“Several to the effect that females are not suited to battle, only to defending the house. Others that they can’t possibly manage to keep up with such powerful warriors.”
Hress Rscil couldn’t help but grin.
“That first would be from the older ones, the second from younger ones.”
Cmeo Mrist couldn’t suppress a smile in return. “It was.”
“It will be hard to break.” He sighed. “I have some ideas, but you must support me.”
“Of course,” she said with a cordial lay of her ears.
“I’ll start on that in the morning.” He could start now, but he wanted time to think, and it was a hot day, dusty and gusty and more suited for a nap. He’d have to call a break shortly.
Cmeo Mrist said, “Well, I must thank you for your understanding.”
Talonmaster Hress Rscil regarded her evenly. “You are welcome, Priestess, but I must be honest.”
“Yes?”
“I share some of that sentiment myself. However, my clan leader has given me orders, and I will comply as best I can. I expect as much from those I command.”
She almost sighed, and her ears drooped slightly. “I understand. I also will do the best I can. Of course, I’m not happy with such…instinctive behavior.” He knew she’d wanted to say undisciplined, though she did not. “I will trust you to address it.”
“Thank you,” he said. Fair enough, and he’d continue to give her the benefit of the doubt.
He wasn’t sure she’d feel the same way tomorrow.
Barely after dawn, the training resumed. Hress Rscil watched from atop his chariot as the drillmasters motivated the warriors in the cool air and dew-damp earth.
“Crawl! On your bellies. There are leatherwings overhead, and hurled spears and rocks. If a filthy Liskash sees you, you’ll drool and do his bidding. Now up and run! Run like the filthy Liskash wants you carnally. Down! And crawl!” The nearest leader clapped his hands together to make his warriors move faster.
Rscil had talked to his drillmasters, and by “talked,” he’d told them bluntly what behavior was acceptable to him, and thence to Nrao Aveldt. A general lesson and motivation now would be followed by individual attention to any comments, and further group activity would continue until the problem was resolved. As an additional incentive, he’d spread the snide word that any warrior who didn’t feel capable of marching with females had his leave to return to the herds. That resulted in hundreds of flattened ears, but no desertions.
They might hate him, but they would obey.
Cmeo Mrist looked rather nonplussed at the warriors crawling through sand and brambles, jumping, charging, diving. It was painful and exhausting, and mildly degrading. Still, it would enforce the rules.
They drilled all day, and there was clear resentment, but better response. One side benefit, Hress Rscil thought, was that no warrior would quit if the females didn’t first. Nor was anyone foolish enough to challenge the clan leader, the talonmaster, or even a drillmaster on the matter. He was satisfied.
Two days later Cmeo Mrist reported, “The comments have stopped. Muttering, however, continues. The Dancers are dealing with it, including joking about it. With respect, a warrior of great ability need not boast. His skill is apparent. The boasting only serves to point his insecurity. Especially with Dancers, who can sometimes read feelings.”
“I will relay that,” Hress Rscil agreed. “Some of the warriors will feel put upon, that they have been felt in such a manner.” It struck the talonmaster that he had watched the graceful Dancers, and their movements had inspired the occasional less than chaste thought. Had Cmeo Mrist or the others sensed this? He dismissed the concern and plunged ahead,
“I have a suggestion, a delicate one, if I may,” he said. His proposal was a bold one, and could have repercussions if not taken well.
She raised her brow hairs and said, “It’s necessary that we agree that we are not enemies, and can share sensitive things.”
He hoped the Dancer was referring to what he was about to propose.
“One matter, which I feel is legitimate, is that this will be a long march with stiff battles.”
“Go on.”
“The warriors fear the Dancers are graceful but not strong, and I use that term in the physical sense, and will not be always able to keep up with the claws.”
“I see,” she said. “Yes, I understand the context. And what do you propose?”
“I would like to conduct training routes as well as drill. A few hundredlengths at first, building to greater distances.”
“That makes sense,” she agreed. “To make it interesting, I propose three thousandlengths to start.”
Talonmaster Rscil took a moment to eat that. While not a great distance, it was a healthy route for warriors, and a fair approach to battle. Eventually, he’d like twice eight or more thousandlengths. Cmeo proposed starting at more than an eighth of that at the start. Of course he appreciated the offer. It would speed training, and make a better showing for them. Could they do it, however?
“Are you confident of that?” he asked.
She sniffed. “Warrior, what do you think females in camp or town do? They butcher meat, haul wood, walk herds, fight predators. It has been years since we fought to defend the town, but you’ve heard and seen herding station battles. Besides, I will guarantee none will drop out. If they fall, it will be from exertion, and demonstrate they have the courage to give all. Surely that will serve some measure?”
Rscil admired her assessment of the situation and appreciated the cooperation. “Either will serve great measure. I admit to knowing little apart from war, and I value your advice,” he said.
Cmeo Mrist chuckled and rumbled in her throat. Her eyes twinkled.
“This information is a lack of your warriors, and ironic being as we know so much of our neighbors and enemies.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Does any male ever understand a female? Or the reverse?”
“I understand you better than you think, Hress Rscil.” Her eyes bore a flash as she raised a gourd for a lap of water.
Her glint made him most delighted and uncomfortable at the same time.
To cover his confusion, he said, “I will see to the plans for these routes.”
As he left, he heard her growl a much louder chuckle.
Before dawn the next day, Hress Rscil looked over the warriors at morning gathering. Some were stolid, relaxed, attentive. Some were eager and itchy to start. A few looked disdainfully at, or away from, the Dancers who were clustered together at one side of the field. Everyone’s tail twitched with impatience.
Cmeo Mrist stood nearby, a bundle next to her. It was smaller but similar to his, with water gourds and dried meat for meals. She had a dagger and short javelin, to his full panoply.
“Today we march,” he shouted, and the drillmasters echoed him. “Follow me!”
He turned and picked up his bundle, then started at a brisk but steady pace toward one of the well-worn paths of the settlement. Cmeo Mrist matched him and fell alongside, with Senior Drillmaster Gree on the other side. The old, scarred clan drillmaster was just called Gree. No one knew his full name or even if Gree was his taken or given name. Rscil himself was unable to recall and anyone of lesser status knew better than to ask. Gree had counting beads, and a very reliable pace. He also had a very craggy face with claw scars and torn ears. He’d fought in many border raids. Cmeo Mrist looked like an unearthly being in comparison, glossy black, trim, dainty and graceful.
It was early and dark, cool and misty, but would be warm soon enough, from exercise and the sun. His chosen route was south, between several copses that led to the Great Desert, many days’ walk south. There had been forest here, until Mrem had harvested it for building, and to clear grazing land.
Nothing was said for a time. Gree kept count, shifting beads on the string. They were drilled copperstone,
