The Tattooed Tribes (16 page)

He knew he had
to eat and drink or he would die, but he did not know what he could
find with his hands in their present state. He certainly could not
hunt and he did not think he could fish, but it was worth a
try.

After piling a
little more wood on his fire, he took his rod down to a still pool.
Digging for worms was not an option, but he managed to use his
teeth to tear a scrap from his shirt. Painfully and slowly he
threaded it on to the hook and prayed it was sufficiently novel to
attract a fish out of curiosity.

Several
fruitless hours later he was forced to conclude fish were not as
stupid as he had always believed them to be.

The day was
moving on and he was faced with the choice of trying to convince
the fish to take his bait or go back to camp and make sure he had
enough wood to keep his fire alive through the night.

He was
starving, but Jon’s instruction on the importance of keeping a fire
going won. He told himself his hands would be better tomorrow and
he would be able to find plenty to eat.

It took both
hands to pick up every single piece of wood as he could not grip
with any of his fingers. One of the weals had opened right up and
he could see a raw red line. A hungry fly settled on it as he was
inspecting it. Angrily he brushed it away, but it and a number of
others buzzed around him until the sun went down.

The small
amount of wood he was able to collect kept the flames alive until
it was dark, but then it died and he crawled into his tent and
under his blankets and fell into a feverish sleep full of
nightmares.

There were
periods of darkness and periods of light when he fought against
invisible foes and chased after something forever just beyond his
grasp. Sometimes during them he was burning hot, but at other times
he was so cold his teeth chattered non-stop and every limb shook.
Finally, when he thought he could not bear the heat and the cold
any longer and the darkness seemed about to envelop him forever,
something pulled him back.

In his dreams
someone had given him water to drink; it had tasted odd and he had
not wanted to swallow it, but someone had forced him.

He remembered
crying when this happened, wanting to be left alone, but whoever it
was had been kind but firm, comforting him, but had insisted he
obeyed. He had been too weak to fight and eventually the dreams
stopped.

When Lucien
woke up he was idly curious about his location, but was so tired
indifference overcame curiosity and he calmly accepted his
surroundings. It was an effort to turn his head and for a long
while he did not bother, but eventually listless curiosity overcame
him.

He was in a
tent, and he was warm and comfortable and the demons of hot and
cold had gone.

Content, he
dozed for a short while, but when he woke up again he was more
alert and remembered a little of what had happened. He held out his
hands to look at them.

The right one
looked as it always had, but the left one was still a little
swollen and he had a long healing scab across the back of it.

Further
consideration brought the happy news his guts were only talking to
him because he was hungry, not because they were heaving and
surging.

He knew he had
been very ill and it did not take much energy to work out someone
must have helped him. The guilty part of him wanted to worry about
who it might be, but weariness overcame him again. Besides, the
sensible part of his head had a good idea who it was.

When the tent
flap was drawn back Lucien was not surprised to see Jon.

“
Hungry?”

Lucien nodded
and tried to speak, but found his mouth was dry and there was a
lump in his throat. He was helped into a reclining position and a
cup was put to his lips.

Never had
water tasted better. Nor had food tasted as good as the meat broth
Jon spooned into him afterwards.

The effort of
eating made him tired again and Jon eased him back down.

“
Sleep,” he ordered and Lucien obediently
closed his eyes. Before he drifted off it occurred to him he had
not felt like this since he was very young and his mother had put
him to bed, and he had known he was totally safe and no harm could
possibly come to him while she was there.

When he woke
again it was night and he could see Jon silhouetted by the light of
the fire. He was able to drink some of the water he found beside
him before sinking back into sleep.

The next time
he came awake it was morning and he was still weak, but the bone
weary sensation had passed.

Jon was there
and helped him with his most urgent bodily need; then he wrapped a
blanket around him, sat him down by the fire and handed him a cup
of tea and a bowl of steaming mush.

“
The inside of a stem,” he told Lucien.
“The closest you can get to porridge out here.”

It was not
unpleasant to eat, just bland.

“
Are you very angry with me?” Lucien asked
warily when he had finished eating.

Jon considered
this for a second or two.

“
I was,” he said. “But I’ve cooled down
since then. Now I’m just annoyed, so you and I are going to have a
serious talk soon, but not until you’re well enough.”

For a minute
or so Lucien thought he would prefer to have the talk right there
and then, but he was suddenly tired again and content to lay back
and watch Jon tidy the camp.

It was another
couple of days before he was able to do more than drag himself from
his bed to the fire, but once he was eating properly he bounced
back towards health as only the young and fit can do.

He had just
finished swallowing his share of a duck when Jon said, “Ready for
that talk?”

Suddenly the
duck was not as comfortable in Lucien’s stomach as it had been, but
he swallowed hard and said, “I guess so.”

“
I’ve a good idea what happened before Vlic
left,” Jon said. “How about you tell me what you did
afterwards.”

Slowly Lucien
went through everything he had done; carefully avoiding the reason
why he had wanted the strong rope.

“
Sweller vine,” Jon told him. “Get the sap
on any part of you and you blow up like a balloon.”

“
Did that make me sick?” Lucien
asked.

“
It didn’t help,” Jon replied. “You had a
toxic reaction, but you were already in trouble.”

“
Why?”

“
You ate half cooked tubers, they gave you
the trots and you began to dehydrate. You added to it by drinking
water you hadn’t sterilised.”

Lucien
coloured.

“
You also scratched your hand and allowed a
nasty little infection to get in. It shoved your temperature up and
you became delirious,” Jon continued. “You were pretty far gone
when I found you.”

“
I’m very grateful,” Lucien said in a small
voice.

Jon seemed
indifferent to his gratitude; he shrugged his shoulders and poured
himself another cup of tea. Lucien fidgeted in the uncomfortable
silence that followed.

“
I … I’m sorry,” he finally blurted out,
unable to bear the quiet longer.

“
Are you?” Jon asked. “What
for?”

Lucien’s mouth
dropped open.

“
For …” he began and then he
stopped.

He was sorry
he had been less of a woodsman than he thought he was; he was sorry
he had got sick and he was very sorry a justifiably annoyed Jon was
sitting in judgement on him, but he was not sorry for the reasons
behind all of it.

“
I thought as much,” Jon said. “The Grand
Master warned me you were probably another Frain, but I thought I
saw something more in you. I was wrong.”

“
Frain?” Lucien repeated. He had almost
forgotten the arrogant trader they had brought up to The First
Cataract.

“
He was an apprentice at about the same
time as me,” Jon said. “But like you, he was only really interested
in what he could get out of this land and The People. He was sacked
for trying to sell a stolen totem hide.”

Lucien wanted
to protest. Money had no part in his thinking, but Jon was speaking
again.

“
What were you planning to do with the
pelt?”

“
I wasn’t going to harm her!” Lucien
protested.

“
Really? What if you’d caught her in that
net you were planning and she’d been injured?”

“
I’d have been careful,” Lucien replied.
“Honestly!”

“
And what about her cubs,” Jon continued.
“What if you’d injured her, made her unable to hunt, so her milk
dried.”

“
C … cubs?” Lucien repeated.

“
I’ve been watching her,” Jon replied. “If
you knew anything, you’d have known she’s a lactating mother and
there are at least two cubs tucked away nearer the river, possibly
more.”

“
I didn’t know,” Lucien replied. “If I had
…”

“
It shouldn’t have made any difference!”
Jon retorted. “You’d no business doing anything to her. This is her
world, not yours. You come here on sufferance and you should’ve
given her the respect The People do. What is it you want from this
place, Lucien? If all you’re looking for are the skills to rape and
pillage it, like that bastard Frain, you’re going to make me wish
I’d left you to rot back at the Settlement.”

“
It’s not!” Lucien wailed. “I don’t want
that. It’s just … it’s all so big and I need … oh, I don’t know
what I need.”

“
Makes you feel small does it? An
insignificant thing in all this vastness?”

Lucien had not
really considered it in detail before, but this made a lot of sense
and he nodded, shame faced.

“
And you just can’t stand the idea of
something bigger, wiser or cleverer than you?”

“
No,” Lucien protested.

There was
another long silence, which made him wriggle uncomfortably and Jon
seemed to expect him to fill it, so eventually spoke.

“
At home and at school I didn’t fit in. My
… my father doesn’t like me much. I’m not sure why, I’ve never
known. He always seems to be waiting for me to be something, but I
can never work out what it is.”

He gazed sadly
into the fire.

“
I do love this land,” he said. “I know you
probably don’t believe me anymore, but I only felt happy when I was
out in the woods. It was the only place I felt I belonged. I
thought if I could do it all the time, maybe …”

He ran down,
unsure of what to say next.

“
Maybe you’d be completely in control of
your own life for once?”

“
Something like that,” Lucien admitted. “Be
happy most of the time, instead of just occasionally.”

“
You can’t control any of this, son,” Jon
said kindly. “You can be a part of it and protect it or you can
destroy it, but you can’t take charge of it and make it run
according to your needs.”

Lucien nodded;
he just had a tough lesson on the subject.

“
You need to decide what it is you want to
do here,” Jon continued. “Because as far as I’m concerned there’s
no middle ground. You either want to be a part of caring for this
land, its people, its animals and its trees, or you want to be a
part of those who want to ruin it.”

Lucien sat and
gazed around at the trees reflected in the water, listened to the
sounds of birds shouting their territorial claims and the softer
sounds of fish breaking the surface and, somewhere close by, a
small animal moving through the undergrowth.

The smell of
wood smoke combined with the faint herbal fragrance of Jon’s tea,
and his head went down.

“
I want to be a part of this,” he
whispered. “I
need
to be a
part of it. I don’t think I knew really knew why before, not
really, but I do want it. And not to spoil it, but to protect
it.”

Jon watched
him for a while, long enough for his lack of response to bother
Lucien and make him look up apprehensively. What he saw made him
drop his head back down again. Jon was far from mollified, far from
it.

“
Assuming for the moment I’m prepared to
accept everything you have just said, we will move on to the next
stage of our talk.”

His voice was
stern enough to make Lucien shoot him a wary look. While they had
been talking Jon had finished his tea and had stripped the leaves
and twigs from a selection of supple lengths of young willow. He
carefully considered each one, swiping the air with it
experimentally. Most he put on the fire, but a couple he laid down
beside him.

“
Everyone needs to learn to obey rules and
accept orders, my lad,” he said. “I have to obey those of the
Tribal Liaison Guild and carry out The Grand Master’s
instructions.
You
have to obey
TLG rules as well and carry out
my
orders.”

Lucien opened
his mouth to say something, but Jon stalled him.

“
Don’t give me that bollocks about not
liking being told what to do. I don’t give a damn whether you like
it or not, you’re going to learn to do it! A Tribal Liaison Officer
is not only a good woodsman, he is also a good policeman and he has
to have a certain morality. A sound knowledge of what is right and
what is wrong. It seems to me your education in this field has been
sadly lacking. I’ve no doubt you’ve been brought up to have little
or no respect for anything or anyone- it’s an attitude that would
serve you well in your father’s world, but you chose to become a
Guild apprentice.”