by Viehl, S. L.
I had the feeling they weren’t talking about the young tribesman anymore.
“I’m getting a little hungry,” I said to my husband. “Jylyj, will they bring our packs to the guest shelter? We need our rations.”
The Skartesh nodded and turned to speak to one of our escorts.
Reever gripped my hand a little more firmly. “Nicely done,” he murmured.
“I think enough challenges and meanings have been dealt with for one day,” I said. “And, as it happens, I am hungry.”
I slowed my steps as we walked past the large central cooking pit to look in some of the pots and see what the tribeswomen were preparing. Thick, rich-looking stews filled about half of the pots, but others were covered with leaves. I saw one female uncovering a pot, and watched as she used two short-handled, hand-sized versions of the pronged weapon the men carried to lift a browned haunch of meat from the pot.
Jylyj told us to wait there, and he went with Reever and one of our escorts to retrieve our packs.
An older female tending the pots noticed my interest and gestured for me to come closer. When I crouched down beside her, I saw she was preparing a piece of meat, as well. She used a chipped piece of stone to fish one of the embers out of the pit, and skillfully wrapped it with a white substance in a piece of tough-looking hide before wedging it in the last space between the meat and the inside of the pot. The scent of salty smoke grew stronger and teased my nose before the woman covered the meat and the bundles with layer after layer of the leaves.
I had smoke-cured enough meat on Akkabarr to grasp the process if not the ingredients used, and when she gave me a questioning look, I nodded. She turned her head and spoke to the woman who had finished cooking her meat, and the other female used her claws to carve a piece from it and came to offer it to me.
I knew I shouldn’t have accepted it, not without properly scanning the meat first to make sure it wouldn’t disagree with my stomach. But it had been so long since I had tasted real meat. The Jorenians ate only flowers and plants, and Reever told me that he and most of the other ensleg no longer used game for food. Since hunting was not possible on a ship, and not permitted on Joren, all I had eaten since leaving the homeworld had been synthetic protein.
In the end, I couldn’t help myself. I tested it with a small nibble, and then groaned with pleasure as the dark, aromatic flavor of it spread over my tongue. Before I could think twice about it, I had eaten the rest and licked my fingers like a youngling.
The women dropped their gazes abruptly as a shadow stretched over me.
I looked up at the Skartesh. “Where is Duncan?”
“He is trying to signal that trader friend of his.” He seemed amused. “Did you like the taste of the namas?”
“It was delicious,” I told him. “How do I tell them that, and thank them?”
He told me the words in oKiaf, and I repeated them carefully to the women. They seemed pleased, although the older woman gave Jylyj an odd look.
The three kiafta reserved for guests of the tribe had not been marked with any symbols, and seemed plain-looking compared to the others in the encampment.
Jylyj gestured to the largest of the three. “That is for you and Reever. I will take the small one on the left, and Qonja and Hawk can sleep in the right.”
I appreciated the chance for privacy, but Qonja seemed concerned.
“Should we sleep apart?” he asked the Skartesh. “Would it not be safer for us to occupy one together?”
“If we do, the tribe will think we are mataerel,” Jylyj said. “It is what they call a mated group.” He noticed Hawk’s discomfort. “Be at ease, crossbreed. As long as those who are involved are agreeable to it, the oKiaf do not forbid mating with more than one partner, or with someone of the same gender, which is known as litaerel. Children who are orphaned at a young age are usually adopted by litaerel, as they cannot have children of their own.”
“Would that I could bring my former ClanFather here,” Qonja muttered as he ducked inside the kiafta Jylyj had suggested he and Hawk use.
The crossbreed didn’t follow him, but remained with us. “I am surprised that the oKiaf have such progressive views about mating, and yet subjugate their females as they do.”
“What you call subjugation is in truth a biological imperative,” Jylyj said. “oKiaf females produce a large amount of hormones that cause them to be naturally timid. It often suppresses their survival instincts, and they will not defend themselves, no matter what opposition or danger they face. The males of the species also make a generous supply of a similar hormone, only the effect it has on them drives them to be very aggressive and dominating, particularly toward females. The oKiaf culture evolved as a result.”
“Is the same true of the Skartesh?” I asked. When the resident gave me a surprised look, I added, “You have to admit, you have displayed some of the same male characteristics.”
“Our glandular systems are slightly different, but it’s believed that the oKiaf and the Skartesh are the dece dents of one species. I will try not to be too aggressive or dominating.” He sounded stiff now, as if I had offended him. “The fire gathering will begin as soon as the sky is dark. You should rest while you have the chance.” He disappeared into the smallest kiafta.
“May I accompany you inside your shelter?” Hawk asked.
Still bewildered by Jylyj’s reaction to my observation, I nodded, and led him into the kiafta.
Some of the same stone furnishings we had seen in the chieftain’s shelter occupied the interior, but these did not appear as old or worn. A long hide mat stuffed with what sounded like dried plant material lined the stone sleeping platform, as well as a coverlet of very soft golden fur. I ran my fingers over the beautifully worked pelt and felt some small bumps, and parted the hairs to find more of the carved wood slivers. Each one had been carefully sewn to the underlying hide and then concealed under the fur.
“Those are likely talismans,” Hawk said, examining my find. “All people are vulnerable when they sleep, so they’re probably protective charms.”
“Or fertility symbols, to help a female conceive.” I drew back the coverlet and sat down on the mat, which was comfortable without being too soft. “The longer I am here, the more I like this world.”
“So do I, but there is something that troubles me.” Hawk went to close the hide over the entry before he came to sit beside me. “Jarn, Jylyj knows a great deal about the oKiaf.”
I nodded. “He has been very helpful. We probably wouldn’t have done as well with Dnoc without his advice.”
“That is what I thought, until he spoke of their mating practices, and how accepting they are of those like me and Qonja.” Hawk stroked his hand over the pelt coverlet in an absent fashion. “Such matters are part of the private lives of the tribe. On Joren, you never hear the people speak of how Choosing is forbidden to those of the same gender—especially with offworlders.”
I had to agree with him; if Reever had not told me I would have never known about the taboo. “Do you think what he told us is wrong?”
“It is not what he said, exactly. We have heard him speak to the oKiaf, and they understand him completely. He gave us their words for the different relationships within the tribe—very personal, private words. He also knew that litaerel couples adopt orphaned children because they cannot reproduce naturally. For an offworlder who has only visited this world a few times, he knows so very much.” Hawk made an uneasy gesture. “Too much, I think.”
I considered what he had said. “We don’t know how long he stayed here during his visits. Obviously, he learned their language, so his visits had to be of some duration. When you consider how much importance the oKiaf give to ritual matters, it may be that he studied their culture extensively before he even came here.”
“It worries me, Jarn,” Hawk persisted. “Jylyj is not merely knowledgeable about the oKiaf. He is practically an expert. You know how carefully the League prepares their intelligence operatives.”
“
I had my own suspicions, and went so far as to perform a DNA test on him,” I admitted. “Jylyj’s genes are pure Skartesh.”
“Then he cannot be a League spy sent to sabotage the mission.” The crossbreed Terran gave me a rueful look. “Qonja says my imagination does run away with itself sometimes.”
“We should ask him about how he learned so much,” I said. “I’m sure he can explain everything.”
“Yes.” Jylyj stepped through a slit in the hide opposite the entry. “I think I will start with how easy it is to hear what is being said in a nearby kiafta.”
Hawk moved quickly to his feet and his wings spread out, one curling over my head. “I apologize for any offense my words have caused,” he said, “but they were not meant for your ears.”
“Such words are generally the most offensive.” Jylyj gazed down at me. “You might have asked me to take the DNA test voluntarily, Healer Jarn. I would not have refused you.”
I felt miserable. “Hawk, would you allow me to speak with Jylyj alone?”
The crossbreed didn’t seem happy, but he nodded and left the shelter.
“Is this wise?” Jylyj asked. “If I am a League spy, I might take this opportunity to sabotage the mission.”
I didn’t like the way he was snarling at me. “You must not have been listening too closely, or you would have heard me defending you to Hawk.”
“You trust me only because I have the proper genes. Forgive me if I am not overwhelmed by your confidence.” He moved as if to leave, and then turned back to me. “I do know much about oKia. For many years I have done nothing but dream about someday returning again to live among the tribes. But I am not one of the people, and my calling has assured that I never will be. Is there anything more you want to know? Ask me.”
“There is one thing.” I stood. “Can you stop shouting at me before Qonja comes in here and declares you his ClanKill?”
“In truth, I have no HouseClan,” Qonja said as he stepped in through the other side entrance. His dark blue claws gleamed. “That simply means I can gut anyone I wish, whenever I like.”
“So it would seem.” Jylyj gave the Jorenian a measuring look. “Your pardon, Healer Jarn. I should not have spoken in anger to you.”
“I think you had some cause, but I accept.” I glanced at Qonja. “I shield Jylyj.”
“Yes, of course you do.” The Jorenian sighed his disappointment and retracted his claws. “Three females are waiting outside with food. They are becoming terrified. I suggest we invite them in before we frighten them off for good.”
Eleven
By the time I had neatly arranged on the table the baskets of food the tribeswomen had brought, Reever returned with our packs. I scanned the food and found most of it to be edible, although two types of fruit contained an alkaloid that would have made me, Reever, and possibly Hawk very ill. I set those aside and asked Jylyj if he would mention to the tribeswomen that we could not eat them.
The Skartesh remained in a silent, sullen mood, but nodded and gathered a portion of the food before retreating to his kiafta. Qonja and Hawk did the same, leaving me alone with Reever.
He gave me a wary look. “Something happened while I was gone.”
“These hide shelters make it easy to eavesdrop on one’s neighbors,” I said. “Jylyj heard me speaking with Hawk about him. He became angry. Qonja threatened to gut him. I protected him. It’s over and done with.”
Reever’s mouth twisted and he put his arms around me. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.”
“Of course you can. I have my case now, and the next time something like this happens, I’ll sedate everyone.” I went to the table. “Come, sit down and eat. Were you able to contact your friend?”
“It took some time, but I finally established a secure relay with Uorwlan’s ship,” he told me, walking over to inspect the native foods. “She passed along some new information about the mercenary offering the bounty on us.”
I retrieved some pouches of water from our packs. “How would she know that?”
“All of the traders in this region have been receiving regular signals from mercenaries and bounty hunters requesting information about us,” my husband said as he sat down and sorted through a basket of nuts. “Uorwlan convinced one she has crewed with to tell her what he knows. It seems the bounty is being offered by a wealthy Terran with friends among the League. The Terran has been using some of their transports as lookouts.”
As we ate, I thought of the League general responsible for the Jado Massacre and Cherijo’s abduction from Oenrall. “You don’t think Colonel Shropana is the one hunting us?”
Reever shook his head. “Shropana isn’t Terran, and he’s too afraid of what Teulon Jado might do if he crosses us again.” He gazed down at the pieces of meat I offered him. “We have synpro rations in the packs.”
“We did not kill these animals,” I informed him. “The tribe did. It’s very good. At least try it.”
His expression turned cold. “You’ve already eaten some of it.”
“One of the women offered me a taste. I saw no harm in it.” I felt exasperated with him. “Duncan, using animals for food is no different than eating plants. Both are alive. Both must die to sustain the life of another.”
“Plants do not have minds,” he pointed out. “Animals do.”
“I wouldn’t say that to a Psyoran.” I saw that he wasn’t going to change his mind. “I suppose you don’t want me to eat it, either.” He gave me a pointed look, and I set aside the meat. “Oh, very well. I will eat only mindless plants and the synpro from the rations—and I will be very cranky about it, too.”
He covered my hand with his. “Thank you.”
We finished our meal while discussing the information Uorwlan had offered. We once more considered and discarded the idea that the bounty was being offered by Alek Davidov. Even if he had returned to the quadrant, he had known we were on Joren; he wouldn’t have wasted credits sending mercenaries out to hunt for us.
“You are certain that the information your friend received is accurate?” I asked.
“No,” Reever conceded. “But Cherijo was created on Terra, and her father must have kept some records about his experiments on her. If they were discovered after his death, they might have motivated another researcher to offer the bounty.”
“You said what was done to make Cherijo was illegal,” I pointed out. “That her creator even had laws written so that no one else would be permitted to experiment on humans, while he did so in secret.”
“Times and laws change,” Reever said. “Especially when the secrets of immortality are involved.”
Something occurred to me. “What if they are not looking for Cherijo? What if they are looking for you?”
His eyebrows rose. “I am useful to them only as a tool to manipulate you.”
“Joseph Grey Veil had time only to experiment on you before he died,” I said. “If what he injected in you was all he had, then the chameleon cells in your body are the only ones in existence. They might have discovered that fact among his records.”
“Squilyp said the cells remain dormant until some damage or illness occurs.” Reever rubbed the spot on his chest where a drone on Vtaga had stabbed him. “In that state, they can’t be distinguished from my body’s natural cells. They wouldn’t be able to find them to extract them.”
My arm twinged, reminding me of what had happened to Cherijo when the Hsktskt had tried to brand her with a slave identification. “They could if they first tortured you.”
Both of us had little appetite after that, so I packed away the food and performed a quick survey of our packs to ensure that none of our equipment or supplies had been removed. As I was separating what I would need for the next day’s trek, Reever inspected the inside of the kiafta, and retrieved a piece of hide that had been left under the sleeping platform. He brought it to the table and began studying the many symbols embedded in the fur.
“The oKiaf use a modified form of p
ictographs as their written language,” he told me. “Each symbol is representative of a concept rather than literal translation of a spoken word.”
I noticed the three-sided symbol repeated over and over on the hide. “Qonja said the triangle symbol must be important to them. He called it a triad, and noticed that they also group many things in the encampment in threes.”
“Trinities or triads are common in many primitive belief systems,” my husband said. “They are usually represented by a central deity, a representative of the common people, and an intermediary figure. On Terra, the cult of Christianity worshipped a paternal God, his half-human son, and a Holy Spirit. The Jorenians hold sacred the Mother of All Houses, Tarek Varena, and the path they forged together.” He glanced at me. “You rarely speak of Iisleg beliefs.”
“Daevena is the goddess of women, and Kette is the god of men,” I told him. “The people do not worship them together, and there are other, minor gods, but Daevena and Kette are the two central deities. I suppose the vral represent an intermediary. They were believed to be sent by both gods to reward courage by restoring the brave to life.”
Reever eyed me. “I have no faith, Jarn, but I would not deny you your beliefs.”
“The skela, miserable as they were, insisted that Daevena watched over them. I saw no evidence of that, but it was simpler to go along with what they believed.” I shrugged. “Faith demands a great deal of the believer. I have paid my respects to the goddess through prayer, but I could not bring myself to sacrifice an animal to her. I could not see how giving her my food would make my life better, especially when I was hungry.”
My husband took one of the recording units we had brought to take images and measurements, and took several images of the symbols on the hide. He then isolated the images of the symbols themselves and wired a wristcom to the device.
“Do you think the translator will read them for you?” I asked, amused.
“No, but it will download into the unit’s memory every corresponding pictograph in the translator’s database. Not all languages are spoken, and some symbols are almost universal.” He adjusted some of the settings, put the results on the image display, and began to read. “It has matched seven symbols: tribe, promise, stranger, three, one, death, eternity.”