Hestia nodded with a sigh. "You are right, of course. I'm sorry to be so ill-tempered. I was just hoping that the Amalites would not so darken our shores during my reign. My father did not see the signs, Colin. The Amalites swept down on his shores, falling first on the Katabull and then on us. He waited till it was almost too late to drive them away. I do not want to wait that long. I want to stop them now, and I need this Tarius the Black and the Katabull people to drive the Amalites away. Therefore I should approach her with friendship, not orders."
* * *
Tarius sat in her throne surveying the workers below, having taken a break from her own work. Jena brought her a mug of water and sat in her lap as she gave it to her.
"The work goes well," Jena said.
"In a week it should be done," Tarius said.
The Katabull were building docks for their newly acquired ships. It was a huge undertaking, but all took turns with the work. Since Tarius and the Marching Night worked alongside them, they didn't feel inclined to complain about mistreatment. The docks and the boats would serve the entire Katabull nation. First as a means of defense, and second as an obvious boon to fishing. They had the perfect harbor for the docks and more than enough trees.
Her herald, Rami, came running up to her out of breath.
"Great Leader . . ."
"What did I tell you about that?" Tarius asked sternly.
"Tarius . . . the queen's herald has come with word from Queen Hestia herself," he said excitedly.
"Well don't just stand there, bring him on," Tarius said.
A few minutes later, the queen's herald stood before Tarius. He seemed only a little surprised to see Jena in the Katabull leader's lap, and Jena smiled.
"Great Leader," the Herald said. "My Sovereign, Queen Hestia, Ruler of all the Kartik, Herald of the Dawn, and Daughter of the Moon, requests the presence of you, your mate and the Marching Night at a great feast to be held in honor of your great service to our kingdom."
Tarius smiled broadly at Jena. "What did I tell you?"
"You told me," Jena said with a smile.
"When is this feast to take place?" Tarius asked.
"The queen leaves the time to you."
"Then make it three weeks from today. We are engulfed in this project, and I must not leave it unattended. Tell the queen we will be happy to dine with her."
The herald stood there for a moment just looking at Tarius.
"Is there something else?" Tarius asked.
"I'm sorry, Great Leader. It's just . . . you're bigger in the stories."
Tarius laughed. "Am I really, now? Go boy, tell the queen we'll be happy to meet with her." The boy started to go and Tarius reached out quickly and grabbed his arm. Startled, he turned to look at her. "Tell Hestia that I have the answer to her problem and will explain it upon my arrival. Can you remember that?"
He nodded and repeated. "You have the answer to the queen's problem and will explain it upon your arrival."
"Good man, now go."
"What was all that about?" Jena asked.
"Hestia needs help with the Amalites," Tarius said. "When we are finished here we can give her the help she needs."
* * *
Hestia waited with baited breath. Her heralds had just informed her that the Marching Night could be seen from the castle garrison. She had word sent to the kitchen staff, and she dressed and prepared to meet her guests. Her consort rubbed at her shoulders.
"Everything will be fine, Hestia. Did she not send word saying she has a solution to your problem?" he said gently.
"Which problem, Dirk?" Hestia asked. "The Katabull talk in riddles; it's their way. The gods alone know what she meant. What if I say the wrong thing? This woman is a mighty warrior. I run an army, but I know nothing about warfare. I only do what has been tried and true. I do know that it would be a grave mistake to ignore what the Amalites are doing to our shipping lines, and I need her help to find a solution. I need the help of the Katabull Nation. If I make a mistake, the entire kingdom will pay for it."
"Then you won't make a mistake, my love." Dirk gently kissed her neck.
* * *
The queen stood in her throne room with her champion standing on her right hand side and her consort on the left. Her retinue stood all around her. The trumpet sounded, the door opened, and her herald strode in.
"My Queen, Tarius the Black, the Leader of the Katabull Nation, her consort, Jena of the Jethrik, and the Marching Night.
She had tried to prepare herself for any kind of entrance, but still wasn't prepared for what she saw. Tarius the Black was tall and dark, her long hair braided in small braids all over her head. Her armor was leather as black as the darkest night and studded with metal that shone even in the darkened castle hall. Her pauldrons and knee cops were pounded into the shape of skulls. Her arms were bare except for studded black leather vambraces. She wore black leather breaches with a loincloth and a cloak of a dozen brilliant hues. She bore the scars of a hundred battles. Little scars ran up and down both her arms, there was a scar across her throat and one down her face. She looked every bit as powerful as her legends proclaimed.
Yet she gave Hestia a smile that put her instantly at ease.
The woman at the warlord's side was definitely of the Jethrik and an unquestionable beauty. She wore a colorful wrap-around dress, not unlike the one the queen was wearing, but she also carried a sword on her back that wasn't much smaller than the one her mate carried.
The Marching Night was a mixed batch who had obviously cleaned up for the occasion, re-dyeing their leather armor and shining the metal parts. And they didn't bow to her. That meant that at least their leader was a follower of the Nameless God. Must be hard to wield such power and yet harbor the belief that no person was any better than another.
"My Queen," Tarius said.
"Great Leader." Hestia remained standing to show that she, too, thought herself no better than anyone else. She knew that any show of fear would lose her the respect of this woman and her followers, so she walked right up to her. "Sister," she said holding up her hand.
"Sister," Tarius said, taking her hand and bringing their elbows together. "We have much to discuss concerning the Amalite menace."
"Yes. But first we shall feast."
* * *
The queen watched as the Katabull throne was placed at the table next to her own.
"Some stupid custom of my people. The leader always has to sit on the throne. You should see the way they fall apart if I go to sit on a rock. Not that it stops me anyway," Tarius explained to Hestia.
Hestia nodded graciously.
They sat on their thrones at the same time. Tarius on the queen's right hand side in the place of honor. Everyone else sat only after Hestia nodded and Tarius waved her hand wildly in obvious and utter impatience with the whole procedure. Jena sat to Tarius's right, followed by Harris, Elise, Arvon and Dustan.
The queen's retinue consisted of her consort, her councilors and their respective mates. They were not nearly as colorful or as good looking as Tarius's people. Nor were her subjects as entertaining as the Marching Night. They all started to reach for the food in the middle of the table, and their leader looked at them and growled. They snapped their hands back to their laps like scolded children.
The hall steward filled the queen's glass, and then the servers around the room filled all the glasses of the waiting guests.
Tarius coughed, looking at the Marching Night and moved her head closer to the queen. "Queen Hestia . . . You are aware that I myself and a good half of my troop are Katabull and that we therefore have no tolerance to alcohol."
"Well aware," Hestia said with a smile. "And as I have no desire to have my hall filled to the brim with drunk Katabull, this toast will be made with grape juice. Then we will bring out the wine, and if your people choose to get drunk, then so be it. I will hold no grudge."
Tarius nodded, looked at her people and nodded again.
The queen raised her glass and stood, motioning with her hand that they should remain seated. "I raise a glass to our honored guests. Tarius the Black, Great Leader of the Katabull Nation, to her lovely and capable consort Jena, and to the Marching Night. May your people forever prosper and have power over your enemies."
They all drank, and the queen sat down.
Tarius stood up raising her glass. "May the queen and her consort live long, healthy lives, and may all our enemies be as the dust beneath our feet."
They all drank, and Tarius sat down.
Then the servers started bringing the food in. First to the queen and the others seated at the head table, and then to everyone else.
"So, I'm assuming that you are a follower of the Nameless God," Hestia said conversationally.
"I am, as are most of the Katabull," Tarius said.
"Yet you have leaders?"
"Yes, it does seem contradictory, but only to those who don't understand our philosophy. See, all are equal, from the monarch to the man who cleans the public privy. Both serve important functions, and both are needed. I am leader; it's a job. If I abuse the power of that job, if I treat people as if they are underlings, then I am breaking the code. A good leader is not the master of the people, but the servant," Tarius said.
She's eloquent, not at all the barbarian I was expecting
, Hestia thought.
"Well put," she said.
"Thank you. The leader does not make laws, nor does the leader pass judgment on the people except when problems cannot be solved within the pack. My main job is to defend my people, to make sure we have a strong defense, and that's what I will do. I personally believe that a strong
offense
is the only real
defense
. What say you, Hestia?"
Tarius didn't blink an eye; she seemed to look right into Hestia's soul. She dispensed with any formalities, either real or implied, and called Hestia by her name not her title. Hestia found herself so off balance that she felt obliged to tell the woman the plain and simple truth.
"I know nothing of warfare except what is in books, and what I have learned in a training ring," Hestia answered in a whisper.
Tarius smiled. "Well, then we truly are the same. Because I know nothing else."
Riddles . . . why must the Katabull always talk in riddles? Never a straight answer. It puts me off my guard.
Jena stuck her head around Tarius to address Hestia. "She means that you are missing the skills she has, and that she is missing the skills you have."
Jena slapped Tarius on the shoulder playfully. "Say what you mean, dunderhead."
Then she again addressed Hestia. "The food is good." Jena went back to her plate.
Hestia watched the way Tarius's whole face seemed to light up when the woman spoke to her. She wasn't offended, and Hestia realized she had to relax. This woman knew nothing of a gentle life. She was a mercenary—a killing machine who had lived by her wits, but she was also filled with good humor.
"I need your advice, but it can wait till after dinner," Hestia said.
"The last time I gave council to a monarch I was shot through with an arrow and left to be dragged to death behind a horse for my efforts. As for dinner, I do my best thinking while I am eating," Tarius said.
"I am not Persius. I am Kartik. I would never reward good with evil," Hestia assured her. "The Amalites are raiding about one in five of our trading ships, killing the crews, and slowing down trade with the Jethrik and the barbarian nations. Worse still, as many as we kill, there are always more coming in on our own ships—the ships they steal from us. Despite our best efforts, the attacks are not lessening, they are becoming more severe. Case in point, the recent attack on your own people. What should we do?"
"I have six ships and a port from which to sail. Even as we speak my people are fixing the boats with Kartik sails and flags. We need supplies. As you know the Katabull people are primarily an agricultural, hunting and gathering culture. We have no wealth with which to outfit our ships. We need supplies from you. I also need a hundred of your best men. I myself will man one ship and put a mixture of humans and Katabull on all of them. We will sail in the areas where the ships are being raided. Then, when the Amalites come to raid us, the Katabull will call the night, and we will attack them. We will kill all on board and take their ships for our own. We will bring the ships back to the closest port where your people will outfit them for the coming war . . ."
"The coming war?" Hestia asked.
"The Amalites will never stop coming after us until we destroy them utterly. At the very least, we must destroy all their ships. Burn them and their ports. Make sure there is not even one fishing boat left. Take away their ability to sail, and you take away their ability to torment us. Send ships periodically to make sure that they never have the chance to rebuild their ships and their ports, and we get rid of the Amalite menace forever."
"I will get you everything you want," Hestia said. "Whatever you need, you have but to ask and I will seal it. I will not make the same mistake that my father made; we will crush the Amalite horde now and forever."
Hestia realized just then that about a half a dozen drunken Katabulls were dancing around the hall.
Tarius smiled at her. "You did say you didn't care," Tarius reminded her.
Hestia nodded, clapped her hands, and musicians started to play. Music filled the air, and then Hestia clapped her hands again and six scantily clad Kartik women came out dancing. "For your entertainment," Hestia said to the reigning Katabull leader. Tarius nodded in appreciation. The Marching Night went crazy with wolf whistles and yells. Jena noticed Tarius paying particular attention to one of the dancers and slapped her.
"Ow!" Tarius said rubbing her shoulder as if wounded.
"You keep your eyes over here," Jena said pointing at herself.
Tarius smiled at her. "But my dear love, you're not dancing . . . I'd of course much rather see you dance."
"All right then, I will." Jena had downed just enough wine to think it was a good idea. She had learned all of the Kartik dancing moves, and could dance as well if not better than any of these girls, and she showed them all she could. When she started to dance, the Marching Night got still louder. Soon all of them were dancing around, including Tarius who was dancing with Jena in a manner that was almost—but not quite—sex.