Women of Power

by C. R. Daems

  Mastal grunted in agreement. "Obviously, the king's death emboldened the tribes to attack. What's strange is they attacked the province capitals this time. They must know those cities are too well fortified to breach and have large armies to defend them."

  "I agree with you, and, to my dismay, Wenrich." Sandar sighed. "We can't let these attacks go unanswered. Qi'Nisha, do you have any thoughts for me?"

  I opened my eyes. "Your Grace, my words to you are always as your Qi'advisor. Several conclusions seem obvious, but they should be confirmed with specific information: the sizes of tribes on previous and latest raids and the specific dates of each attack on each city or town."

  "Why?" Sandar and Harkin asked simultaneously.

  "What I heard suggests Sobek was the target. The other raids were intended merely to draw the Rhybac armies out of position, so they couldn't prevent the attack on Sobek or hinder the tribes' subsequent escape back to the Sands." I paused, awaiting comments. When none came, I continued. "We need to know the previous and current size of tribe attacks, because it's probable that two or more tribes joined to attack each city. If those two conjectures are verified, then the tribes have united under a strong leader, a king in our terms."

  "I had considered the possibility that the Scepter was taken as part of a conspiracy." Mastal got up and poured wine, handing each man a full glass.

  "Possibly," I said. "But we have no evidence of that. I think the evidence suggests the tribes have a new leader, and taking the Scepter was a deliberate act intended to elicit some specific response. If my observations are correct, the choice of a king is critical, as he'll shape Rhybac's response, and that could save or doom the kingdom.

  "If qi'Nisha is correct and someone has united the tribes, they may well out number us. Sending a large force into their lands could prove a disaster," Harkin said. The discussion continued well into the evening.

  * * *

  The next morning Kamal once again led me to the meeting chamber. Wenrich paced at the head of the table as we all seated ourselves, silently appraising each other. Once everyone else was seated, Wenrich grasped the back of his chair, bracing himself as he leaned forward. "The time for action is now, while the tribes are celebrating their victories. We cannot delay anymore. We must decide on a leader. Everyone votes, the winner is the permanent king." His jaw muscles were rigid.

  Sandar steepled his hands and nodded. "There is much to what you say, but qi'Nisha believes the size of the attacks indicates the tribes have been united. They're no longer small tribes raiding our outlying towns."

  Wenrich glared at him. "Nonsense. What proof does she have?"

  "We need to take a hard look at the timing of each raid and the numbers involved, seeing if one or several tribes were involved," Sandar said. "That will prove it one way or the other."

  "I had wondered at the numbers as well," Duke Tebos said. "Let's compare notes and find out."

  Wenrich threw himself into his seat with a grimace. "Very well. It's a waste of time, but we may as well get this out of the way."

  This time the dukes were more specific, giving the day and time of the attack, length of the battle, and direction the tribe took when they retreated. By evening, everyone agreed: more than one tribe was involved in each raid, there was no attempt to gain entrance to the castles, and the tribes fled away from Sobek, except at Inwood. There the tribes had made a sustained attack that froze the army in place for two days, allowing the Sobek group to get by unobstructed.

  "All right, we agree with qi'Nisha. They're united and the object was the Royal Scepter. Why? And so what? All the better. We can catch them all together and wipe them out once and for all." Wenrich pounded the table.

  Tebos ignored the outburst. "Qi'Senka suggests they have a new leader. If that's correct, we need a plan of action, but that doesn't require a king. And forcing a vote on a new king could result in a civil war." He paused and shook his head "How big an army were you suggesting, Wenrich?"

  "Three thousand should be enough. Why?"

  "Qi'Senka has calculated the approximate number of attackers at close to five thousand. That doesn't count any that remained in the Sands or were kept in reserve and never seen."

  "Qi'Nisha agrees with qi'Senka. They may hope we would underestimate their strength and attack to retrieve the Royal Scepter," Sandar said.

  "Are you saying I'm reckless, Sandar?" Wenrich stood, his face flushed.

  "Wenrich, are you saying that sending three thousand troops into the Sands to face an army of tribesmen at least five thousand strong is a reasonable response?"

  Wenrich surveyed the people around the table. "Then we'll send six thousand. They're only savages and on foot. We're wasting time." He glared at Sandar and Tebos in turn.

  "I suggest we adjourn for the night and take tomorrow to think about it. Perhaps then we'll have clearer minds. I know the Qi'advisors have given me cause for concern and reason to consider our options carefully," Duke Fabiao said. Everyone but Wenrich nodded agreement and the meeting ended.

  As I walked out of the room, qi'Senka joined me.

  "Tebos and I thought you needed a little help. Wenrich is looking to pull Sandar into a fight and eliminate you from the discussions. Your insight that the tribes are organized under one leader has given Wenrich's supporters cause for concern."

  "Tebos trapped Wenrich nicely. The Sands leader's a shrewd man. Had Wenrich become king and run off with three thousand troops and they were defeated, the kingdom would have been weakened and somewhat vulnerable," I said, glad that Tebos had put qi'Senka under contract. If the tribesmen's strength assessment had come from Sandar, it wouldn't have had the same impact. It would have looked like bickering between the two dukes. I'd learned another lesson about the outside world: being right didn't mean winning.

  * * *

  The next morning, I woke early and decided to take Windrunner for ride outside the castle. The weather was perfect. The air had a slight chill and very little wind.

  I breathed in the scent of hay and horse sweat as I pushed the stable doors open. A stable boy retrieved my tack and saddled Windrunner. He'd been brushed and shone like black silk. I mounted and walked him to the castle gate, where the soldiers on duty opened it and saluted as I exited. I was tempted to stop at several of the artisans' workshops along the way, but Windrunner needed the exercise. I'd been taught how things were made, from weapons to jewelry, but actually seeing them made were different—like reading about the heat of a fire and putting your hand into one.

  Near the main gate, the shops displayed more everyday necessities: clothes of coarse hemp and wool versus silk and cotton, baskets of beans and vegetables, and pikes and staves instead of swords. The gate stood open, soldiers busy collecting fees.

  Once in the open, I let Windrunner set his own easy pace through the small farms that lay only a few leagues from the fortress. Soon I found myself in open grassland of rolling hills, and I let Windrunner stretch his stride into a gallop. After a long run, he slowed to a walk and stopped. I dismounted and walked him, admiring the distant view of the city, the surrounding walls, and the castle, which sat on a hill dominating the city like a giant gray sentinel.

  A road wound through the hills like a brown river with streams of people carried toward the city along with a dozen carts, probably farmers on their way to the market.

  As I watched, three riders left the road and cut across the hills in my direction. They wore the black and orange of Iovis. Windrunner had probably left them well behind when I took him to a gallop.

  As they got nearer, I recognized Sergeant Lazar. He pulled up a few paces away and sat looking down at me with hate so strong I could feel it pulsing against me. I shuddered.

  "Well, men, the doxy is waiting to show us a good time. I don't blame her, that old man Sandar can't be much in bed," he said as he and the other two men dismounted.

  I stood quietly, my feet like the roots of a tree, sucking Qi from the ground around me.

  "No
thing to say, doxy? If you don't want those clothes ripped, I'd suggest you strip now." His crotch began to bulge with excitement.

  "Did your arrogant duke send you or are you seeking revenge because I injured your pride?"

  "What do you think? The duke wants Sandar dead and you punished for embarrassing him. Raping you will help accomplish both." His gaze stripped me as he smirked. The two troopers with him were rubbing their crotches and grinning.

  "If you don't tell him, I'll make sure he hears of it, or maybe I'll have to rape you again." Lazar laughed, and stepped toward me. I raised my hand, expanding a shield of Qi until it touched his chest, slowing his forward momentum. He stopped, smiled, and then pushed harder, slowly advancing and compressing my Qi shield like a giant spring.

  "That's right, doxy, you can't stop me." As he struggled forward, sweat beaded on his forehead. He stopped, wiped his sleeve across his forehead, and laughed. "The more you fight the more fun it will be—for me."

  I had to make a choice. I'd never killed or even thought of it, but if I let him rape me, bloodshed would follow. Who knew how many would die? Very possibly Sandar and Mastal. Wenrich would become king, and it was obvious he was not a wise choice. I didn't want to use Qi to kill but... The choice was now Lazar's.

  "Sergeant Lazar, you're two steps away from dying."

  He roared with laughter, drew his sword, and lunged at me.

  I'd debated too long. My Qi slowed the sword, but not enough, and cold steel ripped through sleeve and skin. I gasped as the pain scorched my arm, staggered backward, tripped, and lost the shield holding Lazar. He landed on me, knocking the breath out of me.

  He leaned back, straddling me with his knees, and laid his sword at my throat. I felt warm blood trickle down my neck.

  Laughing, he grabbed the collar of my shirt, ripped it open, and jammed his hand down my pants.

  I cleared my mind and began desperately reaching for Qi and greedily pulling it into me. Time ceased to exist for me, lost in the ecstasy of Qi as it flowed through every fiber of my body.

  The weight on my chest brought me back to cold reality. Lazar lay on me without moving—his sword across my chest, face against my neck, chest on mine, and hand on my genitals. I gagged.

  "Come on, sergeant, fuck her and let us have our turn," one of the soldiers said.

  Lazar wasn't moving. When I looked at his face, it was pale and his eyes looked dead. I tried to push him off, but he was too heavy. Using my training to calm myself, I used my stored Qi and pushed. Lazar rolled off me like a passed-out drunk. I scrambled to my feet and backed away.

  "She killed him!" the nearest man shouted and took a step toward me. I raised a hand and extended a small amount of Qi. His eyes grew wide, and he stumbled backward. When he did, his horse jerked the reins from his hand. The other man swung into the saddle and galloped toward town. The remaining man lunged, grabbing the reins, scrambled into the saddle, and raced after his friend.

  When I looked at Lazar, his face and arms were a pasty white, his skin wrinkled and shrunken over nothing more than bones. I gagged. In my panic to gather Qi, I had unintentionally sucked the life out of a human. In a fog, I managed to tear off my sleeve and wrap the cut on my arm. Holding my shirt closed, I mounted Windrunner and walked him into town.

  The guards at the city walls' gates gave me strange looks but didn't stop me as I rode past.

  The smell of horses, cooking, and the sweat of the people in the street combined to make me want to heave. I wiped the sweat off my face. There had to be an apothecary somewhere in town. Sometime later, I found a mortar-and-pestle sign hanging in front of a shabby little building. I climbed slowly from the saddle. Leaving Windrunner untied, I entered the small shop.

  Unlike the outside of the building, the inside was tidy and clean. A large table sat in the middle of the room, shelves of bottles and jars lined the walls, and medical paraphernalia arranged on a small table in the rear.

  "Can I help you...Mistress?" A small gray-haired man looked at me from over wire-rimmed spectacles, his eyebrows climbing to near his hairline.

  "Yes, Master...?"

  "Oberon."

  "Master Oberon, if you could look at my arm." I unwrapped the bloody cloth to expose the gash.

  Oberon carefully inspected the cut, quietly mumbling to himself... "Tea tree oil, myrtle leaves, lemon grass, witch hazel, maybe aloe vera gel..." He pursed his lips. "Yes, it's deep and requires sewing up as well as a poultice. It will cost two silvers and be painful. For another silver, I have some poppy seeds which will help to relieve the pain."

  "No, I can manage the pain. I have no money on me, but I will bring it to you tomorrow. I'm with Duke Sandar's party."

  He frowned, inspecting me up and down, and then looked out the door. "So you say, but how do I know you'll return?"

  "Would someone who can't afford two silver ride such a horse?" I had to smile.

  He tilted his head as he looked at Windrunner and nodded. "Wait here." After a moment, he returned with several jars and a box from the rear table. He cleaned the wound, made a poultice from compounds in the jars, and sewed the cut closed. I'd been lucky. Had not the Qi slowed the sword, it would have cut through to the bone.

  "I'm in your debt, Master Oberon. I'll see you paid tomorrow. As you can see, I'm also in need of a shirt. Can you recommend anyone?"

  "Yes, Mistress. Master Zubin, the blacksmith's wife, makes clothes. They aren't fancy, but they are well made. His forge is only a few minutes down the road on the left."

  I left the shop and easily found the sign, displaying a sword and a knife. I dismounted and led Windrunner over to the forge.

  "Can I help you?" He was a massive man with bare arms that rippled with muscle. His forehead dripped sweat and his leather apron was covered with coal dust.

  "Master Zubin?"

  "Yes."

  "As you can see, I'm in need of a shirt. Master Oberon recommended your wife."

  "Elise!" Zubin wiped his forehead while inspecting Windrunner. "Nice horse. You from the castle?"

  "Yes, I'm with Duke Sandar's party. I took Windrunner out this morning for exercise and was attacked. I managed to get away."

  Elise bustled over as I explained, leaving out the messy details.

  "You were lucky, Mistress, if there were three. Come I'll see if we can find something you like. They're not fancy, but they're sturdy." Elise led me into a cottage behind the smithy. Off to the side of the main room, she had an alcove with cotton cloth of all colors. A variety of shirts and skirts lay folded on a table.

  She took a few measurements and promised she would have a shirt and pants ready in a few hours. I decided to wait. After I explained I was a Qi'advisor, Master Zubin agreed to let me watch him work on a short dagger. As he worked, he explained the process and what affected the quality of the work.

  At lunch, Elise pushed a bowl of boiled beans and flat bread into my hands and insisted I eat with them. Seasoned with salt, pepper and a bit of ham fat, the meal was much like at home. As I spooned up the simple fare, we traded stories about my life at the Qi'temple and theirs in Inari. The sun had just begun to set and the clouds were streaked with oranges and reds when I mounted Windrunner. I smiled, thinking of the strange paths life took and how much I'd enjoyed the afternoon. A simple meal and the company of common folk had taken a foul taste of earlier from my mouth.

  A guard on the castle wall gave a short blast on his horn as I rode into the shadows of the gate. The two guards at the gate smiled and saluted me. I had no sooner dismounted than Dinesh strode up.

  "It's a relief to see you, qi'Nisha. I saw Lazar and two privates follow you out the gate. When the two came back alone, they wouldn't talk about it. Said they needed to report to their officer. We were later informed you'd killed Sergeant Lazar, and an Iovis detail left to pick him up.

  "I went along, hoping to find you on the way. We returned with Lazar's body several hours ago." He gave me a glance that I took to mean he'd seen the condition
of the body. "Duke Sandar wanted to send a detail out to search for you. I managed to stop him. Told him we'd looked for you, and it would be best to wait until tomorrow, since it would soon be dark. Where have you been...if you don't mind me asking?"

  As he talked, I saw Duke Sandar and Mastal coming at nearly a run from the castle.

  "I had a few things I needed to take care of on my way back. Nothing serious."

  The duke's face was grim. "Where have you been? They said you killed Lazar. What happened? Did he—" He stopped when I held up my hand.

  "Your Grace, I killed Lazar, and I'm fine. I would prefer we discuss it after the evening meal. For now, I'm in need of a wash and rest." This incident could turn into a full-fledged fight, perhaps even a civil war. Possibly the issue could be resolved short of that. I would try.

  Sandar didn't look pleased, but he nodded, so I bowed and led Windrunner to the stable.

  * * *

  Kamal knocked a couple hours later, alerting me to the evening meal. I'd washed and sat meditating in preparation for what I knew was going to be a perilous dinner. I let Kamal lead me to the main dining room, since it gave him such obvious pleasure, arriving along with the last few people but before Wenrich, who was consistently last.

  I stood silent behind my seat awaiting Wenrich's entrance. When he entered, a small smile danced on his lips.

  "Qi'Nisha, I've two witnesses that say you lured sergeant Lazar out of the castle and killed him." He reached his chair but stayed standing. Today he wore a sword, and his hand lay casually on the hilt. I gave a small bow in Wenrich's direction.

  "Interesting story, Your Grace. If I lured Sergeant Lazar out of the castle, I also had to have lured the two privates, yet they are alive. Are they claiming they are cowards who failed to come to the aid of their sergeant?" I paused. When Wenrich didn't reply, I continued. "Sergeant Lazar also had an interesting story, which is slightly different. He said you authorized him to attack and rape me, to force Duke Sandar into attacking him. When that happened, he could justify killing him, and his son when he sought revenge."