Winter Queen by Amber Argyle
The student blew three short blasts on a whistle hanging from his neck. From Nelay’s higher vantage point, she could see soldiers working their way toward them.
The young man pressed his pen to the scroll, his face one of long-suffering, as if he’d had this argument a thousand times before. “There is no fodder available inside the city. And our men need the horses. I’ve already made a notation beside each of your names indicating that you’ve given up a horse. When the war ends, you will be recompensed.”
“This war will never end,” Havva said.
The man shot her a look. “This is the price for entering Dalarta. If you refuse to pay it, you will be turned away.”
Rycus leaned close enough only Nelay could hear. “You want a means of escape, we need these horses.”
“Then you’ll just have to steal them back,” she whispered.
Three soldiers had gathered around them, waiting for the horses. Rycus shot Nelay a pleading look, which she met with a stubborn one. Grumbling, he dismounted. He removed his saddlebags and threw them over his shoulder. The rest of their party followed suit. Nelay figured they had enough food for a couple more days if they were careful.
“Come on, Havva,” she said. “We’ll help you find your family and get settled before we move on.” She had every intention of taking Maran with them when they left.
The press of people forced them toward the western side. The farther into the city they went, the worse the smell became—human waste and human sweat. Obviously the city was filled past its capacity.
Breathing through her veil, Nelay searched the face of every person she saw. She had to find her brother. But something was wrong. She turned to but Rycus, who said angrily, “The boys are in uniform. Everyone over the age of twelve.” He glanced about suspiciously. “I’m surprised I haven’t been conscripted yet.”
A new sort of fear started in Nelay. What if Rycus was taken from her? How would she escape the city without him? She was shaken out of her dark thoughts when they approached a tall building and domes gleaming golden against the blue sky. The courtyard was jammed with refugees in a makeshift city of tents.
“How are we ever going to find anyone?” Nelay wondered aloud.
Maran suddenly darted forward and rested a hand on a woman’s arm. “Ivet?”
Recognition dawned in the woman’s eyes. “Maran? But you were killed!” Her gaze rested on the girl’s flattened belly, and then at the baby in her arms. A shadow seemed to pass over Ivet’s face.
“Why would you think that?” Maran said haltingly.
Ivet seemed at a loss for words. “Well . . . because that’s what I was told.”
By Sedun, no doubt, Nelay thought.
“Have you seen my family?” Havva asked quickly.
“I’ve seen them, but I’m not sure where they’re staying,” the woman responded.
Havva sagged in relief.
“What about a man?” Nelay interjected. “He looks like me.” Or at least he had. “His name is Panar Favar Denar ShaBejan.”
The woman shook her head. “Never heard of him.”
“I told you, if he’d have lived in our village, I would have known,” Maran said softly.
Nelay’s head and back hurt, plus the overpowering smell of the city made her nauseous. “How can I find him?”
“All the names of the refugees are taken to the university. You could try there,” Ivet said.
Maran wet her lips. “Ivet, have you seen my husband?”
The woman smiled. “Everyone’s seen Sedun—he’s a hero for saving all those children.” Her face fell. “But he was conscripted with the rest. The men of our province have taken over the West Wall Inn—that’s their barracks. I’m going to go visit my husband and sons tomorrow, when I have the time.”
A child pulled on Ivet’s skirt. She batted her hands away and looked at Havva. “If you come with me, we can ask around for your family.”
Grinning, Havva started after her. Nelay felt conflicted. She’d grown attached to the woman and appreciated her wisdom and toughness.
Havva paused and looked back at them in confusion. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I have my own brother to find,” Nelay explained.
“Well, you’ll need somewhere to stay while you look, won’t you?”
“I should seek out Sedun,” Maran finally said.
Nelay’s head snapped up. “Why would you want to see him?”
Ivet glanced back and forth between them. “Women aren’t allowed to stay at the barracks.”
Nelay cast a questioning gaze at Rycus, who said, “It’s clear we won’t find Panar today.”
Havva threw up her hands. “Ashes and burning, we’re all exhausted and you two are injured. Eat, sleep, and for the Goddess’s sake, bathe. Then you can go traipsing around after these foolhardy men of yours.”
Without waiting for an argument, she took hold of Nelay’s and Maran’s arms and marched after Ivet. Nelay wanted to argue, but she was stumbling over her own feet. And she couldn’t find it in herself to turn down a bath.
Havva robustly greeted many of the people. Maran seemed reserved, even more so after several of the villagers stared after her in shock.
Not far from the fountain, Havva gave a cry and ran forward, calling a woman’s name. That woman dropped a basket and looked around wildly. As soon as she saw Havva, she cried out and ran to her. Her cry brought a dozen other people. Then a dozen more. Soon, it seemed half the refugees were hugging Havva.
Nelay watched in amazement. She’d never seen such wanton displays of affection. Maran hung back with her, patting the baby’s back. No one came running forward to greet her, and she didn’t seem to be looking for anyone. “Don’t you have any family besides your husband?” Nelay finally asked.
“All dead,” Maran said curtly, clearly unwilling to discuss it. That was fine with Nelay—she didn’t want to talk about her family either.
Eventually, Havva seemed to remember them. She extrapolated herself from someone’s arms and ordered a bath and food for everyone. Nelay almost pointed out that there would be bathing fountains in the city, but she was too exhausted to search them out. They were probably crowded anyway.
Nelay looked back as a young man led Rycus away. She gave a little wave, and Rycus mouthed, “I’ll see you later.”
One of Havva’s granddaughters, who was only a little younger than Nelay and Maran, led the women to a tiny square of space between four tent walls, blankets strung in the gaps. There were already buckets of water. Havva’s oldest daughter took Maran’s baby and stripped off his soiled garments and started scrubbing them, while another daughter did the same to him. Concon wailed in indignation. Nelay wanted to run and hide from the sound, but the other women didn’t seem bothered in the least. Maran tried a few times to get her infant back, but they only shooed her away.
The air was already unbearably hot, so it felt delicious when Nelay stripped out of the robes Rycus had purchased for her and ladled water onto her head. She scrubbed herself with soap and let Maran clean her wound. Maran’s body was hard and lean, but for the soft sag and purple lines of her belly. Her breasts were heavy with milk, which dripped from her nipples, faster the more Concon screamed.
Havva nodded sagely. “Good. You will have plenty to feed him.” The old woman’s skin looked as if it had been cut two sizes too big and left to dry in a crumpled heap before being draped back over her knobby joints.
Nelay couldn’t help but compare her body to the bodies of these women. Aside from the scars of weapons practice and the recent battles, Nelay’s body was still in its prime. Still strong and beautiful, with large breasts and curving hips. But these women—their bodies had seen and done so much, and caring and nourishing life had left their marks. Nelay remembered what Havva had said, that women’s battles were fought and won by bringing about life, not death. And they bore the scars of those battles.
When Nelay was done, Havva inspected her wound and exclaimed in
They retreated from the ovat into one of the tents. They ate, the food simple and scant but hot. Nelay lay down on the soft wool skins, noting that Maran was feeding her baby again. She only had time to think how glad she was not to have an infant to care for, before she fell asleep.
Nelay woke much later than planned. But for one of the first times since she’d been shot, the pain had been mild enough for her to sleep deeply. Maran was still passed out, the baby in her arms. Most of the other women were gone.
Nelay stepped into the too-bright morning. Havva crouched beside the fire, stirring something in a big black kettle. The older woman slept very little and ate even less. Everyone else seemed gone. Nelay stepped in front of the tent Rycus had shared with about a dozen other single men and called out for him.
“He left in the gray hours,” Havva said.
Nelay strode toward her, eager to start her search for Panar. “Did he say where he was going?”
Havva dished up a small bowl of cooked grains and held it out to Nelay. “To look for your brother.”
“Why didn’t he wake me?”
“You need rest if you’re ever going to heal.”
Nelay grudgingly took the bowl and watched the steam rise from it. They were safe. Her pain had started to fade. She would find her brother, then make her bid for high priestess. So why was she so miserable?
“Maran was up with the baby most of the night,” Havva said conversationally, but Nelay couldn’t help but think the old woman saw more than she wanted to reveal.
“I don’t know much about babies, but this one seems to cry a lot.” Nelay slurped some of the thin gruel, which almost tasted good. She must be hungrier than she’d thought.
“Some cry more than others. Didn’t seem to bother you last night.”
Nelay swallowed some water to wash down the hulls sticking to her throat. “I learned to sleep through the temple noise, so not much bothers me.” She gestured around the immediate vicinity. “Where is everyone else?”
Havva hesitated before answering. “The first of the Clansmen’s army arrived sometime in the night. The women and children all went to see their men before the battle starts.”
Nelay’s hopes sagged under the weight of the coming assault. For the briefest moment, she considered asking the fairies for help finding Panar, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. Deals with them always cost more than they were worth.
“Nelay,” Havva said.
When she looked up, the older woman gestured behind her. Nelay shifted to see Rycus coming toward her, and she felt the familiar tug in her lower belly. How had she ever found him anything but handsome?
Before she could ask any questions, he held up a hand. “Where’s Maran?”
“Have you found her husband?” Nelay slurped the last bit of gruel from the bowl.
Rycus nodded, his jaw tight.
“And Panar?” she said hopefully.
“I’ve bribed some officials. We ought to hear something by midday.”
Nelay tried to push down her irritation. The longer they were in Dalarta, the harder it would be to escape.
“Let Maran sleep,” Havva said softly.
Nelay crossed her arms over her chest. “Are we sure she should even see him? He left her for dead.” And Nelay wasn’t sure she could see Sedun without killing him.
Unfortunately, Maran chose that moment to leave the tent, her baby over one shoulder. She looked from Nelay to Rycus. “That’s my decision, not yours.”
Nelay worked to keep her voice calm. “You’ll come with us when we leave the city.”
Maran met her gaze with the most determination Nelay had ever seen. “If the battle truly is to begin soon, I need to see him.” She let out a long breath and faced Rycus, hitching her baby up higher on her shoulder. “Lead on.”
Havva stepped toward her with arms extended. “Leave him here, Maran. You don’t know how this will go.”
“But he might get hungry before . . .”
Havva pried the baby loose. “One of my girls with a baby can feed him. After you find your husband, come stay with me and my family.”
Maran nodded, tears shining in her eyes. “I will. Thank you.”
Havva met Nelay’s gaze. “You’re always welcome, Nelay. After all, you saved my life.”
“Thank you, but I still have my brother to find.” Her lips pull in a tight line at the thought of finding a single person in this overflowing city.
They took water from a fountain they passed as they moved through the crowded streets. Weaving through the crowd made the going incredibly slow. Nelay knew Rycus felt uncomfortable with the press of bodies, but he kept it mostly hidden.
Frustrated with the delay and still reeling with disbelief at Maran’s decision, Nelay asked, “Why would you go back to him?”
The girl wouldn’t look at her. “My mother died when I was twelve. My father killed himself last year, after his mine failed. The debt collectors took everything we had. I had no other family. I was starving. Sedun was charming. He was my prince, and I his princess.”
Maran dodged out of the way of a cart pulled by a water buffalo. “But after we were married, I couldn’t seem to do anything right—I was too slow, too fast, too foolish.”
The words Nelay wanted to say practically smoked in her throat. “He left you and your baby to die.”
“You don’t understand!” Maran sped up.
Nelay trotted to catch her. “You’re right. I don’t understand.”
“I’m still in love with him!” Maran shouted. Then she seemed to notice people staring at them and hurried on. “Or at least with the man he used to be,” she said more softly. “Maybe he can be that man again.”
Nelay opened her mouth to argue, but Rycus squeezed her arm. “It’s her choice,” he whispered.
Huffing, Nelay hurried after Maran. It took every ounce of restraint Nelay had to keep her mouth shut.
It wasn’t hard to spot the inn. Hundreds of weapons leaned against the wall, and the small courtyard was marked off like a training ground.
“Maran!” a man coming out exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re alive.” She barely spared him a glance as she stepped up to the dark inn with its tiny, deep-set windows. She paused just inside the entrance, her hands gripped in fists.
Nelay stepped up beside her. The smell of unwashed bodies, smoke, and sour food hit her hard. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness.
Maran cast a frantic glance about before whispering to Nelay, “Do I look all right?”
Maran looked terrible. She smelled of sour milk, her hair was dull and matted, her clothes faded of all color. But Nelay couldn’t say any of that. “You are beautiful.” That at least wasn’t a lie—you just had to look beneath the exhaustion to see it.
They stepped farther into the room packed full of tables that were packed full of men. Most were gambling or playing a game with sticks and stones.
Maran seemed to shrink in on herself. She started to slip behind Rycus, her head down and her hair hanging like a curtain over her face. Nelay suddenly hated Sedun even more. And before she knew what she was doing, she’d grasped Maran’s hand and pulled her up to stand beside her. The other girl gripped back tightly but didn’t look up.
They started weaving around the tables, looking for Sedun.
“Hey boys, two lovelies have come for a visit,” Nelay heard a voice call out. Another man said something crude. Nelay shot the speaker a glare that melted the grin off his face.
From behind them, Rycus spoke low. “You don’t have to do this, Maran.”
“Yes, I do,” she whispered back.
Someone laughed, long and loud, and Maran’s head came up. Nelay followed her gaze to see a man’s profile. That thick build could only be Sedun. He had a woman on his lap, her arm draped possessively around his shoulders. She giggled at something he said, leaning forward so her bosoms showed.
&nb
Sedun laughed again, and someone slapped him on the back. The back slapper turned toward them and his laugh melted away. “Maran,” the man gasped.
At that, Sedun spun around in his chair. His gaze locked on Maran and something like horror crossed his face.
The back slapper hooted. “Sedun’s good deeds have been rewarded by the Goddess. His wife has survived!”
Men shouted and cheered. The back slapper-shoved Sedun out of his chair, nearly knocking the woman out of his lap. Sedun smiled at his wife, but even Nelay could see the warning behind it. He crossed the room and gripped Maran to him. Only Nelay was in a position to see her wince as he squeezed too tight.
The men kept cheering, calling out Sedun’s name like he was some kind of hero, while the woman looked on with something akin to fury in her gaze.
Nelay’s anger was strong enough to choke on. Rycus caught her gaze and she saw the same simmering anger reflected in his eyes. The same helplessness.
“The baby?” Sedun said.
Maran smiled, but she didn’t look at all happy. “He’s fine. I left him with Havva while I searched for you.”
Sedun turned to face the crowd, his fist raised in the air. “I have a son! Sedun the Younger!”
“His name is Concon!” Nelay didn’t mean to shout it. It just came out.
Sedun spun around and locked his gaze onto hers, a dark promise in his eyes. “Maran, why don’t you and I go somewhere private.”
Nelay smiled a dare at him. “They call you a hero?”
He stiffened.
“Nelay, don’t,” Maran said.
“He saved ten children,” one man declared.
Nelay stared at her friend. “Maran, he left us to die. And now he’s letting everyone call him a hero for it.”
Sedun shifted to backhand Nelay. She stepped back to dodge it and use his momentum to take him to the ground. But Rycus got there first, slamming his fist into Sedun’s kidneys.
Though Nelay was perfectly capable, she let Rycus handle him. After all, what use were all those glorious muscles if he didn’t exert them once in a while?