The Mask of Tamirella

by Dana Davis

  “I’m perfect.” The warrior grinned before making her way toward the water.

  Ianandy sat on a stool, stretched his long legs out, and clasped his hands behind his head as he leaned against a tree.

  “You look smug,” Sam said. “What’s going on?”

  “None of your business, boy.” His voice held humor and he rubbed at his scalp. He grinned, causing his chin scar to stretch, then closed his eyes to let them know he wouldn’t discuss anything. He’d grown a short beard since they’d been here, unlike Paul, which made him look older. He still had the lean fierceness of a warrior, though.

  Cait grew tired. The last artifact was a pottery shard. She wrote the details down on the strongcloth and gave both to Samcoty. Then she stretched out on the ground and dozed for a few moments, until voices awakened her. Just as her primary came toward camp with Whithelen, Cait pulled up to her elbows.

  “Sit,” Marjordan ordered the warrior woman. “I’ll fix you some gingertea.” She made her way to the tent.

  Cait gave Whithelen an inquiring look but the woman said nothing, just sat with a foolish grin on her face. Suddenly, she figured it out—Whit’s smiles, the slight look of illness on her face, and gingertea for the queazies. She’d seen the symptoms in women from her sub-sanction.

  “You’re pregnant.” It came out louder than she intended. Whithelen eyed her. She swallowed hard and prepared to apologize for her outburst.

  “That’s a secret,” Whit scolded. Those thick lips grinned and she nodded.

  “That’s wonderful!” Cait jumped to her feet and grabbed the woman in a long hug.

  “Congratulations,” Sam said. “You’d better tell Nat or she’ll be livid.”

  “Of course.” Whithelen chuckled. “She’s still at the lake. Cait—“

  “I’ll get her.” The girl was carrying three large fish in a straw basket when Caitlanna caught up with her. “Whit has some news.” She took the basket and nudged the girl toward camp. “Hurry!”

  Natjulie sprinted to the fire. Cait heard the girl squeal and she smiled. Once she reached the camp, she put the basket on a stool and stood nearby to watch. Natjulie patted Whit’s shoulder in excitement. She looked very happy.

  “Cait?” Marjordan gave Whit a cup of steaming liquid. “Find Quin, and the two of you clean those fish for nighmeal.”

  “Sure,” Cait said without hesitation. She didn’t particularly like the task, but nothing would damper the merriment. Not today anyway. And she never minded any chore that involved Quinpatrik.

  As soon as she located him, Paulucas called to them from the end of the lake. “Ho!”

  They both waved and Cait ran back to camp. “Paul’s back!”

  The man soon trotted up on his mare and dismounted. Quin took the horse to graze with the others.

  “Sorry I’m late. Got held up,” Paulucas said as he walked toward the group. He didn’t get halfway before his sister ambushed him. There was a lot of hugging and kissing before Whithelen had a chance to tell her news. “Just as we suspected.” He plucked her from the ground and swung her around in a circle.

  “Be careful with her,” Marjordan said. “She’s got the queazies.” She’d been the image of stoicism, and Cait couldn’t guess her emotions about the news. Not yet, anyway.

  Paul set Whit down and apologized to her but she didn’t seem to mind. They kissed again.

  “So, when’s the knot-tying?” Nat’s mouth split into an enormous grin. Cait noticed that the girl needed some lip salve.

  “As soon as we get home.” Paulucas planted another kiss on Whit’s lips. “I have a bit of news myself.” One arm wrapped around the woman’s shoulders. “The Elders want us to continue searching for the Mask—the doll face. They knew.”

  “Knew what?” Nat chimed. She looked truly happy for the first time in days.

  Cait eyed the man. “The Mask? The Elders knew about the Mask?”

  “They’ve known for a while. Those tablets they’ve been working on, well, evidently they deciphered them some time ago. One was left behind by our little Tamirella.”

  “Then the face must be worth something to them.” Jenellen said. She screwed her features in thought.

  “Yes. Though they wouldn’t reveal why.” He pulled Whithelen into an embrace and kissed her forehead.

  “What about the Mask’s curse? They’re the ones who told of that legend,” Quin said.

  Paulucas shook his head. “They made the whole thing up, hoping to keep curiosity down.”

  “Those arrogant—“

  “Watch it there, Quin,” Ianandy warned. His skin had become reddened, making his pale hair stand out all the more. “They’re our Elders and they had their reasons.”

  “So, it looks like we still have jobs to do.” Paul beamed.

  “You’ve done enough,” Marjordan stood with hands on her hips, glancing back and forth between him and Whit. “Couldn’t you two have waited until we were back in the sub-sanction?” Whithelen hid a grin as the healer stepped closer to her future mate. “If we’re stuck here for several more months, you’ll be going home as a threesome.” The man started to protest but Marjordan raised a hand to stop him. “Guess I should give my congratulations to the soon-to-be father.” She lifted a brow and smirked.

  Paulucas gave her a sideways smile and the two embraced briefly. “You had me worried, Healer. I thought for sure we were in for an infamous Marjordan tongue lashing.”

  “With an attitude like that, you may get one yet.” She turned to Whithelen. “You are going to take it easy for the next few weeks. This is your first child, and I want to make sure it comes into this world a healthy. I’ll examine you after nighmeal.”

  “Yes, Healer,” Whit said, but there was disappointment in her eyes. The warrior had never been one for idleness.

  Cait chuckled and Marjordan turned on her. “I thought I told you to clean those fish.” A long arm pointed to the basket. “And prepare them for stew.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She grabbed Quin’s arm and the two made a hasty retreat to the water. “I hate this job.” She slit the dead fish down its middle. Though she really liked being with Quin, she wouldn’t tell him that. Her fingers pulled out slimy innards. She grimaced and tossed them into a bowl.

  “I never would’ve known that.” The task didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

  “Oh, very humorous. Ooh, this guy reeks.” She turned her head from the strong fishy smell that permeated her nose.

  “Stinkfish.” Quin pointed out the obvious. “Taste good. Smell bad.” He grinned. Cait raised her arm to throw a fistful of guts at him. “Don’t even think about it, girl.” He waggled a finger at her. “I’ll dunk you in that lake.”

  “You’re too old and slow to catch me,” she taunted and lowered her arm. They’d grown up with this playful bantering and Cait enjoyed the moment. Especially now.

  “Oh, really?” Quin said. “You’re not a full-grown yet. I’m sure Marjordan would assist me in your punishment.”

  Cait winced at that. Though she knew he teased her, Quinpatrik was absolutely right about Marjordan. The man was a full-grown and had every right to punish her for disobedience. And Marjordan would punish her if she disobeyed him. Suddenly, this childish game wasn’t so much fun. She resented the man in front of her. They were once playmates and now he had authority over her. Her face fell.

  “Cait? I am kidding, you know.”

  “I know. But you’re a full-grown now, Quin, and P-Marj wouldn’t allow me to banter with you the way I used to. Not without consequences.”

  His smile faded. “You’re right. Guess I hadn’t thought too much about that. Marjordan would be hard on you.” He cocked his head and evaluated her with bright blue eyes. “I’ll be more careful from now on.” Then he grinned. “Until you’re full-grown.” He gave her a thoughtful smile.

  She wondered if there was something more in his eyes. Perhaps he was interested in her after all. She didn’t dare bring up that subject, though. H
e wouldn’t admit to anything now. It wasn’t proper. He wasn’t one to break sanction rules. And she didn’t want him to. Much.

  “Thanks, Quin,” she said in the most benign voice she could muster.

  “Sure.” He pointed to her hands. “Keep doing that and there’ll be nothing left of it to eat.”

  She studied her hands and was horrified to see that she’d been absently pulling meat from the fragile bones of the stinkfish and tossing it in the gut bowl. She felt the heat rise in her face and quickly retrieved the edible pieces.

  Quinpatrik grinned and concentrated on his own fish. Cait finished hers and tossed it into the basket. Then she drew out the last one. She delved into her work and soon all the fish were ready for stew.

  By the time they got back to the others, Marjordan had a large pot of water and tubers heating over the fire. “Just drop the meat in,” the woman said as she busied herself with a small bag of herbs. She pinched some dried green shreds into the pot.

  Cait poured the bowl of de-boned fish meat into the heating water as Marjordan passed her.

  “Whew, girl,” her primary said. “You reek like a stinkfish.”

  “Don’t like it?” she answered in a mock pout. “And I thought this was the popular scent.”

  “I don’t. But you stray too far smelling like that and you’ll have every dagbeast in the area trailing you.” She raised a brow. “Go wash that stench off and let me check those stitches. Take Nat with you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Whit!” Marjordan called. “Nat!”

  The warrior woman reluctantly came to her. “Yes?”

  “Accompany the girls to the lake please. This one is in desperate need of a bath.”

  “I can tell. Good thing my queazies have subsided.”

  “Oh, there’s just a lot of funny talk going on at my expense,” Cait announced. “Maybe I should just stay in the cave.”

  “We’re all staying in there tonight,” Marjordan said. “There’s a storm headed this way.”

  Cait scanned the still light sky but didn’t see anything threatening. She gave a questioning glance to her primary as Nat walked up to join them.

  “Paul rode ahead of it,” the woman explained as she tossed ragcloths and soap to Whithelen. “Now, hurry up you three. Jen and I need a bath and so do the men. I won’t bed down in a close space with ripe bodies. Now, scoot.” She flicked a rag at them and they fled.

  Cait couldn’t help her apprehension about the coming storm. She’d heard about the floods that occurred in this area of the mountains. As she bathed, she saw the darkness creeping up in the eastern sky. Darkness that had nothing to do with nightfall.

  Chapter 18

  Stormy Nights, Stormy Days

  Cait lay in the cave with the covers pulled tightly around her neck to keep out the chill. Marjordan had removed her stitches after nighmeal and she flexed her foot to stretch the tight calf muscles. The rain pounded steadily outside. They’d managed to get everything into the cave just as the downpour began. The mounts had been secured under a substantial overhang that would protect them from the worst of the storm.

  Unfortunately, a fire wasn’t a possibility inside the cave because of the smoke, and outside was just too wet. They tried to get one going near the entrance but the wind blew the rain inside several feet and kept putting it out. They had to move as far back as possible just to stay dry. Several lamps burned nearby but gave off little warmth against the cold dampness.

  Cait pulled the blankets tighter, closed her eyes, and listened to the steady rain mixed with Ianandy’s snores. Sleep avoided her and she sat. No need for anyone on watch. Only a fool would venture out in this mess at the risk of mudslides and floodwaters. She pulled her legs up, wrapped a blanket around her body and rested her chin on her knees.

  Between the darkness and the rain, she couldn’t see past the cave entrance. She glanced in the direction of the tunnel and felt the urge to search for the Mask. She liked that term better than doll’s face. It comforted her and reminded her of her father. Her mind drifted to the Elders and the value of the plasteecs face. No one in her time knew how to make plasteecs. That ancient practice had gone to dust with the ages.

  Living among plasteecs and great metal beasts must have been magical. Cait wondered why her ancestors had destroyed such a wonderful place. She jumped when someone touched her shoulder and turned to see Whithelen crouched beside her in the flickering lamp light. The woman had been very quiet. Or had the rain been too noisy?

  “What’re you doing up?” Whit said in a soft voice.

  “Can’t sleep. You?”

  “Thinking about this baby.” She sat and placed a dark hand on her still flat stomach.

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Not much yet. Except for the queazies. And I could do without those. But these seem to be getting larger.” She placed her hands briefly on her breasts and grinned. Her teeth stood out against her dark skin.

  Cait chuckled softly. “I could use a bit of help in that department.”

  “You’re still maturing. Besides, you’ll probably be pregnant one day and then—look out.”

  “That better be a long time away,” Marjordan said. She lay on her side studying the two. “You both need sleep. Especially you, Whit. Get back to your blankets.”

  The warrior leaned close to Caitlanna’s ear. “This is going to be a long pregnancy.”

  Cait stifled a chuckle but smiled broadly.

  “What was that?” Marjordan said.

  “Nothing, Healer,” Whit said softly. “Just getting to my feet.” She stood and made her way to her blankets.

  Marjordan didn’t say anything, but Cait could feel her primary’s gaze. When she looked over, the woman pointed a long finger to her sleeping area. She let out a quiet sigh, crawled under her blankets and let the steady pounding of rain lull her until she finally slept.

  ****

  When she awoke again it was morning and still raining but at least the wind had subsided. The sun was up but numerous clouds made the wet day quite dreary and cold. Nat and Whit still slept. Sam sat and rubbed his neck. He looked tired. Near the entrance, Marjordan stood, while Jenellen squatted near her and rummaged through a bag of artifacts. The three men were absent.

  Cait got to her feet, pulled a blanket around her shoulders, and stepped to her primary. She leaned against the woman’s shoulder and watched the rain. Marjordan placed an arm around her. Puddles of water had formed in various regions of the landscape, and the runoff from the short overhang of the cave made splashing noises on the muddy ground. Trees seemed to sag with the weight of the rain. The entire area looked gloomy. The two stood silently for several moments until the three men came trotting toward them. Their clothes were wet despite the blankets they held over their heads.

  Marjordan pulled Cait to one side to let the men in. “Get out of those wet things,” she said. “Help me with mornmeal, Cait.”

  “Yes, P-Marj.” The two walked arm in arm to the bag of tubers, salted meats, dried fruits, flatbread and cheeses that Paulucas had brought from the Elders.

  The rain seemed to soothe tempers at first, but as the day wore on, the warriors became restless. They trekked back and forth between the cave and the mounts, feeding and checking ties. When they weren’t checking the horses, they were sparring or sharpening their weapons.

  Caitlanna was relieved to be away from the incessant scraping and clashing for the duration of her dig shifts. The noise traveled through the tunnel but sounded much more distant, muffled, inside the ancient living area where Tamirella and her family once thrived.

  When her shift was over, she followed Jenellen through the tunnel and back into the cave. Nat greeted her with enthusiasm and eagerly took the protective hat right from her head. The leather ties were still around Cait’s neck. “Ow. Take it easy.”

  “Sorry,” Nat uttered.

  Since there were still only two hats, they had to be shared. Sam took the other from Jenel
len.

  “Our turn,” Nat announced. “You get to stay with them.” She jerked her head to the three warriors, who sparred near the cave entrance. A triumphant grin crossed her lips and she pulled Samcoty toward the tunnel.

  “Thanks,” Cait mumbled as she glanced at the three warriors. She looked back at Jenellen and the finder rolled her eyes. The two chuckled.

  Quinpatrik made some excuse about checking artifacts and followed the two strikers into the tunnel.

  “Going to be a long day,” Jen said. She grimaced at a particularly loud clash of metal. “That damn rain had better stop soon or someone’s going to get fatally injured.”

  Cait followed her gaze to the warriors and she unloaded artifacts as she watched them.

  After a few moments, Marjordan stepped purposely to the sparring trio. “You’re giving me a headache,” she said without humor. “You can do without practice for one day.”

  “We have to keep our strength up, Healer,” Paulucas said. “Besides, this keeps us busy.”

  The woman glared at them. “I’ll give you something to do. Whit, you can help me with noonmeal. I don’t want you fighting in your condition anyway. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

  The younger woman started to protest but Marjordan withered her with a look. “Yes, Healer,” Whit said, and she lowered her eyes in obedience.

  “You two,” Marjordan continued, “get some water from the lake. Then you can wash noonmeal dishes after we eat.”

  “We’ve plenty of water right here,” Paulucas said, gesturing to the rain. “All we need is a pot.”

  Marjordan stepped to him. Though the man was taller, she seemed to tower over him. “I want lake water.”

  Even from across the cave, Cait flinched at her primary’s tone. She knew the woman barely controlled her temper.

  Ian must have caught the threat, too, because he sheathed his sword. “Yes, Healer,” he said. He scooped up a large pot from a nearby crate and gestured for Paul to follow. The two grabbed blankets and headed out into the rain.

  Cait focused on artifacts as her primary pulled Whit toward the center of the cave, where they had everything set up for meals.