by Paul Kidd
Beside the stream, all seemed clean and quiet. The trill of bell-birds filled the air, and the ïsha murmured sleepily to the caress of water. It was good just to be together. They walked along the rocks together, teetering as they carefully tried not to wet their sandals.
Keketál was not quite used to the feeling of his clothes. Sandals, kilt and crossbelts… All so simple, but all so very strange.
And he just kept staring at Harïsh’s smooth bare breasts…!
She noticed his interest and cocked her pretty head. Keketál felt his ears burn bright red, coughed and tried to find some way to cover himself.
“Uh - Harïsh. You are to watching shep today?”
“Sheep. Watching sheep. Yes, I’m minding them this afternoon. I have the shift after Mixtli.”
“Aaah. Shall I come as well? Shep-sheep make for nice sleepy thoughts. Harïsh can talk and talk until she drops. I listen and learn some more goodly talkings, yes?”
“Listen and learn some more speech.” The girl wagged her finger at him. “And no, there’ll be no lazy afternoon for you! Great leader Keketál offered to help in the house raising, didn’t he? And so now he gets to spend a hot afternoon labouring in the sun.”
“Oh…”
“Yes, ‘oh!’ Silly man. Don’t you dare strain that wound!”
Keketál’s ears wilted; he had forgotten about the house building. Now he was going to lose the entire afternoon.
The girl paused on a rock and archly glanced across her shoulder.
“I have a surprise for you this evening. There are rewards for mighty house builders! The day might not be wasted after all.”
Suddenly the rock moved beneath her feet. The girl gave a squeak and pitched towards the water, but Keketál snatched out and caught her, dragging her safely up into his arms. She clung gratefully against him, laughing as he swept her completely off her feet.
Finally held in Keketál’s arms, Harïsh simpered prettily. Embarrassed, Keketál swiftly set the disappointed girl down on the grass and dusted off his hands.
Harïsh gave him a frustrated glare and sullenly launched aloft. Keketál blinked and felt his antennae drooping.
Now what did I do this time?
Completely mystified, Keketál followed on her tail. He sighed and wondered how he always managed to get into so much trouble.
***
A blazing meteor clove above the desert waste. In its wake, life exploded from the desolation; grass burst out across the sand as springs miraculously appeared. The world burst into life inside Shadarii’s wake.
The naked dancer clove the air like a streaking spear of light. The pilgrims whooped with laughter as she led them on a merry ride. Behind them, a swathe of green sprang up beside a whole new river. Shadarii squandered power wantonly, throwing her arms out in delight as she reached out to shape a world!
Lady Starshine felt the wind whipping through Shadarii’s hair and shrieked for joy.
*Oh Gods, I had forgotten what the touch of life was like! To feel the power in these forms. To see the world through bright new senses! Oh Shadarii, do'st thou see, my love? Do'st thou see what we can be together?*
The spirit laughed as Shadarii caressed her with her mind. Starshine thrilled to the little dancer’s touch.
*We shall become a power in this world, my love! Where your sister is death, you shall be life. Ashes swirl in her footsteps while you leave only petals! I shall show you powers undreamed of. We shall fight evil and scour away all pain and want. It shall be the golden age of Shadarii!*
Shadarii chided the boisterous spirit.
~We shall first find out what is wrong with the world, and then we shall heal it. I shall be a builder and a maker! No more killing, no more anger. I shall give the world a gift of peace!~
*Thou must be ready to fight, my child. Thy enemies are legion. War lies upon thy path.*
~Fight? When I can do all this? Fa! The world is far too beautiful for fighting!~
Shadarii made a triumphant barrel roll, swooping dizzily through the air. Behind her, the pilgrims laughed in merriment as she led them far out into the desert sky.
***
Girls giggled around the village stream, chattering happily as they balanced tall pitchers on their heads. It was house raising time; a moment for excitement. There were boons to be collected by the menfolk. Who would choose whom? Girls slyly swapped opinions and then filled the air with laughter.
Harïsh swooped across the stream and spread her wings for landing. The advantages of being a potter’s daughter are few and far between, but tonight they made a difference. She had the most spectacular water jug any girl could hope for. Harïsh leaned down to peer into the stream, briskly checked her hair, her earrings and her make-up. When she thought no one was looking she quickly pinched her nipples to a blush.
She dipped her jug down into the stream and carefully filled it to the top. Balanced serenely beneath her load, Harïsh climbed her way towards the village square.
A languid female voice flickered in her ear.
“So Harïsh, going somewhere? How very odd!”
Harïsh shot a hostile glance towards the speaker, and her tail flicked archly through the air.
“Odd? I’m carrying water, Namïlii! Even if you don’t work yourself, you must at least have seen other people being useful.”
Her opponent rose from the grass beside the stream. Namïlii was a long, thin streak of a girl with delicious bedroom eyes. She looked Harïsh up and down and gave a haughty sniff; from the dizzy height of sixteen, a fifteen year old seems nothing but a child.
“And what are you doing here? This is no place for little girls. We women are having a private conversation.”
“Well I’m sure you’re constantly talking about your privates. As for me, there’s work to be done, so good day!”
Harïsh cruised up the hill, never once spilling a single drop of water. Namïlii opened her mouth to try tossing out a final parting shot, but unfortunately Harïsh had already gone.
Another girl sniffed wriggled her elegant whiskers.
”So Namïlii, do you have your eyes on anyone in particular? Someone with coloured wings, perhaps?”
That did it! Namïlii shot the girl a narrow glance and proudly took her leave. Soon they’d see just who chose boons from whom! They all might be laughing on the other side of their faces.
The village square had become a centre of a bustling industry. Men thatched and wove, stripping saplings and trimming strips of wood. All through the thirsty afternoon the young men of the village hurtled themselves into their task, and the house grew with amazing speed.
A circular perimeter of saplings had been thrust into the ground, then their tops were bent down and lashed firmly into place. Soon the grass thatching would be spread across the dome. A house was rising out of nothing more than a bunch of sticks and grass.
Everyone briskly went about their tasks, never once interrupting the smooth efficiency of their team work. Only one man seemed to be an exception; the locals shook their heads and left him to his own devices.
Right now, Keketál was engaged in “improving” on the traditional house design. He diligently added diagonal braces all across the structure. Hupshu, the husband-to-be and prospective owner of the house, watched him in bewilderment.
“Keketál, why are you doing that? It’s time to put the thatching on. You’re holding everything up!”
Keketál hovered erratically in the air, trying to talk through a mouthful of spare string. He gurgled something unintelligible in reply.
“Keketál, the others are waiting! We’re keen to finish the house you see.”
“Keketál make cross bracing. Make house be stronger.”
“But… But why?”
“Better is better! Strong house better than weak house! No fall down.”
Hupshu scratched his head. Certainly the point was valid, only why bother? If the house fell down, they could simply make another.
Toonwa the
Seance Singer stamped over to Hupshu’s side. The man had little time for foolishness.
“Hupshu, the day grows hotter! What is this idiot noble doing? The house bracings look like a bloody abortion!”
The workers muttered in agreement. Hupshu shook his tawny head and peered up at Keketál.
“He’s done something to the internal structure. Just try pushing it. See? It doesn’t shift and flatten.”
“It is a waste of bloody time! There is a set method for building a house. Experimentation is counter-productive. Time is wasting and the maids are waiting!”
Keketál’s tail waggled merrily above them as he tested all his lashings.
“Ho Too’vaa! If problem is, why not to helping be?”
“Because it’s not my job, you dozy man! I am a thatcher, so I thatch! Yekïchi is a rope maker, so he makes the lashings. Each and every one of us has our own set task. There was no mention anywhere about extra bracings!”
“Nobleman gets any job he wants. Keketál wants this job! Bracings hurt nobody but make house much better. Is good, no?”
“No it’s not good! You’re holding everybody up.”
“If want speed, why not help?”
“Because it’s none of my affair!”
Toonwaa stomped off to join the other thatchers. Hupshu gave the man a cold hard stare before fluttering up to aid Keketál. To both of their surprise, a group of youngsters left their other tasks to join them. They grinned through their sweat at Keketál, nodding at him as he smiled in grateful thanks.
Keketál fixed a final knot and tugged furiously at the house frame, and the wooden skeleton barely even moved. Satisfied at last, Keketál heaved a weary sigh and let himself fall back to the ground.
He landed clumsily, and pain suddenly stabbed through his guts. Keketál folded over in agony, bringing Hupshu racing over in alarm.
“My Lord! Is it bad? Harïsh will kill me!”
“No! Hurt not-not bad! Must… must help with thatching…”
“Enough, my Lord. Enough! Harïsh would have our tails if she found out!”
Hupshu led his friend across to a handy piece of shade. An old man sat watching the house take shape while chipping out flint knife blades on a stone. His craftsmanship was beautiful to behold. The old man dusted off his lap and pointed at Keketál’s nose.
“All this extra work. Y’ ought to pace yourselves better, else you’ll have no energy for tonight! Where’s the point in house raisin’ if y’ can’t enjoy what comes after?”
Hupshu gave a weary grin.
“Ha! Perhaps your reverence would care to come and help?”
The old man gave a snort and reached for a fresh chunk of flint.
“I have a wife's ire to fret about. T’is not worth the lumps I’d get tonight. You youngster’s enjoy it while you can!”
Enjoy it? Keketál felt his muscles tremble. It had damned near killed him! The villagers must have some strange fascination for heavy lifting. For the sake of fellowship, a whole village had dropped their work and had come to build a house for Hupshu’s bride.
It looked like there were some rewards in any case. The parents of the happy couple had laid on quite a feast. The delicious scent of roasted lamb sizzled through the evening air. Keketál gave an exhausted smile and thought about the coming pleasures of his dinner.
Young girls brought jugs of water for the thirsty workers, and the men made haste to seem at ease and nonchalant. Tired looks disappeared; all grumbling miraculously ceased.
Keketál stroked his nose in puzzlement. The girls seemed strangely different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something had changed. The girls’ eyes sparkled, their lashes fluttered prettily as they spoke coyly to the men. Tails waved little hints of perfume on the drowsy summer’s air.
Keketál felt his ears blush hot. The skirt hemlines seemed a trifle brief today! What on earth was going on?
A tall, slender village girl walked towards Keketál. Her eyes were filled with dark, delicious promise; each curve and valley gleamed in glorious harmony. She fixed her smouldering gaze on Keketál, melting her chosen victim to the spot.
The girl hefted a tall jug of water, and saliva broke out all across Keketál’s parched tongue. A drink! The girl must have been sent down by the spirits.
Hupshu firmly shut Keketál’s jaw and whispered in his ear.
“Psst! Don’t look! Just play ‘em on a bit. The fun starts when they get really desperate for your attention.”
“What?”
“Ssssh! Trust me; don’t look too thirsty. Anyway, here comes another one, see? With any luck there’ll be a fight!”
Keketál blinked in wonder as Harïsh cruised over in his direction, trying to move her hips just like the older girls. She looked at him with anxious eyes and suddenly faltered in her tracks.
Keketál stared at her in wonder - for the first time he really seemed to see her. Keketál blinked; Dear Rain - had she always been so… so pert?
The girl bent down to pour him a drink, her backside deliberately turned towards his astonished gaze. She met his eyes, jumped with fright, and then fled into the trees.
A warm voice broke in upon Keketál’s whirling thoughts. The sultry female that he had seen before stood offering her water jug, her voice husky with hinted promises.
“Gentle Lord, would you care to sip from my sweet waters?”
Keketál’s heart stammered in his breast.
“Uh - No thank you! Keketál has water already.”
“Are you satisfied so easily, handsome Lord? Perhaps I can slake your thirst far better. Once you dip into Namïlii’s well, you may lose interest in more common drink…”
She cocked her head, regarding him through lowered lashes. Keketál looked around himself in panic. Harïsh stared tearfully at him from afar, and Keketál hastily waved Namïlii away.
“My-uh-my drink is fine, thanking you! Is enough for me.”
“I understand, my Lord. Still, the evening is long and hot. I am always there should you ever need to slake your thirst…”
Namïlii flung a triumphant smile towards Harïsh, and the potter’s girl fixed a bitter glare on Keketál. Hupshu boisterously slapped Keketál between the wings.
“Ha! See, I told you it can get interesting!” He gestured with his cup towards the waiting womenfolk. “That’s two aiming for you. Rain help you if Harïsh sees you eyeing off Namïlii again. And Rain help Harïsh if her father finds out she’s serving water!”
Keketál seemed to be missing the point. He blinked in confusion and scratched his addled head.
“Why can’t Harïsh serve water?”
“Cause she’s only fifteen, that’s why not! There’ll be blood to pay if old man Totli catches her!” The man heaved an admiring sigh. “Aaaah what it must be to have a noble’s wings!”
A wild storm of applause broke out as the last strips of thatching were hauled up into place. Hupshu dragged Keketál to his feet.
“Come on! It’s starting. Don’t keep ‘em waiting too long or the girls might start to fight. They did that when we built Pochtli’s place last summer. Clothes ripping, hair torn out…” The young man pulled his chin in thought. “One of them was the bride, too. Funny thing life, eh?”
“But-but why? Why girls fight?”
“Because, OK. Just-just go get into line.”
Keketál scuttled off towards the feasting tables where Lord Ingatïl, his wife and son were already blessing the new house. As chief noble of the village, Ingatïl had welcomed Keketál into the community with open arms. Fascinated by his prize marrows, flute music and fishing, the old man seemed delighted to have another noble close at hand.
“Aaaah Keketál! So here you are, boy! Here you are. A splendid job on the house, eh. Absolutely splendid! Not normally the done thing for a noble to get his hands dirty, but then we must all move with the times. I suppose labour is terribly modern, what?”
Keketál blushed and nodded, embarrassed by the old man’s lo
ve. Ingatïl and his wife had made Keketál welcome in their midst without a murmur of complaint. They left him largely in the hands of Harïsh and her family, content to invite him to dinner once in a while and talk to him of “noble’s business” such as alliances and marrow growing.
The feast had drawn in the entire village. Hupshu laughed and served his guests with meat, dealing out the food with a lavish hand. The village girls demurely clustered in the shadows, coyly sheltering behind their wings. The house builders were on the far side of the clearing, whispering excitedly as they eyed the womenfolk. Hupshu wiped his greasy hands and drew Keketál near.
“Here we go! Alright, just make your choice and make it well. Remember how seriously a woman tends to take these little things…”
Women were staring at him, devouring him with their eyes, and Keketál felt a rising surge of panic.
“Hisst! Keketál not understand. What is Keketál to choose?”
Hupshu ran his fingers through his hair.
“Look, it’s the payment for helping to build a house. Tradition, you see! Everyone who helps can claim a kiss from one maiden of the village. That’s what gets the girls in such a state! You can only chose one, so if you could choose any woman to kiss, and you knew she couldn’t refuse you, who would you take?”
Aaaaah! Finally the light dawned! Keketál mentally applauded the audacity of the man who’d invented this one; making men eager to do hard work had been a feat of pure genius. One had to admit, the custom had a certain charm…