studying – and aping – the ways of young men. She cut patiently at her desired breaking point with her small bronze axe, put it in the fork of the tree and pushed. There was a crack, and she pushed again – a sharp sound, and she was lying in the snow.
Scopasis laughed. Melitta laughed with him. 'Come and lend me your strength,' Melitta called.
Again, the boy walked over. This time he chose a bigger branch. He put it in the fork of the tree and waited for her to join him, and together they pushed. It took several tries, but they broke the branch, and then reset the shorter pieces and broke them again. Then Scopasis went and got another branch without being prompted.
Scopasis worked steadily for over an hour, until Tameax rode up and laughed. 'You got the boy to do some work!' he said.
Scopasis dropped the branch he was carrying, leaped on to his horse's back and rode away without a word.
Melitta walked up to the baqca. 'Never let it be said that you see everything in the future,' she commented. 'You just undid an afternoon's work.'
Tameax shrugged. 'Bah – if he's so thin-skinned, he's useless.'
'That is why you are a baqca and not a king. Go and find him, apologize and bring him back.' Melitta smiled. 'Please.'
'Why?' Tameax asked.
Ataelus watched, his axe raised.
'Because I ask,' Melitta said.
Tameax narrowed his eyes, and suddenly Melitta understood what she saw there. 'Don't be a fool, baqca,' she shot at him. She walked up closer. 'I do not need to walk the spirit world to see that you are jealous. Jealous that I cut wood with an exiled boy?' She walked up close to him, and then closer, and he stepped back. 'You presume, baqca. Your feelings are a presumption. Perhaps you are too small a man to be my baqca, eh?'
Tameax's face filled with blood and a vein on his temple throbbed. 'I cannot help my feelings,' he said.
'You remind me of that boy,' Melitta said. 'He cannot control his feelings either. The difference is that he's been mistreated his whole life – for being the smallest, I expect. What is your excuse?'
Tameax made an effort – an effort that showed through his heavy furs in every line of his body. He stood straighter. 'I'll go and fetch the boy,' he said, his face still red.
'Good,' Melitta allowed, and went back to breaking wood. That night, Ataelus and Samahe's son Thyrsis came in with a dozen more warriors – all young men and women, from a mix of tribes, although Standing Horses seemed to predominate.
Thyrsis was a handsome young man with excellent manners and the kind of physique that boys his age dreamed of. He excelled at games, he had killed Sauromatae on raids, and his brown eyes were capable of assessment and analysis – she'd watched him consider how to mend a scabbard, his careful cutting, his fine work with a sheet of scrap bronze.
In fact, his superiority in all things was obvious, and all the young warriors of both sexes accepted it apart from Scopasis. Scopasis, though younger, would accept no order from Thyrsis, nor ride with him.
Thyrsis came and sat by Melitta, who was adding scales to the shirt that Samahe had made her, putting shoulder-plates on the yoke. Her back was to Nihmu, who was sewing a soft deerskin shirt. They leaned their backs against each other for warmth and stability. On the other side of the fire, Ataelus went through his arrows, peering along their lengths, while Coenus cast lead sling balls in a stone mould and the metallic tang of the hot lead filled the yurt.
Samahe had scouted all day, well ahead of the clan, and now she was asleep in her furs and blankets.
'Greetings, lady,' Thyrsis said, respectfully. He was a very polite young man.
Melitta made room for him. There was something about him – perhaps his respect for her – that made her feel much older than him.
'I brought new warriors,' he said, looking at his father.
'And no meat,' Ataelus said wryly.
'Word of your coming is spreading like flame on dry grass,' Thyrsis said. 'If you would ride two days to the Grass Cats' winter town, we might raise a hundred riders – or twice that.'
Melitta smiled, coughed when a gust of wind somewhere managed to push smoke into her eyes and mouth, and shook her head. 'And then?' she asked.
'Why, then we can fight Marthax,' Thyrsis said.
'Marthax has half a thousand knights, every one of them with three warhorses as good as Gryphon or your father's charger, Eagle. The last thing I want is to challenge him to battle.'
Thyrsis shook his head and began shedding fur – a minute by the fire and outdoor clothes caused a sea of sweat. 'Then what do we go for? Will Marthax cravenly hand you the kingship?'
'Why would that be craven?' Melitta asked. Behind Ataelus, the tent flap opened and Scopasis entered. He went and sat by Ataelus. Melitta turned back to Thyrsis. 'Perhaps Marthax will do what is best for the people. He has no other heir.'
Thyrsis watched the fire. 'But – I promised them a fight. They are young and hot.'
Melitta glanced at Ataelus. Being the lady was already far more complex than she had expected, and she wished her brother, who thought deeply and read people well, was there with her. 'You want a fight,' Melitta said. She tried to keep her voice kind. 'You recruit young fighters because you want to be a chief, like your father, and lead them in war.' Melitta sighed. 'We will have war soon enough.'
Thyrsis nodded. 'Will you ride with my young warriors tomorrow?' he asked.
'I look forward to meeting them, Thyrsis,' Melitta said. 'But I am here to be the lady of all the Assagatje, not just the young.'
Scopasis watched her the way an eagle watches a rabbit. Annoyed, she went back to her armour, carefully running a fresh thong through the next scale and fixing it in place, then tying the knots. No one else spoke.
'How much further to Marthax?' Nihmu asked.
'Ten days' ride, and then some searching to find him. He may be at the Royal Winter Town, and he may not.' Ataelus shrugged.
Melitta had never come so far west in her youth. 'He must have word of us by now,' she said.
Ataelus nodded. 'You said to go straight to him,' he answered.
Mere days from meeting the king of the Assagatje, Melitta's doubts rose like a choking cloud to overwhelm her hopes. 'So I did,' she said.
'It is not too late to turn south and find Urvara,' Ataelus added. 'She would escort you with a thousand warriors.'
Melitta shook her head. 'In the spring. No one can ride with a thousand warriors in the winter unless they have Greeks to supply them. And my brother will come in the spring – I can feel it, as if I can see his mind. We must be ready when he is ready or we'll both fail. I must unite the Assagatje before the snow melts and the ground hardens.'
'You take a mighty risk,' Ataelus said.
Melitta looked up to find Scopasis's eyes on her. 'Yes,' she said. The next day, Scopasis emerged from a snow squall, riding hard. 'Horse men behind us,' he said to Melitta, and then to Ataelus. 'Moving fast. At least fifty.'
Ataelus rubbed his scraggly beard. He raised an eyebrow.
Melitta shrugged. 'Who can it be, coming from the south, except Urvara?'
Ataelus said, 'You don't want Urvara?'
Melitta shrugged right back. 'Perhaps the gods have taken that decision from me,' she said.
They formed up anyway, the bulk of the warriors under Ataelus's wolf's-tail banner, three crisp ranks. Ataelus had served for years with Greek commanders, and he had learned a great deal of their ideas on shock, on tactics, even formations. His clan of outcasts was yet a formidable fighting force. So they formed at the lip of a snow- covered ridge, and the other party rode slowly up the ridge, their horses black against the white snow until they were quite close.
Scopasis had pushed his warhorse in behind Melitta in the formation. Now he leaned forward. 'That is Urvara,' he said.
'Do you hate her?' Melitta asked without turning her head.
Scopasis paused. 'No,' he said, with no tone at all. 'No. I killed the man. What other sentence could she
