The Tower of Il Serrohe (33 page)

“
Oh?” Toroth was a little more curious. “Better than you would feel when you’ve finished a day’s work?”

“
Oh yeah.”

“
Better than eating a hearty meal?”

“
Yep.”

“
Better than mating with your woman?”

Don paused a minute. “That depends.”

“
On what?”

“
On how good your woman makes you feel. If she starts bitching at you right afterwards, it takes the glow off the whole experience.”

“
Bitching?” The language of this odd man puzzled Toroth.

Nersite interrupted. “Is this another one of your
curse
words?”

“
Oh yeah. A bitchy woman is definitely a curse! Anyway,” he turned back to Toroth. “Beer’s pretty good. It might leave you feeling a little rough the next morning if you’ve had too much. Remind me to show you how to make some when I have time.”

“
Ok,” Toroth said slowly, not sure this was a good idea. Suddenly, his expression changed to that of a man on a mission. “Off we go to work! I trust you will move on today?”

Raquela answered. “Yes, we have other clans for Don to meet. We must figure out how we can overcome the Soreyes… if that’s possible.”

“
Of course it is,” Don interjected. “We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t think so. Isn’t this why you have me here?”

“
Yes,” she said simply.

With that, Toroth got up and shook hands with Nersite and Don, slapping them hardily on the back, and then offered a more delicate hand shake to Raquela. Then he stormed out of the dining hall shouting, “Move it out, men! Move out to those fields where a day’s work awaits! Move it, now!”

And they were gone. After an effusive exchange of compliments with Bissy and the women of her kitchen, they were on the way north to drop in on the
Càhbahmin before they headed to the fields to join the Taurimin.

Too late, they saw a big group coming down the road as the three left the Taurimin fields. They stopped for a few moments.

As Raquela explained their mission, Don noted that the majority were women with only three young men among them. Somewhat like the Taurimin, they were huge, both taller and heavier than Don. They reminded him of professional football players: big but relatively lean, heavily muscled but nimble, big boned but fast on their feet. The Taurimin were more like weight lifters.

Though, as a group, they were darker complected than the Taurimin, some of them were lighter tanned and one young female who was fair complected. Oddly, the three young men didn’t seem to be in charge though it was obvious they were in some kind of competition by the way they would jostle each other and look to see what the ladies thought about their manliness.

An older woman, who seemed to be more in charge than the others, did most of the talking with Raquela.

“
Welcome, I am Nell, the elder of the Càhbahmin. We’d like to have you up to our place later to talk. We are without a chief right now, but maybe in a few days…”

As she spoke, the three young men all tried to butt into the conversation, each claiming
he
would be the next chief. The younger women laughed egging them on while the older woman gave them a blistering look, silencing them immediately.

Nell smiled at Don and Nersite. “Never mind the boys; our new chief could be the more mature gentleman who has visited us from time to time. We’ll have to see.” She turned to observe the effect that had on the younger men. They just started scuffling among themselves in a manner that wasn’t good-natured.

The Càhbahmin moved on, leaving Don wondering what that hell that was all about.

As they turned east and continued past the thick stand of cottonwoods, Nersite explained that the women of the clan selected the chief, but not always from the available clan men. Many times, a wandering lone male of particular physical strength and strong character came in and subdued the young men. And those young men would often leave if their pride had been too injured to submit to a new male in the group.

“
So do they pair off like the Taurimin?” Don asked.

“
No, usually the chief mates with all the women of the clan.”

“
Really? Something of a harem. Wow!” Don was impressed.

Odd,
he thought.
Though these are not “modern” people like in my own world, perhaps they will have some little ritual that may be of tactical value since there is more serious competition among the men compared to the Taurimin or even, indeed, the Nohmin. Something to put a rival at a disadvantage.

fifty six

As they worked their way deeper into the forest, Don noticed the trees change to a variety of cottonwood he wasn’t familiar with—almost like a more fully branched and leafy aspen. Then they entered an area where many of those trees had been felled.

Ahead was a huge pond with a small village of huts on a small island in its middle. The huts, low to the ground, were expertly made of woven branches with reed tops that reminded him of medieval European thatched roofs.

A husky man not much taller than Nersite, but heavier and darker, approached the three. “Greetings, Raquela and Nersite. It has been too long! Come with me, I’ve got my canoe right here, so you can cross to our humble village without getting wet.”

He turned to Don and reached out a surprisingly broad hand with long slender fingers. “I’m Goodwood, the clan leader and chief carpenter around here.”

“
Don of the Rio Grande Valley. Nice to meet you. Is this the Kastmin village?”

“
Ah, yes. You must have heard about our special skills. We are builders and proud of it. Most homes and carpentry done in the Valle are our work though some clanspeople don’t give us a chance to finish it in the way we prefer. I take it by the direction of your approach you have enjoyed the hospitality of the Taurimin? Their big dining hall is our work, but much too crude for us to proudly admit it.” He laughed good-naturedly.

As he spoke, he led them to his bark canoe. It was a well made craft almost to the point Don thought it machine-made, yet it had a fine handcrafted quality to it no machine could duplicate.

As they made their way across the narrow channel separating the shore from the island, Don noticed the south end of the pond flowed over a waterfall. Goodwood followed his gaze.

“
We’re quite proud of the dam we built there. This pond not only serves as an extra measure of protection for our island, but the Taurimin and Càhbahmin farms benefit also. They used to use a canal from the river for their irrigation, but it wasn’t much to depend on. Our pond is deep and wide and now feeds the canal they use. They return the favor with a good supply of fresh vegetables and grain for our tables and, best yet, a vast supply of wood for our work.”

Families of Kastmin came out to greet the three and they were soon shown into the home of Goodwood with some of the older members of the clan joining them. Sitting down to a pot of fresh tea, Don explained the reason for their visit.

Goodwood smiled. “Jasin and Flit were here yesterday, so we expected you. I wish I could tell you more about the Soreyes, except there is one thing…”

All three of the guests leaned forward to hear what that might be.

Goodwood’s smile appeared smug to Don. “And that is, when they began building their new Tower, they captured about ten of our young men and forced them to do woodwork. They had them build a circular stairway that spirals up inside the outer walls of the Tower. It is supported by a stripped and dressed tall pine tree carried all the way from the Mountains of the Sky east of here.”

Don mulled this over. “So, there’s really nothing inside the Tower except that spiral staircase?”

“
That’s it. Along the way up the stairs, there are tall, narrow windows that look out around the Tower except on the north side. When they had our young men building the staircase, they had the windows boarded up. When they finished, they removed the boards, thus our men never had a chance to see the view. They had a tall, fence-like structure around the top, so they couldn’t see out from there either.”

“
Interesting. It’s like they didn’t want your men to see what they could see as they look out over the Valle and the plains.”

Raquela wondered aloud, “Maybe they can see more than we can imagine from that vantage.”

Don shook his head. “Still, just by being so secretive, that shows they’re seeing a lot from up there. But you already knew that. Especially you, Nersite. No surprise there.”

“
They are a strange bunch,” Goodwood said. “After completing the staircase, the Soreyes had them build a roof over a big hole other slaves dug near the bottom of the Tower. Then they beat our boys senseless. Later, they sold them to a clan from the Great Snow Mountains in the far northwest. However, they escaped to the bosque north of here and worked their way back home many days later.”

“
I wonder why the Soreyes didn’t come back down here and try to recapture them?”

Goodwood smiled even more smugly. “One thing the Soreyes don’t do is wander too far down into the Valle. They don’t like being surrounded, and they aren’t familiar with the bosque. To them it’s a puzzling tangle of woods, too many paths, and bogs. They like the open plains and high view from the mesa.”

“
Well, it’s definitely an advantage for them to stay put except for the occasional raid. But they don’t come down into the Valle?”

Raquela answered, “No, the furthest was the time they foiled the attack in Teresa’s time. They find good enough pickings along the western edges and down the few open trails into the Valle.”

Don turned to Raquela. “So they don’t mess with the Loopohmin and Crotalmin?”

“
Not much, though they have killed Loopohmin and Crotalmin when they felt threatened. The Linksmin have not been bothered by the Soreyes because they are reclusive, but Soreyes have killed wildlife the Linksmin depend on and have hurt them in that way. I think they do it to control the extent of the Linksmin hunting grounds more than anything.”

“
And to be assholes,” Don added. Everyone looked at him blankly. “Uh, that means they like hurting people for the hell of it. No real purpose other than to show who is boss.” He paused. “An asshole is literally the hole where your poop comes out. So it’s a fitting description.”

Raquela rolled her eyes and shook her head. Nersite, however, laughed. “That’s a good curse word, Don. I’ll have to remember it.”

Don counted it a small victory that at least one of them was impressed by his apt word. “So anyway, I’m wondering what chants or rituals you folks here have?”

Goodwood looked puzzled until Nersite explained. “Oh, I see,” Goodwood mumbled. “Well, not much. Of course, when we start a woodworking project, whether it’s just a small table or an entire house, we do our Building chant. It gives us the power to shape wood into something useful. It also grants us the fine skills to make it a thing of beauty—”

At that moment a chorus of screams and shrieks came from outside the hut. Everyone seemed to be frozen to the spot except the three. Don rushed to the door to peer out.

Dozens of Kastmin were running in all directions. Among them waded the towering, jangling Soreyes lassoing them like cowboys rounding up calves for branding. As their loops tightened around a Kastmin’s mid-section, they jerked him or her off their feet and handed the rope to an associate who already held several others.

Don looked past the melee to the shore where Goodwood’s canoe had been tied. There was a huge raft loaded with cages, some of them now being filled by captured Kastmin while others waited for occupants.

Don turned back into the hut. “We can be stupid and try to be heroes ending up in the slave cages, or we can get the hell out of here!”

No one in the hut was anxious to fight the Soreyes. What did they have to fight with anyway? Woodworking tools? A saw and hammer might do some damage, but there were about twenty Soreyes and a good ten were armed with spears, bows, and clubs while the others gathered all Kastmin within reach. Their size and reach far outmatched the diminutive Kastmin. And they were scary as hell to behold.

Don hated to run. But that’s what they did.

Out a back door, across a grassy open space, which gave like a firm mattress under their feet, the group of Kastmin and the three hopped in small canoes pulled up on the oppose shore of the small island. They paddled furiously across to a thicket of tall reeds and willow bushes choking the opposite shore.

Behind them the screams of the captured faded while the bellowing hoots of the Soreyes grated on their nerves. Don looked back. The Soreyes had discovered their escape, but all they could do was rush up to the shore, now devoid of canoes, and shout taunts.

“
Look at the little chickenshits run!” A Soreye bellowed.

Then to add further insult…