And, though the country here was gaunt, they were over the worst. The Waybreak Train was headed down toward the Flone Valley, to reach at last the river itself, its cool green banks and the merry little towns snuggled along it, south of Nova Roma. If now the hunters laughed overmuch and over-shrilly while they butchered the crag bull, Ivar thought it was not beneath a Firstling’s dignity to join in.
Moreover, Fraina was with him, they were working together … Their acquaintance was not deep. Time and energy had been lacking for that. Besides, despite her dancing, she behaved shyly for a tineran girl. But for the rest of his stay in the troop—I hope I’ve honor not to seduce her and leave her cryin’ behind, when at last I go. (I begin to understand why, no matter hardships, sharpest pain may be to leave.) And Tanya, of course, mustn’t forget Tanya.
Let me, though, enjoy Fraina’s nearness while I can. She’s so vivid. Everything is. I never knew I could feel this fully and freely, till I joined wanderers.
He forced his attention to the task on hand. His heavy sheath knife went through hide, flesh, gristle, even the thinner bones, much more quickly and easily than did the slender blades of his comrades. He wondered why they didn’t adopt the nord model, or at least add it to their tool kit; then, watching how cunningly they worked, he decided it wouldn’t fit their style. Hm, yes, I begin to see for my self, cultures are unities, often in subtle ways.
Finished, meat loaded on stathas, the three of them went to rest by the spring which had attracted their quarry. It made a deliciously chilly bowlful in the hollow of a rock, the shadow of a bluff. Plume trava nodded white above mossy chromabryon; spearflies darted silver bright; the stream clinked away over stones till the desert swallowed it up. The humans drank deep, then leaned luxuriously back against the cliff, Fraina between the men.
“Ay-ah,” Mikkal sighed. “No need for hurry. I make us barely ten clicks from the Train, if we set an intercept course. Let’s relax before lunch.”
“Good idea,” Ivar said. He and Fraina exchanged smiles.
Mikkal reached across her. In his hand were three twists of paper enclosing brown shreds. “Smoke?” he invited.
“What?” Ivar said. “I thought you tinerans avoided tobacco. Dries mouth, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, this’s marwan.” At the puzzled look he got, Mikkal explained: “Never heard of it? Well, I don’t suppose your breed would use the stuff. It’s a plant. You dry and smoke it. Has a similar effect to alcohol. Actually better, I’d say, though I admit the taste leaves a trifle to be desired alongside a fine whiskey.”
“Narcotic?” Ivar was shocked.
“Not that fierce, Rolf. Hell-near to a necessity, in fact, when you’re away from the Train, like on a hunting or scouting trip.” Mikkal grimaced. “These wilds are too inhuman. With a lot of friends around, you’re screened. But by yourself, you need to take the edge off how alone and mortal you are.”
Never before had Ivar heard him confess to a weakness. Mikkal was normally cheerful. When his temper, too, flared in the Dreary, he had not gone for his steel but used an equally whetted tongue, as if he felt less pressure than most of his fellows to prove masculinity. Now—Well, I reckon I can sympathize. It is oppressive, this size and silence. Unendin’ memento mori. Never thought so before, out in back country, but I do now. If Fraina weren’t here to keep me glad, I might be tempted to try his drug.
“No, thank you,” Ivar said.
Mikkal shrugged. On the way back, his hand paused before the girl. She made a refusing gesture. He arched his brows, whether in surprise or sardonicism, till she gave him a tiny frown and headshake. Then he grinned, tucked away the extra cigarettes, put his between his lips and snapped a lighter to it. Ivar had scarcely noticed the byplay, and gave it no thought except to rejoice that in this, also, Fraina kept her innocence. Mostly he noticed the sweet odors of her, healthy flesh and sun-warmed hair and sweat that stood in beads on her half-covered breasts.
Mikkal drew smoke into his lungs, held it, let it out very slowly and drooped his lids. “Aaah,” he said, “and again aaah. I become able to think. Mainly about ways to treat these steaks and chops. The women’ll make stew tonight, no doubt. I’ll insist the rest of the meat be started in a proper marinade. Take the argument to the king if I must. I’m sure he’ll support me. He may be a vinegar beak, our Samlo, but all kings are, and he’s a sensible vinegar beak.”
“He certainly doesn’t behave like average tineran,” Ivar said.
“Kings don’t. That’s why we have them. I can’t deny we’re a flighty race, indeed I boast of it. However, that means we must have somebody who’ll tie us down to caution and foresight.”
“I, yes, I do know about special trainin’ kings get. Must be real discipline, to last through lifetime in your society.”
Fraina giggled. Mikkal, who had taken another drag, kicked heels and whooped. “What’d I say?” Ivar asked.
The girl dropped her glance. He believed he saw her blush, though that was hard to tell on her complexion. “Please, Mikkal, don’t be irrev’rent,” she said.
“Well, no more’n I have to,” her half-brother agreed. “Still, Rolf might’s well know. It’s not a secret, just a matter we don’t talk about. Not to disillusion youngsters too early, et cetera.” His eyes sparkled toward Ivar. “Only the lodge that kings belong to is supposed to know what goes on in the shrines, and in the holy caves and booths where Fairs are held. But the royal wives and concubines take part, and girls will pass on details to their friends. You think we common tinerans hold lively parties. We don’t know what liveliness is!”
“But it’s our religion,” Fraina assured Ivar. “Not the godlings and jus and spells of everyday. This is to honor the powers of life.”
Mikkal chuckled. “Aye-ah, officially those’re fertility rites. Well, I’ve read some anthropology, talked to a mixed bag of people, even taken thought once in a while when I’d nothing better to do. I figure the cult developed because the king has to have all-stops-out orgies fairly often, if he’s to stay the kind of sobersides we need for a leader.”
Ivar stared before him, half in confusion, half in embarrassment. Wouldn’t it make more sense for the tinerans as a whole to be more self-controlled? Why was this extreme emotionalism seemingly built into them? Or was that merely his own prejudices speaking? Hadn’t he been becoming more and more like them, and savoring every minute of it?
Fraina laid a hand on his arm. Her breath touched his cheek. “Mikkal has to poke fun,” she said. “I believe it’s both holy and unholy, what the king does. Holy because we must have young—too many die small, human and animal—and the powers of life are real. Unholy because, oh, he takes on himself the committing of … excesses, is that the word? On behalf of the Train, he releases our beast side, that otherwise would tear the Train apart.”
I don’t understand, quite, Ivar thought. But, thrilled within him, she’s thoughtful, intelligent, grave, as well as sweet and blithe.
“Yah, I should start Dulcy baby-popping,” Mikkal said. “The wet stage isn’t too ghastly a nuisance, I’m told.” When weaned, children moved into dormitory wagons. “On the other hand,” he added, “I’ve told a few whoppers myself, when I had me a mark with jingle in his pockets—”
A shape blotted out the sun. They bounded to their feet.