The Bok of Syr Folk

by Russ L. Howard

“Thou hast chust missed him. He is taken to the hills with the boys.” She pointed to a rocky patch of chaparral half way up a gentle hill.

  After bidding her a good day, Xelph left the neat tended yard, exited the gate and followed the meandering path up the hillside.

  As he came to the crest of the hill, he found Zrael perched atop a rock in a brushy area with his three half grown boys playing flutes amidst the gamboling cashmere goats and grazing sheep. Zrael was dressed for the mild weather in only his black pants, and brown cotton work shirt with the sleaves rolled up to the center of his bulging forarms. His battered straw hat was in dire need of replacement and his suspenders looked a little frayed from walking through too much thick brush.

  “Greetings, Zrael, you goat herding, sheep shearing, wild man,” Xelph said with a loud laugh. “I have come to see those wyrm-kits.”

  “Greetings, Xelph. It hath been a while since we’ve seen thee in these parts. The wyrm-kits wallow just there, in the tall grasses.” He pointed to a slope draped in a mix of blue grass and tall blue stem nearby.

  Xelph looked over at what he had first thought were goats in rough and tumble play, but to his amazement, the wyrm-kats were almost fully grown. “Wow, Zrael, they look to be four feet in height. We only found them a year and a half ago and they’re probably not three years old yet. They were only three-foot when I left seven moonths ago. How could they have grown this fast? ”

  Zrael removed his hat and scratched his head. “It must be in their seed code. And then again they have been fed on goat and sheep milk, which probably accounteth for much of their unusual growth spurt. They are very friendly and cuddly, but need constant reminders on boundaries or they bite and scratch painfully. Oft times they chase the chickens. In short, they are much like mischievous children. But more than this, Xelph, they convince me they are very intelligent and so want to please.” He paused and yelled up to his boys, “Eich, check that ram out up there in the thicket. I see he seemeth to have his horns trapped in some branches.”

  “I have. A beautiful race of sheep with the finest wool I’ve ever handled.”

  Xelph followed his gaze to a large ram with curly horns, shaking his head from side to side, attempting to free himself. “I see that you have taken to tending Sur Sceaf’s Merinos.”

  “I shall tend to it,” the tall, tawny-haired youth yelled back. The boy was clad like his father in the usual Quailor loose brown cotton shirt and black linen pants used in farm work. All through the chaparral the goats were moving in all directions nibbling at the leaves of the forbs and brush. The first flush of cashmere was just beginning to show through their reddish-colored hair. The sheep on the other hand, were a tight herd, and grazed the grass in unison, moving in oneness, leaving a well groomed mowing where ever they grazed.

  Zrael said, “It pleaseth me, thou hast made it back alive. I heard that thou hast found all kinds of plant medicines and new crops, not to mention the Green and Blue People everybody is talking about. Thou must tell me about these odd colored folk.”

  Xelph was so accustomed to the beauties of the well-tended Chartreusean pastures and vegetation that this halcyon scene appeared wild and unruly by comparison. “It was indeed quite the adventure, but it’s good to be home again. Perhaps if you invite me to share some of your wife’s excellent cooking, I shall tell you the tales of the Suff Lands. I should also like to hear how you are faring in this new land. But from the looks of the sheep and goats they appear better looking than they were in Salem, if that’s possible.”

  Zrael appeared pleased. “The graze is sweeter and fatter here. Biggest problem is so many cougars and bear. Meaneth I have to be constantly vigilant. The dogs are good at keeping them away, but the wyrm-kats are indeed much better. They are fearless, see in the dark, and terrify the beasts with their screams, which remindeth me, it is feeding time for the kits.”

  Zrael strode to a large scrub oak where a fat cashmere nanny grazed. Using his shepherds crook he stifled her and milked her into a leather pail. When he was finished he poured it into a heavy ceramic crock. He called over, “Kitty, kitty, kitty.” Instantly, the wyrm-kittens stopped their wrestling, and came over mewing, “Papa, papa, papa.”

  Fascinated, Xelph examined their distinct cat-like features in their ears, tail, and the swirl of black spots in the fiery orange fur, but there was also something underneath that was very human, lurking like a haunting shadow beneath the fur and whiskers. Perhaps it was the eyes, the upright walk, and the pronounced forehead. But something gave them a human representation that was eerie. One of the kits, a female by the looks of her breasts, purred, “Milk, milk, milk.”

  Xelph was taken aback. The words were very distinct. “They, they talk?” he stammered.

  Zrael enjoyed his astonishment. “Chust a couple of words so far.”

  The kittens were eagerly lapping up the milk.

  “What other words can they say?”

  “Oh, they can say ‘mine’, ‘no’, and ‘feeuud,’ meaning food. Also they make sounds like ‘ow’ and ‘shhusht’ for pain and quiet, like my boys when they were small.”

  Xelph felt vindicated. He could hardly wait to report this matter back to Sur Sceaf. “So they have understanding as well? It’s absolutely incredible, Zrael. I hope the lady Redith can realize the potential these kats could have for you shepherds and herders in these wildlands.”

  He continued to watch them interact and noticed they took turns drinking the milk as if they had been taught to share. He was tempted to touch them, but from the looks of their teeth and the powerful jaw muscles he thought it better to let them be the curious ones. Those razor sharp claws could rake the skin off his arms in a flash.

  When the bowl was nearly finished, Zrael replaced it with the last of the milk in the bucket. “It seemeth to me they do have understanding. They respond to their names and they sign better than they speak. Mostly, they act like they understand my directions. I am sure they comprehend much more than they let on. They can play very dumb when given instructions to bathe.”

  Xelph laughed. “What are their names?”

  “The two males are Scratch and Mouser. Scratch is the tall one with the tuft of long fur on his chest. The pretty little female, I call Chloe. Mouser used to catch mice and rats and eat them in front of the missus. It made her sick to her stomach. The white mark on his haunches, that’s from the time he fought a bear off and was badly bitten; damned lucky to be alive. Scratch hath the bad habit of clawing up the trees in the missus’ garden. So she hath not taken to them like the boys and me. But she dothn’t mind Chloe, and sometimes suffereth her help in hanging the clothing on the line.”

  The wyrm-kats looked up at the mention of their names. Xelph’s imaginations ran wild at all the possible uses these human cats might some day perform.

  “How are they with strangers?”

  Zrael smiled, “Call one and see for yourself.”

  “Chloe, come.” To Xelph’s surprise, the female wyrm-kit went straight to him and ran her cheek up his arm then turned in a coy fashion to rub the other cheek up his arm. A deep purr rumbled from her chest. Xelph slowly raised his hand to rub the top of her head. “This is unbelievable. You have done remarkably well with them, Zrael. I can’t wait to tell Redith and the others on your astounding feat.” With a sign from Zrael, Chloe returned to her bowl. “It was my intention to relieve you of their burden, but I believe you are doing a better job than I ever could and I don’t want to disrupt their progress. Do you mind if I leave them in your care?”

  Zrael looked almost relieved. “Not at all, they are the only company I have out here besides my boys and Sur Sceaf’s flocks. They are just like my children. Chloe especially. We always wanted a daughter.”

  * * *

  While Xelph was in Quailor Town he stopped by the settlement of the Hickoryans in Dank Wood and paid a visit to Khem and Ann, who lived in a neat white woodframed cottage near a crystal clear brook. Dank Wood was so named because there was little wind th
ere and the fogs and mists would linger there till afternoon on many days. It was sunset when Xelph arrived.

  Though clearly surprised, Khem and Ann warmly embraced him.

  “Come in, come in, Xelph!” Khem boomed. “Sit a spell. Will you have vittles with us. I just threw on some beans and ham, and the corn bread is still hot. Won’t you sup with us?”

  “I’m plum famished. Do you have any butter for that bread?”

  Khem looked shocked, “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “Just about four points on the medicine wheel ago. Ate with Zrael.”

  Ann led him to the kitchen and bade him to sit. She took some plates from the plain pinewood cupboards and ordered Khem to cut some corn bread. She turned to Xelph and said, “I heard about all your adventures with Khem. First time he was ever mistaken for being blue.”

  They laughed.

  “And I heard you almost caught a wife, but your best friend beat you to her.” She began ladling ham and beens onto the plates.

  Xelph winced. “Well, that’s the part I want to forget, but if I can believe Elf Beard a man has to have his heart broken before he can truly know how to love.”

  As Khem took up his chair, he remarked. “I ain’t ever had my heart broken.”

  “That’s why you need schoolin.” Ann smirked.

  Xelph declared, “This sure beats the living in tents for so many moonths. I can see why you wanted to get back home, Khem.”

  Xelph looked around. Annie had decorated the home with rich acid green curtains and nice, but simple Quailor pinewood furnishings. It had only three rooms, the bedroom he could see through the open door to his left and to the right was obviously the kitchen. On the expedition, Khem had confided that they still, after five years of marriage, had no children. Xelph wondered that since they had built only one bedroom that they had given up on having children. His mouth watered even more as he smelled the hot corn bread and ham and beans cooking in their simple kitchen.

  Ann said, “Well, you’re not the ugly sort by any means. Just a little too focused on your work, Xelph. Loosen up and you’ll find plenty of women think you’re right cute.” Annie walked over to a pinewood food safe to fetch a small keg of Quailor beer.

  They gathered their plates of food and Annie led them outside to a table beneath an old weeping willow where they sat to eat with a chorus of tree crickets in the background. Xelph took a few bites of beans and ham before pausing to butter a square of corn bread. “Annie, this is the greatest. I could eat the whole pot.”

  Khem laughed. “Don’t even try. You’ll get my fork in your hand if you do.”

  Xelph laughed. “So, what’s been happening here since you got back, Khem?”

  Khem was delighted to tell Xelph, “Did you hear Pyrsyrus found some more black people on their raids down into the Kalifornias?”

  “Yes, I was there when they arrived from sea. I got to meet them. There is Old Albert, who sings and plays several musical instruments and then there is his granddaughter, Letesha…” Xelph stopped suddenly.

  Annie finished the thought, “Yes, I hear she is very pretty and has a twin almost as pretty, ‘cept not as well built.” She shook her head. “Xelph, you Herewardi are all so easy to read. All you ever think about is how many wives you can get like each one of you want to see who can have the biggest flock of ewes or something.”

  Xelph was taken aback. “I don’t even have sheep in my flock anymore, Annie. And I’m actaually Sharaka.”

  Khem patted his wife on the shoulder. “Forgive Annie, she’s touchy on the subject of polygyny. Even made me promise I won’t go Herewardi on her. We will be visiting them tomorrow. Sur Sceaf says that Albert knows much history of the black people and so I am dying to meet with them and write it all down before it’s forgotten.” He shot a glance over at Annie, who did not seem nearly as excited.

  Annie met Khem’s gaze defiantly. “You heard Khem. I don’t want any part of sharing my man just because they found another ‘black girl’. We’ve known Margot for over two years now. I told Khem, we don’t need her visits either. No sir, no parts and that’s that. I’ve seen the way Margot eyes my man, and she’s got a tongue on her like a sailor.”

  Khem remained quiet and winked at Xelph which he interpreted as the need for forbearance.

  Xelph said, “Annie, I am not stepping in the middle of this, but when you come to Godeselle, do stop in to see my new assistant Sur Sceaf just assigned to me. Her name is Face-of-Stars, the daughter of Raven’s Tongue. She is to be my full time assistant in writing a book on wyrt-cunning. A book Sur Sceaf said, he would like in every home. As for now, I will finish my meal and refrain from mentioning anything Herewardi.”

  * * *

  Xelph had requested a meeting with Sur Sceaf and Redith as soon as Sur Sceaf’s meeting with the road builders was through. He knew Xelph had gone to meet Zrael and he presumed the appointment was to report on how well the wyrm-kits were doing. He had just about forgotten about them and was now curious as to how the kats were doing. As Sur Sceaf sat in the king’s chamber, Xelph was already there, right across the table from Redith. After some initial pleasantries, Xelph got right to the point. Sur Sceaf sat back and petted his Beauceron pups at his feet.

  “My lady Redith and Lord Sur Sceaf, I went to see my wyrm-kats yesterday at Zrael’s holding. I found them to be magnificent. They have grown to the size of a child of twelve winters. While I was there I found them playing in the grass where sheep and goats graze nearby. Zrael is as proud of them as he is his children and was eager to show me what all they had learned.” He looked directly at Redith. “Truly, my lady, these kits actually understand and use words properly. Zrael has taught them how to share their milk with one another like a bunch of school kids. And I was astonished to see that they were as friendly as house kittens. The female, Chloe, actually cuddled with me while I petted her. Considering their heritage, I’d say that’s rather impressive.”

  “Impressive?” Sur Sceaf looked up from a sketch Habraham had presented him on some water wheels down near Eweward. “Impressive, perhaps, but of what use can they be to the Syr Folk.”

  “For one thing, Zrael said they are better than the dogs at warding off predators and that got me thinking that maybe these creatures could be trained for warfare. After all they have perfect night vision, you can’t get any stealthier than a cat, and their fur is a natural camouflage.”

  Sur Sceaf was busy studying the water wheel proposal and merely gave Xelph a, “Hmm, sounds promising, but what’s the lady Redith’s thoughts on it?” He shot a look at his Mo Mo Redith.

  Redith seemed interested, but cautious. “Let time tell us, Xelph, the seedlings are yet tender, but perhaps they will turn prickly and sprout thorns when they mature sexually. Good fruit comes from good trees. What fruit will they produce? Will nurture or nature rule in the end?”

  This was a question Xelph had not considered. “I hope it will be good fruit Redith, but if it is not, I shall dispose of it, as I am the one who picked it.”

  Acutely perceptive as always, Redith softened her tone. “I am not always right Xelph. Sometimes I am too cautious. In this case keep watch over them as closely as possible. Let’s avoid any unnecessary woe if we can. It’s been at least three years now and so far no evil reports. That bodes well for the wyrm-kats survival.”

  Had she ordered Xelph to dispatch them, Sur Sceaf knew he would have to persuade her otherwise. He was once again impressed with her wisdom and sensitivity and was so pleased she left the door open. It would give him time to examine Xelph’s proposal that they be taught to be warriors. The idea not only seemed plausible, but actually excited in him the possibility of a secret weapon, especially if they could be bred to produce more kits. The innate fear of cats which Pitter instinct gave them would be most beneficial. Certainly their cries alone when they attacked their makeshift hall struck terror in their own hearts.

  “The next time you see Zrael, tell him to bring the wyrm-kits by for a vis
it. I would be very interested in seeing them.”

  “As would I,” Redith said with an encouraging smile.

  Chapter 22 : Rip the Prester’s Conversion

  Rip the Prester had left the high mountain meadows of Salmalhuer in the Rockies because he had long doubted the direction that the religion he had served for so long had taken the right course. He felt it had moved away from the path of enlightenment and was swift moving into the path of control and calcification. Even though he had been one of its leaders, he could no longer lead in good conscience. They had altered too many of the bedrock tenants he had considered most sacred and substituted them with bland, weak, and insipid spiritual pablum. He could no longer endure being an Apostle of little more than a watered down version of something that once had deep and vital roots but had since rotted root by root until it bore no fruit and little more than leaf. Over three years ago he had gone on a spiritual quest for something deeper which had placed him smack dab in the middle of Herewardom.

  After meeting with a group of Haredic Jywds in Salmalhuer, he learned of the Herewardi war lords living to the far west. He determined to investigate them further when Apostle Rockwell announced the arrival of two Herewardi ambassadors, Bruno and Atla. Rip volunteered to go back to Witan Jewell with them and give up a full report to see if the two peoples, the Presters and the Herewardi, could unite in some capacity to stay the Pitter invasion. The two Herewardi Ambassadors inspired him to seek deeper meaning in life. They invited him to come and see first hand a people steeped in freedom and living a religious expression they said was all encompassing in its scope.

  He followed Bruno to the mountains of the Sharaka where he encountered the Lord Sur Sceaf on his trek to Witan Jewell. Now that he had lived among the Syr Folk, and mingled freely with the Herewardi he found their laws and their beliefs, and especially their freedom of worship richly satisfying at some deeply rudimentary spiritual level. Before traveling to the isle, he had met with a break away Prester community on the coast. They reported a similar path had given them the same sentiments. He sojourned with them and moved to the Isle of Ilkchild along with the Presters to a settlement of an allotment granted specifically to them. Today he had an appointent with the High Lord Sur Sceaf in the great hall