The Tattooed Tribes

by Bev Allen

  “Lucien,” Jon commanded. “Come and meet my ex father-in-law.”

  Rubbing his leg and glaring daggers at the boy, Lucien limped over.

  “Lucien Devlin, this is Iesgood cheed Eedei.”

  The man crossed his arms and put his hands on his shoulders palms down.

  “I greet you,” he said with great dignity, inclining his head.

  Lucien could see the backs of his hands were covered with tattoos, with hardly a hint of unmarked skin remaining. He looked to Jon for instruction on replying.

  “Do as he’s done,” Jon advised.

  Lucien obeyed, conscious of his unadorned hands.

  “I greet you, sir,” he said and felt a glow of pride at Jon’s nod of approval; the ‘sir’ has obviously been the right and proper thing to say.

  “These are my sister’s sons, Eifred cheed Dhyrei and Eilviin cheed Dhyrei.”

  Both young men crossed their arms to him, nodding their heads. Their hands still had plenty of room on them.

  “And this is my son, Vlic cheed Feilda.”

  Vlic crossed his arms, wriggling his fingers slightly so Lucien could see the fish and the two pearls and the hare, duck and squirrel still fresh and bright on his hands.

  “Vlic!” his father said sternly.

  “Sorry, Dad,” the boy replied. “I greet you.”

  His grey eyes sparkled with amused scorn and Lucien might have thumped him if Jon’s eye had not been on him. Then he saw a chance to get his own back.

  He walked up to the boy, towering over him by a good four inches and thrust out his hand. “Good to meet you,” he said.

  Vlic glared up at him and at the outstretched hand; reluctantly he touched it with his fingers.

  “I thank you,” he grated, but the words nearly choked him.

  Jon and Iesgood watched the exchange with some amusement, but no sympathy. Both boys gravitated to the side of their mentor and glared at the other.

  “I came as soon as I got your word, bietriwer,” Iesgood said. “We must get you upriver as soon as possible. The girl has been missing for well over a month and the accusations are getting stronger.”

  The two men sank to their haunches beside the fire. Vlic followed suite, but Lucien still had not mastered the art and dropped to one knee. Vlic smirked again and Lucien’s fist clenched at his side.

  “Tell me what happened,” Jon said.

  “Do you remember Clieviis cheed Dhyra?”

  “I do indeed. A pompous fool!”

  “Pompous maybe, but his wife’s wealth gave him reason for pride,” Iesgood replied. “And each of his daughters has acquired even greater status, so great everyone hoped their sons could have even the briefest of marriages with one of them. His wife became concerned for her daughters’ true marriages and decided to move away from the tribe and live secluded for a time.”

  “Such is custom when a girl becomes too high for a normal marriage price,” Jon remarked.

  “As you say,” Iesgood replied. “It was necessary for them to remain unwed for a period. However, word came to Clieviis of a great match for his youngest daughter and as she hadn’t acquired the status of her sisters, they left to travel to a betrothal meeting. He, his wife and the daughter.”

  “Do we know with whom?”

  “No,” Iesgood replied. “The other girls were left behind and when we questioned them they thought it was with us, but we have no boy whose family has the wealth for such a marriage, so it may have been with The Bear People to the west.”

  “Have you proof of this?”

  “Neen,” Iesgood replied. “We knew nothing until the other girls came looking for their parents and sister.”

  “What then?”

  “We went searching for them.” Osgood’s face hardened.

  “Did you find them?”

  “We found Clieviis and his wife,” Osgood replied, and looked sick for a second. “It had taken them many hours to die, but there was no sign of the cheed.”

  “No one of The People would kill a woman,” Jon stated.

  “Once that might have been true,” Iesgood replied. “But there are some who will do anything for the dust and weed and recently there have been rumours of those things being found above The First Cataract.”

  “This I have also heard,” Jon said. “That is why I’m here, old friend.”

  He stood and Iesgood followed him.

  “Iesgood cheed Eedei.” Jon said. “Have your people traded for drugs?”

  There was a hiss of anger from both the younger men and Vlic leapt to his feet, his hand going to his knife.

  Iesgood never moved a muscle. “Harabin Liaison Officer,” he replied. “We have not.”

  Their eyes met and held for a second or two; then Jon sighed ruefully.

  “I’m sorry, bietriwer,” he said. “I had to ask.”

  “I know.”

  “And now I must ask the Bears,” Jon sighed. “A happy prospect.”

  “We brought canoes,” Iesgood said. “We must get back upstream quickly. My people are impatient to find the girl and the killers of her parents. If she isn’t with the Bears many will assume she’s been taken downstream and you know what that might mean.”

  Jon nodded and went to pack his bedroll. Lucien followed full of questions.

  “What would it mean?” he asked.

  “It could mean the one thing that would unite all The People into a single force,” Jon replied. “To take a woman, no matter how young she might be is a heinous crime amongst them.”

  “Taking a kid is pretty much the same for us,” Lucien pointed out.

  “They feel the same, and it gives them a double cause for anger,” replied Jon. “If she has been taken by someone from the Settlements it could cause a war.”

  Lucien’s jaw dropped. “A war!”

  Jon looked grim and nodded.

  “Oh, shit. They’re beginning to think it was settlers who took her,” Lucien guessed.

  “It’s crossed their minds,” Jon replied. “And the Settlements have no idea how many people are out here. They believe there are a couple of dozen tribes, each no more than a few hundred strong. Ten thousand people at most.”

  “Are there more?” Lucien asked in wonder.

  “Many, many more,” Jon replied. “If they joined together, they could wipe the Settlements off the face of this planet.”

  Lucien frowned heavily. “If they tried the local authorities would scream for help.”

  “Yes, they would and they’d get it. There would be a massive ground and sky offensive. Thousands would die.”

  “But that might mean …”

  “An end to tribal life and culture? Exactly. Can you think of a better way to get your hands on all this?”

  Jon waved his hand at the forest and the river.

  “The People may have been abandoned, but they didn’t forget the mistakes made in other places; they won’t stand by and allow this world to be despoiled or lose the culture they have built. But, if you can provoke a war, there’s a good chance you’ll be able to exterminate the people standing between you and all this potential wealth.”

  It was the first time Lucien had experienced travel by canoe and it took him a while to relax into the rhythm and balance of the boat. He would have liked to help paddle as Jon and Vlic did, but knew he needed a lot of practice before he could achieve the smooth, even strokes.

  In the days following he began to grasp the enormity of this wondrous land. The swift passage upriver by powered skiff had deceived him. Covering a hundred miles in a day at speed had robbed him of a true understanding of the distances involved.

  The men paddled fast with consummate skill, but each day seemed to bring them no closer to their destination. Lucien was eager to arrive, but also relished this first trip deep into tribal lands.

  Vlic curled his lip at his excitement when they saw a mother bear with two well grown cubs and sneered at his delight in seeing wood bison at the water’s edge, but Lucien did not
care, or not much.

  They stopped twice to hunt for fresh meat; once Jon and Iesgood brought back a plump hind and the second time Eifred and Eilviin plunged into the dark woods to return many hours later with a yearling bison. Lucien had never tasted bison before and even days later he found his mouth watered at the thought of it.

  As they went east they often came to other cataracts, some they could paddle up, an exhilarating fight against the power of the river. Here even Lucien was given a paddle, but more often they landed, unloaded and carried the canoes around the obstacle.

  Again Lucien was of no assistance, he was tall and it was difficult for anyone other than Jon to share a load with him, but he could and did carry packs and weapons.

  During all this his education was not neglected. Every time they stopped for the day or had a rest period Jon showed him the edible plants and explained tracks animals had made in the ground. Fascinated though he was and sucking in knowledge every step of the way, Lucien was ever aware of Vlic’s amusement at his ignorance.

  Things might have got nasty if he had not realised a lot of Vlic’s problem was jealousy. He could not keep the envy from his eyes when he saw the rifle and he was really pissed off when Lucien displayed an impressive level of skill, bringing down a couple of geese as they flew overhead.

  He also did not like Lucien’s ability to read and write. Every evening Iesgood made his son practise this craft, one Vlic considered a complete waste of his time.

  The two boys took to glaring at each other and making faintly insulting comments when adults were present and totally offensive ones if they thought they were not overheard.

  “What does niiffliin mean?” Lucien enquired one evening of Jon as he showed him where and how to dig for clams.

  “Where did you hear that? No … don’t tell me, I can guess. It means nothing or perhaps something utterly worthless might be better.”

  Lucien’s fists balled.

  “It’s also not a word to use in polite company,” Jon warned him. “If Iesgood hears Vlic using it, he’ll feel the weight of his father’s hand. And if I hear you using it, you’ll feel the weight of mine.”

  Lucien said nothing, but the gauntlet had been thrown down.

  Opportunities for revenge were slow in presenting themselves, but a rib in one of the canoes broke and it was necessary to repair it before they could travel on. Both Vlic and Lucien were keen on learning exactly how this was done and their quest for knowledge was enough of a hindrance to have them sent off to collect clams for the workers.

  Both were simmering with righteous indignation as each was convinced they would be splendid boat builders if given the chance.

  Taking digging sticks and a couple of baskets they went downriver to a sloping beach where they could expect clams to be lying under the mud in the shallows.

  They dug in silence for a while, keeping a close eye on the other to see who found the most.

  Feeling he was falling behind, Lucien went further out into the water, taking advantage of his longer leg length. He dug up six large ones in the space of the same number of minutes and smirked happily at Vlic.

  Moving even further out, he found another half dozen and ostentatiously opened one, pouring the sweet flesh into his mouth raw. He preferred them cooked, but it was a chance to annoy Vlic.

  He opened another and was chewing it when his teeth encountered something; he spat it out to investigate, but a voice behind him hissed, “Niiffliin!”

  Whatever had been in his mouth Lucien shoved into his pocket and turned to face Vlic.

  “Dickhead,” he replied.

  They did not bother with preliminary skirmishing, Vlic flung himself at Lucien and they went down in the water fists and feet struggling to make contact with any part of their opponent.

  The need to breathe brought both of them to the surface and they circled each other looking for the chance to land a blow. Lucien’s longer reach paid dividends and he got a punch to the side of Vlic’s face that knocked his head backwards.

  He staggered a little, blood beginning to trickle from his nose, but he rushed Lucien, making up for his lack of inches with the ferocity of his attack.

  The two of them went under the water again, but this time Lucien came up with the makings of a black eye and painful ribs.

  At this point stopping seemed the best idea to both of them, but neither was prepared to suggest it by either word or deed, so they circled again looking for a new opening.

  Lucien feinted forwards and Vlic stepped back to avoid the blow and found he was in far deeper water than he had anticipated. A current caught him and he was suddenly in trouble.

  At first Lucien thought it was a ruse, but the panic on Vlic’s face as he fought to regain his feet in the fast flowing water brought him to his senses and he plunged in, swimming to Vlic as hard and fast as he could.

  They fought the river together, keeping each other afloat as they kicked hard towards the bank. For a brief moment Lucien thought they would not make it, but the river was kinder than either of them deserved and the bottom unexpectedly rose up under their feet and they were able to drag themselves onto the bank.

  They lay gasping for breath and then the enormity of what had happened hit them. Lucien shuddered and Vlic shivered from cold and shock.

  “We need a fire,” Lucien said, his teeth chattering.

  Together they managed to find wood and kindling. Lucien’s trembling fingers went to the flint bag around his neck.

  “I’ve lost my knife,” he said.

  Vlic handed him his and Lucien struck enough sparks to ignite the dried grass.

  Once the warmth began to still their quivering limbs they were better able to assess the situation. More wood was found and another fire lit and they sat between the two, drying themselves and their clothes.

  Neither spoke for a while, and then Vlic said, “It’s a good idea to keep your flint around your neck.”

  Lucien nodded. “Jon told me to do it.”

  They were silent again.

  “I wish I hadn’t lost my knife,” Lucien said.

  “I saw where you dropped it,” Vlic replied. “We should be able to find it.”

  Again the awkward silence fell, but at last Lucien’s grin crept out. “We’re going to be in deep shit over this.”

  Vlic glared at him for a second and then a reluctant smile came to his face as well.

  “My dad’s going to kill me,” he said ruefully.

  Lucien mentally reviewed Jon’s possible reaction and thought he might not live either. They sat and considered a possibly uncomfortable future.

  “We don’t have to tell them,” Lucien suggested.

  He saw the shock on Vlic’s face and remembered what Jon had said about the tribes and their respect for the truth.

  “Not lie,” he assured him. “Just not tell them everything.”

  “How?”

  “Well, we can tell them you missed your footing and got out of your depth and I lost my knife trying to pull you back, which is all true, just not the whole truth.”

  Vlic grinned. “And how do you explain your eye and my nose?”

  “They got hit by something while we were in the water,” Lucien improvised.

  “Which is also true,” Vlic conceded.

  They laughed, shaking off the last of the horrors and made their way back to their abandoned baskets and digging sticks. Luck was on their side, they had not lost many clams and Lucien stripped off his damp clothes and found his knife after a couple of dives.

  Prudently they dug up a lot more clams in the hope this would explain their long absence, before they made their way back to camp.

  The four men were too busy to notice them, so Vlic showed Lucien how to cook clams by wrapping them in wet leaves and laying them in a hole filled with hot rocks, before sealing the whole thing with earth.

  Lucien carefully made damper bread, optimistic that food would divert Jon’s attention.

  Neither boy much enjoyed t
he meal they had cooked; Jon and Iesgood gave them one comprehensive look and said nothing. The lack of enquiry bothered them far more than any interrogation.

  They fidgeted and wriggled uncomfortably through the evening, waiting for the inevitable questions, but none came.

  Both passed a disturbed night full of drowning dreams and anxious anticipation of the morrow, but the morning was also free from embarrassing enquires.

  Over the next few days the boys drew closer and closer together as they waited for the axe to fall. In order to delay the event, they avoided their elders as much as possible, offering to collect wood, water and to hunt for berries and leaves at the end of each day’s paddle. They volunteered to dig the latrine and willingly went down to wash the dishes, anything that would put distance between them and their guardians and avoid the retribution they were both convinced was coming.

  During these self-imposed exiles Vlic taught Lucien how to find his way amongst the trees by checking which side the moss grew, and widened his knowledge of edible planets. In return Lucien read over Vlic’s written work and helped him with the long words.

  They talked a lot, mainly about hunting and girls, the two subjects uppermost in both their minds, and by the time they reached the tribal village they were staunch friends and Iesgood and Jon still had not asked them how they got hurt.

  Chapter 9

  The village was on a broad bluff high above the river, well clear of spring floods. Lucien had been expecting tents for some reason, and was therefore surprised by the neat, tidy rows of log built cabins. None were large, but each was sturdy and well roofed against the harsh winter weather and each was surrounded by a generous truck garden bursting with produce.

  In the middle was a wide open space flanked by two much larger buildings.

  “The Men’s house,” Vlic explained to Lucien, pointing to the one over to the left. “Somewhere to go when your wife is giving you hell. The Meeting House is on the other side.”

  A thought struck Lucien. “Are you married?” he asked.

  Vlic nodded moodily. “Yes,” he growled. “She’s a right little bitch and I’ve refused to live anywhere near her. She was okay when we were kids, but once she got to twelve she started getting all full of herself. Then her mother and mine decided it was a good marriage for us.”