“Unfortunately, that’s not the case for Fiona,” I informed him with a grimace. “She’s going to stay here and rest for a bit. You guys up to go get some food with us?”
I asked them mostly as a performative courtesy. I knew they were under strict orders to keep their eye on us when we weren’t in the safety a group, and they wouldn’t let us go wander this mountain without them. But at the same time, I really was happy for them to join us. It was basically impossible to be in a bad mood with Ox around, and Zoren too.
“Yes! I was hoping you were ready for such a thing!” Oxriel said, sight stars buzzing in anticipation.
“Sorry for the wait,” Tilly said. “We were hoping to convince Fiona to come, too.”
Zoren dismissed this apology with a swipe of his tail while Oxriel bounded ahead of us.
“No trouble at all. This way!” he boomed happily in the hall, striding ahead. Zoren took up the rear. Tilly and I walked together in between. My eyes flitted from blade to lethal blade strapped to Oxriel’s broad, muscled back. He was such a sweet, innocent guy that it was easy to forget he was also a ruthless fighter who’d killed men in battle before. And I’d watched him hold his own in the combat round of the vaklok. He had ripped open Dalk’s shoulder with his teeth, for God’s sake! How could a man who’d given another a big ol’ chomp yesterday now be cheerily bopping along down this hall, ecstatic simply at the opportunity to walk with us to breakfast?
Gahn Thaleo would never let you forget how fearsome he was.
I shivered slightly, remembering the Gahn’s calm words from yesterday. How he’d told me that there was no point in him participating in the vaklok, because he would win. And I didn’t doubt him. Even powerful Dalk, who’d won yesterday’s combatcompetition, would have fallen to Gahn Thaleo. I was certain of it.
I wondered if we’d see him in the hall this morning. I walked into the large cave with held breath, my gaze sweeping the space for him even as I told myself I didn’t care if he was there or not.
Which he wasn’t. I let my breath out in a shaky gust.
Gahn Thaleo’s hall was different from Gahn Errok’s. It wasn’t open to the air like Errok’s was. Instead, Gahn Thaleo’s tribe ate together on a huge ledge of stone that bubbled out from the side of the mountain, making me feel like we were suspended in the air. But any dizziness or fear of heights this might cause was helped by the fact that this place was entirely enclosed in a gem-like half-dome of clear, aqua stone. That clear stone let in glorious shafts of morning sunlight, making the blue stone of the interior glow like blue flame in solid form. In the centre of this great, sunlit hall, a long rectangular trench had been dug into the stone, creating a firepit for roasting meats. Gahn Thaleo’s tribe wasn’t very big – fewer than fifty people altogether – and they could easily all fit seated in two rows on either side of the fire pit.
Most of the tribe had dispersed for the day, but after taking note of Gahn Thaleo’s absence, I spied Zaria, and headed for her with Tilly, Oxriel, and Zoren following. Zaria’s pretty face was solemn, her sight stars misted as if in deep thought. They only tightened up and sprang to my face when I seated myself beside her.
“Good morning, Zaria,” I said warmly. I liked her. I was twenty-nine, and she struck me as a few years younger, or whatever the alien equivalent was. Between her wide, lovely eyes; her kind demeanour; the fact she seemed a little younger than me; and the swell of her pregnant belly; I felt oddly protective of her. Which was probably silly, considering she was significantly taller than me and probably a good deal stronger.
“Hello,” she said, returning my smile, though it was distracted. “Hello, Tilly. Oxriel, Zoren.”
“Is everything alright?” Tilly asked as she seated herself on the other side of Zaria and began serving up some roasted felkora and fish for us, placing the food onto carved bone trays that were near at hand.
“Why?” Zaria asked, her sight stars pulsing.
“You just seem a little…lost in thought, that’s all,” I replied. I nodded my thanks to Tilly as she passed a tray to me. “Just want to make sure nothing is bothering you. If you have some personal things going on, you don’t need to help us with the clothing stuff today.”
“Oh, no! I would be happy to! That is not in question!” she said hurriedly. “I would like to assist you with that today. I have not forgotten. I was actually waiting here for you.” She twisted around, the sunlight catching on the intricately woven strands of the braid she had tied up on the top of her head. “Where is Fiona?”
“Sorry to keep you waiting! Fiona is sleeping in,” I replied, deciding not to delve into the exact details of our friend’s condition. “But from what she’s said, she’s pretty useless with a sewing needle, anyway. Tilly and I can help work on her stuff.”
“Very well,” Zaria said. “When you are finished eating, we will go together.”
After that, she lapsed into silence that was uncharacteristically brooding for her, staring into the flames of the firepit.
“Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?” I asked after a few bites of the savoury felkora meat.
“Well,” she began before hesitating. Her hands fell to her abdomen, stroking in what looked to be an unintentional motion. “Arton told me not to worry about it yet. But it seems I cannot help it…”
“Worry about what?” Tilly asked. Oxriel and Zoren were paying no attention to our conversation at all, and currently appeared to be engaged in an argument over who would get the felkora wing on the tray between them. I scooched closer to Zaria, and Tilly did the same on her other side.
“Arton has been out hunting and on patrol with Jael. It is why you did not see him with me in the audience at the vaklok yesterday. With the new territories ceded to us in the alliance, such patrols take even longer than they used to, for there is so much new land to cover. He returned before dawn today with news that has disturbed me greatly.” Her voice lowered, as if she was frightened even to say the words. “He and Jael found evidence of a borog’s burrowing.”
“What’s a borog?” I tried to remember if I’d ever heard that word before. It wasn’t attached to any meaning in the Sea Sand language.
“I’ve never seen one,” Zaria said. “I was a small child barely able to walk the last time a borog threatened us. But it’s a large and terrible creature. Larger than many braxilk put together, with a head like a sharp hammer and powerful digging claws. The last one killed my mother, along with others. It even killed our old Gahn.”
“Oh, God,” I said. “I’m so sorry!”
A pinch of confusion appeared between Zaria’s brows.
“For the loss of your mother. And the other people,” I added in explanation. Her confusion didn’t really go away, and I reminded myself that apologizing for the death of a loved one wasn’t a cultural norm here. “Sorry,” I said again, this time for my own misstep. “Please, continue. You said it also killed the old Gahn?”
