Azaria (3 page)

"That's right... from the Vulture!" Azaria laughed again before continuing. "That's why we call them the Birdmen. And because they can fly through the heavens in the bellies of their great beasts. Now Great-Great-Grandfather, who was looking for his mate, happened upon a scene he’d never witnessed before. His mate was standing in front of a great shimmering creature and there was a strange smaller one who seemed to be talking to her. Although he was scared of what he saw, he ran to his mate because he was more scared for her than for himself, like any good mate would be.

"'
I am fine.
' Great-Great-Grandmother assured him when he ran up with his spear ready. The Birdman introduced himself, '
We are the Ta'ar. We have come here because you are good people and we want to help you.
' Grandfather wasn't sure who he was talking about since he saw only one other strange creature, but then he looked toward the great beast and saw others flowing from its mouth. The new visitors made him even more frightened, for he had never seen anything like them and didn't understand why they were coming from the belly of the beast. They talked differently and moved differently. But he invited them in to share a meal, which is the proper thing to do whenever you meet a stranger. The Birdmen didn't want to eat, but said they would be back soon to visit.

"The Watchers came back often and helped with many things, as they promised they would. And Grandmother and Grandfather learned much from them and about them. They could do special things, things we could never dream of. Some could make a spear of light come out of their hands which would melt a whole field of ice. Others had more beasts who couldn't fly but could move mountains and tear down whole forests."

"When will they come back?" Quzo wondered aloud. By the way the children sat in rapt attention, Azaria knew they hoped she’d have a satisfying answer to the ever-recurring question. She didn't blame them - she still often wondered the same thing.

As she contemplated her answer, Azaria noticed her mother had stopped what she was doing and was making for the exit. Her eyes followed her out, but she continued with the answer. "Well... no one knows exactly, but I'm sure it will be soon if you’re all very good."

She’d decided to end the story quickly, skipping over some of the fun parts and finishing with the common conclusion. "The Watchers came back often and taught us to sow, and to quarry and how to build our shelters and the Temples. They delivered us from the ignorance the other peoples still suffer through. Eventually they had to leave, but they told us they’d be watching us and promised to come back. And when they do they’ll be so proud of everything we’ve accomplished."

Some of the children looked disappointed the story had finished so abruptly, but Azaria knew a sure remedy. "Now, who wants a fig?" she asked. It seemed to do the trick, as they all lost interest in the story and ran to where they knew Zephia kept the sugary treats. She instructed them to help themselves to just one since they'd be eating soon.

With the children distracted for the moment and Azaria concerned for her mother, she pushed the leather flaps open enough to allow her slim frame to slide through. Not seeing her anywhere, she took the path that wrapped around the shelters and headed west, in the direction she often found her mother when the sun was setting. She scaled the gentle slope and strolled around a small grove of cedar trees. As she suspected, her mother was at the top of the incline, watching the sun complete its accelerating plunge into the western hills. She noticed a symphony of colors had swept across the western sky, painting the newly formed clouds all shades of red, purple and orange.
Is it just me,
she thought,
or does the sky look angry all of a sudden?
No, it often looks that way when the sun is ready to plunge.
She couldn't shake the feeling the Ta'ar - those who watched over her people - were offended however. She wondered if it was with the Ta'araki for the act they'd earlier committed or with her for witnessing it.

Azaria called out as she approached, "Hello, mother!"

"Oh hello, beautiful!" Zephia greeted her with a smile. "I almost missed the sunset."

Azaria was hesitant to just blurt out what she really wanted to ask and resolved to delay a bit first. "It’s so beautiful. Why do these sunsets always make me emotional?"

"Your emotions have always dwelled close to the surface," Zephia answered. "But yes, I feel it too."

"Are you okay, mother?"

"Of course, child!" Her mother's response was quick and pointed. "Why do you ask?"

"Your cough. It seems worse than before," Azaria answered.

"Oh Azaria, it’s nothing. Just a little cold. But I should get back to my cooking and you should return to the children – who, I suspect - you left unattended with the figs," Zephia teased as she turned back toward the camp.

Azaria took a couple quick steps to catch up as she defensively replied, "I told them to take only one."

"Child, you have a lot to learn about hungry children," Zephia mocked.

As they approached their shelter, the children were stampeding out, figs in hand as well as in their mouths. "Hey, where do you think you're all off to?" Zephia demanded.

"We're gonna see wha' Ilzan an’ Sekhi aw doin'," answered Quzo, his mouth full of fig.

"Well stay close, Quzo. The food will be ready soon," Zephia commanded.

"Okay, I'll," he mumbled as they fled into the dense cluster of shelters that made up the heart of Boar Camp.

Back inside, Azaria helped her mother cut shallots, carrots and other wild vegetables with a flint cooking knife, a specialized instrument fashioned by an expert shaper. It had to be strong enough to cut cleanly through a variety of fruit and vegetables and thin enough so as not to mash them. The flint blade was about as long as Azaria's index finger and embedded into the upper half of a bone handle and fastened tight with animal sinew.

"Have you picked your outfit for the Summer Solstice Feast?" Zephia asked as they worked.

"I think so..." Azaria replied. "I thought I would wear the gazelle skin dress with the ivory beads." The fact that Azaria had more than one option to choose from hinted at the high status of her hearth and by association, her entire camp. It showed they were not short on resources and had the capacity to fashion non-essential items. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I think that's a good choice," replied her mother, not surprised. She knew it was her daughter’s favorite outfit. She thought Azaria looked lovely in it, and it allowed her to run about with her friends, although they were doing less of that at the gatherings lately. "After our meal I'll help you refit it. You've only grown since you wore it last. We should remend the hems. I noticed it took quite a beating from when you wore it last."

Her eyes widening, Azaria cocked her head to cast her mother a glance that read, ‘
Do you not miss anything about my affairs?’
But instead of protesting, she replied with a grin, "I would love that."

When her father later entered Azaria kept her head down, avoiding his eyes. She feared he would immediately begin questioning her, but was relieved he appeared not to suspect her at all. He asked only how her hunt had gone and seemed satisfied with her short explanation that they hadn’t caught anything. As they gathered around the hearth to enjoy a simple meal of boar meat, fresh greens and vegetables, she stole quick, nervous glances at him, hoping to determine his intentions.

"This is delicious!" exclaimed Azerban upon his first taste. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you prepare it, but you two have outdone yourselves. Perhaps we’d eat better if I always stayed away from the cooking." He ended his favored taunt with his big, boisterous laugh.

"You're too humble, father," Azaria responded. "The liver is from the boar you took down."

"And had no problem proudly taking credit for," Zephia added, delivering with the snipe a bright, teasing smile.

"Ah yes," Azerban intoned. "That grand sow ran straight at me. She practically begged to be eaten. And why shouldn't she? Such a magnificent beast
should
be served at a proud hearth like ours." He ripped a piece of meat off with his teeth, then took it between his thumb and index fingers, held it up slightly above eye-level and finally flicked it into the fire. "And we thank her for her sacrifice."

Quzo was always quick to copy his father, and often took his mimicry too far. He spit the meat he was chewing into his hand, lifted it up and threw it into the fire, yelling, "Thank you for the sac'ifice, Great Pig!!"

Azerban nearly choked on his food, he laughed so hard at this, although his mate was not so pleased. Zephia slapped Azerban's leg hard in protest before rebuking her son, "Quzo, you’re old enough to know sacrifices shouldn’t be taken lightly."

"Why am I being punished?" Azerban objected, playing innocent.

"Because you encourage him!" Zephia replied, feigning her disgust.

"What?" he asked. "The boy has a gift for the dramatic!"

Despite her worries, Azaria couldn't hold her laughter any longer and spit her food into the fire also, afraid she’d choke if she kept trying to chew it. She could feel her anxiety draining away with the back and forth, growing more confident she’d escaped unscathed.

"Azaria, you too?" her mother pleaded.

"Sorry mother, but I couldn’t help it. I almost gagged!"

Outflanked on all sides, Zephia finally gave in. "You’re all too much for me!"

As the giggling died down Azaria's father knew enough to change the subject when he had the chance. "So are we all looking forward to the Solstice Celebrations?" he asked, looking directly at his daughter. He could tell by her agitated state she was terrified of the consequences of her earlier actions. He wondered if it would be enough to keep her mouth shut. He also wondered how much she’d witnessed. The abnormal nature of the sacrifice ritual they had earlier performed had been emotionally traumatic for him. He worried it could be devastating for his young daughter.

"Yes, Az'ban!" Quzo said, the first to answer as usual. "I will win all the games!"

"'Yes, father!' Quzo." Zephia scolded. "How many times have I told you to show the proper respect for your father?"

Despite the rebuke, Azaria smiled at his enthusiasm. Her brother wasn't old enough to play the games she knew he was referring to, much less to win them. "I'm sure you can, my son," her father said, looking down proudly. "But for now the games will be played by the hunters and you will watch and learn."

"Aaahhhha," Quzo half-protested, knowing intuitively this was an argument he wouldn't win. Annoying as he could be, Azaria adored her little brother, who could count four full winters. His hair was straight and a deep dark brown, much like her father's and hers. To his mother's frustration, he insisted on wearing it short, just past the ears, an unusual cut which set him apart. The unorthodox style earned him a good amount of hectoring from the other children, but he'd always borne the harassment defiantly. Azaria had never understood her little brother's obsession with his hair.

"And you, Azaria?" her father asked, looking down at his plate filled with meat.

Azaria looked directly at him now, noticing he didn't meet her eye. Juice from what was left of the boar's liver dripped down his large hands. She wished he would look up at her, but knew she'd probably look away as soon as he did.

"Very much, father," she replied. "Mother promised to help me with my outfit tonight."

Before her father could reply, Quzo abruptly blurted out, striving to keep the attention centered on him, "'Zaria wants to kiss Dogahn at the Feast!!"

"Quzo!!" Zephia immediately scolded him.

"Be quiet, you dung thrower! I DO
not!
" Azaria nearly screamed, wondering where he’d obtained his information.
He must have overheard Daneel questioning me
, she guessed, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with her best friend several suns ago. Azaria had recently developed an interest in boys – one in particular - but wasn’t interested in admitting it to anyone, especially not her father.

"Look at 'er face!!" Quzo laughed, pointing at her reddening complexion and rolling over, holding his side laughing. Despite the scolding it was clear he was very happy with himself.

"That's enough food for you, Quzo," Zephia said, having had enough of him. "Go down to the river and fetch some water for cleaning."

"But I'm still hungreee!!!" Quzo whined, his mood taking an abrupt turn.

"If you were hungry, you would’ve been eating instead of torturing your sister." Recently she'd been thinking they should start holding the boy more accountable for his disturbances. This seemed as good an opportunity as any to teach him a lesson. But she didn't want him going hungry either. "You can take your meat with you," she added.

Azerban was well aware Dogahn was very close to his daughter, but was still taken aback by his son's exclamation of her romantic interest. He recovered quickly however. After all, Dogahn was an honorable young man, was developing into a brave hunter and would probably do well at the junior games. Perhaps his hearth didn't have as much status as he would’ve liked, but Irizahner, Dogahn's father, was a strong, proven hunter who'd recently been taking more initiative in organizing hunts. Their hearth was gaining status. With just a little imagination, he could see the boy would be a natural target of attraction for his daughter.