Chapter Forty-Two: Fate

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After the Hunt, the Fathers were invited to return home with firm but gentle spells; the Warband had been entreated to do the same. I was more than happy to oblige. The court would have usually moved farther south to warmer climates after Rathadin. With the prolonged drought, the grazing there was decimated, and they were forced to remain in the colder northern reaches where more pasture remained, and they might yet hunt and trade to supplement their stores.

While the court headed from the Volosdanu into the bend of the Pantikap River, we hunkered down for the coldest days of winter along the upper reaches of the Hypakris River near the edge of the forest-steppe where the hunting and trade were good. We laid low through the storms and snows of Winter Month, deep in the Fields, tending the herds and riding the watches and roads. 

For the most part, the karevans ceased trading while the roads and rivers were often impassible, though the Skythai rarely settled for long. The wheels on the wagons were replaced by runners, and where the rivers were frozen solidly enough, horses and oxen were driven straight across. Even the sea could ice thickly enough to cross in winter, Aric said, though I couldn’t imagine such a sight.

Though our stores dwindled, between our larders and hunting, we seldom struggled to eat. When passing into new territory to camp, each clan’s chief took his turn in preparing a bull from his herd. After midnight when the moon was full, he would lead it to a place north of his camp and sacrifice it, after which the Warband would come and receive it on behalf of Goetosura. This ensured His goodwill toward the clans in the coming year—and ours. Those who could not afford cattle left offerings of milk, yogurt, butter, or cheese. With the hungry young novices back at court for the night season, the offerings stretched further and were a welcome relief from our grey salt-cured rations.

It was not long before ewes began dropping their lambs, milk began to flow, and farmers began preparing their fields for seed sowing. Winter was not yet over, but the days were lengthening, frost receding, and here and there, spring’s first heralds—blackthorn, snowdrops, and other small shoots—defied the cold and broke the snow and frost. Though the days were overcast and ice crackled on the river, greener days ahead brought some consolation. 

The horses, too, began to shed their winter coats. The court camp was too far to make the long trek for the Ushas festival, celebrating the dawning of spring. I was grateful. The harsh final words Aric had exchanged with the king before leaving likely fed his desire to stay away. When I pressed him about the outcome of his last confrontation, he promised me they had come to an understanding, but something else about the exchange clearly weighed upon him, and he would say no more than this.

The muddy tracks and dreary days left me wanting only a warm fire and the company of friends. Aric stuck close by my side and pressed me continually about the future. Though I had nothing to offer him, I was troubled too. The exercise of divination was more fruitless now than ever because my spells never appeared. Aric sat his regular vigil with me in the new moon’s darkness, but nothing came.

“It’s just the winter,” I assured him as he looked at me with skepticism inscribed across his wrinkled brow, trying to keep my own mood light. Despite the cold, he wanted to feed me half his rations so I would not weaken in the harsh climate. Women, he said, were not made to endure the cold. Good intentions and misguided physiology aside, the next moon came, and still nothing.

“Is it to do with my fate?” he demanded in a sharp whisper as we sat hidden under the cannabis tent. “What are you concealing from me?” In the light of the small brazier, consternation spoiled his face as he leaned in and stared intently at me, waiting for an answer I didn’t have.

“I know nothing of your fate—nor mine. There’s been no spell; you’re with me night and day. I would tell you if I knew.”

“Have you stopped them? Is it something dire?” He fired his questions at me. 

I had seen something dire, but it wasn’t a vision. “I think it’s just the harshness of the season.” I’d been telling myself so, willing it to be true. “Don’t worry.”

I hadn’t had a spell in two months. But my courses had dried up, too. It might have just been the bitter cold, the rough work, and the scarcity of ripe food. The long hours of hunting and riding in the blasting wind and wet took their toll, that was for sure. And we’d not drunk mead or eaten bread or butter in days. We’d run through our stores and were kept from the nearest trading outpost a day’s ride northeast of camp by heavy snowstorms, only melting away now. I prayed it was just a dry season brought by exhaustion, but I feared something far worse. Despite the care he’d taken to spill his seed upon the ground, perhaps something had taken root. 

I left Aric and the cannabis tent and found myself sitting alone in our felt-house, warming a small jar of frozen liquid between my hands. After the encounter with Tiranes, I’d stowed away Erman’s potion in secret, but I hoped I’d never need it. I knew since I was young that I’d been made without the parts that cause most women to crave and adore children. I looked on them with abhorrence—as the cruelest burden ever put on womankind, designed to shackle us, make us incidental and dependent for all our lives. To keep us from the world and its trove of knowledge. If the gods had ever truly granted me a gift, it was awareness of this. This trespasser threatened to destroy everything I’d ever hoped for, everything I’d fought for. It would ruin him as well. 

I told myself this was for the best. I did it for his own good. But as I prepared to break the seal on the bottle and down the potion inside, I paused. I closed my fingers around the vial so I’d not have to look at it. For myself, I had no doubts. It was the wise and sensible thing to do. And Aric, much as I trusted his wisdom, had not been acting sensibly of late. I must decide—for the good of us both and of the kara. That is what I would counsel now if he asked. But could I deceive him, even to protect him? How would I ever look him in the eye bearing such a betrayal within me, even knowing it was for the best? 

I tucked it safely away again. There was time. I must tell him and pray he saw sense.

The sun had not yet risen, and a cloud hung low in the field over the river. I descended into the mist to the alder tree where Aric waited. I had promised, once alone, to tell him the truth about the spells. We met beneath the ancient tree, its naked branches disappearing into the haze above our heads like a whisk into a great bowl of frothy kumis.

 “Perhaps the gods have heard your pleas and finally released you from the visions,” he offered, sounding disappointed. 

“Perhaps.” But I lacked his faith in the gods.

“Are you still trying to punish me?”

“You think I’d be that petty?” 

“No,” he folded his arms over his chest and fixed me in his gaze, “but I think you like the upper hand.”

“After all this time, what makes you think I care?”

“All women care. You ply with intrigues what you can’t bend with strength,” he shook his head in disapproval, though at who, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m not all women. And I’ve always spoken truth to you.” In my fashion.

“It is so, you have.” Relaxing his arms, he let his gaze fall to the ground. 

“I will speak more truth to you now, though it frightens me to do so. It is not only the spells that have abandoned me. My courses have also ceased,” my hands instinctively, unconsciously went to my belly.

His expression, usually staunch, gave way to something unrecognizable. Was it surprise or panic that widened his nostrils and arched his brows? He looked away into the steppe and frowned. 

“There’s a potion,” I rushed to add. “I have a potion for it.” I studied him for a response. Still as stone, he gave none. “No one need ever know.” I watched him in silence, uncertain if I should keep speaking. Expecting him to turn around any moment and say, of course, that would be best. But he never moved or shifted his gaze from the horizon. The silence grew intolerable. So, I continued, stammering whatever would fill the strained void between us. “Or else… I—my time here will have to end sooner or later. We both know this. Perhaps I should take my scalp and go now. Before it’s too late.”

His head snapped around, his nostrils flaring like a bull’s. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I should have remained silent. “I know what my future holds. One day I must leave these Fields behind for the life of a broodmare. If I go now, at least what I bear is ours and no one else’s.”

He clenched his jaw and looked away, breathing hard through his nose. “No,” he said flatly. “You dishonor me—and yourself—with this talk. I’ll have no heir of mine born a bastard, of deception and lies.”

“I wasn’t suggesting a lie,” I said defensively. “I was only thinking of protecting you.”

“I don’t need your protection!” he barked.

“Oh, is that so?” I snapped. “These arm rings I bear say otherwise. Perhaps I should return them to you as well!”

Without warning, he growled as he drove his fist into the tree trunk. Then just as quickly as this storm blew in, it died down, and he fell still. I stood blinking, my heart racing, and stared at his bloodied knuckles in silence.

“I need no one’s protection,” he said flatly, the calm returning to his features. “But I am grateful for yours. I have broken my oath regardless. Tell me, what is it you wish?” 

“I wish never to see that look on your face again.”

“It’s not for you.” He wiped the blood from his hand and stared at his boots.

“You know I’d never leave your side if I could choose.”

“Then choose.”

“Ha,” I huffed, “it’s just that simple?”

“What if it was?”

I gawked at him, incredulous. He was upset and not thinking clearly. “What are you saying?” I asked gently, as I would settle a horse in high spirits.

He took my hands in his, warm and rough, and squeezed them softly.

“I’m saying we could go,” he hurried his words now, his voice ringing with zeal. “Take these horses and ride off. They’d never find us.” 

He couldn’t be serious? I searched his face and saw no hint of humor. I pushed away, needing space to breathe. Abandon kara, kin, duty? Cast our tribes’ pacts to the wind? He may have been impulsive, but he was far from stupid. He stared at me eagerly while I struggled to herd my thoughts. “You know why they’d never find us. There’s nothing but a hundred lawless bands of reavers to prey upon us. Even you would be no match for them out there alone.” 

“We could join them.” He grinned, but he almost sounded serious.

“They’re outlaws and exiles.”

“I envy them,” he said. “They answer to no one; they take what they want and make no apology for it.”

“But that’s why we hunt them. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I know what I said. But out here, the only real law is survival. The king’s laws couldn’t touch us. We’d truly be free. Not dictated to, not owned, not ruled.”

“Won’t our fathers hunt us?”

“Let them try.”

I’d never heard him speak like this; he was scaring me. Maybe he was going mad. But, did I not owe him the chance? After all he’d sacrificed and risked for me. All he’d given. Foolish, terrifying, treacherous as it was, I knew I would agree, even before I’d heard his plan. 

“How would we live? Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you wish.”

“I don’t know of anywhere else.” He would have to decide. I would put all my faith in him as he had in me.

“We could live like this, hiding in the steppe. Or I know a half-dozen tribes we could join. Or we could buy passage on a ship—go to Nymphaion or Symbolon where none will know us.” 

“So, it’s really possible?”

He only nodded, his bright face blushing in the cold.

“The spells… what if they don’t return?” I asked, anxious about his answer.

“Hmm,” he mumbled as his momentary joy gave way to a frown. Then his brow softened. “Perhaps you will give me a son?” He tried a smile, his cheeks dimpling in their irresistible way. 

“Maybe a daughter.” I searched his expression for disappointment.

“One of each,” he joked, his grin broadening, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me close.

I took hold of the front of his caftan. “In the East, a daughter is as good as a son. And there are queens as powerful as kings.”

“Then we’ll go east. And I’ll be glad for anything and everything you give me. I am bound to you and you to me, forever.”

“I regret all the trouble I cause you,” I said, staring into the folds of his caftan, unable to look him in the face.

Pressing me against the tree, he lifted my chin and sought out my gaze, grinning mischievously. “I love the trouble you cause me.” 

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Chapter Forty-Three: Shepherds

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