Between Thero and Yellen, I was able to manage to communicate with the clan. We used mostly hand gestures and the few words I had picked up of their language along with the few words of Danhadine and the occasional fractured Neaux. Nia, Thero’s third wife, came from a clan from along the Neaux border, and her family had done some trade with Neaux villages along the river.
Of the delegation we saw no sign. Thero and the other men kept their eyes peeled while hunting. One day they returned news of a dead horse caught along the riverbank and a few days later canvas that appeared to belong to a tent. Other than these ominous signs, we saw not another sign of the Neaux delegation. I grew more discouraged with each passing day. We kept to the river for a fortnight before pulling up stakes to move. If the delegation had survived, they were nowhere near here. As we travelled, I looked for signs of their passing but saw nothing that would mark the passage of a large company. I lost hope they had survived.
I attempted scrying, but the waters were empty but for fractured images of Johai. Once I saw him sitting in a great hall, at a table for a feast. I was not certain if it was now or the future. The vision lasted only a moment before the waters went dark. I felt disconnected from my powers as I had never felt before. Even when I had the memory charm put upon me, I still had visions; now it was growing more difficult to see anything in the water. It worried me, but I put a brave face on it. I fell into an everyday routine that superseded all my fears. Fall was moving apace, and the clan was heading in the direction of Mother Lake for the winter solstice gathering. It was there that Thero had assured me I would be able to find the oracle.
As we drew closer to the gathering and I saw no further sign of the delegation, I could no longer avoid the signs. The flood had killed them all. A group of that size would have left a mark upon the land; we would have seen signs of their passing. Thero had questioned other clans we came across along the way; none had seen them. That night I cried into my pillow, long and hard. I brought them here, and they lost their lives for me. I piled them onto my guilty heart. Too many had died for me. They left me alone in the tent as I poured out my grief. When the morning came, I knew I would have to face the journey alone. I would find the oracle and stop Johai. I was listless for many days after. The women tried to cheer me up, and Thero’s second son, Hett, even brought me wild berries in hopes of lifting my mood. I forced a smile and accepted his gift. He beamed at me, and a blush colored his skin. After that I tried to let my grief go. So many had died already; I could not continue to carry the burden as the priest in Sanore had told me.
The Biski travelled light, and they broke camp easily. Compared to travelling with the diplomatic delegation, they made packing and moving a party of near forty seem effortless. The tents were rolled and put in carts hauled by oxen. The adolescent boys and girls herded the goats, and everyone walked. The clan had no horses. I had never travelled by foot before, and I found I grew tired easily, and when I did, Shewa begged for me to ride. I felt silly riding while she, being pregnant, walked, so I kept my breaks to a minimum.
After the first day, my feet were throbbing and I had blisters on the bottoms of my heels. I shared Shewa’s tent. I had only enough energy to roll out my sleeping mat and collapse upon it. I was too tired to even cry. That was one benefit of travel: it kept me busy so I did not dwell on my losses.
Late one night I was woken to the sound of hushed laughter and grunting. I rolled over, blinking back the sleep. Thero was straddling Shewa, the blankets rolled back and revealing his muscular back, and Shewa had her eyes closed as he rocked against her. I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle my cry of surprise. My face was burning with embarrassment as I rolled over. I pulled my blanket over my head and tried to pretend I did not hear the sounds coming from the next bedroll. I was not ignorant of such things, but I had not grown up in a society where it was flaunted so.
The next day, I could not even look at Thero without feeling my body flush. After several days of me avoiding him, he finally cornered me as I tried to run away while we were breaking camp once more. He caught me by the wrist as I turned to walk away.
“Why do you run away, Maea?”
I blushed and looked at the ground. “I’m not running. I just thought Wey needed my help with packing.”
“You have not looked at me in the eye for many days. Have I offended you in some way?” he asked.
I did not know how to say, “I’m embarrassed by what I witnessed.” My etiquette lessons never explained such things. I shook my head instead. “No.”
He laughed suddenly. “You were awake when I visited Shewa’s sleeping roll, weren’t you?”
My stomach rolled, and I couldn’t even nod my head to acknowledge the truth. He laughed harder and let me go. I took a few steps away, my eyes downcast.
“Maea, what a man and woman do is natural. Surely you know this?”
I was mortified. I would give anything to avoid this conversation. Despite my resistance, Johai swam into my thoughts. If I were to do such a carnal act with a man, it would have been him. My neck burned. Now was not the time or place to be contemplating such things.
He stopped laughing as if realizing the meaning behind my silence. “I see.” He coughed. “Well, I will have Shewa come to me next time.”
He stomped away, and I was glad the interchange was finished. He was true to his word, and a few nights later, Shewa slipped out in the night to go to his bedroll instead. Despite that, I spent a restless night thinking about what could have been between Johai and I had fate been kinder.
Before we approached Mother Lake, we began to encounter other clans. They ranged in size from ten or fewer to as large as several hundred. Thero waved and shared news, chatting with his friends and acquaintances in their native tongue. The wagons the others drove were covered in the bright tapestries common among their people, decorated with different animals, and all the men had the same long beards with beads and sometimes feathers. Every clan we met, Thero asked about the delegates. None had seen them, much to my growing woe.
We travelled with the other clans in a stream of caravans, children, dogs and livestock for a few more weeks. It had been two months since I joined the Running River Clan when we arrived at Mother Lake. It was a cold day. The first bites of winter had sunk its claws into the land. I saw Mother Lake hours before we reached its shore. It was vast, like a sea unto itself. The lake was blue and smooth across, like a polished mirror. The sky reflected in it, and the clouds drifted across the surface lazily as if a piece of the sky had fallen to earth. The surrounding land was hilly and covered in long grasses. Tracks had been made in the grass where wagons and animals had pushed through. Scattered around the banks of the lake were hundreds if not thousands of tents in small groupings. Fire pits had already been constructed, and smoke curled up to the sky. As we rode through the groupings of tents, looking for a place to settle in, I looked about for signs of Elenna and the others. I saw no familiar faces among them, but Thero and the others did. They called out to different clans, shouting in their mother tongue.
Thero continued to ask about the delegates, but time and again he came up empty-handed. I told him not to, but he insisted. I left him to the fruitless search. One group in particular Shewa saw and broke apart from the clan to greet. She shouted to them, and a round woman came from around a wagon, holding a ladle and with her arms outstretched to receive Shewa. A group of children ran up to her, chattering and pulling at her skirts.
“Shewa’s mother’s clan,” Yellen said to me with a smile.
I stopped to regard the reunion. Shewa looked like her mother. She had a kind face. Shewa put a hand to her stomach and beamed as she spoke with her mother. Her mother clapped her hands and hugged her daughter once more. Her mother stroked her growing belly. It must be nice to have a family. I thought of Damara back in Neaux. I prayed she was safe and she could sway Arlene from this war. Our caravan was moving away, and Thero waited for me.
“She’ll find us later once she h
as had a chance to catch up,” he said.
After our talk I was less nervous around him but not by much. “It must be difficult for her to be away from those she loves.” I was not sure if I spoke more for myself or her.
He nodded. “It is difficult for new brides to join a clan, but in five or ten years, they go back home less and less as the duties of their new clan take precedence. They learn not to look back, only forward to the road ahead.”
I contemplated his words. They were wise and ones I had to remind myself to heed. All that remains is for me to stop the specter. Elenna had hoped to avoid dying to protect me, but she still sacrificed her life for me. Beau, too, followed me to his demise. Now he’ll never be reunited with Sabine. I have to keep moving forward for them.
“When will we seek out the oracle?” I said, focusing on my own road ahead.
He shrugged. “When she arrives, she will seek you out, I am sure.”
“You mean she is not here?” I looked over the vast gathering of people. How could she not be among this throng of people; there were so many.
He noticed my gaze. “This is only a small portion of our people. You will see; by the third day, we will be as numerous as the stars in the sky.”
I had never seen this many people gathered in one place before. To think there was more was beyond comprehension. How can I find the oracle among so many?
We made camp around the lake’s edge in a space between two other clans around the same size as the Running River Clan. The goats were penned up and bleated plaintively as the boys hurried them into their paddock. I had been given the chore of keeping the children out from underfoot. I was playing a game where we hid among the tall grasses and waited for unsuspecting passersby to snatch at them and bring them into the hiding place. The one who caught the most players at the end of the game was the winner. I found it easier to be with the children because there was no need for us to share a language. They understood me in their own way.
Shewa did not return until three days later. She came back on the first night of the solstice celebration. According to Thero, it was seven days of feasting and dancing. Shewa returned to the camp when the sun was beginning to set, and she had a bundle slung under one arm. The children and I had retired in camp for the evening and were enjoying some sweet bread Nia had given us. We had been playing all day, watching the clans roll in. Thero had not lied, the Biski seemed to number more than the stars above, and they only kept coming. If someone could convince them to fight, they could be a powerful force, I thought as I watched the thousands of campfires twinkling in the growing dusk. I felt Johai; he was nearby somewhere in this sea of people. He was waiting for me. He can convince them to fight. How can I stop him?
Shewa spotted me and rushed over. She smiled at me and gestured with her free hand as she spoke rapidly. I laughed and shook my head. She only smiled wider and grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the tent we shared. I was confused but decided to play along anyway. Inside the tent, she set down her bundle and patted the space on her blankets for me to sit. I sat down cross-legged and looked up at her, expecting her to do the same. She did not; instead she went behind me and pulled the ribbon which had tied my hair back. She undid the braid I had kept my hair in and let my hair hang loose down my back.
“What are you doing?” I asked her as I tried to crane my neck backwards and get a better look.
She turned my head forward and said something in the Biski tongue.
“Well, I guess I’ll see,” I replied.
She tugged at my hair and separated it into a few sections. She continued to pull and tug, pausing every few minutes. A small braid fell forward against my shoulder. I touched the weaved pattern. She wants to braid my hair. How strange. The sensation of her fingers on my scalp was soothing, and I let her work. I relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of her braiding my hair. I let my mind wander as she worked. Once she was done, she patted my shoulder. There were no mirrors in the tent, but I ran my hands over the braids, marveling at the change in texture to my hair. They felt tight on my scalp and oddly heavy. As I moved, my hair tinkled and clanked. I realized she had tied little beads and bells in my hair.
“Thank you very much.” I smiled at her, and she patted my shoulder once more.
I had grown attached to these people in my short time with them. They had made me feel as if I were a part of the clan and not an outsider. I had not realized how long it had been since someone had made me feel that way.
Shewa picked up the bundle and untied the wrapping. Inside was a white gown made of some gossamer fabric. I touched the smooth fabric, and I was shocked by how fine it was. How can they make something this nice? I wondered. She held it up, and it had long sleeves, with a low collar, and draped down to the floor. The cut was simple but elegant. On the hem was a golden border made of interlocking ferns.
“It’s very beautiful,” I said.
She put it in my hands. “Dress,” she said in Danhadine.
My eyes widened. This was much too delicate for me to wear—I had no right at all. “I couldn’t.” I shook my head, and I tried to hand the gown back to her.
She shook her head as well and pressed the dress back into my hands. I rubbed the fine silk between my fingers and contemplated it. If she wants me to, I suppose it would not hurt. Shewa slipped out of the tent door as I dressed. I slid off my rough-spun gown and let it fall to the floor. I slipped on the white dress, and it slid on easily. It did not quite fit right in the bust and waist, but overall it was comfortable.
It had a low waist, which hit me at the hips. The sleeves were long and billowing, nearly swallowing my hands. Shewa returned with a gold sash and tied it around my waist. Since there were no mirrors, I had to go by Shewa’s expression, and from the way her smile grew and she clapped her hands together, I thought it might look good on me.
I moved towards the doorway, my hair jangling. Shewa followed me out. Outside, the camp had grown dark, and those gathered around the fire had long shadows on their faces. The men’s eyes swiveled in our direction, and Thero’s second son, Heth, stood up as I approached. We were of an age. He was growing a beard, which came in sparsely, hardly covering his chin.
He motioned for me to take a seat beside him. I looked about the fire as I sat down. None of the other women were dressed as elaborately as me. However, everyone did have on clean clothes with their hair braided, though not as intricately as mine.
“Why are the other women not dressed this way?” I asked Thero.
He laughed. “I apologize I did not explain earlier. It is tradition that the du-toath initiates dress this way to present themselves to the Mother. They dance the longest dance in homage to the Mother who gave birth to us all. As a dreau, you too should join in the dance.”
I had hoped to blend in with the crowd. I did not want to draw attention upon myself. It might help me search out Johai. I lifted up my sleeve, which trailed after me. He would not recognize me dressed like this, I suspect. It had been so long since I had dreamed of Johai, I wondered what he had done over the past few months. What will I do if we meet? Thero patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll have fun.” It may be fun to dance, and there are so many people here, we may never run into one another at all.
With the sun down, a few of the adults and Thero’s older sons went out to the gathering. Wey, Nia and the other mothers stayed behind to watch the children. I walked at the back of the group, my arms wrapped about my upper torso. I could see the flames of a massive bonfire reflected onto the surface of the lake. I was mesmerized by the lights dancing on the water; they seemed ethereal and strange. As we headed towards the gathering, I saw other women dressed in a similar fashion to myself. Hair braided into a multitude of tiny braids and wearing white gowns. It made me feel better and a little less out of place. Where are the men? Men also become du-toath. A thought nagged at the back of my mind, but I could not put my mind around it.
When we grew closer to the gathering, the noise washed over
me. Music threaded through the night along with the sounds of the people’s laughter. Beneath the orange light of the bonfire, I saw shadows of moving figures, limbs were swaying and bodies pressed together. We reached the outer circle, which enclosed the dancing people. I planned on hanging back, observing their culture from a distance.
The dancers were comprised of mainly couples, limbs entwined in a dance that seemed much more intimate than mere dancing. Men and women moved to the music, hips grinding and hands caressing. I blushed to turn away and found Hett standing beside me with a smile. He held his hand out and nodded toward the dancing group.
I tried to refuse, but he did not understand my meaning. He pulled my hand and dragged me out into the dancing circle despite my protests. Since I’m dressed for the part, I may as well dance. I danced at arm’s length from Hett. I would dance, but I would not let him grope me like the other men were doing to the initiates.
He led me to an inner circle beside the fire. He put his hand on my hip and guided me to sway with the beating of the drums. The motion felt awkward at first. I was accustomed to the more structured dancing of court. Though I was uncertain at first, the drumming and the beating of the many feet worked through me, and I found my rhythm. Hett kept his hand on my hip, and we swayed together. A couple times we fumbled, and I would laugh to dispel my nervousness. He twirled me, and I spun around, the skirt of my dress flaring out about me.
As we danced, the crowd thinned. From the corner of my eye, I noticed passionate embraces leading into the tall grass outside the circle of light being cast by the bonfire. Almost all the women wore white like me, and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Did I misunderstand something that Thero told me? As if reading my thoughts, Hett pulled me closer and ground his hips into my pelvis. What have I gotten myself into? I pulled away and tried to disentangle myself from him before he got the wrong impression. I pushed back on his chest as he came in closer, leaning for my neck. His muscles flexed beneath my hands as I attempted to push him away. He did not understand my meaning and leaned down to kiss me. I turned my head away.
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