*cough* Anyway, that version of the story was lost for a time, then when I found it I figured it was woefully out of date and so started a second version, which is the one you'll be seeing here. (The original version will end up in the "Childhood Writing" section.) I never finished it, and by now, IT'S out of date, too. So some time back I started a THIRD version...which is also unfinished! Yeegh. Anyway, this dates to 2002, and I know there's probably a lot that's dreadfully wrong with it. The newest version was going to be much more adult in nature, but this one should be tame, seeing as its online rating was PG-13. The story was first posted online 4/22/02 (at 10:45 AM!), so that's probably close to when it was written.
Second Version
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was originally written in college. However, I lost that version for a time, and only recovered it recently; and even without having read it again since I wrote it, I know that it had many flaws and errors. So, knowing more about the fictional Apsiu race that I've created, I decided to rewrite the story from scratch. This will be how it REALLY happened. :)
For those who haven't read Horus, the Apsiu are a warlike race with the vicious Kana and the flightless Moru slaves. The only hope a newborn Apsiu male holds out for the future is the ability to fly; barring this, he is declared a slave, and often subjected to a life of cruelty and denigration. This story is of how Antakh, a Moru slave-to-be, grew to become the leader of the Free Apsiu.
THE SHAPE MOVED swiftly yet stumblingly through the dark. It tripped over a rock, righted itself, and moved on, always casting furtive glances back over its shoulder, in the direction of the flickering flames. By now, most of the screams and shrieks had died away. Most. But they still rang in his mind. He couldn't make them go away.
He reached the outskirts of his own village under cover of darkness. Another shape moved here and he halted abruptly. A voice came from the shadows.
"Kynebu? Is it you?"
He let out his breath and stepped forward. His friend approached, carrying a dimly lit lamp and a curious look. He glanced at the bundle Kynebu carried in his arms and stopped, biting his lip.
"Ky, don't tell me you actually did it!"
Kynebu nodded. A cut was on his forehead, oozing blood into his left eye. He swiped at it and almost dropped the bundle he carried; with a wince; he caught it and clutched it to him, nodding again.
"I had to do it. I can't believe what we've done. We're no better than they are!"
"You know it had to be done, don't you? If not, they would have continued attacking us forever. They're vicious brutes. This is the...this is the only way they can learn to leave us alone." He frowned at the bundle as it moved. "Kynebu...if that's what I think it is, you have to take it back. Now, while the fire's still burning."
"No," Kynebu shot back, then lowered his voice again. "No. I can't."
"You have to! They all must die! If anyone catches you with that, what do you think they'll do? Let you keep it?"
"It's not an it. It's a he."
"This is even worse! What if it grows up to become--" He waved ominously at the dying flames. "--One of them?"
"He won't," Kynebu retorted. "He's Moru. He has wings...but he was living with the slaves. He can't fly. He would never have been Kana, even if he'd survived them."
"Take him back! You can't keep him!"
"I can't let us kill them all," Kynebu said. He took a breath, and nearly gagged on the thick scent of smoke. He shut his eyes. "Ankhu...you should have heard it. I cannot believe we allowed this to happen. I can still hear their screaming in my head...not just their warriors...but their women, and their slaves...and their children...how could we allow this? How could we slaughter them all, even those who were innocent? What wrong had their females and slaves and children done us?"
"They're all Apsiu," Ankhu said with a hard face. "They're all alike. The females bear the children who will become Kana. The slaves tend to them. They all support one another. You truly think that if they were attacking our village again, one of them would be so kind as to spare one of our children? No. They would kill us all on sight, every man, woman, and child. Just as they nearly did the past month. This is the only way we can stop them."
"By a massacre?" Kynebu cried. "We are hardly human anymore! If the only way we can fight is to become exactly like our enemy...then I no longer wish to be considered human."
"You may as well not be." Kynebu darted a glance at his friend, not believing what he'd just heard. Ankhu's look was still hard, but it softened a little bit when he saw Kynebu's eyes. "Ky...you have to take it back. What good can you do? You don't even know how to raise an Apsiu."
"I can learn. They cannot be too different, from us."
"You know that you will not be allowed back in the village," Ankhu continued. He nodded at the bundle. "They'll check it. And you. And if they find that you've spared one of the enemy...they'll kill you. You know this...don't you?"
Kynebu swallowed. He nodded.
"Yes," he whispered. "I know."
Ankhu stared at him for a moment before sighing and looking about, then waving him forward. "Come. My house. I'll prepare you a pack and some food. But then you have to promise me you'll go. It looks as if I can never convince you to rid yourself of that nuisance, put it back where it belongs."
"No," Kynebu replied. "I will not."
His friend sighed again, then waved once more and turned away. "Very well...follow. We have to hurry...and then I wish you luck, whatever in the Duat you might do next."
The bundle in Kynebu's arms shifted and murmured. The two men hurried off in the darkness, away from the flaming settlement.
An old man, who had once been an embalmer--a necessary but shunned sort--lived not too far outside the village. Kynebu had recently struck up a mild friendship with the man, after he had begun his plans of seeking to rescue an Apsiu; as such he hated the feeling he was using him, yet the old man directed him to a place where he could stay safely. No one would venture too close to the western cliffs, where lost spirits were said to dwell, forever thwarted in their attempts to reach the underworld. If Kynebu could be safe anywhere, it would be there. He would have to raise the child in the shadow of the cliffs.
He located the embalmer's old residence here and moved in, outfitting the humble house with what little he could bring from his village. Ankhu visited several times to bring him more supplies, though Kynebu sensed his reluctance, and the strain on their friendship. When he left, he doubted they would see each other again, at least on amicable terms.
And so the human Kynebu moved in under the view of the ancient tombs and set about trying to raise the Apsiu child by himself. He didn't know if he would succeed at all, only that he had to try.
Apsiu, Kynebu knew, aged at about the same rate as humans, at least until they reached early adulthood. Then they appeared to age more slowly, living up to about two to three hundred years, much longer than his own kind. He had no idea how old this one was, nor what its name--if any--had been. It--he--was merely a toddler, and a scrawny one at that; in the blackness and smoke Kynebu had reached for the only one he could find, that was still alive and wailing. As soon as he'd picked him up in his arms, the child had fallen silent, all the way back to his village. As if he had trusted Kynebu to protect him. How could such a creature be evil?
Even now the young Apsiu didn't speak. Kynebu checked him upon his awakening, feeling his limbs, his wings, checking his ears and eyes and teeth as he would a donkey's. The child never protested, but only stared at him with large dark eyes. Kynebu rather wished he would stop staring. Had he never seen a human before? It was quite possible. Moru children were kept separated from their masters, and among the crueler tribes, they rarely saw the light of day.
The tribe this one had come from had been very cruel indeed. Ankhu had lost his wife to them, when they had raided the village for the third time in the past year.
He still didn't believe that what they'd done in return had been the right thing.
He liked to think it was more than just his guilt at not having done more, that compelled him to raise the child. In any case, he could never return to his village, at least until the Apsiu was gone. Whenever Ankhu visited he urged Kynebu to dispose of him in some way--"Just leave it in the desert, certainly one of its kind will eventually come along and pick it up!"--but he refused. This was his responsibility; he was going to fulfill it.
Living at the edge of the desert was lonely, but at least he slept better than he had in months, knowing there was little chance of their being attacked, way out here. Even the Kana most often shunned the high cliffs. They were safe, for now.
He often wondered about the history of the small child--how they had known he was Moru rather than Kana, who had parented him, what his name was--but had to put all his questions off, as the child was too young to answer, and he was too ignorant to guess.
One evening, while out scrounging the sand for food and necessities, Kynebu came across the old Kana. The two of them froze immediately on spotting each other, and the Kana drew his weapon, while Kynebu held up his hands to indicate he was harmless. He knew such a gesture would matter little, if the Kana were inclined to attack. Kana were not sociable creatures and did not recognize signs of truce. They would either let you live, or kill you.
He could tell something was wrong with this one, however, and felt his fear dim a little. The Kana wasn't big, but he was well built, his grizzled fur graying around his eyes and muzzle and ears. He panted heavily, as if he had been running or flying a great while; and his stance was slightly slumped, as if in exhaustion. The look in his pale eyes was more resigned than malevolent. Kynebu lowered his hands a little, and gestured back toward his house.
"If you need to take a rest...you're welcome to come to my home."
The Kana eyed him oddly, apparently thinking he was crazy from living in the desert so long. He lowered his weapon, recognizing Kynebu was no threat, but snorted disdainfully.
"You regularly invite your enemy into your home, Moru?"
"You're no enemy of mine. I don't even know you."
"I am Kana and you are human. We are enemies." His nostrils flared. "Still...I could use a seat to rest myself upon. And so if you have no other motives, I will come."
The two of them went back to Kynebu's house together, unspeaking. Once inside the Kana stood beside the door, while Kynebu, acting as host, brought out a chair and set it at the table, watching his strange guest settle himself with a tired sigh, then offering him beer and bread. The Kana refused the food, yet accepted the drink, and downed it almost immediately with a wince. Kynebu refilled it and sat opposite him.
The Apsiu sputtered a bit. "Human beer...most distasteful."
"I've heard the same about Kana brew, myself."
The Kana gave him a suspicious look. "There is a reason you invite a Kana into your home and ply him with drink, Moru?"
"I was honestly wondering why you are out in the desert on your own. This is not a safe place to be at night."
"You should heed your own warning."
"Where is your tribe? Kana don't travel alone."
The Kana snorted and set his cup down. "They flew on ahead of me. I stayed behind. I had intended on staying out here, until I collapse and the vultures peck the meat from my bones, or until one of your kind finishes me off, whichever comes first."
Kynebu blinked at him. "Why did you intend to do that?"
"I am old. I can no longer keep up with my comrades." He stretched his leathery wings and winced again. "I feel the ache in my bones grow every day. It will not be much longer before they make me Moru and send me to live with the slaves."
"You turn your elders into Moru?" He'd never heard that before.
The Kana's mouth twisted. "Tell me, did you see any elderly Kana in that tribe you slaughtered?"
Kynebu flushed and averted his eyes. "I didn't slaughter them..."
"You let it happen. Which is just as bad, possibly worse."
He felt his heart twisting in his breast and shut his eyes now. "I wish I could have done more..." he murmured.
Another snort. The Kana lifted his cup and took a deep drink. "They were not my tribe anyway. The fewer of them, the more for us." He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. "Still you do not answer my question, why you welcome a Kana into your home. Either you have a good reason, or you are completely addlebrained by the heat."
"I had...rather wished to learn a bit more about your kind. I know very little about the Apsiu."
"Ah. The truth comes out, does it? And why would a human be interested in my sort? You didn't learn all you needed to know from the last tribe you murdered?"
"That was why I wanted to know. To understand better."
"Our kinds were not meant to understand one another. Stop wasting your time." He stood up, checking to make certain his sword was in place. Kynebu stood as well and held out a hand but the Kana brushed it away impatiently.
"I have to return to my tribe. Perhaps my wings will not give out on me just yet. Anything is better than spending time speaking with the--" He cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath, staring at the far door. Kynebu followed his gaze, to see a small face peering around the corner, dark eyes wandering from one to the other. An ear flicked.
The Kana's grip tightened on the butt of his sword. "A child," he whispered; then to Kynebu, in a sharp voice, "What are you doing with a whelp?" He drew the sword and Kynebu felt his heart begin to race. The Kana snarled. "You stole him from that tribe you killed off?"
"I rescued him from that tribe, before the others could kill him," Kynebu answered. "He would be dead now if it weren't for what I did."
Yet another snort. The Kana sheathed his sword and tossed his head dismissively.
"Dumb fool. You rescued yourself a Moru. He probably would have been better off dead!"
"I wanted you to explain to me," Kynebu said. "Explain to me how you know he's a Moru, when he has wings just like yours."
"See simply how he acts." The Kana waved at the boy. "Shy and meek and silent? This is no Kana child! No Kana in his right mind would teach his sons to be so mild! If he did, they would never survive long." He spat on the floor, in the child's direction; the dark eyes wandered down to look at the dampened floor, then up again. "Do yourself a favor, human. Take him and leave him out in the desert, as I was going to do myself. Maybe if he's lucky some wandering tribe will decide to use him to carry water."
"I'm going to raise him," Kynebu replied, voice hard, and the Kana guffawed with laughter.
"Raise him! A human, raising an Apsiu--a Moru raising a Moru! You've certainly made me laugh today, human."
"This is no joke. I fully intend it. Which is why I want you to explain to me! What you can about your people. So I can understand him better!"
The Kana stopped laughing and looked at him, brow furrowing. He looked Kynebu up and down before letting out a sound that might have been a snort, might have been a sigh; Kynebu wasn't certain. Instead of leaving, though, he turned about and placed his hand on his hip, tilting his head and leaning on the table. His ears flickered.
"So what do you wish to know, Moru?"
Kynebu let out his breath. "Everything you can tell me," he answered. "Everything and anything at all."
Apsiu babies, it turned out, were talented almost from birth. Males with wings were separated from females and other males to be raised by the Kana themselves. And they were tested for flight even before the age of one year. Apsiu wings were strong, and a baby could prove itself Kana by flapping safely to the ground when released from a short distance. Those babies that flew were deemed Kana and were brought up to become soldiers of whichever rank. Those that did not fly were again taken back to the Moru quarters, returned to the slaves, and branded slaves themselves.
The Kana pointed out the wings of the child Kynebu had rescued, even going so far as to pick him up and drop him before Kynebu could say or do anything. The child fell to the floor with a thud, even though his wings flapped; the motion was useless. Kynebu reached to pick him up as he started bawling, and the Kana nodded at him.
"See? He is lame. Moru. They have known this since his first year."
"Why does he not speak?"
"We do not regularly converse with our slaves. They speak a different tongue from our own, anyway."
Kynebu looked into the wet eyes of the crying child. He let out small piteous mewing sounds, but no words. "He might not know how to speak?"
"I would say he knows a word, here and there. But I would not be surprised if he was not taught. Perhaps his parents were dead and no other Moru wished to care for him. Who knows."
Kynebu bit his lip and set the child down on the table, tending to a scrape on his knee. "So I would have to teach him how to talk," he mused aloud.
The Kana snorted, amused. "I suppose, if you wish to waste your time on it! Perhaps he is slow in the head! It happens."
"No," Kynebu said. "He's not slow...I can tell."
A shrug. The Kana checked his sword and armor and turned to the door. "Well I suppose you have learned far more about my kind than it was wise for me to tell you. I still say you're mad from all the sand, but however you choose to waste your time is no concern of my own."
"Thank you," Kynebu said, controlling his annoyance. "For explaining to me. I know that I will do a good job."
The Kana only laughed, shook his head, and opened the door. He gave a mock bow before leaving, and it was only after he'd exited that Kynebu realized he'd never asked his name. But by the time he rushed outside and looked around the old Kana was already gone...to where, he didn't know.
In the following months, Kynebu patiently taught the young Apsiu everything he felt he should know. He taught the child how to properly sit at table, how to eat with his hands, how to sleep upon a human bed, how to dress himself in human clothes. He taught him how to wash himself, to keep himself clean, and to clean his teeth as well. He let him play with human toys, and then he would sit in the afternoon and teach him human words. The Apsiu was shy and quiet, yet he was not slow, as the old Kana had hinted. He learned very quickly for such a young age, and Kynebu had to revise his estimate of his actual age. He had thought the child to be two or three years old; now he felt his size was merely small, due to a lack of proper feeding and exercise, so he could actually be closer to four or five. His wings were perfectly shaped and formed, and he would even sit and stretch and flex them as he pondered over his simple lessons, yet he never used them to fly. Kynebu couldn't tell if the Kana's story had been true or not.
He had learned a few words of the Apsiu language from the old Kana himself, and from watching and listening to the occasional Kana soldiers as they passed by not far from his house; these he taught to the child as well, and selected one word he had learned, antakh, as the boy's name. The old Kana had called the boy this on seeing his perfectly formed yet useless wings. It meant different and it had been used as an insult.
To Kynebu, it seemed just right.
Antakh aged at the same rate as most children, even faster now because of the proper feedings Kynebu gave him. He was a bright child, eager to help his "guardian" around the house, to take his lessons, and to explore the desert around their dwelling. Kynebu always made certain he didn't wander far, and Antakh never caused him any grief. He would have been any parent's beloved child, had he simply not been Apsiu.
One day, when Antakh was at about the human age of eight or nine, he gave Kynebu a curious look as they sat down to lessons, Kynebu planning on teaching him his mathematics tables. "What is it, Antakh?" Kynebu prompted him, and the boy lifted his head and spoke.
"Kynebu, why don't I look like you?"
Kynebu had wondered how long it would be before he was finally asked this question. He gave a small sigh and set aside his teaching papyrus, folding his hands in his lap.
"Because you are not like me, Antakh."
"What am I, then?"
"You are an Apsiu."
Antakh blinked and cocked his head with puzzlement. "What's an Apsiu?"
"They..." Kynebu scoured his mind for a proper description. "They are a warrior race. Very proud, and honorable. They're excellent at combat. And they are very courageous."
The boy frowned. "Why aren't I with other Apsiu, Kynebu? Why do you care for me?"
Kynebu's eyes grew sad and he had to look away.
"Because...the tribe that you lived with, attacked my village once. The people from my village then burned your tribe's settlement to the ground. I took you from there so they would not hurt you. I brought you here, so you would be safe."
Antakh stared at him for a moment, then shook his head, as if something didn't seem right.
"Kynebu...why would they want to kill me? I didn't attack your village."
"I know, Antakh...but...they were afraid...and ignorant. They believed all of your kind is bad. This is why I had to leave them, to come here. They would not let me return with you."
"You left your village because of me?"
Kynebu smiled and rubbed the top of the boy's head. "It was my decision...don't worry yourself about it. My only regret is I could not have saved all of your kind. What my people did was wrong. Nothing could ever justify it." He unrolled the math papyrus and wagged a finger at him. "Now, no more stalling or I may have to be cruel! A rap across the knuckles for the one who fails his lessons today..."
Antakh smiled, but pulled out his palette. Kynebu knew he would never hurt him. He was glad the boy knew this as well.
Kynebu never taught Antakh about Kana and Moru. If they were to simply live out their days in the desert, the boy would not have to know the less savory details of his people. At least, Kynebu had hoped this was the way it would be. Possibly it would have been, if Antakh had not seen the band of Apsiu passing by.
Now about twelve or thirteen, he climbed atop a rock and shielded his eyes to watch the tiny band of travelers on their way through the desert. He was surprised to see that they looked just like him! Apsiu! There were four of them, dressed in armor and carrying weapons, and he was suddenly overcome with an urge to learn everything he could about them--who they were, who they had fought, where they'd come from, everything. With a shouted halloo he stood atop the rock for a moment and waved, then, when he'd gotten their attention--they ceased walking and turned to look back at him--he jumped to the ground and ran their way, eyes bright with excitement. Apsiu! His kind!
He couldn't wait to tell Kynebu all about them when they were done!
The Apsiu stood and watched him with open curiosity as he came their way, puffs of sand rising up behind his scampering feet. "Hai, boy!" one of them called. "What're you doing way out here?"
"Where's your weapon, boy, and your armor?" a second one shouted.
"I--I don't have any," Antakh panted as he reached them, earning surprised looks. "And I live out here."
"Live?" That only seemed to increase their surprise, and they all looked at each other in puzzlement before surrounding him and looking him over, head to foot. Antakh beamed up at them, thrilled to receive such attention from obviously seasoned warriors.
"You're hardly dressed fitting for a Kana, boy!" one remarked, poking him in the side so he squirmed and giggled. The four of them chuckled at his reaction.
"Kana?" Antakh said, not recognizing the word. "I'm Antakh, an Apsiu, like you."
"Antakh?" the fourth one exclaimed. "What an odd silly name! Who are your parents, boy, and whereabouts is your tribe?"
"My tribe?" Antakh's ears lowered a little. He rather hadn't wanted them to know of his orphaned state, yet supposed that honesty was the best policy. "My tribe was killed by humans. I live there now, with my guardian." He pointed back at the small embalmer's house where he and Kynebu lived.
The four Apsiu followed the direction he pointed in, and all frowned. They looked down at him again, only not quite the same as before.
"That's a human's house!"
"You tell us you live with a human, boy? One of those who killed your tribe?"
"No, he didn't kill them; he rescued me."
They looked at each other again and made faces to indicate their consternation.
"Still, a human...?"
"Why don't you come with us, boy?" the first one suggested, nudging his arm. "This's hardly the place for a strapping Kana like yourself. You can fly back to our tribe with us. If nobody else wants to look after you, I'll adopt you myself."
Antakh flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. He lowered his head a little.
"But I can't fly."
Silence. He lifted his head again to see that they all stared at him, gaped, actually, their eyes wide, one even with his mouth hanging open. The first one wrinkled his muzzle.
"Y'mean you were never taught how?"
"No, I mean my wings don't work. I tried flying before, once, but I fell and broke my arm. It hurt. Kynebu told me it wasn't important. Even though I wish that I could, so maybe I could go see your tribe with you!"
He rather hoped they would invite him along anyway, and all go by foot, as they had already been going. Instead, their eyes only widened more, before narrowing. They sneered at him and flared their own wings, and one gave him a hard nudge, nothing at all like the friendly nudge the first one had given him. He nearly fell over from the aggressiveness of it, and blinked with surprise at their sudden change of attitude.
"He's hardly a Kana, he's a MORU!" one of them exclaimed with what sounded to be disgust.
"No wonder he's raised by a human! Who else would take him!"
"Stupid dungdrop, head back to your master! We hardly have need of a Moru!"
"Hold a moment, who says so? I could always use a young one to carry my sword around for me!"
They started bellowing with laughter and suddenly Antakh felt he probably shouldn't be here anymore. Shrinking in on himself, he silently crept back and away from them, only to have the biggest one grab hold of him by the scruff and haul him forward. He let out a pained yelp and his wings flapped. They laughed even harder.
"Look, the Moru's trying to get away!"
"Actually I thought he was trying to play Kana. He actually did not a half-bad job at first!"
"Feh, I knew he was Moru all along. See how scrawny he is! No Kana in his right mind would starve his sons so!"
"What do you eat, you little crippled locust? Dried grass?"
The Apsiu shook him even harder and guffawed. Tears sprang to Antakh's eyes and he wished he'd stayed back at home.
Suddenly a clod of earth sailed through the air and smacked the lead Apsiu in the side of the head. He grunted and dropped Antakh to the ground, rubbing his bruised skull. They all stopped laughing and turned with some surprise, Antakh as well.
Kynebu stood at a distance, wielding a rock in one hand. He clenched his fist and shook it at the Apsiu.
"Let him go and head back to your tribe! Else I'll aim the next one at your wing!"
The group of Apsiu bared their teeth at him, but the truth was, they were armed with swords, and he with a rock; it was a truly primitive weapon, yet could very easily be tossed through the air, and could very easily tear one of their wings. Kynebu actually had the advantage.
"Mweh," one of them muttered, snorting. "We have better things to do that mess with a stupid Moru anyway. Come on! They're waiting for us back home."
"Good luck with your 'master,' Moru dung," the one who had promised to adopt Antakh sneered, kicking him down and spitting on him. They turned as one and left, mumbling to themselves, occasionally casting him an evil glance before disappearing into the sands. Antakh slowly climbed to his feet, his eyes streaming dusty trails down his face. He wiped them away as Kynebu approached, taking him by the arm and helping him back toward the house. Antakh sniffled and winced, rubbing at his aching ribs.
"You shouldn't speak with ones you don't know," Kynebu said gently. "You can never be certain who will be a foe and who will be a friend, especially around here."
"Why did they treat me that way?" Antakh murmured, rubbing at his burning eyes. "I'm Apsiu, like them. I thought they would like me."
Kynebu's own eyes grew sad as he ushered Antakh in to sit at the table, retrieved a bowl of water and a cloth, and sat down beside him to wash the dust and tears from his face. "It's not so simple," he replied softly.
"Why not?"
Kynebu met his eyes and Antakh stared at him, though his own were blurry. After a moment the human sighed and set the cloth aside, placing his hand to the side of Antakh's face.
"Your people...things are not so simple among them. There are things I did not tell you...things I had hoped I would not have to tell you." He dropped his hand and nudged the bowl aside. "Among your people there are two kinds. There are the Kana, who are warriors. Those that you just met were Kana."
"Yes," Antakh said. "They said this name."
"Then there are the Moru."
Antakh cocked his head. "This is what they called me. What does it mean?"
"The Moru, Anta, are the Kana's slaves. They toil for the Kana. The Kana consider them lesser creatures. Like cattle. They are like you; they do not fly."
Antakh lifted one wing and peered at it, then let it sink. His face grew confused.
"But...why does this matter?"
Kynebu shrugged slightly. "I can never tell you, Anta, because it's simply the way people are. Mine as well as yours. Sometimes, I think we just prefer to hate." He stood up and picked up the bowl to carry it away. "Stay inside a while until we're certain they've gone. I don't like the thought of them sending someone to take you, as they might. I'd hoped that you would never even have to learn about the difference between Kana and Moru; I suppose I should have known better."
"Why do the Moru let the Kana hate them and make them slaves?" Antakh blurted out as Kynebu went into the next room. "Wouldn't they be upset?"
"Perhaps so," his guardian called back. "But most of them feel they have no choice. You would have felt the same way, had you been raised with them. They simply live how they know." He came back into the room and offered Antakh a smile that somehow didn't seem right, and patted him on the shoulder. "Go on now, go get one of your books and maybe we can find something else to occupy us for a while. Stop thinking about them for now."
Antakh rose and obeyed, trotting off to find one of his scrolls. Truthfully, though, all the rest of that day, and the next, and so on, his mind remained on the strange Apsiu, who looked so much like him, yet acted so differently.
Kynebu was a patient teacher and guardian, and Antakh was a calm, reasonable student. He had known how the traditional Kana would react to finding out who the young Apsiu really was, which was why he had felt the need to protect him. He was not like them, nor was he like their Moru. He wasn't cruel and bellicose, nor was he meek and unquestioning. Kynebu knew that if he were a human, he would readily be accepted among his kind.
Yet Antakh was not a human. And Kynebu knew they would never accept him either, for he wasn't one of them. He wasn't like them at all. He was like no one Kynebu had ever known. He silently learned his lessons, and obediently did his chores, yet within him Kynebu could sense the part that was still, and would always be Apsiu. Something that wasn't Kana, yet wasn't Moru. Something that was neither. Or both. He couldn't tell.
Antakh wasn't ignorant and brutish, nor was he ignorant and submissive. Antakh was intelligent. He was cool, and yet he was fiery.
He was different from anything Kynebu had ever known.
Eventually, all things die. Kynebu wasn't foolish enough to disbelieve this, yet neither was he clearsighted enough to know it would be so soon. Living in the desert had never been good for his type, when he was so used to living near the river, where the air was moist and cool; as such, the dry hot air slowly took its toll on him as time went by, until it sucked the breath from his lungs and left him weak and ill. He felt it somewhat ironic that, in the meantime, Antakh seemed to thrive in the inhospitable air, and actually saw the humor in the now grown Apsiu caring for him, as he had once cared for the Apsiu.
Kynebu lay upon his cot in the coolest, darkest room within the small house, his breath rasping in his throat, as Antakh fetched a fresh bowl of water and sat beside him, wetting and squeezing out a linen cloth and placing it upon his forehead, then applying another to his breast, and another to his mouth so he sucked in the moisture. Kynebu knew it was far too late to do much good; perhaps if he'd let his charge know sooner just how ill he was, some good could have come of it, but he hadn't wanted to worry him. Now he could feel his end coming soon as his lungs constricted in his chest.
Antakh didn't notice how Kynebu stared at him as he worked, every so often replacing the drying cloths with damp ones. It had been like this for days now. He was very patient, Kynebu had to hand it to him.
Antakh reached to replace the cloth on Kynebu's face and Kynebu stopped him. Antakh blinked at him in confusion when Kynebu gently pushed his hand aside and shook his head.
"You've spent enough time on this," he whispered, as it was the loudest he could convince his voice to come out. "You know as well as I. There's little more you can do."
Antakh's wings lowered. "I have to help you somehow."
"You already have. More than you kn--" Kynebu broke off coughing, and Antakh quailed and pressed the damp cloth to his mouth again. After a moment the fit passed and he started breathing regularly again. He held Antakh's hand.
"This dry air. I had no idea how bad it would be for me. I was meant to live near the water."
"I'll take you back, then."
"You could never do this, even if it would help me. They would kill you."
"I don't care. I owe you."
"You owe me nothing, Anta. I rescued you because I owed you." He bit his knuckle to stave off another fit before swallowing and continuing. "My village would have killed you if they'd had the chance. I didn't stop them from killing everyone else. This guilt will weigh down my heart in the Hall of Maati."
Antakh shook his head vigorously. "No, it won't. When you saved me you relieved that burden! Please let me do the same for you."
"Even if I wished you to, you couldn't. It's too late." Kynebu gasped for breath and Antakh's ears flicked back; he squeezed his guardian's hand hard. "Anta. I've tried to raise you well. I know you would make me proud. You already have. You deserve your name. Never let anyone tell you you're wrong for bearing it."
Antakh's eyes grew pained. "What will I do?" he asked.
Kynebu managed to smile at him. "First off...you'll spend little more of your time on me. You will not have to...even if it's your wish. It's growing cold in here." Antakh whined softly and pressed Kynebu's hand to his forehead. "There is an old man who lives not far from here. An embalmer. When I have gone, take me to him...I know he will do the proper thing. There is some gold in the chest in the back room that you can use to pay him with. There should be enough--" he coughed "--for a modest burial. For you to oversee this, is all I ask you do for me. You need do nothing else."
"But I don't know what I'll do then," Antakh whispered, eyes wet. "The only thing I know is you."
Kynebu squeezed his hand back. "Then you know all you need...for I taught you all I know. You are grown. You know of all your options and your talents. I'm certain you can make something of yourself."
Antakh shook his head. "I can't. I'm not one of you, and I'm not one of them. Neither of them will accept me. I'll have to be alone. And I don't want to."
"Anta." Kynebu smiled at him. "Believe in your name and believe in yourself. Sometimes, not being one of the group is a blessing in disguise." He started gasping, and Antakh reached for another cloth. Kynebu's body wracked [sic] with coughs, he pressed the linen to his mouth and it came back red this time. Antakh quailed again and Kynebu's face grew ashen when he looked at the cloth. The Apsiu dropped it and placed his head to his guardian's breast, weeping. Kynebu's own eyes stung; breathing hard, he placed his shaking hand atop Antakh's head and lay silent, not minding the feeling of the Apsiu's claws digging into his skin. He closed his eyes and gave a shuddering sigh.
By the end of the month, the human Kynebu was dead. The Apsiu Antakh, his eyes red and streaming, carefully washed and dressed him, crossing his arms over his breast and wrapping him in a linen shroud. The human was as light as a palm frond to him, and he carried him without effort across the desert in the cooling dusk. It was nighttime when he reached the house of the old embalmer and knocked at the door. It was opened by a young assistant of the embalmer, who, seeing the shadowy figure of the Apsiu carrying the shrouded human, paled and retreated to awaken his master. When the old man appeared Antakh still stood before the door, his sandy face stained with dried tears, the still white form within his arms. His face grew grim and he looked the Apsiu up and down, then nodded and waved him in. Antakh stepped across the threshold and they disappeared inside the house.
"So," he said as they entered the back room of the house, and he gestured for Antakh to lay the shrouded form upon a long bench, which he did so, carefully. "The desert took him before his time...it does that with many of us...not a night goes by that I don't wonder why it has yet to take me. You are the same one he took with him, all those years ago, are you not?"
Antakh nodded. The old man had never seen an Apsiu crying before, but the stains on his face were now fresh and wet.
"You can care for him? Make him a tomb?"
"My student will do this, while I tend to the body."
Antakh reached for a pouch at his belt and pulled it open. "He said that there is enough here to pay for the costs of the funeral. Everything necessary. Preservation, a tomb, ushabti, food offerings for the next year. Whatever else he may need I will work to earn myself."
The old man stared at him for a moment before sighing and taking the gold. "No need...I will take the payment...and when it runs out I will then cover the cost on my own." When Antakh stared at him he waved his hand. "He was kind to me, once in the past. I believe he had a thing for those who didn't belong. His ka will be amply cared for." He handed the gold to his apprentice, who took it and left the room. "You had best be on your way, and I would suggest leaving the desert house, as well. Once word reaches others that he is dead, they may decide to move in."
"You mean...my kind."
The old man nodded.
"I have already faced them."
"They will show little mercy on you now, without him to protect you." Antakh looked down at the still shrouded figure and the old man touched his arm. "The procedure is long...it will be months before it is through. Go. I give you my word I will care for him as if he were my own. And should I pass before my time, then my student will tend to his shrine."
Antakh shut his eyes and lowered his head. A slight whining sound escaped him and the old man's ears pricked. The Apsiu lifted his head again and wiped his eyes.
"I can hardly stop myself from doing that. It feels as if it should come out, and I would never be able to stop."
The old man nodded slowly. "This is what your people do...I've heard it myself, when they pass by with their own dead. Their keening fills the night. They sing songs for their warriors, and the slaves sing songs for their fellows. You do only what you know to do."
Antakh's breast hitched, and he took a few breaths to steady himself before nodding in return. He blinked a few tears away and stood straight, then bowed. "If I could repay you for your kindness, I would."
"I know...go, now, before the sun arrives." Antakh turned away without another word, as he felt nothing would come out but the strange keening sound that surged to break free from his lungs. As he passed out the door he heard a voice say softly behind him, "Life, strength, health, Different One," and he started, not because of the title, but because no one, no Apsiu nor human, had ever wished him such a farewell as that one.
Antakh kept close to the far western cliffs as he traveled, not certain where he was going, only that he had to keep moving. He traveled neither during the night or day, or rather, during both, keeping to no schedule; sometimes he would go for days without sleeping. At dusk, the time that Kynebu had died, the grief would overtake him until he would collapse right where he stood and wail at the sky, letting out the loud keening cries that he had tried so hard to withhold before. Now that he was alone he saw no need to keep them inside him anymore. He would wail until his lungs ached, and still the strange sound would pour out of him, terrifying and unending. He wondered if he should ever get it all out. Once in a while it would die off and he would suck in a breath, only to feel the grief rise within him anew. Only the cliffs and the desert creatures heard him grieve.
That was, until one evening when he sat howling, he heard a return cry from the far end of the desert, not his echo bouncing off the cliffs, but someone else's cry. Joined by another, and then another. He gasped and broke off into silence to listen. The strange sounds rose and fell, and rose again, floating on the air like lamenting spirits seeking their bodies. He squinted into the dimness and could now see dark shapes working their way northward, the opposite of the direction he was headed in. A band of Apsiu; Kana, followed by their slaves. Perhaps the remnants of an attacked tribe, moving on to another home. He wondered if they mourned their own dead, when he realized with a start that they had been mourning Kynebu. They had heard his cry, and responded in kind. As was custom.
Rather than feel awe at their sympathy, his blood chilled with fear and he crept down from the ledge he sat upon to hide within a crevice, pressing himself flat to the cliff wall. They might have seen him, from their distance, and of course took him to be a solitary Kana, perhaps mourning the passing of a comrade; they had stopped in their tracks and turned to peer around for him, as if trying to seek him out. He held his breath and prayed they wouldn't see him. He could tell from their posture, could see their mild confusion at his sudden silence and disappearance, before they gave up and turned away, heading off into the desert again. One of the Moru near the back lifted its head and started keening anew, when one of those in the lead--a Kana, with wings--whirled about and cracked a stick over its back, knocking it to the ground. Antakh bit off a gasp. The Kana let loose a string of invective as the Moru's companions helped him to his feet. He couldn't be certain what the rebuke was about. He sensed that the Moru must be mourning their own slain as well, and the Kana, too impatient to deal with two useless dirges in one night, decided that silence was better. The Moru hung his head and let out not another sound as they continued, the only noise their sandals scuffing against the grainy sand. Within time their shadows faded into the distance, and Antakh finally let out his breath.
He winced when he suddenly felt a pain in his hand, and looked down to see that his claws had dug so deeply into his palm that it was bleeding. He held his hand up with a curious look. Red trickled down his arm, to drip from his elbow and hit the dust below. He hadn't even noticed how tensed he was until they were gone.
Not tensed. Angry.
He lifted his head and peered out, as if to see the wandering Apsiu again. Of course, he didn't. Yet the harsh sound of the Moru being struck to the ground still rang fresh in his ears.
In his head, something began to fall into place. He didn't wonder so much where his feet might take him. He started to realize where he had to go. And why, and what he had to do.
Payment, for Kynebu. For saving him.
He still waited until he was certain he was alone, before setting off again. Not after the wandering Apsiu...he had no idea where they would end up, small band that they were. He had to find a village. A tribe.
It was about time he started to fit in.
There were no settlements for ages. He didn't worry. This part of the desert was harsh and inhospitable to any life, even the strongest and bravest of Apsiu, he was certain. Living at Kynebu's house, he had long scoured the cliffs and learned how to take refuge in the most unlikely places, so he worried not about himself. What he had seen fueled him on, so he traveled with little rest.
It was whenever he heard others in the desert, rather, that he grew nervous and kept close to the cliffs, though he was certain they would probably do the same. He heard such a noise on this day but it was closer to the sands, meaning this traveler, whoever he was, was out in the middle of the desert, just as dusk was falling. An unwise place to be. Antakh didn't retreat this time, as he could tell from the sound and the location that this person was in trouble. Possibly injured; he sniffed at the air and smelled blood. Swallowing back his fear, he crept toward the shape the noise came from, until he could tell what it was, and look down into its face.
Another Kana. He had no way of knowing if this one had been with the band he'd seen before, though he doubted it. It looked as if he had been alone, judging by the drag trail he'd left through the sand. He'd simply fallen here, and stopped where he lay, his breathing hard. Antakh was reminded of Kynebu, and a pang went through him.
The Kana opened one eye. His wing was crumpled beneath him, the bones snapped and the membrane torn; partly dried blood lined his side. When he saw Antakh staring down at him his breath picked up and he weakly held up a hand. Antakh shied away before hearing him speak.
"B...Brother..." The word made him creep closer again, sniffing. The wounded Kana dropped his hand and shut his eyes and for a moment Antakh would have thought he was already dead, if it hadn't been for his breathing.
"What happened?" he whispered.
"Th...the trees..." The Kana winced and his hand went to his side. "Wasn't...watching...where I was flying...hit one...cut my side open...fell and...my wing..." He let out a sound of pain and Antakh leaned over him, examining the shattered limb. "Ruined. I...though I was the only one out here." He opened his eyes and looked back up at Antakh again, and Antakh could see friendliness there. "Your tribe...?"
Antakh swallowed convulsively. His own eyes flickered to the side.
"Killed. By humans."
The Kana offered a weak smile and held up his bloodied hand again. "Ah...we are...truly brothers then." Antakh hesitantly took his hand and the Kana squeezed it as if they had known each other for a long time. He grimaced then, and his other hand reached for his side. Antakh's eyes widened and he tried to pull away when the Kana drew his sword, yet his grip was unbreakable. The sword came toward Antakh's throat.
"K-kill me."
Antakh blinked. "Wh...what--?"
"Kill me." Another wince, then the Kana met his eyes. "You understand...surely...I will not--" he coughed blood "--be a Moru. Be a slave. Kill me before they come."
Antakh looked at the offered sword and shook his head slowly. "I...I can't do that."
He winced himself when the Kana squeezed his hand hard enough to sting, baring his teeth. "Do it," he urged, and pressed the weapon into Antakh's other hand. "I won't...be a slave when I served them so loyally all my damned life...just because of a tree...kill me before anyone arrives and takes me back with them!"
Antakh's fingers curled around the pommel of the sword. He bared his own teeth, more with dislike than disgust; Kynebu had taught him how to use weapons, yet he had never wished to. He suddenly remembered something he'd forgotten before, something very important. Kana. They dressed in armor, not in simple linen and leather. They wore weapons, headcloths, specially colored ear lappets. All of which he had none. He'd never thought of that before setting out. The sword slipped out of the Kana's hand and into his, and the other Apsiu let go of him so the sword pointed downward.
"Do it," he hissed again.
Antakh's head pounded. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, drowning out everything else. Still grimacing, his eyes pained, he slowly rose to his feet, both hands grasping the sword so tightly his knuckles went white. The Kana stared up at him with wide eyes for a moment before accepting his fate and letting out a breath of relief. His eyes were the same as those of the Apsiu who had promised to adopt him. Before he had discovered who he was.
Antakh realized his own breath was coming fast, so his chest hurt. He winced and held the sword up high.
"F-forgive me."
The Kana said nothing, but his eyes said everything. There was no forgiveness to ask for or to give. He tilted his head back, in a gesture both of defiance and acceptance--Antakh took what little bit of strength from that that he could and brought the sword tip down with a yell, plunging it through his throat. The Kana stiffened and quivered, then sank limply to the ground. Blood began to pool around his neck.
Antakh stood staring down at him for a few moments, taking sharp gulping breaths, letting out short murmuring noises. After a while he let the sword fall from his numb fingers and placed his hands to his head, trying to still the throbbing there and to keep himself from screaming in panic. He'd never wanted to kill anyone. Now he'd had to, for more reasons than one. Of course the Kana had demanded it. And it was necessary, for himself. Telling himself this didn't take away the sickness he felt spreading through him, and he had to stagger away and retch until it passed.
Afterward he went back in reluctance, and hastily stripped the dead Kana of his armor, his sword, his skullcap and ear lappets. He would have preferred to stab him through the heart, if it had not meant damaging his armor. He couldn't draw that much suspicion upon himself so soon. He tossed the gear into a pile and, grabbing the Kana under the arms, dragged him away toward the cliffs, where he spent the next few hours gouging out a shallow grave and placing him within it, covering him back up with rocks and earth as tightly as he could. He didn't dare sing the loud keening song, when others might be near, instead murmuring a few low notes over the grave before scuttling away from it, lest the Apsiu's spirit decide to return for its stolen goods.
He went down to the river just long enough to wash himself--he couldn't stand the blood upon his hands, and nearly panicked again when he saw it--then returned to the pile of confiscated belongings. The Kana had been about his size. A lieutenant, with blue lappets. Antakh pulled on his thick armor, replaced his own papyrus sandals with the Kana's leather ones, and placed the lieutenant's skullcap upon his head. Without the proper lappets to indicate his status, he could be enslaved or killed. Neither of which he wished right now.
Impersonating a Kana was also an offense punishable by death, Kynebu had told him. That was another thing he couldn't think about at the moment.
He hung the sword at his side and looked himself over to see what he may have missed. He found that he'd forgotten to take the Kana's earrings, but decided they were not necessary. With a shudder he realized that, in order for the story he was cooking up to seem plausible, he had to dirty himself again. Cringing and whimpering, he bent down to the bloodied ground and wiped up a little of the dark fluid, smearing it on his arms. That already on the side of the armor looked suitable enough; he only hoped no one would realize he was not wounded there, or at the least would not take notice of it. He had to convince whoever he met, that he was now the dead lieutenant. He'd never injuread [sic] his wing. He'd never been killed by a Moru raised by humans. His tribe had been killed, yes, but he, Antakh, had somehow survived. And now he was seeking a new tribe.
He made certain the skullcap was on right, so the lappets hung prominently over his shoulders. He took a few breaths to steady himself and held up his head. He concentrated until he appeared calm, on the outside if not on the inside, and set off across the desert again. He had to find a tribe.
Somewhere there must be one that could use another Kana.
The empty desert didn't last much longer, which was just as well for him, as he'd never prepared himself for traveling. As such he was half starved by the time he reached a relatively well-sized settlement not far from the river; he hadn't even known he'd wandered so close to water. Dizzy and weak, he made his way in that direction.
Several slaves stood out in the fields striking the ground with hoes. When they saw him they lifted their heads and he noticed that they were Apsiu. Moru. They watched him approach for a moment or two, before a few of them hurried off, to fetch their masters, he supposed. He had been ready to try to speak to them, but now steered his steps toward the settlement itself, instead of the field. He couldn't be caught speaking with them. He had to remember who they were.
A moment or so later more shapes started appearing atop the wall surrounding the settlement. Most Apsiu villages bore walls, if they intended on staying for a long while. He came up beneath it and only then did he hear a shout from above.
"Halt! And name yourself!"
"Lieutenant Antakh." He wracked [sic] his brain trying to think of a believable tribal name. "Of the East Oasis Tribe."
"We have not heard of this tribe!"
"This is because they were killed. By humans. I've wandered seeking another tribe so I may speak with the general."
The two Kana standing staring down at him, spears pointed at him, turned to each other and murmured under their breath, waving their hands a bit. One nodded, and the other shook his head. Finally a third voice came, from within the settlement.
"For the love of Set, just let him in already! He is one and you are many, fools!"
The two atop the wall glanced down with some surprise, then turned back to Antakh. One scowled and waved his arm and the great wooden doors began to pull open.
"The general will speak with you, if he finds it suitable!"
Antakh saluted and went through the doors. His heart raced, skipping along like a stone over water; yet still he forced himself to remain calm. So far, none of them had questioned him being Kana; if he was that convincing, perhaps he could make this work, with patience.
Once within, a Kana captain in red lappets met him, looking him up and down appraisingly. Antakh bowed and saluted and received a curt nod in return. The captain held out his arm and Antakh grasped it.
"Captain Rihekh. You are with the Tall Cliffs Tribe. From where did you say you came again?"
"The East Oasis Tribe. We were attacked by humans."
"This I can see." Rihekh peered at the bloody tear in Antakh's armor. "Need you a physician?"
Antakh shook his head and bowed. He had no real idea how to properly carry himself among Kana, and hoped that any mistakes he might make would be blamed on his exhausted mental state. "I am mostly healed, by now. I've traveled from the Lower Kingdom for many days. There are few tribes in these areas that are hospitable, and many of those I came across were too leery to let in an outsider."
"Understandable, what with the humans. Vile things. You are the only survivor then?"
Antakh nodded.
"Then you will stay here the night, and until we can decide what should become of you. The general will most likely wish to speak with you about the attack. Those furless Moru have been causing us no end of problems, ourselves."
"I would be honored to let him know all I can."
"Anything to combat their menace, I suppose." Rihekh crossed his arm to his breast and Antakh followed suit. "Come then. I'll let him know you've arrived and you will be provided with food and lodging shortly."
Antakh was taken to a great residence at the far end of the settlement, where he assumed the general, the leader of the tribe, must live. Here his armor was replaced and he was allowed to clean himself; he was likewise fed a proper meal, though he didn't eat as much as he would have preferred to. It was best not to get too comfortable here. He knew the penalty should they find out who he really was.
A short while later Rihekh returned to show him to the general. Antakh had never seen a Kana general before; General Sakh'hai wore purple lappets, those of the highest rank, and was bigger than any of the other Kana he could see. Any other time, Antakh assumed he would be wearing a scowl and swinging his sword. At the moment he was looking Antakh up and down with great curiosity, cocking his head as if he'd never seen anything like him before.
If he could only tell how right that was...
"What's his name, again?" he grunted at Rihekh.
"Calls himself Antakh, Lord."
"Antakh?" Sakh'hai made a face. "Truly an odd name. You come from the north?"
"Yes, Lord." Antakh bowed.
"Tribe killed off?"
"Yes, Lord."
"Humans. Disgusting things don't learn when to keep to themselves. We've cleaned out three of their settlements already, around here."
Antakh held his tongue.
Sakh'hai waved his hand. "Well. I s'pose you can stay about here, at least for the time being. Would prefer you to prove yourself somehow before just letting you in, else we'll get all sorts of riffraff wanting to join the tribe. That can wait till later. Too busy planning another raid at the moment." He gestured to his left. "You can stay in the west hall. Get you your own room, bed, a Moru or two to tend to your belongings. You'd like a female perhaps, to pass the time?"
Antakh blushed. "Er...no, thank you, Lord...I...ahm...am too tired at the time."
"Suit yourself. Rihekh'll take you to Moru quarters to choose one or two as your servants, for now. You can pick any you like."
Antakh and Rihekh both bowed and Sakh'hai waved them away. As they made their way into the hall Rihekh whistled.
"He must take a fancy to you. He doesn't loan out his personal Moru to just anybody!"
"His personal Moru--?"
"Yes. Where else do you think we'd be going? How many Moru did you have back home?"
Antakh froze trying to think of something to say. "Not many," he finally admitted. "They were...they were scarce in my tribe."
Rihekh nodded sympathetically. "Ah. Many raids, I take it?"
"Yes. We fought valiantly, yet the other tribe was more powerful."
"Foul luck for the East Oasis Tribe, I take it. Well, we are considerably better prepared in the High Cliffs Tribe. Here we are. You might be a bit overwhelmed. The general has about two hundred Moru at his disposal."
Antakh felt a little bit sick when he heard this. Two hundred slaves, owned by one Kana alone. The Kana population of the settlement itself had to be around that many. And these were just the Moru of one. How many did the others have, combined?
Rihekh opened a door and ushered him in. The Moru quarters were huge, yet dim and ill suited by Kana standards. Antakh felt a brief twinge of memory. The floor was tiled, and the walls sturdy, so these Moru were better off than many; still, straw littered the floor, and rather than ornate beds or even simple cots they slept upon pallets they themselves had constructed from straw and rough cloth. And they all stayed within the same crowded room. Here it was actually two rooms placed together, separated by a partition. They stopped whatever they were doing and peered at the two newcomers with open curiosity before Rihekh waved at them with some annoyance, and nudged a few aside.
"You have anything in particular you desired?" he queried.
Antakh couldn't think of anything to say. "I...I'm not certain."
"You didn't want a female...you'd be interested in a male, perhaps?" The look Rihekh gave him made it clear that he didn't mean for menial chores.
Antakh flushed again, even brighter than last time. "Er...no, thank you."
"It's quite all right. Thought I should at least ask." He perused the milling crowd and nudged another one aside when it--he--got too close. "Hm. Well, you're going to be living here for a little while, at least until you've decided whether to stay or go. And whether the general prefers you to stay. Would you like a strong Moru? One good at labor? Or perhaps a lean flexible one. That one over there is somewhat aged, yet he can behave himself quite well at gatherings, and can wait upon you if--"
"Do you have any quite intelligent ones?" Antakh found himself asking, and his ears started to burn. He hated speaking as if they were all stupid, when they were simply ignorant. "One, perhaps, that can speak Higher Apsi," he clarified. "I'm not very familiar with the Moru tongue."
"Ah. Of course." Rihekh nodded and held up one hand. "There are a few here who speak our tongue...let me find one."
He disappeared among the crowding Moru, who all still stared at Antakh as if he were the strangest thing upon the earth. He endured their silent looks with a little difficulty, scuffing one foot against the floor and examining the cracks in the tiles before Rihekh returned, a short tannish-colored Moru in tow. The Moru looked him up and down without a word, eyes more curious than frightened. They were so used to living in this manner, he supposed.
"This one here," Rihekh said, nudging him. "Name's Janaa. Can speak both our tongues, as well as that of the humans. Even knows how to do a little writing, though what good that would be for I have no idea. Cooks, cleans, does chores. Frankly I'm not certain why Lord Sakh'hai doesn't make more use of him...Moru, go along with him here. You'll be tending to him for now. Go on, do as I say."
He pushed the Moru forward, though not as roughly as he could have. The Moru--Janaa--bowed to Antakh and then stood waiting. Antakh grew a bit flustered when he realized he was meant to lead the slave off to his quarters, and he turned around to do so.
"Er--where do I keep him--?"
"Just in your rooms. He'll make himself a spot out of the way." Rihekh gave him an odd look. "Where did you keep your Moru? You had your own stables?"
"Oh--yes. I...um...found that preferable to living with them. Thank you, Captain." He bowed and gestured at Janaa to follow him. Rihekh stayed behind, still with the same puzzled look; Antakh was relieved he apparently believed his story, even if he found it strange. His disguise was tenuous enough without troubles such as this.
Antakh surveyed his quarters. They weren't as big as the Moru quarters, but were large in comparison to how many people would be staying within. Janaa stood silently by the door the whole time. Antakh had asked if it was necessary that a guard be stationed outside, and with a bit of confusion and reluctance, the guard had retreated, leaving them alone. He supposed it wouldn't be much trouble to let a good Kana have his privacy, for the night.
Once he had thoroughly looked over his room, he turned back to glance at Janaa. The Moru lifted his head a bit, ready for any requests. Antakh paused for a moment, uncertain how to proceed now that he was here.
"You speak Apsi, ...?" he asked, trailing off.
The Moru stood up straight. "Janaa, Lord."
"Janaa. I apologize. You've served here long?"
"To have served my entire life, Lord. To follow orders." He bowed.
Antakh bit his lip. "How do they treat you here?"
Janaa lifted his head again with a puzzled look. "Lord?"
"Are you treated well? Or poorly? What sort of a master is Lord Sakh'hai?"
Janaa blinked. He hemmed and hawed a bit as if uncertain what to say.
"Er...to be a good master, Lord. Very good master."
"You're sure...?" Antakh had to cut himself off to avoid interrogating the confused Moru. He shook his head. It was too soon to try to gain the slave's confidence; first he had to figure out what sort of Apsiu he was. He offered a smile instead, which just seemed to perplex the Moru even more. "Never mind. I was hoping to pass the time tonight for a while and wondered if you know how to play senet. If there's a board anywhere about, that is."
Janaa's face lit up. "Oh! To understand senet. Board, taken from humans, last raid. Very good game. Learned fast. To play?"
Antakh nodded. "If you could fetch it, please. I don't know my way around very well."
"To be stored among the boxes. To play a game now?"
"Yes, I would like that. Please find it for me."
Janaa bowed and walked off to the corner of the room, rummaging through some boxes. Antakh sat down at a small table and waited for him to return. He allowed the Moru to set up the game board and take out the pieces, arranging them properly. He'd learned how to play from Kynebu, long ago; seeing the game again made him feel a pang, yet he kept silent. It wasn't long before the two of them were leaning over the game board, staring at their pieces and contemplating the best move to make, almost as if they were both human.
Through simple observation, and careful questioning of Janaa, Antakh quickly learned what was expected of the typical Kana, and how he should be expected to act. His small errors and lapses in judgement decreased every day. He worried that Sakh'hai would make a deal of interrogating him, yet for a while the general was too busy with other matters to even bother with him. And by the time he finally called Antakh around, it was to join him and his other Kana at dinner, and merely to ask about his old tribe. Antakh made up stories the whole night.
"And so you had poor luck with not only the humans but with our own kind, eh?" Sakh'ai questioned, gnawing on the legbone of a goose. "Too bad for the East Oasis Tribe. You had a city wall, surely?"
"Yes, Lord, only not nearly as tall as this one. We had not many Kana to begin with; many had already been taken before I was born."
"And the humans just finished the rest?"
"Yes, Lord. Unfortunately."
"I pity you your loss," Rihekh sympathized. "Surely you lost at least one you loved? How many mates did you have?"
Antakh blinked. "I...er...two. Two mates I had."
"And pups?"
"Yes...one Kana pup."
The other Kana seated upon the floor glanced at each other and shook their heads, murmuring sadly. Rihekh held up a cup.
"He brought you honor!"
The other Kana followed suit, all echoing Rihekh's claim. Antakh tried to keep himself from blushing. It was certainly odd, to toast one who'd never existed.
Once he'd satisfied Sakh'hai's curiosity about the East Oasis Tribe, the general turned back to his captains and began discussing offensive moves against a neighboring tribe, so Antakh was free to do as he wished. He let out his breath with some relief that he hadn't been questioned more thoroughly. After the dinner he returned to his quarters, and in the most inconspicuous way he knew how, questioned Janaa further. He tossed out a random question, testing the Moru's loyalties, whenever he could, as if by chance. And thus as time passed he grew to know him better, as well.
He found the Moru to be quite intelligent, as Rihekh had claimed. He was obedient, but he wasn't stupid. Whenever one of Antakh's requests struck him as strange, he caught on quickly, thus Antakh's questioning grew more difficult the more quickly the Moru caught on. He began to wonder if he should finish his questioning and tell the slave exactly what was on his mind...or whether he should do so at all. If Janaa was obedient, that meant he was used to being a slave. Did they ever teach their slaves to act as spies for traitor Kana...?
He had no idea about that one, and so of course it made him hesitate every time he nearly revealed to Janaa who he really was. It seemed to be a moot point anyway. As they played senet one night after Antakh had returned from watching a mock archery competition--Kana archers were among the most elite of the army, being so rare--he found perhaps his questioning hadn't been so subtle after all.
"These competitions," he said, moving a piece. "They hold them often? Every week, every month?"
"To compete once a month, often, Lord. Different things, bow and arrow, sword, throw-stick."
"Do they ever have flight competitions?"
"Flight? Sometimes, Lord. Not as often. Usually Trials, for young ones."
Antakh could sense that the word "Trials" was meant to be spelled with a capital letter. He cocked an ear. "Trials?" he said, without thinking; Janaa raised his head and looked him in the eye, normally an affront for a Kana, but only too late did he realize his own mistake.
Janaa tilted his head to the side with a puzzled look. "Never to take Trials...?" he said; then, "No East Oasis Tribe...no human raid? No Lieutenant Antakh?"
Antakh blinked and flushed. In just a mouthful of words a mere slave had uncovered his entire disguise, which none of the other Kana had been able to do so far. He glanced toward the door, as if making certain no guards were nearby, before nudging the senet board to the side and leaning forward. Janaa followed suit, and he was glad he didn't have to ask. He kept his voice low, still uncertain whether he should be doing this...but if a slave could see through his act, it was best to clear it up before others began to find out as well.
"No," he whispered. "There is no--was no East Oasis Tribe...though there was a human raid...but that was different. I was very young, and do not remember it. One of them took me and raised me as his own kind, though his own kind then shunned him for it. He has died, and I left him. I heard about your kind. I came to see how you truly live. Upon my way I found a dying Kana and took his clothing. And then I arrived here."
He let out his breath and stopped talking, awaiting Janaa's response. He wasn't certain what he'd expected from the Moru, but it wasn't what he got. The slave merely tilted his head to the other side, a question in his look.
"And to need Janaa for something?"
This was what convinced him that the slave could be trusted. To consort with humans, to impersonate a Kana, these were both punishable offenses, one by way of custom, one by way of law, yet the Moru seemed to have no qualms with what he had done. In fact, Antakh sensed he'd known all along that something more was expected of him, even if he hadn't really known why. He felt rather foolish for having been so distrusting, but then again it had been necessary. He spent the rest of the night, into the early hours of the morning, discussing with Janaa what he had come for, what he intended to do.
"I heard that they treat your kind--the Moru--most despicably," he said, every so often casting a glance again toward the door. "I have seen it for myself as well. I wished to know if all Kana are as this. If all Moru are treated so poorly."
Janaa shook his head. "Not to always be so. Some Kana good, some bad. Depends upon master."
"General Sakh'hai? How is he as a master?"
The Moru shrugged. "Demanding, but not cruel. Moru to be beaten for doing wrongs, but for no other reason."
Antakh bit his lip. "Yet they are still beaten?" He changed the subject before Janaa could answer. "And Captain Rihekh? What of him, do you know him well?"
Another shrug. "Lord Rihekh to be good master also. Not as demanding as Lord Sakh'hai, but to not have served him directly."
"You are not just telling me this...?"
Janaa shook his head. "To not lie. To speak as Janaa knows best."
Antakh nodded shortly. "Very well then. For the most part how are the Moru here treated? Do you have any idea?"
Janaa pursed his lips. "To not be so certain...to never have asked others. To ask much, to risk trouble."
"This I know...still, do you believe there is any way you could find this out? I wish to know how they are treated here, before I should decide to do anything."
"Do?" Janaa's look was questioning. Antakh stared at him for a moment before deciding to answer truthfully. He lifted his head.
"I came here to free the Moru. With hopes, that they would follow me away from here. Away from the Kana."
Janaa frowned. "To play at Kana, to take away from Kana?"
Antakh nodded.
A pause. Then, "To lead Moru where?"
Antakh opened his mouth to answer before realizing...he had no answer. He closed it again and furrowed his brow in thought. He couldn't believe he'd never gone over the details of this before now. What sort of plan was this, where he didn't even know what he was going to do once he'd accomplished his goal?
Janaa noticed his confusion and spoke up. "Say to free Moru, to find place to lead," he suggested. "How to do? Many Kana, well trained. One Lord Antakh, not true Kana."
Antakh sighed. "This I know, at least...which is where I was hoping you would assist me. Lord Rihekh said that you are intelligent and I believe him. You can also speak the tongue of the Moru much better than I. You must hold some little respect among your kind, surely?"
A shrug.
"I had hoped that you would speak with your fellows, in whatever manner you feel safest, and convince them to assist me. I will find a way to distract the Kana; and then you may help them escape. There are many more slaves here than Kana. It would be easy for you to overwhelm them, should you try." He paused. "This is only if you agree, Janaa. I will not put you up to something with which you want no part."
The Moru shrugged once again. "Janaa to help...if possible...other Moru, uncertain. Used to being Moru, may not understand."
"May not understand, or agree?"
"Understand. Used to being Moru. Know little else."
Antakh nodded. "I understand. Very well. You will speak with your fellows, then? Ask about a little to see how they would feel about this? But not specifically. I do not know yet who I may trust."
Janaa placed his fist to his chest. "Janaa to know. To speak with caution. Will see, find out, return and tell." He paused and raised one brow. "Lord Antakh to...?"
Antakh stood. "I will continue doing as I have been doing...gaining the Kana's confidence. If you could see through me, I fear that they might as well. So I shall probably have to spend more time with them acting in their manner. Which means more of these competitions and such." He sighed.
Janaa stood as well and placed his arm to his breast. "To help? To act more like Kana, to take slaves. To not mistreat, only play part. To find other Moru to serve Master?"
Antakh blinked. "Er...very well. I'll allow you to decide what to do. You know the ways of the Kana better than I do, apparently!"
Janaa bowed. "To speak with others and call to serve you. To make Master look like good Kana." When Antakh reached for the senet board the Moru squawked and waved at his hand, making him pull it back. "To leave to me! Moru duties. Lord must learn!"
Antakh couldn't suppress a smile. He laughed as Janaa fussed and collected the game pieces, dumping them back into the compartment. "Very well...like I said...you know what you're doing more than I do!"
Janaa was very good at what he did, and very clever. Every day he returned to Antakh's rooms with yet more news from the rest of the Moru. Antakh was surprised by how much trust they placed in the slave, though he assumed it must simply be that way with their kind. When he helped Antakh change his clothing one afternoon for one of the competitions, he went over what he'd heard so far that day.
"Moru of Kana master at east end of town," he said. "To say master beats him regularly, takes his female back to his rooms. To bring her back bruised and shaking."
Antakh bit the inside of his mouth. He stared at his reflection in the mirror to keep himself from speaking.
"Master two houses away, merchant Kana, to know him?"
"Do you mean Lord Kh'aa'khta?"
"Yes, to be him. Killed Moru slave two months ago."
"What?" The question came out before Antakh could stop it, Janaa had spoken so casually.
The slave nodded as he put on Antakh's pectoral. He still spoke as if he were merely holding a conversation, rather than describing a murder. "To catch Moru stealing food, taking to sick pup. To take to courtyard and beat with a stick. Got angry, didn't stop. Other Kana to pull him back, Moru dead. Pup to die also, shortly after."
Antakh felt the inside of his mouth start to bleed.
"And master at far end of town to take pups away from mothers when still young. To prefer them over females. To--"
"This is enough." Antakh stopped the Moru before the rage building up inside him could erupt. He took a shaky breath and let it out, trying to calm himself. Janaa tilted his head and gave him a curious look. "I cannot believe how ashamed I am to have almost been one of this kind...perhaps they had every reason to burn my village to the ground, if it was anything at all like this one." He cast Janaa a pained look. "Does none of this disturb you? You stand here and tell me of torture, rape, murder, as if it is something you see every day."
Janaa blinked. He shrugged.
"To happen. To be way it is."
Antakh turned back to the mirror. As soon as he saw his reflection, looking so much like a Kana, he had to shut his eyes. Disgust flowed through him.
"General Sakh'hai and Lord Rihekh...have you any idea at all? If they are like this...?"
Another shrug. "To not know, Lord."
Antakh let out his breath and gazed down at the floor. His sandals gleamed gold in the lamplight.
"I pray that not all of them are as this...that at least one of them, or two, have some decency left..."
Janaa said nothing. He stepped back and allowed Antakh to straighten out his collar before turning away from the mirror once and for all. He left for the competitions, leaving the slave behind.
Today the competitions featured river sports, and a set of wooden stands had been built near the bank to seat the general and his men. By the time Antakh arrived the Kana crowd was cheering loudly as two lieutenants swam up the river and back again in a race. He stopped not far from the stands to watch. If this was all the competitions entailed today, he didn't worry about possibly being called upon. Though he had lived in the desert, he knew how to swim passing well.
"Lord Antakh! You finally arrive! I was beginning to think Janaa forgot to wake you and was wondering if I should send somebody else along to do the job for him!" Antakh turned to see Captain Rihekh waving at him and smiling. He indicated a seat next to him and Antakh joined him. "You have missed the throw-stick toss, but it was dreadfully dull anyway. A throw-stick is hardly a weapon for a warrior. As soon as this is over I suppose you cannot imagine what they shall have next!"
Antakh tried to think of an answer, yet none came. He needn't have worried; Rihekh was too caught up in the events to much care about his silence.
"A hippopotamus hunt! Only it is hardly to be a hunt, as they need not search the beast out--we have one right here confined in a cage! As soon as the competition begins, it will be released into the river for our men to go after it. We have never tried something so risky before, but I suspect it will be well worth the watch!"
"I suspect it will, also," Antakh replied, keeping his opinion to himself. He felt a pang as he realized the hippopotamus was in much the same situation as the Moru. Rihekh failed to catch the note in his voice and merely laughed and clapped his back.
"Yes, indeed! I only wish I were able to join in, but I must be in top form to help judge the competitions tomorrow. A shame! Tomorrow will be dull as well. I would much rather strike a hippo than sit through endless hours of flight trials!"
Antakh paled. Rihekh did see his reaction this time, and cocked his head at him.
"Lord! Right as soon as I said that you took on a most unhealthy pallor! You would like me to call for a physician--?"
"I...no, I am fine." Antakh wiped his brow and feigned being stricken by the heat. "I am only glad I'm not down on the river right now, either. Fighting an angry hippopotamus!"
The captain laughed again. "Yes, most true, I suppose! I should count my blessings then! Perhaps boredom shall save me yet!"
The racers in the river finished their run and clambered aboard a skiff sent out to retrieve them. The gathered Kana cheered the winner and a wreath of lotus blossoms was placed atop his head. General Sakh'hai waved his hand.
"Excellent show! Blacksmith! A good new sword for the victor!" The winner beamed and bowed low before his commander before being escorted away to towel off. The general waved again.
"Fetch that great ugly beast and set it loose! Let us see just how much of a match it is for the mighty Kana!"
Rihekh grinned and nudged Antakh in the side. "See, here it comes. Three of the tribe's best captains and four of their lieutenants have won the draw to have first shots at it. Let's see how long they last!"
Antakh was barely listening. He sat and watched the rest of the competitions with hardly any attention. While the Kana fought with the frenzied hippo, he thought of what Janaa had told him. Even if not everyone in the tribe was a monster, enough of them were, and innocent Moru were hurting because of it. He thought again of the slave who had been beaten to death, and his pup who had died of malnourishment, and the pain inside him grew. These were only the stories Janaa had been able to tell him. What else was the Moru missing?
He peered at the cheering Rihekh out of the corner of his eye and prayed that if the tribe had just one good Kana, it was he. He had spoken to Antakh in a friendly manner, more than once, almost like an older brother...Antakh could barely stand to think that he might be as savage as the others he'd been told about, once his doors were closed. He knew he had no way of finding out.
"Lieutenant! Hai down there! Clear out your ears, dog!"
Antakh shook his head and glanced up. The general was looking down at him and Antakh knew he'd been calling down to him for a while now, judging by his flustered state. Yet he was not angry, and merely poked at Antakh with words.
"You there, Lieutenant! Are you going to sleep all day? Perhaps I should have let you get your sleep. I should like you to enter the competitions tomorrow!"
All of the color drained from Antakh's face, but this time Rihekh didn't notice it. He clapped Antakh on the back again and barked with laughter.
"Yes, yes, that should be so entertaining!"
Antakh turned to face him. "But weren't the Trials intended for only young Kana?"
Rihekh shrugged and swigged a drink of beer. "Mostly, yes, yet every so often we will have someone or other who shows off his strength and skill in flight. One of my sergeants vowed he would sail down from the highest cliff without beating his wings all the way down. That I must be present to see! What say you, Lord?"
Antakh started to ask him what he meant, when Sakh'hai made it clear. "Yes, yes!" he exclaimed. "I am betting Antakh here could put him to shame several times over. I'm willing to bet he will not only jump in safety, but he will also rise at the last moment and make your man look like a buffoon!"
"I welcome your challenge!" Rihekh called back, crossing his arm to his breast.
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