by S. L. Viehl
He tapped his shoulder. “Hurgot.” He repeated the gesture and his name several times, and then nudged her shoulder and gave her an expectant look.
The ensleg appeared more confused and now perhaps a little afraid.
“Do you not remember?” The head wound she had suffered in the past had been grievous; he had known men with such wounds to lose all knowledge of themselves, their tribe, and the world. Some had been reduced to a perpetual state of infancy, unable to control their limbs or bowels. Those who were unable to care for themselves were removed from camp during the night and taken to the nearest jlorra cavern.
“Dahktar.” The female struggled to sit up. “Dahktar.”
The word held no meaning for him, but was uncomfortably close to Raktar. “Be still. You will only lose your wits again if you try to stand.” He pushed at her scrawny shoulders with his hands to emphasize the words.
The ensleg peered up at him and pointed at his shoulder. “Hurgot.”
“Yes.”
She pointed at her shoulder and looked expectantly at him. It was a perfect mimicry of what he had done, but she wasn’t mocking him. She was making the same request of him.
“I don’t know who you are.” He saw a flicker of disappointment cross her features, but that was the sole reaction she showed. The few ensleg he had encountered during his lifetime had been male slavers, but like other windlords they were as children and flaunted their emotions. It was one reason the Iisleg regarded their former masters with complete contempt.
“Hurgot?”
He turned to see another woman standing inside the flap of the tent. Would the camp’s females begin pestering him for a look at the oddity? “I am occupied.”
“Even for word from our rasakt?” The female dropped her face wrap, revealing the vivid, sensual features that had once enchanted every male permitted to see them. Over time lines of petulance and malice had scored the beauty, but Sogayi was still considered the loveliest of women. Of course being taken by Navn as kedera had only made her seem more desirable; the headman had his pick of women for first wife, and had paid Sogayi the ultimate compliment of never taking a second.
Hurgot was more interested in being politic than being pulled under the spell of a female, particularly one with as much influence over Navn as Sogayi possessed. “Never, Kedera. How may I serve?”
Sogayi stayed where she was and let her gaze drift over him, lingering on his white hair, wrinkled face, and gnarled hands before she made a rude gesture toward the ensleg. “The rasakt would know the state of this thing.”
An answer to be carefully considered. If the headman wanted her to die, Hurgot could arrange such, but Navn would not have sent his woman to make such a request. Also, Sogayi showed little affection toward members of her own gender. The phrasing she used might have come from her own distaste and not Navn’s.
He decided to be cautiously honest. “The female is malnourished and dehydrated, and suffers from moderate snowbite and exhaustion. If it pleases the rasakt to provide for her needs, she will live.”
This did not please Sogayi, whose eyes measured the length of the ensleg’s hair. “We do not need women who ape men in this camp.”
“No,” Hurgot said. To point out that Sogayi herself wore her hair to her shoulders, and in other ways often stepped beyond the bounds of suitable female behavior, would have been uncivil, and possibly dangerous. Hurgot could prove nothing, but he suspected Sogayi had sent many women and more than one man to the ice by pouring her sweet poison into Navn’s ear.
“I will send women to care for her,” Sogayi said, as if it were her decision. “Tonight you may present her to the rasakt.”
Hurgot forgot discretion and raised his eyebrows. “It is likely that she will not be well enough to walk such a distance for several suns.”
Sogayi wrapped her face, but not in time to hide her smile. “Then you may carry her.” She slipped out through the flap and left it open and fluttering.
Had any other woman in camp spoken to him in such a fashion, Hurgot would have been within his rights to immediately order her to be beaten. As Navn’s kedera, Sogayi was not exempt from proper behavior—on the contrary, she was expected to set an example for the other females—but making any issue of her disrespect was the same as telling Navn that he had made a poor choice in wives.
Given the rasakt’s blind affection for his wife, Hurgot was not inclined to be so reckless.
“Well, ensleg,” he said to the woman, who was watching his face, “at least you do not weigh very much.”
The events of the day had left Navn with a sour belly and an aching head. Neither was improved by the last two duties to be performed before he could retire for the night.
“Our hunters brought down seven ptar,” Skuyl, Navn’s storekeeper, said as he made his report on the day’s hunt. “No cave marms were taken, so Yakop has set new trench traps. Wem reports the jlorra are kept well fed but seem restless.”
The pack animals had not been out on the ice for weeks, thanks to the rebel blockades. “Have the beast master release unmated pairs so that they may hunt.” Navn felt impatient. The rebellion had everyone so preoccupied that they were forgetting to use common sense. “Wem loses one day’s rations, so that he might contemplate his work and not his fears.”
Skuyl nodded and made two notations on the scraped-clean portion of the plas panel that he used for writing before he continued. “The renser have filled the quota tank and Umot has made repairs to the cleaners. The gjenvin master has uncovered an old wreck site and requests additional females for the sorting sheds. One of the ahayag has delivered a male child; Gonnur claims knowledge of her and has no sons of his two wives.”
Traditionally, married men were not supposed to use the camp’s ahayag, but if both wives proved barren, it was considered an acceptable alternative to getting children. Gonnur would not have put this before Navn if he doubted the boy’s paternity. “He may take the child weaned. I want that tank kept filled. Anything else?”
The storekeeper hesitated and looked over Navn’s left shoulder. “I have all but your orders as to the disposition of the ensleg female.”
“There is nothing to be done presently. She is under my consideration.” Navn’s head was throbbing miserably. “That is all I wish to hear now. See to the needs of the tribe.”
Skuyl bowed and left the shelter. Always attuned to his moods, his wife slipped into the main room and attended him with silent and gratifying care. Sogayi had a soothing broth prepared and personally served it to him, humming a wordless, pleasing tune as she made the graceful presentation. As was proper, she refused to take sustenance herself until he had finished his meal, and then drank only a few dainty sips from the dregs in his bowl.
“You are a good woman,” Navn said when she knelt to remove his boots and massage his feet with a piece of warming cloth.
“I belong to a great man,” Sogayi said, giving him the shy smile that pleased him most. “Your wisdom and kindness have shaped me.”
Navn suspected the misfortunes of her youth had been rather more influential, but allowed the flattery to remain unchallenged. Sogayi need not be reminded of how much her beauty and talent had caused her to suffer. “You should retire now, wife. I will join you after I have dealt with this ensleg.”
“May I not stay?” Sogayi pressed her forehead to the top of his feet. “I have so little time with you as it is, and I may perhaps be of assistance with the ensleg female.”
Navn didn’t wish to face the ensleg alone. It was a weakness to admit that, but so it was. He needed a shield, and permitting his wife to be present could be the next best thing. She would remind him of his position, and would help him maintain his dignity. She would also not broadcast his weakness to the rest of the camp.
He waited a respectable interval before saying, “I will allow it.”
“You are all that is good and generous.” Sogayi kissed his feet before replacing his boots and fetching his kederash from t
he wall niche where his more formal garments were kept. “Should I summon hunters to stand guard?”
Navn shook his head. “She is no threat to me,” he lied. The tent flap moved, making the attached bells chime, and he raised his voice. “Enter.”
Hurgot stepped into the shelter. At his side was the ensleg, now properly garbed, and the healer removed her face wrap to show her features. Hurgot supported her with one of his arms, Navn saw, but quickly released her and pointed to a spot on the floor. The ensleg dropped down onto her haunches and pressed her forehead to her knees. She was so thin that the day robe she wore billowed out around her.
Navn could not look directly at her. To do so would be to give her attention she did not deserve. Because she was Terran, she was shaped and smelled like other Iisleg females. The only true oddities about her were the garments she had worn, now gone, and the long hair, which could be cut off. Yet even as he ignored her, Navn felt the strangeness of her presence stretching and growing, until it seemed she might fill all the space in the shelter.
She is nothing, he reminded himself. A weak, sickly female with no one to feed or care for her. He owed her nothing, either. Allowing Hurgot to tend to her had been entirely magnanimous of him. If anything, his choosing to be merciful might damage him more than her presence.
Navn could feel the weight of her glances. The ensleg was studying him, but making an effort to conceal it. Such a show of manners from an offworlder was unexpected, and somewhat heartening. Perhaps you will survive this night.
As was tradition, Sogayi came forward with a steaming cup of tea for Hurgot. Her movements were unhurried and fluid and turned the ritual greeting into a small dance as she presented the drink. After a respectful glance back at Navn, who gave her a nod to allow her to speak, she added a smiling, “The rasakt will hear you.”
The healer followed custom and refused the tea before addressing Navn. “Rasakt, I present to you the ensleg female.” Hurgot bobbed his head. “If it pleases you to know, I may tell what I have learned of her in this short time.”
Navn accepted a cup of tea from his wife. “Tell me.”
“The ensleg is a young adult female in her parts and, like us, from human stock.” The healer grimaced, as if this was undesirable but could not be helped. “This one does not comprehend our language, so it was not possible for me to interrogate her, but I have had limited success with using drawings and gestures.”
“Indeed.” Navn felt new tension cording his muscles. “What have you learned of her?”
“Very little. This one has suffered a serious head wound, along with others, within the recent past. All have healed, but the one to the head may be the reason why she cannot say who she is or how she came to be here. Such wounds sometimes cause the mind to be scoured clean.” Hurgot’s gaze shifted briefly to the ensleg. “Despite this, she is obedient and quick to learn. It took me but five minutes to teach her the proper posture for her presentation, all done without words. If this one is permitted to learn our language and serve the tribe, she may be of some limited use to you.”
Sogayi smothered a sound.
Annoyed by the distraction, Navn turned to his wife. “What is it?”
“Pardon my startled reaction, husband, but this thing is ensleg. Worth only as much as can be had for its worgald.” Sogayi regarded the other female briefly before shuddering and turning her head. “To allow it to live and work among your women … such a practice would be unsafe, would it not?” She gave him an anxious look—a female in need of direction.
Navn saw that his clever Sogayi was also giving him an easy solution to his problem. He could have the ensleg killed for the worgald, and all that might be said was that he did so to soothe the fears of an overly nervous wife. Truly he was blessed in his choice of women.
But what if she cannot be killed? What if her face is taken and she still walks and talks, as before? The image of recreating such a horror made the rasakt want to puke up his broth. This is not the same female. She cannot be.
Hurgot shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. When Navn gave him his attention, he said, “Ensleg females are known to have special value to the Skjonn Kangal. It is said that he will pay double for one such as this.”
“The rebels will not permit anyone to send the usual tithe offerings.” It was something that had needled Navn to no end.
“Now they will not.” The healer made a rocking motion with his head. “Should the windlords prevail …”
Navn did not need Hurgot to finish the thought. If the rebels lost the coming war, the Iisleg would have to work hard to regain the favor of the windlords. Tithes might have to be tripled—and Navn’s men would be the ones to face the Kangal’s ire directly as they delivered them.
He faced the ensleg. “You, woman. Rise and let me look upon you.”
Hurgot tapped the ensleg’s shoulder, and she rose awkwardly to her full height. Without hesitation the healer released the shoulder folds that kept her day robe in place, and allowed the garment to fall to the floor. Beneath it she was naked.
Navn studied her form. She had two breasts in the usual position, although they were not very large, and a triangle of dark hair over her woman’s cleft. There were no marks of childbirth or abuse on her, and the unblemished condition of her pale skin was equal to that of a child.
“She is scrawny.” Navn knew the Kangal liked his women with some meat on them. Yet after so many voluptuous beauties, perhaps this ensleg would prove something of a novelty, or serve those of the Kangal’s court who preferred young boys, given that she had the same basic shape. “Is she open?”
“Yes, Rasakt,” Hurgot said.
So she had known at least one man. Navn saw little beauty in her, but knew offworlders had tastes even more perverted than the windlords. “Did you find any signs of disease or pregnancy?”
The healer hesitated for a moment. “None, Rasakt.”
“But?”
“There is white in her hair, so she may not be as young as she appears.” Hurgot tapped the ensleg’s wrists, and she held out her palms. “The wrist of her eating hand is slightly swollen, and she cannot use it as well as the other. Her fingers are callused. These indicate she was once …” He trailed off, searching for words. “Skilled with her hands.”
“She may have used ensleg weapons,” Sogayi murmured, her eyes wide.
“She may have used ensleg cook pots,” the healer replied as he pulled the day robe back onto the ensleg’s shivering body and dressed her like a child. “With her mind so damaged, we will likely never know.”
Navn’s wife stiffened. “I am sure it is as you say, Healer. Yet I have heard whispered tales of such ensleg women. They are permitted to act as their men, even join their armies and fight in their wars—”
“Enough,” Navn said. He would not tolerate such obscene talk, and to allow any further speculation about the ensleg’s origins was wholly unacceptable, as well. “This is my decision: I permit this ensleg to live and to serve the iiskar. When she learns our language and proper behavior, her status will be that of marked tribute for the Kangal.”
Hurgot bobbed his head. “Where shall I put her to work, Rasakt?”
“She may go to the gjenvin.” Among the salvagers, she would have the least amount of contact with the camp women, and working salvage, she could not sicken anyone, as she might with ill-prepared food or contaminated water. Navn saw Sogayi’s expression and knew his wife thought he was being too generous. In a harsher tone he added, “If she does not speak adequate Iisleg within the moon, she is to be given to the ice.”
Hurgot bowed and backed away, tapping the ensleg and gesturing for her to accompany him. The ensleg female gave Navn and Sogayi a highly discourteous, piercing look before she followed the healer out of the shelter.
“I regret my insolence in speaking during your business.” Sogayi’s tone was only slightly apologetic. “You are wiser than I and must see much in this ensleg that I cannot.”
“Were we n
ot on the brink of war, I would play the skela and skin her myself,” Navn said. Sometimes, like now, his wife needed to be reminded of the absolute power he wielded over her and every soul within the iiskar. “Her life remains mine.”
“As does my own.” Sogayi crouched at his feet, completely subdued now. “Forgive my foolishness. I know it will be as you say.”
Navn felt his ire soften. Sogayi’s devotion was one of the few things in this life he could depend on, and he would not shrivel her feelings with too much harshness. “I cannot discount any advantage now,” he told her. “These are dangerous times, and it is prudent to plan with great care.” He rested a fond hand on her head. “Do not be afraid of this female. She is nothing to us.”
“As you say,” his wife repeated as she pressed her cool cheek against his knee.
FOUR
Duncan Reever had not told Xonea Torin or anyone on the Sunlace that ten years past he had successfully piloted a weapons transport more than once through the brutal winds of both the upper and lower atmospheres of Akkabarr. To admit that he had once flown to the skim cities as well as landed on the armory planet would mean relating details of his life still unknown to anyone but himself and TssVar, his former friend and the Hsktskt lord who was now commanding the Faction’s central armies.
If he failed, on the other hand, someone should know.
He took out the handheld recorder and switched it on. “It was TssVar who sent me to Akkabarr to spy for him, just as he had sent me to Kevarzangia Two. The Faction had never been able to determine how the Toskald had turned their world into an armory for hundreds of other species. There were concerns about the League using Akkabarr as a front for their own move against the Faction. I was sent to infiltrate the Toskald and scout the planet for its potential to be taken.”
He paused the recorder. Coming to Akkabarr all those years ago had been Reever’s first contact with free humanoids since being enslaved by the Faction himself. Yet while the Toskald were warm-blooded humanoids, their emotions seemed limited to self-absorption, ranging in intensity from greed to paranoia. Among the Toskald, appearances were everything, and Reever had no difficulty blending in. They had prejudiced him, though, and for years afterward he thought all humanoids were equally as trite and shallow.