“We seek a residence.”
“And whose might that be?” Both pairs of eyes stared curiously at her.
Owina looked around, then ducked her head and spoke softly. “The Tenders.”
“Really?” The women tensed, but the couple’s demeanor did not appear hostile. “Would you be Tenders then too?”
Owina opened her mouth, then drew a breath, clearly unsure. “Ah…”
“Of course you are. And we standing here like ingrates.” To the Tenders’ astonishment, the old man removed his hat and bent his head, while his wife managed a slight curtsy. The Tenders stared at them as if they had just grown wings.
“You…you…” Owina could not quite get the words out.
“I’ll get someone to take you. You don’t want me to take you. I walk too slow.”
“Okay,” Owina managed, her composure returning somewhat. She shot a look at the rest of the group but none of them had anything to offer. “We would be most grateful.”
“It’s we who are grateful,” the old woman said. Her dress was old, but it was clean. Her eyes were very blue and very bright and they sparkled as she smiled. “Bless the Mother for sending you.”
At these words Owina lost the power of speech yet again and could only manage a nod of acknowledgement. Her small hands nervously smoothed the front of her brown robe, quite stained and wrinkled from traveling and sleeping on the ground. All the women looked the same. It had not been an easy journey. Only once had they slept indoors, in an abandoned farmhouse they passed. But that night had not been pleasant, due to the large bloodstains on the walls inside the house. There were no bodies, no real clues as to what had happened at the place and the women had spent exactly no time speculating on what happened, trying to avoid even looking at the stains. Still, despite the rough travel, Owina’s hair was brushed and tied back neatly.
The old man started to accost a passing laborer when a voice suddenly boomed, “Make way! Make way! Stones for the Temple! Make way!” He was a big man, armed and dressed in leather armor with a plain white cloak thrown over his shoulders. With him were three others, also in white cloaks, clearly guards. Behind them were two wagons, drawn by teams of eight horses. The wagons groaned under the weight of huge, cut stones and the horses were drenched in sweat.
For a crowded street, it emptied quickly, as people actually ran to get out of the way. The Tenders had no choice but to be shoved to the side with everyone else where they watched as the wagons slowly passed.
“Whose temple is it, I wonder?” Karyn said, scratching her head. Her brown, curly hair, usually a frowsy cloud around her head, had clumped badly during their days of travel and she was always scratching it. “Probably Protaxes. The nobility in Qarath worship him, I believe.”
People were moving back into the street now and the old man was apologizing profusely to the women for “being rattled and scrapped about like that” while the old lady seemed to be trying to pat the wrinkles out of Owina’s dress, as if they had only just happened during the crush instead of during long hours on the road.
The old man seized the arm of a broad-shouldered young man wearing rough, homespun clothing who was hurrying by. “Here, young man. Take a moment and escort these women to the Tender estate.”
The young man shook his hand off and started to retort angrily when his eyes fell on the five women and the old man’s words finally sank in. Instantly his manner changed. “Of course,” he babbled. “Of course. All manner of ‘aid and assistance,’ like the FirstMother says. I’ll do no less.” He bowed deeply, twice, and then straightened, but avoided looking at the women directly.
“He’ll see you on your way, then,” the old man said, patting Owina’s arm. “You’ll be right.” The old woman took Owina’s hand and pressed it to her cheek for a second, then dropped it with a whispered blessing when her husband hissed at her.
They began following the young man, who seemed unable to figure out how fast to go. At first he started off too fast and was leaving them behind, but then he shot a look over his shoulder, realized what was happening, and came to a stop. When they caught up to him he started walking so slowly that Bronwyn finally said, “Getting there today would be preferable to tomorrow.” Whereupon he picked up speed, but kept shooting looks over his shoulder every little bit.
“I have no idea what is going on,” Owina said finally.
“Clearly, times have changed,” Karyn said, peering around squinting. She was quite nearsighted and it had been years since she’d had a decent pair of spectacles. She had an ancient pair, but one lens was spider webbed with cracks and she only put them on when she had to. “Our order commands more respect than previously.” She was their scholar. Only Brelisha knew more about Tender history than Karyn.
“But why?” Donae asked plaintively. She seemed to be perpetually flinching before a hostile world. She was a small, dark-skinned woman with large eyes and very fine, almost childlike features. Almost every night since they left the Haven Cara had heard her crying in her sleep. She had lost weight too, so that her robe hung on her like a sack. Cara took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. She couldn’t think of anything else to do. She never could.
“I don’t know why,” Bronwyn announced, “but if it gets me a bath tonight, then I like it.” She scratched her head then looked at her fingers with annoyance, as if they were responsible for the constant itching.
“Perhaps it is our temple they are building,” Karyn suggested, then let out a self-deprecating laugh to show how seriously she took such a possibility.
“Sure, and we’ll be living in a grand estate like nobility,” Bronwyn added. “Where servants bathe us every day.”
Overhearing their talk, the young man shot them another wide-eyed look over his shoulder and seemed to be seriously considering bolting, then settled somewhat as Owina gave him a reassuring smile.
“It isn’t much further,” he blurted out, then lowered his head as if regretting his outburst.
They continued on and the crowds grew thinner, the homes and businesses beside the street ever more grand. The road angled upward, drawing ever closer to the imposing tower that stood at the apex of Qarath, with its back to the sea. The higher they went, the quieter the women grew as their tension increased. This was so far outside the realm of anything any of them had expected that they felt overwhelmed by it.
They came to a wide, brick-laid street lined with palatial estates. The estates seemed subdued, with no activity other than a guard or two stationed out front by the gates. All except one, that is. The gates were flung wide at this one and there was a steady stream of people coming and going. None of them looked like nobility. It seemed to be mostly workmen. To one side was a short line of women of varying ages. They were dressed in a variety of clothing, from simple homespun cloth to fine woolen garments. They seemed to be waiting to get in. Their guide stopped and pointed at the place.
“That’s it, then,” he said softly, then hurried away so quickly they didn’t have time to thank him.
They approached tentatively, still not quite sure they could believe their eyes. The Tenders lived here?
“This is going to be better than sleeping on the ground in every way,” Bronwyn announced. She shifted the pack on her back and groaned. “The straps on this thing are killing me.”
Now Cara could see that there were three women standing clustered together just outside the gates. They carried an air of authority about them that was completely at odds with the women who waited to get in. All three wore white robes. Strangest of all, all three were bald. One of them turned and Cara gasped when she saw a familiar, forbidden shape hanging around her neck. Donae saw it at the same moment.
“That’s a Reminder!” she said excitedly. “The others have them too.” She paused. “But that means…why are they bald?”
Cara’s hand went to her hair and from the corner of her eye she saw several of her sisters do the same.
“We won’t know until we find out,”
Owina said calmly, setting her shoulders and leading them forward. “They might be from an outlying Haven, like ours.”
“Clearly not like ours,” Bronwyn muttered.
They were almost at the gate when one of the women noticed them. She gave them a quick look and pointed at the line of women waiting at the gate. “New recruits wait over there.” She was starting to turn away when she seemed to realize something and turned back.
“You are Tenders, answering the summons, aren’t you?” Her bald scalp was sunburned and Cara felt as if she couldn’t stop looking at it.
“From Rane Haven,” Owina answered. “We came as quickly as we could.”
The woman looked them over. “Is this all of you?”
Owina nodded. “We are a small Haven and…we have lost sisters recently.” Cara noticed that she neglected to say anything about Brelisha and Siena refusing to come along.
“I am Velma,” she said with an apologetic smile. “The FirstMother’s aide. Anouk here will show you where to go.”
Anouk was a skinny woman with freckles and a mouth full of crooked teeth. Like Velma, she was bald, though a bit of stubble had crept back. “It’s good to have you. As you can see—” she motioned at the line of women at the gate “—we have no shortage of women seeking to join us. But they’re mostly useless.” She made no effort to keep her voice down and several of the women in the line heard and frowned at her. “We can use all the soldiers we can get.”
Cara blinked and looked at her sisters. Soldiers? She had a sudden image of them wearing armor and carrying spears and it was so ludicrous that she smiled. But Bronwyn and Karyn looked very serious and so Cara swallowed the smile and followed Anouk onto the estate. The estate doubtless looked very different than it had under its former owner. Most of the grounds showed signs of neglect, the lawns and flowers turning brown. Several long, rough wooden buildings had been recently erected on one of the lawns and two more were rising next to them. Workers streamed everywhere. Small groups of bald women in white robes hurried here and there. Anouk led them to one of the rough buildings.
“You’ll sleep in here.” She eyed their packs critically. “At least you didn’t bring much with you. Some arrive with a wagon load of their past. The FirstMother hates that. She makes them burn it the first day.”
She led them inside. Since the building only had one window and the shutters were closed, the interior was dim. The ceiling was low and Bronwyn had to duck to avoid cracking her skull on a rafter. It was all one long room, with a row of cots lining both sides and a narrow aisle down the middle. On several cots lay folded white robes with dull metal Reminders on top.
“Those are the ones that don’t belong to anybody yet,” she said. “Pick whichever one you like. Strip off your old clothes and put on the robes. Throw your old clothes in the barrel outside by the door. They’ll be disposed of. Put on the Reminders. No other jewelry. When you’re changed, I’ll take you over to get your heads shaved.”
Donae made a strangled sound and Bronwyn said, “You mean everyone has to—”
Anouk smiled and it had a harsh edge to it. “Don’t go thinking you’re special. We had to do it—” she leaned close “—so you have to do it.”
She left the building and the women stared at each other. “I’m not sure this is better than sleeping on the ground,” Bronwyn said. She was looking ruefully at her hair.
“Well, we do what we have to,” Owina said, choosing a bed and sitting down. “At least no one has to worry about washing her hair for a while. That’s a benefit, isn’t it?”
Four
Cara was dreaming of home when the banging started. Netra had just returned and she was telling her how much she had missed her when suddenly she was thrust rudely into the waking world by a horrible noise. She jerked upright and stared through bleary eyes at the tall Tender who was walking up and down the narrow aisle between the rows of cots, holding a metal pot in one hand and whacking it with a long metal spoon.
Dazed, Cara swung her feet down to the cold stone floor, unsure for the moment where she was or even who she was. The dream scattered in bright warm fragments. The cots were so close together there was barely room to stand between them. A lantern sat on a shelf at one end of the room and all around her were other women of all ages groaning and rubbing their eyes. Karyn had the cot on one side of Cara and she was one of the few women who had not risen yet. The tall woman leaned over her and gave her a hard smack on the arm with the spoon. Karyn yelped and sat up, her eyes distant and unfocused. On the other side of her was Owina. The older woman didn’t look nearly as regal as she normally did, probably because she was bald.
Sick memories flooded back and Cara reached for her own hair. And was rewarded with nothing. The long blond locks she had been so proud of were gone. For a moment Cara thought she would weep.
But she would not do that. She must be strong. It was what Netra would want. Netra would show up one of these days. She would return, and Cara wanted her old friend to be proud of her. She wanted her to see how she had overcome her fears, how she was a real part of the fight against Melekath. So she pulled her hand away from the rough stubble on her scalp and stood up.
There wasn’t much to do as far as getting ready. Like the other women, Cara had slept in the same plain white robe that had been issued to her yesterday. Each woman had two of them, but not night shirts or any other clothing. The material was coarse and itchy and Cara scratched herself as she searched under the bed for her shoes, rough sandals just like all the other women had.
Then she was stumbling out into the predawn along with several dozen other sleepy women. They filed into the estate house and for a few moments Cara forgot her misery as she took in the place. She’d been in the place last night, for dinner, but it still impressed her. They entered through huge, heavy double doors bound in brass. Tile underfoot displayed detailed paintings of birds and flowers. Thick columns reached upwards. Huge arches led off into shadowed halls. Nooks in the thick walls showed where statues had once stood. It was somewhat forlorn, with the rugs, art and furniture stripped from the place, but it was still impressive and far beyond anything Cara had ever been in.
She and her sisters from Rane were the only ones awed by the place though. The rest rubbed their eyes, yawned and passed down the one hallway that was lit. They ended up in the same dining hall, dominated by an immense table, where they had eaten dinner the night before. Breakfast was thick, tasteless oatmeal and an apple, which at least was sweet and crisp. The women set to their food quickly, uncertain under the stern presence of the heavyset woman who sat at the end of the table. Her Reminder was gold, but other than that she was dressed like all the others.
“That’s Nalene, the FirstMother,” the woman next to Cara said, when she saw her staring. There was a lean, hungry look about her and she seemed nervous. “Favored of the Protector. The first to take the sulbit.”
“What’s a sulbit?” Cara whispered. She and the other Tenders from Rane had been put to work right after their heads were shaved. They’d had dinner with the other Tenders, but talking at mealtimes was discouraged and when they got to their living quarters the other Tenders just lay down and went to sleep, so exhausted were they by the day.
The woman gave her an odd look. “You’ll find out soon enough. There’s no doubt about that.”
She turned out to be correct because a few minutes later the FirstMother stood up and began to pace along the long dining table. When she did, every woman in the room ceased eating and watched her, the way a bird in a cage will watch a cat that has suddenly jumped up onto the table where the cage sits. She stopped on the opposite side of the table from where Cara and her friends sat and looked at them.
“Welcome to Qarath,” she said. “Welcome to the war.”
Her words sent a chill through Cara. Though she knew that was what they were here for, it still sounded unbelievable. They weren’t soldiers. They were women.
“You are no doubt wondering what we, me
re women, can possibly do against Melekath. Am I right?”
Along with the rest, Cara nodded.
“We will fight with these, our sulbits.” The FirstMother pulled her sleeve up then and Cara and the others gasped when they saw what was there.
It was the color of old bone and it was about as long as her hand. It had four short, almost vestigial legs, a long tail, and a blunt, rounded head with two tiny black eyes.
Cara looked around and saw that a number of the other women there, probably about twenty altogether, had sulbits also that they were holding out in the palms of their hands. None were as large as the FirstMother’s and the smallest was about the size of a tadpole.
“Melekath will not find us helpless, will he?” the FirstMother asked.
There was a rumble of agreement from the other women.
“I said, Melekath won’t find us helpless, will he?” she said, much louder this time.
“No!” the women yelled.
The FirstMother nodded and turned back to them. “Soon, you will receive a sulbit as well. But now it is time for morning worship. Stand tall, my sisters. Stand strong. Let the people of Qarath, of all Atria, see that they need not fear. Let them see that the Tenders of Xochitl are ready for the fight.”
They walked in double file through the city streets, Cara and the other women from Rane Haven in the back. Along their sides and at the rear marched guards in ring mail, each armed with a short sword, each with a Reminder emblazoned on the breast of his white cloak. Cara glanced at her sisters as they walked. These women were all she had left in a world that made less and less sense. Bronwyn, tall, determined, aloof, lost in her own world. Owina, older, with an erectness and propriety in her bearing that spoke of nobility in her past. Donae, so determined to please everyone that she could never make up her mind about anything. Karyn, the keenest intellect among them, sharp-eyed and thoughtful and prone to argument.
So many were behind her now. Gerath had been the first she lost, killed by Tharn when she and Netra traveled to Treeside. Brelisha and Siena had chosen to stay behind. Jolene had gone off on her own. She just walked off one day and never returned. Didn’t take as much as a change of clothes with her. They’d been able to track her as far as a canyon which led down out of the mountains, but there her tracks had disappeared into the soft sand.
Guardians Watch Page 4