Page 48 of Humans Don't Have Horns
I almost gasp in shock, which she notices immediately and starts to giggle. Not to laugh, to giggle. What am I getting myself into? This is not how negotiations should go. She is not supposed to agree to the first demand.
“For Kozaries to give up their gold, isn’t that blasphemy?” I ask gingerly.
She stops giggling at once. Her voice is full of determination now. “Gold is for beauty. It brings peace and joy to the heart. This cruel weapon does none of these things. It is blasphemy to trap souls intogold, regardless of their race. Ashar strayed out of Kozari’s ways in the most hideous manner.” Her voice suddenly cracks, for the first time, but she quickly gathers herself. “He sought power like an Aldonian and immortality like a Renyan. But our wealth is not based on war, like Aldon’s. It is not based on lies like the Renyan wealth. We were chosen by Sun to extract from the earth, and Kozari soil is rich in gold and other resources. We have no need to look for other lands or people to extract from. As long as we are on the throne, Sun will be worshipped in the Kozari ways, and there will be no blasphemy in Kozari.”
I realize now that I gave her the excuse she needed to stop what she perceives as an abomination. I can’t help but feel respect for this young queen. Not only does she manage to lead men in a land that treats women like ornaments at best, but she also dares to send them to war, take their most valuable weapon away, and defy Aldon.
I’m not sure if she is brave or a fanatic. Maybe both. But she is right. I can use a friend like her. All women can.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lian
Siean sent me a message that she had arranged a meeting for her and me with our brother Nikanor. He will not come to the Mongan camp, but he did agree to meet in a neutral spot near the River of Tears. The meeting point is only half a day’s ride, and meeting with Nikanor is not something I can pass up.
Siean’s messenger brought us three horses, a gift from the Queen of Renya, the Generous Queen, he called her. Truly the Renyans’ heads can be so far up their own asses sometimes that it’s remarkable they manage to breathe fresh air at all.
Shana brings me a Mongan warrior uniform. I won’t ride on a sidesaddle, so that’s the most fitting outfit. “Let me paint your lips,” she pleads.
I can’t help but laugh at her whiny tone. “That is the worst thing you could do while going to meet Aldonian men.”
“Exactly,” she agrees. “It will piss them off.”
“Maybe next time,” I snicker while adjusting the leather straps of the shirt. Yeah, wearing a Mongan outfit to such a meeting is also not the best. But I refuse to wear the Renyan gown my sister sent.
In the past few days, Shana and Kala have become good friends of mine. They both take after Bahar with their jovial natures. It’s impressiveand inspiring, really, the ability to be full of mirth when there are so many reasons not to be. But while Kala and Shana share a nature and look as only twins can, I’ve come to learn they are extremely different.
Kala likes to joke around, but she is fierce and assertive. She’s a respected warrior and natural leader. Shana is sweet and funny, and while she’s very lively and even loud, she becomes extremely shy in the presence of Mongans outside her circle. She’s never been shy with me, and I suspect it is mainly because she was too distracted by how strange she found me. Now I think she’s just gotten used to me.
“Why don’t you ever wear uniforms yourself?” I ask her as she starts braiding my hair. I think hair and clothes are her greatest passions. Making things beautiful. Her own hair is always carefully styled. Today her black hair is all braided to her left side, revealing the wooden earrings on her right earlobe.
“I can’t fight. I faint at the sight of blood. It’s awful, Lian. I can’t even serve the Goddess because so many of the rituals involve blood,” she says in dismay.
“A Mongan who faints at the sight of blood. That’s almost like a Kozari being allergic to gold,” I muse, and she huffs a laugh.
“It is.”
“You shine so brightly in other ways. You know that, right?”
But she only gives me a rueful smile. Then she busies herself with braiding my hair into a crown. “The Cursed Queen.” She gives me an impish smile, thinking herself witty when she’s done. I shake my head at her but don’t bother with a reply.
Emek and Daton enter my tent. As usual, Emek doesn’t bother with small talk. “Why wouldn’t he come here like Siean and Dahav?” she asks warily. I can feel Daton’s eyes on me, but his face gives away nothing. I’ve been aloof since the night I arrived at camp, and now he is always tense and guarded around me.
“He’s Aldonian and not yet king. It’s complicated,” I say. I can’t help but chew my bottom lip. A jittery reflex Daton’s nearness triggers in me these days.
His eyes darken. “Especially if he thinks we’re contaminated,” hegrowls. He probably does think that. After all, he spent his entire life as a follower of the True Religion.
I sigh, “I haven’t spoken to him in twelve years. I don’t know what he thinks. But he also hasn’t spoken to me in twelve years, and mistrust is natural.”
“I’m coming with you,” he states. It’s not a request, it’s an order from a warlord.
“That’s not a good idea” I tell him, shaking my head. It’s impossible to miss how apprehensive his presence makes the Puresouls. But that’s not why I don’t want him there.
“I’m going,” he insists at my reluctance. “The area is full of Aldonian soldiers, and the demichads attack more every day.”
“Fine, you and Niska can come with me to the neutral camp,” I reply. He looks surprised at my consent or that I mentioned her, but there is no way I’m going with him alone. I barely manage to stand with him in the tent with Emek and Shana without having my heart trip over itself.
***
