Tears of the Dead

by Brian Braden

  She paced back and forth like a caged animal, nervously fiddling with a hem of her thigh length loin cloth. “Unlike the Lo, who throw about their mercies without thought or consequence, the Scythia believe mercy must be earned.”

  Atamoda lowered her head, knowing her words unwittingly struck a raw place in Sana’s spirit, a place that hadn’t begun to heal.

  “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were Setenay’s granddaughter?”

  Sana frowned, as if the answer obvious. “I am a captive, a slave taken in conquest. My name has no honor.”

  “But you are Setenay’s granddaughter! That alone gives you great honor for both Lo and Scythia. The Uros himself chose you to marry a sco-lo-ti, and be his Isp. There is no greater honor.”

  Sana spun around, throwing her hands up in the air. “Honor?” She clenched her teeth and tugged at her hair. “I do not understand you Lo! I never will. What do you know of me other than The Lady of the Water gave birth to my father?

  “I am not Setenay. I am not Lo.”

  “You can be.”

  “You cannot change the scales of a snake by calling it a worm, nor a fox by calling it a dog. You can call me an Isp, and marry me off to a man who likes himself more than most, but it won’t change who I am.”

  “By the Lo right of mercy, you are one of us now.”

  “Mercy will be your undoing.”

  “Mercy is part of who we are, as much as the sea.”

  “Atamoda!” Sana shouted, making her jump as if she’d been lashed. “Wake up! Open your eyes. Even the sea is trying to kill you. Your sultry lagoons are gone, the isolation among the tall reeds vanished. The sea is the new g’an. It is wholly unmerciful.”

  “I don’t...” Atamoda stammered.

  Sana knelt. Heads turned to watch them from the edges of the Supply Barge.

  “Do you not see the poison festering in your Arun-ki? Aizarg brought perhaps the vilest man on the steppe among you. Virag is wholly unmerciful.”

  Atamoda didn’t like the Scythian questioning her husband. “He did what he thought best.”

  “He is a fool!” Sana turned her back to Atamoda.

  Drawn by raised voices, people began to rise and approach the two women, including Aizarg and Ghalen.

  “My husband is not a fool.”

  “If your husband had been thinking, he would have let Ghalen slit Virag’s throat the minute we found him.”

  “It is not our way.”

  “Make it your way if you want to live.”

  After a long pause, Atamoda finally said, “He spared you, didn’t he?”

  The Lo encircled them, spectators to an unexpected drama. Ghalen looked on, grim faced. Aizarg stood impassively, hands resting on his staff.

  Sana stood, stepped back a few paces, and turned to the patesi-le. “What do you know of me, Atamoda?”

  It occurred to Atamoda she knew very little about Sana. She had been an empty vessel, quietly accepting whatever expectations Atamoda poured into her.

  “You are Setenay’s granddaughter and the woman who saved my child. You have shown mercy.” Atamoda tried to sound confident, trying to convince Sana and herself her expectations were reality. “You protected me.”

  Sana’s arms dropped to her side, shoulders suddenly relaxed. She became like stone, flesh without so much as movement or quiver. Her breathing seemed to stop entirely. Sana transformed into something alien. The girl had made a decision, though what decision Atamoda could only guess.

  “Do I frighten you?” Sana whispered.

  “Yes.”

  Atamoda shuddered as Sana glanced at Ba-lok and gave a wicked little grin.

  Aizarg brought a she-wolf among us.

  Sana whirled about. Blades flashed like the lightning.

  Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

  Two daggers sank into the deck a hair’s breadth to either side of Atamoda’s thighs, the third between her legs so close to her groin she felt the air flee from the blade.

  Sana’s cold eyes provided a terrifying backdrop for the fourth blade as it hovered inches from Atamoda’s face.

  “Ba-lok has seen me like this, haven’t you...cousin?”

  Atamoda glanced at the Minnow’s sco-lo-ti, who sneered back at Sana. Sana’s mirror image, Kus-ge breathed heavily, lustfully.

  “Sana,” Ghalen held out his hand pleadingly. “Don’t do it.”

  From behind Aizarg, Levidi and Kol-ok appeared, spears in hand; but the Uros pressed their spear tips down.

  “Is this how you repay our kindness, Sana?” Aizarg said. Atamoda didn’t hear fear in his voice, nor urgency, only a strange calmness.

  Sana ignored him, eyes locked on Ba-lok. “Do you know what we were doing when we found Ba-lok on the steppe?”

  Atamoda barely shook her head, each shallow breath bringing her flesh in contact with the icy blade. All vestiges of Setenay had vanished. Before Atamoda crouched a killer, a she-wolf ready to tear her throat out.

  A Scythian.

  “I accompanied my brother, Prince Tuma, on a raiding party. Scythian women accompany men on raiding parties for only one reason.”

  “You were to be married!” Kus-ge exclaimed in breathless epiphany.

  “Before I could feel a man inside me, I had to slay an enemy of my tribe.

  “While searching for my brother and our horses, we found this fool sleeping exposed under a tree on the highest ground for miles. We were taking him to my village, where I would sacrifice him with this dagger on my wedding night.” She waved the tip terrifyingly close to Atamoda’s eyes. “With Vengeance I would cut his throat, spilling his blood under a full moon.”

  “Sana,” Aizarg spoke slowly, softly. “Come away from Atamoda.”

  “Do you still want to grant me mercy, Atamoda? Am I still worthy?” She looked around at the surrounding crowd. “Will you accept me as your Isp now that you know who I am?”

  “I know who you are,” Atamoda whispered. “You are Sana, the woman who saved my son’s life and granddaughter of Setenay. You said you trusted her wisdom.”

  “See, she is dangerous.” Kus-ge pushed her way forward. “Someone kill her!”

  “There will be no killing,” Aizarg said.

  The heat ebbed from Sana’s glare as an almost imperceptible tremble shook her knife hand.

  “I am Vengeance, a burning fate thwarted by a Nameless God.” She withdrew the blade from before Atamoda’s eyes and returned it to the thong.

  Atamoda began to breathe again as Sana yanked a knife from the deck.

  “I am Hatred, relentless in the pursuit of my people’s enemies.” The blade slid into its appointed place.

  The blade between Atamoda’s legs, buried deep in the wood, would not pull free so easily. Sana twisted it, gritting her teeth and spitting out her words as if they were sour bile. “I am Honor, for which I am now bound to a strange god, a strange people, and a strange man.”

  The blade came free, leaving a splintered gouge in the deck. She glared up at Ghalen. “For Honor, Death is denied me. For Honor, I am a captive and slave.”

  The blade joined its companions.

  Sana reached for the blade to Atamoda’s right, but it was gone.

  “Sana,” Ba-tor whispered, holding the dagger in both hands. “You dropped your knife.”

  She took the knife and placed it in her thong. Tenderly, she caressed Ba-tor’s cheek and kissed him on the forehead. “I am Love. It is for love that I will lay down my life for my tribe, and for my family.”

  Desolate, she turned to Atamoda. “Who am I? I am the last daughter of Scythia, and I mourn my family and people whom I love, every bit as much as you love yours. There are not enough ashes in the Arun-ki to ease my pain.”

  The Lo silently stepped aside as Sana walked away.

  Aizarg knelt beside Atamoda. “Do I need to intervene?”

  Atamoda couldn’t quit shaking. “No. If she wanted to kill me I’d be dead.”

  “Mommy, is Sana sad?”

  Atamoda emb
raced Ba-tor. “Yes, baby.”

  ***

  Mesmerized, Ghalen watched the woman he would soon call his wife pass by towards the Lagoon.

  Levidi nudged him. “Is Doinna looking better now?”

  39. Swimming Lessons

  It is by the sea the Lo mark the transitions of their life, including birth. The mother floats on her back in waist high water, supported by the village women and tended to by the patesi-le. The men wait with the expecting father on the Köy-lo-hely.

  While the baby is still underwater, the cord is quickly cut and tied. The patesi-le raises the child to the sky for its first breath and declares, “From water you emerge, by water you will be sustained, and through water you will pass.”

  The Chronicle of Fu Xi

  ***

  Since the Adoption Ceremony, Levidi’s raft bustled with activity. He busied himself inventorying salvaged rope, watching events transpire around him.

  Su-gar rarely left Alaya’s side since the Adoption Ceremony. Levidi tried to console his wife, but she kept driving him away, spending the days alone in their boat. Both Sahti’s death and losing the twins had devastated her. Only Su-gar had any luck coaxing her out. For this, Levidi was thankful. Since Su-gar spent so much time on the edge of the Lagoon, so did Spako and Ezra.

  Ezra, Su-gar, and Spako had become almost inseparable. Strangely, Spako seemed to grow fond of Ezra as the days progressed, following the young man around as much as he followed Su-gar. The giant granted fealty to Ezra, as if in tribute for defeating him in combat.

  Levidi figured every man had a code by which he lived, even a simpleton like Spako. Levidi liked having them around. Everywhere the giant went, the children followed, and children always made Alaya feel better, even though Kus-ge forbade E’laa and Toma from visiting.

  Perhaps that was best, Levidi thought. Having them present would only drive Alaya back into her seclusion.

  When Alaya felt better, the crowded raft felt like family. Levidi liked it that way, a blessed bright spot in a gloomy world.

  For Levidi the night would only get gloomier. Soon, he would relieve Ghalen by Xva’s side. Atamoda decreed the man should not be alone during his mourning. But for now, Levidi enjoyed the delicate light and laughter the moment afforded him.

  And at the moment there was ample supply of both. Spako wallowed around Levidi’s raft; giggling children crawled all over him, tugging his beard and climbing his shoulders as if he were a tree. Sometimes the children tried to tickle the giant’s belly, sending Spako rolling on the deck in huge gouts of infectious laughter. In a chorus of giggles, the children piled on.

  “Spako!” a cold voice commanded from the edge of the raft. “Come, we have work to do.”

  Virag emerged from the rain curtain and marched up to Spako. The children shrank away from the slaver, scurrying towards where Alaya and Levidi sat next to the brazier.

  Levidi stood. “What do you want?” He almost called Virag ‘slaver’.

  “I am only paying a visit, and come to fetch my old friend.” He grinned and tugged Spako’s sleeve.

  “Get up, fool!”

  Spako shambled to his feet. Eyes downcast and face slack, he dutifully followed Virag. Then, right before stepping through the rain curtain, Spako stopped and looked mournfully over his shoulder.

  Virag reemerged from the rain curtain. “Come on, you oaf!”

  Spako’s eyed narrowed on the slaver. “Virag not Crane. Spako, Crane.” He looked at Su-gar, who stood next to the Lagoon. “Su-gar, Crane, so is Levidi.”

  “What are you talking about? Come!”

  Spako returned to his place next to the brazier. “Spako, Crane.” The children screamed with joy and mobbed Spako once again.

  Virag burst forth, brushing the children aside. “You will not ignore me. You’d be dead without me!”

  It happened so fast Levidi didn’t have time to react. Su-gar screamed as Spako seized Virag around the throat, lifting him off the deck. As casually as a fisherman tosses a net, Spako hurled Virag back through the rain curtain and onto the adjoining raft.

  Everyone stared at the sheet of rain water, behind which there rose a great cacophony of crashes and snaps and shouts. Then, they heard Virag utter such a string of Sammujad curses, Alaya told several of the children to cover their ears. But the former slaver did not return.

  Spako plumped back down and crossed his arms. “Spako, Crane.” He looked quizzically at Levidi. “Crane Spako’s family.”

  Levidi threw his head back with deep, joyous laughter. He slapped Spako on the back. “Oh, yes, my friend. We are your family!”

  ***

  The raft settled down following Virag’s exciting departure. Soon, the children returned to their own rafts and boats, and everyone began to quiet down for the evening.

  Su-gar watched as Ezra splashed from one end of the Lagoon to another. Back and forth he went, swimming against the current to the upstream rafts, and then letting the current drag him back to the downstream boats.

  She wanted to giggle, but knew better. He only came here after the children went to sleep. Sometimes Okta or Ghalen came and gave him pointers, but mostly he swam alone, trying to learn in a few days what the Lo knew how to do from birth.

  More than once over last two nights she considered jumping in to save him. But following a big swell which swamped him or slammed him against the downstream boats, he always came back up.

  Alaya appeared next to her. “He’s getting better.”

  Su-gar nodded. “I suppose.” She crinkled her nose and turned her head sideways. “I think all that splashing frightens the water into submission.”

  Alaya smiled, highlighting the dark circles under her sunken eyes. Su-gar hadn’t seen her smile since the Adoption Ceremony. Sahti’s death had sent her even deeper into mourning. Seeing her come out of the boat tonight gave Su-gar hope.

  “Maybe you could give him some tips instead of standing here all night watching him suffer…” She poked Su-gar in the ribs. “…and admiring him!”

  Su-gar smirked and batted her hand away. “I guess I could give him a few good tips.”

  She stepped to the edge of the raft and sat down, feet dangling in the water, waiting for Ezra to make his way back to the upstream edge.

  Gasping and grasping, Ezra finally reached the edge beside her legs. He wiped the water from his eyes and looked up as if surprised to see her.

  “Why are you watching me?” he said defensively.

  “I’m not. I’m listening to the rain.”

  Ezra looked around at the raindrops dancing off the water. “I don’t notice it anymore.”

  “I do. Sometimes it sounds like voices, especially when it splashes.”

  Ezra frowned and looked about. “What do the voices say?”

  Su-gar wondered if she’d said too much, if the a-g’an boy would think her mad. She looked down at her toes sticking out of the water. “It’s nothing.”

  “Back home, when I was a boy, my sister and I used to climb the mountains. She swore she heard spirits in the wind echoing down the canyons, though I could never hear them.

  “What does the rain say?”

  Su-gar relaxed. “It tinkles, like a bronze leaf tied on a string outside the smithy’s bellow. It laughs when the breeze blows. I think the spirits are happy tonight.”

  “Happy? I don’t know if the spirits will ever be happy again.”

  Suddenly uncomfortable, she wanted to change the subject.

  “You should really have someone watch you,” she said. “One good wave and you’re going under. Your legs and arms don’t seem to talk to one another.”

  Ezra turned red. “Okta says I’m making good progress.

  Su-gar shrugged, trying not to let Ezra catch her admiring his shoulders. “If he says so, but I bet he’s never taught anyone to swim.”

  “He taught his boys how to swim.”

  Su-gar bit the inside of her lip, trying her best to suppress a smile. She crossed her arms and
put on the most serious of looks. “Fathers and mothers don’t teach their children how to swim.”

  “Okta says he taught lots of children how to swim.”

  “That’s what he wants you to believe, but it’s children who teach each other how to swim. I mean really swim, like a fish.”

  Ezra considered her quizzically. “How do children teach each other how to swim?”

  Su-gar’s eyes danced with mischief. “Like this!” She jumped on top of Ezra, dunking him underwater.

  He came up, sputtering and furious.

  “You can dunk me back, but you have to catch me first!” She laughed, and kicked gracefully toward the downstream edge.

  Half screaming, half laughing, Ezra lunged after her.

  ***

  The water is warmer. Before, Sana couldn’t bear to put her feet in the icy sea. She sat alone on one of the downstream boats, letting the rain caress her body and kicking at the swells as they passed below her. Behind her, light and laughter drifted across the arun-ki. Excitement at the prospect of the wedding breathed new life into the Lo, helping them forget their hunger and Sahti’s death, at least for a little while. She looked over her shoulder at Ezra and Su-gar laughing and swimming together.

  Perhaps Ezra and Su-gar’s laughter warms the sea. She knew the makings of a blooming romance. She liked Su-gar, though Sana often caught her looking at the Uros with a lover’s longing.

  Atamoda sees it, too. The patesi-le’s patience amazed Sana. If a Scythian maiden looked at another’s man in such a manner, she’d have found her throat cut before the next sunrise.

  The Lo were brimming with patience, but whether that was wisdom or folly she did not know.

  Su-gar feel’s a girl’s love, strong but harmless. Perhaps with Ezra, Su-gar would learn to love like a woman.

  Sana giggled. How would I know what it is to love like a woman?

  She turned and stared across the infinite blackness as her smile faded.

  I am so lost.

  Atamoda told her the Lo gods were driven away by the Nameless God. She said their ways would have to change, just as the world had changed. Perhaps the grim Scythian gods, Be’laam and Molok and a dozen blood-drenched others, were gone, too. Perhaps it didn’t matter if she no longer possessed Death.