They took their dead, her country men from the city of her birth. She sat on the slope of the mountain and watched as the bodies were wrapped in cloaks and canvas on the field and taken beyond the hill and beyond her sight. She wondered what would become of them, all those young men of Meta-Rikan. Tears made crooked streaks down her cheeks, a silent, deeply mournful regret at the loss of life -- of the loss of innocence and trust. At the life blossoming within her -- which she treasured already, after only knowing it for a day -- which she prayed would never know of the hurt and betrayal her mother felt. Would never know that such a hurt existed.
She saw him in the camp below, doing this and that, generally in the company of Arshes Nei, never once looking for her, never once bothering to tell her what had transpired at the parlay that morning. No one came and told her, not even Kall, who had been casting her worried glances all afternoon, whenever he did pass by her perch. She had to hear the rumors by eavesdropping on the conversation of the Thunder Empress's knights. She heard that Larz had banned her from home and pulled her knees close, burying her head in her arms in misery.
Gara came by and climbed almost to her perch, shading his eyes against the light of the sun spilling over the mountain top behind her.
"You've been up here all day, little girl. What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Thinking."
"Thinking, huh? No good occupation for an honest man, I say." He grinned at her, but she could tell it was strained, a expression for her benefit only. His eyes were tired, bruised from too little sleep. She had heard he had been out all the night and most of the day keeping an eye on the movement of Larz's army.
"Will they take them back to Meta-Rikan to bury?" She asked, because it was the one thing on this miserable day that mattered enough to break through her own wall of pain.
"No. Six, seven weeks on the road and they'd be little comfort for their families back home. He'll bury them here and take their swords back home for their families to honor as they will."
"Oh."
"Are you all right?"
She narrowed her eyes, wondering what he knew. Wondering if Kall-Su had let her secret slip. "Why?"
Gara started to laugh, then aborted it, looking down at the camp. "Just -- he's being an ass -- who the hell ever knows what's going through his head."
"Doesn't matter. You even told me once, that she was the only woman he'd ever really loved. That everyone else were just temporary diversions. Why should I be surprised?"
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "I should have remembered it myself." He said under his breath, then starting down the slope he called over his shoulder. "We're breaking camp within the hour. Get yourself something to eat, because we'll be in the saddle until well after nightfall."
They rode north. North because it took them away from hostile lands. North because Kall-Su had an army moving towards them from that direction. It seemed the best of possible routes. They had horses and remounts to spare, having gathered stray animals from the field after the battle and no one from the other side daring to come and protest.
Kall had avoided Yoko during the day, because she needed the time to think without having to rehash her dilemma to someone else. He avoided Schneider because he didn't want a fight and he was still angry at him for the treatment of Yoko. He would have talked with Gara, but the Ninja Master slept in the saddle, chin on chest, holding his seat as if he were part of the horse and Kall-Su figured he deserved the rest considering the busy night he'd had scouting the army. So he rode mostly among his few remaining men in silence.
They had started out late, and so traveled late into the evening. It was dusk when he decided he'd had enough of contemplative silences and reined his horse back to scout the line of riders for Yoko. She was near the rear of the procession, riding with her cloak tightly clutched about her, her arms folded underneath it for warmth in the chill of the evening. Her eyes shifted towards him under her dark fringe of bangs, wary and tired. She looked sick. Weak and nauseous; and he thought a day of riding was not the gentlest activity for a pregnant woman. There was little help for it.
"How are you doing?" He asked softly.
"Horrible." She groaned. Which of course was apparent without the asking, but one had to be courteous.
"So -- have you thought what you might do?"
She looked away from him, blowing air from between her teeth in exasperation. She wouldn't answer for a while and he didn't press.
"I don't know." Finally, miserably, she replied. "I don't know." She sounded so hopeless, so terribly devoid of spirit, that he clutched his reins until his knuckles turned white in useless anger at the cause of it.
"I can't go home. Larz said. He wouldn't even come and tell me himself. Nobody would. I don't know where I'm going to go. I don't know anybody outside of the south. Where am I going to have my baby? How am I going to protect it?"
"You can come to Sta-Veron." He uttered the words, knowing in his heart that they would prove heavier than he could at the moment imagine. Knowing that they would create rifts. "You have my protection."
She swung her head around to stare at him, wide eyed, frozen in uncertainty.
"I can't go there --- if -- if he's there. I can't be in the same place where he is. I won't have this child with him there to mock me with his dalliances or -- or to claim it as his own and then disregard me."
"He won't be. He's not much for the cold." He said that lightly, but his voice trembled on the last word. He looked away, wondering what deadly blunder he had made in that offer of protection, in that offer of sanctuary against Schneider. Yoko had started crying. No simple tears but streams that ran down her face and great gasping gulps of air that allowed her to do nothing but nod her head at him in acceptance. It was sealed with that nod, and no turning back.
They made camp. Fire pits were dug, under the shelter of a scattering of pine and fur. Gara went hunting with a group of his ninja and came back with a string of rabbits and a dozen quail they had stirred up from nighttime nesting. It was enough fresh meat to supplement dried rations and the smell of it was tantalizing. Yoko brought him a cup of tea, and sat down near him with her own, staring into the fire, somewhat less devastated he thought, with a safe haven provided her. They did not speak, merely sat and watched the men roasting the meat, listened to the talk around their fire. Gara came and sat down next to Yoko, hot tea in hand.
"The weather's being kind so far." He observed. "I was beginning to think the sky had sprung a leak, we were getting so much rain."
"Sorry." Kall said, sipping the bitter tea.
Gara lifted a thick brow at him. "It's not your fault."
Kall shrugged and Gara gestured with his cup across Yoko to Kall-Su. "It's not your fault, is it?"
"I might be somewhat responsible."
"Do you know how many times I laid curses at your door, then?" Gara laughed.
"I can imagine. I cursed myself for it rather poignantly."
"I believe I called you few foul names, too." Yoko said quietly, a faint smile touching her lips.
"It seemed at the time, the prudent course of action."
"What did?"
The smiles on all their faces faded. Schneider stood just beyond Kall, the glow from the fire lighting his right side, the other side lost in shadow. It made his hair orange and his eyes glow demoniacally. Yoko looked down at her tea as if it held all the secrets of the world.
"Nothing." Kall said.
"Really? Nothing is generally the course of action I'd expect of you. I want to talk with you, Kall."
"Not now. I'm busy." He said it and held his breath waiting for reaction. Schneider had never taken well to denial. Schneider took a breath, then stepped forward, towering over Kall. Kall tightened his fingers around the cup, feeling of a sudden like a child that had overstepped his bounds with a stern and disapproving parent. Schneider had the unique gift of making him feel that way with detestable ease.
"I said I wanted to talk with you."
"And wouldn't it just be horrible if you didn't get your way?" Yoko murmured, her mouth at the lip of her cup. Schneider's fingers twitched. Kall tensed, not wanting a verbal battle between them. Not with Yoko already bruised and hurting. He put his cup down, and climbed to his feet.
"Fine."
Schneider whirled on his heel and stalked away, expecting Kall to follow. He did, until they passed the last of the tents and had gone a few yards into the little grove of evergreen, then he spun and stabbed a finger in Kall's face.
"What the hell is your problem?"
Kall looked away. He did not do well in confrontations with Schneider. He braced himself and said words that would start one anyway. "You're the one with the problem."
"I'm the one with the problem? Oh, oh, please enlighten me as to what you think that problem is, Kall? You being the expert on emotional disorders."
Schneider wanted a fight. He could see it in his eyes, in the cant of his mouth. He craved conflict and Kall thought he had given him enough fuel in the last day or more of distancing himself from him to start it.
"What happened when you were dead this time to make you come back without a shred of conscience?"
"And what deplorable thing have I done to make you -- Ice Lord -- murderer of thousands -- shiver at my deeds?"
"You know what. You'd think you'd have the decency to at least talk to her after she risked her life and lost her home to help you. But, you snub her and jump straight into Arshes' bed without even a thank you."
Schneider hand shot out, a back handed slap that snapped Kall's head around. Then Schneider's fists were wrapped in the front of his cloak and he was slammed back against the ungiving bole of a pine tree.
"That is not your business. Not your concern. You do not want to cross me in this, Kall. Believe me, you do not want to cross that line." Schneider's voice shook, so full of anger or some similar emotion he was. His face was so close to Kall's that Kall could focus on nothing but those ocean blue eyes.
"You have no honor." Kall said softly. "She deserves more of you."
"Why should you care. She's not your kin."
"She's a friend." She's carrying your child, he wanted to accuse, but the vow of silence held his tongue.
"She's my business. Not yours."
"Then tend to it."
Schneider pulled him forward, still leaning close and Kall braced himself to be slammed again against the tree, but Schneider merely breathed against his ear.
"Don't think you can dictate to me, Kall." And let him go. Kall stood there, a shiver passing down his spine. Schneider passed him an arched brow, dark glare, before walking back towards the camp.
He took a shuddery breath, trying to ease the tension of that altercation, the ever present apprehension that he had alienated one of the few people in the world whose opinion mattered to him. He very much wanted Schneider's approval, he could not shake that very old habit. At the same time, perhaps for much the same reason, he had to protect the things Schneider loved, that he came to love because of it, even if Schneider cast them aside thoughtlessly. Kall was never so thoughtless in his loyalties. Those very few things that he granted his allegiance to, he put his heart in and guarded fiercely. He had to for his own salvation, when the rest of the world was against him. When all the things he had ever loved before Schneider had in the end held no loyalty to him.
He took a step towards the light of camp and she stepped out from behind the shadow of a tree to block his path. Her amber eyes sparkled with malice, and her small fists were clenched in anger.
"What do you think you're doing, Kall?"
He wasn't in the mood for Arshes Nei's petty jealousies now. "Not now, Arshes."
"No. Now." She put out a hand and shoved at his chest. He glared, willing to take it from Schneider, but not from her.
"Back off." He warned and she curled her fingers as if she were going to pounce.
"You were always jealous of how close he was to me. You always envied that." She cried. "Jealous that he liked me better than you. You push him at her so I won't have him, is that it? Well, he's made his choice."
"Eavesdropping are we? You've sunk low, Arshes."
"You've sunk lower. You don't care about her. You know he'll always come back to me. Do you envy the fact that he came to my bed and never yours?"
"Shut up, you shrew. I defend her because she has no one else and he won't take responsibility for the seed he's planted. It has nothing to do with you or your much contemplated spite. Look to the hearts you've broken yourself, woman."
She stood there, glaring, horrified speculation on her face. "What seed?" she whispered.
He hissed in disgust at his own indiscretion. He shook his head and started to brush past her. She cried a word and line of fire shot up in his path. He cursed and spun, glaring at her, at her foolishness to set a blaze in this little forest with their camp so close. He said a word of his own and ice formed over the ground, smothering the flames.
"Are you insane?"
"What seed?" She cried.
"What does it matter to you? He chose you, remember?"
"Oh no." She whispered, and he stood a moment longer, before stepping gingerly over ice covered ground and leaving her to make her own conclusions. She would either tell Schneider or not. And he rather thought not. She was not stupid enough to think he would ignore the woman who carried his child. She was possessive enough to want that attention for herself, even though she was pragmatic enough to realize she could never force the issue. She had that over Yoko. She would put up with Schneider's roving eye and always let him come back to her. Yoko would never understand it and never accept it. Perhaps it was just as well.
He took her to a place with no windows. In all her years as a slave, Lily had always had access to the sky. To its limitless boundaries and its promise that there were things in the world that could never be bound. She did not realize how much she missed it, until it was taken away from her. Until she came to this place, knowing not exactly how she had gotten here and saw only stone walls and ceilings that made up the world.
The people here were silent and humble, never speaking save for the most basic of questions or directions. They went about their duties with hardly a spark of life in their eyes, heads bowed, lips murmuring prayers to the High God, as if they thought that worthy might save their souls. Their earthly lives certainly seemed to have no flavor worth relishing. They served him. The new master. A man of God. A man of the High God, who wore religion like a fine outfit, proudly showing it off to all who looked upon him and yet underneath the robes he secretly donned the garb of corruption.
Lily knew corruption. Slaves saw the sides of men that they hid from their peers, from their constituents, but that they never bothered to shadow from someone they owned -- or rented -- or bought for a night's pleasure from another man. Lily knew the face of a man who pretended righteousness to the world all the while practicing depravities in his mind. Only her new master didn't merely fantasize about the dark side. He made it real.
He brought her here and he took pains to let her know her place in the world. He let her know how lowly she was, how tainted. And she accepted the belittlement, well used to submission. There was nothing to be gained from rebellion and much to be gained from meekness. A man like her new master, a man of power and cruelty, got more pleasure from the breaking that he did from the end result. What use to fight him, when it would all end the same anyway? Lily well knew the ways of survival. Pride was not a thing that mattered as much as broken bones and ravaged skin. She had her own brand of dignity, hidden away from all the world, but it served her well. She had her music, which had soothed all her masters.
It soothed her new one, the short while he stayed in the place without windows. Then he was gone and she was left with the silent worshippers who attended his monastery. She walked the cold halls, listened to the whispers of prayer from the chapels. Peeked into the dark, ominous cathedral with its nave dominated by a great stone symbol of the High God. Prayed herself, because He had made it clear that she must devote her thoughts to the God, when she was not devoted to him. One master was as good as the next, she thought. She no more believed in the gods than she did in guardian angels. No god would let the things happen that did in the world. And if there were higher beings somewhere who watched over the progress of man -- then they deserved no worship for they accomplished no miracles.
This was not so terrible an existence, save for the lack of sky. She had known worse. And then her new master came back. There was no fanfare. No announcement of his arrival. He was simply there one day and the silent, sad forms of his acolytes moved with a bit more alacrity to their step and bit more desperation not to be noticed by their divine master. One of them knocked a candelabra onto the floor into the master's path in frantic desperation to scamper out of his way. Lily happened to be hiding in the shadow of a stone stair and saw it. The master went into a rage. She had never seen the like. He beat the poor fellow physically, screaming curses upon his soul and then when he had exhausted himself with that, he stood over the huddled form and stared down. And the screams truly began. Blood began to pour out of ears, eyes nose and mouth. It bubbled under the exposed skin until the pustules popped and spurted fluid onto the stone floors. Lily covered her ears at the inhuman screams of agony. She backed into the shadows and hid hoping the master would stalk past her unknowing. But he stopped and stared into the shadows as though she had made some sound, or he had scented her.
"Girl. Come here." He crooked a finger at her. She shivered and crept out, head down, eyes on the floor. She bowed, as a good slave should and he put his fingers under her chin. There was blood on his hands.
"Have you kept at your devotions?"
"Yes, master." She whispered. "Every day."
"Good. Fetch your instrument. I've a need for distraction."
She nodded and ran to do his bidding. Not for the world would she deny him anything. Not after what she had just witnessed. And that had been at a whim. At a flash rage that had passed as soon as it had come upon him. She pitied anyone who gained his ire and kept it.
Schneider walked into the tent he had been sharing with Arshes Nei and stood there, one hand on the center brace, staring at nothing. Anger shook at him. Indignation did, mixed with some small degree of hurt. There were certain people in this world he valued. Whose support he expected, whom he did not anticipate would turn on him. Impudent little bastard, to try and censure him. As if he had any right. As if he had any notion of what he was talking about. As if there were not already a pit of loathing in Schneider's stomach from days of pretending to ignore Yoko's bewilderment and misery.
Stop thinking about her. Don't feel guilt. Don't feel pity. Neither one would banish the bargain he had made. Bewilderment and misery now were better than bereavement later. Guilt and pity would only make him weak. And weakness would make him take what he wanted. And when he had what he wanted and the eventual seed sprouted from the having, he'd be back to the bargain again. Full circle. So stop worrying about her feelings. Hurt them as much as possible to drive her away, because she had to be the one to go, he couldn't trust himself to do it. Not for long.
He wondered if she'd confided in Kall. Why else would he take up her crusade. It annoyed Schneider that Yoko felt that comfortable sharing such a deep hurt with Kall. It sparked jealous sentiment on the one hand, that she would go to him, and on the other that Kall would side with her against him. Regardless of bargain or vow, they were the both of them his and it irked to find them sharing confidences against him.
"Darshe."
He turned his head slightly when Arshes moved the flap to enter the tent. She hesitated on the boundary between inside and out, her hand gripping the canvas. Her eyes were huge and her ears canted low, as they did when she was in dilemma. He couldn't find the generosity to wonder what was bothering her now, his own disquiet taking all his attention. He didn't answer her, so she let the flap fall and slipped into the tent, pressing against his back, her face to his shoulder.
"What do you want?" he asked, short, because that was the mood he was in.
"I -- I -- nothing really. Just looking for you."
"Well here I am."
She ran her hands about his waist, to his stomach and he shrugged her off, stepping away, detesting intimacy of any kind at this moment. She looked hurt. He looked away sullenly.
"What's the matter?" she whispered.
"Nothing." All the world. He hated this. He hated feeling all the things that he told himself he wouldn't feel. He glared at the tent wall. Weak. Weak. He cursed himself. He could not stay here -- in the same place as Yoko was. He wasn't as good at self-castigation as Kall was. He despised it vehemently. He sat down on the low cot, elbows on knees. Arshes stood watching him uncertainly, a look of such wretchedness on her dusky face that he finally felt moved to charity. He patted the cot next to him, inviting her over. She came and sat there, hands clutching the rail of cot, eyes downcast.
"Its just a mood, little one." He told her. "Not aimed at you."
"Did -- did you have a fight with Kall-Su?"
He snorted. "Nothing for you to worry about. Nothing that matters."
"Oh. That's good, then." She said that with such distraction in her voice that he drew his brows, placing a hand to her face to make her look up at him.
"What's troubling you, Arshes? Is something amiss?"
She shook her head, wordlessly, then wrapped her arms about his neck, pressing herself close. "We should go somewhere else. There's nothing for us North. I've holdings to the east."
He rested his chin on the top of her head thoughtfully. "I was thinking about Keladedra recently. I'd like to visit the sea."
"Keladedra." She echoed. "It's been a long time. We could go there."
"Yes." He said, thinking more about what he would be leaving behind than the ocean side jewel of the West that lay in the future.
Arshes men would stay with Kall-Su and Gara until the former met up with his southward marching army, then Arshes bid them either stay with Gara or Kall or return to their own provinces until she had further need of them. Two wizards alone could move with considerably more ease and swiftness than two wizards burdened with a troop of knights and Schneider was eager to head westward. Once a decision was made he hated to waste time implementing it.
Kall stood staring at them both dourly, hurt almost, as if they were doing him some misdeed by their exodus. Schneider was not yet ready to forgive him for his censure and chose not to speak. Perhaps in a year or so, he'd find him and see if Kall were ready to offer apology. Gara offered Arshes the reins of her horse, solemn and serious. He bade he safe journey and nodded once to Schneider.
"Don't let him get you into too much trouble." The ninja master added, a smile flickering over his broad face. Arshes threw her arms about his neck and hugged him, to which Gara did not quite how to react. He ended by blushing and looking away. Schneider hardly noticed. He looked surreptitiously through the faces of knights and ninjas for one smaller, more delicate countenance and saw her not. He had thought she might be there, lurking at the edges. He had thought to get one last look at her face.
Arshes mounted up. Schneider began to, then paused, stepping close to Gara and motioning him close. The big man bent his head to listen.
"See to Yoko, will you?"
Gara stared at him a moment, brown eyes pensive, then he nodded. "Of course."
There was nothing to do then, but mount up and ride out of camp, leaving the rest of them behind, hoping that distance would make the regret less, but pragmatic enough to realize that it probably wouldn't.