Shifting Plains

by Jean Johnson

  Now here I am, trying to avoid the attention of one woman while wanting to court another, and worried about what the first one will do to the second if she decides the second one is a serious rival. Rahala is already suspicious. The longer I take in courting Tava, the more time Rahala will have to think up some way to spoil things for us. She’s done it before with other maidens who tried to catch my eye. She’s also clever enough to think of ways to harass Tava without openly displaying bad behavior . . . though she’s never had to avoid the level of attention that being the leader of a Family entails.

  But that brings up another worry. I know most of the Family knows I’m the one behind Tava’s adoption. And that I’m interested in courting her, even if she is an outlander. His mind turned over the possibilities of that situation. Someone is bound to let my interest slip . . . if not by accident, then possibly quite deliberately. Tava is an outlander . . . and Rahala is not just a Shifterai woman, but potentially a shapechanger, too.

  Which brings me back to her parting comment. Does the rest of the Family think that the only reason I’ve been turning down her interest in me, and the interest of all the other maidens in the Family, is because there haven’t been any princesses in our encampment until now? If so . . . that’s a stupid line of reasoning, he decided, frowning. If I wanted a princess, I could’ve courted any of the ones I’ve met over the years, wintering in the City. Gods know Family Lion certainly has several to spare. Of course, most of those are barely able to take on three or four shapes . . .

  A moment later, he stiffened, then smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead. Stupid! Stupid stupid! Do you realize you have never once asked Tava how many shapes she can shift into? She doesn’t have to reveal herself as a shapeshifter if she doesn’t want to—in fact, if she would rather move to another Family, I think I’d follow her—but if Rahala tries to make her life unpleasant, it’s possible that Tava can make enough pure shapes to out-shift Rahala!

  The only problem with that line of thought was that Kodan had seen her shifting only that one time in the forest, and that had been a rapid flow from one shape to the next. A bearlike shape, a furred, muscular humanoid, and a tigerish creature. The stripe-cat had looked the most realistic, about as real as his own had been, but there hadn’t been enough time to be sure she could shape herself into a pure animal form. Not to mention that combat was a free-for-all in more ways than one, since battling an enemy successfully meant shifting whatever sort of limb, claw, or muscle would best get the job done.

  Unfortunately, there’s no telling how many or how few pure forms she can shift. Rahala hasn’t been gone that long, and if she could learn five shapes in such a short time . . . she could be a very powerful shapeshifter, indeed. Which means she might be able to learn twice that many . . . and I don’t even know if Tava can shape a third form beyond a bear and a tiger, never mind as many as Rahala might.

  But . . . if she can . . . She may have learned a lot more than most new adoptees learn in just eight days, but she’d still need to live in our culture for some time before her judgment as a leader would be readily accepted. Rahala could argue that, as the native-born, she’d be the better princess, at least to start out with . . . and then find some way to drive Tava away, maybe. Unless . . . unless if Tava held out her hand to me, and I leaped across to her . . . then she’d have me to back her up, and the combination of a powerful princess and an experienced warlord as her closest counselor should be enough to tip the balance in our favor, where the Councils are concerned.

  The problem being, if Tava is powerful enough to out-shift Rahala, if Tava wishes to reveal her powers as a shapeshifter, and if she’d be willing to hold out her hand to me in marriage . . .

  His thoughts had spiraled back to his original, pre-Rahala problem: Getting Tava interested enough in him to want to hold out her hand to him. The mage-priestess’ comment about talking herself hoarse in order to satisfy Tava’s boundless curiosity reminded him of his own method of sating it. Pushing himself upright, Kodan glanced around his geome, seeking the chest of books he had brought, the one containing a sample of his City-stored collection.

  I still owe her at least one new book . . . and all the rest of them that I can find, as lures for her attention. Plus, since she’s an adult maiden, as soon as the adoption ceremony passes, there will be an opportunity for all the bachelors in the Family who might be interested in her to give her courting gifts. Nothing lascivious as a first-gift . . . but a book could hardly be considered inappropriate.

  Rising, he crossed to the chest he wanted and knelt in front of it, unlatching the lid. Let’s see . . . She already has my book on plants. I didn’t think to bring the one covering the animals of the Plains; that one would have made a good, thoughtful companion to the first, but I left it back at the City.

  She might be interested in this book on bow-carving and arrow fletching, and the use of archery in hunting and warfare throughout known history. Soukut said she’s coming along very well in her archery lessons—in many ways, Tava is shaping up to be the perfect Shifterai maiden. Or at least perfect for me, he acknowledged, smiling to himself. I think other men might find her mix of long, thoughtful silences and excessive, probing questions a bit of a headache, whereas I find it fascinating.

  Or maybe I should give her my copy of Tales from Troya. It’s a book of adventures, fictional stories of heroes and heroines getting into and out of trouble, triumphing over evil, and many of them romantic in nature. Perfect for relaxing in the evening. Of course, most of them deal with stories from a mountainous terrain, hardly evocative of the Plains . . . but she did live somewhat close to the Correda Mountains. And we did meet first among the foothills of those mountains, even if it was a very, very brief meeting . . .

  For another maiden, one who was equally interested in reading, he might have chosen the book of adventurers. But Tava was different. She had clearly delighted in the tales he and the others in the South Paw Warband had related, but she had also shown equal delight in learning practical things. It took Kodan several minutes of dithering over which one to give her before it dawned on him that he could give her both.

  That, more than anything, will show her how interested I am in her, he decided. She’s a scribe by trade. She not only understands the value of books more than most, she values books more than most. True, I haven’t read Tales from Troya in a few years, but there are other copies floating around the City, or there were, last time I visited the shops of the booksellers . . . No, better yet, he thought, inspired. I can make it a condition of giving the books to her that she read some of them to me! Yes . . . that’ll be perfect.

  Or rather, make the suggestion that she reads the stories to me. I’d rather she read them to me of her own free will, that she showed her interest in spending time with me of her own free will. I’ll suggest the idea, but not make it a condition. I did coerce her into coming to the Plains in the first place; I’ll not compound it by coercing her into spending time with me if she really doesn’t want to. Particularly since she seems to want to spend time with me of her own volition.

  So . . . the book of archery first. It isn’t often done, since the Lord of a Family is usually already mated, but it would be my duty as the highest-ranking bachelor to present a courting gift first, if I am so inclined. And I am so inclined, he asserted mentally, extracting the parchment-spined tome from among the others resting on end in the chest. Then, after the other bachelors have had their chance to present their gifts . . . I’ll give her the adventure book. I’ll mention how I’d be delighted to listen to her reading them if she cares to share any of the stories, and how I’d be honored to read some of them to her in turn.

  It’ll twist Rahala’s tail—shifted or fictional—to see me giving her two first-gifts. Now that I’ve finally met the one woman who actually interests me, I do want to make it clear to Rahala that she’ll never be that woman, no matter what she does, or how hard she tries. I never have been interested in her, and I never wi
ll be.

  Tava is the one woman I want. A rueful smile twisted his mouth. Even if I didn’t realize it back when we first met. Thank you, Father Sky, for opening my eyes.

  ELEVEN

  Despite her training, Tava couldn’t keep up with the names and faces of the whole Family being paraded past her as a part of her welcoming ceremony. She was accustomed to keeping track of the constantly shifting offers and counteroffers of contracts, yes, but seven hundred eighty-three men, women, and children were a bit too much to memorize. They did group themselves according to which branch of the sprawling camp they were associated with, which was somewhat helpful, though the naming of kinship ties coupled with the occasional listing of occupations and skills clouded the details in her mind.

  It was with a dazed sort of relief that the long greeting line finally came to an end. At least she had been given a bench seat to rest upon, and she wasn’t expected to do more than smile, murmur a particular person’s name, clasp forearms with them, and occasionally allow someone to hug her in greeting—usually an exuberant child, though Kodan’s father and mother also hugged her in welcome. But the line came to an end and she was allowed to sink back onto the bench and wait for the next stage of the ceremony.

  The heat of the roaring bonfire in the great pit was far enough away that it was pleasant, not overbearing. It was also necessary, for the last rainstorm had brought a distinct nip of cold wind with it. She wasn’t the only one wearing a long, woolen overtunic, though hers was undoubtedly the newest, for the bright blue wool, trimmed along its edges with linen dyed a lovely shade of lavender, had been given its last few stitches by the weaver Kinedi just that morning. The outer coat went well with her light blue linen chamsa and matching lavender breikas.

  Even her boots were new, calf-high mocasha made from felted gray wool and black-dyed leather. Several members of the family had commented on how the colors suited her, and many of the women had admired the Mornai-style plaiting of her hair, with its woven and pinned loops decorating the nape of her neck. Between that and the admiring glances of some of the younger men, Tava felt pretty as well as welcomed, two things she’d never quite felt this strongly back down in the Valley.

  The warm appreciation visible in Kodan’s light brown eyes warmed her almost as much as the fire did. In contrast, the hints of displeasure in the shapeshifter woman’s eyes chilled some of the air between her and Rahala. The other woman did smile at her, and greeted her properly enough, but Tava couldn’t quite bring herself to trust the genial-seeming curve of those lovely lips. Even now, Rahala hovered close to Kodan, her smile still there despite the length of time it had taken so many people to come forward, herding their children and minding their elders.

  She was also acting the part of the gracious hostess and ruler-presumptive. Tava had to admire Rahala’s deftness, even as she disliked it. The other woman never quite overstepped Kodan’s authority . . . but she did play up her status as a shapeshifter . . . and appeared wearing a thin, sleeveless linen chamsa that exposed the dark brown fur coating her arms, sheltering her flesh from the wind in much the same way many of the men were doing.

  More than that, Rahala had first appeared with bare skin, had rubbed her upper arms dramatically in front of the others . . . and then grown the fur into place. Much as Tava herself would have done, if she didn’t have such nice clothes to wear, and wasn’t still hesitant about exposing that aspect of herself. She certainly didn’t want to copy the attention-drawing aspects of her rival.

  The smells of cooking food wafting from the geomes placed upwind of camp center were beginning to make her hungry. Wondering when the promised feast would arrive, she turned to ask Kodan, but he was listening to something Deian was whispering in his ear. The other shapeshifter gestured, and Kodan nodded.

  Raising his hands, Kodan sought to recapture the attention of those still gathered around the great bonfire. Many of the women and some of the men had slipped away to tend to those wonderful smells, or to return to their duty in watching over the various herds in the distance, but the rest had gathered into groups around the fire, talking and laughing among themselves. Many of the children were laughing and shrieking, enjoying a chase-me game not too dissimilar to the dozens Tava herself had played at that age back in the Valley. They dodged among the benches, chairs, and cushions strewn around the clearing between the largest geomes at the center of the camp, leaping like mountain goats over the obstacles in their paths.

  A few of the adults thankfully noticed Kodan’s gesture and nudged their nearest neighbors, who in turn caught the attention of still more, catching and quieting the children with admonishments to pay attention.

  “Family Tiger!” Kodan called out, raising his voice to be heard above the crackling roar of the fire. “We have greeted our newest member and made her feel quite welcome. But before we can start the feast, there is one more greeting that should be given. Tava Ell Var is a maiden of suitable age. With that in mind, I invoke the rite of First-Gifting . . . by being the first of many undoubted admirers to give her a courting gift.”

  Tava flicked her gaze to Rahala. The other woman’s smile had stiffened, along with her posture. Tava quickly pulled her attention back to Kodan, who had plucked something from a cloth bag tucked under one of the folding chairs brought out for the adoption ceremony. Approaching her, he knelt on one knee and presented the book.

  “This book covers the history, construction, and use of the bow and arrow. I give it to you so that you will know how much I want to ensure you remain safe from all that would threaten you,” he stated, placing the book in her lap.

  His words were formal, but his gaze was warm. The way he carefully folded her fingers around the tome was equally warming, for it reminded her of the way he had caressed her hand and forearm the night before arriving at the camp. Blushing, Tava curled her fingers around the corners of the book, mindful of all the eyes upon her and unsure if she was free to caress him back. It might be acceptable by the customs she had been instructed in, but everyone was watching them, including Rahala. She settled for a subtle shift of her thumbs, permitting her a subtle caress of her own.

  “. . . This is where you say something polite to your suitor,” Kodan added in a murmur.

  “Uh . . . I accept your gift, Kodan Sin Siin, and thank you for your caring thoughtfulness. I will treasure it well and treat it gently . . . particularly as it will always remind me of you,” Tava said, speaking up so that the others could hear her reply. Squeezing her hands, Kodan rose and backed up, gesturing for someone else to take his place.

  Deian came forward, kneeling in front of her as smoothly as if he had rehearsed. “I do realize you only have eyes for my friend, but I hope you will enjoy my gift anyway,” he murmured, before raising his voice loud enough for the others to hear. “I give you this bracelet of amber, each bead carved like a stripe-cat, so that you will always feel protected by the men of our Family . . . and hopefully by this tiger in particular.”

  “Thank you, Deian; your protection on the journey here was noticed and appreciated,” Tava told him. His pleased smile told her that her response was the right one. Rising, he pressed his hands together, bowed politely, and stepped back. To her surprise, Manolo took his place.

  “I offer you this wreath of flowers, made of prairie roses, forget-me-nots, and rora vine . . . so that you will always think sweetly of me, no matter what life may ask you to burn in your hearth.” The grin he flashed her startled her even more, for the older man had seemed as sober as his middle-aged years. He leaned forward a little and murmured an explanation. “You’ll be getting a lot of these wreaths, judging from the way the hills and folds for a couple miles around have been denuded. That, and the Family does need to move camp soon.”

  Tava blushed at the older man’s claim, unsure of what to say in response. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to need one.

  A light caress of the hands now holding the wreath on top of the bracelet on top of the book, and he gracefully rose and
backed away, leaving the venue free for someone else. Kenyen flung himself into Manolo’s place, his arms draped with a small but beautiful blanket made of pieced-together squares of creamy white and silvery gray lamb’s wool.

  “I give you this lap-throw so that you may stay warm wherever and whenever you sit. Hopefully, you will sit and think fondly of me with it.” Nudging her other gifts up off her lap, he draped it over her legs and tucked it in, then spoke quietly. “I realize my brother thinks he has the first claim to court you, but I do hope you will consider my own courting as equally sincere. He was right to rescue you, and I am very glad that you are one of us now. I hope to show you how glad someday very soon.”

  Before she could think of a reply, he bounded to his feet, bowed gracefully, and backed up. Torei hesitantly came forward, knelt on one knee, and offered her a wreath. Accepting it along with his stammered praise of her loveliness, Tava realized that an actual line had formed behind him, a line that was a good thirty or more men long. Many were close to Torei and her in age, including a good number who were clearly still in the awkward stages of puberty, while some were a little older like Kodan, and a few were Manolo’s age.

  Just as the older shifter had quietly warned her, many were carrying wreaths in their hands, though some had brought other gifts. Soukut had explained that this would probably happen, but Tava had dismissed it. There was still a part of her that didn’t think she was all that attractive, based on how little attention the young men of the Valley had given her. Bewildered that so many men would want to give her courting gifts, Tava didn’t know quite how to respond, other than politely. All she could do was accept the gifts handed to her, piling them on the expanse of bench to either side, and murmur her thanks for their thoughtfulness.

  Behind and to one side, ostensibly presiding over the gift-giving ceremony as the Lord of the Family, Kodan carefully hid his displeasure. Part of him knew the other men had noticed her intelligence and her beauty, and had been prepared for it . . . but part of him had not expected his own brother to give her a gift as semi-intimate as a lap-throw. The only more telling gesture Kenyen could have made of his affection would have been to give her a piece of clothing. Or worse, a blanket for her bed, not just for her lap.