by Dana Marton
They both recognized me, mouths falling agape one moment, and then the next, that old hate sparked anew in their eyes. The house guards must have gone off to fight on the street, or Kumra would have called for them by now. Only by their absence was I spared.
“What are you doing here?” She spat the words, her gaze cutting to my very present and towering guards, then back to me. “Batumar has perished. You have perished with him.”
I forced false cheer into my voice. “We but sailed through the hardstorms to bring home a liberating army.”
A long moment of complete silence stretched between us, the servants watching wide-eyed, barely daring to breathe.
“You lie.” Kumra’s expression shimmered with rage. She looked as if she would like nothing more than to fly at me and claw my face. Her gaze darted to my guards once again as she seethed. “Captain Rapter would never surrender his city. He is a strong lord, and Khan Verik is even stronger. He is to come here and soon.”
Triumph glinted in her eyes. I had no doubt she meant to seduce the new khan and had visions of sitting by his side on some golden throne in Karamur. She did have a skill for manipulating men.
“Captain Rapter is dead,” I told her. And since I no longer had to explain myself to Kumra, I did not give her any details. “Make sure a room is prepared for Lord Batumar and me. And for Prince Graho of Landria.”
Keela’s eyes rounded comically large as she gasped next to her mother. “A prince?”
I ignored her. “Lord Tahar’s private quarters will do.”
“The three of you?” Kumra’s expression turned sly.
“Also Lord Karnagh. And two more men will stay with us as well.”
Kumra looked as if she were choking on her own spit.
“More lords and princes?” Keela asked, her voice thick with hope.
I flashed her a cold smile. “A chronicle keeper and an assassin. They both pledged themselves to my service.”
Her face froze, and so did her mother’s. If Kumra had hoped to get to me in the middle of the night, I dashed those hopes most thoroughly.
Yet I could not rejoice in their shock, nor could I spare thought for revenge. I had an exhausted army to care for. “Most of our army will remain in the harbor and the city streets to secure Kaharta Reh. Food needs to be sent out to them. Others will rest at Warrior Hall. Make sure it stands ready to receive them.”
The two women stood as motionless as the wide stone columns behind them, as if unable to catch up with the sudden change in their fortunes. I doubted anyone had ever given Kumra an order in her life. I did not have the time to wait for her to adjust to the notion.
I swept past them with a “You best hurry. There is much to do before my men get here.”
I was glad that Hartz and Atter followed close behind, protecting my back.
Since we had to pass by Warrior Hall, I looked in there and found it a filthy mess. Once I stepped outside, what few servants I found hiding in doorways I sent there to clean. I did not trust Kumra to carry out my earlier instructions.
On a premonition, I hurried to Maiden Hall next, across the yard, and found the door locked. Hartz and Atter made quick work of it, splintering the wood under their boots.
The smell hit us first before our eyes could comprehend the horrific sight. Then our ears were assailed by the cries of the unfortunates.
The round space was filled wall to wall with haggard women and children, unwashed and bruised, tied with ropes in groups of sixes and sevens. Now these were Kadar. Farmers’ daughters by the looks of them, recently captured from their villages farther inland. They were prepared for transport, to be sent up to the holding pens on the mountain, to be sent through our Gate to the slave markets on the mainland.
“Cut them free,” I ordered, but Hartz and Atter were moving already, even before I uttered the words.
“The city is free and so are you.” My voice shook with anger. “Go find food in the kitchen. There is a creek at the end of the field if you want to wash. After that, if you wish to help and are able, do what you can to take care of the liberating army. Help in the kitchen and with serving the food would not be amiss. If you are injured, come to Pleasure Hall.”
I pointed at the door on the opposite wall. “If you see any injured soldiers, lead them there as well. I shall be there later to heal all who need assistance.”
Staying here made more sense than returning to the harbor. At Pleasure Hall, hot water and clean cloth would be available in abundance. Our men could bring any injured soldiers to me here.
As the women cleared out, I carried my gaze around the empty hall, seeing for a moment my first night here, and my good friend Onra. We had both escaped slavery. We had both ended up in Karamur. She married a kind baker. With all the hope in my heart, I hoped she was safe.
I said a quick prayer for her, then down to the creek I went with Atter and Hartz, and we at last filled a water jar with wriggly ninga beetles. Atter carried them back for me, keeping a hand over the jar’s mouth so the shiny, black-winged insects would not escape.
As I opened the door to Pleasure Hall, for a moment I feared I might find more slaves warehoused in place of concubines, but Pleasure Hall stood empty. Only two chambers showed signs of recent occupation: Kumra’s old chamber and another, which I suspected belonged to Keela now. I did not want to think about both mother and daughter serving the Kerghi commander’s bed, so I put the thought from my mind, then went off to find a servant.
“Start cutting up what clean linen you can find for bandages. I will be healing the injured in Pleasure Hall. Make sure everyone knows that the injured men soon arriving are to go there.”
The girl blinked uncertainly but did not dare naysay me. The authority in my voice must have convinced her, because after another moment, she bowed and hurried away.
“I need you to return to the Sword,” I told Atter then. “I need more healing herbs. They are in burlap bags in the captain’s cabin. Bring everything. And pass the word that I am here.”
Atter left with a small bow and an “As you wish, my lady.”
I went to the kitchen next, with Hartz, to seek Talmir, my old friend, who had been the cook the last time I had been here.
“It is sad to see the fields trampled,” Hartz said, looking past the buildings as we walked.
“What did you grow on your land, back before the war?” I asked him.
“Mostly wheat, my lady,” he responded, then added proudly, “I also bred mules. Finest mules in the country.”
We entered the kitchen, but Talmir was not there. Nor could the new cook tell me what had become of the man who had previously prepared the meals. I gave orders for our dinner, making sure the cook understood that neither Kumra nor Keela were allowed around the food that would be served to our army.
On my way back to Pleasure Hall, I kept an eye out for the hateful concubine and her daughter. I preferred to have them where I could see them. I had no doubt that they were already plotting behind my back.
Chapter Nineteen
(Old Enemies)
For the first time in my life, I sat at Lord Tahar’s table for the evening meal. When I had been a servant here, carrying trays and pitchers, never could I have imagined that one day I would sit in the place of honor.
Batumar and Prince Graho sat at the head table as well, along with Boscor, Urdy, Lord Karnagh, and Tomron.
“Those of us who survived being captured with the Shield were locked up with the manyinga,” Tomron was saying in response to a question from the chronicle keeper.
“Thirty-five men.” The words fell heavily from my lips, stones dropping into dark waters. Thirty-five survived out of the hundred who had volunteered. We lost too many brave soldiers. I was humbled by the willing sacrifice of every one of them.
“We resisted to the last moment,” Tomron said, “so the enemy would not suspect a trap.”
Prince Graho rose, cup in hand, to offer a toast. “We had a long day. We fought a bloody ba
ttle—”
“Do not forget herding the manyinga together!” The shout came from one of the back tables where our captains and commanders sat.
Since the room could not hold all our men, the rank-and-file soldiers ate at the trestle tables set up in the courtyard or on their bunks inside Warrior Hall. All but those on guard duty.
“Even if I could forget the herding, I will never forget the smell,” the prince rejoined.
The men laughed. Apparently, the Kerghi had not been fastidious when it came to mucking out the stables. They had taken our animals, but had not taken good care of them.
The manyinga were twice as tall as a horse and ten times as stubborn, but could carry more weight than a team of oxen. We needed them to carry our provisions north with us. Finding them was a true boon and a blessing from the spirits.
“We won,” said the prince with a smile, servant girls watching him moon-eyed from the doorways. “And we will keep on winning. Our army might be small, but it will not be conquered. Our soldiers will not be taken for slaves. When, at the end of our victory, we disband, we will be free men of free countries!”
Cheers rose from all around, the captains stomping their boots in approval.
The kitchen servants hurried in with food, their expressions cautiously relieved. As our troops had not turned to rape, the women accepted at last that they would not be harmed and were truly liberated. Among them, I recognized more than a handful of Kadar women from the group we had freed from Maiden Hall.
I had expected Kumra and Keela to demand seats at the head table, but when they had come to me before the feast, they begged to be allowed to serve. The sudden change in them was too drastic to be trusted.
“Forgive us.” Kumra had inclined her head to me and pinched her daughter when Keela was too slow to do the same. “You have the unwavering protection of the greatest Kadar warlord, Batumar. You have powers not given to ordinary women. The rest of us must survive on our cunning. We are at the mercy of men who are stronger than us many times over. Do not cast us out. Allow us to serve.”
I did allow them, but only to clean. So now they stood by the wall, their shapeless dresses made of drab linen, their expressions contrite. They were waiting for the feast’s end so they could help the servants clear the plates.
A red-haired servant girl brought us pink runt root in sugar sauce, ladling a generous portion on each of our plates. The captains watched with interest as the head table got served first. They had not likely seen sweets like this since the war had begun or maybe not ever. I doubted many of them had ever before sat at a true lord’s table.
The runt root, oh, that was nicely done—happiness on a plate. The sweet smell brought back my childhood, my mother stirring the sauce over the fire, smiling and singing. Saliva gathered in my mouth as the plate was set in front of me.
I had the spoon halfway to my lips when Batumar’s hand stayed my arm.
I followed his gaze. He was watching Urdy, who had gone still in the process of inhaling the sweet aroma. Then the assassin and the warlord exchanged a quick glance, and Urdy lowered his spoon.
“You, girl.” Batumar pointed at Keela. When she hurried over, a smile spreading on her face, he handed her his plate. “Eat this.”
While I set my spoon down, premonition sending a chill down my spine, Keela’s eyes lit up. She thought she found favor with the warlord and would have a new protector in him. She immediately lowered herself to the ground and sat behind Batumar, at the lord’s feet as would his concubine, and began to eat.
I pushed my plate away. Poison had ever been Kumra’s weapon in the past. I had forbidden her from going near our food, and had even set a guard on her to watch her. I should have had her locked up. But she’d pleaded so sincerely for forgiveness, and I’d had so many other things on my mind…
My gaze sought her out at the back of the room. She was withdrawing step by slow step, slinking away among the serving women.
Batumar’s cold and commanding voice stopped her. “You. Come here.”
A handful of his captains stood and moved to block the doors, understanding that something was amiss. Swords rattled as hard hands descended on their pommels.
Kumra walked forward, head down, the very picture of obedience.
Batumar handed her my plate. “Let me see you eat this. All of it.”
She gripped the plate in a white-knuckled hand while lifting the spoon to her mouth with the other. Both mother and daughter ate in silence. Neither showed sign of poisoning. I relaxed, waiting for the warlord to tell them they could stop.
I was watching Kumra take yet another spoonful of pink root when Keela gave a sharp gasp behind Batumar. As I turned to her, she looked at me, her eyes wide with fear, her hand pressed to her stomach. Her chin wobbled. Her chest heaved, as if she could not quite catch her breath.
“Poisoner.” Boscor gasped the word.
Keela shook her head wildly, already beyond speech.
The clatter of her plate and spoon falling onto the stones rang through the suddenly silent hall. Foamy saliva began dripping from her mouth. Then the foam turned red with blood. She coughed and gasped, collapsing on the floor onto her side, her gaze cutting to her mother, pain and shocked betrayal in her watering eyes.
Batumar turned in his chair, the legs screeching against the stone floor, overpowering for a moment the choking sounds Keela made. My heart beat to the same rhythm as her rapid gasps.
Kumra dropped to her knees then, drawing everyone’s attention, perfect tears of contrition rolling down her cheeks, her plate falling from her trembling hands and spilling its remaining contents at her dainty feet.
“The plot was hers, my lord.” She would not even look at her daughter. “I could not stop her. Have mercy!”
At the flick of Batumar’s wrist, two of our captains strode up behind Kumra and yanked her to her feet. Then, at Prince Graho’s nod, Durak, the commander of his guard, took the prince’s plate and walked around the table with the glistening delicacy.
“Let me go!” Kumra balked at last, struggling against the men who held her. “I am innocent!”
“Hold her tight,” Batumar snapped in a tone that could have frozen a hardstorm in place. His chest heaved with fury, his dark gaze as sharp as his sword, impending violence shimmering around him.
As our men obeyed, Durak forced the syrupy runt root sauce into Kumra’s mouth, every drop of it, regardless how hard she fought. When she tried to spit, Durak sealed her mouth with one hand, then held her nose closed with the other until she swallowed, gasping for air.
I moved to rise without even knowing what I meant to do next, but Batumar put a hand on my thigh and pushed me back down, kept me in my seat.
His cold, forbidding gaze turned on me. “Our people must know that our justice is swift.”
Prince Graho, on my other side, said in a softer voice, “The people must know that we will protect them from all enemies.”
Boscor fidgeted next to the prince. “They brought their punishment on themselves, my lady.”
Batumar let me go. I could have risen then, but I did not.
Durak released Kumra at last. She no longer tried to beg. With hate boiling in her eyes, she spit poison at me.
I wiped the spit off my cheek with my sleeve and watched as her eyes rolled back into her head. As her legs gave out, as the men let her go and she folded, I watched her convulse, then I watched her go still, her mouth frothing with pink, then blood red. I watched justice being served.
When I at last carried my gaze around the room, I found a great many eyes on me. These were my captains, my army, and they looked to me. They needed to see me strong and unshaken.
I hardened my heart as I stood. I steeled my voice. “Death to Khan Verik and all who serve him!”
A deafening cheer rose in the room.
I meant the words. Aside from the threat to my own life, I could have lost Batumar tonight. Our army could have lost its leaders. As I looked out over the room an
d the people within, I knew that I was ready to do whatever it took to fight whoever sought to harm me and mine.
I sat, and Batumar reached for my hand on the table, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my knuckles, a look of love and approval in his eyes.
“How did you know the poison came from Kumra?” I asked him under my breath. When I had lived at the House of Tahar, I had heard tales of Kumra poisoning others, but I did not think Batumar was familiar with her past.
“I watched her face,” Batumar said. “And then too, the servants serving in the Great Hall…our arrival turned their lives for the better. For Kumra and her daughter, it turned for the worse.”
The two lifeless women were carried out. After that, Urdy sniffed and tasted all our food. He assured us that he knew the smell of all poisons and had been sampling them for so long, he was immune to most. Once he was done, he proclaimed that everything but the runt root’s sugar sauce was safe.
The men ate with caution first, then more heartily. They were no strangers to violent death. Neither the attempted poisoning nor Kumra and Keela’s demise shook them. The conversation resumed, the battle for the city retold over and over. At the conclusion of each tale, we raised our cups to victory. Soon the hall filled with cheers and laughter.
Even I relaxed, buoyed by the day’s successes. Hope bloomed in my heart once again. We would win our countries back.
“I like that smile.” Batumar leaned over. “What are you thinking about, my lady?”
“Captain Rapter, the city’s Kerghi commander is hanging from the flagpole. Kumra and Keela are being lowered into the mass grave dug for the Kerghi soldiers. One by one, our enemies are being vanquished. We will not stop until our lands are liberated.”
“Spoken like a war queen.” Batumar grinned. Then he grinned wider.
The playful look in his obsidian eyes made my heart beat faster. “And what are you thinking about, my lord?”
