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“What are they doing over there?” Shanis reined in her horse and pointed toward a place where men and women were hacking away at the thick undergrowth.
“Clearing out shrubs and creepers,” Heztus replied.
“I know that. But why?”
“Oh. You should have asked.” Heztus gave her a wink.
Shanis heaved a sigh, managing a tiny smile in the process. Since her friends had departed, the dwarf had kept her company, and he seemed to have made it his mission to keep her spirits up. He was also a helpful advisor whose genial manner made it easy for him to move among all the clans gathered around Calmut.
“Once upon a time, there was a sizable city here. People have begun reclaiming it. There’s even talk of settling here, or at least establishing a presence for each clan.”
Shanis nodded. “I wish we could do something about the divisions between clans. We’re united, but we have a long way to go.”
“Patience. The changes you’ve made are a fine start if for no other reason than you’ve given all the clans a single person on whom to focus their anger.”
One of Shanis’ first actions upon being recognized as the ruler of the newly-united Lothan was to arrange cross-clan marriages, seeking to form bonds where none had existed before. Most of the clan leaders and a few of the betrothed saw the wisdom in her actions, but many more were angry. She couldn’t blame them, but knew it was the right thing to do.
“They do say you should no be making them marry until you do the same,” Granlor said. Granlor was a young Monaghan warrior who’d appointed himself Shanis’ bodyguard back when she first proclaimed herself as the bearer of the Silver Serpent. Realizing he’d said too much, he coughed into his fist and looked away.
“When she marries, it won’t be to a Lothan.” Heztus drew a sharp dagger and absently trimmed his nails. “She can’t choose a Malgog over a Monaghan, or vice-versa, lest she drive a new wedge between the clans. It will have to be an outlander.”
Shanis hoped her face did not reflect the way her heart fluttered at Heztus’ words. Prince Larris, as the second son, was not the first in line to inherit the Galdoran throne. But she didn’t dare hope.
“I won’t be marrying any time soon, in any case. I have too much to do.”
“Like laying siege to Karkwall and claiming the throne?” Heztus asked a bit too blithely.
“Heztus, do you remember when I told you how much I value the fact that you never prevaricate or mince words? I think I’ve changed my mind.” She spurred her horse forward, leaving the two men hurrying to catch up.
They cantered down what had recently been a footpath, but was now a small thoroughfare, worn down by thousands of feet and hooves. They soon came upon a clearing where Gillen, the fair-haired apprentice bone woman of the Hawk Hill clan, stood in the midst of a cluster of girls and young women. Shanis could not hear what she was saying, but it was clear the woman was teaching. Several other bone women stood nearby, listening and occasionally nodding in agreement.
Shanis reined in, dismounted, and handed her reins over to Granlor as soon as he caught up. As she approached, Effie, a bone woman of the Black Mangrove clan, turned to greet her.
“What’s all this?” Shanis indicated the gathering with a nod of her head. “Do all of them want to be bone women?”
“Not exactly.” Effie placed a light hand on Shanis’ elbow and steered her away so they would not disturb the instruction. “Some do, but others want to learn from us. Bone women’s skills are varied: some are strong in healing, others know herbs, some give wise counsel, while some even know magic.”
“Do any know sorcery?” Shanis was surprised to hear the question pass her lips, but she was keenly interested. With Aspin, the seeker, gone, no one remained to instruct her in her newly-discovered talent.
Effie pursed her lips. “It is considered impolite to ask. Of course, you did not know that.” She thought for a few moments before answering. “At least two of us do— do not ask me to tell you who; it is not my place to do so. There are probably more, but I cannot say for certain. It will be their choice to reveal it when they are ready.”
Shanis sighed. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. “What is Gillen teaching them?”
“A simple spell to sooth a crying baby. She taught the other bone women last night. She knows a number of spells none of us had ever heard of. This sharing has already broadened everyone’s knowledge.”
Shanis had assumed that all bone women had similar skills. Learning that this was not the case had given her an idea.
“Who trains new bone women?”
“The bone woman of a clan gives such instruction as she is able and keeps a few of her most skilled students as apprentices. If two clans are at peace, they will exchange apprentices so knowledge may be shared.”
“We are all at peace with one another now,” Shanis observed. “What if there was a place where all the clans could share their knowledge with one another?”
“You mean, like a school?” Effie looked doubtful.
“Exactly. Apprentices wouldn’t be limited to what their own clan can teach them. Your knowledge would grow exponentially.”
“Who would be in charge? The bone women must attend to their clans.”
“How about the elders who are no longer able to fulfill their duties as they once did? Their bodies are weak, but the knowledge is still there.”
“Interesting.” Effie touched a finger to her chin and looked up at the ragged patch of blue sky visible through the dense cover of greenery. “Anyone with a particular skill could be a teacher. It would not have to be restricted to bone women.”
“It could also be a place where the sick are tended to.” Shanis grew more excited as she spoke. The ideas were pouring forth faster than she could voice them. “If all the clans’ healing knowledge is pooled in one place...”
“I see. Very well.” Effie cut her off in mid-sentence, turned, and hurried over to the bone women who were watching the lesson. After a few minutes of intense conversation and several annoyed glances from Gillen, who was still trying to teach her spell, the women gathered around Shanis and began peppering her with questions.
“This school you are starting, where would it be?”
“Who would be in charge? We will no take orders from clan chiefs.”
“I hope you don’t expect us to create war magic for you. That is not what bone women do.”
Shanis held up her hands to stem the flow of words that threatened to engulf her. She wanted to tell them it was just an idea, and they should forget she’d suggested it, but she was a ruler now and need to act like one.
“The school would be here.” It made sense. Calmut was in a central location, and it was a place all Lothans held in high regard. “The bone women would, of course, be in charge.”
The women exchanged satisfied smiles.
“Answerable, of course, to the crown.” That wiped their grins away. “My yoke is light, I assure you. I expect this to be a seat of learning, and a place where those in need can come for help. All the things that bone women do, I want you to learn to do them better, and share them with all the clans. No one may hold back knowledge from anyone, including me. And if anyone wants to teach or learn ‘war magic’, as you call it, you will permit them to do so. I don’t like war any better than you do, but the better prepared we are to defend ourselves, the less likely others are to attack us. Do you accept my conditions?”
“The clan chiefs will never approve,” Maisie, a young woman of the Hawk Hill clan said.
“It’s not their decision; it’s mine.” Shanis knew she was testing the limits of her authority in this. She did not yet wear the crown, and the Lothans were not mere serfs ready to bend the knee to any so-called noble. Leading them was like riding a wild horse bareback: you held on tight and tried your best to nudge them in the proper direction without being thrown. In this case, however, she would not bend. Why shouldn’t the bone women have a certain degree of autonomy and a measure of power? And the gods help the first man who told her that women could not be trusted with power or responsibility. “What will it be?”
“Yes,” Effie said, and the others added their assent.
“If I may make a suggestion?” Heztus had sidled up to her unnoticed. “There is an old temple not far from here which I believe will suit your needs. It will require a great deal of work to make it fit for habitation, but the roof is solid and there is a large block of penitent cells that could be converted to living quarters.”
“Assemble a team of workmen and begin immediately,” Shanis said.
Heztus looked like he’d just stepped in a pile of goat dung. “I don’t believe I’m the best person for this job. The men do not like to take orders from a dwarf, you see.”
“We will see to it you do have all the help you need.” Jamma, a woman with silver-streaked red hair and skin like old leather, spoke up. “There are young men and boys aplenty in our clans who do spend too much time playing at swords and not enough time at honest work.”
“The girls can help too,” Maisie added. “And we will be there to make certain no one shirks their responsibilities.”
“Wonderful.” The expression on Heztus’ face made it clear he thought it was nothing of the sort. He turned pleading eyes to Shanis. “I assume you wish me to serve in a supervisory capacity? I’m really not much of a laborer.”
Shanis had to laugh. “Just see to it that the work gets done to their satisfaction.” The bone women turned on Heztus and all began giving orders at the same time.
Shanis spared one sympathetic glance at her friend and then looked around for Granlor. He waited nearby with their horses, looking at the bone women with a sour expression on his face.
“You have something to say?” Shanis asked.
Granlor shook his head.
“A wise choice.” Shanis swung up onto her horse and heaved a sigh. “Let’s find the clan chiefs and tell them what I’ve done.”