The Crippled God

‘Just kill them,’ he commanded.
    The young woman shook her head.
    Heat flushed his face. ‘We can’t waste the water on horses!’
    ‘We aren’t, Fist.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘The horses get our allotted water,’ Shelemasa said. ‘And we drink from the horses.’
    He stared, incredulous. ‘You drink their piss?’
    ‘No, Fist, we drink their blood.’
    ‘Gods below.’ Is it any wonder you all look half dead? He rubbed at his face, turned away. Speak the truth, Blistig. It’s all you have left . ‘You’ve had your cavalry charge, Khundryl,’ he said, watching a troopof heavies marching past – going the wrong way. ‘There won’t be another, so what’s the point?’
    When he turned back he saw that she had gone white. The truth. Nobody has to like it . ‘The time has come for hard words,’ he said. ‘You’re done – you’ve lost your warleader and got an old woman instead, a pregnant one at that. You haven’t got enough warriors left to scare a family of berry-pickers. She just invited you along out of pity – don’t you see that?’
    ‘That’s enough,’ snapped another voice.
    He turned to see Hanavat standing behind him. Blistig bared his teeth. ‘I’m glad you heard all that. It needed saying. Kill the damned horses. They’re useless.’
    She studied him with flat eyes. ‘Fist Blistig, while you hid behind Aren’s precious walls, the Wickans of the Seventh Army fought a battle in a valley, and in that battle they mounted a charge upslope, into a wall of the enemy. They won that battle when it seemed they could not. But how? I will tell you. Their shamans had selected a single horse, and with tears in their eyes they fed on its spirit, and when they were done that horse was dead. But the impossible had been achieved, because Coltaine expected no less.’
    ‘I hid behind a fucking wall, did I? I was the garrison commander! Where else would I be?’
    ‘The Adjunct has asked us to preserve our horses, and this we shall do, Fist, because she expects no less from us. If you must object, deliver your complaint to the Adjunct. As for you, as you are not the Fist in command of the Khundryl, I tell you now that you are no longer welcome here.’
    ‘Fine. Go ahead and choke on that blood, then. I spoke out of concern, and in return you do nothing but insult me.’
    ‘I know the reasons behind your words, Fist Blistig,’ Hanavat said levelly.
    He met her eyes unflinching, and then, shrugging, he said, ‘The slut speaks.’ He turned and left them.
    As the Fist walked away, Shelemasa drew a shaky breath and stepped close to Hanavat. ‘Mother?’
    She shook her head. ‘I am fine, Shelemasa. The fever thirst is on Fist Blistig. That and nothing more.’
    ‘He said we were done . I will not be pitied! Not by anyone! The Khundryl—’
    ‘The Adjunct believes we are still of worth, and so do I. Now, let us tend to our beasts. Do we have enough fodder?’
    Shelemasa shook herself, and then nodded. ‘More than we need, in fact.’
    ‘Good. And our water?’
    She winced.
    Hanavat sighed, and then arched her back with a groan. ‘I’m too old to think of her as my mother,’ she said, ‘and yet I do. We still breathe, Shelemasa. And we can still walk. For now, that must be enough.’
    Shelemasa stepped closer, as close as she dared to get. ‘You have borne children. You have loved a man—’
    ‘Many men, truth be told.’
    ‘I thought that, one day, I could say the same for myself. I thought I could look back and be satisfied.’
    ‘You don’t deserve to die, Shelemasa. I could not agree with you more, and so you shall not. We will do whatever must be done. We will live through this—’ She cut herself off then and Shelemasa looked up to see her staring back at the Khundryl camp. She followed the older woman’s gaze.
    Gall had appeared, and at his side stood Jastara, his eldest son’s widow. Shelemasa moved to block Hanavat from their view, and then walked over. ‘Warleader,’ she hissed, ‘how many times will you wound her?’
    The warrior seemed to have aged a dozen years since she had last seen him, but it did nothing to cool her fury. And in his unwillingness to meet her eyes she saw only cowardice.
    ‘We go to our sons this night,’ he said. ‘Tell her that. I do not mean to wound. Tonight, or the next. Soon.’
    ‘Soon,’ said Jastara, her tone harsh. ‘And I will see my husband again. I will walk at his side—’
    Shelemasa felt disgust twisting her