The Envoy said there was no Woman. But it’s crazy, saying all kinds of things.
I turn the slices of skarn meat. “What about her missing friend? And the tracks of others, possible women too? But I never saw any of them. She could have made those tracks herself. Or they were here when she arrived. The prophecy doesn’t say anything about other women, but it also doesn’t say that they arenotthere…”
When the dinner is ready, I go into the saucer and find Dorie sitting on its floor. She’s staring into a part of the ship that looks immensely complicated. Like a heap of broken pottery, if pottery was clear and colorful like this.
She looks up. “Yes?”
I point. “Do you understand all that?”
She looks away. “Not yet.”
“The dinner meal is ready. Skarn meat is best while it’s still hot.”
“I come out,” she says.
As I walk back out, I look over my shoulder. Dorie leans her head against the wall and sighs, closing her eyes.
I make sure to give her the best piece of the skarn meat. In the tribe, it’s usually the youngest boys and the chief who get that, but Aker’iz is still too young to eat this kind of meal.
“It is very good,” Dorie says. “Easy to eat.”
“Some of the skarn is tender,” I agree as I chew on a less tender piece. “Unfortunately, they travel mostly alone. A long time can go by between each time one is found and hunted.”
“Is good meat for drying?” she asks.
“Almost all Smalls give us meat that can be dried. There are also other ways to preserve meat. How do you make the salt?”
She nods toward a stack of pots. “Put ocean water inside, put the pot in the sun. The next day all water gone, only salt left.”
I think about it. “An outcast who came to the tribe when I was a boy talked about having lots of salt. His old tribe would cover meat in salt. It would last longer. Perhaps we can try that, now that we have so much salt. An ocean of salt.”
“We can try,” Dorie says. “What happened to the outcast? He was allowed to stay?”
I toss a bone on the fire. “The men of the tribe gave him food and talked pleasantly with him to learn about his tribe and the places he had been. Then they lured him outside the walls of the village, saying they would show him a good place to find iron. As soon as they were out of the gate, they ran their swords through him, took his belongings, and left him there. The next morning he was gone, taken by some Big or Small.”
Her beautiful eyes widen. “They kill him? Why?”
I shrug. “He had other stripes. And he was an outcast, although he would not admit it. There was no place for him in our tribe. It’s a weakness to have strange-striped men in your village. Everyone knows he must be an outcast.”
“Hard to be an outcast,” she says thoughtfully. “Are you—um.”
“Am I an outcast?” I finish her question. “Possibly. I don’t know. It makes no difference. Aker’iz is safe now.”
Dorie licks her fingers. “Wait.” She goes to the food store and returns with a corked pot. “Do you have your mug?” She fills two mugs with what is clearly frit and hands mine back.
I sniff it. “Very nice. I see your pots for making frit.” I nod toward the setup.
“This is not made here. It is from the Borok tribe,” she tells me. “They call itfrine. Your tribe make this?”
I take a sip and immediately have to cough as my tongue seems to burn. “They make lots of frit in my old tribe. But this is… mhm… this is stronger.”
Dorie gives me a little smile. “It comes from far away. They make strong frine for travel.”
I take another sip. I was never as big a drinker of frit as some in the tribe, but this tastes better than any I’ve had before. “It’s good. Very good.”
The campfire crackles as we finish the evening meal. I check on Aker’iz, but she will make it known if she wakes up.
“She sometimes sleeps the whole night,” I say as I sit back down, “only waking up right before sunrise. Hopefully this is one of those nights.”
