about for her own clothing.
“They’re two of my captains.” Nahas took the tunic, rose from the grass. “Lebo and Orian. The third is Gaal, steward over all these fields and all the fields of the Wheel Clan, my dearest friend.”
“That one doesn’t wear brown.”
“Among my people, the son belongs to its father’s clan. One such as Gaal with a foreign father can only be a farmer or a steward. He wears the clothing of stewards. Yet, he is—like all my stewards—as good a fighter as any.” He raised his right hand and signaled the steward who nodded. “And of all my warriors, he rests closest to my heart. Ktwala, my warriors await me. There is much for me to do.”
“It has been years since I lay with a man,” she said, laughing. “Except Ouis. I had forgotten how grievous parting was. If I could, I would lie here with you til third moon came.”
She dressed hastily, aware that his eyes admired her body, but sad they were to part. “Already I long for you,” she said. “Til the day when our towers meet again?”
“We will be apart for only a little while.”
“How long does it take to learn tower songs and the songs of far regions?” she asked.
“The day is far spent.” His voice accused. “My people journeyed here to honor our dead. A hard and long task. Yet I have spent the day lying here with you. And now you speak of towers?”
“I grieve for your dead, Nahas. Forgive me. I only…unless you seek us out, you will be lost to me. Long ago, the men in my longhouse warred against each other. When peace could not be restored, it was decided another longhouse should be built and the sub-clan divided. Those who left took all our keening knowledge with them. Help us, Nahas. Don’t leave us at the night’s will.”
The king’s eyes searched hers. “And what science will you give us in return?”
Her right hand indicated the orchards, then the corralled fields. “What can I give a Wheel Clan king?” She wrapped her arms around him, kissed his lips. “Be not so distant, Nahas, and trust my love for you.”
His voice was distant, his eyes—sky blue and sky bright—full of suspicion. “You speak of love and tower science in the same breath?”
“Do you think I gave you my body as payment for your lore? I did not.”
He shrugged, frowned. “It seems I’ve mistaken a barter for love.”
How wary and suspicious the Wheel Clan king is! Hurt, she kneeled at the king’s feet, spoke boldly. “I would not have lain with you if I did not love you, Nahas! King or not, your heart has found its place in mine. But, my people are the world’s dust, tossed where the night flings us. This is why I ask that you make our paths and journeys straight, that you make our lives as orderly as yours.”
“Your people charm and bend animal hearts to their will,” he answered. “Teach us this skill, and we will teach you to keen. But not all our tower lore.”
He speaks like one bargaining at a marketplace. Ktwala watched the wind play with the topmost branches of the far-off trees. “Skill for skill, yes. But song for song as well. For the songs of pleasant regions, we’ll teach you the songs of water reptiles. For the chords that make crystals hone homeward, we will teach you whale songs. And our people are strong. You are no victim of a bad bargain. Ally yourselves to us and we will help you battle your enemies.”
“Are you such good warriors?” he asked.
Such wariness in his voice. Should one so powerful seem so afraid? “Not good at all. But we are well able to learn.”
He lifted her from her knees. “You plead well for your people, Ktwala. Fear not. I will teach your people tower science, enough that our longhouses may routinely meet.” His finger stroked the nape of her neck. “Only, you must live with me. Marry me and be my queen.”
Leaping into the king’s arms, Ktwala threw her arms around his neck and covered his face with kisses. His hands on her large buttocks and thighs, the king laughed, steadying himself as he carried her down the sloping meadow.
“It is good to see the Wheel Clan king laugh,” Ktwala said. “You almost made me fear you.”
From the bottom of the steep hillside, a young warrior ran toward them.
“That warrior’s name is Lan,” Nahas said. “He knows the Peacock tongue.” He placed Ktwala’s feet on the grassy ground. “He will report this new alliance and our marriage to the women of my people. Rain, an honored elder among our clan, will acquaint you with our ways. All this night my warriors will remain in your longhouse and teach your brothers tower science. In the morning, we men will return. Then, you and I will be wed.” He winked. “Officially.”
“My children, King Nahas? What of them? May they stay with me or must they stay with my father’s clan? Will they be as your own people? Ouis’ father is not of your clan. Will he be a warrior? Will he be your son?”
Nahas answered, “Ouis will be as my sons are.”
She flung her arms around his neck.
Nahas pointed to the orchard at the bottom of the hill. “Wait there while I speak with Lan.”
All around her, the ripening fruit filled her senses. How fruity-sweet their fragrance!
On the slope of the hill, the king and his warrior spoke, hands and body agitated as if some quarrel had risen up between them. Then the boy grew silent, his shoulders slumped. He walked sullenly toward Ktwala. She followed him but he did not speak to her. Near the longhouse, Prince Psal met him. A moment only the boys spoke, then Psal limped up the hill to his father. Then father and son seemed to argue, hands and heads shaking, pushing. Moments later, the studier hobbled down the hillside. When he drew near Ktwala, he did not look at her, but turned his face toward the ground and pushed past her into the longhouse.
Have I offended this great people on the day they bury their dead? Ktwala asked herself. To lay here in the meadow with Nahas? Is that why this warrior and this prince rage at their king?
* * * *
When darkness fell, Maharai heard Lan’s voice calling to her and Ouis from the cave’s entrance.
“I come, Lan,” she said and picked up Little Eala who sat on a rock her feet dangling in the dark water.
When Maharai and Eala arrived at the cave entrance, Lan stood in the half-light, a worried expression on his face. “Where’s your brother?” he asked her.
“Swimming and fishing with the others.”
“Call him. The king commands you and your brother to remain with your mother in our longhouse,” Lan said then spoke to Netophah in the Wheel Clan language.
After Maharai called him, Ouis came running up, wet and holding a net with a small brown fish with no eyes.
“Can I stay and play a little longer?” he asked, looking from Netophah to Lan. “Our new Wheel Clan brothers are teaching us to use these nets.” He shivered from the cave’s dampness. “Please, let me stay a little longer?”
“Nahas
