She did recognize one word. Rakshasa. They kept repeating the word, turning it into a chant. Kara knew this word as it was one the early colonists heard a great deal after first contact with the Maruts, who’d used it to describe the new arrivals to their world. It meant foreign devil.
Rishi didn’t notice anything awry until the group moved toward them.
“Why is she here?” shouted one man. Rishi looked around, his expression one of relief when he spotted Kara standing close by.
‘What is a rakshasa doing amongst us?’
The cries became louder and more vociferous as a dozen men and women pushed closer. A few did most of the shouting, the rest watched, anticipating conflict.
Rishi pushed Kara behind him. “Everything is fine,” he told the crowd, although this made no difference to their obvious anger at her presence.
Kara looked around for Ikeya or Yleni. They’d sort out this problem. As people pressed nearer to them, she cowered behind Rishi, glad of his tall, strong back.
He spread his arms wide, protecting her.
She tried to remember some of the defensive moves from her hand to hand combat classes, but she’d failed the compulsory self-defense exam on more than one occasion. Her tutor had despaired of her passing, until somehow one day she finally mastered enough of the basic moves to graduate. Regretfully, the little she’d learned would be of no use if these people truly wanted to hurt her. Why were they angry with her? Had she broken some taboo?
“Stand back,” Rishi yelled.
One man grabbed Rishi’s arm and yanked him sideways and two more men tackled him to the ground
Kara watched in horror, shrinking back, as the woman, her silver necklaces quivering, seized her wrist.
“Rakshasa! Rakshasa!” she screamed in Kara’s face.
Automatically Kara’s arm rose, and with a sharp sideways jerk, her hand moved under the woman’s arm, then out and down in a quick circle. The woman gave a cry of pain and surprise as Kara’s action forced her to release her grip. Kara stood shaking as she faced her antagonist. She glanced at Rishi, powerless to help him as he lay, cursing and struggling to free himself from the three men who held him down. Kara’s heart thumped and she couldn’t seem to take a proper breath.
The woman leaned in closer, glowering at her.
Instinctively Kara fell into the first defensive posture she’d been taught, ready to block another attack.
All at once everyone fell silent as Ikeya strode toward them. Without a word, he shoved his way to the front, bent and hauled the men off Rishi before pulling him to his feet. A space miraculously opened up around him and he stared angrily at the agitators. The attackers fell back without protest.
Kara wilted but her heart didn’t slow. Foreigner? Devil? Was this the Maruts’ true opinion of her people? They’d refused to accept any technology the colonists had offered them, even rejecting advances which would give them medical benefits. Nothing had tempted them to change their traditions. New was dangerous and always avoided despite any advantages, and it looked as if this antagonism included her as well.
“Who is questioning my choice? Who here has a problem with how I lead?” He pitched his voice low but everyone shrank under the implicit menace in his challenge.
“Shanwatah Ikeya, I’m not challenging you.” The buxom woman with the jewelry spoke. Gone was the anger, replaced with deference. “It’s this…,” Kara flinched as the woman shot a look of malice in her direction, “this foreigner we have a problem with.”
Kara suddenly realized two things. First, that Ikeya hadn’t just been the leader of a hunting expedition as she’d previously thought, he was also the tribe’s chieftain, something he’d not considered important enough to tell her. Secondly, he’d kept his tribe ignorant of her presence until the previous night’s ritual. This put her position in a different light. She wasn’t sure she could do anything about it, but if information was power, at least she was improving her chances.
“This is my decision.” Ikeya punctuated every word with a piercing look at each individual in the front row. Every one of them lowered their gaze. His tone was harsh as he berated them. “This is neither the time nor the place. We’ll call a Clannad at the first opportunity.” His words silenced the dissenters. “Now,” his voice softened, “the sun rises. Let’s mount up and be on our way.” He moved away from the crowd. “Make sure you position your cart behind mine,” he told Rishi.
The younger man nodded, clearly relieved to have the confrontation resolved and to escape with only his dignity battered.
Kara hoped she wouldn’t have to be rescued too many more times.
Soon the carts, weighted with heavier loads, pulled out, snaking their way back along the ledge, and following a well-worn trail that led them off the mountain.
Kara needed to think, and was glad Rishi showed no interest in talking. If only she’d had her vidcom with her. Although, bearing in mind the recent names she’d been called and the hostility directed at her, walking around recording the tribe for posterity probably wasn’t the best course of action. Instead, she decided she would have to observe as keenly as possible and hope her memory didn’t fail her when she returned to the base. She swallowed the sudden rush of homesickness lodged in her throat. Yes, becoming a sharp-eyed observer would stop her emotions overwhelming her, and be useful for her future career.
The satyrs plodded steadily down the trail till they reached the floor of the plain. The red-hued scrubland stretched to the horizon.
As the cart rolled along, Kara attempted to scrutinize the soil for signs of plant life, but apart from groups of the short stubby succulents known as zumacups because of the liquid stored in the thick fleshy leaves, she could see nothing growing in the dry dusty earth. The only crop produced by the land in any quantity appeared to be rocks and boulders. The tribe had traveled quite some distance from her settlement in the temperate zone.
Ikeya led the caravan at a steady pace. The satyrs maintained a smooth gait as if the terror of the previous night had never happened.
Late in the afternoon, Rishi drew her attention to a series of buttes in the distance. Shaped by wind and erosion into bizarre shapes, some had been smoothed to stubs and others stretched up to the sky, breaking the monotony of the land.
Feeling sleepy, Kara climbed into the back of the cart, and made herself comfortable on a pile of blankets close to where Leyrah and her children slept. Before she knew it, she was back in the middle of the survival exercise, dashing through the trees, desperately searching for the other cadets, as the trees merged into ominous rock structures towering above her. She shouted and searched everywhere in vain for her father, then jerked awake, realizing the crying she heard didn’t come from her but from one of the children.
Leyrah, her face lined with worry, rocked the whimpering child on her lap, trying without success to soothe her.
“What’s wrong?” Kara asked.
“Fever.” The anxious mother smoothed the child’s hair back off her face.
Kara clambered across the packed trunks and blankets, which wasn’t an easy task on a moving cart with little suspension, and flopped down next to where Leyrah cradled the little girl in her arms.
Her older sister sat a little distance away, watching Kara’s every move with solemn eyes.
Kara gave her a small uncertain smile and leaned forward to examine the sick child.
The young girl shivered alarmingly. Her face was sheened in sweat, and her eyes were closed, jerking back and forth under her eyelids as if she were in a vivid dream. Her body, already thin, was all bony arms and legs.
Leyrah dabbed her daughter’s face with a cloth.
Kara felt the child’s forehead and took her pulse. Every colonist was trained in basic medical skills.
The look in the mother’s eyes said she knew her child’s life was in danger. “Can you help?”
Kara considered the calm despair in Leyrah’s voice. She remembered a statistic: child mortality amo
ng the indigenous hominids was a shocking thirty-five percent. Among the colonists it was almost zero percent, with accidental death accounting for the few that did occur. Such tragedies were a far distant memory among the colonists’ spacefaring ancestors as they’d long ago overcome disease by either genetic manipulation or medical advances.
Kara nodded. She did have a few remedies in the medkit that might be of use, although the Maruts’ genetic makeup might affect the result. What if the child died because of a severe reaction? What if the medication she gave eliminated any chance the child might have of recovery?
Chapter Five: A Helping Hand
Marut Proverb:
A true friend knows your heart. Others know only the face you present to them.
Kara weighed up the options. Without medicine, the child had little prospect of survival—at least with treatment she had a chance. “I can try.” She raised her eyebrows at Leyrah.
“Please. Anything. Anything at all.”
Kara turned to get her backpack, but Rishi had anticipated her and thrust it over the seat at her. She hadn’t thought he was aware of the goings-on in the back of the cart, but he’d known—surprising her once more. Whenever she figured she had him pegged, he showed how little she knew of him.
“Give her whatever you have and do it quick. These fevers are sudden and often fatal,” he said as she grabbed the bag.
Of course he’d care. In communities like this, survival depended on everyone pulling in the same direction. She rummaged through the pack, and found the medkit at the bottom. The kit wasn't complete because the survival assessment took only one day, but every medkit contained standard medicines beyond that needed for a few hours. In light of her recent near death escapes, the term ‘survival assessment’ seemed meaningless.
Searching quickly through the packet of tiny translucent patches, she took one out. Doubts about the risk to the child’s life lingered, but if she didn’t act, the girl’s death appeared likely. She pushed the child's sleeve up and positioned the fingernail-sized patch in the crook of her elbow. The little square adhered immediately to the skin, and Kara pressed the center. Within seconds the patch and its contents were absorbed into the child's bloodstream. They wouldn’t have to wait long to see a result. She glanced at Leyrah, who watched her with the concentration a bush lizard gives to a tender feithidi within reach, then back to the child. Had her breathing eased a fraction? “Do you have any water?” The fever would have caused dehydration.
“Savitri.” Leyrah nodded at her older daughter, who groped among their belongings and passed a flask to her mother.
Kara took the container noticing the odd hairs on the dried scraped satyr hide bulb, and hid her innate repugnance. Colonists didn’t use animal products or parts for any purpose, as they considered such practices backward and primitive. Having adapted to a spacefaring way of life where the sheer impracticality of maintaining livestock for consumption was not a viable option, they synthesized the necessary nutrients and minerals from vegetable based proteins. Of course, over time on long settled worlds where many species were flesh eaters, humans generally reverted to their original omnivorous diet.
She let the liquid drip into the child’s mouth hoping that the medication was having the desired effect. “What is her name?” she asked.
“Padini. It means flower of the desert.”
“How is she?” Rishi called from the front.
Kara leaned forward and touched Padini’s forehead. Still too hot. Please, please work, she begged. Just then the child’s eyes opened. They were clear, and she gazed straight at Kara.
Leyrah gasped.
Padini’s skin tangibly cooled beneath Kara’s fingers, and although still too warm, the high fever had gone. Kara let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
“Thank you.” Leyrah grasped Kara’s hand and kissed it. “I owe you my child’s life. Thank you.” Trembling with emotion, she leaned forward as if to kiss Kara’s hand for a second time.
Kara pulled away. The look of joy lighting up Leyrah’s face was thanks enough. She had merely administered the treatment, and learned an important fact. “She’s fine,” she called back to Rishi. “This has solved the problem for the moment. If the illness re-occurs, I have another stronger medicine.” Kara packed the medkit away. As she moved to stand up, Savitri reached up and hugged her tight. Kara patted the girl’s shoulder, and understood the attraction of the medical profession a bit more. Curing people gave a sense of power. You had to remember the sole action you made was the diagnosis—no small thing—but without the correct treatment, the diagnosis was useless. Kara smiled reassuringly at the mother and child, and clambered over the pile of goods and trunks in the back, returning to the front seat. She wasn’t sleepy anymore.
“That was a good thing you did,” Rishi said.
She glanced at him as she stowed her pack underneath the seat and settled beside him, but it took a minute to realize the look he’d given her was one of pride. Her father and her teachers had often been proud of her for her academic and intellectual achievements, but she’d never before saved anyone’s life. She blushed, pleased and gratified.
“It will go a long way to changing people’s attitudes toward you.” He smiled and turned back to guiding the animals.
As they traveled, Kara thought about why the Maruts had never accepted the colonists’ offer of medical help. Was it pride? The need to be independent? Gradually, the slow rocking movement of the cart and the heat of the day lulled Kara into a sense of ease. She noted the satyrs went the entire day without food, water or rest. An additional fact to add to the ever-growing list of things she had to remember. No wonder they valued them. Kara’s back and legs were stiff and sore from sitting. Shifting from one position to another didn’t help, and she was annoyed to see Rishi at ease holding the reins and steering the animals for hours without discomfort.
Leyrah passed them up flatbreads, sliced wedges of spiced satyr cheese and more dried berries. She could practically hear her father asking how dying from starvation was of benefit to anyone, and telling her to eat as she had to keep up her strength. The stew from yesterday had done her no harm, and she tucked in with gusto, deciding the food was tasty if simple. She would consider eating what the Maruts ate as a scientific experiment which would help her people adapt to food produced on the planet. Kara didn’t recognize either the taste of the grain in the bread or the fruit, which meant more information to collect and remember. Her brain would be crammed to bursting with new knowledge when she got home.
They journeyed on, leaving the tall rock formations behind and heading for a small rocky outcrop, the single distinct feature in the flat arid landscape.
When Ikeya ordered the caravan to halt, the reddish mottled rocks were higher than they looked from afar. Up close she could see clumps of lappa bushes, their thick blue spiky leaves sticking up proudly, providing a splash of contrasting color and extending some distance beyond the rocks.
The tribe settled in their family groups with the usual efficient alacrity, arranging the carts in circles near the foot of the rocky hillock.
Rishi used the reins deftly to move the cart back and forth till he’d parked parallel to his uncle.
Before Leyrah departed to find the rest of her family, she hugged Kara tight.
“I've more of the medicine if you need it. Please let me know if she gets sick again.”
Leyrah nodded. “Thank you.” She made a small bow to Kara, and then to Rishi, before catching hold of her children’s hands and moving off through the camp. Savitri turned and waved, a big smile on her face.
Kara glanced over to where Ikeya was unhitching his satyrs. Rishi was busy doing the same and Yleni was organizing the boys to carry the provisions they’d need for the evening meal. This was her chance to corner the leader and get an answer. She waited until Rishi bent to look at a satyr’s hoof before easing toward Ikeya.
“Hey!” Rishi’s shout brought her up short.
He gestured at the reins. “Hold the bridle. There’s a stone fragment wedged in his hoof, and I need to get it out.”
She glanced in Ikeya’s direction. He was giving his satyrs’ coats a brisk brushing. She swallowed her impatience, flinching as their hands touched when he passed her the reins.
He eyed her but said nothing, and produced a small knife from his belt. Picking up the satyr’s leg with one hand, he gripped the hoof with his other, as he dug out the stone with the blade's sharpened edge.
The animal neither appreciated the care nor stood patiently while Rishi worked, and Kara had a hard time keeping hold of the bridle as the normally placid beast tossed his head and tried to rear. She clutched the leather strap tightly with both hands.
“Keep the head still!” Rishi ordered.
“I’m trying,”’ she snapped, resentful of the way he continually made her feel she knew nothing.
“Try harder.”
She pursed her lips together, resisting the urge to retort, although a number of choice comments sprang to mind. Instead she concentrated on keeping the animal still.
By the time Rishi finished wiggling the fragment out of the hardened pad, Ikeya was leading his satyrs toward the lappa bushes. Most of the drivers were doing the same.
After Rishi unharnessed the animals, he handed her a large stiff bristled brush. “Here, make yourself useful,” he said. “Like this.” Starting at the top of the spine, he began brushing the satyr’s hide with long practiced strokes. “What are you waiting for? I’ll do the other one. Go on, get started or are you planning to stand there inviting sand bugs to take residence in your intestines?”
What? There were parasites out here that could live off humans? Then she caught the glint in his eye and the slight lift of his lip and realized he was teasing. She raised the brush as if to throw it at him, watched his expression turn wary, and laughed. “Don’t worry,” she told him, “I’m not usually violent.” She turned to follow Rishi’s instructions, deciding she’d have to catch Ikeya later.
Veiled Planet (Hidden World Trilogy Book 1) Page 5