The Hadra

by Diana Rivers

  “There is no use talking to you, Rishka,” I said, turning away in disgust. “Your head is hard as a post and your heart is hard as stone.”

  “You should call a council meeting and see what the others say,” she shouted after me as I walked off. “Maybe they are not all so full of kindness and mercy, either.”

  I did as she said and called a meeting, but Rishka was wrong. It was one of our shortest meetings, and Rishka found herself alone in her opinion. That did nothing to sweeten her mood.

  Now that the council had agreed these young women were a permanent part of our lives, we needed some more formal way of acknowledging their presence among us. I conferred with Hayika and Kilghari and Olna. I talked at length to Ursa. We all agreed that her first-bloods would probably be the best occasion for such a ceremony. Though we helped, in the end, it was mostly the young women themselves who made the preparations and organized the day. They had chosen a place near the sea, where the gently rising bank could provide seating for most of Zelindar, built a raised platform of logs and planks on the beach, and set out some log seating for the closest watchers.

  Everything was red! The Central Circle of Zelindar was decked with red streamers, ribbons, and banners. Kara’s statue of mother and daughter was surrounded by huge bunches of red flowers that almost obscured it. The platform on the beach was covered with a red cloth and flanked by poles with more red banners, flapping and snapping in the sharp sea breeze. The young women had on robes or shirts or tunics of red, and Ursa herself was in a long red cloak with her face in shadow.

  After the watchers had all been seated—something Kazouri and I attended to—Ursa’s companions wound their way down the beach toward us in a colorful procession. Some of them played music, leading the slow ceremonial walk to the raised platform where I was already standing. Ursa herself went between four young women who had already had their first-bloods that spring. This little procession was at once solemn and festive and gay. It was also very beautiful, with the sea sparkling blue-green and silver behind them and all that red cloth rippling in the wind. Watching, I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

  When they stopped at the edge of the platform, I reached out for Ursa’s hand and drew her up. Then she was standing silently beside me, with the hood still partially covering her face. Looking around at the Hadra assembled on the hillside, I felt a little shiver of nervous excitement. Women were leaning forward, all waiting expectantly for this surprise performance which most of them had not had any part in creating.

  Zheran was standing nearby, watching intently. Not all our words had persuaded her to share that platform with us. I looked to her now, suddenly wanting reassurance. She smiled, and I saw her give Ursa a little nod of encouragement. I took a deep breath and glanced at Ursa. Suddenly the words flowed with ease. “Ursalynde of Zelandria and Zelindar, I welcome you as a woman into this circle of women. The red thread of your bloods binds us together. It also binds you to the past as well as to the future, to generations of women who have bled and nurtured life.” At my first words, Ursa had thrown back her hood. A murmur of surprise rose from the watchers; her face was smeared with red in a bold, stark pattern.

  I went on, gaining the power of my words and speaking louder. “Though you were born of another woman’s body in a place far from my village, still you are truly my daughter, the only one I will ever have. I welcome you now as a woman into my family, my tribe, my people. May you live among us and prosper. May you find here all the love and shelter and encouragement that you need to blossom into your truest self. May you have the children of the body that I never had, if that is your wish. May they grow up among us and always feel at home here. May your life be tied to ours by bonds of love and blood and shared experience.”

  Luckily for me, Ishnu was off visiting her former foster mother at the moment. Perhaps she was looking for that elusive husband. I was glad she was not there to hear me speak. My words might have been hurtful and seemed like a betrayal. She had also been my foster child, and I had loved her too, in my own neglectful way, but in truth, it was Ursa who was really my daughter.

  I took Ursa’s red-marked face in both hands and kissed her on the forehead. She stepped back and thrust her fingers between her legs. Then, with a quick sudden motion of her red fingers, she made a line across my forehead and down each of my cheeks. I had been marked and claimed. It was as if I were being initiated into the future. I could feel the blood-marks puckering to dryness on my face. I resisted wiping them away. Instead, I gave a quick nod of my head and for a moment stared straight into her eyes.

  When I stepped down, Ursa moved to the front of the platform. Her four companions came forward and took off her cloak, revealing a red tunic. The edges of it were ripped into long red streamers that shivered in the breeze. Her arms and legs were also heavily patterned with red, whether paint or blood I could not tell. She bowed deeply in all four directions. Then she raised her head to look at the Hadra.

  “First, I want to thank all the women who raised me and taught me and had their patience tested at my hands. I particularly want to thank my four mothers: Nyaran, my birthmother, the woman who gave me life and died in the war trying to protect me; Dhurnathi, my mother’s friend, who rescued me from starvation and became my mother for as long as she could manage; Zheran, who adopted me, raised me with love, and shared her home with me; and Tazzil, who showed me by example what a woman of will and courage can do in this world. Then I want to thank all of you who have made a place for me in your lives. In some way, you are all my mothers.”

  All this was said quite formally. Then she bowed again. This time when she raised her eyes, she looked around at us all in a challenging and defiant manner and took another step forward. When she spoke, her words were full of passion and fierceness. Her voice came loud and bold, reaching for the farthest watchers on the slope. “I am not a Kourmairi who has fostered among you and will now be sent back tamely to marry and live among the Koormir. I am a Neshtair. I may not have Hadra powers, but I have Hadra spirit. On this day I speak not just for myself, but for all of us, for all the young women, almost thirty strong, who have fostered here among you and think of Zelindar as our home. We are the Neshtair. You have taken a name for yourselves, and so have we. Neshtair! It is a Muinyairin word for those who are adopted into the tribe, only in this case it is we who have adopted you.

  “Some of your fosterlings may go home to a Kourmairi settlement. For us, this is our home. We have no other. You must either accept us or put us out to wander.” She stopped and bowed her head again. There was a long moment of stunned silence. All I could hear were the sounds of the sea and the snapping of banners. Then Hayika gave her wild cry, Kazouri roared her approval, and suddenly all the Hadra on the hillside were on their feet, stamping, clapping, and cheering.

  It was done, it was over. Ursa had risked everything in that bold way she had, and she had won. Zheran came to stand beside me. I put my arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, “She is quite a girl, our daughter, our little Neshtair.” I wondered where Rishka was at that moment and what she was thinking.

  When the uproar died down, Ursa flashed us all a bright smile and added, “Besides, you need us. We are the bridge between you and your new, little ones. It is not natural for there to be no one between in age, no aunts, no older sisters. They need someone to look up to and follow after and pester with questions, and you need our help in raising them.” She swept us with a look of triumph. Then her four companions came forward again. In a few quick motions, they stripped off her short tunic.

  Suddenly Ursa was standing naked before us, dressed only in a fierce design of red paint or blood. There was a collective intake of breath from those watching. Zheran gasped and turned her face against my shoulder to avert her eyes. “Tazzil, how could she do such a thing? It is disgraceful. I am so ashamed. In Darthill she would be punished with a beating or worse.”

  “Then thank the Goddess this is not Darthill. Here, no one will beat her.
In fact, the Hadra love it. She has won their hearts. Now watch what comes next and leave all that shame in the past, where it belongs.”

  The other four stripped down to short red tunics and began to dance with Ursa, slapping hands, stamping feet, turning together and then apart. They started slowly, but soon were moving faster and faster, creating their own music with their hands and feet until they were all a whirling blur of red.

  Pell came up in back of me. “By the Goddess, Tazzi, were we ever so young? It exhausts me just to watch them. If we wanted to refuse them a place here, I believe they would wear us down with their energy. We would be forced to say yes just to make them stop.”

  Teko had come up on the other side of me. “I believe the Sheezerti will adopt some of these Neshtair into their troupes, for the sake of new blood, so to speak.”

  Pell laughed appreciatively, and I saw that Zheran had turned to watch again. “How did she learn all that? How can she move so swiftly? Oh, Tazzil, it seems just yesterday that she was a frightened little girl hiding behind my skirts. How did this all happen so fast?” Then she was shaking her head. “But naked…How can she?…I would never…”

  When the dance stopped, they were all panting hard. Ursa was sweating so profusely that the red on her body ran like rivers of blood. They all bowed to a thunder of applause. Then Ursa jumped down, exhausted, into Nhari’s arms and was enveloped in a hug. When she began to shiver, Nhari wrapped her in her cloak. Before they went to find seats, Ursa turned to look at me with a triumphant grin. “Well, Mother, do you think we Neshtair know how to put on a good show? There is more to come, too.”

  “Well done, Daughter,” I said with an answering grin. “You have amazed me once again.” As I was already weary, I decided I would find a seat for watching in comfort whatever was to follow. Ursa was not participating in the next part. With Kazouri standing at the side and cheering them on, the Neshtair put on a spirited display of self-defense and unarmed combat. I was absorbed in watching when I saw motion out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see Rishka approaching me. She caught my eye and sauntered deliberately in my direction. We had not exchanged a word since she had blasted me with her rage at the council meeting. I was still very angry and had no desire to speak to her at that moment. I certainly had no wish to renew our conflict in the midst of Ursa’s celebration.

  No doubt she knew my feelings. Nonetheless, she came and sat next to me on the log, leaning forward so I could not ignore her. I was about to make some biting remark when she surprised me by saying, “These Neshtair might almost be bearable after all. If only they had powers, they could easily be mistaken for Hadra. One has to admire their courage and their skill and most especially their tenacity—particularly that little stepdaughter of yours, Ursa. You have taught her well, Tazzil.”

  I turned to face her. “Thank you, Rishka, I am glad you are finally able to see her true worth, but give me no credit for who she has become. She is her own fine person. I am afraid that I contributed far more neglect than influence to her growth.”

  “Come now, Tazzi, I think you can take some credit. You do not have to be her tutor to be her example. She is more like you than you know. And I am sorry for my bitter, angry words. There is still some old monster of ugliness that lives inside. Sometimes it insists on speaking for me in words that come back to shame me later. And then my pride rises up and makes it doubly hard for me to admit my fault. Forgive me, Terrazen.”

  “Forgiven,” I said softly. “But later you must tell them what you said to me. They think you hate them all, and it hurts their brave young hearts.” She nodded, and I put my hand on her arm, very glad for some peace between us. She flashed me a quick, crooked little smile and then turned her attention back to the action. In that way, sitting side by side, we watched the rest of the performance together in silence. After that, there was a show of acrobatics, with some of the Sheezerti joining in. Then the platform was cleared away for a wild display of trick horseback riding on the beach, followed by feasting and campfires down by the shore. Pell found me again, and again we commiserated with each other on how we were almost getting too old for such a day.

  * * *

  That fall, a small group of riders appeared: two women carrying children on their horses, two boys sharing a smaller horse, and two men who kept themselves somewhat apart. I noticed them from a distance and thought them to be Wanderers hoping to shelter with us for a while or perhaps needing directions to Wanderer Hill. I gave it no thought until Zari came to look for me, saying the women would speak to Tazmirrel and to no other. It had been a long time since anyone had called for me by that name. I gave a little shiver and followed her back down the hill, my head suddenly filled with ghosts.

  As I drew closer, I saw an old woman, drawn and haggard, and a younger woman who looked hard and angry. The older one was staring at me as if she thought she knew me. Then, suddenly, I saw my mother and Ghira. The older woman was calling out, “Tazzia, is that really you?”

  “Mother!” I shouted, running to her. She handed the baby to the older boy, slid from her horse, and fell into my arms. For a moment we both talked at once: “I never thought…” “Is it really…” “Afraid you were dead…” “So glad…” At last we were both able to draw back a little and look at each other. We had both aged and changed. We had each been through a lifetime of experiences since we had last seen each other. It was hard to take my eyes from her face.

  Finally I thought to look around for Ghira, eager to greet her too. She was standing near me, but when her eyes met mine, it was with a hostile stare. Though she held out her hand, she did not embrace me. “Greetings, Sister,” she said coolly. “It has been a long time. When you fled Nemanthi I never thought to see you again. You have found yourself a good place here.”

  I wanted to hug her too, but it was clear she would not let me. “Welcome to Zelindar,” I said as warmly as I could, in spite of her frosty stare. “Come sit in the Central Circle and we will get you food and drink and some blankets to lay down the little ones.”

  Women were quickly gathering from all over. I was shouting joyously, “My mother and sister! My mother and sister and babies, they have found me! They are here! My mother and sister…” I went on in this way until Ghira said dryly, “I think they must all have heard you by now.”

  As soon as the children were settled and there was food and drink all around, for the Wanderer men as well as for my family, I asked for their stories. My mother spoke of the journey and how kind the Wanderers had been, but my sister was silent until I finally asked, “How is it with you, Ghira? Are you married? Where is the father of these children? Did he come with you?”

  “No to all of it, and I am no better than what you see,” she answered with a bitter edge to her voice. “In the end I married Jortho, the man you stabbed. No one else would have me, as I was your sister. They were afraid I might carry some taint of that strangeness of yours. He wanted you, but he made do with me, instead. He was not always kind, but he was a hard worker and gave me two fine children.

  “The Shokarn troops swept through our village a few times after you left, looking for star-brats. They did some damage and killed a few people. After that, they left us in peace for a while. Then, a year or so later, things got more serious. The Shokarn came back and destroyed Nemanthi totally, burnt it to the ground, because they thought we had harbored traitors. What a joke, as if we were not all traitors by then. Who could be a Kourmairi and be loyal to the Zarn? Jortho was killed at the beginning of the fighting, and so we had fled to a settlement closer to the coast where Father had some cousins. We had already left before the soldiers came and demolished our village, but some who escaped told us later of the slaughter. They killed everyone they could lay their hands on. There is no one left there. Nothing remains of Nemanthi, nothing remains standing. Even the stones have been overthrown and buried.”

  I looked at the younger children. “They are not Jortho’s, then? Is that your second husband?” I asked, glanc
ing at one of the men.

  “That one is Kairzen, a Wanderer who agreed to be our guide here, and the other is his friend. There was no second husband. No one in the cousins’ village wanted a wife who was already used and had two children. Besides, who knew, I might be a Witch or something worse. In their eyes, I was tainted by being your sister. The other two are the children of chance. Those men may not have wanted me for a wife, but that does not mean they left me in peace.”

  My mother interrupted her story, saying, “I would have come to look for you sooner, Daughter. There were Wanderers who spoke of a Tazzil or a Tazzi, though never a Tazzia; still, I thought it might be you. They even offered to guide us here, but your father forbade it. He even forbade my sending you a message, for fear you might come yourself. He said that…” Suddenly she stopped, stumbling over her words, but I could hear in her head, She has already made more than trouble enough for her family. Why should we look for her now that she is finally out of our lives? “But now he is dead,” she continued quickly. “He died of a failed heart, and I was free to come and look for you. Oh, Tazmirrel, I am so glad to see you alive.”

  “I did not come to look for you,” Ghira said quickly, “but for a husband. Here, they are not so afraid of the Star-Born, and so that will not stand in my way. I hear these Koormir have fought against each other and there have been many deaths. Perhaps there is some man looking for a wife to care for his children, a man who will not care too much about my reputation and will not mind a few extra little ones. I am still a young woman and very tired of being alone.”

  “We are called Hadra now. That is how we speak of ourselves and that is what our friends call us.” It was hard to recognize my sweet little sister in this bitter and hardened young woman who glared at me as if I were the source of all her troubles. I may well have been, but it certainly was not through any intention of mine. I reached out my hand, saying, “Ghira, neither of our lives has been easy, but the Zarn’s armies are at fault for that, not the Hadra.”