Compis: Five Tribes (16 page)

“One thing you'll find as you tour the tribes, is that each tribe has its own system of government that is separate from the Five Tribes. In our tribe, there is a group of elected members we call the Vula, representing each city or town, and each of the main industrial houses. For instance, we have a house each for fishing, herb gathering, herbal elixir production, jewelry, trinkets, and many more. There are twelve main industrial houses, each with their own needs and the same is true of each township. The Vula, of which I'm the governing head, as High Council member, makes all laws and is the caretaker of the tribal monies that we get from each gathering and trade agreement.”

By this time, she and Nikka were in the carriage and traveling down the road. It was a complicated system, but instead of being bored by the trivial details of the tribe's government, Nikka was happy to have a reason to take her mind off of the things she'd left behind her only a few hours ago.

Was it just this morning that I was made Compis?

Surely it must have been many days ago that her entire world had changed. She listened to Jilli go on, and enjoyed the late afternoon sun as it lit up the ocean waves to her left. It was so beautiful, crashing and misting against the high craggy rocks. She assumed there were several cliff sides with a lovely view that they passed, but the road they took wound itself away from the ocean's edge before curling back and down into a large cove, filled with a bustling seaside town.

As they made their way down a stone-paved road through what must have been the main passage through town, with its lining of quaint shops and busy people, each person Jilli passed made a deep bow to her. Nikka couldn't help noticing the pleased expression on Jilli's face as she gave a stiff nod to each person. She wondered what it must be like to be a ruler of your tribe. It was a position of grave responsibility, and remembering what Zyander had implied about his own father, she knew that there must be a lot of worry associated with holding the whole of a tribe's welfare in your hands. If Jilli received laud from her tribe because of it, she probably deserved it.

“They seem to love you,” Nikka said.

“I am not so old as the many of the Sanguis, only about 150 years old. Many years ago, however, when I was a young girl, I found an opportunity to help my tribe. You are very young, Nikka, and the older you are, the clearer the ways of the Five Tribes will become. They parade Initiates about, like little ducklings, showing off our
great
government, our
wonderful
Duor and High Council, but they never show you how it works. There are always ruling tribes and oppressed tribes.

“Our tribe was insignificant once, the way the Ignis are now. We were bullied and overruled in votes. Taken advantage of in every trade agreement, our tribe was not as rich and thriving as it is today. Now we stand apart, masters of ourselves as we have never been. We hold our own in the meetings and no one pushes us around any more.

“I won't lie, Nikka, dear, you will be offered many priceless things to join a certain tribe. You mean power to any tribe that feels oppressed or seeks to gain more power. This is the last you will hear about this from me, because I take my position in the High Council seriously, but we are no exception. While we hold all our own power, we would be foolish not to offer you a place among us, where you will be given whatever you need, and in return, all we ask is that you embrace us with an honest heart and do your best for our tribe.”

They were silent, until Jilli halted in front of a small cottage at the end of a cobblestone lane.

“Jilli, what did you do to save your tribe?” asked Nikka.

“It is part of our tribal secrets that I can not reveal. Not because I don't want to, but because I made a promise that I wouldn't. If you do become part of the tribe, ask me again, and I will tell you freely,” said Jilli, “Come, let's go inside and have some supper.”

~~~~

Supper was a delicious fish stew, unlike anything Nikka had ever tasted before, with tart and watery vegetables, creamy soup and a tender fish meat that broke apart in her mouth. The company was enjoyable as well. Jilli's sister, Inia, was a short, plump woman who didn't look a thing like her. Her husband was a fisherman who was away for the season. Seated around the table with Inia were her four children: there was Jerem—who was only a few years past Induction, Liki—who would be an Initiate next year, Noni—a sweet little girl about the age of Nikka's sister, and Tomtom—the baby of the family at five years old.

It was a loud affair, supper, filled with laughter and the noise of the children. Inia's house servant, Joaga, shuffled around with the food and drink, flinching at each squeal. The house servants employed by the Aquis weren't jolly folk.

After they had finished eating, they went into the great room, everyone piling into the many cushioned chairs and couches scattered around the room. It was a large room for such a small house, which Nikka mentioned to Jerem.

“We tend to make our social rooms the biggest and skimp on the sleeping rooms,” said Jerem. Nikka nodded and thought of Jilli's house, with its large room that looked out onto the sea. Jerem was long and thin like his aunt, with the same pale green hair as all the other adults, but his was cut short on the bottom, almost shaved, and longer on the top, twined with little shells.

“We are subject to some nasty storms here on the coast, especially during Magna Venta, when the winds are high. During those times, we pile into our houses and hole up, playing games, singing songs and drinking warm drinks in front of a hot fire,” he continued. “So we add as many chairs as we need for a good time and when the storms come, we move from place to place, having fun with our friends, neighbors, and relatives.”

“It sounds wonderful,” said Nikka, and not for the first time wished her family could be with her.

“We are a tribe that values social connections. Without each other, we are nothing. Although, I suspect it is the same with the other tribes. I don't know, as I was never sent to find out,” Jerem smiled.

“Were you surprised to be chosen for your own tribe?” asked Nikka.

“You know, some are, but I wasn't at all. I think I've always known that I would be Aquis. It is in my blood. Out of my mother's family, three of the five were Inducted into the Aquis.”

“It makes me wonder, what is in my blood.” Nikka did wonder—what it was about herself that had given rise to the Compis and all its complexities. They were both silent for a time, then Jerem sat up and clapped his hands together.

“Enough of this maudlin introspection. What shall we do this week? Aunt Jilli said I'm to take you out on the boat and I know you'll want to tour the town. We need to keep busy until the Initiates come into town, then you're going to be joining them for some lessons in common magic.”

“Let's look over the town tomorrow,” said Nikka. “I want to mail a letter, and I know there are some Praete Lines I can use here in town.”

“I think you misunderstood,” said Jerem. “There aren't any Praete Lines here in town. The closest one is out by Aunt Jilli's house.”

Nikka didn't say anymore, and they arranged to meet outside Jilli's house in the morning. All the way home, she looked up into the night sky, at the thousands and thousands of stars. And shining brightly throughout them, she saw wave after wave of interconnecting lines pulsing—the Praete Lines were there, but for some reason she was the only one who saw them.

The journey was an easy one through the meadow lands. They took one pack horse in addition to their own, which was weighed down with several leather satchels of fermented goat's milk, several wheels of cheese, about a bushel of flat bread, and a sack of grain for morning porridge. They also couldn't live without some herbs and spices to break the monotony of taste confronting them. Anything else they needed, however, they would forage for along the way. Their destination was south and through the forests of Napalin. Once upon a time, the Ignis had been forest dwellers, but after the great sickness, they moved their people up closer to the center of the country, where the Sanguis resided.

When Zyander and Alys finally got to the edge of the meadow, the trees and other ground foliage began to pop up around them. The air started to fill with the chatter of birds and the rustle of animal movement. At the moment, they were camped right at the cusp of Napalin, just outside the place where the magic of the Ignis was born. From here, the elders said it was a few weeks journey to Abira, their final destination.

Zyander had been up at first light, scrambling around to get a fire lit in the small pit they'd dug the night before. When the fire was crackling, he put the small kettle over the hook to heat, and went about preparing herbs for his tea. He could hear Alys snoring away in the tent—he'd never been an early riser.

The kettle whistled its merry tune and he pulled it off with a thick cloth and poured it into the wood cup he always brought with him on foraging trips. Then he sat against a fallen log and sipped his drink. He was staring hard enough into the flames that he didn't hear the soft noise of paw to fern until a small, rusty voice said, “You shouldn't brood so, Fire Child. It will make you seem more peckish than you already are.”

He jumped at the voice and yelled when he looked down and saw the fox—a vixen—sitting next to him.

Her chuckle was a husky rasp. “You are an idiot, no doubt about that. I knew it from the first moment I saw you, days back when you were leaving the meadows for good.”

Zyander fumbled to grasp the cup and succeeded only in spilling his drink all over his shirt.

“Aww,” he said, and set it on the log. Then he got up to put the kettle back over the fire again. Luckily, he'd made enough for Alys, so there was the perfect amount for a second cup.

“Listen, little fox, I'm not sure why you've been following me or why you find the need to insult me, but as I haven't done anything to you, I wish you'd go away and leave me to my one morning enjoyment.”

The fox chuckled again and paced over to where he was squatting by the fire.

“Don't be so prickly, Fire Child. I'm here to help you.”

“Help me? How? And while we're at it, how is it you can talk? Are you some special kind of fox?”

“More likely, you're some special kind of boy. All the animals talk, idiot. It's just that now Iam has opened your ears so you can hear us again. All of your kind used to be able to talk to the animals—or didn't your great elders teach you that?”

“I knew we used to talk to animals, but no one ever knew what happened. It just stopped, along with all our other tribal magics. So how are you going to help me?”

“You just answered your own question, Fire Child. Your tribe needs its magic, and you need to find the forgotten city. I am here to help you with both.”

“Why do you want to do that?” Zyander asked.

“Because Iam told me to, Fire Child,” said the vixen, looking up at him, tongue out. She sat on her haunches and sniffed the air. “We're not far now.”

“Why did Iam tell you to help me? We've never been on intimate terms.”

The fox huffed and poked him in the chest with her nose.

“It's all right here, as plain as the nose on your ugly man-face. Honestly, you human, are as blind as a new kit. Look, look, Fire Child.”

Zyander looked down to where her nose pushed into his chest, but he didn't see a thing.

“There's nothing there,” he said, even lifting his shirt to make sure he wasn't missing something—a mole or a bruise, maybe.

“No!” she barked, “
Look
!” Poking him again, he felt the air ripple and a pulse of power washed over his stomach. That is when it saw the glow—a bright marking on his chest, it was about the size of a palm. No wait, it
was
a palm print and fingers. He was just able to make it out before it faded again.

“What- what was that?”

“That was the spell your mother placed on you all those years ago. It is one of the most powerful I've seen. She must have had more abilities than anyone in your tribe to lift the sickness—even for a moment—to place that spell.”

“I thought they were just words. I mean, I knew what she meant to do—to cast the spell—but I always thought she hadn't done anything.”

“They were words, but from the Praetra—where anything spoken is possible.”

Zyander sat back against the log to start on his new batch of tea. The vixen scrambled up onto it and leaned over his cup to sniff at the contents before settling in beside him.

“So the spell cast on me is what brought you here?”

“Iam told me, when I was just a kit myself, that one day a Fire Child with a golden spell placed on him would enter Napalin near my home den. I was to help the Fire Child to find Abira, and protect him from the harm that Napalin might visit upon him and help him save his magic.”

“My family's land intersects Napalin near Awatha, the capitol city. I've never known anything dangerous to come from it.”

“This is the wild side of the forest, Fire Child. So many of the Praete Lines meet with our world on this side of the forest, that it has bred many wondrous and dangerous creations.”

“Well, fox mother, what do you suggest I do first?” He looked down into her amber eyes, and she poked him in the chest.

“My first suggestion is that you wake up, Fire Child. Wake up! Wake up!” she said as she continued to poke him in the chest with her wet nose.

~~~~~

The wet nose became a finger and the raspy fox voice became Alys' voice, as Zyander was brought awake by Alys' insistence.

“Zyan, we need to get an early start on the day. I let you sleep as long as I could, but breakfast is ready and your tea is getting cold,” said Alys, moving back outside, presumably to look after the food.

Zyander felt an empty ache in his chest, a feeling of loss that he wished he could let go, but the dream lingered with him in a palpable way. He felt the sorrow of a great longing for the golden age of his tribe, when they were able to speak freely with the animals and be spoken to in turn.

He pulled on his boots and laced them tightly, then wandered outside, still dazed, to eat his breakfast of tea and porridge laced with stickyweed juice—a sweetener they called claya much used in their tribe because of its portability and potency.