The Shepherd Girl's Necklace (The Windhaven Chronicles)

by Watson Davis

  “Like your daughter, I am interested in learning more of your story,” the rector said.

  “I’m not—” Sifa said, but Ka-bes raised her hand, silencing Sifa once more.

  Idemi’s gaze locked on to Sifa and she squinted. “That’s not your daughter. What is that?”

  “Thyu’fest and his men have stolen our herd, and many of our belongings, our records, our books.” Ka-bes clasped her hands together before her mouth and bowed. “Please, I beseech you, investigate his actions and return our livelihoods to us. We have nothing else.”

  “You have nothing else?” A smile crept onto the rector’s lips. “Other paths exist.”

  Ka-bes raised her head, her back straightening. She glared at the rector. “We are not destitute.”

  “I will consider your claim,” the rector said, inclining her head. “But consider my conundrum. Do I investigate a man who pays his taxes on time, who provides manpower to help around the town as needed, who comes to offer his confessions and prayers twice a week, or a wandering vagabond who may be an escaped slave, with the mark of a liar on her lips, whose breath bears hints of alcohol, with a youngling at her side?”

  Sifa coughed.

  “I understand, Rector.” Ka-bes bowed and backed away, motioning for Sifa to follow. “Thank you for your consideration.”

  Sifa scurried up to Ka-bes’s side, peering up at her face. “But—”

  “Shh,” Ka-bes said, grabbing Sifa’s upper arm and dragging her toward the door, each stride longer than the last.

  Sifa tried to keep up but stumbled. Ka-bes’s grip on Sifa’s arm kept her from falling.

  The rector’s voice boomed, “I have not given you permission to leave, child.”

  Ka-bes halted, her back stiffening as though whipped, and Sifa stumbled a few more steps before stopping as well.

  “Who do you belong to now?” Rector Idemi asked, ambling toward them in a loose-hipped gait with a surprising grace and an ominous menace. “Convince me why I shouldn’t stick you in the dungeons until I can find your master and return you.”

  “Ka-bes is no one’s slave!” Sifa said, her voice trembling. She glared at Rector Idemi, then at Ka-bes. “Right?”

  “There is no one to return me to,” Ka-bes said, her voice a whisper, her fists trembling at her thighs. “I am doing as commanded.”

  Rector Idemi whispered magical words, her right hand tracing symbols in the air. She sighed. “The collar says you are not lying, but that’s not a simple slave collar. Only someone in a position of power could weave this.”

  “May we leave now?” Ka-bes asked. “Please.”

  “No.” A smile spread across Rector Idemi’s lips. “You are a mystery, and I cannot allow you to leave until I have satisfying answers.”

  “We are not criminals,” Sifa said. Thunder rumbled in the distance, shaking the ground. “Ka-bes is no one’s slave girl to be pushed around worse than a villager treats his ass. These insults are not acceptable.”

  “Sifa!” Ka-bes squeezed Sifa’s arm.

  Sifa bowed her head, her heart thudding, tears of anger and frustration blurring her vision as her body quivered.

  “Acceptable?” Rector Idemi’s eyes narrowed, and she moved to stand before Sifa. “I say what is and is not acceptable in this town.” She grabbed Sifa’s chin and tilted her head up. “What manner of creature are you? Which of the realms do you call home?”

  “Home?” Sifa asked.

  The rector said a word, moved her hand. Sparkling motes trailed behind it, whorls of magic sparkled in the air and formed symbols. The gemstone in Sifa’s necklace exploded with a blinding light and the rector stepped back, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Ka-bes whirled and lunged, her dagger in her hand, the point slicing into Rector Idemi’s throat and driving up through her skull into her brain. Rector Idemi stiffened and slid off Ka-bes’s now bloody blade, tumbling to the floor.

  Sifa jumped back, her mouth open, staring at the body on the ground, at the dark hands reaching up through the floor and tugging an ethereal form of the rector from her own body, dragging it down screaming until it disappeared completely and the shrieks faded.

  A dark pool spread out from the rector on the red carpet.

  Ka-bes said, “I told you to keep your fool head down.”

  SIFA JOGGED THROUGH the orchard a step behind Ka-bes with her head bowed and her eyes burning with tears, ignoring the rows of olive trees surrounding her. The dirt, so different than the sand of the Ohkrulon, tugged at her sandals. The stars above her twinkled in a cloudless sky. The herd grew closer with each step, Kehseho farther away, left behind at one of the many fences on this side of the river. Sifa shivered, thinking of the dark misty hands rising from the floor around the rector’s body. “But was killing her the right choice? Would a hero kill a rector? Would Jyif-ek, Pitsyi, or Dyuh Mon kill a priestess?”

  “They’d kill as many as it took to bind the spell,” Ka-bes said, her breathing fast, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Don’t think they wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t know if I should believe you,” Sifa said, shaking her head. “The rector said you were a liar. What if you’re lying to me? How would I know if you were lying?”

  Ka-bes stopped and turned to Sifa, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I need you to help me. We can turn around and go back to Kehseho right now. We can run away and try to start a new life somewhere else,” Ka-bes said, speaking in a soft voice as she squeezed Sifa’s shoulder. “Do you want that or do you want our life to go back to normal?”

  “Yes,” Sifa said, nodding. “Just the two of us out in the desert. I won’t complain or ask to go into any towns or speak to any boys in the caravans or sneak away or anything.”

  “That means we have to get our herd back but I can’t do that alone. I need you to help.”

  “Did you have to kill her, though?” Sifa said, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

  “Neither of us would fare well in an imperial dungeon.” Ka-bes pulled Sifa to her, wrapping her arms around Sifa’s neck and shoulders, hugging her close. The smell of her sweat calmed Sifa’s racing heart. “You have to stay away from the priests and priestesses. Don’t talk to them. Don’t let them cast spells on you.”

  “Why?” Sifa asked, peering up at Ka-bes, pushing her horn against Ka-bes’s chest.

  “I don’t know what they’ll find.”

  “What they’ll find?” Sifa pulled back and stared up at Ka-bes. “What does that mean?”

  “I was commanded to protect you from the empire.” Ka-bes put her hand on Sifa’s head and mussed up her hair. “But I didn’t have time to ask why.”

  Sifa blinked. “I’m just a regular person. Right?”

  “No.” Ka-bes turned and jogged away between the scrawny trees toward the next fence-line.

  Sifa raced and caught up and jogged along beside her a few more steps before asking, “Are you really a slave? I thought you were wearing a necklace. That’s not like other slave collars. It’s bigger, thicker, and prettier.”

  Ka-bes didn’t answer, and they ran in silence until they approached the fence. Ka-bes stopped and reached toward the topmost beam, positioning herself to leap over it like they had the others.

  The wooden posts and beams sparkled and twinkled with a ghostly light, like the necklaces around Ka-bes’s and Sifa’s necks.

  “What a pretty fence,” Sifa said.

  Ka-bes pulled back. “What do you mean? What is pretty about it?”

  “The glittering.” Sifa shrugged. “Like our necklaces. Well, my necklace and your slave collar.”

  “What is glittering?”

  Sifa gestured toward the fence. “All of it.”

  “Dammit,” Ka-bes said, and then she spoke some words, her hands moving in the air, sparkles and swirls flashing from her fingertips. When she was done, she knelt by the fence and moved her hands a finger’s breadth above it, not quite touching. She shook her head. “They’ve woven spells on the
fence. Probably an alarm or a ward of some sort, I can’t tell. I don’t know that kind of magic.”

  “Our necklaces are magic?” Sifa squatted down at Ka-bes’s side, raising her head at the bleating of the goats. She reached her hand toward the fence, but Ka-bes grabbed it and pushed her back.

  “Don’t touch the fence,” she said. “Don’t even get close to the fence.”

  “The goats are just over there. They’re running this way. What are we going to do? How are we going to get them over if we’re not going to touch the fence?”

  Ka-bes moved her hands, staring at the fence. The light from the flows of magic illuminated her face. She traced out a strand, her right hand hovering just before it, tracing it’s path until it came to an intersection with a jagged white cube.

  Sifa leaned closer. “What is that?”

  “That is a node of some kind, I think,” Ka-bes whispered. “How can you even see that? I can barely sense it.”

  “What does it do?” Sifa asked. “And why are we whispering?”

  “Could be a flow point, could be a delivery point, could be a flash point,” Ka-bes said. “If I flick it, I could turn the spell off, or I could turn the spell on. And we’re whispering so Thyu’fest and his ranch hands don’t hear us.”

  “What if you squeeze a node?” Sifa held up her hand and tightened it into a fist. “I think this one over here wants to be squeezed.”

  “Don’t touch anything.” Ka-bes sighed, then relaxed, leaning back. “I can’t disarm this spell. I don’t understand what it’s doing or how any of it works. I’m going to have to pick the goats up and carry them over the fence.”

  “You can do that?” Sifa asked, brightening. “Of course you can, you’re Ka-bes!”

  “Right, here’s the plan,” Ka-bes said, standing on the tips of her toes and peering over the fence into the dark field. “I can’t pick them all up at once and carry them over the fence, but I can carry them a few at a time. Once I get them over to this side of the fence, you need to gather them up and keep them from wandering off, or doing anything stupid. Understand?”

  Sifa nodded and grinned. “Yes.”

  Ka-bes positioned her hands before her chest, palms facing each other. Ghostly wisps appeared, swaying as though caught in an unsensed tide, like a spider’s web caught in a breeze. The wisps grew brighter, thickened into tendrils flowing around her hands. Ka-bes began to chant and each word appeared before her lips before being swept up by the tendrils, the wisps glowing brighter.

  Ka-bes motioned with her hands toward the ground and stepped toward the fence. A gust of wind blew from her hands, down into the ground, lifting her up and over the fence, setting her down gently on the other side.

  “I want to do that,” Sifa said, hopping up and down and clapping her hands. “That looks like fun! Can you show me how to do that?”

  Ka-bes didn’t answer but stood with her back to Sifa, moving her arms and legs in an intricate graceful dance, magic whirling about her, the strands changing into runes and symbols.

  The goats ran toward her. Ka-bes picked up Meany-Head and Frazzle—their legs kicking, searching for the ground—and propelled them through the air with her winds, to drop them down beside Sifa.

  Sifa grabbed Frazzle around the neck and said, “Perfect shot!”

  Next Spot, Dart, and Blackie flew over the fence, each landing near Sifa, who patted and hugged them one by one to calm them down.

  Ka-bes lifted Dingleberry and Grumpy up. Meany-Head ran past Sifa toward Ka-bes, toward the fence.

  “Wait, Meany-Head,” Sifa said, releasing Blackie, and reaching toward him. “Everyone will be over soon enough.”

  Dingleberry and Grumpy flew over Meany-Head, both of them bleating and kicking their legs. Meany-Head reared up onto his hind legs and launched himself head-first at the top-most fence rail. A bright light flashed, the beam exploded, and an alarm wailed. The magic of the fence dimmed and flickered out.

  “Meany-Head!” Sifa cried.

  The goat staggered back, the crown of his head smoking, his eyes blinking. He tumbled to the ground and lay there with his legs stiff. Sifa ran toward him.

  Ka-bes shouted, “No. Stay back!”

  Sifa crouched next to Meany-Head, laying one hand on the now magic-less fence.

  At the Thyu-fest’s ranch house in the distance, lights flickered on and men shouted.

  “We’ve got to go,” Ka-bes said, pitching her voice low. She waved her arms, and winds swirled around her and blew a hole in the fence.

  SIFA CRADLED MEANY-Head’s head in her arms, sitting on her knees in the dirt. She stroked his face and his tail wagged. The other goats poured through the hole in the fence as Ka-bes waved her arms and shooed them. They ran to Sifa’s side, circling around her, bleating.

  “We have to go!” Ka-bes grabbed Ashface, pulling her back through the hole in the fence. She said, “They will be here soon.”

  Sifa looked up at Ka-bes. “But Meany-Head is hurt.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.” Ka-bes bent down and placed the back of her hand on Sifa’s cheek. “He’s more than hurt. If he’s not dead yet, he will be soon.”

  Sifa rocked back and forth with tears streaming down her face, caressing Meany-Head’s face, half-singing a lullaby she often sang to the goats. The two goats yanked their heads and horns out of Ka-bes’s grasp, hopping back over to be beside Sifa and Meany-Head, kicking out at Ka-bes with their hind legs when she followed.

  Ka-bes touched Sifa’s shoulder. “We have to go.”

  A hand reached out of nowhere, ghostly and glowing, and stroked Meany-Head’s back, one hand and then another and then several more. A part of Meany-Head jumped out of his body and kicked, wagging his tail. He leapt once more, straight up, and disappeared like a puff of smoke.

  Ka-bes waited at the fence, her eyes blinking, looking after the goats, all of them now past the fence. “Honey, we can’t save him.”

  Sifa stood, unsure what to do next. “Where did he go?”

  “Hurry!” Ka-bes gestured. “They’re coming. We’ve got to go!”

  “Yes, right!” Sifa settled Meany-Head’s lifeless body on the ground and patted it, then lurched to her feet. “Let’s go!” She ran as fast as she could, the goats trailing after her, tails wagging like it was a new game. “What about our moo-cow?”

  “We don’t have time to get her,” Ka-bes said, performing a kind of dance with her arms and legs moving forcefully one way, then another.

  A stiff wind hit Sifa in the face, howling past her. She held up her hands and plodded forward, shutting her eyes against the dust and sand brought across the river from the Ohkrulon desert, whistling past her, cutting at her skin. She concentrated on thoughts and feelings of the goats before her, on Kehseho’s grumpy heart, willing the goats to go there.

  Kehseho’s figure came into view in the haze, the goats crowding around him, nickering and bleating and touching noses. Sifa stopped and grabbed his reins, unwrapping them from the bush they’d tied them to. She looked back.

  Magic roiled around Ka-bes. She reached up into the sky and out to the desert, pulling the winds to her, reaching out from this world into the realms beyond, into the realms of air.

  A tempest answered Ka-bes’s call, thundering out from where she stood across the the fields and pastures. The men charging toward them were swept away by the gale, the lush gardens ripped up, the barn and coop collapsed. Thyu’fest’s villa tumbled, the stucco flaking off, the brick and stone beneath crumpling. Men and women yelled, calling for help.

  Sifa blinked, her mind struggling to make sense of it all. Ka-bes ended her spell, shutting the winds off, slamming shut the tunnels she’d created into the other realms.

  Ka-bes staggered toward Sifa, wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow, and said, “That should give us a little time.”

  Who Are You

  SIFA WALKED, HEAD DOWN, beside Kehseho, her right hand on the yoke around his neck as much to guide the camel as to keep herself upright. H
er left hand clutched the jewel on her necklace.

  The cart rolled along behind the camel, the wooden wheels creaking over the rocky ground, the enclosure she’d made over the cart from the top of their yurt swaying from side to side as the cart negotiated the uneven terrain. Inside, Ka-bes snored. Fans and rugs dragged along behind them, secured by ropes, sweeping back and forth to erase their tracks.

  Sifa’s numb thoughts wandered from the here and now to the far away. Far to the west, past the river, the pain stabbed her heart, an aching loss, an inconsolable sadness, but a part of who she was, unquestioned. She shook her head and blinked her eyes, pushing that aside. She studied the landscape, sensing the hunger of scorpions and sandtigers.

  The sun beat down on the white hood covering Sifa’s head. Her sweat dried on her skin as soon as it beaded up.

  The oppressive heat rose off the baked sand in waves, obscuring the distance like looking through water. Before her, their destination loomed up from the sand, casting long shadows like spidery fingers toward her and she pressed Kehseho forward, urging him to move faster.

  Blackie and Frazzle ran ahead of her, bumping against her as they passed. They stopped at a tasty-looking clump of binka bushes.

  “No!” Sifa sprinted forward with her shepherd’s crook in her hand. “Come away from there! Quick!”

  A small scorpion, about the size of a goat, reared up out of the desert sand, holding its tail up high and its fore-claws spread and ready to attack.

  Sifa lashed out with her crook, knocking Frazzle aside as the creature’s stinger shot forward to where the goat had been. The goats retreated to the rest of the herd, Frazzle with a mouthful of binka bush and his tail wagging with pleasure.

  “Go away!” Sifa yelled, moving to put herself between the scorpion and the herd. The scorpion scuttled to the side and then lunged forward, striking with its tail once more. Sifa danced back and smacked the base of the stinger. “Leave us alone!”

  The scorpion backed away and then whirled and scurried off.

  Ka-bes groaned.

  Sifa jogged back to Kehseho and put her hand on its nose, murmuring, “Whoa, Kehseho. Whoa.”