Aya knew that the unexpected appearance of these barbarians might have just altered the situation. The three herdsmen here at the river ranged in age from seventeen to twenty–three. They, like Ahaneith, were of an age to be joined. With a sense of foreboding, it occurred to Aya that there might be an exchange of available women between the barbarian band and hers within days – and the bands would then go their separate ways. While her band would gain three women, Aya would never see her daughter again. Unless… Aya recalled telling Kakhent and Bek about the dream she’d been given by the falcon god the day she’d discovered Ta–she. That dream revealed many bands settled in close proximity on the shore of the lake. If she and Hannu could convince these strangers’ band to settle at the lake alongside hers, her dream would be on its way to being fulfilled. The lack of suitable partners for those of her bands’ women and men still at the lake would be resolved. She wouldn’t lose her daughter forever. That cast these barbarians in a different light. Assuming, of course, they were actually part of a band and not simply a pair of random wanderers.
The cripple bent, retrieved a long wooden staff that lay in the grass, grasped it with his right hand above shoulder height, straightened, leaned on it, no doubt to relieve the weight on his bad leg. Aya knew that at this range his staff was as effective a weapon against her as the hunter’s bow, and she remained on guard.
“What is your band doing at our camping place,” the hunter asked pointedly.
His tone and implication were disconcerting. Aya took an immediate dislike to him. She’d never considered the possibility of encountering a band that she didn’t want to settle at the lake. But these two visitors were giving her second thoughts. Perhaps not every band was actually suitable. “We have as much right to the river valley as you,” she replied sharply. “We’ve had the use of it these past fourteen years.” His possessiveness was alarming, and he was still pointing his arrow at her. Did he think he could intimidate her? What did the two of them want? Were others spying on her camp too? Her dark eyes narrowed. “Are more of your people lurking in the grass?”
“Perhaps,” the hunter said cagily.
Ahaneith gasped, seized Aya’s left arm.
“Afraid to show themselves to a woman with a knife?” Aya asked mockingly.
“I’m Qen,” the cripple said pleasantly. “This is my nephew Menna. I assure you, there’s no one else ‘lurking,’ as you fear.”
“Fear? Really?”
“Unbend your bow,” the cripple ordered his nephew.
Menna laughed and pointed his arrow at the ground, away from Aya.
Qen suddenly stiffened. “Don’t move!” he hissed urgently. “Menna! To their left!”
Menna raised his bow again.
Aya leveled her knife at Qen. “If you think….”
Qen slowly tilted his head.
Aya followed his eyes. She spotted the viper, less than three feet from Ahaneith’s left leg. No doubt it had slithered from whatever rock it had been hiding under in the heat of the day now that evening was approaching. It was coiled, slowly rising, preparing to strike.
Three things happened all at once. Ahaneith screamed. Aya hurled her knife. With a twang and a swish Menna’s arrow took the snake in the head, sent it flying, pinned it to the earth five feet behind Ahaneith.
Ahaneith turned, stared at the snake in horror, began to weave back and forth. Menna dashed forward just as her legs buckled, casting his bow aside at the same time. He caught her before she hit the ground, lifted her, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. She looked up at him. “You saved me!” she said breathlessly.
“I’ve made better shots,” Menna said with false modesty.
Far from being impressed by Menna’s prowess, Aya was irritated. I would have killed the snake myself. I didn’t need his help. Now he’ll think I’m just another helpless woman and in his debt. No doubt his band will think mine is in its debt. She moved to the viper, bent, viciously sliced its head off with her knife. She grasped the still–wriggling tail and held it up, dripping blood. It was a good seven feet long. “Dinner,” she said practically. She pulled the arrow from the earth, tossed it to Menna.
He caught it with his right hand. The arrow protruded several inches through the snake’s bloody skull.
Ahaneith, still supported in the crook of Menna’s right arm, screamed again.
Menna set her on her feet, tucked the arrow into his quiver. He didn’t remove the snake head.
“I’m Ahaneith,” the girl said, trembling, clinging to him. “This is my mother, Aya. My father, Kakhent, is our band’s patriarch.”
Aya dropped the snake in the grass, fell to her knees beside her spilled fruit, righted her basket.
Qen immediately lay down his staff and squatted awkwardly beside her, his mangled leg splayed nearly straight. He began helping her refill the container. “Your voice was quite lovely, Aya. When you were singing, I mean.”
Most nights Aya entertained Kakhent as he sat before his fire, joined by their daughters, singing the ancient songs handed down from mothers to daughters in their band from a time beyond memory. Aya ignored Qen’s compliment. She had no interest in being friendly. He exhibited none of his nephew’s arrogance or possessiveness, but his disability was extraordinarily off–putting. From the time she was young Aya had always been the fastest runner among the girls of her band, faster even than some of the boys. She still loved to roam the valley and savannah for hours at a time, to swim in the lake. She couldn’t imagine having to hobble about like the cripple. She usually had no tolerance for anyone who couldn’t keep up with her. But she didn’t know how to feel about Qen. He’d obviously been forsaken by the gods. Should she pity him for that, given that she herself was favored by the falcon god, or consider him a pariah? All she knew for sure was that he was a barbarian, though seemingly a more reasonable one than his nephew. Still, his very presence and its possible implications for her daughter made her uneasy. She wasn’t about to blindly embrace him or his people in a spirit of good will, despite her dream. “Where’s the rest of your band?” she asked, certain Kakhent would want to know, continuing to pick the fruit from the grass and drop it into her container. “I assume the two of you aren’t just wandering about by yourselves.”
“You’re correct. The rest of my people are a day behind, across the river, on the eastern savannah,” Menna replied. He was helping Ahaneith refill her basket.
Aya did not miss that his fingers managed to touch her daughter’s repeatedly. She noted that Ahaneith did not seem to mind. Aya remembered being Ahaneith’s age, of Hunefer and Pimay pursuing her. Had she been interested in them she’d probably have acted the same way as Ahaneith was doing now. And neither of her suitors had been as handsome.
“My grandfather, Iry, ordered us to rendezvous with him here tomorrow,” Menna said. “He’s our patriarch.”
“We’re going to spend the next five months harvesting the wild grasses along the river,” Qen added. “We’ve always set up our first camp right where yours is.”
“We’ll be leaving in a week or so,” Ahaneith informed him.
“It’s your grandfather’s place to tell, not yours,” Aya admonished. She wasn’t about to reveal anything to these strangers concerning her band. Who knew what they might do with the information.
“Where are you going to?” Menna probed.
“Enough!” Qen snapped at Menna.
“I’ll ask whatever I want,” Menna replied haughtily.
“I’m in charge, not you,” Qen said firmly. He turned to Aya. “Please ignore my nephew’s rudeness. You’re correct, Aya – such matters should only be discussed by patriarchs.”
Menna regarded his uncle sullenly.
Aya sensed great friction between them. She could understand why Menna wouldn’t like Qen. No two men were less alike, as far as she could tell. As for the younger to be disparaging the older – such disrespect would never be tolerated among her people. These strangers truly were b
arbarians. So far, they didn’t appear to be the kind of people she’d want living at the lake. Though to keep her oldest daughter with her, Aya was prepared to tolerate anything. She placed the last piece of fruit in her basket, gathered her flowers, laid them atop the fruit, stood, picked up the basket. She addressed Qen. “Our patriarch is in our main camp.” Best to be vague about its location, give the illusion its nearby. “My father, Hannu, is in charge here. He’ll want to speak with your patriarch when he arrives. Will you accompany my daughter and me to our camp now to arrange a meeting?”
“Of course.”
Menna helped Ahaneith to her feet. He continued to hold the rim of her basket with both hands.
“Would you carry my basket to camp for me?” Ahaneith asked coyly, blushing a bit. “We can get to know each other better along the way.”
“Ahaneith!” Aya exclaimed.
“I’d like that very much,” Menna said.
Aya bent, retrieved the snake with her right hand, stood, placed her basket on her left shoulder, strode to where the trail began its descent to the river, started down. Ahaneith walked a step ahead of Menna; Qen fell in behind them both, moving awkwardly, bracing himself with his staff. Aya moved at half her usual speed to accommodate him. Ahaneith and Menna kept up a non–stop conversation.
Ten minutes later they reached the foot of the path. Ahaneith stumbled and Menna caught her and the two of them laughed. Aya looked at them disapprovingly; she was sure Ahaneith had stumbled on purpose. She was falling under this stranger’s spell far too quickly. Aya caught Qen’s eyes. He seemed to understand her concern.
“I need you to wait for our band, Menna,” he said. “Go back across the river on our raft. Let Father know about the meeting when he arrives tomorrow. Bring him and the family heads over.”
“As you command, Uncle,” Menna spat. He handed Ahaneith her basket, leaned close. “I’ll see you again soon. You can count on it,” he whispered, loud enough that Aya could hear. Then he turned and headed south, towards a slight bend in the river. Ahaneith watched him until he disappeared around it.
“My raft is tied to the bank a mile or so upstream,” Qen told Aya. “That’s where we landed.”
“You used your raft to cross the river?” Aya asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ve never seen one,” Aya admitted.
Qen looked surprised. “It’s a simple vessel. I made it myself. I tied together reeds into a couple of dozen bundles, lashed them together side by side, then tied some thick branches perpendicular to the bundles atop both ends of the raft for stability. Only took a couple of hours.”
“How do you propel it?”
“I pole it where the water’s shallow, let it drift with the current where it’s deep. I steer using another branch.”
So there is a way to cross the river and see what lays to the east. Aya filed that information away for future reference. She led the way a quarter of a mile across the close–cropped grassy plain to her camp. Its two temporary huts of reed slathered with mud were separated by only a few feet and shared a single cookfire. Beside both huts lay thick flat stones used by Aya and Ahaneith and Betrest and Pageti to grind grain, and earthenware jars full of water, and reed baskets overflowing with foodstuffs newly gathered. The arrival of the stranger caused a stir. Pageti and Betrest looked up from the cookfire. Wetka stared from the seat in front of his hut where he was lounging. All three rose and followed Aya and Ahaneith and Qen the handful of steps to Hannu’s hut, curious. None of them had ever seen anyone who didn’t belong to their own band.
Hannu was sitting on a stool made of leather attached to a wooden frame, a couple of feet from the campfire. He rose as Aya and Ahaneith and Qen halted.
“This is Qen,” Aya announced. “We met him and his nephew on the plateau. Qen, this is Hannu, my father. He speaks with the authority of our patriarch.”
Hannu stared at Qen suspiciously.
Qen bowed respectfully. “I am honored to meet you, Hannu.”
“Qen’s entire band will arrive here tomorrow,” Aya reported. “They’re on the eastern plateau.”
That got Hannu’s attention.
Ahaneith rushed to Hannu’s side, pointed to the viper Aya was carrying. “Qen’s nephew Menna saved me from that, Grandfather!” she exclaimed.
Aya rolled her eyes.
“It slithered out of its hiding place,” Ahaneith said excitedly. “It was already coiled to strike when we noticed it. Menna didn’t even take time to aim. He just let an arrow fly. He saved my life!”
“I find myself in Menna’s debt, then,” Hannu told Qen, at the same time putting his arm around Ahaneith’s waist and pulling her close.
Exactly what I expected, Aya thought, disgusted. More, Aya knew Hannu had feigned affection for Ahaneith merely for show; he’d never taken an interest in any of Aya’s children. From the day he’d for all intents and purposes sold Aya to Kakhent, Hannu had had virtually nothing to do with her or her offspring.
“You’re not,” Qen interjected.
Hannu looked at him, puzzled. “Not what?”
“In my nephew’s debt, Hannu. Aya’s knife was in the air the same time as Menna’s arrow. The arrow traveled faster, is all. If Menna hadn’t shot, Aya would have slain the serpent.”
Aya was surprised that Qen had not only put his nephew’s action in its proper perspective, but that he had given her the credit she deserved. She knew no man in her band would have done that. Nor Menna. She looked at Qen with new eyes.
“Let’s talk,” Hannu told Qen, resuming his seat.
Qen seated himself on a small stool, facing Hannu, his right leg extended to one side. Ahaneith took the leather stool to her grandfather’s right.
Aya placed the snake on a flat rock near the fire. “Beer for our guest,” she told Pageti and Betrest.
They both scrambled to the storage area beside the hut. A moment later they returned with earthenware cups and a jar of beer. They poured a cup for Hannu, then Qen, then Aya. After, she motioned them away, settling on a stool at Hannu’s left.
“Tell me about your band,” Hannu said after taking a long drink.
“There are twenty–nine of us,” Qen replied. “My father, Iry, is our patriarch.”
“That’s one more than us,” Ahaneith chirped.
Aya shushed her.
Qen glanced around. “But I count only eight people.”
So you were spying on our camp, Aya thought. Your apparent friendliness is likely just as false and calculating as my father’s.
“The rest of my people are in our main camp,” Hannu replied.
Aya noted that her father was being as vague as she’d been about the location of the rest of her band. She was surprised yet grateful that he had the presence of mind to do so. Twenty–nine barbarians, only eight of her people – she couldn’t help feeling vulnerable, not knowing anything about these strangers.
“How many families are in your band?” Hannu asked.
“Four. Three are headed by sons of my father’s second woman.”
“You head the fourth?”
“My sister’s man did. He died a few years ago. I look after her and her five children now.”
“Your mother was your father’s first woman?” Hannu guessed.
“Yes. I’m his oldest son.”
“You’ll succeed him someday?”
Qen nodded. “But not for a very long time, if the gods are willing. Though he has been preparing me since I was very young.”
“You have no woman of your own?”
Qen shook his head no.
Aya wasn’t surprised. What woman would want a cripple? She wondered how Qen supported his sister and nieces and nephews. She couldn’t imagine him being able to take part in a communal hunt on the savannah with the rest of his band’s men and share in its spoils. Even if he could keep up with the other hunters, he obviously couldn’t carry anything they’d slain if it was any larger than a hare. She assumed that Qen simply set snares
for waterfowl and small animals. Just like a woman.
“Are there any in your band of an age to be joined?” Hannu asked casually.
“Three boys above the age of fifteen, four girls between thirteen and fifteen, plus my mother and my half–brother Meru,” Qen replied. “And of course, me, though my joining is no one’s priority.”
From the way he said the last, Aya inferred that Qen had long ago accepted that he’d live his life alone. At least he was a realist.
“They’re all cousins,” Qen continued. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons Father sent me to the valley ahead of the rest of the band – to find another with which we can exchange women. He sends me on the same mission every year.”
“Have you?” Hannu asked. “Found one. This year.”
Aya caught the undercurrent of hope in his question. Clearly, Hannu too considered the upcoming encounter with Qen’s band as a gift from the gods. He no doubt expected that bringing three women from another band to the lake would enhance his personal status within his band. That such an exchange would take Ahaneith from Aya was, she knew, not a consideration for him. Her daughter, as she herself had been, was a bargaining chip to Hannu, nothing more.
Daughter of the Falcon God Page 9