by JC Kang
Metal Men came out especially frigid. Kaiya’s throat tightened.
The warriors lowered the spears at them.
CHAPTER 43:
Village Life
Tian gauged the warriors’ skill by their stances and the way they held their spears. Hand drifting towards his saber, he spaced them out in his head, plotting a path to their grey-haired chief. The Founder’s treatise on warfare espoused targeting leaders: cut off the enemy’s head, and the body would surely fall.
The chief’s brow scrunched up, adding lines to his withered skin. He barked out a string of syllables, the unfriendly tone leaving little doubt where the Hua stood with the natives.
The princess placed her right hand into her left and bowed her head. The natives’ dialect spilled from her mouth, flowing in her distinctive voice.
Tian gaped. How had she learned it so quickly?
The chief cocked his head, the furrows in his brow smoothing and his frown softening. He turned and exchanged words with the shaman Yuha, and nodded.
Behind the chief, the villagers surged forward, greeting their lost fellows in warm embraces. They were so relaxed with affection, in stark contrast to the more rigid Hua decorum. Physical contact in the form of pats, hugs, and hair-rubbing seemed a natural complement to verbal exchange for these people.
The princess edged forward and rested her hand on the inside of his elbow. She leaned towards his ear. “The chief doesn’t trust outsiders, but it seems he will allow us to stay.”
For how long? Tian turned to her. “You speak their language. How?”
“A woman has her ways.” She cast him a mischievous smile.
His heart skipped a beat, even if her deflection lacked conviction. He raised an eyebrow.
She rose to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear again. “All members of the Imperial Family learn a secret language, passed down from the Founder. The words are similar to what the natives speak here. The grammar is different, though.”
He pulled away, reluctantly. “It sounded convincing enough.”
“The chief probably thought I sounded like a cute toddler.” She flashed a playful pout.
Cute, yes. He tore his eyes away from the swell of her lips. Definitely not a toddler.
Yuha beckoned them closer. “Meet Chief Nuwa.”
The old man placed his right hand in his left hand and said something.
The princess responded, naming herself, Tian, Ma Jun, and Fang Weiyong, gesturing with an open hand towards each of them in turn.
The chief smiled broadly, though the friendliness seemed reserved only for the princess. He spoke again and gestured towards the village.
Tian turned his attention to Yuha and his children. They huddled in the collective embrace of an older man and woman, and two attractive twin girls about the princess’ age.
Wearing a glowing smile, Yuha looked up from his family and gestured him over. “Follow me.”
The village itself lay in a large clearing on the eastern side of a wide stream, not far from the North Kanin River. They passed through broad cornfields, which lay fallow for the winter. Only chickens tended the fields now, foraging with precise pecks reminiscent of Tian’s master snatching flying insects with his chopsticks.
On the other side of the fields, he counted thirty domed lodges laid out in a circle. Framed in thick sapling trunks, with walls and roofs made of smaller branches, mud, and grasses, they looked to be about sixteen feet long, twelve feet wide. Animal furs covered the entrance and windows. Rustic, primeval—hardly practical for the cold.
Near the center of the lodge circle, a wooden platform rose to a man’s height above the ground. On it sat two magnificent drums, set on their sides and facing each other.
Yuha gestured towards the larger, which was even wider than a man was tall. “Gogorowa. Heart of Village.” He then pointed towards the smaller, which was just a little shorter than the princess. “Gamiwa. Soul of Village. Hundred winters ago, one big tree here. After fall, messengers of gods carved into drums for us.”
Tian stared at the drums. Just who were the messengers of the gods? The princess pulled him along.
Not far from the platform burned a bonfire. Coming to a lodge facing the flames, Yuha pulled the fur door open. “Welcome my house. Bring friends here to heal.”
The two children skipped in, and the rest of them followed. Tian’s nose wrinkled at the pungent odor of dried herbs as he entered with Ma Jun’s arm around his shoulder.
Thick poles supported the roof, which had a hole near the center. Several furs covered the lodge floor, surrounding a small fire pit lined with stones. Dried herbs dangled from the roof in one corner of the lodge, while clothes and other personal effects hung from the walls. Contrary to Tian’s initial doubts, the interior was quite warm.
Yuha motioned them to sit, and Tian watched as an old woman stirred the simmering contents of a large but crude ceramic pot.
With a few words, Yuha sent his kids out. He then examined Ma Jun and Fang Weiyong, and applied a poultice to their injuries. Doctor Fang watched with curious eyes, sniffing and tasting the herbs.
Presently, the children brought the pretty twin girls in. Ma Jun and the doctor lost all interest in the herbs.
“My sisters,” Yuha said. “Lana and Lahi. Kaiya stay with them. Men stay at other house. Now, we eat. Tell me your story.”
The fire pit’s flames crackled in the lodge that Kaiya shared with Lahi, Lana, and a few of the female refugees. She sat cross-legged, wearing a doeskin dress the twins had given her, watching as Lahi braided a queue behind each ear. The double queues marked her as unmarried.
As the village beauty, every unmarried man vied for Lahi’s attention. Statuesque and elegant, she carried herself in fur and animal skins like a Hua lady would in silken gowns. In public, she played the boys off of each other with a demure act that belied her sharp mind.
Kaiya closed her eyes and recalled the entry of the famous Minister Deng Liansu in the Encyclopedia of Peoples:
The red-skinned barbarians on the Kanin Plateau, unlike their more organized cousins on the Plains, are beyond civilizing. It is hard to believe that before the Hellstorm, they were part of an empire, even if that empire lacked the enlightenment or sophistication of Hua’s contemporary Yu Dynasty. Though some of their tribes live not far on the other side of the Great Wall, they did not warrant my visit. They have nothing of value to offer us.
She stared into the fire. Half a White Moon had passed since their arrival at the village, and her observations in those two weeks suggested that the late Minister Deng had been unfair in his assessment. If nothing else, these people had a vibrant culture. When she made it home, she’d write her own treatise, so that her future daughters would look at the Wilds with different eyes.
Yuha poked his head in through the flap. With her fluency in their language improving, he spoke in his native tongue. “Kaiya. Chief Nuwa invites you and Tian to his lodge for dinner.”
She had a good idea why. Maki storytelling had a way of evolving; perhaps only they knew where their myths ended and history began. And one new legend was already in the making.
With each retelling of the captives’ rescue, Tian had risen from minor participant to single-handed vanquisher of dozens of ogres. Apparently, his reputation had found its way into neighboring villages.
Kaiya rose and found him waiting beside Yuha, outside the tent.
“Dian-xia.” Tian bowed his head. Old habits had died hard, and though he no longer dropped to a knee, he remained stubborn with these salutes.
She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, and lifted her chin toward the chief’s tent. Yuha grinned and led the way.
Just outside, in the village center, the chief’s handsome seventeen-year-old son Hati and another young man practiced spearwork with the blunt ends of their weapons. Several other men surrounded them, watching and cheering.
They weren’t the only ones. When she turned and looked at Tian, his eyes were shifting
with the clashing spears.
The combatants paused and looked up.
Hati tossed the spear horizontally at Tian, who caught it. He then took the spear from his friend. “I hear you are a good warrior. Show me!”
Though Tian had supposedly picked up some of the Maki dialect, he turned to her, mouth agape. “Did he say I have a nice rear?”
Heat flared in her cheeks. He did have a nice rear. “No, he wants to test his skill.”
Or more likely, Tian’s skill. He raised his spear.
“Be careful.” Kaiya sighed. Tian’s competitive streak dated back to her childhood, when she could beat him in swordplay and archery. It had gotten him in trouble before.
The old chief appeared at her side.
With a falsetto cry, Hati lunged forward with a stab.
Tian twisted out of the thrust and swept his own spear in an arc into the back of Hati’s knees.
The youth tumbled to the ground, but leaped back onto his feet. He pointed the blunt end at Tian. “Now!”
He attacked again, and five other men surged in. To Kaiya’s untrained eye, Tian moved like a blur, catching some weapons and using them to deflect others. He always positioned himself so one of his opponents shielded him against the others. Some, he threw to the ground, while others he knocked out of the ring.
Chief Nuwa leaned towards Kaiya. “Our tribal territories are well-defined and the resources are plentiful. There has been no armed conflict since our horse-riding cousins from the plains invaded a generation ago. Our weapon skills come from hunting, but downing a wild boar is different than fighting an ogre.”
Kaiya met the chief’s gaze. Had he arranged this confrontation?
The chief clapped his hands once, and the warriors backed off.
Tian extended his hand to help Hati up, and the young man hesitatingly accepted it.
Chief Nuwa placed a hand over his heart. “Young Tian, you are as good a warrior as Yuha says. Will you teach our men so that they might defend the village against ogres and the Metal Men?”
Tian looked to her, eyebrow raised.
She grinned. Even if his linguistic skills left a lot to be desired, he spoke the language of combat well. “He wants you to teach them.”
After dinner with the chief, Tian walked the princess back through the snow. She leaned into him, huddling against the chill air. She must be cold. That’s all it was. He tightened the fur around her.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Tian.” Her breath clouded in front of them.
Yes, she couldn’t possibly feel the same way. He nodded. “Of course, Dian-xia.”
She stopped in place, not far from her lodge. “Just because you beat a boy with a spear doesn’t mean you can defend a village.”
What was she talking about? He shook his head. “Oh, the training.”
“What did you think I was talking about?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing. I was going to recruit Ma Jun. To teach them about fighting in groups.”
She resumed walking. “I saw him earlier today. Is he well enough for that?”
“He’s improving. With Lana and Weiyong’s attention.” And especially Lana’s. Whether it was her skill with medicinal plants and setting bones that did the trick, or her smile… Tian wiped the grin off his face. “Why don’t you come and see?”
The princess turned her head and covered her mouth. “Visiting a man’s lodge at night? I’m not sure that is appropriate.”
Tian bowed his head. “Of course not, Dian-xia.”
“I was joking.” She pushed him in the chest.
“Oh.”
With a small laugh, she took his hand and pulled him toward the lodge he shared with Ma Jun and Weiyong.
His hand tingled the whole way.
At the entrance, he pulled aside the flap.
Ma Jun sat by the fire pit, his chest bare. Lana stood behind him. Ma Jun’s face flared in the firelight.
Had the princess seen? Tian closed the flap and turned to face her.
Blushing, she covered her mouth with a hand.
Tian stroked his chin. “I, uh, let me walk you back.”
Ma Jun’s voice called from inside. “Come in, it’s not what it, uh, looks like.”
Lana popped her head out and spoke. Even if Tian didn’t understand the words, her tone carried no sign of apology. She beckoned them in.
The princess nodded and turned to him. “She was applying medicine to his ribs.”
Tian grinned. Like her older brother Yuha, Lana had a knack for spiritual magic, and might have been a shaman if she were male. With her unabashed flamboyance, so different from her twin, the young men shied away. Ma Jun didn’t seem to mind, though.
Kaiya turned her head from the chill wind, which rustled bare tree branches and sang its song to the babbling stream. Thank the Heavens her hair had grown back so quickly, protecting her from the chill. Like the other unmarried girls, she wore it behind her ears in two braided queues. Simple, compared to the lavish hairstyles in the Hua court. Just like everything else in the rustic village.
She looked down at the wild carrot in her hand. Dirt was caked in the creases of her fingers and clung beneath her nails. She smiled and set the carrot in a basket with some turnips and red-skinned potatoes. Life here was easy, carefree. No need to worry about appointments and appearances. Her next responsibility today would be to check the village chicken coop for eggs. And they said the winter months would be harsh.
“Kaiya.” Lahi’s pronunciation of her name sounded cute. The village beauty nodded her head sideways toward the forest path.
With the chief’s son Hati playing the role of patient teacher, Tian tried walking through dry leaves. Crackle, crackle. While none of the tribesmen could touch Tian with a knife or spear, they had a lot to show him about the life of a hunter. He looked over to her and bowed his head.
Even here, where people admired his martial prowess, he felt subordinate to her. She smiled and waved.
Lahi giggled. “He likes you. Were you matched back home?”
The heat in Kaiya’s cheeks made her forget how cold her toes were. “We were best friends.” Were they again? Small, but considerate gestures brought out the adorable boy he’d been.
Lahi rubbed her belly. “Maybe you can make some babies, like Waka and Nadi.”
Babies? Heat flared in her cheeks. Just a month ago, the twins had confounded her. After playing with them daily, she wondered if maybe she’d make a decent mother after all. Kaiya pointed at Lahi, such a rude gesture in Hua, but an essential part of the nonverbal communication here. “Maybe you have a better chance with Hati.”
That was no secret. Lahi could choose any man she wanted, and while she made them all believe they were special, in private, with her sister Lana, she left no doubt that she liked the chief’s son.
Lana’s curt voice cut in from behind them. “Kaiya’s still too skinny. You need more berries.”
As if she hadn’t eaten enough of them. Harvested throughout the winter months, the red berries supposedly increased virility. They found their way into the stews, along with rabbit, wild turkey, and other small game. The men would occasionally bring down a deer. With this diet and the relaxed lifestyle, she had already regained the weight she’d lost in their flight from Iksuvius. Apparently she still wasn’t fat enough for this baby-loving culture, though.
Lana grinned. “Well, I must be getting back. Miwa just started labor.” She headed back to the village. If Lana couldn’t be a shaman, she would make a wonderful midwife.
Kaiya waved goodbye. The first birth she’d witnessed were twins, common in the autumn months, according to Lana. The next three were all singles. Miwa’s would be the fourth, and like all the others, a cause for celebration. The entire village would erupt in day-long festivities. They doted on new mothers, with each household taking turns cooking for her.
Kaiya wanted to contribute this time, even though she’d never really cooked before. She looked up to where Tian had
been, only to find him gone. When he came back from hunting, he would be the first to try her dish.
Even if it tasted bad, he wouldn’t complain.
Tian returned from an unsuccessful hunting trip—unsuccessful because of his poor wilderness skills. The chief’s son Hati had taken special interest in him, helping him to build on the tracking and stalking he’d learned from Allie and her rangers. Still, it left a lot to be desired.
It also left a lot of animals alive, and for this, Hati just patted him on the back. The Maki had a great reverence for life, and whenever prey was killed, they thanked its spirit for the nourishment it provided. They used every part of the animal, nothing wasted. Yuha explained that all life was a treasure, and that the energy of all living things contributed to the balance and energy of the universe.
Just outside the village, he rounded the bend in the path and skidded to a halt.
The princess sat on a stump near the path by herself, sewing deerskin. He marveled at her delicate fingers dancing gracefully through the motions, reminiscent of her playing the guzheng.
She’d probably never sewed in Hua. What a stark contrast to the image of imperial perfection she projected before! Also so different from the spoiled girl he thought she’d become, oblivious to the danger she and her retainers faced during their escape.
Still, a princess of Hua doing menial labor was unacceptable.
Tian hurried over and dropped to a knee, fist to the ground. “Dian-xia. Let me do that for you.”
The princess looked up from her work, and her lips curved into an innocent smile. It was so genuine, unlike the contrived mask she wore in Iksuvius, and Tian’s mouth went dry.
She twirled the queue behind her right ear. “We aren’t in Hua. You don’t have to be so formal. Call me Kaiya, just like when we were children.”
Tian looked down, mouthing the name to himself, silently tasting it. No, it wasn’t appropriate. He looked up, arranging his face in Moquan blankness. “I will try, Dian-xia.”