by M L Bellante
“What did you say?” he heard Tahso ask. So near was his voice, Coleman was startled and jumped at the sound.
“I was lost in thought, Tahso. I did not hear you approach.”
“I heard you say something, but I wasn’t sure if you were talking to me.”
“I was just thinking out loud. I do that sometimes when I am trying to understand things,” he told the shaman.
“I have come to ask for your blessing to speak with Atura this evening,” he intimated.
“Oh yes, go with my blessing,” Coleman told him.
Tahso then announced his presence to Tzeechoe and was welcomed into the lodge. A few minutes later, he and Atura exited and walked to the entrance of the village with Tzeecha a discrete distance behind. Coleman smiled and told himself it had been another good day. He then turned his face upward and watched the moons in their motions once again.
After another half-hour or so, Coleman returned to the hut and went to bed. He quickly fell asleep and never heard the women when they returned.
Coleman heard a raster bellow in the distance. He opened his eyes and could tell that dawn was breaking. This is your last chance to get that fine sword. Better hurry! his inner voice warned. He jumped out of bed, rummaged through his basket of belongings, found what he was looking for, then trudged through the doorway. He literally jogged to Myron’s camp and found the two men loading the last few things onto the rasters.
“Good morning, Myron, Zoseemo,” he called. The two men stopped what they were doing and greeted him. Then Zoseemo continued with his work while Myron turned to talk with Coleman.
“Good day, Master Tondo. What can I do for you this beautiful morning?”
“I would like to make a trade with you before you leave.”
“Yes, yes, I’m always ready to do business. How may I help you?”
“There are a few items I would like to purchase from you: the sword and the metal pot. Also, a few wooden bowls and a knife.”
“Ha, those are fine items. The sword is the best of all the weapons I carry, but it is very expensive. What do you have to trade for it?” Myron asked in a condescending tone, knowing that Coleman had nothing of value to trade the day before.
“I think this should cover the price,” he said as he extended his cupped palm before Myron and dropped the gold nugget into the merchant’s waiting hand.
Myron’s amused look turned into a broad smile and his eyes widened. “Where did you get this?” he said in amazement as he stared at a zanth nugget he now held between finger and thumb.
“It is a little thing I brought with me from the City of Gold,” he lied with a roguish grin.
“And you told me the city’s streets are not paved in shiny zanth. Now tell me Tondo, who is fooling who?” Myron quipped.
Coleman laughed and said, “Are you interested in doing business or shall I take it back?”
“Zoseemo, get the gravetum sword, the gravetro pot, a knife, and the wooden bowls,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Yes, my good friend, we have a trade. And I thought this had been a wasted visit. Do you have any more?”
“It is not polite to ask about a man’s wealth, now is it, my friend?” Coleman scolded.
Myron bit into the nugget, looked at the teeth marks, and he smiled even more broadly. “Of course, of course! I’m just surprised to see something like this way out here in the Wilderness. I thought I would never come this way again, but you have given me a new incentive to return. I just might put this village on my regular rounds from now on,” Myron declared as he slipped the nugget into a pocket of his robe.
In a few minutes, Zoseemo handed the shiny gravetum short sword, the gravetro pot, a gravetrum knife, and six wooden bowls to Coleman.
Coleman had a million questions he wanted to ask Myron. He begged him to stay, ‘Just a few more days,’ but Myron would not hear of it. He was in a hurry and he would not delay nor explain why. Coleman could sense a hidden purpose in the merchant’s haste, but Myron would not elaborate enough to clarify his suspicions. Coleman and Myron exchanged a few pleasantries. Then the two merchants mounted up and, with bellows and grunts of annoyance by the rasters, the little caravan was off, quickly disappearing into the trees. Coleman heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Tzeechoe.
“What have you there, Tondo?” he asked.
“Here, my dear friend, this is a gift for you and Tzeecha,” Coleman said as he handed Tzeechoe the pot and two wooden bowls.
“What is this thing?” Tzeechoe asked.
“It will cook food and make it taste even better than shish kabobs. Tonight, I will introduce you to stew.”
“Stee-woo? Tondo, I don’t know what that is, but I know it will be good,” Tzeechoe said with a smile.
The two men walked back to the lodge and Tzeechoe handed the pot and the two bowls to Tzeecha while Coleman gave the remaining bowls and the knife to Atura. He then began adjusting his new sword’s harnessed scabbard to fit his back. The sword pommel rested just above his right shoulder and he pulled the sword out. He returned it to the scabbard several times, testing its utility.
“Ah, that will work just fine,” he said. “Atura, the knife is for you. Please take the betzoe for a walk and give him some of the meat I left for him.” Atura initially smiled when Tondo told her the knife was hers, but her smile quickly turned into a scowl at her assignment, yet she said nothing. Coleman then placed his hand on Tzeechoe’s shoulder and said, “Let us hurry to the meeting.”
CHAPTER 14
A NEW POWER
Tondo had just completed his transaction with Myron, causing Tzeechoe and himself to get a late start on their duties. They trotted to the center of the village, leaving Tzeecha holding the heavy metal pot with an expression of confusion. When they arrived, they found that Tahso had already blessed most of the hunters. The chief was standing at Tahso’s side and Coleman couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing the mirror Myron had given him as a necklace. Coleman could tell by the expressions on the faces of his team members that they were annoyed at having to wait so long and be the last ones to leave the village.
He gave them a sheepish grin and said, “I am sorry. It is my fault we are late. I had to visit the traders before they left this morning.”
Most of the men accepted his excuse, but Ayascho gave an exaggerated grunt of annoyance, which he made sure all could hear. The men then divided into their usual teams, received their blessings, and departed. It was Coleman’s team’s turn to hunt for meat. The five men quickly dashed across the creek and continued heading toward the Sweet Waters spring.
As they crossed the creek, Tzeechoe noticed Coleman staring at a shiny yellow pebble in the water, but he didn’t stop.
As the men continued moving onward, Tzeechoe asked, “Tondo, did you trade your little yellow rock for that big knife on your back and the other things.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You said gor-duh had power. Now, I understand.”
“Gold can make men go crazy. I do not worry so much about the People as I do about men like Myron. If they learn this creek is full of gold, they will come here and destroy The-Land-We-Live-On,” Coleman warned.
“You didn’t tell him where you found it?”
“No, Tzeechoe. I said I brought it with me from my home.”
“Do you think he believed you?”
“Maybe he did, but he does not know where I found it and that is the way it should remain.” Tzeechoe was out of breath and quit asking questions. Coleman wondered if his lust for the sword would cause the village and himself grief in the future. He decided it was time to visit the chief and tell him about the riches lying in the creek.
“I must visit the chief and tell him about gold,” Coleman said to him.
“I will go with you.” The two men quickly informed the other hunters where they were going and departed.
Coleman called a greeting when they reached the chief’s lodge. He immediately welcomed them in and motioned f
or them to join him as he sat on his stool near the fire.
“I must tell you something important,” Coleman began.
“What is it, my son? You have the look of a worried man,” the chief responded.
“The yellow rocks we find in the water have value to people like Myron and me, for that matter,” Coleman admitted.
“The yellow rocks are of no use to us,” the chief noted.
“That is true, but other men find the yellow rock to be extraordinary and very rare. I traded one little pebble for this big knife, a cooking pot, a knife, and some wooden bowls. I did not tell the man where I found the gold, the yellow rock, but I worry he may send others to look for it. If that happens, it will destroy the People’s peace,” Coleman warned.
“The Great Batru will protect his children,” the chief advised with confidence.
Coleman could see that there would be no countering the chief’s faith. “Then prepare yourselves for the worst if outsiders come looking for it.”
“We will trust in our god. If you find benefit in collecting the yellow rocks, then you can have them. We have no need of them,” the village leader declared. The chief waved his arm, indicating the conversation was over. Coleman and Tzeechoe exited his lodge and quickly left the village in search of their hunt team.
In a couple of hours, the men returned to the village with two gazelle-like creatures hanging from poles. Coleman looked for edible ground plants on the way back to the village. He didn’t identify any, but didn’t expect to. The men were in a hurry to get back for the midday meal and didn’t want to be slowed down by Coleman.
When they got to the village, they found most of the other teams had already returned with a huge collection of meat and other foods. Every villager Coleman saw was smiling and acting joyfully. It was as though a heavy burden had been lifted from everyone. The children were more active and played much more than he had ever seen them do before. The chief was much happier and talked more often with his people.
It’s amazing how a full stomach improves morale, Coleman thought.
When his team had delivered their food, he and Tzeechoe went to the lodge. Coleman found the betzoe tied to a stake near the structure’s doorway. The pup greeted its master with yips and licks while Coleman untied it and let it run free for a few minutes.
“I think it is time I gave him a name,” Coleman told Tzeechoe, who was warily watching the pup romp around the village.
“A name? You will give it a name? Why? It’s just a wild beast?”
“I think he is smart enough to learn his name. Once he gets used to it, he will come when I call him,” Coleman advised.
“Do you really think so? It is just a wild beast and one day it will try to eat you just like Atura says,” Tzeechoe warned him.
“I do not think so. Has he done anything to make you think he will eat me or anyone else?” was his riposte.
Coleman enjoyed the midday meal with the other villagers. He noticed several of the People were referring to this meal as Tondo-measha, which means Tondo’s food or Tondo’s meal. Coleman took it as a confirmation of what he had done, feeling happiness and joy for the relief he had brought the villagers.
After the meal, he and Tzeechoe left the village with the betzoe pup trailing them, sniffing the ground. After a short walk, they found an open area out of view of the village. Coleman then began to practice starting and controlling fire. He knew he had to master this power if he were ever to use it in any way. As he practiced, he couldn’t help but wonder what other powers he may possess. This world must be a marvelous place. He had already seen extraordinary powers and creatures, and if the things Myron said were accurate, incredibly long-lived people, as well.
As he continued to work on his tah control, his mind drifted to the day he entered the rip chamber and started on this unexpected adventure. Where had he gone? Was this world in his universe or had he escaped the bounds of his old reality to make a dimensional jump into an alternate universe? These ideas excited him, but suddenly he was shaken out of his introspection by Tzeechoe’s frantic shouts. Coleman opened his eyes to find the grass surrounding him ablaze.
“Oh nuts, I’ve done it again,” he said in godspeak.
He and Tzeechoe quickly put out the fire while the pup whimpered in fear. After the fire had been extinguished, Coleman tried again. This time, he forced himself to remain focused on the task at hand. He practiced for the next two to three hours and was able to improve his control with each attempt. Every time the fire was put out and the wood re-stacked, Coleman would sit and clear his mind. The poor betzoe pup would try to bury its head under Coleman’s leg because it knew what was coming next. The creature was very much afraid of fire, and to be at the center of what it considered a firestorm was more than it could endure. Nevertheless, Coleman continued his practice, but he comforted the pup with a good belly rub after each attempt.
When the shadows began to grow long, they walked back to the village. Coleman was happy with his progress, though he felt he had a long way to go before he gained the control he sought. Coleman’s efforts had only underlined Tzeechoe’s awe. Without a doubt, he was sure Tondo had been sent by the gods, or even more exciting and terrifying, he was a god.
The men went directly to Tzeechoe’s lodge and Coleman erected a tripod of green wooden poles, then he hung the gravetro pot over the lodge fire. He sent the women to the center of the village to retrieve their portion of food. He noticed that Tzeecha always wore her new necklace and seemed to lord over the other women she interacted with, much to his disappointment. A little later, the women returned with raw meat. Coleman taught his companions how to make stew. He melted fat in the pot and cut the meat into chunks using his new bright and shiny sword. He then braised the meat, added water to the pot, and a couple of sliced fruit pods he could tolerate. He then sat back and mused to himself as he watched the others examining what he had made and the bubbling stew.
After a while, the aroma permeated the lodge and Coleman could hear Tzeechoe’s stomach growling. From time to time, Coleman would stir the stew with a wooden stick.
“How long do we have to wait?” Tzeechoe anxiously asked.
“Just let it cook. I will tell you when it is ready,” Coleman said. He pulled out his obsidian dagger and began fashioning a spoon with tines from a flat piece of wood he found near the fire. He chuckled as he watched the eyes of the others shift from his work, then to the pot, and back again, over and over.
“While you are waiting, you should make one of these, too,” he said as he held up his finished spork utensil.
“What is that for?” Atura asked.
Coleman dipped it into the stew and scooped up a piece of meat and some broth. He then tasted it. “Not quite ready. We need to let it cook a little longer,” he advised. The little betzoe sniffed the air and headed for the pot. He danced back and forth in front of the fire, trying to get to the cooking meal, but finally gave up and returned to Coleman’s side.
The stew bubbled for a few more minutes. Finally, Coleman told them it was ready. He served the others first. They held their bowls in both hands, sniffing the aroma. All three had big smiles on their faces, but no one took a taste. They were waiting for Coleman. When he had served himself, he took his spork and tasted the broth.
“Mmm, this is fabulous. Go ahead, taste it. Be careful. It is hot,” he warned.
He chuckled to himself as the three villagers struggled with their newly fashioned utensils. Clearly, they had no experience with such a thing and their control and movements were awkward. After several frustrating minutes, Tzeechoe gave up and dipped his fingers into his bowl pulling out a chunk of meat and began eating. The women soon followed his lead. Coleman couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he continued eating. Tzeechoe finished his serving quickly and then dipped his bowl into the pot and refilled it.
“This is very good, Tondo. You call this stee-woo?” he asked.
“Stew, it is called stew.”
“Stooo,” Tzeechoe repeated slowly. He then tipped his bowl and drank the broth, slurping as he ate the remaining meat and fruit pieces. The women followed suit and ignored Coleman’s cringe as they continued slurping their meal.
“We are going to have to work on our manners,” he told them. Their brown eyes looked at him over the rims of their bowls while they continued to slurp and chew.
Tzeechoe lowered his bowl and said, “Man-norz? What is man-norz?” he asked.
“Oh, never mind. Enjoy your meal,” Coleman said. He picked up another bowl, dipped it into the stew, and let it cool for a while. He then placed it on the ground in front of the pup. The betzoe quickly gulped down its contents and licked the bowl clean, pushing it around the lodge floor as he licked every morsel from it. Coleman and his companions laughed as they watched.
“What should we name the puppy?” Coleman asked them.
They looked at him with puzzlement. “It’s a wild beast. You treat it like it was a child. What’s wrong with you?” Atura grumbled.
Coleman snatched up the pup and began rubbing its ears. “Yes, you are my baby,” he said to it as he continued to pet the betzoe, to its utter delight. Atura expelled a loud ‘harrumph’ while Tzeechoe and Tzeecha smiled at what they considered Coleman’s silly antics and speech.
“Well, any suggestions?” Coleman asked again.
“Todo,” Atura spouted in her most aggravated tone.
“Ah, that is it!” Coleman shouted with glee. “I will call him Toto because I am not in Kansas anymore!”
“Todo? You will call it dumb?” Tzeecha asked.
“No, Toto . . . To-To,” he repeated.
“Toto? What does it mean?” Tzeechoe asked.
“It is just a name from my homeland. It reminds me that I am far away from home,” Coleman explained.
“Is gan-t´iz the name of your home?” Tzeechoe asked.
