"The Tinganjani Seal"
Part 2
by Osiris Brackhaus
"Here. I - I traded this for you as a little token of my gratitude." Holding the sheathed hunting-knife in his hand, Jalis was standing next to the young man who had been his slave until this dawn. "Lenien? Something wrong?"
But the former slave only stared at the chieftain's son with
barely veiled hostility, his hands frozen in the middle of re-braiding his
hair he had been forced to wear open during his serving year.
Jalis fingered his present nervously. Had he missed something important? Was
a knife considered an improper parting gift among Lenien's people? Why was
he staring at him like that?
"Jalis", the former servant finally said, his voice as cold as a mountain spring. "Just forget it. Keep your pathetic knife and stick it where the sun doesn't shine."
"What?" Blinking in genuine confusion, the young three-braid had absolutely no clue why his former slave was reacting as caustic like this on his parting day. "I - I am sorry if I did something wrong, I - "
"You're sorry? But you don't know what for? All the spirits, Jalis, you could rot among the unburied and would still think you're just smelling funny. Get out of my way."
With these words, Lenien abandoned the work on his braids
and left, his walk clearly showing he had no intention of being followed.
With his blond hair bound back by at least some of his braids again, the former
slave looked so much more like the dashing four-braid Jalis had challenged
for a duel a year and a day ago. So much had happened in this year, and in
a way, nothing at all.
At least, nothing between the two young warriors in the way Jalis had hoped
for once the initial brawling and seizing up at the junction had suddenly
turned into a serious duel.
"Now what have you done this time, you oaf?" a silver voice next to the chieftain's son asked, and he didn't even have to look to know that it was his annoying sister Kiria standing next to him. Probably, she had her arms crossed in front of her chest, her hazel hair flowing wildly around her face and shoulders, her cute face set in a grim frown. Kiria had taken a liking of Lenien, and sought to protect him from whatever terrible things Jalis tried to do to him.
At least, that was her way of telling.
"Nothing." With a slightly defeated look at the knife in his hands, he turned towards his younger sister. "I just wanted to give him a parting gift, and - "
"A parting gift." Kiria's voice dripped of sarcasm. "For being such a good sport with you treating him like shit?" In a heartfelt gesture of disgust, the young woman spat in front of her brother's feet, then turned around on her heel and stomped after Lenien, even more showing that she was expecting Jalis to stay away from her.
"But what's so terribly wrong with a knife?", the
young warrior yelled after his sister, not really in expectation of an answer.
And it was not a pathetic knife at all. A real solid metal blade, and wrought
finely with chiseled vines along its back. It was a princely gift, and Jalis
had given up a whole bolwe's fur for it. It was a beautiful and reliable weapon,
so much like Lenien, and even Jalis' father, Chief Jehan, didn't own such
a knife.
But apparently, it wasn't good enough, Jalis thought with
a deep sigh and walked back to his tent, sitting down next to its entrance,
carelessly flinging the knife somewhere into the dark opening. The whole affair
had been rotten from the very beginning.
Morosely, the young man started to skin one of the rabbits they had been given
as their share of today's hunt. During the junction, it had seemed a good
idea to Jalis to accept the other warrior's challenge, but he definitely would
have decided differently now that he knew how little fun the time together
with Lenien would bring.
With people so proud and fierce as the Tinganjani, it was hardly avoidable to have some of the younger three-braids get into fights. And usually, those fights were settled by duels of any sorts, from berry-picking contests to the neck-breaking Teja horse races. In any case, the defeated youngster was obliged to give up all his weapons, untie his braids and serve the winning party for a year and a day. After this time, the young warrior was restored in his honor, and given enough food and if possible, a horse, to return to his people.
Very few Tinganjani got into more than two duels in their lifetime, for even if one always was on the winning side, suddenly being responsible for slaves who weren't allowed to carry weapons and therefore unable to hunt for themselves was a lesson one didn't forget on the endless march of the tribes.
Of course, losing a duel on the other hand was a perfect
way to get to see different people, to sever family ties that grew to tight
without hurting anyone too directly, and many young warriors have left their
tribe for a year and a day as a youth to return as an adult. Often enough,
once a youngster had decided he would lose his next duel, deciding on whom
to lose against became the difficult task. Many dashing warriors with no fault
other than flashing eyes or honeyed words had suddenly found themselves assailed
with calls for duels, and in some cases, the Sirdai had to be called to save
the tribes from more serious harm than just a few broken jaws and hearts.
Also, picking an opponent of the same sex for that kind of duel was nothing
out of the ordinary. Often enough boisterous youngsters decided that their
own kind was more fun to romp around with before they would settle down, marry
and have kids like everybody else.
And Jalis had been so perfectly sure it had been THAT kind of a smile he had seen in the four-braid's eyes when Lenien challenged him. And he definitely wouldn't have minded, not at all.
Most Tinganjani were dark-haired, black and brown, the tips of their long manes often bleached by the sun. But Lenien's braids were golden, bleaching into white, and together with his green eyes and a hint of the freckles he had been sporting as a boy, he was a stunningly handsome young man. That he had a smile wide enough to make girls blush and giggle when he grinned at them only added to his appeal. And most important, while he was of the same age as Jalis, the blond warrior was proudly carrying four braids, two of them with recommendation, and was training for his fifth, while the son of the Spirit Oak Tribe's chieftain only sported three.
Jalis had almost felt honored as the Flying Waters' best known four-braid challenged him, and had seen no other reason as that Lenien fancied him. He had been so sure of this that he had accepted the challenge, fully knowing that fighting against a four-braid normally would have been a sure bet to get himself indentured. But the smile he had thought to see in the other man's eyes had made him sure he wouldn't lose and indeed, Jalis had won Lenien's service for a year and a day.
Grunting, the three-braid wrapped the first rabbit into a piece of old skin to keep the flies away, grimly tackling the next one. Most of the tribe by now had gathered around the horse pole, where Lenien would be given his farewell by Chief Jehan and the whole tribe, together with good wishes and a young mare.
Jalis knew he should be there as well, but he just couldn't
bring himself to do so. He just had been grimly stared at once too often by
Lenien, once to often been slapped and insulted by his sister. No need to
give them another opportunity.
He really was at a loss. As soon as the junction had ended and the two tribes
had parted, there had been nothing more between the two young men but occasional
'maybes’, vague possibilities that evaporated into wishful thinking
as soon as Jalis tried to make a move. To say it had been a frustrating time
was kind at best.
In a way, perhaps it was good that the year was over now,
the chieftain's son thought. At least this way we know there won't be another
perhaps.
Sighing, he stopped pulling the skin off the little animal, instead gloomily
staring into the early noon. He really had wished for this to have worked
out better, to have been a better time for Lenien.
Loud cheers erupted from the other side of the camp, and Jalis felt with a certain surprise that it hurt in his chest. He would miss Lenien, and he knew that this missed chance would forever stay a hole in his life.
But he was thinking too much, the young warrior decided. That's not my talent, as all my teachers never tire to tell me. I'm a fighter, I'm a great three-braid, but I should never think of becoming more than that.
With renewed fervor, he tackled the rabbit in his lap again, and it was almost too late when he noticed small feet coming up to him in an angry stride.
"I HATE you!", Kiria yelled suddenly, and then she already was lunging for Jalis who only barely managed to dodge her first blow. "You oaf! You shameful waste of food!" Wildly, the girl attacked her large brother who was hard-pressed to avoid her agile movements.
"This is enough, Kiria, shut up!" His heart pounding in his chest, Jalis felt sorely tempted to remind his little sister of who was the stronger fighter of the two of them. But for now, he was trying to act responsible. "I have no idea what you are talking of, little one, and I'm not in the mood to play. Get lost."
But his sister just snarled like a lioness, her whole body ready to jump for Jalis the first moment he would lower his defenses. "Was that your last chance to insult him? Are you that petty that you couldn't give Lenien a decent farewell? What has he done to you?"
"What?" Once more, Jalis didn't understand a word, but still was very careful not to offer his sister a chance for delivering a blow. "Better ask what I had done to him. He challenged me, and then didn't even give me a second look for a year and a day!"
Casting a quick glance to the sidelines, the young warrior noticed with relief that there was no one particularly watching their little dispute. Apparently, they were all still gathered at the horses waving off Lenien.
"Brother, either you're playing a sick game far beyond your limited wits or you are truly as blind as a mole. You're not seriously trying to tell me you didn't know?" Kiria's stance lost significantly of its aggressive component, but Jalis knew too well that it was far too early to feel safe.
"Didn't notice what?"
"Oh Jalis, the whole tribe was talking of nothing else!"
Instead of asking the same question again, the broad-shouldered warrior just stared at the girl questioningly, fearing the answer already in his guts.
"All the spirits...." Slack-jawed disbelief suddenly was all that was left of the blazing fury in Kiria's face. "You really didn't know..."
"Kiria....", Jalis growled nervously, still hunched forward as if preparing for an attack.
"That Lenien never understood why you rejected him? And neither did anyone of our tribe?"
"I rejected him? What about him, the many times he said no, maybe, perhaps? I would have welcomed him on my blanket with open arms if ever he had said a word."
"Jalis, you're a disgrace for the whole tribe." Like the autumn sky changing from one moment to another, all at once Kiria's face was filled with pain and contempt, and the cold conviction she put into her words only made them hurt all the more. "If you are too stupid to get a willing boy onto your blanket, that's just tough luck. But if you are too stupid to notice you're breaking someone's heart, you're shaming us all. You've wasted a year of a valiant warrior's life, and I can only pray to the spirits that they'll find a way to make you pay."
With that, she spun around, making her hair fly around in a wide arc and walked two steps, only to stop abruptly. Looking back over her shoulder, she spat at her stunned brother: "Shame on you!" and then left him standing in front of his empty tent.
Had Kiria used a club the size of a tree, she couldn't have hit Jalis any harder than with the words that still seemed to be hanging in the air like smoke in a closed tent.
Have I really done that, the warrior wondered. Broke his heart?
The thought was even more painful as that would explain quite
a thing in the course of the last weeks. Jalis knew he wasn't the greenest
patch of grass when it came to being witty, nor was he renowned for his outstanding
social graces. There was a distinct possibility, he had to admit with a sinking
feeling, that there was some bit of truth in his hotheaded sister's accusation.
Jalis had a straight eye and a strong arm, he could ride like the wind, run
for miles and wrestle down a bolwe with his bare hands. Well, maybe a small
one.
Had he really not gotten the clues? For a whole year? Or had Lenien given
up on him earlier?
All the spirits, if this was true....
Completely overwhelmed, the chieftain's son sunk to his knees,
the shame his sister had called to his face suddenly feeling too much to bear.
The knife he had traded as a gift came into his mind again, and Jalis wanted
to melt into the ground from mortification. He had taken a year of Lenien's
life and had offered a bloody knife in return! Suddenly, it seemed a great
gesture of patience that the four-braid hadn't stabbed him with it.
He had wasted a whole year of a warrior's life, and the guilt
weighed down hard on the young man's shoulders. Jalis knew he had laden shame
on himself, which would have been bearable, but as there had been a member
of another tribe involved, also on his whole tribe.
And that was something Jalis knew he couldn't life with. He just HAD to do
something, anything to get rid of this dishonor he had brought upon his tribe
by his blindness.
Looking down at the half-skinned rabbit he was still carrying in his hand, the young man wondered what Lenien was thinking right now. Did he hate him? Or merely think shamefully stupid?
Jalis' first instinct was to go and talk to Lenien, sort
things out, get a fresh start. But Lenien was gone. They had had twelve moons
of new starts each bloody single dawn, and he hadn't used one of them.
It simply was too late.
And yet, the shame demanded amends.
With a sudden resolve that sprung only from helplessness, Jalis decided he would follow Lenien. He would pack his belongings, saddle his horse and follow the four-braid into the open plain. Try and see if they could sort things out.
It was not much of a plan, Jalis knew, but at least something
to do. Better than to sit here and wait for the whole tribe's chatter and
stares to wear down on him.
And he wasn't good at making plans anyway, he added with a mental shrug as
he scrambled into the tent to roll up his blanket. That's why Kiria's gonna
have her fourth braid way before me. But I know that I have to do something,
and that that something includes talking to Lenien.
And the rest I will make up as it happens.
----
"Stop!", Jalis yelled out into the night, holding his bleeding wrist, admitting his defeat before things would get too serious. "I surrender! You've won."
"Nonsense." Deftly hauling the young warrior up onto his feet again, Lenien's grin was absolutely mirthless. "I am still winning!" And once more, the blond four-braid slammed his elbow into Jalis' face, hard enough to knock the massive warrior off his feet and make him tumble through the grass.
And this time, Jalis couldn't seem to find enough strength in him to stand up again. Things definitely had started bad this morning and had constantly taken a turn for the worse. The 'talks' with his former slave were not going as well as he had planned, in so far one could say he had planned anything at all.
Raising his head a little, Jalis could see Lenien stand a few steps away. The dancing lights of the nearby campfire painted wild spirits on the blond warrior's heaving chest, and for a heartbeat the three-braid wondered if he was going to die tonight.
Leaving his tribe had been neither as stealthy nor as painless as Jalis had hoped for, but he had coped. Finding a single warrior with his horse in the open plain wasn't easy, but Jalis had managed. But as soon as he had faced Lenien at his small fire at dusk, all the words he had thought of during the ride had deserted him.
There had been no swaying speech of sorrow and longing, no plea of a second chance if only to forgive, just an embarrassing, stammering display of stupidity.
How they had gotten into a fight, Jalis couldn't really put together afterwards, but then, it had felt like the only honorable solution to the mess this whole thing had become.
So they had fought. Harder than the last time a year ago, and it had been obvious Lenien didn't care if he gave Jalis bruises or broken bones. At the beginning, the young three-braid had thought he had deserved every single blow, but there is only a certain amount of beating each warrior can take until he starts hitting back. It had been a long and ugly fight, and both men were breathing hard and bleeding from several cuts and deep abrasions.
In the end, it had been Jalis, despite his superior strength and weight, who was lying in the grass, wondering what Lenien was about to do with him.
"Tell me, Jalis of the Spirit Oak Tribe, what am I to do with you now?", the blond Tinganjani finally asked, no emotion showing in his voice but slight contempt.
Instead of an answer, Jalis coughed up some bloodied slime, cringing as the pain in his chest told him that at least one of his ribs was partially broken.
"What under the sky did you think you'd achieve by riding after me?" Lenien knelt down next to Jalis to see if he was seriously hurt, but a swift look into the young man's clear eyes quickly dispersed his worries. "Did you think at all?"
Sitting up slowly not to enrage his protesting body any more than already the case, Jalis looked at his former slave. "Probably not."
"Thought so." Sighing deeply, Lenien walked over to the campfire, only to return a moment later with a waterskin in his hands. "Here", he said, handing the container to the man on the ground. "Drink."
Greedily swallowing the pure liquid, Jalis took his time before he let his thoughts wander back to the other warrior's initial question. What now? Shake hands and part ways?
Lenien was sitting on his heels, thoughtfully observing the other Tinganjani. When Jalis finally handed back the waterskin, the blond warrior nodded, saying: "Undress."
"Huh?" Lenien didn't look as if he wanted to get cuddly right now, and naturally, his order stunned Jalis' out of words.
"Get naked." Rising on his feet, the four-braid added: "I still have my last year's tunic. You can have that one. And I'll bring you a pouch for the pearls in your braids."
"What are you talking of?"
"Jalis, what could I be talking of? You challenged me, we fought, I won. I'll own you for a year and a day from now on, though I can't say I know if I'm happy about this or not."
He had challenged Lenien? Dimly, among the reddish haze of
fury, Jalis recalled something that might have been a challenge. And yes,
all the spirits, why not.
It only was proper to offer a year in exchange for a year.
"Thanks", Jalis said as Lenien returned from the camp with a simple skin tunic, the garb marking a man a slave for all of the tribes to see.
"For what?"
"For giving us a second chance."
Lenien blinked startled, then laughed dryly. "Jalis, 'us' is a fish long choked dead on the dry rocky riverbed that is your wits. I accepted your challenge as it was my duty to let you redeem your tribe's honor. And it felt good to beat the living guts out of you. Nothing else, and especially no 'us'. There really is nothing you should thank me for."
There truly was a constant downward tendency in the way things were going tonight.
"Oh, and Jalis? Hurry up. Dinner doesn't prepare itself."
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Osiris Brackhaus
go to PART 3