by Paul Kidd
It was only to be expected. Shadarii gave her funny silent laugh.
Kïtashii’s small, thin face was all too serious.
“It was strange learning from someone other than you. Can we still learn together? Will you keep on teaching me? I-I’d like to, if that’s alright by you.”
Shadarii touched Kïtashii’s nose. Of course it was alright! Shadarii was delighted that she had finally found a friend.
Kïtashii smiled. “Traveesha-Zho says she wants to ‘nurture’ me. I hope it’s not too painful - It rather sounds like something that’s done to plants…”
Shadarii made a face, stuck out her tongue and made quacking motions with her hands. Kïtashii gave a snort.
“Fussy? Poison yes! The woman’s worse than my maiden aunt. Is she always so?”
Shadarii ruefully sighed and shrugged. Kïtashii nodded softly.
“Ah well, at least I’m in! I’d almost despaired of ever being a dancer. Mother hates the whole idea. She almost screamed, but since the Chief decreed it, she has to let me try.” The little girl stared sadly out into the ferns. “I really wanted her to be happy for me. For once I thought I might have made her proud.”
Shadarii sat down beside her friend, then touched Kïtashii’s heart and head, her face framing a simple question. Kïtashii understood.
“What do I really want to be? I-I want to be like you, Shadarii. Someone people will look up to!”
Shadarii reached out to squeeze Kïtashii’s hand. The two of them sat together in the sunshine, listening to the breeze move through the ferns. Shadarii’s mind began to wander. She remembered the warmth of another body and a smell like new-baked bread. Eyes so fine and deep a girl could almost drown…
Kïtashii’s voice broke into her reverie.
“So how long have you been in love?”
Shadarii gave a guilty jump. The twelve year old grinned in triumph, her tail thrashing craftily behind her.
“Ah ha! So there it is! Come along, confess your sins. You’ve been stringing me along all day.”
Shadarii excitedly looked around them, then wriggled nearer, her eyes bright with hidden secrets. Her hands wove a rapid little pantomime while Kïtashii watched and grinned.
“So you are in love! You found someone special, eh?”
Shadarii squeezed shut her eyes. She hugged herself and touched her breast, heaving a little sigh.
“Yes, I know he’s beautiful; now who is he?”
Shadarii swiftly began to shape a story with her hands. Kïtashii watched, her ears rising ever higher.
“Him! The-the one who saved me? But when did you…”
The tale was swiftly told, Shadarii lingering dreamily upon their parting kiss. Kïtashii pursed her lips up in a smile.
“Well this explains it all, and all those questions you’ve been asking of me. But Shadarii, will we ever see him again?”
Shadarii barely heard; her thoughts had drifted off into some dreamy never-never land. Kïtashii had seen this foolishness before. Love turned perfectly sensible people into besotted twits. Not her! Kïtashii gave a superior little sniff and proudly smoothed her whiskers. She clapped her hands, trying to draw Shadarii back to earth.
“Shadarii? Come along! Shadarii?”
Her friend paid no attention as she stared into an imaginary pair of eyes. Kïtashii humphed and took her companion by the hand.
“Well there’s nothing on your mind now except for kissing! Come along then. I suppose I’ll have to fetch you back to work.”
Shadarii gave a heartfelt sigh and drifted off into her dreams. Kïtashii flattened down her ears and stamped on through the brush, thoroughly disgusted by the silliness of it all.
***
“Zhukora! Zhukora, where have you been?”
Daimïru hurtled down her fishing spear and raced up to meet her leader. Zhukora paused at the forest’s edge, laughing as Daimïru’s long golden hair streamed in the sun. Wings spread, Daimïru swiftly knelt beside her leader’s feet.
“You-you just left! You didn’t say where. Your father says he’s betrothed you!” The blonde girl suddenly looked sick. “Is-is it true?”
Zhukora alighted on a treebranch and folded back her wings.
“If my father thinks he can force me to do anything, then he is most gravely mistaken.” Zhukora took Daimïru by the hand. “There’s no need to be excited. Everything is in control.”
Daimïru swiftly shook her head.
“No, that’s not it! Counselor Chitoochi’s dead. Stone dead! She just died in her sleep. Council meets to choose her successor today. Fotoki and the High Priestess have put your name forward! You have two nominations, and that means that it actually has to go to vote.”
Zhukora sat stock still as her mind raced with possibilities. Daimïru swiftly bowed and rapped out her report.
“Counselor Chitoochi was found dead in her bed this morning. The High Priestess says her Ka has already flown. Council is meeting to gather mourning gifts and elect a successor to her position. Thus far you are the only nomination. Prakucha and Traveesha are likely to be put forward as alternatives.”
Zhukora’s sharp eyes flashed.
“We might just do it! If I can snatch a seat on the council… Think of the hope it will give the people! Finally we’ll have a voice!”
Daimïru stayed in her bow, simply waiting for Zhukora’s will.
“Time is short, Zhukora. Council is about to start. If we hurry we can still reach the council lodge in time!”
Zhukora plunged down off her perch and dove off through the trees. Her companion swiftly followed, taking up her place behind Zhukora’s tail.
Within the council lodge, the ïsha cracked with tension. Eleven elders, the clan chief and the Katakanii’s High Priestess were bitterly at odds.
A gnarled old councilman slammed his fist against his bony thigh.
“The girl is dangerous! My lord, I should not have to tell you yet again!”
“Oh nonsense!” Old Fotoki firmly stood his ground. “Go back to bed, Gegachii. Dream your fantasies on your own time and not on ours!”
Gegachii’s stick-like figure shook with rage.
“Lord Chief! Three nights ago my granddaughter stumbled back into our lodge with stars in her eyes, prattling nonsense about some glorious new future. She’s left her deportment class and has taken up jiteng - as a Skull Wing!” A knotted finger jabbed out in accusation. “And all because of your wretched Poison-spawn of a daughter!”
An elegant nobleman uncoiled from his cushions.
“My learned comrades, this is no way for us to act! We must use calm and reason.”
“Zhukora is a wild woman! Mad as a tiger-cat!”
“You go too far!” The dandified counsellor made a twiddle of his fingers. “She merely has a thrilling energy of vision.”
“She is a manic, violent, undisciplined child!”
Nochorku-Zha rose out of his torpor with a burst of senile energy.
“What she needs is a damned good thrashing, and I’m of a good mind to give it to her!” Nochorku-Zha cracked his fist into his palm. “Spoiled brat! I’ll not have her in this council! I’ll not have her in my lodge! She’s no daughter of mine until she obeys her father’s word of law!”
A cool, calm voice broke through the chief’s tirade.
“But Lord Nochorku, only this morning Zhukora spoke to me about her wedding. She was too afraid to approach you since she knew of your displeasure.”
The High Priestess sat calmly in the shadows, her eyes brim full of sorrow. Lord Nochorku’s thoughts tumbled in confusion.
“Eh? Eh, what’s that you say?”
“A maid can look upon her wedding night with terror, my Lord. Surely a man of your experience can understand.” The Priestess wore a kindly face. “Poor blossom! With no mother to help raise her, she has no knowledge of the ways of ‘silk and flowers’. Please look kindly on her, my Lord. She has had time enough to recover from her shock. She asks me to convey to yo
u her sincere apologies, and to ask you to tell Prakucha of her love.”
A female counsellor leaned forward, her old eyes filled up with concern.
“Poor child! Has she no one to advise her on the pleasures of a married life?” The burly woman folded up her arms. “Nochorku-Zha, you have been most lax as a father! Have you no idea how a young girl’s fears can multiply?”
“Bah! She’s old enough to go learn such things for herself! T’is not my fault she’s still a virgin.”
“Well apparently there’s still some moral virtue in the world! You should be bursting with pride for her, and instead you sit here spitting poison like a warped old viper.”
Nochorku winced and flattened down his ears. The elder of the Hunters spoke into the silence.
“She is the most generous hunter in the clan. The youngsters all look up to her. We could keep them all in line far better if they felt they had a voice in council.”
Gegachii’s cracked old voice rose to a shriek.
“Madness! Madness!”
“Oh shut up you old fool!”
“Don’t you call me an old fool, you bloated wart!”
“Order! Order!”
Old Gegachii pranced about the lodge, looking like a clutch of walking bones.
“I propose we recess for ten minutes and then vote. No more discussion! Once this farce is finished with we can discuss more suitable candidates.”
The need for adjournment had grown urgent; Gegachii’s bladder was no longer what it used to be. The old man raced outside to take advantage of the break, leaving the High Priestess to approach Nochorku-Zha.
“My Lord, a word in private? I would be grateful for your time.”
“Certainly, Reverence. Your Holiness is most kind to ask.”
The High Priestess looked about herself and lowered her voice down to a subtle murmur.
“Chief Nochorku, I did not wish to discuss your own interests before the council members, but I feel it’s time we spoke. You have given many years in selfless service of your tribe. It is high time that you decided to think about yourself.”
“Eh? Myself? What’s that?”
The Priestess winced, motioning the old man to keep his voice down.
“Think, my Lord! What happens if you should decide to retire and take a well-earned rest? If Zhukora gains a seat upon the council, she can still see that your policies are implemented. You will gain the power without the endless weary trouble.”
It seemed a sensible, attractive proposition; Nochorku-Zha tugged slowly at his whiskers.
“Surely we could simply let young what’s-his-name - Prakucha - be elected to the council now! Then he can carry out my policies! Why should the girl be burdened with the task at all?”
“She will be a happier wife if given just a little freedom. Position will give the girl stability. A sense of independence can be a valuable thing. Surely your own flesh and blood deserves some happiness?” The Priestess glanced slyly sidwise at Nochorku-Zha. “Your wife, Rain caress her Ka, had such high hopes for her eldest girl…”
That had been the shot that told. The old man’s eyes immediately went misty. He smiled as he remembered the face of a wife long dead and gone…
“Yes, why so she did…”
One by one the council members returned back to their seats. Nochorku-Zha straightened up and firmly set his jaw.
“The vote shall now be taken! In place of our deceased member, the High Priestess shall cast a vote. Your Reverence, how do you cast your ballot?”
“The Priesthood votes yes. The girl Zhukora should claim the vacant council seat.”
Nochorku-Zha snapped his finger towards the man beside him.
“Gegachii! How do you vote?”
Gegachii slammed his knotted claw upon the ground.
“No! I say no! Zhukora has no place upon this council.”
The curtain jerked as Zhukora thrust into the room. She stared about herself in confusion. The vote was being taken! She was too late! The girl licked her lips, trying to see if there was anything that she could do.
“I vote yes!”
“I also.”
One after another the basllots were cast. Zhukora felt a dizzy wave of heat; six votes each way! With a sinking feeling Zhukora saw that the last vote belonged to Nochorku-Zha. She flattened down her ears and closed her eyes.
Get it over with, you old bastard. Enjoy your power while it lasts! I’ll pay you back for this. This time I swear…
“I vote in favour! The woman Zhukora-kai-Nochorku-Zha is hereby admitted to this council.”
Zhukora rocked back on her heels, her eyes staring wide. The room exploded into uproar, while Zhukora wandered slowly out into the light.
Daimïru sank down on her knees and made the formal bow of obeisance. Her ïsha field quivered in triumphant adoration.
“The first victory, my leader! The first of many! Finally our journey has begun.”
A heavy tread sounded on the treebranch as the High Priestess spread her wings into the light.
“Rain and Wind bless your wisdom, Counselor Zhukora. I trust the vote has pleased you.”
Zhukora slowly turned, glancing at the High Priestess in cold appraisal.
“This was your doing, of course.”
“Of course.” The Priestess let the breeze pick at her hair. “I said that you and I could be of use to one another…”
Zhukora’s eyes never left the Priest. Her face remained a frozen mask of steely, perfect black.
“Chitoochii’s death… Such a terrible tragedy.”
“Yes, and I was taking tea with her only the night before she died. Ah me, how fleeting life can be.”
“Aye Reverence. Indeed.”
Zhukora looked the priestess in the eye and then slowly gave a nod.
“Shadarii’s yours. Take her.”
The huntress smoothly turned and walked away. The Priestess drew a long, deep breath and let the chill of power fill her soul.
***
The “Lurking Mantises” made a splendid sight above the jiteng field. They were the finest team in all the western mountains; noblemen and women from the finest families of the Vakïdurii tribe. They were the pride and glory of the clans - the very best that the Vakïdurii had to offer.
Ranged against them was a shifting cloud of royal blue. Agile shapes whirred casually from side to side with an easy, affable camaraderie. Kotaru’s Wrens chatted back and forth as they wheeled eagerly through the skies.
The ball rose, and the Mantis captain snatched it up with almost casual ease. She snapped her fingers, signaling her team mates to advance. From the Wren’s team a single figure speared out towards the Mantis lines.
“Follow me!”
Suddenly the air blurred full of wings as Kotaru soared up high into the sky, followed by a whooping stream of players. They curled and dove, streaking down towards the Mantis captain. The Mantis stumbled, squawking to her wingmen in alarm.
Noblemen lunged forward, each eager to be first teamsman to engage. With a ringing cry the Wrens shot past them. Wings folded, bodies dove; a rain of ïsha blows punched one after another at the Mantis captain. The girl dropped the ball, watching helplessly as a Wren snatched it up in passing.
There was no discipline, no orders! The Wrens called vulgar greetings as they tossed and caught the ball. Their Captain flew everywhere at once, always covering the teamsman with the ball. The Wrens whooped for joy as Mrrimïmei dashed home to take the goal. The crowd croaked in shock, stunned by the disaster happening on the field.
The Mantises, the prime team of the Vakïdurii, were being thrashed by an untutored group of commoners! Here and there a tiny group of dissidents cheered-on the Wrens, but the bulk of the audience seemed too deeply shocked to even cry.
Three nil! The Wrens were winning three goals to nil!
Perched up on the royal tree, Chief Gingïkai of the Lacewing clan gnawed at his fists in rage.
“Fools! They’re making themselves a
laughing stock! Can’t they see the Wren’s fast forward cannot turn? She’s fast, but she’s too fast to manoeuvre! If they’d just get off their arses and make a strong rear defense line…”
“Rear? I’ll show their rears something!” A second Chief smashed his dao into the branch. “This is the worst disaster of the decade!”
King Latikai sat grinning like a great fat caterpillar, bringing a glare of disapproval from one of the suffering Chiefs.
“My Lord King, have you no comment at all? Has the horror of it rendered y’ speechless?”
“Comment? What’s to comment?” Laitikai snatched a sausage from a grille. “I’ve got sixty fingers of iron riding on the Wrens!”
Clan Chieftains stared aghast as the Wrens stole the ball and skipped nimbly clear of the Mantises’ pursuit. The King beamed out in approval.
“I’ve a bolt of silk that says the Wrens will win four nil!”
Chief Matïshah of the Lacewings jerked up her jaw.
“You’re on! An’ there’s dinner tonight to say your upstart Wrens won’t touch the ball again this game.”
Groans sounded from the crowd as the angry Mantises rushed off in pursuit of the Wren’s agile young Fast Forward. Mrrimïmei whirled her staff and stuck out her tongue, flitting gleefully just out of reach of her pursuer’s claws. With a howl of rage the Mantises screamed off in pursuit; not one of them had noticed that she no longer had the ball.