To Kalie’s relief, only a few looked ready to follow Hysaak, and none actually made a move to do so. Martel tried to urge Brenia to the back of the crowd, but she refused to move, her eyes riveted on the scene before her.
Hysaak reddened when he saw he had no support. Then he tried a different tack. “If my whore of a wife is here, then so is my son! I call upon my spear brothers to help me reclaim him. Or has your honor grown so weak you will deny me even that?”
This time, there was a muttering of support. Some beliefs could not be overruled by a king, and a man’s claim to his children was one of them.
“Release him!” Kariik commanded, approaching Hysaak.
Hysaak’s surprise turned to a grin of triumph. “Does the king now see the wisdom of…” Kariik slid his knife across Hysaak’s throat in a quick, efficient move. The surprise returned to Hysaak’s eyes as he continued speaking, seemed to notice that only blood, not words, came out, and then slowly crumpled to the ground.
To his men Kariik called out: “Is there another man here who will make of me an oath breaker? Who will insult our hosts after eating from their table? Who would endanger all of us—and our children—when we have but one chance left to redeem our tribe?”
There were some respectful denials, and then a scream pierced the air. Elka threw herself on Hysaak’s body, wailing and tearing at her clothes. None of the other women approached to offer comfort, although one did pick up the baby Elka had dropped. Alessa and another healer hurried over and, considering the circumstances, Kalie thought that all three seemed to work together quite well in coming to the child’s aid.
People were conferring about what to do next when a new voice joined in. “At least you can all see these animals for what they are. Now perhaps you will finally listen to me.”
Kalie did not need to look up to know that Otera had arrived early.
But she looked up anyway.
The tall blond woman had brought a group of at least twenty other women, whom she was instructing in the ways of the beastmen, pointing to the various living specimens as she did. When at last she pointed to Kalie, Otera finished with, “And this is the woman who brought the accursed beasts and all their violence to our homes.”
At that moment, Elka leapt from Hysaak’s body and rushed at Kalie. “This is all your fault!” she screamed. “None of us would be in this godless place but for you! My husband would still be alive if you had not…”
Kalie grabbed Elka by her hair. Dragging her a short distance, she used her other hand to grab a startled Otera by one of her muscular arms. With a strength borne of a fury she had never known, Kalie marched both women to a nearby storage shed and propelled them through the open door.
“Since you can both agree that everything that’s wrong in your lives is my fault,” Kalie yelled, “let’s find out if there’s anything else you can agree on. Maybe by morning, you can arrive at something that’s actually useful!” Then, just as both women leapt to their feet and mad a dash for the door, Kalie slammed it shut. From the thud, followed by a yelp, she guessed that someone’s face had been hit. She did not care whose.
Kalie leaned against the door to keep it closed, only to have the combined force of both women’s might knock her to the ground. The next thing she knew, Borik was lifting her gently to her feet. Then he placed his impressive bulk against the door, feet spread and arms crossed. He looked prepared to remain that way all night.
“Go get some rest, Kalie,” Borik said, and Kalie thought she saw him smile.
Chapter 21
The moon had risen and the lavender twilight was fading to black when Kalie awoke. She was in her bed, wrapped around her sleeping daughter. Kalie only vaguely remembered returning home, nursing Melora and falling into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
Varena and Noris sat on the carved wooden chest near the bed, fingers entwined, and waiting patiently.
Kalie sat up, careful not to wake the baby. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“We were about to ask you that,” said Varena. “But we didn’t want to wake you to do it.”
“Are Otera and Elka still in the shed?”
“Yes,” said Noris. “But probably not for much longer. Everyone agrees with what you did, but Nara says keeping them in there all night is too harsh. She’d like you to let them out, and give them a chance to apologize to you. Then you can all join the feast that’s starting…” He glanced out through uncovered window to the first emerging stars. “About now.”
Kalie snorted. “Apologize? Those two?”
“You won’t be alone,” Varena said quickly. “Kariik himself will explain to Elka why it would be a good idea, and half the priesthood will explain it to Otera.”
Kalie sighed. A forced apology wouldn’t really mean much, but she appreciated the support she was receiving. And it sounded like her presence was required. She quickly changed into a more festive dress and brushed her long brown hair, wondering if she should start looking for strands of grey.
“What about Melora?” she asked Varena. “And Yarik?”
Varena looked proud, almost haughty. “Yarik is at the feast with his father—where no one will dare make fun of him. Noris and I will stay will Melora.” She gazed fondly at the sleeping baby. “We’ll need the practice.”
“Any time soon?” Kalie asked, trying to sound casual.
“Not yet,” Noris reassured her. “But soon—or at least, after these troubles are over, I hope.”
Kalie thanked them both, and then strolled out into the night, taking slow, deep breaths, and enjoying the quiet. While the town was far from empty, Kalie guessed about half the population of Stonebridge was at the nomad camp.
She reached the storage shed. She could hear nothing from inside, but several people were gathered outside, speaking quietly, and Borik appeared not to have moved from his post at all.
“Kalie!” Orin called. “Are you willing to release the two ill-tempered children you have rightfully closeted together?”
“If that is the will of the council. And I would like Borik to be free to go enjoy the feast.”
“I’m fine where I am now,” said Borik, but at a gesture from Kalie, he stepped aside.
Kalie opened the door.
Otera and Elka sat against opposite walls, glaring at each other. They looked to the door at the same time. Under different circumstances, it might have been funny.
“Well?” asked Kalie. “Did you find anything else you could agree on? Besides everything being my fault?” She repeated the questions in the nomad tongue.
Otera stood stiffly, and replied, “I do not converse with animals.” Then, as she saw the assembled clerics, “And I apologize for my behavior.” She ducked out of the doorway and walked toward her lodgings, looking neither right nor left. Kalie wondered if Otera had any idea what she was supposed to be sorry about.
Elka followed, looking from Kalie to Kariik. “I used my time in isolation to mourn my husband, as was fitting,” she said. “Since the ugly bitch I was trapped with could not even speak properly, she was not too much of a distraction. If you will excuse me, I shall go prepare to join my husband in the next life.”
“Go,” said Kariik tersely.
“Will you really allow her to kill herself?” Ilara asked, horrified. Kalie translated, surprised at her own mixed feelings on the subject.
Kariik sighed, looking even older than he had just two days earlier. “It is her right, and our custom, but I suspect your women will find a way to talk her out of it.”
“What of her child?” asked Nara.
“That’s just it,” said Kariik. “We’ve lost too many people already! There are no women left with enough milk to feed the boy. There are men who need wives—and we’re not likely to find them among the Goddess-worshipers!”
“She is a troublemaker,” said Kalie. Ilara gasped.
“She is that,” said Kariik, his growing command of the local language allowing him to be understood by everyone p
resent. “Were we back on the steppes, at our full strength, I would be delighted to grant her the honor of accompanying her fool of a husband to the afterlife.”
“And if things were normal here,” said Kalie, “I’d consider it a great step forward to help end that barbaric custom. But there’s Brenia to think about as well. Expecting the two of them to live together? Elka did try to kill her, you know?”
“So did I,” Kariik said wryly. “Along with your husband and several warriors who are living here now. As Hysaak reminded everyone this morning.”
The message was clear enough: everyone involved would simply have to find a way to leave the past behind and live together.
Kariik led the way to his camp beyond the river, where a quiet, but mostly cheerful party was underway. The results of food, rest and medical care were already showing among the tribespeople, especially the women and children. Groups of various sizes gathered around dozens of small campfires, sharing food donated by the people of Stonebridge, supplemented by meat hunted today.
Kalie saw Ranal sitting with another local hunter, and several warriors, all of whom had hunted together that evening. Women were carving and distributing the meat from two elderly stags, while the men seemed to be having an intense discussion of the merits of bow versus spear in a forested area. Several stews containing rabbit and squirrel meat and dried vegetables bubbled at different fires. Children who were not busy eating were playing in the open space between the tents.
Kalie joined a group of women from both cultures. Sarella was ladling stew into bowls and distributing them. They appeared to be in the middle of a discussion about Elka. “Would she truly take her own life because her partner died?” one woman asked.
“It’s the only way a woman can be guaranteed an eternity in paradise,” explained a woman Kalie remembered as Tilka, a wife from Zavan’s clan—when he still lived to lead his clan.
“Paradise?” asked Sarella.
“Like going home to the Goddess,” Darva, who was translating, explained. “A place of eternal springtime, where a wife rides beside her husband, without fear of competition or the need to ever work again.” Darva smiled bitterly, as if wondering how she had ever believed such things.
“But why not just wait until your gods call you, and join your…what is the word… husbands then?”
The nomad women looked at each other as if such a thought had never occurred to them, and then shrugged. “It’s simply the way things are,” Tilka said.
As Sarella gave Kalie a bowl of stew, they were joined by Ilara and Alessa.
“What if the wife is a nursing mother?” Sarella asked. “As Elka is. What of her child?”
“Another woman, usually of higher standing, will raise him,” said a woman Kalie didn’t recognize. “Her husband vows to raise him to know of his father, and thus all are honored.”
“Would Brenia take the boy—if such a terrible thing as you describe were allowed to happen?” Ilara asked. “He would at least live with blood kin, as Barak is his half brother--? Did I say something wrong?”
The nomad women were hissing and making signs against evil. One spat on the ground in Ilara’s direction.
“Brenia will die a Shadow Woman, cast out of all that is good,” Tilka hissed. “She betrayed her husband and her people.”
“There is no greater crime,” Kara said slowly, as if her hosts were imbeciles. She scanned the other fires, and the people moving in between. “See how she does not dare to show her face even now, while his true wife mourns him.” Kara nodded toward the tent from where Elka’s wails could be faintly heard.
“Actually,” said Kalie, “Brenia is in her home, with her family and friends, mourning Hysaak in her own way.” She smiled at the shocked looks several of the nomad women could not hide. “It surprised me too, when I called on her earlier. Hysaak was a man without honor, who nearly beat Brenia to death to please Elka, and then turned his back on her and all he vowed to her when he sensed his own skin was in danger. So why should she mourn him at all? Especially now that she has a better husband and a life without fear and humiliation?”
“What kind of low-born slut could even speak of such things?” Kara began, gazing at Kalie with horror, but not recognition. “Hysaak was her husband! If she could not please him then the fault was hers, and could have been resolved fairly with her death. She does not have the right to simply choose another…”
“Brenia always did have more honor than most in that tribe,” Darva added, as if Kara had not spoken. “She kept all her vows to Hysaak; mourning him now is the last of those vows. So of course she will do it.” Darva spoke as if to explain, but Kalie could hear the glee in her voice that matched Kalie’s own, and for the first time, felt a friendship with Darva begin to blossom. The giddiness that followed made her reckless.
“Brenia will probably ask Martel to leave her bed for a few nights” Kalie said, trying to sound serious, but something close to a giggle escaped. “Something Hysaak would never have done were the situation reversed.”
Alessa sighed. “Kalie, we’re here to build friendships, not pick a fight.” Kalie tried to look contrite, but failed. The other women of the town looked confused as to why any of this would be the cause of a fight.
“But what of the child?” Sarella pressed. “How can there still be women enough left to take him in? And how could any woman leave her child like that?”
“Yes,” said Ilara. “There are babies dying now because their mothers’ milk has dried from deprivation. And half your warriors have died this past season. If every wife did as you suggest…”
The mood changed abruptly. All thoughts of fighting over whose way was better seemed to disappear. “These are evil times,” said Tilka. “Our king says we must adapt to new ways. He is right, of course. And you are right, Lady. She nodded toward Ilara.
Kalie’s eyebrows shot so high, her eyes were visible even by the faint light of the fire. “Ilara helped save Tilka’s daughter from starvation when Tilka thought it was too late,” Alessa said. “And cured her husband of an infected wound.”
That would explain Tilka’s respectful tone, but not necessarily her openness to new ideas.
“Too many women have lost their men,” Tilka continued. “And too many men have lost wives. So the Great One tells us it is our duty to live instead. To remarry, and give birth to more warriors, and raise the children who are our future.”
“He has also said that slaves are to become wives,” added another woman. “That there will be no more slaves among the Aahk.”
“That shall never happen while I live,” said an older woman.
“I did hope you might say that, mistress,” hissed the first woman. “Surely our king will not object to you taking your life, if that is your wish.”
The old woman gasped, and Kalie realized she was nearly blind, with possible other complications that had prevented her from realizing who sat near her.
“Many of those who are slaves now were once the daughters of warriors,” reminded another woman.
“Even so,” another said haughtily, “some things simply cannot be allowed.” She spoke as one who had departed reality and now lived in her own world.
“Will you tell this to our king?” Kara asked, a touch defensively. “We shall do as he commands, as in all things. But it is hard for many, to endure what has not been asked of us before.” She nodded to two women who clung to each other at the edge of the firelight. “They are both honorable widows, yet forbidden to join their husbands in death. As Elka will be.”
Kalie moved closer, hoping to offer them comfort in the new beginnings that would be found in this land. One of the women looked up, and Kalie gasped in horror.
It was Kestra, once of the Goddess Lands, who had followed Kalie to the steppes more than two years before.
“My husband died of his wounds on the way into this strange land,” Kestra said in the language of the steppes, but her accent betrayed her. “My daughter too.” Her hand straye
d to the mound of her belly. “Yet I cannot join them.”
“You at least have the hope of bearing a son, that your husband’s line will not end,” said the woman beside her. “I am denied even that. Yet they tell me I must bear the shame of living; even of marrying another man. So that is what I must do.”
“Kestra?” Kalie’s voice was barely a whisper. “Do you know me?”
Kestra looked up, and for a moment there seemed to be recognition in her eyes. Then she turned away. “Another shameless whore from this cursed land,” Kestra mumbled in a flat voice.
Alessa came to sit by Kalie, putting an arm around her. “This is not your fault, Kalie,” she said firmly.
Kalie tried to smile, but only managed a grimace. “You always know what I’m thinking, Alessa. Just as I know that I should never have taken her with us. Kestra was too fragile.”
“No one knew that at the time,” said Alessa. “Least of all Kestra. You asked for volunteers and she volunteered. It’s not as if you had the luxury of turning anyone away.” This was true. Haraak had demanded fifty women as tribute. Only thirty two had been willing to join the venture. And most had died on the journey east.
“Will someone please explain this,” Ilara cried. “Are you saying this pathetic nomad slave…”
“Was once a woman of the Goddess, who went with me to try to save our world?” Kalie finished. “Yes.”
“And she was no slave!” Kara said hotly. The others glanced at Darva, who, though Kalie might have wished otherwise, continued to translate. “She may have been born a mindless barbarian, but a great warrior made her his wife, and a woman of value. Perhaps you should try learning from her example, instead of telling us how we should change to become more like you!”
Keepers of the Ancient Wisdom (Kalie's Journey Book 3) Page 17