Chapter 27
- Crat'ax -
One thing that Chief Brun'ax is good at is ceremony. So he makes up a good ritual for the wedding, ending in the most important part.
“Crat'ax, who stands in the Circle, do you take Callie, our tribeswoman, to walk beside you on the path of your life?”
“I do,” I manage as the words hit home deep inside me.
“And do you, Callie, who stands in the Circle, take Crat'ax, our tribesman, to walk beside you on yours?”
“I do,” Callie says softly, but firmly.
“From this horizon to the next horizon, and from that horizon to the next, they walk together,” the chief says, pointing in various directions
“They walk together,” the tribe repeats as one.
The chief takes a step back to show that the ceremony is over.
Callie reaches up and takes hold of my neck. “Come down here, please,” she whispers, eyes twinkling.
I bend down to meet her lips with mine. An approving hiss goes through the assembled tribesmen.
“Finally,” I growl. “Finally you’re my wife.”
“Finally,” Callie agrees. “Our lives can begin for real.”
The feast is the finest I’ve seen in the tribe, not least because we have a lot of fresh foods from the Dry tribes. And a good amount of frit. Chief Brun'ax lets us have the seat of honor, while he sits beside us.
After the eating is done, old Gren’ix motions for silence. “Crat'ax! You’re in the chief’s seat,” he says, so loudly that I realize it’s been arranged beforehand.
“Just for tonight,” I state in the same tone. “Chief Brun'ax is generous, letting us share that honor. But then, he has a great deal of honor to share.”
“Ah, thank you,” Brun'ax beams, flattered. “But I’m getting old. The calamity of the dragon proves it. And a tribe as strong and active as the Bradek should be led by a man equally strong, and more active than me. Are there any suggestions?”
“Crat'ax!” the whole tribe roars as one, setting the platform shaking under us.
I bow slowly. “I thank my tribesmen for the additional honor and happiness on this happiest of days. And yet I can’t accept.
For Callie and I will soon go on a journey.
When we return, we shall see if the tribe still wants me.
And if I am able to accept at all. I humbly suggest that Chief Brun'ax remains chief until then, if not longer.”
“We thought you may say something like that,” Gren’ix creaks. “And it’s fair. You have rid us of the dragon and gained Callie for the tribe. Any wish of yours should be honored. If the chief agrees.”
“I agree with wise Gren’ix’s words,” the chief says. “The tribe can wait for another moon until we have a new chief.”
- - -
Building the boat is faster than I had thought.
We can use some of the materials traded to us for splix, and the boys are good at helping us.
Callie makes a number of suggestions, especially about the mast and sail.
We work all day long, often helped by tribesmen.
After only eight days it’s finished, and we decide to take a test trip out into the ocean.
“The weather is nice,” Callie observes, shading her eyes with one hand. “And there’s a little breeze. Should be perfect.”
We get aboard and the boys push us on our way, giving us knowledgeable comments and suggestions. I sit in the aft and Callie in the fore, and we both paddle our way out of the bay.
“The wind will carry us against the current,” I state. “We can sail a ways along the coast. Then we can paddle back with the current.”
“Ay ay, kapten,” Callie says in her alien language.
“Does that mean you agree?” I ask for clarification.
“That’s what it means,” she says with a grin. “If I didn’t agree, I’d say something else. Let’s hoist the sail.”
This boat has a lot more rope on it, as well as a tall mast and a piece of wood called a ‘boom’, which appears quite important. But also dangerous, because it tends to swing wildly from one side to the next.
We pull on ropes and adjust it all until the sail is up and the wind pushes us forwards, droplets splashing into our faces.
“It works so well!” Callie enthuses. “We’re going much faster than I did, even in the storm!”
It’s true. We pass across the waves faster than I’ve ever gone.
After a while a shadow falls on us, and I immediately reach for my spear, fearing an irox.
“Look!” Callie exclaims, pointing up.
It’s not an irox. It’s a Plood ship, like the one Callie came out of.
As we watch, it comes lower and lower, blocking out the sun.
Callie waves and smiles. “Dorie! You fixed it!”
But there’s no sign that anyone inside the ship recognizes her. After a short while, the ship ascends into the clouds and vanishes.
Callie tilts her head and frowns. “That’s weird. Could have landed on the shore, at least. But maybe there’s no good place.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t your friend,” I suggest, turning the boat around and aiming for the bay. “It may have been the Plood.”
Callie is still staring up at the sky. “I think that was the saucer we lived in. It was all dirty and overgrown. But I can’t be sure.”
The sail goes limp and doesn’t seem to be helping us go the other way.
“They wanted to look at you, anyway,” I growl as I adjust the sail, hoping to make it work. “But that could be said for everyone on Xren.”
Callie helps me with the sail, but the wind is blowing from the wrong direction and it just won’t work. We take the sail down and grab our oars to paddle instead. Going this way, the current helps us and we reach the village before the sun sets. Boys gather and ask about how it worked.
“It floats,” I tell them as Callie and I climb up on the platform. “And the sail works very well. At least going with the wind.”
Callie stops and stares out to the ocean. “So weird to not land. I’m sure Theodora would have done that.”
I put one arm around her shoulders. “Likely it was a Plood ship. They came low to see if they could steal you, but then they saw me and they changed their minds.”
“Maybe,” she concedes. “But I still want to go and see if Theodora is there. And now the boat is done.”
I can hear the tension in her voice. She’s still worried that I will postpone the trip.
“We’ll start tomorrow at sunrise,” I state. “There are no storm clouds. No splix run. No Day of trade. There is a charcoal burning, and a Lifegiver will soon be ready to have the boy taken out, but we may be back in time to see it. If not, there will be other chances. So, no excuses this time.”
Callie takes my hand, relief in her eyes. “Tomorrow is a good time. We’ll prepare tonight.”
We pack baskets of food, both splix and things that other tribes traded to us. We bring large pots of water and juice, as well as a box of fresh fruit and a spare sail.
That night our lovemaking is slow and tender, and then Callie falls asleep in my arms.
I know that when we get to the place and her friend is there, she may want to stay. That may not be as bad as I feared before. We have a boat, and we can go back and forth to the village if we have to.
I lie awake a while longer, listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing and the clucking of the waves against the platform poles. Tomorrow we sail toward whatever waits along the coast. To her past, certainly our future.
But tonight she is here, warm against my chest, her hand curled loosely over my heart as if to make sure it remains. I once thought strength meant holding fast and never yielding. Now I know it is this: choosing, and being chosen, and daring the wide horizon together.
When sleep finally takes me, it is not with fear of losing her, but with the certainty that wherever the wind carries us at sunrise, we will face it side by side.