Chapter 15: Last Days

Too much was happening; Kumzu struggled to block it all out. She needed to clear her thoughts, to focus, but the camp was a tempest of words and feelings, fears and wants. There were people all around, moving every which way, and each one trailed a whirlwind of words, feelings, fears, desires, and anxieties. The number of people afforded some safety; that's why they'd stopped here, at this camp near the edge of the hills. But of all these people, Kumzu was the only one who could spare more than a few thoughts for Ulgî. "Please," she said, trying to make it a forceful demand but fearing it had come out like a pained, mousy plea instead, "please give us some room."

She'd always counted on Ulgî to be the one to make space for her. Even on an ordinary day, it was easy for the constant hum of people around her, talking, feeling, wanting, hurting, and a thousand other things, to overwhelm her with a constant stream of impressions she had never been able to close herself to, like others could. She didn't think she was any better than anyone else at knowing the secret wishes and fears of others; she just couldn't not know them. When she needed some escape, Ulgî provided it. All he had to do was draw himself to his full height and perhaps bellow, and people stepped aside, sometimes not even realizing why.

Of course, he contributed his own stream of thoughts and feelings, but they were simple, honest, direct, and ultimately soothing to her. She had never known anyone more honest. People imagined his thoughts were simplistic, and in some ways they were, though not as much as they imagined. He had more wit than they gave credit for. What he lacked was the layers of lies and trickery, and especially, of self-deception. The feelings that washed over Kumzu from others were encrusted with layers of anxiety, fear, want, anger, and hurt, most of which they were not aware of, or did not admit. The smallest utterance from Yîgeke was but a hint of the maelstrom below it, but Ulgî's feelings were a soothing brook, direct and comfortable. No one else really understood this, and thus, why Kumzu and Ulgî belonged together so well.

Yîgeke made a half-hearted attempt to encourage the other Haehînbór in the area to step away and quiet their voices, which didn't help nearly enough, but Kumzu was appreciative anyway. She could still hear and feel their discussions, but she had enough room to lean over the supine hulk of Ulgî, confront the deluge of her own feelings, and take his hand. It was almost cold, which wasn't a good sign. He was going into shock; he'd lost a lot of blood. Her hands quaked as she changed his bandages, wishing she had better, cleaner rags to use. His eyes fluttered open a moment, then closed again. "Please," she repeated, more yearningly, only to him. But he was beyond the reach of her words.

Behind her was the constant low roar of thousands of Haehînbór gathered on the west side of the valley, and more pouring in all the time. From what she'd overheard, Caras Lithgweth was almost emptied of slaves, and many more had come from the surrounding farms and ranches, from nearby settlements, even some from more remote cities. She expected that, somewhere in the throng, there were scores of slaves from her own home, people she knew. People who would soon be bleeding, perhaps dying. Like her beloved was.

Most of the chatter was, of course, about the Six Spears. Each sign had erased some of the doubt, and the Fifth Spear, occurring before many eyes despite organized Ortheri efforts to stop it, had erased the last of the doubt in all but her own company. Somehow, the fact that the Ortheri clearly knew the prophecy, and that according to that prophecy that meant they were doomed, was being overlooked by all. There was a sense that the moment to seize freedom was now or never. But it was more than that. Surely there were Haehînbór who believed that, according to the prophecy, they were doomed, sand in their breath. But those would not have come here to the fight. They might be cowering in the cities, hoping to survive the doom, or at least to die more gently.

In a strange reversal, while nearly everyone around him had the same certainty that was Qemik's natural state, he himself was having doubts, perhaps for the first time. He hadn't seen the figure Yîgeke saw on the statue; no one saw it but her. But she spoke with utter conviction, and Kumzu could tell she was being truthful. That lightning had struck the statue, after the net of stakes had protected it so many times, gave everyone else reason to believe her.

"If it were a Haehînbór, why would he push us towards a war we cannot win?" Yîgeke protested. They'd been trying to figure out who the figure might have been. "Either he believes in the prophecy, or he doesn't. If he does, why force us to act, even after it's plain the Ortheri know of the Six Spears? And if he does not, what is his reason to take such steps in the first place?"

"Mayhap he wants to see us rise and throw off our chains, and thinks by this to inspire us to do so," Kargöz answered, but he didn't seem convinced. "See how, for the first time, thousands of us move without the fear of the lash, acting together." He waved a hand at the crowd stretching before them into the distance; the rising sun was starting to illumine the masses, casting long shadows towards them.

"But how could a Haehînbór manage it?" Oyana asked. "He would have to have been on the statue even before the Ortheri arrived, with a stake ready, hiding."

"That's true no matter who it is," Qemik insisted. "He could have been hidden in the folds of the statue's cloak, by the shoulder. Unless someone specifically looked, they wouldn't notice."

"But that only would help if he knew a storm was coming," Oyana was saying, which made Yîgeke's eyes widen. "And how would they have…"

"The storm!" Yîgeke cried out, making Kumzu wince. She turned back to Ulgî. Fishing around in her tattered clothes, she withdrew a tiny phial. In it was an unguent she'd been saving for the most dire of injuries. She held it up in the thin light of dawn, and glanced over her shoulder at thousands of her people. Many of them would need treatment like this soon; she agonized over whether to use some for Ulgî, who, due to his size and injuries, would need as much of it as would serve three, four, maybe five other injured people. The ache of this decision was threatening to overwhelm her even more than Yîgeke's welter of anxieties.

"What about the storm?" Kargöz asked, curiously. He looked up at the sky. There was nothing now but a few tattered clouds, trailing away in an odd jumble.

"It came from the west," Yîgeke pronounced.

"So?"

"Storms like that always come from the east here," she said with exaggerated impatience. "Could it be that… the person on the statue… called the storm?"

"No one can call storms," Kargöz protested.

"That's not true," Oyana said, glancing over at Kumzu. "Were we not, just yesterday, in a city that was essentially made from a storm, not only called but contained and shaped? The sorcerers of the Blue Caste are able to do many things, and shaping the weather as you might shape wood or stone is not beyond them."

"What purpose could a sorcerer have to climb the statue and falsify the signs?" Yîgeke was asking. "Could one cause a beast's hide to grow in a particular shape?"

Kargöz stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That needs no sorcery. Anyone could, if they were patient enough, and had access to enough horses. It might take years, or even generations of horses, but if you created just a very tiny scar along a muscle's fold, and did this for dozens of horses, at least one or two would develop the right pattern. You might not be able to tell which one, though. So you'd have to sell them all. And there'd be no way to know who might butcher the right one, and thus, become the First Hand." He gave Yîgeke a sympathetic look. "Falsifying the Third Spear would be easier. You said that the white fur seemed unhealthy. That could be because the aurochs was treated with dyes to give it the right color and pattern."

"And we already heard that there were signs of the Second Spear being falsified," Oyana agreed. "Möktîg claimed there'd been indications the tree had been transplanted to the bog. You only would have to wait for a sandstorm in the east and then transplant it before moonrise."

"Seizing a ballista in Caras Lithgweth would be more challenging," Kargöz was continuing, while Yîgeke was practically hopping from foot to foot. "But not impossible. And we already know someone could make their way here, steal an iron stake, and place it on the statue. Even Qemik was able to think up that plan."

"But not early enough," Qemik conceded in a rare moment of self-deprecation.

"However, bringing in a storm… only a sorcerer could do that, I think," Kargöz concluded.

"Or someone who was working with a sorcerer. For all we know, the man on the statue was only one of several working together."

"Which would explain how they could move so quickly," Oyana added, nodding. "If the man who fired that ballista was also the one who climbed the statue, he would have needed a swift steed and a spot of luck, to be in place in time. But one might be preparing for one Spear while another is carrying out the previous."

Kumzu was only half-listening, in fact trying to shut it all out, but even so, every word, every thought, every feeling was making its impression on her. Still, she was mostly staring at the phial. "I will need him," she whispered to herself, "to help me hold this camp for healing. Many will soon need my abilities, but if there is not a safe place to which they can be brought, it won't matter how much unguent I have left. They cannot spare anyone to guard it who can fight, but Ulgî, if he's well enough to stand, could defend it through his intimidating bulk, even if he cannot fight." Part of her knew she was finding reasons to support the decision her heart had already made, and unlike most people, she couldn't silence that part of her, nor choose not to hear it. But while it called her selfish, she opened the phial and carefully spread the precious tincture of herbs across his injuries.

"Do you suppose one of them is already atop the Spire of Last Days?" Yîgeke was asking.

"It doesn't matter," Oyana answered. "The prophecy still requires you to be the one there, to raise the Sixth Spear. Everyone here, across the entire valley, will be able to see it happening."

"And the Ortheri will know we mean to make for it," Kargöz added. "They will be moving to stop us, if they have not already."

Kumzu couldn't hear some of what followed, while they made preparations, because Ulgî was stirring. He even managed to sit up, only to sink back down as she threw herself against him to embrace him tightly. "We're staying here to heal the hurt," she whispered to him, "and you're forbidden from doing anything more than trying to scare people away."

"Did get friends safe away from stone woman?" Ulgî asked, interrupted frequently by gulps of air.

"For now," she answered. "But they are heading for the Spire of Last Days now. And I see why it is called that. No matter what happens next, whether we all fall under the axe, sand in our breath, or we triumph and become free, this is the last day of the life we have known."