Mistress of Animals

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Two days later, they were still picking their way cautiously downhill, hemmed in by the rock walls of the lower pass. Every now and then Penrys got a bit of a view which helped her judge how much closer they were to the end of this trail. Last night’s heavy autumn rain had laid the trail dust, but it had taken the animals a while to shake off the chill and settle into their work this morning.

For a distraction, she picked up one of her incomplete conversations with Najud, fifty yards ahead of her.

*You expected to find this particular clan. Do they always take the same route, every year?*

*The tarizd, the migration route, is like one petal of a many-petaled flower. The base of the petal is the zudiqazd, the winter camp. From there, they travel in a big loop, never exactly the same, but planned to hit the important grazing places. In the center of the flower are the zudiqazd of all the nearby clans in that tribe, and each petal goes in a different direction.*

Penrys pictured for herself a round circle of petal-like routes surrounding the winter camps. Local geography probably interfered with the perfection of that image.

*Does it ever change?*

*Sometimes the petals blow back and forth, and the routes shift, sometimes just once, and sometimes for years. Marriages can change routes, if enough new alliances are formed with the same clans. Sometimes groups want to travel adjacent routes.*

She could almost hear the shrug in his voice.

*Things change. Nothing is constant. That’s why children learn the landmarks for the tarizd of every clan in their group. Each year, at the zudiqazd, the next year’s tarizd is planned for each clan while all those clans are together, so there will be no misunderstandings.*

Penrys wondered how they resolved conflicts about favorite grazing spots. Was there always consensus, or did some tribal leader step in?

Thinking of conflict, she again scanned the surroundings. This time, she found the mind-glows of people, not far away.

*Three men coming, and horses. Wiriqiqa-Zannib speakers.*

She felt Najud’s surprise, and then his swift evaluation. *I see a wide spot ahead. We’ll wait for them there. Tie your string to mine, then ride up and join me.*

Najud and Penrys sat their stolen Rasesni mares side-by-side at the upper end of a wide spot in the trail, he on his Zannib saddle, with its minimal structure, and she on the Kigali cattle-herding one, with its heavy leather construction and the prominent horn, the horn that had been so helpful while her hand was useless.

Penrys took her hat off and ran her fingers through her hair before resettling it, and Najud took a moment to make sure his turban was straight and tidy.

The low murmur of voices and the clatter of hooves heralded the appearance of the strangers before they could see them, but then one of Najud’s pack animals stamped his foot and the voices stopped. Only one animal continued forward, judging by the sound, and then a rider appeared, in Zannib robes and turban on a horse in light Zannib tack. The young man inspected the two of them waiting and the first horses in Najud’s string, and made a brief bow from the saddle.

He called back over his shoulder. “Strangers, traveling.”

He pulled forward and off to the side to make room for his companions.

These were the first Zannib Penrys had seen, besides Najud and the illustrations in the books she’d read in the Collegium. She couldn’t tell if they shared the same dark curls under their turbans, but their faces all had a broad resemblance to Najud’s. It was hard to be sure, but she thought they were all younger.

They were armed, each of them, with a long curved sword slung from their saddles under their left leg.

The second one to arrive rode a few steps forward and bowed his head. “Greetings, tulqaj. I am Jirkat, son of Mishajmarzuwi of clan Kurighdunaq, and these are my clan-kin.”

Najud returned the bow. “I’m Najud, son of Ilsahr of clan Zamjilah.”

Jirkat said, “I’ve heard of you. Isn’t your mother Kazrsulj, the sister of Qizrahi, and you therefore the cousin of some of my clan?”

When Najud nodded, Jirkat continued. “Your stock-lines do well with us. I hope she left your family some few animals to get by on.” He grinned briefly at Najud, and now Penrys was sure he was a few years younger.

“You’ve retaken your name, I see. You are now a jarghal?”

“It is so. I’ve completed my nayith and am returning home to Zamjilah. This is my bikrajti companion, Penrys, lately of Ellech.”

Eyebrows on all three faces raised at the mention of the distant country, and Penrys could feel their eyes noting the foreign look of her.

Najud urged his horse forward a step. “I bring you bad news of clan-kin, from up the trail.”

Jirkat said, “That’s who we’re looking for. Are they on the trail above, or perhaps in Neshilik? Living or dead?”

“We found no one on the trail, living or dead, and they haven’t been seen in Jaunor. But we found their belongings, and what we found we’ve brought with us.”

He gestured at the trail behind them, at the string of animals that continued out of their sight.

“What we found disturbed us greatly. We’d like to tell you about it and return what we found to their clan-kin.”

Jirkat nodded. “We’ve made a camp at the foot of the trail, those of us on the search. Come guest with us and tell us your tale.”

When the trail finally widened and the grassland sloped down before them, Penrys took several deep breaths as though her lungs had been stifled from the enclosed journey of the last few days.

Her vision was still restricted directly to east and west by the encircling ranges that sheltered this spot, but spread out before her the grass rolled unrestricted to the horizon.

It was different from the valley of the Mother of Rivers. This landscape was drier, providing no promise of an immense river lurking just beyond some fold of land, and the grasses were not the same variety. They waved in dull yellows swaths, reflecting the waning of the year.

Further out in the cove were three of the round tents Najud had described to her, what he called kazr. All three were small, more for travel then longer-term dwelling, but they looked cozier than the tent the two of them were using, with their wrappings of felt and their decorated canvas covers, and the gaily painted wooden doors. They were arranged in a small circle, their doorways facing inward.

Beyond them were small herds of all sorts—horses, sheep, cattle, and even a few goats, and the four mounted herdsmen keeping watch over them broke away from their duty to ride into the camp to greet their returning kinsmen and the guests. One older woman opened the wooden-framed door of her kazr and stepped out to join them, her black and curly hair pulled into a horsetail by a colorful scarf.

Penrys scanned the area and found no one else. As they got close enough for the others to see their faces, she felt the wave of disappointment wash through the camp.

We’re not who they wanted to see.

Najud stopped outside the circle and waited for everyone to arrive, and Penrys attached her string to the end of his and moved her horse up to join him.

She looked them over, and her heart sank.

They’re so young, they make me feel elderly.

Except for the woman on foot, Jirkat was the oldest one there, and he was clearly a few years younger than Najud. He and his two companions were the oldest of the men, perhaps twenty years old. The herdsmen were two younger men and a woman three or four years younger, and a girl of maybe ten. Penrys pegged the woman on foot as the mother of the girl.

Jirkat addressed the gathering. “Our people were not on the High Pass trail. These bikrajab have just come through there from Jaunor, and they say they have bad news for us. I know of this bikraj—he is cousin to our clan, sister-son to Qizrahi, whom you all know.”

The woman stepped up and bowed to both of them. She was dressed like the men in breeches. Her low embroidered boots with upturned toes and her boiled wool overrobes blocked the chill air.

“Be welcome to this camp, bikrajab, and accept our poor hospitality. We have no kazr large enough to guest us all, but please dismount and share our food, while we water your animals. We’re desperate to hear of our kin.”

Najud bowed low in his saddle to her, and Penrys took her cue from him, dismounting when he did.

The woman waved the girl and young woman to their horses, and they took them in charge, leaning from their mounts to seize the reins, and taking the pack string with them. Penrys watched them lead the animals to the spring on the west edge of the camp. Najud paid no attention—this must be a customary form of hospitality, and he seemed content to let it take its course.

The riders who brought them also dismounted, and handed their reins to the two younger men who took them along after the others to the spring.

The woman ducked back into her kazr and carried out an armful of small rugs which she laid on the grass on top of pieces of canvas, and gestured for them to sit. Penrys took the rug next to Najud when he folded his legs with dignity and sat down.

The woman returned with wicker baskets that held cheeses and small, freshly-baked, flatbreads, and her third trip produced an iron kettle and three stoneware cups. The odor of steaming bunnas filled the air.

Najud eyed Penrys. *Pretend you like bunnas. This is a matter of hospitality.*

She nodded silently.

The woman called, “Jirkat, if you will bring cups for your companions, there’s enough for everyone.”

“Thank you, lijti.” Jirkat hooked a thumb at one of his friends who bent through the doorway of another kazr to fetch cups for the three of them.

The woman lowered herself carefully to her chosen rug, and urged the food upon her guests.

Najud tore off a piece of flatbread for both of them and used his belt knife to cut slices off the cheese, then handed Penrys her portion. At the woman’s urging, they began to eat, and the woman joined them. Cups having appeared for Jirkat and his friends, soon all four of their hosts were sharing the meal.

Doesn’t seem right not to offer some of our own trail food in exchange, but there must be rules about this I’ll have to learn.

The cheese was soft and crumbly, with a distinct tang to it, and the flatbread did double duty as a plate.

By this time, the four younger folk had returned. They picked up rugs and made seats in an outer ring around the six older people. One of the boys and the young woman sat together.

Najud emphatically brushed the crumbs from his clothes onto the grass beyond the rug, and placed his cup on the ground before him.

Jirkat took this as his cue. “This is Hadishti,” he said, nodding at the woman. “She left our taridiqa at the summer encampment to take her elder son to begin his work as a nal-jarghal, an apprentice, to the jarghal Anitqizat, about a hundred miles east of the summer camp. She brought her younger son, Dimghuy, and her daughter Sharma with her, and they stayed for a little while before she returned, hoping to meet the taridiqa at the autumn camp. When she crossed the route between the summer and autumn camps, the one that was planned, she found no trace of them and turned back toward the summer encampment to see why they were delayed.”

He used a stick to draw a map on the trodden ground, showing where they were, the summer encampment to their south, and the autumn camp south and west of that.

Hadishti and her children, the girl and the younger boy, nodded to attest to the accuracy of this account.

Jirkat pointed to his map and drew a line far to the west from the summer encampment, then he gestured to his companions.

“These two are my brother, Khashghuy, and our friend, Ilzay. We were sent from the summer encampment by Umzakhilin, our zarawinnaj, the leader of our taridiqa, to bring back a full load of shaimur, dried fish, for our winter food, all the way to Shimiz, in the west, five hundred miles and back. Our clan has taken to bypassing the caravans and going directly, but this is the first time we have done so in three years.”

Must have been an honor for one so young to be entrusted with this responsibility.

“As the lijti did, so we expected to find our people in the autumn camp, and we, too, crossed the route without seeing signs of travel, and turned north in the direction of the summer encampment to find out why.”

Jirkat paused to sip his cooling bunnas. He nodded at the boy and girl sitting together. “These are Winnajhubr and his sister Yuknaj. They left the summer encampment to visit with our neighbor clan Akshullah, just to the east. When they decided to return, they, too, headed for the route to the autumn camp, on the way to the camp itself. They met Hadishti along the way and joined together, and we found them all moving north along the unused route, headed for the summer camp.”

Najud asked, “And did you find the summer encampment, and were they there?”

“No, bikraj. The camp was there, every kazr in place, but no people. No one had been there for a while. It’s hard to say for how long, but some of the kazrab had begun to sag. Some of their possessions were intact, but not all. When we searched the kazrab that were our family’s homes, much was disturbed and most of the food was gone.”

Khashghuy broke in. “It was the same in the other kazrab, too.”

At a glance from his older brother, he looked down, abashed, and Jirkat continued.

“We looked for the herds, of course. We could see where they’d been, but the trail was one or two months old. We found some strays, but not the rest.” He gestured around them at the miscellaneous animals.

“I thought to see if they had taken the High Pass for some reason, though no trail led there, since we were close enough that it wouldn’t cost us much time to be sure. The others agreed, and I brought us here from the summer camp.”

It sounded to Penrys as if he were relieved to have described the problem to someone older who might know what to do.

Najud listened impassively to the account.

“I assume you searched for any trail of horses or people on foot leaving the camp, in any direction.” he said.

“Of course, bikraj, but much time had passed. The trail of the herds should still be visible, but people—perhaps not.”

Najud nodded to himself as if he had expected the answer.

“Thank you for your report, lij. It was clear and detailed, despite its alarming nature.”

Penrys watched Jirkat sit up straighter in response to the praise from an older man.

Well-handled, Naj-sha.

“I’ll tell you our story, and we’ll see how it intersects with yours,” Najud said.