The Sacrificial Lamb, So to Speak

Apologies were accepted, and we began to make progress, and I was feeling better. Oren, being Oren, started right in on me about all the things that Seveya needed now.


I had already thought of this, and had been working on it. Since my talk with Fonce the day before, I had procured a wagon, and had set my girls to taking things from my "stuff" wagon, that they thought would make a woman more comfortable. I had even gone to my scarrers' wagon, and gathered up a box of pigments. I think that sometimes people forget that I am a scarrer, and that I do know something about pigments and colors. I also includes some roots, dried flowers, and other things that she would need to make her own paints. It as a start.


When I mentioned this, Oren got into a huff again. She said Seveya was staying right where she was. Finally, finally Fonce stepped in to help me, and helped me to make her understand that right now, it was tantamount for Seveya to return to the First Fires, her head held high. If this did not happen, then all of this would have been for nothing.


I think right now, with Mezoo having moved her wagons to the circle of the First Fires, Oren is feeling that I am taking everyone away from her, and that is not my intent. Blazes! If I had my way, I would move them all there, but Mezoo has said that they do not wish to be there, which I can understand.


Oren began to cluck about I was taking everyone away, and what was she to do for verr herders? I stepped right up, did the Ubar thing and told her that I had thousands of men under my command, and if she wanted verr herders, she would have them. Did I just see Fonce pale?


Suddenly an idea hit me, and without giving it a lot of thought, I acted on it. I knew that I would probably pay for it later, but right now it just seemed to be such a good idea.


You might say, that I tossed the verr herder a sacrificial lamb, of sorts. I had to be very careful of exactly how I did this. I offered to send my nephes, Cana's son, Another One to learn verr herding from her.


I explained to her that the young man was going through a difficult time, and needed someone with her wisdom to help guide him. And there was not a hort of bosk shit in that. The boy was having a hard time with the only man that he knew as a father gone for so long. I actually think it would be good not only for the boy, but also maybe for Oren.


Now there was this delicate balance that needed to be reached here. I had to make Oren realize that she was doing me this huge favor in talking the boy under her wing, and not be too obvious, that I was also trying to save my own skin at the same time.


She reacted just as I thought she would. She put on this air of long suffering, and of being very busy, but willing to do this favor, just for me. I could have kissed her!


This was working out well. Oren was going to get her verr herder, but much more importantly, another young person to guide and teach, and Another One was going to not only learn about the verr, but he was going to get some one on one attention that I felt he needed. Fonce and I had bit the proverbial, lance head and had escaped the verr herds, momentarily. It was a win, win, situation all around.


Now, all I have to do is get this by Cana. Skies! What was I thinking?

The Ins and Outs of Apologizing, with a Staff Hovering Near.

What is it about one little woman, and one big stick that can put the fear into a grown man? Maybe, it is because that little woman, is wiser than all of us put together. That, and the damn stick hurts!


And there she was, leaning on that staff as if she were guarding the entire camp from me and my folly. Or that is how I felt at the moment. How is it that I always feel like a chastened boy when I come in contact with this woman? Like one that needs to confess to sins that he had not even committed, simply because she wanted such? The fact that she immediately removed Fonce from every thing, almost made me bolt and run. But the fact that he quietly went and sat on the furs she indicated, did have its' own amusement. But I only had a moment to reflect on that before she turned her attentions back to me.


I knew I was in trouble when she addressed me as.......Ubar. Not good, not good at all. Twice she did this. Can we say.........fear? I knew at that moment, this was not an easy task that I was working on, but it was an important one. And in that realization, I knew that the best thing for me to do was be honest, and I was.


I told Oren that I needed to speak to Seveya about trust. She seemed to understand this, even agreed with it, and even called me by my name! Maybe I would survive this yet.


Oren called Seveya out, told her that I wanted to talk to her, and to come listen, and if she didn't like what I had to say, she could march right back inside the wagon.


The first thing that hit me was her face, and the anger bubbled up inside me, and I had to push it back down. I have seen the results of beatings, and I have seen slaves that had been beaten, but what that man had done to her was beyond the pale. Beyond anything that might have been necessary. At that moment, I think somewhere inside of me, made the decision to have him dealt with, but not now. Right now it would have just added more fuel to this fire that I was trying to stamp out.


Seveya was not pleased to see me, you could tell that by her body language. And in all honesty, it confused me, but I would later learn why she was more than reticent to speak to me. It had more to do with Fonce, and how I had treated him, than it had to do with her. I was saved by Oren, who encouraged her to sit on the steps and talk. Skies bless the little woman.


Suffice to say, I was not quite finished with making mistakes. The fact that Seveya had not come to me before she had made such a rash decision, still bothered me. Am I not a fair man? A man that wants only good for those around him? My next mistake was in mentioning this to Seveya, and her responsibility to do that very thing.


Damn that staff hurts!


After a verbal lesson on how to apologize, I tried to made Oren understand that I really was trying here. And not only to protect my shins, but to get across that I was sincere, even if I was flawed. A woman understands that right? A flawed man. In fact, I think they like us that way just a little. Those bony fingers began to beat a tattoo on my chest, and I did the very first thing that came to my head. I took that gnarled hand in mine, kissed the fingers and asked her to please hear me out.


It worked!


I was allowed to continue to speak with the young artisan, in hopes to make her understand how much I wanted this all put aside, and for her to be safe. And, that there was no way that I would have allowed a woman of the First Fires to be bargained away to one of the outer wagons. When she mentioned that I did know, I was shocked. I did? She said that Karvek had mentioned it, but I'll be damned if I remembered it.


I may have been dead in the water there, had not Oren stepped in and asked if Mezoo had been there at the time. Well, I didn't remember it happening, so how did I know if Mezoo had been there or not? Seveya stepped in to toss me a life line, by saying that yes, Mezoo had been present. I had to admit, that I was often distracted when the little spex was there. And you know, they forgave me for it.


I went on to explain to Seveya that I wanted her back at the First Fires as a free woman of the Tuchuk. I just could not see her on her knees to any man, I had far too much respect for her to see that, and I feel that she has too much to offer her people as a woman that is free, than as a slave. It was all true. She had faltered, but don't we all? It was now time to put her back in her proper place, and to stand behind her, protect her and to support her.


She accepted my apology, then began to trim my ears over my treatment of Fonce. What? I am going to pat myself on the back here. I accepted the dressing down, because was this not what I wanted....for her to be a free woman, and to have the ability to express her opinions? It is that double edged sword thing, I think.


I had to explain to her, that even though I had made my mistakes in all of this, that there was not a man in this camp that I trusted or respected more than Fonce. It worked. Maybe it worked because it was the truth, and I find that if you speak the truth, it is always better.

Take This Job and Shove-it!

As I write this, I am weary. Not only of body, but of heart, soul and mind. There are not enough ahn's in a day, days in a hand, or hands in a moon to handle all that comes to me sometimes. Much I give to Fonce, my second in command, for he is better at dealing with some things than I am. And he is the only one that I trust, to speak in my stead.


Ok, let's talk about that trust. I have let my second in command down. But more importantly, I let my friend down, and that bothers me more. He came to me to talk about what had transpired with the woman Seveya, to make a request of me, and damn it, I bungled it badly.


Go figure.


For some reason I got it into my head, that as Ubar, not as a friend to Fonce, or a guardian to Seveya, but as Ubar, I needed to hear all sides, so I had the man Karvek brought to me. Mistake, big mistake, probably. I listened to him, to what he said were his concerns, and in a moment of clouded vision, I saw some validity in them. First mistake.


Second mistake? I asked Fonce to join us so that we could get to the bottom of things. It is not always wise to bring two men together to discuss something this delicate. Especially when they have hugely differing opinions, and one of them is actually crazy as a marsh loon.


Go figure.


In some sort of mistaken idea that I needed to be fair, I lost sight of my objective. The objective was not to work things out between these two men, my objective was to take care of and protect a woman that was my ward. I think that is where the waters muddy a little for me. When Karvek returned to camp, and I found out that he was her uncle, I never got the opportunity to speak with him on this matter. In fact, each time I saw him, he either basically ignored me, or left. That should have raised some red flags, but it didn't.

Bottom line, and mistake number three. I said things that I should not have, and lost the trust of a man that I respect above all others in camp. Fonce was angry when he left, and Karvek? Well, it is hard to say what Karvek was. There is much about the man that suddenly did not ring true, and was my first clue to how badly I had handled this entire situation. And at the time all of this was going on, I still did not have all of the facts that I needed.


Go fuckin' figure.


What I found out later served to make me reassess what I thought of the man. The actions that he took, were far and beyond those of a family member, and bordered more along the lines of a jilted lover. And, no matter what the idiot thing, he did not act like a Tuchuk. When I found that he had been burning fires within the harigga, my anger knew no bounds. He put his own madness and jealousy ahead of the safety of his people, and had he not chosen to leave on his own, I am not real sure that he would not have been visited by those that I have at my disposal to take care of problems of this nature. A madman in camp, just what we needed..


The next day I was finally able to talk to Fonce again, and it was rocky, and I understand that. I had erred and I knew that, but it was not intentional and it took me a long time to get this across to the man. He was still angry with me, he didn't trust me, he didn't exactly understand where I was coming from, and that I knew that I had made huge mistakes.



I did the only thing that I know how to do. I finally put aside the Ubar, and tried to speak as a friend. I had to speak from my heart and acknowledge that I had made mistakes. I am not real sure even then, that he understood. But somehow, someway, I had to make him understand that this was not about him, me, or even Karvek.


This entire thing was about Seveya. Did I agree with what she had done. No way. However, I had seen a glimmer as to why she did what she did, after seeing her uncle's reactions, and the devastation his jealously and madness had imprinted upon my camp.


I told Fonce, that right now, she was the most important thing in all of this. I know that there will be people that will scream to the Sky herself over what I wanted to do, but I will deal with them in time. I wanted to instill the artisan back to her place at the Ubar's Fires. I wanted to give her that rare second chance, that some often do not get. I just could not see her on her knees before any man. She had fought too hard to earn her place, and damn it all, I did not want to see her lose it over something like this.


I wanted her back under my protection. I want good things for her, and to protect her from anything hurting her again. That is what I wanted.


That is what I had lost sight of when all of this started. Fonce had come to me to ask for that exact thing, and I had lost my way in giving it to her. Now it was time for me to step up, fulfill a promise to her that I had made in the beginning, and not to falter so badly this time.


He finally relented, and took me to see Seveya. She was at the wagons of Oren, and I had to get past Oren, in order to talk to Seveya..


Go figure

Chapter 3: In which our Hero herds verr, tries to dodge the staff, and hopefully makes a friend.

I was there early the next morning, in fact, I had hoped to beat Oren up, but no such luck. When I rode past her wagon on my way to their herd, she was up puttering around the fire. I nodded then went on to tend to the bosk. I could feel her eyes on my back, but I did not turn my head to look. Was that a cackle of laugher that I heard behind me? I can't be sure, but I did hear her pounding on the side of a wagon, and speaking in a manner that would brook no foolishness.


"Pacu, Pacu, get up! That Ayguili is here to help you with the bosk!"


I had not come unprepared. I had brought along reinforcements. Two outriders, my girls odd and kasra, along with a couple of camp slaves to help. The riders and I moved the small herd to a nice, lush patch of grass, then the girls set to work to brush and oil their coats, and to polish their horns. As is our custom, the shaggy coats of the bosk were brushed and the hair that came from that brushing was put into bags and kept for later use. During the cold months it is used for insulation in wagons, women stitch it between pieces of woven cloth to make warmer blankets for sleeping furs, warriors tuck it into their boots to keep their legs warmer. Nothing from the bosk went unused, even their hair.


I was pretty damned pleased at how things were going when Oren appeared out of no where, thwaped me on the leg and told me that I could not herd verr from a kaiila. I actually groaned at the herding the verr part, but dropped down from the saddles to follow her like a scolded, dweller school boy.


I understand the necessity of the ver. Their milk is used for drinking, making butter and cheese. There are those that even eat the meat, and the value of their wool coats is known to everyone. There is an entire clan that revolves around the verr, their wool, and weaving. Now, with all of this said, that does not mean I have to like the wooly demons.


Any out rider will probably side with me. There has ben an almost internal feud going on since the beginning of time about the bosk and the verr. Everyone reveres the bosk, care for them, honor them to honor the sky. And most of them do not like verr. The main reason is the difference in grazing patterns.


The bosk are huge, lumbering, hump backed creatures and it is a long distance between their heads and the ground. Therefore, they crop mostly on the tops of the grass, as they cannot reach those lower, tender shoots. However, the verr, being closer to the ground, tend to eat the grass right down even with the dirt. Sometimes they even pull it up by the roots. This is where the problem comes in. If you graze the verr first, there is nothing for the bosk to eat. It is always imperative to graze the bosk first, then to bring the verr in behind them to graze on the lower stems and shoots of grass. Try convincing a verr herder of this.


Also, as Oren said, you do not herd verr from a kailla. You try to keep the ornery little bastards in a group by chasing them on foot. Or you do if you are a big footed warrior, who has exactly zero experiences with them. It took me over half a day, to realize that the old woman was poking the occasional verr in the ass with her stick, to make if break from the herd, so that I would have to chase it down and bring it back. You see, very like to remain all bunched up together, finding safety and happiness in numbers. Or they do, unless someone pokes them with a stick, which startles the little beast and makes it suddenly want to jump over the backs of the brethren, and run.


And if you do not catch them quickly enough, somehow that woman was either right beside you, or behind you, hitting you with that damn staff. There was more than once when I was tempted to grab the thing from her and break it in two over my knee. There is a fallacy in this logic. If you do this, then she would have two sticks to torment you with. So, I took my punishment in stride. This has to be some sort of punishment, right?


You might ask what my first clue was that something was amiss? That damn cackling laugh from her, then the snickers from that damn young whelp. Was I being tested, maybe? Either that, or I was being had. Either way, you would not see me giving up, that is just not in my character. Rivulets of sweat poured off of me as I chased the damn little beast around. Finally the old woman took pity on my maybe, and called me over to get some water from her bota.


Suddenly the verr did not seem so intent on escaping, maybe it was because that damn stick was not up their asses. But the woman decided that we needed to talk. We talked through most of the afternoon, mostly about my family. She made me recite all of the names for several generations, that I could remember. I noticed that she would nod occasionally, or that wizened brow would arch at the mention of a name, but she would say nothing.


Now, she had an opinion or two about my mother. Imagine that? In Oren's opinion, Mother is overbearing. Ahh, what did she just say? Is that not the pot calling the kettle a bota, or something like that? But she was magnanimous, and said she would not hold my mother against me. Big of her, huh?


We finally got to the subject that all of this had been leading up to. Mezoo. Again, I felt like some unscarred, wet behind the ears young boy as I tried to explain to this imposing woman, what I had on my mind. I want to get to know her better, I will never do anything to dishonor her, or harm her. I had not idea exactly where this would lead, but I also promised that I would not do anything to interfere with her clan and her studies, because I knew how important that was to her. And Fonce would probably thrash me in the offing.


To say that the woman did not mince words, would be another of those understatements, that I have mentioned before. She let me know that if I harmed the young spex, physically, emotionally or mentally, that I was not prepared for the wrath that would be rained down on me. Why did this not surprise me?


I am not totally sure, but I think that Oren and I came to a sort of understanding that day among the verr. I would be allowed to spend time with Mezoo, to see where it would all go. I tried to keep my dignity when I walked to my kaiila to mount. All of the sudden, I decided that riding was not what I wanted to do. Did it have anything to do with how sore my body was from wrestling verr all day. Hell yeah!


But the walk back to my wagons was satisfying, in an odd way. I think that the old woman likes me, or at least she is going to tolerate me.


I usually bathe in the stream, but after all of that, I needed something more, so I had the girls prepare me a tub of hot water to soak in. It helped the sore muscles some, but did little for the bruises from that stick, or the knot on the back of my head, or my sore jaw. Damn! The sacrifices that I made for one small, young spex.


I had to laugh. She is worth all of it, ten-fold.

Chapter 2: In which our hero gets beaned by an old woman, and sucker punched by a young whelp.

When the young spex paled and all the bones seemed to leave her body, I could think of nothing but getting her help. I swept her up into my arms and began to run through camp towards her family wagons, a multitude of things running around in my mind, but first and foremost, was that she be alright.



Arriving at that grouping of wagons, my first glance was to the one I knew as the mother, Astar. The immediate look of concern in her eyes for a moment made me feel like a sleen. I did not have a chance to try and explain, for the next person I saw was a woman that has to be as old as the plains themselves. There was no mistaking the fact that she was definitely in charge, and if you doubt it, look at the notches on her walking stick. I knew the woman by reputation mostly. She was Oren, pretty much the matriarch of the family.



She motioned me into a wagon and pointed to the dais of sleeping furs. I lay Mezoo on them, reaching my hand to stroke her temple, more worried now that I saw how still she was. I had intended to stay until someone worked some kind of magic and woke her up and made her perfect again. My thinking was wrong.



The crone began to hustle me out of the wagon, all the while I am trying to ask her if Mezoo will recover, trying to find out something about what was to be done. I had turned to look at the prone figure on the furs, when....THWAP! Did that old woman just bean me with a bowl? I heard a crack and was not all too sure if it was my skull or the bowl, but I was not given anytime to reflect on this, because the old woman was ushering me out the flaps of the wagon, aided by that damn stick!



Stumbling out onto the platform, my hand was rubbing the back of my head, when out of no where, a fist flew up and hit me in the jaw. I the Ubar of the Tuchuk, the most fierce and feared people of the plains, had just be sucker punched by a young warrior, whose dyes were still drying in his scars, not to mention the amount of mosture behind his damn ears.



I looked down at him, and the only thing that kept me from going after him, ripping his head clean off and feeding it to the sleens, was that he was at these wagons, so that meant he was probably family, so it would not be very good form of to kill him on this night. Another night maybe, but not this one. I could see him bouncing on his feet, fists lifted like he wanted me to attack. The boy is lucky that I was on my good behavior tonight, and he would remain unscathed.



What the hell was wrong with these people?



The only one that seemed to have any sense about her was the woman Astar. She even had the good manners to thank me for bringing Mezoo home. Now, I brought her home limp as a dead fish, but the woman thanked me. All I could do was not do her, because I was keeping an eye on that young whekp of a warrior. I still watched him as Astar told me that they would let me know how she was.


Let me know? Oh hell no!


I was going no where until I knew how she was, until I saw some color back in her cheeks with my own eyes. And again Astar showed great wisdom as she attempted to send the whelp to find the kaiila Mezoo had been riding. I had settled myself against the wheel of a wagon, prepared to wait.



The young warrior seemed reticent about leaving me with what he probably considered his women folk, but I was not budging. Finally the woman Oren came out wanting to know who or what an Ayguili was. I was immediately on my feel, telling her that I was Ayguili. Now, was that fear I saw flash through that young man's eyes? Did he just groan? Suddenly he was ver interesting in going to find that kaiila, just as his mother had suggested.



I approached the wagon, putting my foot to eh step intending to go inside, but it was not to be. There was that damn stick again. At first, she struck my shin with it, then placed it to block my way, damn it! She then proceeded to dress me down, telling me that I should have come around before now, and unfortunately, I had to agree. She made it very clear that she was an old woman, unaccustomed to having to repeat herself. I was then invited to share a meal with them. No, I lie. I was commanded to come share a meal with them. At that point, I would have agreed to anything that would have gotten me closer to Mezoo.



I could see her inside, sitting up, which relieved me greatly. She reached a hand to me, and I reached to her. Her fingers brushed my sleeve, and at that moment it was enough. She looked better, and the wan smile that she gave me, somehow assured me that there was nothing amiss. I longed to gather her in my arms, to tell her how sorry I was for any part I had played in her falling into a faint, but as I mentioned, there was that barrier of that damn stick in my way.



I have seen some dweller men, that take a notion to belt their slaves, fools that they are. I can tell them of another way, and that would be to find some old woman with a big stick to follow them around. It would work much better than any kind of belt you might use.



I was determined to stay until I was positive that Mezoo was fully recovered, and Oren was determined to send me away. I could have asserted myself more, called upon my position as leverage to stay, but I have this feeling that it would have mattered little to the old woman with the stick. So, out of respect for her, I did neither.



Loathe to go, I did step back and tried to regain at least a modicum of dignity, and told Oren and Astar that I had spoken to Fonce, who was Mezoo's guardian about spending time with her at the fires to talk and get better acquainted, and that my intentions were honorable, and I was now requesting permission from the two of them.


Pretty damn cheeky for a man that had just brought the young woman in question home passed the hell out, but I still stated my intentions.



Oren allowed that if I stood around much longer I would be having the morning meal with them, because it was growing late. I relented and told her that I would be back first thing in the morning to check on her.



"Good, then you can help with the bosk!"

Chapter 1: Our Hero confesses all and makes a woman faint.

I had just finished washing the dirt of the day off at the stream, and was struggling into a tunic, when I looked up to see a familiar figure riding down the stream, water being thrown up from the claws of the kaiila. I had raised my hand and called to her, then noticed that she spurred the beast faster, riding right down on me. Just before she got to me she had leaned forward and extended her arm. Grasping it, the momentum of the kaiila helped me to swing up into the saddle behind her. I said the first thing that came into my head. "Is this anyway to treat your Ubar?"


The laugh that came from her instantly lifted the stress of the day from my shoulders and put me into an infinitely better frame of mind. Reaching around her, I grasped the reins in my hand and took control of the beast, and maybe just a little more control of the ride. It has been a long time since I have even wrapped my arms around a woman like this. Sure, there are slaves to sate needs, but this was something more. She was warm and soft in all the right places, and if I slid a little bit more to the front of the saddle, to capture that body closer, then sue me. Everything about her assaulted my senses. The smell of her hair, the sound of her laugh, the way her body felt against my chest, and the look of her. The only thing I did not do was taste her. I was oh so close when I bent my head to speak into her ear. How easy it would have been to run my tongue around the shell of that ear, then down the slim column of her neck, but I refrained. Not yet, not just yet.


I am a warrior, not a poet, and the words to describe how beautiful she was simply fail me. And it is more than the beauty of her face that I talk about, it extends to the beauty of her spirit, her heart. Since I was holding the reins, she stretched her arms out and leaned her head back to feel the rush of the night air on her skin. At that moment, I felt my heart miss a beat or two because she was magnificent. In that moment, I finally found something that rivaled the beauty of the night sky, that put the moons and stars in perspective. In that moment, I felt an almost overwhelming need to know her better, to know everything about her.


And in that moment, I knew that before I even began to know more about her, I needed for her to know about me. I will not hide anything from her, or shadow it with words to make it prettier than what it was. She will get the truth, in all of it's ugliness, and if she can digest that, get her head around it, and still wants to spend time with me, then we can move on.


As I guided the kaiila out of the water, I knew that I needed to place a little distance between myself and her body that was so warm, alluring, and damn it, down right sensual. On the bank, I dropped from the saddle and helped her down, told her that we would walk. In an earlier conversation that we had, I had told her that there may come a time when I would tell her things that might change the way she saw me. Some men would have kept the secret buried, if they had been able, but I had told myself at one time, that if I ever found a woman that I seriously wanted to know, she would know the truth before things progressed too far. I felt it was only fair to Mezoo, to know this truth.


As we walked, I held that delicate hand in mine. It is odd, in a way, that it is so small, so seemingly fragile, but there is strength in it, just like I think there is strength in the woman. I did not try to pretty it up, or to make it less than what it had been. I did not hedge words, I simply told her a story of love, betrayal, jealousy, death and me. There was no other way to tell it, for me, but in simple, blunt terms.

Did she tell me that it was okay, that she understood, that she would help me get over it, that it didn't matter. No, that is probably what most women might have done, or rather the ones that had not ran from me as fast as their feet would have carried them.



No, she stopped us, and looked up with me with those unfathomable eyes, still holding my hand, still connected. It was she, that stepped closer, placing her hand on my chest and whispered, that the pain and guilt was not mine to carry, that it belonged to another in another place. Easy words to say, but not something that is easy to do when you have carried those things with you for ten year.


What happened that night by the stream, I will never understand. Just that simple gesture of touching me, and telling me that I no longer had to carry the burden, had a way of not only connecting the two of us, but gave me the courage to let it go. Leaning my head back, I looked at the stars, and I can say now, that I felt it leave me. For so long, I have lived with it like some sort of parasite that fed on my heart and soul, and had robbed me of what most would consider a normal life.


Did she take it from me upon herself, or did she take it only to release it into the Sky. I still do not know, and someday I will ask. All I know is that I felt freer than I have felt in many years.


Right up until the point she grew pale and fainted.

Of Stuff and Nonsense

My conversation with Mezoo had jogged a memory, which sent me in search of something in my wagons. I am a simple man with simple needs.


My personal wagon would probably be called spartan by some, but it suits me. It has a sleeping platform covered with warm furs, rugs on the floor to insulate my bare feet on mornings when I get up and the frigid outside air had seeped into the floor boards. I have a locked chest to hold my weapons, and another to hold clothing. Simple. It is all that I need.


I have found, that women are all the same in some respects, whether they are free or slave, and my slaves are no different. There is something in a woman that makes her want to fancy things up, to make them appealing or pretty. Even my girls are guilty of this. They had this habit of bringing things into my wagon, that......match. They can't quite understand that I do not want or need a tapestry that matches one of the rugs on the floor. Flowers belong on the plains in their natural home, not in some jar in my wagon. I believe that my hand across their cheeks has finally convinced them that my personal wagon is just fine like it is. It does not need to match.


Ok, this does not mean that I have nothing. Quite the contrary. I am a Tuchuk warrior, I raid, rape and pillage with the best of them, and over the years, I have accumulated a lot of......stuff. Stuff that I do not use, or need exactly, but that I do not part with because it can be of value to someone else, maybe, and can be traded for some stuff, that I do need. It is a simple concept. Or to me it is.


There is a downside to this accumulating of stuff. While my personal wagon, and the wagon I use in scarring are quite basic and organized, the wagons where I keep this stuff, are not. And it has gotten even worse since I have become Ubar because people keep leaving me gifts of....stuff on my platform, and I have one of the slaves take it to what I jokingly call..my storage wagons.


So that morning when I had the singular thought of purpose, to find that one small item, I was actually dismayed that it was not in the chest where I kept my clothes, nor in the one where the weapons were, which meant that I needed to go look through my stuff for it. The very idea of that is daunting in itself.


In the first one I began to open chests, peek in barrels and even slit open the tops of bags. Ah, there was that dagger I took off a dying Arian. Why was he dying, that is another story for another time. But it is of nice quality steel, blade and handle all cast as one piece and well balanced. The handle is wrapped in leather that is darkened by years of skin oils and sweat from the hands that have held it. I slipped it into my belt, I think I will add mine to the handle.


The next barrel was bolts and bolts of cloth like women like to make tunics with. I drug this to the platform. It will be sent to Cana, she is a woman, she sews so she will know what to do with it.


The next that I opened, when I pulled the straw away that was protecting the contents, proved to be a chest of toys for children. Small leather shields and wooden swords, even some leather greaves and bracers sized for a child. I amused myself with a wooden bowl on a stick, with a cork ball hanging from a tether trying to get the ball into the cup by swinging it. Now so easy as it looks.


There was a small box of warriors cast from some metal, all brightly painted with the ridiculous red tunics and tiny weapons in their hands. There seemed to be two factions, painted with different styles of tunics. I could see the value of using these to maybe teach the value of battles.

There were all manner of animals stitched from fur and stuffed with somethingm and with these shiny discs for eyes. Even a couple of larger dolls dressed in the robes of free women. I turned one of these over and just as I suspected, nothing of interest under those robes. Maybe Canas' girls would find them amusing when they were older.


There were also animals carved from wood. It is always amazing to me how dwellers waste something as precious as wood. Some of the animals had small wheels on them and cords that ran to a large wooden handle. It seemed they were meant to be pulled over the ground. Interesting. There was even a small wooden wagon with metal wheels and a long handle on it for pulling. I can almost see Also pulling his sisters around in it.


Amazingly enough there were also toys made from another metal. And if I am not mistaken this metal was silver. Out here on the plains, mothers often find dried gourds that have the seeds still in them. When you shake them, they make a noise that seems to fascinate babies. Some of these silver objects were like that, but when you shook them the sound they made was more musical. These would go to his nieces. They were the daughters of a Ubar, the nieces of a Ubar, why would they not deserve engraved silver rattles. It made perfect sense to me.


At the very bottom I found something that did puzzle me. It was a bundle wrapped in leather. Taking it out I sat down cross legged and untied the thongs that held it shut and folded back the leather. There was this thing I know is called a frame. Dwellers often used these wooden frames to put around portraits. I have seen this before. But there was no portrait in this one, only what appeared to be a smooth, flat stone. Odd.


There was a canister and when I took the lid off of it, there seemed to be these sticks of candy like I have seen in the cities in it. Taking one out I sniffed it, but did not get that aroma of mint that I had expected. In fact, it did not smell. Taking a bite off the tip, I immediately spit it out for it had no flavor. Stupid dwellers. It fell on the framed stone and when I reached to brush it off, something curious happened. It made a mark. Taking the small bit, I made other marks then rubbed them off with my fingers.


Another distant memory made its' was through my head. I remember these things from a city once. There were shops that sold goods and the merchants had bigger pieces of this same stone on stands and wrote the prices of their good with something someone told him was chalk. That is what this was. One of those boards and the canister held several new pieces of this chalk. Immediately, I thought of Also, and his penchant for drawing pictures on the ground with a stick.


Carefully I wrapped the bundle back up and tied the thongs. All of the toys were placed back in the chest with the bundle on top and shoved it over and between the flaps to the platform. Then resumed my hunt.


Two barrels of salt were found in one corner, a large bag of blackwine beans, Damn I could use a bowl of blackwine about now, various bags of herbs and spices, sugar and some dried fruit. All of this found its' way to the platform.


Opening the drawers on a standing chest I found other oddities. In one, there was an intricately carved box which contained those golden chains and what not that the Vaci were so fond of. But in there, I also found a few simpler pieces that caught my eye. This box was tucked into his tunic as he continued his search.


Finally, I found it, wrapped in a small square of cloth. Taking it out I held it up to the dim light that came through the smoke hold in the top of the wagon. It was a small disc of bronze, a perfect example of two metals that had been brought together each with a different property to it. One for strength, the other for pliability, then they had been shaped, the rough edges filed off, to make this simple object. This would be a gift for Mezoo. It would need to be cleaned in polished, but even in the dim light he could see how it would pick up the light and cast the gold and amber back towards her. A simple gift, but one that I thought would suit her.


I was still admiring the disc when I threw the flaps of the wagon open and stumbled over the....stuff, I had shoved out onto the platform. I turned to look over my shoulder and had to admit the wagon looked emptier, more organized. But that is because all the stuff was on the platform blocking my way!


Fortunately for me, and for him, a passing out rider asked if he could take some of the boxes and barrels somewhere for me. Bright lad, he did not mention that I was trapped behind all this stuff, he might earn a promotion for his discretion. Soon, he and one of comrades were carrying the chests, barrels and bags off to where I wanted them delivered.


Me? I was on my way to polish my gift, already thinking of the light it would bring to her eyes.