“At first they tried carrying him, but the weight was too much. So they put him down and, with what little help he could give them, got most of his armor off. Then they half carried and half dragged him into the forest and over a hill and into a little cave—really, just a deep rock overhang.”
Komees Hari spun a good tale. Aldora, the nahkhahrah, Senior Strahteegos Hahfos Djohnz, everyone within hearing, sat rapt. And Milo remembered the long centuries on the Sea of Grass, when Daiviz bards had been renowned as the best and most creative storytellers.
The inheritor of that ancient art continued. “Now, Raikuh’s been soldiering most of his life, and he’s near my own age, so he knows what death wounds look like and he knew he had at least two of them, knew that he’d not last the night. So when the older woman—the one what had faced down the barbarians—gave him something to drink, he figured it would be near his last drink.
“My lord, Raikuh swears his Sword Oath on what Fm going to tell you now, and he’s not a man to lie on his Sword. When he woke up, the Sun was shining and he not only wasnt dead, he wasn’t even in very much pain! Somehow, my lord, that older woman—he’s pretty sure it was her, since the other’s but a girl and seems the elder’s helper—had got two iron dartpoints out of Raikuh’s vitals, while he slept, and had sewn up the flesh with sheepgut as neatly, I trow, as could any Zahrtohguhn physician.”
The High Lord nodded. “The Confederation owes those women a debt of gratitude. Captain Raikuh is a valuable officer and has served us well. I take it, Komees Hari, that those are the ones who rode in with your group. How did you come across them?”
“According to that damned map, my lord, we were too far west to hit the village where Duke Bili’d said we were to meet you if we headed straight north, so we backtracked down the trail we’d advanced up. We’d come up at a pretty fair rate of march, with point and flanks scouted by the cats. Well, all the cats went with Bili, so we marched slower and more careful coming back, and Sir Geros came across Raikuh’s armor and recognized it, since the two of them had been good friends for near on a year.
“When he reported his find to me, I knew the savages hadn’t gotten him, for they never leave hardly a scrap of anything except dead bodies on a field they win. So I fanned out parties to both flanks and we started looking for his corpse. A squad of Maidens stumbled onto the cave and explained the situation to the two women. And, my lord, that was that.”
“What has the nahkhahrah to say on this matter?” the High Lord inquired politely.
“There are a few wise women among the Ahrmehnee, Lord Milo,” Kohg had replied. “Never very many in any one generation. Since they conduct mostly women’s rites, few men know much concerning them. Few of these wise women ever marry, so they choose a girl from among whatever tribe they serve” and train her to their craft. Though the wise women instruct midwives and tribal healers, they seldom perform such work themselves. Nonetheless, I have heard of some quite remarkable cures certain of them have wrought, over the years. It is said that they have the power to literally thrust their hands through flesh, without breaking the skin or drawing any blood, and remove tumors or foreign objects from the body. Understand me, Lord Milo, I’ve never seen it done, but I know that it has been done.”
Milo and Aldora exchanged a glance, then he addressed Komees Hari. “I’d like to meet this wise woman, Hari. Have her sent for.”
The old nobleman smiled. “I thought my lord might She awaits his pleasure in the next chamber.”
Milo guessed the age of the woman Hari ushered in at something under forty. He thought, too, that she must have been a raving beauty at twenty; even now, she was a handsome, high-breasted creature. Nor did she appear abashed in this august gathering. She strode gracefully at Hari’s side, seemingly oblivious of her rumpled, travel-stained garments, the ghost of a smile rugging at her full, dark-red lips. Her black eyes locked briefly with the nahkhahrah’s and Milo saw the old man start as if stabbed, but neither spoke and Milo felt it impolitic to pry.
Then her sloe-black gaze met Milo’s and he found her mindspeak as powerful as his own. “Zehpoor greets you, Ageless One. I am glad that the Ahrmehnee are no longer your enemies. But, friend or foe, I can tell you nothing of my Powers or of how they be wrought For this be woman’s magic, not men’s, and it is not Our Lady’s will that I betray my Sacred Vows to Her … at least not those Vows regarding healing.”
“I respect both your oaths and your silence, my lady,” beamed Milo. “But—”
The smile fully flowered as she silently interrupted. “But still are you rabid for more knowledge of my Powers, Milo of Morai. It is our Lady’s will that you shall have that knowledge—all that knowledge—but not of my revealing, not directly. The Lady Mara, that lovely, Ageless Ehleen woman you consider wife, will receive of me and transmit to you, since she is not Avowed.
“You will do much of good with that knowledge, both in this land and in that land to which you will, one day, lead the distant descendants of those who now serve you.”
A strong shudder coursed through Milo’s every fiber and he felt an icy prickling on his nerve ends. Aldora had been receiving as well, and now she mindspoke him.
“Yes, Milo, I feel it too. That eerieness, it… it’s as if dear old Blind Hari of Krooguh were speaking through her lips.” Then she beamed to the woman, saying, “When did you scan our futures, my lady, and why?”
Zehpoor answered readily. “No shade of a sightless Man of Powers speaks through me, Ageless Lady, nor did I purposely scan your futures. Rather did Our Lady reveal to me the future of the girl, Pehroosz, whom She led to my keeping. The threads of that future and of the futures of her children’s children’s children are closely tied to those of you Ageless Ones.” She paused, then added, “But of these things, too, Milo of Morai, you will know when it is Her will that you know.”
Milo’s lips smiled thinly and fleetingly. “All right, Lady Zehpoor, I’ll await the pleasure of your goddess on the bulk of these matters, but at least show me how you, a lone and unarmed female, managed to scare the wits out of the Muhkohee. According to the nahkhahrah, here, their ilk doesn’t take fright easily.”
Though Drehkos’s mindspeak was daily strengthening, it still was not on a par with those deathless two who had used it for hundreds of years, nor was it a match for that of the gifted Zehpoor, therefore he had received only bits and pieces of the silent exchanges and was utterly unprepared for what followed.
The lissome figure of the drably clad woman wavered before her audience. Then, all in the blinking of an eye, she was replaced by the awesome form of a monstrous bear, looming threateningly over Komees Hari, who was momentarily petrified with shock. Huge and horrible, black as nightmare, the sow bear stood on hind legs thick as treetrunks. Yellowish fangs gnashed and baleful red eyes flashed pure, blood-lusting menace from that gigantic head which brushed the very ridgepole—more than twelve feet above the floor. The apparition shuffled slowly forward, the long, needle-tipped claws of the forepaws lowering relentlessly toward Hari.
On the other side of the table, only the nahkhahrah had remained in his chair. Even Milo and Aldora, who had been expecting something of the sort, found themselves on their feet, steel bared, standing crouched to receive the attack.
But not so Drehkos! He was up and over the table, both sword and dirk out. His shoulder struck his brother with force, knocking him prone. “Get under the table, Hari!” he snapped. “It can’t really harm me, but it can kill you.” Then he sent the heavy dirk spinning straight for one of those satanic eyes, ducked under the threatening forepaws, and—