Free Shadow of the Horsemen (Kalie's Journey) by Sandra Saidak Page A

a new hunter with a new method had been at work. Leja had assumed, as she had for years, that all birds killed at this lake were hers. Of course, explaining the situation didn’t make Kalie and Varena any less likely to die.
    “I killed three geese with this.” Kalie proffered the throwing stick.
    Most of the chiefs’ wives laughed derisively. Those who had seen Kalie’s demonstration of skill did not laugh, but neither did they speak up in her defense. “Check the marks on my three,” she pressed forward. “Here, you can see where the stick struck this one on the wing; this one here in the belly. Then, too you can see how it was actually striking the ground that killed them. Yours have none of this kind of damage; they died only when you broke their necks…”
    “She’s right,” said one of the other wives, examining the geese. “It’s amazing! Can you show me how to hunt like…?” Then she glanced up at Leja and went silent.
    “Of course she’s right!” said an old woman. Kalie didn’t know her, but guessed she was one of the oldest women alive in this place. “Everyone here saw her using that stick to knock birds from the sky. Everyone except you greedy bitches who every year flaunt your power to have what others cannot.”
    Emboldened by Kalie’s unknown champion, some of the other women began to press forward timidly, asking if they could learn to use such sticks.
    “I don’t believe it!” shouted Leja. “It’s nothing but a sheep’s rib! How could anyone…?”
    “Like this!” Kalie flung the stick skyward, hoping her audience would get the idea, since there was no target to aim at.
    Or so she thought.
    The stick left the torchlight, flew through the night sky in a graceful arc—struck a tiny moving form—and fell down nearly at Kalie’s feet.
    Just beyond it was a small brown duck.
    Kalie thought she heard girlish laughter: bold and gentle and fearless. Not the sort of laughter that was ever heard around here. I won’t deny it’s You, she prayed to her Goddess. Especially if You help me get out of this alive!
    One of the women ran and got the bird. Kalie set a restraining hand on Varena’s shoulders, in case the girl was going to fight for it, but Varena was grinning through her battered face. The woman brought the duck to Kalie with a deference usually reserved for first wives.
    Leja sputtered. “If something so simple could make hunting so easy, we would have known about it!”
    More than one woman bit her lips to avoid laughing out loud. Kalie grinned. “Which is why my people eat well, while so many of yours remain hungry.”
    Then, they saw the men returning from the practice field and everyone scurried to prepare the evening meal.

Chapter 7
     
    Kalie carefully wrapped the geese and duck in grass and hung them from one of the tent poles. Despite the heat of the day, nights on the steppes were still cool enough to keep meat fresh. Tomorrow Kalie would learn if the birds truly belonged to her. Tonight, she was as close to free as she had ever been since coming to this land.     
    For tonight was the Summer Festival, where even slaves were—to a limited degree—free to eat and drink and sing and dance, while wives proudly served their husbands. Kalie found Altia’s pride in such servitude funny, in a sad way. There was the fierce wife that ruled the tent with a stone first, kneeling before her husband, holding a plate of food within his easy reach while he laughed and joked with his fellow warriors, and ignored her.
    If this was how a wife enjoyed a feast, Kalie was glad to be a slave.
    It was Cassia who would be staying inside to tend the fire tonight. She had insisted on making a brief appearance when the holy men of the tribe had performed their mercifully short ritual, declaring summer and, more importantly, the feast, begun. Then she returned to the tent, promising Kalie she would rest.
    Kalie had tried to treat Varena’s bruises, but the girl had impatiently