The women and the warlords coaaod-3

by Hugh Cook

  Saying that was a mistake, for the next moment Yen Olass was dumping handfuls of stone and shell onto Resbit's back, then following it with grit she found deeper down. Resbit surrendered, dived into the lake briefly to clean her body, then followed Yen Olass back to the clearing. She walked naked, her bare feet leaving damp prints in the earth, and picking up a brown coating. By the time she reached the clearing, she was beginning to dry out; she unrolled the clothes she had been carrying, and put them on, feeling how coarse and dirty they felt. Everything would have to be washed.

  Yen Olass, working with furious energy, had excavated a considerable hole. Looking down into it, Resbit saw the mouth of a leather bag. It was full of coins. She admitted to a little bit of rising excitement, but:

  'I still don't see what we can spend the money on.’

  'Goose,' said Yen Olass, T don't want money. Think some. The pirates didn't drag treasure all the way over the Razorwind Pass just to bury it here. They found it here. They took it from the Galish. So… this is just the beginning.’

  Yen Olass was right. By evening, they had uncovered enough to know that the pirates had buried a considerable amount of Galish loot. There were tools, weapons, bolts of cloth, jars of olive oil, sacks of rice, plates of keflo shell and leather bottles full of wine.

  Resbit and Yen Olass got drunk that night, celebrating. The next day, they were far too sick to do any digging, but they guessed their cornucopia held everything they needed. A few more days of excavation proved this supposition correct. Yen Olass thought this just as well, for she grew more and more certain that she was pregnant.

  'You will bear Khmar's son,' said Resbit, with a hint of something close to reverence in her voice. 'The son of an emperor!’

  'Khmar belonged to a different world,' said Yen Olass firmly. T will bear the child of my own body. A child born to Penvash – to a land without emperors and kings.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Resbit and Yen Olass built a house by the lakeside. They put up a woodshed and a storehouse. They designed and built traps for rats, not to secure skins for making clothes, but to protect their store of food. They were rich, and did not hesitate to deny their wealth to the bushrats of Penvash.

  The days eased out into a long, leisurely rhythm, unlike anything they had ever before experienced. Rising with the dawn chorus of forest birds, they hauled in longlines from the lake, then gutted and scaled fresh fish which they cooked for breakfast.

  With breakfast over, they tidied the house, checked the rat traps, disposed of any vermin, then made the rounds of the bird snares, pits and deadfalls which they had built in the forest. On these long, cool walks through the early morning forest, they were silent, feeling no need to speak.

  Later in the morning, they worked on House Two. Unlike their present shack of sticks and branches, this was to be a proper log house with a fireplace and chimney, so they could winter over by the lake without suffering undue hardship.

  In the afternoon, when the forest was suffused with lazy heat, they went swimming, and afterwards generally slept for an hour or two on the beach. Each evening, they massaged each other with a little warm olive oil, and made love to each other tenderly, teaching each other their own pleasures.

  When they caught a sow and a piglet in one of their traps, they killed the sow but kept the piglet; Resbit planned to teach it how to hunt truffles. By the time the full heat of summer was upon them, House Two was finished, and they moved into it, leaving House One to the pig, who now carried the name Pelaki; however, Pelaki, by now thoroughly socialized, refused to be excluded from their company, so House One became the exclusive preserve of spiders and woodlice.

  With housebuilding over, the days were slow, lazy, idle. They studied their own bodies, observing the changes. Flesh slowly thickening, casting a heavier shadow. A leisured, inescapable uneasiness surfaced in dreams which sometimes became nightmares. They were both aware, though they did not speak of it, that they were very much on their own, with nobody to help them if anything went wrong. And so many things can go wrong.

  Then Yen Olass had a nightmare. First she was trapped in the darkness, with jaws locked tight around her. She knew where she was: inside the metal flower in the strange castle in the Valley of Forgotten Dreams. Voices spoke. Silken light smoked from her hands. Knots of time unravelled. She plucked a flower from an underwater branch, inserting it into her womb.

  And then-

  'Don't be scared,' said Lefrey.

  But the voices hurt her. Lacerating pain struck through her pelvis. Fetid breath grinned down at her, crushing her body beneath groping weight. She saw a Collosnon soldier, a ceramic amulet gleaming at his throat, hacking away her mother's breasts. The voices swore, ripped away her fingernails.

  Then General Chonjara was pulling her child out. His fingers were made of splintered wood. The child was jammed. He tugged. It ripped its way out. Its head was a wedge of steel. A spear blade. Slashed open, she stared aghast at the white gash-wound flesh into which blood suddenly welled, and suddenly-

  The pain struck home.

  Waking with a scream which startled Pelaki and shocked Resbit into instant wakefulness, Yen Olass started to cry. She sobbed helplessly while Resbit comforted her. She was convinced that the dream was a warning. She was convinced that the child in her womb was damaged. A monster. Or a dead thing, swelling there like a fungus. A bag of blood.

  Resbit held her and kissed her, soothed her and stroked her. Pelaki snuffled into her armpit. And, eventually, her fears eased by this comfort, Yen Olass slept again.

  But now the two women did talk, sharing their fears and pooling what knowledge they had. Yen Olass found Resbit knew much more than she did. Yen Olass had always distanced herself from women things, hating the life of the Woman Sanctuary which stank of servitude, and, in some secret part of her heart, despising herself for being a woman – and, in a much less secret part of her heart, despising the sewn and mutilated body which had marked her as a slave. She had never cared to follow gossip about distant concerns such as pregnancy and childbirth. But Resbit was well versed in both subjects.

  There were more nightmares after that, but, talking through her fears with Resbit, Yen Olass found the courage to face them, even if she could not entirely subdue them. She could not forget how the metal flower had killed the pirate Toyd, turning him loose with his skull ready to melt into liquid and a sick wet embryonic growth forcing out from between his ribs in a vicious parody of pregnancy.

  Resbit, for her part, had her own worries, though these were less severe. She wished she had the help of an experienced midwife who would know how to cope if the baby was born buttocks-first, or if the cord started to strangle the baby as it was born, or if the afterbirth failed to follow the child, or if she started to bleed afterwards… she had heard that eating the afterbirth would, in an emergency, help stop bleeding, but she did not know if that was true. Besides, she had seen two births, and was of the opinion that an afterbirth was hardly the most attractive thing in the world, and surely only marginally edible.

  In fact, in an emergency, eating a chunk of the raw afterbirth will tend to stop bleeding; many animals eat the afterbirth as a matter of course, gaining the benefit of its food value and the chemical intelligence it carries. But Resbit had no way to confirm this. So she discussed it with Yen Olass, and they argued it out.

  'It's not meant to be eaten,' said Yen Olass. 'It's meant to be kept all in one piece so people can look at it. That's very important. Even I know that.’

  'That's only so the wise woman can look at it to see that it's all come out,' said Resbit. 'If you get a piece left stuck inside, you can die. But there won't be any wise woman here.’

  They decided that, in the absence of anyone to tell them otherwise, they would eat the afterbirth if they found themselves bleeding to death, on the principle that if they were going to die anyway it could hardly do any harm.

  'And otherwise,' said Yen Olass, scratching Pelaki behind the ear
, 'our best friend here can have it.’

  'No!' said Resbit, truly shocked. 'That's a barbarous thing so say.’

  'Then I'm a barbarian,' said Yen Olass complacently.

  'Well you feed the pig as you see fit,' said Resbit, 'but it's not getting part of me to eat.’

  Yen Olass laughed at her dismay, then kissed Pelaki on the snout. She, for her part, had no intention of disappointing the pig.

  Talking over the details of the two births Resbit had seen, the two women prepared themselves for their own deliveries. Resbit by now was five months gone; she could feel her child kicking inside her body. Her rate of weight-gain was increasing. Her breasts had enlarged, and were tender; the colour of her nipples and areola deepened. A streak of pigmentation appeared, running from her navel to her crotch; it widened to a fat, dark band. She did not know if that was normal or not.

  Yen Olass, with some sixty days to go before she reached the same stage, followed these changes with interest. As an oracle, living amongst virginal women, soldiers and administrators, she had scarcely ever seen a pregnant woman, not even in the crowded streets. Yet, in Gendormargensis alone, there must have been thousands of pregnant women. Otherwise, where would all the children have come from? But they had all been hidden away somewhere… doubtless confined to their homes while their mothers and daughters performed whatever tasks demanded a venture out into the markets and thoroughfares.

  The summer heat reached its blistering peak. The air became febrile with biting insects. Retreat to the lake became a necessity; they wallowed in the water for hours, and were thankful for the evenings when the bloated sun finally sank behind the hills in the west. Ringed by hills, Lake Armansis was sheltered from the sea winds which, in the south, invaded Estar, sometimes bringing cold and rain even at the height of summer.

  Sometimes, as Resbit floated in the lake, Yen Olass watched Resbit's child kicking within her belly. And, as autumn drew near, that same child took to kicking her during the night, when she was curled up with Resbit.

  The approach of autumn brought also the approach of the last stages of Resbit's pregnancy. That autumn, her wrists and ankles swelled. There were little room left in her body for her bladder; with its diminished capacity, she had to urinate frequently. She draped her body with loose clothing worked up from cloth and wool which had once belonged to the Galish. She experienced moments of triumph, times of anxiety and one or two moments of terror and outright horror. Yen Olass supported her without fail through all these vicissitudes.

  As Resbit entered the last stages of her pregnancy, her vaginal tissues softened in preparation for the advent of her child. She found an ooze of colostrum on her nipples; her vaginal lubrication increased; membranes swelled in her nose. Heavy and swollen, she waddled down to the lake each day to swim in its steadily cooling waters. Then, toward the end, she started to feel more comfortable; she found she had more energy to spare. But Yen Olass, growing increasingly nervous about Resbit's health, insisted that she take life easy and get plenty of rest.

  Then it happened.

  Yen Olass was woken one cool autumn night by a piercing squeal.

  'What've you done to Pelaki?' said Yen Olass, jolted out of dreams by that ear-splitting sound.

  'Pelaki got clouted on the nose,' said Resbit, her voice shaky. 'Too curious, that's the trouble. Yen Olass, the pains have started.’

  'All right,' said Yen Olass.

  She raked over the ashes of the fires, found some hot coals and started a small blaze. Pelaki crouched in a corner, obviously frightened.

  'Put the pig out,' said Resbit.

  'If that's what you want,' said Yen Olass.

  After a short scuffle, she muscled Pelaki out into the night, closed the door, and barred it against intruders. Then she settled down to wait with Resbit.

  The shifting firelight splayed vague shadows through the room, shadows which danced and lilted as the flames leapt and sheltered. Here they were warm and safe, sheltered by strong walls; the firelight illuminated a familiar array of weapons, traps, fishing lines, blankets, furs, pots, bottles, boots, shell necklaces, and other items of utility and decoration.

  In this safe and comforting place, Resbit sat with her back resting against the wall. Yen Olass bundled together some furs and slipped them behind her back to cushion it, then arranged more padding to go under her knees. There have in certain times and certain places arisen human cultures in which women were compelled to go through labour and delivery lying flat on their backs: however, such a bizarre notion never for a moment occurred to Yen Olass or Resbit, and if it had they would have noted that the birth canal points upward, whereas babies, like apples, fall downward.

  Yen Olass leaned against the wall herself, and closed her eyes. The contractions at the moment were slow and widely spaced; Resbit was quietly talking about the name her lover, Elkor Alish, had wanted for any son that was ever born to him. The name was Elkordansk Talshnek Branador, which in the language of the Rovac warriors meant Elkorson Scalpslicer the Swordwielder. Yen Olass did not argue, though on previous occasions she had said – and loudly – that she thought that was a hideous name. She wondered what Resbit would do if the child was a girl.

  T wonder if he often thinks of me,' said Resbit.

  'Who?’

  'Elkor, of course.’

  'Probably,' said Yen Olass, yawning, and hoping Pelaki was not suffering too much out in the night all on his own. T wonder where he is,' said Resbit. 'Out there, of course.' 'Yes, but where?’

  'Somewhere in the forest, all on his own,' said Yen Olass, meaning the pig.

  'No,' said Resbit. 'He'll be in a banquet hall somewhere. Drinking up large with a thousand roistering heroes.’

  Yen Olass bit her, very gently.

  'That's nice,' said Resbit.

  Yen Olass resisted the temptation to bite harder. This talk of Elkor Alish was making her jealous. She had no doubt – though she had never confronted Resbit with her theory – that to the Rovac warrior Resbit had been just an amusement to while away his idle moments. Yen Olass, with vast experience of soldiers and their ways, knew how they used and abused women.

  'He used to tell me how he loved me,' said Resbit.

  'Did he?' said Yen Olass.

  'He said I had the most beautiful body he'd ever seen.’

  'You do have a nice body,' said Yen Olass.

  But there was a catch in her voice as she said it. She remembered the slave women who used to be brought in to entertain Lord Alagrace from time to time in his quarters in Karling Drask in Gendormargensis. Sometimes, encountering Yen Olass, one of those women would engage her in gossip which pretended to be casual, but which was in fact calculated to gouge out information about Lord Alagrace.

  In this way, Yen Olass had learnt how Lord Alagrace, with his subtle and generous language, had managed to convince even these most experienced professionals that they were valued, that they were honoured, that they were, indeed, surely on the verge of becoming a permanent part of his entourage. Yen Olass remembered some of the reports which had come to her. 'He said nobody had ever done that for him before.' 'He said I made him feel young.' 'He said he would remember our night together forever

  Yen Olass kissed Resbit, and hoped she would never be confronted with Elkor Alish, who, by this time, surely had some other woman with him.

  'Hold my hand, Yen Olass.’

  Resbit reached out, and Yen Olass took her hand. Again Yen Olass yawned. She wondered about Lord Alagrace. She presumed that he must have died in the gorge, fighting against Chonjara's soldiers; doubtless she would have heard the full story if she had not managed to escape so quickly. She wondered what Lord Alagrace had thought of as he died. Had he thought of any of those gentle women, so vulnerable to his lies? Doubtless they had told him their own lies, had counterfeited pleasure and mimicked orgasm to boost his ego, had stroked his aging body and whispered that they loved him…

  But that was the way of it… for their own safety, the powerless m
ust pretend to enjoy their slavery, hiding resentment, conjuring up a false enthusiasm to conceal a weary apathy, bowing and kowtowing and practising deferential manners of speech lest they be thought uppity. The deceptions of slavery were not pleasant, but captive women did not choose their own condition…

  Vaguely, Yen Olass wondered why the bed was not soaking wet. The waters broke… when? At the start, she had thought. But obviously she was wrong. Or not yet right… or…

  Or the fire was… floating…

  Floating gently on waves of fatigue, Yen Olass slipped off to sleep.

  ***

  Elkordansk Talshnek Branador was born at dawn with a caul over his face. Yen Olass broke the sac immediately, slicing it open with the tip of one of her steel fingernails, and her hands received Branador into the world. She had opened a single shutter to provide light enough to work by.

  'It's a boy,' said Yen Olass. 'Of course it is,' said Resbit.

  Branador drew his first breath. Yen Olass waited for a wailing cry. But there was none. She lifted Branador onto his mother's abdomen, and saw, by the dim light, Resbit smiling in something like glory.

  'Are you tired?' said Yen Olass, wondering at the enthusiasm she saw in that face.

  'Not now,' said Resbit.

  Yen Olass touched the silvery blue umbilical cord, and started as she felt it pulsing. Despite all their rehearsals, she was confused as to what she should do now. Tie it off straight away? Or leave it?

  'Can you get me some more water?’

  'The cord…’

  'That can wait.’

  Yen Olass fetched more water, and Resbit drank it down. Yen Olass felt her own child kick in her womb. More than once, she had been kicked awake by the strong, aggressive, lusty life now perfecting its vigour within her body.

  'He looks just like Elkor,' said Resbit, scanning the face of her child.

  'That's nice,' said Yen Olass, without much enthusiasm.

  Yen Olass, feeling exhausted, recalled the events of that night. She had slept only for a small part of it. The rest had been spent stoking the fire, cooking a little rice for Resbit, finding a bowl big enough to use as a chamber pot when Resbit was too scared to step out into the night to void her bladder, comforting Resbit when she was in pain, massaging her back… then gently supporting Elkordansk Branador as he passed through the gate between the world of fishes and the world of men.