The Invisible Chains - Part 3: Bonds of Blood (8 page)

“And they form a new tribe that goes looking for its own territory.”

“In principle, yes. Maybe in the beginning, in times immemorial, it was like that. Probably that was how the custom originated.”

“But?”

Rodomesh looked angry.

“Oh, the forms are still respected, but what began as a practical measure for the survival of the tribe, degenerated into a barbaric institution to create slaves. You see, originally the youngsters that were cut out of the people were declared brezzonmàhai. They were young people after all, and I suppose they wanted to prevent the parents becoming sentimental—”

“What? Brezzonmàhai?”

“Mortal enemies of the people. Those you can't negotiate with. They can't be given food or shelter. On the contrary, every Mukthar is honor-bound to kill them on sight on pain of becoming a brezzumàhai himself.”

“Harsh.”

“Yes, but probably necessary in ancient times when the survival of all depended on there being enough food and not too many mouths. It was supposed to counteract the natural bond between parents and children. The age group was chosen specially because they weren't productive yet, nor valuable in times of war, yet consumed much food.”

“Well, I suppose hard times invite hard measures.”

“Hard?” Rodomesh spat. “Hard? More like inhuman. The group is rallied on a certain day and the quedash officially declares them cut out of his màhai and to be a new màhai. The highest in rank becomes their quedash. In most cases the son of the highest noble, as the Cutting Out doesn't discriminate between classes.”

“So, they set out to new lands. That can't be easy, a group of inexperienced young people like that.”

“You don't know half of it. They can't take anything with them. They are declared brezzonmàhai, but get a period of grace of seven days to leave the territory of the tribe.”

“But why?”

“Supposedly to break all relationships of family, friendship, whatever. It is meant to make certain they will indeed leave the territory as fast as possible. Not that it matters much. Other tribes will see themthat i secer and immediately recognize them for what they are, a cut out group. They will treat them as shorringah. And there is not—”

“Not so fast. Shorringah?”

“Eh... How to say this? Non-humans. Below the status of animals. Anybody who catches them can do with them as they please.”

“They kill them?”

“If they resist, yes. But most of them become slaves and are put to work on the fields until they die of exhaustion, malnutrition, sickness... whatever comes first.”

Rodomesh had stopped speaking, and Anaxantis was at a loss for words. He thought of the Royal Farms and didn't feel he had the moral high ground here.

“The odds are stacked against them,” he said. “Imagine, being put out in the wild with only the clothes you wear. Do they get to keep some kind of weapon at least? A dagger or so?” he asked after a while.

Rodomesh looked up and grimaced.

“I told you: they can't take anything. Not even their clothes, let alone weapons.”

“They... they... they chase them away naked?” Anaxantis asked, exasperated.

Rodomesh nodded.

“Yes. The whole point is saving the resources of the tribe.”

“But surely, the parents can't—”

“The parents better shut up if they don't want to be declared brezzonmàhai themselves. In fact they are supposed to be in the front line when the new tribe is chased away. The whole population comes out to jeer at them. They throw offal and sometimes stones.”

“And nobody protests?”

Rodomesh shrugged.

“Yes, sometimes an older brother does. Not many however. They know that the consequence is that they're cut out of the màhai as well. No, your highness, it's not the Mukthar way. It's thought of as false sentimentality, detrimental to the tribe, treason even.”

“By the Gods, Rodomesh, that's really cruel.”

“You can say that again. Some tribes organized the Cutting Out in September. Late September.”

“When it starts getting cold. They put out a bunch of naked young people at the moment winter is coming.”

Anaxantis shivered, suddenly feeling cold himself.

“Well,” Rodomesh said, with a weak smile, “Mukthar customs evolve as well. By the time of my great-grandfather, during the last Cutting Out, things went a little bit different. My father told the story often enough.”

“Please, I'd love to hear it.”

“Nobody knows exactly why the Cutting Out was decided upon, as there was no shortage of food or any kind of overpopulation. The quedash of the time was already old. Most probably his council pushed him to declare the state of emergency that necessitated the Cutting Out. One of the reasons could have been that a young frishiu, the son of a minor queen, fell into the age brackets and that he was hated by his older half-brothers.

People said that his older brother, who had been very popular, was murdered by the sons of another queen because they feared he would be a serious contender for the throne. They wanted to eliminate his younger brother out of fear that someday he would exact revenge, or maybe it was just because they thought hege, orhounat could take the place of his older brother in the hearts of the people. But a lot of other scores were settled as well.

“There was also the case of the heir of a rich, noble family. He had been an only son, until his father remarried a young widow. A son was born, but according to Mukthar law everything goes to the eldest. The new wife wanted her son to inherit of course. They say she bribed some members of the council.

“The decision was not without controversy and a lot of people saw the intrigue behind it. But what could they do? If they protested too much they could be accused of un-Mukthar behavior, maybe be declared brezzonmàhai themselves...

“There was one mercy, if you could call it that. The Cutting Out was to take place on the first of May. The young frishiu would of course become the quedash of the new tribe. His half-brothers thought this to be a fine joke. They knew that the chances were overwhelming that the so called new tribe, once out of the territory, would be captured by other Mukthar tribes. They fully expected him to end his days as a shorgah, a non-human, being worked to death on some distant field.

“Those who were to be cut out of the màhai were ordered to assemble on the square that lies on the inside of the great gates of the city. So, on the morning of that first of May, the half-siblings, who like the young frishiu himself lived in the palace, waited for him in the hallway to come out of his room, naked as the day he was born. They thought to send him off ridiculing him, humiliating him, touching him in intimate places.

They expected him to be afraid and intimidated. In short, they expected to have a mighty good time playing with him. The frishiu came out of his room with a big grin on his lips. He bared his teeth and showed them his nails, which he had filed into sharp points during the night. ‘The first one who touches me or comes too near will lose his life,’ he said. ‘I don't care what the others do to me, but the first one I will kill. I will bite his throat. I will not let go, before I have ripped it out. I will put out his eyes with my nails. I will do what damage I can. The others may pull at me, hit me, do whatever they like to me. I don't care. But the first one to touch me will feel my wrath.’ He grinned again and walked up to them. Well, they gave him a wide berth.

None of them was going to risk losing his eyes, or worse.

“He walked out of the gates of the palace, and took to the middle of the streets, lined with people. He looked straight before him. He must have cut a striking figure, because nothing was thrown at him. Still ignoring them, the first other naked person he saw was a young girl. She was cowering and ashamed. She was only just fifteen. Some of her former friends, who had escaped her fate only because they were a few months, weeks even, shy of becoming fifteen, were standing on the side of the street, shouting abuse and mocking her. The young frishiu went to her, put his arm around her shoulder and said ‘Come with me, sister, don't mind them. We're leaving them behind us.’

“More and more of the cut out youngsters joined them. One of his best friends was the young heir. He had waited in the house until he saw the frishiu and his group. His father, his step-mother and his little step-brother of twelve years stood on the street. Well, they had to be seen to be in full support of the Cutting Out.

They stood to lose everything if they didn't. The young step-brother, on the other hand, didn't seem to understand fully what was happening until he saw his older step-sibling come out of the door, naked, and join the group. His mother turned to him and whispered ‘It will all be yours now, darling.’ Then she turned her attention back to the group of naked youngsters. Without back Wi‘his parents noticing the young boy began to take off his clothes. Finally he tore off his loincloth and ran to his step-brother, who was, of course, very surprised when he felt a little hand pressed into his. ‘I'm coming with you,’ the young guy said. The mother cried out in horror, but there was nothing she could do anymore. By his actions her little son had put himself outside the tribe.

“The friends of the little guy laughed at him when they saw him walking naked with the others, but Rannimosh gave as good as he got. He returned every abuse with rude gestures and insults. After some while his brother and the young frishiu made him walk between them to keep him out of sight.”

“You know the name of this kid?” Anaxantis asked.

“Ah, yes... His actions were so exceptional for such a young boy that his name was remembered.

“Once on the square, the frishiu stood in the middle and crossed his arms. By midday more than five hundred naked youngsters had gathered. When the old quedash came, surrounded by his court, the frishiu went to the front and stood before his people. With a face of stone he heard how the old man cut them out of the tribe, greeted him as the quedash he had become, and at the same time declared them brezzonmàhai and ordered them out of the city and off the territory.

“Without a word he turned around and led the new màhai out of the city gates. When all had passed the great gates he turned around, made the niaràm, and—”

“The niaràm?” Anaxantis interrupted.

“The niaràm is the sacred sign only a quedash can make. He raises his right fist high above his head and it is believed that the power of the Gods streams in him, that he speaks in their name... So, facing the city they had just left, he made the niaràm, and in a loud and clear voice shouted ‘Shorringgah veh.’ You are non-humans. His first act as quedash was one of utter defiance. As the naked leader of a small group of equally naked youngster he effectively said: ‘If you fall into our hands we will not treat you as former family and friends, not as humans, not even as cattle but as slaves who will live only as long as we have any use for you.’ It was unheard of. It had never been done before.

“Hollow as the threat might have seemed, yet nobody laughed. On the contrary it was so quiet you could only hear the wind in the trees. And so the new tribe took to the road. But, like I said, Mukthar customs evolve.

Some ten miles out of the city they came upon an enormous stack of wooden rods, thick as a wrist. There were enough for all the guys and most of the older girls. The new tribe had made its first acquisition. They now had at least something to defend themselves with.

“Just when they were about to exit a patch of wood they saw in the plains before them three wagons, each pulled by four horses. At the back of each was tied a regular riding horse. Three men, their faces covered by some kind of scarf, were sitting by a fire. Which was strange, because, as these wagons were usually used for trade, you would have expected a lot more people running around.

“The quedash called the oldest boys and girls to him. He ordered the younger ones to take cover, deeper into the woods. Minutes later the three men at the fire saw a few hundred naked youngsters, brandishing rods, come running at them, shouting their lungs out. They quickly untied their riding horses at the back of the wagons, mounted and rode away as fast as Eldosha and the Seven Brothers.

“Almost drunk with joy over the tribe's first easy victory they sh joy ry rs.tarted inspecting the wagons. The quedash had to hold them back. In their frenzy they would have demolished them. Two of the wagons contained food, enough to keep them going for a few weeks if they rationed it. In the third was a shipment of clothes, sturdy boots and weapons. One of them found a small box and brought it immediately to the quedash. Once opened a shirma was revealed. The quedash recognized the box as it belonged to his mother.

She had obviously made the shirma, the intricate set of ribbons that only the quedash or a frishiu may wear, herself. His friend fastened and arranged it in his hair.”

“No coincidence there,” Anaxantis smiled.

“No, obviously the parents, or some of them at least, had organized this easy catch and the very useful content of the wagons.”

Rodomesh paused. He seemed to be lost in thought.

“What became of them?” Anaxantis asked.

“Who's to know?” Rodomesh shrugged. “At least they had a fighting chance. By the evening of the first day they were no longer a naked, unarmed group of youngsters. They probably went north, trying to avoid the inhabited territories, hiding by day, deep in the woods, and cautiously advancing during the night. They might have made it. This is all my grandfather told.”

“Your great-grandfather,” Anaxantis said.

“Yes, my great-grandfather, who told it to my grandfather, who told it to my father, who told it to me.”

“The shirma, is it of the same color for a frishiu and a quedash?”

“No. No, a frishiu wears a... a red one. The quedash a yellow one.”

“Ah. I see. Well, that was very interesting. Thank you, Rodomesh.”

The Mukthar looked up, unsure, with pleading eyes.

“When do you think you might see Timishi?” he asked timidly.

“Would a note from me do? You could go to him immediately and show it.”