When he’s done, Jiron is looked to with awe and many of the children come close to touch him, to see if he’s truly a real person. He endures their attention until Qyith shoos them away. “I ask your pardon,” he says to Jiron. “They’re just excited to meet an actual Shynti.”
“I understand,” he replies.
“Let me show you around our village and where you’ll be staying while you’re with us,” he says. Not waiting for a reply, he leads them into his village and begins to describe some of the things he thinks they’ll be interested in.
Jiron interrupts him and says, “I noticed none of the women have tattoos like the men do.”
He pauses and turns back to them. “Tattoos are only for the men, once they’ve attained manhood,” he explains. “Each of our young boys goes through a series of tests that bring him from childhood into manhood. If they survive, then they are given the honor of bearing the mark of the warrior,” he says as he gestures to the tattoos covering himself.
“Ah, I see,” Jiron says.
They come to a hut where Qyith abruptly halts at the entrance. “You may use this hut while you are here,” he tells them. “If you’d like, you may roam freely about the village. The feast will be later this evening when the others arrive.”
“Others?” asks Jiron.
“Yes,” he says. “A Shynti here is a rare thing. Many will wish to come and see you to pay honor.”
“I see,” he says, not altogether happy about all the attention.
“I must leave you now and ensure all is properly prepared for this evening,” he tells them. Turning around, he begins moving away from them, back the way they’d come.
“Think we’ll be okay?” Jiron asks James.
“I would think so,” he replies. “You seem to be some kind of celebrity.”
“Celebrity?” he asks.
“Someone famous and well liked,” he explains.
“I suppose,” he says.
They tie their horses to a post near the entrance and then go inside. There are four beds with an open stove in the center to allow for heat and cooking. Rugs and mats cover the floor giving the place a comfortable feel to it.
Miko stretches out on one of the beds and says, “This is nothing like Inius’.”
Jiron looks questioningly to James who says, “Inius ran an inn we stayed in that had the softest beds.”
Sitting down on the firm beds, he says, “I see.”
Still, for all their stiffness, they’re still better than the ground. James lies down and turns his head toward Miko and says, “Better not take the Fire out here, we don’t want anyone to see it.”
Miko sighs and says, “I’ve already decided to leave it in the pouch.” He leans on one elbow and looks at James as he continues, “It makes me feel weird.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“It’s hard to explain, but I feel like it wants to suck me into it,” he replies. “That’s not exactly the feeling, I’m not sure how to describe it. But if I keep it in the pouch, then I don’t feel anything at all.”
“Then it may be a wise thing to leave it alone,” Jiron says from where he’s lying on his bed.
“I agree,” adds James. He’s relieved to be able to just lie down and rest. It seems lately, he’s been going from place to place, events propelling him along. He would really like to just stay in one place for a while and relax.
Coming suddenly awake, James realizes he had fallen asleep and that it’s now almost dark. Sitting up, he looks over to find Jiron and Miko are no longer within the hut. Getting up, he goes over and opens the door.
Outside, the village is lit with dozens of fires and hundreds of torches. Parvatis are everywhere, their numbers having swelled dramatically over the last few hours.
“James!” he hears Miko cry out to him but is unable to find him in the mass of people. Suddenly he appears out of the crowd, coming toward him, waving his arms. Several of the Parvati young boys are with him as well. “About time you woke up,” he said when he draws close.
Miko is wearing some of the Parvati attire and another of the boys is wearing his shirt. Apparently, he’s been making friends with the locals. “Where’s Jiron?’ he asks.
“Over there,” he says as he gestures to the middle of the village. “He’s talking with many of the Chiefs and Warchiefs that have come from neighboring villages. Come on, I’ll take you there.”
James follows him as he leads him over to where a dense concentration of Parvati warriors have congregated. “…and then we raced for the pass, leaving the Gathering behind us,” he hears Jiron say to the assembled warriors.
He waves to James when he sees him approaching and the Parvati move aside, allowing him to come forward to stand next to him. “This is my friend James,” he tells them as he reaches his side.
The gathered warriors begin talking among themselves when his words are translated for them.
“When we got to the pass,” he continues in his narration, “James here brings the sides of the pass down and completely blocks it with rubble, keeping the Grey Wolf Clan from catching us.”
At that, the assembled warriors break into a cheer. “They don’t much care for the Grey Wolf Clan,” Jiron tells him.
“Yeah,” replies James, “I kind of gathered that.”
Next to Jiron is seated a wizened, old Parvati, heavily tattooed. “This is the Chief of the Eller Tribe,” he says to James.
James gives the man a bow and the chief gives him a slight nod of his head in return. “Welcome to our village, friend of Shynti,” the chief says to him.
“Thank you, Chief of the Eller Tribe,” James replies.
The chief says, “It’s been long since a Shynti has earned the right to walk among us. We are honored.” The warriors give a murmur of assent. He gets up from the ground, all the other Parvatis there rise as well. Motioning for them to follow him, he moves toward where the women have set up the feast.
“When you leave tomorrow, we’ll send an escort with you so you will have no trouble as you pass through our land,” he tells them.
“You are very generous,” Jiron replies.
He waves away the comment, leaning toward Jiron, he continues, “Many have asked to accompany you, actually. This way, it makes it seem an honor to them as well.” He gives Jiron a brief smile then resumes walking toward the feast area.
The feast area is a large cleared area, with dozens of large mats on the ground. Several fires burn in pits throughout the area to give light and warmth, already it’s getting cold. The chief leads them to a large mat at one end, and the other warriors along with the women and children, settle upon the others.
James looks out to a veritable sea of faces as he gazes over the Parvatis come to honor Jiron.
They sit there for several minutes as the last of the Parvatis come and take their seat. Then the chief stands up and begins talking to them. Though they can’t understand what he’s telling his people, the response from the crowd is positive, with several cheers erupting during the telling.
When the chief is done, he sits back down which signals for the feast to begin. Women and older children begin bringing food to the assembled people. The fare is plentiful and James is happy to see vegetables mixed in with all the meat. The chief looks at him as he loads his plate with just vegetables and James tells him, “I’ve had nothing but meat for days. These remind me of home.”
The chief gives him a grin and nods his head.
The veggies are good, not to the standard of his grandmother, but still good. Midway through the meal, the open space in front of the chief’s mat is the scene of acts of skill. Wrestling, fighting, and swordsmanship are all displayed to the Shynti.
“They’re really quite good,” Jiron tells James. “Better than any from the pits, but don’t tell Scar and Potbelly I said that.”
James smiles and shakes his head, “My lips are sealed.” Then he notices a stir of commotion coming from the far side of the feasting area. A runner dodges around those on the mats as he makes his way to the chief’s mat.