Gama and Hest: An Ahsenthe Cycle companion novella (The Ahsenthe Cycle)

by Razevich, Alexes

  “You’re thinking too much again,” Hest said. “Probably the bucket fell in the river and the current carried it off.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder. “Do you really think that happened?”

  “It could have. You might have left the bucket too close to the water. A beast came along and knocked it into the stream while we were floating in the water with the hatchlings. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  She turned back to the window and thought that over, trying to remember exactly where she’d left the third bucket. She could have left it close to the water. She didn’t think she had, but maybe.

  There was a slight jolt as Reev bumped lightly against the soil, and then settled gently on the plain. Wall and the structures started speaking among each other in their own language. Gama looked out the window and waited for Home to get around to translating.

  Impatience got the better of her. What’s going on?

  Someone has taken the grain, Home sent.

  A nervous chill raced up her breastbone. What do you mean?

  Wall says the plain is empty. Already harvested.

  Gama pressed up against the window, trying to see, but Wall was in the way. An empty plain wasn’t possible. Corentas traveled freely over the world, but each had claimed areas, sections of plains where wild grains grew, or a copse of trees with edible fruits, bark, or leaves, or a section of river, from which no other corenta would harvest. That way each community had what it needed with no need to argue over access. Claimed areas were clearly marked. Gama couldn’t imagine another corenta taking grain from a field not their own.

  Oh! Oh! Oh! Home sent. Go see!

  Gama cleared the door first, Hest following. All the soumyo of Reev seemed to be rushing through the meandering paths toward the gates as though carried on a swift current. Someone ran by, knocking into Gama. She stumbled but Hest steadied her. More of their kin pushed by. Those who’d gotten through the main gate first stood only a little ways into the field. Gama and Hest could see them up ahead — all of them motionless. Hest angled through the standing soumyo to the front of the pack, clearing a path for her. A bead of sweat slid down the side of Gama’s face.

  No beasts or bugs had done this. No soumyo either. The grain hadn’t been harvested or eaten. It was simply gone — the dry, brown soil bare of the slightest sign that anything had ever grown there, not just in their area, but across the entire valley. At least five other corentas would find their fields stripped.

  Gama rubbed her hands on her thighs. This couldn’t happen, but it had.

  The corenta kin murmured among themselves.

  Prill, who stood on the other side of Hest, said to no one in particular, “Wind? Could a wind blow hard enough to pull up every plant from its roots and scatter it someplace else?”

  “There’s no disturbances in the soil,” Gama said, answering her. “If a wind ripped them up, the ground would show it.”

  Prill nodded and fell silent, as though her one idea had been hard enough, and she couldn’t summon another.

  Gama couldn’t summon any ideas either. First the bangs, then the bucket, and now this. She stared out over the brown dirt of the valley, her mind numbed, her stomach in knots.

  What do you see? Home sent with a sudden urgency that reminded her that of all the structures, only Wall saw what was outside.

  Nothing, she sent. Nothing but dirt.

  Three

  There was no point staying where they were, Reln had said. He’d sent everyone back to their dwellings while they moved again. Home had grumbled that Reln should have thought it through more, talked it through with the soumyo and structures, but Gama had just shrugged. That was Reln — taking too much time to reach a simple decision, and sometimes making major decisions in a rush. It was fine with her that they hadn’t stayed at the barren plain. There was nothing there for them now. Besides, the further they traveled from the place of the burning sky, the better she felt. They were a long way from it now.

  Truth was, she preferred the work where they were now. Instead of harvesting grain, as she would have at the fields, she and Hest hauled salt blocks out to the meadow near where Reev had set down. She liked the feel of the soft rope that encircled both their waists, the weight of the sled behind them, the effort it took to move it. She was stronger, but he pulled ahead and looked over his shoulder.

  “Keep up, Gama, will you?”

  She grabbed the rope between her hands and ran. She shouldn’t have laughed, but Hest looked silly, stumbling, trying to keep up as they raced across the meadow. Delicate new pink shoots of whiltsprout tickled the bottoms of their bare feet. She could outrun him on one leg. She thought he’d have known that by now.

  He was panting hard by the time they reached the meadow and the soft rise where they always brought the salt.

  “Need a moment to catch your breath before we unload?”

  Hest glowered at her, but was still breathing too hard to answer.

  “Guess I’ll get started by myself then.” Gama pushed at a block on the sled. The blocks were big and heavy. It took two soumyo to move them, and she knew she couldn’t push one off herself. Still, she exaggerated how hard it was, huffing and puffing, then standing up and wiping imaginary sweat from her brow.

  Hest laughed softly once he had his breath back, and bent to help. Together they pushed the block, and shared the satisfaction of tipping it off the sled and onto the ground. They moved the sled a few feet and shoved another block off, then moved again, until all six blocks lay crushing the delicate shoots beneath them. The only thing left on the sled was the gathering bag that had been under the salt blocks.

  Hest threw back his head, closed his eyes and trilled his tongue across the top of his mouth to make the sound that called the brez down to the salt.

  She listened, thinking she liked the word brez — the way it sounded in her mind and in the saying; that it was both singular and plural. One beast was brez. A large herd was brez. Soumyo was the same: one soumyo walked through Reeve, five soumyo followed.

  Gama shaded her eyes and looked toward the low hills beyond the long, wide meadow. The soumyo of Reev had been coming to this meadow long enough that the brez who foraged there knew what Hest’s call meant. She watched them come, four legged beasts as high at the shoulder as she was, their large, shaggy heads swaying slowly back and forth as they walked, their long, stiff tails moving in counterpoint behind them. Brez could move quickly when they wanted, but didn’t often seem to feel much reason to. She wished they’d hurry; restless energy ran through her and she needed work to do.

  She and Hest settled on a flat spot on the generally bumpy land and waited. Gama drummed her fingers against her thighs. Why were the brez so slow today? She took a deep breath and stilled her hands, willing herself to a calmness she couldn’t quite reach.

  Hest spotted something in the whiltsprout and bent to pick it up — a long thin piece of bone. Bird leg, from the shape. He wiped the top of the bone clean with his hipwrap and blew across the open tip to produce a high, breathy tone.

  She nodded, glad for the diversion. Hest drew a deep breath and huffed air across the bone in a quick tempo, moving the bone around beneath his lips to change the sound. Gama smiled. Everyone liked music, but for Hest it was like a second heartbeat. She clapped her hands against her thighs in rhythm, in support more than enjoyment today. She suspected Hest was looking for distraction every bit as hard as she was, to avoid thinking about the explosion-sounds, the missing bucket the field wiped clean. Hest didn’t want to talk about it. Even Reln had brushed off her tentative questions. There seemed to be an unspoken pact not to speak about these things — to not even think about them. As if silence could undo their fears.

  It might have been better if they had talked. No one could not think about it. There was falseness to their joy now, and yet she pretended as hard as Hest did.

  The brez must have found the music pleasing. They picked up their pace toward the salt licks. He
st blew across the bone. Gama clapped. The brez stopped and looked down at them, their moist blue eyes, the color of sky, and made their low ooooo-ya-oooo call. Hest put down the bone and the brez started in on the salt.

  When the beasts had had their fill, they walked over to Gama and Hest, understanding that everything must be fairly traded, and that the soumyo got brez hair in exchange for the salt.

  Hest opened a small bag hanging from the tools belt around his waist and drew out two combs. The brez stood placidly as the soumyo combed the beasts’ long hair. Gama thought they liked it, which made it a perfect trade — the brez getting two things they enjoyed in exchange for the beasts’ long, soft hair, which the soumyo wove into cloaks and blankets.

  “Do you suppose brez think we come here in service to them?” Gama pulled hair from the filled comb and stuffed it into the bag.

  Hest half shrugged. “Probably. We bring them salt. We groom them, which they like.”

  She ran her hand over her scalp. “It seems strange we don’t have hair, or fur, or something to keep us warm. Hatchlings do, but when we emerge we’re without anything to protect us. Seems like poor planning.”

  Hest rolled his eyes. “Always with the questions and opinions, Gama. All right, here’s a reason. Because we are in service to the brez. If we could stay warm on our own, we wouldn’t need their hair and wouldn’t bring them salt.” He held out his arm and made a show of looking at it. “Besides, it would be a shame to mar this lovely skin of mine with hair or fur that hid it.”

  Gama laughed and returned to grooming the brez, working from the bottom of a tangle upward, to free the knotted hair. The beast under Gama’s hands closed its large blue eyes and muttered contently in its own language. She couldn’t understand the speech but saw its happiness in her mind — a slowly rotating, bright silver ball.

  Other beasts had different images for their emotions. Some projected a screen of green or other color so large it took up their whole mind. Others saw members of their own kind, sometimes pressed up against their flanks or nuzzling at the neck.

  Gama fell into the beast’s pleasure, felt its happiness as her own happiness and contentment as she ran the comb gently through the long variegated hairs — black, brown, and light gray — until the comb was full. It took a lot of strokes to fill the comb, and a lot of packed combs to stuff the bag. The sun was sinking by time they were done.

  She finished with the last brez and lost the contentment connection. Thoughts of the explosion flowed back into her mind. The lost bucket. The field stripped clean. She shifted from foot to foot.

  Don’t think about it, Hest sent.

  Of course he knew exactly what gnawed at her.

  You’re not thinking about it? It’s scratching at my thoughts like a bird in a box.

  He sighed. “We have work to do, Gama.”

  More brez had come to the salt patch than they had time to groom, and those who’d not gotten their chance at the comb now pawed the ground and snorted their displeasure.

  We’ll be back tomorrow. Gama didn’t think the beasts understood the words, but knew from experience they understood the meaning.

  But the beasts didn’t settle.

  The ones they’d groomed also started bellowing and pawing the ground. One nearly stomped on Hest’s foot. He yelled, and jumped to get out of the way. Gama grabbed his arm and tugged him toward her. The beasts turned and sprang across the meadow toward the low hills that bordered it.

  Hest!

  “I don’t know what scared them,” he said aloud, knowing, as usual, what she was thinking as they watched the last of the beasts retreat — a female and an offspring. He shrugged uneasily. “At least we filled the bag.”

  Gama glanced at the stuffed-full bag, then back toward where the beasts had run. She and Hest had been grooming brez together since they’d emerged seven years earlier. They had a knack for it. Other pairs had to chase after the beasts and beg them to cooperate. Hest had been able to call brez from the start and both of them groomed the beasts practically without effort. Gama had never seen brez act the way these had. Unease churned in her belly. She tilted her head, thinking she heard a soft hum in the distance.

  “Gama!” Hest said and grabbed her arm. He pointed toward the sky. “Do you see that?”

  She looked up from where she was tying the bag onto the sled. A shiver ran up her breastbone. The air seemed to shimmer, the way Hest had said it had the day of the big booms.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and sent, Before the air explodes again.

  They grabbed the sled’s rope and ran.

  -=o=-

  “Hest and Gama had a strange experience today. I wanted you to hear from them directly.” Reln stretched out his hand, inviting Gama and Hest to stand beside him on the dais. Gama’s neck warmed as she climbed the short stairway. She hated having attention focused her way. She liked even less knowing that what Hest and she had to say wasn’t going to make their kin happy.

  “I’ll tell it if you want,” Hest whispered as they took their places next to Reln. He switched to private thought-talk. Everyone in the room saw the thought-grains moving between them, but politely ignored them. It’s only two things: the brez were frightened and the shimmering sky. It’s a quick story.

  She shot him a look of gratitude.

  Below them the soumyo sat on pillows in the large open space of Community Hall. Reln stepped back, leaving her feeling alone on the dais, even with Hest beside her.

  Hest cleared his throat and began the story. He told it well, straightforward, nothing extra, the way she remembered it. Not everyone recalled shared experiences in the same way, but Hest and she did. Gama panned her gaze across her brothers and sisters to gauge how they were taking the news. She picked out those who would have questions — the ones with real curiosity or worry showing on their throats, the ones who craved being the center of attention even for a brief moment, and those with the soft yellow-green of skepticism on their necks.

  When Hest finished, Reln leaned forward, his long fingers splayed along his thighs — his standard thinking posture. He didn’t speak. Gama wanted to flee the dais and sit with her corenta-kin, but courtesy was that a speaker stay put until all questions had been asked and answered. She looked across the room again, waiting.

  Reln cleared his throat. “The shimmering sky is worrisome, but skittish brez are hardly reason to leave the area while we still have orchards to harvest, herbs to gather, and beasts to groom for this Barren Season’s cloaks. Staying is even more important now. We must make up for the loss of the grain field that was destroyed.”

  Gama saw the colors playing across the throats of her kin as they listened — shades showing anxiety or resignation. She felt conflicted herself. Reln was right — they couldn’t go flying off just because of one odd happening. But it wasn’t only one event — it was one more.

  “Our plan,” Reln said, “is to remain here the next ten-day. I see no reason to change that. All of you will watch the sky and report anything unusual you see.” He stepped down from the dais — a clear sign that no questions were to be asked, no other opinions were to be voiced.

  A few of her sisters and brothers murmured to themselves or their neighbors, but most got up and walked toward the doors. The structures had all listened, and none spoke up — not even Hall, who usually felt the need to say something about any meeting held within its embrace. Gama clasped her hands together in front of her. There should have been discussion. She wasn’t the only nervous soumyo in the room. But maybe Reln was right. Talk would only get the kin worked up. Better to keep busy. Better not to think too much about it.

  The brownish-pink of uncertainty glowed softly on Hest’s throat. She knew the same color showed on hers.

  -=o=-

  Kroot, kroot, Home sent, to get their attention. Prill is coming.

  Gama looked up from where she sat on the floor weaving new fibers into her tools belt, strengthening it. Welcome her, please. Home opened its door wide.
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  Prill settled on the floor pillow next to Hest but turned her face to Gama. “Reln sent me. He saw you were worried at the end of the meeting. He wanted to know what bothered you.”

  Only one spot barely lit brownish-pink showed Prill’s uncertainty and discomfort at having been sent to ask questions. But the heaviness Gama always felt from Prill was there — as though Prill lived her life carrying a large bag of sand in her arms.

  Maybe that brownish-pink spot meant something else though. Maybe Prill thought the same as Gama did — that if Reln wanted answers, he could come ask for himself. Gama hoped so. She and Prill shared harmony of thought and feeling so rarely, it would be nice if they were together on this.

  “The brez,” Gama said. “They’ve never acted like that. And the shimmer we saw. What is that? Did the shimmer scare the beasts?”

  Prill nodded, though Gama knew it wasn’t in response to her questions. Two more spots lit on Prill’s throat, light-gray joining brownish-pink. What worried her? Prill always seemed to be holding back her thoughts, her desires. It drove Gamma mad that Prill didn’t just say what was on her mind — spit it out and be done with it.

  “Are you frightened, too, Prill?”

  Prill huffed out a breath. More spots lit with discomfort colors. It took her a long moment to speak.

  “Reln wants to gather herbs again tomorrow. He says it’s up to us to show our sisters and brothers there’s nothing to be worried about. That everything goes on as always.”

  Gama nodded. “What worries you about that?”

  Prill scratched nervously at her leg but kept silent.

  Gama already knew the answer. “You don’t like being the healer’s student, do you?”

  Prill looked down at the floor. Her throat flared orange from embarrassment. “I don’t like going outside Reev to gather herbs. I feel better inside. Safer. I don’t like worrying all the time that I’ll make a mistake, choose something that looks healing but is poisonous. Reln says he’ll never push me to do anything I’m not ready for, but he wants me to start treating soon. That’s worse than gathering. What if I give someone the wrong medicine and harm my corenta-kin?”