Warmaidens

by Kelly Coon

  “For we are coming. And you’d better believe we will bring all of our might.”

  THE YOUNG WOMEN were linked together like cattle headed to slaughter. Hands tied in front of them. Dried reed ropes around their waists leading from one to another to another. Some of them looked like little girls who were barely of age.

  We were inside the Libbu, next to the old well. Dagan sat by my side, a cracked pot with a few shekels in the bottom at his filthy feet. He’d rubbed sheep dung into his garments to complete his disguise, and the stench coming from him was close to unbearable. Guardsmen swarmed around us like plated beetles, their faces watchful. Looking for us? From time to time, they pulled big men around and stared them hard in the eyes, then shoved them away.

  We must be careful.

  I gritted my teeth. All of my choices had consequences. My abum had once taught me that. When you acted as a healer, administering a dosage with good intent, there were always risks. Side effects, he’d called them. And one of the side effects of Iltani’s recklessness was my having to come and rescue her from her fate.

  But it was impossible to be angry at her. She’d been stolen, and that wasn’t her fault.

  Angst welled up in my throat as the young brides walked past me, a make-believe beggar in filthy scarves. Nanaea had bound some of my fingers back with rags as if the digits were missing, and she’d painted my face to look haggard, old, and—completely unassuming.

  But underneath my robes, stowed in my healing satchel, was a poison of monkshood and belladonna that would deliver someone to the Boatman in seconds. Earlier in the day, Dagan had met a guardsmen who was less than loyal to Uruku to arrange safe passage into the Palace to deliver the tincture. For enough coins, he told Dagan he was willing to look the other way. Dagan had also met with Ensi Puzu, who claimed that he and four other ensis would support Arwia’s rule, which meant we only needed to convince two more men to make it a majority. Ensi Puzu said he’d bring the ensis most likely to listen to us to Laraak later this evening so we could convince them.

  Everything seemed to be falling into place. And as soon as I watched the bridal gifting to make sure Yashub made good on his bargain with us, I would take Uruku out if it was the last thing I did.

  Their hair swept up and away from their slender necks, the girls in the gifting kept their eyes down at their dirty feet. Hordes of wealthy men, with thick, beaded necklaces around their throats, threw elbows and shoved one another for a better view of the girls paraded past their greedy eyes.

  My insides felt as if they’d been boiled in oil as they trailed past me. When Iltani walked by, red rouge caked over her freckles, lips smeared with gold, I reached out and grabbed her foot to try to tell her it would be all right, but she was not in her head. She kicked my hand and yanked away from me, her face screwed up in rage as she was tugged along. She looked garish. Dangerous. And itching to fight. Dagan murmured something soothing, but his words were lost to me.

  My friend.

  Iltani spat insults to those who crowed at her as she was half marched, half dragged to the center platform. There were at least thirty girls in white gifting tunics—maybe more—shoved into a cluster like little sacrificial doves. Iltani looked too beautiful for her own good. The wealthiest men, who got to choose first, would select her, and Yashub was not the richest by far, though Dagan had tried to give him ample proof otherwise. Yashub’s purse bulged with coins, and a silver headdress glittered on his grizzled head.

  Dagan sighed bleakly as the girls were arranged on the dais. He picked a callus on his hand. Opened his mouth to speak. Clamped it shut. On our trek into the city, we’d barely spoken a word. Every time he’d opened his mouth, he’d closed it, as if thinking better.

  After a few minutes, I could take it no more. “What’s wrong? Do you not agree with our plan?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “It’s not about the plan,” he whispered. “I’m upset about Rish. I’m really upset, actually. I couldn’t sleep last night while he suffered.”

  I twisted my hands in my lap. “That’s my fault. I should have known better than to leave his wound open.”

  He flushed. “I’m not upset at you. I just wish he weren’t in such pain.”

  A noose of guilt tightened around my throat.

  Shame pulled it tighter.

  “I do, too. I should have listened to myself, and he would probably be healing instead of suffering right now.”

  He glanced furtively at the crowds milling about, while vendors sold food too pricey for the starving people at the edges of the crowd to buy.

  “Are you listening to yourself now, though?” He laced his fingers together over his knees. “That’s what I was trying to say. Maybe Mudi was right that the Boatman is trying to commune with you? You told me last night that he’d taken a bottle from a satchel he was wearing. But yet, you mixed a poison from flowers you found by the river. Are you sure there wasn’t something in your healing satchel you could have used? Did you look?”

  “Of course I looked. There’s nothing else in there, or I would have saved myself the trouble.”

  Besides, I wasn’t even completely sure what the Boatman had been trying to tell me. I didn’t really believe in Mudi’s theories, and couldn’t even swear it was a bottle in his hands. I closed my eyes in frustration, and when I opened them, Gala, Dagan’s friend, had joined the guardsmen and ordered a young bride next to Iltani to move over.

  “What is Gala doing here?”

  “When we crossed into the gate, I heard him say he was going to the gifting.”

  “Why would they need Gala? I’ve counted at least fifty guardsmen in the Libbu alone.”

  Beneath his filthy grime, Dagan’s face bloomed red. “He’s not here to work. He…ah…well?” He scratched his neck. “He…wants a wife. From what I overheard him saying to the other guardsman as we slipped through the gate, no one he’s asked will give them their daughters without a considerable bride price. He doesn’t have the coins to pay much.” The last words came out in a mumbled rush, and his face reddened even brighter beneath his filth.

  My eyes bulged. “So he’ll simply choose a bride this day, one who is placed against her will? Will he choose Iltani? Did you tell him you knew her and not to take her? He’s never seen her face! She’s been covered every time we’ve gone through the gate.”

  Dagan looked down at his hands. “I couldn’t say anything without risking us. I didn’t know the other guardsman. Gala was joking and laughing like a big man about getting a bride with none of the price, to draw attention away from us as we went by.” He played with the frayed edge of his tunic. “Perhaps another beauty will capture his attention more, and at least that girl would be getting a fine man for a husband instead of someone else who would treat her poorly. Gala is a good person at heart.”

  “Do you hear the words that are coming from your mouth?” Blinking, indignation rising in my chest, I fought to keep my composure. He didn’t understand.

  “That came out wrong. I know this is terrible. But whoever Gala chooses will get a kind husband. He’ll try to love her. I know he will.”

  I gritted my teeth at his lack of comprehension. Why couldn’t the women choose whom they wanted to marry? How would the men feel if the roles were reversed? If boys were up there on the dais while women vied for their hands? Guilt crept along my spine because I was currently in the position to choose and most of my fellow women were not. Dagan was at my side, begging to marry me, and I loved him.

  So why was I so unwilling to give him an answer?

  Look around.

  The women were going to be owned by the men who selected them. And even though Dagan wasn’t any kind of man like that to me, the thought that he would lawfully be my keeper would not shake free from my head. That must be it. Because the other parts of marriage—save the children that could inevitably come—I welcomed. But I
didn’t want to be owned by anyone. Not even by the man I loved with everything inside me.

  On the dais, Iltani was refusing to cooperate, despite a guardsman with arms as thick as trees and a tangled brown bush of a beard ordering her around. The man backhanded her across the jaw, and I clenched my fists so tightly, my nails bit into my palms. He went through the rest of the group, arranging girls this way or that. He tugged a beautiful girl, no older than fifteen, to the front near Iltani. Her round eyes were luminous with unshed tears, but the streaks of kohl underneath were evidence of the many she’d already shed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was knotted into two long braids down her shoulders over a white filmy shawl.

  From the corner of the Libbu, in a group of underfed people with ragged tunics, a small man with eyes the exact replicas of hers cupped his hands around his mouth. Told her to bow her head meekly. Her shoulders drooped as she surveyed the men clamoring for her attention at the base of the dais. One reached up to take hold of her foot, and though she shrank away, the man laughed, displaying a mouth full of rotten teeth.

  The stocky guardsman gestured to the men around him. “Gather round,” he scratched out, coughing into his fist, and the men in the crowd drew close, already pulling bags of talents, minas, and shekels from their waists. “Show me your wealth and we’ll see who gets to pick first.”

  Yashub got in line behind a group of men, one hand on his dagger, the other on his coins. The line moved slowly as one by one the men went by, opening their purses, boasting of their sheep and homes, some slipping the guardsman shekels as they clasped hands. Yashub was one of those men, though he passed an entire talent to the guardsman. The man grunted appreciatively and slapped Yashub on his back. Gala walked several paces behind, and when he went up to the guardsman, he showed him a rather small bag of coins. But he leaned in, cracking a joke, and the older man laughed uproariously. My heart sank. Could Yashub’s bribe influence the man to give him first choice more than the connection he had with Gala?

  Relationships were often worth more than gold.

  The guardsman finally arranged the men in line from wealthiest to poorest.

  “Dagan, look!”

  “I see! Yashub is third right behind Uruku’s head merchant and that young priest.”

  “We must pray to Selu above that no one else selects Iltani before he gets to choose.”

  The merchant, a slight man with gray streaked through his beard, sturdy sandals on his feet, pointed to the young beauty who’d been crying near the front. The head guardsman grunted, and she broke into fresh sobs as she was dragged down from the dais and into the hands of the merchant. But she was the only one displeased in the matter. Her poor abum jogged lightly up to the nobleman and bowed his thanks over and over again as she was led away.

  A guardsman pulled Iltani closer to the center of the dais. She snarled at him, kicking his shins, and the men standing in line whistled and catcalled. Anyone who selected Iltani had better not close his eyes in sleep with her lying by his side. My heart ached for my friend, and I wanted to signal to her that all was well. We were going to save her. I tried to catch her eye, but she looked past me as my disguise intended her to do. I cursed it for preventing me from giving her some small measure of comfort.

  But her eyes widened when she spotted Yashub. Frantically, she searched the crowds, squinting. Maybe she’d recognize Dagan’s big frame and see me. Maybe.

  The guardsman laughed and held up his hands. “This one is beautiful, my good men, but she is a thrasher and needs to be tamed! Who is man enough to bring this wildcat to heel?”

  No! Be quiet! Do not point her out!

  The men let out a collective roar and raised their fists, their eyes lit with the challenge, save for the young priest in front of Yashub who waved his hands in disgust and selected a small, quiet girl near the back of the group instead. Stark resignation in her wide eyes, a look I’d seen often in the dying, she followed the priest away with a bowed head.

  Wheezing, Yashub smiled triumphantly, and put his hand in the air. “And now I must select a bride!”

  Iltani stepped forward, her face twisted in a false smile. “Choose me!” Desperation strained her voice. Hope bubbled up in my chest that we might save her from her awful fate.

  Yashub reached forward for her bound hands, but as he did, Gala stepped in, a hand raised between them.

  “Wait a moment,” he said to his fellow guardsman. “You’ve placed me behind this old trader, but are you sure you meant to do that?”

  The men around him laughed and chided him.

  Yashub shoved Gala. “Wait your turn, boy!”

  “But what if I want this pretty woman?” Gala slapped Yashub’s shoulder good-naturedly, but his eyes were hard.

  My heart lurched and I snaked a hand out to grab Dagan’s forearm. “How much did you put in Yashub’s purse to prove his wealth?”

  “Thirty talents.”

  “But what if that isn’t enough? Gala may have more.”

  “He couldn’t. He can’t even afford a bride price, so there is no way. He isn’t a wealthy man.” Dagan cracked his big knuckles.

  “Step back, boy! This one is mine!” Yashub growled, shoving Gala’s shoulder.

  A different guardsman stepped up, his hand on his sicklesword and a frown on his face.

  “Please!” A skinny man broke away from the group of fathers, his hands clasped as if in prayer, and I recognized him immediately. The certain tilt of his scruffy head. The way his scrawny shoulders sloped down on the right. It was the exact replica of Iltani from the back.

  Once, he was a coppersmith by trade, dealing in metals he could never afford to own. Yet, he managed to keep his family afloat. On this day, his tunic was in tatters, his skin hanging on his bones. He was drowning.

  “She’s my daughter,” he begged. “I should be allowed to give her in marriage.”

  His protests were quickly silenced by guardsmen, who hauled him away from the proceedings and out of the Libbu with threats of death if he interfered. He stood by the archway, hopelessness on his face, rubbing his grizzled beard. Iltani briefly looked at him, her lip quivering as if she’d recognized what he had tried to do.

  But the squabble over her hand rose. Yashub barked an order to the head guardsman to hand Iltani over. He grabbed her arm, but Gala pulled her out of his grasp.

  “She doesn’t want an old sweaty man like you in her bed. Leave her to me.”

  “Let me go with him!” Iltani wrestled free from Gala. “He has wealth and you have none!”

  But instead of getting angry, Gala was transfixed.

  The men around him laughed, calling over the guardsmen. “He has coin enough! Let him have this feisty one!”

  “I will take care of her. I swear it.” Gala placed both hands over his heart in supplication. Beside him, hordes of wealthy men stood, eyes alight with the contest, looking back and forth between Yashub and Gala to see who would win the prize.

  “She’s mine! I am farther up the line than you. Stand back!” Yashub wheezed, his face dripping with sweat.

  “No! She will be my wife!”

  Gala grabbed Iltani’s arm once more, and the men around him shouted and cheered and banged on the dais with their fists. They clapped the guardsman on the back as Iltani squirmed. One man, a wealthy merchant by the look of him—silver rings squeezed over fingers, a tunic of the finest silks draped over his shoulder—pressed gold coins into Gala’s hands, his face awash with sikaru.

  The merchant yelled above the fray. “A young man needs this girl, not an old goat like that one over there!”

  He pointed at Yashub, and Gala smiled, his weak-chinned face radiating with the prospect of winning.

  I clutched my hands together. “Gala has a fist full of gold! He’ll prove himself wealthier than Yashub.”

  “That’s i
t! This is the end of it!” Yashub rasped, wiping a meaty hand down his face. “I’m taking her. I need a young woman to carry my seed, as the old hags are all dried up.”

  He looked up at the head guardsman, waving his bag of coins.

  “I’m the man with more wealth and was put in line in front of this one. So hand her over! There are options on down the line for this young man. He doesn’t want this girl, who’d likely slit his throat in bed.” Winded and red-faced, he held a hand to his gut.

  The guardsman looked from Gala to Yashub, indecision in his eyes.

  Yashub laid a heavy hand on Gala’s shoulder, sweat dripping from his temples. “I’ll give you three goats and a ration of my last trade to let this one go.”

  But Gala looked down the line at the other prospects, his eyes going down to the shekels in his purse and the new coins in his hand. He showed his new wealth to the head guardsman and leaned in close to have a fervent, quiet discussion. After a minute, it was decided.

  “This girl goes to Gala, guardsman of Alu!”

  The scruffy guardsman swept his arm out to Iltani, who looked ready to gnaw the ropes off her own wrists with her teeth. “Sir, come collect your prize and take her to wife before you sleep tonight. Got a funny feeling you might never wake up!”

  The men all laughed, but Gala just stood at the foot of the dais, dazzled, looking up earnestly into Iltani’s beautiful sneer.

  “Touch me and lose your manhood!” she yelled at him over the shouts of the men at her feet.

  His eyes went wide, but he flushed and smiled as the men around him guffawed and congratulated him with full cups of brew. Yashub stalked to the head guardsman, gesturing wildly toward Iltani, but the man waved him away. Yashub glanced sideways at us as if we held the answers.

  “Dagan, he’s your friend. Go tell him she is our friend!”

  Dagan’s eyes were bleak. “All I can do is tell Gala the truth and pay him to release her.”