Awenasa remains aware of her surroundings as the Ulfen begins his tale. Perey's choice of cabbage rolls are set between them and she takes one in her hand, not even considering if that was polite or not. It was a little warm to hold but it was nothing she couldn't bear.
She takes a bite of her food, her physical needs more important at the moment than the tale of Eivind. But as the tale progresses, she becomes more engrossed in the story and forgets about the roll and the juices running down her hand.
Eivind had been an apprentice? It had been easier to assume he emerged fully grown and fully trained than to think about him being young and needing training
Her eyes moisten slightly at the part of the story when the master is killed because the loss reminds her of her sister. Would remembering her sister ever get any easier? Or would memories of her always be tainted with sadness and guilt?
By the time he got near the end of his tale, Awenasa leans forward in rapt attention. Her eyes widen when it's revealed that Eivind had killed such a ferocious creature with his bare hands.
If he can tear apart such a beast with his bare hands, mere humans would be no match for him...I would be no match for him
She looks thoughtful at the end of the tale where Eivind the Heavy Hand cares more for honouring his master and avenging his death than he did for profit or glory. She considers that she has some common ground with Eivind. If she can ever find him, maybe she has a chance of convincing him if she can remind him of that moment. If this story is more truth than myth, that is.
She motions at the Wanderer in charge of providing the food and drink to fill the Ulfen's cup with drink. "Deal is deal. You tell story, I buy drink."
The Shoanti realizes that she is still clutching her half-eaten cabbage roll which has significantly cooled. She takes another bite now that her attention isn't captivated by the story. "Strange how Eivind the Heavy Hand vanished. Where you think he went?"
The Ulfen nods and happily accepts a re-fill. After he takes it though he says, voice a mock whisper, "But you don't need to pay. They don't charge me." The disabled man winked at Awenasa, a drunken gesture that looked out of place on his dirty, stained face, "Rewards of conquest, right?" He started to drink nosily, sloshing a bit down his chest.
Perey meanwhile was digging into his cabbage, using some offered wooden sticks seemingly for that purpose. Awenasa noted the Wanderer looked at her hand oddly, as if he hadn't expected her to just hold the food in her hands. Well...how else would she it? At least it tasted better then it looked. Spicy, actually, a rarity among the Shoanti who rarely had access to such flavorings.
The story-teller then says, "Where? Who knows. Heaven? Hell? Neither? He was a hero, could do whatever he wanted." His voice starts to slur more, "Maybe he just died in a lonely hole in the ground. Wouldn't that be funny? Kill...the...Bane of the White....to die alone." And with that his head slumped forward and landed on the counter with a hollow thunk. Snores rose from the man, heavy and phlegmy.
At her side Perey said in Shoanti, "At least you got the story out of him, it was a good one. I hadn't heard it before. Do you think he made it up?" he eyed the sleeping drunk.
Awenasa still hands over the coin to the Wanderer who had given them food and drinks regardless of what the drunk Ulfen tried to tell her. She isn't about to steal any food or drink from Herja's clan.
Any hope of hearing more stories dies as the drunk Ulfen falls asleep. She sighs and turns back to face Perey and she takes another cabbage roll but still forgoes the wooden sticks...who eats with sticks?
She takes a bite, savouring the unique flavour. She relaxes a bit since she's able to once again speak Shoanti and doesn't have to worry about angering anyone by her mere presence. As she chews she says, "I hadn't heard it before either and it was quite exciting. I guess we'll have to ask Eivind the Heavy Hand when we find him if that is indeed how he got his name. There's no way of knowing if that story was made up or not unless we can find out from the source."
She chews thoughtfully for a moment, knowing that Perey isn't one to start any conversation with her. Finally she says what is on her mind, "She-Who-Upsets-The-Water sent you along with me to help me navigate through the lowlands. At the end of each day, I want you to tell me what I did wrong or what I need to improve on. If I don't know I'm doing anything wrong, I can't do anything about it. Don't get me wrong, I don't promise to change everything about myself to fit in with lowlanders but I need to know if they're taking advantage of me in any way."
Perey nods, "It wasn't a bad story but seemed to lack something..." The young man is industriously tearing apart his cabbage with the sticks, and eating the meaty substance inside first. Was that the proper way to eat it? Or was Perey just weird? Who could tell?
His face reddens when Awenasa asks him for help. He focuses on eating for a bit longer but then finally saying, "I think...I think you overpaid for the things you bought. The Wanderers, the merchants, expected to haggle."
When that word clearly means nothing to Awenasa, he tries to explain, "They wanted you to argue the price. The price they start with is too high, no one pays it. It is just starting..." he stops again, seeing Awenasa is all at sea.
After a long moment the skinny man gathers his thoughts and says, "Think of it like a battle between two quah. Everyone lines up and shout challenges, right? And they dance and sing and shake their weapons. But no one really expects them to kill all of the other quah or to take all their land or whatever else they shout. It is just part of the spectacle, a way to establish a position. Right? It is...ceremonial. This haggling is the same, It is just there way off starting from strength, but they don't expect to hold it. " Perey pauses again and says, 'Does that make any sense?"
After finishing his cabbage he adds, "That man...he is an Ulfen right? He doesn't seem...well, like the stories. Are all Ulfens like that? Or do you think it is because he is weak and lost his leg?"
Awenasa looks at Perey side-eyed, "And what would you say it was lacking?"
She listens to Perey and her lips purse in displeasure as she realizes that she has been taken advantage of and possibly considered a fool by many of the Wanderers. But she doesn't allow anger to take hold and sour her mood. Instead she takes a few deep breaths and then a bite of food as Perey explains where she went wrong. This probably wouldn't be the last time she was taken advantage of on this journey and it did no good to get angry every time.
Understanding dawns and her eyes brighten as her companion finally uses an analogy she can relate to. "So a battle of words for me to get the best price...but I shouldn't insult them or challenge them like I would another Shoanti, right? They must enjoy the process of this, what did you call it...haggling? Because if they're willing to accept a lower price, why not just begin there? And how am I supposed to know if I've offered a price that is so low that it is actually offensive?" Her head began to spin with all her questions and she took a few more breaths and a bite of food to recenter. Finally she said, "What I observed earlier today makes a lot more sense. Now that I know what is going on, I will watch and learn next time. Although who knows where we will be tomorrow or the next day."
The Shoanti glances over at the snoring Ulfen sitting next to her, "No, Ulfens are not like that. At least none of the ones I have encountered. They are much more...formidable." Awenasa turns back to face Perey, "I think it's because of the drink. I was always warned against it when going on raids because too much dulls the senses and slows the reflexes. However, some do not care because of how it makes you feel, or not feel as the case may be. I would not assume weakness with the loss of a limb."
Now that her hunger is sated, Awenasa turns on her stool and faces outwards to look at the crowd. She then peers up at the sky, looking for the sun's placement within it.
The sun is only now reaching the apex at noon, burning bright in a clear blue sky. It is actually growing a bit hot, at least by lowland standards, Awenasa barely feels it after her life in the burning Plateau. Around her though she notes Wanderers erect silken awnings to keep off the sun and most of the villagers wear floppy hats to provide shade. So strange.
Perey also finishes eating and says, "Maybe his leg hurts, and that is why he drinks?" The younger man looks puzzled and askes, "Can it still hurt if it is missing?" Then shrugs and stands up, and Awenasa notes his hands are cleaner anyway, for using the sticks. Her own are greasy and slippery.
The Shoanti warrior guesses Herja is still off thinking and she'll have to occupy herself. What else was there to do but buy things?
Many things, apparently.
Near at hand she sees a young Wanderer woman (her black hair braided into tresses tucked under a colorful headwrap) juggling glittering knives. Awenasa knew a few Shoanti warriors who would flip and catch a blade for fun, but nothing like this. The woman has at least six or seven of the daggers in the air at once, deftly catching them on the handle and tossing them back up. A small crowd of villagers watches, mostly children but a few adults too. The juggler laughs and even tells a few jokes as she works, the task obviously easy for her. How did someone learn o do this?
Farther along she watches a heavy-set Wanderer standing in the middle of a dirt circle, wearing tight-fitting leathers, hair pulled back in a ponytail that reminds Awenasa of her own people. His stance is tall and strong, teeth shining in the sun. He is pointing at the crowd and challenging them.
"Anyone who can push me out of this ring, wins this!" And he holds up a coil of Iron Rope. "Only ten gold to try!"
Lastly Awenasa sees a few Wanderers seated under an awning, each holding a different instrument, most of which Awenasa cannot recognize. She knows what a drum is, but what is that long tube that reaches from the woman's chin to the ground? The music is liquid and bright, almost alive in the air. A crowd of villagers listen raptly, sometimes dropping a few coins in a bucket placed in front of the players.
Awenasa looks around herself in disbelief as she sees most everyone trying to shield themselves from the sun's rays. On the contrary, she was considering finding a patch of sunlight to warm up. She wonders if she will ever understand lowlanders.
She wipes her greasy hands on the shirt of the snoring Ulfen. "Makes sense that he drinks because of his leg. Whether it's because it hurts or not, only he knows." Half-serious she says, "Shall I wake him up so we can ask him?"
The Shoanti is both confused and amazed at the many sights to see in the market. Being from the Plateau, you had to work hard from before the sun rose to when it set in order to just carve out a living. Whether you were hunting, raiding, cooking, tanning, or one of the other many jobs in the quah, there was no time for all of this. Didn't these people work? When did someone find the time to learn how to juggle that many knives? Was she as good using the knives as she was at juggling them? Awenasa hoped so because juggling knives wouldn't save your life should you be attacked.
She stops for a long moment at the heavy-set Wanderer standing in his circle. She sizes him up and she asks Perey, "Is ten gold a lot of money?" She was still trying to grasp the concept of the coin having value and some coins having more value than others. "And is the object he's offering in return a worthy prize in return?"
Perey considers this silently for a moment.
Finally the younger man nods, "I am not sure but I think that rope is very valuable. He is probably offering only a few gold as to not scare off the villagers. From what I understand most places like this do not have that much actually money. Like us, they mostly share or borrow from each other." It was the first time Awenasa had ever heard someone say lowlanders and Shoanti were alike and she wasn't sure what to make of it.
"Do you think you could win?" Perey asks. Awenasa is about to answer that no lowlander could beat any Shoanti, when a villagers stands up and, egged on by his friends, takes up the Wanderers challenge.
A few coins are placed on a post and the young farmer enters the ring. He is tall and well-built, with hard shoulders born of years pulling a plow. It is not the strength of a trained warrior but of hard toil. Still he seems more then a match for the Wanderer wrestler who is a few inches shorter.
They face off for a moment, the crowd shouting encouragement to their fellow villager. While most is good natured, Awenasa hears a few taunts and insults thrown at the Wanderer that need no translation. Yet the Wanderer seems unbothered by this and there is even a twinkle of a smile behind his eyes, as he sets himself a stance.
In a flash Awenasa understands. He wants them to hate him, it makes them more likely to challenge them. And so, just as the fight is about to start, the Wanderer gives the farmer a wide, condescending grin.
The villagers takes the bait like a fish rising in a pool. he charges in, fists swinging. The Wanderer watches, waits and then throws himself into a low spin, knees bending. In a second he is at waist level, one leg out and turning. It catches the confused villagers across the ankles and instantly throws him onto the dirt.
The Wanderer pops back up and dusts his hands. As the crowd groans he says, "Anyone else?"
Awenasa is easily distracted from Perey's words as the young farmer enters into the Wanderer's circle. She watches in fascination as the events unfold. Her realization about the Wanderer's intentions coincides with her observation that the young farmer, as well as the rest of the crowd, greatly underestimates the Wanderer. Not only that, but the farmer trusts too much in his natural strength. What the Shoanti knows, and suspects that the Wanderer knows too, is that that strength can be used against one's opponent if you take the time to learn how.
As soon as the young man charges, Awenasa leans in in anticipation wondering how the Wanderer will react. While the crowd groans at the farmer's failure, the Shoanti nods in appreciation.
Awenasa looks around the crowd, curious like the others if someone else will battle the Wanderer. She leans closer to Perey and asks, "Is this a job? Is this for fun? Must be something that people do who don't have to fight to survive. Lowlanders are odd."
As the Shoanti adds another way in which Lowlanders' ways were different from her ways, something else that is unfamiliar yet pleasant makes itself known to her senses. She hears music that draws her attention away from the wrestling Wanderer. She follows the sounds to join those listening to the musicians. The music is in stark contrast to the rhythmic drumming and chanting that she was used to. She listens with rapt attention and marvels at the many notes being played.
Perey shrugs, obviously not much more enlightened then Awenasa. "I think...I think it is both." he pauses, his youthful face screwed up in thought, rubbing his chin. "I think...do you remember One With Legs of Iron?"
Awenasa, of course did. One with Legs of Iron was the greatest wrestler that Awenasa had known, a legend among the Shoanti. Not in Awenasa quah, she still knew the legends. Of how he had won an entire valley's hunting rightsfor his quah by rite of single combat, after defeating three rival warriors in a single afternoon.
"It is like that. A challenge, a test of prowess. This is just for gold instead of honor and privilege."
A strange people. No need to get mixed up in their weird games.
When she gravitates toward the music she sees Perey's face become a mixture of surprise and utter, total delight. The Shoanti have music of course, much of it set to her people's legends and tales. Awenasa has spent many a cold winter's night curled in furs, listening tot he elders sing the old rhythms of her people, accompanied by drums.
But this lowlander music...was something else entirely.
For one thing, there was so much variety. One man did play a drum, although he hit it with a wooden stick instead of using his hands. Awenasa was puzzled until she saw he could move the stick to make different kinds of sound. But that was only the start of the strangeness. Another Wanderer played a weird looking instrument with long strings, which he plucked and pulled with his fingers, making them vibrate. The sounds were oddly pleasing, while another woman blew into a long tube that was nearly as tall as she was.
It was not, however, merely the strange instruments however that captivated Awenasa, but how they played. Awenasa's people enjoyed music and a gifted drummer was considered a valuable asset to the quah, but it was, by nature, a part-time hobby or interest. No one could dedicate their lives to music. How could they? But even after a few moments, Awenasa realizes these Wanderers were...musicians. This was what they did, just as a hunter tracked animals or a priest learned the prayers. A lifetime of study and practice. The concept of that applied to something like music was stunning to Awenasa. Just how rich were these lowlanders?
If Awenasa was surprised, Perey looked as if he was walking among the ancestors in the Fields of Heaven. His face was filled with utter rapture as he listened tot he music. Eyes closed, the young man swayed to the beat, his whole body in perfect time to the liquid musical notes filling the air.
Then a voice breaks in, words mixing with the music. A new Wanderer appears from behind a curtain, joining the singers. The singer is a young man with slim shoulders but a crown of bright blonde hair, unlike most of the Wanderers Awenasa has seen. His voice is clear and high, interweaving with the music.
Perey's eyes fly open and fix on the young man with something approaching worship...or something more?
Awenasa stands transfixed as she listens to the music and processes what all this means to lowlander culture. To have the luxury to make music as work and be able to feed yourself and put a roof over your head, it was a strange concept for the Shoanti.
She is soon distracted by Perey's responses to the music. He reminds Awenasa of someone who goes into a trance in order to commune with the spirits. The music seems to affect Perey on a deeply spiritual level that the warrior is confounded by. Yes it was definitely pleasing to listen to and if she was even to describe a sound as beautiful this would be it, but to spiritually affect someone the way their rite of passage did was something she couldn't quite understand.
The singing Wanderer again reminds Awenasa how far from home she is. Maybe not physically but in every other way. The concept of singing so many intricate notes is new to her. But she can see from the look on Perey's face that such music isn't new to him. She watches his reaction with curiosity.
Awenasa watches Perey's face wondering what insight she could gain. Did her young allay perhaps have some deeper understanding of the words, a deep and mystical relation to the music? Did it stir something non-Shoanti in his soul?
Then she got a better look at his face. No.
Perey was merely smitten by an attractive face and pleasant voice. She smiled to herself and glanced back at the Wanderer singer. Perey could have done worse, she guessed. The singer was slim and graceful, his hair glinting in the sunlight. At the very least he wasn't very hard on the eyes. Still...a musician? That was a far cry from a warrior.
In any case the music soon died away and, judging by how the villagers started to shuffle away it seemed to indicate an end to the current session. Anweasa was about to wander off when one of the musicians, the older woman who had played the long tube, beckoned to them, clearly asking them to apporach.
As they did so a few of the villagers gave Awenasa dirty looks and some muttered but no one did anything she felt forced to reply to. Awenasa wouldn't roll over for this people but she also didn't want to cause trouble. She could take a few cold stares.
The musican smiled at them and said in good Common, "Greetings. You are Shoanti, yes? The warriors of the upper lands?" She gestured with her chin toward the distant frowning line that was Awenasa's home. "Herja has mentioned you sing many songs. Could you teach us one?" The other musicians nod eagerly, clearly intrigued by Awenasa. "We always enjoy hearing music of other lands."
Perey was silent behind her, merely staring at the blond haired singer, who seemed to be standing slightly behind the others, clearly a minor member of the band.
Awenasa cautiously approaches the musicians, not knowing what to expect. Mostly she expected to be scolded by the musicians for disturbing their crowd of listeners.
She nods slowly at their first question about being Shoanti from the Plateau although part of her suspects the question was rhetorical. She is genuinely surprised by what the musicians actually want to know. She lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "Yes, warrior. Yes, know songs." She shakes her head, "No sing."
She points at each of their instruments, "No Shoanti plays those. Just drum and voice." She turns and drags Perey ahead by his elbow. She looks at him questioningly and asks him in Shoanti, "Can you teach them anything? I may be able to keep rhythm on a drum but no one wants to hear me sing."
The Wanderer woman seems unbothered by Awenasa' declaration that the instruments are unknown to her people. "Many lands have different music." She says, nodding, "Some have none while others..." She chuckles and turns to her group, "Who remembers that piano that Taldane officer had on his ship?" The rest of the musicians grin and laugh. Awenasa wonders what is so funny about pianos, whatever they were.
When she puts Perey forward, all attention turns to him. Her skinny fellow quah member looks terrified, and Awenasa guesses he might prefer to fight the albino lizard again. He blushes and takes a step back, 'Well, I mean, it isn't anything like.."
The musician woman, apparently seeing Perey as a softer target then Awenasa says bluntly, "We insist! Sing us a Shoanti song and you shall have our thanks."
Perey gives Awenasa a look that is hard to interpret. Was it anger? Fear? Anixety? Or...something else? Finally he nods and says, "Can we borrow a drum?"
The young singer grabs a small hollow drum and hands it over, and Perey enarly drops it since he can't take his eyes off the slim youth. Shakily he hands the drum to Awenasa and says, 'How about...Woman Who Was Brave in War?"
Awenasa knows that one very well. She begins to pound out the beat, which is one every Shoanti child could do, slow and steady. It reminds her of the dusty plains of her home which seem so distant despite only being a long day's walk away. Would she ever see them again?
The easy rhythm fills her mind, a steady pulse as familiar as her own heartbeat. Then Perey joins in, his voice clear and soft, even if not quite as talented as those of the Wanderers.
Very much did she defend her children.
She was the old one,
We the children.
She fought for all of us.
Yah, eh, yah, eh, way, ah, hay.
The song was an old one, that dated back to when the Shoanti lived in the lowlands, among tree and stream. It was about a Shoanti woman whose quah was attacked by raiders. She fought them with a club and then jumped into a rushing stream. When they followed her, she ripped and tore at their boat, the canoe fell apart, and the warriors fell into the water where she hit them with a stolen paddle. The people watching said she looked like a ferocious bear and soon fled, leaving her quah alone.
It was an old tale, most suited for children but it had a good song.
Slowly Perey finishes and Awenasa sees his eyes had been closed as she sang, swaying with the music. Did the song perhaps remind Perey of home as well? Had the quah been home to him? Or was this strange village more suited to him? Perey had always been someone apart....
The musicians grinned and clapped them, which was odd enough for Shoanti would never clap their hands like that. They might smile or shout praise but slapping palms together just seemed altogether odd to Awenasa.
"That was very good." The young singer says quietly to Perey and Awenasa is worried her young friend is going to pass out.
The older female musician turns to Awenasa, "Thank you. We might have to work that into our routine." She pauses and then says, "It isn't a sacred song or anything is it? We can use it without bothering the gods or spirits?"
Awenasa is content with Perey's choice of song. It was good he had chosen a song that was more for children because it meant that it was simple enough that she could actually play the drum for him.
Not only does the song remind her of home but the song also brings back a specific memory of when she and Makayda were about six. They had danced around their tent acting out the story as her father played the drum and her mother sang. There is a twinge of sadness at any memory of her sister but the happiness infused in the memory outweighs the feeling of loss. She closes her eyes and turns her face towards the sun, allowing herself to be immersed in her thoughts of home.
Near the end of the song she glances over at Perey so that she wouldn't keep drumming after his singing ended. Seeing him with his eyes closed she couldn't help but wonder if the song had brought similar thoughts of home to her companion as well. Maybe they were more alike than she'd care to admit.
Her brow furrows a bit when the musicians clapped for their performance. She assumes from their smiles that this means they liked it. She goes to hand the drum back and accidentally-on-purpose bumps into Perey which pushes him closer to the young singer.
The Shoanti can't hide her surprise at the older female musician's question. It is unlike anything she had seen of or been told about lowlanders. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that they would respect her culture enough to actually ask if something she had shared was considered sacred. Lowlanders are takers after all, aren't they? True she would never share something that is actually sacred with someone who wasn't Shoanti but they didn't know that. She bows her head ever so slightly towards the woman, "Good of you to ask. Not sacred. No bother. But will lowlanders want to hear Shoanti song?"
The musician inclines her had, indicating Awenasa's question is a fair one. "Maybe not the Varisians here, close to the border. To them, the Shoanti are a real and dangerous foe, deadly enemies. But farther away? In the cities and towns by the coast, or in other lands? Shoanti are merely a story, a tale to be told to excite." She smiled, "Like dragons or goblins. Real but not present. In those places, your songs may be enjoyed."
She nodded again, 'Yes, I think so. Can you teach us-"
The woman breaks off and cocks her head, clearing hearing something. After a moment Awenasa can hear it too, voices in anger and shouting. Awenasa can't make it out, it seems the people (whoever they are) are using the Wanderer tongue. The musicians all frown but finally the older woman says, "You might want to go see, warrior. I believe they are discussing...you."
In a few moments they have packed up their instruments and retreated inside, reminding Awenasa of Shoanti packing up their tents before a storm. Looking for stronger shelter.
Perey shirts nervously at her side, "I can't make out what they are saying, but it does not sound good. Should we leave? Or go see?"
Awenasa looks confused at the woman's words. Shoanti merely a story? How can one be a story when we clearly exist? As she tries to piece together the strange thought pattern of lowlanders, the woman draws her attention to the angry voices.
The Shoanti's face clearly shows surprise. "Me? But I no cause trouble. I no hit anyone and I pay for all I get." She sighs. No matter how well-behaved she was, someone would always find a reason to be angry about her because she was Shoanti and assume she was a savage. The thought of everything makes her feel defeated before she even begins. She feels like she's fighting a losing battle against the wind.
She doesn't look at Perey as she answers, "We probably should leave but Shoanti do not slink away." She squares her shoulders, "We go and see what the issue is."
Perey looked a bit nervous but said jokingly, "And who decided that? Who told you this list of Shoanti rules? Is this one of those secret rituals I was never part of?" There is an edge of bitterness there, and Awenasa recalls Perey is, strictly speaking, not really a full member of her quah. He never had a coming of age ritual or ceremony. Was he even really Shoanti?
Awenasa leaves such worries behind as she rounds a bulky wagon, and finds the source of the disturbance.
A thin villager, with a wispy black beard is standing in front of a large wagon, which has clever retractable stairs built into it, creating a impromptu porch. An older Wanderer man sits on the stairs, leaning forward in agitation. His clothes are colorful and fine, like most of the Wanderers, perhaps with more beads and feathers then most. He has the look of an esteemed elder or leader, to Awenasa trained eyes.
The Wanderer is silent though, because the villager is the one doing the shouting now, in rough Common.
"They cannot stay here!" he exclaims angrily, "And you know it. Why not just turn her over to us?"
The Wanderer sniffs, "How long have we been coming to your village, Giro?"
The villager, Giro, shrugs and says, "Forever. Longer then my time."
The Wanderer nods, "And in all that time have we ever caused trouble? Have we disturbed your village, other then perhaps a few drunken brawls between lively young men?"
"No." Giro says but rallies, "But you have never had a Shoanti! I don't know why you are protecting them...they are dangerous. I am trying to help you. They are killers, every last one of them. Why, I've seen their raiders.." he stiffens and notices Awenasa out of the corner of his eye.
"See! Listening to us, like the sneak thief she is!" he turns toward Awenasa, face set in an ugly grimace, "Why are you even here, thief? Spying out our village? Or do you suppose we are so weak you can just walk among us and take what you want?"
The Wanderer man rolls his eyes but glances toward Awenasa to see what the warrior says.
Awenasa looks at Perey confused that he asks because the answer is so obvious. "No one tells you the rules. You watch and you learn."
Her face softens a bit at the edge in the boy's voice as he alludes to their right of passage. She'd be lying to herself and to Perey if she tells him that this was just an oversight. She doubts that he would have ever been allowed that right among their quah. "Our journey is just beginning. Who knows what the spirits have in store for you."
And even when you think you know what your future holds and what the spirits want, it is ripped from your hands and thrown to the vultures
As the dispute comes into view, Awenasa recognizes the importance of the Wanderer before her based on his adornments. Most likely he was like Herja's elder and deserved respect.
She listens to the list of charges against her people...not completely wrong but not completely right either. However, she can tell from the man's demeanour that he won't really listen to anything she has to say so when she speaks, she speaks for the benefit of the Wanderer.
"Yes I listen because you talk of me. But I not hide and I not sneak." She contemplates how much to share and what to share. She decides not to try to plead for acceptance knowing that it would never be given but she does her best with her own conduct to appear non-threatening. "I no spy and I take nothing. I want no trouble."
Her eyes lower, "I had to leave my quah."
She looks at Perey, "We journey to sea so we not stay. This first place we come to after Shadow Stream."
The Wanderer took this in without much reaction but said quietly, "The sea is a long way away."
The villager meanwhile grunted, "An exile, a rebel. Gods only know what you have to do to be expelled from a Shoanti tribe, considering they are all murderers and liars." He shook his fist at Awenasa, "You'll never make it anywhere past this village, I promise."
The man turns back to the Wanderer and says, very loudly, "I insist you turn her over to the village. We have been the barrier against the Shoanti for generations, long before the Ulfen came. The law quite clearly says we are supposed to guard against intruders and raiders. She openly admits to heading deeper into Varisia, having crossed the border in wild country." he paused and then added, with the air of a playing playing a trump card, "Should I ask Borja?"
The Wanderer elder stiffened. "No need to get the Ulfen involved, Giro. None of us want that." The older man turns to Awenasa, as if sizing her up. He mutters something to himself in his own language, too faint to make out. A curse? He glances over his shoulder, into the depths of the shadowed wagon then shrugs.
"Shoanti." he says firmly, standing up and indicating the wagon, "Come with me. We have much to discuss."
Giro, the villagers frowns but says nothing.
Awenasa's face falls a bit as the Wanderer confirms what she fears, that the sea is a long way away. However, she stands quiet and resolute as her life is once again threatened. How many villagers would be waiting to kill her. A few she could fight no problem, but a whole village? A small part of her begins to believe that her death may be imminent without help from the Wanderers. Surprisingly, she finds herself upset by this prospect. Maybe she wasn't as eager to follow her sister into death as she thought. Or maybe she doesn't want to make She-Who-Upsets-The-Water regret her decision to trust Awenasa with this quest.
She bristles at the mention of the Ulfen. She would not let herself be taken by an Ulfen. But she continues to watch and is encouraged by the fact that others were not fans of the Ulfen either. Considering the Wanderer reacted the way he did, it gave Awenasa a small glimmer of hope.
Awenasa meets the Wanderer's eyes as he addresses her. She nods and moves forward, giving Giro a wide berth. Not because she feels threatened by him but because she is trying to be as non-confrontational as possible.
She looks back at Perey and nods her head towards the wagon, "Coming? He say 'Shoanti' and you with me." She faces the Wanderer again, "Right?" Truth be told, Awenasa isn't convinced that Perey will be safe out here on his own which is why she thinks it better he comes with her.
Awenasa steps onto the stairs that the Wanderer had been sitting on a few moments earlier. She takes a deep breath as she ducks inside the wagon, once again fighting a brief moment of claustrophobia. She would have much preferred to speak outside but understands the need for discretion.
Perey looks nervous but one glance at the glowering villager convinces him he better stick next to Awenasa. At the least, if it comes to blows, she isn't likely to go down easily. He nods and follows behind. The older Wanderer vanishes into the wagon, pushing aside a fabric curtain acting as a door. The collapsible stairs are loud under Awenasa's boots and she takes care to try and not break them.
She ducks under the curtain and, with Perey closely trailing, enters the wagon.
It is dim inside and for a moment all is dark while her eyes adjust, leaving her alone with her other senses. The air is warm and dry, scented with oil, spices and the faint odor of unwashed bodies. The boards under her feet are covered with rugs, thick and soft even through her boots. She can hear little except someone coughing wetly, reminding her of her grandfather's long bouts with pneumonia in his final years.
Finally her vision clears and the Shoanti warrior looks around. The wagon is larger then she expected, looking much like a wooden room except their are no windows and the wooden ceiling is low overhead, so Awenasa must duck slightly to avoid smacking against it. Perey has no such trouble.
Four other Wanderers are already squeezed into the space, elbow to elbow. One is the Wanderer elder who instructed her to come in, eyeing her closely. Next to him is Herja, the closet thing she has to a friend in this strange place. He is not smiling but nods towards Awenasa in greeting.
Opposite him is another Wanderer, middle-aged but with flowing dark hair. He has the heavy-set build of a fighter, with callused hands and stumpy legs. Gold teeth gleam in the dim light, making his pockmarked face look quite evil indeed as he sneers at Awenasa, eyes unfriendly.
Lastly is the only seated figure, nestled into a tiny chair built into the side of the wagon. It is an anicent woman, perhaps the oldest human Awenasa had ever seen. Few among the Shoanti reach such great age, due to the rigorous and mobile life they lead. The elderly are greatly revered though among her people, often the source of great wisdom and knowledge. So Awenasa does her best not to stare, although it is hard.
The woman's parchment skin is wrinkled and mottled with liver spots and one eye is the bright white of the blind. Her hair is thin too almost transparent, mostly hidden under a beaded shawl. Her hands clasp the arms of the little chair, blue veins clearly visible even in the gloom. She opens her mouth to speak but is racked by the wet coughs Awenasa heard before. They sound painful and last a long time.
Finally she shakes her head and says, voice oddly strong for such a fragile body, "I am the Phuro." The words hang heavy in the scented air. Her Common is perfect but then she goes on in Shoanti, "And you are Awenasa of the Plateau? Of what quah are you, warrior? And how do you find yourself in the lowlands, home of your foes and enemies?"
Awenasa assesses her current surroundings and looks around at the Wanderers who have gathered to listen to what she has to say, or interrogate her. She returns Herja's nod and can't help but wonder what his courtesy towards her may have cost him among his own people.
She is unsuccessful in avoiding staring at the woman in the chair. She had thought that Dawnlight was of a great age but compared to the woman before her, her elder would be considered barely entering her twilight years.
Given the woman's age and title of Phuro, Awenasa bows to show her respect. The young woman's head snaps up in surprise as she hears her own language being spoken so well. She contemplates briefly answering in Common so as to not alienate the other Wanderers in the wagon but decides that the Phuro was giving her permission to speak Shoanti since it was the language she used to ask her questions.
Awenasa takes a measured breath to give herself time to collect her thoughts and then begins, "Distinguished Phuro, thank you for speaking with me and my thanks to your people for treating me with dignity. I am Awenasa Windkeeper of the Tamiir-Quah. My quah has recently suffered a great loss," her voice hitches and her eyes flick downwards. She takes another breath to steady her emotions before continuing, "I was sent away from my quah by one of my elders to find the Mordant Spire, which I am told is beyond the sea. It is within the Mordant Spire that I hope to find the one thing that can help my people once and for all against the foe they battle daily to keep our land from being taken from us."
The Phuro's good eye, which seeming to glint like a gemstone in the dim light, fixed on Awenasa with unblinking focus. It was a bit un-nevering actually and it seemed to stare right through the Shoanti warrior.
After Awenasa finished speaking the old woman settled back and said in Common, thinking to herself. "The Mordant Spire..."
Herja perks up at this, but no one else responds to her mutterings.
Still speaking as if to herself the Wanderer leader goes on in, "You seek the Many Paths...but no matter." She shakes her head slightly, like a bird discarding an unwanted seed. "That is not my concern. My concern is you have brought disharmony and danger to my people, to my family. The Shoanti are feared and disliked in this land, and yet you walk in here as bold as a brash young mustang. Did you think you would be welcomed?"
The unknown Wanderer with the sneer nods in agreement.
The Phuro goes on, "The village wants you, and is willing to cause me trouble if I do not. We do not need more trouble, the Wanderers have enough of their own." She shrugs, accepting the way of the world, "Why should I not simply hand you over to them and be done with it Awenasa Windkeeper of the Tamiir-Quah?" A pause and then, "You may answer in your own language if you wish."
Awenasa leans forward excitedly when the Phuro doesn't outright dismiss her mention of the Mordant Spire. Add Herja's reaction to the mix and the warrior could feel her pulse quicken with something she hadn't felt in a long while...hope.
However, the conversation doesn't continue on the path that she would like but rather turns to a subject that makes her visibly deflate. "I never meant to endanger your family and I never expected to be welcomed. It is possible that my youth made my actions impulsive but it was the only way I could think of to possibly find out information about The Mordant Spire. If it were up to me, I would have avoided the village and the lowlanders but I can only find out where The Mordant Spire is by talking to people. I had to take the risk even though I knew I wouldn't be welcomed."
Awenasa knows that all she can do is be honest with the Phuro and her council, "I need to find The Mordant Spire and will do whatever I can to make that happen because if you do hand me over then I fail my people and my quah may not survive."
She makes eye contact with Wanderer leader so that she can see her sincerity. "Phuro, you have great wisdom and have experienced this world in ways that I have not. I thank you for speaking with me. I can see that your family, your people, are very important to you. It reminds me of the ways of my people. Knowing that the Shoanti do everything they can to protect their land and their people, I would think that you do the same. If you truly believe that handing me over to the village is the only way to save your people, then I doubt there is anything I can say to change your mind."
She bows her head slightly, "I can only ask for your mercy and understanding but I also trust in the future that Moranna saw in the bones which made no mention of being killed by the villagers. The fate of my family is in your hands. I would be in your debt should you choose to allow me to continue on my way."
"Foolish child." The Phuro grouses but without much heat. "Doing what you want and hoping things follow after. Foolhardy."
Still in Common she says to the others, "She asks for mercy and for us to simply let her go."
Herja frowns and says, "They'll kill her. If not in this town, then the next one. She'll never make it out of border country."
The other man, the one with gold-teeth shrugs, "And why is that our concern, Herja? Is it our fault that a fox has wandered into the kennel? She made a mistake, but it is not our fault and not our problem. She herself says she wishes to go. Let her." He glances at Awenasa and meets her eye, adding, "Besides, she is probably a raider anyway."
Herja snorts, "How many Wanderers have you seen flogged or hanged for such accusations? How many were guilty or anything worse then a common Varisian?'
Phuro raises a tiny wrinkled hand and both men fall silent. The woman favors Awenasa with her one good eye for a long while. "We have two options, as I see it. We let her go her own way, or we actively turn her over. She cannot stay with us forever, and besides, we will leave in a few days. Even if I wanted to protect her, it would only be a short respite before the fair ended."
Herja perks up, "There is another option."
The gold-toothed man frowns and breaks in, "You had better not be saying what I think you are Herja. I won't stand for another one of your mercy projects. If it isn't helping this....humble waif." He rolls his eyes at Awenasa's muscled and scarred body, "It'll be a lame colt or a bird with a broken wing."
Herja ignores him and goes on, "We could bring her on, as a caravan guard. That way she'd fall under our protection."
The Phuro smiles, without a hint of surprise. Clearly the canny old woman had expected this but before she can speak, Giro outside starts raving again. The elder at the door sighs and says, "I'll handle him." He turns away, then glances over his shoulder, "I vote in favor of anything that twists Giro's tail." and he is gone, outside the beaded curtain. Soon Giro's shout lower to an angry murmer.
The Phuro fixes Awenasa with a stare, but speaks to Herja, "We do not let outsiders travel with us. We are not a merchant's caravan, to add hired hands at every stop. We are the Wanderers, a sacred family."
Herja hesitated and then said, "The Shoanti....well, I owe them much. I could not forgive myself if we just stood aside and they cut this woman, and her friend, down for no good reason."
The other man rolled his eyes but the Phruo spoke again, this time in flawless Shoanti, "And what say you, Awenasa? You only asked to be let go. Is that still your wish or would you want to join us, if such an option was offered?" She held up her hand again, "Do not answer lightly. Such a choice would not be undertaken without cost. It would bind us together, and you may have to make oaths at odds with your ways and customs."
Behind her the gold-toothed man nearly shouts, "What are you saying? You can't honestly be considering this? What, are you going to adopt her?"
"It's been done." Herja says, stubbornly.
"For brides or husbands, to ease custom." The other man shoots back, "Or adopted children. What, are you going to marry her?"
"There are other ways." The Phuro says quietly but sternly, "But first, I wish to hear from the girl. Awenasa, what say you? Would you even consider this offer?"
Unexpectedly, a small smile forms as the Phuro calls her a foolish child. "You remind me of my elder, She-Who-Upsets-The-Water. She called me something similar not too long ago before whacking me with this walking stick. You remind me of her."
She sobers as the reality of her being killed is discussed. She watches intently as options are tossed about.
The Shoanti tries to process everything that is being said and the possible implications. "I asked to be let go because that was the preferable option when there were only two possibilities."
She pauses to show that she has no intention of answering lightly, "An answer may be more readily given if the cost was known. Your family is important to you as mine is to me. Being bound to other honourable people is not what gives me pause. What gives me pause is what compromises I would be asked to make and for how long."
"I do not want to appear as ungrateful but I do have questions. As I mentioned before, the reason I left my quah is to find The Mordant Spire. Would binding myself to your family prevent me from following through on this task? And you mentioned taking oaths that are at odds with being Shoanti - what would these be?"
Even though Awenasa is hesitant, after everything she's witnessed since entering the village, being under the protection of the Wanderers is an attractive option. Realistically her options were to leave and try to get past the villagers and probably end up fighting to the death, being handed over to the villagers ending up in certain death, or becoming part of the Wanderers and actually surviving to find The Mordant Spire. "Given how I understand my options, I would consider your offer provided I know the cost."
For the first time since the conversation began, Awenasa turns to Perey, "Do you agree? Your fate is intertwined with mine. What would you choose?"
Perey looks surprised to be asked, apparently expecting to be ordered about. "I choose whatever doesn't get us killed." He says fervently.
The Phuro laughs then, voice as dry dry as sandpaper, her one good eye twinkling. She shakes herself and then says in Common, "Fair question, fair question, warrior."
The ancient woman settles back in her chair, "There are three ways to join the Wanderers, if you are not of us by blood. Adoption and marriage have already been mentioned, both unsuitable for you. But there is a third option, not much used in these easy days."
Easy days? How badly were the old days?
"To be a zoralo," This last word is in their own, liquid language, "A hired arm, a strength against the outside. A warrior, joining to help protect us. In old days, when the Wanderers were few and often forbidden weapons, we had outsiders act as guards and wardens. It is not needed as much in these days of peace but it is still custom and law among us, is it not?"
Both Herja and the gold-toothed man nod, the latter reluctantly. The Phuro looks back to Awenasa, "It is not a complicated ceremony. You would vow to serve and aid the wagon train against all foes, in exchange for food and shelter, of being treated as one of us, for a time. The contract would end when both parties agree to it, and not before. If you break your vow, you would be deemed an outcast and exile, shunned from every wagon and all blades turned against you."
The Phuro shrugs, "As zoralo, Giro would not be able to touch you, anymore then he would be able to attack Herja. Asking to turn over a Shoanti warrior is one thing, but one of our own. He would never dare." SHe holds up a callused, wrinkled finger that looks more like a dry twig then a human appendage, "But you would be bound to us, and by your oath, until we agreed to let you go. It may be risky, the paths and roads we travel. Monsters, bandits, outsiders...any may require your strength to fight off. Dangerous job, being a zoralo. You are the shield and blade of the clan, the outer guard to be damaged if such damage need taken. Are you willing to do this?"
Awenasa resists the urge to nod in agreement with Perey as he gives his opinion. She is definitely of the same mind as her companion since death meant a certain end to finding Eivind the Heavy Hand.
She couldn't help but draw parallels between her role in her quah and what would be expected as zoralo. She had always functioned as a shield and fist of her quah but she also didn't want to draw attention to the fact that she had recently failed horribly.
Her previous spark of hope is fanned by the Phuro's words and threatens to ignite. "If I make my vow then I will not break it. You say that the contract will end when both parties agree for it to end. Is this end date agreed upon before the ceremony? For that is my only concern."
"Provided we can come to a mutually acceptable agreement of the terms of my contract, it would be my honour to act as zoralo for your family." Then she remembers Perey, "Would me being zoralo also protect Perey? He may be able to serve your family in other ways but not as a warrior for he will surely die."
The Phruo seems to dismiss Perey with a wave of her wrinkled hand, small as a child's. "He would be your aide, your younger brother. He could serve in other ways."
Then her voice grew soft as velvet, "No, young one. That is why I say, you will have to trust me. Your oath would bind you until both sides agree to end it. Your word, if you value it would hold you to the clan until I released you."
Herja spoke up, saying, "She is a SHoanti warrior, Phuro. She would rather die then break a sworn oath." Then he gave a lopsided grin, "Or at least rather kill everyone who witnessed her shame."
Awenasa relaxes a bit as she is told that Perey would have a place with the Wanderers along with her and that he wouldn't have to fight. However, she stiffens again when the Phuro informs her that she would have no say in when their agreement would come to an end.
Could she trust someone she just met, a stranger, with her future? Would she be able to break her word if it meant the difference between saving her people by finding Eivind or staying with the Wanderers? If the Phuro kept her too long and they treated her well, would she want to leave? Awenasa couldn't imagine ever putting someone before the Shoanti but who knew what would happen if she got soft.
But really, what choice did she have? They had proven themselves honourable thus far, or at least fair. The same couldn't be said about the others she had encountered and it may even get worse should they remain on their own. They probably wouldn't even make it out of this village alive without the Wanderers' help.
Herja's words break her out of her reverie but her face remains grim in response to his grin. He may have been making a joke but the Shoanti recognized truth in his words. Hopefully it never came to that.
Awenasa sees no other option but she stands proudly before the Phuro instead of resigned or entrapped. "Trusting, especially someone outside of my quah, is challenging. But I see glimpses of my people in your own and so I choose to trust that you value your word like I value mine." There is very little she could control at the moment but making this choice is something within her power.
She inclines her head slightly towards the Phuro to show respect, "You will have my sworn oath and I will trust you to release me after an appropriate amount of time."
The Shoanti looks at the Phuro expectantly, waiting for her to tell her what she needs to do next.
The Phruo is about to respond when the stocky man with the gold teeth interjects angrily, "This is ridiculous. Is our clan a small child, taking in every stray we run across?"
Herja frowns but the Phruo turns her aged gaze on the man and nods, indicating him to continue. The man coughs then barrels on, "Why are we taking on her problems? Do we not have enough of our own? Besides, if she is be zoralo , how do we know she can fight? Maybe we are bringing a coward into our midst." he finishes with a sneer.
His words are foolish though. Awenasa's scarred and tattooed body clearly shows the signs of a hard and violent life, and is more intimidating then either of the Wanderer men. Perey's vigor might be doubted but Awenasa's should be obvious.
Herja says, "She's a Shoanti warrior, Besaic. If she was a coward, she'd already be dead. Besides, how would you test her? Should we go capture a bear and let her wrestle it?"
Besaic smiled, his teeth glinting, "Despite what you say, I'm not a barbarian, although given your words a mere bear shouldn't give her trouble? No, I say we should at least give her a test, a trial run. Let her wrestle Onas, in front of a crowd." then the stocky man looked sly, "If it was public, it would help sell her skill and uses to the clan, eh? Not a charity case if she can fight."
Herja frowns but the Phuro nods and shifts back to Awenasa and asks in Shoanti, "Would you agree to this? Would you fight one of our warriors in a demonstration bout? Prove your skill and, perhaps, uphold the honor of your people?"
Awenasa watches the exchange between Besaic and Herja with slight apprehension. She can't help but feel that the man with the shiny teeth is trying his hardest to make sure she doesn't become zoralo. And since that would mean her certain death, she is unsettled that he would want her dead when he didn't even know her.
She tries her best to follow the whole idea of fighting in front of a crowd for fun. In her quah you only fight to survive or to protect the quah. In either case, you were fighting for your life which meant you were taking another.
Confusion is clearly etched on the Shaonti's face as the Phuro asks if she would agree to the proposed fight. "If that is the Phuro's decision then it is something I will seriously consider. But I don't understand why I need to kill one of your family to become zoralo. Where I come from, when you fight then someone dies."
Herja hides a knowing smile but Besaic pales slightly, apparently surprised at Awenasa's words.
The Phuro's face is unreadable but she speaks softly, like one might to a small child, "Not to kill, Shoanti. Surely not even among your people, all fights and conflicts are to the death?" she sounds a bit uncertain about this but pushes ahead, "If you buy a horse, do you not test it? Walk it, check the teeth? That is what this would be, a slight test of your skills. A zoralo is a fighter, a protector. We need to check the sharpness of your teeth."
Perey pipes in, "I think fighting for money and such is common with the lowlanders, Awenasa. They have lots of stories about it which are different then the war stories."
"Well, Awenasa of the Shoanti?" the Phuro says, "Will you agree to this test and to follow our rules for it?"
The frown still mars Awenasa's face as she answers the Phuro in Shoanti. "The Ulfin have made sure that there is no time for anything but fights and death. When we are trained there is no killing but it did not sound like you wanted me to train anyone which is why I had to ask."
The Shoanti switched to broken Common, "I understand you. No kill. But how will know I win if no kill? Is okay that I hurt him?"
Perey's comment further muddies the water of Awenasa's mind with his comment rather than providing clarity. Who would pay to watch anyone fight? It was hard to understand the motivations of lowlanders.
Even though she has reservations about fighting for fun, she couldn't deny that at least they were asking her to do something she was good at. It seems like the best possible test for them to give her, at least it seems to make sense to her anyways.
Awenasa decides that agreeing to their plan is the best option for her and Perey. At least this way she is in control of her own fate. "I agree to this test. But how can fighting have rules?"
"We can decide that at a later time." The Phruo said peremptorily, and Awenasa suddenly has the feeling that worked with the Phuro is much like working for the Phuro. This is not very strange to Awenasa, who often treated wise elders are indisputable figures (witness her interactions with She-Who-Disturb-The-Water), but it was odd to see it in a lowlander. Maybe her role as zoralo might not be as symbolic as suggested?
The old woman turns to Besaic, "Make the arrangements.". The shorter man nods, gives Awenas a final appraising look and then heads out of the wagon, the curtain rustling in his wake. This leaves Awenasa alone with Herja and the Phuro.
Finally the elder shrugs and says, "Nightfall, return here. Until then, you have my leave to wander the camp, but as a visitor not as member. Do not make this harder then it has to be." This is evidently as dismissal for the elderly woman closes her eyes and leans back in her chair, apparently ready to fall asleep.
Herja shrugs but says nothing.
Awenasa looks like she wants to ask a few more questions but knows not to push her luck with the Phuro. She knows she has to trust the elder that if she leaves this wagon that she won't be attacked by an angry mob.
She glances over at Herja and then at Perey. She looks back at the Phuro wondering if she was actually trying to sleep or just pretending. "Thank you, Phuro. I will not wander far. I look forward to proving myself to you."
The Shoanti squares her shoulders and takes a breath as she prepares to leave the wagon. On one hand she is loathe to leave the safety of the wagon but on the other hand she can't wait to get back into the fresh air. She motions at Perey to follow her out.
Once outside, she turns to her companion and says, "Well that was unexpected. Now I have a fight to prepare for but I have no idea how to do that because I've never fought for fun before. Do you know any of the stories you spoke of that you can tell me to help prepare? While you tell me stories, I will go through the rituals I normally do before battle to loosen up my muscles and get me into the right frame of mind."
She scanned the camp looking for a place they could go where they wouldn't disturb anyone.
Perey grins, "Don't play that 'noble killer' stuff with me Awenasa. You don't think all that training with the elders, preparing for your coming of age tests, was fun? All of those 'hunting' practices?"
There is an odd catch in his voice and suddenly, as if hit with a rock, Awenasa sees her life through his eyes. To Perey her life hadn't seemed like the tedious, painful hardship that it had been, the constant preparation, continual drilling and painful instruction. The endless tests of her skills, both physical and mental.
No, it had looked like glory, honor and fun to Perey, forced to look from the cold side of the fire. Awenasa had been pushed to her limit yes, but she had been supported and encouraged. She had fought other Shoanti in ritualized bouts, for training but....did Perey think those things had been fun?
Was he wrong? Awenasa had many memories of competing with her sister. Racing, puzzles, and yes sparring. Was that what these lowlanders meant?
She doubted fighting Bescia's champion would be like sparring with her tribal elders.
Awenasa has a hard time finding a lonely place to practice. The Wanderer wagon town is sprawling but is full of people, both Wanderer and villager alike. She doesn't wish to stray too far and risk an altercation with the locals. The last thing she needs is to break some kid's arm or leg. However, she soon finds a novel way of hiding.
Trees
Her homeland had few of them, and those had been isolated tiny groves, perched in the lee of a rock. Here though, trees grew in thick clumps, complete with lush, luxurious greenery. Perfect for hiding.
They slip inside and are soon standing in a tiny, sun-dappled grove surrounded on all sides by silent standing trees. The air is soft and warm, rich with the smell of fresh leaves and dry earth. The ground underfoot is soft and yielding, coated with layers of dry leaves. A perfect practice ground.
Perey finds a log and sits down, looking around the tiny, almost-temple like clearing.
"What if they don't release you from your word?" The small man, not much more then a boy, asks suddenly. "The Phuro I mean. What if she says you have to stay?"
Awenasa cocks her head to the side and regards Perey for a moment. She knows nothing that she says will necessarily make him see her training for what it had been which was hard. So instead of protesting she asks, "What did you see when you saw the training? I would like to know how others see it because what I remember is not being allowed to have fun because it was all about duty and the prophecy." Her voice is not accusatory but actually curious about Perey's point of view.
She digs in her bag and pulls out the dolls that Perey had packed when he gathered her belongings. "These represent the last time I remember having fun and being able to just be a kid, playing with my sister. Then as we got older, everything became about the prophecy and then I belonged to the quah. Yes, there were many interested in helping me succeed and I was honoured to serve my quah, but I don't remember it ever being fun. There was always too much pressure for it to be fun."
Thinking of Makayda brings back memories of competing with her sister doing various things. Awenasa had always won when they ran across the Plateau but Makayda had always been the best at Hide and Seek. No matter where Awenasa hid, her sister would always find her. And then there was the sparring. It usually ended in a draw with them a tangle of limbs on the ground as they dissolved into giggles. Maybe she could channel a bit of that feeling into the fight later tonight.
The Shoanti takes a moment to appreciate being surrounded by the copse of trees. She is pleased that the leaves not only shield them from prying eyes but they also seem to deaden the noise from the camp.
She crosses her arms as Perey sits and has the faintest of smiles on her face, "So does that mean you aren't going to offer yourself as a sparring partner? It's never to late to learn."
Awenasa begins to stretch her muscles and go through the rituals she had been trained to do.
"In this moment, it is easy to say that it isn't about the Phuro keeping her word but about me keeping mine. You have grown up Shoanti and know that we do not give our word lightly." She leaps across the clearing with her leg outstretched and lands in a crouch, "Ask me again once we travel far and long."
Perey looks unconvinced at Aweana's claims of hardships and says, wistfully, "Being the center of attention? Getting the best of everything? Always being first in every ceremony or list? To be at the heart of all things with those that trusted and looked up to you? It seemed like fun to me..."
When Awenasa suggest he help her train his face lights up like a roaring fire at midnight, and then goes out as if someone threw a wet blanket over it. The smaller man shakes his head, "I don't think I would be of much use to you. I'm not a fighter." He slumps down his in his seat, the picture of self-doubt.
Awenasa looks thoughtful, "I never thought about how my life may have looked to others. I can see now how that may have looked like it was fun and exciting. I guess most people don't see what is taken from you but only what is given."
She crosses her arms and waits expectantly, "Nonsense! Everyone is of use, albeit in different ways. You stood your ground in the Shadow Stream which is more than most. Not running away is half the battle. That was one of the first lessons I was taught. One of the lessons that was taught to my sister was that not all fighters use their fists."
Perey's face lights up for good this time and he surges to his feet. Like a child taking up his first formal sparring match, he carefully sets his feet (properly, Awenasa notes with satisfaction) and raises his hands in an attentive guard. This initial preparation done the smaller man hesitates and says, "Err...now what?"
Then, breaking all Shoanti social convention, hurls himself at Awenasa with a series of wild but serious blows.
Awenasa looks at Perey's form thinking that this may not be as painstaking after all. She wonders briefly where he had learned what he did. If it had just been from observing others then he would be a promising student. Before the Shoanti can give further instructions, Perey hurtles himself at her with flailing arms. She reacts on instinct, barely dodging one of his punches while she sidesteps the attack. As she steps to the side, she leaves her trailing leg outstretched to trip the man and send him sprawling.
She takes a readied stance and says the most hated word she heard during her training..."Again."
The warrior waits for Perey to get back to his feet. "This time, think about your strengths and try to use them against your foe. Sometimes running straight at your opponent doesn't work in your favour." And then she said another thing that she had heard far too often during her training, "The only failure is giving up"
Perey spits out a mouthful of leaves and rises again to his feet, swaying a bit after his tumble. This time he attacks more carefully, slow enough that Awenasa can block while explaining what he did wrong. This goes on for a few hours, much the same. Awenasa has to throw him a few more times before he learns, at least, to watch for leg grabs. She finds he is a quick learner and attentive, just not very strong or quick.
Awenasa finds it odd to be the teacher. Her entire life she has been the student, learning from the more experienced warriors and fighters of her quah. teaching was a job for the old who, perhaps could no longer lead a raid personally, but had a deep wealth of knowledge and experience. Awenasa still lacked that, but compared to Perey she was He-Who-Caught-The-Sun out of fireside stories.
One thing she notes is, the younger man doesn't use magic. Awenasa knows she has it, he used it in that bloody fight against the albino lizard. Why not use it now? The topic doesn't come up before the sunlight starts to fade and dusk creeps into their forested clearing. It was getting late surely The Phuro would want them.....
A figure appears out of the greenery. A young Wanderer boy wearing a bright red sash and headband. His eyes widen at the sight of Awenasa's many scars and tattoos. Stammering he says, "T-t-t- Phuro wants you."
Then he adds, voice a whisper, "You are joining us?"
Awenasa files her observation in the back of her mind for later. She had been specific in saying that he should use any strength he had against a foe. This is why it is puzzling that he hadn't used magic against her. Or was he being too literal and didn't consider her a foe? Whatever the case, it would do her good to learn how to fight against magic more effectively and so it was something she would need to speak to him about when this was over.
The Shoanti warrior whirls towards the sound of rustling in the brush, seemingly growing to twice her height at a potential threat. She immediately stops when she realizes that it is just a boy but her posture remains imposing.
With a grim look on her face she answers in broken Common, "Must win fun fight first." She gathers her things and looks to Perey to join her. Then she motions at the boy to get moving, "Lead to Phuro."
The Wanderer caravan 'village' was very different at night. In the bright sun it had seemed an open and airy place, colorful wagons spaced out in a grassy meadow, with laughter and song caught on the breeze. The growing darkness changed it all.
Now it seemed a close-knit warren of wooden walls and narrow streets lit by orange camp-fires. Shadows moved here and there, on the edge of sight. The world is quiet with only the sighing of a night wind and the calls of birds lost in the gloom. Overhead, the stars blaze as bright as mirrors. The Wanderer child leads them into this oddly threatening maze with unerring skill. Awenasa can't help but feel on guard as they wind through the darkened tangle.
There seem to be few people out and about, and they run across more stray dogs and cats then humans. The Shoanti wonders what is going on but Perey whispers, "I bet they are waiting for us. The Phruo said a new zoralo was rare these days...non one wants to miss it."
So she would be 'fighting' in front of a crowd? Were they expecting a show? Like a storyteller or a wizard showing off for children? Would they laugh when she broke bones or when someone lost teeth? Fighting was honorable and worthy but it wasn't...fun to watch. Was it?
Then Awenasa hears the drums, deep throbbing sounds from the heart of the encampment. The boy leads them toward the growing noise and her heart quickens. It is a slow but steady beat, done by many hands. A low murmur of voices grows and there is an orange glow of firelight. outlining the wagons ahead.
Out of the shadows a figure materializes, so quietly even Awenasa is surprised (while Perey nearly faints). It is Herja and he dismisses their young guide with a jerk of the head.
Alone their guide says, "Are you ready, Awenasa of the Shoanti?"
Awenasa's eyes dart from shadow to shadow as she follows her guide through the labyrinth of wagons. Her head snaps towards Perey as he whispers his theory. She voices her thoughts as they walk, "They want to be entertained...by fighting?"
The drums have Awenasa's attention and she is unaware of Herja until her steps out of the shadows. Instinctively she drops into a ready position, prepared to strike. When she realizes who it is, she gives Herja a respectful bow. "Your skill shows me that I still have much to learn." She nods, "But for tonight, I am ready."
Herja jerks a laugh, but Awenasa looks closer and sees the man seems tense, nervous. His hands are clenched together, fingers interwoven in a tight knot.
"I am sure you are ready...for a fight." The man says but adds, "You will not only be fighting. The rest of the clan is there, and they will be watching you, judging you. You seek to join our quah. What would you have done, if your own tribe had done this? Would you have been generous judge?" He laughs again, "No, you would only have wanted the best. You have to impress them, Awenasa. Winning is only part of the battle. You also have to-"
He is interrupted by a sudden loud roll of the unseen drums, and then silence. Herja grunts, "That's the signal. Come on, follow me."
Without another word he strides off to a gap in the circled wagons, outlined by orange light. Perey glances at Awenasa, shrugs a bit nervously, and follows.
The pair of them pass through the gap and enter into what had been an empty patch of ground surrounded on all sides by high-sided wagons. The area is packed with people, shoulder to shoulder. Men, women and children all vie for space, craning their necks to get a good look at Awenasa as she steps into the light.
A huge roaring bonfire takes up the middle of the space, crackling as it sent embers floating into the dark sky, so bright as to dim the stars. The Phuro is seated near the fire, in a small cushioned chair. The firelight dances in her wispy hair, making the ancient woman look even more translucent then usual.
A clear, flat space was next to her, of flattened grass and outlined with a simple rope. The fighting place? Standing there is a tall, well-muscled man that Awenasa recognizes as the man who was challenging the villagers to wrestle for prizes. He was standing calm and steady, not smiling but not frowning either.
Awenasa barely has time to take this all in when Bescia suddenly appears at her side, gold teeth glittering in the light. He has a wineskin in his hand and he offers it, "For luck!" and shoves it into her hand.
Awenasa snorts and looks at Herja, "You have obviously never visited my quah. There were never any generous judges while I was growing up, only those constantly telling me what to improve and what I was doing wrong. There was too much at stake...", her voice catches, "And it still wasn't enough."
She sighs and squares her shoulders, "Right, impress and entertain but not kill."
Awenasa brings up the rear of their odd parade into the circle of wagons. She blinks against the flickering flames, allowing her eyes to adjust to the new level of light. She acknowledges the Phuro by giving her a slight bow. She sizes up her opponent and gives him a nod of her head. His demeanour is quite different than earlier and she respects the fact that he is taking his role seriously and she has a feeling that he will adequately test her skills. She recalls what she had seen earlier of his fighting skills but is fairly certain that how he approaches a villager was quite different than how he would approach her.
The Shoanti's face shows a subtle disdain as the wineskin is shoved into her hand. She firmly pushes it back into Bescia's hand. In broken Common she simply states, "Dulls senses. No good for zoralo."
Without even waiting to see how the man with the strange, glittering teeth reacts to her words, she takes a step towards the Phuro and waits expectantly for further instructions.
As Awenasa turns down the offered drink, she surveys the crowd's reaction. It is mixed. On one hand, her explanation makes sense. Few people wanted a drunk caravan guard (even if that was the stereotype). It showed she was taking this seriously.
On the other hand, she just refused an honorable offer of hospitality from what was, in a sense, her prospective new family. It could be construed as an insult and Awenasa knew Shoanti quahs that would have taken such a rebuke as a mortal insult.
Well, one fight at a time. Perey seems to fade into the background as Awenasa steps into the cleared flat area near the fire. The dancing light plays off her muscled skin, making both her and her foe glow like beaten bronze. The ground is hard and dry under her feet, but soil not the rock and gravel she is used to. It reminds her, this is a strange land.
Bescia frowns at her refusal but recovers quickly, shrugging it off. He hurries over to Awenasa's opponent, muttering something in the man's ear. The lean man grunts, and waves Bescia away shortly, keeping his eyes on Awenasa. Bescia, frowning away, eases back into the general crowd, leaving the two fighters alone.
Still looking at Awenasa her would-be foe says, "My name is Calo. It is an honor to be part of your testing. We have not had a zoralo since my great grandfather's time." His voice is pleasant but low, clearly meant for her ears only. "I warn you, I was told to make this a true test. I was also told that your are not given to mercy when fighting." his eyes flick to her scars and tattoos. "May we both act with honor." He offers her his forearm for a warrior's grip. His skin is slick with sweat and oil.
Suddenly, loud enough to nearly make Awenasa jump, a voice booms, "We are gathered here to consider this woman as a zoralo!" Turning she is shocked to see it is the diminutive Phuro, still seated in her small chair. Some magic is enhancing her voice, making it a sonorous, rolling boom, loud to be heard over the active crowd and roaring flames.
"Woman!" She says, voice hammering Awenasa's ears, "Do you still wish to become a guardian of this clan? To share our meals and shelter in our wagons? To shed blood for our blood? To walk where we walk?"