The Shore of Women (6 page)

ARVIL

I kept to rocky or frozen ground, not wanting to leave many tracks. I spent part of the night in a tree and built no fire for warmth. The man and the boy were still following me the next morning, and they no longer troubled to conceal themselves. They were keeping well behind me, near the horizon to the south, but always in sight.

I had some meat left in my pouch. Hunting near the home ground of other bands would be risky, and I could not look for food while being tracked. Why were they following me? They had to believe that I was heading back to my band, that they might be attacked if they followed me. Then I remembered Geab’s knife. The man might have seen it while my soul was with the Lady. A man would kill for such a weapon. The two might be waiting to fall upon me before I could join others.

As I made my way through territory where I knew nothing of the nearby bands, I understood how alone I was. We had seen no bands while traveling south, but other men would have hidden themselves from a large band passing on horseback. A lone boy was an easy target. I held to my faith in the Lady, yet I had seen good men die before. I could not know Her will.

A flock of sparrows had alighted on the snow in front of me. They hopped away, took to the air, and flew toward the sky. I thought of my band, lying dead on the plateau, and of their souls now flying toward the heavens. Would the Lady forgive them and accept them? Would She grant them the blessings in the next world that She allowed other living things in this one? Only death would bring us the happiness the sparrows and other creatures enjoyed in this life, for they dwelled with females and their young, while we had only the boys given us by the Lady to raise. We were of the world, yet apart from it, and the sight of animals doing what we could not was one of our punishments for ancient sins.

Once, we had been with the Lady, living in Her realm, and then we had been cast out. My loneliness was unbalancing me, for I was pondering this truth as I walked, hearing a voice inside me questioning it. Had we truly been of the spirit and then forced into our earthly bodies, as I had been told? Or had Earth borne us and given birth to us as She had to all other creatures? Where did the boys who left the enclaves come from?

I tried to silence my questions, knowing that they would only lead to unholiness, but my mind’s voice persisted. Why did the Lady, knowing men were sinful, allow us to live? Why did She give us boys? There was a holy mystery here, and all the words I had heard from older men about the Lady granting us boys so that men would move closer to redemption did not answer my doubts.

We needed the Lady, and She somehow needed us, too. That notion made me draw in my breath. “Silence,” I said aloud to my mind. I looked around hastily, afraid another might have heard, but saw only the patches of melting snow on the brown land that stretched to the horizon.

I had picked up my pace. I strode quickly, then ran, then slowed to a rapid walk again. In the afternoon, I came to the edge of a wood. Bint had told me that there was a shrine to the east, just beyond this patch of forest, but we had not gone to it because it would have meant a half day’s travel out of our way. If I could get to that shrine, I would be safe for at least one night.

I moved through the woods stealthily, wondering if I was still being followed. The man trailing me might not know about this shrine. I soon came to a pathway, seemingly well-traveled and with the recent marks of feet, that wound among the trees, and I guessed that it led to the shrine. My own trail would not be so obvious on this path, but I would also have to be careful to avoid other travelers. At one point, I heard distant voices and hid in a tree until I could hear them no more. It grew dark and harder for me to see; I was forced to move more slowly.

It was night when I reached the edge of this wood. I was about to step from the trees and walk toward the shrine ahead when its door opened and I saw a group of shadows against the light. I rolled under a bush as the men walked toward me; twigs cracked as they passed by. I held my breath and was not discovered.

Climbing to my feet, I sprinted toward the shrine and was panting by the time I reached it. The door opened, and I stumbled inside, shaking mud and snow from my boots. My stomach ached. I tried not to think of food. My meat would have to last for some time.

I went to the altar. The Warrior dwelled in this shrine. She watched me from behind Her shield as I prayed, and then I went to a couch and donned the Lady’s crown. I called to Her, telling Her of my journey and asking for Her help in finding more food, but She did not speak.

I was tired and drifted into drowsiness. I do not know how long I lay there. The whisper of the door made me start, and I sat up quickly, knowing that I had slept while wearing the circlet. As I took off the crown, the dark man and the boy glanced at me, then went to the altar.

They had followed me here; I trembled with fear and rage. They finished their prayers, went to the couches, and put on circlets. I wanted to run from the shrine, but would be no safer outside. I waited until the man sat up and gazed at me.

“We saw the signs of two bands along the way,” he said. “You didn’t join either.”

I said nothing.

“Maybe yours is farther away than you thought. Or maybe they are hiding from enemies. Or they’re dead, or they broke their bond with you for some reason, or they were forced to move their camp.” As he spoke, I was wondering where his own band was and why he and the boy were still alone.

The man held up his hand, palm out. “Don’t look so angry. We are in a shrine—we cannot hurt each other here. There is always peace in Her presence. Truce.”

The truce would be over once I stepped off holy ground. The man watched me for a while, then gestured to the boy, who opened his small pack and threw me a burnt bird’s wing.

I gnawed at the wing, sucking on the bones after devouring the meat. The man gave me another wing, and I finished that one, too.

“Truce?” he said again.

“Truce,” I answered. “Where is your band?”

The boy narrowed his eyes. The man plucked at his thick, curly beard, scratched his head, and then said, “You are alone, are you not? You must speak the truth here.”

“You must promise me that there will be peace between us when we leave.” I turned toward the statue of the Warrior. “Swear it, by Her.”

Both raised their hands and promised peace, and I swore peace as well. We were now bound by our vow, for we had made it before the Lady.

“I am alone,” I admitted, telling myself that they would not have offered food and then sworn an oath if they meant harm. “The rest of my band is dead.” I sent up a silent prayer to the Lady. I could not lie in a shrine, yet could not admit to these two that I had narrowly escaped Her wrath. “But my guardian, Tal, was not with my band when they died, because he was called to an enclave. I’m going to him now. I prayed to the Lady at the shrine where you first met me, and She called me to Her, and now I am traveling north to find Tal.”

“What is your name?” the man asked.

“Arvil.”

“What does that mean?”

“It is an old name—the meaning is lost.”

“I am Wanderer. I had another name once, but that is how I am known now. The boy is Shadow, because he follows me. I guessed that you had no band near here, for the men in these parts have a different tongue.”

“Where is your band?”

“You see it here.” He waved a hand at Shadow. “We travel by ourselves.”

“But that cannot be.”

“We are here, are we not?” Wanderer reclined on one elbow. “I lost my band as a boy. Since then, I’ve been alone, but I have made peace with many groups. They find me useful because I know the speech and ways and lore of others and can be a messenger or go-between when there is ill feeling between bands. I have dwelled with and hunted with many groups of men, and I have traveled far and can entertain them with tales of my adventures. I have even aided some bands in treating with others so that they do not fight over a herd or a territory. But I have no band of my own.”

“The Lady cannot approve.”

“I am here, saying it before Her. I have been called three times to an enclave, and Shadow was given to me. The Goddess has not condemned me.”

I shook my head, trying to accept this tale. “What do you want with me? Why did you follow me?”

“Because I suspected that you were alone when I first saw you in the Witch’s shrine. I spoke to you in the northern tongue, and you understood and answered me in it. You had been called, and that means you must be especially loved of the Goddess, for one so young is rarely called. Then I wondered how you had come south, for I was certain you could not have made the journey by yourself. What could it be that brought your band south in winter? It could not be a hunt, for you would stay on familiar ground during this season with stored food, to save your strength, and move on in the spring.” He leaned forward. “I have guessed. Your band sought to join those behind the wall on the plateau.” He watched me calmly. “Am I right?”

I refused to answer.

“I saw the judgment from below. The fire blazed brightly. But you escaped somehow and then were called, so the Goddess has pardoned you. You should have nothing to fear from Her, and Shadow and I will do you no harm.”

“But why did you follow me?”

“I grow older,” Wanderer said. “I now need a band, for an old traveler will be of little use to strangers. And you are alone, so you need me. I think we should travel together.”

“I must go to the enclave first and find Tal.” As I spoke his name, I felt again how much I missed him.

“We can travel with you for part of the way. When you find your guardian and come outside, we can become a band if he wishes. If not, we still have our truce. But I think he will agree. After all, he has no band now.”

“I must sleep,” I said, “and consider this.”

“Very well.” He murmured a few words to Shadow, then stretched out, his back to me.

I did not know what to think of his offer. A stranger was saying he would help me, yet my band had always distrusted strangers, and those strangers we had followed had led my band only to death. The Lady had decreed since the beginning of time that only the strong would live and the weak would die, yet here was a man ready to help someone weaker—for I was weaker, whatever blessings the Lady had bestowed on me.

I would have to travel with Wanderer and Shadow. Tal could decide whether we would be a band later. I knew that without Wanderer’s help, I was unlikely to reach my guardian.

The next morning, I accepted Wanderer’s offer, and we shared most of what was left of my meat. We said our prayers together and put on the circlets once more. The Lady said nothing to me or to Shadow, but Wanderer was given a visitation. As he thrashed about, I recalled my own visitation and longed for another. When Wanderer rose from the couch, he glanced at Shadow and shook his head. I knew by that gesture that he had not been called.

We left the shrine and went north, then turned west, skirting the wood, until we were again following the route I had traveled with Bint. We turned north again and soon came upon a snare in which a rabbit was struggling.

As I took out my metal knife, Wanderer grabbed my hand. “No. I know this kind of snare—a band I have treated with near here set it. We must leave it for them.”

“They won’t know who took it,” I said.

“The Goddess will know, and we may soon meet this band along the way. My truce would be at an end if they saw me with their game, and the snare has marked that rabbit on its limb. Leave it.”

We walked on, satisfying our thirst with handfuls of melted snow, and soon came upon two red-haired young men. I readied my spear, then lowered it as the men greeted Wanderer and Shadow. As Wanderer spoke to them in their own speech, they glared suspiciously at me. I longed to run from the strangers but controlled my fear. I could make out only a few words of their talk; some were northern words, while others resembled the holy speech of the shrine. Most of the words were unfamiliar.

“What is he saying?” I asked Shadow.

“Wanderer says you are his charge and that the Goddess guided you to him.” One of the young men uttered a stream of words. “He says that his camp will give us meat for one of Wanderer’s stories.”

I was astonished. “They will feed us in return for words? You have an easy life.”

“Do not think that, Arvil,” he answered as we followed the young men. “Last season, we were offered food for a story, but that band did not like the tale and drove us away with beatings from their spears. Only our truce with them saved us from death. Usually, it is better to do our own hunting, or to aid a band with theirs in return for a share.”

The men led us to tents on a hillside, where the haunch of a deer was cooking over a fire. Five older men with reddish-brown beards sat with four towheaded boys. As with another band I had once seen, they had grown to resemble one another.

We squatted near the fire to warm ourselves, and Wanderer began his story. He sang the words and, at times, leaped to his feet, waving his arms while his deep voice swelled.

“What is he saying?” I murmured to Shadow.

“This is a new one. He told it to another band a moon ago, and they liked it so much that we got extra portions.”

“What is it about?” Wanderer was kneeling now, bowing toward the ground as he spoke.

“He is telling them of a band far to the south, where it never snows and the water never grows stiff. Once, there was a boy who was the best hunter and the best tracker and the best forager who ever lived. The Goddess loved him so much that he was called to an enclave six times, for his looks were fair and pleasing to all and his spirit was brave. But when he grew older, he became unhappy and went to live in a shrine so that he could always be near the Goddess. Men for many paces around brought him food and pleasured him and prayed with him because they believed he was holy—otherwise, the Goddess would have ordered him from the shrine, as She will if someone tarries there too long.”

The red-haired men were staring at Wanderer, their mouths open. “One day,” Shadow continued in a low voice, “when the man’s own band came to him, they saw that, under his shirt, he had grown breasts. He disrobed before them, and they saw that his member was gone and that he bore the pouch instead.”