The Battle Lord's Lady (2 page)

Piron nodded. “I remember. And I do owe her.
But she has no family and we can’t allow a single adult to hold an
apartment. No, she has to move in with another family.”

“Isn’t there a family in need of a hunter?”
asked another elder by the name of Twoson Pike. He was a corpulent
man long past his prime, but his wisdom and guidance were valuable
assets to the council. Many people in the compound felt his wealth
of experience was due to the extra set of eyes in the back of his
head.

Several hands rose in the crowd. However,
only one person came forward to push his petition. “The council
recognizes Fortune Kalich,” Twoson intoned.

The older man threw his son a glance before
turning back to the panel. “Your Wisdoms, I would like to ask for
Atty to become a part of my family. I know my son and I are already
known hunters, and that by adding a third, well, others may not
like it. But I assure you that is not the reason I ask. Atty’s
father and I grew up together. We’d known each other since we were
just sprouts. I know he would want me to watch after her for him...
and Eenoi.”

Atty spoke up. “I know the council has never
been happy with my induction into the caste of hunters. Therefore
I’d like to offer that any extra food that I may capture I’ll
distribute in the marketplace for those more in need.”

Session Bond, a third member of the panel,
finally broke his silence. “Atty,” he asked, “are you content with
the decision to become part of the Kalich family? As harsh as our
laws may be, we’re not without compassion.”

The young woman nodded. “I accept Fortune
Kalich’s offer. And I thank him.” Turning to face the man she’d
known as her father’s friend, she said, “I promise I’ll try not to
bring shame to them.”

“Then it’s done!” Twoson rapped his gavel on
the table top signaling an end to the proceedings. Quickly done and
acceptable to all parties—he liked it when it ended that way.

As the crowd dispersed, several people came
by to give Atty their condolences. Atty hugged each in turn
although she continued to feel numb by the suddenness of it all.
Things were moving too swiftly, too decisively to give her any
comfort.

That evening she walked about her old
apartment and tried to figure out which items to keep and which to
leave for the next tenant. There was so little that was personal
enough to remind her of her parents and little sister. She packed
all her clothes plus two of her mother’s sweaters that she’d always
loved. Otherwise she left everything where it sat, including dirty
utensils and bedding furs. In a world where lifetimes now were
measured in years rather than decades or generations as they once
had been, the luxury of owning property was almost nonexistent. A
man owned what he could carry, which was usually the tools of his
trade. A woman owned her personal skills, as her hands were usually
full of children. The next abode would always contain a place to
build a fire, a pot to cook in, and a bed to lie upon. One did not
need to carry tables and chairs and other odd accouterments from
apartment to apartment. Not only was it unthinkable, it was
practically suicidal, especially when life hung in such a delicate
balance.

Early the next morning Atty walked the narrow
streets to her new home. Along the way she passed Sergei Peters,
his wife Emma, and their two sons. All four carried parcels of
clothing and food. Sergei wore his carpentry tools in a belt around
his waist. Emma balanced a large basket of vegetables on her head.
The whole family refused to make eye contact with the lone young
woman, and Atty immediately knew who was taking up residence in the
only place she’d ever known as “home”.

As they moved slowly in the direction from
which she’d come, Atty hoisted her weapons into a more comfortable
position across her shoulder. She continued to watch them until
they turned the corner and were lost from view. Only then did she
continue on her way.

Fortune Kalich was waiting for her when she
arrived. He opened the door before she had a chance to knock,
throwing it open to greet her with his classic wide grin.

“Welcome to my family,” he greeted her
symbolically.

“I accept your welcome,” she replied as per
custom.

Having gotten tradition out of the way,
Fortune led her into the apartment, gesturing for her to take a
seat. Atty glanced around the main outer room and wondered where
the rest of the family was.

At first glance their apartment was exactly
like the one she’d left, right down to the after-smell of late
breakfast. A second glance, however, gave away the little details
that reminded her it wasn’t. Atty stared for several seconds at the
pillow sitting against the small chair by the fireplace until she
realized the elder Kalich had been talking to her. She shook her
head to clear it, turned to him, and apologized.

“I’m sorry, Fortune. I didn’t hear what you
were just saying...”

Fortune gave her a sympathetic eye. “Listen
to me, prattling on like a lonely old woman. Here you’ve just lost
the rest of your family, and you’re probably exhausted and hungry.
What kind of substitute father am I? Sit down, Atty. Can I get you
something to drink? We have milk.”

“Milk?” Atty’s eyes widened. It had been too
long to remember when she’d last had a mug of milk.

Smiling softly, Fortune went into the kitchen
and pulled a covered jar from the cool storage area beneath the
floor. He poured a small mug of the goat’s milk and carried it back
into the living area to hand it to her. He watched in silence as
she quickly drained the mug and wiped the mustache from her upper
lip with a shirt sleeve. “Would you like some more?”

Atty’s first impulse was to say yes, but her
mother’s training caught up with her. “No, no, thanks,” she
replied, shaking her head and handing him back the mug. She sniffed
and glanced around the room again. Amazingly, she felt comfortable
here. Maybe it was because she’d known Fortune and his family all
her life. Maybe it was because Tory Kalich had often babysat her
when she was little, and she was already familiar with the little
pictures made from dried and pressed flowers the woman enjoyed
making and sharing with her friends. Several such pictures were
propped against the walls of the living area, and they reminded her
of the two her own mother had hung in her bedroom.

“Where’s Tory?”

“In the fields trying to find enough herbs to
cook with. Pickings are scarce this time of year.”

“The fields are dangerous,” Atty told
him.

Fortune nodded. “Not as dangerous as the
woods, but she stays close to the fence. She’s a smart and watchful
woman.”

“Memnon?”

“Hunting.”

“Alone?”

Fortune squinted. “Yes, alone. He often
ventures out by himself. Has since he was fifteen. Why?”

Atty leaned over and ran her hands over her
face. Suddenly she felt unbelievably tired. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean anything. I’m just...”

“You’ve been through a major loss,” Fortune
told her.

“And I have too many unanswered questions.
Why was my mother and Keelor outside the compound? Mohmee doesn’t
look for herbs like Tory does. She doesn’t hunt. She doesn’t seek
or need anything that I can’t get for her myself.”

“She went to get firewood,” Fortune
admitted.

Atty stared up at him. “Firewood? Why? I’m
the one who always gathered it for her.”

“You weren’t here, and she needed some. She
took Keelor with her so they could get enough to last them until
you returned.”

“She couldn’t wait?”

“Atty.”

“How do you know that’s why she went?”
The anger, the fear, and the pain were bubbling up inside her like
a geyser threatening to erupt. All the hurt she’d had to keep
bottled in was pounding against her chest like loud, uncontrollable
thunder, and it was about to come out in one explosive burst. “Why
did she have to go out there when there wasn’t a need? We
had
firewood, Fortune! We had enough
firewood by the hearth to last us through the night! Why did she
leave? Why did she have to take... Keelor...with her.” The pain was
choking her, closing up her throat until she couldn’t breathe or
cry out any longer. Fortune reached for her as she collapsed back
in the chair.

“Why didn’t she come home, Fortune? Why did
she...have to be like Pawpee? Why? Oh... Why? Why?”

With the dam breached, the tears flowed. She
cried for the loss of her mother. She cried for the sweet little
sister who had alternated between tormenting her and sharing her
deepest secrets. She cried for the loss of a way of life she’d
prayed she’d never lose, but knew that eventually she would. But
most of all, Atty cried out of fear of an unknown, uncertain future
she couldn’t face, even with her specialized skills.

Fortune Kalich watched helplessly as the
young woman sobbed loudly, her face buried in her hands. He wished
his wife was there to comfort her, female to female, and she would
have been, except they hadn’t expected Atty to show up so soon. He
felt useless. Thinking she needed some time to herself, he quietly
went into the kitchen and sat down with a strop to sharpen his
knives. The steady back-and-forth movement was soothing in the face
of such sorrow, and he was able to deal with Atty’s grief as the
sound of it poured into the kitchen.

He continued to sharpen his knives, humming a
little tune under his breath. It wasn’t much longer until Atty
approached the entrance to the kitchen and stood in the doorway,
watching him. He started to ask how she was feeling, but the young
woman spoke first.

“I’m going out.”

To hunt? To look for someone? To visit the
marketplace? Fortune wished she’d explain further but hesitated.
Atrilan Ferran was one of the most capable young people in the
compound, and esteem for her ranked high even among the other
hunters. All the other male hunters. There were no other female
hunters. Never had been, as far as Fortune could remember. Nor
could anyone else. Then again, Atty was no ordinary girl.

The front door closed quietly, leaving him
alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Three

Hunt

The snow that had fallen the night before was
thick but not enough to make any major difference. Atty had no
problem disguising her footprints as she angled through the trees
toward the badger. It was a big one, fully four hundred pounds
worth. And although its meat was a bit gamey, cooked with wild
onions and herbs it would feed several families, and quite
deliciously, too. Not to mention the value of its pelt and
claws.

The animal was burrowing under a fallen tree,
searching for something to eat. It grunted as it nosed into the
softened bark, effectively disguising any sounds she made. From
where she crouched she could see where the animal had changed.
Other than its size, its tusks curved from upper and lower jaws
like giant yellow horns. With little effort the animal could rip
the intestines out of a man. Its skin was probably as thick as tree
bark, Atty surmised. Which was why she would have to aim for its
eyes.

A crow screamed as it flashed through the
trees. The badger paused, snorting softly, its jaws working from
side to side as it chewed on what it had found. Another scream
overhead made it raise its head, this time turning directly toward
the young huntress. Atty took slow aim and let the arrow find its
mark. The iron tip buried itself into the soft tissue of the
animal’s brain, sending it into paroxysms. Atty remained behind the
tree but kept a close watch on the badger. She was prepared to
chase it if it took off. She was also prepared to fire again if it
spotted her and charged.

For what seemed like eternity the animal
tried to remove the shaft embedded in its eye but its thick, stubby
arms could not dislodge the slender bit of wood. It thrashed about,
tearing plants up by the roots, throwing dirt clods and rock, and
roaring in pain. Foam flecked its mouth, and for a split-second
Atty hoped the animal didn’t have the dreaded water disease.

It took a long while for the badger to die.
Atty continued to watch it from her safe place behind the tree.
When it finally lay on its side and gasped its last breath, she got
to her feet and began the necessary task of gutting the animal and
leaving the entrails for the other carnivorous scavengers. Once
that was done, she went to tearing long, slim limbs from the nearby
trees to form a makeshift travois. It would be difficult dragging
the huge carcass back to the compound, but she had no other choice.
If she chose to get help, by the time they arrived back, the animal
would either be gone or violated by other predators, and therefore
inedible, the skin and the meat useless.

It was late in the day before she had the
carcass lashed onto the travois. Her stomach growled, reminding her
that she’d eaten nothing all day except for that mug of milk given
to her by Fortune Kalich. Atty paused, remembering that this animal
would not be feeding her family. Her mother would not hug her upon
her return. Her little sister would not beg for the tail, or the
ear, or whatever part of the quarry that had caught her eye. The
sudden wave of grief nearly made her stumble, but Atty choked back
the sobs and gritted her teeth. Throwing the loop of rope around
her chest and over her shoulders, she dug her feet into the snow
and began pulling the dead weight over the ground. It was not as
difficult as she’d first thought it would be, but after a while it
steadily grew harder.