Asena Blessed, page 9
part #2 of Altaica Series
‘The blonde and her man are over there. Both looking a little sorry for themselves. However, the thing that will really interest you is down the end,’ Karan said.
Isaura shifted discretely to see what he indicated. Curro and Elena walked towards the others. Curro appeared fine, but Elena limped. She batted Curro’s arm aside irritably when he moved to help her. Elena chanced to look in Isaura’s direction and a scowl disfigured her face. She attempted to stand tall and walk without limping, yet only managed a waddle. Isaura’s laugh carried clearly to her.
Umniga rode before Karan and Isaura, blocking her view. She slid from Nasir’s back with astonishing grace. She’s not even got a saddle! Just the blanket!
‘How are you managing, child?’ Umniga asked Isaura.
Upon her arrival, Karan’s manner became perfunctory. The teasing smile vanished and a facade of bland politeness replaced it.
‘Isaura is doing well, considering,’ he said.
Considering what? Isaura thought. Don’t damn me with faint praise.
Karan continued, ‘And you, Umniga? You were complaining you were too old for this, yet look at you now.’
‘I think my limbs are remembering the joy of riding.’
Isaura’s mouth turned down at the corners. Joy! ‘I need to stretch my legs,’ she said sourly before stalking off along an animal trail through the trees. By the gods the damn woman must be at least sixty and she makes me feel useless!
Her pulse pounded in her head with each step. She flexed and fisted her fingers. Concealed by the trees, she picked up a rock and hurled it as hard as she could at a trunk, pushing her welling anger into the throw. It hit the tree but did not bounce off. What in the world? Isaura marched to the trunk. Her anger dissipated as she stared in disbelief. The rock was embedded within the timber.
Gods, did anyone see? She looked about furtively, spying Asha following her trail. She moved from the tree and waited for Asha to reach her. Isaura stood with her arms crossed, kicking at the dirt. Asha gave no sign that she had seen her throw the stone.
‘I won’t get lost, you know.’
Asha shrugged. ‘Lord Karan wants you accompanied.’ Isaura grunted. Asha continued, ‘You’re unarmed and not trained. You’ve no way to defend yourself and …’
‘What do I need to defend against? The enemy is across the river, yes?’
‘For now.’ Asha continued lamely, ‘You may see a bear. The bears are unpredictable …’
Isaura, sceptical, stared at her. ‘A bear?’
Asha smiled wryly. ‘It’s unlikely, they’re mainly in the northern forests around Gopindar. Still, these are strange days.’ Isaura waited, staring at her. Asha sighed. ‘You must remember you’re not yet a member of our clan. You can’t wander freely.’
Isaura nodded. ‘Training. I have to pass the training.’
‘Yes. You must pass all the training. I don’t think even the Asena can change that.’
Isaura looked at Asha’s bow. ‘Let’s get started then.’
Asha canted her head at her. ‘Have you used a bow before?’
‘Yes. But not like this. Yours are more curved and shorter, but a bow is a bow,’ Isaura finished nonchalantly.
Asha drew her bow and shot at a stump. Isaura gaped at the speed with which the arrow hit its target.
‘Fast! How? It’s so much shorter than our bows, but the power!’
Asha grinned proudly. ‘Your turn. Try to hit the stump. The wood is soft and I want my arrows back.’
Isaura reverently took the bow. She turned it over in her hands admiring the workmanship. ‘Asha, this is a thing of beauty. It’s so light.’
‘It was a gift.’ Asha coloured, before continuing abruptly, ‘Just shoot it, Isaura. We’ll have to head back soon.’
Isaura drew the bow; her eyes widened in amazement. ‘So easy to draw.’ Cocky, she aimed the bow at the stump and released her arrow. It sailed far too high and missed the stump. She groaned. ‘I don’t believe it.’
Asha watched her smugly, arms folded over her chest. ‘Again?’ she mocked.
Isaura lips quirked. I’d probably act the same in her shoes, with some cocky newcomer. She considered how much she’d missed by, and drew again.
Asha watched her concentrating and altering her aim. Clearly Isaura was worried she’d miss.
Isaura held the bow too tightly; she knew it, but couldn’t help herself. Concentrating, she released the arrow. It embedded itself in the dirt. ‘Shit!’
Impatiently she held out her hand for another arrow. Asha passed it to her saying, ‘Do you always take so long and think so hard about it?’
‘No. I never really think about it,’ Isaura replied.
‘Relax. It’s just us.’
Rapidly, she drew again, not really aiming—merely looking at a different spot on the stump. She loosed the arrow into the wood. ‘Yes!’ Isaura said.
‘Better,’ Asha agreed.
‘Oh, come on!’
‘All right, much better!’ Asha laughed. Isaura held out her hand again with an expectant look. ‘Fine, one more, then we have to collect them and go. You’re like a child.’
‘Yep! Give me the arrow!’ Isaura said as she bounced on the spot. She grabbed it, drew, and released in a heartbeat. The arrow landed right next to Asha’s. ‘Yes! I’ve got it now!’
Isaura went to retrieve the arrows, not noticing Asha silently agape at her.
Beside her again, Isaura asked cheekily, ‘So, Asha, who gave you the bow?’
CHAPTER TEN
Vikram entered the council room, carrying a scroll, to see Ratilal standing before the great hearth. He nearly baulked at the sight. Ratilal had removed one of the great sinan, which rested in ornate brackets on either side of the fireplace, and was inspecting its soundness.
He bowed low before Ratilal; exposed, he struggled to keep his hand from his kilij. Ratilal let him wait. The sound of hoof beats, wagon wheels on stone, and voices carried from the courtyard through the window into the quiet of the council room. Yet the soft slide of the spear through Ratilal’s hands as he hefted it dominated his hearing.
His mind raced as he remained bowed. What does he know? Does he suspect me? Has something else irked him?
‘Rise,’ Ratilal said as he returned the sinan to its bracket.
Vikram rose slowly, quashing the urge to rush.
‘You’ve been busy,’ Ratilal said.
‘Yes, High Lord. I did as you instructed. I’m here to report on the state of the city’s defences.’
Ratilal narrowed his eyes. ‘Why are the walls covered in workmen?’
‘The fortifications were in dire need of repair. I thought if you knew their state that you’d be angry at any delay in the work.’
‘My father had Paksis see to the walls only last summer.’
‘Yes, High Lord. But Clan Lord Shahjahan … that is, the work would have passed a cursory inspection, but he did not care to check the work thoroughly.’
‘Why did you not check the work thoroughly?’
‘High Lord, your father … he checked it. I did not think I would need to as well. I mean no insult to your father, High Lord.’
Satisfied with Vikram’s discomfiture, Ratilal waved his hands dismissively. ‘I take no insult at that, Vikram. My father’s better days were behind him and I know you were loyal to him.’ His lips formed a thin line of displeasure. ‘However, I take it you mean that Paksis deliberately did poor repairs.’
‘Yes, High Lord. I believe he did so to save costs.’
‘Yet charged the full amount?’
‘Yes, High Lord. The current repairs are being undertaken by Māhir. He has supervision of all work to the walls. This scroll indicates all the areas needing attention. The workmen have started on the outer walls, but the inner bailey walls also need attention.’
Ratilal took the scroll and rolled it out upon the table. ‘Gods! This is the last thing we need. The last thing I need to be bothered with. All these areas need repair?’
‘Yes. Particularly the southern gate. The northern gate is sound.’
‘Thank the gods for small mercies!’ Ratilal said bitterly. ‘At least the likelihood of them attacking from the south is remote, but that’s not the point. Where’s Paksis?’
‘Paksis is in a holding cell, awaiting your judgement.’
‘Good. What have you promised Māhir on my behalf?’
‘Nothing, High Lord. That is for you alone to decide. Māhir is a loyal clan member. He realised the importance of the work.’ Vikram smiled conspiratorially. ‘It helped that he dislikes Paksis intensely.’
Ratilal smiled in return. ‘Very good. Paksis is head of the guild, yes?’
Vikram nodded. ‘There is no telling how deep his corruption runs.’
‘Come show me the walls and I’ll speak with Māhir. Then I’ll decide Paksis’s fate.’
* * *
Baldev mounted and the small column began to move out.
‘Wait!’ Līna called.
Baldev reined his horse in, spinning it toward the red-faced woman. She held a small sack and dragged Kiriz along with her. Baldev eyed her warily.
‘Take Kiriz with you.’ Baldev stared at her. ‘Please, Lord Baldev … please,’ Līna begged. ‘I can’t get her to the lake. I can’t leave—we’ve other cows calving. I must stay here.’
Kiriz kicked her mother and tugged free. ‘No! I want to stay. I’m not going!’ She ran toward the house.
‘Bugger!’ Baldev kicked his horse into a canter; its strides rapidly caught up with Kiriz.
The pounding of hooves grew louder. No, no! Kiriz thought. Frantically she pumped her little legs harder. Kiriz looked over her shoulder and a massive hand loomed toward her. Baldev leaned down from the saddle, reached out and grabbed the girl, hauling her up before him. Kiriz wriggled and kicked. Her small heels pummelled the horse’s neck and shoulder as she tried to escape Baldev’s grip. ‘Be still,’ he said, giving her a shake and riding back to her mother.
‘I don’t want to go! I want to stay here, with my Mama. Satish can stay—why not me?’
‘I want you safe,’ Līna said. ‘We’re at war. The same men who killed your father may come here.’
‘What about you?’ Kiriz asked as she ceased struggling. ‘Who’ll look after you? Who’ll run and tell you when strangers come? Who’ll keep the fire going and watch so the stew doesn’t burn? Who’ll make you tea?’
Līna smiled and laughed. ‘Oh, my precious little one. We’ll miss you and no one will do such a good job as you, but Satish and I will manage. If the enemy comes we can’t fight and worry about you.’
‘I can fight too.’
‘Not yet you can’t,’ Baldev told her softly.
‘But I’m good with my slingshot.’
‘It will not be enough, little one. You go with Lord Baldev, he’ll keep you safe.’
‘Who’ll keep you safe?’ Kiriz said plaintively.
Baldev had one hand on the reins and the other around her waist. She tried to prise his fingers away.
‘My warriors will be stopping by on their patrols. They’ll check on your mother and when they’re here they’ll train Satish.’
‘So I could stay?’ Kiriz asked.
Līna shook her head. ‘No, little one, no. You must still go.’
Baldev bent his head next to Kiriz’s ear. ‘You’re going to Bear Tooth Lake. You’ll see Umniga and Asha.’
Kiriz quickly looked up at him. ‘Really?’
‘You like them, don’t you? You like Asha’s stories?’ Kiriz nodded through her tears. ‘And while you’re there you can start training. There’s someone there who greatly needs a friend like you who knows about our ways and stories. You can help him and teach him. I think you’d be the best person for that mission.’
‘Why doesn’t he know any stories?’
‘Er … he’s new here.’
‘New? What? I can’t teach a baby, you know.’
‘Baby?’ Baldev shook his head, laughing. ‘He’s not a baby. He’s just arrived here, that’s all.’
‘Arrived? From where?’
Baldev groaned. This’ll be a long trip. ‘Kiriz, this is an important mission. Do you want it or not?’
She sat up straight and half turned within Baldev’s arms. ‘Yes, Clan Lord. I can do it.’
Līna smiled at her daughter, though barely restrained her tears.
‘Say goodbye to your mother then,’ Baldev said. ‘You’ll be back with her soon.’
* * *
Elena groaned, slouching despondently, as the old woman approached them.
Umniga scowled at her, poking her with her staff. ‘Sit up, girl! Time to listen!’
Isaura was unable to keep the grin from her face. Elena’s fist curled. Curro put his hand upon hers, restraining her.
Isaura dutifully translated as Umniga taught them Altaican, but she was losing patience. Pio was rapidly picking up the language, but the others were not really trying. They’re counting on me to always translate. Me! They don’t even damn well like me anymore. She glanced over to Karan sitting by the fire. He barely spoke to me all day, other than to instruct me. Damn it! I kissed him.
Isaura listened as they stumbled over words as if they were mountains. She ground her teeth in frustration as Umniga began explaining the Altaican religion. Enough with the gods! Her thoughts drifted to Karan again. Bugger!
With talk of religion, Lucia and Nicanor were now interested in what Umniga had to say. Pio attempted to translate when Isaura lapsed.
Her voice laced with derision, Elena said, ‘Rana? Jalal? What kinds of gods are these?’
‘It’s not difficult, Elena,’ Isaura said. ‘In fact it’s not so different from the old gods you worship, Araceli and Majula.’
‘We’re not all possessed of magic as you are, Isaura. It’s not so easy for us.’
‘Wake up, Elena. They’re a mother and father god and goddess. The stories are nearly the same as your people’s.’
Elena smiled at Lucia’s shock.
‘Your people? Isaura, you are …’ Lucia said.
‘No, Lucia. I was never one of you. The moment I couldn’t help on the boat … I watched … I saw the looks cast my way. The same looks I got when I was a child.’
‘We never looked at you that way. We protected you when you were ill.’
‘No, you never looked at me that way … until I came back—until now.’
Pio sat watching this exchange with his head hung low.
‘Pio is the only one of you worth a damn.’ She cast a disparaging look at them, before rising and leaving the group.
Karan met her before she’d gone three paces and tossed a staff at her. ‘Training time.’
* * *
Malak had seen her son, Niaz, enter on the heels of Ratilal. High Lord Ratilal! The inflated notions the young have! If only I could have kept them apart when they were children. The sight of Daniel hurrying about on the orders of a bossy young maid distracted her. Gita had placed each of the newcomers under the supervision of another staff member who were supposed to guide and teach them the language. Though an admirable idea, Malak thought the progress too slow, the staff too busy and their motivation lax, while some obviously enjoyed the power they held over them. Ratilal was unlikely to change this. How are they to survive here?
Chatelaine Gita is not getting any younger. Malak smiled at her folly. She’s the same age as me. She doesn’t notice the attitude of her staff to the strangers—she doesn’t care to. The fact that this concerned her surprised Malak. Something about the young man who had been helping her had touched upon her conscience. Seeing him being harangued by the young harpy of a maid annoyed her.
Malak strode up to Daniel as he turned to leave on yet another errand. She placed a restraining hand on his arm, while glaring at the girl. ‘Find someone else. Daniel is no longer your charge. He’ll be helping me from now on.’ Malak’s haughty gaze cowed the girl, whose eyes widened in fear. She smiled as the girl scurried away.
Daniel relaxed visibly. Malak thought wryly, Rarely do people relax around me. ‘Dan-i-el,’ she said. ‘Dan.’
He enjoyed the familiar ring of his shortened name. The lady before him returned his smile. Daniel had not seen her smile since she had been in the halls; he doubted that she did it very often. Her hair was greying, yet her skin was smooth; he could not guess at her age. Her hands were unblemished by work. ‘Mistress Malak,’ he said, bowing his head deferentially.
‘Dan, food.’ He shook his head, looking around the hall, knowing there was still work to do. She placed her arm upon his, tugging him along. ‘Come, come!’
Daniel allowed this formidable woman to drag him along like a small child. They entered the kitchens where she stalked the room as if she owned it. Taking whatever food she wanted and placing it on a tray, she directed Daniel to pick up two mugs and a jug of water, before beckoning him through a side door.
They entered a large sunny, walled garden. One section grew herbs for the kitchen. The rest of the garden was given over for various plantings of vegetables. Fruit trees were espaliered against the wall.
He knew Gabriela would love the garden and strove to thrust the thought from his mind.
Malak sat on a stone bench nearby. She noticed Daniel gaze mournfully at the fruit trees. She’d seen such an expression of deep sadness cross his face before. Fruit trees! Why on earth would they make a lad miserable? The only time she knew young men to be made miserable by the sight of inanimate objects was when they were pining; even then it didn’t happen very often. Over a woman then—foolishness. Yet, she felt sorry for him. Clearly, a sensitive young man; he was not what she would call sturdy. He’d obviously lost weight thanks to whatever trials had brought them here, but he would never have been built like an ox—he had none of the qualities her clan prized.
