Barbarism

“The shamans didnae make ye swear an oath a’ celibacy or aught, did they, Yuya?”

Iona was trying to put on a teasing tone, but real concern broke through into her voice.

“No, nothing like that.”

She sighed, relieved. She made little effort to be subtle about what she wanted– which was probably for the best, as any real subtlety might have eluded him– but he didn't have much of an idea what to do with that information. The last time a girl had shown him anything close to this much interest, it had been part of an elaborate prank in middle school, and he neither wanted to fall for something fake, nor blunder and sabotage something real.

Gotai was riding behind them. When Yuya glanced back at the Lugoman, he feigned vomiting. He clearly didn't want this clumsy flirting phase going on any longer than it had to, whether Yuya left it by a step forward or back.

That evening, the three of them stopped at an inn, outside one of the northernmost villages of Jalabarta. Yuya sat by the fireplace of the long mud brick structure, studying a scroll Sauhur had given him of phrases translated from the low tongue to Antediluvian. Gotai, with a conspiratorial manner, slid onto a bench across from him and spoke softly.

“Yuya, how much do you know of Cainite courtship practices?”

Yuya looked up with a start. “Not a thing.”

“Well, it does vary somewhat between the different steppe tribes, but– and this is one of those unsavory commonalities the Cainite tribes still have with their distant Bekhite relatives– there is not necessarily a formal betrothal period or even a ceremony before a wedding. There is no such thing as fornication between a bachelor and a bachelorette of the same tribe, or of two tribes united under the Cainite confederation, so far as they are concerned. The wedding vows are implicit in the first performing of the conjugal act.”

“That’s efficient, though maybe a little stifling, but I’m not sure how unsavory I would call it… unless this includes cases of…”

“It does.”

“Ah.” Yuya’s face grew pale.

“If a young woman’s father and brothers aren’t able to keep unwanted men away from her, what comes of that is considered a just punishment on the family for being weak or inattentive. It’s also considered something of a test for women who want to ride as warriors, whether they can watch their own backs in the war-camp.”

“But why would you want to… force someone to marry you… like that? It sounds like it’ll make married life a living hell for both of you.”

“Remember, these customs are specific to relationships within the tribe or confederation. This is because, to their minds, women from rival tribes or settled nations exist at best to be bought as prostitutes, and ideally to be abducted for maidservants and concubines. Coercion and violence are simply far more normal parts of the domestic life of the steppe tribes than among other peoples on Nod, and judging by some of your attitudes, even the customs of Jalabarta or Lugo are not as free and equal as you would consider ideal.”

“You’ve got that right. Why did you feel the need to put these unpleasant thoughts in my head, this evening?”

“Three reasons. First, you’re a shaman of the White Circle now. In some respects, they’re quite traditionalist– in fact, the Orange Circle are probably the only shamanic faction that aren’t– but they are the most outspoken reformers when it comes to putting distance between sex and violence, in how the Cainite tribes do things. You’ve been unwittingly drawn into a conflict between Cainite factions over brewing changes in tribal law and custom, though at least on this issue, you’re in the best company you’ll find. Second, the young woman traveling with us has been dealing with the dangers of Cainite customs as they are for some time now; she keeps trophies from the making of at least two eunuchs. Third, despite my second point, she has, uncharacteristically, left the door to her room unlocked tonight. She is a Vetana, but has been living among the steppe tribes for at least two or three years, so it's anyone's guess whether she'll regard you as obligated to her if you respond to that. Maybe it was a genuine mistake, and you'll part with your manhood if you read into it wrong. But you should consider such things before you act, and before you go boasting afterward.”

“Well… I'm not from the steppe tribes, either, and we’re in Jalabarta, now. I don't think a man has any obligation to a woman here at least until he's paid her family a bride-price. And my own people’s custom is to form a long-term social bond ahead of any commitment to marrying, then speak our vows free of any coercion. That said, I… think I would be falling short as a reformer, which I ought to be even if I weren’t part of the White Circle, if I did anything that might be interpreted as acting on the old customs tonight. Even if that happens to be what she's trying to invite.”

“You’re impressively good at thinking with your head, and not your cock, for one your age.”

“Do you say this from experience? You're… what, late twenties, early thirties?”

Gotai smiled. “When I was your age, my family sent me to Xinqian to prepare for the imperial civil service examinations. I failed to keep a responsible handle on both my heart and my wallet, when I discovered that city's famous courtesan houses.”

The next morning, Iona was quiet on the road. Yuya was sweating bullets trying to work out whether she was angry, disappointed, embarrassed or some mixture of the three. Really, it was only taking her slightly longer than usual after waking to get back into a loquacious mood, but after about an hour of riding, Yuya felt an overwhelming impulse to get her talking about something, anything.

“Iona, you mentioned your father was a pirate captain?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Stupid topic. She’s already said just enough about that part of her life to get across how horribly it ended.

Instead of wincing at painful memories, however, she seemed to draw herself up proudly at his mention. “Aye, best of his day. Captain Alekios of the fire-dromon Scourge of Heaven. Alekios Porphyrios, they called him, depending who ye ask because of the royal purple trim of his coat, his habit of attacking out of the purple clouds of the sunrise or sunset, or the color the flames that spewed from the Scourge’s prow took against a blue sea when viewed from far off. The coat was really an affectation he took on after he got the nickname, and he was never rightly certain about the other two explanations.”

She painted a picture of a man masterful at twisting and manipulating his popular image. His signature weapon was some substance that sounded to Yuya an awful lot like the Greek fire that had once been used on Earth by the fleets of Byzantium. He seemed to deploy it just often and liberally enough to cultivate an aura of terror, without actually doing all that much irreparable damage to the ships, cargoes and crews he took.

Clearly, many of these considerations of the value of a pirate's reputation and the business of looting and ransom were things she had understood from a young age, and her frankness was not a product of a mean intellect. Yuya was abashed by the end of that day that he had really only been interested in this girl for her rough-hewn beauty, and because she was so transparently attracted to him. Or maybe that was a perfectly seemly starting point, but now an enterprising cunning was on full display that was no less alluring for its slight edge of cynical cruelty. He decided he had been right to bring her along, for his original reasons and more besides.