The Chronicles of the Pale Books 1-3

Chapter 13

‘I will do it,’ he said. ‘Beloved Granddam, we will go. We will remember you.’

‘And I you.’ She turned her head again, rousing those behind her. ‘Here, out with you, youngsters. Here is my grandson Mashtuk. He is pack with you now. He will take you north to our new den near the Pale.’

The two canini got to their feet. Mashtuk saw that Zélie, too, had black markings on her rather large ears. She touched her nose in reverence to Tinashe’s, then leapt over her and landed beside Mashtuk. Eugenie was slower moving. She stepped carefully over the old one, pausing to lick Tinashe’s ear as she passed.

The old canine bared her teeth at them. Her next words held all the weight of her authority. ‘Cubling,’ she commanded Mashtuk, ‘go now. Here, let me touch you first. Yes, that is good. You smell good. One last thing, and then you must go, you must promise me to go. Cubling, I will curl into the little space behind me. Push these boulders in as far as you can—thank you, Zélie, yes, help him. There, now I can sleep. My spirit will be long gone before the ferals can get to me. Go now, children; I sing you on your way.’

To the sound of Tinashe’s eerie howling, the three young canini began their long trot north, the ugly red sun sneaking below the cloud cover to tilt longer and longer shadows on their right. Mashtuk led the way, forging a path through terrain grown heavy with saturated earth, and Zélie took the last place. Between them, Eugenie did her best to match their pace.

In the Chief’s warmed private rooms in the middle of the Settlement’s High City, Talis sat watching Valkirra as she prepared to meet with the young tribesman. Valkirra was uneasy. She sat at her carved worktable and shuffled the scrolls lying upon it. As she rearranged the singing screen on her tabletop for the third time, she glanced up to find Talis watching her.

‘What is it? Why do you look at me like that?’

‘You seem uncomfortable. Are you worried about meeting this fellow? He’s only a young tribesman.’

‘Ha. Kilimanjara’s line, he said. Her grandson, by his own report. I believe he is much favoured by her.’

‘All the better. No point meeting with an envoy who has no importance.’

‘Ah. True.’

‘But you are still worried.’

Valkirra walked around the table and came to sit beside Talis on the low couch that fronted the fireplace. He put an arm about her shoulders.

‘I am worried,’ she admitted. ‘Did you hear what he said, out there by the gate?’

Talis nodded. ‘I did. What’s more, I believe him. It is not the practice of the tribesfolk to exaggerate.’

‘That’s what has me so anxious. That and the way he looked—so travel-weary, so ragged. It is not the way of the tribes. The tribesfolk always present themselves in layers of finery when they visit us.’

‘And now you are wondering how we will fare, through the coldest part of the year, if we cannot make good our stores through trading.’

‘Exactly. And, my dear, I am also thinking that he asked for our help.’

‘I heard that. I hoped you would speak of that. It would be well, I believe—if you care for my opinion, that is—I believe it would be well if we could help them somewhat.’

‘I do not see how it is possible.’

‘My dear, if the tribes starve on the plains, we will never be able to trade with them. We will be reduced to what we can provide for ourselves.’

‘We cannot do so!’

Talis pursed his lips. For all that he looked like a heroic weaponsman from olden times, Talis Jarisson was in truth a dedicated scholar, spending most of his days reading the history and the laws of the Settlement. He was the highest Assessed male of Valkirra’s age, but Talis had risen from a lesser caste background, a family of scribes. His deep wish was to understand how the settlers had arrived at their customary laws, some of which seemed nonsensical to him. Even after a decade of partnership with the Settlement’s chief, he felt he still had much to learn of the unwritten culture of the higher castes. He drew a breath before proceeding.

‘We did once, you know. You only need to search a little through the information on the singing screens, and you’ll see. In the early years, we provided for ourselves. We have grown complacent. It is easier to buy goods in. It is less work. We have grown lazy, my love.’

‘Bah!’ said Valkirra, rising from the couch and resuming her seat behind the desk. ‘That is ridiculous. We settlers are not lazy. It is not our way. We work hard because we follow the settler traditions. You should not say such things, certainly not in the hearing of the Assembly. We are just more numerous than we were, in those olden days you so admire. I am sure the numbers are all recorded; you should look at that. We have more mouths to feed, that is all. There is not land enough inside our boundaries to supply all our needs. Everyone knows this.’

Talis leant back and linked his hands behind his head. ‘That was true,’ he agreed, but he spoke with careful deliberation. ‘When we were first handfasted, my love, that was quite true. But it is more than ten years since then. We have not been increasing at the same rate. You know this. Our birth rate is down.’

Valkirra looked away. They had hopes of another child themselves, hopes that were continually dashed. She refused to consider there was a possibility that she, the most highly Assessed female of her line in many generations, would not bear again.

‘That is of no matter,’ she said. ‘Our numbers may be fewer. Even with the influx of helots, I agree, this may be so. But we have no wish to reduce our current livelihood. We will not live on starvation rations just to keep the tribes from hunger!’

‘Starvation!’ said Talis. ‘Starvation? My love, we have truly changed our standards if you believe the only way to reduce our livelihood is to starve. I tell you, by the standards of our forebears the first settlers, we are glutted with food and other goods. Starvation indeed! I can tell you what the rations were in those early days—less than a quarter of what we would consider a modest diet today.’

‘So you think we should return to the hardships of the first settlers? What have we worked for, all these generations, if not to provide peace and plenty for our people? I will not strip them of one ounce of their fare to support a mob of starveling tribesmen who cannot help themselves!’

Talis held up one hand. ‘Peace,’ he said. ‘Let us not go too far down the path of this argument. We do not know, yet, what the true state of the tribes may be. We should hear the envoy out before we make any decisions, surely?’

‘Huh.’ Valkirra was angry, but not, in truth, with Talis, who understood her every mood and was content to play the moon to her sun, or vice versa, whenever required. Many a decision in the Settlement had been reached through robust discussion between the Chief and her partner. Talis was very good at anticipating and articulating multiple opposing views, allowing Valkirra time and space to marshal her own arguments in refutation, to moderate her ideas, or even to accomplish a complete about-face. It was rare that they finished any discussion with widely separated points of view.

‘And I suppose, husband, that next you will be advocating an inventory of stores, and saying we should consider rationing what we have?’

Talis inclined his head. ‘You have a sound idea there, my love. We have, after all, just encountered a terrible aftershock. It may be necessary to take our situation into account. Perhaps, under the direction of yourself and the Assembly, we could all be persuaded to make some small sacrifices for the good of the Settlement itself.’

‘Perhaps,’ agreed Valkirra with a sigh. She came and settled gratefully into his embrace.