Shadow Gate

10

Nallo knew the tales, how the persistent, fortunate, clever child fought past obstacles and won through to a good life in the end. But she'd never believed in them. She'd watched three older brothers die, too weakened with diarrhea to do more than stare mutely at

those tending them. She'd been sent to Old Cross market with her uncle and littlest niece, both girls meant for debt slavery, but although her little niece's labor had been bought up quickly, not one soul had bid on Nallo. Too thin, too sour-looking, too tall, too old, not pretty. There were plenty of desperate folk on the roads, farms failing, laborers out of work, too many children and not enough food to feed them all. The folk who could afford to purchase the labor of those unfortunate enough to be selling had the leisure to be choosy.

Her husband had made the contract with her family through intermediaries. He'd needed a wife quickly; there was a newborn to care for. Everyone had told her she was fortunate. It was the best life she could hope for.

He'd been a gentle man, patient and kind. Everyone in the village had said so, reminding her again and again that she was fortunate. And it was even true.

She wasn't gentle or kind or patient. Everyone had said so, and it was true.

She had no obligation to stay with Avisha and the little ones. But she had nowhere else to go. That had been her husband's last, if unwilling, gift to her: a reason to keep going and not just walk into the hills, lie down in the grass, and die.

They walked for half the morning, and at length halted to let the horses water at a pond ringed by mulberry trees. The children peed, and got a scrap to eat and a swallow of old wine. Then they walked on.

Avisha moved up to walk alongside the man. She tried to draw him into conversation. When he wouldn't talk about himself, she talked about her old life, about her father, about her mother; she chattered about plants and their uses.

'She's a pretty girl,' remarked Zubaidit over her shoulder, addressing Nallo. 'She seems knowledgeable about herbs.'

'Her mother taught her.'

'That's a good piece of knowledge to have. She's old enough to think of marriage.'

'We're too poor to think of marriage. We've no kin. We've nothing.'

'Perhaps you can find a man willing to look no farther than youth and herbcraft.'

'One who is desperate enough to take on a destitute girl with no marriage portion and no kinfolk to sweeten the net of alliance? It was hard enough for my family to find a man willing to marry me.'

'Why is that?'

'I've got a bad temper. I say things people don't want to hear. I ought not to, but they just slip out.'

'Which god took your apprenticeship service?'

'The Thunderer. After my year was up, my kinfolk asked if the temple would fake me on for an eight-year service, but they didn't want me either.' She hated the way she sounded, like a child whining for a stalk of sweet-cane to suck on. 'Never mind. It wasn't so bad. My husband treated me well. The work wasn't so hard. We didn't go hungry.'

It had been a good life. She saw that, now it was gone.

'It's a hard path to walk, away from what you can never go back to.'

'Is that how it is for you and your brother?' Nallo asked boldly. Since she could not see the hierodule's face, she watched her walk instead.

The woman wore a plain linen exercise kilt, tied with a cord at the waist, and a tight sleeveless vest. Her limbs, thus displayed, were smooth, sculpted, and strong. 'I'm not sure where this path will lead us.'

They hit a steep stretch, too difficult to climb while talking, and afterward Nallo could think of no way to resume the conversation. Up ahead, Avisha had started in again.

Late in the afternoon they halted for the night near the dregs of a stream. They shared out a leather bottle full of vinegary mead and finished off a sack of dry rice cake and mushy radish, although these scraps could not cut the hollow feeling in their stomachs. Avisha got the little ones settled to sleep while Nallo went to wash in the stream, to take a little privacy to do her business. Coming back, walking slowly because her ankle ached, she came up behind the sister and brother where they had moved away from the camp to talk between themselves. She paused in the cover of a stand of pipe-brush, too embarrassed to reveal herself.

'What is wrong with that girl? She won't shut up.'

'You'd be more agreeable if you'd look at people with a little compassion. I worry about you, Kesh. You aren't happy.'

'We were slaves for twelve years! In what manner am I meant to be happy} Or does the goddess have an answer for that as well?'

'The gods have an answer, if you take the time to pray.'

'I pray that we get rid of them. We're moving so slowly, Bai. Why did we have to bring them with us?'

'We had to get everyone out of sight, because if that lot marching into town saw these on the far shore they might think to cross and grab them, and then they'd find sign of our passage. I don't want any trouble.'

'We've got trouble enough with these refugees. How long will you let them burden us? Or do you mean to hand out our coin to them, too, until we have nothing left for ourselves?'

She chortled, but it was a bitter laugh. 'We have plenty of coin, Kesh.'

'Stolen from Master Feden's chest! I'd have liked to have seen when you grabbed those strings right in front of his fat face. Aui! What do you think is happening in Olossi?'

'Captain Anji has found a way to defeat them, or he's dead and Olossi is overrun.'

'Then best we not drag our feet helping every sad traveler on the road. We can't help everyone.'

'We can help these.'

'Nallo?' Along the track from camp came Avisha.

The brother muttered a complaint under his breath while the sister laughed softly and said, 'I'm going to make the prayers for a safe night. Do you want to help me?'

'No. I'll go take a piss.'

'As you wish.'

'Aui!' That was Avisha, meeting them on the trail. 'I didn't see you here. Did you see Nallo?'

Nallo rattled the pipe-brush, then moved into view as if she'd just come walking that way. Keshad pushed past her. Nallo noticed what had been staring her in the face all along: the man had the debt mark tattooed at the outer curve of his left eye. Twelve years a slave. He had said so himself. He wore no bronze bracelets to mark

his status as a slave, but those were easy to take off. Zubaidit's face was unmarked, but that wasn't unusual in those dedicated to the gods, which was a different form of servitude and obligation than that taken on by those who sold the rights to their labor or their debt on the auction square.

They were runaway slaves, who had brazenly raided the master's strongbox. Wasn't there a penalty, assessed at any assizes court, for those who aided or abetted slaves running away from their contract?

At dawn, Nallo took the children and their few possessions aside. She saw, in the man's face, a rush of relief at the thought of being rid of them, and she supposed that Zubaidit's complicated frown disguised relief as well.

'Our thanks for your aid,' Nallo said politely. 'May the gods watch over you and grant you the same courtesy you have shown others.'

Zubaidit snorted, and her brother looked alarmed.

'Can't we go on this way together, Nallo?' Avisha asked plaintively.

'No. We'd just slow them down.'

'Let's go.' Keshad was already looking up the path as the sun rose.

The hierodule's gaze was a terrible thing; she might see anything with such a stare, that pierced right through you as though she could read your every thought just in the way you scratched a bug's bite in the crook of your elbow because you were uncomfortable and embarrassed. How could you ask two armed and strong adults if they were runaway slaves? It was better to remain silent.

Zubaidit nodded. 'It's true we'll make better time not burdened with you. Yet are you sure?'

'We've been traveling on our own for days now,' snapped Nallo. 'I know the Soha Hills well enough. There won't be many folk traveling, if there are any traveling at all in days like these with so much trouble on the road. We can take care of ourselves.'

The brother left without more than a barely polite fare-thee-well. The hierodule offered them a pouch of food, another bottle of old wine, and five precious leya, just as if they were beggars, which they were, so Nallo took it and with thanks. Jerad wept to see the ginnies

As soon as the horses were out of sight, Avisha burst into tears. 'Why did you make them leave?'

'They're runaway slaves, and thieves in the bargain. We'll get fined if we're caught with them, and that will throw us right into slavery. Is that what you want?'

The little ones hunkered away from her temper.

Avisha sniveled, wiping her eyes, but the tears kept flowing. 'Eiya! The slave mark on his face. How he was so anxious to get on. He wouldn't talk to me. You're so clever for seeing it, Nallo.'

But she wasn't clever. She was angry, and embarrassed, and she couldn't stop thinking about that woman. She couldn't stop hating herself for never having once in three years as a wife looked over her kind and patient husband with the kind of unexpected and thrilling desire that had hit her smack between the eyes the moment she had seen Zubaidit. Who had treated her with respect and courtesy, but nothing more. Nothing more.

'Where are we going, Nallo?' Jerad asked.

She swung Zianna up onto a hip. 'Just walk!'

That was the day everything began to go wrong. Not that it hadn't gone all wrong from the day the army marched into the village and killed her father, but Avisha had begun to hope they would escape, find a safe refuge, and make a new life. Keshad and his sister had appeared, as though sent by the gods, to help them across the river. He was so handsome! But not very talkative. Burdened with doubts and concerns, most likely. Why should he want to hear the chatter of a dreary, irritating girl who couldn't keep her mouth shut? Avisha was so ashamed of herself, knowing she had prattled on trying to impress him, when after all a man as good-looking and intense and experienced as him couldn't possibly be interested in her.

Then Nallo realized that their two companions were runaway slaves, and thieves in the bargain, and therefore dangerous to travel with. Isn't that what Papa always said, when he scolded her for being vain of her looks? A sincere heart is better than a pretty face.

So they set off on their own, again, tramping along the road at a snail's pace with Jerad sullen because the ginnies were gone. The wind picked up, and it started to rain, a big gusting downpour that

soaked them through. It came down so hard and fast that the road churned with muddy water, but they had to keep going. They walked in the rain all morning, and rested where they could find shelter. Midday the rain slackened and ceased. Soon after, the sun came out between shredded clouds, and they walked in the steaming heat until Jerad could not go one step farthea

Ahead lay a village, surrounded with a fence to keep livestock in and wild beasts out. Stands of fruit and pipe and mulberry trees broke the expanse of field, and in the distance rose denser woodland not yet cleared.

It had been so many days since they had seen folk walking about their daily lives that it seemed strange to Avisha to see it now. Men sowed rice in seedling fields. Younger men guided their draft animals, plowing furrows through the larger fields, mud and water splattering until they and the beasts were coated. A pair of young women stood on the raised earth that separated the fields, holding trays with drink and food for the working men; they were chatting and laughing as though they'd no idea what had happened to Candra Crossing not three days' walk away. Seeing the refugees, the young women splashed away into the cover of trees.

Two young men hurried over along the raised berms and confronted the travelers with spears and sour faces. The way they looked Avisha up and down made her shiver, for it wasn't a nice look at all but an ugly one. 'You're not allowed to stop here.'

Nallo placed herself between the armed men and the children. 'We can offer what news we have, of Candra Crossing, in exchange for a meal of rice.'

'We already know about Candra Crossing. You're not the first travelers to come through. So you just move on.'

'The gods will curse you!' Nallo spat on the dirt.

The brawnier of the young men pushed the haft of his spear right up against Nallo's chest. 'Don't threaten us. Take your ugly face and your pretty sister and your little brats and get moving before we make you wish you'd never walked this way. We'll protect ourselves.'

Nallo grabbed Zianna and swung her up onto her hip. 'The gods will judge the worth of your hospitality. Come, children. No need to linger here. It's a gods-cursed place, as they'll soon discover.'

Her stare sent the men back a few steps, and Nallo walked past, not looking to see if Avisha and Jerad were following. Those hostile stares scared Avisha, but she could only walk so fast and keep the washtub balanced on her head, and anyway Jerad was lagging. But he stuck it out, and Nallo – who wasn't as oblivious as she sometimes seemed – called a halt as soon as they discovered a Ladytree on the far side of the village, just off the road. Under its spreading branches they found shelter from the drizzle. In a recently used fire pit, Nallo got sticks smoldering and cooked up two handfuls of rice, not enough to fill their stomachs but enough to cut the ache of hunger.

'I wonder what happened to Keshad and his sister,' Avisha said when the little ones were asleep, wrapped up in the blanket, and she and Nallo lay on the ground sharing the cloak against the damp night air. 'They should have been ahead of us on the road.'

'They've gone off the road. There could be a dozen trails, a hundred, leading through the fields and woods. We should take to the fields, too. If an army marches, it'll be on this road.'

'You said we'd be safer going this way than east on West Track and walking into Sohayil by the Passage.'

'Safer. Not safe. I'll decide in the morning.'

In the morning, Nallo identified a trail that ran more or less parallel to the main path, seen as a berm beyond fields and coppices. Walking on this trail, they spotted clusters of buildings that marked hamlets or villages, but they kept their distance.

That night, they camped under a scrawny Ladytree growing at the edge of a meadow. Its canopy was dying. Bugs ate at them all night, a cloud of annoyance. A nightjar clicked, so that she'd start dropping off to sleep and then startle awake. Late in the night it rained again, dripping through the branches.

By morning, Zianna was sniffling. They slogged through intermittent rains all day, drying out when the sun shone.

By the next morning, Zianna had started to cough. Although Nallo explained that they had not yet begun to climb into the Soha Hills, this was rugged country, sparsely inhabited, and rough walking on a path that sometimes was smooth and easy and sometimes little more than a gouge barely wide enough for one foot. Several times Nallo stopped and, pointing aloft, marked the passage of an eagle high overhead.

After some days they reached the outlying hills and began climbing. As they toiled up the first slope, slick from the rains, Avisha slipped. She lost her hold on the washtub, and it slid downslope and spilled its contents every which way on the wet hillside among trees and scrub.

She scrambled down through thornbush and prickleberry to retrieve their belongings and the precious bag of rice while the others huddled under such cover as the woodland gave them. Her father's cordmaking stand – the one special thing of his she had salvaged from the ruins of the house – had broken in half. The fire had weakened it, and the fall snapped it. Just like her life. She sobbed, holding the pieces. Papa had handled this so gently, and now it was gone. It couldn't be fixed. None of it could be fixed.

'Vish! What are you doing down there?'

Of course Nallo had no idea how sharp her voice sounded.

'Almost got everything,' she called back.

A length of bright orange cloth, not theirs, had gotten stuck among prickleberry. She pushed over to it, careful of thorns. The cloth was stained, wet, torn. Below, tumbled into the bush, lay the corpse of a young woman, freshly killed: blood stained her thighs and belly. She'd been raped and had her abdomen cut open in a jagged line.

'Vish?' Nallo's voice drifted down to her, but she might have been a hundred mey away for all it mattered.

Flies crawled in and out of the gaping mouth. Her fingers had been eaten away, and her eyes were gone, two empty pits. Abruptly, her belly stirred, the skin rippling. A bloody face popped out of the cut. Black eyes stared at Avisha. She shrieked. A small animal darted away into the brush.

'Vish!'

Her throat burned. Her eyes stung. She backed up, tripped, fell rump-first into a tangle of bushes. Her hands brushed a trailing branch of prickleberry, and blood bubbled up on her palm. Scrambling back, she found the washtub. But as she climbed the slope, dragging the washtub behind her, she kept losing her footing and slipping backward. The ghost of that dead woman was trying to drag her into the shadows. Claws bound her ankle, tugging at her. She whimpered, but it was only a vine caught around

her foot. She wrenched the vine loose, and climbed. After an eternity she reached the road. She was scratched, soaked, caked in dirt. Blood dripped from her palm. She wiped her hair out of her eyes.

Nallo wasn't even looking at her. She was staring up at the sky, mouth open, rain washing her face.

A huge eagle swooped low over them. Avisha ducked. Jerad wailed. Zianna hid her face in her hands, sobbing. The creature banked around and, flaring its wings, struggled to a landing in an open space above them, beside the path. It stared at them with eyes as big as plates and a beak large enough to rip open a poor girl's belly so every manner of vermin could crawl in.

'Is that blood on its feathers?' said Nallo. 'Look how it's holding its wing. It's injured.'

'Look at that beak!' sobbed Avisha. 'Those talons! We can't walk past it.'

'Have you ever heard of a reeve's eagle killing a human being?' Nallo picked up Zianna and began walking up the path.

'Nallo! I'm afraid!'

Jerad burst into tears. 'Won't go. It's so big!'

'Stop it, Vish! Look how you've got him blubbing! That bird isn't going to hurt us.'

That bird was staring at them, deciding which was plumpest. 'How can you know?'

'Stop shrieking! Look how it gets your brother and sister scared.'

'C-Can't we just wait until it leaves?'

'No! No! No! No! No!' sobbed Zi.

Nallo set the little girl down roughly. 'We'll stand here in the rain until the cursed bird flies off and we'll all be dead by then anyway.' Abruptly, horrifyingly, Nallo, too, began to cry.

The rain pattered over them as they wept. Avisha's clothes were wet, her feet were cold, and her face was muddy, smeared with dirt. Her hand hurt, and that girl down there was dead and mutilated and abandoned, just like she was going to be. Everything was the worst it could be. She wished Papa was alive because he could have fixed it all but he was dead. Why did Papa have to die? Why did everything go so bad? Why couldn't they just all be at home in their good little house all dry, sitting on

the porch like they always did when the first rains came and watching the wet over the other houses and over the fields and woodland and sipping on the last of the year's rice wine that Papa always held over for the first day of the rains and the promise of a new year? Now there would be a new year without Papa in it, nothing good at all, everything torn and broken and bloody and hopeless.

She kept gulping, trying to stop crying, but the sobs kept bursting out, shaking her whole body. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. Why did any of it have to happen?

The eagle chirped, a delicate call at odds with its size.

Jolted out of her misery, Avisha turned to look. The eagle flapped, rose awkwardly, then dove along the path, talons raised and ready to hook them.

Avisha shrieked. She grabbed Jerad and threw herself flat, Jerad squirming beneath her. The heat and roil of the eagle passed over her body.

Below, men yelled out in a panic. Then they screamed.

She lifted her head to see men scattering away from the eagle's attack. The eagle had plunged into a group coming up the path. With talon and beak it slashed and cut and tore.

Avisha pushed Jerad's head down. 'Don't look!'

Nallo cried out. 'Vish! Those are soldiers like the ones who burned the village. Run!'

Like the ones who burned the village.

Like the ones who could rape and murder a girl in the woods.

She bolted, slipping, cursing, weeping with terror, sprinting into the woods where she might hope to hide. Glancing back, she saw the batting wings, the slash of talons, the flash of gold that ringed its beak. The men's screams drove her on. She ran with trees clawing at her, until her sides heaved and she fell to her knees spitting and retching. Her chest was aflame.

Nallo leaned on a tree, gulping air, holding Zianna. 'Where's Jerad?'

Avisha lifted her head. Jerad was not with them.

The ground dropped out from under her. She fell, dizzy, tumbling, helpless. But she was kneeling in the dirt with rain drizzling over her. She hadn't fallen at all.

Nallo said, 'Did you leave him behind?'

Between one ragged breath and the next, the rain ceased falling.

Jerad wasn't with them. She had left him behind.