The Music of Thunder

and a dance with lightning

Tribe

Take me in into you darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
And when, when the night falls on you, baby
You feeling all alone
You won't be on your own
I’ll stand by you

Valuable

The lessons of what is of value to each individual as well as to different clans, tribes and cultures was going to be one that impacted hard and fast. Already having a taste of what these people outside of the plains valued I was beginning to see how it could lead to misunderstandings Thanks to a Paravaci and a Kataii, I was given a sneak peek at how to resolve a few issues that were about to stand straight up in my face.

Ayguili had given Tarra and I both a chain made of gold to take with us to trade for things that we needed. Tarra's was to be added to the stores of barter for the Tribe and the one I was given was to be traded for more personal items for those around us. Adding Grandmother's wool, Mother's woven articles and the talismans and charms I'd made, I felt sure we would be able to bring back what ever our hearts desired.

Since I was going with Tarra to the merchants rows any way, she invited me to sit in with her during talks of trade with the en' merchant of Turia. It seemed like a good opportunity to learn more of an adversary and I could not have been more right for all the wrong reasons. I am a straight forward speaking woman. I am Tuchuk and that is who and what we are so I had no problem stepping forward to ask of things that had not been mentioned. I know the relationship between our people is a volatile situation. There had been a great deal of work involved in setting up this meeting between two sworn enemies and recent raids by the Tuchuk on unsuspecting dwellers could not have made the tension any less. I did not know enough yet to be able to manipulate the discussions to our advantage as Tarra did so the admonishment from the city woman was well taken. She was right, I was not well versed enough in the eccentricities of barter .. yet. I was allowed to remain as long as I did so with respect and silence during the transactions between Tarra and Symira. I was learning quick what was important to the woman .. to the dwellers themselves and it was not necessarily the jewels, gold nor the salt we brought. There were subtle things beneath the surface that meant far more to them and I began smiling.

There had been an interruption of the talks as Tarra excused herself to see to something personal. The merchant was gracious enough to give her leave to see to it but that made two distractions of her thoughts since the beginning of the trade agreement. One could easily see it ruffling her momentum. She was chomping at the bit to make this whole deal work to the advantage of Turia. We of course had same thing in mind for the Tuchuk but the strikes were tallying against us. When Cana stopped by the tent while on her own excursion through the lanes, I afforded her a silent nod of greeting. As time spun through the quiet, it was the Ubara that spoke up. I know it was her intent to help but it incensed the Turian woman. The barter was already on the table and she would wait for Tarra to return. There is a relationship between she and our Haruspex that time and previous encounters have forged. It is a working atmosphere among them. Now it all hung perilously in the air because Cana did not know that the merchant was so tightly strung.

It all began to come apart when our Ubara spoke once more of things we had to offer and that a particular item .. one coveted by both of our cultures had already been acquired ... by a deal with a subordinate of the woman herself. There could not have been a more vicious insult as far as the merchant was concerned. It is the stuff wars are made of and I was watching the spiral implode upon itself faster than anyone could put it back together.

Do I stand against my Ubara when I say the merchant was tersely benevolent in letting her know that as far as trade she knew too little to be speaking on such matters? I'd had my bit of pride handed to me much the same at the beginning of all this but I was determined I would find what lie under it all ... the weakness of these adversaries .. the one thing that gave us advantage. There was so much tension in the clinch of her teeth as she did tell us that she would look into such a trade made without her knowing and if .. if indeed one of her merchants had done so without her awareness, without her approval there would be heads to roll. Feelings were getting hurt and sensibilities were being tweaked. Cana left without even bidding anyone farewell and the Turian woman became livid.

I closed my eyes for a moment waiting for the sound of the war drums, knowing we were not in the safety of our camps .. we were right smack dab in the middle surrounded by Turians. I found I do not like being in the middle of things I have no control over. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

I held on to the knowledge that Ayguili had sent two guards to come us, and I'd gotten a glimpse of two more he had trail not far behind. So that made .. what six against ...? Oh this was not looking good at all. We could take down maybe sixty or a hundred. I figured ten to one but I sure hoped the Calvary was not far behind.

It was. Tarra returned.

My respect for the elder Haruspex grew multi-fold when she returned to a far different environment than she left. Ascertaining quickly what had happened she took the brunt of the storm, even managing to finish the trade deal and soothe a few ruffled feathers. I knew too she would take responsibility when we returned to the Tribe without ever saying a word.

Somewhere in there a man stopped by the tent to say tal and I wondered why his presence, his greeting and curiosity of how things were going had not affected any of the merchant's disposition as ours had. She was quite gracious with him, actually. I would later learn the man was the Ubar of the Turians.

Oh, how very intriguing.

I can say that at the end of it all, it may have cost us more than what we would have bartered for the goods but I had learned something far more valuable to take with me. I would be allowed to return for the next trade talks between our cultures but I would come better armed. They on the other hand still had no idea what we as a people find of greatest value.

It wasn't coin. It wasn't jewels. I so looked forward to next time. I would make up for what we lost .. in items .. in pride and in knowing what driving force could wound easiest.

The Power of Love

A Tear And A Smile

I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.

A tear to purify my heart and give me understanding of life's secrets and hidden things. A smile to draw me high to the sons of my kind and to be a symbol of my glorification of the gods.

A tear to unite me with those of broken heart; a smile to be a sign of my joy in existence.

I would rather that I died in yearning and longing than that I lived weary and despairing.

I want the hunger for love and beauty to be in the depths of my spirit, for I have seen those who are satisfied the most wretched of people. I have heard the sigh of those in yearning and longing, and it is sweeter than the sweetest melody.

With evening's coming the flower folds her petals and sleeps, embracing her longing. At morning's approach she opens her lips to meet the sun's kiss.

The life of a flower is longing and fulfillment. A tear and a smile.

The waters of the sea become vapor and rise and come together and are a cloud. And the cloud floats above the hills and valleys until it meets the gentle breeze, then falls weeping to the fields and joins with the brooks and rivers to return to the sea, its home.

The life of clouds is a parting and a meeting. A tear and a smile.

And so does the spirit become separated from the greater spirit to move in the world of matter and pass as a cloud over the mountain of sorrow and the plains of joy to meet the breeze of death and return whence it came.

To the ocean of Love and Beauty --- to God.

Kahlil Gibran

For First Son of Trayu

One loose pin and ...

"I'll read your future for a silver tarsk?"
"And how much.. for a particularly good reading?"
"Four."

Cana and Tarra both had said we needed to learn how to haggle. We, meaning Yamka and I. None of us were particularly happy that a merchant had refused to trade her some beads she wanted for a very nice hide, not even for two. He had insisted that she give him a silver coin. Coins have no value among the Wagon People. You can't eat it, wear it, ride it or ... you get the idea. I grabbed my brother and we off for the market set up outside the Love Wars to practice a few of the things the women had taught me.

I was distracted for a while watching a troupe of half sized men do somersaults and stand on their heads on top of other half sized men's heads. There was redemption in watching the antics in that I made friends with a man with black skin and black eyes that was from a place called Anango. He shared a few tricks and illusions with me in exchange for a few I had learned from Enosh. Pacu was distracted by the dancing slaves that was part of the entertainment. Can't say as I blame him there .. but back to what we came there for in the first place? Oh yes now I remembered.

First thing I needed was to get some of those silver things so I could go get Yamka those beads. I was contemplating how to go about that when a woman grabbed my arm and suddenly stood back as if she had seen a spirit and the words rushed from her .. you ... you .. are one of those witches .. you can tell fortunes .. futures!

Well the sky loves me doesn't she? As a matter of fact I am and I can I shot Pacu a look that said be quiet or he would face that warrior and a whole bunch of misplaced scars. No, I had not let him off the hook yet. For a ... oh yes .. for a silver, I will tell your future and for hmmm ... three I will tell your fortune. She plunked one of those bright shiny disks in my hand and looked at me with all the childish expectancy that I was about to reveal something amasing and startling. So I shrugged and palmed th piece then leaned in to whisper against her ear so no one could hear this sensational secret .. Today .. I looked around to make sure no one else was close ... Silver for silver. Nodding there, I continued ... you will part with your coin but it will come back to you by way of ahhh love. Yes, yes .. a warrior. Run to the next one you see and show him your face and he will fall instantly in love with you. As we walked away Pacu told me that was not nice. I told him it served her right, silly dweller woman. I flipped the coin in my hand.

The next was a man that was yelling at this poor little old woman pushing a cart of root vegetables. Now we don't like roots but there was no need to treat her the way he was. He threw several coppers into the middle of the lane and told her that her wares were not worth even that and he would as soon throw them away as to give them to her. I walked right up to him and touched his arm. "I am a Haruspex of the Wagons People. Just for you ... for three of those coins in silver I can tell your fortune."

He had this scowled look that I thought at first was directed at me. It wasn't really. It was the expression on his face from so many envars of doing it that it had frozen that way. "You can?"

"Of course I can, let me see the three coins and they will tell the tale." He fished them from his pouch and held them out. The first one I touched and looked up.

"This one tells me you are a man of the world .. a learned man that has seen many things, been many places." You could see him puffing up and finding all kinds of pride in there. "Yes, yes I am. Go on .... go on." I touched the next coin and once more looked up at him.

"This one tells me that many women have yearned for you but you have never found one worthy of taking one as your own. You are not mated." He looked incredulous there and agreed. He was a single man to be sure. I smiled as I gathered all three of the coins in my hand this time and they disappeared as if by magic.

"What does the third one say?" He was eager now and his face seemed almost ready to crack beneath the strain of such a strange thing as a grin. He thought he was ready to hear all that I had to say now. There was just a lock of my gaze to his as I handed two of the silver coins to the old woman with the cart and smiled my most charming of smile.

"The third coin tells me that your parents were never mated either" Pacu dragged me away about as fast he could, making sure we both disappeared into the crowd. And all the while the man stood there staring and blinking, still not entirely registering in his teeny little brain that I had insulted his birth. My brother was growling beneath his breath, "You are going to get us into trouble." I just looked over my shoulder at him to reply, "That is what you are here for isn't it? To keep us out of trouble?" We obviously had different interpretations of how this was supposed to work.

We ended up working things out, I would tell fortunes as people passed by and he got to ogle slave girls.The same phrase repeated over and over .. "You will lose coin to a mysterious woman." Those silver things were beginning to fill my pouch. Everyting was going quite well until I noticed cages lined along a lane of vendors. Cages of jits .. dozens of sweet adorable little jits like my Imke .. all walled in and confined. I set off running and snatching open the locks and standing there with my skirt shooing them to freedom before I opened another.

The market came alive with the screeching of jits and of free women and the sounds of yelling and the barking of sleens and guards as well as the squawk of exotic birds from far away places that were lined up next to the jits. I had just opened the third cage when I felt a hand grasp my arm harshly and I was about to spin around on Pacu and give him a what for, for hurting me that way. It wasn't Pacu. It was a uniformed scribe from inside the walls, a magistrate from what he was telling me and he was taking me inside ... The Walls.

I tried calling for Pacu but he was entranced by this wisp of a thing clad in diaphonous materials that left little to the imagination. She had almond shaped eyes from what I could see of her, all draped up on his chest and beginning to slither her way down.

I was on my own. I cried out .." Wait .. wait my skirt is stuck!" I got a good handful of my hem and started backing up until I leaned against the wheel of a cart. I bent down and used my skirt to cover the pin on the wheel axle and began tugging hard. Every time the magistrate said I had to come with him, I worked at the pin a bit more furiously.

"I can't! I am caught on the cart." When it finally popped loose, my elbow rose high enough to hit the brake bar. I hobbled along next to the man feigning a hurt ankle, at least as far as the back of the cart before I leaned against it. Dweller men are so weak willed and considerate. He let me have that ehn. It was all I needed. My weight on the small cart set it to rolling down the rows of merchants until the wheel finally gave and it toppled over into the midst of by-standers, jits and still screeching robed free women.

By now all this had gotten Pacu's attention. So magnanimous of him to drag himself away from the sultry luxuries of the slave to save me. He forged our way through the crowds but insisted this time that it was time to go back to camp. He wasn't listening when I told him there were still two more cages of Imkes back there.

"Come on Pacu, you can look at dancing slaves some more."

"NO!"

My only compensation was the last glimpse back the way we had came and see the area covered with the furry little loved ones, all happy as can be ... and free.

What would you do for Love?

The things that we all do for love
We compromise it just because
We want the best that love has got to give
The that that I will do for love
Is basically I'd make it all with you
This is what I'd do
Tell me
What would you do?
Would you send me roses?
Would you send me kisses?
Would you send me your love?
Or would you bring it to me?
Nona Gaye

Within the harigga, we are used to patrols that prevent strangers from wandering up to our fires. It is a margin of safety we take for granted. At the Love War's camp it is different. There is a time of peace between the four tribes of the wagons peoples and between them and Turia. This does not automatically alleviate the hatreds, the prejudices or the defensiveness we feel upon the wandering of strangers to our fires. At the same time there was this curiosity to meet some of them and see what they were made of, to probe what is inside their heads and their hearts. I would take this opportunity to learn more of the enemies of my own people .. get to know a few or at least the few that braved walking to our inner circles.

Today that was to be a woman of the Kataii, who was to stand at the stakes and a Paravaci warrior named Kwan Ti Timujin. There was something I liked about Naala from the first moment I met her. It may have been how she handled one of our own women who was to stand at the stakes. Naala carved up up in to little pieces armed only with words of When the tuchuk woman said that all they had been raised for was to be the whim of the warrior's that won them, they were freed or enslaved as simple as that. The Kataii woman disagreed very quickly that no, it was far more than that. That they were to do what other women could not, they were groomed to aid their warriors in proving themselves. To their own Tribe, to the whole of the Nations of the Wagons. To Turia. The warriors fought for "them" and for their honor and for pride. For our honor and our pride. Her words swelled inside me and I found greater purpose of being a part of it all. There are many things in our lives we learn we have to accept. It is how we handle that acceptance or even denial that makes us who we are inside. The Paravaci walked up about that time adding his cup full to the barrel of opinions. "Any chance to tweak the nose of a Turian ... "

Like I said it is not easy to put away prejudices even for a tradition, I was reaching for my quiva instinctively. He said he had more important things to do than to steal women. I am a woman of caution but I greeted the man then shrugged while I let my hand ease away. "Maybe I was protecting the chocolates" Naala gave him reason for our tensing with his presence. Paravaci have stolen women before, Kataii women to be precise. I couldn't remember our losing any Tuchuk women in my lifetime but then I am young and still don't know a lot of histories yet. I merely added that I was spoken for, like that was going to matter to a marauder. Didn't say by whom, that would be name dropping wouldn't it? There may just be a few perks to liking that warrior of mine. I was far more content to sit back and listen as the woman and the man spoke.

He wanted to know which woman of the Kataii she was referring to and thus began the tale of a young beautiful woman with satiny chocolate skin and silky hair. The Paravaci warrior had caught sight of her and known he wanted her for his own. He loved her with a passion from that first sighting and sent many bosks to her father .. bosks whose horns dripped with riches of jewels and gold as a payment for her. Each offering was sent back ... a refusal. The warrior had waited and watched, planning and plotting until the time was right. There are tales told in two Tribes of the warrior and the maiden .. one that laments the loss of a favored daughter .. the other that hails the courage of a determined warrior. He was crafty and cunning, when the Kataii riders were in just the right position he rode in like the wind to capture the girl and rode away with her like a thundering cloud. There had been more Paravaci laying in wait to drive the Kataii back, but the woman Lisin was gone.

Naala had witnessed the abduction when she was just a girl but it had stayed fresh in her memories. She had told the story a thousand times but still you could see her heart race, feel the excitement and smell the fear in the air as she told it again. The woman had been friend of her family, she had been friend and a sister of her tribe. She had kept her alive with hope that one day she would see her again. She said she had heard rumor Lisin was still among the warrior's tribe and I think maybe she was hoping to be given word ... some small gleam of chance that she was still alive.

Kwan's expression changed as he sat back chuckling. He nodded that he knew of the woman Naala had spoken about. There was this quiet smile and a light in his eyes when he told her the woman was still among his people. In fact their son was fifteen turnings now. He had been the daring warrior that faced the wrath of the Kataii nation for the woman he loved. He told us that it had not been easy on Lisin. She had faced the hardships of adjustments. She was treated as an outcast and had born the disgust and cruelty of the Paravaci women but had stood strong and earned not only her freedom but a place among the Tribe. In the beginning the Kataii woman had thought he was insane, that he had taken her on a whim as just a prize to be shown off. It had taken him time to make her understand that it was because he had loved her. In the end, he had taken her as his mate and the two had made a life together ... raised a family together.

He was a story of love and I asked his permission to be able to tell my children of him and his woman. He granted me this and told us that his son would fight in the next Love Wars. He hoped that he would find a woman that he would love as much as Kwan loved his mother.

I found something in the woman as well that touched my own sense of honor, courage and pride, I was pleased to have made friends with her.

There was a moment where we met on the plains of a Thousands Stakes ... a Paravaci Hunter, a Kataii Story teller and a Tuchuk Haruspex.

All the songs unsung

No one knows what it's like to be the bad man
To be the sad man behind these eyes
No one knows what it's like
To be hated, to be fated to telling only lies
But my dreams, they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance that's never free

The carved dagger sat in my lap for a long time while my fingers traced the images. I knew them by heart now even if I did not understand what each one meant. They were memories. Not my memories but my Father's. I'd been unable to let it go, to turn it loose. It wasn't mine to keep, it belonged to Fonce. They were his memories too. Finally I wrapped it up in a silk scarf along with a sheath I had found at the trades. I didn't barter for anything else that day, just that one item then returned to the camp violently ill for a few ahns. I was going to blame it all on a merchant with meat sticks. It would be my story and I would stick to it vehemently.

Is there a special way for a woman to send the men she loves off to face their deaths? Is there a writ list that says do this first then this but do not ... repeat do not do this or this? For the women that have their taste of seeing the ash gray radiance of her loved ones pallor, bathed his skin with oils and begun to wrap him for the blaze that will take him to the sky, is there a balm that soothes the emptiness or the hollow ache left behind of his absence? Is it any different for a daughter, or a mate or a mother? How is she supposed to look into the face of a warrior she loves knowing he risks his life and not envision what could happen?

Two men in my life would face the battlefield of the games. Two men would stand at the first of the stakes to defend the name of the Tribe in this ritual war of love. It is an honor for them both to stand against the first of one thousand lances jutted into the ground. It is an honor for the families of the warriors, the women at risk chained to them. One would be set free, one would face new life among sworn enemies. It is an honor Mezoo, remember that! Remember when it hurts just to look in their faces, make sure you smile and wish them the will of the sky and bosk luck ... knowing they may ... not ... return.

I had promised Fonce I would share good news with him so I gathered the dagger and the sheath and all my feelings of pride and happiness for the future to lay in his lap, to spread at his feet. We spoke a little about the memories Father had carved into the knife and how I longed one day to hear the song sung for him and for Trayu and the men that went with them. All of my hopes lay right there in my hands held out ... waiting to hear that it would be so, that as his best friend, Fonce would make sure that it was to be, that he would rage to the sky to know why it had not already happened. But that was not the answer he gave. "There .. are no songs of that event." On the inside I was screaming at him, demanding him to make it right, to love me enough to see to this, to love my Father enough to demand the honor he deserved. He changed the subject.

"Thank you for this, Mezoo. It is something I will treasure for all the times we shared, all the memories kept alive as it should be." What was there to say? How was I to answer his defiant silence of my Father? I simply said, I was pleased he finally had it now.

There was nothing else I could find words for, so I told him what I had come to tell him, that Ayg had mentioned a future together. I handed him that good news all wrapped up in a soft smile the way I had wrapped the dagger and handed this to him too. He didn't fill with rage and stand swearing at the sky with lance in hand that no man not even a Ubar was good enough for his little girl. He didn't vow to wipe him from the face of the plains and leave a red puddle behind when he was through with him. Fonce didn't look at me with fire in his eyes and in his heart and tell me there was no bride price ever ... ever going to be high enough for the man to pay.

He didn't say or do any of those things.

He wasn't my Father.

He just nodded and told me that he was pleased and that he had suspected as much. He knew? No, he clarified in a Fonce kind of way ... he had suspected but it was good to know. His next words had been spoken between us before in another quiet conversation. He envied that Ayg seemed to know from the very beginning what he wanted and had set his mind and his course of actions to achieve what he wanted. I suppose I can understand that point of view. It was all very thrilling and exciting and peaceful and ... unnerving all at the same time for me. All of my own unsurities were lain there for him to help me understand, to help me see. Not everyone would be pleased. There were always going to be people who attempt to find some identity in the happiness of others. I know he meant well but that did nothing to wrap around the apprehensions of all I knew I was to face. Ayguili was not simply another warrior.

Maybe I was glad when he changed the subject this time to Grandmother and Mother and his finding gifts for them. We don't often give warriors credit for the little things they do and the efforts they put into trying to find ways to make us happy. I wasn't giving him credit for his effort with my family and in the end didn't give him enough credit for trying to be there for me. It was a trade though wasn't it? I was trying in my own naive way to be there for him and it just wasn't meshing the way I had these glorious ideas that it would. None of it was.

In the midst of the small talk that meant nothing and meant everything too, I looked up.

Fonce?

Yes?

You are getting better at this father figure thing.

He couldn't take a compliment as just being something someone said nice about him. He had to know what I meant, specifically. Fonce and I and ... specifics do not mix well together. Stepping in and seeing to the things Father used to, not just the essentials but the times like these .. just talking. Sky, I was trying here ... couldn't he see that?? "Perhaps people are just getting better at recognizing those things in me though I do not think I am much like a grandfather." I didn't ask what he meant by that or where it came from, I just told him I would try harder ... on the recognizing part that is but he didn't have enough wrinkles and his hair wasn't gray and was no where near grouchy enough yet to be thought a grandfather.

I was sitting there not knowing what to say to a man that was going off to face his possible death. Making light of it was not what was needed, being serious was not what was right to do, changing subject or bull charging right into the face of it wasn't it either. If there were more that we wanted to say, needed to say, it never came. Perhaps it never would.

By the same token, I could not speak to Ayguili at all. I didn't search for him. All that he would have of me would be the memory of our last moments together ... laughing, making plans for the future and feeling loved. I was a coward and didn't want him to see that I could not bear losing him.

Late that night, I would stand with my fist raised in the air and defy the sky to take either one of them from me. I would not soon sing the songs for them and I believed with all my heart that she would hear me.

Magic

i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart
i am never without it
anywhere i go you go, my dear;
and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,
my darling i fear no fate
for you are my fate, my sweet
i want no world
for beautiful you are my world,
my true and it's you are
whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing
is you
here is the deepest secret
nobody knows
here is the root of the root
and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky
of a tree called life;
which grows higher than soul can hope
or mind can hide
and this is the wonder
that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart
i carry it in my heart
e.e. cummings

It is very different sitting at the Ubar's fires than sitting at Grandmother's. I mean there is a fire for light and one for cooking and furs scattered about at both but at his there is constant movement. Slaves to see to the serving and stoking of the flames, A guard always present even when they are not visibly seen being present, commands come and go to deliver reports of the perimeters and the ever incoming things that people bring to share such as a roast tabuk or a basket of nuts or berries because he has seen to a need when they could not. And the slaves see it all whisked away and sent to the back wagons where someone has a need.

Never takes much for us to shut out the rest of the world and for it to feel as if we are the only inhabitants in a lush gardened Eden. While a red headed slave hovered along the edges bringing drinks and proffering a bounty of meats and cheeses, he slipped his arm around my back and settled us in on the fur. Our romantic little talks are often not very romantic at all by some standards. I began asking him about the Love Wars. Had he been there many times to the games, to the walled places? I didn't need sweet nothings from him, I wanted the thoughts that made him who he was, all of the little things and big things that sculpted and formed the man and the mind. I cannot tell you how many times we speak at the same time, not always the same thing but I defer and let him continue because I want to absorb more of what he was saying. He gave my question thought and began to tell me a bit of his past, the parts where he was near or within the walls. He'd been to both over time but the games had been when he was younger .. before he could participate.

There was chance to share with him that Father spoke of a girl he had seen at the Love Wars but then he never spoke of her again after that. Ayg's curiosity wanted to know if he had fought for her. I could not tell him. Father had never said but she had somehow lingered in his thoughts. The times Ayg was in the city was not always good ones. I could see it in his expression and feel it in the static of the air around us. It was not to press a sore point but to know what lie within that scar that he shared a little with me. The cities are not a place for him. He knew of some that that flourished there. He was not one of them. He is happiest here on the plains, in the open places with his people. I have heard many speak of their times there. That same winsome longing in their voice, in their inner voices with the barest of thought being away from the Harigga. It is always present, always very loud like the lonesome winter wind whistling through the canyons trying to find warmth.

I have no want to go there. It has no lure for me. Leave it to a man to envision a woman with and perhaps without their clothing. He laughed at the very idea of seeing me in the mass of robes the dweller women wear and could not see ... how did he put that .. my beautiful face hidden beneath veils. I was already shaking my head and my hand was rising to my face.It never crossed my mind to see myself in that world but the sight was of being out among the verr with all those contraptions on. The heavy garments would not last long in the herds and wearing a wind scarf was more than enough for me. He was explaining how there was far worse, they slept in walled chambers where they could not see the sky above them, the stars, the moons. Without thinking I was clawing at the fabrics that in my mind were suffocating me trying to be rid of them and on the other hand talons were forming on his arm, biting deep with the pain of even thinking of being so confined. I was ready to rise and flee. I was shaking. I could not breathe. What a horror! I could not do that. His hand eased over mine with such soothing. Ours was the best life, he said. We owned the plains, all of it as far as the eye can see and more. We go where we wish, we do what we want. "They" do not feel safe unless they are behind their walls. I managed to whisper what weak things they must be. It was all they knew, he told me and most did not want to know anything else. It was their security. His soft way of talking to me, the caress of my back and my hand were calming. His reassurance that it was not a world I had to live in, let me take a deep breath. The depth of the emotions rasped over my tongue when I told him to let them have their places of comfort until it is time to drive them from our lands then we could raze the stones and scatter them.

We needed change of topic and we both knew it. I was passionate about how I felt about confined places. There are some that think I have no fears but he had touched upon one and now knew the depth of how frightening, how horrifying it was to me. Kaeli had never understood that her insistence I see and experience these places, that she had driven me to a fine lined edge. It was as far as I could allow him to glimpse inside that nightmare, one no know else knew of. I pulled the flap over my curio of weakness by asking him what he had asked of me several hands ago.

"Tell me something that brings you joy." He never blinked or hesitated when he began to tell me that the very first rays of the morning chased away the night and they lit the sky with the brilliant colors of the dawn. By same breath in the evening the central fire starts to give way to the night sky and says farewell with the same colors. That was what gave him joy. So much of what held great importance to me ... great meaning to me, he had this way of painting on my thoughts when he spoke of them. The dusk catches my eye and no matter where I am, I stop and watch it as it spreads over the plains. For a little while we traded visions of our joys. I could list them all but then everything we feel on the inside would be exposed and some things I will hold just for us. There were places we promised each other to go and time ... we offered the other something more precious than gold or all of the finery's in the world. We vowed ... time. Time for one another. While he listened to the places and things I relished as well he leaned in closer.

"Do I sense adventure in you little spex?"

I grinned.

"Do you think you can keep up, warrior?"

It would have been harder to keep me from seeking new things in life among the plains than it would be to hold back a charging bosk. I would not recommend trying either one. Closer still he moved until his lips were so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath, I could have tasted them with one deep breath. He whispered against them. He thought he could ... and maybe, he could show me things that would bring my heart to my throat. Did he mean like now? The way I was almost trembling inside and my cheeks feeling flushed enough not to need kindling to start a fire? There was only one thing to say to that. I would show him some in return. It was an altogether different breath he blew as he sat back and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you hungry?" Well now I was and we were not going to mince around words in puns there. We both took another deep breath and shifted on that fur.

Soooo ... how are your studies coming along. Nice diversion. Yes, Mezoo, focus on lizards and eyeballs for a moment won't you? I was learning to walk with what was around me, not as easily done as it is to say. And .. I am getting better at letting every one's emotions shift around me than to hear and feel everyone at once. he was looking for a bit of insight from an outer point of view on how to handle some of that influx, wanting to understand me .. to understand still what had happened on a night at the stream together. That was why I trained, to learn how to control it, when to let it in and when to block right? No, not to control but to understand and flow with it all. Like I was with him that night? So I am not carried away against the current. I ended up confiding that was more like a fallen limb across the current than being part of it. That was that why I fainted. It wasn't a question he asked that time but carrying on the thought that made more sense to him. I held his hand tight as I explained that, that night, he became a part of me. Was that such a bad thing? Because since that night he had felt that I was part of him too, an important part ... one he didn't want to lose. I know he was pouring out his heart to me but I needed him to understand that connection was going to be there whether there was any "us" or not. See, even the sky could not change that now.

I felt like he did though. I look for him in the herds or along the wagon lanes.I see something wonderful or new and I turn to tell him about it as if he is standing right there beside me .. like he can see it too. I am disappointed when I don't get to see him but it is not like some. I do not feel as if my chest will cave in and I can not breathe. Instead I smile and think of when I will have the next chance.

He was kissing my fingers and murmured against them ... yes, like finding a part of him that has been missing. He kissed my palm and I rested it against his chest. What he spoke was more than delicate phrases a man lures a woman with. They were words that came from places deep inside him and there was only one sound .. the vibration of his heart as it found the world outside and was rejoicing at the freedoms.

I tried to warn him there were perils to liking a Haruspex but he silenced it with a touch of his lips against mine. It wasn't one of fiery passions, like I would know the difference but in some way deep within me I did. It held promise. It was sweet and tender and filled to the brim with loving gentleness. I knew I was surrendering to feelings I had just in this very moment realized I possessed. It was not enough intoxication so that when he broke the lingering enough to look deep in my eyes and whisper that he would face all of those perils willingly I sought more by the touch of my lips to his once again. He had kept a promise hadn't he? He had made my heart leap to my throat. He had taken my breath away and it all had an addicting quality to it.

His hand drew mine to his chest and there I heard an echo of pounding that felt like the same drum roll I felt in my own. "You do that. You make my heart sing" I could only swallow several times and this mist began to form on my lashes. If we had been standing I know for a fact one boot would have risen in the air and tucked behind the calf of the other. It was like floating on air. That is the sound and feel of joy. Yes .. yes it is.

I was oh so in control of myself there so I reached over and picked up one of the bowls to ease the flame in my parched throat. It just wasn't my bowl. It was his bowl of blackwine and I coughed and almost snorted it out my nose. Very appealing image there, you know. He said as a Haruspex, he would have thought I'd know which was which. Then we were laughing again until our sides hurt. He said he could tell there will always be laughter between us, along with tears perhaps but as long as they were shared everything was going to be just fine. Yes, we were going to share all of them ... hopes and sadness ...

And dreams.

For that one moment I looked at him surprised that he had said that. He continued in telling me it might be a bit odd and a bit sudden but did I dream of children? As in when I am sleeping, did I dream of them? That has an interpretation all of its own. Or seeing them as a want for the future? For the future, he said. I smiled as I told him that I would like a family .. to raise sons and daughters and to live long enough to watch them raise their own. I would like to see the line of my blood for as many generations as the sky will allow me. It was tentative there when I asked ..

"You"?

He wanted children too, sons and daughters but he was in no rush. He wanted them for the same reasons, the joy of watching them grow, seeing them become young warriors and young women. He wanted to sit on his platform when he was old and gray and hold my hand and point to them and to their children, and their children's children and tell me they were our legacy. Not any deeds they had done but that they were ours children.

I touched my hand to my mouth and bent my head as the wealth of emotions flooded through me and began to spill over. My cheeks were growing damp and my breath hitched deep in my chest making him lean in with concern and an insistent wanting to know if there was something wrong, if he had said something wrong. I was shaking my head back and forth too choked up to be able to answer at first. When I lifted that shimmer of tears up to him, I could feel the glow in my eyes of so much happiness I had no idea what to do with it all.

"Mezoo, we could dance around this forever but I don't want to."

"I love you."

My hands rose to touch his cheeks, to draw him to me, to seal those words right there at their source, to inhale them as part of me just as he had so much become. It all said he was not going anywhere and neither was I. I'd grown to relish this being part of him, the excitement of asking him so much more and even more than that. I loved him .. oh how I had grown to love him. I wanted to see the future with him and everything that it would bring.

It took every bit of control we both had to freeze that moment from any forward momentum. We were so lost in it, so lost in each other than it took an act of will just for me to rest my temple in the hollow of his neck and listen to the wild beat of his heart there. I could feel the coiled tension of his own hard fierce bridling. I could hear his breath as it rumbled in his throat. We would not rush this, we would take our time, if we could. He would spend more time with Grandmother, he'd tend verr all season if he had to just to get her approval. His words were like a warm summer's rain to a parched soil. He intended to make me his .. he planned on building a life around me. My promise in return was I would be there, I would be there through it all. Know it.

He was already beginning to laugh again when I looked up. He added .. if ... Pacu and Fonce did not kill him. Here was where that fair part comes in. With a straight face and all of the seriousness I could muster I told him that before he he could cross the flap of my wagon, I would have something from him. He was going to sing to me. Didn't have to be in front of anyone else, just to me and he didn't have to carry a tune or even know all the words. Wait! He had already had ... earlier today, hadn't he? We were laughing that rich hardy kind of laugh that is good for the body and good for the soul. He made me a promise he would sing to me if I promised not to laugh. Through the bubbling fits of joviality I tried to find some composure only to break up again. What if I laughed? He said then he would laugh right along with me. And we did.

It was all so easy and light that I felt lighter than air and could have taken his hand and found flight. He walked me back to Grandmother's wagons making new plans to spend time together, getting ready and then we would spend the rest of our lives together. We were humming a song and holding hands and feeling as if we owned the plains together all the way up to the walled city of Ar. For us it had simply been a night of magic and the most important part of it all was being together and finding laughter. Was there anything more magically than that?

Just before we got there I tugged his hand and told him quietly, "Don't fall for the gresp hunting routine where Grandmother leads you out along the gully and you hold the sack while she chases a gresp to you."

"What in the sky is a gresp"!?!?

"Doesn't matter .. it is not going to come running into your sack."

"Ok, no gresp hunting then."

Bravest of Hearts

“Heaven bent to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight”
Sarah McLachlan

When my family was told we were to be part of a contingent going to the Love Wars, there was never question that we would go. It was an honor. By the very nature of how we live, we were ready for the approach to the walled city within a day or so. We pass close to Turia upon our treks north, letting them see the might and vastness of our Tribe, so why would we not be fond of an extra display? This small showing would be grand in its own right. It was an opportunity to be right in their faces and serve them up a taste of Tuchuk.

Grandmother had chosen a few of her verr to take along with us. Perhaps she could trade for things we could not come by so easily. Pretty, dainty things maybe, that do not often survive the journey across the plains by caravan or neglected by the merchants when they visit. It may be something as simple as a gift for a loved one or as common as chocolates. What ever it was she may want to barter for then she would have her several hundred head of verr to use as collateral.

I, however, had much on my mind as I walked along the edge of them to keep any from straying. There is no secret that the first stake of Love Wars is a test of strength and courage between Ubars. I had a vested interest in this year's game. I liked the idea one of those warriors being more victorious than the other. A lot more.

It was Grandmother that saw him first when this wild streak of taking his life into his own hands got the better of him and he charged his kaiila alongside us .. his hand stretched down over the side of his mount as he neared. Couldn't save it for the Turians, it seemed, so he would test his skills against someone far more skilled and fierce ... my Grandmother.

I looked to her and she gave me that .. now don't you be foolish girl .. look, then ...

I looked to that handsome scarred face and the over sized grin he had.

I looked back at her with a matching smile and held my hand up.

Forgive me Grandmother, I love you but fair was fair. This was an offer of a ride for one previous. Not even her arch of brow nor the scowled threat of thunder in her expression had been any deterrence. I caught his hand and he swung me up into the saddle behind him. Smart man that he is, he kicked the stirrups hard enough to provide distance between us and that wave of her staff in our direction. Yeah, we knew we were going to be in trouble when we got back. Sometimes you just have to live dangerously.

To keep from toppling off the back, I locked my arms around his waist. He smelled nice, like leather and the fragrance of the sun and dirt. I liked it. The wind snatched my greeting, leaving it trailing behind us somewhere behind us, "Is this any way to treat a spex"? He quipped very quickly, "Why would a spex expect any better treatment than a Ubar"? I could feel his laughter vibrate against my chest. It was a warm wonderful feeling, the kind you want to last and last. It was all followed by a warning to hold on and being the good Tuchuk that I was ... I did ... tightly. Good thing. Being wound out for speed is a thrill regardless of how you get there ... but someone should always warn you of those sudden stops. I ended up all kinds of close and personal when he pulled the reins to skid us to a halt next to Sev and Fonce. I think Ayguili did it on purpose. Wily Tuchuk. I had to shift from behind his back all pink cheeked to speak to the others. Probably because he was bragging about what he had found walking among the verr. He said he might even have to change his opinions of the fuzzy little beasts.

We were laughing.

We were all laughing in the face of what would come of the Games .. of the blood bath that would wet the ground at the Plains of a thousand stakes.

From the rise on the back of his saddle, I could sit a little higher, see a little further and was not one to miss an opportunity. Then just because I could, I ducked my head around his arm to see his expressions too. That was when he leaned and kissed my cheek. Right there in front of everybody! Now if looks could ... I opened my mouth and my eyes went wide right before my elbow nudged his side. Not the true love pat that would leave a bruise but deep enough to get a grunt. It all ended with a smile before I spun around to find Cana. I was quite proud of my accomplishment and motioned to the warrior that had given me a ride.

"I caught a verr herder k'napper."

While I was glancing back I did try to see if Grandmother had caught up with us.

"Are we in trouble, yet"?

Not yet but she could still be headed this way.

There was thrill and excitement in the air and dread and complacency. The banter had an edge to it. We were talking about venturing into the midst of the Turians, you know.

"I am interested in the spices for one thing, and maybe finding some sweets for the children."

"More than anything I like to watch the people, I find them extremely funny and interesting."

"I don't like shopping."

"I don't like Turians."

Everyone had an opinion.

I'm curious about the people a little but maybe I could find something for Mother. Ayg asked me what I thought she would like? Something woven .. all uneven and rough textured perhaps so she can boast how hers is far superior and maybe something pretty for her wagon. See? Turians did have a purpose after all.

I bet we can find that. What kind of pretty. Pretty like in one of those rug things that hangs up, or a rug that goes on the floor? Something like that? I was listening to him as he ran through this maze of things that maybe, just maybe Mother might like. And of course, it will have to match. Was he being soft? Not at all, it was probably the most courageous battle a man could ever wage. I'd noticed his socks didn't even match. He was trying and that said a lot right there.

"Been a long time since I have shopped with a woman." Been a long time for me too .. oh wait I have never been.

"We are going shopping", I spun around on the back of the saddle to tell Tarra when she arrived. I had no clue really what that meant but it seemed exciting just listening. "You will come too." Might as well share the adventure with my family and friends. She was just so overjoyed wih emotion that all she could do was mutter beneath her breath. The only part of it all I heard was "like" and "shopping". Well there you go, I made her day.

Every Tuchuk needs to know how to haggle. If not, those Turians will steal you blind. Heard that from my Father many times before Ayg said it. Everyone there agree whole heartedly. Must be true.

Cana's son Also was walking next to Lei with that soft kind of look a warrior can get when he sort of likes a female. Doesn't matter what age they are, the look is much the same. It is a little boy look in a man's body, that need to protect, the want to find communication, the fear of not being all they can be, the determination to give it their best try and the hope .. yes that is what shines brightest on the faces ... the hope that whatever it is they have to offer will be enough. We were picking on the warrior about his nephew being mated before he would be. Cana was anyway. I was just sitting there smiling and listening and observing and soaking up how delightful it felt to be right where I was, right when I was. I patted his back all reassuringly and told him that it would be alright, we would find someone for him before he got all gray and wrinkled. Now the tone of his voice was all playful and teasing but that look in his eyes when he turned around was .. not. "Woman, do not tempt me." When he turned around he was whistling.

It was concern for Cana that brought everyone's attention around. We all knew she had not been herself lately. The fatigued dimmed her eyes and darkened the crescents beneath them. She had drifted off to sleep in the saddle. He continued to whistle maybe to help her have some peace. The melody not all too familiar to me but I was taking it in and half humming the parts of the chorus where it repeated. The light tune had done its magic but on the wrong one. I ended up resting my cheek against Ayg's shoulder. While the two spoke I may have been watching the wagons or the bosk or I might have dozed. I, however, cannot fault her for doing what I might just done.
I'm not telling but I felt his fingers caress over the back of mine where they still pressed against his chest holding him against me.

"We will be stopping soon. Do you think we can get by with you having dinner at the mani fires tonight?" There was all these emotions all pent up in one place squeezing together so they could find vent in some form or another and there I was with this death grip on them only able to hold them back enough to find a little bit of voice. I would ask. Mother usually shoos me forward to the first fires and Grandmother tends to keep me busy. Add the fact that I had skipped a day of verr herding to go off with this warrior that let his wild streak loose and taken his life in his own hands to see to that. It was a toss up. He felt like we needed to find something really nice for Mother. I almost laughed. He said besides .. he liked her. They both think he is a nice boy, except for that whole late night at the wagons thing.

You would have thought that was a compliment when I told him but he looked almost wounded. Boy? They thought he was a nice boy? Well, yes. Didn't I just say that? Men can be so ... so .. aggravating and lovable all at the same time, can't they? He laid his head back and just roared with laughter. All that speed earlier had not threatened to dislodge me from my fit in the saddle behind him but the lust of his laughter certainly did. It is infectious .. his laughing is. I ended up laughing with him even when he lifted my hand with his to wipe the tears from it all off the scars on his cheek.

He sent a messenger to tell Mother and Grandmother I would be at his fires that evening and even the messenger who had no idea what or why his commander couldn't say it all at one breath because he was still laughing so hard ... began laughing. Good, because I did not envy him delivering that bit of news to Grandmother. As we rode back through the lanes of the camp, Ayg would break into a new fit of merriment tellng everyone we passed ..

"And I nice boy!"

Games of the Plains

The Wagon Peoples, though enemies of Turia, needed and wanted her goods, in particular materials of metal and cloth, which are highly prized among the Wagons. Indeed, even the chains and collars of slave girls, worn often by captive Wagon People's girls themselves, are of Turian origin. The Turians, on the other hand, take factor or trade in trade for their goods obtained with other cities principally the horn and hide of the bosk, which naturally the Wagon Peoples, who live on the bosk, have in plenty. The Turians also receive other goods from the Wagon Peoples, who tend to be fond of the raid, goods looted from caravans perhaps a thousand pasangs from the herds, indeed some of them even on the way to and from Turia itself. From these raids the Wagon Peoples obtain a miscellany of goods which they are willing to barter to the Turians, jewels, precious metals, spices, colored table salts, harnesses and saddles for the ponderous tharlarion, furs of small river animals, tools for the field, scholarly scrolls, inks and papers, root vegetables, dried fish, powdered medicines, ointments, perfume and women. Customarily the plainer ones they do not wish to keep for themselves; prettier wenches, to their dismay, are usually kept with the wagons; some of the plainer women are sold for as little as a brass cup. A really beautiful girl, particularly if of free birth and high caste, might bring as much as forty pieces of gold; such are, however, seldom sold. The Wagon Peoples enjoy being served by civilized slaves of great beauty and high station; during the day, in the heat and dust, such girls will care for the wagon bosk and gather fuel for the dung fires; at night they will please their masters. The Wagon Peoples sometimes are also willing to barter silks to the Turians, but commonly they keep these for their own slave girls, who wear them in the secrecy of the wagons. Free women, incidentally, among the Wagon Peoples are not permitted to wear silk. It is claimed by those of the Wagons, delightfully I think, that any woman who loves the feel of silk on her body is, in the secrecy of her heart and blood, a slave girl, whether or not some master has yet forced her to don the collar. It might be added that there are two items which the Wagon Peoples will not sell or trade to Turia, one is a living bosk and the other is a girl from the city itself, though the latter are sometimes, for the sport of the young men, allowed, as it is said, to run for the city. They are then hunted from the back of the kaiila with bole and thongs.

There were perhaps negotiations to be conducted, perhaps having to do with what were called the games of Love War, or perhaps having to do with trade. I had learned, to my surprise, that trade did occasionally take place with Turia.

The institution of Love War is an ancient one among the Turians and the Wagon Peoples, according to the Year Keepers antedating even the Omen Year. The games of Love War, of course, are celebrated every spring between, 80 to speak, the city and the plains, whereas the Omen Year occurs only every tenth year. The games of Love War, in themselves, do not constitute a gathering of the Wagon Peoples, for normally the herds and the free women of the peoples do not approach one another at these times; only certain delegations of warriors, usually about two hundred from a people, are sent in the spring to the Plains of a Thousand Stakes. The theoretical justification of the games of Love War, from the Turian point of view, is that they provide an excellent arena in which to demonstrate the fierceness and prowess of Turian warriors, thus perhaps intimidating or, at the very least, encouraging the often overbold warriors of the Wagon Peoples to be wary of Turian steel. The secret justification, I suspect, however, is that the Turian warrior is fond of meeting the enemy and acquiring his women, particularly should they be striking little beasts, like Hereena of the First Wagon. As untamed and savage as they are beautiful; it is regarded as a great sport among Turian warriors to collar such a wench and force her to exchange riding leather for the bells and silks of a perfumed slave girl. It might also be mentioned that the Turian warrior, in his opinion, too seldom encounters the warrior of the Wagon Peoples, who tends to be a frustrating, swift and elusive foe, striking with great rapidity and withdrawing with goods and captives almost before it is understood what has occurred.

Excerpts of Nomads of Gor

What do you do ... Mezoo?

I'm already there Take a look around
I'm the sunshine in your hair
I'm the shadow on the ground
I'm the whisper in the wind
I'm your imaginary friend
And I know I'm in your prayers
Oh I'm already there
To touch you with my fingertips
So turn out the light
and close your eyes
I'm already there
Don't make a sound
I'm the beat in your heart
I'm the moonlight shining down
I'm the whisper in the wind
And I'll be there 'till the end

Lonestar

The Haruspex. We are the soothsayers, the magic makers, tricksters and weather watchers. Some have insight, some walk the dreams, but all know the mystic ways of the tribe. Like those of the healers and the torturers we know the ways of healing as well as the ways of death. We can read the blood spatter the bosk, a verr's liver. Some of our clan can be heard through out the harigga singing that for a piece of meat, they could read the winds and the grass, for a cup of wine the stars and the flight of birds, for a fat bellied dinner the liver of slave. We are fascinated with the future and its signs though we will tell you we do not put much store in such matters but in practice we give them great consideration.

Women of the Wagon Peoples are not permitted to pray; though many of them, do patronize the haruspexes. Besides foretelling the future with a greater or lesser degree of accuracy for generally reasonable fees, we can provide assemblages of amulets, talismans, trinkets, philters, potions, spell papers, wonder-working sleen teeth, powdered kailiauk horns (which is marvelous by the way), and colored magic strings that, depending on the purpose, may be knotted in various ways and worn about the neck or placed where the wind can make it dance and sway.

Each of us, among the clan, have one or more inherent talents, a variety of learned skills as well as a modicum of illusory capabilities. We do not talk much of them as a rule, not because there is any grand prevention of it all but more that sometimes it is hard to express or if all else the comfort level of someone we are explaining it all to knowing .. truly knowing and not merely guessing that the person next to you could say .. raise the dead or alter the course of matter or anti-matter. Be honest, how secure would you feel knowing the ground could open at your feet at an instant to swallow you whole or to sit with your great aunt Morba and have tea with her 50 passings after her pyre? Could we do these things? Perhaps. One never knows. That is part of our mystery. Even among ourselves there is that sense of quiet not to be boastful or maybe that we are still learning control or perfection of a craft.
I had been asked once if I would hurt a slave just to take her liver. Let me reassure those that worry over such matters, I have the skills to prevent any pain during such an action but if there is need to read her spleen, her liver or even the spew of blood from the slice of her throat to afford the Tribe's sense safety and well-being, there would be no hesitation.

My natural abilities are of far different means, however. My battlefield is the mind, deep in its recesses. My playground is time. Everyday someone asks me how my studies are coming along but it was Tarra that had asked me of my specialty, straighter to the point ... more in depth than some have sought to know ... What do you do, Mezoo? I feel the emotions of those around me. Don't mistake that as being able to read some one's mind and know their thoughts. It is not the same. She offered encouragement that one day I would be able to, but it is not something I look forward to or will pursue if there is an option. She wanted to know if I heard more or saw more or felt more? I merely feel the shadows of things people ... feel inside all the things that they scream wanting someone to hear ... like a white noise ... like the vibration of a drum when you place your hand on the side of it while it is struck. I'd begun to find a shield for being around so many people at one time, a way to lull some of the onslaught and stem the flow that inundated me at times. The aftermath of that was that it dimmed the ability to a degree when it was something that I wished to do purposefully. Cause and affect - our greatest nemesis.

It was nice to be able to speak openly of the progress I've made, to hear her give reassurance that I am not the only haruspex fledgling of history to struggle, make a mistake or falter in some of my studies and that whole ... stepping out of my training thing ... was not the end of the world catastrophe my mind had created it to be. I am a babe in the clan and I know it. I have far to go yet.

My current lessons were of walking with what was around me, through it, to be part of it all without being any disturbance to its own natural course. Only in time will my abilities be such that I can effect change in the world that I live in. I want to learn how to find a usefulness that helps the Tribe, the ones I have grown to love and care for. There was no will nor want to make that a romantic statement, I meant for everyone.

"Be yourself." Surprising how much impact those few words held. What power, What wisdom. I was quick to answer that, that was all I knew how to be. She knew better. Being a part of every ones life and working along side them and being there, that is what will guide me. Now that is very sound advice and I took it well coming from a respected elder of my clan.

I didn't know when I came to the first wagons with Tao what it was going to be like .. he said it was to be the best of the best with the best of the best. I did not know that it would mean that I cry when they cry or laugh when they laugh, or to share the joys and sorrows of the Tribe as if they were my own. She said she liked to think that we are the best that we can be and that we reach out to others to help. I like that.

I am not the same woman .. girl that first came to the fires even Mother says so. Even Tarra says so. She told me I was growing into myself and becoming comfortable with myself. See, at first it took everything Mother and Grandmother could do
to shove me this direction but now I don't like missing even a day not knowing
if Cana is ok or if Kaeli is still chained. I did not like that by the way .. respect the decisions, yes, but ... Tarra had that quiet chuckle there at the stubborn indignation that was swelling deep inside me and sort of staved it off. We may not always like what authority may do or say, but we need to respect it.

What few realized was that some of my hardest lessons was to learn when to remain silent, to hold my tongue and to know when it was time to stand and speak up and to temper a temper through it all. I had learned to take what everyone says back with me to my wagon or to the verr to think about. I weigh it against the things my parents have taught me .. against what feels right and wrong inside and if it is solid then I keep it ... if I don't understand or there is more I come ask a whole bunch more questions and the answers to those questions start it all over again. I may disagree with you today then realize that part of what you are saying makes sense and I didn't see it that way. She did tell me it was alright to disagree. Even as a prospect? Yes, she said. Oh now you know I was all straight shouldered and intense having to toss my opinion in on that ... she asked sooooo I was telling her ... I cannot change who I am to suit those around me, not if it goes against the things I value ... not even the Ubar. I was still learning that like life itself, the sky will sort it all out as long as it does not alter that we will still stand together ... the children's children and their children after them. To me that was what was most important ... the future of the Tribe itself as a whole and not the individuals that comprised it. She said I was Tuchuk. That was rather satisfying to know.

I asked her if she ever questioned how the sky takes care of things we don't understand sometimes? Her answer made me kind of chuckle to myself, Yes, there are times she questioned why the sky allows things to happen or how things are dealt with. She was a bold woman indeed then.

I had to sit back to give her next question thought before I answered, what dreams did I have for myself? Carefully she filleted away my being a haruspex, being a tribal sister to the meat of the woman beneath and even then she whittled away the gender to expose simply the human being that was sitting there with her. My dreams? My dreams of me? Somehow it became very easy to answer, I just wanted to be a good person, one that people could count on being there for them.

So the answer to what do I do? I learn everyday and I share what I learn with those that want or need. Is there some great mystery to it all beyond the fact that the mind is my battlefield and time is my playground? If there is, then perhaps one day I might share that ... perhaps I might not.

Simple Pleasures

We talked more into the night before he leaned back to just look at me with this gaze that said I was all that existed in his eyes. I would have shifted unsettled beneath such scrutiny by anyone else. He asked one question that gave me pause to think for a moment, not because I had to come up with an answer but simply because he had asked it. Tell him of one simple pleasure in my life, one small thing that brought me joy. With him there was just this comfort, an ease to weave the imagery for him of a place I love to go, one know one else knows about. I told him that here among the wagons though, I just like watching the fires. That was how we first met. He had asked me if they spoke to me and now he was telling me that he had wanted to know what they said to me in the worst way. What captured my attention so fully and that maybe if he knew he could do the same. Didn't he see? He had ... in that one moment that he had first asked me. No one else had ever wanted to know something so deeply personal or profound before. I had wanted to turn and ask him the same .. to know if they spoke to him and if so what? He made me smile when he told me the fires had said ... "Fool, just talk to her". For me they had whispered, "Take me to him", and I had when I found a stone that held them.

When we are at the fires now, I don't speak to him as much. There are tempests that swirl that don't need much encouragement to become storms. He had noticed but said they could not govern our lives. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to agree but I knew I couldn't, not completely. He was not just a man, an Or or even an Orlu. He was the Ubar .. their Ubar and sometimes their needs were real. When we begin talking, it is as if there is nothing else that exists, well to me anyway and it could not be that way all the time. Would he know and remember ... for me, that even when I don't say much to him among others that there was still so much on the inside that held hundreds of questions, that had a hundred things to say and wanted to hear just as much?

While we talked more I checked the lump on the back of his head. Did it still hurt? He was pleased Grandmother hadn't been more angry than she was that day or I'd be standing beside his pyre. That scared me thinking of being without him. It made me angry just thinking of such a thing. I sat back like a mother vulo puffing her chest ready to raise talons and expand her wings for combat. I let him have every bit of those thoughts full force. "Do not build a pyre for yourself before your time. I will seek the wind and come for you, Ayguili of the Tuchuks." I heard his answer as a promise, as a fact, and as a soothing for all my fears. "I don't plan to"

He looked at me with a look I had never seen on anyone before. A bit amused, a bit confused. A bit content and a bit of pain. Add another bit curious and two bits something entirely different. He leaned in to kiss my temple and stood abruptly. "I must go", he said, "before I forget a promise to myself."

That night I didn't want to watch him go. I sat there staring at the fire, smiling, knowing that all of a sudden, I could add volumes to that list of simple pleasures, the ones that bring me joy and this was just the beginning.

Those little things

Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot...
...who calls you back when walk away...
...who will stay awake just to watch you sleep.
Wait for the boy who kisses your forehead...
...who wants to show you off to the world
...who holds your hand in front of his friends
...who thinks you're great just the way you are
...who is willing to say he loves you first; in person.
Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you
of how much he cares about you
and how lucky he is to have you.
Wait for the one who turns to his friends
and says, "... that's her."

Pacu had been hunting to bring home a tabuk as sort of a payment for this warrior he decked a hand or two back. Actually he had brought home two figuring it might save his hide. Might ... mind you. I'd snagged Amani to help me carry meats to the Ubar and to a friend of Yamka that needed some as well. While we walked the rows, we overtook Ayguili just coming in from patrols. The invitation to share a meal at Mother's fires came all in one breath, Oh Tal, you are just in time to help me. I need a taste tester.

His smile, rare and illusive some say, radiated now in such a genuinely warm and personal way that I couldn't help but feel it through and through. I touched his sleeve as if it created a connection no one could break and in turn He followed the movement of my hand as though he could see it too. He asked of my day and I spoke of understanding his was busy. He confirmed that it seemed all his days were busy lately but asked did I know what one thing he hated of that was? As loaded a question as that was my answer weighed well in return ... I'll always want to hear what he wishes to share with me. He had a rapt audience there next to him. It was not being able to spend time talking with me.I wanted to blink and stare at him in disbelief but I couldn't, there was only a quiet admission that I looked forward to each chance we had.

I could tell by the glance around him, he looked to see if my Grandmother were near by and perhaps ready to ambush him with her staff. I didn't tell him she is not usually like that. She definitely garners respect but I had never known her to swat at anyone with the passion and relish she had for his ear or his shin. Aunt, yes. Oren, no. I have no idea if Mother or Aunt Issu faced right of passage in this manner when Father or my Uncle became interested in someone outside the family or if Grandmother saved it all up for the warrior that was walking so bravely into the circle of our wagons next to me.

When we approached Grandmother's wagons, Mother's voice came from within her wagon. Who's there, Mezoo? Its Ayguili, Mother. I think she said all that mattered with very few words, "Ahh good". We had a willing chaperone from her quiet vantage point. It gave us a chance to get to know each other a little better. The roast tabuk I'd made was served without fanfare while we talked. He was becoming one of those friends you look forward to seeing and by just that sight created a nice feeling inside that wormed its way to a big old grin. I guess it is that small sense of comfort we find of each other that opened the night up to opening up a bit more of ourselves, to expose a bit more beneath the surface that we do not show too many others. All of the less than attractive attributes of ourselves and our families.

There had been something I had wanted him to know. I'd sort of avoided him at the fires when others were around but the rest was added in quickly so he wouldn't misunderstand. My reasons for not letting him touch my hand was not because I didn't enjoy it or that I was ashamed for anyone else to see. There was simply something I did not want him to experience beneath every one's roving eyes. The realization for me that it mattered, it mattered how he would react, how he felt was like a lightning bolt. It had been on his mind as well, this why I had seemed withdrawn from him. Once I explained, I could have sworn he was about to drag me up in his arms and hold me tight. It was my hand in his instead that he pulled to his lips and pressed kiss there. All I want to do is protect you, Mezoo. Is this wrong?

My heart leapt there in my chest and found poise on the end of my tongue. Sky, nothing .. nothing about him, nor I ... nor "us" had felt anything but right since I'd first met him. He was honest and that is something I can admire and respect. He had no idea where this was all going, if anywhere but he was willing to explore it. There he wove an image for me of reveling in what was inside my mind and in the gentleness of my heart. He wanted to know what my thoughts were on everything, not just the important things but the little things as well. There are no maps of the future was my answer while I curled his hand tighter in my own. If there were I wouldn't chance a peek, this all felt far too precious to risk. That may be strange for a Haruspex to say but it was my own honesty handed right back to him. There are many things to consider of tomorrows but ... here I gave him as much as I could of what I was certain ... I liked him. I really truly liked him. Just that bit of smile he shared with me said he sort of felt the same way.

In a much more delicate way than Grandmother had probed him of his family, he inquired a bit more about mine. Father was the oldest of Oren's two sons although Uncle Salukaii was favored because he had provided the first Grandson. I think this surprised Ayguili that I was not favored as the first Granddaughter. In my own way I am but it didn't come from birthright but because I had stood with her through wind and rain to tend the verr. I had listened to the important things she had to say. I had worked hard to earn her love and respect. It had never been given as entitlement. Ayguili made a good point when he mentioned that Grandmother must love me very much or she would not have beat him as bad as she did with her cane. It was a good time to let him know she might have just for her own amusement. She was full blooded Tuchuk remember but I did have to say that those she thinks are worth her time, she makes sure she gets their attention.

Hands are fascinating to him. They are all made the same, with the same bones, the same muscles and covered with flesh but it is what each individual does with them that makes them unique. It seemed kind of profuond when he said that. He studied our hands for a while, where they met and seemed joined as if one. While he was turning them so he could see the outline of the clasp from every angle, it dawned on me how natural it felt and how both of ours fit together like they had been made that way ... held. Suddenly, I found them fascinating too.

Inside of him is not the storm I feel that wants to take over but this quiet wind that has places to go and things to do. I stopped there because I didn't want to define him. He wondered if this was how I truly saw him. It was and more. I listened as he poured out a warrior's heart for his Tribe and how being Ubar had never been his or even his family's aspiration of him. It had always been belief that Ba'atar was destined for that role. There was so much written on his face, when he asked if I understood that when his brother returned that he would give up the grays. Most definitely I understood. It was what was right. I looked at him then and smiled. In my way of thinking there would be more time for us to talk as we were now. I didn't like him because of his rank or his title, in fact the very thought of being Ubara actually made it harder to to think of getting closer to him. It wasn't my expectation even if there were more to us than his getting tapped by a verr cane.