“Finally, someone who knows how to enjoy themselves. Come, Ood-i, sit next to me, you old dog!” Virag offered Ood-i his finest blankets and pillows.
Virag the Snake vanished, replaced by Virag the Jolly. He clapped twice and another warrior entered the tent and bent before his master.
“Send in more wine...and the good stuff, not this dog piss. And get these serving hags out of here. I want the beautiful women. Ood-i is here, it’s time to celebrate!”
The hulking warrior nodded and hurried off. Levidi shrugged, shook his head at Aizarg, and mouthed, “I don’t know.”
Already halfway into a wine skin, Ood-i paid no attention to the quest party.
“Ood-i, you sorry old bag of dung, why didn’t you come in with your party?”
Ood-i wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and belched, “B-Because I was in the tall grass taking a sh-shit! I am now pluh-pleased to inform you your t-trading camp smells much b-better.”
Virag exploded in laughter and slapped Ood-i across the back.
Fresh wine skins appeared and were passed around. Ghalen and Okta couldn’t help but smile. Ba-lok guzzled the wine and passed the skin to Levidi, who took a generous swig.
Levidi passed it to Aizarg and said, “If the world is truly going to end, this isn’t a bad way to end it, eh?”
Aizarg wasn’t pleased. Now Ood-i’s presence guaranteed the proceedings would drag on into the night. He took a small sip as Virag watched him out of the corner of his eye.
Aizarg’s eyes widened at the unexpected richness of the berry wine. The Lo weren’t known for drinking. He’d have to be careful and measure his portions. He didn’t want to get drunk and end up at Virag’s mercy.
A line of slave women filed into the yurt. They bore wooden trays of meat, fish, and blocks of goat cheese. These weren’t the pale shadows who served the men earlier. Instead, these were vibrant women and girls, well fed without marks on their skin. They even had most of their teeth. They wore collars and just enough clothing to fire the imagination.
Two young boys of no more than eight summers entered and sat down in the corner with a reed flute and a drum to add to the merriment. Ba-lok ran his hand over the thigh of a plump black-haired girl. She giggled and cast off his hand as she moved among the men with a tray of meat.
Aizarg tapped Levidi and nodded to Ba-lok, who slowly swayed under the wine’s growing influence. Levidi scowled and slowed his drinking. Aizarg also eyed Ghalen and Okta with growing disappointment as their eyes glazed and their smiles dulled.
Then it occurred to Aizarg that Okta didn’t know better. He’d never been in a trading camp and had no dealings with the a-g’an. I wish I could have left him outside, too.
Aizarg studied the women. He spotted two Scythian women by their long legs, olive skin and graceful curves. They had a fire in their eyes, a fire meant to burn men’s soul.
Even their women are dangerous.
He needed to get his men out of the slaver’s power, but minute by minute they fell deeper under Virag’s spell. As the night wore on, only Aizarg and Levidi remained sober. Aizarg’s heart sank and he watched his fellow sco-lo-ti wallow in a pile of flesh and laughter.
Ood-i and Virag bellowed, grasped each other’s shoulders and ignored the rest of the party. Aizarg wasn’t sure what they were talking about over the noise, but apparently they were old friends. Aizarg knew Ood-i routinely snuck away to partake in the pleasures of the trading camps, but he had no idea he’d built such a close relationship with no less than Virag himself. As sco-lo-ti, Aizarg felt in some way he had failed Ood-i and his family.
Now Ood-i failed him, too.
Ood-i’s eyes suddenly grew sober. Aizarg followed his gaze to the yurt’s entrance. There stood a small, slender woman holding open the flap. She wore the collar and skimpy rags of a pleasure slave, but somehow stood apart from the other women.
Her gray and piercing eyes were unlike anything Aizarg had ever seen. Her straight brown hair fell well past her buttocks in sharp contrast to her pale, perfect skin.
Ood-i and the gray-eyed girl locked eyes. She lightly stepped over the intertwined bodies rolling on the floor like twisted branches on the shore. Levidi and Aizarg followed her with their eyes, transfixed as she approached Ood-i.
Virag smiled as if privy to an inside joke.
She slid onto Ood-i’s lap and wrapped her arm behind his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and they kissed. It wasn’t the embrace of lustful passion.
This is love, Aizarg thought
“You are a lucky dog, Ood-i,” Virag said. “Two days ago I was offered a generous price for her...two goats and one stone of tin.”
Just for a moment, Aizarg saw panic cross Ood-i’s face.
“That was a very good p-price,” Ood-i commented nonchalantly. “Why d-didn’t you accept it?’
“I did,” Virag said.
“I don’t understand? Then wha-why is she still here?”
“The damn fool’s goats ran off before we spit on the deal. Then his sheep ran off, too!” Virag slapped his knee and laughed. “He went chasing his herd off to the east and I haven’t seen him since!”
Ood-i played with the woman’s hair and fondled her breast. “She is fine stock. I’ve enjoyed her m-many times. Two goats and one pound of tin? You are a c-cunning merchant, Virag. Let me ask you, a-a g’an d-dweller...how many d-days will two goats feed a man and his family?”
Where is the drunken fool going with this? Aizarg wondered. He didn’t like being a spectator to his people’s fate. Virag would have to get up to relieve himself soon, maybe then he could get Ood-i and most of his men out of the yurt.
Virag leaned in and stroked his bald head.
“One goat, if properly cut and dried, will feed four warriors for one cycle of the moon. If it feeds a man and his yurt, perhaps a little longer...snot nose brats eat more than you’d think. So, two goats, is about two months.”
Ood-i considered this, then continued, “And a stone of t-tin is no good to the smelter without a stone of cu-cu-copper, eh?”
Ba-lok stood up with the plump brunette in hand and stumbled out of the yurt. Aizarg watched them go with growing anger.
This is getting out of control.
Virag’s eyes lit up. “Yes, tin needs copper,” he responded.
“If she is worth t-two months of food and half an unfinished spear head, then wa-would you sell her to me for two heavy bags of dried fish and a f-finished bronze spear tip?”
“Is a man of the Lo buying a slave?” said a stunned Virag.
“Ood-i!” Aizarg whispered harshly. Ood-i wouldn’t look at him.
Virag snapped up a hand towards Aizarg.
“This is my business in my yurt, sco-lo-ti! It is between me and this man, you have no right to interfere.”
Ood-i smelled her hair and looked up at Virag. “If the world is going to end, I wish to d-die with this woman in my arms.”
“She is valuable to me. Goat meat puts fat on the ribs, fish doesn’t.”
“Smoked fish will not spoil as fast as g-goat meat. My spear tip is ready to be mounted.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is!” Aizarg heard Levidi hiss under his breath. “Three bags.”
“Two bags and t-two spear tips, I have no more.”
Virag studied his friend. Ghalen and Okta managed to pull themselves up from the women and focus on the events unfolding before them, too stunned to react beyond slack jaws.
Ood-i committed sacrilege, an obscenity and affront to the Lo and their gods. Maybe we deserve our fate.
Okta and Ghalen suddenly became aware of Ood-i’s actions. Okta looked at the woman in his arms and pulled away, ashamed.
“I know you care for this slave, Ood-i,” Virag continued. “I know you will give much more for her. However, I will sell her to you for two heavy bags of fish and two spear tips. The pleasure of seeing a Lo man civilize himself is something I cannot put a price on. Also, your sco-lo-ti fumes like a smoldering fire. I
’ve felt the heat of his rage since you stepped inside. Ood-i, my friend, I wouldn’t doubt he kills you when you leave my yurt. I find the prospect of what might follow tonight’s events...intriguing.”
The thought of killing Ood-i occurred to Aizarg, though he was angrier at himself for bringing him.
“Do we have a da-deal or not?” Ood-i pressed.
Virag spit on his right palm and extended it to Ood-i. Ood-i did the same. They clasped hands and it was done. Ood-i departed and quickly returned with the merchandise and handed it over to Virag.
“That’s all the fish he brought,” Levidi whispered to Aizarg.
“I know,” Aizarg muttered.
Ood-i placed his arm around the woman’s waist. She melted into him, eager to be at his side. She seemed relieved.
“Virag, please don’t think me rude for wanting to take her away and enjoy her now.”
“Of course not, go! I will conclude my business with your...leader,” Virag chuckled. “Her beauty appears to agree with your stutter.”
Then, like the autumn wind, Virag’s mood suddenly blew cold. “The rest of you, go as well. My generosity is not unlimited. This feast is over unless you pay for more. Aizarg, if you have further business with me, stay.”
Ood-i finally met Aizarg’s stare as he left. Aizarg could not find shame in Ood-i’s eyes.
Aizarg pondered this for a moment as the yurt emptied of men and slaves. Now he sat cross-legged across the fire from Virag, who now slumped on his pillows. With one finger on his lips he considered Aizarg for what seemed an eternity.
“So, do you still wish to barter for spears?”
“Yes.”
“Three bags of fish and four blankets per spear.”
“We cannot pay such a price!”
“You are desperate men,” he said with speed and conviction. “Desperate men will pay any price. If the world is going to end, as you say, then my price is small.”
“Two bags and two blankets.”
Virag waived his finger. “No bartering. My price is final. Wander onto the steppe with your boar spears and the Scythians will cut you down. If they see you carrying heavy sager they’ll assume you know how to use them and think twice. If you carry less than four sager, they’ll see it as weakness. If they press the attack, the sagar might buy you a few minutes of life.”
Aizarg mentally tallied the party’s supplies. If he paid Virag’s price it would take all the goods they brought to barter with and cut deeply into their own stocks of food. They wouldn’t have enough food to complete the quest.
He knew Virag was right. Without the sagar they would likely perish on the g’an, especially without a guide.
“Deal. We’ll exchange goods at dawn when we can inspect them. Then we can spit over the bargain. If I don’t like the quality of the spears, the deal is off. You have the same right regarding the food and blankets, of course.”
“Of course.” Virag smiled.
Aizarg rose and turned to go.
“You feel betrayed, don’t you, Aizarg?”
Aizarg stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“Don’t be too harsh on him. Desperate men do desperate things, don’t they?” Virag sank down into his pillows and laughed.
Aizarg stepped out of the yurt and into the soft night air. He took a deep breath, trying to purge the stink of Virag’s yurt from his lungs.
***
Aizarg marched through the small trading camp, past dying camp fires and yurts where people slept, tightly wrapped in blankets. His jaw tightened as he spotted his camp fire at the edge of the settlement. Shadows moved around it.
“He’s coming,” he heard Okta say.
The image of Okta, sco-lo-ti of the Lo, rolling on the dirty yurt floor with a Sammujad whore filled his mind and heart with renewed rage.
He spotted Ood-i sitting next to the fire, the gray-eyed slave kneeling before him. Setenay stood next to him, her hand on his shoulder.
Levidi ran out to meet him. “Listen, Aizarg! You must listen!”
Aizarg pushed him away. Levidi tried to grab Aizarg’s arm, but Aizarg shrugged him off. He again tried to get between Aizarg and Ood-i. “Uros, please, it’s not what you think...”
Aizarg pushed him into the dirt and kept going. Ood-i tried to stand and say something, but Aizarg tackled him before he could react. In seconds, Aizarg had Ood-i pinned to the ground, punching him. It took all the men to pull him off. The gray-eyed woman leaned over Ood-i’s bleeding face, screaming.
Aizarg pulled away from the men, but didn’t attack Ood-i again.
Aizarg pointed and shouted, “We haven’t taken our first step onto the g’an and you’ve put all of us in danger! Your recklessness costs us almost all our food. At daybreak, Virag will come and exchange four spears for twelve bags of food and twelve blankets because your...your stupidity left me no bargaining room!”
He turned and looked at the men. Ba-lok, bleary-eyed, swayed back and forth in front of the fire. The plump slave girl was nowhere to be seen.
“And you...you sco-lo-ti! I am ashamed to call you that word. You rolled in that filth like pigs. It doesn’t matter if we find the Hur-po or the Narim. The gods are right to destroy us. We are no better than the a-g’an for all our pretenses.”
Setenay touched his arm.
“Are you finished?” she said sternly.
His anger shriveled under her gaze.
“Good. Now perhaps the Uros will listen for a few moments and stop acting like an ass. From what I’ve heard, there’s been more than enough bad behavior this evening. Aizarg, the only one failing this evening is you.
“Don’t look like a hurt little boy,” she scolded. “What did you think would happen when you took your men into the tent of a slave trader? You are brave and smart, my dear Aizarg, but every Lo woman knows you don’t stroll into a fox den without getting bit. You strolled into a fox den and he bit you. All of you!”
She extended a bony finger to all the men around the fire. They hung their heads low, unable to meet her gaze. She poked Aizarg in the chest.
“Now, either you can learn from this or not. Your rage will only get us killed.”
She was right, and that revelation made him angrier still.
“I shouldn’t have lost control. It was unbefitting, but...”
“But what?” she eyed him, arms crossed.
“But my men didn’t control themselves and it cost us dearly.”
“True. Especially this one,” she kicked Ba-lok. He fell over and passed out.
“However, from what I gather, some of your men acted admirably. Brilliantly.”
Aizarg looked back at Levidi and nodded, proud of his friend. “Yes, true.”
Levidi shook his head and pointed back to the fire.
Confused, Aizarg turned back to Setenay. She stared at him quizzically and patted his cheek.
“Aizarg...I’m not talking about Levidi, but I’m sure he performed well in that viper pit. No, I’m talking about Ood-i.”
Aizarg took a step back. Maybe she didn’t hear the real story of what transpired in Virag’s yurt. Maybe Ood-i came back and lied to her.
“He bought a slave!”
The gray-eyed woman wiped Ood-i’s bleeding lip with a rag as he looked up at Aizarg. “I am suh-s-sorry muh-my Uros. There was no ta-time to explain.” Ood-i grimaced and fought to control his stutter. “Whu-When w-we entered the t-trading camp at dusk, I realized Virag was puh-present when I saw his standard in front of his yurt. Then I saw her. I had to act quh-quickly.”
“I don’t understand,” Aizarg said.
“Child, come here,” Setenay summoned the gray-eyed girl to come forward.
Demurely, she approached Aizarg and knelt before him.
Setenay gently lifted her by the arm. “Rise child, it’s not our custom. Tell him your name.”
She stood and spoke. “I am Sarah of the Hur-po. I know the place you seek and can lead you there.”
9. Sarah
&nbs
p; “The old Uros once told me that some souls burn so brightly they are like campfires on a dark shore, calling the lost fisherman home.”
The Chronicle of Fu Xi
***
While they were in Virag’s yurt, Setenay had been busy preparing the camp. She had gathered reeds from the nearby marsh and skillfully bundled them into tightly wound ‘logs’. These bundles would burn longer and slower than loose reeds simply thrown on the fire. A Lo woman could easily bundle enough reeds for a night’s fire in only a few minutes. Reed fires burned hotter and with less smoke than a driftwood fire. The men’s bundles were also arranged with care, each of their mats unrolled to form a circle around the fire.
Setenay and Sarah would sleep outside the circle, away from the fire. Lo custom gave men the closest places to the fire. It was said among Lo women, Take care of the man who takes care of you, and you will never be lonely or hungry.
The tired men kissed Setenay on the cheek and thanked her for preparing the camp. Except for Ood-i, they eagerly fell upon their mats, ready to put the night’s events behind them.
Ood-i hesitantly approached his Uros. Aizarg shook his head and firmly clasped Ood-i’s shoulder. “There is nothing to say, friend. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll talk as friends do. You will speak of those things you’ve been hiding here,” he tapped Ood-i’s chest over his heart, “and I will listen. I am sorry I failed you.”
Ood-i smiled weakly as an expression of relief washed over his face. “Thank you, sco-sco-...” He couldn’t finish and turned to his mat, alone. It wasn’t lost on Aizarg that Ood-i tried to call him sco-lo-ti, and not Uros. The word felt soothing, like a healing balm.
Setenay smiled at the exchange as she covered her intoxicated grandson with a flaxen blanket. She stepped over Levidi and Ghalen to her mat, and then prepared a place for Sarah to sleep next to her.
Sarah moved to help Setenay but Aizarg took her firmly by the arm. “I need to speak with you.” He pulled her toward the far edge of the firelight, where they sat down on a log.
The rest of the group paid them no heed and settled in for the night.
Black Sea Gods: Chronicles of Fu Xi Page 7