by J. S. Bangs
“In cities and villages!”
“You mean like Mabeg?”
Mandhi didn’t think the comparison of the great cities of Amur to the muddy port town of Mabeg was very flattering. But she reminded herself that Shadle had never actually been to Amur. “Like Mabeg.”
Shadle shook her head vigorously. “The only Kaleksha who want to live in Mabeg are sailors waiting for their lot to come up and clanless whores like me. There are clan-folk who have to live there, but they don’t like it. Don’t you Amurans care for your brothers and ancestors?”
“We do,” Mandhi said, but she shook her head. “Our families don’t live in separate villages. We don’t fight all the time.”
“I understand why the Kaleksha in Davrakhanda are so uncouth,” Aryaji muttered.
“They’re uncouth because they’re young sailors,” Shadle snorted. “Mabeg isn’t much better. Young men work as sailors for a few years so they can make money, bring it to their fathers and get married, but they live like clanless in the meantime.”
“I understand why Taleg ran away. I’d want to run away from this, too.”
“Would you?” Shadle said. She gave Mandhi a strange look. “You don’t understand your husband as well as you think you do.”
“Are you saying you understand? You never even met him.”
“No, but I know Kaleksha and I know sailors. And I heard the story of his clan—”
“Brutish and violent,” Mandhi said.
“No. I don’t think you understood—”
A shout from the east cut through their thoughts. Shadle stood up suddenly, then shouted back. She grabbed Mandhi’s shoulder.
“Stay here. One of your men is hurt.”
Shadle bolted into the lodge and returned a heartbeat later with a cluster of the os Tastl men. They charged off to the east. Mandhi grabbed Aryaji’s hand and pulled her alongside.
“Come with me. We’ll go see what’s happening.”
Aryaji nodded. They followed the shouting of the Kaleksha through the welter of conical huts. The pointed top of the palisade loomed before them like teeth cutting the midnight sky. All at once, the clatter of the Kaleksha language met Amuran voices, and Shadle’s shouting resounded in the middle of it trying to restore order.
Jauda. Mandhi spotted him kneeling on the ground with a knot of mercenaries around him. Shadle was negotiating a furious argument between an Amuran mercenary and the Kaleksha men who had followed her. Mandhi elbowed her way forward and shouted to Jauda, “What happened?”
“Arrow in the shoulder,” Jauda said without looking up. He held a man’s arm pinned to the ground while one of the other mercenaries, their field medic, held a cloth around the arrowhead protruding from the man’s flesh.
“Ready?” the medic asked. The mercenaries at each of the man’s limbs grunted assent. The injured man whimpered.
The medic jerked the arrow free. The wounded man screamed and thrashed, the mercenaries around him pinned down his limbs, and blood splattered on the ground. The man’s scream dribbled to a groan as the medic pressed more rags into the cut and called for a needle.
Kaleksha voices boomed over their heads. Shadle called out, “Who shot him? They demand to know who shot him.”
“Three shapes in the darkness,” Jauda said. “We thought they were yours, but who can tell in the dark? They shot a few arrows, then ran away. Dumb luck that they actually hit someone.”
Shadle translated. Angry threats and promises boomed out of the Kaleksha men. Mandhi heard the words os Dramab.
“They think it was the other clan,” Shadle translated.
Jauda snorted. “Of course they think it was the other clan.”
The mercenaries around them exploded in anger and recrimination. Kill the os Dramab, one said. Others added their complaints in a jumble: Attack them tonight. Amitu is my friend! Cowards shooting arrows in the dark.
Jauda raised a hand and silenced their shouting. “Keep your calm, men,” he ordered. “We’ve been hired to act against the os Dramab. But we’ll do it in order. Not charging off like a goat into a fencepost.”
“Who attacks in the middle of the night?” one of the mercenaries demanded, slapping his hand against his leather cuirass. “And these cowards have done it twice.”
“I know,” Jauda hissed. “But there’s nothing to do now. Tonight we care for Amitu and rest. There will be plenty of time to strike the os Dramab later. Stand down and go to bed.”
Mandhi withdrew from the circle of mercenaries. Shadle translated Jauda’s words for the gathered Kaleksha, who roared much like the mercenaries. Several of them charged in among the Amurans and clasped hands with them, making wordless vows of vengeance and alliance. Jauda acknowledged the salutes of the Kaleksha men, then peeled away from the group and approached Mandhi and Aryaji.
“Find your father,” he said to Aryaji. “He needs to purify the place that you’ll be sleeping.”
“I think he’s already done it—”
“Go,” Jauda said. Aryaji bit a lip, then nodded and scurried off toward the lodge.
Jauda motioned for Mandhi to follow him. He led her to the other side of the nearest hut, lurking in the shadow of the palisade. His jaw was clenched, and heavy creases of worry and anger radiated from his half-closed eyes.
“The os Dramab,” he said quietly. “Why would they attack a palisade with only three men?”
“I don’t know,” Mandhi said in return. “You didn’t hear the tale of the feud tonight. These people are constantly harassing each other—”
Jauda shook his head. “But are they idiots?”
Mandhi was taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“Three men against a fortified position, shooting a handful of arrows and then retreating. No conceivable military purpose could be served by that.”
“These aren’t military strategists, captain.”
“But I don’t think they’re raw fools, either. I think we’ve been set up.”
A black dread stirred in Mandhi’s stomach. “Set up for what? Will they kill us?”
Jauda chuckled mirthlessly. “No, the os Tastl aren’t raw fools either. They want us to attack the os Dramab, and they’re trying to give us a reason. Get the mercenaries’ blood worked up.”
Mandhi leaned in to Jauda and whispered urgently, “Then let them.”
“What?”
She put her hand on Jauda’s heart and spoke in a low, urgent whisper. “Captain, I am here to get my son. I have all the reason I need to destroy the os Dramab. Now if these os Tastl think they need to create a personal grudge between your mercenaries and the os Dramab in order to motivate them, then I will help them. My grudge is already personal.”
Jauda grabbed Mandhi’s wrist and firmly moved it aside. “You may keep your grudge as long as you want. But I’m their captain, and I have to safeguard them and hopefully bring them back to Amur alive. And I don’t like being played for a fool.”
He let go of Mandhi’s wrist and pushed her back a half a step.
Mandhi straightened herself. “Am I a fool, captain?”
He didn’t answer.
“I am not a fool,” Mandhi said. “But I am very determined to get what I want. And I’m the one who hired you.”
“You hired us,” Jauda conceded. “But be careful you know what you’re getting into.”
“I am careful.”
For a moment Jauda studied her, his expression invisible in the darkness. Without a word he turned on his heel and marched back to where his mercenaries mingled with the Kaleksha men.
Mandhi watched him, then looked up at the night sky. The Night Ladies still danced in the north, and the moon had risen into the heart of the sky.
“The stars upon us,” she muttered. “My Jhumitu, I’m coming for you no matter what kind of allies I have to use to do it.”
Vapathi
Sweat rolled off of Apurta’s shoulders and down his belly. Vapathi pulled on his lips with her teeth. Her fingernails dug into his back. The se
a breeze moved the air through the khadir’s bedchamber, rustling the cotton curtains over the window and stirring the sheets, a breath of cool air in the oven of the summer heat. Apurta’s body pressed against her only made it hotter.
The summer swelter fused with the heat of their passion. For a few blazing minutes, she lost herself in sweat and sensation.
Apurta collapsed on top of her. One of her arms fell lazily over his shoulders, the other spread aside in the bed. He rested his head on her breast, panting.
“I could get used to this,” he said after a moment. His finger traced around her nipple.
“More comfortable than the mountain road, that’s for sure,” Vapathi said. Her hand touched the oily ends of his hair.
“More comfortable than the Ushpanditya.”
“In your current position, certainly.”
Apurta laughed. “I mean, more privacy. We were always sneaking into Kirshta’s room or finding a dark corner of the Dhigvaditya.”
“I remember.” She fell silent. Sweat dripped down his side and tickled Vapathi’s stomach.
“I think we’ll have to leave soon,” Vapathi said. “Unfortunately.”
“I wish your brother would let us live here and make the people of Pukasra serve us. It’s not bad. Now can we get one of those kids to bring me something to eat?”
Vapathi poked him in the ribs. “They’re not your servants.”
“They’re not?” Apurta wrinkled his brow in mock confusion. “Then why did we bring them out of the mountains again?”
Vapathi pushed him off of her and rolled away. “If that’s how you’re going to be, then you can find your own bed.”
He jumped toward her and grabbed her around the waist, pinning her to the bed and biting her shoulder. She slapped him. He growled and pinned her hand above her head.
“I like this bed better,” he whispered.
“Fine, then I’ll let you stay here,” she whispered back. “But leave the kids alone and go get your own food. We’re here to liberate slaves, not make more.”
There was a sound at the door. Apurta turned and rolled away. Vapathi spotted the curtain flicker aside for a moment, then settle back into place.
“Sorry,” Kirshta’s voice came through. A pause. He sounded hoarse and weary. “Should I come back later?”
“No, it’s fine,” Apurta said with a nervous laugh. He scrambled to the side of the bed and wrapped his dhoti around him, not bothering to cover his chest. Vapathi found her sari beside the bed and draped it around her breasts and waist.
Kirshta limped into the room, his face drawn in pain. He gave Vapathi a forced smile. Apurta stood by the bed trying to look nonchalant, while Vapathi curled up against the cushions. Kirshta hesitated.
“Apurta,” he coughed, “I’d like to speak to my sister alone.”
“Oh. Of course.” Apurta nodded to Kirshta and departed, drawing the curtain firmly shut behind him.
Kirshta waited until Apurta’s steps had receded down the hallway. Then he collapsed onto a cushion lying on the ground by the door. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.
“Are you well?” Vapathi asked.
“No,” Kirshta whispered. “It’s getting harder.”
Vapathi knelt next to him. She put her palm on his forehead and ran her finger down the wound in his side. His chest heaved with effort. This was the worst she had seen him in days. “Can I help you? Is there something I can get you?”
Kirshta shook his head. “No… not now.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and grew very still. A moment later he exhaled slowly. His breathing became more regular, and when he opened his eyes a little of the pain had gone away.
“She is very hungry,” he said again. “We need to leave here soon… but I don’t know that I have the strength.”
“You should eat more,” Vapathi said. “You hardly eat.”
“Food is not what she hungers for,” Kirshta said sharply. He clenched his jaw, then shook his head as if in apology. “But I wanted to ask you about Apurta. Are you… pleased to be with him?”
Vapathi laughed. Was it that hard for him to understand a relationship which wasn’t part of one of their plots? “I’m not sure what you’re trying to ask, my dear brother, but I think the answer is yes.”
“I appreciate it,” Kirshta said. “I’m glad that you and Apurta… I mean, it’s good that the two of you have each other.”
“Thank you.” She rose to her feet, turned her back to him, and loosened the upper part of her sari. Might as well get her choli on properly now. “You came in here grimacing in pain to ask that?”
“No,” Kirshta said. His voice had regained some of its usual strength. “I found something out about the thikratta who fled from Ternas.”
“Really?” The cotton choli that she wore had been plundered from the wardrobe of the khadir’s wife, who was near to Vapathi’s size and had vastly finer clothes. The new choli was wondrously clean and cool in the blazing heat.
“They were here in Pukasra,” Kirshta said. “They stayed in the khadir’s house, but fled when the red star appeared. When I descended to the Holy.”
“And you know where they went?” She draped the sari around her again, tucking the ends of the fabric into the folds around her waist. She looked like a khadir’s wife now. More so than the khadir’s wife herself, whom Vapathi had dressed in rags and set to stitching new clothes for the mountain children.
“To Tulakhanda. A true city, with a garrison of the Red Men.”
“Udagra-kha was majakhadir of Tulakhanda,” Vapathi said.
“The man who bought you from the Ushpanditya?”
“Yes, him.”
“So you’ve got reason to go after the city.”
Vapathi shook her head. “What reason? I never went to Tulakhanda, and Udagra-kha was perfectly gentle with me when I was his concubine. And it was such a short time.” She paused, remembering the soft silks of Udagra’s bedroom, the smell of his perfume, the deference of the other servants. No, she regretted nothing about her time in his house.
“Udagra-kha’s wife is in Tulakhanda,” she said as an afterthought.
“Maybe you can meet her,” Kirshta said. “Take what you need from the village. Including followers. Any peasant that wants to join you… I’ll be happy to free them.”
Vapathi went to the curtain and pulled it aside, letting the sea breeze fill the room. It was as hot as breath on her skin, but it helped a little. She leaned against the sill of the window and looked down at the muddy shore of the bay. Three of their children played in the water. Directly beneath the window, a pair of cobras waited, coiled silently in the grass.
Kirshta groaned. He rose to his feet and approached her with mincing steps. “I want you to go without me.”
Vapathi squeaked. “Why?”
Kirshta hung his head. “I don’t have the strength. I can’t… hurrying to Tulakhanda would kill me. She Who Devours would break through my restraint and end me and everyone around me.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Be my forerunner. Announce yourself as the Queen of Slaves, and tell the slaves and peasants that I’ll deliver them. We’ll find out if they deserve us.”
“That will never work. I have no power of my own, and without you—”
“Half of having power is simply convincing others that you are powerful.”
“I’m not powerful.”
Kirshta grabbed her by the arm, turned her around, and pierced her with a dark stare. “You are, my sister. Go out as the Queen of Slaves, in the name of the Mouth of the Devourer, and you’ll see how much power you have.”
Vapathi gripped the edge of the window sill. The children playing in the bay had hands that were full of sand, their faces speckled with mud. She didn’t want to march into danger with them. “They might just kill us all.”
Kirshta put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s why you’ll be powerful. Be their queen. Find me those thikratta and deliver Tula
khanda to me.”
“And after that? When you don’t come?”
“I’ll come,” Kirshta said. “Slowly. I’ll be several days behind you. But I’ll come.”
She shivered despite the heat.
* * *
The Red Men captured them as soon as they came in sight of the city walls.
Vapathi’s army was mostly children, and her second-in-command was Chaludi, the house-mistress of the khadir’s home in Pukasra. She mostly served to keep a watchful eye on the children as they marched away from Pukasra and toward Tulakhanda. The last of the army were a few men of Pukasra who had sworn loyalty to the Mouth of the Devourer, and who were willing to go along and protect the vanguard of women and children.
Red flags blazoned with Am’s spear fluttered ahead of them, peeking above the leaves of the palms and the anjili trees alongside the path. Empty rice paddies, deprived of monsoon rains, lay on each side of them, yellow clay cracking and curling in the summer swelter. The girl holding Vapathi’s hand squeezed it and hid her face in Vapathi’s shoulder. A dozen peasant fishermen from Pukasra couldn’t do anything against a garrison of the Red Men.
Chaludi looked at the flags with dismay in her eyes. As soon as they turned the corner in the path they would be among them. “Vapathi, what should we do?”
“We should march straight ahead,” Vapathi said with far more confidence than she felt. “We are testing them. They should be afraid of us.”
Chaludi glanced at Vapathi, then at the loose crowd of children following them and the handful of men guarding their flanks. “I don’t see it.”
“The Mouth of the Devourer comes after us. If they aren’t afraid now, they’ll learn to be.”
They turned the corner. Two men with spears and red sashes around their waists spotted her, and the first called Halt! Behind them, two long lines of Red Men waited on either side of the road.
She stopped ten paces away from them. Chaludi herded the children forward on the road and had them sit in the clay behind Vapathi.
“What is this?” one of the Red Men asked. “Are you—”
“I speak for the Mouth of the Devourer,” Vapathi said.
