by Viehl, S. L.
A chill inched over my skin. “Is it some sort of death threat to strangers?”
Reever consulted the hide. “The symbol for death is not connected to the one for the strangers. It’s imprinted beside the eternity symbol. They are the only two that appear together.”
“Death equals eternity?” I guessed.
He rubbed his chin. “That, or eternity dies.”
Reever continued to work on decoding and translating the hide symbols while I prepared a medical report of what little I had observed regarding the health of the tribe. By the time I finished, I was surprised to discover that Reever had made little progress.
“It could be a prayer,” he said. “The tribe promises to find or nurture or safeguard strangers, and in return the triad will ensure that time or the world or the universe does not end.”
“Jylyj can’t read their language, but he can ask what it means,” I suggested. “Why don’t we bring it to the gathering?”
“The hide was deliberately concealed,” Reever said. “If the tribe sees that we have removed it without asking permission, it may be considered a serious discourtesy.” He placed the hide back under the stone platform. “Many of the same symbols are etched into the kiafta hides. I can ask Jylyj to obtain a translation of some of them.”
We took a few minutes to change into the thicker, warmer garments the Elphian had given us to wear at night. Reever also brushed out and rebraided my hair, and knotted his own at the back in Jorenian warrior fashion. When we stepped outside into the cold twilight, Qonja and Hawk also emerged.
The Jorenian, accustomed to a much warmer climate, visibly shivered. “I can see why the tribe gathers around a fire at night.”
Hawk went to Jylyj’s kiafta and called out to him, then looked inside before returning. “He’s not there.”
I felt a twinge of guilt. Had my conversation with Hawk offended the Skartesh to the point that he would avoid us? “Perhaps he went ahead.”
“Why would I do that?” Jylyj appeared out of nowhere, his dark eyes glittering. “Come. They are waiting.”
We followed him to the center cooking pit, which had been cleared of pots and piled high with seasoned heartwood. The flames were already climbing up the sides of the stacks and blazing brightly; I felt the heat on my face from twenty paces away.
The tribe had assembled around the point of each spiral in the fire stones, most of the females sitting with their children on hides stretched over the ground while the men stood or moved freely around the fire. I heard only male voices at first, but then caught the quieter murmur of the women as they spoke to the children.
All of the tribespeople fell silent as soon as they spotted us approaching, until the only sound I heard was the crackling of the fire.
Jylyj led us to a place between two spirals where an unadorned hide had been placed, and indicated that I should sit. Reever stood behind me as I sat down, tucking my legs to the side as the tribeswomen did.
A rather noisy procession from the chieftain’s kiafta distracted everyone, and I watched as several men in elaborately arranged furs led the chieftain to three large stones used to shape a low platform. Rather than sit on them, Dnoc gestured for the older female following him to sit down, and then strode up to the fire, casting what appeared to be a handful of soil into the flames. It must have been something else, for it caused a wide plume of fragrant purple smoke to billow up toward the sky.
Dnoc began to gesture and speak, and Jylyj again translated his words for us.
“We offer our thanks for another bountiful day, and our hopes for a peaceful night. The people are one with the land, and the land nourishes and protects the people. We ask for blessings on our women and our children, and good weather and luck for our hunters. For the respectful strangers who have come to us, we ask your care and guidance.”
Dnoc ended his short speech by tossing another substance onto the flames that this time produced a sizzling burst of golden sparks. This seemed to signal the end of the formalities, for the tribesmen began moving around and speaking among themselves, while the women retreated briefly into the shadows before they returned bearing baskets and platters of food, which they spread out on the hides.
Several of the women brought food over to us, and shyly handed each offering to me. I thanked each female using the words in oKiaf that Jylyj had taught me, which seemed to please them.
After helping themselves to the food their mothers had set out, the tribe’s children all left their family groups and gathered around an elderly male, who shook out a hide and attached the carved wooden rings sewn to its upper corners to two of the prong weapons that had been driven into the ground. I watched, fascinated by the firelight that played over the fur, which seemed to shimmer with its own light.
“May we go closer to the old one?” Reever asked Jylyj, who nodded. My husband held out his hand to me, and helped me up from the hide before we followed Jylyj.
We stayed at the edge of the group of children, some of whom gave us curious glances before turning their attention to the elderly male. From here I could see that the symbols rubbed into the hide had been also painted with different colored pigments that contained tiny particles of a reflective material.
“The old male is one of the tribe’s storytellers,” Jylyj said. “Everything he says is also recorded on the hide. This is how they teach the young ones to understand it.”
“What story is he telling tonight?” Reever asked.
“Chetere’s loneliness.”
The name seemed familiar to me, although I didn’t know why. “What does Chetere mean?”
Jylyj thought for a moment. “The name is difficult to translate, as it is a person and a thing and a state of being. Outsiders who have heard the story often call him the Star Wolf.”
The elderly storyteller waited until all of the children grew still and silent, and then in a deep, dramatic tone began to speak. Jylyj whispered his translation:
“Before the time of living things, there were only stars and emptiness. Nothing moved or grew or breathed. What was then became sad, because the hollow was made to be filled. The lonely stars came together and brought forth the first one, the golden-touched, he who would be the tribe. They called him Star Wolf, and set him upon the world that would be his, and everything he touched moved and grew and breathed. The stars looked down upon the abundance and were glad. They told their son that he would live forever in the abundance, and they would watch over him.
“But Star Wolf alone could not be the tribe, and so he prayed for another to be made and sent down from the skies. The stars did not listen. They only watched from their lonely places, for they did not know what it was to be more than one. When Star Wolf’s prayers became too loud, they tired of him and brought down the darkness so they would not have to see his sadness.
“Star Wolf wandered, alone and blind, and still the abundance flowed from him. The small creatures grew larger, and the world richer, but still he longed for the tribe. When he could no longer bear the solitude, he took up his dagger and cut himself in two.
“His blood soaked into the ground, turning it red, and the world that he had made abundant began to wither. The skies wept, and the land shook, until the stars lifted the darkness and saw what had become of their only child. They sent down their healing light, and from one part of Star Wolf fashioned a man, and from the other a woman. To honor Star Wolf, and so that man and woman might never be alone, they gave them the gift of creation. Whenever the two become one, another is made. So the first tribe came to be.”
The storyteller made a broad gesture, sweeping his arm to encompass all of the intent young faces.
“Star Wolf’s blood still makes the ground under you red. Whenever you see it, remember his sacrifice. He made it so that you could be his sons and daughters, the tribe he never knew.”
The children reached out to the elderly male, touching him affectionately on the arms and belly with their small paws. He returned the gestures by placin
g his paws on their heads and murmuring words too soft for us to hear.
The story probably should have seemed gruesome, but I found it strangely beautiful.
“So this is how the oKiaf believe they were created?” I asked Jylyj.
“It is how they believe the universe was made,” he corrected. “The oKiaf believe that Star Wolf was the first humanoid, the father of all people.”
A minor commotion on the other side of the fire pit distracted me, and I looked over to see the chieftain and his men had moved away toward a group just entering the encampment. The new arrivals wore heavy cloaks with fur-lined hoods, and along with packs carried two long branches from which the limp body of a big, muscular animal hung.
“Who are they?” I asked Jylyj.
“I don’t know. Travelers usually wait until morning to present themselves.” He shifted, trying to get a better look. “They’ve brought a recent kill, which means they have hunting rights in this territory. Only the chieftain can grant them that kind of status.”
The game the strangers had brought was taken away by six tribesmen, while Dnoc conferred with the tallest member of the group. He gestured several times in our direction.
“We should go and introduce ourselves,” the Skartesh said. “The first to meet travelers are always any other travelers in the encampment.”
We walked around the fire, and as soon as Dnoc saw us, he gestured for us to join them. Five of the travelers pulled back their hoods, revealing oKiaf faces, but the sixth and tallest of the group remained cloaked.
“Does the chieftain know what a troublemaker you are, Duncan?” the tall one called out in flawless Terran. “I can tell him, if you like.”
My husband’s expression softened, and he released my hand to go to the stranger. They curled one arm around each other’s neck in a curious embrace before the tall one shrugged out of the cloak.
The traveler was not oKiaf, but a member of some feline species, and had a long, narrow head covered in short black-and-white fur. I guessed her to be Uorwlan, Reever’s trader friend, although she wore the native dress of a male, adapted to accommodate an intricate weapons harness that crisscrossed her torso and hips. An astonishing amount of silver ornaments with glittering clear blue gems hung from her neck. Her eyes, much larger and more slanted than the oKiaf’s, matched the gems in color and brilliance.
To my eyes she looked rather a starving, dirty jlorra, but Jylyj and every other male around me seemed to be staring at her with great admiration.
“Where is this Jarn you’ve told me of?” the feline woman asked. “I want to meet the female who convinced you to take her to wife.”
I considered that an invitation, and walked over to stand at my husband’s side.
“My wife, Jarn,” Reever told the female. He looked down at me. “This is my friend, Uorwlan.”
“I am happy to know you,” I said, and made the Jorenians’ polite gesture of welcome. “Do you know you’re wearing the garments of a male?”
“She has good eyes.” The Takgiba’s piercing blue gaze shifted down and then up as Uorwlan inspected me. “But Terrans are usually larger, are they not? Is she a child, or a runt?”
“I am an adult, but I was made in a machine,” I told her before Duncan could answer. “Evidently, there wasn’t much room in it.”
“So it would seem.” Uorwlan’s thin white lips peeled back from sharp-looking teeth in a faint snarl. “I’ve tried to learn that Jorenian hand-speak, but it made my wrists sore.” Without warning, she bent and slung her arm around my neck. “Good to meet you, little sister.”
I returned the embrace, feeling awkward but determined to make Duncan’s friend feel welcome.
Uorwlan straightened, cuffed me under my chin, and eyed Jylyj, Qonja, and Hawk. “Are these your other husbands?”
I smothered a laugh and shook my head as I performed the introductions. The Takgiba gave each man the same rough embrace before addressing Reever.
“I thought I’d come down to the planet and see how you were fairing,” she said. “I trade with all the tribes in this region; Dnoc and I are old friends. He thinks I’m a male, by the way, so don’t wreck my hunting privileges by telling him otherwise. I’ve no taste for cooking and scraping the ground with my nose.”
That explained her choice of garments. “I wish I’d thought of that.”
“It helps not to have discernable teats,” she told me, rubbing the flat surface of her chest. “Mine pop out only after I breed. Not that I plan to. I’ve yet to meet a male worthy of siring my offspring.” She gave my husband a sly glance. “Well, one, but my kind and Terrans can’t crossbreed. Probably for the best. Back when we were slave running, Duncan and I would have whelped an entire colony of kids between us.”
My chest felt tight as I realized what she meant. This female and my husband had been lovers.
Dnoc spoke to Jylyj, who said, “The chieftain asks if you want your usual kiafta, Uorwlan.”
“Why bunk alone when there are two Terrans to warm me?” the Takgiba said. “I’ll sleep with Reever and Jarn.”
We took Uorwlan with us back to our kiafta, although I felt a little disgruntled with how quickly Reever had agreed to let her stay with us. I didn’t know why it bothered me, either—Iisleg customs gave men the right to have two women, and it wouldn’t be the first time I had shared a bed with two other people.
Uorwlan talked a great deal, all the way from the fire to our shelters, and hardly paused for breath. She spoke of her overland trek to reach the camp, killing the game with her escorts, and how paranoid the Elphian had become lately. By the time we bid the others good night, I was almost tempted to ask Qonja and Hawk if I could join them.
As soon as we were alone, the Takgiba began stripping out of her clothing, revealing more black-and-white fur and a long, thin tail that moved as languidly as Uorwlan did.
“Secure the inside of the entry hide, will you, Jarn?” the Takgiba asked. “The natives won’t intrude on us, but they’ve been known to peek.”
I saw she intended to remove all of her garments, and turned to Reever. “You never let me sleep naked.”
He shook his head at me slightly before addressing the Takgiba. “Uorwlan, my wife and I are exclusive to each other. We will not have sex with you.”
“What?” The feline gave him a look almost as astonished as my own.
“She thinks she can couple with us?” I said, almost at the same time.
“How else am I to get warm?” Uorwlan gave me a hateful look. “So this is what you’ve done to him? Turned him into a Jorenian?”
I didn’t like that, especially as being exclusive had been Reever’s idea from the beginning. “Terrans are usually monogamous,” I informed her. “When I agreed to become his wife, I also accepted his ways.”
“That Terran”—Uorwlan pointed to Reever—“was never monogamous. Even when he shared my bed. In fact, he went through females almost as quickly as he did blades.”
I had forced myself to accept that Reever had given his love to Cherijo before me. Now it would seem a small army of females had had him even before her.
She studied my expression. “He didn’t mention that, did he? Ah, well, they never do. All males are seeders, you know, and they’re never truly happy unless they can spread it around. Did he ever tell you about the slave harem we liberated from the pleasure colony on Anig fel? I ended up putting guards on our cabin so he could get a few hours’ sleep. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to have him to myself once a week.”
“What my husband did with you or anyone else in his past is irrelevant to me.” Anger made my voice cold. “All you need to know is that you can’t have him now.”
“Is that what you think, little sister?” She bared her teeth and tugged a blade out of her belt. “Duncan saved my life, and I’m in his debt. He can ask anything of me, and I will give it to him.” She tossed the dagger from one set of claws to the other. “So if he wants a place in my bed, on my ship, or an
ywhere else, it’s his.”
I pulled one of my own blades and held it ready. “Not anymore.”
“Perhaps I should go and sleep with Qonja and Hawk,” Reever said as he stepped between us and with two blurred motions took the blades from our hands. He looked at Uorwlan. “You are my friend, but Jarn is my wife, and I love her. You will respect that and our bond.” He turned to me. “And you, Wife. You will calm down and not provoke Uorwlan any further.”
“Provoke her?” I echoed, outraged. “She drew the first blade. You wish me to stand by the next time she loses her temper and let her stab me?”
Reever’s eyes darkened. “I wish you to leave her alone, Jarn.”
“If you are finished arguing,” Jylyj said from outside the side entry to the shelter, “we have been summoned to meet with the master hunter.”
Twelve
The frigid air nipped at my hot cheeks and curled around my clenched fists as I stepped outside. The encampment had obviously settled in for the night, for I saw only a few males walking around the outside of the shelters farthest from the fire pit. Like the men on watch who had met us earlier that day, they carried the pronged weapons, but each also held a small torch of flaming heartwood, which they used to illuminate their path.
I wanted one of those torches. I could see myself accidentally dropping it on Uorwlan’s twitching tail. Or my husband’s thick head.
Reever paced me. “You’re angry with me.”
“When did you notice?” I didn’t look at him. “Before she pulled a blade on me, or after?”
“You don’t understand Uorwlan or what she was trying to do. I had to stop you before you did something foolish.” He tried to take my hand as if he meant to establish a link.
“So I am ignorant and foolish.” I avoided his touch and put another foot of space between us. “That is good to know. I might never have come to that conclusion by myself. Thank you for educating me.”