The Transall Saga Part 4

The water from the creek tasted good, even better than the pool water. In the sandy forest he had made a good shot at one of the rabbit creatures and now he was preparing to roast it over a small fire.

He had decided the smartest thing to do would be to wait in the trees near the spot where he had confronted Leeta. Maybe she would be curious enough to come back and look for him.

A twig snapped behind him. He reached for his spear and turned. There was nothing.

Mark frowned. His ears must be playing tricks on him. Cautiously he stepped behind the fire and waited. There was no other sound, no movement.

After a few moments he went back to his cooking. The green limb he was using as a skewer worked well enough, but he had to be careful not to get too close to the flame when he turned it.

The juices from the sizzling meat dripped into the fire and made a wonderful smell. He quit turning the meat and reached behind him for a tree rock.

His boot was gone.

"What the ..." Mark looked all around the fire. He could swear he'd had it a few minutes before.

He turned the rabbit meat one more time and took it off the fire. Then he picked up his spear and walked down the trail a few yards. His stomach grumbled, so he decided to go ahead and eat and search for his boot later.

But when he got back to his fire the rabbit was gone. So were his bow and arrows.

Leeta. She'd pointed in this direction and caused him to come here. It had to be her. Angrily he stomped out to the footpath. "Leeta! I know you're out there. Leeta? Bring my stuff back."

A tree rock dropped on his head. He looked up. There she was, sitting calmly on one of the branches, going through his things.

Mark rubbed his head. "That's not funny." He jumped and made a grab for her and she climbed higher.

"Don't make me come up there." Mark started to climb. The strange girl dropped everything except the bow and quiver. She quickly inserted an arrow, pulled it tight and pointed it right between his eyes.

"Now hold on." Mark put his hands in the air. "You've got everything backwards. You're the thief here. I just want my stuff back."

Her chin went up. "Tso tso Kakon ne."

"What does that mean? Can I at least get my dinner? I'm starving." He edged toward the rabbit, which had landed a few feet away in a clump of gra.s.s.

"Nah. Nah." She shook her head and motioned for him to move away.

Mark stopped. "Look, this is stupid. If you're hungry"a" he rubbed his stomacha""I'll give you some." He pointed at the rabbit meat and then at her.

She studied him a long moment and lowered the bow a few inches. Mark grabbed the rabbit, brushed off the gra.s.s and walked back to the fire.

He pretended he wasn't interested in her, added some sticks to the fire and finished roasting the rabbit.

She was quick. Even with her injured leg she was able to climb out of the tree almost before he could blink. But she wouldn't come any closer.

He continued to cook, and when the rabbit was done he tore off a piece and offered it to her. She only stared.

"Suit yourself." Mark took out his knife and opened one of the tree rocks. She watched in fascination. He held out half to her. It looked as if she might take it but then she stepped back.

Mark stuffed himself, wiped his hands on his pants and thought about what to do next.

Leeta seemed nervous. She kept looking over her shoulder. Mark was afraid she was about to leave. Jabbing his chest with his finger, he said, "Mark." Then he pointed at her. "Leeta." He went through it again. "Mark ... Leeta."

It didn't seem to faze her. He tried a different tactic. This time he touched the claw necklace, growled, picked up his spear and stabbed the air.

A small giggle escaped her lips.

He put the spear down. "So you think I'm funny? Well, at least that's something." He sat back on his heels. "Okay. You talk to me."

She continued to stare at him with bright, s.h.i.+ny black eyes. Behind her there was movement. Mark jumped up, but before he could reach for his spear he was surrounded.

Leeta's tribesmen had their weapons trained on him. Mark glanced around. He had named them wrong. They were the arrow people all right, but they also had clubs, blowguns and primitive crossbows.

A fierce-looking man with black dots tattooed across his forehead and a long, thin bone through his nose stepped in front of the fire. He looked angrily at Leeta. Then he raised his club.

It was the last thing Mark saw before he blacked out.

chapter 17.

His forehead hurt and his arm was swollen and sore from the sting of the blow dart. Mark held his head and sat up. He was sitting on a dirt floor inside a round hut.

Whispers followed by peals of laughter came from the open door. Mark turned. Several small children were watching him.

He stood up and hit his head on the ceiling. The children howled with laughter.

"You guys are kind of short, aren't you?" Mark looked around the small room and spotted his gear lying near the wall. It was all there, his boot, compa.s.s, knife, spear, and bow and arrows.

He scratched his head. None of this made sense. If he was a prisoner, why would they let him keep his weapons?

An old woman with short gray hair and a stooped back entered carrying a large red leaf and a carved wooden bowl with a glob of steaming white mush in it. She put it down in front of him and knelt. "Kakon ke ity."

Mark looked at the mush. "You want me to eat that?" He raised his hand and mimed putting something in his mouth.

The old woman nodded enthusiastically. "Kakon ke ity."

He squatted on his heels and picked up the leaf. "You wouldn't try to poison me, would you?"

The woman gave him a wrinkled smile, revealing that all her front teeth were missing.

Mark scooped up a small portion of the mush with a piece of leaf and tasted it. It was bland but not awful. He took another bite. The woman and children continued to stare at him. Self-conscious, he hurriedly ate the rest, wiped his mouth and handed the woman the bowl. "My compliments to the chef."

She smiled again and backed out of the hut.

Mark followed her to the door. There was no guard. The children were the only ones paying any attention to him. Everyone else was busy with their daily routine.

He stepped outside. No one seemed to care. The youngsters circled him, poking his light skin and pointing at his strange toes and eyes. One little boy touched the bottom of Mark's faded blue jeans. An older child said something in the clicking language and pointed at the claw necklace. This impressed the others and they lined up to get a better look.

"You guys are lucky I don't charge admission." Mark side-stepped them and walked across the open compound.

Two men who were busy decorating a rectangular s.h.i.+eld with black and orange dye gave him a friendly nod.

Mark nodded back. "Hi there. Nice day."

They looked at each other, shrugged and went back to what they were doing.

As he walked through the village everyone acknowledged him politely and no one made any effort to stop him.

The fierce-looking man with the tattoo and the bone through his nose was sitting beside a small fire watching him. He gestured for Mark to come over and join him.

The man took a long pull on the slender plant stalk he was smoking and then handed it to Mark.

Mark studied it. The smoldering thing was tightly wrapped with leaves and tied with vines. "My parents aren't going to like this," he muttered. He accepted the foul-smelling thing and took a short, polite puff. The aroma was so strong it made his eyes water. He coughed and handed it back.

The man laughed and slapped Mark on the back. "Kakon et tu bet."

"Kakon?" Mark c.o.c.ked his head. "You people keep using that word." He put his hand on his chest. "Are you calling me Kakon?"

The man slapped him harder. "Kakon."

"Okay, sure. Kakon." Mark sat in silence, watching the activities around him. The women seemed to be working a lot harder than the men. He spotted Leeta in the garden with a digging stick and waved to her. She looked away and kept hoeing.

Mark turned to the man beside him. "Are you the leader of these people? You know, the head? The one in charge?"

The man exploded with a barrage of words. His lecture lasted for several minutes and Mark couldn't understand any of it.

When the man was finished Mark drew a picture in the sand with his finger of several small stick men. Above them he drew a larger figure holding a club. Mark pointed at the figure and then at the man. "Is this you?"

There was another stream of words and then the man jumped to his feet and hurried into one of the huts. In a few seconds he came out and handed Mark his club.

"No, you don't understand. I don't want your weapon. I was just ..." Mark looked into the chiefs eyes. He was staring at Mark expectantly as if he was waiting for something in return.

"You've got this whole thing wrong. See, I really don't have much to trade. Why don't you just keep it?"

The chief continued to wait.

Reluctantly Mark stood and walked to the hut where he had left his things. He studied his small pile of belongings. The problem was, he really needed everything he had.

The compa.s.s. He didn't need that. Maybe it would be enough. He came out holding the broken instrument in his outstretched hand. At first the little man just stared at the s.h.i.+ny object. Then Mark jiggled it and the silver arrow in the middle changed directions.

"Ahhh! So so Kakon!'" The leader's eyes opened wide. He reached for the compa.s.s, holding it gently in his palm as if it was very precious. Excitedly he called to the other men. "Tsik ma Kakon."

The others crowded around and exclaimed over the treasure. Some good-naturedly hit Mark on the shoulder, apparently complimenting him on the trade.

"It's no big deal." Mark s.h.i.+fted. "It was broken anyway." He caught Leeta's eye and moved toward the garden.

One of the younger men immediately stepped in front of him. "Nah. Yi tsi su Lee-ta. Nah."

"Look, pal, I just want to talk to her. She and I are old friends." Mark tried to move around him. The man quickly blocked his way and shoved him.

Mark stood almost a head taller than the young man and he thought about pus.h.i.+ng back. He glanced around. Everyone in camp had stopped what they were doing to watch.

Leeta quit digging and gave Mark a stern look.

Mark figured he must be breaking one of their customs. He stepped back. "Okay, okay. I don't want to offend anybody on my first day in town."

The young man's face broke into a good-natured smile. "Gott Kakon nee." He took Mark's arm and led him back to the men.

Mark sat with them until it was almost dark, watching them shape and hone their weapons, smoke and talk. Mostly talk. They discussed something nonstop for more than an hour. Mark couldn't understand a word.

At dark the whole village lined up and moved into the long thatch-roofed hut in the center of the compound. The chief invited Mark inside and indicated where he was to sit.

There was a fire in the middle of the windowless room and the people sat in a wide circle around it, watching the smoke curl out a hole in the roof. The chief clapped his hands and one of the men began pounding on a skin-covered wooden drum that made a dull sound like a bongo.

Another man stood up and started moving in rhythm. Mark could tell he was supposed to be a bird flying in the air. The dancer was graceful and quick. He swooped down, as if capturing something on the ground, and "flew" off again.

When he was finished the chief took over and talked for a long time. The children must have heard the speech before because they became restless and went to the back of the hut to play games.

"Kakon tsir tu tu se. Kakon."

Mark jumped when he heard his new name. The chief was motioning for him to stand.

"Me?" Mark's eyebrows went up.

The chief pulled him to his feet and touched the long claws around his neck. "Kakon tsir nto tu."

"Oh, I get it. You want to know about the Howling Thing. Okay ... let's see. Well, it's like this. One day I was out scouting and I was just about to have lunch when I ..." Mark looked at their faces. The people were staring blankly.

He scratched his head. "I know. I'll do like the bird man and act it out for you. Like I did for Leeta."

At the mention of her name the group turned to look at her. Embarra.s.sed, she covered her face. Everyone laughed.

"Here goes." Mark picked up his new club and started walking slowly around the circle as if he was hunting. He stopped suddenly and held his hand to his ear. Then he crouched low and ran through the crowd until he came to Leeta. He put the club down, dropped to all fours and started growling and clawing at her. She giggled and tried to push him away.

Stepping back a few feet, he pretended to shoot an arrow at the Howling Thing. Then he reached for the club and readied himself for the beast to attack.

Here he decided it would be more impressive to alter the story a little. Instead of falling down when the Howling Thing rushed him, he stood his ground and stabbed the make-believe monster until it was dead. Then he put one foot on its head and raised his pretend spear in victory.

The people all started talking at once. Apparently he was a hit. Mark bowed and sat down.

The chief patted Mark on the head, then clapped his hands again, and the villagers stood and filtered out of the room, each one patting the top of Mark's head as they walked by.

Mark didn't know what he was supposed to do.

Leeta hung back. When they were all gone she pointed at him. "Mawk." Then she indicated herself. "Lee-ta."