The Hunter

by Rose Estes

  No longer restrained, Keri and Carn retreated from the edge of the black rock and hurriedly joined Braldt, looking around them as though they expected to be attacked at any moment.

  “What did you say? How did you do that?” Keri cried as she rushed to his side, ignoring Sytha and Uba Mintch as though they did not exist.

  “I did nothing, there was nothing I could do,” Braldt said, noticing the way that Uba Mintch was forced to step aside to avoid Carn’s approach. “It was Sytha Trubal who saved your lives.”

  Carn and Keri turned and stared at Sytha who did not meet their eyes but stared down at the ground. “What… How?” Keri asked in bewilderment.

  The old kark rested on his stick and sighed heavily, the weight of his years bowing him down. “Sytha Trubal was mate to my son. He was High One of the tribe. Upon his death, Sytha Trubal became High One in Waiting because they had no son. She has chosen this one, this two-foot, as her mate. He is now High One of the Madrelli and ruler of our tribe.”

  12

  Carn, Keri, and Braldt stared at Uba Mintch in shock, barely comprehending his words. Braldt had heard the words but took them to mean only that Sytha had extended to him the protection of her home, much as a Duroni would do when hosting a guest. Now, it was apparent that her words had meant much more. He was now her mate, mated to a creature whom he had regarded as an animal only a dawning ago! Had it really been so short a time?

  Carn barked out a short laugh accompanied by Keri’s cry of dismay as she turned to Braldt in disbelief. “But how…”

  “Come,” interrupted Uba Mintch. “We must talk.” He did not stop to see if they would follow, but turned and shuffled away, following the edge of the plateau, seemingly unaware of the fact that the drop was sheer and unbroken, falling thousands of feet to the rocks below. Braldt followed Sytha, who did not even seem to be aware of his presence and walked swiftly, wrapped in her own thoughts.

  The massive outflow of shining, black rock sloped sharply downward in a smooth flow, resembling nothing so much as a sheet of black water that had somehow been changed to solid stone. As they made their descent, the shining black flow came to an end, merging with ordinary grey stone and earth.

  The kark, or Madrelli, as they called themselves, village came into view then. It lay in a small valley cradled between two towering white-capped peaks, sheltered on three sides by mountainous walls of rock, and approachable only from the edge of the plateau. Braldt admired the clever placement of the village for it seemed all but unassailable by an enemy. A thick ribbon of muddy red water, which could only have had its source in the mountains above, swept through the village, lapping at the uppermost edges of its channel and dividing the village in two.

  The village itself and the sixty or more dwellings came as a complete surprise. Braldt would have supposed that karks lived in trees or slept on the ground in grassy nests, but these were no crude nests, but cleverly made buildings constructed entirely of wood and stone. As they entered the village by way of a smooth road made of the shining black stone, all doors and windows were tightly closed, and Braldt had the distinct impression that they were being viewed by many curious eyes.

  The main avenue that ran alongside the canal was laid with the black stone as well, carefully fitted stones that provided a smooth and unbroken footing. The dwellings rose to their left and stood slightly above the road and back, allowing for small plots of ground where bright flowers and carefully tended herbs grew in profusion.

  The homes themselves were a marvel of the builder’s art and even Carn was awestruck at the beauty of their design. Somewhat lower in height than Duroni dwellings, each home was distinct in its design as though reflecting the personality of its builder. Some were constructed entirely of the black, shiny stone, while others were a combination of black and the more common grey. Some builders had chosen to use the trunks of trees rather than stone, and these had been stripped of their bark and with the passage of time had weathered to a pleasant silvery hue. Doors and windows were covered with narrow strips of woven lattice that allowed the movement of air as well as permitting those inside to look out without being seen themselves.

  Many of the buildings bore carved runes above their doors, all of them different and indecipherable to Braldt, and while many of the homes were unadorned, an equal number were embellished with carved designs of leaves and flowers that curled around doors and windows or up the sides of blank walls in a cheerful show of exuberance unknown to the dour Duroni.

  There were several large buildings in the village, although none as large as the Temple of the Moon or the various schools or the Council chambers of his own city. Braldt found himself wondering at the governing structure of the karks, no, the Madrelli. Considering that they owed them their lives, he would do well to change his thinking, for they were anything but the simple beasts he had thought them to be. That thought jogged his memory and he slipped his hand into his robe and felt Beast stir. Good. He curled his hand around the small one and stroked him gently to let him know that all was well. Beast settled quietly beneath his hand.

  Uba Mintch led them over a bridge that was built entirely of worked stone and arched over the ugly red flow. Braldt looked down and wondered at the strange color that fouled the water, for never had he seen such a thing before; water was clear or blue or sometimes brown, but never this dark, ugly shade of red.

  The old one stepped off the bridge and led them to one of the largest homes, unusual in that it was twice the size of any other as well as a full two stories in height. It was built entirely of the shining, black stone and its roof was shingled with grey stone tiles. The building itself was unadorned with the single exception of a rune inscribed above the lintel, while two immense silverwoods of great age flanked the double doorway and herbs and flowers had been planted in neat borders.

  Uba Mintch paused before the doorstep, a large block of black stone, which had been worn smooth in the middle from the tread of many feet. He looked up at the inscription and touched it gently with the end of his staff before turning to face the others. “This is my home. You are welcome under my roof and safe from harm, so far as we are able to protect you.”

  Braldt nodded to the old one to show his appreciation. Keri emulated his move, bowing more deeply, and after a moment Carn did so as well, although his obeisance was stiff and almost rude in its brevity.

  “Please, sir, what do the runes say?” Keri asked hesitantly.

  The old one looked up, his face relaxing in a smile, and he turned to Keri. “It says, ‘Protect this house from evil.’ Come, enter, we have much to speak of.” And with a last look at the sky above, they entered the home of the Madrelli.

  The building was completely different from those of the Duroni inside as well as out. Duroni homes consisted of a single large, great room where most family activity took place. Smaller rooms were set aside for individual sleeping places, but these were used for little else and generally held no more than a sleeping mat and a few items of a personal nature.

  Madrelli dwellings, if this one could be taken as an example, allotted rooms to each and every member of the household and contained a raised sleeping place piled high with thick, woven coverlets, several strangely shaped chairs, which were much too large for the smaller Duroni, and other pieces of wooden furniture whose meaning was not immediately apparent. Walls were adorned with handworked items that had no function except to please the eye and the stone floors were warmed by hand-woven mats, brightly colored with intricate designs.

  Each of them was shown to a room that they were told was theirs for as long as they remained under Uba Mintch’s roof. A serving girl, obviously young and more curious than afraid, was instructed to tend to their needs.

  Uba Mintch took his leave of them, saying only that they were to rest. It was easy to see that it was Uba Mintch who was tired and needed to refresh himself, but no one voiced an objection, not even Carn.

  “If you will join me later, after the sun has passed beneath th
e twin peaks, we will eat and talk of the things that must be said. Until then I bid you peace.” He raised his hand in a benediction and then shuffled slowly down the corridor to his own quarters.

  Sytha Trubal showed no sign of wanting to linger and she too hurried after the old man with only a single glance at Braldt, a glance filled with meaning that he did not understand.

  Carn waited until both Sytha and Uba Mintch had gone and then turned to Braldt with a wide grin on his face. “Well, what happened between you two, eh? Must have been something special to get us fixed up this good!”

  “Carn!” Keri’s voice was sharp with disapproval and she looked at Braldt with hurt in her eyes as though waiting for him to deny Carn’s words.

  “Don’t be stupid, Carn. Nothing happened. What do you think? No, don’t tell me; do not judge me by your own lack of morals.”

  “Whatever you say, brother,” Carn said in a tone that indicated his disbelief. “When do we leave? Now or later?”

  “We do not leave at all. This woman has saved our lives at a considerable risk to her own. It is only fair that we stay and talk, conduct ourselves honorably. There is much to be learned here, many questions that need to be answered. We will not betray them and return their offer of protection with duplicity.”

  “What are you talking about, Braldt? These aren’t people, we don’t owe them anything, they’re no better than animals!”

  Braldt stared at Carn coldly, then turned on his heel and entered the room that had been assigned to him. Hand on the door frame, he turned and spoke in a voice devoid of emotion, his blue eyes blazing in anger. “They have given us their word in honor, a word that I do not intend to betray, and animal or no, one of them has chosen me as mate. Do not cross me, Carn, or you will live only long enough to regret it.”

  The serving maid entered the room shortly after his exchange with Carn, carrying a bowl of hot, steaming water and several thick towels draped over her arm. She would not look him in the eye but burst into giggles when he thanked her and rushed from the room, hand cupped over her mouth. Braldt could all but imagine the girl regaling a confidant with the story of her terrifying encounter with the horrible two-foot. Only in the retelling, the maid would no doubt have made some brave comment before leaving. He grinned at the thought for it appeared that young maids were the same everywhere.

  Braldt took advantage of the hot water and a bar of fragrant floral-scented soap and cleansed himself gladly, luxuriating in the thick, fluffy towel. When his toilet was complete, he investigated the room with interest, taking note of the thick rug that covered the stone floor and the intricate colorful pattern that was woven throughout. Drapes of similar construction hung on either side of the double windows, brightening the room with their colors. Dominating the room was a large bed that stood several feet off the floor and was piled with multiple layers of soft, thick mattresses. It was four times as wide as a Duroni sleeping mat and a good deal shorter. Braldt placed Beast on the soft surface and the pup groaned and curled into a tight ball. Braldt could find no sign of a wound and it would seem that Beast had escaped serious injury.

  Braldt sat down beside the pup and immediately sank like a stone in quicksand with the thick comforters wedging him on either side. Beast tumbled into his lap and opening his eyes he snarled at Braldt, leaped nimbly off the bed, and stalked away to the far side of the room. Braldt struggled to extricate himself, wondering how anyone could sleep in such a creation and knowing that he would not.

  Beast had settled into one of several strange basketlike objects that dotted the room. Braldt studied them with a grimace, assuming that they were chairs, yet knowing that they would never accommodate his body.

  He was studiously avoiding the topic that screamed for his attention, the supposed mating with Sytha Trubal. He was grateful to her for she had undoubtedly saved their lives, but such a thing was impossible. He settled on a broad stone shelf under the window and pondered the problem, trying to find a solution that would permit them to leave with their lives without offending Sytha Trubal or arousing the anger of the tribe.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the entry of Keri and Carn, Carn in the lead, flinging the door wide and entering without a knock or a salutation.

  “All right, so they live in houses and sleep on beds and they talk. Someone else probably built the stuff and they killed ‘em and took over. The gods only know how they learned to talk, but it doesn’t make any difference, they’re still animals. We don’t owe them anything, Braldt. We’ve got more important things to do, or have you forgotten Auslic and what we promised the priests?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Carn, I’ve forgotten nothing!” Braldt snapped. “I know where my duty lies!”

  “Then do it!” Carn replied hotly, closing the distance between them.

  “Stop this, it is you who are acting like animals rather than people,” Keri cried angrily as she stepped between the two men. “You are both right and there is a way to settle this properly if we but think on it calmly, like civilized people!

  “You go sit down there,” she said to Carn, pushing him in the direction of the bed, which he avoided, sinking cross-legged to the floor, evidently having had a similar experience with his own bed. “You go over there,” she said to Braldt, directing him toward one of the basket chairs, while she herself settled on the window ledge.

  “Now,” she said, “let’s talk.” And so they did until the sun had disappeared behind the twin peaks and the room had become grey with dim twilight, but despite their efforts, they had reached no agreement by the time the giggling maid knocked on the door and summoned them to speak with Uba Mintch.

  The halls were glowing with a soft light that emanated from steady flames enclosed in transparent globes affixed to the walls. Braldt stared at them in wonder and would have stopped to study them, but was given no opportunity to do so as the maid ushered them down the long hall that opened onto a large room that took up the entire end of the building. At the last moment, Beast had roused from his slumbers and now trotted at Braldt’s heels.

  Uba Mintch was settled in one of the basket chairs, the hard surface cushioned by a thick comforter. It fit the shape of his body quite nicely. Across from him, seated in a second chair, was Sytha Trubal who held a smaller version of herself on her lap.

  Once they were seated in the same uncomfortable chairs, the maid carried in a tray laden with steaming mugs that she offered to them one at a time, giggling all the while.

  Uba Mintch waited until she had left the room before he spoke. “Your health and safekeeping,” he murmured as he raised his mug in a solemn toast. They echoed his words with a Duroni toast of their own and then sipped at the steaming brew that was sharply sour on their tongues and somewhat bitter although it warmed their bellies and left a pleasant aftertaste.

  “Your presence here among us at this time presents us with somewhat of a dilemma,” began Uba Mintch.

  “We will gladly take our leave,” said Carn, seizing the opportunity to make his wishes known.

  “Would that it were so easy,” the old one said with a sigh. “Had you not come in such a dramatic manner, there might have been some choice, but arriving as you did, you have left us few alternatives. The wife of my son was forced to claim your friend as a mate and that is not a thing that is done lightly among the Madrelli. I do not know the customs of your people, but Sytha Trubal is our regent, and as her chosen mate, you have now become leader of the tribe. You can scarcely imagine that your presence here will be lightly marked.”

  “I thank you for this honor, Sytha Trubal, and even more I thank you for the gift of our lives,” Braldt said quickly, cutting Carn off before he could speak. “I realize the sacrifice that you have made in order to save us, but you must know that I cannot accept this honor. Your people will never accept me and it would not be right for me to hold a position of such great responsibility. A tribe should be ruled by one of its own.”

  Sytha Trubal raised her eyes to meet his own and
in them he could read her confusion as well as her unhappiness.

  “But what can we do… I—I do not even know what you are named,” and as the tears gathered and threatened to spill, she looked down and busied herself with the active arm- and leg-waving figure of her daughter.

  “I am Braldt, the Hunter, and this one here is my brother, Carn the Stalker, and my sister, Keri, the mischief maker.”

  Keri shot Braldt a look that he could not decipher and, rising from her chair, crouched beside Sytha and placed her hand hesitantly on Sytha’s arm. The two women gazed at each other and a look passed between them that spoke of many things, womanly things that somehow transcended their different races. Without speaking, Sytha picked up the wriggling bundle and handed her to Keri who cradled her expertly, cooing gently and making sounds understandable to infants of any nature. Beast suddenly appeared at her side, studying the infant with interest, his bright eyes watching closely.

  “We are puzzled, Uba Mintch,” Braldt began in a respectful tone. “You are not what we had imagined you to be. How is it that we have remained ignorant of your true nature. Why is it that we have no knowledge of the fact that you have speech, a cultured way of life equal to our own?”

  “Have you given us any opportunity for speech?” Uba Mintch asked softly. “Our encounters are few but violent. Whenever those of your kind meet ours, there is no time for words. The Duroni hunt and trap and kill us like animals for sport or merely for our pelts. There is no thought of speech.”

  Braldt could only admit that such was indeed the case, but before he could argue the point further, Carn spoke out.

  “Look, you can put all the blame on us if it makes you feel better, but you know as well as I do that the violence is not all on our side. What about all the times that your people have attacked the Duroni without warning or reason. What about the herdsman who was tortured and burned to death not two days’ march from here. What did he do to deserve that kind of death other than try to protect his herd? Your people are no better than wild animals and the fact that you live in houses and sleep in beds and talk doesn’t change that at all!”