The Providence of Fire (27 page)

Unlike the other polities surrounding Annur—the Manjari Empire, Anthera, Freeport, and the Federated Cities—the Urghul had no government, which meant no law, no significant trade, and no respite from the constant blood feuds, vicious intertribal vendettas lasting dozens of years at a time. Evidently, it was all a part of their worship of the Lord of Pain. The Annurians knew the god as Meshkent, but the Urghul had a different name, one in their own language: Kwihna, they called him, the Hardener. There were no cities on the steppe, but over the millennia the Urghul had erected hundreds of altars to their god, some massive stone tablets, others little more than piled cairns where they carried out their savage worship of pain and blood sacrifice.

Valyn tried to remember the occasions for such sacrifice: the full moon, the new moon, solstices and storms, floods and famines, all requiring breathing bodies to offer up to the god. Gent had demanded to know how there were any of the bastards left after so much blood and burnt offering, but according to Daveen Shaleel, there were more Urghul than most people realized—maybe a million in small tribes,
taamu,
they called them, scattered across the enormous grasslands. Valyn always found that number unsettling. Although the population of the empire itself ran into the tens of millions, the legions rarely fielded more than half a million soldiers, and those were spread all over the border. The Urghul, on the other hand, had no dedicated military; every man, woman, and child was a fighter. Consummate horsemen, physically and mentally toughened by a hard life in a hard place, well-blooded through constant conflict, they could pose a serious threat to Annur, if they ever stopped fighting amongst themselves.

More to the point, they posed a serious threat to Valyn's Wing. Cadets weren't kept formally apprised of Kettral missions, but there was always buzz in the training yard and the mess hall, enough that Valyn knew the Eyrie had been flying missions over the steppe nearly every month for the past several years. Who the target was, or why an empty chunk of grassland without cities or towns was so important, he had no idea, but it hardly mattered now. The Urghul immediately below might not have encountered Kettral, but they would have heard tales of great birds dropping out of the sky bearing men and women dressed in black. The odds of a welcome parade were not high.

But still,
he thought as he stared out over the land, all shifting grays and blacks beneath a cloud-wracked anvil of sky,
We might have to go down there
.

He considered the campfire once more. Gwenna's head wound required rest. They
all
needed rest. The rations they'd stolen in their flight from the Eyrie were nearly gone. Both Talal's injury and Valyn's own needed to be cleaned and cauterized, which meant fire and yet more rest. It was possible to make their own camp, to go without food, to tend their own wounds and steer clear of the people below, but that choice presented its own risks. In the end 'Ra's deteriorating wingbeat decided him.

The bird couldn't stay in the air much longer. She was gliding in long sweeps, losing hundreds of feet of altitude as she rested, then struggling mightily to regain the lost elevation. The stutter in her wingbeat had grown worse, and she was flying head-down. Laith would have to look her over on the ground to discover what was wrong. Worse, a battered kettral could take days or weeks to recover. That campfire meant Urghul, and Urghul meant horses. Valyn hated riding, but it beat walking, if Gwenna even
could
walk.

He reached for the signaling strap, tugging out the relevant code:
Circle target
.

For a moment nothing happened, then he felt the bird bank slightly to the north, aiming directly at the campfire.

He leaned over to Talal, cupping a hand to his mouth. “How's your Urghul?”

The leach grimaced, though whether at the question or the pain in his leg, Valyn couldn't say. “Awful,” he replied.

“Can you tell them we don't want a fight?”

“I don't think
Don't want a fight
is an Urghul concept.”

“How about,
If you move, the bird will rip your throat out
?”

Talal frowned. “
Bird kill you
is about the best I can do.”

“
Bird kill you
it is.”

“Are you certain about this, Valyn?” the leach asked.

“No.” It had been a very long time since Valyn felt certain about anything.

He turned back to the flame. As they grew closer, his spirits rose. There was only a single fire with a few small figures gathered around it. Two
api,
the collapsible hide tents favored by the Urghul, stood a little way off, with a line of hobbled horses between them. The camp probably contained about ten people. No more than a dozen. Even injured, a Kettral Wing would be equal to ten or twelve nomadic savages.

“I've got no 'Kent-kissing certainty whatsoever,” he went on. “But we need food and fire, rest and horses—and they're all right there.”

*   *   *

All in all, the drop went better than Valyn had dared to hope. The Urghul tending the campfire were just kids—the oldest maybe ten years old—preparing the morning meal while their elders enjoyed a few final moments of sleep and warmth inside the
api
. The oldest girl, a pale, blond child of nine or ten, hurled herself at them, screaming imprecations in her strange language and stabbing with her cooking knife until Laith knocked her unconscious with a carefully calibrated blow of his sword hilt. The two younger children glanced uncertainly from the massive bird to the
api
and back, but, aside from shouting a few vicious-sounding threats, they made no move to interfere.

The adults were a different story. As soon as the children stopped shrieking, a man barreled out of the entrance flap of the nearest tent, stark naked save for the spear in his hand, face twisted with confusion and rage. The sight of Suant'ra looming over his cook fire slowed him for a moment, but if he was frightened by six well-armed, black-clad figures materializing out of the predawn murk, he didn't show it. With a bellow, he hurled the spear directly at Valyn. Valyn slid aside, letting the shaft glide harmlessly into the night, but then, before he could take a step forward, a knife sprouted from his assailant's throat.

Valyn glanced over his shoulder at Pyrre.

The Skullsworn smiled at him, then winked.

“We're not here to kill them,” he spat.

“Please stop using the first-person plural,” she replied, bouncing another knife on her palm. “I'm not a part of your Wing.”

“I
am
on the Wing,” Laith interjected, “and I'm all right with killing them. I remember those lectures on blood sacrifice and pain ritual, and I'm not all that eager—”

He broke off as a woman burst from the
api,
naked as the first man, a shorthorn bow in her hand. Her skin, like that of all the Urghul, was onion-pale, almost lambent in the firelight, and her hair, too, a great blond mane, might have been spun from white-hot fire. She took a step forward, then paused, eyeing the assembled Kettral. A chill, vicious wind sliced through the camp. She didn't shiver.

“Go ahead and say it,” Pyrre remarked. “She's a woman. And
we
don't kill women. I don't mind. Tell me how helpless she is.”

Valyn stared at the Urghul. Scars puckered the skin of her belly and legs—lance wounds and arrow punctures. Her hair whipped at her face, but she paid it no mind, focusing instead on Valyn. She hadn't yet drawn the bow, but an arrow was nocked to the string, and, from the easy way she held it, he imagined she was familiar with the weapon.

“If she moves,” he said slowly, “kill her.”

“How
barbaric,
” Pyrre replied, amusement bright in her voice. “Triste would never have approved, poor girl.”

Valyn ignored her. “Talal, start talking. Quick.”

The leach hesitated a moment, then began haltingly:
“Wasape ebibitu—”

“You killed my
wasape,
” the woman said, cutting him off, indicating the sprawled corpse with her chin. “Do not savage my language.”

That she spoke the Annurian tongue was something of a surprise, but it meant Valyn could handle the negotiation himself. As the woman spoke, other figures had emerged from the two
api,
some wearing leather riding breeches and rough tunics, others bare-chested. As Valyn had hoped, they numbered just half a dozen. Ten with the kids and the dead man.

“He attacked us,” Valyn said, indicating the corpse. “We killed him only in defense.”

The woman considered the body for a moment, then shrugged. “There are other warriors to warm my nights.”

To her right, a young man growled something incomprehensible. He had a knife in each hand, and from the way he was crouched forward, looked eager to try his luck.

“Annick…” Valyn began.

“I've got him,” she replied.

The Urghul woman looked at the sniper, then turned to her companion, uttering a few curt words.

He snapped something angry in response, waved a knife at the Kettral, then spit full in her face.

Without blinking, the naked woman pivoted, slamming her arrowhead through his throat. She held it there firmly as the dying man dropped his knives, clutched at the wooden shaft, then released it as he crumpled. She considered the body for a moment, then turned to the other Urghul. Valyn caught the words for
chief, dead,
and
challenge
. She spread her arms wide as if inviting attack from her own people, evidently indifferent to her own nakedness, the biting wind, and the Kettral Wing a few paces away. Only when the other Urghul had nodded did she turn back to Valyn.

“I am Huutsuu,” she said. “
Wohkowi
of this family. Do we fight or do we eat?”

“I think I'm in love,” Pyrre said appreciatively. “I hope I don't have to kill her.”

Valyn stared at the Urghul. If the lack of guards, the motley weapons, or the two newly dead men on the grass were anything to go by, they were hardly masters of military tactics. On the other hand, the woman showed no fear of her own death, nor any remorse over the bodies before her. She waited, arms spread, for his response.

“We eat,” Valyn said finally. “I regret your … men.”

Huutsuu shrugged. “
Men
would have killed you. These two…” She waved the bow in their direction. “Fools.”

“Nonetheless,” Valyn said, uncertain how to proceed in the absence of any sort of grief or anger, “we would avoid fighting.”

“Then we eat.” She turned to the children, both of whom were still glaring at Valyn. “Peekwi. Sari. Slap your sister awake and put the pot on the fire. I need my furs.” She turned, ducking back into the
api
without a word, and abruptly Valyn found himself standing in the center of an Urghul camp in which people went about their early morning routine—pissing behind the
api,
checking horses, rubbing chilled hands by the fire—as though nothing amiss had occurred, as though half a dozen soldiers hadn't just dropped out of the sky on a giant bird to murder one of their number. Even the pair disposing of the bodies appeared indifferent to the manner of their death, bickering incomprehensibly as they stripped the few ornaments, tossed aside the weapons, and hauled the corpses into the high grass.

“This makes me nervous,” Talal murmured.

Valyn nodded. “Annick, keep your bow handy.”

“Maybe we got lucky,” Laith said, vaulting off the back of the bird. “Nothing wrong with a little good luck every now and then.”

Valyn allowed himself a moment of hope, then crushed it.
“Optimism kills soldiers,”
he replied, quoting Hendran.

“Steel in the guts kills soldiers,” the flier countered. “Or steel in the leg,” he added, glancing significantly at Talal. “Or the shoulder.”

“We're getting there,” Valyn growled. He hardly needed to be reminded of the searing pain of the flatbow bolt grating against his scapula. “Talal, Laith—gather their weapons.”

“I need to look over 'Ra,” Laith said. “Something is really wrong with her.”

“The Urghul first,” Valyn said. “Then we patch up our people. Then the bird. Annick, cover them. Pyrre…”

“Just a gentle but firm reminder,” she replied, “that I am not on your Wing.”

“How unfortunate. Do you think I could prevail upon you to watch a hostage or two?”

“I don't know—I might kill them.”

“That,” Valyn replied, gritting his teeth, “would miss the point of taking hostages.” He scanned the group, picking two Urghul at random. “Him and her.” He turned to Talal. “Can you tell them—”

“I'll tell them,” Huutsuu replied, stepping out through the flap to her
api,
a massive bison hide draped over her shoulders and belted around her waist. The thing made her look larger, but slower. Had Valyn not witnessed her stabbing a man in the neck moments ago, had he not seen the sinew shifting beneath her bare skin, he would have underestimated this woman. It was a good lesson.

Huutsuu gestured to the two Urghul Valyn had selected, barking something rough as she gestured to a patch of ground a little space off from the fire. They hesitated, anger and doubt scrawled across their faces, but they went.

“Tie them if you want,” she said, crossing to the fire without a second glance, prodding with her finger at something in the large pot.

Valyn took a deep breath, surveying the scene. Everything appeared under control. Talal and Laith had made a large pile of bows, knives, and spears; Annick stood a short way off, scanning the camp, bow in hand.

Pyrre caught him watching her and smiled a wide, open smile. “Don't worry,” she said. “My god accepts all sacrifice, but I've always felt that the unarmed make for meager offerings.”