Grak addresses Jafra again. “Fine. I won’t whip you. Out of the kindness of my heart. But I will put an end to this meeting. It’s an unauthorized gathering. And let me remind you of the ‘tribe gatherings and meetings’ policy. It strictly bans any grouping of three or more people unless specifically authorized by me. And I hereby remove my authorization from this meeting.”
The council huddles together once more as a murmur of concern ripples through the tribe. Aza and Sabo seem firmly on Grak’s side for this one.
There’s a welcome sight. Maybe something’s starting to turn my way.
The discussion ends quickly, and Cordo steps forward. “Very well. But let us remind you of the ‘planning and scheduling’ policy. It clearly states that the power to organize and schedule camp activities rests with the council. Therefore, we hereby schedule a new meeting, which will commence now.”
“That’s fine,” Grak replies with a smile. “Just get it authorized first.”
Cordo and his faithful are noticeably peeved by this. The council returns to its huddle. Aza and Sabo seem torn this time, but Kando, Loren, and Olive Thirteen are clearly behind Grak. The discussion comes to an uneasy conclusion.
Cordo speaks. “We propose a new poli—”
“Denied,” interrupts Grak.
He turns to the crowd. “You still seem to be gathered in groups greater than two.”
He turns back to the council. “As do you. Let me remind you of the ‘tribe threat’ addendum to the ‘gatherings and meetings’ policy. It’s considered a threat to tribe security for any to remain gathered after I’ve disbanded a meeting. Or to put it another way, it’s an immediate danger and grounds for punishment.”
Worry ripples through the crowd as a trickling departure begins. But the council hesitates, each looking around at the others. After another moment, they separate too. Though just barely—some out of uncertainty, and others out of defiance.
Grak smiles. “Twenty feet.” His voice carries a melodic tone. “Between each of you. As per the ‘definition of gatherings’ addendum.”
Cordo ponders their options for a moment before nodding to the others. At that, the rest of the council starts back toward their tents. But Cordo doesn’t budge. He simply stares at Grak with a fierce mettle.
“This isn’t over, Grak,” he finally says, then turns and walks away in frustration.
Grak’s smile widens. Even a small victory is encouraging.
You need at least one every now and then. Eases the stress of leading. A spot of sun as the storm relents. Even if only for a moment.
Though Grak may have thought too soon there. His smile evaporates as he spots Jafra and Groka walking off together.
But this storm isn’t over. Far from it. Not while Jafra continues her schemes. Strange, though. You’d think she’d be grateful for my mercy. I did spare her life, after all. But no. That one has no sense for gratitude.
And this new proposal of hers … too far. Even for her. Or it was too far, at least. For the old Jafra. Now it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ruin me.
Have to put an end to it. But how?
A profound, yet simple idea forms. So simple, in fact, that Grak is surprised he never thought of it before.
Of course! I simply need an accusation to throw at her. Simple, yet effective. But what? It would need some truth. Just enough to convince my children. Just enough to make her sweat.
He turns to Frolan. “What do you know about Jafra?”
The man shows some surprise at the question. “Oh … uh, well lots, actually. Let’s see … She loves jasmines. She’ll go on and on about them if you let her. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but her left eyebrow is a smidg—”
“No, you ignoramus!” Grak has no time for this. “Accusations. I need something to tarnish her reputation.”
Frolan is a little hurt, but quickly sets his emotions aside and thinks on Grak’s request. “Nothing that I can recall.” He thinks some more. “I could follow her, though. Maybe I’ll find something.”
Grak is pleasantly surprised by that idea. “Yes … exactly what I was thinking.” He considers it further, then shakes his head. “But the situation is too severe. Can’t leave it with anyone else. I’ll have to do it myself.”
He turns to the brute. “Wait at my tent. I shouldn’t be long.”
Frolan hesitates. “Well … shouldn’t I go along to protect you? It’ll be dark any moment now.”
Grak looks to the horizon. It’s true. The sun is nearly gone, only casting a shred of its full light now.
He pats the man’s cheek. “Always keeping papa safe, eh Frolan? I like the way you think. But, no. You would stand out. And two are harder to hide than one. No, you return. I’m willing to risk my own safety for the good of the tribe. I’ll do this alone.”
Grak steps in mud and recoils in disgust.
Be calm, Grak. Brak will clean you off later. It’s time for a new pair of boots anyway.
Grak stamps off what he can and continues on, rushing to make up for lost time. But the decision proves rash, and his hurried steps create too much noise. Jafra turns in response to the sound, giving him less than a breath to react and dart behind a nearby tent. His heart threatens to pound through his chest as he peeks around the corner.
Jafra is standing in the middle of the path, looking around in confusion. But she doesn’t appear to have spotted him. Grak pulls his head back into the shadows and breathes a deep sigh of relief. After allowing a moment or two for his heart to catch up and return to a normal pace, he peeks around the corner again.
Too late! Hurry, Grak!
He picks up his pace and crosses the path, deftly ducking behind a cart near the upcoming bend in the row of tents. He’s getting better at quickly slipping out of sight.
Shh. Careful now. There! Go!
Grak pops back out and scuttles across the path before hiding behind another tent. He peeks out again, then scurries off once more and ducks behind yet another tent. He crouches there and waits while Jafra chats with Voluilo.
Is this the reason she’s out here tonight? No, can’t be. She wouldn’t wander around for so long just to talk with that fool. So then where is she going? And so late in the night? That fox. That devious, devious fox!
The conversation ends, and Jafra continues her stroll. Grak’s body tenses, begging to follow, but forced to wait for Voluilo to depart. The man seems to be taking his time.
An inordinate amount of time, really. Who walks that slowly? Oh, and his boot suddenly interests him? The flat-lipped dolt! Now there’s someone who deserves a whipping.
Though I imagine Cordo would challenge that too. What a fool. Never looks at the long term consequences of his actions.
Although … if I could prove how Voluilo constitutes an immediate threat. Hmm … how mi—
Jafra disappears around another bend, yanking Grak’s thoughts back to the present.
No! Get on with your movement, you clod!
After another agonizing moment, Voluilo finally returns to his tent. Before the flap even settles, Grak springs forth, hurrying to catch up. He reaches the spot where Jafra turned, then pauses and peers around the corner. Nothing. Just another path with more tents.
No! Think, Grak! Where might she have gone?
But he quickly realizes that if this were an effective exercise, following the woman would be unnecessary. Thus, Grak abandons the idea. Instead, he settles on a systematic search, walking swiftly down the path and looking from side to side.
He stops suddenly.
Shh. Listen, Grak.
He can hear talking. It’s a woman’s voice.
No, two women’s voices. Clearly two. But which women?
Grak focuses his hearing. The voices lead him forward and to the right. Passing two dwellings, he pauses at the third. Then shock hits. This is Groka’s tent. His heart pinches, and his stomach twists.
What in all the land is Jafra doing? Meeting with Groka at this time of night? She
must be subverting her! Turning her against me.
What a devious, vile beast, that Jafra! She’s always known what I feel for Groka. And she’s always sought to destroy it. But now … now she’s using it to hurt me. When I’m already at my weakest! This … this is heartless. Even for Jafra.
Any contempt he previously held toward the woman is now surpassed by a new animosity. It’s a fiercer, more engrossing thing that devours all other thoughts, leaving only a sharp focus behind. In fact, if it didn’t hurt so much, Grak might even categorize this malice as “positive.”
At least it’s useful. Can’t deny that.
The voices die down. Under normal circumstances, Grak would hide, but he’s too angry right now. He’s almost eager for confrontation. But none comes. This proves strangely calming. His senses return slightly.
What are they up to now? Sketching out plans? In silence lest someone overhear their schemes? Devious. So, so devious.
Grak creeps closer. He looks around to make sure no one else is about, then crouches and carefully peels back the tent flap. He shakes his head in confusion.
They don’t appear to be writing anything down. Far too dark for that.
Grak strains to adjust his eyes to the lack of light. When he does, a gasp nearly escapes his throat.
That’s definitely a breast! A naked breast!
He squints harder to see who it belongs to.
What in all—
He does better at holding back this gasp.
Kissing! Deep kissing. Lots of deep kissing. And … other things … Oh dear …
Grak remembers to breathe. Slowly releasing the flap, he pulls back and sucks in a few quiet, deep breaths. This gives him a moment to think. His head is whirling with what this all means.
Maybe I can pretend I was stopping by to chat. Maybe they’ll invite me in. It’s possible …
No! That’s Jafra in there! Subverting the only woman I’ve ever loved. Doing things to her I’ve never had the chance to do. Tearing my heart out and stomping it into the mud!
His breathing follows his rising temper, forcing Grak to think calming thoughts. Patyr pops to mind first, eliciting a smile.
I miss that beautiful creature. And the hot springs. I miss those too. Won’t be long before we head back there. That’ll be nice.
Thoroughly steadied now, Grak ponders his next move. The answer comes in an instant.
Revenge. Definitely revenge. And I’ll have to do it myself. To make sure it’s done properly. End this problem once and for all. Not the Cordo problem, no, but the Jafra issue at least. Then I can decide what to do about that other rebellious fool.
But when? Tonight will have to do. Though not this instant. Groka doesn’t know any better. She’s innocent. No, I won’t allow her to see suffering. So I’ll have to wait until later. That’s all there is to it. But what to do until then …?
Grak shrugs and settles into a more comfortable posture, then carefully peels back the tent flap.
Grak strolls calmly through camp, alert for anyone stirring, but making no effort to hide. He considers it unnecessary this late at night, as everyone should be sound asleep by now.
Except the security team. But they won’t get in my way.
It’s true. Grak told Frolan he heard wolves in the east woods, and had the man focus his whole team on that side of camp. “Just in case,” was all it took to leave the entire west side open and free from any prying eyes.
I’m sure I could trust Frolan, of course. He’s always been a loyal one, after all. But why get him involved? He’s so young and innocent. No need to get his hands dirty with this. Besides, we shouldn’t need two people for the task. It’ll be quick.
Something else pops to mind, however.
Hmm. That’s true. How will I move her afterward? Can I carry her by myself? Might have been possible in the past, but now?
Grak regrets letting his physique slip. He was never a large man by any standards, but he had muscle and was fairly lean. His current girth, on the other hand, tends to discourage heavy labor.
Maybe I should alter the plan. I could ask her to go for a walk. Tell her I want to make peace. Maybe if I say I’m stepping down. That might entice her out into the woods.
But then she might be on guard. No, best not to take the chance. Stick with the original idea, Grak. It’ll be much easier if she’s sleeping. You’ll just have to make do with the rest. Yes, stick with the original idea.
Grak reaches Jafra’s tent. His plan, while obviously brilliant, was partially based on the location of her dwelling. For quite a number of days now, she’s had a peculiar preference for living on the west side of camp. So much so, that her tent sits at the farthest western point, save for a few carts and the occasional horse.
But never a pony. Never. Not for some time now.
Grak shakes his sadness in favor of the moment’s greater urgency. He pauses to force his nerves into submission.
Come on, Grak. You can do this. She’ll be asleep. The chances of her waking up and fighting back are slim. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Upon opening them, his gaze is cold, determined. He draws his dagger and carefully peels back the tent flap. But no one’s here.
Grak enters cautiously, just in case she’s sleeping under a pile of clothing or something. But a quick, yet thorough, search reveals no Jafra. He pounds his thigh, realizing only too late that the butt of his dagger is made of a denser substance than his leg. He bites his lip to hold back a yelp.
Curse that devious fox! What’s she up to now? You never should have waited so long, Grak!
In his defense, though, he had assumed she would remain here for the night. After her rendezvous with Groka, he followed Jafra back and waited in the shadows for a long while, thinking up a plan. His hope was that he might come up with something sufficient utilizing the items he had on him at the time. To his dismay, however, nothing even came close to resembling a weapon, and he was forced to think of alternative ideas.
Finally, he left to fetch his dagger from his tent, concluding that she wasn’t going anywhere else for the night. Thinking he had plenty of time, he also allowed himself several moments to consider the situation in peace. Now he wonders if he was too careless with that decision.
But I needed the dagger at least. That much couldn’t be helped. And I don’t know when she left, so the extra thinking time makes no difference. Well, it’s not your fault, Grak. Just think now. Where might she be?
Noticing the obvious lack of chairs, Grak sets his dagger to the side and attempts to settle into one of his old thinking postures. Unfortunately, his new girth proves an unexpected and considerable obstacle. He rubs his stomach.
Perhaps I should cut back a bit. Or move around more. But then again, I don’t often have need for this posture.
Although … Cordo does have a rather impressive build. Perhaps that lends to his sway among my children. He certainly needs something to distract from that mole.
And come to think of it, popularity came more easily to me when I was in better shape. Perhaps the two are connected.
Then it’s decided. I’ll need to trim down a bit. Get into a fitter state. And given my lack of facial deformities, it should be simple enough to win my children back from that fool. Then they’ll love me ag—
Grak freezes. Someone is rummaging around outside. An instant later, the flap opens, revealing Jafra against the moonlit sky. She enters and begins fiddling about with items just to her left. Strangely enough, though, she doesn’t seem to notice him yet.
Fortune!
Slowly, carefully, Grak reaches for his dagger. With equal caution, he raises the blade above his head, readying for a swift downward blow. But that’s when he pauses, a sudden realization taking shape.
From this angle, it would hit her skull. Might not penetrate on the first try. Certainly not without my full weight behind it.
So what other options are available? Hmm, the neck
seems best. Yes, simple and quick.
Slowly, carefully, Grak lowers the dagger, readying for a swift slicing motion. But before he can get it in place, Jafra whirls around, leaving him only an instant to deflect her move. Or at least, the move he imagined she might be making. Instead, the woman slips back outside.
Grak’s heart pounds, and his hands tremble. He takes a deep, calming breath and listens intently for Jafra’s footsteps.
West … out into the forest? Fortune!
Grak can only hope she’ll wander out far enough without noticing him coming up behind. He estimates two hundred paces should do it. Then only a moderate burial would be needed to ensure that she’s never found.
At least not before we move again. Shouldn’t be too much longer. Maybe thirty days or so? Well, maybe a little farther out would be better. Perhaps three hundred paces.
A more pressing issue pops to mind, though.
But what’s she even doing out in the woods at this time of night?
Only one possibility presents itself.
The strangers! She’s working with them. She must be. She’s trying to take my power and give it to them. Impressive. But also devious. So, so devious.
Half driven by curiosity and half by hatred, Grak follows after the woman. With little effort, he manages to close much of the gap. Soon, with around fifty paces remaining, he slows to a measured tread. Fortunately, the ground is relatively free of leaves and other noisy obstacles. Thus, even given his current girth, he’s closing the final distance quickly.
Grak allows himself a quiet giggle.
Not very perceptive, are you, Jafra? Perhaps you should have spent more time practicing that skill instead of trying to steal my power. But, you’ve always made poor decisions like that, haven’t you? And now it’s too late.
He pauses to catch his breath.
Patience, Grak. Her time will come. Oh yes. All you have to do is make sure she doesn’t hear you. Just don’t spoil the surprise.
He restrains an excited chortle and continues on. Somehow, perhaps inspired by his current success, he moves even quicker this time. Soon, he’s only five paces behind the woman. So close he can smell her jasmines now. He allows yet another silent chuckle.
Things Grak Hates Page 20
