"Yes, Pater."
"Then be blessed, daughter, and know happiness again in the way that you should always have known it. Without Jonqi, your life will be content."
"I thank you for your blessing, Pater."
Soji stood back while Alleghy mounted his warhorse and brought the fretting stallion under control with a firm and practised hand. She stood still, watching until he and his retinue were out of sight. She felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up and round she saw it was Sven and, obedient to the pressure, allowed him to lead her inside.
Two days later saw Soji assisted into the saddle and helped to settle Jonqi in the special leather cradle constructed to rest in front of her mother. Sven stared at the small bundle in the cradle and then glanced up at his sister as she got comfortable.
'Are you ready, Soji?"
"I am ready," she answered, her hand down to her brother, but her eyes sombre. He smiled up at her.
"We care about you, Soji. You are special to me. Come back soon to your formal marriage."
"I will," she answered bleakly. Sven kissed her hand then let her go, tapping her horse's rump as he stood back.
~~~
Her small cavalcade set forth. Soji was flanked by a slave and four warriors. The latter she knew would only leave her once she was installed with her uncle, before they went north to join the warlord's troops. The warriors chosen as her guard were single-mindedly loyal to Alleghy and Soji knew quite well she was a prisoner and could expect no sympathy or understanding from them. She knew, too, that given a chance, they'd spit Jonqi in the way half-breeds were despatched. Soji assumed she'd always be guarded by two of the warriors.
It was to be a long trip, but nobody wanted to hurry. The warriors knew provided they had Soji and the child in Kersk land within the season, she'd be there well in time to rendezvous with Kher. Soji didn't wish for haste, because each day with her daughter became more precious.
After a week of riding steadily southeast, Soji appeared one morning clad in boy's clothing. Warrior eyebrows went up in rigid disapproval.
"Your father would not approve," stated Them in condemnatory tones, his pale eyes running up and down her slight figure. "Why the change, girl?"
"My skirts make riding for a whole day uncomfortable," she explained demurely. "Do you not wish to make reasonable speed?"
"As you wish," said Them disapprovingly, "but you change before we get to your uncle's, girl. We will not be shamed by you."
"I will change before then," was the docile response. Them's severe expression relaxed and he joined her at the fire, his hand on her shoulder.
"You do not lack courage, Soji," he said quietly.
Soji bent her head and bit her lip, thanking the gods Loki hadn't thrown out all his old clothes, even though they swam on her. Each day they rode, Soji was up before even the slave so she could trim her hair a little. She sensed her best chance of escape would be dressed as a boy because she'd arouse less comment being alone. A lone girl in the south, she knew, was fair game.
Had Them looked closely at Soji, he'd have thought she had hair overlong for a boy, but certainly much shorter than was worn by girls of marriageable age. The boy's cap Soji wore disguised the exact length of her hair.
They passed through subjugated lands, the Churchik presence felt everywhere. Since Soji had no intention of being caught out in an abortive escape plan, she settled into a routine that would become familiar to the warriors and be completely accepted once they were further south. She was thankful Jonqi was a silent child like her father and still never cried even when she hurt herself. There would be the faintest of yelps, then nothing. Jonqi wondered if the child was born almost as mute as her father.
They kept on a south-easterly bearing, the weather improving the further south they went. It'd been a harsh and unrelenting winter that only now thawed to a late and chilly spring. Soji enjoyed the hours of riding in the sun but shivered woefully in the evenings, even wrapped in furs and cloaks. After her experience with Luton, Soji was thin and looked frail. She hadn't regained either strength or appetite and dressed as a boy she looked waif-like. Jonqi, Soji noticed enviously, didn't seem to notice the cold.
With time passing and because Soji did nothing alarming, the warriors began to relax their vigilance. She was no longer overtly guarded and could even take the child for a walk, unaccompanied, of an evening. Soji took care never to walk beyond warrior vision and they accepted this as a way of settling the child for the night, but since Jonqi was anathema to the warriors, Soji never left her alone. She also told the slave never to attend her at night, saying she preferred to be private and alone with her child. The slave obeyed her without hesitation.
Soji knew when they entered Kersk, because she could see mountains in the distance that bordered Sinhalien and Churchik lands. They were the mountains the woman showed her in visions so many times before Jonqi was born. Soji felt she'd already been there. She asked Them if they were far from the Kerulen-Nuur border.
"There is some distance to go yet, girl. Why do you ask?"
"I have lost my bearings," she replied glibly.
She promptly got a geography lesson and submitted with good grace because she got the information she wanted. She watched as they drew ever nearer the range of mountains. She knew her uncle's city-state of Tyras was south of them and if she was going to make her escape she had to choose her timing very carefully. The closer the peaks came the further into Churchik lands they went, warrior activity apparent everywhere. Soji felt her gut tighten with apprehension. For her it became a waiting game.
The days that followed brought the alps close enough to frown down upon them and Soji knew it would be soon they veered southwards, only fifteen days riding from her uncle's. Her tension mounted, until she shook and felt quite ill. She barely ate.
They saw regular patrols that Soji had to monitor so she could evaluate their schedules. This wasn't difficult, because the Churchik were unthreatened in their own lands and their routines were predictable. The land noticeably greened. Instead of an arid and barren landscape, Soji saw stands of trees and the beginnings of meadows and arable land, then, when they rode beside fields and orchards, she knew they were close to the city-state of Knos, north of her uncle's lands. Her time was running out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
This evening, Soji dressed in female attire, her hair swept into a girl's lace net. She joined the warriors to eat. Them looked across at her, smiled and nodded his approval. Soji was very quiet, she ate sparingly and Them thought she looked very pale and not especially well.
They settled for the night just off a lane they'd begun to follow that afternoon, so, where they were camped was in open ground, some distance from where the slave was ordered to tether the horses in tall bushes. Soji uttered a mental cry of relief over that, because she'd been having visions of being caught reaching her horse if they were closer.
The warriors were disinclined to talk, so three of them finally settled themselves in front of the fire to sleep. The slave also curled up, but much further from the fire. The fourth warrior ordered Soji to her unsel. He was startled, therefore, when she didn't go but instead came across to him and nestled up close in a way that surprised him. Lisen bent his head.
"What is this, girl?" His frown faded when he got a bewitching smile in return. "What are you suggesting?" he said, his hand going to her head. "You are bound by marri and all but wed to Tago."
"Who will know?" she whispered.
Her hand reached up to his and placed it inside her skirt. She sensed his immediate response and rose, well aware he quickly followed her. Upon his entering her unsel, she saw him discard his belts and wrench at his breeches, before he flung her roughly on the pallet, unceremoniously pushed up her skirt and, without a second thought, forcefully took her. Soji breathed very deeply and didn't utter a sound as Lisen took his pleasure.
Finally, Soji looked down at the sleeping sated warrior, her eyes cold and as hard as Luton's. She quie
tly picked up a knife and despatched Lisen with one swift stroke. With shaking hands, she clambered into Loki's clothes, then stood trembling, aware her death would be immediate and excruciatingly painful. She shivered uncontrollably when she thought of what they'd then do to Jonqi. She forced herself to be calm.
She crept from the campsite, a slender boy with a bundle slung across the back and a sleeping child, swathed in cloaks, held in trembling hands. Soji walked stealthily until she reached the shelter of the tall shrubs, then she ran, knowing her life depended on it. When she reached the horses she cut them loose and quickly saddled her own which she mounted in haste. She didn't bother to place Jonqi in the cradle. She just tied her in front of her to the broad boy's belt, even as she urged the horse forward. Once she'd secured Jonqi, she grasped the reins, held the horse back until she felt they were out of earshot, then dug her spurred boots to the horse's flanks. It galloped.
Soji had monitored their progress very carefully and knew she now had to follow due northeast to reach the base of the mountain chain that frowned so menacingly above her. It separated the Sinhalien from the rest of the south and looked formidable. She could see the mountains close and outlined against the light of a clear night sky. She kept them in her line of sight.
Where possible she kept off main routes and took cuts through fields and copses whenever she could. She'd left camp before mid of night, so guessed she had a good four or five hours on the warriors. With luck, she hoped they'd rest longer. Soji felt gorge rise when she thought about her probable punishment. It made her grip her knife resolutely, deciding, then and there, that she'd cut Jonqi's throat, then her own, before anyone took her prisoner for Churchik execution. With this comforting thought she gripped her lower lip between her teeth and urged the horse to go faster.
Daylight didn't come early at this time of the cycle, so that was a blessing for Soji who thought she had a good half day's ride to reach the base of the mountains. She couldn't skirt them, because they sprawled in a long chain and that was what she thought the Churchik would expect her to do. She knew they'd be alerted soon and patrols would watch for her, though they'd expect and look for a girl rather than a boy. From a distance that would be her only advantage. She'd no alternative but to tackle the mountains themselves and was conscious she might well not survive that, but somehow, that seemed less of a terror than having to hand Jonqi over to the sorcerer. At least she and the child would be dead. Soji shivered constantly as she rode.
When daylight broke, Soji took a quick break, rubbed down her horse, watered it and gave it feed. She also cut the cradle loose. She dealt with Jonqi, who'd not uttered a sound since they left camp. Soji made sure Jonqi was properly cared for and the horse rested before she began the ride again. She ate little, conscious she had to conserve what little food she'd managed to find for Jonqi to eat in the mountains. Every so often, Soji anxiously paused to look back, but she saw no one. This was a relief because land opened up and became barren as she approached the foothills in a way that made her feel exposed and vulnerable.
Whether she knew it or not, and that was highly unlikely, she followed the same route Lodestok took so many cycles ago when he first contacted the Sinhalien. His ride over the mountains, though, was further to the northeast. Soji rode directly north. By late afternoon Soji reached the base of the mountains and her heart quailed at how forbidding they looked. There was a rocky defile about half a mile in front of her that didn't look as if it'd been used for a long time. Taking a deep breath, Soji urged her horse forward and cantered towards it. Just as she reached it, she looked back and gave a small inarticulate cry of fear. Instinctively, using her enhanced sight, she clearly made out a squad of Churchik warriors who moved towards her with alarming speed. She saw there were six riders and guessed, with a sinking heart, they made up an execution squad. She could tell they closed fast. Her father's warriors hadn't wasted time organising it.
Refusing to be defeated she set her mount to climb the defile, the horse having to pick its way over and round rubble. It was difficult enough in daylight, but with fading light Soji had to slow the horse even more. Several miles up she turned, to see the warriors mill at the base - they didn't hesitate, first one then another entering in single file. She gave a sob, clenched her teeth and resolutely kept going. She was so busy guiding her horse that she gave a yelp of fright when she found herself confronted by four men, the like of whom she'd never seen before. They were tall and slender and wore skullcaps on their heads. Soji thought that under these she could discern white cropped hair, then decided that stress was making her fanciful. Their features were fine, and their eyes, uniformly gray and slightly slanted, were unblinkingly hostile. Their olive skins had an odd glow about them in the fading light, their stance was ominously still and quiet, and their bows, held in narrow long fingers, were drawn back taut, each arrow aimed at her.
Soji was too startled to do anything other than try to quiet a plunging, agitated horse. It was then that Jonqi surprised Soji by giving a plaintive, faint whimper and immediately there was movement among the men who faced her, one of them taking his hand from his bow as he walked forward. Nervously Soji looked down at him when he reached her side, and then she glanced back over her shoulder, acutely aware of pursuit. The steppeman put up his hands. He quickly untied the bundled child, his strong arms lifting her down. Long fingers gently pulled back the fur so the steppeman could look into the child's face, he gave a long, inward-hissing breath and then took a step back, the child clasped firmly to him.
Soji put out her hand, saying hesitantly, "Please, I am being chased. The child and I need help." The steppeman stared up at her, his eyes as emotionless as Luton's. Soji felt a stab of fear.
"You, boy, go! They are your people. Go to them!" He went to turn away, but Soji's words, though Churchik, made him pause because he understood them.
"I cannot," she whispered huskily, tears suddenly chasing themselves down her cheeks.
"Why not? We'll save the child, but not you."
"They will kill me."
"So? They kill everyone. What makes you any different? They're your kind."
"She is my child." Soji coughed. "I killed a warrior to get her to safety."
"She is safe with us." There was a long pause. "How can the child be yours? You're merely a boy."
"No I am not," murmured Soji, slipping exhausted from the saddle. She realised she'd made herself vulnerable to men she'd no way of understanding, and thought wearily that if they wished to rape then kill her, she simply didn't care. Anything would be preferable to the execution that awaited her. She shivered. "I am a girl," she added with an effort, standing next to her horse. Her legs threatened to give way. There was a silence that made her tremble. Finally, when her legs would no longer support her, Soji sank quietly to the trail and buried her head in her hands, only lifting her head when she heard Jonqi whimper again. Eyes that looked up at the steppeman were despairing and he clearly saw utter exhaustion and dread etched on the thin, white face. He stared down at her pensively. "Take her," mumbled Soji, with a helpless shrug, "but do not, I beg you, allow them to take her to Blach at the Keep. Promise me that!" She heard the sharp hiss of breath again. Her eyes briefly closed, until she heard the sound of approaching horses. "Ah the gods spare me," she gasped, her face like parchment. The steppemen gathered about her.
"What'll they do to you, boy?" asked a harsh voice above her. The steppeman closest to her, and holding Jonqi, watched Soji firmly grip her knife hilt.
"For killing a warrior?" Soji drew the knife. "They will tear me apart. That is how they execute those who are traitors." Soji struggled to her feet. Her face, the steppeman noticed, was set in grim lines of determination and he could see she was well able to use the knife. "Leave me!" she whispered fiercely, knife raised and ready. "Just take Jonqi to safety."
At that moment, Jonqi began to wail disconsolately. Soji felt her wrist grasped so the knife fell to the ground, then, when she leaned forward to pick it
up, she was roughly jerked to her feet, before being flung face down on her horse. She lay still, aware the horse was led at some speed. She heard shouting and curses not far distant, but heard little else because a hand yanked back her head, pressed on her left temple and she lost consciousness.
~~~
The season following his visit to Chika seemed to pass more slowly than any other for Luton since he arrived at the Keep. Blach drove him relentlessly. His persecution and malice was never-ending. The master, who was mocking but disinterested for cycles, was now diabolical. Spiteful and barbed criticism made Luton grit his teeth as he tried to do better and go faster. Blach was pitiless. His demands were cruel and unreasonable. The punishments he meted out to his slave were wickedly vicious, even barbaric.
Drained and wan, Luton took them and simply crouched at his desk. At times, his body was wracked with shudders, until Blach judged his slave had endured enough and Luton was allowed to be insensible again. Blach's temper bouts increased in frequency and intensity, and, as Luton sat at his work, hunched, there was nothing his slave could do to defend himself, bait as he was for the sorcerer's rages. Watching his mutes writhe as he hurt them was one of Blach's favourite occupations and he also enjoyed seeing Luton sentient for the awareness of pain.
Luton became as wafer-thin as he was on the slave caravan, his face pinched and sallow. The whites of his eyes were an unhealthy yellow, he looked a shadow when he moved and his eyes were implacably obsidian and utterly lifeless. The gloss on his hair was gone. His locks hung lankly about him. Blach's lack of compassion or forbearance showed in the figure that seemed to fade by the day. Nor did he heal from some of his master's nastier attacks. Luton asked for nothing as he learned. What he studied he saw as his salvation and all that enabled him to survive the cruelty. He clung to life with stubborn tenacity. He didn't question his master's changed attitude, because he knew he was a slave who'd work at that master's bidding until he took his last breath.
What enraged Blach was the continued reports from the north. Certainly the warlord advanced across Ambros at a satisfactory rate and there was as yet no organised resistance, but Blach hadn't forgotten that Lokar died, nor that his henchmen hadn't reported back to the Keep, but instead went further west after a boy. Nor had the sorcerer forgotten how Myme Chlo disappeared from under Lodestok's nose. Blach needed and wanted her. It sent him into a fury when he thought of her escape. He wanted Myme Chlo and he was determined to have her, the thought of her making his brain seethe.