The Path to the Sun

Chapter 11

Chapter 11 

Haktu appeared with a grin, offering a basket of grilled meat and roasted root vegetables to the Torans. “Bounty plenty. Spirits like you.”

Kiran took a serving of meat. Trying to act casually, he asked, “Last night, the dancing and the celebration, what was that for?”

Haktu cocked his head to the side, confused.

Kiran slapped his hands on the ground as though he were playing the drums and swayed back and forth, imitating the dancing. He shrugged. “Why?”

Haktu smiled in understanding and beamed with pride. “Hunt many beasts. Honor Spirits.”

“Honor spirits? I don’t understand. Last night, Manu-amatu said he would consult. But how, with whom?”

“Like bird, soar wind, to Spirit world.”

Soar on the wind? That was absurd. Men couldn’t fly like a bird. And did he mean the holy realm of the Great Father, the abode of souls gathered in the afterlife? “Do you mean the Celestial Kingdom?”

“Manu-amatu messenger,” he said as though telling a child who hadn’t been listening.

“The messenger?”

“By staff, he go.” Haktu raised his eyebrows. “You have holy man, no?”

“Well, we have Elders. But they don’t fly.” He gestured toward the sky, raising his hands like Aldwyn would. “They talk to the Father.”

“Ah,” said Haktu, nodding as if he understood. “Why you travel, across land, to Spirit?”

“Because we were told to,” growled Deke, butting in. “One does not question the Way.”

Kiran blanched. He was sure Haktu meant no disrespect.

“Ah,” said Haktu with a clipped, polite smile and turned away.

Kiran frowned at Deke, but it didn’t matter. He was getting nowhere, learning nothing of the witch. He’d have to find another way.

Despite their lack of reverence for the Great Father, the Lendhi were a happy, friendly people. With genuine warmth and kindness, they welcomed the Torans, giving them hides and poles to erect a tent. Roh and Kiran managed to get the main pole set in the ground and one hide stretched over part of the top before declaring it would suffice.

There were chores for everyone; no one lazed about. Kiran watched with curiosity, helping where he could, all the while keeping watch for the witch.

The clan used every part of the animals they killed and each needed to be preserved. Several women worked to tan the hides of the beasts, which were used for myriad purposes: the covering of their tents, clothing, blankets, foot coverings, food storage, drums. One woman, the oldest in the clan it seemed, with hair white as snow, teetered about on one bad leg as she worked to remove the hooves and horns for tools and cooking utensils. Nothing was wasted. Even the dogs did their share, licking the bones clean.

Others of the clan, men and women alike, continued the work of preserving the meat of the beast, cutting it into strips to be hung and dried over the smoky fire which they continually tended to keep the flies away.

As Kiran interacted with the clan members, he tried to communicate with them. Occasionally, they would speak a word, but most of their mumblings were soft and incoherent. If he paid close attention to their expressive hand gestures, he could understand the gist of their communication, and he tried to gesture back the same way. Before long, it seemed, they were actually communicating and he was proud of the way he could read their facial expressions and interpret their body language. He wondered how they could ever live this way though, with such difficulty just trying to talk to each other.