Chapter 73

It was about an hour past noon when Evanis and Zaya crossed a shallow brook. Many women stood at the river banks, refilling their water supplies. Many more people had taken a rest in the vicinity to eat their mid-day meals. The two dismounted to let the stallion take a little rest and drink as well.

“There,” Zaya said, pointing at several canopies a short ways north-west of the brook. Numerous women and children bustled about and a herd of packhorses was grazing nearby. “That’s my family.”

“Your family?” Evanis asked. “You told me about seventeen concubines, eighteen brothers, and twenty-one sisters, but there have to be close to two-hundred people milling about.”

Zaya shrugged. “A few of my brothers are older. They have concubines and children of their own. I also have two uncles with concubines and many cousins. They all are family, too.”

“No aunts or older sisters?”

“Of course I have aunts and older sisters but most of them are no longer a part of my family. They belong to the families of the men who have chosen them as their concubines.”

Evanis snorted. “I get it. For the Yorak, men are everything and women are nothing.”

“Not quite,” Zaya amended. “Warriors are everything for the Yorak. Admittedly, that’s not a big difference since every man is a warrior and women can’t be warriors.”

“I am a warrior,” Evanis stated.

“Yes, you are,” Zaya replied. “Nevertheless, I doubt there are any men of the Yorak who’d want to become your concubines.”

Evanis’ gaze traveled all over Zaya’s body before it returned to her face. “Who said I want men?”

Zaya grinned. “I’d love to see my father’s face when you offer him my bride price.”

“You think I’m joking?”

Zaya looked Evanis straight in the eyes. “I’m almost nineteen and that’s embarrassingly old for a Yorak woman to be still unattached, but all my other unattached sisters are more beautiful and smarter than me. So, it was difficult for my father to find a man who agreed to take me as his concubine. The man he found was a simple warrior of another tribe. He was neither famous nor wealthy, almost as old as my father and had three other concubines who would’ve ranked higher than me. Then, two cycles ago, as I was getting ready to travel to my new home and master, the Alsani approached my father. She told him I couldn’t become the concubine of that man because she needed me to please a god. Like any man of the Yorak, my father isn’t fond of the Alsani. He laughed and refused her demand. A few days later the western crows returned and my father received a message. The man who wanted me as his concubine was killed during a hunt by a sabertooth.”

“Killed by a sabertooth?” Evanis interrupted. “Seriously? I thought those beasts were a myth.”

“No,” Zaya answered. “My father owns the skeleton skull of a sabertooth. It’s as big as the skull of a buffalo bull and the fangs are as long as a man’s forearm. It’s one of his most treasured family heirlooms. So they are not a myth but the last time anyone sighted a living sabertooth was more than a century ago.”

“Damn,” Evanis said. “Compared to plagues, erupting volcanoes, or dragons, getting someone killed by a sabertooth almost seems subtle but I’d still like to see a living, big-ass sabertooth in action.”

Zaya’s eyes widened. “Dragons?”

Evanis shrugged. “Yeah, but the big one is dead and her babies are still small.”

“That’s good to know ... I guess. However, the sabertooth accident wasn’t too subtle for my father. He understood the message. So he released me to serve the Alsani and the Alsani wants me to become one of her god’s concubines.”

“And what do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“It matters to me,” Evanis said. “Do you want to become Jabbit’s concubine?”

“Will you cut off my head if I say yes?”

The green of Evanis’ eyes turned into a lighter shade. “I’ll cut your head off if you don’t answer my question,” she said. The new shade was colder.

“Yes,” Zaya calmly stated. “I want to be his concubine – either his or yours. Would that even make a difference?”

Evanis heard the answer but the soft touch of a hand on her arm distracted her. The hand belonged to a girl of about ten years old, and in her other hand, she held an apple. Two more children stood behind the girl. One of them another girl, a bit younger and clasping some turnips to her chest. The other was a little boy with an orange in his hand. The expression on the faces of the children was a mixture of hope and fear. Evanis looked around. They were surrounded by children and every one of them held some fruits or vegetables in their hands. A few older girls had horse brushes.

“Can we feed Sekanju, please?” the brave girl in the lead asked.

“Sekanju?” Evanis asked, surprised.

“They believe your stallion is Sekanju, the god of horses,” Zaya stage whispered.

Evanis didn’t need to answer the girl. She was pushed aside by the massive chest of the stallion as he stepped toward the children and their tasty offerings.

“Of course,” Evanis muttered as she watched the children worshipping her horse. “I’m a mere demoness but my horse is a god.”

“Let the children take care of your stallion,” Zaya suggested. “Meanwhile I’ll introduce you to my family and then we’ll find you some riding gear.”

They turned to leave but a new arrival intercepted them. It was a girl in her late teens and apparently, she didn’t carry any offerings ... other than herself. Tall and slender, a pretty face with dark, almond eyes and her long black hair was shining in the midday sun, Evanis appreciated as she eyed the girl thoroughly.

“Zaya,” the girl greeted with a short nod before casting a long, inquisitive look at Evanis as well.

“This is Beril,” Zaya introduced her before smacking the girl on the ear. “The most impolite of my younger sisters.”

“Auww! That hurt,” the girl complained, rubbing her ear and glaring at Zaya. “Why did you hit me?”

“You know why,” Zaya hissed.

Beril lowered her gaze. “But she looked at me, too.”

Zaya smirked. “I know - but I’m too scared of Evanis to smack her on the ear.”

Beril looked up through her lashes and smiled at Evanis. “The Bayani sent me. She wants to see you and your guest.”

“That’s right,” Zaya snapped. “She’s my guest, not yours. Now stop making eyes at her and scoot.”

Evanis watched the giggling girl running off. “So this was one of your more beautiful and smarter sisters?”

Zaya sighed. “Yes. Beril is seventeen, a bit wild but a sweetheart and also unattached.”

“And she’s attracted to women?”

“When our men will look at you, they’ll see a woman,” Zaya answered with a rueful smile. “Beril came here and saw your horse, your weapons and your armor. She doesn’t care if you’re a man or a woman. She saw a warrior.”

“Was that the reason you hit her?”

“No, I slapped her because she was poaching,” Zaya replied, imperiously. “As I said, you are my guest. Now, let’s go and meet the Bayani and don’t expect to be wooed by her as well.”

Zaya strode off and Evanis followed her with a grin on her face.

When they reached the group of canopies, Zaya headed directly toward the largest in the center. The women they passed on their way paid them no attention. Only one of the youngest was unable to perfectly maintain the semblance of indifference. She cast a curious glance at Evanis but a scathing glare from one of the older women jolted her back into position.

Five women occupied the shadows of the central canopy. The ground was covered with ornate carpets and they sat on soft, plush pillows. Although only dried meat, flatbread and a few sparse fruits, the food placed in front of them were arranged on silver trays. Another contrast to the ambient luxury was the women themselves. They were dressed in rather plain, mostly leather garments, and they all wore sturdy hiking boots.

Upon entering the space of the canopy, Zaya walked up to the woman seated in the middle and Evanis followed along. Zaya dropped to her knees and bowed her head.

“You summoned me, venerable Mother,” Zaya stated solemnly. “And here I am to honor thee, Bayani Matusha.”

The Bayani neither returned the formal greeting nor acknowledged Zaya’s presence in any form at all. Instead, arching a single eyebrow, she silently regarded Evanis.

Evanis crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’re waiting for me to fall on my knees, you’ll be waiting for a bloody long time.”

The Bayani didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Who’s the guest you brought with you, dear daughter?” she asked with a pleasantly melodic voice while maintaining her steady gaze on Evanis.

“Her name is Evanis Danjala,” Zaya answered, her gaze fixed on the floor. “The Alsani believes she is the reborn Irjankali, Goddess of Wrath.”

“Really now?” Matusha smiled at Evanis. “Are you a goddess, my dear?”

“You want to know if I’m a goddess?” Evanis asked, strolling past the kneeling Zaya. Crouching down in front of the Bayani, she snatched a dried date from a silver tray, popped it into her mouth and chewed on it while she looked the woman straight in the eyes. “Usually, I like them younger but you’re in good shape for your age and I can’t wait to see your smug little smile vanish between my thighs while you ardently lick my cunt. I’ll be your goddess.”

Matusha’s smile didn’t waver. “Zaya, dear, do you think I’ll be smiling while I lick her cunt?”

“Ah ... I ... I don’t know, Bayani,” Zaya stammered

“You didn’t taste her yet?”

Zaya blushed. “Ah ... I ... No, I didn’t, Bayani.”

“I thought the Alsani required you to serve her guests. I hope you haven’t shirked your duties.”

Evanis laughed. “You’re one tough bitch, ain’t ya?”

“I’m a Bayani of the Yorak. Our men are feared all over the world. Did you believe their women to be meek little doves?”

Evanis shrugged. “To be honest, I never thought about the Yorak all that much. That’s why I’m here; I wanted to see what I’ll have to work with.”

“You wanted to see what... , “ Matusha started but trailed off, staring past Evanis.

Evanis turned to see what had caught the Bayani’s attention.

Her stallion’s hair looked freshly combed and shiny as he pranced, his head held high, toward their canopy. A squealing gaggle of children followed him.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Evanis chuckled. “I’ll also need some riding gear for the god of horses.”

Tanju sat on the back of the buckskin mule, a wide smile on his chubby-cheeked face. Quara held the reins of the mule and Jabbit walked by her side. A few women cast curious glances at them as they passed but the sun stood low on the horizon and most were busy with setting up their tents for the night and paid them no mind. Quara hadn’t said anything for a while. The silence was fraught and getting tenser with every step she made. Finally, she spoke again.

“Your name is the only word Tanju has spoken since you healed him of his muteness. So, when the Kadi asks my son to reveal the name of his father, Tanju will tell him your name. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t heal Tanju,” Jabbit replied. “He never was mute.”

“What? ... But he never ... Not a single word,” Quara stammered. Then she spun and stared at Tanju. “Gods, what have I done to my boy,” she croaked and tears streamed down her face.

“Don’t worry about your son,” Jabbit said, grinning at Tanju. “He’s a clever boy.”