Queen of the Eight Banners

Part 1, Scene 2 - Past

Ilha tasted dirt.  She tamped down on the reaction to inhale with her face smashed into the ground, pushed her hands beneath her and shoved upwards against the hand gripping her nape and the knee digging into her back. She canted her body so the knee slid off her side, knocking Jumara off balance. Then she pushed her legs under her and shoved Jumara the rest of the way to the ground.  She spun, hoping to pin the other woman down, but Jumara was also rolling away.  Ilha sprung into a low crouch, legs braced apart and hands ready.

"Stop!" A man's voice, raised above the laughing and jeering.

Jumara paused with a knee and a hand still on the ground. Sweat streaked her hair and forehead, but her breathing was even and her eyes alight and steady.

"Stop."

Ilha recognized the voice now.  She wrenched her focus out of the match and looked into the circle of faces as her father's right-hand man stepped through.

"Your father wants to see you," he said.  His demeanor was collected enough but his voice betrayed--anxiety? Why?

She straightened. "Now?"  It was a stupid question, she realized the moment it left her mouth. Her father wouldn't have interrupted the match otherwise, though she could not remember the last time he'd done so.  She remembered herself and bowed in acknowledgment. She said, "Tell him I'll be right there," and reached down a hand to help Jumara up.  Jumara's palm was rough with dirt but her grip was firm.

"Uh." He was looking over her, his mouth open at an awkward angle. "You may want to change into something more suitable.  An ambassador from the Hu is here."

An ambassador from the Hu? When was the last time their peoples had exchanged glances let alone envoys?

"Yes, sir." She wiped sweat and sun out of her eyes, turned to Jumara.  Her friend was still watching her, dark eyes lambent with adrenaline.  Jumara was an excellent wrestler.  Ilha felt a sting of disappointment that she couldn't finish the match.  Last time she had won, but every match was an eager mystery as to who would be victor. 

She glanced along the ring of men and women who had gathered around them to cheer and take bets.  "I forfeit," she told the crowd. Then, turning to Jumara, "Your win."

Jumara smiled crookedly.  "Easiest win yet."

She laughed. "Something tells me the Hu will be your new allies.  You can thank them when we're through."

Jumara clapped her on the shoulder as she passed.  At her periphery, someone else was stepping into the ring to take her place.

She sighed inwardly, trying not to let her disappointment sink too deep, and let her curiosity take its place.  A representative from the Hu? Here?  They had a common enemy, true, but the Hu's ancestral lands were distant, much farther to the Northeast than she thought would make sense for an alliance.

As she moved through the circular ger, heading toward the center of their encampment, she wondered why her father wished to see her.  If indeed the Hu were here to treaty, her father could manage without her input. Perhaps he simply wished her to hear what was said and to draw strength from her presence.  Since her mother's death, she had fulfilled that role often.  Yet he also knew her curiosity.  Perhaps he thought she might wish to know firsthand what transpired.  A treaty with the Hu would be momentous, unprecedented.  Her people had allied with other Gol tribes before, but the Gols were sister tribes, sharing the same language, dress, and culture.

The Hu, however…

She let her imagination wander as she ducked inside her family's ger.  What were they like? She knew they were nomads like her own people, but they had also founded a stone-and-wood city like the Gui civilization to the South.