Tigra

  To help ease the strain, the Intawa practiced wife-sharing. Cultural norms dictated that the husband present the request to his wife on behalf of his “brother"—since the tribes considered themselves a family, all males of the same approximate age were brothers. The woman had final approval, and her word was the last say in the matter. If the request was denied, it could not be made again. The women of the j'led found this to be a most excellent arrangement, and those with a second husband were looked upon with envy.

  Ewar, the hunter who had rescued Jeena and Samson, lived in just such a union. His wife had died in childbirth four years earlier, and he'd had no luck at the keppis, although the women confided to her that his heart was never really in it—he had loved his wife dearly. So, he now shared Anok's wife Ienta. Ienta admitted she thoroughly enjoyed the arrangement and would miss Ewar if he ever again took a wife of his own.

  If Jeena was interested in the Intawa living arrangements, they were just as curious about hers. The women were intrigued by her relationship with Samson—Shahaiya, as they called him—a being they all considered a god. Jeena was shocked to discover they assumed an intimacy between them that didn't exist, and she fervently tried to correct this surprising—and, in her mind, rather bizarre—misconception. Her explanations were met with winks and giggles, as well as a few envious looks that made her scratch her head in wonder.

  As a people, the Intawa were happy and engaging, quick to laughter and possessed of an easy demeanor; and Jeena was drawn to them and their simple way of life.

  When she had fully recovered, Samson related the events leading up to her awakening in the j'led. He told her about being found by Ewar and the journey to the village.

  "I guess the cold and the exhaustion must have affected me more than I thought. I no sooner walked into the village than I passed out. Ewar had already taken you in to Nanor. You were almost gone by then.

  "Nanor was very worried. He said some of his people had gotten sick like that in the distant past when they first came to this land, and that his ancestors had discovered a cure, but that it had been lost in the mists of time. He started and stopped several times before finally mixing a combination of herbs that he put under your tongue. Whatever it was, it began working immediately. He sat by your side for days, giving you a small dose every hour.

  "The hunters had surrounded me outside. They thought I was a wild tigra that had followed Ewar back to the village and would have killed me if he hadn't come looking for me. When I came to, I was here in the j'led with you. I tried to thank them for saving you, but they all fell to their knees crying, ‘Shahaiya.’”

  "A god."

  "Right. They practice a kind of shamanism here, and apparently Shahaiya is one of their principal gods. The more I tried to explain who I was..."

  "The more convinced they were that you were a god,” she finished.

  "Yeah."

  Jeena surveyed the people as they moved about the j'led performing their daily activities. Men sat in small groups sharpening their spears; young women fried strips of meat in animal fat while others worked the large, two-handed mortar, their breasts swaying rhythmically as they beat the club into a large stone bowl. Old women were tanning and stretching hides as naked children ran about.

  "They seem pretty calm for having a god in the house,” she observed.

  "They say I'm always with them. They just feel honored they can see me now."

  She gazed up at him. “You took a great risk confronting Ewar, after what you went through in New Jerusalem."

  Samson looked away. “I wasn't afraid of Ewar, or even dying. The only thing I was afraid of was losing you."

  "Well, you haven't lost me yet, thanks to you."

  A young girl brought a plate of meat and nuts, setting it before them and bowing to each in turn.

  "By the way,” Jeena said, “if you're a god, what am I supposed to be?"

  "My semata, my concubine,” he said and winced.

  * * * *

  Damn! He hadn't meant to tell her that.

  "Your what?” she asked icily.

  "It was their idea, not mine,” he protested, his ears lying flat on his head. “They just figure that since you're with me ... I mean, they just naturally assumed..."

  Her face began to contort.

  "Now, Jeena,” he said, backing away, “stay calm. It's really very funny when you think about it. Don't you think? Jeena?"

  The Intawa glanced curiously at them as her laughter filled the j'led.

  * * * *

  Ewar returned from his hunting expedition and was formally introduced to Jeena. She thanked him warmly for his help.

  "My heart glad to see you well, semata-who-lie-with-Shahaiya,” he said.

  "Um ... please, just call me Jeena,” she replied, giving Samson a sidelong glance. “Was your hunting trip successful?"

  Ewar shook his head. “No, spirits of the animals are frightened and will not come to our lands.” There was worry and sadness in his voice.

  He excused himself, saying he would see them later that night at the celebration to honor Shahaiya and the return to health of his semata. He hinted with scarcely hidden hope that perhaps Shahaiya could bring the animals back.

  "It's been like that since we came here,” said Samson after he had gone. “All the hunting parties have returned empty-handed. They say it's been like that for weeks."

  Jeena looked down at the plate of food they had been offered.

  "This is probably a good portion of their food stores. Looks like they want Shahaiya well-fed before they ask him to solve their hunting problem."

  Samson looked mournful. “I wonder what they think I can do?"

  * * * *

  The drums beat in a slow, regular rhythm. A group of Intawa men, led by Nanor, danced near the fire. One of the women explained to Jeena that it was a symbolic interpretation of a hunt.

  Nanor's body was painted yellow, and he wore only a small loincloth that, Jeena noted with amusement, covered little. The old shaman crawled about the fire, obviously portraying a tigra. As he approached the other animals, portrayed by equally decorated Intawa men, they would scatter, leaving the hunters confused and saddened.

  The dance ended, and a group of young women set trays of food before her and Samson. Nanor, his body glistening with sweat, bowed low before them.

  "Shahaiya, praise to you and your semata,” he said in his high singsong voice. “You great hunter, great god of tigra, you know all animals. Intawa always honor Shahaiya. All tribes give dance to you. All tribes sing your name."

  Samson bowed clumsily, unsure of what was expected of him.

  "Shahaiya thanks you, Nanor,” said Jeena on his behalf.

  Nanor nodded vigorously and smiled.

  "Intawa now ask for help. Shahaiya go to brother. Shahaiya tell him Intawa good people. He no bother Intawa no more."

  Samson looked at her in despair.

  "Nanor, Shahaiya wants to help the Intawa, but he doesn't know what you want him to do,” she said.

  "Only ask brother to leave. Shahaiya lead him to tigra home beyond fire-mountain. Then animals return to Intawa hunting grounds."

  "Are you getting this?” she asked Samson.

  "I think so,” he replied. “Apparently, there's another tigra stalking their hunting grounds and scaring away the game."

  "Exactly. And guess which god they want to shoo him off?"

  * * * *

  Samson sat crouched behind a snowdrift, sniffing the air. Jeena knelt next to him, searching the wooded area beyond through the binoculars.

  "I can't see him. Are you sure he's out there?"

  "Positive. I can smell him."

  "Hold on. Yeah, there he is. About half a klick west. Look.” She handed him the glasses.

  Samson looked. The tigra was pacing in the snow just beyond the tree line. He raised his head and sniffed warily.

  Then he felt it—the same sense of being touched, of being probed he had felt that night on the moun
tainside.

  He slid back behind the drift. “He knows I'm here."

  "I doubt it. We're downwind."

  He handed her the binoculars. “It's not my scent. I can't explain it, but he knows. I can sense it."

  Jeena raised the pulse rifle. “It doesn't matter, I can bring him down from here."

  Samson grabbed her arm. “No!"

  She placed her hand over his paw. “Samson, I don't want to do this, either. I wish we had a tranquilizer gun, but we don't. If we don't do this the Intawa hunters will, and how many of them will die in the attempt? What else can we do?"

  "I don't know. Just let me think for a minute, will you?” His whiskers twitched, and his ears were flat against his head. “We can't do this, Jeena, not like this. I know he's just an animal, but this is wrong. He doesn't know he's hurting the Intawa, he's just lost and hungry.” He glanced back over the snow at the pacing tigra. “I'm going to try and communicate with him. Don't look at me like that—I don't know how. But I can't let you just kill him."

  Before she could protest, he slipped out from the snowbank and made his way to the tree line. Once he had the protection of the woods he carefully moved toward the tigra, using the trees as cover.

  But the tigra was wary; its ears were pricked, and it sniffed the air suspiciously.

  Samson had made it almost to his quarry now—only a few trees and a few dozen feet separated them. The feeling of being touched grew as he neared, and he closed his eyes for a moment to focus. He felt dizzy, and suddenly, he saw himself as though through another's eyes. He was partially hidden, crouching behind a tree, his eyes closed.

  His eyes flew open, and he crouched deeper in the snow, panting. It was the tigra! I was seeing myself through his eyes! How is that possible? Could this be some kind of communication?

  His heart leapt at the idea. Maybe it was possible. Maybe his kind was more than brute beasts after all. But Jeena is still out there. If she thinks I'm in trouble she won't hesitate to kill him.

  Taking a steadying breath, he stepped out from behind the tree.

  The tigra was waiting. The hair on its neck bristled, and its lips were pulled back in a snarl. The fangs snapped down, dripping with saliva. Samson approached cautiously, keeping his head down and his ears flat against his head in a sign of submissiveness. The animal stood its ground, its muscles visibly tense under its fur.

  He stopped a few feet from it and slowly lifted his head until their eyes met. For the space of a heartbeat, they stood unmoving.

  Then, without warning, the big animal sprang. Samson fell back, a ribbon of bright blood spurting from his neck and arcing high in the air.

  Jeena screamed. She bolted over the drift and ran towards them, then dropped to the snow on one knee and took aim.

  Samson staggered to his feet, holding a paw to his bloody neck.

  "No, Jeena, don't! I'm all right,” he yelled, but his voice was weak.

  "Get out of the way, Samson! Now!"

  He stood his ground, putting himself between the cat and Jeena.

  "No, I won't let you do it."

  He was steadier now, and faced the tigra. The animal was ready to attack again, but its attention flitted between Samson and the woman behind him.

  Samson dropped down on all fours, again assuming a submissive stance. His neck throbbed and his heart was racing, but he had to try again. He could feel the contact with the other tigra growing in him, but whatever it was, he did not have the skill to use it.

  "Go away,” he said. “You must leave this place. Danger here."

  He repeated the phrases again and again, hoping to soothe the tigra; but it remained tense, poised to strike again. In an unconscious reflex, he began mentally picturing the events he was describing, visualizing the tigra running far away to the north of the Intawa village.

  * * * *

  Jeena could not get a bead on the animal with Samson in the way, and began moving in an arc, cursing him as she circled to the left. Despite his protests, she intended to take the first clear shot.

  Suddenly, the tigra made as though to lunge then stumbled and shrank back. It withdrew from Samson and turned toward the north, sniffing the air uncertainly. With one final glance back at him, it began moving away quickly, heading north along the pass out of the Intawa lands.

  Jeena had just taken a position at the tree line and stifled a cry when the cat started to pounce. It halted and paced nervously as if unsure. Now it was turning away, but she kept it in her sights until it disappeared from view.

  When she was sure it was gone, she ran up to where Samson sat in the snow. She tossed the gun down and examined the wound on his neck.

  "Are you all right?” she demanded, her face stiff with worry.

  The gash ran from his left ear to his sternum, but did not appear deep.

  "Yes, I'm okay, just a little shaken up."

  "You're shaken up?” she yelled. “What the hell did you think you were doing out there?"

  "Jeena..."

  "Don't Jeena me! And don't you ever come between me and a target again. He almost killed you. You can't reason with him, Samson, he's just an animal."

  "Maybe he is, and maybe I am different from all the rest. But Nanor is right—I'm still one of them, I'm still a tigra. I couldn't just let you kill him in cold blood. Please try to understand."

  She nodded, running a hand over her eyes, surprised to find them moist. “Yeah, I guess I understand.” She picked up the rifle and slung it over her shoulder. “But don't ever do that to me again. I didn't save your furry ass just so one of your relatives could tear it up."

  She turned and began trudging toward the j'led.

  Samson followed closely behind her. “Yes, Jeena."

  * * * *

  The j'led celebrated that night. Unlike the formal ceremony the night before, this was a full-blown party. Gourds of kuse, a potent drink made from the fermentation of a local tuber, were passed around. Soon Jeena and, to the delight of the Intawa, Samson joined in the impromptu dance around the fire.

  Jeena had tended to Samson's wound, and between her ministrations and the kuse, he was feeling no pain. The women of the tribe stripped her to the waist, and Nanor presented her with an impe, the tribal necklace worn by all, thus making her a clanswoman of the tribe. The necklace was a string of smooth metallic stones of irregular shape the Intawa called p'toc. Nanor explained that they were very valuable and contained great power. As one of their gods, Samson did not need a necklace but was given the thanks and undying love of the entire tribe.

  Earlier in the evening, he had tried to relate to Jeena the contact he had experienced with the other tigra, but she could make nothing of it. As the kuse flowed, he began to doubt the whole affair himself.

  The party continued well into the night, with some of the tribesmen dancing until they dropped of exhaustion the next morning. He and Jeena quit somewhat earlier to the furs and blankets that made up their sleeping area. Others had already retired, and the j'led was alive with the noise of soft snores and other, more amorous sounds.

  "You did good out there,” Jeena said, gingerly touching his wound. “I'm proud of you. Shahaiya himself couldn't have done better."

  "Yeah?” He grinned lopsidedly. “So, does that mean I can keep you as my concubine?"

  Her smile disappeared for an instant before she forced it back.

  "Don't press it,” she replied.

  He laughed, and she allowed him to wrap his big arms around her.

  * * * *

  Hangovers were the order of the day the next morning, and everyone but Jeena seemed to suffer. Samson had to excuse himself twice to run outside and be sick. The drinking exploits of SAG commandoes were legendary in the Union, and Jeena's tolerance was phenomenal even by those lofty standards; so she spent most of the day assisting those other unaffected few in preparing meals. She also managed to speak with Ewar and some of the other hunters about Mordachi and the Mountain people.

  "Here, try this,” she sa
id, pushing a bowl of hot broth at Samson. He was moaning softly and, in spite of the fur over his face, looked a little green.

  "Oh, please, no food,” he whined.

  "Yeah, you never forget your first good drunk. But trust me, this will make you feel better."

  He sat up slowly and sipped at the hot liquid. He saw that she was drinking from the kuse gourd.

  "I hate you,” he moaned.

  "I just have a lot more experience with alcohol than you. You'll learn."

  He peered at her over the bowl. “I'll die first."

  "No, that would be bad form for a god. Besides, I need you alive and healthy. I spoke with Ewar and the other hunters. They say the pass will be open in five days. Looks like we're finally going to meet this Mordachi."

  Chapter 15

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

  Popular saying of the Intawa, most probably derived from an older Earth proverb

  With the wild tigra gone the game returned, and with it the peace and contentment of the tribe. Jeena showed interest in their medicine and this pleased Nanor, who took her as his student. Her first lesson was that medicine and religion were deeply entwined. Her own recovery had shown that the herbs and roots the Intawa used had potent bioactivity, and she was anxious to study them. She was less excited about having to learn the chants and spells that went with their use.

  Nanor had just explained the value of a certain tree bark in the treatment of skin infections, and was having her recite the prayer that went with its application. Once again, she flubbed the recitation.

  "Nanor, do I really have to learn the prayer?” she asked. “The bark will work just as well without it."

  He looked at her queerly. “Bark no work without prayer. Spirit in bark make work. Must make tree-spirit come out."

  "Maybe my tree doesn't have a spirit,” she muttered.

  "All trees have spirit. How tree grow if no spirit?"

  "Trees come from seeds and water and light. It's actually very simple."

  "Ahh ... so you can make tree?"

  "If I had a seed I could, sure."