Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) (8 page)

Her stories had yielded some results, although admittedly not what she had hoped for. If she could craft a tale that whispered the dangers of trusting outsiders; that promised great rewards to men who acted alone…If she could cause this alliance to fall apart spectacularly enough, she just might be able to convince them to wipe each other out. Or at least reduce their numbers to the point where they wouldn’t be a threat to her people for many years.

Kalie was briefly angry that she hadn’t learned the arts of seduction: that seemed the surest way to get two men to kill each other in this place, and it was something a slave could do, without corrupting something she valued as much as her stories.

Walking through the camp, she shook her head. She could never be that good an actress.

Maalke’s tent was dark when she returned. Only the faint glow from the banked fire let Kalie see her way through the disorderly tent, with Cassia asleep in her corner and Irisa’s two sons curled up together like a pair of puppies. Everyone else was still out celebrating.

Kalie was about to seek out her own sheepskin, more to think than with any hope of sleeping, when a faint noise brought her outside again.

Varena was huddled between the shadow of the tent and the spill of starlight on the flattened grass beside it, sobbing as if her heart had been rent in two.

“What’s wrong?” cried Kalie, rushing to her side.

Varena looked up at her through dead eyes. “I am a woman now,” she said.

It took Kalie a moment to understand. “Do you mean…is it your first bleeding?”

Varena glared at her. “I know the women are different where you come from, but don’t they at least get moon times?”

Kalie sat beside the girl, who was still just a girl as far as she could see. She reached out a hand carefully, as with a wounded animal. “Yes, a girl’s first bleeding is what marks the beginning of the transition to womanhood. But where I come from, it’s a joyous event; a cause for celebration.”

Varena looked puzzled. “Why?”

Kalie sighed. “Another difference between our peoples, I suppose.” From across the years, Kalie remembered her own womanhood ceremony. She had been frightened, too, she now recalled. But it was the fear of change; the nervous excitement of the unknown. Perhaps even some discomfort at all the attention: all those people hugging and kissing her; all the gifts and well wishing. Was she thanking everyone properly? Showing enough dignity and decorum? Would she make a fool of herself during the dancing, when everyone was watching her?

Not this blank eyed terror, warring only with a sense of final doom. “I know being a woman isn’t a wonderful thing in this land, but what has you so terrified?”

“Maalke is going to sell me. I heard him promise Altia a few days ago. They were arguing; she was accusing me of seducing him; saying I wouldn’t be worth anything if he gave in to my wiles. Maalke said he hadn’t; that he’d already made a bargain with a warrior from Griiv’s clan to trade me for two old women slaves as soon as I was a woman—or sooner, if I took too long about it. I guess they won’t have to wait now.”

Kalie tried to speak twice, and finally managed, “Could we hide it from the rest of the tent? At least until your next moon time?”

Varena looked surprised. “I thought about trying that! I didn’t think anyone would help me with such a deception, not even you, Kalie.” Surprising, how much it hurt that she had stopped saying mother. “But Altia already knows. I came back to the tent to look for you; I needed the rags that the women use. Altia was here, getting more kumis for Maalke. She knew right away. I think she smelled it.”

“Yet another way in which wives resemble dogs,” said Kalie. That won her a nervous smile from Varena. “Did you get the rags, at least?” Varena shook her head. “All right, let’s take care of that first. Then we’ll worry about the rest of it.” Kalie led Varena inside the tent, to the place where she kept her supplies, grateful that she had recently made some new pads of absorbent felt. She didn’t want to give Varena something used for her first time.

“The men will leave at dawn for their summer horse sacrifice,” Kalie said, as she showed Varena what to do. “They’ll be gone four whole days. And when they come back, you’ll probably still be bleeding, so they’ll avoid you until you’re done. That gives us time.”

“For what?” asked Varena, hope creeping back into her voice.

“I’m not sure yet,” Kalie said with more confidence than she felt. “But we’ll think of something.”

The sun was just rising on the eastern plains, when the men rode out of camp.

Kalie, who had barely slept that short night, was dragged from her bedroll by the bleary-eyed women of Maalke’s tent, to join in the singing as the women bid farewell to the warriors.

Kalie stumbled out of the tent with a curse, and then froze in awe at the sight before her. The pearly glow of dawn kissed the grass and tents with dew, while a gorgeous display of pink and gold lit the sky in the east. Of course, the most beautiful sight of all was that of the men leaving.

Unlike times of war, when a small group of older or less favored warriors were left behind to guard the women and herds, the summer horse sacrifice was a time when all men—and all boys old enough to leave their mothers for a few days—would be away from the camp. They would be near enough to hear if an alarm was sounded, but Kalie had heard that this was a sacred time for all the people of the steppes, and that not even the worst of enemies would risk the wrath of the gods by violating the solemn ceremony with fighting.

When she had asked what ceremonies the women would perform to welcome in the summer, she received blank looks. Wives apparently performed some kind of short ritual, but slaves and concubines did not attend. Mostly, it seemed, the women went quietly about their work, anxiously awaiting the return of the men.

Kalie took her place with the others slaves, chanting the appropriate responses while the wives made two columns for the men to ride between, singing of the glory of men of honor who served the great god Aahk. She saw Cassia, one of the few who looked well rested, her hands demurely crossed over her swollen belly. Just one more moon span, thought Kalie, and the baby could be born safely.
       

Cassia’s pregnancy, Varena’s womanhood, Riyik’s interest in her, the planned conquest of her world—thoughts raced through Kalie’s mind, giving her no peace. She had the sense of things about to change. And if she wasn’t watching the right thing at the right moment, everything would be lost.

As the men disappeared from view beyond a low hill, a change came over the women, but unlike Kalie, most did not become giddy with relief. Rather, they seemed to sag, as if some vital life force had deserted them. Altia, who had obviously drunk too much kumis the night before, staggered back to her bed, clearly intending to sleep the rest of the day. Cassia, fearing she had pushed herself too hard by taking her place in the farewell ceremony, also returned to her bed. Irisa took advantage of the absence of both master and wives to go visit friends. Who knew she had any? Kalie thought.

She turned to Varena who looked lost and sad. Somewhere deep inside, the beauty of new womanhood sparkled in her and mirrored the beauty of this summer day. Kalie ached to give to Varena all that she had been given at this time in her own life.

Then it hit her: perhaps she could.

Hurrying to the tent, Kalie found the three geese and the little brown duck she had killed the day before where she had left them, still unspoiled. But they would need to be cooked soon: the lovely dawn was promising to turn into a hot day. Hurrying to the pit in which last night’s feast had cooked, Kalie found it still warm. Little effort would be required to have it ready for the birds.

“Varena, come help me pluck these! Then I will show you how we prepare them in my homeland.”

Sullen, but curious, Varena approached. “What are we doing?”

“You’re a woman. Tonight is Midsummer. And it’s a full moon besides! We’re going to have a proper celebration of all of that—but most especially we’re going to welcome you into this glorious new phase of your life! And we’re going to do it with a feast worthy of you, my beautiful daughter.” Kalie embraced Varena, who stared at her as if she had truly gone mad. Kalie didn’t care. On fire with a purpose for the first time since coming here, Kalie set about preparing a feast.

Looking back later, Kalie would see the hand of the Goddess in all that happened that day: in the way she found a patch of berries that all the other women had somehow overlooked. In the way fish filled the simple weir she had woven from grass while she went about her foraging. Even in the way that both of Maalke’s wives slept all day.

But the most important thing of all happened when Kalie finally made contact with the Shadow Women.

She had been trying, since discovering their existence, to get to know them, offering bits of food and a kind word whenever she could. But while scavenging the midden for bones that might still have enough marrow to produce soup, Kalie recognized one of the outcast women, bent upon the same errand, not twenty paces from herself—and realized she finally had something to offer them.

“Would you like some of these?” Kalie held out a handful of precious berries.

The woman approached her warily, eyed her suspiciously, then grabbed the food from her hand, jumping back and crouching as she stuffed it in her mouth.

Something in the way she moved, some remnant of grace beneath the stiffness and pain, made Kalie blurt out, “You were a dancer, weren’t you!”

The woman stared at her for a long time. “No,” she said at last, rising painfully to her full height. “I was the greatest dancer of them all. Chief Vorik’s fairest treasure. Ahnaak himself tried to buy me from him.” As she traveled backward in her memory, her eyes became clearer and her voice, raspy from long disuse, grew stronger.

“What happened?” Kalie asked.

“What always happens. My beauty faded and my limbs grew stiff. Vorik took a new wife who had long despised me, and she persuaded him to cast me into the shadows. He told me he couldn’t bear to sell me to another, but if he had any love left for me, he’d have killed me, rather than this.” Her gaze narrowed on Kalie’s face. “I know you! You are the new storyteller who’s hoping for a place like mine.” Her hollow cheeks split with a nearly toothless grin and she held out her skeletal arms. “Take a good look at me girl, and see your own future.”

Kalie looked. Then she stepped forward and held out her hands in a gesture of friendship. “My name is Kalie. What is yours?”

“Agafa,” said the woman, after a moment’s surprise. She did not take Kalie’s hands. “Why do you waste your time with me?”

“I want to learn about this place where I now find myself. I want to learn all I can about becoming the favored entertainer of a chief. And I want to tell you about the place I come from. Tonight, I’m going to celebrate the coming of age of my adopted daughter, as we would in my home. There will be food. I invite you—and all the other women who have been wrongly cast out this way—to join us.”

Then she turned and walked away without waiting for Agafa’s response. And without the soup bones, she realized later.

Word spread throughout the half empty camp that something was to happen tonight; something that involved slaves and barbaric rituals. No one stopped her, but as the sun began its descent, many women hid in their tents with their children. But many more stood at a wary distance, curious as to what Kalie was up to.

The day had been as brutally hot as Kalie had feared, but now, as evening fell, a deliciously cool breeze wafted through the camp. She took it as another good sign as she surveyed the feast spread before Maalke’s tent. Geese stuffed with all manner of roots and seeds, fish roasted on a bed of sweet grass, and hard cakes of flat bread Kalie had somehow managed to coax from the wild rye that grew here. They might not taste like much, but they would be filling, and with the syrup she had made from the berries, they might just become a new taste sensation. Beside the food was a basket of dried flowers Kalie had carefully saved from the spring profusion.

When Kalie went inside to fetch Varena, she stopped short at what she saw. All day, Varena had followed Kalie like a shadow, sometimes watching the preparations, sometimes helping. Now, like the moon peeking out from behind a cloud, Varena’s face showed a glimpse of the woman she might one day become. Her gray eyes danced with excitement and curiosity. Her skin, though reddened from the merciless sun of this land, was fresh and vital. Her wheat colored hair held a golden sheen.

Forgetting the decorum that had been so important to her on this day in her own life Kalie flung her arms around Varena and kissed both her cheeks.

“What was that for?” Varena looked shocked, but not at all displeased, as Kalie would have been at her age.

“I’ll tell you later! Come now; it’s time to begin!”

“Where are we going?”

“I found a beautiful spot by the lake,” Kalie said as she led Varena outside and watched her gawk at all the food assembled there. She didn’t mention that by “beautiful” she meant the cleanest, least trampled and mud-churned place that contained both water and a dry, level stretch of beach for dancing.

Still, the setting sun was glorious. With no trees to block the sky, no mountains to cut off the brilliant show a moment before it played itself out, the feast would have a fine backdrop. Kalie turned and looked toward the east, and nearly dropped her pilfered sacks of kumis. The moon, fat and golden, lay upon the horizon like a tunnel through which one might escape this world and travel to one altogether new and magical.

“How did you get so much food?” Varena asked. “Is it all for us?”

Kalie looked at the feast, hoping again it would be enough for what she had in mind, and then forced a laugh. “I suppose we might be able to eat it all. But a feast is better when shared. Besides, we could never carry it all by ourselves.” Kalie nodded to the skeletal, frightened-looking women who hovered nearby, and prayed it all didn’t fall apart right now.

“Shadow Women?” cried Varena. “This is how you plan to honor me?”

Kalie faced Varena and her look of betrayal. “Listen to me, daughter,” she said gently, yet with an edge that commanded the new woman’s attention. “They are women, just like us—“

“They are not like us! They are less than us. The only women in this camp who are! Do you want me to think I’m even less than Altia and Irisa think I am—”?

“I want you to see that you—and they—are so much more than Altia and Irisa think! I want to show you that women—all women—are greater than the men who rule over you have ever let any of you know.” Kalie sighed. “Varena, I wanted to invite all of your friends and family—“ And Larren, too, if she had bothered to find out where she lived…

“But I haven’t got any, except you. I know, Kalie. And I thank you for trying to have enough people to make it a real feast, but—“