Shifting Plains

by Jean Johnson

  About to go back to her book, Tava found herself distracted by a green streak in the distance. Since most of the rest of the grass was a pale golden blond, bleached by the hot summer sun, the difference was eye-catching. It stretched to either side of the blanket-covered wagon in front of her, making her crane her neck to try to see more.

  As they descended the gradual, slight hill, the green blotch grew broader and darker. It resolved itself into a field of some sort of tall, broad-bladed grass interspersed with fluffier-looking tufts of bushes. But rather than approach it, the caravan turned north well before it reached the vegetation that promised the water they were seeking.

  “Why aren’t we going closer?” Tava asked, craning to look past Kodan.

  “The ground is boggy, down there. Anything heavier than a pony might snap a foreleg, not realizing it isn’t solid enough ground, and the wagon wheels would lodge deeply in the mud. If you look ahead, over there, you can see the edge of a small lake that forms the start of the marsh, and the trail of the stream feeding it.” He lifted his chin in lieu of pointing, since his hands were holding the reins.

  Unable to see past the wagon in front of them, yet impatient to view the lake for herself, Tava leaned in front of him. The wagon bumped over some lump hidden by the grass, as it had bumped many times before. Caught in a precarious position, Tava quickly threw down her left hand, bracing herself so that she wouldn’t fall over completely and land on the reins.

  Kodan jerked and gasped, startled as much by the location of her hand as by the unexpectedness of her touch. Her palm had landed high on his thigh. High enough that her littlest finger had brushed right over the linen-covered curve of his bollocks, before wedging in the crease between it and his upper leg. Thankfully, her finger had only brushed, not scraped or bruised. Part of the fire that had raced instantly up through his nerves was an instinctive, masculine cringing against that possibility.

  Part of that burn came from an equally abrupt but completely different problem. An utterly unexpected problem. I am not going to get aroused just because she fell against me, Kodan ordered himself firmly. She certainly wouldn’t understand it’s involuntary. I am not aroused by her, either. I’m courting her so I can get her to think more kindly of her rightful people.

  His loins didn’t seem to want to pay attention. The wagon jostled again, pressing her hand against his flesh. That, his body noticed, even as it continued to ignore his mental castigation. Kodan gave up. Father Sky . . . I am aroused by her. I just hope she hasn’t noticed!

  Embarrassed by her clumsiness, Tava quickly glanced at Kodan to make sure she hadn’t offended him. His light brown eyes were wide, enough to see hints of smoky blue rimming the edges of his irises. He also didn’t seem to be paying attention to where the wagon was going, though the two mares assigned to pull it didn’t seem to mind following the wagon in front for the time being. They were slowing down a little, but were content to follow the trail broken by the caravan.

  “Kodan?” she asked, confused by his blank, wide-eyed expression. “Are you all right?”

  He blinked twice, sucked in a breath through his teeth, and hissed, “Remove . . . your hand. Please.”

  Glancing down, Tava saw where her fingers had fallen. Gasping, she sat up quickly, snatching her fingers away. “I’m sorry!”

  Flinching a second time, Kodan dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That’s alright,” he said, reassuring himself as much as her. “You didn’t realize, and no harm was done. But that is something you must never touch until you are married. Or unless you’re defending yourself,” he added, thinking of the things he had read in her mother’s book.

  The reminder of those things quelled some of his body’s lingering interest in the touch of her fingers. Paying attention to the mares again, he flicked the reins, speeding them up a little so they caught up to the next wagon again.

  “It is forbidden for men and maidens to touch such areas on each other outside of marriage, to discourage the chance of such touches getting out of hand.” A glance to his side showed her cheeks pink, her green eyes wide. “But . . . as I said, no harm was done. You just . . . startled me. I know it wasn’t deliberate.”

  “No. No, it wasn’t,” Tava agreed quickly, feeling as if she had gotten too much sun on her face. “It was an accident.”

  “I know. Because of your . . . misperceptions about the Shifterai, the subject of improper touches never really had to come up, before now,” Kodan explained.

  His loins still tingled a little, aroused by her inadvertent caress, but he did his best to ignore it. They would camp soon, giving him plenty of physical things to do to get his mind off the touch of her littlest finger, off the press of her palm against the muscles of his thigh. He struggled to get his thoughts as well off the memory, turning her accident into a teaching opportunity.

  “These are some of the things the priestesses will teach you once we reach the Family tomorrow, as it is their task to teach all the children, young men, and maidens of the Shifterai. This is why you will continue to be considered unapproachable for courting for the first ten days you are with the Family, so that you may have plenty of time for proper instruction.”

  “I . . . see.” Actually, Tava didn’t completely see. She had placed her hand—however inadvertently—right against his manhood. The parts her mother’s book had warned against touching, since it seemed to drive men either mad with pain or mad with desire. Yet aside from looking a bit dazed, Kodan didn’t look or sound like he was mad in either direction.

  Of course, it’s not like I know how people court normally. My mother’s troubles were horrible, and because I’ve never been particularly feminine, plus the stigma of being born of an outlander woman, the boys in the village never showed that much interest in me. Facing forward, she tucked her hands in her lap, her interest in the small lake forgotten. Father told me that young men hold hands with a young woman, and that in private, the young man might try to give the girl a kiss, or even try to caress parts of her body. That it was all gentle and consensual, not violent and unwilling.

  Her fingers still tingled a little with the awareness of where they had landed. Tava reminded herself that Kodan wasn’t going to leap on her, that these Shifterai men were honorable, that they seemed just as trustworthy as a Mornai man would in such matters. At least, where she was concerned. No one in her village had shown that sort of interest in her.

  Too outspoken, too energetic, too educated, too curious, too . . . everything. At least for the Mornai, I was, Tava reminded herself. She snuck a look at the man sitting beside her, with only the width of his book of plants separating them from touching again, accidentally or otherwise. Yet these Shifterai don’t seem to mind me being, well . . . me. And here is one that actually wants to court me. Me, of all people!

  The worst heat of mid-afternoon was finally beginning to break, but it was still bright enough that she reached for one of the water-skins nestled at their feet. Sipping from it, she offered him the leather bag. Kodan carefully juggled the four leads of the reins, then took the bag, drinking from it. He left her the task of stoppering it, nodding his head in thanks as he resumed a two-handed control of the two mares pulling the wagon.

  Tava wanted to ask another question, but wasn’t sure if it was alright to bring up the question of why she shouldn’t mention to the others that she was a shapeshifter herself. Deciding her discretion would have to continue, she looked past him again. The sun was now low enough, she had to shade her eyes to do so, both against its rays and against the glare of light coming off the curved strip of water. The small lake he mentioned had come into view on the left, and it was indeed small, more like a pond at most. There was also a snaking line of bushes marking the bottom of the low valley, barely a wrinkle in the landscape, that traced the course of the stream feeding it.

  “I take it the ground at the mouth of the lake is also soggy?” she finally asked. “Is that why we’re not approaching it?”

 
“Yes,” he agreed. “Well, that, and when we set your ducks free to feed on the grass, none of us want to have to wade into the lake after them.”

  “But the day is hot, and we’re covered in chaff from the dry grass,” Tava pointed out. “That pond looks tempting.”

  “It also has mud, and leeches. Like sawgrass, leeches are best left alone, since a shifter isn’t always aware of their painless bites. We’re headed for a small retention pond, suitable for warbands and brief stops from caravans,” Kodan added. “It should have enough water for our needs, based on the water level of the lake, but it won’t be suitable for bathing, either. Not as our only source of water.”

  “What about where the Family is camped?” Tava asked.

  “They’re camped at the ruins of an old noble estate.”

  Tava shivered at the thought of the Shattering of Aiar. Everyone knew of the massive explosion that had devastated the old Imperial City, though no one alive knew why it had happened. With the loss of their central government, with its plethora of mages, communication mirrors, and great Portals that allowed instant travel from one side of Aiar to the other, had come the loss of a unified, continent-wide nation. Even now, almost two centuries later, many areas across the continent were still struggling to establish themselves as independent kingdoms. Or so she had heard the river merchants say whenever they had stopped on the docks of Five Springs to trade.

  Kodan noticed her shudder. “Don’t worry; our priesthood cleansed and blessed all such places long ago, and we still bless them each time we set up camp in such places. There won’t be any bad energies lingering. The basements and cellars were all scoured, repaired, and fully lined with stones, turning them into water cisterns and retention pools. Every year around this time, when the water level gets very low, we reseal them with plaster shortly before leaving for the City. The autumn rains, the melting snows of winter, and the spring storms refill them in our absence, making them ready for our return in midsummer.”

  “So there isn’t much water, then?” Tava asked, looking down at her faded, dusty green skirt. She grimaced a little. The one good thing about living in the Valley had been an abundance of water. At times, too much water, but certainly enough to bathe year-round, even if it was laborious to heat that water to anything above tepid in temperature. “Not enough to bathe?”

  “There should be enough for a bath for everyone in the warband, though the priestesses may have you just wash from a basin until proper clothes can be made for you, so that you’ll be clean when they’re fitted and ready.”

  “What do you mean, proper clothes?” she asked, frowning at him. “I’m wearing proper clothes!”

  “You’re wearing Mornai clothes. They’re fine for riding on a wagon bench, but you’ll be expected to ride like a Shifterai, which means dress like a Shifterai woman. Don’t worry,” Kodan said, guiding the mares up the side of the low valley, “if you don’t know how to ride, we’ll teach you. Or even if you only think you know how to ride, we’ll still teach you. The same with driving a wagon, shooting a bow and arrow, herding animals, twisting grass-logs for the braziers, and a host of other tasks that the Shifterai undertake each and every day here on the Plains. This is your home, and you have a lot to learn.”

  Tava wanted to argue that this wasn’t her home. That he was holding her belongings ransom to ensure her ongoing presence on the Plains. But habit kept the words behind her teeth. Habit, and something more. Something somewhere between mere politeness and actual curiosity. While it was true she had often imagined running away to a Mornai city, where female scribes would be far more welcomed in such cosmopolitan places than they were in little backwater villages, she hadn’t ever really considered traveling to other kingdoms, let alone that she might be welcomed in other lands.

  She’s thinking again. Kodan snuck glances at her as he guided the mares pulling the bright-painted trader’s wagon. She thinks so quietly, compared to our women. I want to know what she’s thinking . . . but we’re almost to the pond. Once we’re there, we’ll lose all semblance of privacy until we start out again tomorrow morning . . . and between now and then, I really should make sure the Family is warned that she’s coming.

  If someone hadn’t spotted them already, if they weren’t visited by sundown, he would have to fly to Family Tiger himself to deliver the news. He did have a reasonably swift owl form, and the evening winds might be favorable for the return trip, but flying there and back would be exhausting. Kodan hoped someone flying over the Family pasture had spotted their caravan and was on his way; if someone was coming, he could send back one of his own men with news of their impending arrival, sparing their visitor the return trip.

  Maybe his brother would like to go, to reassure their mother that her two eldest children and her husband had survived. Or perhaps Manolo, or Deian . . . I’ll have to think of who to send.

  His father might have more experience navigating the Plains than most of the warband, and was thus in the lead, but Kodan was still in charge of organizing and directing the score of men traveling around him. However interesting Tava Ell Var was turning out to be, he wasn’t going to neglect his duties even this close to home.

  There was just one problem. When he glanced at her again, she had lifted her left hand, scraping back a few strands of the soft brown hair blowing across her face. Looking at the deft movements of her fingers as she slid those strands back behind her ear made a normally ignored corner of his mind wonder what it would be like for her fingers to touch him like that. With purpose, instead of by accident. The thought sent a shiver through his blood.

  Telling that corner of his mind to be quiet and to behave, and that it hadn’t been that long since his last chance to visit with one of the earth-priestesses, Kodan focused his thoughts firmly on guiding the wagon toward the pond.

  Their visitor came winging down out of the sky just as the warband was pulling the second of the three felts into place over the roof of the geome. Kodan had decided to erect the tent for shelter despite the currently clear skies so that it would be apparent to any distant watcher that this was a Shifterai caravan, not some group of outland traders. So when the hawk landed and transformed into the half-naked, half-feathered body of a shifter named Medred, the young man was already grinning in welcome.

  “Welcome home, South Paw!” he called out cheerfully. “I see you went out with only a couple of wagons, and have come back with more than ten!”

  “Medred!” Tedro shouted back. He pulled on the lead-rope, hauling the roof up into place, then passed it to one of the others and hurried to embrace his cousin. They hugged; then Tedro stepped back and gestured at Kodan, who had paused from his own work of helping to unfold the outer layers of oiled canvas in order to help greet their arrival. “Wait until you see the haul Kodan secured for us from the Mornai!”

  “Eleven wagons, when you left with three?” Medred retorted. “I do have functional eyes, cousin.”

  “What Tedro means is that most of the wagons do not belong to us,” Kodan said, joining the conversation.

  He clasped forearms with the younger man in greeting. Medred glanced between him and Tedro, visibly confused. Tedro grinned, enjoying his cousin’s confusion.

  “Most of them, and most of their contents, belong to a Mornai woman we have brought back for adoption into the Family. Minus the Family’s tithe, of course,” Kodan explained. “I’ll be sending Lak kan back to the Family tonight to explain our arrival—he volunteered for it.”

  Medred smirked. “Four years, and he still acts like he’s newly leaped to his wife. I trust I’m welcome to stay with you overnight to rest and eat?”

  “And to tell us the news of all that’s happened while we were gone,” Tedro added.

  “Well, the first two pieces of news deal with you,” Medred said, giving Kodan a significant look. “The first of which is, Rahala is gone.”

  “And this is important, how?” Kodan returned mildly. Inwardly, part of him sighed with relief. The other part was
annoyed at the mere mention of the young woman’s name. Annoying though she was, he didn’t wish her ill; courtesy prompted him to ask, “Is she dead?”

  “No. Or at least not as far as we know. She insisted on . . .” Medred trailed off, staring past his cousin’s shoulder. The other two glanced that way as well, following the line of his stare.

  That gaze had landed on Tava, who was emerging from the bushes lining the retention pond. Her baggy green dress, cut in the unflattering Mornai style, was damp in a few spots down the front, suggesting she had taken the time to fill herself as well as the two buckets she carried from the water. It pleased him to see her offering to help set up camp, giving him hope that she was beginning to accept the fact that she had a place waiting for her on the Shifting Plains, that she would fit in among her own kind far better than she had with the Valley folk.

  “Is that her?” Medred asked, watching her hauling the heavy buckets with ease.

  “Tava Ell Var,” Kodan said, lifting his chin at the young woman. “She comes from a somewhat isolated and barbaric village. She’s a bit shy because of their culture, but there is a fire banked inside of her, one worthy of the Plains.”

  “. . . Kodan wants to court her,” Tedro translated for his cousin.

  “Ah. Well, once she gets out of that sack she’s wearing, she might actually be quite pretty . . . but that only makes Rahala’s absence all the better for you,” Medred said, turning back to Kodan. “She could be as ugly as a toad, and Rahala would throw a fit, if you wanted to court her.”

  “You were telling us what happened to the girl?” Kodan prompted. “She insisted on . . . something?”

  “Yes—she insisted on going with the West Paw when they es corted that caravan westward. It happened just after you left,” Medred explained. “And then, when they passed the caravan on to Family Malamute just inside Clan Dog territory, she insisted on going farther west with their escort, too. From what the West Paw says, she spent a lot of her time driving the wagon of that really tall, old fellow, conversing with him.”