Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3)

by Sandra Saidak

  “You told us we had to learn new ways,” the younger woman said as she tossed her pale blond hair behind her, apparently quite comfortable without a veil. Tarella’s hips swayed suggestively as she walked, and she clearly liked the attention it drew. “Besides, I’m the only woman here without a mate or children. A large family is a good opportunity for one like me. They will need help with the old woman, and the little girl should not grow up with only men.”

  Kalie had her doubts about Tarella’s motives, but wanted too much to believe her words to question them.

  The rest found homes soon after they arrived. Three houses stood empty. One, abandoned for some time, was going to be knocked down for usable materials. Instead, Borik and Zanal moved in, and set about repairing it, with help from local carpenters. Kalie, Riyik, Varena and Yarik moved into a home in far better shape, as the woman who owned it had recently died, and the relatives living with her had all moved into other dwellings.

  The remaining women—Brenia and Darva—moved with their children into a house built for a newly joined couple, who had tragically drowned in the Black Sea in the early days of their marriage.

  “This place is cursed!” whined Darva. “Their ghosts don’t want us living in their home when they can’t! I can feel it.”

  “I would think the feel of all these luxurious furs on your new feather bed would drive out all other feelings,” said Brenia.

  “It does help,” admitted Darva, as she ran her hands along the finely stitched fox pelts, and a whole blanket made of lush winter rabbit. The bed, large enough for Darva and both of her children nearly filled one of the two bedrooms in the stone and wood house. Kalie and some locals were setting up smaller beds in the second, smaller chamber for Brenia, Barak and Liara. “I just wish I could stop fearing we’re being readied for sacrifice.”

  Tarella pursed her lips in disapproval, as Darva explored the rest of the house with even more excitement than her children. She squealed in delight at the dishes of food brought by neighbors and left by the indoor hearth. She opened boxes exclaiming at the treasures within. One held a mirror of polished copper, and Darva nearly dropped it upon seeing her reflection for the first time.

  “That woman is a slave!” Tarella exclaimed. “Brenia should have the larger room with the finer bed!”

  “There are no slaves here.” As Kalie reminded Tarella of that simple fact, she wondered how many more times she would have to repeat it.

  “And Darva has had a harder life than I,” said Brenia, joining them in the main room, and gazing at the woman of twenty-five years who looked like a skeletal crone. Most of her teeth were worn or missing, and her black hair lay in tatters around a face pinched with hunger and deprivation. “Let her enjoy a few luxuries for now. You certainly are, Tarella.”

  “I was born a chief’s daughter!” the blond woman cried, outraged.

  “Until you were captured and made a slave,” Kalie reminded her.

  “Not a slave for long! Old Gorik made me his concubine.” Tarella picked up the mirror that Darva had discarded and gazed at her reflection. “If he hadn’t been so old and sick when he rode to battle, I might have stayed with him, and won him away from his old goat of a wife. But I knew he’d never survive, and then I’d just be some new man’s prize. Better to come here, I decided.”

  The mirror revealed a calculating smile on the beautiful woman’s face. “Arbela did me a favor when she slipped me that potion that caused me to lose Gorik’s baby. Here I am, still firm and unlined, ready to find a new man. One young and virile this time. And I will give him many fine sons.” She chuckled, setting down the mirror, and twirled around, her arms flung wide, as if to embrace her good fortune. “Oh, if Arbela could see me now!”

  Kalie and Brenia exchanged a look that combined amusement, outrage and disbelief. Kalie was about to speak, but Brenia simply put an arm around her and led her outside. “Come now,” said Brenia. “Let’s you and I enjoy some luxuries ourselves. We should have at least a few days before one of these fools starts trouble for all of us.”

  “Do you really think we have that long?” Kalie sighed.

  “Absolutely! How about a soak in the hot springs before we stuff ourselves with more of that amazing food and wine tonight?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” said Kalie.

  As it happened, the next few days passed without incident, and everyone enjoyed them. Kalie watched the newcomers carefully as they settled into town life. After showing everyone the community storage sheds filled with grain, fruit, nuts and dried meat, and explaining that everyone could come and take what they needed, Kalie was rarely anywhere else, making sure none of these people—so used to hunger—took more than their fair share.

  “It hasn’t been a problem,” Martel assured her. He was a pleasant featured man with thinning blond hair, just entering into middle age. “Do you really think it could be?” They sat on a stone bench outside the main food shed, where the roof sloped out above them, providing shade. Normally, someone kept watch when supplies were brought in, not out, to keep track, and inform the people of surpluses or shortages. Kalie had requested someone be on hand at all times to “answer any questions the new residents had.”

  “There are people here who have never had enough to eat,” she said. “Others who see the world only as predator and prey. I want them to learn there are other ways, but that won’t happen if they cause people here to go hungry at the end of winter. Have you spoken with any of them yet?”

  Martel nodded. “Zanal has shown several of us some ingenious ways to make tools from bone and horn. We are thinking of forming a group to make a large quantity of them over the winter, for trading in the spring.”

  Kalie smiled. This was exactly what she had hoped would happen.

  “Borik, too, is a most interesting man,” Martel said, stifling a laugh. “Probably the biggest man anyone here has ever seen. The children adore him. He plays with them and teaches them to ride those strange new animals. And he has much to teach us about hunting in the winter. I think you have little to fear in terms of shortages, Kalie, with the meat he and those he hunts with are bringing in.”

  “The firewood, too, seems much appreciated.” A few days earlier, after the first snowstorm of the season, Borik had found a fallen tree near the edge of town. Using nothing more than a sledge of hides, he had dragged the entire thing to the center of town, where Kalie and Martel could now see it.

  “That was quite a feat,” said Martel. “He’s not a man of words, though.” Martel’s fair skin went pink. “I meant no offense,” he said quickly. “Not everyone has the gift to learn a new language right away.”

  “He would not be offended,” Kalie assured Martel. “Borik was not a man of words in his own language, either. His greatest gift is his strength, and I can see now that he delights in using it for the good of others. That was not something he could easily do where he came from.”

  “I am surprised,” said Martel. “From what I have heard about that far-off place, strength seems to have been greatly prized.”

  “It’s the using it for the good of others that was…complicated,” said Kalie. “They are very competitive in the grasslands.”

  “They seem to hold very odd views about men and women, as well. Most of the women have been hard to get to know. I’m told their customs are quite…strict…about keeping separate from men not family. I spoke with Brenia a few days ago. I showed her where to find wool and flax for spinning. My life-mate, while she lived, quite enjoyed making cloth, and I insisted Brenia take her old spindle and loom, since they’re doing no good in my house. The next day, she came to my door with a wonderful meal she had cooked, and gave it to me—but would not enter my home to share it!” Martel looked at Kalie as though for an explanation, then looked away. “But you have nothing to fear. Their ways may be strange, but these people have much to offer, and most of them offer it freely. They will do well here.”

  Kalie leaned back against the stone wall, feeling at
peace. Perhaps she really could stop worrying.

  Not likely.

  She saw Riyik coming toward her, and waved. He was in a group of three men and one woman. They stopped by the storage shed. “I’m going to meet master-carver Lowek,” he told her. Kalie realized that the others in the group were probably all carvers. “My friends here tell me that our work session will probably end with an invitation to stay for supper, and that I should speak with you.” Riyik paused, looking uncertain. Kalie suppressed a smile. He apparently didn’t know if he was expected to ask her permission, or invite her to join them. Oh, if his spear-brothers could see him now, she thought.

  “Go, enjoy,” she said. “I have plans tonight, anyway.”

  Riyik was clearly relieved, though he looked askance at the thought of his wife having plans he didn’t know about. Kalie looked up at the snowflakes that were beginning to fall. Everyone outside hurried to finish what they were doing and get inside. She and Martel stood, and with hurried farewells, went their separate ways.

  A few hardy souls were still hacking pieces from the tree Borik had retrieved. Kalie saw that one of them was Varena, and that she had already accumulated a sizable pile.

  “Varena, let’s go inside!” Kalie called over the wind. “You have more wood than you can carry already.”

  “No, I can do it.” Varena bundled it all together with a leather cord, exactly as if she had still been living on the steppes.

  “There’s more here than we need,” said Kalie.

  “Most is for other families.” Varena adjusted the huge pile on her back, trump- line across her forehead. “Go home, Mother. I’ll be there after I’ve delivered all of this.”

  Kalie picked up the pieces that had fallen from the bundle. “Varena, I think you work harder now than when you were a slave!” she said, coming up beside the young woman.

  “That’s because here, no one forces me to work, or is mean to me! When I do anything helpful—even when it’s learning things that are helpful to me—people are nice! They even give me things in return!” The beautiful parka Varena was wearing, made of sable fur and trimmed with ermine tails and ivory beads, attested to that.

  When all the wood had been delivered, mother and daughter returned home. Varena went to collect Yarik from the neighbors while Kalie built up the fire. While the little boy played with the new toys his father had carved for him, Varena began preparing dinner. Kalie quickly noticed she had more food than the family could eat—even if Riyik were to be home.

  “Are we having company?” Kalie asked innocently.

  “You told me I could invite people whenever I wanted,” Varena said nervously. “And I provided most of the food.”

  “Of course, dear,” said Kalie. “But it’s also customary to check with the others who live with you.”

  “Is it all right?” Varena asked anxiously, all pretense of being a confident, independent woman gone. “There’s only three or four coming, and Jolie and Cobin are going to teach me to play the flute. I milked both mares today, and I’m going to show them how to make curds, and Borik brought over two ducks, so we’ll have plenty—“

  “It’s fine,” said Kalie. “Just tell me sooner next time. And…you’re not planning to show them how to make kumis, are you?”

  Varena made a face. “Gods, no! Besides, Jolie is bringing wine, which is so much better. Have you ever tasted it? Her father trades for it all the way to the Great Salt Waters in the south!”

  Kalie decided not to spend the evening meditating in one of the temples as she had planned. Chaperoning Varena and her friends would be more fun, not to mention important. And, very likely, more healing.

  Chapter 8

  Trouble, when it finally arrived, came from a source no one had expected.

  It was on a cold, clear morning, while everyone was preparing for the Winter Festival, that a young boy came running into the gathering space outside the main temple, shouting that someone was hurt, or hurting someone, and would someone please come?

  Many people were about, preparing the temple for the upcoming festivities, so in only moments, the child, who had slipped in the snow, and was trying to right himself, was surrounded by concerned people. “What is it, Vasar?” asked one of the temple acolytes, as he helped the child to his feet.

  “It’s Sirak!” cried the boy, shaking. “He’s hitting Lalia with a stick! And the other boys are just watching!”

  “Show us!” commanded one of the senior priestesses. It only took the mention of the boy from the steppes—Darva’s eleven year old son—to send Kalie racing after the crowd which was following Vasar. The boy led them to the forest outside the town. There, between two large trees, partially hidden by some leafless bushes, stood a circle of boys—all of them from the town.

  In the center was the only outsider—Sirak. At his feet was a screaming girl, trying to protect herself from the stick Sirak was viciously wielding. “This is what happens to a girl who meddles in the affairs of men!” Sirak shouted, swiping the stick across her back. He handed the stick to the boy closest to him. “Now, you, Josan! Teach this girl some respect. Soon, all of them will learn—“

  Sirak broke off when the priestess grabbed the stick from Josan, and Janak the smith grabbed Sirak from behind, pinning both his arms. The steppes boy fought, but as he lacked the muscles and training of a grown man of his tribe, could do nothing to break Janak’s hold. He resorted to shouting profanity and threats which Kalie prayed no one here could understand. From the expressions on the faces of the other boys, however, it was clear Sirak had been teaching them the language, as well as the customs of his people.

  Several people were helping Lalia to her feet when a scream pierced the air. Zola, Lalia’s mother, was running toward them. Beside her lumbered Borik. From the disarray of their clothing and way they moved together, it was clear what they had been doing. Under any other circumstances, Kalie would have been delighted. Although…Borik? And Zola? Kalie shook her head. Later.

  “You will each have a turn to speak,” said Nara the Priestess. “But I remind you that you are all in the presence of the Mother of All. She hears; and She knows what is in your hearts.

  They were in the main chamber of one of the smaller temples, this one dedicated to settling disputes. Sirak and the five boys involved were seated on the floor to the right of the altar. Parents of the boys sat against the wall a short distance away. To the left of the altar, Lalia, whose cuts and bruises had been treated, sat on her mother’s lap. Borik had wanted to stay, but Zola had coldly asked him to leave. Only Kalie and Riyik were allowed to attend as representatives of the newcomers—a job neither relished at the moment. Because this problem involved customs and people who were unknown to the people of Stonebridge, two priests joined Nara to resolve what otherwise would have been handled by the families themselves.

  Kalie scanned the expressions on the faces of the parents. Most ranged from outrage to shock to concern. Only Darva looked afraid, and even that warred with anger. She looked hopefully toward the two men seated before the altar, but scowled when the woman continued to speak.

  “Josan?” prompted Nara.

  The boy stared at the floor. “Sirak started teaching some of us about the ways of his people a few days after the new people came here.” He risked a glance at the priestess, then at his mother. “Everyone said we had to teach them our language and our ways, and that we should learn theirs, too!”

  “When did the secret meetings begin?” asked the priest named Bodon. “Nylan?”

  “Just a few days ago,” replied the boy, more puzzled than worried. “He told us that we were the best of the boys here, and he was going to teach us the way of the warrior. Those who did well would rule as chiefs, when all the priestesses were gone.”

  “And what is a chief?” asked Bodon.

  “I don’t know,” said Nylan. “That’s why I went to the meeting! I wanted to learn more. Sirak says that in his land, men make all the rules.”

  Nara looked a
t each boy in turn. “And when you heard such things, why did you not tell an adult? Did you not realize the wrongness of such ideas?”

  The boys shrugged and looked at each other. “Sirak said that only men could ride horses and win glory and rule over other men,” said another boy, probably the youngest. “I don’t know about that other stuff, but I want to ride a horse!”

  “How did the attack on Lalia come about?” asked Orin, the second priest.

  The boys shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. “Sirak?” asked the priest.

  “I don’t have to tell you anything!” the boy retorted.

  “You are correct,” said Orin. “I simply wanted to give you a chance to help yourself, since your lack of respect will work against you. There’s only one person whose words we need to hear now. Lalia?”

  Before the girl could speak, Sirak shouted in disbelief, “You’re going to let her speak? A stupid girl? One who’s never even learned to obey a man?”

  “Sirak, do you truly not understand how much trouble you are in?” Riyik demanded. “Or how much trouble you’ve brought to your mother?” Although technically a breach of protocol, no one objected. In fact, Kalie suspected this is what the others in the room had hoped for.

  At the mention of his mother, Sirak looked afraid for the first time. “I…was only trying to teach them a better way to live.”

  “My son speaks the truth,” Darva began.

  “You will have your turn,” Nara told the former slave. “Now then. Lalia?”

  “I just wanted to know what they were doing. Everyone wanted to meet the new children, but there’s only two girls, and they don’t say much. Sirak was fun at first. He knew lots of things, showed us new games. But then he said no girls could play!” Lalia looked around, as if daring the adults to believe such a thing. “When I saw him taking a group of boys into the woods, I followed them. Then I heard what Sirak was telling them, and I knew it was bad, so I tried to leave. To tell an adult.” Here Lalia glared at the boys who should have done the same. “Sirak grabbed me and—“ Lalia’s voice caught. “He hurt me! He wanted the others to hurt me!” Her voice was swallowed by a sob. Zola hugged her daughter.