The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

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The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition Page 132

by Mark Eller


  Edna shook her head. "No, dear, I think we mostly went south. This time of year they get more sunlight than we do."

  They looked to Aaron for comment. After thinking the matter over, Aaron decided to remain silent since he didn't know the answer.

  "Aaron," Edna asked. "Is it my imagination or are those children completely naked and some of the adults, too?"

  "Bolg, those who are too young or too incompetent to be become junior warriors, or chorai, are not seen as completely human." Aaron said distractedly. "Clothing denotes status, so the bolg remain naked when the weather permits."

  "Aaron, Mister Turner, I've expected you for the last several hours."

  Patton jogged up to them. He gave Edna an appreciative glance and Laura an even longer one. Aaron managed to hide his smile. Harvest Patton appreciated woman. Even when he was besotted with Missy, he carried on with other women living in the manor.

  "Unavoidably delayed," Aaron told him, ignoring Delmac's snort.

  "The cattle are moving again. I suppose it's time. They've been in the area for two weeks so the grass is getting thin."

  Aaron nodded. "These are Edna Balandice and Laura Bainridge. Ladies, this is Harvest Patton. He's supposed to be my bodyguard, but I've saddled him with too many other chores. Have there been more raids?"

  "None nearby," Patton answered, "and that confuses me. It doesn't fit the pattern. Oh, I took care of the people you sent over. Most are distributed into other tribes. I put Harris with the Jondar."

  "Any word on how he's doing?" Aaron asked.

  Patton made a waving motion with his hand. Three women converged on Aaron's still standing tent and went inside.

  "They've been waiting to pack up your belongings," Patton explained. "No, I haven't heard anything. It's still too soon. Come with me? I want to show you something."

  "Coming." Aaron nodded to the women. "You can stay in my tent if you like."

  "Is there a reason why I shouldn't come along?" Laura asked.

  "Miss, you're more than welcome to join us," Patton answered.

  "The name is Laura," she said. "I've been told manners are different here."

  "True enough. Aaron?"

  "Lead on."

  Their path through the encampment was winding. Pieces of disassembled tents and scattered belongings lay everywhere. Among all this activity were small pockets where someone sat cross-legged on the ground while another person wrapped cloth around their heads, forearms, and ribs. Aaron caught Laura's inquiring look.

  "I don't know," he told her. "This is a first."

  A cow protested somewhere. Its protests were answered by a sudden flurry of loud voices.

  "Don't ask me," Patton supplied, ignoring the activity around him. "All I know is we're supposed to have a meet with the Jondars tomorrow. Don't know why, and I don't have time to look into it."

  "We're bound to learn sometime," Aaron said.

  "They are certainly an ugly people," Edna noted. She pointed to a woman whose head was not yet completely wrapped. "What happened to her?"

  Aaron saw nothing special about the indicated warrior.

  "Her skull," Edna supplied. "There is a hole in the side of it."

  "Oh." The woman did have a deep divot on one side of her head. "Her injury isn't unusual."

  A minute later, Patton took them to the camp's edge.

  "How long will they travel before stopping?" Edna asked.

  "Until the cattle stop moving," Patton explained. "Sometimes it's only a day or two. Might be a couple weeks."

  "So they have to move whenever the cattle do?"

  "Almost," Patton tossed over his shoulder. "The tribes travel faster than the cattle. We don't move until the animals have been gone a few days, and only if it looks like they won't come back." He pointed. "There."

  Why, Aaron wondered, did all these people lie around on blankets when the rest of the camp was busy, and why did these men and women wear nothing more than loincloths. As he watched, a fully clothed woman set a huge urn down. A reclining woman accepted the urn, grasped it between her hands, and raised it to her lips.

  "I'm told this is the Ferbog," Patton said. "The purpose is to see who can become the fattest in a set time. These people are expected to do nothing but lie around and drink milk for the next four months. When the contest is over, the fattest person is honored above all others until the next Ferbog."

  Laura shook her head. "This is dangerous. Somebody could die."

  "They have." Harvest smiled at her, though his expression remained serious. "Chin don't see life the way we do."

  "Apparently not," she murmured. "I have to write a book on these people. You wait and see if I don't."

  "Your mothers will be livid," Edna noted.

  "Their lookout," Laura replied. "I've been marriageable for several years. I have the right to chose my own path same as you do." She looked pointedly towards Edna's middle. "Last I heard, the remnants of your family hate the Franks crowd almost as much as they hate Bivins and Turner."

  "This explains the travois building," Aaron said, deliberately ignoring Laura's last words. "I've seen enough, and I'm tired. Let's get something to eat, and then I'm for bed."

  * * *

  Later that night, Melna joined him, bringing Zisst with her. Though Aaron was interested, they remained chaste because guests slept in their tent. Aaron remembered a time when Melna thought witnesses an encouragement, but that was before living with the Chins' looser moral standards. Like much else in life, Chins thought sex a natural function of being alive. Because of this, Melna was no longer enticed by the idea of semi-public lovemaking.

  Even so, she did snuggle nicely in his arms, and her welcoming kiss was warm.

  When he woke in the morning, she still slept, so he rose and attended to the business of being emperor. Zisst stayed close by his side, not surprising. His Zisst, Aaron had discovered, tended to cling after they were apart for a day or two.

  One of his tasks was to inspect seven cartridge shells brought to him by Choin How. Aaron warmly praised the man for retrieving them, though he silently cursed. Only seven, and three were damaged. Choin's carelessness had cost them more casings than Aaron cared to think about.

  Once finished with Choin, he dealt with a few others. Only one girl, Gondala, brought a smile to his face because she showed no sign of the grave injuries she once bore.

  Just after first light, he woke Melna and the others. Delmac had risen early and gone out with the hunters.

  Before the morning was well along, the last of the tents were packed, and the journey started in earnest. Aaron expected complaints about the early hour or the rough travel from both Laura and Edna, but neither uttered a word. Edna had the good sense to wear practical clothing, long pants, a thick-weave cotton shirt, and solid boots.

  Laura, Aaron decided, would be his problem child. She wore hiking shoes, a loincloth and nothing else. Technically, Aaron supposed her attire was somewhat appropriate. Among the Chin, clothing was a status symbol. Laura's clothing said she was a chorai a person low on the social ladder, someone recognized as a junior warrior. If she were a glorai, or a full warrior, she would be expected to wear a top unless the weather was exceptionally hot.

  Aaron supposed a person wanting to write a book about a culture should submerge themselves in it, but Laura seemed to be doing things without knowing the underlying reason as to why they should be done. Her attire had already placed her on the lower end of the social spectrum when she really wanted to be on the upper. Though she could never pass herself off as a glorai, she could have acted the part of a foreign yermod, the Chin equivalent of a Clan elder.

  They traveled late through the day, stopping only when the yermod said it was time. Their halt was met with disappointment since it had been hoped they would meet up with the Jondars. Unfortunately, only the cattle knew where they went and how soon they would get there.

  Once again, a number of young people, as well as a few nearing middle-age, were wrapped in c
loth bandaging. Sticks two inches across and five feet long were brought out, and impromptu classes were held on their use. A demonstrated overhand stroke explained why so many people walked around with malformed skulls. Even so, Aaron didn't understand why they practiced fighting with sticks when they had swords, spears, and a few remaining rifles.

  Then again, the Chins did many strange things, one of which was determining who could become the fattest in four months by eating no solid food and drinking only milk. Aaron noticed every contestant belonged to a large family. In essence, a man needed many wives, or a woman needed several co-wives, to care for their needs during the contest. Apparently, the only effort the contestants were allowed was to sit up or lay down.

  For her part, Laura was having a field day. She found the ferbog fascinating and spent hours walking beside one travois or another, listening to contestants talk between sips of milk. Edna, on the other hand, concentrated on the younger children.

  Delmac spent most of his time either hunting, exploring, or doing anything else which took him far away from the Chins. On the first day, he brought back two antelopes. On the second day, he returned holding the tail of a tallart, an aggressive feline famous for its evil temper. The Chins called it a devil cat and warned the chorai to never approach one. Conversely, a glorai who killed one of the vicious animals always received a second name. The animal was that dangerous.

  The cattle took an unexpected turn, leaving the well-worn trail they often followed in the past to amble toward a small stream. The Chins stopped for a day while priests spoke incantations over it since Aaron was assured the spring hadn't existed before this year. Because Aaron was the emperor, and thus a direct representative of the recently recognized One God, the Son, and the Ward, they expected him to give the new spring his blessing.

  At first, Aaron felt ridiculous as he stood beside the rivulet and raised his arms up to the sky. He felt no mystery or religious inspiration. Instead, he felt bored. After speaking empty words for over a minute, something rubbed against his leg. Looking down, he saw Zisst's bright eyes staring up at him.

  In an instant, the One God suffused his body, filled his limbs, his mind, and his heart. Aaron's words took on meaning and worth. They rang elegant. Before long, he lost track of what he said. When he finally finished speaking, hours had passed. The Chins stood silent as the stream continued burbling.

  Frightened, shaken, Aaron accepted Melna's helping hand. She led him away from the spring and found a place where he could be undisturbed. Sitting beside him, she gently stroked his hair while Aaron pulled himself back together and petted Zisst's parti-colored fur.

  An hour later, the Chins traveled once again. Aaron's muscles were still weak from his ordeal, so they built a new travois and laid him on it. He spent the rest of the day deliberately forgetting his body had, once again, become a vessel for the One God.

  Four days later, the cattle drew them near the Jondars. This was met with a great deal of excitement. Chorai screamed and shouted challenges to the sky while glorai smiled grimly, overseeing the serious task of forming a permanent camp. Aaron's tent was carried into the Jondar encampment on the shoulders of eight chorai. They lay down their burden with ritual and reverence, officially transferring the emperor's residence into the Jondar tribe.

  "I won't be going with you," Aybarra told Aaron. "The Tremouve know me. They know what I expect of them so I'll be most effective leading them into battle." His face turned pensive. "When I earn the right to lead them," he added. A smile twisted the corner of his mouth. "The man you sent ahead is a good man. Mac Harris will put the Jondars into fighting trim."

  Aaron reluctantly shook the graying Afkan's hand goodbye. At one time they stood on opposite sides, but that time was far in the past and long forgiven. He would miss Samuel Aybarra.

  A brief meeting with the healer, Macine, surprised him, as did many other meetings with the Tremouve's more prominent members. Most wanted his touch or his blessing. Feeling guilty, Aaron agreed to the charade, though he knew he was a fraud.

  Once safely among the Jondar, it turned out Harris was not to be found. He had taken a group of chorai who were almost ready for promotion out for extended training. Apparently, with a T'chung coming up, the ones who would soon be named glorai wanted to be as ready as possible.

  Aaron spent an uncomfortable night in his large tent by himself. Edna needed one more night with the Tremouve to complete a segment of her studies. Laura stayed with a seriously malformed man. Patton and Melna left on a duty they did not bother explaining to Aaron. Only Zisst kept him company. At least Zisst didn't snore.

  Aaron woke in the morning to the sound of hundreds of chanting voices. Yawning, he rose and changed his clothes, taking time to assure the thong around his neck remained secure. He did not want to lose his Talent Stone again.

  Lifting Zisst, he left the tent to find the Jondar and Tremouve Chins were intermingled, hand to hand, shoulder to shoulder, faces lifted to the sky, asking for the blessing of the Gods. Shaking his head, Aaron thought about ducking back into the tent, but his plans were forestalled by Melna's arrival.

  "Hey, hubby, I see you finally decided to wake up." Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were flushed. "This has been going on for an hour. I don't know how you stayed asleep. Come on. The proceedings are waiting on us."

  She pulled at his hand. Aaron resisted her pull.

  "Not yet."

  Stamping her foot, she gave him one of those looks he once found appealing but now found irritating. "But everything is waiting on you."

  "I just woke up. I have to pee."

  "Oh." Elfish mischief glinted in her eyes. "You had best get about it. Do you want me to tell the yermod why they're still waiting?"

  "Gods no." He looked around. "Where's the pits?"

  Melna pointed. "Sun side."

  Aaron didn't bother thanking her. Thrusting Zisst into her arms, he hurried away. Zisst answered this betrayal with a scolding chitter.

  The pits were, thankfully, unoccupied, saving Aaron the embarrassment of relieving himself in front of others. Over time, he had learned to accept public nudity and community bathing, but community elimination just seemed wrong.

  Melna waited for him outside their tent when he returned. She no longer held Zisst. The droning chant still went on, but the Chin's enthusiasm had tapered off. More than one gave Aaron an impatient glare.

  "Zisst didn't want to stay with me," Melna explained. "He went off with Edna. Are you ready now?"

  "I'm a little hungry," Aaron answered. He gave the chanters another look. "An empty stomach won't kill me, but they might. Lead on."

  She led him to where several circular arenas were staked off. Many of the Chins were gathered around the circles, apparently divided in even numbers. These were, Aaron realized, all the yermod from the two tribes. Their numbers were depressing, only thirty to thirty-five. The Chin lifestyle did not lend itself to longevity.

  Melna pointed to where blankets had been piled high and thick. "We're supposed to sit there since we have the most status." She gave him a warning look. "Aaron, I talked to a lot of people last night. You are emperor, but the sacredness of this ceremony is more powerful than your will. You and I are too exalted to judge, so we are to do nothing but sit here and watch. We can't interfere with the contests. Only the yermod who have authority over a specific circle have the right to intervene."

  She gave him a troubled look. "We are not permitted to interfere," she repeated. "If we do, we will be put to death."

  Swallowing, Aaron nodded and sat. Even convinced of the seriousness the Chins put on this event; he could not understand how a bunch of people hitting one another with sticks was sacred.

  The chanting stopped. Chins gathered on the opposite sides of the circle from Aaron and Melna. One lone figure drew near. Harvest Patton.

  "I'm told my place is here," he said as he sat down. "For now. They'll call me when it's my turn."

  "I guess you're one of the exulted because yo
u're in charge of so much," Aaron noted wryly. "I'm glad for the company, but are you sure you want to get involved?"

  "I asked for this," Patton replied. "They were reluctant at first, but I told them it was your request."

  Melna didn't say anything, but the brief look she gave Patton was welcoming. When she smiled, Patton smiled back.

  A T'chung, Aaron learned, was nothing more and nothing less than a contest between every chorai in both the tribes, though people from the same tribe were not allowed to battle one another. The contest did more than prove who was the strongest warrior; it set the social status of each chorai and showed those watching who were the upcoming leaders. Also revealed was which chorai among them would most likely run during a fight.

  The winner, Melna told him, would be almost a god until the next contest. She would be showered with sexual favors and proposals of marriage. Riches, glory, and honor would flow like water. Winners often passed their good fortune on to their extended families in the form of riches and favors, although this largesse was not required. A T'chung, Aaron discovered was also ritualized and formalized.

  The participants stood on opposite sides of the circle, one end of their sticks grounded before them. At a signal, they lifted their weapons and began fighting. The blows consisted only of sweeps and short swings. Never, he learned, did anyone jab. The strategy was to strike the opponent's stick and arms hard enough to jar the weapon from her hands. If that failed, and only after the battle continued for a measured time, were sweeping blows towards the legs and ribs allowed. Only after an opponent went down, but refused to stay there, did head blows come into play. Cloth wrappings around their limbs, body, and head absorbed much of the force, but not all.

  "They're not very good," Patton noted as one young woman drubed a slightly older man. Judges stopped the competition after the man was struck a dozen times without him striking the woman even once.

  "There isn't much science behind their technique," Melna supplied. "Not surprising since I haven't seen them practice until the last few weeks. With the training you and Aaron have given me, I could take any of these." She winced as shouts and groans rose from the onlookers.

 

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