been threaded in among the twigs before a haphazard coating of muddy clods was slapped on top. Some had roofs made in the same fashion; others were merely enclosures with an awning of animal hide stretched over one corner.
'Do you suppose that's where the mage lived?' Naldeth looked askance at the largest building in the makeshift village. Where the other huts were irregular in height and shape, this was a precise circle. The wall was made from stakes cut from the twisted trees and planted with care to minimise the inevitable gaps between each one. The roof was considerably more substantial, thickly thatched with grasses and resting on sturdy timbers that must have been hewn from taller, straighter trees akin to the ones in the dry valley back on the other side of the river.
'They didn't run away.' Risala pointed at the two women lurking in the substantial hut's open doorway. 'What do you suppose they are going to do?'
Kheda could see no clue in their expressions beneath their coronets of plumes, gold and scarlet and orange. Closer to, he saw that their hair was caked solid with some shining red substance, vivid among the ebony heads of the rest of the savages.
'What am I supposed to do with them?' Naldeth asked uncertainly.
'For a start, make quite sure they know your magic outstrips theirs,' Kheda said firmly.
Can we keep them in check until both our wizards are fully restored? Or will I just have to kill them out of hand to be sure we're all safe?
As distaste at the prospect of carrying out such dubious executions knotted the warlord's stomach, the men and women of the ramshackle village clustered around those who had returned laden with the unexpected bounty of fresh fish and meat. They were loud with their exclamations of astonishment and pleasure.
No one seems overly concerned about the loss of their skull-faced mage.
Keeping half an eye on the waiting women, Kheda watched as children, as brown and naked as the first, ran to cut more of the thick yellowy-green leaves from the fleshy plants. They had crude knives of black stone hanging on thongs knotted around their necks. Women in sagging wraps of thin hide knelt to strip the fish from the sticks they had been carried on, gutting them efficiently with more slivers of stone. As the children brought the spiny leaves, the women slit them open and packed them with fish and whatever worms or eels or crustaceans had been dug from the river bed. Older boys hurried to bring twisted branches from stockpiles between the huts while two grey-haired warriors set about rousing the slumbering fire to a new blaze. The slabs of fowl flesh and the long scaly legs were simply propped over the flames still skewered on the spears while the women laid the stuffed spiny leaves in the embers around the edge.
'Do I just stand here?' Naldeth hissed.
'They're coming over.' Risala hadn't taken her eyes off the feather-crowned women, who were indeed reluctantly leaving the shelter of their hut.
'Go and meet them.' Kheda coughed as a shifting breeze hit him with the stench of something revolting singeing in the fire. 'Show them you're in charge.'
'I'll be right behind you,' promised Velindre quietly.
'Can you work any magic without falling over?' Naldeth coughed and strode past the communal fire. All anxious smiles, the savages bowed low as he passed them. The feather-crowned women halted to wait a few paces from their door.
Kheda realised that it was beeswax mixed with red ochre caking their hair to hold their gaudy feathers in
place. As dark-skinned as the rest of the islanders, the women both wore wraps of thin hide tied just above their breasts and reaching to the tops of their thighs. Unlike the other women, their garb was decorated with swirling patterns of beads sewn to the leather, made from polished fragments of red shell and pale-yellow bone.
A wariness in their eyes suggested they had lived hard and dangerous lives and expected nothing else. Kheda watched them closely for any more immediate clue as to what they might do but their faces were unreadable. Unable to distinguish between them, he noted that one woman boasted a necklace of strange three-lobed teeth while the other had wristlets of dark scales threaded on plaited grass. Both were young enough that their limbs were still firm and smooth and they had an air of good health.
So you 've long been used to better feeding than the majority of these impoverished wretches. I can't see how you could be carrying any weapons under those scanty wraps. Why would you need to, if you can kill with your magic?
'Can you tell if they're about to use some spell?' He slid a sideways glance at Velindre and was reassured to see the magewoman regarding the two wild women with open suspicion.
'It all depends how they've been taught to use their affinity,' mused Velindre.
Kheda drew himself up to his full height. The feather-crowned women spared him brief glances which he met with the most intimidating stare he had cultivated through all his long years as a warlord. He angled his hacking blade and his sword with slow deliberation, the polished steel still visible amid streaks of the great birds' blood and catching the sun. Every other savage stared awestruck at this mystery, though the women remained impassive. Kheda stood poised, blades just at rest as if he were waiting
to meet a challenge on the Chazen warriors' practice ground.
Like Telouet testing slaves brought for my consideration. I'm even walking two paces behind and one pace to their new master's open side.
The feather-crowned women slowly turned all their attention to Naldeth. The one with the necklace of teeth was just a little quicker than the one with the scaled wristbands in sinking to her knees, head bowed submissively. As she followed her companion's lead, the one with the scaled wristlets glanced upwards through her eyelashes while keeping her face turned dutifully to the ground.
'Get them up. No, don't offer your hand.' Kheda rebuked Naldeth swiftly as the mage reached out. 'Make it an order.'
After a breath of hesitation, Naldeth snapped his fingers, red fire blinking between his finger and thumb. Both women froze, looking up at him. Their expressions were still masks of indifference but Kheda saw a spark of anger come and go in the eyes of the one with the necklace. The one with the wristlets betrayed nothing.
Naldeth coughed and bade them rise with a sweeping gesture. They rose with fluid grace and turned to walk back into the high-roofed circular hut. Neither looked back to see if they were being followed. Naldeth hesitated again.
'On you go, Master Mage,' Kheda prompted. He stepped up behind the wizard and with Risala and Velindre following close behind, Naldeth had no choice but to go forward.
There was more light inside the gloomy hut than the warlord had expected and the gaps between the stakes making up the walls freely admitted the passing breezes, avoiding any stuffiness. The shade was welcome after the heat of the sun outside.
'How do they cut rafters like that without steel?' Risala looked up, wondering.
'Magic?' Kheda hazarded.
'Not as far as I can tell.' Velindre was looking around the hut with growing interest.
The four thick pillars that held up the roof's framework marked out a wide square. Crude panels of woven stick and grass set between pairs of pillars defined three sleeping areas where hides-were piled on heaps of dried grass. A few meagre possessions were tucked into the corners between the rough screens: little gourds, leafy twigs presumably selected for some virtue or other, and unidentifiable lumps wrapped in scraps of animal skin. In the space between these crude concessions to privacy, the earthen floor of the hut was scored with interlaced patterns. Some were mere scrapes of colour, faded and scuffed. Others were intense with fresh charcoal lines cutting through older symbols.