The Tattooed Tribes (5 page)

“
Yes, ma’am,” Jon replied. “I’ll take very
good care of him.”

“
Do come back and tell us how he’s getting
on next time you’re passing,” Marcus said, handling Jon the
paper.

He picked up
Jon’s half-finished coffee as well and put it on the tray, and Jon
guessed he had been given his notice to quit.

As the front
door shut behind him he wondered what the hell that had all been
about.

There was no
time to speculate; he had to go to Guild headquarters and see how
much damage Cunliff and Machin had achieved with their reports on
the board’s proceedings.

It turned out
to be quite a bit and Jon had to face several tough interviews with
increasingly senior Masters. He was made to feel very much the new
boy in need of guidance, and it was only with some difficulty he
kept a civil tongue between his teeth.

In the end,
the whole thing was pushed to the very top. and he was told to
return the next day for a final decision.

Chapter
4

It was late and
he was tired when he finally made it home. Lucien was waiting for
him, full of questions and dumbfounded by the news his father had
not only consented, but did so without argument.

“
And he’s paid your fees,” Jon added. “So
hand over what you earned.”

“
But it’s mine,” Lucien
protested.

“
And it will stay that way, nice and safe
in the bank until you make journeyman or I sack you.”

Lucien, who
had been pulling notes of varying condition from the pristine to
the disgusting from a number of pockets and hiding places, looked
up at this.

“
Sack me?”

“
Yes, if you prove to be a complete waste
of my time,” Jon replied. “Now hand it over. You’ll get pocket
money as and when you deserve it.”

Reluctantly
the money was surrendered. Jon returned a single dollar.

“
Don’t waste it. It’ll be a while before
you see another.”

Lucien was
silent until dinner, fingers tapping out his annoyance on the side
of his chair. Jon made no attempt to stop the brooding, but was in
no mood to endure the silent treatment all through dinner; he began
to tell Lucien tales of the high forest, of hunting deer by
moonlight and of salmon runs when the water seemed to boil with
fish.

His grievances
forgotten, Lucien listened spellbound, and Jon, not displeased with
his rapture, allowed him a treat.

He pulled out
a small pouch made from some sort of soft shiny leather.

“
Fish skin,” he told Lucien. “A type of
pike. Not good to eat, too many bones, but the skin tans and you
can use the flesh as bait for tastier things.”

From the bag
he poured nine pearls, the largest the size of a fat pea, the
smallest no bigger than a lentil. Most were creamy white, but one
blushed a very pale pink.

“
Why are there only nine?” Lucien asked.
“You’ve got fourteen tattooed on your hands.”

“
I gave five of them away,” Jon
replied.

Lucien picked
up the pink one. “I thought all pearls were white.”

“
They come in other colours,” Jon told him.
“Pink pearls are the most desirable. The Tribes set a lot of store
on the colour red and all its variations. It’s doesn’t occur often
in nature.”

“
What other colours?” Lucien asked,
fingering the jewels.

“
Black, grey and brown,” replied Jon.
“Someone told me they’d seen a yellow one and I did once see one a
much darker pink than this.” He turned a pearl to the light.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Lucien nodded.
“And valuable.”

“
Very valuable,” Jon agreed. “Not only to
The People, but to off-world collectors as well. There are some
who’d like to dredge the river from The First Cataract to the
mountains and strip every clam from the waters.”

Lucien was
shocked. “But if they did there wouldn’t be any more. Ever!”

“
They don’t care,” Jon replied. “They
aren’t interested in tomorrow. That’s what I mean about protecting
The Tribes from The Settlers. There’re plenty of others who
wouldn’t want the river raped, but who’d like the land and the
timber and see the First Nation as a block to what they regard as
their right to expand.”

Jon hoped his
message went home; he swept his pearls back into their bag and
promised one day to show Lucien where he could find his own.

Morning saw
Lucien taut with anticipation. The grin never left his face and
none of Jon’s attempts to dampen his spirits or to convince him all
achieved so far might be in vain had effect; every caution was
dismissed with a breezy wave of the hand.

“
Piece of piss.”

As Jon could not convince him otherwise,
he gave up. He was far from being as certain as his young prodigy.
He
thought
he had
answered every objection, but there was still the Grand Master
himself to face and he was not a man you argued with. If he said no
it would the end of it.

He tried to
convince Lucien of some of this on the walk to Tribal Liaison
Headquarters. By the time they got there, he was fairly sure he had
failed, but did feel he managed to convey the need for impeccable
manners.

Even so, when
they finally reached the unassuming building and made their way
down corridors lined with tribal weapons, painted skins and
fantastic masks, he stopped before the final door and held a
warning finger under Lucien’s nose.

“
You will be polite in there, speak
respectfully and truthfully. There’s still a good chance you could
blow this. Understand?”

Lucien nodded,
but it was obvious from the sparkle in his eyes he did not believe
it.

The room
behind the door was best described as comfortable. It was warm from
a small fire in the stone hearth and the rugs on the floor. Light
came in through double aspect windows and illuminated a simple desk
in the middle.

The man
sitting behind it was elderly. Lucien began to realise how elderly
when Jon pushed him nearer. The face was a mass of deep wrinkles
made by years of exposure to every sort of weather, but the eyes
looking out of the wreckage were timeless.

His two hands,
resting on the desk, were a blur of old faded tattoos with hardly a
space between them.

“
Grand Master,” Jon began. “May I
respectfully present Lucien William Devlin for your
consideration?”

Lucien stood
still and straight, his hands clasped behind his back. There was
something about this venerable old man that demanded it.

“
This is an unusual step, Brother
Harabin.”

“
I’m aware of it, sir, but I hope custom
may be put aside in this case.”

The Grand
Master grunted and returned to studying Lucien, who found he was
uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Finally the
old man spoke. “You may have problems.”

“
I’m fully aware of it, sir,” Jon
replied.

The wrinkled
face twisted into a cynical smile. “Possibly,” he agreed. “But I
wonder if you’re fully prepared.”

There was
another long pause and the warm air seemed to grow thick and time
slowed from a leisurely stroll to a snail’s crawl.

“
Very well,” the Grand Master said,
breaking the heavy silence. “We will try the
experiment.”

“
Thank you, Grand Master,” Jon replied and
nudged Lucien.

“
Thank you, sir!” Lucien added
swiftly.

Outside the
room Jon took a long, deep breath. “I didn’t think he would buy
it.”

“
Like I said,” Lucien replied. “Piece of
piss.”

Jon frowned at
him. “That’s enough,” he snapped. “Keep your mouth shut and come
with me; you need to sign your indenture papers.”

Jon took him
back through the building and out onto a broad veranda.

“
Wait here,” he ordered. “I need to see to
a few things first. Behave yourself.”

Lucien, who
felt the order was superfluous as there was little scope for
mischief, went and took a seat.

There were a
couple of other teenage boys waiting there, they had shot to their
feet as Jon approached and seemed eager to speak to him.

Lucien was
mildly interested by their reaction; he was also very pleased with
himself and in need of someone to either share his good fortune
with or to show off to.

“
Are you Guild apprentices?” he
asked.

“
No!” one replied haughtily. “Why do you
think we’re here?”

“
Dunno,” Lucien said with a shrug. Sharing
was looking unlikely, but there was the other
possibility.

“
Because,” the other one said. “Master
Harabin is finally taking an apprentice today and we’re both on his
list.”

Other
possibility front and centre!

“
There’s a list?” Lucien asked, faking
astonishment.

The two
exchanged superior looks.

“
The Board makes a list of recommended
candidates,” the first one explained, not without a large injection
of smugness. “I am on it.”

“
And so am I,” the other one added with an
equally self-satisfied smirk.

A part of
Lucien wondered if he ought to feel a touch of sympathy, but he did
not allow it to disturb him for more than a nanosecond.

“
Oh, bad luck!” he said. “What a
shame.”

“
What do you mean?” one
demanded.

“
You haven’t got it,” he replied. “Either
of you.”

“
How would you know? It has to be one of
us. The only other person on the list was a girl and my source told
me they were definitely drawing up papers with a boy’s
name.”

“
You’re right, it’s definitely a boy’s
name,” Lucien agreed. “It’s just not either of you.”

“
How do you know?”

“
Cos I’m here to sign my papers,” he
replied. “I’m Jon’s new apprentice. Guess you guys just didn’t have
what it takes.”

There was a
moment of shocked silence, then …

“
You’re lying!”

More words
were exchanged along the same lines. A fight was not inevitable and
would not have happened, if Lucien had not said a couple of things
to make it so.

It was just
beginning to go his way, the larger of the two disappointed boys
having fallen back to get his wind back after a swift fist in the
stomach, when he was half strangled in being picked up by the
scruff of his neck and shaken like a duster.

“
What the hell are you doing?” Jon
demanded.

“
Playing,” Lucien croaked.

Jon shook him
again and thrust him towards the door.

“
Get inside!” he ordered.

Lucien
stumbled into the room and allowed his eyes to adjust to the
different light. A clerk seated at a desk looked at him, sighed and
shook his head. Lucien was sufficiently full of himself to consider
demanding an explanation, but suddenly his ear was grasped in a
vice like grip and Jon forced him to look him in the eye.

“
Have you any idea just how stupid that
was?” he demanded.

Lucien tried
to pull way, but the grip tightened and he thought better of
it.

“
Stand still!” Jon ordered. “You’ve two
seconds to say something that will stop me tearing up those
papers.”

Lucien felt as
if someone had poured icy cold water into the pit of his
stomach.

“
I … I’m sorry,” he yelped. “I didn’t mean
… oh God! I’m sorry, Jon. Please don’t.”

The grip
stayed and Jon held his eyes for what seemed like eternity; then he
dropped his hand.

“
You’re damned lucky you’ve not signed
yet!” he said. “Sit!” He pushed Lucien into a chair and handed him
a long sheet of close typed paper. “You need to read it all
carefully before you sign it.”

Lucien face
fell. “All of it?”

“
Yes! All of it,” Jon replied. “You can sit
here and do it while I fix the mess you made outside. And make sure
you don’t miss a single word.”

He
disappeared, leaving Lucien alone with the clerk and the sheet of
small print. The clerk made it obvious he did not need Lucien to
entertain him and he had no intention of entertaining Lucien, so
the boy was forced to turn his attention to the document.

He saw his
name at the top under the Guild’s name and seal, and he saw Jon’s
name as well.

What followed
was full of legal stuff, repeating itself over and over again as
far as Lucien could see. He glanced down the page and saw words
like ‘apprentice’ and ‘master’ and ‘responsibility’, but as far as
he could make out without reading it properly, it amounted to his
being Jon’s apprentice and that was all that mattered.

He pretended
to study it until Jon came back, but felt nothing more was needed
as he had all the salient points.

“
Have you read it?”

Lucien
nodded.

“
Then we’d better get on with it,” Jon
said.

The signing
took a while. Another clerk was called in and Lucien had to sign
his name in half a dozen places and each one was witnessed by both
clerks and then a huge glob of red wax was dripped on and a big
brass seal stamped in. The whole procedure was repeated by Jon, who
also handed over the money Marcus had given him. It was carefully
counted twice and the amount entered into a big account book, and
once again both parties had to sign their names.