“Yes!” He nodded emphatically.
“Do you mean that once you buy me from Maalke, I will be free to return to my people in the west if I choose? That you will give me provisions—and let me go?”
“No, of course not! You would die out there! Or be taken as a slave by one of the other tribes! Look what happened just a few days ago…”
“Then what you offer is just another kind of slavery.” Even now, he did not seem angry, so much as exasperated. Kalie held up a hand for silence and pressed on. “I know you see a world of difference between being a slave and being a wife. I know Yalina did as well, and so do most of the women here.
“But for me—for all of the women of my land—the difference is slight. Being a wife might mean freedom from Altia and her beatings and curses. It might mean better food and, within your tent, at least, a little bit of power—especially if you brought me slaves to rule over.” Her face twisted angrily as she spat out the last words.
Riyik cocked his head at her expression. “You hate the thought of owning slaves. Why? Most women dream of having slaves to help them with the work of the tent.”
“Most women here also enjoy beating them. I pray I shall never sink to that level! I think the wives of this land enjoy hurting those beneath them much more than they enjoy getting help with the endless drudgery they live with.”
Riyik shrugged uncomfortably. “That’s just the way women are!”
“It’s the way you have made them! Don’t you ever wonder about these things?”
Riyik laughed. “I am beginning to. I’m also beginning to see that you are right that we are unsuited to be man and wife. But there might yet be some use in having a woman who is both healer and storyteller in my tent. Please, Woman From the West, tell me more about the women of my own tribe, since you know so much more than I.”
If it had been anyone else, Kalie realized later, she would have given up right there. But she sensed something beneath Riyik’s sarcasm that made her push forward. If nothing else, she would give voice to things that had been burning inside her for nearly a whole turn of the seasons!
Kalie twisted her hands into the long, cool grass, as if to make sure she spoke only with her mouth and not her fists. “In this place, what does a woman do when a man hurts her, or does things that make her unhappy?”
Riyik shrugged. “It depends on who she is. And on what he has done, and on what she did to deserve it.”
“Ah, yes. Always assume it’s somehow the woman’s fault. And if it isn’t blame her anyway, right?” She grinned at Riyik’s expression, but didn’t give him time to respond. “I’ll tell you what she does: she takes it out on whoever she can! A junior wife, a slave, even her own children! And the only real difference between your women and me is that I want revenge against the real enemy: the men! But the pain we feel inside, the rage at being so helpless—that’s the same for them as for me!”
“No!” Riyik was shaking his head. “It’s not like that for everyone! There are women here who have no fear of their husbands—and more than a few husbands who fear their wives.” He snorted. “Watch Kahlar with his Leja someday if you don’t believe me. The women of Aahk are as strong and wild as a rutting stallion! My own Yalina never hesitated to tell me when I was wrong.”
Kalie took a deep breath and gazed into the deepening twilight, wondering how to respond to that. She had no doubt Riyik was right about the examples he gave. And, amazingly enough, he was willing to listen. If there was just some way to make him imagine himself living as women were made to live here…
She shook her head. That approach had failed often enough with the women. It would surely have no effect on a man who could just leap on his horse and ride to the ends of the earth the moment he tired of listening.
Then, lightning struck.
Kalie sat up, and faced Riyik as if for battle. “I have seen you riding by yourself often since we left the winter camp.”
Surprised by the change in subject, Riyik nodded. “I have always been…different in that way. Oh, I like the company of my brother warriors well enough, but to me, the greatest joy is found beneath a clear blue sky, feeling the sun on my back, the wind in my hair, and a mount who is one with my body.” Riyik gazed into the distance, and Kalie knew he was longing even now, to be doing what he spoke of.
For a strange moment, she wanted to be there with him, feeling the things he described. Then resolve flooded her, for she had what she wanted.
“But your oath to your king is greater to you than all of that, isn’t it? Even dearer to you than your favorite horse?”
Riyik snapped back to the present. “Yes, of course! It is so for all warriors, and I am a warrior before all else, even if I may prefer the hunting trail.”
“What if your king demanded your favorite horse, as a sacrifice to the gods?”
Riyik smiled sadly, as if he knew where she was going. “His name is Thunder. And yes, of course, it would grieve me, but I would do it.”
“And what if, because of some crisis, the king needed his best minds in council in his tent for many days—and he named you his chief advisor.” Kalie knew such things happened, but was surprised to see the effect it had on Riyik. A shadow crossed his face, as if he feared that very thing, and had for some time.
“How would it feel, trapped inside a stuffy tent, filled with men who sought only power and advantage? Never again to ride free on Thunder’s back? Never even to ride any horse across your grasslands, for as long as the king had need of you?”
Riyik slapped away a wasp buzzing near his face. “I would hate it! But I would do as my king commanded—and count the days until I was free to ride away from the stench of politics.”
Kalie met his gaze. “Now imagine this: that day will never come. Through some twist of fate, your king’s need of you stretched on and on, and the last day of your life came while you were still in that tent.”
“Do you seek to curse me, woman?” Riyik spat in the grass between them and made a sign against evil with his right hand.
Kalie said quietly, “I seek to show you what life is like for the women of this land. Those tents that you so easily avoid whenever you choose to stink of things far worse than politics. Perhaps you have noticed that few adults can stand upright inside most of them? Yet the women here live out their lives in them, without ever once knowing the freedom and joy you feel every time you’re on Thunder’s back.”
“But women don’t want to ride horses! They’re safe inside those tents! It’s what they want!”
“Do you know that? Or have you always just assumed it? And how safe did their tents turn out for the poor women you took from that band who attacked you?” Riyik looked away. “Tell me Riyik? Where are they now?”
“They were too weak! They could never have kept up with the pace the chiefs had set!”
“So after every man who wanted to had his turn with them, you slit their throats and left them to rot! And now you can’t understand why I don’t long for such a fate myself?”
“Theirs was the fate of women who have weak men! It would never happen to you, Kalie! I will always protect you!”
“Until you meet a glorious death in battle! Isn’t that what you warriors dream of? Then my fate is whatever the victor chooses! Do you think your women enjoy living with that knowledge, Riyik?” Her voice rose. “They live in terror of it!”
“I…have never met anyone like you, Kalie. If you were any other woman, I would just buy you to keep you safe from Maalke and Altia, and dismiss your words as some kind of game. But you…Looking at you is like looking at a fellow warrior!”
“I think you are a good man, Riyik. And you have no idea how much it cost me to say that. But I will never give myself willingly to any man who lives as you do. And you will not take a woman against her will. I do not see any future for us.”
“You are a warrior!” he whispered. “A warrior who fights with no weapon but courage. I have never met your like.” He rose to his feet. �
��Come. You can sleep beside Brenia’s fire tonight.” He reached down to help Kalie to her feet, and then stopped, as if understanding what an action, so casual in his world, might mean to her. He straightened, offering his hand if she would take it, but nothing more.
Kalie rose gracefully to her feet without accepting the hand and followed Riyik to where his sister was camped.
Chapter 4
Once again, Kalie found herself awake in the dark. This time, however, she sensed no danger. All was as it should be, shortly before midnight during the trek to the summer pastures.
It was the voices that had awakened her: a man and a woman speaking softly on the other side of the banked coals from where Kalie lay rolled in soft sheepskin of Brenia’s making. Brenia had been a gracious hostess, although she had not been inclined to talk as the two women lay down beside the two already sleeping boys. Kalie was grateful for the silence, not trusting herself to speak to anyone just then.
Now she lay as if still asleep, straining to hear the whispered words that had awakened her.
“It’s been nearly two years since she died,” Riyik was saying. “There are days I can barely summon up a memory of her face. But tonight, after I talked to Kalie…do you remember the day Father presented me with my first horse?”
“Of course,” Brenia whispered, but Kalie could hear the laughter in her voice. “You were fairly glowing with pride. None of your friends had yet earned their first mount.”
“I stopped to show off in front of a group of girls taking their father’s goats to the summer pastures.”
“Several groups, as I recall.”
Riyik chuckled softly. “I suppose I was rather full of myself. I remember how impressed they all seemed, and of course, a little afraid of the horse’s sharp hooves. But Yalina, she must have been about eight years old, strode boldly forward and pet my horse’s nose, and announced to me that if I wanted to marry her, I would have to teach her to ride, and present her with her own horse as a wedding gift.”
“I can imagine how her sisters laughed at that!”
“Oh, they did, and I rode away with manly disdain for the silly creatures. But I think that was the moment I decided I was going to marry her.”
“And you did—without having to pay her father any horses at all.”
“But I gave him one, remember? The first colt that Thunder ever sired. And I promised him horses every year, until I had given him the fifty he had originally asked.”
“I had forgotten that,” Brenia said after a pause. “I suppose because you had so few years in which to keep that promise.”
“But I never gave her one. Nor did I ever teach her to ride.”
“She did not expect you to, Brother. It was a childish fancy, nothing more.”
“So I told myself. But there were times I caught her looking at the horses with a kind of longing that I can’t pretend I didn’t recognize. Brenia, do other women feel that way?”
Kalie expected a laughing dismissal of the notion and guessed that Riyik did too. But Brenia was silent for just a moment too long.
“I think all of us do, at one time or another,” she said slowly.
Riyik’s indrawn breath spoke eloquently. “But…why?”
“The horse is the symbol of our tribe, Brother. Every day of our lives we see and hear them; we survive because of them. What child wouldn’t desire the power and speed and…well, beauty…that horses afford men? I remember one summer, when you were still at mother’s breast—the heat was beyond bearable—and all the men went shirtless, and were on horseback, for hunting or training or just exercise. I remember thinking how fine it must be to outrun the heat! To have a wind cool your whole body, for as long as you and your horse moved as one.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“What would you have done if I had? Taught me to ride?”
Riyik’s silence was answer enough.
“It was nothing, Riyik. Childish fancy, as I’ve said. The gods made men and women to be different and no one can change that. A girl has to grow up. I did; so did Yalina.”
“Perhaps Yalina’s short life might have been happier if I had cared less for tradition and more for her dreams.”
“Yalina lived in happiness every day she was your wife! Most women would gladly trade all their years and more for a husband as good as you! Never forget that.”
There was a long silence. Kalie thought perhaps the conversations was over. Then Riyik asked. “You deserve happiness as well, Sister. And you’ve always deserved a better husband than Hysaak.”
“Brother, don’t…”
“I’m sorry; I know I shouldn’t interfere, but no warrior of Aahk lets a man mistreat his sister—even if he’s her husband.”
“It is a matter between myself and Hysaak, and no one—not even a brother—may interfere without causing greater shame. And it’s my duty to see that he treats me well, not yours. For a long time, it was a joy, not a duty.”
“You were happy together at first; I could see that. Hysaak is a fool, but he was smart enough to know his good fortune when he won your hand.”
“It could be like that again!” Brenia’s voice broke. “If it wasn’t for her…”
“A man can only think with his balls for so long,” Riyik said, but didn’t sound convinced. “You’re the mother of his son…”
“But I have given him only one that still lives, and cannot give him any more! She will give him many…”
“And Yarik’s presence is making it worse for you.” Brenia gasped. “Don’t you think I can see it? How Elka manipulates Hysaak with whispers of tainted blood when anyone with half a brain should take his walking for a miracle? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You have enough to worry about.”
“That does not excuse making things worse for you. I can do nothing about Elka, but I can at least keep my own son from being used as a weapon against you!”
“You will finally marry again?”
“It’s time for me to put aside my own childish fancies and remember my duty.” Kalie felt Riyik’s eyes on her in the dark. When he turned back to his sister, she began to breathe again.
“I wish you joy in your duty,” said Brenia. “Have you chosen a bride?”
Riyik laughed mirthlessly. “I certainly have many to choose from—except for the one I want!” He sighed. “Probably Levak’s daughter. Just this morning he named a dowry of a fine new tent and the furnishings as well.”
“Yasha will make you a fine wife, and a good mother for Yarik.”
“I want her also to be a friend to you, Brenia. And if Hysaak ever again beats you without cause, I want you to come to my tent…”
“You would have me shame myself and our family?”
“I would have you well-treated and cared for! As your husband vowed to do! Why has he not replaced Mara? He owes you a slave at least! More than one, if he marries that witch…”
“His flocks were badly depleted this past winter…”
“So were everyone’s!”
“Calm yourself, Brother. He is waiting, like so many of the warriors, for the journey West that everyone is talking about. He says that once we reach this new land, there will be slaves for the taking, and Elka and I shall each have—what troubles you, Riyik?”
“Nothing. Only that I hope your fool of a husband is wise enough to speak so only to his women! There are many rumors about, Brenia. Dangerous ones. I’m told that Ahnaak is very ill. And I’ve heard that one of his sons was killed during a winter raid.”
“Which son?”
“That’s the problem. First I heard it was Melaak—then Trobraak. Dear gods, what if it should turn out to be both?“
“Then Kariik might be king before winter. With Haraak whispering in his ear of the glories to be had in the west.”
In the dark, Riyik dropped his face into his hands. “Gods help us all,” he muttered.
“But is that not what you wanted?” asked his sister. “When you returned hom
e last summer, it was all you could speak of! The man who taught you to carve, the woman who cured you of lung-fever when you should have died, all the wonders that defied explanation…”
Riyik was silent for a long time. “I don’t know, Brenia. I just…have a bad feeling about it now.” There was a shuffling sound as he stood. “It is time for my shift. And you should get some sleep before Hysaak stumbles over you in a drunken haze.”
Brenia laughed bitterly. “There’s little chance of that. He’s probably in some field right now, asleep in Elka’s arms after riding both her and his horse to exhaustion.”
“You mean in the saddle? Like a pair of newlyweds?” Riyik sounded disgusted.
“Promise me you will say nothing to him if you see him tonight.”
“As you wish, Brenia. But if he shames you any further, he’s going to have an accident the next time he hunts alone.”
Kalie listened as the sound of Riyik’s footsteps faded and disappeared. Brenia was soon asleep, but Kalie knew that for herself, sleep would be long in coming. And it wasn’t just the new information about the king she had gained that kept her awake.
Chapter 5
In the torchlit night, Kalie slipped away from the crowd of warriors, and another storyteller took her place. Her tale of a traitor who murdered his king in the hope of ruling through the king’s foolish heir had not gone over well. Probably because anyone with half a brain could see that that was precisely what was happening within the tribe. She really had to stop viewing her enemies as stupid.
They would reach the summer gathering the next day. Nights now brought little relief to the heat—and the dust. Kalie stared into the sable sky, awash with stars in a way the sky above her home never was. It was beautiful, she thought, trying to loose herself in its endless depths.
A coughing fit forced her back into the dry brown grass, burning dung and press of more than three hundred unwashed bodies. She sighed. Even the constant steppe wind couldn’t make that smell good.
Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) Page 4