TravellersRefuge

by Anny Cook

  Squashing the angry frustration, Wrenna silently soothed him. It’s all right, Traveller. Dancer will be here soon. Relax…

  She felt the rigidity in his body subside and realized that Dai had indeed returned with Dancer and Eppie. With Dai’s added strength, Mali and Jonas were able to block his pain more completely.

  Llyon sighed softly in exhaustion. “Dancer! I’m glad you’re here. Wrenna needs help with Trav. We’ve blocked out as much of his pain as we can. We need to straighten and immobilize this leg. Try to distract him!”

  Dancer cleared his throat and asked his brother, “I’m not their leader but will I do?”

  Traveller, obviously in pain, very slowly turned his head and studied Dancer with foggy blue eyes that moved incredulously from Dancer’s face, taking in the changes in his appearance, down to his soft purple sharda. His eyelids fluttered closed and he moaned. “What have they done to you, Dance? You’ve turned into a blue Vulcan!”

  Unable to contain his amusement, Dancer laughed out loud before leaning down close to Traveller’s ear and murmuring, “And that’s the least of it. You must get well as quickly as you can, Trav. I found my woman—and our grandfather. I have a lot to tell you once you’re better.”

  Llyon and Merlyn worked on Trav’s body with deep concentration as Mali, Jonas and Dai, deep in a trance, held back the pain. Even so, he groaned when they straightened the breaks in his legs. Gritting his teeth, he cocked one eye open and took another disbelieving look at Dancer. “You’re insane,” he gritted out. “Certifiable. What’s with the kilts?”

  Dancer squashed down the impulse to leap on the men working on Trav and beat them to a pulp for the pain they were causing because he knew they were doing their best to help him. Seeking a way to take Traveller’s attention away from what was happening to him, Dance leaned back down next to his ear and said, “You’re going to be an uncle. Eppie and I are going to have a baby.”

  “A what?” Trav just knew that his hearing must have been affected when he hit his head. He was positive Dancer couldn’t be talking about babies.

  “A baby. We’re going to have a little blue-skinned, pointy-eared baby. A girl.” Almost as an afterthought, Dancer added, “And it’s half Llewellyn.”

  At that bit of news, it became clear to Traveller that Dancer had been thoroughly brainwashed. His eyes flew open and he stared at Dancer in consternation. Finally, he declared, “Don’ worry, Dance. Jus’ ‘s soon as I get well, I’ll save you. When we get back ‘ome, you’ll feel better.”

  Shaking his head very slowly, Dancer asked, “Have you met your hosts, Trav? No? Allow me to introduce them, then.” Gesturing at them in turn, he said, “The little guy there with the silver hair is our grandfather, Dai. He was Mama’s papa. And the fellow working on your arm is Baron Merlyn Llewellyn—Bishop’s missing brother. He and his wife, Jade, have been here in this valley over twenty-five years.” Trav twitched involuntarily and groaned as he processed that information. “The young man healing your legs is Llyon Llewellyn, my bond-brother and Merlyn’s son. He’s going to be a master healer soon,” Dancer added with obvious pride.

  In spite of his pain and discomfort, Trav regarded him with growing dismay. “You’ve completely forgotten what they’ve done to our family,” he panted angrily. “Well, I won’t! I won’t forget that they’re all dead because of a Llewellyn! I won’t ever forget!”

  Rushing out to the hallway, Wrenna suddenly bent over and clutched her belly. Eppie and Wolfe grabbed her before she could slip to the floor and eased her into a chair.

  “What am I going to do now?” Wrenna whimpered.

  Eppie hugged her tightly and rocked her gently. “I know. I know.”

  “What? What!” Tyger demanded in growing alarm as Wolfe rubbed her back and shoulders.

  Worried, Eppie stared into Tyger’s eyes over Wrenna’s head and reminded him, “Trav is Wrenna’s bond mate. He hates Llewellyns. And she’s begun schalzina.”

  Pursing his lips in thought, Tyger observed, “But he’s not going anywhere for a while. And I have complete faith in Wrenna and her general stubbornness. In a showdown between them, my barter credits are on her.”

  “What will I do?” Wrenna demanded with clenched teeth.

  “He’s naked and can’t move—the possibilities are endless. If you can’t change his mind, you’re not the woman I know you to be,” Ty retorted with a wide grin. “I can see that I’m going to have to build a new loom posthaste if I’m going to get your bonding blanket completed in time. In the meantime, I have to go take care of Llyon.”

  With a comforting pat on her shoulder, Wolfe turned away and stalked down the hall to the kitchen. “Until you convince Trav that all Llewellyns aren’t evil, we’re going to need more wachaz tea. Lots of wachaz tea…”

  After Tyger left the compartment, Bish sat deep in thought. The strange welter of impressions and emotions was overwhelming. He felt like he was suffering from brain freeze. Thoughts flittered just out of reach. He couldn’t seem to pin anything down.

  He was still sitting there when Tyger carried a very limp and exhausted Llyon through the doorway and deposited him gently on the bed. Stripping off his sharda and sandals, he got Ly covered up and then shifted him so that Ly’s head was leaning against his chest. “Come on, Llyon. You must at least drink the tea. Then I will let you sleep. Come on,” he crooned softly.

  “Soo-oo cold, Ty.” Llyon’s teeth were chattering. “Sooo cold.”

  “I know. You did too much, Ly. Just drink your tea and I will hold you and warm you up. Just a couple more sips…” He set the mug back on the tray, stripped off his own clothes and climbed into the bed with Llyon. Bish watched in confusion as Tyger shifted around until he had his shivering twin comfortably nestled in his strong arms. “Bishop, will you close the door on your way out?” he requested as he turned his attention to caring for Llyon.

  Bishop closed the door and went in search of someone—anyone—with answers.

  Chapter Nine

  Four days later Wrenna and Wolfe stood in the wide doorway of her pottery dome, watching the throng of people and animals setting up camps in the field across the river. Gaily colored domed hurkas huddled around centrally located stone campfire circles. Dotted around the edges of the field well away from the river, the older boys in the warrior classes had installed temporary latrines. Near the river, Hamilton McCrory had built a water wheel so that the visitors could safely fill their water skins. Large empty open-sided domed shelters waited for the council elders to officially open the Mid-Summer Gathering. Then, after the annual public council meeting, the shelters would fill up with traders and their wares.

  Somewhere in the distance a mournful melody was picked out on a grimahr bone flute. Dintis and packits sprawled comfortably along the river’s edge, watching the antics of the humans. Children—fewer in number every year—milled around Ham as he demonstrated the water wheel. Warriors in full regalia patrolled short overlapping circuits, maintaining order and guarding the safety of the gathering from the stray wolvala or grimahr who might venture closer in search of food. Women of all ages in brightly colored meerlims and shawls gossiped at the cooking fires.

  Wolfe sighed gustily. “I need to go get dressed for my turn at patrol.”

  “You sound so enthusiastic,” Wrenna teased gently. “I thought you liked to patrol.”

  “Nothing I like better,” Wolfe retorted promptly. “Wear a hot leather kroniche bristling with knives, carry around a heavy punchbow one-armed so I can look manly and hope that none of the men get drunk on sim and have to be hauled before the council. Very exciting.”

  Wrenna laughed at his gloomy summation of his duties, though he certainly had a point with his complaint about the heavy leather body armor that was traditionally studded with tiny throwing knives in rows of special slits that ran from neck to waist. “Be glad you don’t have to wear the crossed swords and back harness,” she advised.

  He snorted in irritation as he headed bac
k to the house, passing Bishop on the way. Bishop nodded absently and asked, “Is Wrenna down at her shop?”

  “She is.”

  “Thanks.” Bishop ambled away, leaving Wolfe to shrug in puzzlement. His uncle was a very strange man. What was he thanking him for?

  Bishop joined Wrenna in the doorway and studied the mass confusion across the river. “What exactly is going on?”

  “Tomorrow begins the Mid-Summer Gathering. It combines the annual public council meeting with a traders’ exchange. Disputes between villages can be worked out. Warriors who have made their final vows this past year are recognized in a public ceremony. The men compete in weapons tournaments. The women bring their best sweet dishes for Mama to judge. The younglings usually have races and a recitation contest.” She glanced at him curiously. “Surely you have something similar out-valley?”

  “I suppose the closest thing would be a county fair,” he replied with a frown. “Though even the smallest county fair would be much larger than this.”

  “There are so many people where you come from?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “If every person in the valley was in one place, they wouldn’t make a small town out-valley. Lost Market could be set down in the center of most towns and not even be noticed.”

  Her brows wrinkled in thought. “Traveller will find it hard to live here? Will he miss the people and places, do you think?”

  “Nah,” Bishop denied firmly. “I will miss those things—especially the women—but Traveller was like Dancer—looking for a place to get away. Speaking of Dancer, where is he? He came to see Trav the day we came to the valley and I haven’t seen him since.”

  She slid him a sideways glance. “Dancer and Eppie are in seclusion. She’s in schalzina so they will stay at Stonehollow until after their burda.”

  “Something to do with sex?” he speculated.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll ask Dai for an explanation. He’s the only one that seems to be around.”

  “I’m sure that Llyon or Wolfe would be happy to explain things. Even Tyger could answer some of your questions.”

  “I notice that you didn’t mention your father,” Bishop commented neutrally. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to tangle with Tyger again.

  “Mama began schalzina, so Papa might not be available. They’ll probably go down to their bonding cottage, Elyria, right after the Gathering,” Wrenna replied with casual unconcern. “In any case, Papa’s keeping an eye on her because of the babies.”

  “Babies?”

  “They’re pregnant again. With twins. Again.” Wrenna grinned at Bishop’s expression of horror. “Mama was really surprised since she thought that Cougar and Gazelle would be the last ones.”

  “How can she be pregnant?” he demanded.

  “The usual way?” Wrenna said calmly. “The out-valley can’t be that different, surely?”

  His face turned ruddy with embarrassment and he cleared his throat. “Never mind. I opened my mouth without thinking.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I came to talk to you about anyway.”

  “No? Let us go up to the kitchen and have some tea. Then you can tell me what is on your mind.”

  In the kitchen, Arturo was refereeing a three-way conversation between Llynx, Panther and their teacher, Samara McCrory. “The boys brought this item to their calligraphy class with them,” she was explaining to Arturo. “I don’t believe it belongs to them but whether it does or not, it definitely doesn’t belong in my classroom.”

  Arturo picked up the object and studied it intently. “It’s a photograph. I recognize Dancer and Traveller.” He shot a stern glance at the boys and inhaled sharply. “It definitely doesn’t belong to either one of you. Where did you get it?”

  Panther stared down at his tightly clenched fists resting on the table and remained mute. Llynx scowled mutinously at Samara and muttered, “We found it.”

  Undeterred, Arturo questioned, “Where did you find it?”

  “Around.”

  Unknown to the boys, Bishop and Wrenna had been observing the scene from the hallway. Bishop decided to take part in their discussion. “Around—perhaps that would be around Trav’s belongings in our room?”

  Vigorously, Llynx shook his head, sending his shiny black braids clinking. “No-oo.” He exchanged looks with Panther and then dropped his head so that the others couldn’t see his face.

  “Let us be clear about this,” Arturo said crisply. “Anytime you lie to get out of trouble, that is worse that the thing you did to get into trouble. Is that not what Mama and Papa have said before?”

  Panther ducked his bright auburn head and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So. Where did you get Traveller’s photograph?”

  “In Traveller’s pack,” Panther muttered, close to tears.

  Bishop pursed his lips in thought. “When you take something that doesn’t belong to you that is theft. What is the penalty for theft here in the valley?” he inquired idly.

  The other adults stared at each other in dismay before Samara said quietly, “The judgment seat.”

  Now openly crying, both boys jumped from their seats and rushed to Arturo, burrowing against him. “No! Don’t let them take us!” they wailed in genuine fear.

  Bishop was astonished. “What’s going on? What is this judgment seat?”

  Wrenna shook her head. “When an individual commits a crime, they are bound and taken to the peak of Needle Rock and left there. It is the Judgment Seat. The valley judges their guilt or innocence. If innocent, their bindings are dissolved and they go free and exonerated. If guilty, they are consumed in a flash of fire. That is not an appropriate punishment for a child.”

  “No, of course not!” he declared, appalled at the very idea.

  “There must be punishment, however,” Arturo said firmly. Guiding the boys back to their seats with a little nudge on their shoulders, he directed them to sit. “Now! Enough of the caterwauling. Certainly, you will not be taken to the judgment seat but you must make restitution.”

  Panther and Llynx scrubbed the tears from their faces with grubby hands and hiccupped. “Okay,” Panther whispered miserably while Llynx nodded agreement.

  “This is my judgment,” Arturo announced. “As your morkert I pronounce this judgment.” His formal tones were solemn and weighty. “You will surrender your chinkas for a period of two eight-days and wear your hair unbound that all may know of your punishment for lying. You will not attend the Mid-Summer Gathering but will sit in the doorway of Wrenna’s pottery so that all may see you and know of your punishment for theft. This is my judgment. Do you stand as witness, Bishop?”

  “I stand as witness,” Bishop agreed gravely.

  Arturo held out his hand and the boys reluctantly pulled the chinkas from their braids, one by one. Wrenna brought a clear bowl from the cupboard and Arturo deposited the carved white chinkas with a sound that reminded Bishop of glass pebbles. Silently, Arturo waited as they loosened the tight braids and completely unbound their hair. Then he quirked a dark eyebrow and said, “I think I hear your room calling you.” Both boys scrambled from their seats and rushed down the hallway to their room.

  When they were gone, Bishop sighed and shakily found a seat. “Okay. Now I have a few questions.”

  Arturo chuckled softly. “Only a few? Let me fix the tea first and then we can all relax.”

  “I should be going,” Samara demurred.

  “Stay for tea. You did well to bring this to our attention, Samara,” Arturo admitted.

  “I’ll say. I shudder to think of what else they might find in Traveller’s bag. It just didn’t occur to me that they would go into his things.” Bishop’s hands shook. “He has weapons and who knows what else in there.”

  “Put his bags in Papa’s office. The boys aren’t permitted in there under any circumstances. I will lock the door as an extra precaution.” Arturo looked back over his shoulder at Bishop. “Do you want apple tea or honeybush?”

  �
��Honeybush.”

  “Wrenna? Samara?”

  Wrenna made a face. “Honeybush, of course.”

  Samara smiled at her in agreement. “Honeybush for me.”

  “Tchk. Apple is better for you, especially if you add a bit of mint.” He tossed the little gauze bags into the mugs and poured hot water over them.

  Wrenna set the honey pot on the table and fetched the cookie jar. “Ahhh. Silence at last.”

  Bishop shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe how much trouble those two get into. Aren’t they already grounded because they broke a window?”

  “That punishment was finished last eight-day,” Arturo answered. “They are not bad but they certainly need some responsibilities to keep them busy. I believe that I have a solution but first I must talk to Papa.” He took a cautious sip of his hot tea. “You have questions. Ask, please.”