Chapter 8
8
- Anter’az -
Alba takes the strange item and works the spring-loaded mechanism. “Thanks. Is called a ‘hair clip’. I don’t need it as much now, but here how I sometimes use it.” She opens the teeth of the thing and puts it in her hair so that it keeps it out of her face. “This way, I can see where I going.”
“It looks better on you than on my shelf,” I tell her. Perhaps I should apologize for taking it in the first place, but I don’t really regret it. I think it may have had a part in bringing her here. “Let’s go.”
We walk through the village. Every man does his best to pretend not to notice Alba. They all want to seem aloof, but she does attract the eye and it’s a losing game.
A yellow-striped Tretter man comes towards us. “Greetings, Woman Alba and Healer Anter’az. You didn’t take part in the celebration last night.”
“Just as well we didn’t,” I grunt. “There were fights, and men lost limbs.”
“Those things can happen when three tribes meet and enjoy frit together. And yet, in the end our tribes are closer friends than ever before,” the guest points out. “The lost limb was sacrificed to the ancestors! We have never seen that before, and we appreciate it. Chief Korr’ax will be told. Alba, is everything to your liking?”
“Is a fine tribe,” she says smoothly. “The healer and I have be talking about healing the whole time. You should see his cave and all jars of different things. Our tribes have much to learn from the Krast. They have started making pumps?”
“By the wall,” the Tretter man says and points. “There’s a creek, but it’s small. The Krast must get water from the jungle. But we shall make a drill and see if there might be water under the village.” He stomps one foot on the ground.
“The creek was much larger before,” I tell the outtriber. “But when the skarp passed, it changed the course of the water.”
“So I hear. Well, I’ll get back to it.” He walks off.
I notice many Krast men staring from their caves and from the common table. They must be envious about how a Tretter man can simply go up to Alba and talk to her. And they must be even more envious of me.
We go over to the table. Some of the men there draw away when they see us approaching.
“Tarat'ex!” I call one of them back. “Have no fear, she won’t bite your throat out.”
My tribesman comes over, clearly not amused. “I never thought she would. But she can do worse things. What is it you want?”
“Tarat'ex, as the tribe’s healer to the tribe’s foodmaster: Young Tren’ax should be let off after the midday meal. He’s showing signs of exhaustion. He’ll be fine tomorrow, but even then he should not have to stay to clean up after the evening meal. If the chiefs object, tell them to talk to me.”
“I don’t think they will object to that ,” Tarat'ex says, scowling at Alba. “But they don’t like that those who seek your help are now forced to break our laws by dealing with this woman .”
“Oh, tribesman Upir’ex told you so?” I ask coldly. “Did he also say that Woman Alba saw what was wrong with little Sam’ox, and then helped me heal the boy?”
“He did, and he was promptly reprimanded for being so easily influenced by an agent of the Darkness. It seems that you are, too, Anter’az. Don’t use alien and female words and methods on those who come seeking help! They may be secret curses and spells! You risk their lives!”
“On the contrary,” I scoff. “Woman Alba has already saved the life of little Sam’ox. Let’s not be discourteous, tribesman. She’s standing right there. Beware of making her angry! She might focus her alien words and spells on you !”
He glares at Alba, then slaps the hilt of his sword. “I will know to protect myself, and my Ancestors will aid me. I’ve said what I came to say.” He turns and saunters off.
I give Alba a tight smile. “Don’t worry. Not all are like that.”
“They really think I’m evil,” Alba marvels. “Even now that they have seen me.”
“Even without much evidence,” I agree. “But don’t let it bother you. If you are indeed harmless, that will become clear soon enough and these men will be ashamed. Now, shall we see the pump they are making?”
We walk over to the wall, not far from the gate.
The village resonates with loud hammering of iron and the cheerful yells and calls of tribesmen and boys. I point out various forges and pottery sheds and kilns and stores to her, wishing my tribesmen would keep the village in better order. Alba is used to the Borok village, with the marvelous red rock in the middle. This mess isn’t going to impress her. “Of course the village has looked better. Much of it was ruined by the skarp, but we were able to save most of the Lifegivers.” I point towards the enclosure.
“That one of the reasons why we’re here,” Alba chirps. “To help with the water for your Lifegivers. The Tretter men are best at that. Can we look at what they do?”
We walk over to the small group of outtriber men and Krast men by the wall. They’re pulling a thick, wooden pipe through the wall and into the village.
When we approach, the men with blue and yellow stripes cheerfully greet Alba, while the green-striped Krast men are careful to only greet me.
“How will this work?” I ask, interested.
“These pipes go all the way to the creek,” a Tretter man explains. “Right here we will place a pump, which when used will suck water out of the creek and bring it here. There will be no need to go into the jungle to get water. It will all come out here.”
“And where is this ‘pump’?”
“It’s being made,” the Tretter man says. “Many iron parts are needed, as well as leather and grease. We think it will be finished tomorrow.”
“Feper’oz,” Alba says, “who it was that made the first pump?”
“It was Woman Bryar,” he replies. “She saw the need for one in the Tretter village. And she had it made.”
“Was that a good thing for the Tretter tribe?”
“It saved men the time and effort and danger of going into the jungle for water,” says the Tretter man. “It became much easier to give the Lifegivers the clean water that they need. Yes, it was a very good thing for the tribe.”
Alba gives me a mischievous little smile. “Does sound like something the Darkness would do?”
“No,” I admit. “But there are many ways of making a tribe weak. Making the men afraid of going into the jungle might be a way that works in the long run. But it seems unlikely.”
“Feper’oz, are you afraid of going into the jungle?” she asks.
“Any man who doesn’t fear the jungle has something wrong with him,” the Tretter man says. “But we go into the jungle just as much as before.”
She turns to me. “See?”
“I said it was unlikely to weaken a tribe,” I defend myself. “In this case, it obviously didn’t work. Now, let me show you something.”
I take her over to the forges by the side of the rock and open the door to the iron store cave. The light falls on a big heap of iron bars and plates that have been hammered thin for ease of use. “This is the Krast iron. We have more iron than any other tribe.”
Alba looks in at our great pride. “That’s lot of iron. What will you use it for?”
“Swords,” I tell her. “Weapons. Small knives for my special use. Bigger knives for boys and men to use in other ways. Pumps, I suppose.”
“It’s very wonderful,” Alba says, I suspect mostly from politeness. “You can make many swords with all this. But have you considered making a bathtub? ”
“A bafub? What’s that?”
“It’s a big pot, made from iron. So large that an alien female can sit in it. And maybe big enough that a Krast healer can, too.”
I’m mystified. “And what would be the purpose of that bafub? ”
“You fill with hot water and sit in it. Is easier to explain if we have one,” she says brightly. “But it should be inside a cave where nobody else can see?—”
I spot the shadow at the last moment. On sheer instinct I give Alba a hard push, sending her flying. The falling rock grazes my shoulder and drops heavily to the ground, sending up a big cloud of dust.
It takes me a second to make sure I’m still alive, and that Alba is too. Then I run a few steps out from the Hill and look up at the face of it. I half expect to see an obvious spot in the rock where the stone came loose, but there isn’t one.
Alba gets to her feet and brushes herself off. “Did someone drop that rock on us?”
I take in the stone. It just might be light enough for one man to lift and hoist up to a cave. Or to the top of the rock. And then to push it off the edge at the right time. “I think it’s possible.”
Alba points to my shoulder. “It hit you!”
The skin has been scraped off the side of my shoulder, and it’s bleeding freely. “Better me than you.”
Some tribesmen come running. “Are you all right, Anter’az?”
“Not quite,” I growl, looking up and trying to see which cave it might have come from. “Someone dropped a rock on me.” There are four possible caves, but there’s also the flat top of the Hill. “And I’d like to know who.”
Two boys run quickly up the main ladder that goes to the higher caves. I consider following them, but that would leave Alba without anyone to protect her. And now I think she needs protection.
The boys look into two of the caves, reporting them empty. Then they climb higher.
At the second highest cave, a man comes out. It’s the co-chief, old Cren’iz.
“What is going on?” he calls down to us. “Can’t I take a nap in peace?”
I point to the rock. “One of your tribesmen dropped this on me! What should I do about it?”
Cren’iz mutters something and slowly makes his way towards the easiest ladder, which is far to the side.
The boys climb the final ladder and approach the last possible cave. I know who owns it, and I suspect he’s home.
One of the boys carefully looks inside. “It’s tribesman Sprut’oz!” he reports.
Sprut’oz comes out of the cave and looks down. “What’s happening, tribesmen? Oh, that’s a big rock. Did it fall?”
“It was dropped!” I yell up to him, the shock giving way to anger. “And your cave is right above where it landed!”
“Surely it simply came loose from the face of the Hill,” he suggests. “Such things have happened before.”
“Not in my lifetime!” I roar. “The Hill has always been firm, not this loose!”
The two boys have climbed the last ladder and stand on the top of the rock, lifting their hands in obvious shrugs as a way to tell me there’s nobody up there.
Which doesn’t have to mean anything. There are more ladders leading up, and they are out of sight. Someone could have been up there, dropped the rock, and then quickly climbed down on the backside of the mountain. But I can’t completely rule out that this stone fell by itself. The face of the Hill is jagged and angular, and there might be a spot higher up that has changed. Though if so, I can’t see it.
I turn to Alba and grab her wrist. “Stay close to me, whatever happens.”
She puts her other hand on mine. “I’ll have to tell Dror’iz about this. I nearly died. If you hadn’t pushed me…”
“You don’t need anyone else,” I tell her. “I will protect you.”
She looks at my bleeding shoulder. “I’m sure you will, but Dror’iz has to at least know. But first, let’s go to your cave and I’ll put something on that injury.”
I kick the rock. “Nobody may touch this,” I tell the boys nearby. “I will show it to the Elder council tonight. Veran’ox, I appoint you to watch over this and not allow anyone to touch it!”
“Yes, Anter’az,” the fourteen-year-old says and turns to glare at the others. “I will make sure.”
Co-chief Cren’iz is still climbing down, slower than I’ve ever seen it. It’s as if he doesn’t want to get down here and investigate. I decide not to wait for him.
Alba and I go back to my cave. She cleans the blood off me and ties leather strips around the cuts. There are three parallel cuts, only one of them deep. On my instructions, she applies a bit of a paste I’m curious to see the effects of.
On impulse I loosen the leather binding around my left upper arm. “You’ve been staring at this. Do you want to see?”
Alba looks on with interest, and her eyes widen when the leather comes off. “Oh! What happened?”
I look down at the five red stripes I’ve cut into the skin on my arm. Three of them are healing normally, one is seeping clear fluid, and one is looking a nasty bright red, with yellow fluid coming out of it. It feels hot to touch, too. “I must try out the various venoms before I use them. To know if they’re safe.”
“And you try them on yourself first?”
I give her a crooked smile. “I don’t think anyone else would volunteer.”
“But isn’t that really dangerous? What if one venom was so powerful it kill you?”
“I do sometimes feel faint,” I admit. “But I don’t use much venom, and I often mix it with water first. I’ve become very good at judging them now. And there’s only one venom I really fear to try.”
“Don’t try it, please. Or any of them. Which one is this?” She points at the wound that’s close to festering.
“Oh, that’s a wound that I want to go bad, so that I can try a medsin on it.”
“Can you please clean it and… just stop it from going bad?”
I pick up a small knife and prod the wound. “I think it’s about ripe for that.” Choosing a jar, I suck some of the fluid inside up into a tiny pipe and drip it onto the wound. There’s no sting, which doesn’t mean anything. “There. We’ll see how long it takes to work. It won’t kill me.”
“You like an old-fashioned scientist ,” she says when she ties the final knot in the leather strips on my shoulder. “They always experimented on themself.”
I replace the little jar on its shelf. “I always felt like a seyenis .”
She smiles. “Is a word from Earth. It mean someone who want to know how things work and tries out many things. And I think that’s what you are.”
“Perhaps. Right now I want to know who is trying to kill you.”
Alba looks out the cave opening, as if worried murderers are lurking there. “You think that what happened?”
“My tribesmen have lost their minds,” I seethe as I put the leather band back on my arm to cover the deliberate injuries. “So afraid of a small woman! I’ve never seen a rock fall from that face of the mountain by itself.”
“Nobody knew we would going to look at the cave with the iron,” Alba ponders. “Once we were there, it be too late to prepare the rock.”
I look around the cave, thinking about how to arm myself. “Every guest comes to see our iron stores. It’s famous among the tribes. Your own tribesmen spent hours there after the celebration. Sooner or later, you’d want to see it, too. Or rather, I’d want to show it to you. And when I did, they were ready.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to prepare drop the rock above this cave?”
“It would, but it would also have been much harder to hit us when we walked in and out. The iron store cave is so full that it’s impossible to go inside it, and most people who come there to admire our iron just stand in the exact spot we were standing. If I were to pick a place where I’d prepare a rock to drop on an enemy, it would be there.”
Alba looks up at me with her dark eyes. “You saved me again.”
I take my sword belt off the wall and strap it around my waist. “If I hadn’t, and you had been crushed under that rock, I would have climbed the Hill and killed every tribesman I’d find in those caves. Just to be sure that the murderer died. Let’s go and alert your tribesmen.” I stick my head out the opening and look up. There’s no movement, so I grab Alba’s wrist and pull her out quickly, making sure we keep our distance to the towering rock.
The outtribers have already been alerted. As we turn the corner, they all come running, faces grim.
“Are you all right, Alba?” Dror’iz asks while he stares at me, hand on the hilt of his sword. “We were told there had been an accident.”
They form a ring around us while Alba tells them what happened.
“ Was it an accident, Anter’az?” the Borok man asks.
“It could have been. But I don’t think so,” I tell them through clenched teeth. I can see where this must be going, and I hate it. “You know how my tribesmen feel about women. I think it might be possible that one of them got it into his head to kill her.”
“You saved her life, with great danger to yourself,” Dror’iz says. “Plainly you are a man of great honor. And yet, my chief has commanded me to keep Alba safe at all times. I must insist that she from now on stay outside the walls of this village. We have a camp on the outside. I will assign two men to always watch over her.”
I understand him. In his place, I would do the same. And he’s right. Alba can’t be safe in our village. And keeping her safe is the most important thing. “Perhaps that would— or let me suggest this,” I say quickly as the idea strikes me. “I will take Alba out of the village. I know a safe place where no Bigs or Smalls can reach us. That way, there’s no reason for you to take any of your men away from their work here, in the village.”
“I understand,” Dror’iz says, “but I think she would be much safer in our camp with two men to watch her.”
My hands clench into fists. I want to strangle him. Does he want Alba to himself? Is that it? “Now…”
“I’ll go with Anter’az,” Alba says loudly. “I trust him. He will make sure I’m safe.”
My fists relax and I feel like chanting some kind of praise for the Ancestors.
“Chief Korr’ax has commanded me to keep you safe,” Dror’iz persists.
“He also commanded you to help Krast tribe as much as you can,” Alba chirps. “This way, you will both. Is only inside the village that I’m in danger from the Krast men, if there is such a danger. Outside, Anter’az will be just as good protector as any other warrior. And he knows this area well. Also, he is a healer. If I am injured, he will know how to heal me. Are there healer among your men?”
Dror’iz sighs. “I can’t very well tie you up and hang you safely from a tree. Very well, do as you wish. Warrior Anter’az, if anything happens to Alba, my chief will judge my life forfeit. But before my throat meets his blade, someone else's will be meeting mine.” There’s menace in the Borok man’s voice and face, and the others with him growl in agreement.
“I would expect nothing else,” I tell him graciously. “I will return with Alba in eight days. For then it will be full moon, and the Krast tribe will choose a new chief.”
“I hope to see you both then,” Dror’iz says softly. “Alba, if you’re not here in eight days, we will come to look for you.” He turns and walks back at the head of his men.
I look around us, the way we do in the jungle. This village was always so safe. Now I see enemies in every cave and deadly glares in every eye. “The sooner we leave, the better. But first I have something to do.”