***
Francesca woke feeling confused. She was still out on the plains, but there were people all around her. She sat up and found Ran-Del sitting there watching her.
“Good morning,” Ran-Del said.
“Good morning,” Francesca replied. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”
“You were tired. And there was no reason to wake you sooner.”
Francesca stretched and looked around. The twenty warriors were busy rolling blankets and stowing supplies into packs. “We didn’t have much chance to talk yesterday, after your grandfather found us.”
Ran-Del looked puzzled. “What is there to talk about?”
Francesca felt miffed without understanding why. “Not that much, I suppose. I was just wondering about your friends. I’m the one who’s alone and far from home, now. I feel sort of sequestered, almost as if I were a prisoner.”
Ran-Del's shrug suggested she had no cause for complaint. “At least you know why you’re here. I never knew why I was a prisoner, not until I woke up out here chained to you.”
Francesca frowned. “Does that mean I am a prisoner?”
“No!” Ran-Del said emphatically. “Grandfather made that clear. It’s just that we can’t free you until we free me from you.”
Pacified, Francesca suggested they find a bush. They walked a ways and found a convenient spot, then walked back to rejoin the group.
“How long will it take us to get back to your forest?” Francesca asked as she helped Ran-Del fold their blankets.
“Three days to get back to my village. We’ll be in the forest for the last half a day.”
She handed him a folded blanket and reached for another. “How big is your clan?”
“There are four villages of Falling Water People. Each one has a few hundred people.”
Francesca was surprised. “I didn’t realize that your village wasn’t the same thing as your clan. So, is your great-grandfather the head of your village or of the whole clan?”
Ran-Del didn’t seem to mind answering these sorts of questions. He answered as he spread out the tarp. “The clan. Each village has a group of elders who makes decisions for the village, but Great-grandfather runs the clan.”
“How do you choose your shaman?” Francesca asked, taking a moment to study him as he folded the tarp. He seemed different now that he was among his own people, less angry and more relaxed.
Ran-Del shook his head. “It’s seldom a matter of choosing a shaman. To be shaman, a man or woman must have five sky-gold glass beads on their caste bracelet. There are very few people with that many. All the villages’ elders make the choice, if one must be made.”
“What if no one has five beads?”
Ran-Del bundled up their remaining gear. “Then the elders choose someone from among those who have four beads, but that person is shaman only so long as there’s no one with five beads.”
“Your grandfather has four beads,” Francesca said, taking a seat on the folded blankets.
“That’s true. He’ll never be shaman unless something happens to Doan.”
“Who’s Doan?”
Ran-Del sat down beside her on the grass. “Doan Walloon is the only person in the Falling Water Clan with five golden glass beads.”
“Except your great-grandfather?”
Ran-Del shook his head. “Great-grandfather has six beads. No one in our history ever had six before him.”
“Who decides how many beads—” Francesca broke off her question as Ran-Del suddenly jumped to his feet and stood with his head bowed. A few seconds later, Isayah Jahanpur approached them.
“Good morning, Ran-Del,” Isayah said. “Good morning, Francesca.”
“Good morning, Grandfather,” Ran-Del said, lifting his head.
“You should both eat,” Isayah said. “We’ll be leaving soon.”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
Isayah called out to Kishor, who brought over more rations, then sat next to Ran-Del and watched as they both wolfed down their food. After a moment he snagged the flexitron cable with one hand and examined it. “It’s curious that your father should do such a thing as bind you to Ran-Del in this way,” he said to Francesca.
“Pop’s a very creative thinker,” Francesca said. “Besides, he wanted to be sure Ran-Del couldn’t just go off and leave me.”
Isayah smiled a quizzical smile. “Would you have left her, Ran-Del?”
“No, Grandfather.”
“Then it seems it was an unnecessary precaution,” Isayah said. “You must both find it very irksome.”
Instead of answering, Ran-Del stared down at the ground.
Francesca bristled a little at the amusement in Isayah’s tone. “You’d be surprised what you can get used to pretty quickly.”
He grinned openly at this. “No, Francesca, I doubt if I would be surprised. Ran-Del can tell you that I’m seldom taken unawares.”
He got to his feet, nodded politely and walked off.
Francesca frowned up at Ran-Del, who had scrambled to his feet when Isayah rose. “Do you have to jump up like that every time he comes near you?”
“Yes,” Ran-Del said. “He’s my paternal grandfather. I owe him respect.”
“What did he mean by that crack about not being surprised?” Francesca asked, standing up beside him.
Ran-Del looked away. “Grandfather knows what happened—what I did the other night. He saw it in my mind when I was telling him my story.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“Only because you stopped me. Otherwise, I would have disgraced myself.”
Francesca smiled a tart smile. “I’ve had lots of men, Ran-Del. None of them ever thought it was a disgrace.”
“None of them was a Sansoussy.”
“I admit that’s true,” Francesca said, picking up the blankets. “Hadn’t we better get moving?”
Ran-Del got the pack, and the two of them were ready when Kishor brought the lamel. Ran-Del lifted Francesca onto his back, and she held in a groan as her muscles protested their return to the same position they had held most of the day before. She clenched her jaw and grasped the riding strap firmly. Looking out over the plain that stretched before them, she sighed and knew that it would be another long day.
The Sixth Discipline Page 26
