I have three more days to go, and only 4,534 words to go. Which means, at 2k per day, plus a little, I will finish Monday. If I write anything at all tonight, which I may not, since we are doing the tree thing and having Leon's woman over for cookie baking etc., I will finish a full day early!!
Oh, Tracker1 is now named Buitre. Tracker3 is named Steropé. Tracker2 seems to have dissappeared.
excerpts:
He resumed his trek toward Steropé. As he got nearer something began to bother him, but he could not tell what it was. He slowed and closed his eyes, listening, listening. He just couldn’t place what was bothering him, so decided to systematically check on everyone he cared or was concerned about. Buitre was at The Herbalist’s. Nothing seemed specifically wrong, though he felt there may be some kind of stiffness, or strain of some sort between them. But it was not the source of his unease.
Next he checked on his mother. She seemed to be fine, just walking about the hut, doing whatever. Wait. What was that? In a flash, he was running for home, pounding down the dirt path as fast as he had ever run. Someone was stalking his mother, and they were close. Rounding a hut and speeding down the lane, his hut came into view. He slowed, determining to walk casually to his hut, and ‘accidentally’ surprise whoever it was. He realized that Moa’qi was approaching from the left as well, and felt an inward relief. Whoever, or whatever it was, was on the other side of the hut, near one of the windows. “Anuncia!” It was his Master. Or Mentor, rather. That still bothered him inside, but he couldn’t worry about that now. “Anuncia!” “Coming”, his mother replied from inside the house, and Sylk felt the intruder melt away in the opposite direction. Then the sense stopped, as if it had been lifted away.
His mother came out of the hut, and Sylk decided to hang back and circle around to see what he could see in the dirt behind the hut. Moa’qi continued on toward the hut, and engaged in some conversation with Anuncia. Sylk picked up the trail around back. It was some more of those foot prints left by someone in those food coverings. But, he had been completely unable to place it. There was something wrong about the stride as well. The foot fall didn’t look right, and the weight distribution was all wrong. He had no idea what he was looking at. The footsteps went on for some distance, then just disappeared. Sylk retraced, trying to see where he had lost them. Nothing, there they were, then there they weren’t. Stepping back he scratched his head and gazed blankly without focusing. Then he realized. The foot prints had joined together as if the person or thing was standing. The surrounding area had a mild blown back look, like a localized wind had blown down on to the foot prints. This was very confusing, and he didn’t know quite what to make about it, or what else to do about it. He decided to file it away, and quiz Moa’qi about it at day’s end. In the meantime, he decided to check on things at his hut, make sure mom was OK, and then continue on to Steropé.
At his hut, Moa’qi and Anuncia were talking about nothing at all in the entryway of the hut. Moa’qi appeared totally relaxed, and would not respond to Sylk’s subtle attempts to broach the subject of the intruder. Giving up on the attempt to get Moa’qi aside to quiz him about the stalker, Sylk advised his mother that he had made a barter with Gwadi for some quesocabra. He also explained that it would be delivered, then told his Mentor he would see him that afternoon at the Deciding Hut, and went on his way.
He walked away feeling decidedly uneasy. Something very unusual had come into the village, undetected by all save Moa’qi and himself. It had left as mysteriously as it had arrived, and the fact of its deliberate self-concealment seemed ominous. And was it coming to his hut on purpose, or just any hut? And if his hut, was it interested in him or his mother? And why would Moa’qi not make himself available for discussion? None of it made any sense. And it seemed particularly ominous in light of the coming events at the Decision Hut. A portent of things beyond control or influence, Sylk felt it vital to assess. Yet Moa’qi seemed uninterested. The extra uncalculated fluky nature of the event made Sylk extremely uneasy. Why was Moa’qi so reticent?
Feeling the need for some sort of positive action, Sylk determined now to follow-up on Steropé. He did a quick sensing and headed on over to The Herbalist, which Buitre had left, and Steropé was approaching. This he thought fortuitous, and hurried his pace to arrive shortly after Steropé. He went over in his mind again the plan designed by Moa’qi. A lot depended on Moa’qi’s read of how certain people would vote. He was particularly counting on Steropé, but Steropé had not been brought into the scheme. Sylk disagreed with this, feeling enough was in the hands of chance as it was. Moa’qi felt the character and relative quick wits of Steropé would suffice, and further believed that any overt attempt to establish a plan with multiple people could compromise Steropé, and actually endanger her.
Sylk was disinclined to agree; he would honor his Mentor’s wishes, but he still wanted to see and talk to the woman before tonight.
While on his way, he reviewed what he knew about Steropé. She was the only woman to be counted as a New Man, and a Warrior of the People. She was not one of the Sacred Ones, either, though she, like Moa’qi had no mate. Sylk had no idea how old she was, she seemed ageless in some way. There had been much consternation when she had demanded the right to Trial. Jedediah had made one of the few unpopular decisions of his reign as First Chair by permitting it to happen. Over the years, however, the fact of Steropé had become accepted, and, for the most part, no one thought much about it any longer. She was certainly among the most skilled in the tribe, both mentally and physically. She had been accepted as an equal by The Muktai, and was able to participate in all Tribal Rulings. She was a man in that respect, except she was a woman. The anomaly had ultimately been set aside as unimportant. Sylk realized as he thought about her that he was becoming totally fascinated by her, and the emotion confused him a bit. Now that he was a new man, he for the first time allowed himself thoughts of her as a woman. She was, he realized, a very striking woman at that. Sylk was not quite sure what to make of that. He kind of liked the emotion he was feeling, but wasn’t really sure what to make of it. Deciding to ignore the emotion for now, he made his way to The Herbalist.
No one in the tribe really liked The Herbalist. He was cold and distant, and could be petty and even mean. He was however, extremely talented regarding medicinal herbs, and herbs of general sana. He never failed to provide the right recipe for pretty much anyone ailments, whether it be an external bruise, or some internal injury, or broken bone. He was renowned for his headache recipe, which he had discovered on his own, and was some formulation from a certain tree bark. And, he was available to provide pain relieve of worse variety, and even, if need be, permanent pain relief for those terminal patients. This was the only time he seemed human. It genuinely affected him to have to use his herbs to kill. He did not like it, and resisted in all but the most extreme cases. He did truly have a gift. Some thought he had maybe sold his ama to the Giant Roble Tree outside of the village. In truth, he did in fact look like an old gnarled roble tree. While not liked, he was very respected for his skills and gifts, and being his apprentice would be quite a coup for the individual and a great benefit to the tribe.
He spied Steropé and The Herbalist up ahead. His hut had an additional room built onto the front, and it acted as a counseling/examination room, and medicinal formulary. He was inside the little room, with the oversized front flap propped up, creating a kind of bar area. Steropé was outside the hut, sitting on a stool, leaning over and talking earnestly to The Herbalist. He caught a fragment of the conversation as he walked up. “… how do you feel about gaining an apprentice?”
“Bah. I will live longer than anyone, as I know how to prepare my herbs and bark and roots. The tribe has no worries regarding how long I will be around.”
“Ok, but still, as a precaution…” hesitation, “never mind, that is not of any matter anyway. What matters is tonight. We can talk about what our children need tomorrow.” Here Steropé shifted position, and Sylk was suddenly aware of long supple brown legs. His arrival however, seemed to damper the conversation. He took a chance.
“Are you looking for an apprentice?”
The Herbalist turned away, making a production of looking for some specific herb for Steropé. She took advantage of this moment to flash Sylk a warning glare from angry eyes. Sylk was not sure how to read this. “Guess not”, he muttered. Turning to Steropé, he inquired after her health. She smiled and replied that she was “…fine thank you, and you?”
“I’m good”, Sylk replied. “A little tired, but looking forward to my first Decision Hut. Do you suppose my Master will be put forth for First Chair?”
The Herbalist snorted while turning around and addressed them both, “I am sure he will be nominated. In fact, there are not many who think there is any other choice. I for one realize that he surpasses any likely candidate. Yes, he will be put forth. Here is your formulation.” Sylk looked at the contents, hongos, sticks, some kind of root, sliced thin, some bark from a tree he recognized, but could not place, and something black and rubbery he had never seen.
“Thanks”, said Steropé. “Everything looks very fresh. Prepare in the usual manner?”
“Yes, put 1/3 of that package in the earthen pot I gave you, and boil with three measures of water for as long as it take you to add three more measures, while maintaining the original water level. After the third addition, remove from heat and drink it as soon as you are able to withstand the heat. That will be in the morning. Reserve the contents of the pot, and repeat the process tomorrow at Dark Fall. You may discard the contents at that time. Repeat next morning with the next third, and the day after, the next third. By the third day, you will want sleep. You should wake up on the fourth day with no complaints.”
“Thank you. I surely am indebted and grateful.”
“Bah”, was his only reply. He then turned a white bushy brow toward Sylk. “Well?”
and some more:
The Muktai to the immediate left of the one that had spoken, that would be to the right from the crowd’s vantage point, stood and announced they were accepting nominees for First Chair. Buitre immediately stood forth and nominated Moa’qi. There was a murmur in the crowd, and as the Criers called out to the village, Sylk could feel nervous movement outside. No one was surprised at the nomination, the were surprised at the nominator. Everyone there fully expected Moa’qi to be First Chair when it was all said and done. They just had not expected the nomination to come from Steropé or one of her ilk. The village was unaware of any affinity between Moa’qi and Buitre. To the people inside the Deciding Hut, it was a tad more unexpected as the body language of Buitre had revealed an unsuspected dislike for Moa’qi only moments earlier.
Moa’qi stood, and again addressed the gathering formally, “Muktai, Tribe. I respectfully decline Nomination for First Chair. I claim right as Eldest of The Tribe, to nominate someone in my place. I nominate Sylk, and relegate myself to Mentor of Sylk.”
This shocking announcement was met by a perplexed silence. The crowd outside began clamoring for word, and as the Criers began bellowing out this unexpected turn of events, the inside of the hut became riotous with shouts of dismay and surprise. Some were insulted, some felt it must be a joke. Many people just made angry noises. It was an insult and a slap to decline First Chair and nominate a child, some said. Others gathered their wits, and argued Moa’qi was well within his rights. Still others were just angry, and did not really know why. Many in the Deciding Hut were just excited. This was drama, and there was an affinity for drama and excitement among the Tribe.
The next Muktai in line stood and held his arms up toward the smoke hole. Slowly, for he was quite old himself, he approached the fire and threw a yellow powder into the flames. There was a roaring sound, and the flames leaped and expanded, and everyone felt a rush of heat. This was followed by an influx of air through the seven openings, and as the heat sucked wind and exhaled through the top of the hut, the crowd quieted. When the flames damped down to their former flicker, he addressed Moa’qi.
“You do not mean to mock the Deciding Hut?” It was phrased such that the crowd was unsure if it was a statement or a question.
Moa’qi stiffly replied, “I would not mock the Deciding Hut.”
The old Muktai turned to the other six and stated, “He is within his rights.” He returned to his seat, and the next Muktai stood and bellowed, “Sylk is nominated for First Chair. Sylk! Present Thyself!”
Trying to walk with calm confidence, struggling with butterflies and quivering legs, Sylk approached center stage and sat opposite the first of The Muktai to speak. When the last noise of the Criers had relayed this to the tribe outside, a hush fell. The pause grew turgid with expectancy. What would happen next?
The next Muktai stood and bellowed without ceremony, “Nominees!?”
Sitting, they waited for the next nominee. No one moved. Buitre was standing with a blank look on his face. All his plans had been laid low in one movement. This was a totally unexpected turn of events. He looked about, lost in his mind, trying to determine a way to salvage what had happened.
Gwadi the Cheese Maker stepped forward. “I nominate The Herbalist!
Now there was a sense of excitement in the hut as the news was transferred by the Criers to the anxious crowd outside. Again, a not unexpected nomination, and again a totally unexpected source of nomination. A party atmosphere began to grow outside the Deciding Hut. Inside the tension was of a different nature. However, there was a murmur of approval as it was realized this may heal the rift between Gwadi and The Herbalist. The next to last of the Muktai stood and bellowed, “The Herbalist is nominated for First Chair. Herbalist! Present Thyself!”
The Herbalist came forward with a bemused expression on his face, acknowledged The Muktai, nodded to Sylk, and took his place amid a buzz from the gallery. Again, The Muktai had to prompt for nominees, as none were forthcoming. The final Muktai stood and bellowed, “Nominees! And let us continue with alacrity!”
Two more people were nominated and summoned, taking their seats. One, the Tanner, was a good man. The other, the Vela Maker, was in the minds of many, kind of a throwaway nominee. They had to fill seven after all, and he had been nominated and lost before. But there were certain rights to having been nominated, and the Vela Maker was deserving of those rights, and no one wanted them to go away. The people were actually happy to see him up there again.
In the midst of the relative calm, Steropé stood, “I nominate Buitre!”
This again created a stir and as the Criers shouted out to the village, there was some dismay. Buitre was clearly a good man, very talented and knowledgeable. But, he seemed to be drawn to power, and there was some concern among the tribe. First Chair was a servant position, in essence. Many wondered if Buitre had the temperament for the position.
Buitre was visibly livid. He came forward, acknowledged the nomination, and sat gruffly, folding his arms and glaring at the ground before him.
Sylk had turned to watch as Steropé had made her nomination. He caught a glimpse of momentary triumph in Moa’qi’s eyes as she named Buitre. Sylk realized that Steropé had performed as Moa’qi had planned. He turned back around while Buitre approached center stage, and thought through the ramifications.
The last Tribal Sacred One stood and nominated Steropé. All the old wounds were torn open at that point. A woman could not be First Chair! It was unheard of, and unthinkable. Many thought Steropé was destined to be one of The Sacred Ones, as she had no mate, and seemed uninterested in men. Others noted she seemed uninterested in women as well, and therefore she was not likely a Sacred One. This started many side conversations regarding The Sacred Ones and their place in the Tribe. Often over the years there were no Sacred Ones. The anomaly that was a Sacred One just did not manifest that often. They were regarded as a sort of treasure, as they had sensibilities and a world view that often was beneficial to the Tribe. They were considered a gift, because, as noted, they were not always in place. It was not an elected position. A person was born to it or not.
The far more pressing issue was the fact that again the ranks of “Man Only” jobs were being threatened by a woman.
Steropé stood and strode majestically to center stage, and all the noise petered out. She was in fact well liked by all, and no one wanted to insult her, at least not to her face. She was the essence of composure as she took her seat.
The final nomination went to The Arbiter. This was the only other serious contender to First Chair after Moa’qi. The Arbiter was skilled at negotiating and conflict resolution. Many would support him and the crowd began to believe they were watching the New First Chair approach center stage.
The eldest of The Muktai stood and addressed the Tribe, “Behold, your nominees for First Chair! Let their names be remembered as they stand to present themselves.” One by one the nominees were called in reverse order:
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