It felt odd to be alone again. I’d become accustomed to having someone in the family if not within eyesight, then at least within shouting distance. Half a dozen times words sprang to my lips to point out some sight to Ochieng, or ask him a question, and I discovered through his absence how very much I’d come enjoy his companionship.
Not something I’d ever expected to have, not even when I believed I’d rule beside my someday husband. Also something my mother had never known to teach me, because she’d never had it. Strange to contemplate my mother, as Efe and I rode along the river road at a brisk pace. She’d married young—younger than I had—and would be about Thanda’s age. And yet my mother possessed the matriarchal gravity of Zalaika, and more so. Perhaps being empress had made her that way. More likely the same sort of miseries visited on me had made her hard and cruel in turn.
I could understand that now, because I could see that path before me. If I allowed the monster inside me to slay everything else that I was, I’d become as ruthless. Hurt before you are hurt. Power is everything. Power is all that protects you.
The lessons whispered through my mind as if my mother spoke them still. For the first time I recognized that—as much as she’d injured me, and used me for her own ends—in many ways she’d also thought she was giving me the tools I needed to survive what my life would be. She hadn’t been able to imagine my life being anything but the same as hers. In her way, she’d equipped me for that, much as Kaja had put a blade in my hand.
Now it would be up to me to find the path to being someone strong, but not cruel. That dark serpent of hatred that made it so easy to kill gave me strength and power. Moranu brought that gift of darkness, of animal ruthlessness. Glorianna mitigated that, Her love leavening the darkness, Her light rising from it and keeping it from consuming everything. And Danu…She brought the clear-eyed wisdom to balance the others, to create justice where there had been none.
* * * *
I slept that night under the stars, curled under Efe’s chin, very glad of her company. Though I’d slept outdoors like this on the journey from Bandari, being without the caravan under the night sky became an entirely different effort. To diffuse my creeping fear, I meditated, offering gratitude to Moranu. The goddess of the night has no formal prayers, because She is also anarchy. Where Danu draws a clear line, Moranu is without boundaries. Of the three sisters, I understood Moranu the least, but I offered Her my attention—and my apologies for cursing Her dark face—hoping She would understand that I’d had to grow to understand that aspect.
We traveled all the next day, and I walked as much as I rode. Efe and I moved at about the same speed—a brisk walk for me, a comfortable pace for her—but I found walking helped me vent the building anxiety. I had sort of a plan, but no idea what I’d find when I reached Chimto. I wondered if Kaja had felt this way on her travels, and then thought that she must have. She’d always been exhorting me to both be alert and to give myself over to Danu’s guiding hand.
It took a great leap of faith, but I supposed that had been her point all along. Trust in myself; trust in the goddess. Clear mind. Clear heart. Eyes on where you want to go.
* * * *
The following morning we traveled into the rising sun. The river had turned due east, where Ochieng had told me his ancestor came from. By late morning, I began to see other elephants as we drew closer to Chimto. These elephants wore great manacles, however, metal cuffs that showed on their ankles even from a distance, and the clanking of the chains that connected them echoed across the fields.
At first I worried that Efe would see the manacles and panic, remembering the ones that had bound her and left her scarred. The scars on my own wrists seemed to itch under the vambraces in sympathy, though that had to be my imagination. Elephant minds must work differently than human ones do, however, because she only waved her trunk with interest at the sight of her kind, but continued along as I directed her.
As long as I kept calm possession of my self, Efe would do likewise. A challenge for me, especially as we began to pass people who gave me curious looks.
One advantage to me making this foray alone: I didn’t look Nyamburan, or even Chiyajuan. Efe bore no identifying marks, and I presented myself as a Priestess of Danu. These people might not have heard of Danu, but they recognized me as foreign. The terrifyingly intimidating Warrior Priestess Ivariel, ever cool and silent. Ochieng’s words whispered in my mind, and I tried to project that image of how he’d seen me.
The people I passed were mainly farmers, tradespeople, and other working folk like that. I’d expected ranks of warriors as I would have seen in Dasnaria. But no—wherever their armies were, they did not walk along the river road.
Instead I saw as many women as men, along with the elders and children, all out laboring in the fields or driving the negombe to pull carts up and down the road where it ran above water, though deeply rutted in mud more often than not. They, too, sang as they worked—or to move the negombe along—but their songs had a weary cast, and the fields often stood hip-deep in flood water still. The elephant chains worked to remove enormous piles of wreckage, on land and in the river, and I could see where detritus washed downstream had choked the current, forcing the river to find other ways around.
Even houses on stilts as in Nyambura had flooded, some standing like abandoned islands in dank-looking water. Possessions had been piled on the roofs, equally bedraggled, and in places groups of people huddled atop the roof beams, watching our passage with bleak expressions.
At one point, we passed a group of several dozen people struggling to push an entire house from what looked like a lake and onto higher ground. Efe watched with great interest, too, and I considered stopping to offer her might. Just then, however, the house moved—and I could see they’d put logs beneath it to make it roll—and they shouted in triumph, settling the house into its new location.
I waved, calling congratulations, and they shouted back their delight. It helped my heart to see some good amid the rest of the devastation. Some places looked to me as if they’d be better given over to the river entirely.
I rode Efe right into the center of town. Chimto could even be called a city, rather than a town—nearly as large as Sjór, though nothing like Ehas—and was much more built up than sleepy Nyambura. Most of the structures sat on a wide, flat bluff well above the river, and so those buildings all appeared to be more or less intact. Also built primarily of wood, the center of Chimto looked more like a city of the Twelve Kingdoms or Dasnaria, and I found myself missing the breezier, open construction of houses upriver and toward Bandari.
With wide open, stone-cobbled streets, the city easily accommodated Efe’s bulk, though I saw only a few other elephants, all manacled and chained. And here were the warriors, garbed like the ones who’d attacked us. They marched in the streets, and a large group gathered in what looked like the main square of town. They occasionally looked askance at me, but otherwise paid little attention. A lone woman on a scarred and relatively scrawny elephant surely posed no danger to them.
Still, I avoided them as best as I could, following the streets to the more attractive buildings, looking for the fancier neighborhoods, like Ehas had. In places where greed reigned, wealth meant power, and I meant to find the wealthiest man—or woman—in Chimto. That would bring in another face of myself, the one who’d learned the ways of power at her mother’s side.
The house I found exceeded even my imaginings. Though it would still pale in comparison to the Imperial Palace in Dasnaria. This mansion stood upon the highest rise, enjoying a spectacular vista in all directions, with a tended garden arrayed around it like an empress’s formal klút. A wall of stone surrounded the grounds, and guards stood at wrought-metal gates that looked like they could be locked.
I rode up, noting how they put hands on their swords, nodded regally and had Efe kneel so I could dismount. I could’ve simply slid down her flan
k, but I thought it important to demonstrate some formality and my control of her.
“That elephant should be chained,” one of the guards snarled at me in the Chiyajuan trade tongue.
I smiled back, putting a hand under Efe’s jaw to keep her still. “I’ll stand surety for her behavior,” I replied in the same language, a bit rustily, as I’d grown accustomed to the dialect they used in Nyambura.
“You?” the other guard sneered.
“One who cannot control their elephant is false with themselves,” I replied easily, repeating something I’d heard often in Nyambura. They shifted uncomfortably, so I pursued my advantage. “I seek an audience with your master.”
“And who is calling?” asked the first guard, not a challenge so much. I’d pulled on my best imperious attitude and if I’d learned little else at my mother’s knee, I did know how to intimidate those who serve the powerful.
“Ivariel, Priestess of Danu. I come on a mission from the goddess.”
The guards exchanged uncertain glances.
“Which involves gracing your master with wealth,” I added nonchalantly. Prepared for this, I opened my hand to show a sparkle of small diamonds, ones I’d pried from the settings of my elaborate wedding bracelets. As quickly as I revealed them, I hid them away again, smiling serenely. “Your master will want to see me.”
“Yes, Priestess,” the one guard agreed, bobbing a bow. “If you’ll come with me…”
The other guard protested in their dialect and the first, somewhat harshly, told him to keep his place. They opened the gates and I stayed on foot, my hand on Efe’s jaw, walking beside the guard who escorted me.
We drew up to the house, which had inlaid steps leading up to a wide portico. The guard paused uncertainly. “We don’t have a place for the elephant…”
“Could I wait outside—that arbor, perhaps?—I’m happy to receive your master there.” It wasn’t easy to find eloquently polite and yet firm command phrases in the Chiyajuan tongue, but I came pretty close.
The guard hesitated. I produced a small diamond. “For your trouble.”
He smiled in delighted gratitude. “That arbor will be fine, Lady Priestess. I’ll hurry to fetch Master Tamrat for you.”
I thanked him, rather elaborately, then Efe and I strolled to the arbor. Everything in this garden dripped with flowers, plenty that I’d never seen before. If the poorer Chimtoans suffered deprivation, it didn’t show here. Efe dusted the bright panicles of flowers with longing, huffing when I told her she’d better not. Instead I coaxed her to lie down in the shade, promising her a dip in the river later, and I stretched myself out next to her, deliberately relaxed, my hat mostly tipped over my eyes, as if I drowsed.
Mostly, because I could see just fine as the apparent master of this grand house emerged with the guard—and escorted by several more—frowning in my direction. He wore expensive silks that might have been imported from Dasnarian ships, and he glittered with jewels, though none so fine as mine, I suspected. Dismissing the gate guard, he strode in my direction, pausing a safe distance away.
“Wake up!” he demanded. “What is the meaning of this incursion?”
~ 26 ~
Keeping my movements languid, I gracefully tipped up my hat, taking my time to take his measure—and being sure he felt the weight of my imperial scrutiny. So many times my mother had used this ploy, fussing with her tea, appearing torn between napping and wasting her precious time on whatever person she’d summoned to her presence.
Master Tamrat tried to appear dignified, but fidgeted under my intense stare, put entirely off balance by my attitude and demeanor. The poor man had no idea the personage he dealt with. With a sigh, as if I’d decided I could be bothered at least to stand, I rose to my feet, employing all the strength and grace I possessed, rising as if from the deep bend of the ducerse, fluid, ethereal, lethal.
I let him see it all, using my height and imposing presence to best advantage. Cool and intimidating. “Master Tamrat?” I inquired as if I’d been expecting someone far more impressive.
“Yes,” he bit out, clearly annoyed to be treated as my underling. Excellent.
“I am Ivariel, Warrior Priestess of Danu.”
“I don’t know this god of yours.”
I smiled, ever so slightly, amused by his pathetic ignorance. “The goddess knows you. And She has empowered me to make you an offer, if you are indeed the most powerful man in Chimto?” I made it a question, implying he seemed lacking to my eye.
He puffed up. “I am. Your goddess has seen truly.”
“Danu is the goddess of clear-sight,” I acknowledged. “If you are indeed the man I seek, then I have a gift for you. I am in possession of a powerful artifact, one that has belonged to generations of kings and even an empress.” I figured that little shading of the truth would harm none. “Danu wishes you to have it, and it will bring you even greater fortune in the days ahead.”
His fingers practically twitched with avarice, eyes gleaming with it—but he was no fool. I had to give the man that. “And what is the price for such a valuable ‘gift’?”
I inclined my head, allowing a bit of allure to touch my smile. “I can see why you have risen to such a high position of wealth and power. You are wise as well as clever.”
He preened a little at that, and I kept my shield of imperious indifference, pleased with myself that I was able to ignore the lust in his eyes as his gaze traveled over my body. “Perhaps you should come inside,” he suggested. “Take refreshment with me. Your elephant will be safe here and we can… discuss the parameters of this enticing offer.”
I managed not to laugh. He only wished. “The Priestesses of Danu are not for ordinary men,” I told him, making it clear I’d manufactured the regret to buffer his ego. “And Her emissaries do not enter the abodes of non-believers, nor do they eat or drink of their households.” After all, poison could be employed in any household. That center of me—Danu or my core self—agreed with the principle. “Also, there is nothing to discuss. Either you accept the gift and agree to what Danu requires in return. Or I shall leave.” I lifted my shoulder and let it fall. “It matters not to me, as I’ve served the will of my goddess regardless.”
Master Tamrat studied me, greed warring with caution. “Let me see this artifact.”
Acting as if it mattered little to me, I withdrew the diamond ring from my pocket, holding it so the sunlight caught the glittering facets, making sure its obscene size was clear in relation to my hand. I’d cleaned and shined it up the night before, feeling much as I did polishing my sword. Both weapons to be employed, but one infinitely more useful.
Master Tamrat was too practiced to show his astonishment, but his men gasped and muttered. He threw them a silencing glance, then held out his hand. “May I examine it?”
I’d anticipated this and knew it would have to be handled delicately. Slipping it onto my finger—not my marriage finger, as I was too superstitious for that—I drew near and offered my hand. With a wry look for my caution, he took my hand, turning it to examine the jewel with an obviously expert eye.
“How came you by such an extraordinary piece?” He asked idly, but I recognized the stealthy attack for what it was.
I withdrew my hand. “Danu works in mysterious ways,” I informed him, coldly enough to make it clear I’d tolerate no further questions.
“I see.” His mind worked behind his pleasant smile, weighing his options. “And what bargain do you propose, Priestess?”
Ah-ah. I wanted to waggle my finger at him, but settled for bored authority. “The terms are immutable. Take them or don’t. This jewel will bring you the fortune you seek and the succor of all the people of Chimto. In return, you will desist from attacking your neighbors. All of your neighboring clans.”
His initial surprise—swiftly covered—changed to canny calculation. “What interest does a foreign godd
ess take in the backward clans of my country?”
“Do you pretend to know the mind of a goddess?” I asked with lofty scorn. “Suffice to say that elephants are sacred to Danu, and the people outside Chimto honor Her in their work with Her creatures.”
“We value elephants also,” he argued. “Surely you saw them on your journey from the countryside.”
“You enslave them,” I returned baldly, letting my contempt show. “Danu doesn’t require that you free Her sacred creatures.” I’d argued this point with myself, longing to make it one of the terms, but unwilling to push my luck beyond my primary mission. “However, you seem like a man who considers the future. Danu rewards those who treat elephants as their kin, not their slaves.”
He studied me. “I am not the governor of Chimto. I do not order the warriors. Why approach me?”
I smiled, allowing him into my confidence. “Oh, come now, Master Tamrat. Surely I see before me not only a wealthy man, but a powerful one. You, I, and Danu know that you are the one to pull the strings of those who govern. You are humble to pretend otherwise, but I came to you first for a reason.”
He laughed a little, acknowledging the truth of my words. “And if I refuse?”
With a sigh, I admired the diamond on my finger, then slipped it off and tucked it back into a pocket of my leathers. “Then I shall look for your competitor. Surely there are those who envy you and long to surpass you.”
His face hardened despite himself, knowing I manipulated him and yet unable to extricate himself from the net of words I’d woven.
“Why shouldn’t I simply kill you and take the diamond—along with any other treasures you possess?” He scanned the area, as if looking for my reinforcements. “You are but a lone woman, after all. Or do you expect me to believe your pet will protect you?”
Warrior of the World Page 18