The Way Into Chaos (35 page)

That was Peradaini. Vilavivianna answered quickly. “We sought safety among my people.”

The men and women looked over the ruined camp, their faces grim. “There is no safety to be made in the Sweeps. Not any more. “
 

The gray-haired woman introduced herself as Hent. Scowling, she asked, politely and in Peradaini, if the girls would parlay with their clan chief.
 

She’s addressing me
, Cazia realized. Of course she was. Cazia was the elder. Did they think Vilavivianna was her younger sister? Her owner? All the warriors but Hent glared at the girls with undisguised hate.
 

Well, if there was one thing Cazia knew, it was how to talk to Enemies. After glancing at their confiscated spears—and noting the greedy way the warriors studied the iron blades--she and Ivy followed Hent across the grasses.
 

Cazia had seen okshim in Peradain of course, but never more than four together.
 
This was the real thing: a full herd. Just like in the city, they clustered together, their bodies touching side to side. The largest stood at the far front like the tip of an arrow or a flock of migrating birds. The animals that behind it were progressively smaller toward the center of the herd where the youngest ones clustered, then toward the edges and rear she saw more large ones. Cazia tried to estimate their numbers and guessed there must be more than a thousand, possibly as many as two.

In the midst of the herd stood a tall wagon. It was built of dark wood, complete with huge wooden wheels and a fluttering green pennant affixed to a tall pole bent by the steady wind.
 

Behind that was a second wagon, then a third. Neither of these had windows or shutters, and the last held racks of spears, small round shields, and two young men with strung bows.
 

They approached the herd at about the center. They were far from the front, but the adults at the edges were huge, much bigger than the beasts she’d seen in the city. Their fur was also more yellow than the mottled brown and gray of city animals, and had added streaks of black.
 

Cazia approached warily, remembering the warnings the master of the pen had given her long ago. Their fur was soft and their ears long, but they could kick hard to the side with those large, flat feet, and their horny soles could pulp flesh and bone. And while they rarely bit, the curling round horns above their eyes were almost as dangerous as their kicks.
 

“Have you crossed the top of the herd before?” Hent asked.
 

“Never,” Cazia answered.
 

The woman grunted. “I will boost you. Kell, make to bring them to the Chief’s wagon. Try not to be the fool about it.”
 

Kell scowled, then hopped easily onto the back of the nearest okshim. Hent lifted Vilavivianna by the hips--the girl yelped at her unexpected touch--and set her atop the nearest animal. The princess spread her stance by bracing her foot against another okshim. Hent held her hand while she steadied herself.
 

“Ready?” the woman asked in a tone that suggested the only acceptable answer was
yes
.
 

Vilavivianna nodded, her gaze downward. Hent let go. The princess managed to lurch unsteadily from one flat back to the next without falling. Kell did not offer to help.

Hent turned to Cazia and knelt on one knee. “You are too big to lift.”
 

Cazia didn’t detect any nastiness in the woman’s tone but she assumed it was there anyway. Not that she could argue the point. Hent slapped her knee, indicating that Cazia should step there.
 

Well aware of her muddy boots, Cazia tore up a clump of tall grass then laid it over the flat part of Hent’s thigh before she stepped on it. Let her make nasty comments. Cazia would prove she was above all that.
 

Walking across the back of the okshim was not as difficult as she’d expected, even with her heavy pack. They weren’t conveniently flat, like a palace corridor, but they were flattish--certainly not as rugged as the broken stones north of Fort Samsit. Even better, the animals bore her weight without staggering or shuffling around.

There were gaps, though. Near the tails and around the heads there were spaces where she could fall, and she didn’t want to imagine herself trapped down there under those big, hard, heavy feet.
 

Kell hopped lightly from back to back, never stepping on an animal in front of its shoulders or at the joint of the tail, and the girls followed his example. Once again, Cazia was struck by the oddity of her situation. Who could have foreseen her here, in this moment, hopping across the backs of an okshim herd far out in the wilderness? How Colchua would have laughed.
 

Ivy had learned so much from her uncle’s stories, and now they were living one. Unfortunately, there was no one left to tell it to.

She stopped and looked across the top of the herd. It looked like a single huge animal with many legs and backbones, huffing and snorting. She glanced back at the muddy bootprints she’d made on their downy fur.
 

Grateful am I to be permitted to travel The Way.

The wagon wheels were very tall and very wide, probably to help them through muddy ground. There was also a stout hide-covered frame around the wheels. That, presumably, let them roll along in the middle of the herd, okshim pressing on all sides, without... What? Splitting apart and fleeing? Attacking?
 

The three wagons were hitched together and the front was pulled by reins attached to eight--no, ten different yoked okshim, the largest animals near the front of the herd. The lead animal was unburdened.
 

Cazia hopped onto the bumper of the first wagon, then followed the princess to the rear. The wagon walls were made of rough planks covered with pitch, but the roof was heavy cloth. Kell mounted his spear in a rack, knocked on the flimsy door, then opened it without waiting for a response.
 

Cazia and Ivy followed him inside, standing close together. An older woman, square like a stone block with a head of steel-gray hair and narrow, suspicious eyes, scowled at them. The wispy hair growing from her upper lip and chin was as long as Cazia’s middle finger. Ivy bowed politely to her, but the woman just sat on her stool, frowning.

Cazia had met her type before. The palace was full of dour, judgmental old women. Standing across from her was almost soothing, like being back home.
 

Kell said something to the old woman in his rough-sounding language. Cazia reached toward her pocket to touch the translation stone, but Ivy stopped her by clasping her hand. The princess acted as if she was afraid, but her grip had no urgency.
 
Cazia understood: Don’t give them a reason to search your pockets.

The old woman gestured. “Sit, honored guests.” Her accent was harsh but at least she wasn’t calling them devils. She gestured toward a set of cushions by the wall. Cazia and Ivy shrugged off their packs and sat. The old woman wore a strip of boiled leather over her head like a bonnet, so Cazia gladly left her hat on. She knew that if she took it off, the herders might see the iron cap inside and take it from her.

Kell stood by the door, his hand near the copper hatchet at his waist. The old woman sat opposite the two girls, then took a crude iron pot from beneath a heavy cloth.
 

“You will have tea,” she said, pouring tepid brown water into three horn cups. It occurred to Cazia that, among these people, an iron pot would be a sign of wealth and privilege. Not even King Ellifer had iron equipment in his kitchens. Iron for his soldiers and blacksmiths, yes, but never for his servants.
 

Ivy accepted the cup. “Thank you.” Cazia did the same. She’d never had tea before. It was grassy and sour, but she managed to swallow it all without grimacing. Ivy winced at the first sip and set the full cup on the floor. Kids.
 

“I don’t like it either,” the old woman said, “but it is clean enough to make drink, and it is part of the life of my people, so while I dislike the flavor, I also love it with my spirit entire.” The old woman downed her own tea in one gulp, then wiped her lips and mustache dry. “We are the Ozzhuack clan. I’m clan chief, Mahz.”
 

“I’m Vilavivianna, of Goldgrass Hill.”
 

Mahz snorted. “You’re far from home, aren’t you? And what about you?”
 

“My name is...” She was tempted to make something up, but Fire take that idea. She was herself. “My name is Cazia Freewell.”
 

The old woman glared at her. “You hesitate as though the name should mean something to me, but I have never heard of your clan. I have never even heard of the name like yours. Cazia.” She pronounced it
Kye-zerra.
 

“It’s a Surgish name.”
 

“I have never heard of the Surgish.” Her tone made it clear that whatever she hadn’t heard of wasn’t worth knowing. There was another knock and the door opened. This time, it was Hent and the two younger women who had accompanied her. They all crowded in by the door. The youngest of them had red eyes and a puffy face as though she’d been crying. Mahz paid them no attention. “Now, about your claim to my property—”
 

Ivy interrupted immediately. “We have made no claim to your property. We have only claimed our own.”
 

Mahz slammed her cup on the floor with a loud bang. “Do not make to trifle with me, child!”
 

“Do
not
call me child!” the princess answered, her tone sharp. The warriors by the door gasped in surprise at her response, but Ivy was too indignant to notice. “Your man spoke first. He had the chance to claim the camp, if he intended to do so, but instead he inquired after my mommy and daddy.”
 

Mahz shot a baleful look at Kell, who kept his face stoic even as he flushed red. “You penalize his good manners.”
 

“I adhere to tradition,” the little girl said, her chin held high.
 

Mahz didn’t like that. She scowled and poured herself more tea. “You adhere to our tradition. You take what is ours and make to twist it to your own ends. Do not pretend you Indregai are any better than
her kind
.” She gestured toward Cazia with her cup, slopping tea on the floor. Cazia did not react as it splashed against her legs. “Telling me you are Surgish when I can see perfectly well that you wear Peradaini jackets and boots! Two little girls with iron weapons out here in the Sweeps! Just one of those spearheads is worth more than your lives put together. Am I supposed to make treat with little girls forty days after imperial troops collected their tribute?”
 

“Taxes, you mean,” Cazia said. Let this old woman glower and threaten. Let her spit out her resentments. If she planned to execute them for a meadow full of torn canvas, Cazia wasn’t going to plead or make nice. She had a little ball of ice in her stomach, right where she imagined the knives going in, and it gave her self-control. “All this land west of Piskatook Pass is claimed by the Empire, and citizens must pay their taxes. You use the sleepstones, don’t you? You trade at the forts, don’t you? You’re part of the Empire, just like the Surgish, the Chin-Chinro, the Muddalan—”
 

“Pah! Stupid little devil girl, your head is empty. Yes, the Ozzhuacks make good use of your healing beds, but we know they were put there to insult us. We will not forget! And the clans will never join with your empire—or any other—unless you arrange it in the proper way.”
 

Cazia had to ask. “What’s the proper way?”
 

“Marriage. Let this King of Italga bring me a son or daughter for my son to marry, then we will be joined.”
 

The idea of Lar marrying into this nomad’s life was too absurd to laugh at. Cazia only said, “Oh.”
 

“We will make to raise their grandchildren the way men and women are supposed to be brought up. Out in the wind! Tending to the beasts, killing to eat, and taking what you need to survive.”
 

Mahz said the last part with a sinister leer. Ivy understood immediately. “If you take one scrap of cloth from that camp, one scarf, one wooden peg, you will be thieves. The camp is ours.”
 

Mahz waved that off dismissively. “I have not decided whether I should make to honor your claim.”
 

Ivy’s hands were clenched into little fists at her side. Her frustration was building.
 

Cazia knew where this was going--where it had been going since Kell shouted at them to drop their spears. She looked the old woman in the eye and said, “We will fight you.”
 

The old woman’s eyes widened with anger, and for the first time, she bared her teeth. Fire and Fury, they had been filed into points.
 

The princess yelped in shock and terror, sliding away toward the wall. Cazia, too, heard herself gasp, but even as she stared in horror at the old woman’s mouth, a small part of her knew Mahz had kept her teeth hidden so she could reveal them at just the right moment. This intimidation had been carefully planned.
 

“How dare you make to threaten me!” Mahz rolled onto her knees so she could look down at the girls. “I was killing devils before your mothers and fathers were squirted into the mud! If you raise one hand against us, I’ll have you beaten black and blue, and if you spill the single drop of Ozzhuack blood, I will slay you myself!”
 

This is it,
Cazia thought. The knives would be coming out now, and she didn’t know any spell that could save her and Ivy. All she could do was die defiantly.
 

“Of course,” she said, her lip quivering. Cazia hated that she was showing her fear, but Fire would take it all soon enough. “You can always judge a warrior by her enemies.”