The Shaman of Karres

by Eric Flint

  She turned to Ta’zara: “It is said that a brave man knows no fear of the great shark. But a truly brave man is the man who has been savaged by the shark and barely lived, and goes back to the water to face it again. Ta’zara, you faced the shark not once but again and again. For yourself, for your brothers-in-arms, and for me. It is a great honor for my family to have me served by such a warrior. Now: It is customary for the Ta’taimi to reward a warrior for his service.” She whistled, and Me’a’s two bodyguards came dogtrotting across the sand carrying a small but plainly heavy box, and set it down at her feet.

  The Leewit opened it, revealing layers of gold coins. She looked at Ta’zara. Looked at the elders. She realized she’d learned quite a lot in the circus—and not just about fanderbags and circus tricks and the plays Richard Cravan and Dame Ethy produced, but about playing the crowds. She waited for approving grunts to fade to silence. Then, regal as any empress, she said, “Not enough. Not nearly enough. Fetch more.”

  The two men trotted off, and returned with another box. She repeated the performance. Three more times, she did it. Then she bent down and took a double handful of the coins and put them into his hands. “From my own hands to yours, the gift is given. Use it as you see fit.” She could see, both by Ta’zara’s astounded face and the approving faces of the clan, that Me’a had instructed her very well on this. She could see the relief in Ta’zara’s face. He could not bring his squad home, but he would be able to see his dead squad brothers’ families and the clan provided for. She hadn’t realized how that must have weighed on him.

  He bowed very low, stood up and said, “Thank you, mistress. It is an honor to serve. Not only did you give me my freedom from captivity, you gave me healing, and you allowed me to avenge my clan’s dead. That was gift enough. But for this, for my clan brothers and their families, I thank you.”

  “It is my gift. And it is still not enough. But it is what is in my ability to give,” she said formally.

  Several of the elders of the clan got up and came over to them. “What’s going on?” asked the Leewit, quietly.

  “They come to escort you to sit with them,” said Ta’zara with the broadest smile she’d ever seen on his face. “It is a great honor. I must sing my brothers home now.”

  “Ah. Well, you can tell them that Goth can get the stones of the arena to tell the whole story. So there are witnesses,” she said.

  “That too is a great gift, mistress.”

  * * *

  Pausert didn’t understand what the Leewit had been saying, or the singing that followed. He got the pride and sadness, but the words themselves meant nothing to him. After the first “shush” from the intent Me’a, who was watching both the distant spectacle and had it on screen of her spy ray, which had her two guards’ eyes also glued to it, he left the words to mean whatever they meant. Judging by the three that did understand, it was pretty gripping.

  But, watching the Leewit, standing there, he felt a kind of sadness as well as satisfaction. The little blond waif he used to have to tell to wash behind her ears was growing up. Oh, she’d be back to being the Leewit as soon as she got back on the ship. But soon she wouldn’t need him or Goth. She’d probably go adventuring on her own. And then he’d have her to worry about too. A teaching pattern was all very well, and yes, it let the children of Karres grow up and get an education in ways the Nikkeldepain Academy for the Sons and Daughters of Gentlemen and Officers hadn’t. But he was still very protective about the youngest of the witches. He was pretty protective of the middle one too, of course. Goth had been happy to be back on the Venture, seemingly very happy to see him. He could tell that something was troubling her, but he knew by now she’d only tell him what it was when she was ready to.

  After the feasting—and it was a great feast, no matter what Me’a said—they’d all returned to the Venture. There’d be two more days of small tides before the huge tide that would make the landing beach vanish, and they’d agreed to spend that time sitting on their tubes and letting Ta’zara have some time with his extended family. There was no telling when the Venture might be back this way again.

  Ta’zara’s face always gave little away, but when they returned to the ship in the small hours of the morning he just looked more at ease. He—not the captain—had carried the fast-asleep full-bellied Leewit back to the ship and up to her cabin.

  Once they had put her in her bunk and covered her up and closed the door on her, Ta’zara put his hand on Pausert’s shoulder. “My thanks, Captain. That was a great gift, and given with a great kindness and understanding.”

  “It’s more or less the Leewit’s share. Besides, you did a lot for us,” said Pausert. “She did well tonight, didn’t she?”

  Ta’zara beamed. “She did very well. Indeed, I think what she said about the shark will become part of the Aiwi’s legend. My clan thought I had placed them under an obligation and now they want to adopt her into the clan. She spoke very well.” He laughed. “And then she ate very well, which is also important to us. And I too have some peace. Tomorrow, when she wakes, I will take her to meet and talk with my family. My sister, her children, some of my friends from the clan. The elders will want to be visited too. You will not mind waiting on us?”

  “We haven’t exactly got a deadline for Karoda, and the next leg is beyond the borders,” said Pausert with a smile. “Goth says that after all these years there’s not really a reason to drop everything and run. I don’t know that I agree. I have some unpleasant plans for whoever that dart came from. But Goth doesn’t agree with me on that, either.”

  “Fortunately, bodyguards merely have to defend,” said Ta’zara.

  * * *

  Goth was actually having a terrible time. Firstly, she just still felt as weak as a newborn. To someone who had spent her whole life full of energy, it was horrible. All she wanted to do was sleep and cry and she did not approve of either. And secondly… Well, secondly was sort of her own fault. She had said it, and didn’t know how to unsay it. When she failed to ’port the water glass, she realized she’d pushed her klatha ability too far. She’d gotten home, but home wasn’t Karres anymore. It was the Venture, with the captain. It had been a stupid thing to say; but she’d been trying to find a way to tell him. She hadn’t even been able to tell the Leewit. The Leewit could fix her body, but she couldn’t do anything for Goth’s klatha ability. And she’d had that, ever since she could remember. It had gotten stronger with age, and then her ability to read objects had developed—and now she couldn’t even ’port a glass. So she’d said, sort of fishing, sort of looking for reassurance, and sort of looking for a way to tell him, “Could you ever marry someone who wasn’t a witch of Karres?”

  And the captain had told her, in no uncertain terms, that the answer was no. That he was as good as promised not only to a witch of Karres, but to a specific witch. After all, who else could cope with his own erratic klatha powers and help him with the Sheewash Drive in their ship?

  Which, under almost any other circumstances, would have been music to Goth’s ears.

  * * *

  Later the same day, the Leewit went bouncing off with Ta’zara. It hadn’t occurred to the captain that the littlest witch of Karres could have been worried, but watching her doing cartwheels—and falling over on the beach—he realized she had been carrying the weight of dealing with Ta’zara’s problems. Now, she plainly felt them lifted from her shoulders, to judge by the shrieks of laughter from the beach, echoing up through the open gangway. Ta’zara was grinning broadly too—and then showed her how cartwheels should be done.

  The captain came to realize he wasn’t alone, watching them. Goth was still asleep, but Me’a had silently wheeled herself into the bridge. She too was watching the Leewit. “The stuff of legends, Captain. My men will be taking their leave shortly. I have paid them off and they are free to return to their homes. They are eager to do so too, with stories to tell, as well as their pay. They will find trading vessels with the tide.” She paused.
“Do you mind if I delay my own departure? I wish to speak to the Leewit. I would also be interested in hiring the Venture to transport a cargo of young rochats from Cinderby’s World—or from Iradalia or Karoda. They also exist there. I have arranged this with certain of my associates of my own clan.”

  “I’ll talk to Goth, when she wakes up. She does the cargoes and the bookings…” The captain looked at the ex–smuggler boss. Well, she knew that they weren’t exactly just a tramp merchant ship carrying high-value cargoes on less-traveled routes. “Unless we get other instructions.”

  “Understood. I know very little of the Wisdoms and their business. Sedmon told me I would be very wise to keep it that way.”

  Pausert had to laugh. “You’re not alone. Half the time they don’t even tell me what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m not all that sure they know, or at least not too far in advance.”

  “But they have placed you at some considerable risk at times, Captain, or so I have gathered from things you and your crew have let slip. They plainly think you can cope.”

  “Karres’ way is to learn or to die, Me’a. If you can’t cope you don’t belong. They do back us up, but they leave us to it, a lot of the time. We’ve got…skills, each of us.”

  “And you operate as a team?” she asked.

  “Yes. Well, the younger witches tend to travel in groups. And, um, select or take along a guardian. They don’t raise their children the way most Empire worlds do. Many of the older witches do operate alone.” Having said that, the captain looked at her suspiciously. “You’re fishing again, Me’a.”

  Me’a nodded. “It is my skill. Or at least one of them. I have been told that I do it well. However, Captain, you need have no fear. I wish the Wisdoms no ill. In fact, I have been considering my own future in the light of the debt I owe. We of Na’kalauf always pay our debts.” She made a face. “It’s why the sea people have so many feuds. You have given me much to think about, Captain. My men will want to come and pay their respects before they leave, but I will go back to my cabin for now.”

  * * *

  The Leewit knew, no matter what anyone else might think, that what she had done to help Ta’zara was just a step. One of many needed. But she couldn’t explain that to people. Clumping idiots. She didn’t even really understand it too well herself. But her teaching pattern did. And that step had been hard and was behind her now. She was going to have a good time today…

  In Ta’zara’s Nuii, the Leewit found that whatever else she and Ta’zara thought they were doing today, having an easy fun day stopped with the cartwheels on the beach. They knew now that she was a healer. And it seemed all of them thought they were sick, even the ones who definitely weren’t. Being a healer meant you wanted to help, but how much help could she give without burning herself out? Fortunately, Ta’zara figured that one out. With the help of some of the elders, he reduced that to just a lot instead of a flood.

  But there were people here who needed healing. And some who needed more healing than others, and more time and strength than she had to give.

  It was incredibly hard. But the worst came toward the end of the day, when a young couple brought their crying baby to her. In their eyes she could see desperation and fear. On touching the child, she stilled its pain…and she understood why it was sore. The baby had the start of the same disease as Me’a.

  The Leewit was already exhausted. Fixing that…

  Tippi stuck her nose out of the Leewit’s collar, and it struck the Leewit like a bolt of lightning… She pulled Tippi out and held her next to the baby’s face. The little girl sneezed, and Tippi wriggled over and sniffed it. She sneezed again. “Phew. All right!” said the Leewit, putting her fingers onto the baby’s neck. Down in the cells she could feel the reaction. She held up Tippi. “She needs one of these in the house. Now and always. Look, I think you both suspected she might have Iberra. Living with a few sneezes…will stop it developing. She can have a normal growing up and life.”

  “But nothing cures Iberra,” said the father, his face grim. The mother cradled her baby and started to weep, which started the little one up again.

  “Do I need to whistle at you to stop that?” said the Leewit crossly. She’d whistled at a few people already that day. Word got around. “It doesn’t cure it. It stops it.”

  “Like a shield,” said Ta’zara. “I have seen it. It is true.”

  “Really?” There was desperate hope in the mother’s voice.

  “I swear it by the spirit of our forefather Ke’taka,” said Ta’zara.

  “It’ll make her sneeze a little at first. But it…it gives the disease a small enemy to fight, so it doesn’t attack her. She is little enough that the damage that it has already done will recover and heal.”

  The father looked at Tippi, at his wife, at the baby and then back at the Leewit. “Great lady,” he said. “How long do we have? I cannot get one of these animals soon. They are expensive and rare.”

  Ta’zara, for the first time since the Leewit had met him, started to laugh. Eventually he managed to get the words out. “There is a price on everything, Je’tara. You will have to stay with my sister. I will arrange, and she will tell me she was right about the smelly little things. And she will tell you how to raise your child, and a great deal more she knows nothing about, but your little girl will be fine. It is high price, cousin, but that is what it will cost you.” And then he started laughing again. Maybe it really was that funny, thought the Leewit. But maybe he just had a lot of laughing to catch up on.

  It was infectious. The young warrior began to laugh too, holding tightly to his wife. Finally, they got control of themselves. He bowed to Ta’zara. “It is a high price. But my little one is worth it.” And then there was doubt. “You are sure it will work?”

  “Absolutely certain,” said the Leewit. “And Me’a’s planning on shipping rochats in. I’ll tell her you need one.”

  “Me’a?” asked the young warrior.

  “She calls herself that,” explained Ta’zara. “Li’jani of the Katipi Nuii. The daughter of the war chief there, the one who developed Iberra later in life. You see—she grew up with one of these pests. And then it died.” He gestured at the Leewit. “My Ta’taimi found out and stopped the disease. It is too late for her legs, but it stopped the pain.”

  The warrior nodded, belief and acceptance finally getting home to him. Then he drew himself up. “I have very little to gift you with, great lady. But I would offer my service.”

  The Leewit was starting to get used to the way the sea people thought. She’d not really known what to do with the gifts the people had brought. They were generous, if sometimes not really what one wanted on a spaceship—like the smelly ropes of dried fish that Tippi had found very attractive. The Leewit had been about to say no, thank you to the first gift when Ta’zara had caught her eye, and shook his head almost imperceptibly. When they left he’d explained: “It would be an insult. And it is a way of showing that they value what you do, and that they respect you. Something which is given for nothing has no value and is abused.”

  But now she was faced with someone who plainly didn’t have much and was giving her what he had and was willing to give up life with his wife and baby for it. And it was something she didn’t want or need. Yet… Ta’zara had explained: that to be offered something and refuse was an insult. The difference between the bodyguarding work most of the Na’kalauf people did and what Ta’zara did was simple: It came in the difference between offering and asking. You could ask a warrior, and he would agree and a contract would be drawn up. That was simple business. But if someone offered…it was different, entirely.

  So she took his hands. “You are mine, now, to command.”

  He bowed his head. “Yes, Ta’taimi.”

  The Leewit couldn’t help but notice that his wife had started to cry again, softly. “And mine to take care of. The respect of the clan comes from how well I do that, correct, Ta’zara?”

  Ta’zara nodded. “Your standi
ng with the clan depends on that, yes.”

  “So I can show off by how well I do it?”

  Ta’zara managed to keep his laughter to a slight shaking of the shoulders. “I don’t think we would quite put it like that, but yes, mistress.”

  “Good!” said the Leewit cheerfully. “Then to look after you, Je’tara, I must see to the health and welfare of your child, who is sick. Until she is of an age to look after herself, you will stay to care for her. Then you can come and spell Ta’zara. Or if I send for you.”

  “But great lady, I am willing…”

  “I know you are. But I have responsibilities. To you. And Ta’zara. His sister worries him.”

  Ta’zara couldn’t stop himself laughing at this point. His sister worried him all right. She had a very big mouth, the Leewit had decided. But the young warrior’s wife’s tears were at least also divided by laughter.

  Later, as they walked back to the Venture, she asked Ta’zara if she’d done right.

  “I am your warrior, not your war counsel,” he said. “It is not my place to advise, just to defend and fight for you, at your order.”

  “Well, I’m telling you to tell me. It’s a kind of fight, and a kind of defense,” said the Leewit.

  “Then I think you did very well indeed. You will have to call him for work, but he has just returned from his last contract. It is customary for men to take some time between contracts, and the Nuii needs some men here. The loss of my clan brothers is felt. Even by my sister…one of those was her younger son.”

  “Oh!” That did sort of explain things.

  “She will find relief in Je’tara’s little one. Of course she will constantly tell them what to do. But she has a good heart under it all. It is a gift to me, Ta’taimi. And yes, a good way to show off your status. My clan, who are the best, will now claim they are even better.”

  The next day wasn’t a whole lot easier.

  There were queues. And most of them didn’t look sick.

  “You are now quite famous, and they think you will become more so. Each of them wants to be able to say that they or their child was seen by you,” explained her new warrior, Je’tara. “That is partly my wife’s fault. She has spent much of the night boasting to everyone about her man’s new Ta’taimi. She is determined that if you need to show off, she will help as much as she can.”