---Raala’s perspective---
My feet crunch against last night’s snow as I march across the distance that separates the edge of the forest from the outlanders’ camp.
Grey clouds loom over the plains threatening yet more snow.
My hand clenches against the shaft of my spear as imaginary spectres of tall men with flat, leering, brown eyed faces loom towards me.
My heart thunders behind my sternum as I storm through the trade area and on between the tents.
Distantly, I register how deserted it all seems but my destination is what dominates my thoughts.
I draw up to the largest tent in the middle of the camp and rip the curtain aside.
“We need to talk!” I snarl as a stifling wall of heat hits me in the face.
The next instant, I register that the man I came to demand answers from is indeed present, facing away from me on the other side of an overfuelled fire… he’s not alone… and he’s not clothed!
His naked back is painted with swirling black lines of charcoal paint, being applied to him by the outland shamaness, body fully clothed and concentration on her face.
For a second, I wonder if I interrupted him and the old witch during foreplay but quickly conclude otherwise, just from the strange context.
She turns to me and snarls “Kseltam! Ikrie’en tsaletveh-”
But the slim man raises his hand and, in a low, hoarse voice, soothes “Shletaen, Kseley… Wuy’ents nun tsanezgu…”
The old woman shoots me one last dirty look before returning to her body painting.
Using words I can understand, the man wearily says “I’m sorry, Raala. I cannot speak to you now. I have a duty to perform. I know why you are here and we may discuss it afterwards.” without turning to face me.
“But-” I shout in objection.
“Afterwards.” he repeats, not loudly but with a power that makes me fall silent instantly.
He isn’t acting anything like I’ve seen him act before.
None of the normal simpering flirtatiousness.
None of the oozing warmth and charm.
None of the boyish youth.
If I’d met this version of him first, I wouldn’t have had any problem believing he was the leader of hundreds!
Testing the tackiness of his paint with her thumb and seeming satisfied that it’s dried, the shamaness picks up a carved wooden shape that I don’t get a good look at, brings it to the front of his head and binds it there.
He stands, allowing me to see that, like his upper body, his legs are bare and covered in swirling lines of charcoal paint.
A simple loin cloth is the only clothing on his entire slender, sinewy body.
The shamaness rounds his front and hands him a large pelt which, with some ceremony, is draped over his painted shoulders and loosely covers him down to the shins.
She then fetches something else which she presents to his hand.
It’s a thick staff of dense, heavy looking wood, about as long as I am tall… maybe a little longer.
At the top, long, gnarled roots twist around a perfectly smooth, round river rock, similar to the way that the outlander’s long, slim fingers grip the staff itself.
The towering man turns and a swoop of fear fills my guts for a moment as I see the mask he wears over his black lined face.
Above his mouth rests a row of lipless wooden teeth carved into its bottom.
Above that there is a hollow nose.
Either side of that, his unnaturally brown eyes peer down through the eye sockets.
Despite the flat brow and vertical forehead, what this mask represents is obvious.
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It’s a skull!
Rounding the fire, the skull faced man passes where I stand, frozen in place, and I feel the chill of the outside on my back as he leaves the tent.
Another moment passes… then I follow him.
---Ksem’s perspective---
It starts to snow again as I walk through the deserted camp towards the place of my horrid duty.
I don’t want to do this!
I especially don’t want to do this in front of any of the Basinfolk (the one I can hear trudging along behind me least of all!) but the alternative is allowing them to think that such a vile sin might have had no answer!
Will they be understanding?
Can they possibly accept that we are simply a different people with different ways?
Based on my experience, I’d guess not!
I would guess that this will be yet another source of fear and mistrust for them.
And maybe they’re even right to feel that way… In the Moon since we arrived, we’ve already killed a herd of mammoths, almost fed them the taboo meat from that sin, almost raped one of their women and now…? Now they’re about to have one more thing to be afraid of… something which can’t just be blamed on my chief warrior becoming deranged!
This is about to change the way they see us in a potentially irreversible way.
I reflect bitterly that, in my whole life, I only ever saw my father use this club twice… It feels very unfair that I need to do so so soon after our arrival here.
Qrez, you Cycle damned fucking idiot!
Why did you put us all in this position!?
My follower and I exit the camp to the Southeast and pass between two knolls.
Standing ahead of us in silence are almost every Deltaman and woman in the Basin, lining the inside of this hollow.
As they come into view, I hear the crunching footsteps behind me falter for a moment before continuing.
Without looking at her, I mutter “Your people are over there on the right, Raala… Please join them if you wish to watch…”
She gives no answer but I hear her footsteps peel off in the direction of the small crowd of redheads, standing toward the top of the right slope.
A way clears for me through the crowd as I approach.
I step out of my shoes and throw off the fur cloak I wore for the journey, exposing my mostly nude, painted body to the freezing air.
I step onto the searingly cold snow with my bare feet and raise my father’s club high to my right.
In spite of how thrashed my voice is from last nights trial, I shout loud enough for all to hear “There is JUSTICE to be done!”
In response, 400 voices bark back “HEUH! HEUH!!!”
In my peripheral vision, I see the locals startle at what may well be the loudest noise any of them have ever heard.
“There is justice to be WITNESSED!” I scream, tensing my muscles to fight off shivers from the cold.
“HEUH! HEUH!!!” my people answer.
“A deed so vile that not to right would make us guilty in turn!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
“A wound so soiled that, unless scoured, it would fester and infect us ALL!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
I gesture around with the club “A wrong so profound, only DEATH can serve as answer!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
“We, the people of the Great River Delta, cannot allow such a rot to fester among us!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
“This wound must be cleansed!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
Here, I reach the centre of the crowd where there’s a clear ring around a waist height rise.
On top is a large, flat stone and, next to it, a scowling man with a bruised face and a missing tooth, bound into a kneeling position, ropes leading from his shoulders to the foot of the embankment and held by Reutsa and Bwey.
“This burden is mine to bear! Mine and none other’s!” I declare, indirectly absolving my sister and the half Westwoman for the minor roles they’re playing.
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
Mounting the embankment, I turn East and scream “BEAR WITNESS!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
I turn South “THIS IS THE PRICE OF RAPACIOUS GREED!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
I turn West “THIS IS WHAT MUST ANSWER ACTS OF SUCH WANTON CRUELTY AND MALICE!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
I turn North and my eyes briefly fix on where Raala stands, looking horrified at what she’s clearly inferred to be happening here.
Begging her and the rest to understand, even though I know they can’t, I proclaim “I swing the club, not to punish but to cleanse!”
“HEUH! HEUH!!!”
I turn now to Qrez and the ropes go taut in a way that forces his head down onto the rock.
I touch the head of the club to his temple, just to make sure I have the range right.
“Qrez… may the Cycle grant you the mercy I cannot! May your essence find the peace you have denied us here!” I say, fighting down the shudders that wrack my chest and threaten to make their way into my voice.
“You’ll all REGRET this! You’ll see I was RIGHT! You’ll see you NEEDED me!!!” screams the dead man.
I raise the club.
Drums boom rhythmically as my people chant “HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH! HEUH!!!”
I roar as I bring down my father’s club with all my might!
Kseley & Ksem | |
Kseltam! Ikrie’en tsaletveh-” =
Fool! How dare you so brazenly-
Shletaen, Kseley… Wuy’ents nun tsanezgu…” =
Calm yourself, Kseley… She does not know our ways…
