Read Online Time of the Eagle by Sherryl Jordan - Free Book Online Page A

blood and wheat and raven’s wings. Carved wooden chests stood about the floor, and there were graceful urns and cross-legged stools with tasseled cushions, iron-wrought lamps, and other pieces of furniture astonishing to me. Astonishing, too, was the size of the tent, for the walls rose straight up and were many sided, and the roof was a separate piece rising to two peaks where the great poles stood. The whole place was wonderful, rich, and colorful beyond anything we Shinali had. A musky fragrance hung about the tent, pleasant but unknown to me.
    The old woman came back and gave me a bowl of warm broth. She crouched down by me while I drank it, and we watched each other warily. I saw that she had a tiny tattoo on her brow just above her nose, and wore her hair pulled tightly back and knotted on the back of her head, in a way unfamiliar to me. Her hands were calloused from hard work.
    â€œMy name is Avala,” I said, attempting friendliness. “I’m a healer.”
    â€œSo Ramakoda told us,” she replied. “Though your people are our enemies, he has it in his mind to ask that you be nazdar. So you are safe.”
    â€œI’m not knowing the meaning of nazdar ,” I said.
    â€œIt means under protection. More than guest, more than friend. If it is agreed to, you will stay in Ramakoda’s family tent as kinswoman to him.”
    â€œWill you tell me what happened to Ramakoda’s three children?” I asked.
    â€œOne as good as dead,” she said, “and two sons taken in slavery.”
    Then she went away, leaving me to rest. I lay down, not expecting to sleep, because of the strangeness of my situation and the danger of being deep in enemy territory. Also, it was strong in my knowing that my own people would be searching for me, and that my mother would surely be desperate. I remembered Ramakoda’s sacred vow that he would soon take me home, and it was my only comfort. I slept at last and dreamed that I could hear my mother weeping. When I woke the tent was in darkness, and I could hear people sleeping about me. Again I slept.
    When next I woke it was day and there were sounds of busyness outside the tent, and I could smell cooking. From the distance came the bleating of goats. I was alone. A clean dress had been put out for me on a cushion at the end of my bed, and on a woven rug nearby stood a large pot of water with some clean cloths for washing. There was also a small metal bowl with some charcoal embers in it, and some pieces of wood that gave off a pungent smoke, not unlike the musky scent that hung about the tent. I did not know what it was for, though it was placed next to the pot of washing water. Everything seemed alien, and I yearned again for home.
    All around the tent were many chests or boxes covered withrugs, and set with pottery lamps filled with oil, but yet unlit. I saw bedding rolled up and placed at one side against the walls, and there were urns filled with water or grain, and boxes carved and inlaid with colored woods, that contained jewelry or knives. Uninterrupted, I examined everything and discovered that most of the large chests contained heavy clothes of many layers padded and lined with fur. There were chests storing boots and horse equipment and extra rugs, and narrow boxes containing Igaal arrows. I discovered that the musky fragrance came from the wooden chests, either from the wood itself, or from spices the Igaal put in their clothes.
    As I ran my fingers across the wondrous carvings and beautiful urns and rich rugs, I remembered the tattered flax mats and chipped bowls and buckled iron pots that were all my people had to call their wealth. I remembered Ramakoda’s words about his tribe being only one small tribe of many tribes, and for the first time I realized how impoverished my people were, and how pitifully few.
    Saddened by the new things in my knowing, I stripped and washed myself all over. I washed my hair, too, and it felt good