Today's excerpt:
The Trackers then set about the meal preparation, which had been delayed by the conversation and history lessons. Just as Moa’qi had done for Sylk on his original return from the wilderness they all prepared and served Moa’qi and Sylk. It was the same type of fare, sweet cakes, savory sausages, and more of the thick rich cardamom coffee. Sylk realized this must be some sort of tradition. He thanked the Tracker earnestly for coming to look for them, and for carrying such amounts of food. It was the first time he really ate without thinking, and he was enjoying the easy camaraderie. The men all spoke freely about things he was not used to hearing. Sylk stayed out of these conversations, not because he couldn’t join in, but because of lack of anything relevant to say. This was Adult Talk, and he had not been privy to such talk before.
Moa’qi had started the conversation by a general request for news of the tribe over the last 5 lightdark cycles. Tracker1 began with a simple recounting of stores of food, prospects of hunting, Bruta sightings, etc. Tracker2 picked up with some light information that Sylk gradually realized was basically gossip: who was seeing whom, little romances, someone being with child, and finally a funny story about a spat over dew gatherers between The Herbalist, which everyone respected for his knowledge and disliked for his demeanor, and Gwadi, the cheesemaker.
Gwadi was a tribe favorite. Not only did she make cheese from the cabrito milk, but she was always ready with some quip or anecdote apropos to the situation. Her humor could be biting though, and sarcasm always seems to be appreciated by everyone except the recipient. But her genuine good nature, and underlying kindness prevented anyone from staying angry. There was always something happening around her, people laughing, and people getting upset. But the anger always passed, and she was genuinely liked by everyone. The story was recounted thusly:
Apparently Gwadi had come out of her little hut to find The Herbalist holding one of her dew gatherers, and a full skin of water. The Herbalist was renowned for failing to set out his gatherers each evening, and had been suspected of ‘borrowing’ water from the Tribe. No one really minded at the moment, it being the wet season, and plenty of water was available. And, no one would ever refuse water when there was need. But water theft could be a serious crime, all the more because it was not necessary. This laziness on the part of The Herbalist was nearly legendary, and he did not cherish holding such a reputation. It was suspected that he avoided the reputation by getting up very early and taking a little from all. It was, however, a problem, and the Muktai were being asked to address The Herbalist. The essential dishonesty was troubling to the people of the tribe, but his herbal knowledge was valued and required. It was kind of a pickle, and there was reticence to address the issue.
Gwadi had emerged and pretty much caught him in the act. She stopped, went into an exaggerated stretch and yawned a loud ululating yawn that almost but not quite sounded like an alarm. Probably not coincidentally, it sounded like the Bandit Alarm. Naturally, since most people were awake and preparing to exit their huts, the walkways between the huts were suddenly crowded with witnesses. By this time, in her exaggerated stretch, she had nearly bent over backward to the ground, and her ululation cut off with a strangling noise. The stage now set, she straightened up, looked The Herbalist in the eye and exclaimed “What are you doing pouring your water into My Water Skin? What, do you think I need your charity??”
People started laughing, as all water skins are clearly marked with beadwork or paint clearly signifying who was the owner. This tack stunned The Herbalist, and his confused expression caused more laughter.
“I know I am getting old, and I know you are without a Mate, as am I, but this symbolism is too much.” She stopped and let this sink in then, “I am not so old that I am desperate however. Many of the young new men I have trapped, er, entertained in my hut.” Laughter from the Tribe. “But, if you have such a hot desire to fill my emptiness with your fullness, then there are the usual channels for accommodating your randyness!” This prompted gales of laughter from the witnesses.
Flabbergasted, The Herbalist shouted “I am not filling your skin with my water!” More laughter. Red faced and shouting, “I was pouring your water into my skin!” His confession out of his lips in front of the whole tribe, he stood there, purple in his embarrassment. Some uncomfortable nervous laughter escaped from various witnesses, but petered out into silence. The man had confessed to a crime in front of multiple witnesses.
Feigning mock seriousness, Gwadi walked up to The Herbalist with a grave look. “A wrong so publicly confessed can only be forgiven. It is the way of the Tribe.” She took the skin from the stunned Herbalist, poured a measure into her dew gatherer, and handed it back. Winking and with a smile she said, “If however, you ever wish to fill me up, you will find me pliant and willing.” Turning she walked into her hut with an exaggerate wriggling movement and disappeared inside.
When the story was over, and the laughter subsided, Tracker3 commented that while the incident was indeed humorous to the tribe, it had been more than humiliating to The Herbalist. He had been in a dark humour, and there was concern, as he was unusually gruff with all. Of greatest concern was the fact that he seemed to be nursing a deep grudge against Gwadi, and the air of tension seemed ominously portending.
“I fear that the situation must be defused in some manner. I had hoped to broach this subject with you, Moa’qi, under somewhat different circumstances. You see, The Muktai felt that it would be provident to provide the tribe with an heir to the Herbalist. This would perform three results, distract The Herbalist from his anger and chagrin, provide a diversion for him, and a measure of restored respect, and provides the Tribe with an Herbalist for the future.
“I had hoped to apprentice Sylk here to The Herbalist.”
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