by Cebelius
Despite the hatred she had always felt, she knew she'd never had any kind of chance at opposing him. She had wanted to even the odds, save her brother, and her people. She had kept it bottled up inside all her life, but she had always hated Vlad. That was why she was now as he had been. She had become the very thing she hated because nothing less would even the playing field. Nothing else would have given her a chance. More than anything she had wanted to take her brother's burden from him, wanted to give him the life he deserved, the life Vlad had stolen.
Now I have what I needed then. Yet my brother is gone ... and my people are dead.
She'd had no time to grieve before. Yuri had needed her, and she had gone to him, been his rock. It had been automatic. It was what she had always done. She had long ago subordinated her own pain, her own anguish, because she knew she would endure what he could not.
She knew her brother well. Just as she did, he would subordinate his feelings to do what he felt was right. But he was on a precipice, and for him, it was only a matter of time.
Mila needed to be there when he finally broke down, but Yuri was gone, and Mila had an irrational certainty that she would never see him again. Vlad had taken everything from her, everything except a chance at revenge. Yuri had taken that, and for a moment she would be ashamed of for the rest of her life, she hated him too.
As the faces of those she'd known and loved flashed through her mind she stifled a sob, and Laina woke.
Without a word, the minotress slid forward on her knees and gathered Mila up in her strong arms. Mila flung herself into that embrace as the dam within her burst, and she cried for all that she had lost. The enormity of it was too much to bear. She had traveled the world, braved dangers far beyond her, all for the sake of saving her people, of helping her brother.
She had failed.
Mila squeezed Laina tight and sobbed. The last time she had cried like this, she had been six years old, scouring the blood and her master's pleasure from between her legs. She had known then that no pain would ever equal what she had gone through in those terrifying moments.
She had been wrong.
"Yuri ... forgive me!" she moaned through her tears. "I tried. I tried so hard!"
Mila lost herself in a whirlwind of agony and regret, but one of the blessings of life was that no pain lasts forever. The mortal mind could only take so much, and at last, the ocean of sadness left her drained, but whole.
She would endure.
Shy was there, and Euryale, and even Halla, though she only sat awkwardly nearby while the others embraced Mila on all sides. None of them asked questions. None of them spoke, or tried to comfort her in any way other than to grant her their nearness, their presence.
Finally, Shy turned Mila's face and kissed her gently, then pressed her forehead to Mila's as she said, "He'll be all right."
"He needs me," Mila sniffled. "I should be there for him."
"Tee will look after him," Shy said tenderly. "He'll see your brother back safe."
Mila took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and chose to believe.
She placed her faith in Terry Mack.
14
Done Dirt Cheap
Yesun Tege bade farewell to the women of the template, and hastened to his own yurt. He waved at the minotaur waiting for him by his front door, and the man entered after him and said without preamble, "The moot is gathering. You'll need to be there quickly if we're to get concessions."
"I will be there. I simply came to drop off my weapons. You know as well as I do that going armed will make the wrong impression."
As Yesun pulled his belt loose and hung it up, the minotaur slipped an arm around his neck from behind and jerked him close. He struggled, but in vain, and it took only a few seconds for him to pass out as Prada expertly duplicated one of Terry's skills. As his mind faded, she stripped him of his memories. She then stripped him of his clothing, carried him to his hammock, and wrapped him in his blanket as though he'd finished his day and gone to sleep.
"By the power that is my body, I compel your slumber until I speak to you again," Prada said, careful to enunciate the words in English. She had devised many spells for herself while in contact with Terry Mack, though without him present the words sounded alien on her tongue.
She felt diminished as the power flowed out of her and took with it some of her size, but she had plenty to spare, and once she was certain it had taken effect she shifted her appearance to match that of Yesun Tege.
The minotaur she had subdued earlier would wake up smelling of beer and she knew he would have no memory of what had happened, but he was the sort to make assumptions. All would be well.
She now had all the memories she needed to attend the moot, and see what was to be done about the tauren.
Dressing in the clothes she'd just stripped off the unconscious minotaur, she left the yurt, assured herself that there was no one in range who might be suspicious that the other man hadn't also come out, and made her way quickly through the carnival toward the council fire where the moot would be held.
As she moved, she thought about what she should do. Terry had limits. Prada did not. Her interests, principally her husband, were threatened, and she knew he would never accept the idea of being 'communal property.'
The objective, therefore, would be to see what could be done as one of the herd leaders at the moot to convince them that Terry Mack was too powerful to control. Failing that, she could at least identify the most recalcitrant herd leaders, and deal with them one at a time.
She noted that the minotresses she passed usually looked after her, and Yesun Tege's memories allowed her to know that he was considered supremely eligible and available. His memories also told her that he very aggressively took advantage of that impression, but had no interest in taking anyone to wife.
He is jealous of Terry's harem though, she mused as she moved. Anyone would be, considering how many powerful and beautiful women he has around him.
Yesun Tege, as it turned out, was a fairly remarkable minotaur with ambitions that ran far beyond his apparent reach. Unlike many herds, the Temujin always kept the most promising of their youths for training in martial skills and the unique history that they considered a birthright. He was influenced by stories handed down among the elders of a template who had once unified the herds and taken them to war in southern lands. Yesun wanted to do something similar, and considered the appearance of Terry Mack to be his opportunity.
How was not something the minotaur had figured out yet, but if the real Yesun Tege were attending the moot, he would argue vehemently for keeping control of Terry at any cost.
A good thing then that I've neutralized him.
She considered killing him rather than waking him up when the moot was over. The kind of ambition the man had would be dangerous, and he was dangerous. Yet he controlled one of the preeminent warrior herds and so was a key figure among the tauren. Did his usefulness outweigh the threat he posed?
She put the thought in abeyance as she rounded the last of the tents, passed under a wide awning that protected high tables at which tauren of both sexes and many herds drank and talked amicably, and saw the council fire in front of her.
Most of the rest of the herd leaders were already in attendance, and several of them nodded impatiently at her as she stepped in close and greeted those Yesun would have greeted.
Full dark had fallen during Terry's fight with Law, and the council fire was more of a bonfire, twelve feet tall and roaring with life. It was one of the few such fires at the carnival, no doubt its wood had been brought in from the forest to the south.
Pleasantries dispensed with, Prada took Yesun's place in the circle, accepted and puffed idly on the pipe that was passed around, expelling the noxious fumes without accepting their intended calming effect, and listened as the subject of her husband was broached and discussed.
As it turned out, there were eight full herds already at the carnival, and four more were within a day's march.
None of those had representatives at the council, but runners had been dispatched already to notify them of the presence of the template.
Prada did not have any natural predisposition to make facial expressions, so it required no effort on her part to hide her annoyance. Even once Terry returned and they left the carnival, it was likely they would suffer additional delays. The herds not yet here would send runners out in turn, and within a week everyone within two hundred miles would know he was here.
Laila Rise finally pushed the talk toward a point of interest when she said, "The dryad seems amenable to sharing him, but I have my doubts. We should consider what might be necessary to allay the threat his women pose."
"I have several in my herd who have skills that may prove useful," Prada said, speaking with Yesun's voice. "Say the word, and we will begin culling."
Of all the herd leaders, Yesun Tege had respect for only two. Himself and Laila Rise. He knew that Rise was every bit as ambitious as he was, because he'd recognized in her a kindred spirit. She was outwardly the picture of matronly concern and affection, but take a step back and it was obvious that she had to have risen to her current position through more than simple affability. The fact that almost everyone thought she was just what she looked like only made Yesun more certain that what lay underneath was not so soft. Lacking any reason not to, Prada relied on her stolen memories. Yesun Tege was a herd leader himself, after all, and had proven himself tactically and strategically both on and off the battlefield.
"We would be breaking the laws of hospitality!"
Ariadne Storm was the herd leader for the Stormfollowers, and Yesun Tege knew next to nothing about her, other than that she was called after the Power of the Lost. Prada, therefore, also knew nothing about her, and turned her attention back to Laila Rise. She did this for two reasons. The first was that Rise was a known quantity, and second, because giving her deference would keep everyone from fully recognizing that Yesun Tege had, in fact, suggested the cull, not her.
"I agree with Storm. We cannot breach the rules for this or they would be meaningless everywhere else as well."
That was Graven Morrow of the Trembling Earth herd. His voice had the gravel of old age, but also the resolution of years of accrued wisdom. "Shy Willow has agreed that our accords are reasonable, why would we need to do anything against the template's wives?"
"I spoke with Brahma, the father of Law. He mentioned that Boss' wives are individually incredibly formidable. If his intelligence is to be believed, the one with snakes for hair is completely unkillable."
The minotaur that spoke was fat even for his kind, but also heavy with muscle and his hair was dyed a bright red and extravagantly plaited, the bone beads of each individual braid clicking together whenever he moved. He also had a sizable bronze ring through his nose and was dressed in hides rather than linens or wool, as was most common among the tauren. It identified him as a hunter, and Yesun's memories told Prada this was Brogan Teatree, who led the Firestamper herd.
"Nonsense," Prada said. "If it lives, it can be killed. This is axiomatic. Even the Powers, given the right tools, can be slain."
Murmurs swept the group, and Prada got more than a few curious and worried looks, but she was not concerned. This was, in fact, Yesun Tege's thought, not hers, and it served her well to voice it. She had no problem playing the villain, and having given it more thought, now wanted action to be taken against her husband. That would give her room to act first, along with the excuse she would need later when she explained herself to Terry.
After a pregnant pause to let it sink in, Prada added, "If we think these formidable warrior women will be problematic, we should deal with them now, before they can organize against us."
"There is also the matter of the template himself," Rise said, her tone easy, as though she were discussing the weather. "The contest was interesting to watch, but rather one-sided. Law had no chance, and that was, according to the shaman, while he had none of his bond gifts. When he returns from the Wildervast, assuming he does so, he will regain them unless his women are gone. We can handle a template no matter his natural strength, but that male is clever, strong, and skilled. With his bond gifts intact, he may well be beyond our reach."
Again, Prada had no problems hiding her amusement, or her elation. It was interesting but unsurprising that Laila Rise knew something of templates.
A sudden thought occurred, and Prada's respect for Laila went up a notch. She may not have known. She may only have been listening while Terry reassured Halla she wouldn't become a cyclops again. They had still been at the pit, and the assembled leaders, including Laila, had not been far away.
Yesun was right. There's more to this woman than meets the eye ... and Terry himself may have put us all in jeopardy speaking freely. Best he never find out about that. My husband might stop talking in public entirely. He is already far too concerned with what happens outside his proper orbit.
"It is not worth discussing," Graven Morrow was saying, his heavy head shaking. "We cannot ignore our own accords while using them as a bludgeon against others. The laws are there for our protection, not theirs. Never forget what happens when the accord of the herds breaks down."
"That's right!" Ariadne said, jabbing a finger at the old minotaur. "The dryad agreed! All we need do is wait for his return and speak to him of his responsibilities. With so many strong women we will not be able to use him indiscriminately, but surely he would agree to coupling with at least one or two from each herd? Such an arrangement works to everyone's advantage."
If only that could happen!
Prada knew that was wasted hope though. Her husband would never agree. She remembered her wager with him as she spoke with Tegun's voice. "That might not be a bad thought. Perhaps we should examine our herds and select those with the most promise to offer to him on his return. The less of a burden we make it seem, the less likely there will be trouble if Laila's alternative is not explored."
Laila glanced sharply at Yesun, no doubt recognizing the shift of responsibility for the idea. Prada shrugged just enough for her to see the gesture.
I do so adore politics, Prada thought in silent amusement. Yesun probably wouldn't have made so transparent an effort at shifting blame, but then, Yesun wasn't here. If he had been he'd be pushing much more strongly for assassination, which meant whatever trouble Prada could dump in his lap was fair game.
Presuming she didn't kill him herself.
Laila's expression regained its placid good humor though as she said, "Regardless of what happens, that is indeed a good idea. We each of us should examine our membership for suitable candidates."
At that point conversation shifted and Prada lost interest. Yesun knew something of the women of the various herds, for he had scouted them for his own reasons. His memories also supplied several likely minotress' from his own herd. Prada considered Tegun's options, but no one the minotaur knew of caught her interest.
The council went on for another half hour before it broke, and the leaders wandered off, some to take secondary council. It was here that Prada's interest was renewed, for as she walked slowly away she was unsurprised to find Laila Rise and another of the female leaders walking along with him.
The second female was called Lee-anne Sunset, and ruled over the Lone Tree herd. She had spoken very little during the council, but now she wore a calculating expression. She was built as most minotress' were, stocky and well-endowed. Her dress was elegant in its simplicity with a geometric pattern of light and dark browns interspersed with sky blue.
"Put simply," Rise said, beginning without preamble, "we are still concerned about what may happen when the template returns. Some of his women may take it into their heads to part ways with him here. If they cannot be found, who is to gainsay their decision?"
"That is true," Prada said gravely, rolling easily with the subtle suggestion. "There is no telling how long he may be gone. I wonder who might be flighty enough to leave?"
"Certainly the
snake-haired woman," Lee-anne said, her voice higher than Prada might have expected, given her frame. "She seems skittish, and prone to be notional."
"I would not be surprised if the oni left either," Laila said musingly. "She seems easily confused, and may get just as easily bored."
Prada recognized the game, and decided to play along as she said, "Who knows? Mila Kolenko may despair and go north to seek the fate of her tribe before the template returns."
Laila nodded thoughtfully, the complete picture of motherly concern. "That would be a reasonable move, particularly if she thought there was some hope that a timely appearance might save her people. A scout perhaps returning with news might send her swiftly on her way, and later the template could be reunited with her."
Ooooh, this woman truly IS clever. Get Mila to ACTUALLY leave, so that the story of the other two just deciding to go off on their own for their own reasons gains credibility. Pity she doesn't really know Euryale at all. The day the gorgon leaves Terry Mack will be the day the last of his bones crumbles to dust in her hands ... and probably not even then.
"We have an understanding then," Laila said with a gentle smile, her entire demeanor at odds with the murder she was planning that very moment. "I'll take my leave."
"Oh?" Prada asked.
Laila's smile softened as she said, "Lee-anne wanted to meet you, Yesun. She asked me to make the introduction."
Prada turned her attention from Laila to Lee-anne, and saw the other minotress giving her a boldly appraising look.
Yesun would take her ... but Yesun is asleep in his own hammock!