Clarkesworld Magazine Issue 83

by Vandana Singh

  One afternoon Eyes-of-crystal shot a ral4 in the marshes along the river. The animal went down, but it wasn’t dead. It struggled to rise, making a bleating noise. Eh Shawin was the one who dismounted and cut its throat. As he stuck the knife in, the ral jerked and twisted its neck. Blood spurted onto his clothing, and he made the hissing sound that indicates anger or disgust. He finished killing the ral, then pulled off his tunic and sank it in a pool of water. Naked, he eviscerated the animal. She had never seen an adult man without clothing. It made her uncomfortable.

  She kept herself busy with the tsina. Her Direct Action was not troubled by the scent of blood, but the animal Shawin was riding—a young stallion that she had not finished training—was fidgety. He might try to run.

  When Shawin had finished, he waded into the water and washed himself, then the tunic.

  “Put that on,” she said when he came back to shore.

  “Wet? No.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  For a moment he said nothing, but concentrated on wringing out the tunic. Then he glanced up briefly. “There’s no one here except the two of us, and we have been spending every night in the same bed, neither of us wearing anything. Do you really think we need to be formal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe you ought to go on ahead,” Eh Shawin said. “You’ll have to take the ral. My tsin isn’t going to be willing to carry it.”

  She did as he suggested and rode home alone, troubled by the memory of him, his fur slicked down by water and his body evident. He was rangy with large bones and long muscles, narrow everywhere except through the shoulders. Made for speed rather than endurance, Eyes-of-crystal thought. In a way beautiful, though not with the sleek beauty of a woman.5

  He ought to be more modest. He had not seemed especially bothered by the fact that he was naked. Maybe he had spent too much time fulfilling mating contracts. It had become ordinary for him to be around women who were not relatives and to do things with them that most men did only once or twice in their lives.

  That evening, in the tower room, she asked about his behavior.

  “If I hadn’t washed the tunic right away, the stain would have sunk in, and I like that tunic. It’s almost new, and I don’t know if you noticed, but the embroidery over the shoulders is really fine. I shouldn’t have worn it for hunting. I wasn’t expecting to make quite so big a mess.”

  “Are you this way in battle?” she asked. “Fastidious?”

  “No. Of course not. Though I never like it when something good is ruined: a piece of clothing, a weapon. But I don’t think about that till later. In battle, there are only two things on my mind: staying alive and following my brother’s orders.”

  There was something in his voice when he spoke about his brother that troubled her. “Do you like him?”

  Eh Shawin glanced up. The room was dark except for a single lantern, flickering on the table between them, and his pupils had expanded to wide, black bars. “Manhata? What a question to ask.” He licked his fingers and put out the light.

  One of her cousins was home from the war while an injury to his leg healed. By this time, he was starting to hobble around, and he asked Eh Shawin to practice fighting with him. This was something women were not supposed to watch, but Eyes-of-crystal climbed onto a roof that overlooked the fighting ground. The two men used swords, the long heavy kind that had only one purpose. No man ever carried a weapon like that, unless he was going to war. Eh Shawin handled his sword with ease. He was obviously a better fighter than her cousin, and this was not due simply to her cousin’s injury. He was as quick as she had expected and strong as well. Lovely to watch, the woman thought as she crouched on the roof tiles. If she had a son, this quickness and strength would be useful. If she had a daughter, maybe the child would get Eh Shawin’s discipline. With luck, his oddness would not be transmitted.

  Her time for bleeding came. So did the blood. She wasn’t pregnant. She stayed away from him for several nights, as was customary.

  “That tells me I have another 40 days here,” Eh Shawin said. “I’m not sorry, though I have to say your male relatives are boring. But I like you, and my lineage does not have another breeding contract that requires me. Once you are pregnant, I will have to rejoin the army.”

  “You don’t like the war.”

  “It’s been going on a long time. After a while, everything seems as if it’s happened before. There are only so many ways to kill and die. Even my brother has not managed to find much that is new in those areas.”

  “You are very peculiar,” said Eyes-of-crystal. “I hope it doesn’t come out in your children.”

  He laughed. “No one has complained to my female relatives.”

  This conversation took place atop a river bluff. They ended in this place often. He shared her love of the wide river valley. The foliage was getting its autumn colors. The river was dark brown like weathered bronze, except where it reflected the forest or the sky. Everything seemed to be shifting and changing. She looked out and thought of traveling like a tree floating in the water or a bird rising on the wind.

  Maybe when this was over and she was pregnant, she would go to visit another town. There were several lineages nearby that were closely tied to Ahara. She had relatives, women who had been fathered by men of her lineage. She even had a former lover, a woman of Shulnowa. They had met at a festival and visited back and forth, and then the war grew dangerous for a time, and they exchanged tokens and messages. That ended finally. But maybe she could go to Shulnowa and visit one of her minor cousins. Maybe she would meet the lover. How could she avoid it in a town that size?

  Eh Shawin ran a hand down her arm, stroking the fur. “I think I’d like to have sex right now.”

  “Here? In the sunlight?”

  “We aren’t getting anywhere by having sex in the dark.”

  Her bleeding had stopped the day before, so it was possible, though it seemed wrong. She tried to remember some rule that forbade sex outdoors while the sun was up. Nothing came to mind, and she had done such things with her lover. But that had been at festivals and with a woman. Surely sex for procreation ought to be done in a less carefree manner.

  He leaned over and kissed the rim of her ear, then touched his tongue to the bare skin inside.

  They had sex on the river bluff in a meadow of dry plants. A group of hunting birds soared overhead. At one point, early on, she looked up and saw them rising in a wide circle. Later, she found she had become preoccupied. The bright open world seemed to darken and turn in upon itself, and she was not aware of much except her body and Eh Shawin’s body.

  When they had finished, they lay a while together, listening to bugs sing around them. The birds had gone. Finally, Eh Shawin yawned and sat up. “That’s something I haven’t done before.” He grinned at her. “There’s more variety in sex than war, in my opinion, anyway.”

  They got up and brushed each other off, then put on their clothing and went to find their tsina.

  After that, they got in the habit of having sex beyond the town walls. It was the right time of year. The ground was dry, and the biting and burrowing bugs had mostly vanished. Now and then, there was some kind of distraction: a tsin would come close while grazing. Once, a fat little tli came up to see what they were doing. It stopped just outside reach and reared up on its hind legs, folding its paws against the white fur of its chest.

  “Fill your eyes, little trickster,” said Eh Shawin.

  The animal seemed to listen. It tilted its head and watched them until they were done. Then, as they moved apart, it moved away.

  They still slept in the tower room. By now, she had gotten used to sharing a bed with him. His scent was familiar, and it was comforting to lie against his broad back. Every few days her mother would ask how everything was going.

  “Fine,” she would answer. Finally she said, “I think I’m like my sister.”

  Her mother frowned. “In that case, we’ll have the man with us all winter. I sup
pose I shouldn’t complain. It gives your cousin someone to practice fighting with.”

  One morning she woke early and heard the cries of birds as they flew over Ahara Tsal. The fall migrations were beginning. There would be good hunting in the marshes along the river. She prodded Eh Shawin. Half awake, he agreed to go into the valley with her. After breakfast, they saddled their tsina.

  The morning air was cool, and thin banners of mist floated over the surface of the river. The mist would be gone in less than an ikun, and the day would be hot by noon. But at the moment she could feel the sharp edge of autumn. She carried her strung bow. Her quiver hung from her saddle. Eh Shawin had brought a pair of throwing spears. He wasn’t really in the mood to kill anything, he told her. “But a ride is fine. I can watch you shoot down birds. And if we encounter anything large, I’ll be ready.”

  There were plenty of animals in the valley, but she didn’t see the birds she wanted: the ones she had heard as they flew over. She and Eh Shawin kept going, following a road that wasn’t much used. Midway through the morning, two men appeared ahead of them, riding tsina. They came out of the underbrush and reined their animals, blocking the road. One had a shield on his arm.

  Eh Shawin had been riding in back of her. Now he came up alongside. There was a spear in his hand. “Let me take care of this.” She reined Direct Action, and he moved past her. He was riding her young stallion, Hope-for-the-Future.

  The two men turned their animals so they were facing Shawin, and one drew a sword, a long weapon of war.

  Something made a noise in back of her. She glanced around: two more men came riding toward her. They looked like soldiers who had gone to hell, ragged and dirty. One man wore a metal helmet. The other wore a leather cap. Both held battle-swords.

  She glanced back at Shawin. He’d thrown his spear, and one of the men in front was falling, shouting as he slid onto the ground. The spear was in his chest.

  Shawin pulled the second spear from its holder.

  The two ragged soldiers came up on either side of her. One glanced over. “We’re sorry that this has to happen in front of you, but—as you can see—we’re desperate. It will be over quickly.” Then they rode on. Direct Action shook his head. She tightened the reins. There was nothing she could see.

  Among the hwarhath, warfare is entirely a male activity. The hwarhath men direct their violence exclusively toward each other. They do no physical harm to women and children, strange as this may sound to humans. But there is a quid pro quo. The hwarhath teach their women that they must never fight. Eyes-of-crystal knew that she was almost certainly safe. Unless these men were crazy, they would not touch her. But Eh Shawin was going to die, and all the rules of right behavior told her that she had to look on. This was the way it had always been done.

  The man of Eh glanced back. He must have seen the two new soldiers. A moment later, he was charging at the man in front of him, spear in hand. Their tsina met. Her young stallion screamed, and a man shouted, she didn’t know which one. They were tangled together, their animals turning in a circle. The other bandits reined, as if they were trying to see a good way to attack.

  There was no way for Eh Shawin to win. His animal was untried. He didn’t have the right kind of weapons. A hunting spear and a sword that was little more than a dagger! As ignorant as she was, she knew this was a bad situation. Finally, he was outnumbered. Her male relatives did not speak much about war, but she had heard them say, “As a general rule, big wins over little, and many over few.”

  Eyes-of-crystal pulled an arrow from her quiver. She fit it into her bow and pulled back the string. Hah! This was easy! They were much larger than a bird and hardly moving. She let the arrow go. It went into the neck of the man in the leather cap. He screamed, a noise almost like the one made by her young stallion.

  The man in the helmet twisted around, a look of horror on his face. “No!” he shouted.

  Her second arrow went into his chest. Her third went into his throat, and he fell. One foot stayed in its stirrup. He ended on the ground with one leg up. His tsin was thin and needed a grooming, but evidently it had been well trained. The moment its rider fell, it stopped moving, except to shake its head. Not that it made any difference. The rider was dead. His tsin could have dragged him across the valley and done no further harm.

  The man she had shot first, the one in the leather cap, was still on his animal, bent over and holding onto the animal’s neck. Blood poured down his back.

  Beyond these two, Shawin still struggled with the third man. They were on the ground now, though she hadn’t seen how this had happened. Their tsina danced around them. The men were entangled. Eyes-of-crystal could not risk a shot.

  She waited, bow in hand. The struggle ended, and Eh Shawin stood up. His tunic was torn and dirty. He held his little sword. The blade was covered with blood.

  “That seems to be it,” Eh Shawin said.

  Eyes-of-crystal leaned to one side and vomited.

  After she finished, Eh Shawin helped her dismount. He was unharmed, except for a few small cuts. “Though I’ve been beaten like iron on the anvil, and I’ll feel it tomorrow. If your relatives think I am going to be good for much of anything in the next few days—“

  “I killed them,” she said.

  “Two of the four.”

  She went on, speaking disjointedly. How could she tell her relatives? What would they do? No woman of the Ahara had ever gotten involved in a battle.

  “None that you have been told about,” Eh Shawin said. He turned and watched the one man still alive. His tsin had become nervous finally and begun to step sideways like a harvest dancer. Then it shook its body, and the man slid off and lay motionless on the dusty road.

  “I’ll pull out the arrow and drive in my second spear. It’s broken, but no one will know when that happened, and you will have killed only one man then.”

  That was more than enough, said Eyes-of-crystal.

  He tiled his head in agreement, then walked over to the man he had killed with his short sword. “I killed his fellow, then captured his sword.” He bent and picked it up. “And used it to kill the last man with two blows, one to the neck and one to the chest. If I make cuts that are big enough, no one will notice the arrow wounds. So two men died from my spears, one from my short sword and one from this.” He lifted the battle sword. “What a hero I am! They’ll make up poetry about me in Ahara.” He looked at her, meeting her gaze. “And you behaved like a decent woman and watched the fight, never moving a hand.”

  She spoke again. The story was unlikely. She wasn’t a good liar. It would be better to tell the truth.

  “If you admit to behavior this unusual, your relatives may decide it wasn’t a good idea to breed you,” Eh Shawin said in answer. “And if you are pregnant already, they might decide to kill the child. Then all my hard work will have been wasted. I’d prefer that my children live, unless they are damaged in some way.

  “And I’d prefer that your life be happy. It isn’t likely to be, if you admit to violence. Lie to the best of your ability. That ought to be sufficient. Remember what you have just seen. If you’re upset and don’t make a lot of sense, your family will understand.

  “And while it’s unlikely that I could kill four men, my brother has done as much and more. Maybe I had—for once—his determination and power.”

  She agreed finally, and he did as he had planned, like a manager setting up the opening of a play. Bloodflies had begun to gather, their bodies shining like sparks of fire in the hazy sunlight. He ignored them, cutting the arrow from the one man with his hunting knife. He worked deftly, making the wound only a little larger, then drove in the broken spear, grunting with the effort. Then he moved to his second victim and used the borrowed battle sword to slash new wounds. The bloodflies hummed around him and crawled on the dead men.

  A play would begin with the corpses lying on the stage, looking far more splendid than these fellows. One by one, the corpses would rise, turning into handsome
warriors, who would explain to the audience how they came to their present situation, acting out the quarrels and moral dilemmas that led to death.

  Let nothing like that happen here, said Eyes-of-crystal to the Goddess.

  At last, Eh Shawin was done preparing the stage, He gathered the men’s weapons and loaded them on their tsina, then tied the animals to a lead and gave the lead to her. They mounted and rode back toward Ahara Tsal.

  They stopped once by a stream. Eh Shawin washed her arrows, which he had kept, then handed them to her.

  “I don’t want these.”

  “I don’t want them found anywhere close to the place where these fellows died. Someone might wonder. And I can’t think of a better place to hide arrows than in a quiver. Get rid of them later.”

  She put them in her quiver, and they went on.

  Hah! It was an event when they arrived at the town, leading four animals, Eh Shawin covered with blood. He did most of the talking, while her relatives comforted her.

  Male relatives saddled their tsina and rode to find the bodies, led by Shawin. He was fine, he said. A little tired and sore. But he would have no trouble riding back into the valley. The men of Ahara gave him sideways glances that indicated respect.

  Her female relatives gave her a bath and put her to bed. After a while, she went to sleep, waking in the middle of the night.

  Shawin was settling into bed next to her. She spoke his name.

  He said, “We followed their trail back for a distance. There were only four of them. Bandits, your kinfolk say. Men without a lineage. The world is full of people like that these days. They must have wanted to rob me. The Goddess knows their animals are in bad condition, and they had nothing of value except their battle swords. Hah! To end like that!” Then he went to sleep.

  She stayed awake. He had bathed, and he smelled of clean fur and aromatic soap. She found the odor comforting. All at once, she was unwilling to have him leave.

  What lay in front of her, after he was gone? Being pregnant and then nursing a child. Then, maybe, if she could convince her relatives that she had no interest in children, she would be free for a while. That happened sometimes. There were women who could not manage to get interested in motherhood. Other women raised the children they bore.