Storm Bride (10 page)

Chapter 11

Keshlik

K
eshlik wound the bandages around
the woman’s feet as tight as he could make them. “Does that help?”
   
Her expression was dead, blank. She had been mute since the scouting party carried her back to the caravan, and she’d let them tie her up with no more resistance than a doll. Her determination to escape had surprised him, but her failure seemed to have sapped that energy from her.

“I don’t know why you bothered going after her,” Juyut said from atop his horse. “You took her under Khou’s protection, but once she left…”

“So you let the plunder just get up and run away, now?” Keshlik checked the knots binding the woman to the cart then verified that nothing sharp was within her reach.

“The woman is plunder, now?”

“I’m giving her to Tuulo for a slave.”

“That’s not what you said before.”

Keshlik remounted Lashkat and whistled for the party to move. The cart jerked and moved forward. Lashkat whinnied at the pony pulling the cart then plodded forward next to Juyut and his mount.

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Keshlik said. “It amounts to the same thing.”

Juyut spat. “Nothing good can come of it. The woman has already been more trouble than she’s worth.”

Keshlik could not remember the last time that he had brought so many spoils into the Khaatat camp. The whole tribe came to meet the warriors, and their surprise and pleasure resounded off the walls of the yurts. But he already had more treasure than he could use. At the first opportunity he found Dhuja, who was examining a necklace of hammered silver.

“I brought a woman back from Prasa,” he told her.

“Is she as pretty as this?” she asked, holding up the looted jewelry.

“She’s pregnant. She needs to go into Khou’s circle with Tuulo.”

Dhuja looked up, her brows pinched into a scowl. “You brought a pregnant city-dweller woman here? Khou’s tits, why?”

“She is under Khou’s protection. I couldn’t kill her.”

Dhuja laughed. “I don’t think many people remember those old taboos.” But her scowl faded.

“So you can bring her into the circle? She will at least be company for Tuulo.”

“Does she speak any language that we know?”

“She may know a little Guza. I’ll bring the translator to talk to her.”

“Good enough.” Dhuja folded the necklace and dropped it into her pouch. “My grandsons bring me gifts from the slaughter, and the war leader of the Yakhat brings me another charge. I shouldn’t be surprised. Bring her to me.”

Keshlik fetched the woman and presented her to Dhuja. The midwife looked her over, pursing her lips and poking at the captive’s belly and breasts. “She looks healthy. I’ll bless her with the salt and take her to Tuulo. Don’t come to the circle until that’s done. After I have resealed the line of blessing, you can come speak to your wife.”

“I’ll be there when you’re ready.”

The anticipation of seeing Tuulo again warmed his belly and added a tint of mirth to his voice as he traded stories with the other Khaatat warriors. A glance back at the isolated yurt showed that both Dhuja and the woman of Prasa had disappeared inside. He slipped away from the circle of yurts and went to the line of burnt earth calling his wife’s name.

Tuulo came out from the yurt smiling, huffing, and heaving her belly around. She had gotten as round and red as a berry.

“Eighteen days since I last saw you,” Keshlik said. “How is it that you look almost ready to give birth already?”

She smiled at him and shook her head. “I’d give birth right now, if the baby would only come. I’m sick of it. My back hurts, my breasts feel like overfilled canteens, and Khou’s circle has gotten awfully small.”

“I’m so sorry. I’d carry the baby for you if I could.”

She laughed out loud. “That’d be a sight to see. Would you still go riding into the battle with a baby in your belly?”

“Ah, maybe not. But if I carried the baby, then you’d have to carry the spear.”

“Dhuja would slap us if she heard us talking this way. Or at least scold me for half a day.” She smirked at Keshlik and glanced slyly back at the yurt. “Were you victorious in Prasa?”

“Golgoyat himself fought among us. But nineteen spears were broken.”

“May their smoke rise to Golgoyat.” She closed her eyes and cupped her hand over her mouth, then opened it upward to offer her breath to the sky. “Were they Khaatat?”

“No, none of ours. A few of the Chalayit, a few of the Budhut, and some from several of the other tribes. All from Bhaalit’s group. The hardest fighting fell to them, as they had to assault the north wall while the rest of us attacked the undefended south. I’ve rewarded their clans with an extra quarter portion of the spoils. And the spoils of Prasa were rich, Tuulo.”

“Well, I saw that you brought me a slave. Did you think that I was lonely in the yurt with just my midwife?”

He laughed. “Well, I didn’t bring her for that. I wouldn’t slay her, since she’s under Khou’s protection.”

“And you couldn’t just leave her there?”

“And let the other men get her?”

Tuulo gave him a skeptical glare. “I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve found a pregnant woman on your raids. And you’ve never brought one home before.”

That question had rattled in the back of his mind ever since Juyut had mentioned it. He hesitated. “I’ve never had a wife inside Khou’s circle before. Perhaps I’m especially afraid to anger her now.”

“The leader of the Yakhat war bands fears a woman now?” She smirked.

“I know. Juyut said the same thing.”

“Really? That’s probably the first time that we’ve agreed on something. In any case, she’s already been cleansed and brought into the circle, so there’s no getting rid of her now. Though I have no idea what we’re supposed to do with her once she gives birth.”

“I’ll leave that to you and Dhuja. But what about you? Are you well? Is the baby well?”

“It kicks like a colt, which I hope means it’s well. Dhuja says that all of my signs are positive, and that I’ll bear before the new moon. And oh, I hope she’s right. My back hurts, I can’t sleep, and I can barely walk. I’m ready to have a
baby
and not just a
belly
.”

Keshlik looked at her with a gush of fatherly pride. He reached across the line toward her, stopping with his fingers a few inches away from her cheek. She blushed and looked away.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked.

“Dhuja says that I have the signs for a boy. But I don’t really know.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

“Will you be here?”

“I don’t know. We’ve routed the city and plundered most of the homesteads north of the river. As far as the Guza have told us, there is no one else in this country that could challenge us. But there’s always
something
.” The Praseo chief’s warning about Kendilar tickled at the back of his mind, but he wouldn’t burden Tuulo with that. He sighed. “I’d like to rest from raiding for a while. I’ve been riding for so many years, it would be nice to lay down my spear for a while. I’d like to be here when our child comes.”

She smiled at him. “It’ll be soon.”

He glanced back at the circle of Khaatat yurts. “But not yet. I have to go speak to the elders and the warriors. We have to ensure our mastery of Prasa and the plains. And Juyut isn’t ready to take up leadership. Soon, though. Soon.”

By the time he returned to the center of the encampment, the spoils had been divided. The Khaatat share was generous, and the portion allotted to every yurt was abundant. Almost too much.

A lifetime of plunder had made the Yakhat rich. Their flocks were descendants of those long-haired cattle that they had first seized from the plains tribes, and their yurts were made of leather and wood stolen when Keshlik was still a young man. Every yurt had a chest of silver and gold trinkets. Keshlik had baubles of opal and mother-of-pearl, rubies the size of a crow’s eye, and emeralds like pebbles. The furs and casks of wine and carved combs of whale ivory plundered from Prasa were now laid down next to the treasures of the dead Guza. If they warred only for wealth, their battles would have ended long ago. But the Yakhat fought because they knew nothing else to do.

The old men of the clan were sitting in a crooked circle around the central fire of the encampment, with the women and warriors gradually retreating to their homes. Keshlik entered the circle and bowed to each of the men in turn, beginning with Deikhul, the eldest. Once he had finished, Deikhul began the formalities. “What news do you bring of the battle?”

“Golgoyat himself fought among us,” Keshlik said. “The city of Prasa is overrun, and our warriors have returned with the plunder that he has given into our hand.”

“Has the Sorrow of Khaat Ban been avenged?”

“No. Golgoyat still rages, and Khou still weeps.”

Satisfied with the ritual exchange, the elder leaned back and folded his hands. “So what now, Keshlik? Will you let the war bands rest?”

“Have the war bands rested since Golgoyat first roused us?”

The elder grunted. “We haven’t ceased from war, but we have occasionally tarried along the way to battle. And this seems like a good place to tarry.”

“I agree that this is a good place to tarry. I am as eager as any of you for a rest from war.”
More eager, probably
. “But we can’t rest yet.”

“Why not?”

“Too many escaped from the city, and they might strike back.”

Tashnat, one of the retired warriors, spoke up. “Are you really afraid of the ones who fled from the city like rabbits?”

“Alone? Not at all. But if there are enough of them, they might gather their courage. And we barely know what lies further to the south. There is a rumor of a greater city there.” He told them about the captured chief of Prasa and the man’s tale of Kendilar.

Deikhul seemed nonplussed. “So what do you propose?”

“We should subdue the last of the survivors. Scatter them or slay them, and ensure that none of the city-dwellers will strike against us again. Once all of the land north of the river is ours, we can tarry here until Golgoyat sends us out again into battle.”

“So will you lead the bands again?”

He hesitated. “I would like to stay here until Tuulo gives birth.”

A low chuckle sounded around the circle.

“You want to stay with the camp?” Deikhul asked. “Maybe you’ll send the cow-maidens against the city-dwellers?”

The chuckles thickened into laughter.

Keshlik grinned at them. “If the cow-maidens want to go out with spears in their hands, I wouldn’t stop them. But until then, I might send my brother Juyut.”

“It’s fine if you want to send Juyut,” Deikhul said. “But we and the women are more than content to stay here north of the river. The plains are copious and wide, and we’re safe for the time being. We could rest well here.”

“Once we know that we
are
safe from every side.”

Keshlik came up behind Juyut and smacked him on the back of the head, just as Juyut had cracked open another cask of Praseo wine and dipped a bowl into it. “Don’t get too drunk now,” Keshlik said. “I need you to lead a warrior band.”

Juyut spat a mouthful of wine on the ground, and he turned and swung at Keshlik.

Keshlik easily sidestepped. “I hope your fighting is better than that when you go out against the city-dwellers.”

“Bah,” Juyut said, grinning. “I may not be able to hit the leader of the Yakhat war bands, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to kill the rabbit-men of this place.”

“Let’s hope so.” He settled down next to Juyut and accepted a bowl full of wine. He sipped, carelessly splashing a bit into his beard. “Are you ready to lead a Khaatat band against the remnants of the city?”

“Are you seriously worried about them?”

“I worry about every survivor we leave.”

“Bah! They’re off hiding on the fringes of what we’ve already plundered. They’re no threat to us.”

“Just like the Yakhat were no threat when we were hiding on the fringes of the marshland?”

Juyut grunted. He knew those meager, miserable years only from stories. As far as he could remember, the Yakhat had always been warriors. “So you’re expecting Golgoyat to call up one of them the way he called up our father?”