by Joe Zeigler
“Yes, Wenerdu,” Caddarak was saying in response to her complaints, “I let myself and our people fall victim to this toll scheme. I agree it’s bad, and I can’t get them to move. Nabihah is particularly enthralled with collecting fees.”
“I am surprised at him,” Wenerdu said, shaking her head. “He is supposed to be your military leader, not chief toll collector.”
Just as Gedeon had feared, the Raiders had not moved from the clearing at the bottom of the great drop. The men went out on hunting parties, and the women gathered and wove. Other than that, they were satisfied to sit and wait for the next toll to come along.
Caddarak was lying in a grass-covered clearing on the far side of the river with Wenerdu and two of his other wives. Their stroking made him particularly receptive to her ideas. Not that he hadn’t noticed the problem and totally agreed with Wenerdu; it was just that he was slowly and deliciously becoming more receptive.
“The camp is starting to stink,” Wenerdu commented.
“I know,” he replied. “Why do you think we are lying on this side of the river? You would think the smell alone would get Nabihah moving.”
“He and the others are becoming used to it, I think. But I’ll never get used to it. It’s awful!” She bit him gently on the ear.
“It does stink, Wenerdu, but it won’t for long. I have plans.”
“Plans?” she asked.
“Help the girls finish what they are doing, and I’ll tell you later. I can’t concentrate now.”
The Sun was low in the sky when he sat up and explained to Wenerdu, “We are leaving tomorrow. I have selected thirty men, including Cadall, and sixteen women who are of like mind, and they will go with us. Nabihah can stay here and be the leader and wallow in the filth. We will be gone by sunup.”
“Caddarak,” she exclaimed, “how can I be ready by sunup? We need to break down the camp and organize the gear. I need more notice.”
Caddarak was pleased that she expressed no objection to leaving and following his lead. Rather, she just had minor complaints regarding having time to pack.
“Leave everything not essential—we are going to travel light and start over. I plan to move south and intercept Gedeon’s goods before his restocking party reaches the Lowland. We’ll liberate his goods and take all of their women.”
“What about the women, Caddarak?” she asked. “Why are we leaving here with so few women?”
“You ask a lot of questions for a female. Are you not supposed to be quiet and obey?” he said, smiling.
She opened her mouth to utter a retort and was silenced by his outstretched palm.
“First, the more women we take, the more Nabihah and the other lazy bastards will object. We need to move fast with committed people, including the women. Many women in the group embrace this sedentary life, sitting by the river. We don’t want any of those with us. We want women who can and wish to fight beside their men. Lastly, when we attack the Traders, I want to attack with some horny men behind me—men who want women and are anxious to fight to capture them.”
“But, Caddarak, sixteen women? When you subtract your wives, there will be only eight women for thirty men. I don’t think that’s going to work. There is such a thing as too horny.”
“I’ve not noticed,” he replied, smiling. “Regardless, we are only taking three of my wives. You and two others. You choose.”
The next morning, as the Sun broke the horizon, Caddarak and his party exited the camp, moving southeast. Nabihah and the ones left behind were still sleeping, enjoying their leisurely lifestyle.
A goodly time after sunup, Nabihah crawled out of his shelter, still dazed from his consumption of blue agave the previous night. Upon learning that Caddarak had left with some of the men and women, he debated whether to go after them and attempt to reclaim the women. In the end, he decided not to, as the risks—and more importantly, the effort—were not worth a few women. In any case, he was not certain how much enthusiasm he could muster among his men, and Cadall was among the missing. He did decide, though, to break camp and move downslope. It was becoming too cold to remain here, and the last of the migrants had passed through. There would be no more tolls to collect this year. They would winter comfortably in the Lowland with their wealth from the tolls and return early in the spring to resume toll collections. It had occurred to him that he could charge a toll each way.
Anyway, he thought, now with Caddarak gone, I am the undisputed supreme leader.
***
When Ohad woke the next morning, the campsite was strangely still. “Micaela,” he cried out, “my breakfast. I am hungry.” There was no response. He could hear the rest of the camp waking and preparing for the day, but the usual morning sounds of Micaela’s preparing of food and organizing were absent. He resolved to beat her when she returned. He was hungry again. He remembered Gedeon’s food services at the other end of the Plaza, and his mouth watered. Quickly he grabbed a handful of flint arrowheads and made his way to the vendor.
He found that Gedeon’s people had set up tables in the Plaza. People were gathered around, consuming copious amounts of foodstuffs sold ready-to-eat from the shop next to Gedeon’s great central store, which occupied the entire end of the Plaza. The food vendor accepted Ohad’s flint arrowheads with a smile, though Ohad was shocked at how many he demanded. It cost him ten arrowheads for a breakfast of six eggs, mushrooms, smoked pig, and cornbread. A skin of blue agave was included.
The food was very well prepared. It satisfied his hunger. It was almost as good as what Micaela made for him.
Quickly he went back to his campsite to see if Micaela had returned, and found it empty. He then spent two hours searching for Ederra and Micaela but found neither. They had both disappeared. Suddenly it occurred to him that Micaela had run off with some young man and taken his treasure. Panicked, he ran back to his campsite, flipped aside his bedding, and checked the contents of his safe hole. Everything was there. Exhausted from his exertions, he sat down next to his trove and waited to regain his breath.
He rested awhile and then gathered his flint and the few other items he had for sale. He decided it was too much for him to carry. Again, he looked around for Micaela. She must have found an attractive young man and spent the night with him, he thought as he went to enlist Glooscap to help.
Thankfully, Glooscap was easier to find. But even his price in flint had gone up tenfold, and Ohad, having no choice, paid it. Soon he was set up along the wall next to Gedeon’s main shop, directly across from the prepared-food vendor, who Ohad noticed was still busy serving hungry customers.
After two hours, Ohad was not having the same experience. In fact, he had sold nothing other than the one comb that Micaela had been using. And to do that, he had had to match Gedeon’s price of one arrowhead per comb. At least he was paid in obsidian. Ohad was now the proud owner of one obsidian arrowhead. However, it appeared that all the potential customers had already filled their needs with obsidian products the day before and had no need for flint, even at half price. More than a few told him that if he had been there the previous day before they made their purchases, they would have been tempted by his price. After all, as he tried to explain to potential buyers, flint was still serviceable.
He eyed the single arrowhead lying on the sales table and was mesmerized by the many reflections of the Sun bouncing off it. Ohad could see it marketed as a religious object. Religious objects always brought a good price. He smiled and idly picked up the arrowhead with a firm grip driven by frustration. Quickly he dropped it as he realized the obsidian edge had cut his thumb to the bone, and his index finger almost as badly. He pressed the fingers together to quell the flow of blood.
That really is sharp. This is Gedeon’s fault, he thought as he sought cloth to bind his wounds.
Later, discouraged, Ohad left Glooscap to watch the booth and went over to the Trader’s shop. “Gedeon, I have a pressing obligation to meet some people elsewhere and am not going to be able to keep m
y shop open. My misfortune can be of benefit to you, though. I am forced to offer my stock of flint to you at wholesale prices.”
“Ohad, that is awful,” Gedeon replied. “But I cannot take advantage of you this way. Can Glooscap not watch the shop for you?”
“Glooscap is a good man,” Ohad replied, “but he is Glooscap, and after the disastrous comb trade, I have no confidence in him.”
“I understand,” Gedeon said, “and again I have no interest in taking advantage of your circumstance. I can lend you a couple, a male, and a female. They are mates who are very experienced trades people and totally honest. They can watch your shop while you are away, and there will be no charge.” Gedeon smiled graciously.
“I sincerely appreciate your offer, Gedeon; however, I will require funds for my meeting. I hope to be offered a very profitable opportunity and need ready assets to execute the trade. So, again, I am forced to offer the flint at wholesale price.”
“Ohad, I am afraid the wholesale price would not be very much, and I don’t want to be the one to disappoint you.”
“Look, Gedeon, I have an idea how you can offer more. Your people travel widely. You can market the flint at three-quarters of last season’s price in areas that have not been exposed to obsidian products. Dump the flint this season, then go back and upgrade them to obsidian the following season. In that way, you buy from me at wholesale—half of last season’s price—and make fifty percent, plus the profit on the obsidian the following year.”
“Hmm,” Gedeon grunted as if thinking about it. Yes, that would work, until my customers figured out they had been cheated, and they would figure it out. He was surprised that Ohad had lasted so long as a trader, but he didn’t express that thought aloud. “That may well work,” he said noncommittally, “but I still cannot give you more than twenty-to-one in-kind trade.”
“Are you saying you would give me only one obsidian arrowhead for twenty flint ones?”
“Ohad, I told you that I did not want to be the one to disappoint you. You don’t have to take my offer.”
“Ah, but I do, Gedeon. I really do. I will have Glooscap bring you the flint in a few moments.”
“I would like you to be there for the counting, Ohad, to assure yourself that the count is right.”
“Oh, I’ll be there, Gedeon. I know you Traders didn’t become wealthy doing honest counts.”
Gedeon, satisfied with winning, let the insult pass, thinking Ohad made the same mistake as many others in thinking the Traders were just like him.
Later, Micaela still had not returned. After a large meal—again at Gedeon’s prepared-food shop—paid for with an obsidian arrowhead, from which he received ten beads change, he returned to the campsite to get Micaela. Ohad was determined to take her to the four elders, with only a fur robe covering her. Then she would willingly make them happy, or he would beat her soundly. But she wasn’t there. He sat and lowered his head into his arms, thinking. He would think of something. He always thought of something. He went through the list of young girls that he might pimp and came up with nothing. Damn! He was not going to give those dirty old men the little obsidian that he had. His fortune had already been depleted by 95 percent. He rose and started to assemble his belongings.
“Glooscap,” Ohad called softly, just outside the other man’s shelter, “come out here. I want to talk to you.”
***
The next morning, Gedeon climbed to the Temple Terrace, passed two capable-appearing guards, and entered the residential section. At the end of a long corridor, he knocked softly on a pine-wood door.
“Gedeon,” Micaela said, opening the door, “come in.”
Stepping inside the small room, he said, “Ohad’s gone. He left sometime during the night. Glooscap is also missing, so we presume he went with him.”
Micaela moved to him with a sigh, wrapped her arms around him, and started to cry for the first time in her life. Gedeon put his hands on her shoulders and tried to comfort her, to no avail. They just stood there holding each other while Micaela cried herself out.
“You and Ederra can come out now,” Gedeon said. “I don’t know what you would like to do with yourself now. I invite you to join my clan, the Traders. There is plenty for you to do, and you will see many things traveling with us.”
Not sure exactly what Gedeon was proposing, Micaela promised to consider his generous offer and asked, “Did Ohad leave anything for me?”
“Trash…he left only trash. He even sold your comb.”
“Ederra,” Micaela called as she knocked on the door next to hers, “come out now. We’re going home.”
“I would like you both to come try my food vendor tonight and tell me what you think. It would be free, and you have to eat while you get organized.”
That night, over dinner, Micaela obtained an order from Gedeon for twelve baskets of various designs and sizes, with half payment in advance. Then Micaela drank more blue agave than ever before. Ohad had never allowed her more than a sip at a time and resented even that extravagance. When she woke in the morning, she seemed to remember kissing Gedeon. And kissing Ederra and Eijá. Perhaps she had been dreaming. She also remembered talking to the Traders’ herb woman. Her body stiffened as she recalled the subject. Then, as she tried to remember what Gedeon had said and how she had gotten back to Ohad’s dwelling, she went back to sleep.
When she awoke again, Ederra was sitting beside her, holding a clay cup of water. “Here, Micaela, drink this.” Micaela saw Eijá outside, preparing food. Now she remembered inviting Ederra and Eijá to share Ohad’s dwelling with her and their acceptance, after some hesitation and Gedeon’s encouragement. Micaela smiled. I guess it’s my dwelling now, she thought as she began to understand her new place in life.
Later that day, Micaela sat outside her dwelling, weaving a plate from thin bamboo leaves she had gathered from the shoreline of the great lake. She overlapped them, with their stems joined in the center. The result was spectacular—a green pattern of the rising Sun. This pattern would become her trademark. She knew they would not remain green for long but would age to an equally beautiful brownish black. Micaela would not offer them for sale until the color changed, as she didn’t want any disappointed customers.
She would weave in three layers of leaves reinforced by split bamboo stalks. The lightweight plates were ideal for traveling. She planned to experiment with the clay of the gorge above the waterslide area to produce plates, cups, and bowls for use in permanent settlements. Watching the recent market event with obsidian, she felt that while she had a lot to learn, she was achieving an understanding of quality, price, innovation, and demand. And independence. She was beginning to understand independence.
Ederra, who had finished cleaning up and putting things away after preparing breakfast for the three of them, sat down beside her and watched without speaking.
An hour passed and Ederra had not spoken a word. She seemed entirely focused on what Micaela was doing.
Micaela finished her fourth plate and asked, “Would you like to make one, Ederra?”
Ederra smiled and nodded.
“Well, then, the most important thing is to select your materials carefully. We’ll get to that later, as I already have a supply selected. Each plate is individual and made from complementing materials. The first step is to pick leaves that look good together. I usually lay them out side by side in the pattern that I have imagined. Don’t be surprised when what appears is not what you envisioned. Let the leaves speak to you, and when you listen, the pattern that the leaves want to form will appear in front of your eyes. You noted, I’m sure, that there are three layers of leaves. Put the leaves that do not complement aside for the middle layer. They will not be seen there yet will still serve a purpose.”
Ederra nodded, concentrating fiercely on Micaela’s words.
“The appearance of the stalks is not as important. But they are the third most important thing. They must be subtle and not distract from the pattern formed by th
e leaves. There must be no gauche colors or imperfections along their length.” Ederra alternated looking directly into Micaela’s eyes and studying the finished plates and materials Micaela had laid out. “Now, the third most important thing is the weave. Or maybe it’s the fourth most important thing. I’m losing track. Everything is important, equally! Whatever, it must be tight enough to hold liquid. The weave must tighten even more as you move outward from the center of the plate to create an upward curve. You see?” Micaela asked, lifting a finished plate and running her finger from the center of the plate to the raised edge. “This is critical—most important—as it is the difference between a plate and a board. OK, you make one.”
Ederra nodded and studied the leaves. But not for long, as it appeared she had already been studying them for some time while Micaela spoke. Her hands moved quickly as she picked up the leaves and arranged them in an unusual but attractive pattern. Micaela was pleased and thought to leave plate making and, perhaps later, basket weaving to Ederra; she had the talent.
For now, though, Micaela would make the baskets. They needed some inventory quickly to support themselves and could expand later. Eijá walked over after finishing her self-assigned chores and asked what she could do to help.
“What interests you, Eijá? My plan is to continue Ohad’s trading business but with a few changes. As a first step, let’s each adopt a product. Ederra is making lightweight plates for travelers, and I’m going to make my signature baskets, starting with the twelve I’ve promised Gedeon. Do you have experience making something that you think would be useful to people?”
“I will think on this,” Eijá replied thoughtfully. “I’m sure there must be something. In the meantime, if you teach me, I’ll gather bamboo and reeds for you and Ederra.”
“Good, good,” Micaela replied, “that will help to get some salable product finished quickly. Please concentrate on the reeds for now, as I would like to deliver Gedeon’s baskets to him as soon as possible.”
As they were talking and planning, Akule, the spokesman for the elders, approached.