I Wonder What They Want

For perhaps the twentieth time today, Berdan came close to losing her temper. And for the twentieth time she repeated the word "profit" to herself like a cantrip to banish the feeling. After all, the gorvij trader had come to this isolated forest because the customers were all fools, she must be prepared to put up with foolishness. She must ignore it and get on with business.

With a sigh, she reached out to help the befuddled jakruraath that had somehow gotten its arms tangled in a chain balance, which it seemed to think was jewelry. "Pwid-TEE" the pale gold furred creature chirped, as it tried to loop the chain over its head, oblivious to her efforts. "Yes, pretty", Berdan agreed evenly. The phrase "pretty as a kitty" came unbidden to her mind. She shoved the thought down. These were not cats! But they reminded her very much of the sand leopards of the wide wilderness areas. Sand leopards were friendly also, but despite their sentience the jakruraaths seemed to have less common sense.

"Crackbell!", Berdan exclaimed suddenly, blaspheming the stately music of her people's principle religion. Another of the exasperating creatures had just slipped into her tent. Dropping the balance she sped forward and grasped the interloper by its puffy ended tail. The jakruuraath, this one jet black, turned and hissed, but did not put out its claws. Well there was another difference then, a sand leopard would have slashed her face for that. "Pardon me, Sen", she said frostily. "That tent is private property, and guarded by vipertoads!" She described, with just a little exaggeration, the effect of a vipertoad bite. Syncopation! The five beat morons would probably pick one up. Where was Abenid? "Abenid! I told you to watch the camp, what are you doing?" The boy came running from between two trees. "Sorry Mom, he wheezed. "They were trying to climb the horses."

*  *  *

Hurree contemplated the scene from her perch in a nearby tree, her tail twitching with amusement. These hyuumins were so delightfully unpredictable! These, the gorvijes, were so different from those other hyuumins, the nildrer, who stopped by regularly twice a year. It was hard to tell the two races apart by sight except by the skin color, nildrer being dull brown and gorvijes yellowish or orange.

But their actions could hardly be more different. The nildrer came with specific questions to ask. They asked about the jakruuraaths themselves: how many were there? Had the number increased or diminished in five years? How was their health? Their food supply? There were questions about jakruuraath life and customs: what crafts did they engage in? What games did they play? What was more important, the individual, the family or the tribe? Who told them what to do? Why them? How much attention did people give them? And there were questions about the forest itself mainly expressing a concern that the jakruuraaths not use up the plants or animals too fast.

But the gorvijes, who arrived randomly, had little interest in such things. Most of them wanted to trade. These two were like that. But what they had, what they wanted, and what trades they were willing to make were not the same as those of the last traders, or for that matter any other. Gorvij traders were much more fun than the gorvij minstrels who occasionally showed up. The gorvij language, so low spoken and harsh to sensitive jakruuraath ears, became painful when sung. It made children cry and frightened pets. Apparently minstrels were a class who obtained food and shelter among their own people by threatening to sing. The jakruuraaths attempted to accommodate. It was better when the minstrels just told stories, because they knew such wonderful ones. Stories fed the insatiable jakruuraath appetite for novelty.

Some gorvijes came with violent intentions. Few actually attacked the jakruuraaths, they were usually fleeing from, pursuing, or planning to ambush other gorvijes. They usually didn't stay long, there were larger forests for such operations. At such times the jakruuraaths would stay low and perhaps engage in a little discreet sabotage.

Hurree was discontented, a common feeling among her people. They were very prone to boredom, always seeking something new to see or experience. What hyuumins described as the "thirst for knowledge", was called pain by the jakruuraaths. There was a proverb about the necessity of investigation to ease that pain. Those gorvijes who understood the jakruuraath language translated the proverb cynically: "curiosity cured the cat". Hurree felt in need of a cure.

It was the land east of the forest that she was curious about. Most visitors, such as the gorvij trader who had arrived with a huge covered wagon, came from the north. That way were more forests and the gigantic Lake Huwauwu, source of fat succulent fish. South and west were prairies where hyuumins lived in small towns and farms. A lot of stories told of the nasty fighting between those towns, and the oppressive bosses who ruled them.

But east the travelers said, was just a desert. There were towns there too, but very far apart, separated by inhospitable territory. That was all they knew. That was not enough for Hurree, she was determined to check it out for herself. Berdan the gorvij wanted nuts, herbs, and small rodents. Hurree could find those. And trade them for such things as the gorvij thought good for a journey.

*  *  *

Berdan tried to dismiss the request at first. The dimwitted jakruuraath intended to walk out into the desert! Yes, Berdan had the "journey things": clothing, sandals, canteens, but that wouldn't help. Hurree would get lost, she'd die of thirst, or sunstroke. Unless wolves got her first. Or bandits. Or, Protector Gods of all the Gorvij, she might meet ferevee revivalists. But Hurree would not be dissuaded. And no one else seemed as eager to bring her the items she wanted. Berdan had only a few days to get to a monthly fair.

It took three of those days to fill the needed stocks, and to properly outfit Hurree. One problem was the supply of mint tea, called by travelers "desert punch". Berdan had taken the opportunity to make a fresh batch from a local spring and her own stock of dried leaves. But Hurree wanted to use her people's own "happy bush". Hurree sniffed it. As she suspected, it was catnip. Great, as if a jakruuraath wasn't giddy enough to begin with! After some argument they settled on a half and half blend.

*  *  *

The walk was a lark at first. Hurree had never spent so much time in direct sunlight. It exhilarated her. The multiple layers of her linen robe and her broad straw hat protected her. Even the slight discomfort of wearing clothing, and the way she had to move differently was stimulating. She was a real adventurer now, with a cramped tail to prove it!

But after several days she began to feel weary and a little ill. Her food ran out and she had indifferent success at hunting. It was much harder to sneak up on small game among the skeletal bushes of the desert, than among the lush trees of home. And the game was scarce. She discovered that lizards were stringy and very dry. After three days without eating, she gulped down a handful of red ants. That almost killed her. After two days of delirium and near paralysis, she moved on. Later she managed to kill a rabbit. This gave her the strength to go on and the next day she found an oasis. After a long soak in the brackish spring, she climbed into the largest of the three trees and slept.

She stayed there four days. On the third a pack of wolves visited. She stayed in the tree. But seeing the wolves reminded her of Berdan's warnings. Any hyuumins in the area would likely come here also. According to Berdan, if she met bandits, it was better to immediately kill one, to gain their respect. If she met ferevee, it was better to immediately kill herself. That was a peculiar idea. But she'd heard it before. Ferevee, the white gorvijes, personification of all evil and pitiless cruelty. All gorvijes feared them.

But the gorvijes also told a strange story. The ferevee were long dead, destroyed when their gorvij slaves turned on them long ago. How then could they still be a threat? The gorvijes spoke of a curse. Sometimes the children of gorvijes would turn out to be ferevee. Some escaped and formed communities out in the wilderness, from which they preyed on the isolated gorvij settlements. Further, the gorvijes insisted, these throwbacks were attempting to bring back the dreaded ferevee gods, the Pain Bringers. For that reason they were called revivalists.

Hurree decided it was time to move on. There was a stone slab set up at the side of the oasis. It bore some writing and a large arrow pointing due east. Hurree couldn't read it, or rather, she could sound out the gorvij letters but they made no sense to her. Still, she decided to take it as an omen and continue.

Another day of eastward travel brought a change in the terrain. There was grass in the sand now. And grasshoppers in the grass. With plenty of grasshoppers and an occasional mouse, Hurree would not starve. She was thoughtfully munching a grasshopper when she became aware of the camels. She had never seen such queer looking creatures in her life. She stared at them in fascination as they approached. It was several minutes before she saw that they had riders. There were six camels in all, each bearing a jakruuraath like, or maybe hyuumin like, figure, all in heavy robes and scarves. She wondered if they were bandits. Or ferevee. Well too late to run now. "Besides", she thought to herself, "if i left , i wouldn't learn anything. I wonder what they want." It was a typical jakruuraath thought.

The riders stopped about 10 meters away. They seemed as surprised by her appearance as she was by their strange mounts. One of them unwrapped the scarf from its face for a better look.

The first thing that struck her was the burning intensity of the green eyes, after that she noticed the paleness of the features. Gorvij features, she thought, then suddenly remembered the description of the ferevee.

The riders spoke among themselves in a language that sounded like bees. Then one of them dismounted and came at her with a net. Oh they wanted to take her somewhere? Ok. Gripped by her people's fatalistic curiosity, she allowed herself to be snared and bundled into a camel's back without resisting. But when they started stripping her, she bit. But they held her down, divested her of her pack, robe, tunic, and the weapons she hadn't used, and tied the net around her again. Then the one she'd bitten took out a thick two foot rod and beat her with it. The rod had been cunningly shaved to have rough scalloped projections. Though the blows were not hard, they gouged great welts of fur and flesh from her arms and shoulder. She shrieked with pain. The ferevee chuckled and struck her one more time. "Weakling", it said in gorvij. "That was less than nothing!"

They rode off. Through the pain and the bounding, Hurree could hear the riders argue. Eventually she fell asleep.

*  *  *

She woke up when they dropped her to the ground in front of the town. It was a series of low plain buildings surrounded by a wall. Everything was made of honey-colored brick. From a distance it would blend in with the sand. The net was removed and a rope tied around her neck. She was hauled to her feet and prodded forward. There was a break in the wall in front of her; one of her captors had already entered. She followed, fuming. Behind her, someone kept the tension on the rope just a little less than comfortable.

There were a lot of gorvijes in the town, all hurriedly intent on different tasks. Most had scars. There were not as many ferevee, but they obviously were the ones in control. All of them had scars, some quite gruesome. Her presence caused quite a stir. Several ferevee came up close and poked at her, but were warned away by her captors. A parade formed behind them.

They came to the center of the town. An enormous bowl shaped depression dominated the area. Unlike the buildings, this structure was luxuriously adorned. It was surrounded by a fence made of some highly polished dark wood in a lattice so fine it looked like lace. Inside were circular rows of seats all made of green marble. Each seat was carved in a unique and intricate pattern of diamonds and arrows. In between the seats, the ground was covered with red, gray and yellow flagstones. There was a pattern there too, but she got dizzy trying to follow it. Inside was another circle, a carved and painted wooden rail surrounding a deep pit.

Hurree's captors stopped at the entrance to the bowl. A ferevee carrying a long hooked staff came up and exchanged words with the leader. Hurree noticed that the staff had an eye painted on the upper end, a ferevee green eye. Red tassels hanging down made it appear as if the eye were weeping blood. The staff holder shouted to the crowd that had gathered. They responded with a roar of approval. Hurree felt the rope being removed from her neck. A hand grasped her shoulder and propelled her into the bowl. The leader of her captors addressed her.

"Well creature, there is one who wants your pelt. But you will not be required to give it; that one will have to take it from you. You go now to the arena." Still indignant from their treatment, she pretended not to understand gorvij.

Someone lowered a ladder into the pit. Prodded, she climbed down. Across from her, a naked hyuumin was climbing down a second ladder. When they were both in, the ladders were removed. The pit was about 3 meters deep and 5 meters in diameter. Its walls were smooth wood, sloping inward slightly toward the top. Looking up, she could see the heads of the crowd that was now occupying the marble seats.

The ferevee opposite her was standing perfectly still. The crowd was silent. Then there was a thump, as the crooked staff was struck on the ground. The ferevee opposite her suddenly thrust out his arms. A metal object fell into them. Another fell into the sand in front of her. She stared at it. It was about a meter long and all gleaming steel. On one end, a double axe blade; on the other, a barbed point. The ferevee held his weapon up to the crowd. There were two crescent holes in the blade right at the shaft. He grasped it there and near the point end. Then he spun it through his hands in a glittering and deadly arc.

Voices called out to Hurree, some in gorvij. The crowd wanted her to pick up the other weapon. She ignored them. The staff holder detached a blood tassel and threw it into the pit. When it touched the ground, the gorvij in the pit leapt forward.

Hurree leapt also. She hurled herself bodily at the wall. Her claws caught and she scrambled up, trying to get out of the reach of her opponent. The spectators emitted a gasp of consternation. No hyuumin would have been able to escape that way, her move was totally unexpected.

There was a sudden pain in the top of her head. A front row spectator had grazed her with a pole while attempting to dislodge her. With a snarl, she leapt again and grabbed the pole with both hands. Her weight slammed the pole down against the rail. The spectator, who had been leaning forward was levered out of the seat. Hurree swung herself back to the wall. She let go of the pole just as the spectator fell over the rail. The crowd roared. As Hurree again tried to climb out, another spectator moved to intercept her, only to be hurled into the pit by several others. A final surge, and Hurree was perched on the rail, wincing from her strained muscles and glaring at the crowd. A throbbing pain brought itself to her attention. She discovered that the tip of her tail was raw and bleeding, a literal close shave from her opponent's blade.

Behind her howls of pain indicated that her opponent had accepted the substitutes. In front of her a shoving match ensued as some members of the crowd grappled with others that were trying to reach her. Clearly she had some supporters.

The staff holder thumped for attention, then made a speech. Suddenly the crowd parted. The staff holder came over and stood silently in front of Hurree. She looked at the ferevee's chin for fear of falling into those cold green eyes. After a long moment, he handed her a red tassel. The crowd cheered.

Hurree found herself in another procession, a triumphal one this time. Several people wanted to talk to her, but she continued to pretend she didn't speak gorvij. And she certainly didn't speak ferevee, nor did any of them speak jakruuraath. At the edge of town she was left alone with her intended opponent, now dressed and holding a large bundle, and a second ferevee, leading a donkey. "These are the weapons and the goods of those who died in your stead" he told her as he gave her the bundle. "Take the donkey also as a gift, for you are a remarkable creature and have given us something to remember. If you head south you will reach places where gorvijes live."

All the items taken from her were there on the donkey. She took the donkey's bridle and began to walk. She had never ridden before and didn't want them to see that she wasn't sure how to get on. Once out of sight of the town, sure enough; it took her four tries to do it.

She pushed on until the donkey became tired. Then as it ate and drank, she examined her prizes.

The bundle contained jewelry, two of the axelike weapons, a long flexible sword, and a very nasty looking dagger with three twisted edges. She found that the axelike weapons could be disassembled, so she removed the blades. This gave her two hollow steel rods, which seemed useful so she kept them. She buried the blades, the sword and the dagger.

After three more days of uneventful travel, she reached another town. It was inhabited by gorvijes, free ones this time, or at least dominated only by other gorvijes.

She was bathing in a public fountain, oblivious to the stares, when a large apron clad individual jumped in beside her. "I can tell you're new in town", he began, "gonna stay a while?" She was tired not having anyone to talk to so she answered him. "I don't know, but i was thinking about it. Is this a good place to stay?"

The gorvij made a peculiar bobbing motion, a "bow" she remembered it was called. "A good place? Oh yes indeed" he said as a smile seemed to consume his face. "Many people enjoy staying in our little town, especially if they stay at the Palm Breeze Inn. Treshkyuu, the proprietor, at your service!"

She decided she liked him, he seemed so considerate and sincere, though his name would be hard to pronounce. "I am Hurree", she responded, almost stumbling as she tried to duplicate his bow. "And i am pleased to meet you. But what is an inn? And what is a proprietor?" His smile faltered for a second, became a joyful grin for another, then settled back. He rubbed his hands together. "Ah, my golden friend, an inn is a special kind of house, where the needs and comforts of visitors are seen to. As for the proprietor, that is to say, myself, why i am the person that personally makes sure that all is just perfect! People pay a premium price for such pampering, but to you i extend my hospitality purely for the honor of your company! Follow me!"

She followed, feeling overwhelmed by her new friend's enthusiasm. The inn was a two story whitewashed structure surrounded by flowers. Treshkyuu stopped an old man pulling a small wagon. He reached in and lifted a large gray bird by its bound feet. Hurree recognized it, a plump puff pigeon, rare in her home forest. Treshkyuu's sharp eyes caught the involuntary twitching of her jaw muscles. "You like? Well, here at the inn we have puff pigeon raw, roasted, fried and-- my wife does a truly divine work with one of these, 4 or 5 crawfish, and a handful of wild onions."

Swallowing saliva, Hurree trailed him through the common room, marveling at the solid furniture and the sounds and smells of the gorvijes inside.

"This is my daughter Tremil", the innkeeper said, indicating a round eyed adolescent. "She will arrange a room for you. Now this is the kitchen, you can't go in now, i'll show you later. Dinner is in about half an hour, then we will have music and storytelling." Music? Well perhaps she could go outside until it was over, but storytelling, now that sounded appealing. "I love stories", she responded. "Would it be ok if i tell some too." "Oh, feel free! I'm sure we will all enjoy them."

While the Jakruuraath was studying the pattern of an intricately carved chair, Tremil beckoned her father to the stairway. "What is that?" she hissed. "Money, child-- a whole syncopated pile of it! Now go and get a room ready. Then spread the word that if folks want to see the talking kitty, they'll have to come here!"

*  *  *

"...so now we know one thing for sure: don't eat wrinkleberries!" The room exploded into laughter as Hurree finished her tale. From the kitchen door, Tremil made the little handsign that meant take a break. The girl brought a tray with a fresh pitcher of mint tea and a selection of smoked meats.

Hurree sighed happily and dug in as the gorvij customers began calling out orders. Several put coins on the table in front of Hurree. She eyed them, none were new to her, which would have been nice, but still she understood that they were very useful. She put them into her pouch. Later she would shine them up and play with them. She finished her meal and saw that everyone had settled down again. She stood up and began another story. "My cousin Vareliin thought he could catch the moon if he could find a tall enough tree..."

*  *  *

Staying at the inn was a lot of fun, always new people to tell about the forest and the stories of her people, and then to hear stories from as well. After a week, she felt the scabs on her wounds had loosened. So she carefully combed them out.

She pulled back the drapes and stood before the full length mirror. And was shocked. Where the torture stick had gouged her, the new fur was growing in smoky gray, marring the golden perfection of her coat. In a fit of rage she flung the comb at the mirror. It just bounced off which increased her fury. She seized one of the metal weapon shafts and struck again and again, reducing the mirror to a pile of splinters and glass shards. Then she climbed up the mantle and howled.

Those ferevee! What a bunch of horrible savages!