by J. H. Hayes
For a moment no one moved, as mass confusion still reigned. Then a couple hunters began a creep toward Dolaria, their spears trained on her.
Azerban saw them and stepped in front. "Stop!" he instructed. "There’s been enough killing already. Everyone put your weapons down!"
The two men didn't comply, but at least they stopped. He turned slowly toward Dolaria and said gently, "Dolaria... Enough killing. Lower your spear."
She had already eliminated the primary object of her malice, but her desire for vengeance held. Suddenly, Dolaria’s spear fixed on him. "The Ta'araki sacrificed my daughter," she screamed at the growing crowd.
Gasps of shock filled the air.
"Azerban! Why didn't you stop them? How could you let them do this?" she cried.
He could see the madness in her eyes. "I wish I could have saved her Dolaria, but I was injured - unconscious. I woke far from here, on the riverbank. Look at these wounds, Dolaria. What I say is true,” he said, turning to prove his point.
As tears gathered in the woman's eyes, the hand holding the spear wavered.
Azerban continued, "Dolaria, I know you're angry. I know you want vengeance. But the truth is I don't know what has happened. Lower your spear and we will figure it out together."
"Why should I do that, Azerban?" she answered with broken voice. "It’s too late for me. I killed Fahim. Everyone knows the penalty for murder. They'll kill me." She spat at the group of Ta'araki spectators. "And I want justice for Jesenia before I die. Get out of the way, Azerban. So I can kill one more of them, before they kill me." She stepped sideways to get a clear shot at Takur.
Despite the shift of her spear, Azerban took heart that she seemed to reason more clearly now. She was no longer lost in insanity, but set on cold revenge. He matched her step, again placing himself between them.
"Dolaria, I promise you. No one else will be killed. Unless you want to kill me."
"Get out of my way, Azerban!" she screamed, pulling her spear back. For a moment, he thought she might throw. He took a step toward her, intent on protecting the rest of the Ta'araki.
Dolaria’s hand trembled and soon was shaking so hard he didn't think she'd have any chance of hitting Takur. But with all the people gathered, she very well could still injure someone. A fresh burst of tears fell down her cheeks. "Azerban! Why?" she cried.
Taking the final steps toward her, he placed a calm hand on her spear and pushed it down.
She fell into his arms sobbing.
"Finally! Take her!" Takur ordered the hunters who had gathered around him.
Azerban turned to them with Dolaria still weeping in his arms and roared. He let the full authority of the Ta'araki command his voice. "Stop! You will not take this woman. I will bring her to my shelter and will hold her there."
All eyes turned to Takur. It was his first direct command as sole First Ta'araki of Boar Camp, and already he was being challenged. Takur stared at Azerban, dumbfounded, damning him for putting him in such a position. He was well aware of the repercussions of his choice. He could act in force, but it would be messy. More would likely be killed, although he was certain he'd be victorious. On the other hand, if he conceded, he’d be seen as weak. First impressions had a way of sticking. Again, he cursed his Second. He'd always liked Zephia's mate, encouraged him in his Ta'araki exploits. Azerban was one of the few men he'd approved of to tie with his distant niece. But now he knew him to be an enemy. He swore there’d be a price for the challenge. Not now though. Later. "Fine. It matters not. Just be sure you don't lose her, Azerban!" he snarled. He glared at him for a last brief moment before kneeling down to his dead mate, finally allowing his own grief to overcome him.
10
Heavy hearts filled the next few suns. Takur hosted a lavish feast, grander than most, perhaps the most magnificent in a generation. No resource was spared, even if it meant everyone would go a little hungrier over the winter moons. A little suffering would demonstrate their dedication to her, Takur reasoned. He was devastated in his sudden loss. Sending her to the Watchers in resplendent fashion helped ease the pain, or at least distracted him from it. He even directed hunters southeast to the swamps where the giant turtles lived, telling them he wanted more than had ever been seen. Turtle meat had always been his dead mate’s favorite.
Fahim’s bones were buried beneath Takur’s hearth, in a pit dug out and lined with small stone slabs along the bottom and walls. A giant slab covered the tomb and dirt was thrown on top to level the ground. He buried with her many gifts for her return from the heavens: the skull of a badger to remind her she was clever and resourceful, the tail of an aurochs for her perseverance, the wing of a vulture so she’d know she was Ta’araki. He included many of the smaller tortoise specimens, their anterior plastrons broken so she could easily access the meat.
Takur later tried his best to have Dolaria executed for her crime, but Azerban was able to convince the Council to spare her. When the final tally was counted, he wasn’t sure Izyl would stand with him, but it turned out she hated Fahim even more than him. And she empathized with Dolaria and Disjad. Takur suffered another embarrassing defeat, and his anger with his Second grew.
At the end of that meeting, after Takur had lost, he offered his skill in overseeing Zephia’s recovery. The overture left Azerban puzzled, but then he remembered Takur had always loved his niece.
Azerban later learned how Jesenia came to be sacrificed instead of Azaria. Hadir, worried about his mentor, had come looking for him the morning after the meeting in the grove. When Azaria told him he’d been gone all night, he knew something was terribly wrong. Hadir, whose ingenuity had always impressed Azerban, told Azaria her father had traveled south to look for another specimen he thought might help against Zephia’s illness, but that he should have returned. He told her he’d tried to talk Azerban into waiting for the morning sun to leave but that her father had been too anxious to wait. He then instructed her to go search for him, sending Dogahn and Grayfoot with her, as well as a tent and provisions, just in case. They arrived back empty-handed and desolate the evening of the Equinox. Azaria was ecstatic to see her father returned, but shocked to hear of all that had occurred.
Habitual life gradually returned to Boar Camp. After the Equinox, most members of Swan and Fox Camps returned to their respective summer locations. Only a few remained to tie up loose strings. One of them was Yumineh, not because she had any particular duties to attend to, but because she was still set on tearing Dogahn from Azaria’s arms.
Many were still shocked by what had happened on the Equinox and looked forward to journeying to Winter Cave and putting some distance between themselves and the site of the disturbing events. Jesenia's family, of course, was still grieving for what had befallen them. Dolaria lost all status, but was allowed to remain at Boar Camp. Most felt great sympathy for the family and many expressed their condolences, but they were largely left to grieve by themselves. Although all empathized with Dolaria's heartbreak, almost everyone preferred to stay away from her. The stain of bloodshed was not easily scrubbed.
It came as no surprise to Azerban then, when Disjad and Dolaria packed their belongings and ventured south. It was a risky move, as they didn't know where they'd build their new hearth. There was no guarantee any other camp would even agree to take them and it was too late in the season for such a move, but it was too painful to stay. It was obvious they’d not be welcome in Swan Camp, where Dikshar and Umar were closely aligned with Takur. But there were other camps further south that might be more amenable. The Ta'araki of Lion Camp in particular were known to be wary of the Boar Camp co-leaders.
In addition another, much greater burden was lifting from Azerban’s shoulders. Zephia was responding well to Takur's skill. In fact, her turnaround was nothing less than miraculous, causing many to speculate the Ta'ar were content now that Fahim had joined Them. Whatever the reason Azerban didn't care. He was just happy to have his darling mate returned to him. Zephia was now sitting up for long p
eriods, taking solid food again and even able to talk to her family for short intervals, before her cough forced her silence.
Azaria was beyond overjoyed with the improvement in her mother's health. Life was beginning to normalize for her also, although she was still mostly found by Zephia's side. Color was returning to her cheeks as well, as she was able to leave the shelter more often, if only for brief duration. Dogahn continued to visit regularly and provided more help than she could hope for. Azaria noticed his attitude had shifted since the events on the Equinox. He stopped pressuring her for more than she could give and seemed content to wait. She wondered what had changed in him, and had a suspicion the sacrifice of Jesenia had somehow awakened a new perspective.
She had a developing theory to explain the transformation, although there were still many holes remaining to be filled. There were rumors circling that Azaria had originally been picked for the ritual. She didn't give much credence to such foolishness. Her father was a Ta'araki after all. She knew he’d never allow such a thing. But she wondered if the rumors were enough to scare Dogahn into thinking he'd almost lost her. It would explain the change in his behavior. In her mind however, the most important thing was that life was brightening. Her relationship with Dogahn was better. Her mother was improving. The other camps were leaving, and with them much of the unwanted attention she'd been enduring since the Long Run event. That race seemed so far away now. She was looking forward to a long, cold, normal winter.
She was sitting on her furs one morning, with her legs folded in front of her and a thin block of heavy limestone in her lap. In one hand she held an old carving tool she'd obtained from one of the elder sculptors in exchange for a couple of fresh coneys. In the other, a blunt hammerstone she normally used to shape flint tips. There were a series of random patterns chipped into the stone block. They meant nothing, were only the result of Azaria's practice that morning. In front of her was a growing arc of limestone dust and tiny chips, which had begun to annoy her mother.
"Azaria, must you do that inside? You're getting chips everywhere!" Zephia complained.
"Sorry, mother," Azaria replied, noticing the fan of debris surrounding her. "I'll remove them when I'm finished."
Zephia looked at her daughter in exasperation. But when she once would've been more adamant, now she only closed her eyes and shook her head. She didn't possess the energy to harry her daughter any further. Azaria didn't see her mother shaking her head, for her eyes were still on her tablet, but she expected further prodding and eventually noticed that it never came. Sensing something was wrong, she glanced at her mother. It was then she understood why her mother hadn't forced her out as she'd anticipated. Her cough still lingered, her voice still hoarse. Talking was a burden. With a sharp pang of guilt, Azaria took her furs outside to shake them out.
With her mess disposed of, she lowered herself down to the large rock her father always sat on when working wood or stone and again turned her concentration to her tablet. The warmth of the newly risen sun felt good on her skin. She marveled at how much its touch reminded her of the heat from the hearth. Azaria didn't know what the shining orb was exactly - the Mother's Hearth, as some believed, or a massive, blazing fire, like the Watcher's had taught Grandmother and Grandfather. Maybe it was both, she thought. Whatever it was, Azaria understood perspective. Endowed with the keen mind of a predator, she knew it must be very big and very far away, or if it was smaller - like a big hearth - much closer.
She stared down at her tablet and wondered what else she should carve. There were already chevrons, half-circles and several small straight lines, dug into the stone at various angles and depths. An uncanny desire to work the tablet had come over her when she woke that morning and Azaria thought there must be some reason for it. The vague outlines of an idea were forming in her mind, but she couldn't quite fully grasp them yet. They hung there in front of her, obvious but unreachable, like the golden orb rising in front of her.
She was so lost in pursuit of the elusive idea, she didn't notice the smiling girl walking up the path.
"What are you doing, Azaria?" Daneel asked, seeing her friend sitting outside with a slab of stone and carving tools. It wasn't something she'd seen her do before.
"What? Oh, hi Daneel. Nothing. I was just practicing..." she said, looking up with a smile.
"Practicing what?" Daneel asked. "You're not going to be a carver are you? Really, Azaria. Do you want to spend the rest of your life at that horrible Temple?"
"No. Of course not," she said, slightly embarrassed now. "How are you?"
Daneel's face briefly smooshed in a scowl of confusion, but she soon cast it aside. "I'm fine. How are you? I'm going to wish Zephia good morning."
"Oh sure, she's inside. She's feeling much better. I'll follow you." Azaria laid her tablet and tools down on the rock.
"How are you feeling?" Daneel asked, kneeling next to Azaria's mother.
Zephia stretched her hands out, palms up, and raised them upward. Daneel smiled at the gesture. Because she'd been instructed to limit her vocalizations, Zephia had begun to devise her own simple language using just her hands, starting with the common gestures everyone used as a base. Daneel hadn't seen this one yet, but guessed as to its meaning, "Improving?" Zephia's bright smile told her she was correct. "That's wonderful!" she said. She placed an arm around Azaria's waist. "And how are you?"
"Great!" Azaria responded, smiling at her mother.
Daneel could see Azaria was answering truthfully - that the deep gloom that had held her had released its grip. She was encouraged her friend's spirit was renewing with her mother's improving health, but in Daneel's heart, there was still a heaviness. A lot had happened in the past suns. She wondered how much Azaria was aware of and if her mood would be so bright if she knew of the secret undercurrents behind much of it. She wondered if Azaria had heard the rumors that she was originally picked to be the offering for the sacrifice ritual and that her father had been the one who had saved her by suggesting another. She didn't know Azaria had already heard some of the story, nor that she’d immediately dismissed it as foolishness.
She decided Azaria must know some of it. Even holed up in this shelter, some of the whispers would reach her ears. After all, many stopped by to speak with Azerban or to drop a kind word to Zephia now that she could socialize. How much had Azaria heard? Did she know about Yumineh? Did she know her father saved her by substituting Yumineh in her place? That was the most recent version floating around, but Daneel had heard something even more disturbing. She'd heard Yumineh had been rejected because it was discovered she wasn't a virgin. I doubt Azaria has heard that one, she thought. It hasn't reached many ears yet. What will she think when she finds out? Even Azaria knows Yumineh has eyes for Dogahn. But she has barely left her shelter. She hasn't seen them walking around together, talking and laughing. Yumineh always has a hand on him somewhere. His wrist or around his back or playfully tugging on the strands of his headband. What is Dogahn thinking? Even if he's not the one that deflowered Yumineh, their behavior will only raise suspicions. Does he even still love Azaria? Has his favor turned to Yumineh? He's still here quite often helping her, but does he just feel guilty and really want to be with Yumineh. Every other man does after all.
"Are you hungry, Daneel?" Azaria's voice jolted her awake.
"No, I'm fine. Thanks, though," she answered. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Uhh... I guess we could wash these dishes. I need to do it sooner or later. Do you want to walk me down to the river?"
"Oh sure." Daneel bent over and kissed Zephia again. "I'm delighted to see you feeling better, Zephia. Can I get you anything while we're out?"
Zephia brought her hand to her chest and then held her palms up a short distance from each other.
"Yes, I'll return again soon." Daneel raised her eyebrows, hoping she'd guessed right and then grinned when Zephia smiled in approval.
Azaria smiled too, impressed Daneel so easily interpreted her mother’s
hand-signals. It was then that the idea which had eluded her dropped into focus. Mother is talking without speaking, by making symbols with her hands. What if I made symbols in the stone? And told others what they meant. Then I could talk without speaking too! But the elation of the insight dimmed as quickly as it had come. In fact, it wasn't her idea at all. Azaria realized her people had already been doing that for ages. Weren't the totems on the stones at the Great Temple the same thing? Didn't Fahim say those totems told the next generations which camps were responsible for the stone's shaping and placement? Wasn't that exactly what those totems were? Talking to someone else without speaking? Azaria was disappointed, but couldn't let go of the notion there was more to the idea than the simple totems. She knew she could make more of it. She just needed to give it more thought.
"Azaria?" Daneel's voice tore her attention away from her pondering.
"Huh?" Azaria answered.
"Are you ready to go?"
"Oh yeah. Sure, let's go..."
As they made their way, Daneel took her friend's hand in hers. "Your mother really does look much better," she said.
"I know. Isn't it amazing? I thought I was going to lose her, but now I have hope again," Azaria said. "Takur has been wonderful."
Daneel paused before answering. She wasn't sure she should ask out loud what she was wondering, but it wasn't her nature to hold back. "Azaria... do you think it has anything to do with the sacrifice?"
"What? What has to do with the sacrifice?" Azaria answered.
"Your mother... Do you think she's getting better because the Ta'ar really did want a virgin offering? Because the Watchers appreciate Jes... the gift?"
Azaria couldn't help but feel defensive. She thought Daneel was referring to Fahim being returned to Them. This suggestion was more sinister. Azaria couldn't believe Daneel would consider it, much less raise it with her. It felt like a punch to the gut. "What!? How could you say such a thing, Daneel? You think the Ta'araki sacrificed Jesenia to save mother? How does that make any sense? Trade a beautiful, healthy young girl for an ill woman?"
