Shifting Plains

by Jean Johnson

  So here’s another question, she thought, staring up at the faint light coming down through the smoke hole in the cone-protected roof. How long would Kodan want to keep my abilities a secret? I mean, I know why I would want to keep them a secret. First and foremost, I’m still holding the chance I might need to escape in reserve . . . though I must admit I like these people. The only time Soukut . . . no, sorry, Soulet, the daughter, told me to be quiet and stop asking questions was when I was letting my supper grow cold.

  That memory made her smile. I think I’ve talked both of those women sore; no wonder Soukut is snoring! Her daughter said something about how, given how fast I’m absorbing and retaining information, they shouldn’t throw me into a more formal sort of class just yet. That instead, I should just ask as many questions as they can tolerate—if Kodan had a book on the plants of the Plains as an instructional aid for their children, I should ask if they have any other, similar books, just so I can read those instead and give their poor voices a rest . . .

  But back to the problem of being a princess. Do I want to be a princess? That was a serious question for her. I’ve had some minor status as a scribe, and concomitant responsibilities. But it’s not the same thing at all. If Family Tiger has no princesses, and my shapeshifting abilities are revealed . . . they’ll expect me to be a Shifterai princess. To take over the leadership of the Family.

  One of the ladies—I can’t remember which—said that a poorly trained princess is a lousy substitute for a competent multerai lord. And Kodan did emphasize just how much responsibility a multerai is supposed to handle. Himself in particular, since he is now the strongest shifter in Family Tiger. I think he would make a good Lord of Tiger, at least based on what little I know. He certainly thinks ahead about things, which Father always said was important. To think, and then act.

  I think it best if I continue to hide my shapechanging abilities, at least for a while more, she decided. I don’t know enough about this culture—though I’ve had an earful in just one day! A brief overview of their history, inheritance laws, taxation, and tithe structures, an overview of their seasonal migration behaviors, an introduction to their worship practices, what to expect when we pack up camp and start heading for the City . . . but it’s not nearly enough knowledge to risk letting anyone presume I can be a Shifterai princess just yet.

  Inhaling deeply, she stretched both arms over her head and arched her back, tensing everything, then let out her breath in a heavy sigh, relaxing her muscles. It didn’t work. She was still wide-awake. Nothing for it but to keep thinking, I suppose . . . If they knew I was a princess—adopted or not—I don’t think Family Tiger would be eager to let me go. Not if we’re as rare as all that.

  And I think, if a woman has that much status, she’d be eyed by these Shifterai men like the girls of the village eyed the Aldeman’s two sons. Like prime beef fattened for the fall. They’d not be so bold as to squabble in public . . . but in private, when we were all picking berries in the summer, they’d argue as to which would make the better husband, and whose father would be able to make the better marriage offer for their daughter.

  I, of course, was ridiculed as being too “manly” as a scribe to be a good, proper prospect for a wife . . . but they never said it to my face. I had status, a craft, a way to earn my living above and beyond their farming and gathering. But it was as much a millstone tied to my feet as a platform to stand above them, at least in Valley life. Up here, on the Plains . . . women can have status. Very high status. And all I know about it is that I’m not ready to even think about whether or not I want to grasp it.

  The tight cocoon of my old Mornai life is cracking, but it still constricts me, Tava acknowledged. I’m still something of a caterpillar, inside. But only because I haven’t fully figured out how to shape myself a set of huge, beautiful wings.

  Soukut snorked and shifted on her own, broader bed, making the ropes creak and the bedding rustle. Tava sighed and shifted onto her other side. She could hear padding footsteps somewhere beyond the lattice and felt walls, and in the distance the bleating of a goat. Other sounds could be heard, along with the fluttering of something cloth ish being rustled by the night wind.

  There’s another problem. There are so many people here. Back home, I didn’t live in the heart of the village, but on its outskirts. I had lots of privacy to be myself, and when I discovered I could wriggle and lengthen my toes that one day, I had lots of privacy to learn how to shift the rest of my body. Here . . . everyone lives in each other’s pouches, practically. If I keep my abilities a secret, I won’t be able to shift my shape. Not without the risk of being seen and caught.

  I miss being able to shift my shape, but for all that, there are no restrictions on a woman’s status in Shifterai life . . . There does seem to be quite a few restrictions on a young woman’s freedom. I have to be circumspect around men, I have to stay in the maiden’s geome at night . . . Even Soukut admitted that, by letting me stay with her in her home, I was treated more like a son than a daughter, since daughters of my age stay with the other unmarried women.

  Are the freedoms gained by being able to say whatever I want—within the bounds of general politeness, of course—worth the losses of not being able to go wherever I want? They have all these customs that give the women great status and power, and are very civilized because of it, but the trade-off is making sure the women do nothing to excite a man into forgetting his civilized side. Not that I’m complaining about how careful these people are to avoid anything that could lead a man into the temptation of forcing himself on a woman! Mother’s memoir is enough reason to be glad of that. But it just seems . . . restrictive.

  So is living here worth that restriction? Twisting to get more comfortable, she stifled a yawn with the other one, finally feeling sleepy. I don’t know . . . mainly because I don’t yet know. I’m seeing their culture through eyes that are only a few days old. Kodan is right about a lot of things. I do need to stay for at least a month, if not a year. I have questions that can be answered by asking and questions that can only be answered by observing, and observing takes time.

  Her right hand brushed against her breast as she tucked it back by her side. That reminded her of his instructions. Idly, Tava rubbed her thumb against her nipple. It did feel good, better than her first attempts at self-arousal, but not quite as good as when he had been there, just out of reach, whispering instructions to her in the night.

  A smile spread across her face. That’s another reason for sticking around. I liked what I felt last night. I didn’t even know it was possible, until he showed me. Just like I didn’t know it was possible to live a completely different life, before he came along. I wonder . . . is one of the reasons why he wants me to keep silent on my shapeshifting abilities because he wants to keep my status all to himself? Like I’m a gold coin found washed downstream with the spring mud, something to be plucked out and tucked away quickly, before the others could try to claim it for themselves?

  For that matter . . . do I want him to pluck me out for himself?

  That was something she hadn’t really considered yet. Growing up with just her father, she had considered living alone as an adult a normal option. Particularly since being placed under the patriarchal thumb of some Valley man hadn’t appealed to her independent mind.

  Kodan says he wants to court me, but not once has he tried to stifle anything about me, save for keeping the secret of my shapeshifting abilities. Well, that, and he insisted I come onto the Plains with him, she allowed honestly. But do I want to be courted by him? All the power for picking a mate rests in the hands of a Shifterai woman. It’s not a matter of the eldest men of each family arranging the match, with only a minor amount of consultation between their respective daughters and sons.

  If I don’t want him interested in me, would it be fair to let him . . . No, I can feel parts of me protesting at that thought, Tava admitted, smiling a second time. I do like him, very much so. He’s different from the Mornai men I
know, yet in some ways he’s very much like Father. Intelligent, thoughtful, bookish . . . even if his father complains about it. I don’t know yet if I’d actually hold out my hand to him . . . but I do know I’m willing to let him court me some more.

  Once I’m done having my head stuffed with the Shifterai way of life, of course . . .

  It was hard, waiting for her ten days of instruction to end. Kodan caught glimpses of her as the priestesses led Tava around the Family, introducing her to people, showing her how various tasks were completed, and explaining in general how things were meant to be done on the Plains. It didn’t help that his own days were quickly filled with all manner of distractions.

  He did get to see Tava when she was brought out with the others to witness the simple ceremony acknowledging him as the new Lord of Tiger, which basically consisted of being given a coat made from stripe-cat fur, accepting the fealty of the two Councils pledging as a group to follow his lead in whatever decisions needed to be made, and the fealties of those individuals who wanted to show their support personally. But though both of them were now housed in the center of the camp, neither of them had much contact with the other.

  Being a leader, Kodan discovered, was rather lonely. He had plenty of attention from what felt like half the maidens in the Family, but they just giggled and blushed when they saw him, or asked trivial questions solely so that they could engage his attention. It was true that several of the maidens were prettier than Tava, with fuller figures and thicker hair, and more of the confidence that came with the self-awareness of their own beauty. Many were energetic and opinionated, as a Shifterai woman should be, but it wasn’t quite the same as Tava’s quiet but still fiery spirit.

  The closest he could get to her were the inquiries he was allowed to make regarding the progress of her instruction. As Lord of Tiger, it was his right to know how well a newcomer was adapting to Shifterai life. Kodan wasn’t fooled into thinking Priestess Soukut had missed his interest in her, but at least the elderly priestess was willing to give him a glowing report each day on how fast Tava was learning and adapting to her new home.

  In fact, she complained that Tava was thinking too much, making it difficult for her instructors to keep up with her at times. That revelation had made Kodan laugh, but it also made him feel wistful, since he wasn’t one of the ones answering her questions. Instead, he was kept busy settling the arguments and disputes that had accumulated in the weeks since the passing of the previous Lord.

  By the eighth day, Kodan had finally caught up on all previous complaints. A few new ones had arisen, but the greatest concern on everyone’s mind was that the Tailtip Warband had not yet returned. There was still plenty of water in the cellar-reservoirs off to the east of the camp, but there was a debate as to whether they should move the camp to the east side of the cisterns so that fresh grass would be within reach of the herds while they waited a little longer, or just start heading for the farms around the City so that they could arrive in time for the late harvests, in the hope that the warband would catch up with them eventually.

  As Tava’s sponsor into the Family, it was his responsibility to care for her belongings while she was undergoing instruction. Naturally, the hearth-priestess had taken Tava around the encampment, showing her how the Shifterai cared for their animals and giving her opportunities to practice on the animals of others as well as her own. Kodan still managed to be on hand for the milking of her three goats each morning and late afternoon, and on the eighth day, they almost had enough privacy for him to speak with her.

  Almost, except that just as they both settled down on the stools kept under the roof of the milking stall, one of the older children drove a group of nanny goats into the other half of the covered area, bringing the animals out of the misting rain. The youth’s family converged on the tent, ready to help with the milking. Mindful of the curious looks cast his way, and the fact that his every move was now scrutinized and discussed, Kodan resigned himself to a bland inquiry or two about her progress.

  Tava immediately chatted about all the things she had been learning. Half his attention on the teats of the goat in front of him, Kodan listened and nodded and remembered to ask a few questions of his own. It didn’t matter what she said about the mixture of herbs needed for soothing the sores on a cow’s udder, or the latest chapter in the book on how to hunt the wild animals that roamed the Plains; he just liked listening to her voice.

  He also liked looking at her, enjoying the sight of her clad in brand-new clothes, a chamsa cut from some of the blue linen from the trader wagon and golden tan breikas tucked into her boots. She wore a lighter yellow undertunic beneath the blue one, visible at the cuffs, collar, and panelskirts, and he liked the combination on her. A nip from the nanny he was milking pulled his attention back to what he was doing. With her udder milked almost dry, he gentled his touch, pausing to pinch her ear when the goat tried to nip him again.

  Tied to one of the posts hammered into the ground, the goat went back to nibbling on the straw scattered over the ground as he finished milking her. Kodan shifted his stool to the third of Tava’s little herd. She did so on the other side at the same time, making him smile. A quick glance at the others under the protective awning showed they were focused on their own animals.

  “Here,” Kodan murmured, reaching under the goat’s belly, “let me see your milking technique.”

  His hands covered hers as they grasped the nanny’s teats, and their eyes met above the creature’s back. He smiled at her, and she blushed and smiled back. Kodan didn’t bother to actually guide her fingers in the rippling squeeze that milking required. Instead, he caressed her hands, subtly stroking the backs of her fingers as she worked.

  “You have a good technique.” Another quick glance toward the others, and he dropped his voice to a whisper, one barely audible over the light pattering of rain on the canvas roof and the hissing of the milk hitting the pail. “With a nanny goat, you squeeze and pull . . . but with a man, you rub and stroke . . .”

  Her green eyes widened, and another blush crept across her cheeks. Kodan grinned.

  “I just want to make sure you’re fully instructed in all things.”

  She blushed even harder. Leaning closer to the animal’s flanks, Tava whispered back, “Soulet called her husband, Priest Yemii, into the teaching tent yesterday. She had him strip, and . . . pointed out everything on him, including how to touch him. I wasn’t sure if I’d rather have had your Mother Earth open up and swallow me down, I was that flustered—I know I would have died from shock if she’d asked me to touch him. You didn’t warn me they’d do that, you know!”

  “That’s usually the duty of any male priest, to be used as a model for instruction,” Kodan returned under his breath. “But no, you wouldn’t be asked to touch him. I didn’t even think about it, because the earth-priestesses encourage the men they teach to learn right there and then what things are and how they should be treated. It’s a different method of instruction. Very, um, hands-on. But you can always refuse if something makes you uncomfortable, Tava. You do have the right to say no.”

  Grateful that she could have a reprieve, Tava confessed, “I’m glad I can say no. It was bad enough Soukut wanted me to touch myself, to practice . . . things . . . on myself in front of her. But it just isn’t the same. It was even less interesting than, um, in private, though at least since that night, it’s been much nicer than my first few attempts. But . . . it’s not the same on my own.” Green eyes peeked up at him as she stroked and squeezed rhythmically, then darted toward the others and back. “. . . I miss you.”

  Pride and pleasure welled up inside of him. “I miss you, too.”

  This isn’t about courting her into wanting to stay on the Plains anymore , he acknowledged silently, watching her every move. It’s about courting her for my own reasons. I’ve met many Shifterai women over the years, many of them beautiful and intelligent, but none of them interests me the way she does. Just two more days, and then she’ll
be formally adopted into the Family, and I can openly—

  The blaring notes of the an-tak startled both of them. Turning his head, Kodan pinpointed the sound as coming from the center of camp and the pattern of notes as the call for a general assembly. That confused him, and disappointed him, too. As the Lord of Tiger, it was his responsibility foremost to respond to such a call, though he didn’t know why anyone from either the Shifter or the Sister Council should have sounded that particular pattern.

  “That’s . . . the call for the general assembly, right?” Tava asked, puzzling it out for herself.

  Kodan nodded. Pulling back, he checked the nanny’s udder, sliding his hands from hers to the goat’s tender skin. “This is the one with the kid, so she’s almost done anyway. Always leave a little milk for the offspring to suckle at night.”

  “I know . . . and thank you for helping me with them,” Tava added.

  “Thank my little cousins, who get paid in honeycomb and other sweets to tend your goats on top of the rest of my kin’s herds,” he quipped. “I’ll untie and send them back to the fields while you carry the pails to the priests’ camp.”

  “Ah, go on, Kodan!” one of the middle-aged men milking the other goats called out. “We’ll take them back to pasture with ours. You need to answer the an-tak. Just take my son Jemak with the two of you, so we’ll know what’s happening at the center.”

  Nodding, Kodan gestured for the teenaged boy to come over and join them. “Jemak, you take the lighter pail, and I’ll take the heavier one.”

  “I can carry my own pails,” Tava reminded him.

  Kodan quirked a brow at her. “Yes, but why should you have to work that hard, when you have two strong men to order around?”

  About to protest, Tava caught the teenaged boy pulling back his shoulders and lifting his chin, smiling a little. He was skinny and young, no more than fifteen, but it was obvious he took pride in being included as a fellow “strong man” by Kodan. Unwilling to deflate the boy’s pride, she nodded, acceding Kodan’s point.