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Topiara - Chapter 12
Sidon sat up slowly; pushing aside the fur robes that had kept him warm the night before. Already thin shafts of sunlight were pouring through the slit in the skin tent, signaling that yet another morning had dawned upon him far from home and famil iar faces. He had lost count of the days he had spent in the camp since his capture in the corrals of his father's summer home; and with no signs of anybody coming to fetch him, he was beginning to lose hope of ever seeing the friendly plains and vassals again.
As usual, the tent was empty of its inhabitants by the time he awoke. The fur-clad captors seemed to have a time-sense that awoke them before the sun even began to peek over the horizon, and Sidon was left alone to awake at his own time unless he slept well into the mealtime, at which point the young lad that had taken him into this particular tent would shake him awake and hand him a bowl of the warm stew that seemed to be the only food these people ate. Even as Sidon stretched and began pushing himself to his knees, the tent flap was pushed aside and the captor-boy stepped into the dim interior bearing the regular morning fare. Sidon took the bowl with a nod and set about eating quickly, for he knew now from experience that the boy had little patience with him if he refused to feed himself and would call the men to force-feed him at the first sign of rebellion.
Lyon-Khan, the eldest son of the clan chieftain and an authority in the camp in his own right, watched his unusual captive with curiosity. The lad had spoken not one word since they had snatched him from the corral except a wordless scream as he was tossed roughly over one of the pack ponies on his stomach and had the air knocked from his chest. It was unheard of for a member of the hated Talandri aristocracy to not protest his treatment, and the richness of the lad's clothing bore testimony that he was, indeed, one of the aristocracy. Had the lad been older or protested like those before him, Lyon-Khan would have seen to it that the boy be taken to his father's large camp much farther from the borderlands, but something in the lad's demeanor had caught the lonely Kauwlut heir's atten tion, and he had ordered that the boy be taken into his own tent and treated with gentleness and respect. The only concession to the lad's being a captive was a guard posted at all times near the tent to prevent an escape, a precaution that had proved unnecessary when the silent captive had made no attempt to leave the tent willingly.
Only the night before, Lyon-Khan had spent hours in coun cil with the Respected Elders of the band discussing what the fate of this most unusual captive should be. Some of the more hardened warrior-members of the council had argued in favor of leaving the boy as an offering to the Wolf-Faced One, since he obviously was defective and therefore useless as either a future member of the band or a servant. Others had voiced the opinion that the lad's silence was a new form of rebellion, and urged rougher usage of the lad to force him to finally break his stubborn silence and begin acting more like a normal human. Had their voices been the only ones that night, Lyon-Khan might have decided to follow the latter advice; but the old shaman of the band had also sensed something different about the lad and counseled patience and leniency for a little while longer. As a result, Lyon-Khan had decided that this was the day when the youngster would be given an added measure of freedom and allowed outside the tent for a short time, to see if that would loosen the boy's tongue at all.
The warm and spicy stew now but a memory and warmth in his belly, Sidon obediently handed the bowl back to the Kauwlut boy, fully expecting the young man to simply rise and depart the tent as usual. Lyon-Khan, however, placed the bowl on the tent floor and went to the center pole and loosened the long rope that had tied the captive to the tent; then coming to Sidon's side and untying the complicated knot that had held him to only a small circle within the tent. The Kauwlut then stepped back and squatted on his heels to watch the Talandri's reaction to the freedom, ready to pounce if the lad made the slightest quick movement.
Sidon stared at the rope, now limp and detached on the tent floor, then cocked his head at his captor, eyes asking silently what would be expected of him. Lyon-Khan stifled a smile at the bird-like gesture and did the same, still unwilling to give up the cautious vigilance. The two boys sat staring at each other for several minutes longer until finally Lyon-Khan stood abruptly and motioned for the Talandri boy to follow him. Sidon rose slowly, wishing he had the ability to give voice to his questions and fears, and followed the Kauwlut through the tent flap into the bright sunlight of the late autumn morning with a subservient air that he hoped would show he had no intentions of doing anything to endanger his life.
The camp was already fully awake, and Sidon got his first glimpse of Kauwlut life. Larger tents sat in a grand circle, surrounded by smaller ones; each with a cooking fire tended by the women. The air was crisp and fresh, with the faintest hint of coming winter evident through the succulent smell of spices and cooking meat from the hearths. On the rim of the camp, some of the Kauwlut boys raced their ponies at full gallop in a race, scattering the flocks of fowl and dogs with thundering hooves before them. Several older men stood grimly in the flaps of their tents, watching him distrustfully. Beyond the circle of the camp, the short grass of the highland steppes waved a dull golden as far as he could see; and Sidon realized the isolation of the camp from familiar landmark mountain peaks was such that any search party would have no idea of where to start searching for him.
Lyon-Khan watched the face of his captive-guest with interest. It was easy to see that a bright intelligence and curiosity sparkled behind those strange, light-colored eyes; and yet even now the silence had stretched longer than he had ex pected. The Talandri had still made no visible movement to escape and just stood there, drinking in the fresh air and unfamiliar sights. The Kauwlut boy relaxed ever so slightly and allowed himself to follow Sidon's gaze and see what it was the now held the boy's interest.
The boys racing their ponies around the camp had come suddenly to a stop, and cloud of dust and screams of an injured animal filled the camp. As the dust cleared and the cause of the commotion became evident, Lyon-Khan heard the first sound in days from Sidon: a sympathetic grunt at the sight of a pony struggling to regain its footing and failing because the animal had broken its leg by stepping into the hole left by a burrowing ferrigoi. Sidon looked from the screaming pony to his young captor, the pleading in his eyes almost too much for the Kauwlut to withstand. Lyon-Khan thought for a moment, and then nodded his permission for the Talandri boy to go and see what he wished.
Sidon walked slowly and knew without looking about him that several of the older and fiercer camp members trailed suspiciously along behind. Lyon-Khan kept close to his captive but seemed willing to allow the boy to investigate where he would; and his action was a virtual sign of favor to the Sky-Hawks, one of the rival groups of young boys in warrior-training and friends to the boy whose horse had been hurt. At a signal from their leader, the Wolf-Pack group wheeled their ponies and rushed away, disgusted and angered.
The circle of concerned Sky-Hawks parted and allowed the band leader and his captive to get close to the struggling pony, and almost immediately Sidon knelt down next to the pony and began running his hands over the animal's neck and cooing word lessly to calm the animal. Keeping a watchful eye on Sidon, Lyon-Khan went to the side of the boy who had been thrown and assured himself and the group that there were no serious in juries there. He turned quickly when an intake of surprise from the group and the abrupt end of the pony's screaming made him return his attention to his captive.
The pony lay quiet, its eyes half-closed and no longer struggling as Sidon knelt with his face close and continued his wordless cooing in its ear. Satisfied that the animal would not injure itself further with its struggles, Sidon looked up and around at the faces of the circling boys and adults and moved his hands in an strange, stretching gesture that brought Lyon-Khan quickly to his side. The Talandri's gaze was pleading as if he could feel the torment from the pony, and looking deep into the Kauwlut leader's eyes, made the same, stretching gesture. Lyon-Khan stared, stunned as the meaning of the gesture poised almost understood on the edge of his mind. Sidon saw the expression and decided to chance a gesture that, by some, might be misconstrued; but if successful, would make his wishes clear ly understood. He reached out and touched the slim long-blade that hung in Lyon-Khan's scabbard, and then moved his hands again in the stretching gesture.
It was the shaman, who had followed the young pair and stood watching with quiet interest that suddenly understood what it was that the silent captive was asking for; and the old man turned to issue a soft-spoken order to two of the women by his side and sent them scurrying to the campfires for the sticks the boy was asking for. The old shaman took the slender pieces of wood from the returning women and walked slowly into the circle and handed them to the boy, who smiled brilliantly at him as he took the offered sticks and quickly set to work.
Lyon-Khan cocked a confused face at the shaman, who shook his head in amazement and pointed back at Sidon. The young captive was removing his finely woven cloak and tearing strips from its hem, and suddenly Lyon-Khan understood both what the boy had been requesting and the reasons behind it.
The circle of Kauwlut watched amazed at the silent captive quickly fashioned a crude splint that he tied securely to the pony's injured leg, all the while cooing the wordless, soothing sound as he manipulated the broken leg. As Sidon made fast the final knot, Cloud-Rider, the shaman, stepped forward and exam ined the splint closely before looking around the circle with a grunt of approval. As if the grunt were a signal, Sidon leaned forward and touched the pony on the forehead. The animal's eye's immediately brightened, and it struggled awkwardly to its feet. Sidon rose and stepped back, nodding approval of his handiwork and then smiling at Lyon-Khan and waving his hand to present the doctored animal to his captor.
A happy shout rose from the circling Kauwlut. To the clansmen, practically bred astride their ponies, the care of their animals was of the utmost importance; and a broken leg had until that time meant that one of the highly valued animals was sentenced to death. That the pony was again standing was un heard of. Lyon-Khan did not attempt to hide his pleasure as he extended his hand as if in friendship to the smaller captive boy. What matter the Talandri did not speak. He had with this one act proved his usefulness.
On the other side of the camp, Setting Sun shifted angrily in his saddle as he watched the proceedings. The fall and injury to Sparrow Hawk's pony had, at first, been a welcome event. It was the daily races that established the honor of the rival groups, and Sparrow Hawk's pony had been the fastest in camp for two years in succession. That a Talandri captive had quelled the Wolf-Pack's chances of reestablishing top honors in the races was unacceptable to the proud Kauwlut youth's sense of rightness.
Meanwhile, Lyon-Khan led his young captive from the circle, his mind spinning with pride at his decision to let him free that morning. Except for the concerned grunt and cooing song to the pony, the Talandri boy had still not broken his silence. What was more, he had found Sidon's smile and happy pointing back at the limping pony being led away confusing.
What would be the key to unlock this one's tongue and bring him into the world of men, where he might easily make a place for himself in the Kauwlut camp as a healer?
The smile on the captive's face and Lyon-Khan's satisfied smirk quickly brought all of Setting Sun's anger and frustration to a boil. With a war-Yell, he kicked his pony viciously and thundered toward the two boys, his mind empty of anything but scoring a blow on the strange captive to redeem his lost honor. He was close enough that the surprised pair could hardly avoid his attack.
Lyon-Khan's head shot up at the shout, and he threw him self quickly out of the path of the thundering hooves to avoid being trampled; he was unaware that Sidon had not heard the warning and stood directly in the path of the slashing hooves, confused and looking questions at his captor. Setting Sun's club struck the lad on the back of the neck, and Sidon crumpled to the ground and did not move. Aghast, the adult warriors made sure that their nominal leader was unhurt before leaping onto their own ponies and giving chase to the one who had broken the first and foremost law of the camp: never attack one of your own within the circle.
Lyon-Khan hurried over to where Sidon lay unmoving and gently turned him over, shouting all the while for Cloud-Rider. The shaman's deft fingers moved along the base of the boy's skull, and he quickly assured Lyon-Khan that there were no bones broken or injuries other than a large lump that was forming even as they spoke. Lyon-Khan called two warriors to their side, and carefully they lifted the unconscious boy and carried him to Cloud-Rider's tent for treatment.
Lyon-Khan shook his head as he walked with Cloud-Rider. "It was strange, Shaman. He did not move when the shout went up but just stood there."
"It is not so strange, when you think of what he had done before. He used a simple movement of the hands to tell us what he wanted for the pony, and he only pointed back at the pony later as if trying to tell us of his success." The shaman nodded. "The movements were practiced, as if the boy had had to use them many times before. And you say he did not seem to hear the shout when Setting Sun attacked him?"
"He just stood there as if nothing were happening. He didn't even turn when Setting Sun got close to him."
Cloud-Rider rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps he didn't hear the pony because he can't hear to begin with."
Lyon-Khan gaped. "But defective children are always left on the prairies as offerings to the Wolf-Faced One as soon as their defects are known, Wise One."
"That is our practice, Lyon-Khan," the old man explained softly. "I have heard stories of the Talandri keeping their defective peoples alive, especially the children of the high-born. They do not have a Wolf-faced One to take mercy on the poor wretches. But those same defective children are often despised and ignored by their families, the stories tells us."
Lyon-Khan sighed. "Then we must make amends for the failings of the Talandri and send him to the Wolf-Faced One ourselves. The people cannot stay strong with defective ones among us." He sighed again. "A shame, though. I had thought for a moment that we had captured one of their healers."
"I advise patience still, Leader," Cloud-Rider disagreed amiably. "Defective he may be, but he had given proof that he may yet be of use to the people. He is obviously not a non-person, too young to have feelings or emotions as most defective infants are. There may even be a way for him to communicate with us, if his hand-motions are any example."
Lyon-Khan thought deeply as he followed the old shaman into his tent and looked down at the unconscious boy. "Perhaps you are right, Wise One. The Wolf-Faced One would not like us to waste this one's talents on the grassy plains when his value to us is yet unproven. We will wait and see what the capabilities of this one are before we decide his fate."
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