“I’m sure,” I say dryly. “Thank you. For walking with me. Not leading.”
“You walk well on your own,” he says, scanning the horizon. “And I think the men are getting used to you.”
The village noise swells around us again. Boys are looking at us from a respectful distance, and everyone is going about their business. It’s a bustling, active village, and after years in the dead saucer with only three girls for company, I can’t help but like it.
Crat'ax gives me a little glance. “I will do some smithing. The iron we collected should be turned into something useful. You can watch if you want. But it gets noisy.”
“I will go and look more at Gren’ix’s garden,” I state.
He nods. “I’m sure he’d love to talk to you about thefarums. There should be no danger of more attacks on you, but if anything happens, just yell. I’ll be there in one heartbeat.”
I love that he obviously also realizes that I should interact with his tribe on my own. And it speaks of his confidence that he’s not insisting I stay with him every second of the day. It makes me like him even more, if that were possible.
On impulse I reach up, put my hand on his cheek, and pull his face down to me. “I’ll see you later,” I purr, then place a soft, slow kiss on his cheek. I want everyone to see it.
Then I turn my back and walk over to the garden platform in the middle of the village.
Gren’ix sees me coming. “I was hoping you’d come back at some point. I want to ask you more about thefarumson Earth.”
“I don’t know that much about farms,” I admit. “But I will say what I know.”
I spend a pleasant hour or so chatting with the old man and tasting his various crops. It turns out that I know even less about farming than I thought, but Gren’ix is interested in my vague recollections about fertilizer. I learn a good few new words, too.
After a while, the village starts to echo with hard clangs.
Gren’ix looks toward the edge of the village, where the sound is coming from. “Someone must have found iron. Well, we have theforge for a reason. Although most of us feel that iron is too land-bound, too Dry. We prefer wood and string and things that the Deep gives us. The old teaching is that if it floats, it can be safely used. If it sinks, we should think twice before keeping it near us. Iron sinks faster than anything.”
“I think it’s Crat'ax,” I tell him. “We found some iron in the jungle.”
“Ah. That would be it. He uses more iron than anyone. We all use some, of course. We need iron hooks for catching splix. But we think the Deep allows it. Try this.” He picks two stalks of a plant that could be asparagus and hands one to me.
“Thank you.”
“We are the only tribe that believes in the Deep,” he says as we each chew thoughtfully on a juicy stalk. It tastes more like kale than asparagus. “But we know a lot about the Ancestors and the myths that the shamans in the other tribes talk about. We don’t feel we need those. The Deep gives us what we need, and that’s all that matters. After death we return to the Deep and become one with it. Callie,areyou the Woman?”
The question comes so suddenly that I almost choke. “Me? No. I don’t think there is one. It’s a myth only. Not real.”
“That’s what I thought,” Gren’ix says with satisfaction. “But if she were to exist, it would be Crat'ax who would find her. And so of course it is he who was given you by the Deep. Nobody is surprised. If anyone, it had to be him. He is the best man our tribe has ever had. You must have seen how everyone listens and how he quietly leads us. He will be the next chief, I’m sure.”
“He’s good,” I agree, unsure of how much I should challenge his worldview. “But perhaps I was not given to him like a splix or a knife.”
The old man looks at me with his crusty eyes. “Perhaps. The Deep doesn’t always do what we expect. But whatever the reason, I’m happy you’re here. The village is more alive now. More complete.”
I leave him to his farming and saunter aimlessly around the village.
“Ah, Callie.” It’s the chief with his three shell necklaces, but now without his headdress. “I wonder if you’d like to see this. It concerns you.”
I glance toward the sound of smithing. Crat'ax is busy, but if I scream, he’ll definitely hear. “Yes, Chief.”
He walks ahead of me to the other side of the village and the last platform. “This was Sprub’ex’s hut. I want to see what’s inside. It is my intention to cast him out for trying to abduct you, helped by the Adropo tribe. It’s sheer treason.” He opens the door to the hut and walks in.
I gingerly stick my head inside, determined not to enter a hut with anyone but Crat'ax.
The hut is pretty bare, except for a sleeping pallet by the wall and various knickknacks hanging on the walls.
“If you want anything, take it,” the chief says as he looks around. “But there’s not much here.”
“Not much,” I agree.
