Wars of the Aoten
Chapter XXVII
Time passed, and Bedoua, Melic and Koinoni sojourned in relative peace within the Rufoux community. Of course, Rufoux anger inevitably flared at their unaccustomed guests, but the clans’ leaders quickly smoothed over each new explosion. The stockade walls stood tall and strong, Andreia arose to walk about again, and the full moon threatened.
“We must be back,” Ingle insisted, urgency in his eyes. “We must take refuge in camp or Wolven will have us.”
Krait sniffed at his fears, but Humus and Mistral reflected the same concern in their faces.
“The Bedoua must return,” Theodoric said to Artur, standing about with Wyllem and Pepin. “And considering their arguments at the council, I suggest we go with them. Putting pitch to the outside of the boat will save bailing water from the inside.”
“What?”
“We must talk to Dungo before Krait does.”
“Yes, I have known that, too,” said Artur. “But I’m afraid we can not get there on foot before the full moon. Our progress upon the flood plains will be yet slower than our first trip, now that water saturates the ground.”
“Yes. You ground walkers will have more trouble than when we returned,” said Theodoric, and he looked at the boats. A group of Koinoni stood upon the nearby shore, one talking with Geoffrey, the others spinning in turn. Geoffrey shook his head.
“Yarrow?” asked Theodoric as they approached, and the still figure turned in their direction.
“Zootaloo!”
“We have need of one of your boats. How much for one?”
“What do you have?”
“I have a flagon of honey,” said Theodoric, and he pulled Aachen up with him.
“A bit of honey for a boat? Why do you seek so much for this honey?”
“You never know how it might come in handy. But I do not want to purchase the boat, but only passage. We must sail to the desert, to deliver our Bedoua friends to safety before the full moon, but also to meet Dungo.”
“You offer honey for a boat ride?” asked Yarrow, somewhat confused.
“Yes,” said Theodoric, looking about to Artur, who also was puzzled.
“You would pay us for a boat ride?” asked Yarrow again.
“Yes, for the Bedoua, and for Artur.”
“Never have the Koinoni given nothing for something, even at our shrewdest. You must promise not to seek vengeance for this, Rufoux. Koinoni have nothing to do with this offer.”
“The expense will not fall upon the Rufoux, but upon Melics,” said Theodoric, and he extended the flagon of honey toward Yarrow.
“Very well, let us have the honey. Perhaps we have learned a new way to trade. I will prepare my men.”
“It would be best for only you to go from among the Koinoni,” warned Theodoric. “The Bedoua have heard tales of the Koinoni, and will be distrustful.”
“Some truth abides in Koinoni rumors, particularly the one that Koinoni always go about in sixes,” said Yarrow.
“I know, but in this case one would be better.”
“Koinoni always go about in sixes.” The spinning of the others had gone on unabated.
“Can you handle a boat?” Wyllem asked Theodoric.
“Good point,” said Theodoric. “I guess taking a large group is unavoidable. Perhaps we can find a way to set Dungo’s mind at ease,” he said to Artur.
“You should take Mienrade,” offered Artur. “Dungo will remember his drink. And perhaps Franken as well — he liked his toy.”
“Yes, an excellent suggestion, but remember, the hippus came from you. We will fetch Mienrade to the forest’s edge again,” said Theodoric. “I will go with Pepin, and I think it would be safe to bring another Rufoux this time. What say you, Geoffrey?”
“Very well,” said Geoffrey. “Things have been too quiet here for me anyway.”
Artur gave him a stern look. “No funny business out of you, old man. We’re trying to make peace here, not get you killed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” returned Geoffrey, annoyed.
Yarrow boarded the smallest of the Koinoni boats, and the rest of the travelers followed: Artur and Geoffrey; Theodoric; Humus, Ingle and Mistral; and Krait, with no small words of complaint. “Dungo will not speak with you. Bedoua will not join with you,” he insisted, and Ingle growled at him. Artur chose to ignore the debate. Pepin struck out through the woods to get Mienrade. Picta, who had remained in camp, hugged each of the travelers before departing into the trees as well, hanging upon Artur longer than he liked, and Andreia leaned against a hut and waved as the crew of six Koinoni used long poles to advance the boat up the Alluvia.
“We have saved one life,” remarked Theodoric as he waved back to Andreia. “Perhaps we can save more.”
“A very precious life,” said Artur.
“She is strong and beautiful, is she not?”
“Yes, and young,” and Artur sighed hard.
“Can it be such a wrong thing, to be young?” asked Theodoric.
“No, youth is a very good thing. But it traps her, for all the men of her birth year have married already, and certainly no others will be found.”
“And what of the women your age, Artur? Have they all been taken in marriage as well?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“There seems to be an obvious solution for you both, then. Soil and water share nothing in common, and yet when they combine, a seed blossoms.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are fond of her, no? And I dare say she of you. What difference does birth year make?”
“It is not a matter of difference — it is a matter of our ways. Rufoux betroth their couples at six, then engagement at twelve, marriage at eighteen. We root our families in this ritual, the very foundation of our culture, and we remain very strict about it.”
“What did the Rufoux do before establishing those ways?” asked Theodoric.
“What? Who knows? It has been our way for generations, long before even Geoffrey.”
“But your people must have done something.”
“I’m sure we must have, but I don’t know what.”
“And it must have worked, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yes, I’m sure it worked.”
“So why can’t your ways change again?” asked Theodoric.
“I am leader of the Rufoux,” Artur answered. “What I want doesn’t matter; I have to protect the safety of the clan. You saw what happened after the Aoten attacked us, didn’t you, up in your tree? The clan erupted with talk that would have left me overthrown and dead. If I disregard clan traditions for something I want, it might cause rebellion.”
“That may be so; much depends on perspective. Consider Picta, for instance. She would like nothing better than to break away from our traditions. Our traditions will kill her just as they threaten to kill us all, just in a different way. She hangs over us, a shadow of the entire Melic clan; Pepin has dreamed it. He has dreamed of you as well.”
“I know. I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
“Picta is wise in her foolishness, and yet foolish in her wisdom, for wishing to change Melic tradition may kill her as well. She has always been an outcast.” Theodoric studied Artur’s face.
“Hmm,” said Artur flatly.
“It’s a matter of perspective, what one considers most important. I too have faced overthrow; only the fact that I have no heir saved me. Picta’s rebellion threatens her life as well. I will protect her as best I can.”
Artur paused. “You have your marriage customs, we have ours.”
Theodoric seemed to change the subject. “Has a Rufoux chief ever ridden upon a Koinoni boat before?”
“No, and I’ll thank you not to rub it in.”
“Has a Rufoux chief ever sought counsel from a Melic?”
“You’re as bad as Wyllem with the questions.”
“Has a leader of the Rufoux ever sought council with the Bedoua?”
&nb
sp; “No.”
“So you see, the Rufoux can survive when things take a different turn. Your clan stands mighty indeed.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Artur looked over the bow of the boat at the vast lands spread before him, wondering if his future would look any different than his present, and if he’d have the chance to find out.
“Andreia, intuit of the Rufoux,” Theodoric rolled the thought over in his mind. “The winds of change are blowing, Artur. Do not be afraid to cast your sails to the wind.”
And for once, Artur understood what Theodoric meant.
The boat continued its way up river as day passed into night, then night into day. The Koinoni took shifts poling against the gentle current, two at a time, and so the vessel never ceased to move. All through the journey Yarrow dickered with his passengers.
“This land looks finer than any other in Medialia,” he said. “Do the Rufoux claim all this territory?”
“Yes, although Melics would call it theirs,” said Geoffrey. “We claim the land, they claim the branches. You can’t have any of it.”
“Where does it end?”
“At the mouth of the Alluvia. Have you never been there?”
“Never. Nobody will trade north of the Rufoux village, so we have no reason.”
“Where else do the Koinoni go, outside of Medialia?” Geoffrey asked.
“Many places, many places not on any Rufoux map. The world spreads its borders wide, and houses many ports where the Koinoni still sail.”
“I am the oldest of the Rufoux, and I have never gone past the Alluvia myself. My people have always remained on the banks of the river. Although I have spent much time in the forests. I even used to go — Mog’s goblins, what’s that?!”
A dark figure flew overhead, a great creature with a long neck and tail, held aloft by huge bat-like wings. Even in silhouette against the sun, Geoffrey could see its scales and jagged teeth.
“A dragon! A dragon!” he exulted. “Such a rare sight, a real flying dragon! Never does one see such a thing!”
“No,” said Yarrow. “In the eastern lands they are quite common. They roam about practically like rumidonts. A common pest.”
Elsewhere on the boat Krait sullenly muttered to himself. “Damn boat. Dungo will not join. Bedoua will not join. Which is-sss better? Which is-sss better for Krait? Damn boat.”
Eventually the ship pulled into the burbling source of the Alluvia, and the Koinoni drew it to shore. Pepin and Mienrade awaited them where the meadows met the forest, and though the night drew near, the troupe decided to start out into the desert. With the Bedoua tent still in hand, and the Melics somewhat used to sleeping on rolled-up rugs, they knew they could spend the night upon the sands.
And so they did.
Just as they took shifts pushing the boat, the Koinoni took shifts sleeping. Still in their heavy robes, four slept while two kept watch, each in turn. The Koinoni would never let themselves be taken by surprise.
The group arose with the sun and set about packing their little bags and preparing a spare breakfast. As the Bedoua broke down the tent, Ingle noticed their unusual struggling at the work and suddenly asked, “Where’s Krait?”
“Left three hours ago,” said a Koinoni.