“Let’s hear what she has to say, eh?” I flicked a series of hand signs. Relax. Stand down.
Volant eyed me, but shrugged. “Sure thing.” He removed his hand from the rapier, and straightened out his shirt. Gentle rain still fell, matting his wild white hair down into a thick mess. He busied himself with tying it up, simultaneously keeping his hands in sight.
“My name is Qaewin, part of the Soft Stepper tribe,” she said with a sweeping bow. “Though the Soft Stepper part is probably a bit obvious.” Her eyes, golden and shining orbs, seemed kind.
Still a bit apprehensive, I bowed as well. “A pleasure to be captured by you, Qaewin. My name is Nil. But, please, call me whatever you’d like.” I gestured toward Volant. “And this is my friend and walking companion, Volant.”
Volant looked at me with pained apprehension. I’d forgotten to use our fake names. Mentally, I slapped myself.
Seeing the exchange, Qaewin’s smile snuck back. In the flash of an eye, it was gone again. Around us, the other Soft Steppers had slowly spread out into a ring. Half of the group still faced inward towards Qaewin, watching us. The other half faced out, heads roving the plains around us.
The zymphs had the same range of shading any mix of cats would, but somehow each seemed perfectly camouflaged. Their random splashes of color seemed to only heighten their ability to blend in. Not that the coloring really mattered, as anything disappeared once it got lower than the grass. Despite the obvious deference given Qaewin by the others, she was dressed the simplest. That said, her accessory taste was quite interesting. She wore a fortune’s worth of knives strapped all over her plain cotton clothing. Half a dozen exceptionally long daggers were lined diagonally along her back, requiring a decent amount of flexibility to even reach the hilts.
“I can only imagine what you fellows are wondering,” Qaewin began. “I assure you both, there will be no harm done. We were afraid you’d not receive us well if we approached you outright.” She paused looking to each of us. “And honestly, it was good practice to tie you guys up. Our youngest earth worker needed practice with the rock ropes” she said with a small grin. Sure enough, a young-looking guy with a mostly shaved head was moving the rope’s end around in little patterns. He also looked to be concentrating exceptionally hard for a Natural.
At this I relaxed a little, though Volant grew even angrier.
“Practice!” he choked out. “We were your left-handed practice?” Not even his darker-than-usual-tan could hide the flush of anger in his cheeks.
Her soft laughter danced through the air, and I joined in with her. It wasn’t that I thought it was funny. Qaewin just seemed to have an instantly contagious laugh that was irresistible to join in with. Even Volant chuckled, the flush turn to a more embarrassed shade. She was hard to stay mad at, and like anytime someone jumped out and scared you, the adrenaline spike was easily replaced by something more positive once you didn’t think you were about to die. Really though, a pretty girl can get away with just about anything.
With a deep breath and a single, forceful hand clap, Volant dispelled his anger. Supposedly, it was some meditation trigger that he claimed could clear his mind and keep him in the moment. As far as I saw it, he more or less had a switch he could flip any time life wasn’t going his way. A clap of the hands, and he was immediately calm. He’d been trying to teach it to me, but meditation and I get along as well as Slithers and Soft Steppers. “Fine, but I think you owe me dinner,” Volant said, a bit too hopeful.
Almost apologetically, Qaewin smiled at him. “I insist. We already have our best cook at the camp preparing something special for all of us. The truth is, we were actually looking for you two.” Another long pause. “And again, for the sake of honesty, we were told to bring you back to the camp, one way or another.”
Excitement had been building in my chest, and now it had all been drained away. I looked at my friend, and saw his face harden as well. Before we could say anything, Qaewin interjected.
“Please understand, I didn’t mean that as a threat.” She gestured to the assortment of weapons, and then to the other rather well armed Soft Steppers that ringed us. “These are all for your protection. I just meant we’d have left you tied up, for your protection, if we thought it necessary. Our leader is desperate to speak with you and to make sure a certain group of people don’t find you first.” She stepped right up to me, mouth inches from my ear. “I know of the fire, and who chases you. They’re more dangerous than you know. And have a long reach,” she whispered. When she pulled away, ever so slightly she looked towards one of the Soft Steppers directly to her left.
The man had a gaudy earring and was staring at Volant with a greedy, calculating look. The kind of look that made women uncomfortable, and one that none of the other tribesman shared. Her meaning was clear. He was not to be trusted, though why she told us I was unsure.
“Volant, how about we take them up on the offer of dinner?” I said while staring at him with a look which hopefully conveyed the rhetorical. Honestly, I don’t think I got the look across. It definitely felt awkward and forced.
Sure enough, he barely managed to turn a laugh into a strangled cough when he saw the face I was attempting. “Sounds good, my fearless friend. Let’s show these cat lovers just how much a cloudling can eat.” His tone was arrogant and light, but a hardness in his eyes betrayed his words. It seemed Volant was picking up what Qaewin was implying as his eyes had slid to the man with the earring.
A ripple ran through the closest ring. Like any slang, there were some things you didn’t call people. In this case, cat lover had seemed to strike a nerve. Even though I knew it was not a great idea to call a Soft Stepper such. All three of the Tryst nomadic tribes were a midge sensitive to the topic concerning them and their respective creatures, as there tended to be more than a few people each generation that tried to take their friendship with the predators a bit too far. The Slithers and their borgislings in the forests were the only ones people actually hated though. Even the Night Runners and their intimidating wolves were more admired than feared. Qaewin held up a hand, and the restless ring of people calmed back down.
I glared at Volant, trying a different and much more practiced look.
“It’s settled then!” Qaewin said in her loudest voice yet. “We shall feed our guests tonight, and show them just how much more we can eat than a cloudling!”
As everyone laughed, I realized I really wanted to hear her soft voice say something else. Anything else. It was unique, like the blades of grass when a strong breeze made them whistle against their neighbors. It sounded like honey and cinnamon, though that seemed like a sound that’s only possible in metaphor. I am hopeless around women.
“Not to be a rain cloud,” Volant began, “but we lack horses.”
Qaewin just smiled. Another woman nearby raised a bow that was much nicer than the one Volant had stolen and lost our first night. A flame sprang to life at the arrow’s tip when an elderly but strong looking grandma standing nearby snapped her fingers at it. Bright, colorful sparks and overly thick black smoke poured off the rag wrapped around the shaft. She loosed the fiery arrow high into the sky. It rose, smoke pouring off its tip and making a black signal in the sky.
“We have a pair of horses just a short way from here. ‘Preparedness is better than zeal, and more reliable than luck,’ or so my father says.” She gestured towards where the arrow landed. “Let’s walk till they arrive.”
It was a short walk despite the powerful bow, but a small grass fire had started already and the horses could be seen trotting along further ahead. Before the fire spread further, the Burner clapped her wrinkled hands together and the flames puffed out in a wave of heat and smoke.
“Show off,” muttered Volant.
“You’re just jealous,” I replied with a laugh.
They were beautiful, the horses. A set of deep red, flaw-free beasts that were indistinguishable except for a white leg on each horse. One was the front left. The other, t
he front right.
“Lefty’s mine,” Volant said gleefully. Not waiting for an answer, he strolled over the horse and began cooing to it.
I rolled my eyes when Qaewin looked at me. “Guess I’ll take that one then, if it’s alright? It’s not like they even have horses in Wydvis. I don’t understand how he became so fond of them.”
Everyone mounted the massive zymphs, bareback. I tried to imagine how it would feel to be on such a muscled creature. Their short fur rippled with it. But the head that could bite me in half without much thought was the real distraction. It was like one of the gods had taken a normal panther from our forest and tripled its size and injected far too much intelligence.
Our horses were similarly unsaddled, a not entirely enticing prospect. But, if it was bare back or be tied up and tossed over the horse, we’d take the former. Volant rode close, and leaned in once everyone but Qaewin was out of earshot. “So, do we need to beat up the earring guy or something?” He asked in a low, hesitant voice.
I shrugged, hoping a different opportunity would present itself. We spurred our horses on after the wave of grass in the wake of the nearly invisible cat riders. I marveled at their speed and grace as we clumsily galloped in their near invisible wake. Righty, as Volant had named my horse, took to the joy of our gallop, not having been given the chance to truly run all day apparently. It was glorious. We were finally covering some real ground for the first time in what seemed like ages.
Five
A surprisingly quick ride through the rest of the morning brought us into sight of their enormous campsite. It was both an incredible feat of architectural genius and minimalist simplicity. Leather and wood tents stretched about with varying regularity. Their tents were more grandiose than some nicer homes I’d seen in Kalaran. Though I struggled with admitting it, some even beat out the tree houses back in Erset. More impressive though was how far the tent city sprawled. It covered enough area that you’d get tired running end to end.
“Woah,” Volant said. His jaw hung loose with awe.
“Guess you haven’t seen it all, eh?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes before replying. “I’ve seen one of these tent cities once when we flew over it as a child.” Volant sighed deeply. “But admittedly, it did not do it justice.”
Qaewin ignored us and began leading us through a maze of tents. Various types and sizes of tents sprouted about the grassy landscape. Most had an entire side of the home open to the slight breeze that never stopped out here. Hammocks hung from everything. Inside, outside, and everywhere in between. Some were ground-scraping low, and others reach a way-too-high corner nearly two stories up. Further in, the tents seemed to be made of higher quality materials, and also set in close proximity to each other.
Every so often though, a perfectly rectangular structure would appear. Each rectangular tent seemed to have ropes tying back huge flaps, revealing blazing fires with small birds roasting over them. Some kind of community kitchen I guessed. Everyone had the healthy tan and easy smile that seemed universal to Tryst people, or at least the Soft Stepper tribe. It was certainly a nice change of pace from our enforced solitude.
I thought back to when the Night Runner tribe had come to the edge of Erset. People came from all over the forest to see them perform and buy the goods they’d brought from Brod. I had thought the tents then had been grandiose. But those ones were barely large enough for a dozen sleeping, and only tall enough that a man wouldn’t scrape his head on the ceiling. They paled in comparison to these. This tribe seemed to have successfully built a palace out of cloth and wood. Most of our capture party had left to their own homes while we ogled the city. Only a handful of the original, including the small man with the piercing, followed behind Qaewin, Volant, and I.
Qaewin caught me looking at the flags topping some of the larger tents, and answered the question before I asked it. “Those are the counts’ homes.”
“What makes them counts?” I asked. “Is there royalty or something of that sort around here?”
She looked at me with green eyes twinkling in amusement. “We’re subjects of the Council, same as you are.”
A snort escaped Volant at this, and Qaewin smiled.
“We just have less of a tendency to pay our ‘share’ of taxes,” she said. “We barter more than sell, and it’s quite the headache to try and value who pays what on such transactions.”
Volant took that piece of information, and seemed to turn it over in his head, trying to figure out what she meant. It was as if she’d just turned his entire world upside down by the look on his face. Thankfully, he stayed quiet as she continued.
“So, to come up with a way for the Council to get their share, one of the council members, his name was Xylex, and left hand did he make me uncomfortable. Well, he came and offered countship to the twelve leaders of our clan.” As she spoke, we stopped next to a monstrosity of a tent with the flag flying high above it. It was by far the nicest of the tent homes we’d seen so far.
I cleared my throat, interrupting her speech. “How did the title get them to pay taxes?”
Qaewin sighed. “I was getting there. Part of the deal was the Counts would be valued as an estate, getting an extra voice in hearings, and some political push while paying a flat rate per year. Really, it’s not a bad deal as long as each Count is having a good year in trading.”
“So now all of your leaders are counts then?” Volant asked.
“No, only half, actually,” she replied. “Six accepted, and were given a Coat of Arms and the title of Count, along with occasional gifts of wine and Citadel made steel. The six who did not are still skirting taxes, but retain the true freedom of our people and can trade and sell whatever they want to.” There was more than a bit of pride in her voice when she said it.
There wasn’t time to dig into Soft Stepper politics, so for once, I mirrored Volant’s stoicism, stayed quiet, and enjoyed our stroll. We continued towards the center of what I’d decided to call Tentropolis. Soon, the largest tent yet loomed up before us, dwarfing everything else around it. Whereas most of the tents had been fashioned with three or four sides, no two the same, this one had nearly a dozen sides creating a cone like shape whose tip ended like an accusing finger stabbing into the sky.
The canvas was a mess of cloth and leather, stitched together in a mosaic of spiraling shapes and colors. My eyes began to hurt just trying to follow its patterns. Large pieces of timber stretched out the top of the circular hole in an interlocking pattern. There were obviously some talented Naturals, and maybe even a Learner involved in the raising of this center. Such incredible execution.
Zymphs seemed to congregate far more thickly around the center tent than the rest of the camp. One cat in particular was easily twice the size of Qaewin’s, scars rippled along with muscles that were too big for any animal, oversized or not.
“Pack leader,” Qaewin said when she saw what had caught my attention. “She’s just as prideful as you can imagine. Don’t try and pet her….” Stopping us in front of the tent, Qaewin ushered the escort in to announce our arrival. “This is the home of our leader, and the town center,” she said quietly. “I’m not actually sure what’s going on, but we took some of the best of our scouts to come and find you, and bring you here quickly. After you’re brought to Slandash, I’ll head out to my own tent.” She paused briefly. “Oh, and don’t make me regret not tying you up.” Her tone was humorous, but there was also a layer of anxiety underneath.
I hoped she was right about this being for our good. With a shrug, I smiled as mischievously as I could manage.
Volant smiled and bowed low. “You’ll rue the day you laid eyes on us, my lady,” he said with good humor. The anger at being used as target practice having faded fully, it would appear.
Without another word, she smiled and strode away. Her zymph moved to join the pack closest to us, cat-like indifference to our presence. A young boy took our horses away from us as we walked up, leading them off without so much
as a hello. I pushed Volant through the opening. Time to see who was so intent on meeting us.
As we walked in, a part of me wondered why Qaewin didn’t walk in with us. Inside the first flap, a short hallway led to a large antechamber with slanting walls of cloth, dividing it from the rest of the tent. Despite the room’s size, it appeared to be only a fraction of the total space. Ladders rose up into the upper levels, and men stood guard at what seemed to be doors to the rest of the tent.
A pair of wooden tables sat parallel to each other, making an alley from the entrance to the throne of cushions stacked at the end of the chamber. Sitting on them was a tanned, slightly older man. He was barely tall enough to not be short, and mostly bald, and had one of the most elaborate mustaches I’d ever seen.
“Welcome, my new friends! Welcome, welcome, welcome!” the man greeted jubilantly. Hopping off the pillows, he rushed over to us, grinning broadly beneath the wildly curling mustache that matched his bushy eyebrows. His smile was contagious, and as he grasped hands with Volant, I grinned too.
“Thank you for,” I paused, searching for an appropriate term, “inviting us.” It was hard to maintain a sense of caution in the face of such energy though. A smile was already tugging at the corner of my lips.
He caught my arm and smiled expansively, his eyes laughing as if I’d told a joke. “Please,” he began, “forgive me for not offering you a proper invitation. I know it was not the most friendly of starts, but haste was necessary!” He grinned and bounced between Volant and I as he spoke. My arm was beginning to tire from the vigorous shaking it was receiving from the man.
“It’s quite alright,” Volant replied, grinning as well.
As the man came in for another arm rattling hand shake, I took in the canvas of wrinkles on his face, and the leathery skin. His age was a complete mystery though, I was leaning towards much older. “Not a problem,” I hesitated, “sir.”
At that, the man practically cackled with delight. “He called me ‘sir,’ oh that’s good.”
A Leaf and Pebble Page 4