Voyage of the Snake Lady

by Theresa Tomlinson

  Tamsin frowned. “You’re welcome. The black with white boots is mine!”

  “White boots?” Phoebe protested. “Where? Oh—I see her; I want her, too!”

  “Tough!” Tamsin grinned. “She is mine! I name her Snowboots. A horse once named is yours forever!”

  Phoebe sighed, but then she smiled again. “See how Sandmane tosses her head! I will stick by her. Which will you name, Snake Mother?”

  Myrina pressed her lips together in perplexity and shook her head. The delicate stepping, the rippling, muscular hides, many of them gleaming blue-black, made her heart bleed anew for Isatis. She was in no hurry to name another steed.

  The sun moved slowly across the sky and at last, as it hovered above them, Myrina got to her knees and nodded. “Stand up now,” she whispered.

  The Moon Riders in the far distance rose smoothly to their feet as soon as they saw Myrina move. They spread out in a long encircling line, in full view of the horses but still far away from them. They stood watching but keeping very still and quiet, while a few of the horses raised their heads, sniffed the air, flared their nostrils, and looked at them. The calm stillness of the women was so unthreatening that they soon dipped their heads again to the river-watered grass.

  “There.” Myrina spoke with satisfaction, nodding into the distance. They could see that Coronilla’s group had waded through the river out of sight of the herd and now emerged from behind some rocks on the far riverbank. Myrina turned her head to the east and saw with satisfaction that Nessa and her friends stood beneath a clump of trees. Then they looked westward and saw that Akasya had staked out a spot on the gentle slope of a grassy hillside.

  “Right!” Myrina gave the order in a low voice. “Six steps!”

  Phoebe and Tamsin took six steps forward with her, counting carefully under their breaths.

  Some of the horses looked up again, catching the movement, but again the stillness of the women soothed any fears and they were soon cropping grass again.

  The other Moon Riders saw them move and followed their lead, each taking six steps forward, so that a wide loose circle was formed about the herd.

  “Sit!” Myrina said.

  They sank smoothly down to the ground and their friends in the distance did the same. They calmly took out their bundles and began to eat the flat grainy bread and small scraps of roast goat meat that they’d managed to save from the night before.

  “Talk,” Myrina ordered. “You can talk now, but do not shout.”

  At the sound of low voices the horses put back their ears and a few tossed their heads, rolling their eyes at the intruders; but as the murmur of voices continued, they lost interest and went back to their grazing.

  Myrina gave the order to move twice more as the sun traveled across the sky, so that as it began to sink in the west a thin line of Moon Riders stretched all around the herd. There was no singing or dancing that evening; the women settled quietly to sleep wherever they were, taking turns to watch through the night.

  They woke early next morning and rose to their feet at Myrina’s signal. Once again they stood very still for a while, then began to move around and chat to each other. Their backs were sore and muscles stiff, still suffering from the bruising of the waves. When Myrina signaled again, some of the women began walking steadily down to the water, pitchers in their hands. The nearest horses skittered away nervously; the stallion snorted at the disturbance, shaking his head from side to side. The blue-black mare came forward, snapping her teeth, but the Moon Riders simply ignored her, unhurriedly filling their pitchers with the clean water, then walked slowly back up the riverbank to join their friends. The beasts settled quickly as they saw the women calmly retreating again.

  That evening there was still no dancing, but they lit small fires. The Moon Riders moved about a little more freely and ate the rest of their food, then stood solemnly in their wide circle while Myrina raised her drinking horn. “We share water with you, four legs,” she said in a deep, singsong voice. “Now we will sing to you.”

  The women began a gentle rhythmic humming that rose and fell in pleasant, soothing tones, almost like a lullaby. The horses raised their heads and pricked up their ears. A few of them cantered about for a while, but the strange music continued and when they saw that no threat came with it, those who’d been disturbed soon settled.

  The low singing continued as darkness fell; gradually it ceased as the women wrapped themselves up as best they could and settled to sleep again.

  “I will get you, Snowboots,” Tamsin promised sleepily. “I will get you and it won’t be long now!”

  As pink fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, the women rose and wandered down to the water, yawning and stretching, ignoring the beasts that stamped about the shallows. This time there was little disturbance among the horses. Kora and the others who had stayed behind at the old camp arrived during the morning, carrying their barrels and precious supplies up through the trees. All those who’d been hurt had recovered enough to walk a little, and Myrina was satisfied that their horse gentling was going well and a sense of order and purpose had returned to the Moon Riders. The one precious sheep was settled in a small corral, well away from the horses.

  Kora stared in wonder at the sight of the powerful beasts calmly cropping grass as the women wandered among them. She watched them, eyes wide, but nervously kept her distance.

  “I made a net from scraps of salvaged rigging,” she told Myrina, ever practical. “I have caught a basketful of mackerel. We may cook them tonight, but then we have little left but one barrel of cherries. Up here there’s nothing but grass. I see very well that you lot can live like horses, but that is taking it too far for me!”

  Myrina laughed. “You have all the skills we lack; together we’ll do well!”

  She was grateful for Kora’s determined humor, but she knew that there was a worrying truth behind the jokes. “There are a few mares still in milk and their foals are old enough to be weaned. Once we have their trust, we will be able to milk them, but that will not be until after the next full moon.”

  Kora was not impressed. “It is going to take more than a pitcher of mare’s milk to feed this lot,” she insisted. “Don’t you eat horseflesh? I thought you Moon Riders made your body armor from horsehide!”

  Myrina shrugged uncomfortably. The possibility of being forced to do just that had already been in her thoughts. “We bring merciful death to a horse that grows old or suffers, and then, yes, we use the skin and hair, for we believe the wearer of horse skin is endowed with the beast’s courage. As for eating horseflesh—if it comes to that or starvation, yes, we will do it, but it is not the best way to gain their trust!”

  “Don’t you arch your neck like that at me, Snake Lady!” Kora folded her arms and stood her ground.

  Myrina relented and smiled ruefully, knowing that she’d been unfairly sharp. “You raise fears that I don’t want to face—not just yet. But you are wise to think ahead. Get your net and take some of the girls fishing again!”

  Kora imitated the Moon Riders’ salute and went away smiling.

  Myrina sighed. They should go out hunting, but the horses were not ready for it; and to rush them could mean losing everything. It was suddenly very hard to be patient.

  Chapter Nine

  Mazagardi Skills

  KORA, AND THOSE who were not fit enough for the horse gentling, busied themselves keeping fires and gathering wood. All who felt that they could do it spent the morning wandering back and forth to the river, appearing to ignore the horses, but secretly moving closer to them all the time. When the sun reached its highest point in the sky, Myrina lifted her hand, and at this signal some of the women retreated to the camp. They all understood what it meant: the time for gentling was over; now the real work of taming must begin.

  Myrina backed off a little so that she could watch carefully, for this was the most important moment of all. If the horses began to accept their names and riders, they had won the herd; if
the beasts took fright and dashed away, everything would be lost.

  The small group who had stayed were the most skilled and experienced horsewomen, and now they strode toward their chosen steeds, a determined advance guard but patience still the most important of their weapons. Each woman picked out her favored mare and in a deep, firm voice spoke the name that she had chosen, fixing her beast eye to eye with a direct gaze.

  “Boss Lady, you are mine!” Coronilla named the blue-black leader of the mares. The newly named Boss Lady backed away for a moment, but then advanced, fiercely snapping her teeth. Coronilla stood her ground and snapped back, so that the mare hesitated, pawing the ground uncertainly.

  “Silversnow . . .” Akasya claimed a beautiful silver-white mare, who seemed to accept her willingly.

  Each woman stayed close to her chosen one, moving at the beast’s side, repeatedly speaking the magical name that she had given, but still no attempt was made to touch. Myrina watched them, her eyes searching among the mares for the one that she would choose. “When I see her, I will know,” she told herself.

  Tamsin was anxious. “Can I go now? Someone else may choose Snowboots! And a horse once named—”

  Phoebe flared her nostrils and ground her teeth. “You’ve made it clear enough to us all!” she said. “None of us would dare!”

  “Patience is everything, Little Lizard!” Myrina told her.

  Tamsin sighed and tried to settle down to keep a watch on Snowboots.

  Myrina sighed, envying her child such certainty. Still she searched among the pricked ears and flashing manes, but none of the horses seemed to be quite the right one for a weary snake lady. After the powerful bond that she’d had with Isatis, it was going to be difficult to give her heart to another horse. Well, she would set Tamsin a good example by waiting calmly and allowing the others to go forward and make their choices first.

  For a while the horse taming went well: the mares seemed to be accepting the strange two-legged creatures who fixed them with determined stares, then strode at their sides. But as the sun began to sink, the big bay stallion became unsettled. He stamped angrily as he sensed this crafty, uninvited intrusion among his mares. He began to canter around the edges, snorting, so that some of the mares backed away from their Moon Rider, aware of his agitation.

  Myrina watched him uneasily and rose to her feet. She swore under her breath as the thought came into her head that perhaps her choice was about to be made for her—and what a choice! They might well lose all the mares if the stallion could not be mastered. A dangerous situation was developing and something must be done to stop it.

  “Wait until I call you,” she ordered Phoebe and Tamsin.

  They watched her, wide-eyed and anxious, as she set out to face the snorting bay, racking her brain for the right name.

  The huge horse screamed, baring his teeth at her approach. All the Moon Riders saw what Myrina was doing and stood still, holding their breaths. She strode toward him, fixing his gleaming dark eyes with an angry stare. He reared threateningly, his hooves trampling the air high above her head.

  “Dear Snake Lady!” Akasya whispered. “Please Maa she knows what she does!”

  Myrina stormed on until she stood right in front of him. She pulled herself up to her full height, stretching up on tiptoe, stiff and straight as a rod; they stood head to head, both breathing heavily.

  Tamsin bit her lip, clutching Phoebe’s hand. None of the women dared move or make a sound; everything depended on this.

  Suddenly the stallion reared again so that Myrina was forced to flinch back a little or get one of those heavy hooves in her face. As he reared, he screamed again, a terrifying, warlike bellow, mouth wide open, baring his great teeth.

  But as his hooves thumped down onto the grass in front of her, Myrina was ready for him. She strode forward again, slapping him sharply across the muzzle and baring her own teeth. She answered him with a wild beastlike bellow. “Aaaagh!” she roared. “I can do that, too!”

  The stallion’s ears shot back in surprise and his eyes rolled wildly.

  “Aaagh!” she roared again, at the top of her lungs. “I name you Big Chief. You are Big Chief and nothing else will do!”

  There was silence for a moment as the two stood head to head again, both very still but eyeing each other fiercely. The stallion stamped again, but did not rear this time.

  “Big Chief!” Myrina spoke his name again in a gentler tone. “I name you Big Chief and I shall be your rider!”

  There was another tense moment, but then the huge stallion stretched out his muzzle and sniffed all around Myrina’s hair with unexpected delicacy. He blew warm horse breath over her face and shoulders. The scent of it warmed her and brought back happy memories.

  “We will be friends,” she told him firmly, putting out her hand to stroke his nose. “See—I can touch you like this! I will not hurt you again.”

  Big Chief gave a low, gentle whicker.

  The watching women breathed out in relief and turned their attention once more to their own chosen beasts. Myrina smiled shakily and stroked the horse’s nose again; she knew that she had won, but it had drained her of energy, leaving her feeling weak. As she withdrew her hand, the great bay lowered his head to crop peacefully at the grass at her feet; Big Chief had accepted both his name and his rider.

  Myrina turned to where Phoebe and Tamsin stood watching and beckoned to them. They strode down to her with confidence, anxious to give Snowboots and Sandmane their names before the last rays of sun left the plain in darkness.

  That night, as the women moved back to the circle of campfires, some of the horses raised their heads, almost as if they regretted that their new friends were leaving them so soon. They watched carefully to see which path their chosen Moon Rider took.

  Later that night, as Myrina sat eating the roasted mackerel that Kora had provided, Fara and some of her friends walked to her. Myrina looked up, concerned that they had left their side of the circle unguarded.

  “Snake Lady, there is something we think you should know!” Fara spoke quickly. “We watch the horses—but we ourselves are watched!”

  Myrina looked about in alarm. “Where? Who?”

  Fara pointed over to the north on the far side of the river. “There beneath those rocks that we think have the shape of an eagle. There is a small camp of men with horses,” she whispered. “Not many, I think—they seem to do nothing but watch.”

  Myrina swore. This was something they could really do without, but she knew that they couldn’t expect to turn up in a strange land and find it empty of inhabitants.

  “We have heard that bloodthirsty warriors ride in this land.” Fara made a fierce face. “But we are no cowards; we can fight!”

  Myrina was irritated; she really did not want to hear such news, just as things were going so well. “Yes, we will fight if we have to, but”—she shrugged—“I know what it is to have your traveling lands invaded by strangers. These men cannot know who we are or what we want.”

  Coronilla, who was usually the first to leap into a fight, supported her. “I have never forgotten the fear we felt when strangers came raiding our home. I would not rush to attack them. If they were going to expel us, why have they not done so already?”

  Fara shuffled her feet and huffed impatiently.

  “If they do attack, we will defend ourselves,” Myrina assured her. “But I do not wish to interrupt our horse taming at the moment. If we have to stop and fight, we may lose the whole herd. It will not be long now before we have steeds to carry us. With these we may defend ourselves from a much stronger position.”

  Fara nodded. This couldn’t be denied. “Can’t we speed up the horse taming?”

  “No!” Myrina snapped.

  Fara flinched.

  Myrina saw at once that she’d been ungrateful. “Do not look so hurt,” she begged. “You have done well to tell me. But while they hide in rocks and peek at us, let us ignore them. Pass the message around that they are there. W
e must keep an eye on them and have our bows ready at all times.”

  Fara nodded and went off obediently, but it was clear from their resentful whispering that she and her friends were keen to take action.

  The next morning the women returned to mingle with the herd, each Moon Rider following her chosen beast. By the late afternoon handfuls of fresh grass were being offered and accepted; firm but gentle hands stretched out to soothe a nose or fetlock. When darkness fell and the women walked away, faint whinnies of disappointment followed them. They smiled at one another, well content to hear the friendly sounds.

  “The men still hide out in the rocks and watch us,” Fara told Myrina.

  “Yes,” she said. “I have seen them myself.”

  The following morning they were delighted to see that a few of the horses had wandered up the slope toward their camp and were waiting patiently for their special friends to come and feed them grass. Big Chief trotted away from the waterside and up the bank, looking for Myrina, ready to fix her with his fine black eyes. The morning was spent again in friendly feeding and grooming; blankets were slipped onto the horses’ backs so that they could get used to the feeling of weight.

  Days passed and both women and horses fell into a contented pattern of companionship. Each night the Moon Riders sang and danced while the herd listened, twitching their ears, reassured now by the sounds. As the days passed, little by little, bundles of sand and soil were placed on the horses’ backs. Then, the morning after the full moon, they agreed that the time had come for them to teach their chosen ones what real closeness between horse and rider was all about.

  The women strode confidently down the bank toward the herd. This was the most important day of all—this friendly battle would finally be won or lost. As the sun rose to the highest point in the sky, Myrina raised her hands, and with one accord each woman leaped lightly onto the back of her steed. A few horses skidded in panic, but the women held on tight with their strong thighs that remembered well the warm feel of horseflesh. Soothing hands on necks and flanks reassured the beasts and soon each rider had her chosen one trotting obediently in whichever direction she wished.