Page 58 of Humans Don't Have Horns
“This isn’t right.” I shake my head. I know the Mongans can’t spare any warrior. Even if Nikanor had agreed to send more soldiers, Daton distrusts them completely, both in intention and competence, so he can’t rely on them in his plans.
“I should go instead of you.” I feel so guilty for not actually fighting.
Kala huffs a laugh. “Only because I like you will I ignore the insult in the idea thatyoucould replacemein combat.” She’s been a team commander for twenty years now, and she’s Mongan. Of course I can’t replace her.
“Well, you don’t have to be mean about it.” I make a face.
“Besides, if you go into the battle, all Daton will do is babysit you.” She sniggers at me.
Emek and Bahar come out of their tent, in our direction. “You ready?” Bahar asks Kala.
“Almost.” She finishes adjusting her straps.
“What are you up to today?” Bahar asks Emek and me.
“I’m teaching Emek and the rest of the Goddess’s servants Renyan healing today.” I might as well make myself useful. “And Kon can help,” I say to the baby, now chewing on my sleeve.
“I hope you know what you’re doing. If they ever find out you’re teaching us their precious secrets, not even your sister will be able to save you from their wrath. Those assholes think so highly of themselves even the moon can’t reach them.”
We’ve been over this already. After what the Renyans did with the Mongans’ horns, giving them healing is only right.
Bahar claps his hands in excitement. “Do you have a remedy for a hangover?”
Emek rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile, and Kala laughs.
“I think we’ll start with fracture healing.” I smile at him.
***
Amada’s words of being drenched in blood haunt me still. I know Daton’s acts are in defense of his people, but shutting my eyes to the brutality of his tactics won’t do. Every day, I feel closer to him, and as death blows harder onto the backs of our necks every day, I fear the price his soul will pay in the afterlife.
We lie on the ground beneath the stars, close but not touching.The warm summer night breeze caresses me, and its softness is opposite to the cold, hard soil beneath me.
“Couldn’t you at least not make them bleed to death as you kill them?” I ask him. I shared with him everything Amada told me, everything besides the reason for my punishment.
“Blood is a sacred thing,” he says while his eyes are still on the stars. I frown at him, trying to understand what it means. “Bleeding to death enables the Shavirs’ redemption. It allows them honor within death.” He looks at my baffled expression.
“So it’s not an act of cruelty but an act of mercy,” I say tentatively.
He gives me a dirty look for using the word he despises:mercy.
“I mean an act of honor.”
He smirks at my correction but nods in agreement.
Well, now I’ll never be able not to make them bleed to death. There is no point in explaining what a long, painful death it is. He couldn’t care less. He hates the Shavirs he kills and despises the concept of mercy. And once he gets in his mind that one way is the honorable way, then that’s that. I never thought someone so stubborn could even exist.
“Is that why you drink blood when you get married? Because it’s sacred?” I ask him after a long pause, mentioning the wedding I witnessed.
He turns to me, resting his head on his hand now. “What you saw, it’s not marriage. It’s a Blood Oath. If you give someone your blood and take his in return, there is no way back. It’s not like the way Shavirs marry with words they can regret. Even death doesn’t break the oath. A man who takes the oath can never be intimate with anyone but his mate. No matter what.”
“So you are still bound to Baghiva after all these years?” I frown at him. Because he was with me, or maybe it doesn’t count if it’s not full intercourse? Or maybe it doesn’t count because I’m a Shavir?
“Baghiva and I never took the Blood Oath. Her and Emek’s parents had a complicated relationship. Abusive in some ways. Growing up in that, they both decided they wouldn’t take the oath. It can be destructive if you make the wrong choice. I never knewanyone who took the Blood Oath before the Oblivion, only heard about it from the elders. But after the Oblivion, some started taking it, although it was still very rare. People realized how fragile life is, that wanting to spend the rest of your life with someone isn’t enough. The demichads or the Shavirs might have other plans. And you might have very short time to spend on Amada with your soulmate. But if you take the Blood Oath, you know that no matter what you will reunite in the afterlife. There is comfort in that.
“Bita and Manka got married seventy years ago. They have five kids. Now they decided to take the Blood Oath. I guess the coming battle makes some people desperate to plan death.”
“So Baghiva wasn’t your wife?” I frown. “She was. We have marriage as well. It’s far more common these days. Marriage is not beyond death. It’s more similar to the Shavirs’ ways.” He’s silent for a while, watching the stars. “The Blood Oath means nothing can come between you. Not even death. In the afterlife, you will share a star together.” I follow his gaze to the stars. He doesn’t mean it literally when he says sharing a star, right?
