Shifting Plains

by Jean Johnson

  The two of them talked for a bit; then Kinedi was replaced by the woman who had been selected to be her riding instructor, since Shifterai riding was different in several ways from the Mornai style, starting with the expectation that Shifterai women would ride astride rather than sidesaddle. As that conversation ended, Tava idly wondered if the gathered trousers they wore had something to do with granting them the freedom to ride astride, or if the freedom to straddle a horse had led to the popularity of the practical garment.

  She didn’t have much time to reflect on it, however, for yet another person came up to talk with her, and another, barely giving her time to sample each new flavor on her overcrowded plate. One of them was a young woman about her own age of twenty or so. She seated herself on one of the benches and held out her hands palm up, reintroducing herself as Tava clasped them.

  “I don’t know if you remember me in the sea of faces earlier, but I’m Kelsa. I’m the lead maiden for the South Paw maiden’s geome, and I’ve been asked by our fearless Lord over there to make sure you have room among us.” Kelsa tipped her head in Kodan’s direction, where he was busy discussing something with an elderly man. “I say fearless, because she is glaring tooth and claw at you. She hides it fairly well, but I do know her, and she is doing it.”

  Kelsa didn’t bother to tip her head at the she in question. Tava knew the other woman meant Rahala. “So long as she doesn’t actually shift paws and fangs, she can glare all she likes. So . . . if you’re the one in charge of the geome I’ll be housed in, when do I move my things into it?”

  “When the sun gets down to a fist length above the horizon. And you don’t do the moving,” Kelsa added, grinning. “You make the men do it, particularly all the men who gave you courting gifts just now. The challenge is for them to set up your bed and arrange your furnishings in your section before the sun touches the horizon, because we’re not allowed to have any men inside the maiden’s geome after sunset.

  “Do feel free to fuss and order them to move your bed this way and that; it’s all part of the fun,” Kelsa added, chuckling. “You should’ve seen little Nama ordering them about, the day she turned into a young woman—imagine a short little eleven-year-old girl bossing around big, tall, muscular men as if she had all the authority of the Sister Council at her back. Which of course she did; the day we turn into a woman is a very important one for us Shifterai girls. That’s why we have these welcoming ceremonies for former outlanders, because most of you don’t get to celebrate your first day as a woman among us.”

  “The priestesses did mention something about that,” Tava agreed. “I know the others have been tending my animals while I’ve been trained, and storing most of my goods, but I have so many wagons of things from the sale of my farm, I don’t know how much of it I can unpack for the geome, nor who will be looking after it in the days to come.”

  “You won’t have much room for your belongings; your bed, a chair, and a couple of chests, and maybe a pair of work baskets are about all you can fit. Knowing Kodan, he’ll continue to make sure the rest of your goods are well guarded. Knowing Kenyen, for that matter. And Deian, and even Manolo,” Kelsa teased. “But don’t worry that you’ll never see the rest of your things. Once we get to the City, there will be plenty of room in Family Tiger’s maiden halls.

  “Of course, I’ve heard rumors that Kodan has an entire wall lined with books in his personal quarters, which is no doubt why he felt free to give you two of the few he brought with him . . . Wait a moment. Are you actually drooling over the thought of all those books? When there’s honeycomb and almond cake to drool over instead?” Kelsa demanded, mock-astonished.

  Warmed by the other woman’s friendliness, Tava felt like yet another crack had formed in the cocoon of her old, restrictive life. It gave her enough room to daringly retort, “Why should I drool over cake and honey, when I could be drooling all over the men wanting to court me?”

  “All the men, or just the one?” Kelsa quipped back, and laughed as Tava blushed. “There’s nothing wrong with admiring a man’s looks, as well as admiring his books.”

  “Thank the Gods,” Tava muttered, glancing at Kodan again. He had finished his conversation and was looking her way. Their eyes met, and both smiled at the same time. Kelsa chuckled again, recapturing Tava’s attention.

  “I think we’ll get along fine. Just be glad Rahala’s expected to return to the Right Flank geome, now that she’s back. You’ve managed to do what she’s dreamed of doing for the last eight years—what many of us have dreamed of doing. Capturing the attention of one of the three cutest multerai in the whole of the Family.”

  Unbidden, Tava’s gaze went back to Kodan. “I’d still like him even if he weren’t a shapeshifter.”

  “That’s one of the reasons why he’s so cute. Deian is better-looking, but Kodan is sweet. Nice and manly when it counts, and very successful as a warlord, but also quite sweet. Anyway, eat up, and enjoy the dancing. I’ll come back for you when the sun is a fist and a finger above the horizon, so we can herd the men off to help set up your new home—just don’t be so impossible in bossing them around that they’re still inside when the top of the sun sinks below the horizon.”

  “I know; they told me all the rules,” Tava reassured her.

  The customs for traveling across the Plains were stricter than those for a full encampment like this one. Maidens in an encampment were allowed to roam around past sunset, with one exception: They were forbidden to go into any private geome other than that of a close relative, either their parents’ or that of a blood-related aunt. They could enter any holy tent, teaching tent, bathing tent, refreshing tent, one of the other maiden geomes scattered around the camp, or the ageome itself with impunity, and they were allowed to stay outside as much as the weather and their own common sense demanded. Provided they didn’t wander off somewhere private with a man, of course.

  Before Kodan, Tava hadn’t understood how some of the young women in her home village could be tempted by such thoughts. Her mother’s book had been part of the reason behind such thinking, but part of it had been the Mornai menfolk themselves. These Shifterai men were much more tolerant, even encouraging, of her inner spirit. They want me to stop being a caterpillar and turn myself into a butterfly. Kodan was definitely right. I do belong here, far more than I ever did back there.

  When Kelsa left, others took her place, forming a stream of bodies that flowed into and out of the ageome. She found the time to visit the refreshing tents and to nibble on a little bit more of the delicious foods brought from all across the camp, food which kept getting changed out and replaced as various dishes and pans were scraped clean. But it was the infectious, cheerful melodies played by the musicians that eventually lured her back outside.

  Benches had been scattered across the trampled grass of the clearing, filled with people eating and talking and enjoying the music. One particular patch of grass in their midst was being trampled further into the earth, as the Shifterai swirled and stomped, spun and danced. Sometimes they clapped their own hands, and sometimes they clapped the palms of those across from them, depending on the pattern of the dance.

  Remembering this one from her ten days of lessons, Tava let herself be swept up into the whirling, grinning, rhythmic figures. She fumbled a few of the steps and kept trying to spin the wrong way, but her mistakes merely made her laugh, for the others encouraged her efforts to do better. No one scoffed at her errors. For the first time in her life, she felt like she belonged in a group of people.

  The exercise eventually combined with the heat of the bonfire and the wool of her outer chamsa, making her quite warm. Unbuttoning the blue and lavender garment, Tava retreated to the ageome long enough to drop it on the fur-covered chair, drank the rest of her now-lukewarm tea, and returned to the dancing outside.

  There were a lot more people dancing now, crowding the area left open for such things. The dances where everyone did the same thing had given way to somewhat more random movements,
though most everyone still followed the driving beat of the hands slapping their rhythms on the various drums.

  A whole clutch of young men seemed to be engaged in a rhythmic jumping contest, thrusting as high as they could every fourth bounce. The young women had congregated closer to the bonfire, doing some sort of graceful, slow spinning dance, alternating with a sort of wiggle from their upraised hands down through their toes and back up again, before circling around and around again. Urged closer by a gesture from Kelsa, Tava joined them, giving herself up to the heat and the music as soon as she felt she could approximate the others’ moves.

  The closer she came to the fire, bumped and jostled by the crowded dancers, the more Tava felt like they were trying to celebrate its moves—the boys were the leaping of the sparks and the girls were the writhing of its flames. The idea intrigued her, so she let herself get closer still to the edge of the bonfire pit, studying the flames with the intent to copy their natural, fiery grace.

  Women are the keepers of fire in this society, she reminded herself, staring at the blazing logs. They were real wood logs, too, augmented by many tightly twisted grass-logs, piled chest-high in a pit dug as big as a private geome in diameter and more than a forearm length in depth. This close, the heat was intense, a firm counter to the cold wind that whipped the flames higher than their heads. She was glad she had removed her woolen outer tunic

  It’s only fitting that I try to emulate a flame, now that I’m one of them. There is something sensual about moving like this after all, something sort of like the first time I figured out how to stretch and shift my body—

  Someone stumbled into her from behind, hard enough to knock Tava off her balance. She staggered forward . . . and the edge of the bonfire pit crumbled under her foot just as that same someone, spluttering apologies, bumped roughly into her again. Unable to stop herself, Tava tumbled face-first into the pit.

  TWELVE

  Someone screamed her name as she fell. Heart pounding, muscles burning, Tava flung herself forward, her only escape route. She dove and twisted, dodged, rose, and backed up. The heat was too intense, the spears of burning light too unpredictable, too deadly. Whirling, she darted away from the mountain of flames, dodging sparks as she fled. A sea of shocked faces and jostling bodies met her, including the stunned, wide hazel eyes of the pink-clad Rahala . . . right behind where Tava had been dancing.

  There was no place for her to land, no room for her to relax out of the fastest, tightest shift of her life. Rising up, Tava saw what had to be most of the Family crowding the clearing, including a frantic-looking Kodan pushing and shoving his way through the others. More were streaming out of the ageome, summoned by the screams of the dancers. Even the musicians had stopped their playing, leaving only the snapping of the bonfire and the yelling of Family Tiger.

  Her muscles, straining to keep her aloft, cramped in deadly warning. She had shifted into this form more than a dozen times before, but the first time had nearly killed her, for she hadn’t known the hidden dangers involved. Well aware of them now, Tava raced for the wide-open doors of the ageome. Zooming inside, dodging the last of the people escaping the structure, she lost the energy to stay aloft.

  Giving up on her shape, Tava dropped roughly to the felt-strewn ground next to the table of sweets. One of her knees buckled when she tried to stand, and her hand shook so badly that she sent the cover of her goal tumbling over the back of the table, but finesse didn’t matter at this point. Thrusting her hand into the bowl, she didn’t bother grabbing any of the waxy yellow lumps in her way, just smeared her fist in the golden residue at the bottom before shoving her fingers into her mouth.

  Sugar, sweet, sweet sugar flooded her senses. Tava almost devoured her hand, shifting her tongue just catlike enough to scrape as much honey off her skin as she could manage. Smearing her fingers in the bowl again, she scooped more of the sticky treat into her mouth, desperate to get enough of it before her body went into shock.

  The first time she had shifted that shape, she had wisely had her father on hand, ostensibly to guide her transformation. Seeing her control break and her flesh expand back into her natural form, only to collapse on the ground, had sent Varamon scrambling to catch her. Realizing she was desperately hungry, Tava had tried to convey her need, but thinking she was thirsty, her father had snatched up the nearest thing. Thankfully, it had been a cooling pot of barley water, brown and sweet, ready for him to infuse it with the starter yeast needed to brew it into ale.

  The barley water was exactly what her starving body needed. Very cautious experimentation had proven that honey was the best cure for the sudden, overwhelming depletion of energy in her veins that came with that particular animal form, though anything suitably sugary would do in a pinch, as the barley water had done. Here and now, naked and trembling, Tava was deeply grateful the children of the Family hadn’t already scraped the bowls of honeycombs dry. There wasn’t much honey left, but there was enough to replace the energy she had lost.

  Outside, she could hear a babble of shocked, uncertain voices, and several people shouting her name, including Kodan. Sucking the last of the sticky honey from her skin, Tava rose on still-trembling legs and made her way to the small table near the center. The air in here, now that bodies no longer filled the structure, was growing cold enough to make her skin prickle and her muscles shiver from a new reason. Summer was definitely over for the year.

  Just like her secret.

  Aware that someone might turn back to the ageome and see her standing there naked, Tava tugged the foxfur blanket off the chair with her left hand, dislodging her wool chamsa. She could have put on the garment, but her right hand was still a little sticky, and she didn’t think her energy-depleted fingers were up to the finicky task of dealing with buttons just yet.

  Swinging the linen and fur quilt around her body, she managed to tuck it under her right arm and gather it up over her left shoulder, shrouding her body with the fur against her skin so it could keep her warm. Past experiments had proven it was wiser to wait several minutes for the sweets to soothe her taxed flesh before shifting shape again, otherwise she would have just cloaked her body in a layer of fur, Shifterai-style.

  At least I can do something like this and not run the risk of being called—and treated like—a harlot by the village Alders for daring to be unclothed in a public place. I’ve destroyed my secret in saving my life, but here on the Plains, it’s not an unnatural ability.

  “—Tava? Tava! Father Sky, you’re alive!” Kinedi rushed into the oversized geome, gaping at the sight of the younger woman. Her shout drew the others, who poured into the ageome, crowding it until Tava was forced to retreat to the back door just so she wouldn’t feel like she was about to be trampled alive.

  The middle-aged weaver clung to her exposed arm, barely pausing for breath in the babbling of her questions. How did she escape her clothes, how did she survive, how did she end up here in the ageome. The men and women who had followed her added their own confused demands, until the panel at Tava’s back swung open, and hands cupped her bare and fur-covered shoulders.

  “Enough!” The deep-roared word cut through the confusion, quelling the barrage of questions. Relieved beyond words that Tava was alive, Kodan glared at the members of Family Tiger. “This is not the place for such things. There is not enough room in the ageome for all of you. Everyone, outside!”

  A tug on her shoulders got Tava to move backward with him, though she almost tripped over the bottom edge of the doorframe when the edge of his blanket-gift caught on it. As soon as she was safely clear and steady, Kodan swung the door shut and spun to put his back to it, holding it closed with his weight so no one else could follow. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tight, burying his face in the soft brown locks that had come undone during her shifted escape.

  He didn’t have to guess how she had escaped so miraculously; he knew what she was, and was deeply grateful for it. Hearing her name screamed, seeing the shock on the faces of t
he others, he had feared the worst when he had shoved his way to the edge of the bonfire pit. Seeing only her empty, burning clothes and one of her abandoned felt boots slumped on the edge of the pit, the other tumbled into the ashes at the edge of the embers, Kodan had instantly realized she was still alive, somewhere.

  Whatever form she had taken to survive the fall outlined by her burning garments, he couldn’t begin to guess. But she was alive, and he couldn’t stop the need to hold her, to feel her against him, to know down to his bones that she was very much alive. He held her scandalously close, stroking his shaking hand over her hair, and felt her clinging to him in turn, her own limbs trembling.

  Knowing they didn’t have much time left before someone would come around the broad curve of the ageome to look for them, Kodan acted on pure instinct. Tugging her head gently back by her hair, he pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss—any kiss given by an unmated man to a maiden woman, whether it was on her lips, or her hand, or anywhere else—was completely forbidden by Shifterai law. It was utterly wrong, and at the same time utterly necessary.

  It was also utterly returned. Tava clung to him, kissing him back as best she could, though she hadn’t really ever kissed a man before. It wasn’t at all like kissing her father on the cheek. In Kodan’s arms, she felt safe; in his arms, she knew she didn’t have to rely on her own strength to see her through some crisis. In his arms, she felt cherished beyond words, because this action—however forbidden—was clearly the only way he could express it.

  However, it didn’t last much longer. Mindful of the overwhelming shock and curiosity of the rest of the Family, Kodan ended the kiss after just a few seconds. A quick survey of her expression reassured him that she wasn’t offended. He hugged her one last moment, then released her from his embrace. “Come,” he murmured. “I’m sorry your secret is out, because they will demand to know how you survived . . . but I’m not sorry you’re alive.”