by Katy Winter
"Tell your friend," said the tribesman, changing the subject, "that he may cook for us if he so wishes." Then his green eyes met Chlorien's violet ones. "He should be with boys his age," he said softly, his eyes holding hers.
"Aye, he should, but it's not been possible."
"Not yet, certainly," agreed the tribesman. "Soon he'll be in younger company."
"That would please me," responded Autoc, turning back to his plate. Chlorien bent her head, her appetite entirely gone.
~~~
The spokesman's interest in her didn't abate as the days passed, rather it intensified. She was conscious of him in everything she did; if she walked, she knew his eyes rested on her; when she rode she was aware of his thoughtful gaze. When she practised her knife throwing, she'd turn and there he'd be, not far behind her, his eyes deep and curious. There was no hostility.
One morning Chlorien, having already set up her targets, stood still in readiness to throw her first knife. She sensed someone behind her. She swung round uncertainly, found the tribesman there, and, a little disconcerted, she turned back to face her targets, aware, as she did, of a hand that came to rest firmly on her shoulder. Another hand caught her under the chin and she felt her head tilted until she stared up at him helplessly.
"You don't hold your body at the right angle, boy," the tribesman said quietly. Chlorien licked her lips, her eyes still held by his penetrating, intense ones. "Don't you understand me?" he asked, his voice stilted and halting with the effort to speak Northern.
"No," she mumbled, trying to shake her head.
The tribesman let her go and pointed to himself. Chlorien nodded. He stretched down and took the knife from her suddenly slackened grasp, pointed to himself, then waited for Chlorien to nod again. She did, understanding quite clearly that she was to follow what he did.
She watched how he stood and copied him. She saw how he angled and tensed his body, before drawing his throwing arm back - she did the same. He rose to his toes and, with fluid grace, threw the knife. It sank exactly in the centre of one of her targets, the tribesman turning to Chlorien, eying her expectantly, then nodding imperatively back at the targets. Drawing in her breath, Chlorien tried to do what he'd done. She scraped a target, then stood, waiting.
"Take off your sandals, boy. You've no flexibility of sole."
Puzzled, Chlorien stared up at him, so, patiently, the tribesman stooped and pointed to her feet. She promptly sat in the sand to unlace her sandals, unaware that Autoc approached, his expression one of amusement. He stood above her, but got only a brief glance because she tussled with her second sandal.
"Learning the desert ways, are you, little one?" Chlorien rose, her look at the tribesman questioning, then she nodded. She got a tolerant smile from the mage.
The tribesman nodded encouragement, so Chlorien again stood as he'd shown her, drew a knife, rose high on her toes, aimed, and threw with considerably more confidence. Her knife embedded itself in a target. She looked up with a satisfied smile. The tribesman patted her on the shoulder approvingly, his eyes meeting the mage's over the top of her head. Autoc's eyes then twinkled down at Chlorien and she responded with a grin.
"He's not been taught manly skills; why's that?" asked the tribesman abruptly.
"He has learning of another kind," explained Autoc indifferently. "He can hunt and survive in the bush."
"Not out here, he can't," said the tribesman. "He's a mite younger than my son, but has none of his skills or knowledge." Autoc shrugged.
"He has many skills for what faces him in the future." The tribesman stared fixedly first at Chlorien and then at the mage. A smile suddenly touched the cold green depths of his eyes.
"Give him to me so I can teach him desert skills. They won't harm him and could, in cycles, benefit him. A boy so pretty should know how to defend himself." Autoc looked across at the spokesman thoughtfully, then down at Chlorien.
"Very well," he said quietly. "He may spend his days with you and yours, but I teach him scholarship every evening. He must be back with me before sundown." The tribesman put out his hand and Autoc clasped it.
"I'm Choja. The boy will come to no harm and will learn much. No young should sit idle in the desert."
"I know the lad will come to no harm, Choja. Well, Chlorien?" Chlorien looked uncertainly from one man to the other as their hands separated.
"Father?"
"Choja's going to teach you desert survival. He wishes it to be so."
"Father," she whispered, aghast. "What are you doing?"
"You're learning a great deal, aren't you, little one?" Autoc responded chuckling, a hand on her head.
"What," came a desperate plea in his mind, "if he finds out I'm not a boy?"
"He won't, little one," the mage sent back. "You'll go with him and should find all this most instructive. I've noticed your boredom."
"No, Father, I'd rather stay with you and Jaim."
"We'll have company soon enough, child," was the response in her mind. "Go now and make the most of the time you have with Choja." Autoc pushed Chlorien towards Choja, saying out loud, "Go now, boy."
"I can't understand what he says," came the small, despairing voice in the mage's mind.
"Then you'll learn, won't you?" he sent back unsympathetically.
Choja took Chlorien by the hand, patted her head as he'd seen Autoc do and the mage's grin widened as he watched the tall tribesman stride away, Chlorien in tow.
~~~
Chlorien found her situation strange, but, after her initial apprehension of the tribesmen passed, she rapidly became intrigued. There were thirteen tribesmen since those sent to delay Queeb and Ohb had rejoined them. Chlorien noticed these were quiet men who seldom spoke. There was an obvious hierarchy, too, with Choja deeply respected, obeyed without question and she observed he was called Sophysun. She assumed it was a desert title of respect. When Choja brought Chlorien to the men, they raised their heads and nodded courteously to Choja, their eyes resting briefly, but incuriously, on the boy.
"He's to learn our ways," said Choja, in his deep voice. She looked enquiring, but no one took any notice of her. "He'll learn from us all, as a desert boy should."
"Be it so, Sophysun," they all growled in chorus.
Chlorien stayed with the men from sun up to sundown. She learned how to assemble the hide tents that she could soon do in a matter of minutes. She was taught many things: how to entice desert creatures to come to the surface so she could catch them for food; how to trace and track for water and to recognise the changing dunes and understand the winds that altered them. She learned how to recognise the signs of desert storms and how to survive them and she studied the stars as guides to direction. She read the winds and learned to properly smell scents that gave her forewarning of changes in the weather. She conserved and re-used water while she learned to traverse the dunes in the company of a tribesman.
She was taught how to handle and use the curved swords that so frightened her and learned not just to throw knives, but how to use them properly. Once again, as she had as a canas cub, she learned how to respect the environment and those who lived in it and with it - not once did she see a tribesman abuse his surroundings. She saw their love for the desert and their oneness with it. It was offered as a gift to her and she took it with increased understanding, becoming as one with a landscape she'd hated.
The weeks passed very quickly. Chlorien arrived in the mage's tent of an evening, tired but deeply contented as she leaned against Autoc, listening to what he had to tell her. When he released her, she sank onto her mattress with her eyes closed immediately. Autoc looked down at her with a smile before he left her to sleep.
~~~
One evening, Choja entered the large tent where Chlorien sat, cross-legged, with one of Autoc's precious books open in her lap. Autoc was lounged back with his hands behind his head, puffing on his pipe contentedly while he lazily watched her. Jaim drowsed on a mattress with his back to them. It was silent and restf
ul. Pulling himself upright, Autoc signalled Choja in. Chlorien looked up but Jaim made no movement.
"Read on, boy," instructed Autoc, watching to see the dark head bend assiduously over the book. Choja crouched next to the mage, his green eyes alert.
"So the boy reads," he observed calmly.
"All the time," replied Autoc quietly.
"He has knowledge?"
"He learns, but he's very young yet." Choja turned his head so that he could study the prone figure.
"He's learned much," he said, ruminatively. "Unusually so, Schol, and very fast for one so young and not desert-born."
"Aye," acquiesced Autoc, puffing gently. "We've much to thank you for."
"But he's untried," went on Choja. Autoc went very still.
"Explain," he suggested. Choja pulled at his blond beard.
"He thinks he knows, that one. To be any desert man, he must fully know. To think isn't enough - he has to do." Autoc stared pensively at the tribesman.
"What are you asking me, Choja?"
"Desert boys, at the age of sixteen cycles, are left out in the desert for a day. They return or they die." Autoc continued to puff, his only movement a glance across at the stiffening shoulders of the slight form reading.
"Has he learned so much, so fast? It must take cycles for a boy to learn these skills."
"He has beauty this son of yours, Schol, but he also has much intelligence. He could be desert-born."
"So you think he's ready for such a trial, Choja?"
"He is. I'd never endanger the young, or ask too much of someone unready for such a test." Chlorien gave a sharp intake of breath that made the mage smile and brought a glint to his blue eyes.
"Then by all means let him be tried," he responded courteously. Chlorien threw down the book, rose and crossed to her father. Autoc put a restraining hand on her shoulder. Choja looked over at Autoc, a hint of a smile in his eyes.
"I'll take the boy out early, Schol, and leave him. He'll be properly prepared." Choja nodded politely, rose and noiselessly left the tent. Chlorien stared up at Autoc with a horrified expression.
"Father, you can't let them do this to me."
"Why not, little one? Choja assures me you have skills to survive. Such a tribesman wouldn't lie." Chlorien pounced on the mage's chest.
"And if I don't?"
"But why shouldn't you, child?" asked the mage reasonably. "Have you forgotten all I taught you so soon?" Chlorien's head drooped. A strong hand touched her curls.
"No," she whispered.
"Then why couldn't you survive? Are you afraid?" There was a long pause before a very quiet voice responded.
"Yes, Father, I'm deeply afraid."
"That then, child, is very good."
Chlorien looked up, saying with a catch in her voice, "I'll be alone, Father."
"Aye." Autoc's voice was very deep and calm. "You will be, but only for a time."
"Will I be able to hear you, Father?" The voice was very small.
"Naturally, little one, at the appropriate time. Did you think I'd abandon you after so little time with the tribesmen?"
"I didn't think, Father." Autoc pulled her up into his arms, his grip comfortingly strong.
"Try, lad," he said softly, "to survive as a tribesman. Only use your other talents if you absolutely must."
"I'll do as you ask, Father."
"Good lad," murmured the mage, reaching for the book and snapping it shut, but still holding the slight figure close. He put the book on the sand and quickly brushed his hand across Chlorien's forehead. "Sleep, little one," he said, glancing down at the boy with a faint sigh. Jaim turned and faced Autoc, his eyebrows raised.
"It's not an easy road for this young one, is it?" he observed.
"No," Autoc responded, a sad expression in his eyes. "It can be very hard, but he'll also know times of great happiness. The challenge he faces tomorrow enlarges his experience and should bring deep satisfaction if he meets and conquers it. He must face such a trial with self-belief and confidence or else he'll fail. He repeats this experience, in many forms, until he succeeds. It's his destiny. That, for what he confronts later, could be critical to his emotional and mental survival."
Jaim was left profoundly thoughtful.
~~~
In the early hours of the morning, Choja entered the tent to find the mage wide awake. He stood silently watching as Autoc rose and crossed to Chlorien's mattress, his hand gently shaking her awake.
"Come, lad," he said coolly. "It's time for your trial."
Chlorien's eyes snapped open and looked huge in the pale face. It was a tremulous smile she gave as she clambered reluctantly to her feet. She went to put on her sandals, but Choja's voice stopped her.
"Bare feet, sapling."
Autoc raised an eyebrow at the term Choja used, but noticed Chlorien made no response. She'd obviously got used to it. Choja held out a tunic to her.
"You keep your talma, boy," he said, pointing to her loose cuffed pants. "You remove your outer robe and hooded mantle." Chlorien obeyed, pulling the tunic over the undershirt and settling it comfortably.
She stood still while a large skifi was placed on her head and held in place by a jewelled band that Chlorien didn't see. The mage saw it, but made no comment. Clearly it was a gift. The cloth fell to her shoulders and was spread evenly by experienced hands. A finer piece of cloth was placed across the bridge of her nose to hang loosely over her mouth and throat, then was tied behind her head, under the heavier cloth. All Autoc could see were the big violet eyes that looked directly up at him.
"You look very much the part," he sent to her. He saw the response in her eyes.
Choja led her outside, where he quietly buckled on her knife-belt at the hips and then clasped a sword-belt round her waist. He slammed in a curved sword that Chlorien stared down at before she looked up at the tribesman, surprised.
"Thank you," she murmured, almost inaudibly.
"A gift for your desert maturity," came the deep voice above her. A large pouch was slung across her left shoulder. "You know what's in this bag, don't you, sapling?" Chlorien nodded. Choja stooped and lifted a cup that rested in the sand to warm. "Drink," she was instructed, as the tribesman handed her the cup. She lifted the light cloth and drank deeply, draining the cup with a grimace. The cup was thrown into the sand. "Come, sapling!"
Choja took her hand and led her away into the darkness. Autoc stood watching for as long as his enhanced sight let him, then, with a slight sigh, he turned and went back into the tent where he stretched out, his eyes open and thoughtful.
Chlorien and Choja walked for what seemed to Chlorien to be many miles, before the tribesman stopped and said very quietly, "Go forward without looking back, sapling."
Her heart in her mouth, Chlorien obeyed. She kept walking for some minutes, then stopped and turned to look for Choja. She saw nothing but undulating sand that stretched for miles. She was utterly alone. Thoughts jostled in on her, including her absolute insignificance and the overwhelming power of nature. She felt justifiably vulnerable, knew that in itself was a lesson, panicked and began to walk back to where she thought Choja was. She opened her mind to Autoc.
"Father!" she sent. There was no response. "Father," she sent again. Again there was nothing. Chlorien felt tears trickle down her face and was deeply afraid.
Her abnormally drug-enhanced experience in the desert had a profound affect on Chlorien. Her heightened perceptions made it impossible for her to rest or sleep and she was driven across the desert like a wisp of dust. She finally accepted the spirituality the desert offered her, feeling as humble as one of the grains of sand upon which she stood. She stopped fighting as she'd learned from time with the canas pack, and gradually became a part of the desert, accepting all it might do to her. She sublimated her individuality and opened fully to nature. When her fear finally dissolved, the desert lost many of its terrors.
She lived as one with it for nearly two days, no longer wandered, but s
at cross-legged in the warm sand, unaware of time or space, and became the desert, so deeply, it almost claimed her. Autoc stayed close with her, waiting. In the early evening of the second day, she rose and turned purposefully in one direction, though her footsteps were leaden and weak. She'd forgotten to eat or drink much since she left camp.
"Father," she sent faintly, without even thinking.
"Little one," came the deep, calm voice in her mind.
"I'm coming, Father."
"I'm waiting, little one." There was a long pause. "Have courage, child, and faith. I believe in you. Come to me."
Autoc stood waiting, his eyes scanning the horizon that stretched far beyond him. Choja saw him, but made no attempt to approach the mage, an anxious frown in his green eyes as they, too, looked into the distance. He was concerned, because Chlorien was gone nearly a day longer than was usual. He knew, though, instinctively, that this very tall man would let no harm come to his son, so, desert-fashion, he waited.
Choja noticed Autoc looked in only one direction, so he stared the same way, aware the mage hadn't eaten with them, the man very quiet and deeply reserved this evening, as if he wasn't completely present. Autoc just stood very tall and still, a powerful presence Choja had come to respect. Behind the mage stood Jaim, his brow puckered. He stooped, but he wasn't as frail as Choja expected an old man of Jaim's age would be. The tribesman suspected Jaim had more to him than first appearance would suggest.
The sun set and still Autoc stood. Then Choja saw him suddenly move forward with giant and rapid strides. He and Jaim stayed where they were and waited watchfully until the mage reappeared, a limp form in his arms. He came up to Jaim and Choja, an odd smile twisting his lips. Choja looked down at the white face. He gave an uncertain smile up at the mage.
"He's achieved his desert maturity," he said quietly. "He's truly a desert boy, Schol, in the fullest sense. He deserves praise and I've great pride in his achievement – so should you."
"Aye," agreed Autoc. "Leave him now with me." Choja nodded solemnly.
"He doesn't need us as he did," he murmured. "He's gone beyond the child."
Jaim followed Autoc back to their tent. The mage lay Chlorien on the furs, before he placed a hand under her head and with his free hand held a cup up to her mouth. Jaim noticed it'd been left ready by the mattress.
"Drink, little one," Autoc said softly. "Come back to me."
