The women and the warlords coaaod-3

by Hugh Cook

  The afterbirth emerged into the world, looking like something from an offal shop. Yen Olass let it be. She touched the child, gently, curious to find him so warm, so slippery, so quiet.

  The bed was an unholy mess, soaked with amniotic fluid which had been trapped until the caul was broken. There was also a moderate amount of blood, though not enough to scare Yen Olass, who had seen enough battlefield butchery to know a little goes a long way. However, no excrement had been pushed out along with the baby, which was hardly surprising considering that Resbit had been cleaned out by diarrhoea during the two days before her labour began.

  Yen Olass made up a new bed for Resbit. By the time she was finished, the umbilical cord had stopped pulsing, and was cool and limp. Yen Olass tied it off securely in two places with lengths of string, then cut between them. Then she helped Resbit and her child move to the new bed.

  'What would you like now?' said Yen Olass.

  But Resbit needed nothing from her. Resbit was cradling Elkordansk in her arms, and he was feeding. For the moment, he was all she had eyes for.

  ***

  While Resbit fed her son for the first time, Yen Olass decided to clean up properly.

  Opening the door, Yen Olass was assaulted by Pelaki, who was overjoyed to see her. Pigs are as affectionate and as intelligent as dogs, only more so. Yen Olass scratched Pelaki behind the ears, then betrayed him by dragging him away and shutting him up in House One; she was very tired, and did not think she could cope if Resbit got traumatized by the vigorous attack of an energetic young

  Pig-

  The lake was pale in the early morning light; the sun was still burning away a little mist. Yen Olass threw all the soiled bedding into the lake, and washed it, then hung it up to dry on a rope spread between the trees. Then she started to fetch in more wood for House Two.

  On her return from her second trip to the woodpile, she was startled by a silent apparition standing between her and the door to House Two. It was a gnarled green monster with gill slits, a massive neck, skin that was hard and almost chitinous, a knotted complexity of tendons, muscles and raised ridges at the groin. Caught out in the open, at the limits of her strength, bleary with fatigue, Yen Olass started and dropped the wood the was carrying.

  'P'tosh,' said the monster. 'P'tosh, and the cat went miaow.’

  Remembering, Yen Olass blushed. 'P'tosh, Hor-hor-hurulg-murg,' said Yen Olass. 'There is blood on your face. Are you hurt?' 'No, it's a…’

  Yen Olass knew no Galish word for 'blush', and so invented one, 'mara-lalisk', meaning 'blood-smile'. This conveyed nothing to Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.

  'There is blood on your face,' he said. 'Has there been a killing?’

  Doubtless he saw her fatigue. And saw the bedding hanging up, slowly dripping water – obviously some kind of cleansing had taken place.Yen Olass wet one of her fingers and rubbed her face.

  'The other side,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.

  He indicated on his own face. Yen Olass scraped a little dried blood from her cheek.

  'A little goes a long way,' said Yen Olass. 'This is not from a death, but from a birth.’

  'How is your child, then?’

  'Not mine. Mine isn't for… for sixty days or so.' 'Resbit's child, then.’

  'Resbit's child is fine. Come in. I shouldn't keep you standing out here. Come in, there's smoked fish. Do you like smoked fish?’

  Hor-hor-hurulg-murg hesitated, not wanting to intrude jsn a mother with her newborn, which was an offence against Melski custom, and not wanting to refuse hospitality, which was an equally serious offence.

  'Let's go and pull the longlines first then,' said Yen Olass, thinking that maybe the Melski did not eat smoked fish.

  The job was soon done. With fresh fish cleaned and gutted, they went into House Two. Resbit and her man-child were asleep in each other's arms. Yen Olass cooked fish, moving very slowly, for she was very tired; Hor-hor-hurulg-murg wanted to help, but custom made that impossible.

  'Thank you for your hospitality,' said the Melski, when they had eaten. T must go now, I have others to meet. My people are scouting west. But I will return soon, then we will talk.’

  'We will be pleased to talk with you,' said Yen Olass, too far gone to care what they might talk about.

  They bowed, and parted. And Yen Olass, feeling absolutely ragged, curled up beside Resbit. And slept, like the dead.

  ***

  Elsewhere, inside House One, a pig by the name of Pelaki snoozed in a comfortable glow of contentment. Between washing the bedding and fetching the firewood, Yen Olass had found time to open the door to House One and throw in the afterbirth, and this little short pig had greatly enjoyed that bit of long pig. Doubtless revenge had something to do with it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  In the days that followed, the two women learnt what had happened in the south. The army laying siege to Castle Vaunting had been destroyed by madness. Leaving madness guarding the castle, the garrison had marched away to the east. There were rumours to say that they had conquered more Collosnon troops at the High Castle in Trest by another application of madness. After that, their movements were not known. They had disappeared.

  'But where could they have gone?' said Yen Olass.

  'Who knows?' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'As it is, the land around Lorford now lies waste. There will be nobody there to trade with the Galish convoys when they start to arrive next year.’

  'If they start to arrive,' said Yen Olass, knowing full well that no Galish convoys had reached Lake Armansis all through the summer and autumn.

  'They will,' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg. 'Rumours of war will have frightened them, but this trade route is too valuable to be abandoned forever.’

  'What about the Collosnon?' said Resbit. 'Won't they come back?’

  'The soldiers, those who survived, all withdrew to Skua on the coast of Trest. We think most have gone back to Tameran, leaving only a garrison at Skua.’

  'But Skua's only a fishing village,' said Resbit, remembering the talk of people who had been there. 'What can they want with that?’

  'It's important so they can go home and say they conquered part of Argan,' said Yen Olass. 'That's much better than going home defeated.’

  Having outlined the situation, the Melski got down to business. They wanted to build a trading post here by Lake Armansis. When the Galish convoys came through, the Melski wanted Yen Olass and Resbit to help them as translators, and, more importantly, as ears and eyes.

  'As interpolators,' said Yen Olass, using an Eparget word which nobody else understood.

  'What are interpolators?' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.

  'People who help with big things and little, as needed,' said Yen Olass, practising her diplomacy.

  Yen Olass had no objection to being a Melski spy. What she did not know was that the trading post was just one part of a far-ranging plan. The Melski, believing that their troubles had only started, were determined to establish a small human colony at Lake Armansis to provide them with a permanent pool of agents, spies, assassins and diplomats. Even if Yen Olass had known this, she would still have accepted it.

  When Resbit and Yen Olass had first set up house by the shores of Lake Armansis, their freedom had been exhilarating. Nevertheless, even during the most idyllic moments of summer, they had always been aware how vulnerable they were to sickness or injury – or any strangers who managed to infiltrate the forest without being stopped by the Melski.

  Now, with winter approaching, their need to belong to a community was becoming more and more obvious. One child already meant a lot of work. Two children would prove a heavy burden, even if they were granted unlimited supplies; as it was, sooner or later – toward the end of winter or the beginning of spring – their stores of food would run out, and they would have to forage to eat.

  A way of life which had seemed delightful in the good weather, when they had plenty of looted food stashed away, now seemed increasingly impractical and, indeed, dangerous. T
hey were glad to see the Melski establishing themselves in the area. If they had to be members of a community, the company of Melski was preferable to that of humans, for Melski males would never dream of interfering in the private arrangements of two human females, whereas to any man the two women would represent at least a temptation, if not an outright challenge. Winter came.

  The Melski lived in mud-daubed huts while they worked on permanent buildings for the trading post. Yen Olass and Resbit had felled the logs for House Two in the spring, when the wood is full of sap and moisture; the Melski explained that this would encourage rot and warping. The Melski felled their own logs in the cold weather, when the trees were scarcely alive, and the wood was dry with its food value at a minimum.

  'A dead tree is a dead tree,' said Yen Olass, convinced that it made no difference; House Two was certainly showing no signs of falling apart.

  While the work of tree-felling was still going on, Yen Olass gave birth to her child. Her labour was very different from Resbit's. Early on, her waters burst with an audible gush which startled her, since she had never heard that such a thing was possible. She thought this might signal a swift labour, but her child was not born for a day and a night.

  Long before the end of her labour, she was screaming with pain, exhaustion and utter frustration. Then the head of her child began to emerge, and, as she panted, it slithered out in a spectacular sprint to the open air.

  Yen Olass felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was out! Her labour was over!

  Her child started bawling.

  'A girl,' said Resbit.

  'Let me see her,' said Yen Olass.

  Finding herself, after all that pain and all those long hours of exhaustion, animated by an intense curiosity. The child was heavy and wet and slippery. She looked very much like Yen Olass, except that her eyes were a startling gold.

  'Bring me a burning stick,' said Yen Olass. 'A what?’

  'A burning stick!' commandend Yen Olass. Resbit hesitated, then obeyed.

  'You're not goint to hurt her, are you?' said Resbit.

  'No,' said Yen Olass, without much conviction.

  If the child was blind, she was going to strangle it. She watched the child's eyes as she waved a burning brand in front of its face. The eyes did not follow the movement of the flame. Yen Olass handed the stick back to Resbit, who tossed it into the fire. The child screamed senselessly.

  'What are you going to call her?' said Resbit.

  'It's going to be buried without a name,' said Yen Olass, her throat choking up.

  'What are you talking about?’

  'It's blind!’

  'Yen Olass, they don't see properly when they're born. Now you just lie back. You should feed her. Look, she's got a chin just like the emperor!’

  Yen Olass looked, but could see no resemblance at all. This was not Khmar's child. This was some kind of demon spawn conjured into her body by the wishing machine which had hurt her.

  'It's just as well she doesn't have the emperor's eyebrows,' said Resbit, prattling on. 'You wouldn't want to wish that on a girl! Now I've got to feed my little hero. Put the child to your breast, Yen Olass. What's her name? What're you going to call her?’

  'I'll think about it,' said Yen Olass.

  For the first few days, Yen Olass was intensely suspicious of her child, expecting it to turn into a frog or an old woman or something equally hideous.

  But the female infant proved to be vigorously human. She was a lusty, aggressive child, bawling for food and attention, savaging the breast when she was given suck,

  and, though at first she spent much of her time asleep, still managing to disrupt the nights with her demands. And she was so messy! Pissing and shitting and dribbling and snorting snot and burping up milk.

  On the tenth day, Yen Olass decided her child had shown enough humanity to deserve a human name.

  Tm going to call her Monogail,' said Yen Olass.

  T still like Valadeen better,' said Resbit.

  'No, she's going to be Monogail, because she's a true child of my homeland.’

  And Yen Olass hugged her child, her very own skinned rabbit which she herself had brought into the world.

  Slowly, she began to learn to take pleasure in her child. As she grew to be at ease with her infant, breastfeeding itself became pleasurable, bringing her, at times, secret swollen pleasures reminiscent of the sexual gratification of the flesh; wondering, with a little bit of guilt, if she was abnormal, she kept silent about this, being far too shy to discuss it with Resbit.

  Sometimes, snuggling down in the warmth of her bed, she felt infinitely contented, thinking herself, for a moment, all-nourishing earth mother, fulfilled by producing, bringing forth, nourishing and mothering.

  However, even though her rapport with her child was steadily developing, these earth mother moods did not last. Children were just too much hard work for anyone to be starry-eyed about them for long.

  Fortunately the Melski females, appreciating that help might be welcome, and doubtless curious about the raising of human babies, came in and helped out with the household tasks. Yen Olass could not imagine how women coped when they had a newborn baby plus one or more young children plus a house to run and a man to feed, and clothes to make and shopping to do, and maybe an aged parent to look after as well.

  The weather closed in. Forced to stay home and look after Monogail, Yen Olass was not free to go on long tramps through the winter forest. She found herself increasingly trapped inside House Two. It was dark; the fire smoked; the wind discovered chinks in their amateurish walls, and came whistling in. The fire smoked; the one room filled with smoke and the smells of cooking and damp mildewed clothing. Two women, two babies and a pig: at times, when there were two voices crying, two shouting and one squealing, it was utter chaos. Yen Olass felt trapped.

  Though at times she felt she really loved Monogail, at other times she wished the steel flower had given her a pig instead – a pig already cooked, with an apple in its mouth. Then at least everyone would have got one good meal out there in the wilderness of the Valley of Forgotten Dreams.

  More and more, she appreciated the presence of the Melski. They were great talkers, when they loosened up. From perfecting her command of Galish, Yen Olass went on to learn the language of the Melski, a complicated tongue with seven different levels of formality and eighty-three variations of the word 'you'. Yen Olass had an acute, disciplined brain, a lifetime of language-learning behind her, a desire to communicate, and long dark hours in which she could revise her lessons. She made good progress.

  Resbit, on the other hand, made no effort to learn the native language of the Melski. Speaking Estral and the Galish Trading Tongue, she thought of herself as highly cultivated already. In many ways, Resbit thought of the Melski as animals. Instead of studying, Resbit spent hours talking to the babies. She loved them without reservation. She was in her element. Love with Yen Olass had been a game: this was life.

  Yen Olass, unable to share this enthusiasm, resigned herself to captivity, and waited for the spring.

  ***

  Working between spells of bad weather, the Melski had finished the trading post by the time spring came. It stood on the lakeside half a league to the south of House One: a stockaded establishment complete with lodging house, warehouse, a corral for any animals that travellers brought with them, and a wharf leading out into the lake. Yen Olass and Resbit were suitably impressed.

  'For people who never work with wood,' said Yen Olass, 'you've done very well.’

  'What do you think our rafts are made of?' said Hor-hor-hurulg-murg.

  He was, to say the least, offended. Yen Olass apologized, but it was a whole day before relations between them were back to normal. Yen Olass understood this as proof that the Melski accepted her as one of their own. She was no longer an outsider, for whom excuses can be made; she was one of the people, and should know better than to condescend to a full-grown Melski male.

  That spring, Yen Ol
ass was free to roam the forests again, with Monogail slung papoose-style on her back. When it was warm enough to venture into the water, the Melski taught the women how to find shellfish beds where they could dive for fresh-water clams. They refurbished their old traps, and made new ones, kept a lookout for any deer unwary enough to venture near House Two, and fished. Birds mated and nested; Resbit and Yen Olass stole eggs for their babies.

  Yen Olass found her spirits revived as the weather warmed. Her child was more lovable when she was squad -dling on the beach instead of lying in a dark smoke-filled room bawling her eyes out. Yen Olass began to make plans for her. Monogail would be a translator, and a trader. She would raise scores of pigs and teach slaves how to hunt with them. She would hold the truffle-trading monopoly for all of Penvash…

  Yen Olass did not speak of these plans, but Resbit boasted shamelessly about what her son would do when he grew up.

  'Branador's going to be a hero,' she said, teasing his little 317

  thing. 'With this sword, among others. Maybe he'll marry Monogail. Would you like that, Yen Olass? You can be his mother-in-law.’

  'He'll have to be tough to stand up to me,' said Yen Olass.

  Resbit smiled fondly.

  T mean it,' said Yen Olass, and she did.

  No man was going to bully her daughter, or turn her into a household slave. She was certain of that.

  ***

  Toward the end of spring, the Melski told the women that four travellers had passed through Estar earlier in the year – the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst and companions named Blackwood, Miphon and Ohio, who were, respectively, a woodsman, a wizard and a pirate. They had come from Trest, and were heading south, hunting Elkor Alish, who was said to have command of a world-destroying power known as the death-stone.