Ilati ran her fingers along the bowstring, eager to learn. This recurve bow was so short compared to the bows she'd seen used by the archers of Kullah, a composite of wood and horn with sinew on the front, lacquered together into one solid weapon. It looked broken when Shir Del brought it to her unstrung, curved practically into a C in the wrong direction. Fortunately, she'd been able to string it in what felt like the silliest way possible, sitting on the ground with her feet pressed against the grip. "That was much more challenging than I thought it would be. Isn't there an easier way?"

Shir Del laughed, leaning against Araxa's flanks. "There are a hundred ways to string a bow. Whatever works."

Smoke from the Sut Resi campfires wafted up behind them, far enough away that an errant arrow shot wouldn't harm anyone. Ilati was grateful for the distance. The fewer people saw her fumbling, the better. Tahmasp supervised from his perch on a low mud-brick wall at the edge of the farm they had camped beside, much to the terror of the farmers.

The priestess curled her fingers around the string just like Kia and Duga had showed her once: index, middle, and ring.

"Not like that, little sister," Shir Del said with a sharp shake of her head. "That draw does not work so well on horseback, nor with our bows. Here, Tahmasp made this for you." The warrior woman held out a ring carved of some unknown horn, suited well enough to wear on Ilati's left thumb, since that was her stronger hand. It was strangely shaped, with a curved flat projection. She realized its function when she glanced at Shir Del's hand. The Sut Resi designed their rings so that when one held their hand in a Sut Resi draw, it covered the thumb.

Ilati took the ring and studied it. Tahmasp had scratched symbols into the band and then rubbed over with some kind of dark pigment. After wiping away the excess stain, it left the ring with various symbols in thread-thin lines of black. One was a triangle with a circle through it, another a series of waving lines, and one looked like a hand with a thumb on either side of the palm. "What do these mean?"

Tahmasp scratched his beard as he stood up, moving to join the conversation. "They honor Skyfather and Earthmother, and bring good luck. You'll need all the help you can get, girl."

Ilati wanted to ask Shir Del if what he said was true, but she doubted Tahmasp would take that suspicion well. "Thank you for the gift. It is most thoughtful."

"Thank Artakhshathra. It was he who asked me to make it."

Shir Del snorted. "Asked? Told."

Tahmasp gave the warrior woman a withering glare. "Are we here to teach the girl archery or not?"

Ilati slipped the ring on her left hand. "What do I do now?"

"Hook your thumb around the string. Your first and second fingers will cover the part of your thumb that curls towards your palm," Shir Del instructed. "Then you will draw. To fire, you would simply let go with your thumb and first finger, and then nock the next arrow."

"Nock?"

"There is a groove in the end of the arrow where the fletching is. That is pressed back onto the string to hold the arrow as it is drawn."

Tahmasp held out an arrow. Those learning the craft of fletching had donated their arrows, imperfect and probably inaccurate, but right now hitting things wasn't the point and Ilati was going to go through many arrows before she got better.

Ilati held up the bow, nocking the arrow with care.

"Now, don't lock your shoulder and keep your right arm slightly bent," Shir Del advised, watching her with hawkish intensity, which did nothing to put Ilati at ease.

Still, the priestess tried to do as she was told. She drew the bow back, muscles pulling in her arm and shoulder, deep into her back. The bow resistance was more than she expected, but she fully intended to pull until she had the draw memorized in her muscles. Holding the position was a slight strain, but she stayed still as Tahmasp walked from one side of her to the other, correcting her grip and position.

After a moment that felt like a thousand years, Tahmasp seemed satisfied. "Eye on your target. Be sure you are gazing down the length of the arrow. See the arrowhead and see where it will land. When you are ready, pull the string back to your cheek and then release."

"Watch how you breathe," Shir Del added. "I always inhale with the pull, then exhale as it goes. If you are going to aim, hold your breath."

Ilati nodded. She took a deep breath and then let the arrow fly. Immediately, the priestess let out a yelp as the string snapped against her forearm. Her shot went wide, missing the bush that was her target.

"That will teach you to hold it properly," Tahmasp said, studying the new red spot on Ilati's arm. It would be a fine welt if repeated a few more times.

Shir Del grinned. "Quite the first shot."

The priestess sighed and picked up the next arrow. "At least I have many more to try."

"We will get you through fifty shots a day until you are ready for a hundred and a stronger bow."

Ilati nodded. She knew she would ache by the end, but surely the discomfort would be worth it. This was the easiest she was going to have it, standing on two feet. Tahmasp had already grumbled that she should have been learning while astride a horse, so Ilati was certain that wasn't far away.

Her fear of horses was gradually fading the more she was around them, into a definite respect and almost fondness. She didn't have a Sut Resi's close connection, but she learned quickly that ‌the beasts had their own personalities and preferences. Roshanak's mare didn't seem to mind Ilati on her back, so the girl rode with Ilati now to teach her. Shir Del had loaned Menes a big bay stallion with a friendly temperament and Eigou insisted he was fine on the mule. Over the past three days since their night ride out of Aham-Nishi, Ilati had yet to fall other than on trying to dismount. That was progress, wasn't it?

The priestess picked up her next arrow and tried to keep all of Shir Del's advice straight in her head. Tahmasp was much more direct, simply grabbing her and moving her into the correct position every time she deviated from it. Soon she had a red welt on her right arm and an aching left side from drawing the bow. It pulled in muscles she'd barely realized were connected.

A farmer scurried by on the narrow track on the other side of the wall. Artakhshathra had put the camp far enough out that the horses wouldn't graze on the little village's crops, but the men of Kullah assumed the worst when Sut Resi moved through. They were no more favorable a wind than the Nadaren.

Tahmasp scowled as he watched the man go. "We should head south to the plains. None of these dirt-scratchers want us here."

Shir Del shook her head. "We agreed to give passage to Sarru. What are we if not our word?"

"Artakhshathra risks too much. He dreams only of death now."

Ilati knew Shir Del's temper was alive and well not in her movements, but in her stillness. No longer did the rider shift her weight or her attention. The warrior woman's sharp gaze fixed on Tahmasp with an asp's cold-eyed danger. "His sons deserve to be avenged."

"You are ever of the same opinion as he, yet you do not have the same claim to that pain," Tahmasp said with a tone so sharp it seemed fanged. "What will that bring us, one tribe alone against the Nadaren, except a great sorrow?"

Ilati lowered her bow. Even knowing nothing about Sut Resi custom, she knew ugly feelings when she heard them. The warrior woman stood with her arms crossed, face hard like flint. Tahmasp, dark as a storm-cloud, seemed no more pleased.

Shir Del made a sharp clicking sound with her teeth and tongue, dismissive and angry. "We are finished speaking of this, old man. If you think so little of Artakhshathra's vision, tell him so. Leave us before you say something beyond the bonds of my patience."

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"You are not chieftain, Shir Del, nor kin of Artakhshathra," Tahmasp said even as he swung himself up onto his horse by gripping the saddle. "Only that girl of yours may someday speak with his authority."

The warrior woman scowled, but said nothing as Tahmasp rode back to the tribe's encampment. After he vanished from view around a low hill, Shir Del exhaled her anger and hurt. "His words bite worse than horseflies."

Ilati was inclined to agree. "Deeper, from what I see."

"It is his way—sharp and keen as flint. What makes him a fine seer also cuts us with his tongue. He is right that our tribe alone can do nothing to avenge our fallen. A great powerlessness we are all well aware of." Shir Del sighed.

"Do you mind if I ask what connection there is between Roshanak and Artakhshathra?" Ilati said. She had a feeling she knew the answer, but Sut Resi relations were confusing at times.

The warrior woman ran her fingers across the back of her neck, beneath the long braid she wore. "She is the daughter of his son, Mithradatha."

"Then why would you not have the right—?"

"I am ersham, an outsider from another tribe, and Mithridatha and I were only betrothed when he died. Had our hands been bound, things would have been different, but we were foolish youths who felt we could do anything we wished in our own time. It was so important to Mithridatha that everything be perfect." A deep tiredness seemed to sink into Shir Del's shoulders. "Artakhshathra claimed Roshanak as his, and so I am part of the tribe, but not so completely as I might have been. Truthfully, it is mostly just Tahmasp who sees the difference, but I know it is there."

Ilati picked up the quiver from the ground. She had more questions, but recognized that now was not the time. "Would you help me fetch the arrows, Shir Del?"

The request seemed to relax Shir Del's shoulders ever so slightly, bringing her back into the present moment. "Mm."

Retrieving Ilati's arrows, or at least the salvageable ones, took hardly any time at all. She didn't have the strength to send them too far, and she mostly remembered where to look. Araxa followed them like a faithful hound.

Shir Del seemed still so focused on the past, brow furrowed from dark thoughts. She said no word as she plucked arrows from the bush and the surrounding ground, leaving Ilati to check further afield. The warrior woman checked each shaft for straightness and the heads for chips, discarding them when either looked faulty.

"What was he like?" Ilati asked softly. Perhaps happier memories would do something to ease Shir Del's bitterness. "Was he handsome?"

The warrior woman blinked like she was waking from a bad dream, then glanced over at Ilati. "I was to wed him because he was the fiercest of warriors and the only who could best me, because he brought to me the heads of great foes and set them at my feet." Fondness crept into Shir Del's tone. "Mithradatha was a man of greatness, but not like the princes of your people, Ilati. He did not bejewel himself, nor smell of sweet oils, nor preen over the trim of his beard, nor dress in fine silks ill-suited to war."

"He sounds like a fine match for you."

Shir Del smiled faintly. "The only. Though in truth it was I who had to win his proposal."

Ilati cocked her head slightly, retrieving the last of the arrows. "Oh?"

The warrior woman huffed, but fondly. "The troublesome man was too foolish to understand my affections until I stated them plainly to his face and pulled him to bed. He thought it would be impossible that I could love him, so high he held me in his esteem." Shir Del turned the ring on her thumb and then held that hand out to Ilati. Instead of horn, the ring was beautifully worked bronze, engraved with the images of eagles. "His betrothal gift."

"As useful as beautiful," Ilati said with a smile. "He knew you well." She packed the arrows that Shir Del deemed salvageable into the leather quivers Tahmasp brought. "Thank you for telling me about him. It was a sweet story."

"A taste of honey to ease the bitterness of his absence. Have you had such a thing, Ilati?"

Ilati shook her head. "Priestesses of Zu do not marry. They accept any into their arms instead, in honor of the fertility goddess they serve."

"I had heard of the sacred harlots of Shadi."

"As have the whole four corners of the world. They were quite famous." Ilati's heart turned to stone at the thought of Zu, the goddess who had abandoned her people. She lowered her eyes. "A different life. Like Eigou says, I must leave it behind like a snake shedding its skin."

Shir Del tied a quiver to the rough saddle on Araxa's back and slung the other over her shoulder. "Eigou says many things."

The priestess laughed. "You sound so fond of him."

"I think more often than not, he is right, but he thinks in jagged ways...like the cracks of the bones of seeing when they break." Shir Del helped Ilati up onto Araxa's back, then pulled herself up into the saddle. It was little more than a horn frame with leather stretched over the top, but it spread the weight of a rider so it was more comfortable for the horse. It had the added benefit of keeping the archer mounted even at high speeds.

Ilati had been with the Sut Resi long enough to see Tahmasp cast the bones of seeing, so she understood. The Sut Resi took bones from animals and dripped the blood of a sacrifice over them, then smashed the bones with a rock. Life-blood supposedly held good omens, and the cracks of death showed danger and evil. "I don't think Eigou is evil."

Shir Del shrugged. "Who can say if he is a smiling man or a jackal baring its teeth?" She whistled sharply to Araxa and nudged gently with her knees. The Sut Resi did not use reins with their horses the way the men of civilization did. Every horse Ilati met among the wild people seemed keen to listen to its rider through the command of taps and different whistles or calls. Araxa gauged his speed on the pressure Shir Del used, not that he needed much encouragement to burst into his full, impressive gallop.

The priestess wrapped both arms around Shir Del's waist and held tightly when the stallion surged into a canter, too focused on staying on the horse to mull over Shir Del's impression of Eigou.

Camp was alive and bustling despite the growing dusk. Ilati felt eyes on her as they reached the outskirts and turned her head to look. Youtab stood beyond the edges of the herd, her head turned in their direction. Ilati saw the horse's ears prick with that curious air again.

As Araxa slowed to a stop and Shir Del dismounted, Ilati tried to focus again as she had before. It was too chaotic with so many horses and people here for her to maintain anything for more than a split second. The priestess swung down from Shir Del's horse awkwardly, still not used to the movements. She was getting better, but slowly so.

"Ilati, be careful," Shir Del warned.

The priestess turned. Youtab approached from the west, silhouetted by the sunset. This time, the connection from before arose in Ilati's heart without any intentional focus. The mare pawed the ground before stomping and lifting her head. It was a warning again, a more subdued version of the war dance.

Ilati held her ground and her breath, ignoring Shir Del's tug at her shoulder to pull her away. She again met the gaze of a dark, intelligent eye as the horse turned her head to take in her image. Then the mare turned, heading back to the outskirts of the camp.

Shir Del slapped Ilati's arm so hard it hurt. "It is not wise to stare down that horse, Ilati," the warrior woman said sharply. "When they give you the war dance, you give them their space."

The priestess nodded, uncertain how to explain how she knew ‌Youtab was testing her. Shir Del had always held Araxa's love for saving his life, so she never needed to face his temper. Youtab was a wilder soul, one not easy to win over. "I will remember that next time," she said to pacify the Sut Resi woman.

"You had better." Shir Del patted Araxa's neck and then motioned for Ilati to follow. "Tahmasp will want you to learn to shoot from horseback, so perhaps we should find you a mount. There is an older mare in my herd gentle enough for a new rider."

"Do all Sut Resi horses soften with age?" Ilati knew little of horses still, but was ever eager to learn.

"Some become more fierce, others less. Much the same as people. Araxa will probably be a great terror when he is long in the tooth."

Ilati laughed. "With how even your tribe avoids his hooves and teeth, I would say he is fearsome already."

"My fierce boy," Shir Del cooed at her horse, stroking his mane. "Did you know someone tried to steal him once?"

"That poor thief."

"Do not pity him overmuch. He only paid three fingers for the transgression, a far kinder sentence from Araxa than I would have given him." The warrior woman's mood seemed back to normal, the cut to her heart from Tahmasp's words now closed. "It is one thing for the People to steal horses from each other, but we know what comes when the men of brick and mortar take a horse: the brand, the bridle, the whip."

"What happened to the man?" Ilati asked.

Shir Del led the way back to her tent, nudging her way through some of the other horses she kept. The big bay and Ankhu the mule stood beside the hide tent, meaning Menes and Eigou were likely inside the tent. "I found his fingers in the morning. Araxa spit them out after he bit the man. Tahmasp said that the thief had learned a fine lesson, and we left it at that. I imagine he did not try that trick again."

Ilati pulled open the tent flap, greeted by the wafting smell of roasting meat. Her stomach chose that moment to growl with the ferocity of a dragon. Her arm and back ached from drawing the bow, but that was nothing compared to the hunger pangs. She realized she hadn't eaten all day and had barely touched her food the night before. She unstrung her bow carefully and followed Shir Del in, trying to ignore the throbbing and stinging in her right forearm from the strikes of the bowstring.

"You should see what a warrior your priestess is becoming, cat," Shir Del said with a grin of greeting towards Menes as he cooked. "She has ‌nearly slain her own arm and terrorized several bushes."

A sense of comforting familiarity washed over Ilati in that moment. The Sut Resi camp was not her home, but she was grateful for the way it gave her something besides the gnawing emptiness inside.