Chapter 6: In The Rough
City-dwellers greatly underestimate how much work there is simply in surviving. Most of them, taken outside the city, can't tell clean water from tainted, and in a dry land, don't know where to find it anyway. Their suppers are brought to them; those responsible for preparing those suppers do so with the fruit of the labors of others. They are unaccustomed to sleeping under the stars, and do not bring blankets or shelter, nor know how to use them effectively to keep warm during a cold desert night. And there are a hundred other needs in a day that they never give a second thought.
Yîgeke and her companions, though slaves, were no different. There was never a moment they weren't wishing they had something that was plentiful in the city. Food was sparse on the great pasturelands of thorn-bushes, but when Oyana spotted a small prairie-dog scurrying into a warren, she had no spear to throw, nor a knife with which to carve one. They were too swift to chase, especially for slaves with bare feet, who had to step carefully just to avoid thorns and stones. If they had caught one, how would they skin it without knives, or cook it without fire, or eat it without knowing which parts were safe to eat?
These struggles were enough to drive them to weariness and despair, and yet all their answers would provide is warmth and food. But these Haehînbór had more to haunt them than hunger. There were Ortheri trackers seeking them. To be sure, the value of six slaves was, to the Ortheri, scarcely worth spending a day in the scrublands. But the example of six runaway slaves hanging from nooses in the Court of the Well, that was worth a great deal more effort. The hounds would be behind them for days, at least. Perhaps longer, if the cloaked men had anything to say about it. Perhaps much longer.
As the sun made its merciless climb across the sky, these struggles to survive seemed great enough to drive from Yîgeke's mind, and even those of her friends, grand questions of destiny and prophecy. At times someone might inquire where they were going, what was next for them. Even this topic died quickly on their parched lips, since all they could do is head towards water, and away from the men hunting them.
It had been three days. They were sore, hungry, cold, and wracked with aches and blisters, but they were starting to figure out how to survive. Ulgî had taken to carrying Kumzu or Yîgeke at times, and between, he'd broken rocks to make sharp-edged pieces of stone that Kargöz used to carve spears, which Oyana and Qemik could toss with fair accuracy to catch a meal now and then. By trial and error, Yîgeke worked out how to skin and butcher these meager morsels of meat. Kumzu had spent more time in the scrublands than the others, gathering those plants whose leaves, oils, and nuts could soothe blisters and mend wounds; in addition to these, she found a few berries they could eat, a source of both food and precious moisture. She also managed to scrabble together a meager fire in the twigs of the thorn-bushes, adequate for cooking, or to huddle around for warmth. They were arrayed around such a fire in the shelter of an overhanging stone; no Ortheri pursuer had been spotted for hours, and they were discussing the possibility that they'd given up, when Qemik spoke of the one thing Yîgeke hoped never to hear again.
"Whether they follow or not, we must start searching for the aurochs herd." When he was met with tired, uncomprehending stares, he explained, as if to a child, "To see the Third Spear." Before the resulting groans could marshal themselves into objections, he protested, "Surely you realize we have to see the Third Spear, don't you? I was right about going to the bog, to see the Second Spear, and still you gainsay me?"
Before Yîgeke could retort, or more likely, withdraw, Kargöz tried to intercede on her behalf. "We don't know where the Third Spear will be, and we don't know that it will even happen. The prophecy warns of false signs. Even with two Spears seen, the day may not yet have come."
"Which is why we must find out, to be sure," Qemik answered. He'd clearly been rehearsing this answer for some time; he glanced at Yîgeke hopefully, though whether he longed for support or simply attention, only he knew. "That's why we went to the bog."
"How did we end up there, anyway?" asked Kumzu, looking around suspiciously. "I thought we were simply fleeing, aimlessly, and then suddenly there we were."
"The hand of fate must have guided us there," Qemik proclaimed triumphantly.
Oyana cleared her throat and seemed about to speak, then stopped herself. It seemed clear she was caught on the knife-edge of something she had wanted to say, but felt she could not; it took some prodding before she finally confessed. "Yîgeke, I'm sorry. I… I steered us towards the bog as we were fleeing. I thought, we had to go somewhere, and it might as well be there. Then we'd know. Perhaps the First Spear was just a happenstance, or a false sign. I hoped to put you to some ease when there was nothing there, that's all." She shot a pointedly defiant stare at Qemik. "It wasn't the hand of fate, it was just my foolishness. And it's foolish to go to the Third Spear now, even if we knew where to go."
"It might yet have been," Qemik insisted, shaking his head. "You might have been how fate intervened. As it might again, to bring us to the Third Spear."
"If it will, then let it," Kargöz argued. "We need not take any special effort. We should pursue our own safety and freedom, and if the Third Spear should be seen as we go, then let it."
Everyone began to speak at once, but Oyana cut through their voices. "If any Ortheri still pursue us, they will certainly be seeking the Third Spear. By now, the Haehînbór who gather water in the bog will have seen the Second Spear. A fortnight ago I would have been sure they would keep the secret, and that any Ortheri who chanced to visit the bog would not recognize the import of the Second Spear." Others were nodding their heads. "But when the First Spear was seen, by Haehînbór alone, the moon had not even arisen before Ortheri learned of it, knew what it meant, and moved against Yîgeke. They must know more than we dare to fear."
His voice cracking, Kargöz said, "I might have been wrong about them being Ortheri. I must be. If the Ortheri know of the prophecy, we have already failed."
"We can't take the risk," Oyana concluded, brushing aside the mystery. "If the Ortheri know, they will find us at the Third Spear, and we will be hanged as an example. If we avoid seeking it, we may yet live as runaway slaves. And," she held up her spear-tip towards Qemik to hold off his protest, "if fate wishes to guide us, it will. Kargöz may be a fool about some things, but here he speaks wisdom. We may choose as we deem best, without giving heed to fate's whims; for fate, as you speak of it, will have already laid the path before us such that our choices will go where it chooses."
"Fine words from the woman who led us to the bog," Qemik said sourly. "But we should at least keep a wary eye out for the aurochs herd. If we chance upon it, and one of our spears can take down a small one, we will have meat aplenty, and hides for blankets and sandals, and bones for tools. If we see a sign while we hunt, well, then, we see one, yes?"
"And what if we do not?" The voice was surprisingly strong; for a moment, heads turned seeking its source. Yîgeke stood, her dark hair shining in the light of the burning thorn-bush. "What then, Qemik?" she continued, staring at him as if in accusation. "Will you let this lie? Already all our lives have been rent asunder, and we may not survive the night, and still you try with every breath to push me into peril, to make of me some hero."
Very little seemed to touch Qemik, but at these words, and at the surprising ferocity Yîgeke showed in speaking them, he was visibly wounded. "I believe in you more than you do yourself," he protested, though with only a hint of his usual fervor. "I want the day to come, but more, I want the hand to be yours. And I want to be beside you every stride. You know how I feel about you," and though she shook her head, he continued, "and I want what is best for you. And I believe that this is it. If I am the only one here who sees the greatness in you, Yîgeke, know that I will be there when you finally see it, and need me to stand with you."
Only Kumzu heard the soft murmur from Kargöz, which clearly he meant for no ears but his own. "Like you were the night they came for her, and she needed to be saved." They were bitter words, full of frustration. Yîgeke showed no favor to either Qemik or Kargöz, but Kumzu knew that Kargöz always felt slighted, trapped in the shadow of Qemik's boldness. She wanted to embrace him, to encourage him, to soothe his hurt, but she knew he would not welcome her comforts.
Nor would Yîgeke, though Kumzu wanted nothing more than to put her at ease. So deep was her hurt, even before the First Spear pointed to her. Kumzu could see it more than anyone, and it pained her. This is why she'd taken up the healing arts: seeing hurt in the eyes of others always visited the same to her, and only by salving another could she heal herself. Wounds of the body could be tended with herbs and bandages, but hurts in the heart were the more pernicious. And Yîgeke had suffered so many of them that she hid inside them, trying to protect herself. It was why she rebuffed both Qemik and Kargöz, and even kept Kumzu's whispers at a distance.
Even now, with Qemik practically declaring his intentions before the whole group, Yîgeke was drawing her pain around her to keep his blundering, thoughtless affections away. "You care only about the idea that this will be a grand adventure and you will be part of it." An unkind assessment; even Yîgeke must know that, in his thoughtless and blundering way, Qemik's affections for her were sincere. But Kumzu knew the words were meant to injure him and drive him away, and thus, didn't need to be true. "If you care about me, heed my wishes. I want no part of these affairs. I am nothing, a weak and frail slave of no ability beyond the butchering of beasts. The Haehînbór need one with a storm in her eyes and a steady hand on the spear, a voice that leads men and women to war, and eyes that see over the horizon. Someone like you, or Oyana. If they depend on me, they will perish unto the last child. Go on your adventure, and leave me here to die, or live, as chance may choose. You have my blessing to become the First Hand. It's nothing to do with me."
So rarely did Yîgeke even speak, and all the more rare for her to speak with such conviction and anger, the others were struck silent. She stood a moment more, the firelight dancing in her grey-green eyes as if there were lightning striking behind them, then turned and stalked off to curl up alone, on the other side of the outcropping.
Still there was silence. When it seemed Qemik was about to say something, probably something clumsy that purported to be an apology but wasn't, Kumzu stood and prevented it by declaring, "It's been a long day, and the weariness in our feet comes out in our words. Let the sun of the morrow shine a new light on our questions and reveal new wisdom. Come, Ulgî, we need rest. Qemik, you seem unwearied; you may have first watch."
Oyana quirked an eyebrow; Kumzu was not the type to give orders. Even when she guided Ulgî it was done gently, and because he needed her wisdom. Oyana watched Qemik, sensing how the torrent of words he'd been readying in answer to Yîgeke's departure, was now jostling up against a confused answer to Kumzu's unexpectedly sly command, making a muddle of his thoughts such that neither answer passed his lips. "Wise as ever, Kumzu," she said, rising and moving to a sheltered spot of her own, which only further trapped Qemik.
By the time he'd cleared his thoughts enough, everyone had left the fire and found a place to rest. All that was left for him to do was to stalk around the camp-site disconsolately. "A day will come," he murmured to himself again and again, but those who heard wondered, was he referring to the prophecy, or some other longed-for event?