by Brian Braden
Only when the two clans’ women began to step forward did the Uros rise and lift his staff from its hole. The clans fell silent, ebbing away from him. His presence filled the gap between the clans, white hair reflecting the firelight.
“Setenay’s wisdom is still with us. She foresaw what was to come. She knew the Narim held the key to our salvation. Where our gods fell silent, she heard the call of the Nameless One. She saved our people, and her council is still present even now, in our hearts. I will listen to her voice, will you?”
Aizarg strolled around the inside of the circle, casually examining the staff and occasionally directing his attention to those in the crowd. He stopped and let the full weight of his gaze rest upon the people.
“Will you honor Setenay’s will?” he asked.
A few people murmured, “Yes.”
“Atamoda, Patesi-le of the Crane, will you honor Setenay’s will?”
Heart still stinging, Atamoda didn’t know where Aizarg intended to carry this, but she only had one reply to give. “Yes.”
“Kus-ge, Patesi-le of the Minnow, will you honor Setenay’s will?”
“Of course,” she huffed.
“Sco-lo-ti and men of the Lo, will you honor Setenay’s will?” he asked, staring straight at Ba-lok.
Ba-lok looked up, joining the men. “Yes.”
Aizarg stepped across and knelt directly in front of Ghalen. Atamoda could not fathom what thoughts were running though her husband’s mind, but something else unexpected loomed over the Lo.
“Ghalen, will you honor Setenay’s will and the will of your Uros?”
Ghalen looked about uncertainly, but nodded. “Of course I will.”
Aizarg clasped his shoulder and smiled before returning to the center of the circle.
“On our journey to Hur-po, Setenay spoke to me of many things, knowledge reserved for the patesi-li. She told me of seeds planted long ago, though I didn’t know why she shared these mysteries...until this moment.”
Aizarg resumed his place on the stool, but kept the staff.
“Kus-ge is correct regarding the children. The Minnow have first claim to their own. The twins will now become the children of Ba-lok and Kus-ge. The Uros has spoken.”
Without hesitation, Kus-ge snatched the children from Alaya and then handed them off to Ro-xandra before resuming her place next to Ba-lok. Alaya released a long moan and fled the Köy-lo-hely.
Levidi’s shoulders sagged as his gaze lingered on his retreating wife.
Aizarg turned to Levidi. “I am sorry, my friend. Go to Alaya and comfort her.”
Levidi slipped into the shadows.
Atamoda’s anger and sense of betrayal turned to fury as she watched Levidi and Alaya depart.
“A Uros needs an Isp,” Aizarg continued. “Kus-ge is correct in this matter. Atamoda, my eternal love, you will advise me as wife, but you cannot advise me as Isp.”
Atamoda sank back to the deck. She felt as if the wave loomed over her once again, about to crush her world. Except she feared there would be no reprieve. She looked up to see Kus-ge leering at her.
Why has she chosen to be my enemy? I’ve done nothing to her.
With a haughty smirk, Kus-ge stood. “I am ready to serve, my Uros.”
“Sit,” Aizarg said coldly. The confidence washed away from Kus-ge’s face as she sat back down
“One among us holds a secret. She must come out of the shadows and stand among us.” Aizarg lowered his staff until it pointed into the center of the circle. “Sana, come forward once again.”
Excited whispers danced through the crowd as the Scythian girl stepped from behind the line of Minnow, the naked fear on her face.
“Aizarg?” Atamoda whispered.
Aizarg ignored her, eyes locked on Sana.
Atamoda considered the Scythian, trying to discern Aizarg’s intentions. The girl tried to be brave under the eyes of the Lo nation. Several times her arms came up, to hug her own shoulders, but dropped. Finally, she set her trembling jaw high and clenched her fists.
“What does the Uros of the Lo wish of me?” Sana asked.
“Sana, are you the daughter of Sawseruquo, granddaughter of King Sosa, great lords of Scythia?”
She rubbed her arm, and frowned. “I am.”
“Who is your grandmother?”
Sana’s frown evaporated, replaced with dawning understanding. “Please, no...”
“Speak your grandmother’s name!” Aizarg commanded.
Sana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “Setenay.”
The crowd erupted in gasps.
“No!” Kus-ge leapt to her feet. “You cannot do this, she is a’gan. She is an outsider.”
Numb, Atamoda looked on, her mind reeling with the implications of Sana’s statement.
“By my decree, she is now Lo,” Aizarg shot back. “Not only is she Lo, she is by blood Minnow and a descendent of the Isp. And she will be my Isp.”
Atamoda put her hand over her mouth, not knowing whether to laugh or gasp with the rest of the crowd.
“She is not a patesi-le, therefore she cannot be Isp!” Kus-ge crossed her arms, nose in the air.
“You’re correct again, wise patesi-le,” Aizarg said. “And all our sco-lo-ti are married, whether their wives are present or not.” Aizarg nodded to Okta. “The bond of marriage is sacred, not even a Uros can sever it.”
Aizarg tapped his cheek as his gaze fell upon Ghalen. “Stand, Ghalen, brother of Ma-sok.”
Ghalen shook his head.
“Stand,” Aizarg insisted.
Ghalen took his place next to Sana, both not looking at one another.
“Ghalen, I share your hope Ma-sok lives, along with your people, somewhere out there beyond the curtain of rain. Your Uros needs the sco-lo-ti of the Turtle now, not the promise of one later. While I cannot dissolve the bonds of marriage, I can dissolve the bonds of leadership. Therefore, let it be known, Ghalen is now Sco-lo-ti of the Turtle. Also let it be known, in seven days’ time he will wed Sana, granddaughter of the great Setenay.”
Ghalen flushed, teeth gritted.
“You said you would honor both Setenay’s will and mine, Ghalen,” Aizarg said.
“I did,” Ghalen pleaded. “But...”
“I need you to do this, Ghalen,” Aizarg repeated slowly, softly.
Atamoda saw the fight ebb from Ghalen’s eyes at Aizarg’s words. Ghalen closed his eyes and nodded. “I have pledged my spear. As you command, my Uros.”
The new sco-lo-ti looked down at Sana, but she would not meet his eye. Atamoda saw sadness and resignation in Ghalen’s eyes, and blind hatred in Sana’s.
This will be interesting.
Aizarg turned his attention back to Atamoda.
“You planned this all along?” she asked.
“As the oldest patesi-le, you will train her.”
“A man has no say in these affairs, even a Uros! They are the realm of the spirit, of women!” Kus-ge screamed.
Aizarg turned and slowly raised the staff until its crimson end pointed directly at Kus-ge’s chest.
“I have trod the realm of flesh and spirit and have seen the will of the Nameless God. I have a say in all affairs.”
Ba-lok snatched Kus-ge arm and pulled her down. “Shut up!”
“She is Minnow by blood. That is why I placed her with you, Ba-lok. As her cousin, you will stand instead of her father at the wedding. Her dowry will be one cake of dried fish.”
36. The Fight
“The Uros looked to The Staff for answers, but the Nameless God didn’t dwell there. He lived in the hearts of our people.” – Sana, Isp of the Lo.
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
“It could be worse. She is beautiful.”
“Levidi, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ghalen leaned over the bow and pushed his weight against the adjacent boat. All morning Ghalen and Levidi inspected the vessels along the arun-ki’s rim. Boat by boat, they neared the storm wal
l on the Minnow flank.
The young Minnow widow they called Fleyla and her toddler stood on the adjacent raft, awaiting Ghalen’s verdict.
The boat rested low in the flat water. Ghalen lifted the tarp and peered in at its contents, but recoiled at the smell of rotting grass.
“How bad?” Levidi asked.
“As bad as I’ve smelled this morning.”
Ghalen had noticed the faint rotting smell wafting more often across all quarters of the arun-ki as the hulls began to succumb to the Black Sea.
“I know it’s starting to soak, but it still rides well,” she huffed defensively. “We only use it to sleep.”
“With that smell?” Ghalen considered the woman. “Where are your belongings?”
“With Kus-ge.”
“It’s waterlogged and rotting. You’ll have to move to the rafts.”
“Perhaps Ba-lok will say different.”
“If you desire to sleep in a rotting log on the verge of sinking, then you are a fool. I say let fools find their own way, but The Master of Boats has commanded all waterlogged vessels be cut away.” Ghalen tore off the canopy and tossed it at her feet. He pulled out a few meager blankets, and then froze.
Ghalen reached in and withdrew several bundles of leaf-wrapped fish. “Hording?”
“I am not hording! My boy is hungry. He cries at night, not only for his father, but for the fire burning in his stomach. What are we to do?” She defiantly held Ghalen’s stare.
Ghalen sniffed the bundles and turned up his nose. “Dammit, woman! The fire in his belly is likely more than hunger. If you store fish in a wet, rotting boat, you’ll end up with rancid food.” He tossed the cakes into the water.
“That was mine! Ba-lok will hear of this.”
“Fine, would you also like me to inform the Uros of your hording?”
Fleyla snatched the child by the arm and disappeared amongst the rafts.
“You’re welcome,” Levidi called after her.
Ghalen leaned over the boat and cut lose the mooring lines.
“This tub isn’t even fit for the storm wall.” He pushed down on the bow, and it quickly disappeared into the deep.
Ghalen settled into the back of their boat, thinking about Virag’s boat, and how it looked too clean. He didn’t like the way the slaver smiled at him as he inspected the hull.
The fox is hiding something, and I’ll find out what it is.
Levidi paddled on, glancing back at the four empty boats strung behind them. “Seven boats sunk, four salvaged for the wall. Our little arun-ki grows smaller.”
“If we don’t get these hulls covered and on the wall, they’ll sink, too.” Ghalen raised his face to the rain, squinting against the fat raindrops. “How much rope do we have?”
“Twenty paces, enough to secure these boats, but not much more.”
Ghalen looked out over the listless sea as it passively received the downpour. Several boats floated a stone’s throw from the arun-ki, men casting and recasting nets in vain.
Beyond the fishermen, the mists retreated somewhat, affording Ghalen an unusually distant view where the clouds met the horizon. The surface didn’t look right to Ghalen, but he didn’t know why.
“The sea goes on forever. How small our little arun-ki is in comparison.”
Another Day of Rains had settled in. The Days of Waves were getting fewer and fewer. They slowly made their way toward the bow rafts as the people watched them from beneath the canopies.
Levidi followed Ghalen’s gaze over the water expanse. “Yes, the sea is big.”
“It’s as if the sea toys with us. It could swallow us at any time, yet here we are.”
“I don’t want to think about it, and you’re trying to change the subject. So...” Levidi continued. “Are you going to refuse her hand?”
“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ghalen would have preferred talk about the sea, hunger, or death instead of marrying the Scythian woman. He kept his gaze out to sea, where the rain melted into infinite gray.
If I struck out on my own, if I just kept paddling, could I find land...or perhaps fish?
Levidi angled the boat around the corner. “Atamoda likes her, and Alaya doesn’t dislike her.”
“Then Atamoda can marry her.”
“That’s funny,” Levidi chuckled.
Ghalen shot him a foul look over his shoulder. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”
“She’s good with the children. That’s always a good sign in a fiancé.”
“Shut-up.”
“The fact that she is Setenay’s granddaughter, doesn’t that change anything?”
“You marry her, then.”
Levidi stopped paddling. Ghalen turned to see him tapping his chin with his finger, as if considering the idea. “Once we make landfall, we’ll have to get busy making babies.”
Ghalen rolled his eyes. “You always think about sex.”
Levidi laid the paddle across his lap and offered his hands palm up with an exasperated shrug. “What else is there to think about? Come on, Ghalen, it’s not the end of the world...” He frowned. “That happened already.
“Anyway, Aizarg wouldn’t have decreed the marriage if it weren’t important.”
Ghalen snapped around. “And that is why I obey! Isn’t that good enough, or do I have to like it, too? If it keeps Ba-lok and that witch of his in check, I am willing to marry the Scythian. But I don’t have to like it. I won’t like it. The Scythians killed Ood-i and Sarah. Did you also forget Sana tried to kill me, Levidi?”
Levidi shrugged and resumed paddling, dragging the oar and turning the boat hard to the left in front of the storm wall. “I’ve seen good relationships start off worse.
“Anyway, I heard Atamoda plans to marry you off to Doinna if you won’t take Sana’s hand.”
Ghalen couldn’t help but smile. “I see no reason for the patesi-le to threaten me.”
Ghalen’s smile died as the storm wall came into view.
“By the goddess!” Levidi exhaled. “We inspected this only a few days ago. How could this have degraded so quickly?”
Most of the barrier logs had sunk, their lashing either rotted off or pulled tightly underwater. Enormous ledges of fungus grew from the stacked timbers along the wall. The boats dipped to the waterline, some even partially submerged.
Ghalen leaned out and tugged some of the timber. The sticks collapsed with wet, sickening snaps. He pulled gently at the underlying boat, but the moldy reeds tore away as easily as warm bread.
“Ghalen,” Levidi whispered. “Check the anchor rope.”
Ghalen leaned even farther forward and tugged at the cable.
“It holds, but it’s blackened. We’ll need more rope and reeds to repair the damage.”
A thought, sharp and cold, poked at Ghalen’s mind. He turned his gaze back to the sea. Now he understood why the water disturbed him so.
“Levidi, look at the water. Do you see it?”
Levidi turned and scanned across the sea. “What? I see nothing.”
“I see nothing, too. The flotsam is gone. The sea is clean.”
Levidi’s eyes grew wide in understanding. “No more wood, no more reeds...
“No more rope.”
***
Canopies shook as if about to fly off and decks bucked wildly. She’d seen Okta crisscross the Supply Barge countless times tonight, fretting over ropes and cautiously eyeing the Spine. The results of Ghalen and Levidi’s inspection weighed heavily on everyone’s mind. Atamoda pushed his worried expression aside as she sat down to eat with her family.
As she relished a few moments with Aizarg and the children, Atamoda also tried not to notice how low the decks rested, or the dwindling pile of leaf-wrapped fish on the Supply Barge. Whispers circulated they would soon cut rations to every other day. Instead, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming wedding.
Atamoda welcomed the wedding’s blessed diversion from the hunger and ever present rain. She�
��d spent the day pacing the Köy-lo-hely, trying to picture how it needed to be arranged, what supplies she would have to glean from the rest of the flotilla. She could not convince Sana, who sulked alone on Levidi’s raft, to help. Neither did she feel comfortable asking Kus-ge, whom she’d come to accept as an enemy.
The thought of an enemy among her own people tied a cold knot in her belly.
Another wave slammed into the bow, spraying the arun-ki with fine mist. They calmly grabbed the deck line and braced. Atamoda held Ba-tor as the Supply Barge lurched up and then dropped.
The deck settled, and the family resumed their meal.
A loud crashing, followed by shouts, emerged from the Crane rafts. Aizarg and Kol-ok jumped to their feet as Ezra erupted through the rain curtain to her left, pursued by Spako brandishing a broken deck log.
Spako smashed the log against the mast, just missing Ezra’s ducking head.
“Stop this at once!” Aizarg commanded.
Su-gar burst onto the Supply Raft, burning with anger. “You heard the Uros, both of you. Stop it!”
Ezra ducked as Spako swung again, denting the mast. The entire raft shuddered under the blow.
If he doesn’t kill Ezra, he’ll sink the raft.
Atamoda snatched Ba-tor away and hid his eyes.
“Momma, I want to see!” Ba-tor protested.
Ghalen, Xva, and several Crane men leapt through the rain curtain from her right. Ba-lok, Okta and a few Minnow men appeared from the left. Some brandished spears as they ringed the combatants.
Raging like an angry bear, the Sammujad giant swung again and again, each time missing Ezra by inches.
“I said stop!” Aizarg shouted, but madness shut out everything except Spako’s quarry.
Levidi appeared between Atamoda and Aizarg, calmly chewing on a piece of fish. “I’m surprised Ezra’s lasted this long. He’s quick, I’ll give him that.”
“Where did the giant get the log?” Aizarg asked.
“He ripped it out of my raft. I hope he doesn’t beat it up too much. I don’t know where I’ll find another.”
“You didn’t try to stop this?” she asked.
Levidi shrugged.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Atamoda chastised.
