by Watson, Tom
I should have taken the name runs-like-mink when I took on this silly quest, she mused. The people behind her screamed as Ember ran as fast as she could. Again she was glad for her lesser endowments.
That girl last night definitely couldn't do this, she thought with a smile as she ran as fast as she could.
Ember ran through the woods for a moment and then turned and ran back towards the camp, hoping this would throw off the mob of people pursuing her. Her radical change in direction and doubling back seemed to be working, as she noticed no pursuers near her. Likely, they were chasing her into the forest and did not know she had doubled back. Behind her, Ember could hear the people. She would simply run through their now empty camp and flee the opposite way.
As she ran through the camp, she tripped on a pole left beside one of the huts and fell hard on her side. She rolled over and saw the people coming towards her!
No! They figured it out! Ember worried. Quickly, she rolled over and tried to stand. Ember let out a painful cry and fell to her knees, her already bruised knees, as a sharp pain radiated through her ankle. She had pulled her ankle in some way and was now nearly incapable of walking. Ember briefly considered hopping, but she knew that would never work. The men surrounded Ember slowly and carefully. She sighed and accepted capture. She fell against the ground and started to cry, more out of frustration than fear. So she would be a prisoner again. Perhaps this was better than dying in the cold season to come. She was probably extremely far from her goal, for whatever that was worth. Feeling helpless and defeated, she sat upon the ground sobbing.
Why does everyone always want to capture me? she thought.
The men who had surrounded her were at a loss for what to do next. Before them sat a young woman, who looked as though she might have walked farther than they had walked this season, on the ground sobbing. She didn't even look like she had stolen anything. The men stood staring at the girl and then at each other. Suddenly a woman came forward pushing them aside to kneel beside Ember. She started slowly stroking Ember's hair and speaking to Ember in a questioning but comforting tone. The petting, a bit odd for this woman to be doing, had a relaxing effect on Ember. Her mother, East, used to stroke her head to help her sleep when she was young, and those feelings comforted and calmed Ember. She had become too emotional in her moment of panic and let her fear and frustration take control of her. Ember didn't know what to say to the woman, but she stopped crying and cautiously looked up.
She was still surrounded, but the men had lowered their weapons and were starting to appreciate that this was a lone woman and not something more malevolent, though they remained suspicious given the unlikelihood of a young female making it out here on her own. The oldest man walked forward and said something to the men. Reluctantly, most of the men formed into groups of two men each and ran off different directions. Ember guessed they were searching for the remainder of Ember's “group”. They would come up empty handed, but she understood their fears. The older man leveled his gaze at the young woman kneeling beside Ember. As they started talking, Ember realized that this woman was the same she had seen the night before with the man. Perhaps the previous night's foray had left her in an extra compassionate state for she seemed, to Ember's reckoning, to be convincing the man of her position, which seemed to be favorable toward Ember.
The man listened to her passionate plea and slowly, thoughtfully, nodded his head in a reluctant agreement. He turned his gaze to Ember and spoke slowly and carefully.
“Ertu auen?” he said.
She stared at him without understanding. He thought for a moment then spoke again, this time in a completely different language, judging by the tone and timing.
“Veetae sae?” he asked.
The second language was smoother and more flowing than his more guttural native language. Ember shook her head with a look of confusion. The man smiled and thought once more before trying again.
“Do-you know my-words?” he said slowly and in a thick accent.
He had spoken the language of the southern traders, though barely correctly. Ember knew this language as the traders from the south came to her village every other harvest, during the warm seasons, and stayed for perhaps a ten-day or more. The sounds were clear but not well strung. The language seemed more made for common understanding than real usage. The timing and sounds of the trade language always bothered her, but at least it was a language they both shared. She looked at the man with watery eyes and spoke.
“I-understand,” she said. He looked at her carefully, eyes searching her face carefully.
“Are-you one, many?” he said as best as he could.
“One, tired?” she said. Her vocabulary in this common trade language was limited to perhaps fifty out-of-practice words. The man gave her a deep smile and nodded.
“Rest. Soon, food, talk,” he said. Ember noted the man's own unfamiliarity with the language and his meaning. The woman, who had knelt beside Ember, introduced herself as, “Kis'tra, wife of-Zhek”. She escorted a confused Ember to her hut.
Does she know the language too? Ember thought. The walk was painful, but Ember was now sure she had merely pulled her foot muscle and not sprained it. She would probably be back to walking in a few days. Kis’tra carefully helped Ember into the hut and to sit on a wooden stump which seemed to serve as an impromptu chair.
"I-help," she said in a thick accent. That meant she did know a little of the trading language of the south. It was easier to expand a language you already knew, than learn another. Perhaps she could talk with Kis’tra and pick up some of her words, but where to begin?
I can't start with, “Hello Kis’tra, I saw you and Zhek rolling on the sand last night. Perhaps you could name your first born after me, or is this too soon?” The thought nearly made her laugh.
“Where Kis’tra-home?” She asked, as clearly and as best as her vocabulary would allow.
“Far-north," she said. Her skin and complexion was darker, and her eyes were a bright shade of blue. Ember wondered from just how far north she came and why these people came this way at all. Most trade was with the south and east. Ember supposed that she was technically to the south of these people.
“Do-you trade-south?” Ember asked.
“Yes. North, go-south. Trade. Go-north, when no-snow,” Kis’tra said. Ember understood now, these people came south and stayed until the snows melted and then returned. That would mean they probably came every two harvests. That would make sense as the traders from the south made the same cycles.
Speech was slightly hampered by the lack of vocabularies but also by the very nature of the trade language. The trade language was really a set of a few dozen single and double word pairs which were commonly used between most of the peoples of the region for the purposes of trade. The language was very inexact and sentences were horribly constructed. Ember didn't even think the words all came from the same language, but were really bits of other languages.
“Rest. You, Me, talk. Leather off,” Kis’tra said. Before Ember could determine the second part of the sentence, Kis’tra had bent over and produced a large fur blanket. The blanket was actually many rabbit pelts sewn together. She gestured to the reed mats and soft furs which made a bed on the floor. Ember understood now; she would disrobe and sleep under the furs. Kis’tra initially sat a clay dish of washing water in front of Ember, but seeing that she was indeed clean from the previous days swim, she put the dish away.
The day was not yet warm, and didn't seem that it would be. While heat and furs did not mix, lying under furs with dirty clothing, or clothing at all, was an uncomfortable experience. Ember was somewhere between a captive and a guest, she figured, so she might as well accept the hospitality. The group had found a tired and ragged-looking Ember on a pile of furs sleeping, so Kis’tra probably figured she was exhausted and needed sleep. In truth, she was still tired, both physically and emotionally, from being outdoors for so long. Kis’tra helped Ember out of her shirt. Modesty around another woma
n was not an issue as women sometimes worked, breast fed, and occasionally fished topless, but when Kis’tra pointed to Ember's torn and ragged reed skirt, Ember became alarmed. Stripping her skirt would be awkward, to say the least. Kis’tra seemed to understand and handed her a corded leather belt and fresh soft breechcloth made of what looked like rabbit or ferret leather (without fur), scraped to extra thinness and beaten with wooden clubs or chewed to make the leather very soft. The hide was sewn into an arm length strip a hand's length in width. Ember took the breechcloth and swapped it with her old one, keeping her skirt on the whole time.
I don't usually have people watching me, she thought.
The breechcloth looped through the belt in the front and back with extra length hanging loosely. With a fresh breechcloth, she quickly removed her tattered skirt and placed both dirty garments on the dirt floor near the door. Ember quickly wrapped herself in the fur and sat on the mats, but found that Kis’tra had turned her head giving her privacy. Kis’tra sat on the stump-chair now while Ember sat under a bundle of warm furs feeling more relaxed than she had in a ten-day. The two began speaking to each other, learning words and building their infrequently used skills in a language not native to either of them. For the rest of the day, the two women talked, ate dried deer meat, and drank from water skins. Ember felt her body relaxing under the furs. She might now finally be able to relax for a while.
Towards the evening, Kis’tra's lover Zhek poked his head into the hut and said something in their language. Kis’tra spoke back to him in a warm tone with a twang of passion. He gave both women an awkward smile and bowed out quickly, slightly embarrassed. Ember and Kis’tra turned to each other and found themselves laughing. Ember was unsure what had been said, but Zhek's awkwardness at seeing the two women was profoundly funny to Ember, for some reason she could not quantify.
“You, Me, Gheve,” Kis’tra said. Ember understood the first part but not the last word. The two women had been sharing words for much of the day and this had been a frequent situation. Ember produced an exaggerated expression of confusion and replied to Kis’tra.
“You, Me, Understand,” Ember said, and then slowly repeated the word, “Gheve?” with a cocked eyebrow. Kis’tra quickly picked up a stone from the floor and pretended to eat it while repeating the word.
Oh, then Gheve must mean eat or food. That sounds different from my people's words, Ember thought. Ember quickly repeated the word back to Kis’tra with a look of understanding, while nodding her head.
It must be time for dinner! I wonder what these people eat? Fish for sure, she pondered as Kis’tra motioned her to stand and follow.
Ember carefully stood but nearly fell as her ankle gave way again. Kis’tra was there in an instant to catch her. Kis’tra helped Ember put on one of Kis’tra's other leather shirts, much like the one which Kis’tra wore the night before, but with a large blue circle painted on the back. Her soft doeskin shirt was just too dirty to wear, and her skirt was barely holding together. Kis’tra quickly placed her hand in a clay jar by the bed and removed her soot and oil covered fingers. She made horizontal streaks anew across her face and dipped her hands in again. She bent forward towards Ember with an inquisitive look. Ember gave a nod and Kis’tra started working. Ember nearly giggled with the strange bug-eyed look Kis’tra gave with the tip of her tongue poking from her mouth as she carefully worked to paint Ember's face.
"Eh-yeh!" she said in her native tongue and handed Ember a blackened bowl with some water to see her reflection. Ember's slightly reddish stained face now had black lines in wavy patterns. Ember gave her a smile and an approving nod. The rest of her body was still lightly stained purple-red with zigzagging patterns. Ember quickly made to grab the worn skirt, but Kis’tra stopped her hand. She presented Ember with an older, but good condition leather skirt of her own.
“Use,” Kis’tra said. Ember smiled and nodded. She let the furs she had held around her waist fall as she pulled the skirt quickly around herself. She still had her modesty to consider. Ember looked up and an approving Kis’tra and smiled. She supposed the word, or perhaps they were two words, Kis’tra had used moments ago signaled success or completion. Ember laughed and spoke them.
“Eh-yeh!”
Ember and Kis’tra hadn't noticed Zhek. He had left the hut, but had quickly returned to grab his sound sticks, sitting by the door to the hut. As he peaked into the hut, he saw the women changing. He stayed for a moment to watch.
Now I have two beautiful women in my hut. Well, I told the guys this trip was a good idea, Zhek thought jokingly to himself as he quietly snatched his sound sticks and walked away from the hut towards the main fire and the dinner preparations. Zhek doubted that Ember would have watched him strutting around in only his breechcloth and felt a slight pang of guilt.
As Zhek left the hut, he walked past a young and manipulative woman named Aya. She watched him passing by, lost in some thought. Aya was less than friendly to anyone who might take any attention away from her. She had been manipulating several of the men on the journey so far, but with a new woman she had suddenly lost her position as the center of attention. She was a harvest younger than Kis’tra with long honey-blonde hair which she kept in several braids. Her eyes were her most striking feature, being large with a bright shade of hazel. Aya spoke her thoughts aloud and without reservation as Zhek passed.
“Is that woman coming or have we decided to throw her to the wilds?” she said with her painfully obvious disdain for anyone prettier than herself. Zhek walked past the woman rolling his eyes and without answer, his thoughts suddenly broken by Aya's intrusive comment.
Guess who's coming to dinner…, he thought with some mirth and a smile.
Chapter 10: A Fair Trade
The exact routes and frequencies of trade in the ancient world are not fully known, but it is interesting that artifacts from the far corners of Europe and Asia have been found all over the continent in burial sites and other digs. Trade in specialty wares was actually quite commonplace in the ancient world. The supposition that people from the north traveled south or from south to the north, quite regularly, isn't a stretch. Less than 2000 years after Ember lived, a man would die in the Ötztal Alps while seemingly conducting long distance trade. He was found crossing the mountains wearing leather clothing only slightly more advanced than Ember's people wore.
Ironically, out of the entire group, Ember carried what might have been the most impressive item of trade: a fist sized blue gem of exquisite clarity and color. Perhaps the gem was a massive piece of uncut topaz or perhaps as Ember supposed, it was a piece of hardened water or fallen sky. The coloring would have reminded anyone of ice with a bluish tint. In her nights of fear and days of running, she may have forgotten her spoils, taken from the very men who thought to keep her as their own. Unfortunately for Ember, humanity is filled with both good and evil people and those with vile hands work quality crafts against good people. Often, this is service with a smile.
Ember and Kis’tra walked from the hut towards the main fire where all of the camp had cleaned and gathered for dinner. It seemed that other meals were eaten alone, but the last meal was shared. This was the way of many tribes; however, Ember's people also ate breakfast communally. The group was just as Ember had surmised; many of the people were in pairs, like Kis’tra and Zhek, and all from the same tribe, judging by the body colorings and clothing patterns. Ember was greeted with general welcome. Apparently having not stolen anything, even though she had the chance, had done much to earn the trust of these people.
As Ember sat by the fire, the old man who had first poked her with his spear reached over and handed her a reed basket with a few long strips of what looked and smelled like roasted beaver, as well as a lump of sour grain mash with salt and boiled beans. Ember's people grew beans and stored them, dried, through the cold season. She supposed that these people dried beans and brought them in sacks. Ember had seen no one growing anything.
The older man had light gray-blue
eyes which held a powerful spark of intelligence, though he said very little to the group. What hair he had left existed only on the back of his head and had turned a brownish gray color. He wore an ornate leather shirt cut from a dozen or more smaller bits of hide. The shirt had many beads and patterns sewn into it as well as several feathers hanging from the arms. His legs were covered by long leather leggings with an extra-wide breechcloth hanging from the center. He wore high quality boots made from heavy leather and double wrapped. Ember appreciated the quality of his clothing, which spoke of his standing with his people.
The old man introduced himself to Ember using the trade language. “I-Nor'Gar. I-lead,” he said indicating the camp with his hand. Nor'Gar spoke to the group and then to Ember in turns, perhaps translating their conversation. “You, Kis’tra, speak, now?” he said, obviously frustrated with his own limited vocabulary. Kis’tra nodded and said something to the group, who laughed. Ember gave them a confused look and Kis’tra explained.
“New words for-young. Kis’tra, not-young,” she said and laughed. Ember was confused by the statement, but semi-understood now that it was a joke as Nor'Gar had given the task of learning to speak with Ember to Kis’tra. Perhaps the funniest parts had been lost in the translation. Ember could tell that these people had a complex and full language, and they were obviously distressed by not being able to speak but a few words with her. Ember hoped that she might stay with these people for a while and perhaps learn some of their real language, though she did not expect to become fluent anytime soon.
For the remainder of the evening and well into the early night, the group sat and talked. Kis’tra would translate between Ember and the group. She was getting much better at handling the language.
“He-say, what best good food, Ember?” Kis’tra translated for a young man with light red hair and a humorous look about him.