Elijah nodded. “When I saw the booger in the mosquito mask I suspected it was thee, Surrey, but I could not tell for sure.”
“It wasn’t me. It was Snake Horse. He really got into the role. He told me, if Fromer can violate the peace pipe ceremony, he could at least show him how offensive it was.”
“I know some of my people will be offended, but all and all it was well received. In fact, it was difficult to refrain from laughing. Still, we all recognize it will cause an uproar among the Retrenchment Society. Even as a child, Fromer was never one to embrace humor, especially, when it was at his expense. He never played with the other children. Though smart, he’s always been a loner and dead serious about everything. But it was worth taking the risk with this Booger Play.”
Sur Sceaf declared, “This has proven to be a very teachable moment. I just pray, Fromer gets the message before I have to speak it louder--”
“Surrey, I’ve been looking all over for you.” Mendaka’s little son, Going Snake, came bounding up to the campfire, his eyes still alight with laughter. You made me laugh so hard I almost wet myself. Did you know I helped make your booger mask?”
“No, I didn’t, but you did a good job.”
“It was Mama’s idea to use the beaver pelt for the beard.” He giggled.
“Your mama is as mischievous as your father. There’s little hope for you.” Sur Sceaf glanced toward Mendaka, who lifted an eyebrow and nodded his approval. “Tomorrow when I see you, Going Snake, I will have a very special gift I want to give you.”
Excitement poured from him, “Is it a knife?”
Sur Sceaf grinned, “Tomorrow, my impatient friend.”
“But, Surrey--”
“You heard Surrey,” Little Doe admonished as she joined the group. “You’ll find out tomorrow.” She steered Going Snake away from the campfire and gave him a gentle swat on his bottom. “Go straight to our camp, you little weasel. You need to be in bed. I’ll be there soon.” As he reluctantly took off for their camp, Little Doe shook her head and said, “I think the boogers scared him a little too much tonight. He’s said he saw a wild man moving through the wood. Now I’m probably going to have to sleep with him and convince him there is no booger man out there.” Little Doe smiled at Sur Sceaf and winked at Ahy before following after her son into the wood.
Sur Sceaf leaned closer to Taneshewa, “You have had a very tiring day, young Lady. Let me take you back to your tipi.”
“I would like that very much.” She gave him a warm smile.
Thrilled with her response, he turned to Onamingo. “With your permission, Chief, it would be my privilege to escort Ahy to her tipi.”
Onamingo smiled and nodded his consent. Sur Sceaf tucked her hand through his arm as he led her toward the encampment. They had gone only a few yards when they ran into Pyrsyrus and his troupe of wives in route for their Palatial Tent. The ladies were in high spirits and Donya was describing to Swan Ray how much she liked Mendaka’s fat sister. “She remind me of my fat grandmother. Always chasing us chicas around the house until she catch ju and sit on ju.”
Pyrsyrus firmly gripped Sur Sceaf’s arm. “It was an excellent call, my brother. Not only were we all entertained, but it allowed everyone to blend and mingle and appreciate the contributions of each other’s culture. Although the Quailor didn’t fully join in, they didn’t march off in protest either, so I think the Roufytrof got their answer.”
“I certainly appreciate your words and encouragement. I do think it took us closer to our joining, but I still foresee a few difficulties ahead.”
Lana took a half step forward, “Yea, I noticed Fromer’s reaction. ‘Twas his usual rejection of loud laughter and things fun. I have not had a chance to speak with my parents, but I did see my father laughing and bursting his buttons.” Lana’s eyes sparkled as she glanced up at Sur Sceaf, and with the usual teasing warmth in her voice, “Especially when thou wast performing, my lord. Thou wast quite the booger.”
He smiled warmly back at her before he remembered his plan to keep his marriage to Lana still a secret for a little longer. Quickly, Sur Sceaf bade them good night, but as Pyrsyrus and the ladies walked on he caught Ahy tracking Lana with a questioning gaze.
Fortunately, before she could ask any questions, they ran into Meny carrying a dark suit over her arm. “Surrey, you really showed your Sharaka side tonight,” she said by way of greeting. “Everyone is talking about how fun it was. One of the young Quailor boys told me he overheard the high priest, Elijah, saying, there was no reason why the Quailor should not feel free to mingle with other peoples. He then asked me for a walk.”
“And did you go?” Ahy asked.
“Of course not! He was not only a lack beard, probably hasn’t even lost his milk teeth yet. I told him to see me in five years.”
Ahy laughed, “Oh, Meny, you’ll never change. You’ll have that poor boy hanging around for crumbs now for the next five years.”
Sur Sceaf inquired, “Why do you have that Quailor suit hanging from your arm?”
“Dak talked me into fetching it from his tipi and asked if I’d return it to the Black Hatter, you know Old Hard Mud.”
Sur Sceaf laughed, “You mean Hartmut.”
“Whatever his name. The Black Hatter didn’t understand why I wanted to borrow one of his old suits and not a new one. I swear, it was like taking meat from a panther. I told him it was for the Booger Dance and to stop asking so many questions. I told him if I had to wrestle him to the ground and strip him bare, I’d have me a damned Quailor suit for Dak, and I damned well wasn’t leaving until I got one. He stared at me with his black hair all slicked back like an old heron standing on a rock before he finally gave in.”
Sur Sceaf and Ahy burst into laughter simultaneously. “I would have given anything to see that sight,” he said.
Ahy choked with laughter on her words. “What Meny wants. Meny gets.”
Encouraged, Meny went on, “I’ve got a good notion to send the suit back with a couple of snakes in the pockets. See what he thinks of that. You know how those Quailor feel about snakes.” She did a mock dance in circles, lifting her feet high, “Oo! Oo! Snake! Snake! Save me!”
Ahy chuckled again, “Meny, didn’t you hear Sur Sceaf, we’re supposed to be tolerant of other people.”
“Tolerance is as tolerance does! Words ain’t never hurt nobody!” Meny shot back before walking away.
As Sur Sceaf watched her go, he said, “I think Meny has finally met her match and shall find that Hartmut is no easy target.”
“Despite all of Meny’s teasing, all she really wants is to be loved.”
He leaned closer, “Don’t we all.”
As they made their way toward her tipi, Sur Sceaf found himself returning the greetings of those who wanted to express their opinion of his performance. When they reached her tipi, Ahy thanked him for escorting her, then started to ask him a question. Placing a finger gently to his lips he said, “Ahy, you are exhausted. We can talk tomorrow.” He kissed her, his mouth lingering longer than it should have, before he stood back and drew the flap open let her enter.
* * *
After the excitement of the Booger Dance, Sur Sceaf suddenly realized that he, too, was feeling worn and tired, so he headed toward Pyrsyrus’ camp where he knew Lana would be waiting to ply him with questions about his romantic rendezvous with Ahy. Even though the Dance of Friendship had ended, many remained, but most were returning to their camps. Judging by the moon’s angle he guessed it was around one hour before midnight. He was passing the Woonstone, which was located between Long Swan’s camp and Pyrsyrus’ when a very familiar voice called his name. He froze in the dark, and let out a laugh. “Show yourself, Wose. Or am I hearing your ghost?”
A hairy wild man slinked at the edge of the light provided by the illumination of the two nearby campfires. It was not surprising that, no one, not even the guards had seen him arrive. It seemed that Going Snake was more alert than those tasked with providing the security.
> Sur Sceaf cried out, “My shadow Starkwulf returns.”
The two embraced in the traditional Herewardi manner.
“Well, the Shadow has seen many strange sights this night.”
“Such as?”
“Such as boogers and lovers locked in the wooded arms of Irminsul. And if my eyes and ears tell me aright, I saw Freya’s arrows lock their marks squarely on the hearts of two lovers.”
An alarm went off in Sur Sceaf’s head, perhaps others had seen as well. He deflected, “More than two, I should suspect.”
Wose smiled. “Va-Eyra told me of your tussle with the Pitters. Wish I could have been there at the pit with you. It was only luck that I was in Fort Rock when I inquired of Va-Eyra where your travels were taking you. That’s when I learned Hroar and Alcuin had been visiting with the queen and were about to depart and meet Long Swan to conference with you at Irminsul. So I changed my plan to go to Witan Jewell and instead, accompanied them on the Crest Trail to Irminsul where we met Long Swan in the Woon Wood. You had not yet arrived when we reached the stone. I knew how busy you’d be, so I camped up in the wood and watched the Booger Dance and then came to realize that the only business you were tending to tonight was love. Appears to be some real magic between you and the chief’s daughter. Ey!”
“Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Many things, but what I didn’t know until this moment is how serious you are about taking a seventh queen to wife.”
“Yes, very serious, I must admit, but not all that confident that I shall succeed. You know that only one wife thing the outlanders all have. It’s been a real stumbling block for her. I’m still working to overcome her prejudice.”
Wose nodded, “Never did understand that outlander thing of only one wife. But like all Herewardi, I do not wish to deny them their choice. Even though, I doubt few of them would return us that favor.”
“Just as I’m hoping to make it work with Ahy, I think once they live amongst us, they will see how well this works for us and that we truly pose no threat to them at all.” Sur Sceaf decided it was time to change the subject. “Did you spend much time with my sister? How does she fare?”
Sur Sceaf caught a slight flicker in Starkwulf’s eyes.
“The queen fares very well, from what I could judge. Only passed through for a little high desert ale, she even broke out a special keg of Alidrunian ale for just the two of us.”
“She hasn’t even opened a keg of that ale for me. And I’m her favorite brother. You must be very special to her.”
“You know me. No time for women. They’re too painful. I can’t even look at a woman without seeing my wives and children maimed, marred, and murdered by those Pitter Demons. I don’t ever want to see that again. You can’t imagine how powerless a man feels when he is unable to protect those he loves. It’s worse than castration. But when I saw how magical it was between you and the chief’s daughter, I realized, if my heart ever returned, Va-Eyra is the only one I could ever think of giving it to. Feisty, she is, but truly the most comely woman to ever walk the Middle World.”
“And determined she is. A queen no less. In this case, you better be careful that the cow doesn’t ride the bull.” They laughed.
More and more people passed by them on their ways to their camps, most eying the Wose as a curiosity.
Unfazed, Wose lowered his voice to warn, “I came to tell you now that the Quailor and Sharaka have left their homelands, the Pitter hell rats are pouring into the Whilamut and the high desert like ants into a sugar bowl. I’ve already seen their tentacles slithering through the Ochoco. Now that you’ve reached Irminsul, you will face no more dangers from here to Witan Jewell, as Sur Spear keeps the gates of the land well patrolled. Which thing frees me to perform my work as an exterminator in the high desert. But I got a report from Chief Monasaka of the Ochoco, that the Pitters are now coming through at Stink Water thicker than the herds of buffalo. I’ll be taking off before daybreak for the Stink Water. If we’re lucky, I’ll see you in the spring when you trek to Ur Ford, but should you need me before then, send a silver harrier to Monasaka.”
“I realize how urgent your business at Stink Water is, but if you could spare a few days, might I ask a favor of you?”
“You know the answer to that, Surrey. I pledged my fealty to you long ago. I am willing to do your bidding anytime. Ask whatever you will.”
“I wouldn’t ask, except lives are at risk, some women and children. Lana’s sister’s family stayed in Salem. Wouldn’t take the trek with us. When we left she was with child and already has ten children. I believe she wished to come, but her husband refused out of some sort of misguided zeal. And as you know, Quailor women believe they must follow their husbands no matter how irrational.”
A thunderous look crossed Wose’s face. “Damn it to hell, Surrey! I thought you of all people would know that that is a death sentence for every one of them. How many stayed behind?”
“Ten families in all, equaling a hundred and twenty men, women, and children.”
“Crazy bastards! They’re all dead meat. Crow’s bait! Probably having their bones picked clean by the vultures even as we speak. Why didn’t you just throw their asses in a jail wagon and force them to come with you? At least the wives and children. To Hell with those fanatics.”
“There are many things I would do if I only had to answer for myself. But I cannot afford to do those things as a leader. The last thing the Roufytrof admonished me, was to allow for dissent and free agency among the tribes, and especially not to interfere with their internal religious rights or use coercion in any degree. I tried every way I knew how to dissuade them, as did Lana’s family. I was trapped between fire and ice, but Retrenchers like Verushka’s husband, Rudolf, insisted that their god will save them from the Pitter’s attack.”
“Buh, that damned Paper God of theirs. Gives ‘em commands and then never follows up with any help. Well, you are the chosen leader. I could not make such decisions. It would not be in my power. Stupid has no rights in my book. Alright! I’ll head for Salem with the rise of Regulus before dawn, but what do you want me to do if they are still alive?”
Sur Sceaf said, “They wouldn’t believe my warnings, but maybe they’ll believe yours. Tell them what you know. Tell them about your wives. I cannot in good conscience, let them stay there without trying every last avenue of hope that they might rethink their position and somehow rejoin us here.”
* * *
The Quailor Camp was located up a draw and through the wood, separated from the other encampments. Their wagons and buggies formed a protective circle. The interior of the circle was lit by all the campfires acting as a beacon. Meny headed over to the Quailor encampment to return the black coat and hat she had borrowed for the Booger Dance. As she felt her way down the dark wooded path, the moonlight occasionally broke through the thick canopy. Hartmut’s wagon, identified by the double distel hex on its side, looked warm and well lit through the trees as she approached. As soon as she broke into the clearing she caught sight of Hartmut speaking with the possum-faced dycon that so repulsed her. Standing with the little man was also a drift of his drones.
Curious, she crept up closer to the wagon in order to hear more clearly. Fromer was obviously upset, red-faced with anger. They had been arguing over something.
Mosquito Beak shouted, “Surely, now thou believest me that we must do something about this treachery of Elijah. Surely, thou canst see, Elijah is a false prophet and has allied himself with these heathen and savages. Now is not the time to be neutral. I warn thee, if thou art lukewarm in this matter, then the dycons will spew thee out of their mouth.”
“Brother Fromer, thou hast mistaken my attempts to bring about harmony with neutrality. Elijah understandeth that we must promote harmony among all nations, if we are to survive.”
“Harmony,” he spat out the word, like it was bile, “I fail to see, how making the Quailor the object of ridicule equals harmony. Mark me, I will find ou
t who collaborated with these savages in giving a Quailor suit to these demonic boogers. And when I do, I will order him shunned.
Mendaho saw spit fly out of Fromer’s mouth.
“Look no farther, Fromer. I gave them the suit.”
It amused Meny to see the little man jerk backwards and start to sputter.
“Shun me if thou wilt,” Hartmut declared firmly, “but I will continue to join Elijah, who has all the interests of the Quailor at heart and not an interest group that is only concerned with promoting a harmful division amongst the people who need more than ever to be united, more than ever in our history.”
“Elijah!” Spit flew out of Mosquito Beak’s mouth. “I don’t even know if he is still Quailor. To allow us to be mocked by those savages like that. Really, he expects us to mingle with that vermin. Well, we dycons have been meeting and we’ve decided we’re not going any farther on this trek until we get some satisfaction. Because if this is what it’s going to be like in our new home, then we refuse to take one more step into this sink of iniquity.”
Hartmut stared at the man for a moment, then shook his head. “Thou fool! There is no turning back now. Besides, thou knowest we will live in an isolated community once we get to Ur Ford, away from those ‘vermin and savages’. Isn’t that sufficient for thee?”
“Honestly, Hartmut, thou wast once a great dycon. We could always count on thee to bring order and balance between the high priests and the dycons. What ever hath happened to thee?”
“When thou didst kill my beloved wife with thy fanaticism, I realized Elijah was the only voice of reason left in our community. That’s what happened.”
Meny’s mouth fell open. She hadn’t realized that Hartmut had suffered such recent tragedy. No wonder he was so cross with her. She watched Fromer go silent and appear to be at a loss for words. Then he turned and walked off with his wake of dark buzzards following.
Mendaho crept backward until she reached the front of the wagon where she laid the folded clothing on the seat very quietly. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt sorry for his loss, but she was also angry that Hartmut had not defended her people when Mosquito Beak railed on them as savages and vermin. She darted down the moonlit trail as fast as her feet would carry her, holding back tears as she ran. “Vermin! Savages!” She had enjoyed sparring with Hartmut, but that was before she realized that he thought of her as little more than an uncouth savage. Oh Grandmother, let them separate themselves from us. We don’t need their kind.
The Frightful Dance (The King of Three Bloods Book 2) Page 29
