Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) (26 page)

“But surely not as sacrifices to the gods,” said the high priest. “To do so would curse this venture not bless it.”

“I know little of these matters,” said Kariik looking suddenly exhausted. “But I’m sure you do. I leave it in your hands.” He turned to an older warrior, one whom Kalie remembered as a close advisor of the previous king. “Bring me an accounting of the property held by each of the traitors. I shall dispose of all of it tonight, before the executions.”

Kariik rose and turned back to his tent. Many of his chiefs and advisors tried to follow him, but he waved them away, and went into his tent alone.

It was a long time before the crowd dispersed. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something more. Haraak, Kalie was pleased to see, looked outraged when he was turned away from the king’s tent. A group of at least twenty warriors led the prisoners to an empty tent, where six followed them inside and the rest stood guard outside. Brenia, the only woman among them, walked beside her brother.

In the meantime, no one seemed concerned about Kalie standing alone and unfettered. What of the wives of the other prisoners? She searched the crowd for some sign of the few she had met. She saw no one she recognized, but what did that prove?

Kalie took an experimental step. When no one stopped her, she took another, then another. She moved like a ghost through the excited crowd, a destination slowly growing inside her.

She passed Hysaak and Elka, and brushed close to hear their words.

“…Out of the question!” Hysaak was hissing.

“The king will want to purge the blood of traitors from his tribe,” Elka argued. “Once Riyik and his slut of a sister are dead, the boy will be all that is left of their tainted bloodline.”

“A son takes nothing from his mother, as everyone knows. All that he inherits is from his father!” Hysaak pursed his lips and gazed at his wife. “Barak is my heir and will remain so even if you give me ten sons! If you hope to see him displaced, it will be because one of his brothers bests him, not because their scheming mother gets him out of their way.”

Elka lowered her smoldering eyes demurely. “Of course, husband. I merely sought to protect our family.” She paused as if the discussion was over. Then, just as Kalie passed out of earshot, said, “But a boy whose uncle and mother were traitors will have a hard life. Would not an honorable death as a sacrifice to the gods…?”

Kalie had one day. She would find a way to rescue Riyik, and perhaps all his men. But first, she had to ask someone a question she very much wanted not to ask.

Cassia stood near her tent, respectably robed and veiled, but Kalie knew she was listening carefully; catching every piece of news that flew by. There was much news and many eager mouths to spread it.

“No need to rely on gossips to learn what was said outside the king’s tent,” Kalie said. “I was there; I can tell you it all.”

Cassia regarded her levelly; appraising. Planning defense or attack? Kalie wondered.

“Let us go inside,” Cassia said.

“Let us not,” Kalie replied.

Cassia raised an imperious eyebrow, clearly surprised by this argument from…a slave? That was, Kalie realized, how Cassia was looking at her.

Kalie bristled, more curious than angry, though that emotion was smoldering inside her. With a toss of her veiled head, Kalie made her tone light. “Oh, come now, Cassia, we are just two women talking.” She gestured at the many such pairs and small groups throughout the camp. “And safer from curious ears out here in the light than inside your shadowy tent.”

Cassia nodded, casting a concerned look back toward her tent, and then turning to Kalie with less arrogance in her stance than a moment ago.

“It was you, then?” said Kalie. “You who set Haraak on me? How? Why?”

Again, Cassia seemed surprised by the direction of the conversation. “I could see what you were doing to our people, Kalie. Your foreign ways, your shameless words. It was like a poison! I fooled myself into thinking that you meant no harm by it, or at least could do nothing if you did. After all, you were a lone woman and a slave besides!

“But then you married Riyik and your words began to carry weight, and I could see how the women looked at you; how they whispered when there were no men around. I still didn’t believe it…how could I? How could anyone believe that the tribe of Aahk could be brought down by a little barbarian slave girl?

“But then I went to visit Brenia, and found the kumis you asked her to hide.”

“She told you about it?” Kalie asked, trying to keep her voice level.

“She denied it was poison; in fact, she tried to keep your name out of it all together. She said it was a love potion to bring Hysaak back to her and she couldn’t remember who gave her the recipe.” Cassia snorted. “From the look of her, and the gossip about his new wife, she would have been wiser to try such a potion. But Brenia’s not a good liar. Besides, there were enough bags of the stuff for half the camp!”

“So what did you do then?”

“I put things together. I didn’t know exactly what your plans were, or how much Riyik knew about it. But I knew Haraak was looking for a way to pull him down. I knew he would be grateful for the information, and would reward the man who brought it to him. So I told Maalke everything I had seen and guessed.”

“Maalke?” Kalie thought back. “He wasn’t with Haraak—he wasn’t even at the king’s tent—“

“I know!” said Cassia, raising her voice for the first time. “The fool didn’t believe me! He said the men who ruled the king would pay him in laughter for such wild ravings. He told me to confine my gossip to women’s matters and stay out of politics. Then he went to get drunk and fuck the slave girls.”

Kalie began to laugh. Nothing about the situation was funny, but the irony of it all had her doubled over, nearly shrieking. How close she had come to winning the day—all because of Maalke’s stupidity!

Cassia slapped her hard across the face. That might not have stopped the laughter, but Cassia’s next words did. “So I had to go to Haraak myself. My foolish husband threw away a chance for advancement and I had to risk my reputation.”

“Why?” taunted Kalie. “You were so afraid of me that you couldn’t come to me yourself? You needed a creature like Haraak to fight your battles for you?”

“Battles such as these can only be fought by men! That is something every girl of Aahk learns before her tenth year! I saw there was a danger that had to be stopped, and knew that if I did it right, I might save my son!”

“How?”

Cassia sighed. “Why do you think you’re walking free right now, rather than tied up next to your husband? Haraak promised me that you will be returned to your position of slave in this tent in exchange for the information I gave him.”

It took Kalie a moment to understand. Of course. Enak. Cassia’s sickly child who owed his existence to Kalie’s fertility treatments and any future he had to her healing abilities. “That’s what this is all about?” she cried. “That’s why you betrayed me—“

“Betrayed you?” Cassia’s eyes were wide with shock. “You were going to poison half the men in our tribe!”

“Of course I was! What did you expect me to do?” Kalie was nearly shouting. “Sit back and play the helpless woman while your people enslaved all of mine?”

“Well I never expected you to kill anyone! I never expected you to corrupt half the women of this tribe into thinking they could change things!”

Kalie lowered her voice and asked with genuine curiosity, “What did you expect, Cassia? Knowing the stakes for what they were, what did you really expect me to do?”

“To make the best life you could for yourself, here, in your new home! To use what skills you possessed to influence a powerful man, so that when we conquered the land of your birth, you might be in a position to help some of them. It’s what any sane woman would do.”

“Then I will happily remain insane, for whatever time I have left to live!” Kalie snapped. At Cassia’s puzzled look she added, “You don’t really think I’d go back to being your slave, do you?”

Cassia’s color rose with her temper. “Do you think you will have a choice?”

“Careful, Cassia! Don’t use words you don’t understand! If you wanted to save your son, you should have asked for my help, not murdered my friends.” She peered intently at her former mistress. “And what about Brenia? She was your friend before I ever came to this land. Do you feel nothing for her?”

Cassia lifted her head and looked past Kalie. “If she had remained a dutiful wife, no harm would have befallen her.” But her voice shook, and Kalie could see the pain the other woman tried to hide.

“Other than being beaten to death by her husband for the pleasure of his new wife. That would likely have happened sooner rather than later once you helped Haraak kill her brother.”

“Why do you taunt me like this?” cried Cassia. “I saved your life! Haraak has promised—“

“And we all know how Haraak keeps his promises.” Kalie’s voice was low, but so frightening that Cassia went still. “And now that you’ve brought yourself to that particular rapist’s attention, Cassia, I’d suggest you be very careful to never be alone.”

“I do that anyway,” Cassia said, regaining some of her composure. “So will you, once you finally learn how to be a proper woman of the tribe.”

“I will die first.”

“Why?” cried Cassia, throwing up her hands in frustration. “Do you think dying with your husband will take you to paradise? It won’t! He’s a traitor, and to die with him will only mean—“

At that moment the cry went through the camp: “Riders! A small party, carrying the banners of Nelek, King of the Wolf Tribe!”

Discussions of treason and executions were forgotten as everyone who could hurried to the open area outside of the encampment where Kariik and his chiefs were already mounted and riding out to meet the visitors. If speculation had run wild before, it knew no bounds now, as everyone whispered or shouted possible reasons a former ally would be returning without a war party.

Kalie followed along, leaving Cassia torn between curiosity and her wifely duty to remain inside and wait until given permission to leave.

It was strangely thrilling, Kalie thought, as she lifted her skirts and ran to get as close to the main action as the king’s guards would allow. Here she was, about to watch nearly everyone she loved die, while everyone else she loved faced slavery, and she herself became Haraak’s pawn—and yet she felt free.

It was as if events had been put into motion—by Kalie, by Haraak, by his gods or her Goddess—who knew? Maybe all of them. And there was nothing to do but ride along with them, and see where they went.

And she wasn’t afraid.

Nelek was dismounting, his whole being on fire with a kind of manic energy. He had perhaps twenty men with him. Kalie recognized his brother, and one of his chiefs, but his sons—his remaining sons—appeared to be absent. Crouching behind two fortuitously tall children, she had an excellent view of the drama as Kariik, flanked by guards bristling with weapons, slid from his horse, and strode to meet his rival king.

The king of the Wolf Tribe looked older than he had just days earlier, Kalie thought. He stood with an air of tragic dignity as he held his empty hands out in the beastmen gesture of peace. Kariik halted a few paces before Nelek, and motioned his guards to stand down.

“Kariik, my brother king,” Nelek began. “I come to you with news of grave importance.”

“I await it eagerly,” Kariik said, eyeing his one-time ally warily.

“I left this camp in anger, thinking a grave insult had been offered me, and my son Valaan, whom I knew to be blameless in the matter which led to his death.”

Tension filled the air, for Nelek’s words seemed more the prelude to a fight than any gesture of peace. Several warriors reached for their weapons, but the stony faced Wolf King held up a hand for patience. “I say this because I now know he was blameless—and so was your warrior, Kariik, my brother. And so, most likely, was his poor wife.”

Voice cracking with emotion, Nelek shouted into the now silent crowd. “We were all of us betrayed! All for the petty scheming of one who owed us nothing but loyalty!” Nelek turned and motioned to a hide-wrapped bundle on the ground behind his horse. At his nod, one of the warriors flung it open, none to gently.

Inside it was Alessa.

Alessa met Kalie’s eyes from where she lay, as composed as ever. Kalie sighed with relief. For someone who had been dragged by a horse across considerable distance, Alessa looked surprisingly good. She was bruised and disheveled, and as she sat up shakily, Kalie could see fresh welts on her back, but she was not fatally injured. Kalie’s relief faded, however, as Nelek began to speak.

“This woman,” Nelek spat the words, “was not even born to our tribe! She came to me as a foreign slave! A worthless outsider—yet I raised her up! I made her my beloved concubine—honored above a dozen who were fairer than she. I entrusted her with the care of my wife when she was sick in childbed! And when this slave delivered my wife of a healthy son, I showered her with gifts, and honored her as if the child were hers!” A low growling arose from the spellbound crowd.

“I have learned that it was she,” Nelek pointed to Alessa, “who arranged for my son to be found in your warrior’s tent, to brew trouble between our two noble tribes. And it was she who seduced my older son and sought to turn him against me! His own father! All so that she might rise even higher as his favorite! Or perhaps even become his wife!”

Well, thought Kalie, as the crowd grew wild over this new scandal, at least no one’s thinking about Riyik. Perhaps she could turn this distraction into an opportunity to rescue Riyik and Brenia. But then what of Alessa?

Kariik glanced at the woman on the ground. “Why does she still live?” he asked Nelek.

“I was not her only victim,” Nelek said. “She cost you a fine warrior. Both of us, therefore, should share in the judgment of her.” Then Nelek bowed his head and came as close to abasing himself as a beast king could. “Kariik. Malquor. I have come to humbly beg your aide in cleansing my household of the filth brought by this faithless slave. And that afterwards, let we three great men once again turn our eyes to the west.”

Malquor gave only a noncommittal nod, but Kariik stepped forward and embraced Nelek. “Come my brother, let us speak in my tent. I, too, have known the pain of betrayal by those close to me this day. Those who owed me their loyalty; their very lives. It has fallen to me as well to cleanse my house of corruption and deceit. Tonight, let the gods see how kings of this land deal with betrayal, be it from brother warriors or lowborn slave girls.”

The kings repaired to Kariik’s tent, while two warriors dragged Alessa off in the direction of the tent where Riyik and the others were being held. Kalie followed for a while, to be certain that’s where they were taking her, while around her the camp took on the appearance of a huge beehive knocked down by the wind. Kalie felt like she was an island of calm, all to herself. For the moment, she was free, and the first thing to do was find the rest of those who were not under guard.

She found Varena cleverly hidden in the shadows cast by the arrangement of three tents. “Are you all right?” Kalie asked, gathering her adopted daughter into a fierce hug, and praying the girl would not reject her.

Varena’s response was to cling to Kalie with no sign she would willingly let go.

“Oh, mother, what are we going to do?” she asked.

Until now, Kalie had managed to keep her emotions under tight control; even the guilt that threatened to tear her apart from within. But Varena’s simple faith nearly undid her. “You must continue to hide, as you’re already doing so well. Do you know where Agafa and the others are?”

“They went back to Riyik’s tent after the warriors left.” Kalie nodded. Waiting for the next owner, of course. What else could they do?

“Is Yarik with them?”

“Yes. He would not stop crying”

“What will happen to him after…tonight?” Kalie finished faintly.

“I don’t think he’ll have any living family. At least, none that will claim him. He probably won’t be sacrificed, for fear of offending the gods with an imperfect gift, but they may send him along with his father, as a way to keep Riyik out of paradise.”

Kalie’s stomach clenched. Would the tally of lives she had ruined ever stop growing? She thought furiously, as Varena waited anxiously.

“All right now, listen to me. Stay here until the kings emerge from Kariik’s tent. They will be making speeches and everyone in camp will want to hear them. If I haven’t come to you with a plan by then, I want you to sneak back to Riyik’s tent, gather up all the supplies you can, and make your way west to my homeland.”

She tried to think of a message to send, but feared any words that came from her would only make things worse. “You will have to be ready to leave as soon as everyone’s attention is on Kariik; he said he would distribute the condemned men’s property before the executions. Take Yarik if you dare—no,” Kalie shook her head desperately. “He will slow you down. Just take what you can and go! When you reach the Land of the Goddess, tell whomever you meet what is happening here, but then you must keep moving west. There is a place in the mountains where I once lived. It will take the tribes many lifetimes to penetrate that far. Go there, they will take you in.”

Varena stared at Kalie. “I could never do that!”

Kalie clutched Varena’s shoulders and shook her. “I know you’re afraid! I know you think that you can’t do it! But—“

“That is not what I meant! I mean that I won’t leave here without you, Mother. We go there together or not at all. And you’ve come too far to give up now!”

Kalie stared at the calm, confident woman before her, and wondered what had happened to the terrified slave girl whose only goals in life had been more food, a kinder master, a the safe delivery of a son. Oh, Goddess, if I have done one good thing in this land, she stands before me now.

“Varena, I have to stay behind, and try to salvage some of what I came here to do.” Although the chances of doing anything but dying under a horse’s hooves as the horde rode west were slim.

“Then let me help!” cried the young woman. “Let all of us help! You have more friends than you know, Mother.”

“Friends?” Kalie sobbed. “Every human being in this camp who has been kind to me or believed my words is about to die! Or be reduced to a lower form of slavery, just when they began to believe life might hold something more for them! And it’s because of me!”

Now it was Varena who clutched at Kalie’s arms. “Is that what you think? You think Riyik regrets standing up for his honor? You think Brenia would have rather have died without a fight? You think I regret one moment of the life you gave me?”

“I don’t know! And now I’m afraid I’ll never find out.” Varena wrapped her arms around Kalie and held her, as Kalie had once held Varena. A long time later, she backed out of the embrace and took a deep breath. “Those stars I’ve been making from bones. They’re for—“

“I know what they’re for,” Varena said, rising to her feet. “I think we all do. All whom the Goddess gave eyes to see with, at least.”

Kalie shook her head, amazed by this woman who had become, in every way, her daughter. “If the warriors didn’t take them, I’ll take that as a sign that there’s still hope. Get Yarik.” Then she thought of another child whose life was in danger. “Get Barak as well.” Varena nodded. “Wait for me in the grass a spear throw west of here.”

“What will you do?”

“Offer my services as a storyteller.” Kalie kissed Varena and hurried away without further explanation.

Despite Varena’s brave reassurances, Kalie received no welcoming looks from any of the women she passed as she walked through the camp. Everyone, even wives and slaves, stood in plain sight, at the doors of their tents or in the shadows between them, but when Kalie tried a few experimental approaches they turned their backs, or slunk inside their tents. She had thought to beg food from Danica, but the look the old woman shot her sent her moving past at greater speed.

Kalie hadn’t eaten all day, and it was clear no one would give her food, but she still wore the finely crafted water bag Riyik had given her. No one stopped her when she went to fill it at the well. Here, the looks were more curious than hostile, as women speculated on Kalie’s fate. From what she could glean by listening, it appeared that being the wife of a traitor carried less of a stigma than being the sister of one.

While no one would actually speak to her or make eye contact, they spoke freely about her while she listened. Some insisted she would be Maalke’s again, and would do well enough for as long as she could keep his newest son alive. Others cackled that Haraak was so bewitched by her he planned to keep her for himself, and would carry her on his horse, dressed like a princess when he rode in triumph into the city from whence he had long ago plucked her.

“And does that not prove she is a witch?” demanded a well-dressed wife, who had come for water herself rather than sending a slave, in order to join in the gossip. “She connives to turn a good man traitor, and instead of dying for it, earns a place in the tent of the most powerful man in camp?”

“Perhaps it is for her power that Haraak desires her,” another said cryptically.

“It’s certainly not for her beauty,” said a young slave, raking Kalie up and down with her eyes. She was rewarded by raucous laughter.

Kalie laughed along with them, probably causing speculation that she was mad, but she didn’t stay to find out. She had enjoyed listening to their banter, for it had made the old anger sing in her blood. And now, finally, it was time to act on it.

Tell them a story Alessa had said when they had last been together. And Kalie had sought to craft one that would have the warriors of three tribes at each other’s throats. She had not practiced enough; had put too much time and energy into dramatic plots involving weapons and poison.

But now she saw what it seemed everyone else from Varena to Alessa to the Goddess who sent her on this journey had seen all along: if she were to defeat the beastmen, it would not be with their own weapons. It would be with the gifts Kalie’s own Goddess had given her, from a land that knew nothing of beastmen’s power.

Storytelling was the one thing she still had from her old life. She could only take that as an omen, and do her best.

Kalie threaded her way through camp to where the crowd was the thickest: the open space before the kings’ tents. There she stood in the shadows and waited with the others for the kings to emerge.