“You know it’s safer until we’re offered shelter that this tribe doesn’t realize you are not a Marut, and I will not let you fall.” He took her hand.
She yanked the piece of cloth forward, furious as Rishi tugged her down the hill behind the two children.
They were soon spotted, and by the time they reached the outskirts a small crowd of curious onlookers had gathered.
"You are the wife of a Marut and belong to the family of a chief. Stand tall. Be proud. Don’t let them see your fears.”
“Stand tall, hide my fears, and walk without being able to see where I’m going. Easy.” Kara tried to squash the dread lapping at the edges of her composure.
As they passed through the encampment, the young lad enjoyed being the center of attention and played his part well. He understood when important things were happening and gripped the rope, keeping his animal to heel as he led them toward an ostentatious tent in a prominent position in the inner ring. This clearly indicated someone of importance. This Shanwatah wanted everyone to understand who their leader was.
Kara thought about how Ikeya positioned himself and his family in the outer ring, where they’d be some of the first to face any danger.
The crowd following them had increased judging by the loud buzz of voices behind them.
As they stood in front of the tent, Kara grudgingly accepted the necessity of following Rishi’s instructions. Loss of face in a culture where ritual and traditions appeared rigid might put them in a precarious position. Establishing their status in a first meeting was of paramount importance.
The lad shook a rope decorated with small shells, hanging by the side of the embroidered door flap. The shells jangled just enough to announce a visitor to whoever was inside. They heard voices, and the flap flicked open. A dark-eyed young woman gave them the once-over and pulled the flap closed.
Kara shot a quick look at Rishi from under her veil, but he looked as casual and at ease as if he was paying a visit to a friend or relative. None of his tension showed. She felt a pang of sympathy for him. A part of her instinctively understood he would do everything possible to defend her. Her resentment of his betrayal lessened, and the attraction she’d always felt for him bloomed a little stronger. They were, after all, in this adventure together.
More voices, and a young man appeared. He wasn’t as tall as Rishi, but broader, displaying huge muscles as he confronted them crossing his arms and planting his legs wide.
"I met them—” the lad started, but stopped midsentence as the guard glowered at him.
"Go, Rupa. You are not needed now.” The boy's head drooped and he turned to leave, pulling the baby satyr with him.
"Thank you, Rupa, for your help.” Rishi addressed him as if he were an adult.
The boy perked up, grinned and ran off, the kid capering beside him.
"Who are you and what tribe do you hail from?” The muscular guard took his time and examined them, his suspicious eyes taking in their disheveled grubby clothes and dirt smeared faces.
Kara stared at her boots, which were looking somewhat the worse for wear.
Rishi drew himself up. "I am Rishi, nephew of Ikeya, the Shanwatah of the Eastern Desert Maruts and this,” he turned to Kara, "is my wife, Kara.”
Kara blew out a breath, stuffing every response she wanted to make deep inside herself before she said something that got them both in serious trouble.
Despite Rishi’s declared status, the sentry's expression made it obvious he thought they weren’t worth the sand they stood on. "Wait here,” he ordered, returning quicker than Kara expected and beckoned them inside.
Curiosity warred with apprehension as she followed Rishi. Once she adjusted to the dimmer light inside the tent, the elaborately embroidered tapestries glinting with metallic threads that decorated the walls impressed her.
"Welcome, Rishi of the Eastern Desert Maruts. I am Hitam, Shanwatah of the Northern Mountain tribes. Come, you and your good wife, sit and take a cup of caj, eat some refreshments, and tell me your story.”
The speaker who stood facing them with a welcoming smile, was impressive. He resembled the bodyguard, only taller, older, and more heavily muscled—maybe father and son? He wore his gray hair beaded and plaited in an intricate style she’d not seen before, had a beak of a nose, a wide slash of a mouth, and piercing brown eyes that examined them with a calculating look. His long thick braids were decorated with an abundance of bright beads, and he carried himself with authority.
Three women stood in a row behind him, their arms and throats glittering with bangles and necklaces.
Kara was curious to know if they were wives or servants.
One of the women hurried forward with cushions for the guests, her bangles jingling as she gestured to seats opposite the chieftain.
Kara copied Rishi, who waited till the Shanwatah sat before joining him.
Hitam waved a hand and the second woman brought wooden bowls of hot steaming caj.
Kara lifted her shawl off her face and accepted the welcome drink, forcing herself to sip, and not glug the whole lot down in one gulp and slake her thirst.
The third woman deposited a plate of sweet flatbreads in front of them.
"Eat, drink. You are both welcome here.” Hitam stared first at Rishi, and then at her with open interest.
Kara looked down, presenting a calm front. Here, in front of a powerful tribal leader— who may or may not be friendly—she hoped Rishi really could keep her safe.
Chapter Seventeen: Hitam
Marut Proverb:
Put your trust in no one till you have seen the proof of their deeds.
Custom dictated the breaking of bread with guests as a sign of friendship, but Kara’s jaw dropped and she had to close it quick when Hitam lifted an oversize cup of caj to his mouth, swallowed the entire contents in one long glug, demolished his flatbread in seconds, and called for more.
She and Rishi followed suit, but at a more decorous pace. As the warm food reached her stomach, Kara began to relax. From what she’d seen of Ikeya, the Maruts appeared to choose decent leaders. To lead and control a group this size would certainly need a strong personality.
Hitam punctuated the meal with questions about Rishi’s people, the names of prominent members, number of men of fighting age, the health of the herd, exactly where the storm had taken place that separated them, and so on. He'd heard of Ikeya. Who among the tribes hadn't? he said smiling, but his gaze remained shrewd.
Rishi answered in short polite sentences.
Kara realized he wasn’t giving much away to another, possibly a competing, leader. She assumed there were rivalries between the tribes. Her father had often spoken with disgust of the trickeries those seeking power practiced when positions of authority became vacant. When they had eaten their fill, and the women who’d served them silently throughout removed the plates, Hitam turned his attention to Kara.
“How does a desert Marut, one who is not even a leader, have a bride who is not of our race?” he asked Rishi, while he continued to examine her.
Kara was relieved to hear he didn’t use the phrase foreign devil, although the evaluating glint in his eyes and his dig at Rishi made her uneasy.
“Separated from her people, she was lucky we came across her when we did. A kallin pack leader had spotted his breakfast.” He turned to Kara, “Show him.”
She raised an eyebrow. She understood enough of Marut culture to realize it wasn't acceptable for a female to reveal her body to anyone other than her husband.
Rishi nodded. “It’s all right, gradhaig.”
Kara’s eyes flicked to the Shanwatah and caught the surprise on his face at Rishi’s final word. She gave Rishi a small smile. “As you wish.” Rishi’s face didn’t betray his relief, but she saw the barest softening of his mouth. She took a deep breath as she opened the ankle ties of her left trews leg, and pulled up the cloth to reveal two long scars where the bear had slashed her. Although healed and clear of infection, the reddis
h puckered skin showed the wound was relatively recent.
When Hitam saw the scars marring her leg, he whistled. “The Gods smiled on you that day. A few seconds more and this young warrior would still be alone.”
Kara saw a sliver of respect dawn in Hitam’s eyes as he studied Rishi. His eyebrows rose when Rishi spoke of how far south the bear pack had traveled. Hitam’s people came from the northern region of the mountain range, lived close to kallin pack territory, and possessed intimate knowledge of the savage predators. “And you, too, are now a desert Marut?” he asked her.
Kara raised her chin looking Hitam right in the eyes. “Yes,” she replied. “Indeed, I am.” For a second she felt Rishi’s touch, a glow of warmth, in her mind.
“Mmm... interesting.” The Shanwatah’s gaze shifted from one to the other.
“We would beg shelter of you till you reach the Summer Meet and we can rejoin our own people.” Rishi opened his hand, palms out in a gesture, Kara assumed, of submission to Hitam
The Shanwatah sat silent as if pondering their request.
Kara was sure he’d decided the minute he saw them, but he clearly enjoyed keeping them in suspense.
“As our Laws state, thus it shall be.”
Another ritualistic response, thought Kara. You didn’t have to wonder how to ask a question in Marut society, you simply had to memorize the questions and answers and pick the correct one.
Rishi bowed his head in thanks.
Kara copied him. At the very least she was gaining invaluable experience in the field, even if everything she did went against her training and culture.
“Come.” Hitam stood, and Rishi and Kara followed his example. Luckily it appeared not much else was expected of her other than bowing when Rishi did.
Hitam and Rishi embraced each other. “Welcome. If your own tribe is lost, know you always have a place with ours.”
“On behalf of my wife and myself, I thank you, Shanwatah Hitam.”
“Farah, organize shelter for them,” Hiram ordered a small dark woman, one of the servers. “She will show you where you will sleep. Tell her if you need anything.” It was a dismissal.
They bowed once more, and followed the woman out of the tent.
Kara’s mind was agog as she tried to memorize each unique design as Farah led them through a maze of multicolored tents. She came to a halt when she reached the outside circle, stopping near several tents set apart from the others. Proximity to the chief clearly indicated status, and as incomers without standing they were placed far from the tribe’s leader.
“This will be yours. Inside you will find everything you need.” With a quick bow, the woman scurried away.
Rishi raised his eyebrows, and smiled mischievously at Kara. “This will be the first night together in a tent of our own.”
She stuck her nose in the air, and pushed past him. There was no way she was going to let him take the lead every time. Inside she paused, giving herself time to adjust to the dim interior.
Rishi followed and as he lifted the flap, shafts of light lit up the tent. The decor appeared simple after the Shanwatah’s opulence, with a plain carpet and without any embroidered wall hangings, and contained a large pile of blankets for a bed in the middle.
Spotting a couple of the traditional dark wooden trunks, Kara hurried over, and opened them in turn: one was full of woven satyr wool blankets; the second had women’s clothes on the left, and men’s apparel on the right. “This is a rich powerful tribe, isn't it?” she said as she pulled out a few tops and trews, running her fingers over the soft fabric. “Your tribe doesn’t have special tents for visitors, does it?”
He huffed. “Of course we do, but we don't set them up until there’s a reason to offer hospitality. I wonder who Hitam is expecting? And this isn’t a single group, Kara. You remember we saw three circles?”
‘Mmm, do you think this color suits me?’ she asked holding up a long-sleeved blouse in deep blue with heavy silver embroidery around the cuffs, neck and hem.
“Three mountain tribes are here. Shanwatah Hitam is the leader of the biggest tribe and the overlord of the others.”
“How come your tribe is called the Eastern Desert tribe, and yet I met you in the mountains?”
“Every tribe has its own pastures in the mountains and its routes through the desert. The names merely indicate where our pastures are or the routes we travel through the desert. You see, we are a simple people, O Great Kara of the Colonies.”
Swallowing an easy retort, she began pulling out and throwing more clothes on the floor. “Here, this one’s for you.” She tossed him a pale cream shirt richly embroidered in gold around the neck and cuffs.
“Kara!” She looked at him in surprise.
He spoke quietly. “Do not think that because the Law says we must do something, people cannot find ways of bending it. We do not judge wealth by how pretty the threads on our clothes are or by how many satyrs and women we possess.”
She gritted her teeth at the word possess. No colonist ever possessed another. Women weren't property. But she let it pass. She’d learned from seeing Ikeya and Yleni's relationship up close that they were equal. Maruts viewed the division of labor in a different way to the colonists. That was all. “Are you worried?”
“I don’t trust Hitam. The way he was looking at you, sizing up your worth to him, as if you were a prize satyr, makes me wonder if we have jumped from the burning desert sun into a pit of slithering sand snakes.”
“But he didn’t seem antagonistic, did he? Isn’t that good?”
“If you mean he's shown no desire to kill us yet, then yes, you’re right. But if he is acting like a mountain karakal who feints to the right then attacks your left side, then we’re in trouble. Yes, we have his protection, but that means we’re also at his mercy while we’re here.” His eyes wore a brooding look.
“On the positive side, we’re safe from the kidnappers.” She shot him a bright smile. “This is better than yesterday. Admit it. Shelter,” she waved her hand around, “new clothes,” she grabbed the cream shirt and threw it at him, “and we’ve eaten. What more do we need?’’
His arm shot out, caught the shirt, balled it up, and flung it back at her moving so fast she hardly saw what he was doing till the shirt hit her in the face. She laughed, screwed it up, and was about to throw it back when suddenly he was beside her, his hand covering her mouth.
“Shh! We must be careful not to draw unwelcome attention to ourselves.” He moved his hand away and replaced it with his lips and they sank down onto the pile of blankets.
She didn’t resist him. The struggle to stay alive after an unknown enemy had attempted to kill them had burned away her anger toward him. She just hadn’t wanted to let it go, but he’d put her safety first at every step, and spared no effort to make sure she survived. At this moment in time, she wanted to be a Marut tribesman’s woman in every sense of the word.
For the next couple of days, Hitam’s tribe rested. The satyrs enjoyed the break from pulling the carts, and spent the days gorging themselves on the sharp-edged lappa bushes surrounding the wells, while the tribe relaxed and prepared for the desert crossing.
Kara and Rishi discussed the question of how far their kidnappers had taken them from Ikeya’s route, as well as wondering where was the mountain under which the Artefact lay. But without any familiar landmarks, Rishi was unable to tell.
Morning, noon and evening, Farah arrived, and requested they follow her to whichever tribesman had the honor of feeding Hitam that day. The Shanwatah appeared to enjoy showing them off, bestowing far more attention than she welcomed on Kara. Their survival depended on the chief's benevolence, and Rishi seemed to be gaining some status as the Marut husband of a foreigner. In private he was still skeptical of the Shanwatah's motives, though in public, they could do nothing but nod and smile.
The first interaction between colonists and the Maruts had been, at the tribes’ request, between men only. Over the following years, the tribe
speople developed a number of misconceptions about the spacefarers. The Maruts, confused by the identical clothing and short hair of both genders, had concluded that this species from the sky possessed only one gender. Gradually, after they observed children running around during the annual trade agreement renewal, they realized the colonists possessed both males and females, and discovered the two races reproduced in an identical way.
As a result of their ongoing resistance to mixing with the colonists, Kara was the first female foreigner any of them had seen. Her marriage to a Marut and adoption of Marut clothing and traditions was a topic of great interest in the camp. The women took her aside whenever possible, and, once out of hearing of the men, asked her endless questions about the colonists. They laughed and giggled at some of her answers, and were amazed at her statement that a woman could be in charge if she had the desire, was clever enough, and worked hard. Kara didn’t think that anything she said would make much difference, but nothing was as powerful as an idea, and sowing seeds never hurt.
On the third day, after the evening meal, Hitam informed them they would be moving on toward the Summer Meet. "A fourth tribe was supposed to have met us here, but we can't wait any longer. We'll make a small detour south which will take two days. Hopefully we'll meet up with our people, and then we must strike out across the desert. I’m sure you’re eager to be among your own." Hitam smiled expansively.
Although Farah protested loudly that she didn't need help, Rishi and Kara were up before dawn on the day of departure, helping to pack and store their tent and trunks on a cart sent by Hiram. The small woman informed them they were to walk beside their cart, although Hitam had said Kara could ride a satyr if walking became too much for her. By the time the sun rose Hitam’s tribe, an ungainly sprawl of people on carts with some riding and others walking, set off like a large unwieldy beast.
Kara knew that despite the apparent chaos behind Hitam, there was a strict hierarchy in place.
Journeying with the mountain Maruts was much the same as with Rishi’s people. They traveled during the day, and stopped to make camp when the sun was low near the horizon. This time the majority of people slept as Ikeya’s tribe had done when on the move—without tents, except for Hitam, of course. She surmised that tents were put up only for longer stays.
Veiled Planet (Hidden World Trilogy Book 1) Page 15
