The women—?they were all women, as far as Winter could see—?setting up the camp went about it with the efficiency of long routine. By the time Winter arrived and set Alex down, they had a fire burning merrily, and small, steep-?sided skin tents were going up in concentric rings around it. The ground was higher and flatter than where the fight had taken place, and some distance from the edge of the forest, so a sentry would have plenty of warning in case of attack.
In the light of the flames, she got a clearer view of their—?captors? Rescuers? Maybe both. The appearance of bulk came from the thick furs they wrapped themselves in, including long cloaks that could be wound about their middles to stay out of the way in combat. Sewn into the dark leather of these garments were many smaller, paler objects. Bones, Winter realized, after watching for a few moments. They were arranged in neat patterns, expanding spirals or flower-?like blossoms, the way a fine lady of Vordan might have her dresses sewn with pearls. The women wore their hair long, but tied up tight, with more bones worked into the weave.
The language they spoke among themselves wasn’t Murnskai, though it was similar enough that Winter could hear the occasional familiar word. Abraham’s eyebrows went up at the sound of it, and he leaned close to Winter and spoke under his breath.
“I’m not certain, but I think these are Trans-?Batariai.”
Winter frowned. Tribesmen from beyond the river Bataria had dogged the army’s steps after the unnatural snows had begun—?the Vordanai had called them the “white riders” for the color of their furs. She explained this to Abraham. “I only saw a few up close, but they didn’t look like these people. And we never saw any women.”
“A different group, perhaps?” Abraham shrugged. “Their language is supposed to be closer to what the original inhabitants of this land spoke before the Children of the Sun invaded. Murnskai comes from mixing it with Mithradacii.”
“So what are they doing here? We’re still well south of the river.”
“No idea. I suggest we ask them.”
Once Alex was arranged on a blanket by the fire—?she mumbled something and curled up tighter in her sleep, which was encouraging—?Winter and Abraham sat next to her, soaking up the welcome warmth. Spearwomen watched them with unabashed curiosity, but no one spoke until another woman emerged from one of the little tents on her hands and knees.
She looked young, in her late teens—?all the Trans-?Batariai did, now that Winter thought about it—?but she obviously carried some authority. She had a small, round face, with the dark hair that seemed universal among these people. A ragged scar, healed into a shiny ribbon, went from her eyebrow up to her hairline. She looked Winter up and down, then strode over, putting on a fierce scowl.
“Hja tifet Murnskyr,” she said. “Hja tifet tul fuhr’nos.” You are not Murnskai. You are not red-?eyes.
Winter nodded eagerly and looked at Abraham. “Tell her we’re... travelers.”
Abraham spoke, and the woman replied. Winter realized her Murnskai wasn’t as bad as she’d thought—?Abraham was mostly comprehensible. It was clearly a second language for the spearwomen, or possibly a different dialect.
“She asks if it’s only the three of us,” Abraham said. “Or if there were more who were lost to the red-?eyes.”
“Just the three of us,” Winter said. “Please thank her for saving us. We would certainly have died without her help.”
Abraham translated. “She says that killing demons is the shared duty of all humans,” he said when she’d finished. “She would help her worst enemy against the red-?eyes.”
“Ask her what she’s doing here,” Winter said. “If this land is where her people normally live.”
The spearwoman shook her head before Abraham had finished speaking. She talked at length, and Winter felt like she got the gist, though she waited for Abraham to translate before replying.
“She says they came south because the Blessed Ones told them there was a threat to the Holy City. A vast army gathered, like she’d never seen before, and fought with heathen invaders.” Abraham coughed. “From the context, I think that’s the Vordanai.”
“There must have been more fighting after I left,” Winter said. “I wish we knew what the hell happened.”
“According to her, the enemy were driven back in fear. But the weather was terribly cold—?maybe demonically cold is a better translation—?and the Trans-?Batariai suffered badly. They split into smaller bands to return home, but then the cold weather vanished and all the rivers flooded. While they were trying to find their way, the red-?eyes appeared and started attacking.”
Winter winced. She could imagine it all too well—?the army of bodies the Beast had gathered at Elysium fanning out across Murnsk in search of more raw material, spreading like flame across a dry field.
“Are there more of them?” Winter said. There were thirty or forty spearwomen in the camp, she guessed. “A larger group nearby?”
“No,” the spearwoman said, which Winter understood without translation. “We were separated. The others were killed or taken.” She looked anxious, staring at Abraham, and after a moment she blurted out something that Winter couldn’t quite follow.
“Oh dear,” Abraham said.
“What?”
“The others told her I was helping Alex. She’s asking if I’m a healer. One of their people is badly hurt.”
“Do you think you could help her?”
“I’d have to examine her, but...” Abraham looked down at his hands, and his voice softened. “I won’t leave someone to die if I can help it. But if they consider my gift to be demonic, there’s no telling what they might do. We know they serve Elysium.”
“On the other hand, they seem to serve the Priests of the Black,” Winter said. “Which might mean they know all about the Penitent Damned.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t order you, but—”
“I’ll do it,” Abraham said. “I’d do it regardless. I just wanted to warn you.”
He said this to the spearwoman, who nodded and gestured toward the tent. Winter went along with them, after one last check on Alex, and no one seemed to object. The flap at the front of the tent was low enough that she had to enter on her knees, and it was a tight fit for the three of them plus the patient, who was buried under a heavy pile of furs.
“I’ll need to look at her,” Abraham said.
The spearwoman nodded and gestured for him to get on with it. Abraham pushed the furs aside, revealing a girl a year or two younger than the leader. She was naked, and Winter felt herself flush slightly, but Abraham looked her over with a clinical detachment. A bandage, crusty with blood, was wound around her stomach, and seeing the placement of the wound made Winter’s heart sink. When Abraham untied the bandage and raised it gently from the skin, the sudden stench was all the confirmation she needed.