by George Olney
"Oh? Who is it?"
Grae paused for a moment then looked at her. With a slight smile, he commented dryly, "You'll find out. You're going to meet her."
With that, he spurred his gort to a faster pace and would answer no further questions on the subject. Frenchy fumed over the minor mystery for a while, and finally gave it up since she was going to get the solution eventually. Trail conversation with Maev filled the rest of the day.
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The next day, Maev pulled even with Frenchy and said, "You know, this looks like Yellow Knife country."
Frenchy thought for a moment. "That's Grae's tribe!"
"Yep."
"Now, why would we be traveling through their lands?"
"Well," Maev shrugged, "they may be on our way, or he has some other reason. I don't know. But if we smile nice, we might be able to sleep in sheets tonight. One of their Freeholds ought to be close by here."
Frenchy hummed ecstatically at the thought of a bed and other comforts. "And a real bath! Let's go be convincing."
The two women rode up and joined Grae, only to find him also planning a stop on the trail. "There's a Hold about an hour's ride from here. We're going to stop there."
In her imagination, Frenchy was expecting something like an old west ranch or the Station where they'd started on the trail. When they got to the Hold, however, the scene was completely different. Outbuildings were buried nearly to their peaked, slanting roofs. The Freehold itself was set into a hillside with only its windowless front protruding from the slope. Frenchy regarded the pale blockhouse-like facade for a few moments, and Maev answered her unspoken question. "They started out built like that for protection and climate control. We just keep building that way in the Mandate for the same reasons. Temperatures are stable inside and we never have to use much energy keeping them that way. Away from the Port, all construction is sunken in one form or another. By the way, it looks like we're going to be met." She pointed to a man walking their way with a purposeful stride.
"GRAE! BY DAMN!" Their reception committee was an older Tribesman, as large, muscular, and roughhewn as Grae, but sporting a pair of huge trailing mustachios. His grin was immense as he reached up, grabbed Grae's hand in a powerful grip, and hauled him bodily out of the saddle to land with a thud. Grae bounced up immediately and charged the older man, grabbing him around the waist and throwing him to the ground in a bear hug. Watching the two roll and tumble in the dusty soil, Maev commented with some irritation, "Men will behave like children, sometimes."
Frenchy responded in slightly disgusted tones. "We say, boys will be boys."
Maev snorted agreement.
The wrestling match on the ground came to a conclusion as the older man grabbed Grae by the torso, lifted him off the ground, and tossed him a good ten feet. Grae hit solidly, but got up, showing himself only slightly the worse for wear. "When I can't do that," the older man roared, "I'll take to my chair!"
Both men laughed, although Grae's was a touch weaker. Still chuckling, the older man turned and gave the two women a quick and searching appraisal. He gave Maev a quick once-over and a friendly smile. When he turned to Frenchy, however, his expression changed. She saw the same sort of appreciative look Grae gave her, but there was something else. She had the oddest feeling there was an ironic humor involved.
He strode over and lifted Maev from her saddle with no appreciable strain, setting her gently on the ground. "Here, girl, you know the way inside. Look for the Lady to set up your party."
As he set Maev down, Frenchy noticed the brand burned into his wrist. It was in the same place Grae wore his leather band. This man had also bonded. Curious, she wanted to talk to him at the first available opportunity. Better yet, she decided, she wanted to talk to his bondsmate.
Turning to Frenchy, he again gave her a searching look as he also gently lifted her to the ground. His eyes briefly took in her earposts, then again scanned her with the healthy admiration of a man looking at a beautiful woman and enjoying the process. "I see," he commented, "you already have a position in the Tribe. I commend Grae's judgment in awarding that position. I'm Weykhaz."
Frenchy smiled merrily back up at him. Already she liked this hearty, bluff character. "Too bad you're too old for me," she teased, "otherwise we might have a future. As is, I'd be afraid your heart won't hold out."
"Old!" he roared happily. "Girl, if I wasn't already spoken for, I'd lead you a dance the like of which you'd remember all your life!" Wrapping a muscular arm around her shoulders, he spun her and headed her towards the entrance to the Freehold. "Since I am, I wouldn't want the length of that life dependent on when the Lady caught us. Now, go! Make yourself useful! Set up quarters while your man and I follow with the dignity that is our due!"
He followed that with a swat on her bottom that propelled her on her way with a squeal and a giggle. Grae, leading the gorts, came up to Weykhaz and both men watched her head for the entrance with identically admiring looks. Weykhaz turned to Grae and commented, "Looks like you're developing your father's taste in women."
Grae shook his head in mock resignation. "Not only that," he replied, "guess where she's from?"
The older man cast his eyes skyward and laid a hand familiarly on Grae's shoulder as the two gathered up the gorts and slowly followed Frenchy. "Ah, my son, my son," he sighed. "You are about to go through one of life's truly trying experiences... I ought to know, I'm still living it. Let's go find a drink."
The entrance to the Freehold was high with double doors and looked wide enough to drive a train through. Once inside, Frenchy found herself on a broad ramp that led gently down to a wide high hall that was almost a subterranean street lined with doors of various sizes and types, crowded with tribal folk going about their business, many with faces painted like Grae and Maev in a bewildering variety of styles and colors. It took a few minutes scan from the head of the ramp to locate Maev, deep in conversation with another woman.
The woman made Frenchy stop and stare. It was almost like looking in a mirror! She was dressed in one of those brief one piece things the Tribal women wore, but there the Lycanthi resemblance ended. Instead of a lean, pantherish brunette, she was a big blonde like herself, with the only trace of facial decoration being a slight touch of makeup.
Frenchy felt like she was looking in a mirror. Even some of the woman's mannerisms reminded her of herself. At a guess, this was Weykhaz's Lady. Life, Frenchy decided, was about to get interesting again.
As she approached the blonde woman, Frenchy could see she was older, of an age with Weykhaz, whatever that was in this long-lived society. The brand on her hip proclaimed her Bonding, probably to Weykhaz. It was absolutely no surprise to Frenchy that the woman wore a pair of exquisite coral earposts, exactly like her own. The woman caught sight of her and stopped talking to Maev, simply staring as Frenchy approached. "For the God that loves me," she exclaimed when Frenchy stopped next to her, "I would swear I had a sister except I know it to be untrue! That, and I am perfectly certain I have never given birth to a daughter!"
Reaching out, she took the younger woman in her arms with much the same exuberance as her bondsmate. Leaning back from the hug to look Frenchy in the eye, she continued, "You are, I conclude, Frenchy. There is much to discuss, and Grae has a word or two of explanation to make, if my guess hits the mark."
Seen up close, Frenchy noticed subtle differences in the woman's appearance. The slightly slanted eyes and higher cheekbones, along with the shape of the ears, pointed to an ancestry different from Frenchy's own. Frenchy found herself wondering what exotic planet this woman was from, even as she found herself returning another warm embrace, catching the woman's infectious enthusiasm. Holding Frenchy at arm's length, the woman continued to study her. "As I have no daughter, and have now conceived of a need for one, you are now my daughter. We are of a kind, we two, far more than I suspect you know. 'Tis meet I have one now.
"Come, child. Let's be about your quartering."
As
the three women entered one of the doors and began to make their way through a rabbit warren of corridors, Frenchy mused about yet another sudden change in her life. It seemed she now had a new mother, if this woman was serious about what she said and Frenchy suspected she was. That sort of thing fitted with the kind of people she judged Weykhaz and his bondsmate were.
Hell! She didn't even know her name!
Touching the woman on her arm, Frenchy asked, "Well, before I start calling you Mom, who are you, really?"
Stopping dead in the corridor, the woman whirled and slapped her forehead. "Oh, by the Good Lord, the things a person forgets when Fortune presents them with a new joy! Of course, you must know your own next of kin, lass! I am Grete, to you, to all, and to my man Weykhaz, now and forever!
"Let me provide you with a warm bed and a comfortable room, and we will talk. We have much to discuss."
Truer words were never spoken, Frenchy reflected as they continued on to the room.
A little boy and girl cannoned past the women and, sideswiping Grete, charged on up the hall. Grete yelled horrific threats if they didn't slow down, but the chuckle in her tone belied her rough words. The sight of the happy children, dressed as miniature versions of their adult counterparts, started Frenchy off on a new train of thought. Children were nice, but weren't for strippers. She had known a few of the girls with kids, but that wasn't the kind of life for a child. It reminded her too much of her own childhood.
Now, she had a second chance and a longer life to enjoy it. That is, if she wasn't killed by some badman or monster, she reminded herself. Responding to a need she didn't know she had, she decided that one day she was going to be a mother.
The only problem was a suitable father. That is, it was the only problem after she resolved the minor difficulty of being marooned buck ass naked in an exotically violent culture that whacked monsters into pieces with a five foot razor.
Details, details.
The room turned out to be comfortable, full of warm colors and soft textures, much like the wardroom on Grae's ship. Frenchy decided it was very Western Ranch, even to the wooden furniture. One major difference was that every single piece of wood, and there was a lot of it, was carved with intricate, animistic designs. She had to stop and stare at the artwork for a few seconds.
Then, as Grete and Maev stood nearby in conversation, she noticed something else. There was only one bed in the room, a double. Sleeping accommodations tonight were going to either be tight, or someone was going on the floor. She decided to hold that thought for later consultation with Maev.
Maev finished her conversation and started for the door. "I'll get the gear," she tossed over her shoulder. "Grete tells me you two need to have a talk. Be back later."
Slightly stunned to say the least, Frenchy couldn't muster any words as she watched Maev breeze out of the room. She flopped to a seat on the bed, still staring at the room's closing door. Grete walked over and stood, looking down on Frenchy musingly. "Yes, I do say it. You and I are of a kind. Therefore it is well that we should call each other by titles that fate would have handed us had chance differed."
Frenchy looked up at her and tried to muster up aggravation at the speed of events and presumption of the older woman but, looking at her, couldn't find the will to bark at such an obviously good natured person. She thought for a second and decided on cold reason. "Uh... I don't know how to say this, but I'm really not like this. I mean… uh… I wasn't born a blonde. I just sort of acquired this coloring. We'd probably look different if my hair was the old color, and, really, I guess we're just from two different worlds."
Grete laughed and sat gracefully on the bed next to her. "Child, think you I was born to this garb and style?
"All life is change, but that which is truly us remains as unchanging as the stars. That is where we are alike as mother and daughter. That and the circumstances of our current pass. I did but set the path and you followed, all unknowing. Once, I too, wore the pendant and earposts, naught else - to include the weapon you now bear. That ax alone tells me you have firmer hold on my son than ever I had on his father at that point in our entwined fortunes."
Frenchy's jaw gaped slightly. "You're Grae's mother?"
She smiled. "Of course. Did you think I bestow the title of family on any baggage that strolls in from the barren lands and catches my fancy? I knew of you many a day past, thanks to the fact that my wayward son does occasionally see fit to call his mother on the rare times when he arrives on his home world. You are bound to my son, and more, I suspect. That gives me the right as his mother to do as I wish in this case, regardless of all else."
"Then you really meant it!? About deciding I was your daughter?"
Grete nodded. "I had considered it when first he told me about you, for a number of reasons, but rejected that thought. When I saw you, I knew my past decision to be a vast mistake. Now that I see you, I know you, by a circumstance of fate, are truly my daughter. You know it not, but headlong adoption is a custom among Weykhaz's people that are now my people and confers on you certain rights which are strongly held. Chief of these is that you now have a home in this Hold, now and forever. When that announcement is made, I predict a bit of shock among men folk, yours and mine.
"I also predict that, when told, you and I will prove to have much the same story. Come now, child, tell it to me."
The question of Grete's motives bothered Frenchy, but she decided to let that ride until she could talk to Grae. It would be easiest for the moment to follow the woman's lead and change the subject. She began to tell Grete everything that had happened since Grae abducted her from the bar. Surprisingly, she found herself going on to tell her about her life before then, some of which she never told anyone. There was warmth in this woman that opened barriers. As she wound down, Grete nodded in calm understanding. "A story, different in circumstance, but much the same in tenor, as to how I came to be with my lord."
Grete caught Frenchy's quick frown at the last words. "Ah, the term lord isn't to your liking, is it? You are a woman that is strong in self-reliance and bends not to any man for law or other forcible reason. Well, child, know that part of my speech was but a trick of phrase, held from my youth in a long ago and far away place and means only that he who is the other half of my being is revered in my heart above all else."
Frenchy digested that for a moment then a question struck her. "Okay, but let's change the subject. What about the way you talk? You've lived here a long time. Wouldn't you lose your accent, if that’s what it is?"
Grete broke into an impish grin. "Never! Think yourself the only independent female in this room? I keep my speech in the same pattern as I learned as a child to remind everyone of where I came. When I hear it, it reminds me of who I am. When others hear it, it reminds them that only so far will I adapt. In all else will I remain myself."
The two laughed at that and hugged tightly. Frenchy began to have a warm feeling of finding a friend. "Now," she said. "You talk about your story and how it's like mine. How about telling me about yourself.
"It's the least a mother can do," she added dryly.
Grete caught the tone, understood the meaning, and laughed again. "Lass, the life you've related to me was hard, but accept that sometimes good things happen without rhyme or reason. I saw a thing that needed doing and did it. You have needed a home all your life. You now have one, and I have the daughter I've wanted. Rest assured, I have further reasons which will come to light in due time, and all of them to good purpose. Thus, calm your suspicions and listen to my tale."
Frenchy flushed at being so easily read, but Grete ignored it and launched into a story that immediately intrigued her. "My early life was simple enough, child, if plain and poor. Our little village was away from most of the robbing and murder that accompanied war, a war that we heard story was destroying all the land around.
"I know not whose side it was, or which army, or what brigands they were who attacked and burned us out, wanton with slaughter and
fire. It may have been Tilly or some other, it matters naught. What mattered was that I was a little away, tending our poor flock of sheep. I quit my post and ran when I saw the fires and heard the screams, for rapine was a thing I feared greatly. I ran far, thinking to hide, and had no thought beyond that.
"There were other killers abroad that day. It was a strangely garbed group, possibly outriders for the Grand Turk far afield, that I surprised as I burst through the trees. This foretokened an evil fate, as I had heard tales of them and they were even more want than others to torture and vile deeds.
"As God would have it, my lad Weykhaz was likewise afield, conjoined with friends and following this group for purposes of his own. When the foulest brigand grabbed me, I screamed as I thought I had been taken by devils for a horrible death. In truth I would have been, except that I grabbed the dagger of the man holding me and slew him with it. This simple act so appealed to the nature of my man that he decided to involve himself and persuade these bloody handed fiends to more peaceful pursuits."
Grete smiled faintly. "You know my son. His father is no less persuasive when he takes it into his mind to be so. When the last of the raiders fell, Weykhaz grabbed my hair and announced that I was now bound to him by the custom of the Tribes. As I still had my dagger, I attempted to do for him as I had done for the other, but he was far more the man than my first captor.
"To shorten my story, I eventually found myself bereft of clothing and aboard such a craft as I had never dreamt. It took a while from that point, but we eventually arrived at an understanding." Grete looked at her brand and softly touched it. "I would not trade this for the finest jewel. The pain of its application was as nothing to the joy of its attainment and what it symbolizes to me is worth far more than life itself."
Frenchy was also looking at the brand. "Grae has one of those, although I've never seen it. What happened?"
Grete looked at her and her expression darkened. "She is gone. Dead in fact but not in body. I speak a riddle, lass. This I understand, but fash ye naught. You are the most important thing that has happened to me – and my son - since her loss. For that, I wish you well in your quest and know you will attain it, though what you get will be more than you seek.