Riyik was silent, while Kalie’s heart soared within her. And while she still wasn’t certain what she felt for Riyik, she knew at that moment that she loved his sister.
“Is it really like that for her here?” Riyik asked sometime later.
Instead of answering, Brenia reached inside a basket of clothing and showed Riyik a pair of shoes. “She brought these by for Yarik.”
Riyik looked over the special shoes that might someday allow his son to walk like other boys. Except that he would never be like other boys, because they needed no special help for something as simple as walking. And they would never let him forget that. And if he could not run? Would they leave him alone, as someone not even worth tormenting, or would they beat him until they finally killed him? And which would be worse? Kalie could read the play of thoughts on his face as clearly as if he had spoken.
“Do they help?” he asked hoarsely.
“See for yourself. He’s been watching and listening while pretending to sleep this whole time.”
His secret out, Yarik leapt from the furs, crying, “Dada!” He rose to his feet, pushing off with his good leg, and ran to his father.
Riyik caught the boy, just as his twisted foot gave out beneath him, and tossed him lightly into the air. Yarik squealed with delight. “More!” he cried. Riyik tossed him again.
“Dada go riding? Take me riding?”
“Dada is busy now,” said Brenia, moving to take Yarik from his father.
“We can go riding now,” said Riyik.
Brenia opened her mouth to protest, then closed it and smiled.
Kalie slid back into the shadows, and hurried back to Maalke’s tent. She sensed another sleepless night, with much to think about, lay ahead.
Chapter 15
“Haraak is planning a feast for Wolf tribe,” whispered the Shadow Woman. “There will be gifts exchanged, and many marriages made.”
Kalie handed her another morsel of food. “When we reach the gathering?”
“Before,” said the woman, with a hint of pride.
“How is that? We haven’t left yet. The Wolf warriors are already at the gathering place.” Kalie gazed at the endless brown grass, nearly as tall as a man, while shimmering waves of heat danced above. Not a breath of wind stirred anything. Kalie thought that if they did not leave soon she would go mad, though whether from heat or boredom she wasn’t sure.
“There is to be a secret meeting of select warriors of the two tribes when we are halfway to the gathering. Haraak and his Wolf spy spoke of it while they took turns having me last night. It seemed to excite them. One of the Wolf warriors is to be killed there.”
“Do you know which? Or why?”
The Shadow Woman shifted nervously, and shot a quick look at Kalie’s basket. Kalie sighed. She wished the woman had the confidence to simply tell her that her that big news cost extra.
Kalie took out the wedge of cheese that was supposed to be her midday meal. She broke it nearly in half, and offered the larger piece to her informant.
The woman’s eyes grew wide. “They did not mention a name—I think both men already knew. But it is to be Haraak who does the killing, to prove he can be trusted.”
Kalie dropped the cheese into the starving woman’s hand and watched her gobble it down and then skulk away. She started to return to Maalke’s tent, but couldn’t bear the thought of the tension inside, even worse than the heat.
The new power structure of the tribe seemed to hold no place for Kalie’s master, who had done poorly in the latest jockeying for position. Then the warrior from Griiv’s clan had pulled out of their bargain to exchange Varena for two of his slave women. Kalie and Varena were both thrilled to remain together, but tension lay heavy in the tent. When Altia had berated Maalke about his promise to her for new slaves, he had beaten her nearly senseless. Both her eyes were swollen shut, and her daughters had to lead her around her own tent. Maalke spent most days riding and hunting with other disgruntled warriors, or brooding in the tent drinking kumis.
Kalie went to the lake instead. She wanted to be near water, even if it was nearly as hot as the air above. They had stayed overlong in this place and the water was stagnant and foul. If they stayed much longer, pestilence would rage through the camp. Already many were ill. Yet still Kariik waited, closeted in meetings with Haraak and messengers from the other tribes.
Something big was going to happen; Kalie didn’t need a network of spies to tell her that. But whether or not it was the invasion of her homeland by a well-organized federation of tribes? That fact still eluded her.
As well as what to do about it.
There were fewer people about, and no one ordered Kalie out of the water when she slipped off her shoes and waded in, careful not to raise her skirt above her knees. Many remained in the shelter of their tents, too wilted by the heat to move if they didn’t have to. Others, mostly older boys and slave women, had been sent with the flocks to better grazing lands to fatten them up for the late summer Gathering.
That, at least, was normal for this time of year, but then again, it also suited Haraak’s purposes. Since the boys had charge of the bulk of the tribe’s wealth, each group had two or three seasoned warriors for protection. Haraak had made sure that anyone who could be a threat to his plans was sent on that mission. Kalie settled into the relative shade of the tall grass, listening to the soothing trill of brown grasshoppers as she wondered again what she might do.
She was nearly asleep when someone called her name. Jerking awake, Kalie found Tilla, another of her spies, shaking her. Tilla had been a Shadow Woman until Kalie had convinced the wife of Daliik, a rising young warrior, to take her as a slave. Daliik was a favorite of the new king, but too stingy to buy his wife more slaves. In fact, he had given the younger of the two she owned as a gift to Kariik, leaving his sick and pregnant wife to fend for herself. Kalie had convinced her that Tilla was skilled Healer, and then quietly taught Tilla everything she could about midwifery. So far, it was working, and in gratitude, Tilla came to Kalie with every bit of gossip she heard—useful or not.
“The wife of Gault now sneaks out at night to lie with my master,” Tilla said, as they filled her water bags.
“How is this done in a camp so full of bored and watchful eyes?” Kalie asked. “And why would she risk death for such limited pleasure?”
Tilla shrugged. “It is whispered that Gault cannot father a child. A childless woman in this land is…”
Kalie nodded. “Yes, I know. So she hopes to get pregnant and pass the child off as Gault’s?”
“Or perhaps she hopes Gault and my master will fight over her. If Dariik wins, he could choose to claim her as a second wife.”
They left the lake and headed back to camp. Kalie thanked Tilla for the information and went slowly toward her own dwelling place, wondering what use she might make of this latest bit of gossip. She had come to this Goddess forsaken land to learn about her enemy, and now she probably knew more than anyone in the Western world about the beastmen. If only she knew what to do with the knowledge!
She was just passing a neighboring tent, well within sight of Maalke’s, when a loud altercation erupted from within. Kalie froze in time to see Maalke drag Varena from the tent. “Break my goblet, will you?” Maalke roared while he shook Varena like a young tree. “I’ll teach you!” He began dragging her into the empty grass beyond the camp.
Kalie watched them disappear into the tall grass.
If Maalke wanted to beat Varena for some transgression, he would do it in the tent. Which meant he had another purpose for seeking privacy.
Kalie was barely aware of following them into the grass; barely aware of pausing at the waste trench at the edge of camp to grab the leg bone of a horse. The bone was nearly picked clean by tiny scavengers, some of whom continued their feast as Kalie walked. Its solid weight felt good in her hand.
The rustling of grass in the still air told her where her quarry had gone. Kalie followed.
She
lost track of them when a stray breeze set all the grass to moving. It was gone a moment later, but by then she could find no sign of Maalke and Varena.
A sharp cry of pain, followed by a roar of anger told Kalie where they had stopped.
“Please, father, don’t…” Varena begged.
Maalke cut her pleas short with a blow from his fist. “Don’t you dare call me that, you little slut! You think anyone knows who your father is? Your mother was a whore and you’re just like her! You think I haven’t seen the way you move your ass for every passing man? If some dirty cunt calls herself my daughter and eats my food, I’ve damned well got the right to some use of her! Gods know, everyone else has!”
When Kalie came within sight of them, Maalke had Varena on the ground with her robe torn nearly off. His trousers were down and he was working on prying her legs apart. Kalie was impressed by the strength of Varena’s struggle: she never thought the timid slave girl had that much fight in her. Maalke must find the struggle amusing; there was no other reason for him to allow it to continue so long.
Finally, with a brutal twist of his knee, Maalke got her legs apart.
Kalie stepped forward and raised her club. She watched it travel downward in a smooth, slow arc that made her think of a beautiful waterfall.
The jarring crunch that traveled up her arm as it struck the back of Maalke’s head was the most satisfying thing she had ever felt.
Kalie had seen many men struck in the head in her time with the beastmen, but having never done it herself, she wasn’t sure what to expect. So, she was rather concerned when Maalke slowly turned to face her, rather than simply falling over. Kalie raised the bone again, ready to dash it into his face.
That proved to be unnecessary, as Maalke blinked once, then slowly folded to the ground.
Kalie stood over his still form, and felt an urge to roar with triumph.
Varena’s labored breathing brought her out of it. “Are you hurt?” she cried, kneeling by the girl. Varena’s face seemed wiped of all humanity, as she struggled only to breathe. By the time Kalie had determined she was not physically injured, the girl regained enough of herself to whisper, “He was going to…I never led him on, I swear it! I was a good girl!”
Kalie gathered her daughter into her arms, rocking them both for the comfort it gave. “Shh. It wasn’t your fault.”
“He said I was…”
“And he knew he was lying even as he said it.” Kalie gazed at Maalke’s unconscious form. “Strange, that he had to convince himself that you were asking for it. As if even filth like Maalke has a sense of right and wrong. You wouldn’t know it the rest of the time.”
Varena finally recovered enough to look at Maalke’s body, then at Kalie. “What have you done?” she shrieked.
Kalie followed her gaze, and said dispassionately: “Something I should have done a very long time ago.”
“But we’ll be killed for it! As soon as he wakes up, or someone finds him…”
“Then we’d better make certain he has good cause to keep this a secret.”
As one, Kalie and Varena gasped and turned to see who spoke.
Riyik stood in the grass behind them, a rather curious smile on his face.
Chapter 16
Kalie moved between a shrieking Varena, who was trying to cover herself, and this new threat. Yet somehow she knew, though she told herself otherwise, that Riyik was not a threat. “What do you want?” she demanded.
“To help you if I can.”
Kalie snorted with contempt, and searched for a scathing remark, but once again, her tongue betrayed her. “Why? And what did you have in mind?”
Riyik shook his head. “I’ve been trying to explain the answer to your first question for longer than I can remember, so I won’t bother anymore. But as to the second—we’d better act quickly. Give me that bone.” Kalie surrendered it reluctantly, and set herself to comforting Varena. Riyik pushed the bone into the dry earth by Maalke’s head.
“Take her to my sister,” he told Kalie. “See if she can fix the girl’s clothes. If not, borrow something of Brenia’s for her. When Maalke wakes, I’ll tell him he fell and hit his head on that old bone.”
“And you think he’s going to believe that? He wasn’t that drunk!”
Riyik shrugged, took a skin of kumis from his belt and poured the contents liberally about the face and clothes of the unconscious man. “The important thing is that we make him believe that he was. He’ll wake up with the same symptoms as a hangover. Nice shot by the way.”
“And later? If he remembers what really happened?”
“By then you and your daughter will be safely in my tent, under my protection.”
“We’ll be what?” For once, Kalie and Varena shared the same reaction.
“It’s simple, really. Your actions will mean your death if Maalke remembers. I can’t change the law, but I can offer Maalke enough horses for you and the girl to buy himself ten comely slaves. I might even be able to get Maalke invited to one of the feasts reserved for the new king’s inner circle. Wealth and opportunity of that magnitude will make him eager to forget anything that would jeopardize it.”
Kalie looked at her daughter. Varena, at least, looked happy.
She felt her face close about her like a mask. “So we would be your slaves then?” She looked down at Maalke, and laughed. “Very well. It seems I have outmaneuvered myself once again.”
Riyik sighed. “Will I never be able to do anything right in your eyes, Kalie?” The pain on his face was like a slap to hers.
“I’m sorry, Riyik. It’s just that I don’t know what to make of all this.”
“You may be my slaves if you wish. But if you recall, I did ask you to marry me. The offer is still open.”
Kalie’s head spun. “I thought you were to marry Yasha,” she said faintly.
“I am.” The words were bitter. “I wish I were not. But you could still be a second wife. I would make you first, but I dare not offer such an insult to Yasha and her family.”
“What of Varena?”
“She will be my daughter.”
“You would do that?” Kalie felt that a faint breeze might knock her over.
“A man who marries a widow will often adopt her sons as his. There are fewer formalities with daughters, but they do exist. I will declare her my daughter, and name a dowry. Before the year ends, no one will remember she was ever anyone else.” Varena seemed caught somewhere between ecstasy and fear that it was all a cruel trick.
Kalie stared Riyik in the eye. He calmly returned her gaze. “I have rejected every effort you have made to win me over—“
“Save one.” Riyik glanced down at the water skin she wore at her waist, and then returned his gaze to hers.
“Yes,” Kalie said, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “For which I thank you again. It has been very useful. But what you speak of now involves a bit more of a commitment—from both of us. I have never been nice to you, or behaved as a good Aahken woman. Why then do you still pursue me? Why offer to help a girl you don’t even know?”
“Perhaps to convince you that not all men of Aahk are evil. Or perhaps out of the debt I owe to your people for sparing my life and showing me there is more to live for than battle and conquest.”
Kalie grabbed Varena for support—something that would strike her as funny later on. They both stumbled, and Riyik reached forward to steady them. This time, Kalie accepted his hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she might have said was cut short by the sounds of shrieking women and shouting men.
At once, the three who were conscious hurried to see what was going on. Riyik’s face showed regret that he would never know what Kalie would have said. Then he put a hand on his dagger, and hurried in front of the women to whatever danger awaited.
Chapter 17
Pausing at Riyik’s tent only long enough to hand Varena over to Brenia with a few whispered instructions, Kalie and Riyik raced to join the crowd gathering in front
of the king’s tent. While Varena was happy enough for the sanctuary of a dark felt tent, Kalie could tell Brenia would have preferred to follow the crowd and see for herself what was happening. But, like a good Aahken woman, she did as her brother commanded.
Before the king’s tent, a half naked woman was being tossed between three guards while she tried desperately to cover herself. Behind them, a slave girl with demurely lowered eyes quietly answered questions put to her by two other guards. Kalie strained to hear, cursing the fact that these women never spoke at a normal volume. Those nearest, however, were happy to repeat everything the girl said to those around them.
As the story of a slave girl interrupting an afternoon tryst in the king’s tent slowly unfolded, a rumpled, but fully dressed Kariik emerged from the tent and began barking orders to his guards. Just then, an older man arrived, greatly agitated and out of breath, demanding to know who had dishonored his daughter. It was then, when the woman broke free of her tormentors and rushed to her father that Kalie and Riyik saw finally saw her face.
Riyik’s intended, Yasha.
“He is my king, father!” Yasha shrieked. “I could not disobey him!”
The warrior turned to Kariik, but seemed suddenly at a loss on how to demand satisfaction for his daughter’s honor from his king. “My liege…” he began. “Yasha was promised to another, but if you wish her for your own, I of course will gladly…” Whatever else he might have said was swallowed by ugly laughter and ribald comments from those around him.
Kalie and Riyik looked at each other in the same moment. “It seems a solution had been handed to us, Kalie,” Riyik said. She could not hear him over the noise of the crowd, but she could read his lips well enough. “Whose work, do you think? My gods or your goddess?”
“Must be your gods,” she replied. “My Goddess is as confused as I am over this mess!”
Before she could say anything else, Riyik began wading through the crowd, trying to catch Kariik’s attention. “My king! My brother Levik! I would gladly renounce my claim on this woman out of loyalty to our new king…” Kariik did not seem to hear him, for he was still shaking his head in answer to Levik’s offer.
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