marching while there’s still light for walking?”
“Ah, eh, had a bit of a fight with some locals, here, and afterward I thought we might cook up two sheep to strengthen our blood.”
The man’s gaze cowed all. Shai watched with bent head, kneeling in the dirt with the other prisoners. “This lack of discipline is what got you defeated in Olossi. We must keep moving.” He glanced at the sky, and licked his lips. He had a prim face, bland and ordinary, that of a man who in other circumstances you might meet with equanimity in the market about unexceptional business. “Anyway, I’m tasting a flavor in the air. We’re being followed, but I can’t . . . quite . . . grasp it. Still, the meat will strengthen you. Dena and Vali, come along.”
