Queen of the Eight Banners

Part 4, Scene 5 - Past

Ilha awoke, uncertain what time it was.  The diffuse light filtering into the Hu tent could be morning or evening.  The door wasn't where it was supposed to be, either.  Hadn't she just been in her father's ger? No, that was--

Disoriented, she pushed herself up slowly, grunting with surprise when it took all her strength to do so.  Her heart was beating strangely, too. As if every beat took effort and concentration.  A thread of fear wormed its way into her.  What was wrong with her?

A hand touched her shoulder and pushed her back down.  Though the pressure was gentle, it easily overmastered her. She sank back wearily, frowning at her traitorous body that relished the feel of solid ground beneath her back and a cushion beneath her head. She could not afford to be ill now.  It was too dangerous.

Abruptly she realized a voice was saying something. She struggled to listen, to parse the sounds into language and language into words.  It didn't work.  Frustrated, she shook her head slightly, turning to see at least who the owner of the hand was.

In the gloom, she made out few details.  Dark hair pulled back into at least one braid, eyes that sparkled as they watched her. A petite figure. 

The woman spoke again, more slowly this time. "You must rest," Nomin said in accented Hu.

If this was Nomin--where was Ojombi? Fear punched through her. She pushed herself onto her elbow, ignoring the way her heart fluttered sickly.  She tried to peer around the tent.

Nomin pushed her back down. "Jumara watches Ojombi," she explained, calmly, yet forcefully.   Ilha looked up at the other woman in surprise. Nomin had never been anything but demure, gentle, and subservient. This show of force--and backbone--was a first for her.  Though Ilha had never approved of the idea of servants and had done her best to treat Nomin as an equal while still respecting her husband's culture, Nomin had never shown a desire to step beyond her role, even when they were exchanging lessons about language and traditions.

"Jumara," she repeated, uncertain.

"Yes." Then, apparently thinking Ilha's confusion stemmed from something else, Nomin continued, "She said warrior watch him now. Keep him safe. Said she watch her siblings when small. Said I must help you--be well."  Nomin's smile crinkled her nose. "I think she not know what to do about illness." Her smile faded. "Your--Shaman in," she paused, then said a few words in Gui.  When Ilha continued to look at her blankly, she tilted her head, thought for a moment, then said, "City. Your Shaman is in the city."

"Yes. Enebish is in your Imperial City, caring for the wounded."

Nomin nodded solemnly. "I know some medicine," she said.  Then she stood, walked to the central fire where she lifted the tea kettle, poured out a cup and brought it back, kneeling beside her.

Ilha pushed herself up slowly, wincing as her heart thudded strangely against the motion.  Nomin held out the cup in both hands. Ilha carefully took it in her own, murmuring her thanks in Gui.  The scent of ginger wafted to her, mixed with other scents her clouded mind recognized but could not identify.  She sipped it slowly, but it still burned on the way down and made her eyes water. It hurt to swallow, too, and not just from its heat.

When she'd finished, she offered the cup back and moved to get up.

"No," Nomin said, stern once more.

"I will rest later--when there's time."  Panic shuddered through her heartbeat again.  She knew the Gui Empress was even now planning to countermand her orders, to destroy the alliance she hoped to form before it even took root. But how could the Empress know what she was throwing away? The Eight Banners might be an alliance forged in blood and battle when the situation called for it, but the price of disunity would be far greater.