Akihoka looked up at me.
"Find him before the Sleen Soldiers do," I said. "It might mean his life. Tell him what has occurred. Then he must decide what to do."
"He will come back," said Akihoka.
"Then let him come back knowing what has occurred," I said. "Go after him."
"I know where he will be hunting," said Akihoka.
"Hurry," I said.
Akihoka threw off the robe. "I will go," he said.
"Where is Winyela?" I asked.
"I do not know," he said.
"Did Sleen Soldiers come for her," I asked, "to take her to the lodge of Mahpiyasapa?"
"No," said Akihoka.
"You see?" I said. "Mahpiyasapa, even under these conditions, does not have her brought to him. Even under these conditions he still regards her as Canka's woman. He must know that Hci is lying."
Akihoka turned about and raced away, between the lodges. He would jerk loose the picket rope of his kaiila and mount it in a bound. In moments he would be outside the camp.
I looked after Akihoka. Already he had vanished from sight.
I felt a cool breeze. I felt sorrow for Mahpiyasapa. It must be a terrible thing for a father to realize that his beloved son has betrayed his codes.
Then I recalled the information I had received but moments before from the lovely blond slave, Oiputake. I was in a quandary. I had hoped, of course, to convey this information to Canka. This seemed appropriate not only because he was, strictly, my master, but also because he was highly placed in the All Comrades. He might then have made a judgment on it, assessing its significance, if any. I would have gone first to Cuwignaka, as I knew him best and had the highest regard for his perceptiveness and common sense, but that action I had rejected, of course, because at this time he would be, with other young men, dancing in the great lodge. I did not know what to do. I could, of course, kneel to random individuals, met here and there, and tell them what I had learned, but I feared I might be dismissed as a raving slave. Who would believe the words of a slave, and I had this cognizance, too, only from another slave. What, too, if she were mistaken?
Grunt, I thought, Grunt! He will know what to do! Too, he is a close friend of Mahpiyasapa. Mahpiyasapa will listen to him. I must seek out Grunt!
18
I Continue to Seek an Assessment of Oiputake
"Where is Grunt!" I cried.
Wasnapohdi, startled, looked up. She was kneeling within the lodge which Mahpiyasapa had set aside for the use of Grunt, his friend.
"He is not here!" she said.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"I do not know!" she said. She seemed frightened. "Have you heard about Canka?" she said.
"Yes," I said. "But I do not believe it."
"Nor do I," she said. "It cannot be."
"Why are you alone in the lodge?" I asked. "Why are you not working?"
"I am hiding," she said.
"You need not be afraid," I said. "The business with Canka has nothing to do with you."
"I am not hiding because of that," she said.
"Do you have any idea where Grunt is?" I asked.
"He may be with Mahpiyasapa," she said. "He left after he found out about Canka."
"That is a splendid thought," I said. "I shall go to the lodge of Mahpiyasapa!" I turned to leave but then, suddenly, turned back. "Why are you hiding?" I asked.
"I have seen him!" she whispered.
"Canka?" I asked, startled.
"No," she said, "Waiyeyeca, One-Who-Finds-Much, he who once owned me!"
"Several have owned you," I said.
"I spoke to you of him," she said, "when first we met, shortly after Grunt, my master, had acquired me at the trading point."
"The boy?" I said.
"Yes," she said.
"I remember," I said. Long ago, at a Dust-Leg trading point, Grunt had obtained Wasnapohdi for three fine hatchets. In talking to me, afterwards, she had told me something of herself. She had been born in a Waniyanpi compound, one owned by the Kailiauk, a tribe federated with the Kaiila and speaking a closely related dialect. He who obtained her from this compound was a Kaiila warrior. At that time she was only eight years old. He had taken her home with him and given her, as a slave, to his ten-year-old son. She had thus learned to serve and placate men early. Yet as children they had been more as companions and playmates than as master and slave.
Then once, when they were alone, when she was but fifteen and he seventeen, far from their camp, gathering berries together, he had been unable any longer not to see her as a woman. She had looked up to see him, almost angrily, cutting and carving at a branch, notching it at the ends for thong-holds. She was frightened and began to cry. She had seen such devices before, and knew their use. She was ordered to remove her clothing, and to lie down, with her legs widely apart. Then she felt her ankles tied in this position, the branch behind them, widely apart, by means of the notches and thongs. She had no doubt as to what would be her fate. She was to be used for the first time, and as the slave she was. By dusk, freed of the branch, she had lain on her belly before him, kissing his feet. That night, when they had returned to the village, she did not ride behind him on his kaiila, as she had that morning. She accompanied him, rather, on foot, marched at his stirrup, her hands bound behind her back, a thong on her neck, run to the pommel of his saddle. That morning two children had left the village; what returned to it that night were a young master and his claimed slave.
Wasnapohdi put down her head, trembling.
I think that the young master and his slave had been much in love. His affection for the girl, for she was only a slave, had brought much ridicule on him from his peers. To this sort of thing he, a red savage, had been extremely sensitive. In the end, perhaps to refute or mitigate charges of affection for the girl, or perhaps because he suspected they might be true, and interpreted his feelings in such a matter as unseemly weaknesses in a young warrior, he had sold her. After that she had had several masters. Grunt, as I have mentioned, had finally acquired her from Dust Legs.
"His name is Waiyeyeca?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"What is his band?" I asked.
"Napoktan," she said.
"The Bracelets band," I said.
"Yes," she said. Their territory lies roughly northwest of the Kaiila River, north of the northern fork of the Kaiila River, and east of the Snake River. Napoktan warriors commonly wear two copper bracelets on the left wrist.
"Did he see you?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Do you still love him?" I asked.
"I do not know," she said. "It has been a long time, years. He sold me!"
"You are a slave," I said. "Surely you do not object to being sold."
"I thought he loved me!" she said.
"Perhaps he did," I said.
"He sold me!" she said.
"Perhaps he did not regard you as sufficiently beautiful," I said.
"Perhaps!" she said, angrily.
"If he could see you now," I said, "if he could see how beautiful you have become, doubtless he would regret his earlier decision, keenly."
"Perhaps!" she said, in fury.
"Have you no work to do?" I asked.
"I am hiding," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I am afraid for him to see me," she said, tears in her eyes. "He sold me! I loved him! I do not want to open these old wounds! I do not want to go through all that heartache again! I have suffered enough!"
"Nonsense," I said. "You are merely looking for an excuse to get out of work. I know the tricks of a lazy girl when I see them."
"No," she said, agonized, "really!"
"What are you supposed to be doing?" I asked.
"Polishing trade goods," she said.
"Inside the lodge or outside?" I asked. I knew what the answer must be.
"Outside, I suppose," she said, "so that I may better see what I am doing."
"Then get outside and p
olish trade goods," I said.
"Please, no," she said. "He might see me!"
"The Napoktan camp is not close," I said. "That is highly unlikely."
"He might see me!" she protested.
"What if he does?" I asked.
"What if he sees me, and wants me?" she asked. "What if he carries me away, or buys me?"
"He will not simply carry you away," I said. "Grunt is a guest of the Kaiila."
"But what if he wishes to buy me?" she asked, in misery.
"Then that is simply a matter of prices," I said.
"No, no," she wept. "You do not understand!"
"I understand very well," I said. "You are a slave. You are a piece of property. A man sees you and decides whether or not he is interested in you. If he is, he makes Grunt an offer. It is accepted or rejected. Perhaps bargaining ensues. If they do not come to terms, then you remain Grunt's. If they do come to terms, then you simply have a new master, whom you must then serve completely and with total perfection."
She collapsed on a robe in the lodge, clutching at it with her small fingers, weeping bitterly.
"I believe you were given a command," I said. "I trust that you do not desire for me to repeat it, as your discharge of the task might well, then, be preceded by a severe whipping."
"No, Master," she wept. "I do not desire for you to repeat your command."
"If your obedience is insufficiently prompt," I said, "I may add to my command the stipulation that you will polish the trade goods outside the lodge naked."
"My obedience is prompt, Master," she wept, getting up. She began to gather together several pots and pans from Grunt's store of trade goods.
"I am well aware of the tricks of lazy girls to escape from their work," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she wept. "Yes, Master."
I then hurried from the lodge. I wished to find Grunt, to query him as to the possible significance, if any, of the information I had earlier received from Oiputake, as to the identity of the Yellow Knives in the camp.
"Tatankasa!" called a little boy. "Throw the hoop for me! Throw the hoop for me!"
"Have you seen Wopeton, the Trader?" I asked.
"No," he said. "Throw the hoop!"
"Forgive, me, Small Master," I said. "I am on business."
"Very well," he said.
I sped on, toward the lodge of Mahpiyasapa.
"Hold!" called a lad.
I stopped, and fell to my knees before him. It was the lad who had been first among the herders, when I had carried the beaded quirt to the girl herd.
"Greetings," said he.
"Greetings, Master," I said.
"The blond slave whom you took for wench sport," he said, "is no longer in the herd. She was exchanged in a giveaway and her new master, reportedly, is quite pleased with her. It seems she is now to serve in his own lodge, away from the herd, she thus convenient to him, and readily at hand, for her commandings and caressings, as a prize slave."
"That is good news, Master," I said.
"The credit for this goes to you, I think," said the lad. "You melted the ice in her belly. You made her become a woman, and need men."
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"She has been named Oiputake," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said. "Master!" I said, suddenly.
"Yes," he said.
"Why are you in the village now," I asked, "at this time of day?"
"The herds have been brought in," he said, "to the edges of the village."
"What of the guards and pickets?" I asked.
"They, too, have been brought in," he said.
"Why?" I asked.
"It is upon the orders of Watonka," said the lad.
"The western edge of the camp, then, is unguarded," I said. The security for this perimeter was the responsibility of the Isanna.
"It is all right," said the lad. "It is the time of the feasts, of the festivals."
"Have you seen Wopeton, the Trader?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"May I leave?" I asked.
"Surely," said the lad, puzzled.
I leaped up and again hurried toward the lodge of Mahpiyasapa. I passed within a hundred yards of the great dance lodge, formed of towering walls of brush. Within would be the pole, the ropes and the skewers, and, painted and bedecked, dancing, the young men.
* * * *
"Mahpiyasapa is not here," said the woman, kneeling near his lodge, one of his wives. Her gnarled fingers held a bone scraper. She was sharpening the scraper on a stone in front of her. On the scraper there were six dots. It had been used for six years. Two of her fingers had been cut off at the first joint. She had lost two sons.
"Do you know where he is?" I asked.
"No," she said.
"Thank you, Mistress," I said. I rose to my feet, and stepped back. I did not know what to do now, or where to go.
"Why should he not be in the council?" she asked, not looking up.
"Of course," I said. "My thanks, Mistress!"
"It will do you no good," she said. "You cannot see him there, if he is there. It is not permitted."
"I really seek Wopeton," I said. "Might he be in the council?"
"It is possible," she shrugged. She did not look up from her work.
"My thanks, Mistress," I said. "You have been very kind."
"If he is in the council," she said, "you will not be able to see him either."
"My thanks, Mistress!" I said. I turned about and hurried from the place. She had been very helpful. I did not think that I would have managed as well had I been a white female slave. Had I been such she might have put me to labors or kept me on my belly, in the dirt, my mouth filled with dirt, before her, for hours. Women of the red savages bear little affection towards the lovely white properties of their men. White slave girls will often flee at the mere approach of a red female and will almost never meet the eyes of one. In my intense awareness of this being the day of the great dance, probably a function of Cuwignaka's almost overwhelming concern about it, and in my concern over the fate of Canka, and my concern with the information obtained from Oiputake, I had forgotten that this day, too, was the day of a peace council, a day in which was to be seen, supposedly, at least the first stages of the ratification of a peace agreement between the Yellow Knives and the Kaiila. I made my way rapidly towards the council lodge. I did not know if I could draw Mahpiyasapa out of the council, or if it would be wise to do so, but I was confident that I could, somehow, if he were there, make contact with Grunt.
* * * *
I was thrown rudely back by the two young warriors. "Kneel, Slave!" snarled one of them.
I knelt swiftly. Knives were drawn upon me.
"Forgive me, Masters," I said. "It is needful that I speak with Wopeton."
"He is not within," said one of the warriors.
"Convey then, I beg you," I said, "my need to speak with Mahpiyasapa."
"Neither is Mahpiyasapa within," said the warrior.
"Neither is within?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"Forgive me, Masters," I said.
"They may come later," said one of the warriors. "The council has not yet begun."
"Yes, Masters," I said. "Thank you, Masters." I crawled back a pace or two, on my knees, keeping my eyes on their knives. Then I rose to my feet and, facing them, backed away. They sheathed their knives and resumed their stance, arms folded, before the threshold of the great lodge. Its poles were fifty feet in height and it was covered with more than a hundred skins.
I looked about. Again I did not know what to do. I must wait, I suppose, to see if Grunt, or Mahpiyasapa, appeared. By now, however, I would have supposed they would have been within the council lodge. Surely the council was due to soon begin.
"Slave," said a fellow, sitting cross-legged, some yards off, beckoning to me.
I went to him and he indicated a place near him where I might kneel. I did so. He was grooving a stone for a hammerhead. This is
done with a dampened rawhide string, dipped in sand, and drawn again and again, patiently, across the stone. I watched him work. "Today," he said, "the council will not hear the voice of Mahpiyasapa."
"Why, today, will the council not hear his voice?" I asked.
"Today," said the man, drawing the rawhide string across the stone, "Mahpiyasapa is in sorrow. He has gone from the village, to purify himself."
"Why should he be in sorrow?" I asked. This was unwelcome news, indeed, that he might not be in the camp.
"I think it is because Canka tried to kill him," said the man, watching the movement of the string.
"Oh," I said. I did not know this man, and I did not see much point in conveying to him my suspicions as to what had actually occurred in this disturbing incident.
"You are Canka's slave, are you not?" asked the man.
"Yes," I said.
"And you have not been taken, or slain," he said.
"No," I said.
"Interesting," he said, dipping the string again in water, and then in sand.
Mahpiyasapa's sorrow, I had little doubt, was occasioned by the perjury of Hci, and not by some putative treachery on the part of Canka. This, too, I had little doubt, was in the mind of the man who had chosen to speak to me. He was not a fool. In his shame and sorrow Mahpiyasapa had not gone to the council. Perhaps he felt he could not, there, face his peers. In the small confines of a sweat lodge, fasting, and with steam and hot stones, he would try to come to grips with these things which had happened. He might then go to some lonely place, to seek a dream or vision, that he might know what to do.
"Master," said I.
"Yes," said the man.
"Is it your understanding that Wopeton accompanied Mahpiyasapa?"
"That is what I think," said the man, drawing the wet string, sand adhering to it, firmly and slowly, carefully, across the stone. He had probably been working for more than two days on the stone. I could see the beginnings of the groove in its surface.
"Thank you, Master," I said.
"And that, too, is interesting," said the man, looking at the stone.
"Yes, Master," I said. The stones for use in the sweat lodge are heated in a fire outside the lodge and, held on sticks, taken within, where water is poured upon them, creating the needed heat and steam. When a stone cools it is then reheated. This part of the work, heating the stones, bringing the water, reheating the stones, and so on, ideally, is not done by the individual or individuals within the sweat lodge. Ideally, it is done by an assistant or helper. I had little doubt that Grunt was acting in this capacity for his friend, Mahpiyasapa. Mahpiyasapa, in this time, in his shame and misery, could not bring himself to face his own people.
Blood Brothers of Gor Page 24
