Awenasa gladly takes the disappointed head shakes as she refused, in what she thought was a respectful manner, Bescia's drink. Truth be told, she didn't trust the man with the shiny teeth. For all she knew, he had put something in the drink to slow her reflexes.
Her opinion did not improve any as she watches him flit over to her opponent before slinking away when he is once again dismissed.
She inclines her head slightly at Calo, "When time comes for fighting, mercy dead. This new experience to me. You have my word, no kill." She grasps his forearm, acknowledging him as a fellow warrior.
The Shoanti frowns slightly as his skin feels slick, "You make self slippery?"
But before he has a chance to answer a voice rings out over the crowd causing her to turn. Her eyes widen in surprise when she identifies the source.
Not being one for many words, Awenasa nods solemnly and answers, "I do."
Mentioning killing makes Calo's eyes widen but then he grins, obviously assuming Awenasa is joking. Before she has a chance to correct him he replies about the oil.
"Of course."He says, "Always before a fight. The Shoanti do not?" But this is no time for idle conversation. In a moment the Phuro's declarations make the man withdraw and take up a fighting stance.
The old woman goes on, after Awenasa's affirmation, now speaking to the crowd, "This fight is not for sport or entertainment. It is to prove our new would-be zoralo's worth, her skill and bravery. This will not be a fight to the death. Only to surrender or, in case someone is seemingly unable to surrender, my choice." A quick ripple through the crowd but no one speaks up. The aged woman turns slightly, facing Calo and Awenasa.
"You are both trained warriors, and very valuable. I would consider it wise to avoid crippling each other, it would be a great loss to the clan/" Then, without shifting she says, "Begin!"
Calo moves with a blurring, blinding speed that takes Awenasa off guard. He covers the distance between them in an eyeblink, feet seeming to barely to touch the packed earth.
One of his hands drives toward Awenasa's gut, while a backhand snaps toward her face, leaving her no time to think.
But Awenasa doesn't need to think to fight. Her body is trained to react instantly, automatically, with a surety born of hundreds of hours of training. Instinctively , she rocks back on her heels, dodging the gut punch while one hand slaps his face strike away.
Then Calo grins and hunkers down in a low fighting stance, rocking on his feet, teeth bright in the fire glare. Ah, so it was just a test? And clearly she passed it.
Awenasa studies her opponent somewhat impassively. She shouldn't be surprised that his opening move was a test, this whole fight was a test. He had done her a favour in coming to her so the least she could do was show him and them what she could do in close quarters.
The Shoanti's fists blur in movement as she targets Calo with a few warm up punches centre mass.
Maybe it was the strange drum music, or the flickering firelight. Maybe it was the odd food or the unknown languages. Maybe it was the humid air. Or maybe Awenasa was just tired after a long and strange day. Whatever it was, her reply to Calo's attacks was as clumsy as a child's. Worse, considering a Shoanti child who aimed so badly would have been forced to gather dung for a week.
Awenasa's fist reaches toward the Wanderer's face but slow, far too slow. Calo's hand reaches up and grabs her wrist in a vise-like grip. He frowns, like a man catching a fish far too easily. Still, no fighter would turn down such a chance.
Using his grip to throw her off balance, Calo sweeps his leg and catches Awena's ankles. Neatly as a dancer, he steps in and Awenasa starts to topple. Not content with his, Calo drives his free elbow into her side with savage force. Awenasa can hear a rib crack slightly under the crushing blow.
She hits the ground hard, sending up a small cloud of fragrant dust. The air is knocked out of her and she hears a few groans of disappointment from the crowd. They had been expecting a fight, not a walkover. As Awenasa opens one dirty eye, she catches sight of Bescia, leering in the firelight, face cracking into a smile.
Calo looms above her, ready to attack her again.
Pain blooms throughout Awenasa's side and she knows that she deserves it. Not only does she deserve it after such a pitiful attempt to hit Calo but she embraces the pain and uses it to focus her. The Wanderers would never accept her if she fought like Perey. She needed to fight like the Shoanti that she was.
Even as she lies prone on the ground, she calculates her next move. She can't take the fight directly to Calo with him having the advantage over her. She only had one option at this point and she knows that no one would expect what she was to do next.
Tapping into the unique energy that runs deep within her being, Awenasa begins to change her phase cell by cell until her body becomes one with the air. She floats on the air until she is clear of Calo's imposing form and then rematerializes. Feeling that turn-about is fair play, her leg shoots out to sweep Calo's legs out from under him.
It is like trying to kick a shadow. Calo nimbly hops up, dodging her leg entirely. The man seems a bit confused at Awenasa's sudden vanishing act but watches her carefully hands spread wide. So far, Awenasa hasn't even laid a finger on him. In the back of her mind, a nasty thought takes root.
What if the spirit didn't want her to win? What if this was a mistake? The wrong path?
Wary of more Empty Body tricks, Calo scuttles in, moving quickly. Half-jumping into the air, he draws back one fist and then lets loose with his full momentum, shouting some wordless battlecry. His body is outlined by fire as it passes through the air toward.
Awenasa might be out of her element and unlucky, but she had a head of iron. Calo's fist rings off the top of her skull like a bell and judging from his wince, it hurts his hand more then it hurts her. The lithe man falls to the ground and takes a defensive stance again, arms wide.
Not being knocked out was good, but it would hardly win a battle.
Awenasa can't afford to lose her focus but she also can't help but fixate on the thought that maybe it was the spirits that were causing her to fumble around like a novice. What if they were trying to tell her something and she wasn't listening? She decides that if she continues to fail then she will have to earnestly entertain the spirits' involvement.
She recognizes Calo as a serious opponent that needs to be slowed so that she can regroup.
She takes advantage of him holding his arms out wide to aim her fist directly at the man's heart. From her training, she knows precisely where to hit him to cause his body to shut down momentarily.
She follows up her main punch to the chest with two more to the abdomen.
Turnabout is fair play, after all. Awneasa guesses Calo's last blow had been an attempt at a knock-out blow, so why not try the same. Or, at least, try and stun him?
Awenasa aims for the man's heart with a sudden punch. The Wanderer warrior is quick as a greased snake however anf manages to twist his body enough for Awenasa to miss her target. She still hits him but her fist bounces off his ribcage. Her first real blow on the man. The Shoanti follows up with two more body blows. Calo manages to block one, but the other hits him in the gut. It is like punching an dried, weathered log. Not an once of give in the wiry man.
Still, Calo winces and says in a low voice, barely audible above the crackling flames and the shouts of the crowd.
"Ah, so you can hit." he smiles, shifting his stance yet again. Awenasa watches warily. Did the man have no end to his tricks? Again, instead of launching into a combination of swift attacks, he summons his power for a single blow, a powerful roundhouse kick that would have sent Awenasa's head into next week.
But it is Calo's turn to be defeated by the spirits, or merely the flickering light, and his massive kick sails by her head without disturbing a single hair.
Awenasa takes advantage of Calo having to recover from his miss to leap at the man with her foot extended to kick him in the abdomen.
"And I kick." As her foot connects, she allows the momentum of her body to push him back and brings down the edges of her hands on each side of his neck.
She drops into a readied stance and waits to see if her targeted attack has any effect on the man.
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There is a mixture of cheers and jeers from the crowd as Awenasa launches herself into the air, foot extended. Her kick lands with an audible thump on the man's chest, nearly knocking the Wanderer man over. She moving, Awenasa follows up with twin strikes to his neck, hoping to daze and stun him.
Her blows are a blur of motion, faster then the eye can follow.
The side of Awenasa's open plan slams into his neck hard enough to make onlookers wince in sympathetic pain. It is more then just a simple strike however.
Shoanti warriors were not simple brawlers, relying on speed and strength to bring down their foes. Awenasa had been well-trained in how to strike effectively, efficiently how to wear down her opponents with simple, considered strikes. she knew that her chop had struck a critical nerve and Calo would be dazed, slightly, for the next few seconds.
And clearly, Calo knew it to. He weaved slightly, his stance uncertain for the first time. His eyes flicked from Awenasa to Bescia and back. Then, without a moment's warning, he hurled himself at Awenasa flying into a full body tackle.
Calo hits Awenasa like a runaway cart, slamming into her. Before she can react, he has her arms wrenched and her body locked up. Now they are wrestling and Calo has the upper hand. Up close Awenasa can see the arm is hurt, considerably, by her repeated blows. His skin is torn here and there, bleeding freely and nasty welts are visible on his neck and chest. Even his breathing is shaky, hampered by battered ribs, but his grip is like iron, unwavering. Even seriously injured, the man is formidable.
"Besica wanted me," Calo grunts in her ear, soft as a mother's lullaby. "Wanted me to 'slip up and snap your neck. I won't, but be careful. He has it out for you."
Awenasa does her best to absorb Calo's momentum as he crashes into her and pins her arms. She is already on the move as Calo's breath warms her ear when he speaks. She twists her body and juts out her leg to throw him off balance so he loosens his grip enough so that she can reverse the grapple.
Could it be possible that she had found another ally with Calo? He seemed honourable which gained her respect. Keeping her voice low, she replies, "There always snakes. I watch where step."
Reversing a grapple is not easy, especially when your opponent is a trained and experienced wrestler. As Awenasa tries to shift her weight and flip the grip, Calo counters her with practiced skill, doing his best to contain the Shoanti. But the man is injured and still obviously dealing with damaged nerves. His tight grip slips for a moment, his balance loose for an instant, and Awenasa takes advantage.
She slips his grip and suddenly she in control, pining an arm behind his back and one knee pressed against his leg. Calo grunts and tries to shake Awenasa off.
He comes close. With a sudden jerk, kicks out with one leg and almost rolls Awenasa over his shoulder onto the ground, but Awenasa hangs on, quite literally by her fingertips, her nails digging into the man's skin. Calo lets out a shuddering breath, still struggling ineffectively.
Awenasa can tell that Calo is hurting but the man continues to struggle against her. She respects him for not giving up but she also finds it annoying. She wonders how much longer the Phuro will allow this to continue but the Shoanti doesn't dare risk a glance at the crowd because she has her hands full with containing Calo.
She knows that she is taking a risk in trying to maintain her grapple on the experienced fighter but she is reluctant to release him. Hopefully she can wear him down further and so she tightens her grip on his arm and leans on his leg with her full weight. She pulls his arm further back to make sure she immobilizes him but is very careful not to cripple him because that was against the Phuro's wishes.
Feeling less and less resistance in Calo's muscles, Awenasa takes a calculated risk. Shifting her weight, she pushes Calo down into the dirt so that he is lying prone with him pinned beneath her. She continues to hold his one arm immobilized behind his back and she braces herself to use her full weight to keep him down, becoming like a human cage.
The pair of struggling warriors fell to the ground, the rich scent filling Awenasa's nostrils, which was a nice break from the sweat and blood she had been smelling. Calo struggles under her like a poorly broken horse, trying to wriggle free. Awenasa pins his arm however, and puts a knee on the small of his back. Fully in control of the hold now, she debates how to end this.
Meanwhile, Calo tries one last effort to break free.
But it is hopeless, face down in the dirt, Awenasa sitting on like like a living rock, there is no way to escape. The man snorts dust out of his nose, cranes his neck and says, "Hardly a fair fight, sitting on top of me." But clearly Calo cannot turn to mist or tap into some secret arcane well. Awenasa is sitting on him and that's that.
But how to finish this? Would she have to pummel him into submission? Couldn't he see he was beaten?
Awenasa smiles grimly, "Can't kill so have to sit. Sit seems fair now, yes?" Not that she'd willingly kill this man after fighting him. He fought honourably and won her respect. Even though she was already wary of Besica, Calo didn't have to warn her and it took courage to tell her.
The Shoanti knows that if the roles were reversed that she would not willingly yield, that she would continue to fight until she could no longer do so. But Calo had a point, she couldn't sit on him forever.
She snakes her free arm around his neck and gives a controlled squeeze to slow the blood flow to his brain and hopefully cause him to black out.
"Do you yield?"
The crowd shouts, trying to rouse Calo into further fighting but it is obvious the cause is lost. Awensa is kneeling on his back, other leg pinning the fallen fighter's. She has one arm twisted into a tight arm lock, capable of breaking it at will, while her other arm is slowly suffocating the man.
Still the man grunts, "Never!" To Awenasa'a entreaty.
And then promptly passes out. Awenasa holds the grip for another second or so as the man goes limp, but then relaxes, happy to feel the man start to breathe under her. At the very least, she didn't kill him. Odds are he'd be wounded with nothing worse then some very nasty bruises and a crushing headache.
The crowd groans and then goes silent, as Calo's head smacks lifelessly on the dirt. Awenasa glances up to the Phuro, still seated in her small chair, looking like a child left in the desert wind for a generation.
The old woman is silent for a moment, then gives a tiny shrug.
When she speaks her voice is the same raspy whisper she heard in the wagon, deprived of whatever magical spell it once held.
"Awenasa of the Shoanti. You have defeated our champion and proved yourself worthy. Now, rise as Awenasa the zoralo, of the Stair of Stars Clan." She raises her cracked voice to the others and say, "We have a new member tonight! Come, let us celebrate with good food and good music!"
Awenasa smiles slightly at Calo's response because it mirrors her own should their roles be reversed. He was a worthy opponent and maybe she could learn from him, or at least stay in peak fighting form as she lives away from her quah.
The big man passes out and she is satisfied that she can release her hold. She is also relieved, and somewhat pleased, that he is still breathing and that she managed to not kill him. The crowd may be silent but inside Awenasa is celebrating this victory.
Awenasa slowly rises at the Phuro's declaration, the old woman's words having a sobering effect on the Shoanti. Can she still think of herself as being of the Tamiir-Quah? She knows that to survive, especially in the lowlands, she needs to be Awenasa the zoralo of the Stair of Stars Clan. But part of her feels like a piece of herself disappears in that moment. And what if the Phuro chooses to keep her in service too long? Would Awenasa Windkeeper of the Tamiir-Quah disappear all together?
It is then that Awenasa chances a look around the crowd. The Phuro calls for a celebration but does the rest of the clan feel the same? The Shoanti specifically seeks out Besica's face to see what his reaction is, knowing that he wouldn't be pleased.
Awenasa's body aches from the various punches, kicks and tumbling she just put it through. Her clothes are stained with dirt and more then a little blood. Still, it isn't as bad as it could be. A good night's sleep will take care of the majority of the problems. Time for that later.
She turns to find Bescia but the gold-toothed man is not there, having slipped behind the crowd. And suddenly the crowd is surging toward her, entering the fighting ring. For a panicked moment the Shoanti thinks they are going to attack her and her heart rate spikes. Then she notices they are singing and laughing, dancing as they hop into the packed earth circle. A few rush toward her and lift her up on their shoulders. Most of what they are saying is in their own, liquid language but she knows the one word they chant.
"Victor! Victor! Victor!" Others join in, packing in to help hold up the heavy fighter. For a moment she worries about Calo being trampled, but the fallen man is also lifted up and treated well. He's taken off to the side, out of the firelight ring. A band strikes up a lively tune and the real party begins.
Food and drink are laid out on tables, much of it new to Shoanti. Stuffed peppers, spicy tomato stews and fried dumplings dusted in salt. Even better are the plates of desserts. Awenasa's people have little access to sugar outside of the odd beehive and a traveling trader. But the Wanderer's clearly have no such lack and their collection of stuffed pastries make Aweanasa's head spin.
She is the absolute center of attention and the party swirls around her. Awenasa is reason for every toast, for every round of drinks. The butt of every joke and the reason for every cheer.
She spots Perey sitting in a sheltered spot, shyly talking to some of the musicians taking a break from playing. His young face is animated, gesturing toward the various guitars and drums.
Awenasa doesn't have any time to process the implications of Bescia's disappearance before she is swarmed by members of her new clan. She flinches slightly at their sudden onslaught as her mind processes the potential threat. Realizing that there is no immediate threat, she begins to relax just as she's hoisted into the air. She contemplates resisting but decides not to, believing that she could not risk insulting anyone.
Thankfully the ones carrying her don't have the stamina to do it for long and soon her feet are back on solid ground. Delicious smells waft towards Awenasa's nose on the breeze and her stomach rumbles. Her test has obviously worked up an appetite. She grazes standing next to the table, taking bites of the savoury dishes but she soon moves over to the sweets where she takes up residence. She makes sure that she tries one of each before starting all over again. She doesn't have any words for some of the flavours she tastes but her favourite is the one with a sweet custard surrounded by flaky, sticky pastry. She spends most of the next hour licking off her fingers between bites.
She is definitely uncomfortable being the center of attention but it is also a role that she is somewhat familiar with, having grown up under the cloud of the prophecy. She forces herself to smile when cheered or toasted. She laughs at every joke albeit stiffly, but this is more due to her personality than anything else. This was where Makayda would have thrived and shone. She had always made everyone feel like she was their best friend. It had made it easy for Awenasa to quietly stand to the side and watch rather than interact because everyone wanted to be with her sister. The Shoanti does her best to channel her sister but quickly realizes that she is a poor imitation.
Awenasa holds out the hem of her tunic to create a bit of a sling that she fills with pastries before finding a spot by a tree to eat and watch. She smiles to herself as she spots Perey with his new friends. He seems to be fitting in easily, much easier than herself. Would he even want to leave when it was time to? She takes another bite of pastry, her foot tapping in time with the lively music. Even though she preferred more drums, she definitely enjoys the intricacy of this new music.
The party lasts way into the night and bleeds into the early morning. The Shoanti makes sure she plays her part and makes herself available to any of the Wanderers that wish to speak with her but doesn't go out of her way to seek anyone out. She much prefers to watch and learn what she can from her new family.
The music and fires begin to die down as people finally begin to turn in. It is then that Awenasa realizes that she has no idea what she was supposed to do. Was she supposed to keep watch? If not, did she just find a spot of earth and grab whatever sleep she could until the sun rose? She looks around for Herja hoping that he is still around and will be able to answer her questions.
The feast lasts until the Moon is riding high in the sky, reaching past midnight. The Wanderers are clearly a people who enjoy a good festival when they set their minds to it. Even as the general maelstrom around Awenasa subsides, plenty of others are still dancing, singing or simply drinking the potent red-tinged liquor Awenasa has gained a rapid respect for.
While Awenasa cannot understand much of what is said, she is told the drinking songs are very old and either very happy or very sad, depending on how you sing them. Somehow, the cadence changes the meaning of the words. Curious.
One thing that strikes Awenasa is free these people share their feelings. The Shoanti are a reserved people, often only expressing the depths of their emotions to family members and even then only in private. No Shoanti warrior would cry or sing in the way Awenasa's new family would do. Even her sister, who had been quite lively by her standards, would have been hard-pressed to match these people. Thinking of her sister sobered her and her thoughts darkened somewhat as the party slowly broke up into disparate groups of friends and relatives.
Awenasa walks the perimeter of the camp, unsure of her duties. Did her task of guarding these people start now? Was she always on duty? How much authority did she have, exactly? Still, it seemed a good start to at least patrol the outside border once, this first night. Besides, a walk would clear her slightly fuzzy head.
The outer facing wagons are dark, with windows shuttered and doors pulled shut. It reminds Awenasa of a town wall, the little palisades the Varsians put up near the borer (to keep up her and other raiders). While the inside of the camp pulsed with life and color, it revealed little of this to the outside world. Why, she wondered. She had much to learn about these people.
Awenasa is about half way done with her simple circuit when she sees a man kneeling near a wagon. At first she worries he is sick or hurt, but then spots a very simple altar in front of him clearly made to be dissembled and moved easily. A purple candles glows on it, barely lighting the space. A faint scent of spice hangs in the air.
To her surprise, she recognizes it as Calo, her erstwhile combatant. The man is sitting cross-legged in front of the small shrine, head down in contemplation. Awenasa is debating to leave the man his privacy or overhear his prayers, when he stiffens and then says, "Awenasa? Yes, no one else here moves like you do. Come, sit with me."
When she approaches, the man's face is dim in the faint candlelight but she can see it is bruised and still stained with blood and dirt. He seems unconcerned about it.
"The Great Dreamer" he says gesturing to the very simple, even spartan altar. "Do you people worship the gods, Awenasa? I would know what you believe, I think I have earned it." His voice is serious and sober, but not unkind.
Awenasa breathes deeply, enjoying the night air as she walks. There is a freshness to the air in the lowlands that further reminds her that she is a long way from home. She is also surprised at how warm it is still in the middle of the night. The land seems to retain some of the heat that would be quickly released on the Plateau.
As soon as the Shoanti recognizes the man she encounters as Calo, she means to leave him in peace thinking that she was probably the last person he would want to see. She freezes when she hears her name and she silently curses in her head at having been detected. She slowly moves forward at his invitation, partly out of respect for her former opponent and partly out of curiosity. "What make you know it me? Was I loud?"
She sits cross-legged beside Calo, curious as to why he sits here alone rather than joining in the eating, drinking, and dancing. Of course, he may not have wanted to celebrate her victory which meant his loss but surely he still enjoyed good food and drink. She tries to remember whether she saw him earlier with the rest of the clan or not.
Awenasa agrees that Calo earned answers to whatever he wanted to ask her but she's a little surprised that he asks the question he did. She begins by telling him about her people in general, "Some worship some gods. Others seek ancestral spirits. I know your Great Dreamer but Shoanti call her Mother Moon." She falls silent as she contemplates the more personal part of his question. "Me believe guided and helped by spirits so sister can still be with me, but no say I worship them."
"Thank you for honourable fight. You good man. I look forward to fight by side. You wrestle good."
"Not too loud." Calo says simply, "Too quiet."
The sounds of the ebbing party rise and fall in the night air, partly drowned out by the night sounds of frogs and insects. It was a much louder set of nature sounds then Awenasa was used to, a far cry from the hum of wind over raw rock.
"Mother Moon."Calo says, tasting the words, then nods, "A worthy name for her." He frowns slightly when Awenasa mentions she was not much of a worshipper. "That is not good Awenasa. It is the gods that guide the world, that move us. You said you have a great mission, yes? How will you do that without the gods? Not everyone you run into will be as easy to beat as me."
A wiry grin, "Can all Shoanti fight like that? Now I believe all the stories. No wonder even the Ulfen are afraid to go into the highlands. The Plateau must be a formidable place. Please, tell me about it. I am curious."
Awenasa looks puzzled. Did she understand him correctly? "How hear if too quiet?" Not that she had been trying to sneak around the camp but it would be helpful to know how she could improve in moving undetected in these new surroundings.
She shrugs slightly at his frown, "I respect those with connection to gods but it not me. I have mission but not sure if gods care, but my ancestor spirits do. They help, they guide." She gives a soft sort, "And you not easy to beat. I be sore tomorrow."
She nods solemnly at his grin, "All Shoanti good fighters." Her face darkens at the mention of the Ulfen. "Ulfen should be afraid. They take what they should not and I will make them regret stepping on Plateau."
Awenasa sits quietly listening to the sounds around her. "It more noisy here than on Plateau." She recalls the words she had heard some of the merchants use to discuss her homeland. "Lowlanders call it harsh and barren, but they blind to its beauty. But best thing is that it ours and we free."
"And if make feel better, me get more training than most." She fell into sullen silence, Not that that did Makayda any good
"What now? Who tells me what to do?"
Calo's smile is faint in the dim light, more a suggestion they anything Awenasa can truly make out. "This is my family and I have spent many nights on watch. I know each tread, each footstep." he paused and went on, "Imagine if you were hunting a horse and waited for one to walk past. But instead you heard the sound of a rabbit. You know it is no horse. "
"Sore?" Calo laughs and turns, showing a very bruised and swollen face. Even by candlelight, Awenasa can see one eye is sealed shut by a nasty yellowing bruise and a bit of blood is still oozing out of his cracked nose. "Yes. Sore."
The wiry man listens to her describe her home and nods, "One day I will visit and see what you see. Perhaps you can even show me something of it. Besides, I have to go and learn such wrestling tricks."
"We are not like other lowlanders." Calo says, laughing a bit, "We do not have lords and judges, to order our lives. We are free men and women, traveling where we will and when we wish. No one will give you orders, Awenasa of the Shoanti and now of Stair of Stars clan. You are the zoralo, strong and wise, guardian of the clan. Do what you feel is right and just, and the clan will honor you for it. Be shameful or cowardly, and you will not be honored. Simple." And with that, Calo rises painfully to his feet and wanders off into the darkness, leaving Awenasa alone at the small altar.
It is a strange night. No knowing where to sleep (or if she should sleep) Awenasa spends most of the night awake, watching fires burn down and the stars wheel overhead. She had plenty to think about, at least. The night is cool and comfortable, the ground warm. She circles the camp, getting a feel for the layout of her new home. The collection of wagons, where people put their fires, listening tot he quiet talk wafting out of covered wagons.
The sun finds her near the fighting circle, sitting besides the now smoldering fire. Perey is gone, having been invited to some private gathering after the party and presumably sleeping there. Awenasa finds it amusing that Perey, so minor he wasn't even part of the ritual, has slipped into this clan so much easier then her. She feels as out of place as a lowlander at a Shoanti drum circle.
As the sky turns gray then pink, Herja emerges from a wagon.
"Good morning, zoralo." he says formally, "All's well in the night?" He bows slightly and then pulls an apple out of a pocket, flicking it toward Awenasa. "Breakfast. You'll need it. The clan moves today and breaking camp is always a tedious process. How do you feel after last night?"
Awenasa nods in understanding as Calo explains how he knew it was her. Even though she knew what he meant, she couldn't help but think, But I am no rabbit!
Some may look at Calo's wounds and feel sympathy or remorse but not Awenasa. He had earned each bruise just like she had. "Yes, sore. You know how to punch and leave little mark. Still hurts." She stretches a bit and winces, "Did family enjoy show? Me told to impress but don't know if did."
The Shoanti gives a rare smile, "Me be honoured to show you Plateau...one day, if have success." She leaves out the part where she can't go home unless she does what she left home to do.
Puzzlement clouds Awenasa's face, She considers herself free as any Shoanti would but there was always someone telling her what to do within the quah, someone who led. "What of Phuro? She lead and make decisions for clan. And are there elders who share wisdom with clan?" Simple? His words didn't sound simple. They sounded complicated and full of pitfalls. Of course she wouldn't be shameful or cowardly but what if she made a wrong decision? Or what if she did something she thought was honourable but the clan did not?
She is left alone with her thoughts as Calo leaves her. It doesn't take long before she gets to her feet, with a small grunt as her muscles protest, and begins her patrol of the camp.
On about her sixth lap of the camp, both her eyelids and her legs are heavy. The only fire that was still burning was the one close to the fighting ring and she sits down for a moment of respite. She leans against one of the trees and dozes for a moment or two. However, the occasional unfamiliar sound and her sense of duty to protect the clan keeps her from sleeping properly.
When she rouses herself, the once burning fire is now just smouldering ash. As she suspected, she is sore. She spends some time going through her exercises and stretches her muscles, focusing her body and mind.
It is at this point that Herja emerges. Am I zoralo now instead of Awenasa? She plucks the apple out of the air as he tosses it at her. Fruit was a luxury on the Plateau and it takes all her will power to not devour it immediately.
Even though she knows Herja understands Shoanti, out of respect for her new family she sticks with broken Common, "Night peaceful." Her body aches but she has experienced worse. She wars with herself about whether to admit this to Herja. On one hand, she is loathe to admit any weakness let alone to someone she met only yesterday. On the other hand, they should know she wasn't in perfect form. After a few moments of silence she reluctantly says, "Body sore and tired. Sleeping for short time on ground didn't help. Tried to keep watch most of night."
"Is clan breaking camp like Shoanti breaking camp? How can help?"
"I doubt anyone expects you to help today, Awenasa." Herja said, casting a look at her various scrapes, cuts and bruises. She didn't look at bad as Calo, but it was still not a pretty sight. "You earned your keep yesterday. Besides, you will just be in that way. You must learn, before you can help."
Awenasa quickly sees what he means. Even as the sun comes up, casting long shadows, the Clan springs into motion. Fires are put out, tents knocked down, and furniture gathered up. Banners and flags are gathered, tied and put away. The stairs and porches of the wagons are drawn up, sometimes in clever folding mechanisms, sometimes literally taken apart and left as scrap wood. Tables and chairs are whisked away, packed into suddenly groaning wagons. What surprises Awenasa is how everyone, from the oldest to youngest helps. Those who can't carry supervise the loading, sharing the experience of thousands of such moves, while the youngest pick up stray items left behind. Apart from some firewood left for the villagers, not much is left behind except cold ashes and trampled grass.
Horses and oxen are led from their pasture, driven by grinning and singing children. Herja over sees this process, helping hitch them in their correct teams to the right wagons. While nothing is labeled, Awenasa gets the feeling everything has it's proper place. Perey joins her about halfway through the chaotic yet purposeful process. He too has an apple, and is gingerly chewing around the thick core.
"I asked to help but they just laughed and said I'd get in the way." The smaller man picks at some skin in his teeth. Awenasa can't help but notice her traveling companion looks more relaxed then ever. Apparently Wanderer life agreed with him. "Where did you sleep last night?" he asked, as a heavy wagon groaned to life next to them, greased axles creaking loudly in the morning air. "I didn't see you anywhere."
Part of Awenasa is relieved that hard physical labour isn't in her immediate future. "I will watch. I will learn."
Before he leaves she has to ask, "Where do I sleep? Or am supposed to keep watch all night? And if do, when do I sleep? I not sure of my place."
The tearing down of the camp was a production in itself and Awenasa watches in fascination. Much of it is similar to when the Shoanti move their camps around the Plateau but there are also many differences, the main one being wagons verses tepees.
She looks over at Perey as he approaches. She had already eaten her apple, core and all, as she stood and watched. She had wanted to save it since it was a treat but the rumbling in her stomach had quickly changed her mind.
"Herja told me the same thing. First watch, then learn, then help." Awenasa wonders fleetingly if she would ever be relaxed again, ever be at peace again. Oh how her life had changed in the last few weeks.
She shrugs and shakes her head, "I didn't sleep, not really anyways. I think I dozed for a bit by one of the fires but I wouldn't really say that I slept. Not surprising that you didn't see me because I didn't see you either after the party ended."
Herja seems confused at this question and shrugs, "Sleep where you like? Make some friends, and sleep in their wagon, or under it. There are no rules about that, Awenasa. You are part of the Clan. Our food is your food. As for watch, when it would be wise to do so...do so." The man is stubbornly unhelpful. This cavalier attitude is not all keeping with Awenasa's responsibility driven outlook on life. Besides, she is a stranger here, how is she supposed to know when things are dangerous or not? odds are she'd be asleep at the worst time and anxious when their no threat. These lowlanders were driving her crazy.
Perey, seeing Awenasa without breakfast, digs around in a pocket and pulls out a fuzzy peach. he tosses it to his fellow Shoanti saying, "They had plenty of fruit. Vano said some roads here are lined with fruit trees, free to travelers." Awenasa found such a claim hard to believe. Were the lowlands that rich and fertile?
The next few days past without much incident although Awenasa learns much. The Stair of Stars Clan is an intriguing group, she realizes. It is like one giant family, and all items are share communally, even things like bowls or clothes, which the Shoanti would never do. Their pace is slower then the Shoanti would be, moving at the pace of the slowest ox-towed wagon. They seemed unbothered by this crawling pace however, and the Wanderers sing to pass the time. The songs are not in Common, but they are still rich and musical enough to reach into Awenasa's soul. The weather is fair and fine, and while Awenasa spends most of the time striding alongside the wagons (like most Wanderer adults) she finds it is a good way to travel. At the least, they have roads, not stony paths that she is used to.
Awenasa notes other travelers have a mixed reaction to the Wanderer caravan however. Most other lowlanders stop and talk to the Wanderer elders, asking for road conditions ahead, and other gossip. Apparently such meetings are considered useful for those who make a living on the road. At the same time, Awenasa notes little friendliness at this meetings and more then a few villagers staring at the Wanderers with undisgusied contempt. Clearly her new family is not loved by all.
One upside of this though is, among the colorful and loud Wanderers no one noticed her own peculiar background. As the miles roll under them, Awenasa watches the mountains of her home fade into the distance. She is far past where even the bravest of raiders have gone, and the Plateau is more myth then reality here. So begins to wonder how far away the sea is.
She wonders alone since Perey has sunk into Wanderer culture and life with barely a ripple to show his passing. The musicians took him in as one of their own and spent the days teaching him their stories, their songs and their language. At night he would play with them, often becoming the center of whatever entertainment was offered that night.
Awenasa meanwhile hovered on the edges like a dark cloud.
Finally, after nearly a week of travel, Awenasa sees something glinting through the trees to their left. Something catching the bright afternoon sun. What could it be? Another caravan on some parallel road? A field of shining granite? Some sort of new plant?
They round a corner and Awenasa's mouth falls open. The ground falls away to the west, revealing a vast sheet of water that stretches to the horizon. The sun shimmers off the reflexive surface of that vast expanse, catching on the odd wave. The warrior distantly noted a sizable town on the shoreline and mountains rearing in the southern distance but she has eyes only for the water.
Surely this was the sea! Where else had this much water in one place? She could even see sand on the edges, just like in the stories! Awenasa is so shocked at the sudden reveal she just stands there, like a child seeing a magican's trick.
Herja comes up from behind, grinning, "Lake Syrantula. It is magnificent, isn't it?"
A lake?
Herja points to the city, jutting out into the water. "Melfish, a real city, with real markets. A lively place, and our horses always sell well there." Then he catches Awenasa's look and adds, "Your first city? "
Awenasa's frown deepens the more Herja speaks but based on what he's saying and what Calo said last night, she doesn't think she'll get anything different or helpful. In the end, she shrugs and moves off to the side and away from the action.
She takes the offered peach from Perey and turns it over in her hands, never having seen one before. "This is a peach? And there's trees of them just planted all over?" She bites into it thinking it would be like an apple. The soft flesh squirts juice all over her chin and then she grunts in surprise as her teeth hit something very hard. She pulls it away to tear open the fruit revealing a pit in the centre. She pulls out the offensive pit and tosses it away before stuffing the remaining fruit into her mouth and licks her fingers clean.
Adjusting to the new pace of life proves to be slightly challenging for Awenasa. The relaxed, carefree attitude is a stark contrast to the constant vigilance and discipline she is used to. Her daily exercises and training become even more important to her as it gives her a constant to cling to.
She tries not to feel rejected as she sees Perey settle into Wanderer life and seemingly ignore her. She feels like a complete outsider and realizes in that moment that she is probably experiencing what Perey had all his life in her quah. Never fitting in and never being sought out. She began to wonder if he would leave with her when the time came. Being unsure of the answer made her feel even more alone and more out of her depth. The further she gets from home, the more untethered she feels.
Awenasa has never been awestruck by nature before. She appreciated the hidden beauty of the Plateau and there were a few sunrises and sunsets where she had just sat and drunk in the vibrant colours, but none of that had stopped her in her tracks. The sight of so much water and the sunlight shimmering across its surface halts her stride.
Herja's voice startles her out of her reverie. "That is lake?!? But no see other side." Her voice sounds slightly disappointed, "I thought it the sea."
Awenasa's eyes are as round as saucers and her feet still seem hesitant to move as she takes in the information and the scene below. Her voice is quiet as she answers, "Yes, first city. Most all things firsts now. It farthest me been from home."
She has a thought and holds on to it tightly because it gives her something solid in the midst of chaos. "Any threat in Melfish that zoralo need know?"
Herja laughed by nodded, "It is a big lake, even by our standards. I've never been on it, but boats come from all over. A sailor I spoke to once said that if you sail straight out, you can not see land on any side. Just water." The Wanderer shrugged, obviously unsure if he believed the man. "But it is nothing compared to the sea. Just a drop."
He waved his hand at the captivating vista with a studied casual air. The blue sky above was dotted with fluffy white clouds, throwing long shadows on the ground. Out on the sparkling water Awenasa could now see boats moving around, many of them square and flat like floating boxes. Others had white cloth around them, blowing in the wind? Flags?
The city of Melfish itself looked big to Awenasa. A collection of wooden and stone houses that wrapped around the shore of the lake, with wooden wharves and piers sticking out into the water. She wondered if they were used for fishing until she saw a ship tied at one. Ah, clever.
"Threats?" Herja said then shrugged, "All lands have threats to Wanderers. We are rarely loved. Melfish isn't particularly dangerous however. We are only allowed to visit of course. Wanderers are allowed in during the day but at night must leave. There are campsites set apart from us. Despite their distrust they like our goods and our news so they accommodate us. No, the city folk are not dangerous. Of course there will be other clans here."
Seeing Awenasa's slight confusion he asked gently, "Who has killed more from the quahs? Ulfen soldiers or Shoanti warriors?"
Awenasa inwardly grimaced, knowing the answer. Her people rarely killed each other but such things happened, and were growing more common as they were pushed into less fertile areas. Disputes over hunting grounds, garden plots and water sources, not even mentioning religion or quah honor claimed many lives over the years.
"Hopefully it doesn't come to anything like that. We usually stop here for a few days to sell our horses and buy other items for the next leg of the trip. We've been coming this way for a long time. Come, we'll have to buy you some shrimp to eat, it's a local delicacy."
Awenasa has no idea what a shrimp is and Herja's half-hearted explanations don't make it sounds very tasty. A bug that lives in water? A soggy beetle.
The Stair of Stars Clan clatters down the descending road to the city and lake. The road here is well-worn, cleared of any plant life and showing big ruts. Awenasa guesses this is what a road looks like if people travel on it more often. They do not enter the city however, but pull off into a large stand of pine trees.
Her homeland had trees of course and even small forests, tucked into narrow stream valleys. Awenasa had even collected pinecones and tar in such places, to be used by her people. But nothing she had ever seen had matched these towering giants. These trees were gigantic, with many standing over a hundred feet tall and wide enough that four men standing in a ring could not reach around them. The ground was coated with an endless layer of soft, yellow needles while the resinous scent of pine sap lingered in the air. All sounds seemed muted in that place, deadened by both the needle carpet and the sheer age of the looming monoliths.
Their is little undergrowth under this massive trees and the Clan soon is set up in a small hollow under the branches of a particularly huge forest monarch. The ground is packed here, with stacks of firewood already laid in. Herja nods, "It is a frequent campsite. We will leave it the same for those after us."
Awenasa gazes down at the tiny boats, eyes full of wonder, "Are all boats for fishing?"
Everywhere she looks, the Shoanti sees something new. She feels like she could sit here for hours watching and not get bored. "Will city folk have problem with me like villagers? Will other clans?"
She has already experienced many different foods since leaving home but she looks at Herja with uncertainty when he mentions this strange creature called a shrimp. Was he joking with her? If so, it didn't seem very funny to her. After studying his face she believes that he's sincere and so she shrugs in acceptance. When in Melfish, do as the locals do.
Awenasa cranes her neck to try to see the tops of the monstrous trees that surround the area that the Wanderers begin to set up camp. Her neck is tilted back so far that for a moment she feels like she is going to fall over backwards. If she hadn't seen its size for herself, she wouldn't have believed it. Maybe some of the things she thought were just tall tales had some truth to them after all.
Her feet sank into the soft ground and she smiled to herself. Since she had taken to sleeping on the ground these last days, the soft ground would mean a very comfortable bed for the next few nights.
The clan's zoralo feels like she should stay at the camp and guard the clan's belongings but the Shoanti who had never seen a city before really wants to go and explore. She looks at Herja, partially expecting a frustrating answer, and asks, "Do you need help to take horses to Melfish? Or do me stay here to guard camp?"
"No," Herja explains as the clan sets up the wagons and campsites as usual. The only difference Awenasa notices is that they are far more careful with fire then usual, using stone rings apparently left for this purpose. "Most are not for fishing but for trade."
Awenasa knew what trade was, of course. Her people traded all sorts of items, ranging from obsidian to salt to captured loot from the lowlands. She even have experienced with the traders who visited her quah every few years (like Perey's mother), but she was soon lost as Herja explained that Melfish was a trading nexus for the local area with nearby salt mines and fish stocks combining to create a certain amount of local weath. The salted fish, apparently, were in great demand in some dwarven cities farther down the river. Awenasa had no idea why but Herja seemed convinced travel by water was quicker. It was a lot to take in but she gathered this city saw lots of traders and visitors.
The man is about to answer her question about the horses but two people stride up. One is Calo, the wrestler having mostly healed from their bout by now. Only a few fading bruises mark his face and perhaps a very slight favoring of his left leg. At his side stands Bescia.
Awenasa had not encountered the gold-toothed man over the last few days, and had not missed him. Clearly he had been working hard to avoid her, and she had done nothing to stop him. She did not have to like him to uphold her oaths to protect him.
Right now the man smiles an oily smile, "Ah, just who I needed. I am going into the city and I need some protection. Calo is coming along, but someone else would be most welcome."
Herja frowns, "You need two bodyguards? Who do you owe money to, Bescia?"
The other Wanderer waves this away, "Nothing like that. I have to meet some people at the docks and you know how that is. Not a nice part of town." he adds for Awenasa. "Will you come with us? Or perhaps the city is too much for you?"
Herja looks suspicious but then shrugs, "Feel free to go with him, Awenasa. It'll be a few hours before we are settled in anyway. I'm sure you can handle anything that comes up." The last sentence is said in a way that implies Awenasa can handle both the city and Bescia.
Awenasa is still processing everything that Herja tells her about trade when they are joined by Calo...and Bescia. She nods respectfully towards Calo and politely at Bescia. Any thought of enjoying the city quickly flits away as he comes with purpose. Her sense of duty is the only thing that keeps her from walking in the opposite direction.
Owe money? Did he steal something?
The Shoanti frowns slightly but more in confusion than dislike. She thought Calo to be a good man so if he was going then it must be a valid reason. But Herja's scepticism gives her pause, raising the hair on the back of her neck.
Why would the docks where the boats are not be a nice part of town?
Awenasa shakes her head, "City not too much. If meeting good for clan then I come, I help Calo." Her gaze passes over to the man she had wrestled only days before, trying to get a sense of how he felt about the whole situation.
Her confidence is built up by Herja's faith in her abilities but she also knows she will be somewhat out of her element, to not be over confident. "When done with Bescia, I come back and see if you need help with horses." Surely a meeting wouldn't last a few hours, right?
The man is about to answer her question about the horses but someone walks out of the hustle and bustle of the settling camp, making directly for them. To Awenasa's surprise it is Moranna, the fortune-teller woman she met on her first night among the Wanderers. The Shoanti has not seen much of the sensual women during her last week, although she gathered her and Herja were close friends (maybe more). Moranna had little to do with the things Awenasa was busy trying to learn, such as setting up and breaking down of wagons and how to handle a team of horses. Still, the elegant woman had always treated her fairly since her 'adoption'.
"Hello, zoralo," She says to Awenasa in her throaty, low voice. "Today, come with me to city? Protect." She turns to Herja and spouts off a flurry of their native language.
Herja translates, "She wants you to go with her into the city. Apparently she thinks it'll be a good day to get fortunes. We are close to Stardust Day." he sees Awenasa's confusion, so explains, "A lowlander holiday. It is a good time to offer her services. The city can be rough though, and having someone like you standing behind her might deter any trouble."
Herja shrugs, "Should be easy enough. Worst case, a drunk lowlander tries to ask for me then Moranna wants to give. You scare him off." He pauses and adds, "I would advise not killing anyone. Lowlanders don't take kindly to such things."
Awenasa watches Moranna approaching wondering if the woman was here for her or for Herja. She steals a glance at Herja and, not for the first time, postulates the relationship between the two. Not that she was a gossip or sought to stick her nose into other people's business, but she was still trying to learn what she could about her new 'family'.
The Shoanti gives a nod of acknowledgment as Moranna greets her with her title. It is something that she will still need to get used to. Not that she is being seen as her label and not her name, for that had also happened in her quah, but the new title.
Awenasa's eyes flick back and forth between Herja and Moranna as they discuss and explain. She nods readily at the request, "Yes, me protect."
She parrots Herja's words so that he knows she understands, "No kill. Fight with Calo good practice." Looking slightly concerned she adds a question, "Me just stand and protect? Will people want fortunes with me there?"
Moranna waved her hand dismissively, "Be fine." Herja nodded and added, "People like the exotic. Honestly, most will probably assume you are a Wanderer dressed like a Shoanti. Or at least, let's hope so. We are not so far from the border. Try not to speak much."
And with that, Awenasa sets off on her first urban adventure. Moranna leads the way, walking down the rutted dirt road that winds out of the trees toward the city. Behind her are two young men carrying a collection of cloth and sticks that Awenasa assumes must be a tent or awning of some kind.
Not being told what to do, Awenasa strode besides Moranna. She told herself it was to keep watch on upcoming dangers, but deep down Awenasa knew it was so she could see the wonders of the city. But they did not reach Melfish right away. For awhile the road wound a few more curves through the towering pine trees.
Here and there Awenasa could see small side paths leading deeper into the groves. Once she glimpsed another campsite, filled with the same collection of wagons and tents she had left behind.
Moranna gave a quick look at the banners and flags, then said, "Salmon Clan." then snorted, "Amateurs. Beginners." And she quickened her pace down the road. The way was becoming more crowded. Other wagons (local, not those of the Wanderers), men on horses and other on foot clogged the way, but most of the space was given to farmers driving livestock. Awenasa was astounded by the variety and number of these animals being driven to the slaughter. her own people did not raise many animals, aside from dogs and the occasional falcon. She knew some quah prided themselves on their horses but the Tamiir-Quah were not one of those. So it was with wonder that Awenasa saw so many pigs, oxen, goats and sheep ambling along. Their feet turned the road to mud, crumbling the ruts. And the stink. The smell of manure and animal sweat mingled with the spicy aroma of sap and pine needles. Awenasa hoped the city would reek less.
Then thoughts of smells were driven from her mind as they reached the city. Not that she could see much. Melfish had a city wall. Awenasa had seen walls before of course. A few lowlanders had walled villages or towns, to keep out Shoanti raiders, and Awenasa had passed Ulfen forts at a distance but this was something else entirely. The entire city was surrounded by a wooden palisade, nearly twenty feet tall, constructed of rough logs. They were stacked together with dried mud, with shaved points sticking out the top. How many trees had this taken? How many men had worked on it? Her whole quah, given nothing else to do, could not have made this in a decade. How many men lived here?
Where the road met the wall, there was a massive wooden gate. Two big doors, banded with iron, stood open. And out of that gate wafted the worst smell that Awenasa had ever encountered. It was so foul it actually stopped her in her tracks, as if she had stumbled into one of the bawling oxen.
Once, when Awenasa had been on her second raid, she had tripped over the lintel of a lowlander outbuilding. To her horror she stumbled into a pigsty and found herself knee deep in slop. The smell had lingered in her hair for weeks, or so it seemed. The reek emanating from Melfish was like that but multiplied a thousand-fold.
Rotting wood, blood, mud, human waste fills Awenasa's nose, combined with a thousand scents she doesn't recognize. Overlaid over it all is the stench of stale, dirty water. It makes her gag but Moranna does not seem to notice the smell. A horrifying thought enters Awenasa's mind. Did...did all lowlander cities smell like this? Was this normal?
Awenasa bites back a bark of laughter as Herja advises her not to speak much. She is fairly certain that he already knows her well enough to know that that wouldn't be a problem. And if proving her point, she just nods.
The zoralo takes note of the colours and design of the banners depicting the Salmon Clan as Moranna calls them. She matches the woman's quickened pace and asks, "What mean 'beginners'?"
As the Shoanti gets closer to Melfish, there is one word that keeps coming to her mind. Variety She is used to only a handful of choices for any possible food, animal, material, or experience. But now before her eyes she sees more variety of everything before her eyes and this was considered to be a small city. She has never seen so many kinds of animals or people before. Her nose wrinkles at the initial smell of the animals and manure but she is quickly distracted by the huge wall surrounding the city.
The sheer enormity of the wall confounds Awenasa. What kind of warriors were they trying to keep out? No wonder her clan needed a zoralo. She feels a momentary sadness by the number of trees that had been cut down to build the wall. And why build such a wall if you keep the door wide open? Didn't that defeat the purpose of a wall?
So far, the prospect of the city presents her with so many questions but considering her questions have nothing to do with protecting Moranna she pushes them aside and keeps close to the woman. And then something unexpected happens. Awenasa is hit in the face by something so noxious that she stops short as if physically hit in the face and she gags. She stares after Moranna in disbelief. How could she willingly go towards something that reeked so horribly? Did she have no sense of smell? She had been preparing herself for all kinds of challenges or obstacles for her first time in a city but never had she contemplated this. Why were cities so popular if they smelled like this? Finally she can't contain her questions any longer and she forces herself to catch up to Moranna and asks in a hushed voice, "Is smell normal?"
Moranna sniffs, "Other clans...compete. But they are not good. Not good as me." The wiry woman grins then, and Awenasa can see a glimpse of predator behind the sultry smile, "I very good."
They head toward the city, taking care not to be trample by the small herds of animals going this way and that. The noise seems to fill Awenasa's ears to overflowing. How do this people live?
At her question about the smell Moranna pauses, sniffs the air and then shrugs, "Normal. Cities always smell. Melfish less then some."
In front of the city gates, the ground is hard packed after centuries of tramping feet and rolling carts. On either side of the throughcare an impromptu market seems set up, with stalls and tents strung out along the road. Awenasa wonders why people would come so far but not go inside? She is further alarmed that, as they pass, the shopkeeps shout at her. Some raise their hands, others shake fingers. The SHoanti is concerned a riot is about to break out when she sees others holding up their wares, ranging from dented pots to gleaming swords.
Moranna smiles, "They want you buy. They shout..." The woman pauses and then adds after a moment, "Like birds in spring. Catch attention. Come, ignore them."
A dozen or so men guard the entrance to Melfish. Awenasa is not impressed. They look slovenly and disgruntled, with scraggly unshaven beards. Their leather armor is patched and stained, and even their weapons are dull or even rusty. She feels that with two raiders at her back, she could take this whole gate in moments. Most barely look up at the coming and going but a man with a heavy gut slowly stands up to block their way. The spear in his hand needs oiling and the spearpoint is dark with grime.
Moranna seems unconcerned and says, "Wait here." She sways over to the side, where the she, the fat man and a few other soldiers hold congress. The fortune teller laughs, smiles and finally hands over a small bag to the men. She saunters back and says, "Inside."
Seeing Awenasa's confusion the Wanderer says lightly, "Easier pay men then pay city."
Awenasa understands the concept of clans competing with one another. After all, Herja himself had pointed out that Shoanti quahs often competed with each other so it stood to reason that the clans did too. "Compete with whole clan or just you?" She decides that she would have to keep an eye on the Salmon Clan.
The Shoanti looks incredulously at Moranna as she says matter-of-factly that the smell was normal. Worse, this smell was better than others. Awenasa blurts out, "This normal?" Seeing that Moranna was on the move again having nothing more to say on the matter, Awenasa squares her shoulders and follows resolutely. She tests breathing through her mouth and finds that it makes the smell more tolerable. She had faced and overcome many challenges in her young life and she was not going to be beaten by a smell.
The yelling people put the zoralo on guard and she moves closer to Moranna in anticipation of protecting her charge. She only relaxes slightly when the woman explains what is happening. Awenasa frowns, "How yell make me want to buy? Yes, catch attention but don't like. Not make me want to buy." She wasn't an experienced buyer but even she had to question why anyone would want to buy the poorer quality of goods that the yelling people offered.
Awenasa sizes up the men guarding the city and can't help but be judgmental. She never would have been allowed to be so passive and incompetent as a protector of her quah. How did the people of Melfish sleep peacefully at night knowing that this caliber of men were the ones guarding them?
The zoralo's face shows displeasure as Moranna tells her to wait. She doesn't like letting the woman out of arms reach but she obeys. Moranna obviously knows what she's doing and as long as Awenasa can see her then she is close enough to protect her.
She watches Moranna, practically staring, as she tries to figure out what is transpiring. The woman's explanation elicits two questions from Awenasa, "Don't men work for city? And after they move into the city she adds, "Are all men bought so easy?"
Moranna merely winks, "Yes, but not always gold. Some men, buy other ways. " The fortune-teller leads them through the crowded gate, ignoring the eyes of the lounging guards. A few give Awenasa hard looks, and there is some muttering. Clearly Melfish is not the same as a small village, but her people are not loved here either.
"Yes, they work city." Moranna explains as they walk down a dirt street, edged on both sides with two story wooden buildings. "But some also work for themselves. I pay, they not bother with all rules. Rules tedious."
Awenasa can barely hear her though over the roar. The city was so loud! Wagon wheels groaned, driven animals bleated or lowed, but mostly it was human voices. Dozen, hundreds of people all talking, singing or shouting at once. Everywhere she looked she saw people. Striding up the street, sitting on porches, hanging out of windows. She even saw people jumping from rickety rooftop to rooftop. Awenasa had spent her whole life knowing where every other single soul within 5 miles was, at all time. The Wanderer caravan had been bad enough, but this? This was madness. How could she keep Moranna safe in this rat's nest?
The street opens up onto a dirt packed square, ringed with houses. All throughout the open area is a complex network of stalls and tents. People are selling everything from salt blocks to glass vases, from books to shoes. Everyone is shouting, shaking their goods and calling out to passerby's. People roam between the stalls, often shouting back. The rich have porters carrying purchased goods but most seem to be humbler people, out for a day's shopping.
Moranna finds an empty spot and directs the two lads to set up the tent. As the flimsy cloth and stick structure goes up she says to Awenasa, "You watch me, yes? Do not speak unless you must. Most people, harmless. Give them a look, plenty." She glances at Awenasa and then touches her nose, "Only if do that, help. Otherwise, watch. Understand?"
Awenasa listens carefully to Moranna's explanation of the workings of the city as she is determined to learn what she can. However, the dealings of lowlanders were proving to confound the Shoanti. It is hard to understand when their choices don't make sense to her.
She looks doubtful with Moranna's declaration that rules were tedious. Her tone suggests that she doesn't appreciate rules but Awenasa is unfamiliar with the word she used. "What mean tedious?"
The zoralo keeps close to her charge, not only to protect but also to hear. The cacophony swirling around her taxes her brain. It is hard to be aware of your surroundings when one is inundated with constant stimuli. Her head is constantly moving trying to take in everything around her and part of her feels like she's missing more than she notices.
There is a short moment of relief as they reach the square and Moranna motions to have her tent set up. The short journey into the city is so overwhelming that being in one place for awhile will allow Awenasa to get her bearings. She glances at the stalls and tents with curiosity as they present much more variety of goods than she has seen before. But she reminds herself that she is not here to shop but to protect.
"I watch, yes. What look you want me give?"
Awenasa begins to negotiate, "I only help if you touch nose but you can't leave my sight. Where you go, I go. I be silent but I go." Then she asks, "What if you can't touch nose?"
Moranna gives Awenasa speculative look. Apparently she hadn't expected the Shoanti to negotiate at all. A ghost of a smile flickers across her rather mobile mouth.
"Stern. Look scary. Serious/" Moranna says, overseeing the last of the stalls construction. In remarkably quick time a simple stall has been set up, made up of little more then a few poles, an awning of striped colored canvas and a wooden counter. Moranna sits on a small stool behind the counter and waves away her two assemblers. They give Awenasa a nod and hurry off, leaving Awenasa and the fortune-teller alone. No one offers the Shoanti a chair.
Moranna wipes some dust off the counter and sniffs.
"If I can't touch my nose..." Moranna says suddenly grinning, "Act natural. Do what you will." Awenasa wonders if the Wanderer woman truly understand what she was asking for. If Awenasa 'acted' natural when someone attacked her charge, she'd smash their skull. Time will tell.
Moranna takes a seat and faces the crowd. Much to Awenasa' relief she doesn't shout or heckle the passing crowd. Clearly her tactic is far more subtle then the simple shop keeps peddling shovels and candles at the gates. Is this what she meant by amateurs?
The woman had a small back pack when they left the camp site and under Awenasa's watchful eyes, she empties the contents onto the wooden counter. A battered deck of cards, a double handful of yellow bones, a small iron dish of some kind, and a crystal globe. Glass is very rare among the Shoanti and Awenasa is impressed by how the large ball catches and refracts the light. Then they wait.
Only a few moments pass before someone out of the passing crowd pauses and stop, looking over Moranna and the stall. The young woman, with a shopping basket under one arm ignores Awenasa.
"You give fortunes?" The young woman says, eyeing the supposedly magical implements.
Moranna nods mysteriously and waves her hand, "Yes! Fortunes! You buy?"
The woman purses her lips and askes, "Real Sczarni fortunes? Is it magic?"
The tiniest flicker of annoyance whips across Moranna's face but it is gone in an instant, "Yes, Sczarni magic. You want? Great fortunes....guide steps, yes?"
The young woman sits down while Moranna picks up the pack of cards. She starts to shuffle them expertly, the paper rustling loudly until the young woman frowns and points to the bones. "Those. I want those!"
Moranna merely smiles and says, "Very wise. The cards...fickle but bones never lie." Awenasa notes Moranna's Common is more accented then usual, but rich and musical. It is a delight to listen to. The fortune is told and the young woman is told to expect a handsome stranger by the light of the moon, that she will have three children and to avoid the number 7. She hands over a few copper coins and vanishes back into the crowd.
Moranna grins and pockets the money. She looks over at Awenasa, a mouthful of teeth. "Simple."
The Shoanti frowns as Moranna tells her to act natural. There was nothing natural about being in the city and Herja had already told her not to kill anyone. The fortune teller's advice is frustratingly unhelpful but then again, Awenasa is getting used to this trait in her new Wanderer clan. She decides that she will only intervene if Moranna touches her nose or her life is in danger.
It isn't much of a stretch for Awenasa to look serious. She chooses to stand behind Moranna and slightly to her left with her arms crossed. Even though she appears to be just standing, she is like a coiled snake ready to strike with her muscles taut. Her eyes roam over the crowd looking for potential threats.
Awenasa is focused on the crowd until Moranna empties the contents of her backpack onto the table. At that point, the light bouncing off the glass ball catches her eye and she stares at it transfixed. She studies how the light dances around the orb and is amazed to see that some of the light appears to be broken into different colours.
Suddenly there is a young woman in front of the table addressing Moranna and Awenasa is angry with herself that she had been so distracted by the glass ball that she hadn't seen her approaching. She watches the conversation between her and Moranna intensely as she asks about fortunes. Awenasa catches an odd look on Moranna's face when the woman uses the word Sczarni but it is gone so quickly that she wonders if she imagined it. She makes a mental note to ask Moranna about it on their way back.
Moranna's use of the bones reminds the Shoanti of her own fortune that had been given only a short time ago. It seemed like it didn't matter where you came from, that everyone wanted guidance. As the yellow bones are thrown by Moranna, Awenasa wonders if she even brought the 'special' bones that she had used for her.
Between Moranna's musical voice and the crystal orb sitting on the table, it takes all of Awenasa's will to keep herself focused on her task. She would not be a very good zoralo if she couldn't keep Moranna safe.
She watches the customer leave with a happy look on her face. She nods at Moranna's conclusion of what had transpired and the Shoanti thinks that she is beginning to understand a bit better about how things worked in the lowlands.
The noon sun grows hot overhead, even for Awenasa. It was one thing to travel on the high plains and be punished by the sun, but standing without shade, waiting for some unknown threat was even worse. It felt...unnatural to simply watch and wait for possible disaster to strike. And the sheer amount of shouting, laughing, chatting people drove her crazy. Didn't they ever shut up?
Moranna seems unbothered by it, but then again, she has the shade of the canvas. Seemingly out of nowhere she pulls out a bottle of water and sips at it, keeping the dust at bay. She doesn't offer Awenasa any, who wonders why. The woman seemed friendly enough....
In any case, the fortune telling business is brisk. People wander out of the crowd in ones or twos, eager to see what Moranna can tell them of their future. Many pick what type of fortune they want, or what tools the Wanderer should use, and Moranna always praises their wisdom and intelligence. She is quick with a knowing glance or a sly wink, as if including the person in on some great mystery or joke.
Her fortunes vary but most seem to be vague promises of future riches, lovers or good health. She mixes in lots of strange language and imagery but none seem nearly as real as the prediction she made for Awenasa. On one hand this makes her feel special and more sure her bones had not lied but on the other...did Moranna make a living lying to people? The Shoanti did not lie, or at least, they told themselves that.
To her surprise, Awenasa spots one or two Shoanti in the bustling crowd, obvious to her trained eye. They do not wear the clothes or hair styles of her people, but their walk, their eyes are plain as a horse on the plains. They might as well light smoke signals. None of them even glance her way.
She also spots a few Ulfens, armed men patrolling the crowd. Unlike the slovenly soldiers at the gate, these men are lean and hard, with well kept equipment. Not overly big men and perhaps a bit older then their prime, but still worthy warriors. They stride around the marketplace as if they own it, which in a sense, they do. Still, they cause little turmoil among the crowd.
The first problem isn't from a drunken patron or someone unhappy with their fortune. It is a small weaselly man who emerges from the crowd, flanked by two heavy-set men with bad teeth. The small man reeks of garlic as he approach. He gives Moranna a glare as he says, "This is my turf, Sczarni. Go peddle your tricks somewhere else." The man has a thin gray beard, stained and frayed. The two thugs loom over his shoulder, looking like gray boulders blinking in the sun.
Moranna seems unconcerned and shrugs, "Your place? I see no name here." Her easy tone seems to irritate the man who takes another step forward, poking his finger at her chest.
"Get lost, dusty, or I'll make you. I am sure you don't have the right to be here, tramp like you" The two bully boys grin, but one casts a wary eye at Awenasa's rather imposing form.
Moranna shrugs again and her bright eyes sweep out over the busy marketplace, "Cause scene? Here? All people?"
The little man narrows his eyes and glances at the busy crowd, and the distant patrol of Ulfen. Clearly he doesn't actually want to start a fight here, and hoped Moranna would just give up. He growls something inaudible, grimaces and then turns. He gestures shortly to his two thugs and they stomp off into the crowd.
Moranna grins widely. "Good job." She says simply.
As Awenasa stands at her post in the midst of chaos she grits her teeth and does the only thing she can do, she endures. She endures the noise, she endures the smell, and she endures the heat.
She looks at Moranna's water and wishes she had had the foresight to bring some. However, it may not look good to have a zoralo lounging and drinking. It may appear that she was soft and that is one thing that Awenasa is not. Maybe that's why Moranna never offered her any. Or at least this is a reason that makes sense to the Shoanti.
Awenasa observes the business that is fortune telling thoughtfully. Yes, she wonders how much Moranna lies to her customers but what she finds more interesting is the lowlanders' willingness to be lied to. They handed over their money to hear what they wanted to hear and then went away happy. She found the whole process strange.
In general, she finds people watching fascinating. She is intrigued by the Shoanti she spies in the crowd and wonders how they ended up here and why they've chosen to look like lowlanders. Although it isn't hard to reason why considering the hostility she had experienced since leaving the Plateau. She bristles when she sees the Ulfen but quickly reminds herself that she isn't back on the Plateau where Ulfen were not allowed to remain alive. She wonders briefly if that trained instinct will ever fade.
She watches the approach of the pungent man and his two goons warily but she remembers Moranna's words and does nothing but glare at them menacingly.
Awenasa flinches ever so slightly when the annoying man takes a step towards Moranna, lifting his finger to point at her. Every cell in her body wants to leap across the table and break the man's finger but she doesn't. She obeys Moranna's instructions but her muscles ripple from the tension of her restraint.
The zoralo barely relaxes as she watches the men disappear into the crowd. Good job? Awenasa can't remember the last time anyone told her she had done a good job, especially when she feels like she hasn't even done anything. "Will they be back? Why he think this place his? He no look like he tells future."
Moranna seems unconcerned, "He lies. He has no gift, but says he does. Take money, tell people what they want." Awenasa mentally remarks this seems to be exactly what Moranna herself has been doing for the last few hours. The Wanderer goes on, "He not be back. As I said, market is not place of fighting. Too many people, guards stop fight. Protect even Wanderer woman." Then she grins, "But we not need them. We have you. You do great job." She turns back to her stool.
Awenasa is still processing this, when she hears a clamor of voices behind her that rises even above the raucous marketplace. The Shoantit urns, mentally wondering if lowlander throats were simply made different. If she was this loud for hours, she'd lose her voice.
When she turned however, what she saw quickly drove such thoughts from her mind. A street back from the busy marketplace, a plume of black smoke was rising and Awenasa's nose caught the scent on the air, overwhelming even the reek of garbage and dung. She quickly saw the source, a sprawling three story building that looked like an inn or tavern. Awenasa could see fire starting to flicker in the windows, as men and women came streaming out.
A crowd quickly gathered around the burning, gawking and pointing. Awenasa notes they don't seem interested in helping, even as the fires grow higher. Lowlanders were strange people.
She notes children running through the crowd, shouting and laughing. They are mostly ignored by people until one fat man screams, "My purse! Thief! Stop that thief!" A long legged girl of no more then eight laughs and sprints past, carrying a heavy leather purse.
Awenasa makes note of the potential threat for later. The market may not be the place for fighting but if the man and his lackeys were intent on getting at Moranna then they may do it elsewhere. She also ponders Moranna's choice of words regarding the guards' protection. Did the guards choose to protect based on personal preference? To her, that didn't sound very professional.
The Shoanti turns with a severe look of annoyance on her face, ready to fix whoever was shouting with a glare that could bleach bone. Her anger instantly evaporates and is replaced by concern as she spots the fire.
She takes an involuntary step towards the fire. At home, such a fire would require the entire quah to pitch in to put it out. There wasn't a lot of vegetation to burn on the Plateau so what little there was needed to be protected from wildfires. But she isn't at home on the Plateau. She is a stranger in a strange city and she has one job, zoralo to her new clan and she needs to protect Moranna. What if she runs off to help complete strangers and something happens to Moranna? She can't be responsible for losing someone else. So Awenasa keeps her position but is clearly uneasy. She keeps glancing at the burning building, completely flabbergasted that no one is doing anything to put out the fire but rather only watch the fire grow.
Another shout momentarily draws her attention but she quickly dismisses it as unimportant. In her experience, lowlanders were far too quick to call people thieves to the point where it didn't mean anything to the Shoanti anymore. Up until now, every time she had come into contact with lowlanders one of them had invariably called her people thieves which couldn't be further from the truth. Not only that, but the so-called thief was just a child. If a girl could best a grown man then in Awenasa's mind, the girl deserves what spoils she got.
Awenasa turns her focus back to Moranna to make sure she has no problems before glancing back at the fire to see if it continues to grow or if any of the citizens have started trying to put it out.
Awenasa lets the supposed thief run by without any bother, having more important things to bother with. The saucy lass toss her a wink and the fat man a curse, but both are soon lost in the swirling crowd which grows larger by the minute.
The Shoanti glances back at Moranna, looking for cues. This is not her place and she worries about doing the wrong thing. The fortune teller seems unbothered, still sitting on her stool. Her eyes are fixed on the fire however, and face reveals a trace of surprise at it. Perhaps she too is confused why no one is helping?
In short order a troop of men march up, armed with spears, axes and buckets. They are, to Awenasa's disgust, far more like the lackluster 'troops' at the front gate then the lean Ulfen. Most of the new arrivals have fat bellies and graying hair. This was the best Melfish had in an emergency? Gods and spirits above, imagine if a Shoanti raiding party appeared.
The men create a cordon around the burning building, shooing away a few of the citizens who had been standing too close. Then, to Awenasa's surprise, they...do nothing. They don't throw water on the growing fire, they don't go inside to rescue people or valuables. They don't even take precautions with other buildings (although, by luck, the tavern stands alone). Do these lowlanders have a death wish?
A stocky man angrily approaches the cordon and shakes his fist, "Starsong's left eye, put it out! I just got a load of ale in last week, it'll all be lost! At least roll out the barrels!"
The leader of the armed men, a taller man with a wild black beard, scoffs, "If you want protection, you should have paid your taxes."
The apparent tavern owner grinds his teeth, "Damn it all Anson! I just want...fine, let me do it." he strides forward but the bulky men block his way with spears and fists.
"No taxes, no help. That's the rules." The black-bearded man says with obvious delight. Behind him the fire is growing into the second floor, orange flames spurting out of upper windows.
A greasy merchant shouts, "My goods! I have goods in my room!"
Anson grins again, "Take it up with Perchick here, it's his tavern. He should have paid his dues."
The tavern owner glances at the irate merchant and mutters, "You raised them twice this year!
Someone else, cloaked like a traveler chimes in, "I don't think everyone got out. There was a man sleeping in the room next to mine, an old man with a white beard. I don't see him here."
This makes Anson pause and glance back at the growing inferno. Doubt flickers across his face. Clearly it is one thing to let a building burn with items left instead, quite another to condemn a man to roast alive. Still, the spearman manages a nonchalant shrug.
"I'm sure he is fine." His voice betrays worry however, and he glances back again. More importantly however, he doesn't tell anyone to go check and soon, it'll be too dangerous to do so.
Awenasa is considering this bizarre conversation when Moranna suddenly appears at her should, speaking softly. "There is someone inside." She sounds very sure of herself as she goes on, "A holy man, I think. Save him, Awenasa." She gives this final order with the air of casual command one would give a trusted champion, a combination of total authority and complete confidence.
Awenasa watches the exchange between the troops and the tavern owner in disbelief. The whole idea of dues and taxes are lost on the Shoanti. She understands that it has to do with money but she can't understand how that has anything to do with whether or not a fire is put out or not. Did the people in Melfish have to pay before anyone helped them? That didn't make a very strong community.
When the traveller mentions that someone may still be inside, Awenasa's mouth actually drops open in shock, especially when there is no move to enter the building to save them. This slovenly guard would actually let someone die over something as trivial as money? She pays careful attention to the part of the second floor where the traveller points, eyes narrowing. It made no sense that they would let a man die and she actually found anger blossoming in her chest. In that moment she felt that her people had the right of it. Better to keep all lowlanders out of their land so as to not be infected by their twisted morals.
The zoralo actually flinches at the nearness of Moranna's voice. She turns to look at the woman with her eyes wide, grateful for permission to act but also concern over leaving Moranna unprotected. After a few heartbeats Awenasa orders, "You stay on stool. No move. Stay safe."
Then like a caged animal that was suddenly free, she bolts towards the burning building. Awenasa is fleet of foot and streaks towards the barricade like a blur. She easily dodges past the slothful troops and hurdles their pathetic attempt to block off the burning building. She channels her inner ki to the muscles in her legs and launches herself upwards, landing on the first floor roof overhang before ducking through one of the windows.