"Beastmen? You mean the Wikuni?" Sarraya asked curiously, and Denai nodded. "And which is the south?"
"Sharadi," Tarrin said calmly, interrupting them. "Dolanna told me that the common trade language of the southern continents is Sharadi."
"That's it," Denai agreed. "The obe serves as the translator for the chief, and also as an advisor. It's a hard job, because obe aren't permitted to fight unless the chief is in danger. We sacrifice much for the honor of the position."
"I didn't know a Selani would agree to not fight," Sarraya teased. "But to learn four languages at once, wow. That's hard."
"It's very hard. I'm still learning. We have to know the languages as well as those who learned it from infancy. Sometimes I get confused, and start speaking in another language when I'm trying to use one of them. I was taught all four at once. Sometimes they get jumbled together."
"Tarrin suffers from that too," Sarraya grinned. "He's like an encyclopedia of languages. I don't know anyone who can speak as many languages as he can. But you know two that he doesn't," she told the Selani.
"I do? Which?"
"Wikuni and Sharadi," she replied.
"Keritanima and Dolanna were teaching them to me, but things kept them from finishing," he told the Faerie, gnawing a bit more on one of the bones left over from the lizard.
"Then perhaps I can help settle my blood debt by finishing," Denai offered. "It will help me get better by teaching you. I can't teach you as well as those others could, but I'm sure you can learn something from me that you didn't know."
"Maybe," he said indifferently.
"How many kinds of jobs are there in the Selani camps, Denai?" Sarraya asked.
"Jobs? You mean positions of honor, like an obe?"
"Yeah. Tarrin knows all about it, but he won't tell me anything."
"Well, there are the obe. There are si'swan, the Scouts-"
"Allia is a Scout," Tarrin told Sarraya.
"Scouts are gifted with the Eyes of the Holy Mother. That gift makes them perfect watchers. There are the oribu'oni, the Weapons Makers. They are a society of high honor, and it is great honor to be accepted into them. We have shaman, the Voices of the Holy Mother, our healers and magicians. They are the greatest of honorable societies. Even a chief bows to the words of a shaman, because they speak with the voice of the Holy Mother. We are all dutiful children, and we obey her words. There are other societies-"
"Societies?" Sarraya asked.
"Think of them as guilds, or groups," Tarrin interjected. "Members of a society can belong to different tribes or clans, but the bond of society makes them a group to themselves. There is a society for every job or skill, from potters to warriors. A Selani can belong to more than one society, if he has more than one skill. Just to keep Denai from spending hours describing them."
"You know much of our people, Tarrin," Denai said, her voice telling him that she was impressed. "The shaman serve as the arbiters between clans or tribes when they have blood issues. The Holy Mother does not permit us to fight among ourselves, so our societies allow us to reach across clan lines when the need is there."
"I've been to the desert before, but we never really talked to the Selani," Sarraya told Denai. "I was visiting another Druid-"
"Druid? You mean the Watchers?"
"That's what he said you called him," Sarraya replied.
"Watchers are men and women of honor," Denai said. "They have always been helpful to our people when we've needed it. The Holy Mother has decreed that Watchers are to be treated with courtesy and respect. If you are a Watcher, then you're worthy of honor."
"Well, it's nice to be appreciated," Sarraya said, giving Tarrin a teasing look. "At least someone around here does."
"Don't worry, Denai. Sarraya will give you plenty of reasons not to think so highly of her in just a few days."
Sarraya glared at him, but Denai laughed.
"Well at least I don't snore!" she flared.
"Says you," he replied mildly.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to a smiling Denai. "What is this Gathering I heard about?"
"We gather together every year," she replied. "We trade goods and stories. We compete among ourselves in contest of skill, and the societies have a chance to gather and share knowledge and renew kinships. It's also a time to find husbands or wives, because it's not good for the people as a whole if too many marriages are made within the same tribe. We gather at the Cloud Spire, so its shade makes the long days less taxing on us."
"Sounds like a huge fair," Sarraya mused.
"Fair?"
"A fair is a good comparison. A fair is much like a Gathering," he told Denai.
"I meant to ask you something, Tarrin."
"What?"
"Your brands. Are you truly of the clan chief's blood?"
Tarrin gave her a curious look, then he rememebered that the little line through the clan brand on his shoulder denoted "royal blood," and was something only the blood of a Clan Chief wore. "My deshaida is the daughter of a clan chief," he told her. "I've never met her clan. She was the one who gave me the brands."
"Strange for her to do it without her clan's permission."
"She made it rather clear that it was unusual," he agreed. "But the circumstances were unusual too."
"What circumstances?"
"None that concern you," he told her rather shortly, crushing the bone with his sharp teeth and drawing out the marrow.
"Ignore him, Denai. Until he gets to know you, he'll be about as warm as an angry hornet."
"I meant no offense," Denai said contritely.
"Don't worry about it," Sarraya told her. "Old badger-butt over there doesn't like anyone at first. Just give him time, and he'll grow on you."
Tarrin fixed Sarraya with a flat stare, his tail stopping in mid-swish.
"See? Only someone who loved him would put up with that day after day," she said flippantly.
Despite herself, Denai laughed. "Why are you crossing the desert? Why not use those water-carriages that the beast-people use?"
"Ship. They're called ships," Sarraya told her. "We're travelling overland because it's a bit unsafe on the ocean right now. Tarrin's brands give him safe passage through the desert, and none of our enemies will follow us here."
"Enemies? It sounds like you have quite a story to tell," she said, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality.
"We do, but it'll have to wait for later. Tell me about that singing I was hearing as we left your people."
"They were singing for me," she replied. "Singing a prayer of good passage, so that the Holy Mother may watch over and protect me on my journey."
"Interesting. Tarrin told me that the Selani love to sing."
"Singing is the way the Holy Mother wishes us to say our prayers aloud," she told the Faerie. "Because we sing our prayers, we've found singing to be soothing to us, or voice our contentment. If you hear a Selani singing, then the Selani must be either feeling very good, or is a little upset."
"What happens when you want to pray for something that you don't have a song for?"
"The song is the prayer," she said pointedly. "We build the melody as we go. The better the song, the better the chance that the Holy Mother will answer the prayer. From the time we can speak, we learn the concepts of music and melody and harmony, all so we can be heard above other Selani when we pray."
"It sounds like a competition."
"I guess it is," Denai admitted. "Singing is one of the most serious competitions during the Gathering. The greatest singer in the desert is afforded much honor."