Glory and Empire

Glory and Empire - Ch 13

That evening, there was a large celebration in the camp. Deer and rock goat were prepared and put on low tables for everyone to enjoy. Some of the berries they had picked earlier were also available. She tried a few, and they were sweet and succulent.

As the tribe enjoyed the feast, Traci began to notice the gentle bass sound of rain drums played by young men. They started out slow and rhythmic, and then the tempo became more upbeat. Soon, the drums were joined by the sounds of pan pipes and the deep bass of a large instrument made by joining three water drums that had apertures for adding or subtracting water to change their pitch. The larger central drum was held between the legs, so that the water could be resonated by moving the legs as it was played.

 Rutherford pointed to several aeolian harps, rare but beautiful instruments designed to be played by the wind, free of the touch of human hands. The simple harmonic wind harps were said to transfer the spirit of the wind into multi-layered music in time with nature’s rhythms. Traci closed her eyes as their vibrant voices sang pure harmonic tones that ranged from deep, pulsing basses to stunning sopranos.

The music and food were soon accompanied by dancing. Several of the Iranahar men danced in a circle around the tribe as they ate. The smoke from the fires rose up to the heavens as a symbol of the bounty that the tribe was enjoying. Traci found the experience powerfully moving, sharing as the people celebrated and gave thanks for their harvests and for the safekeeping and renewed health of their warrior princess.

Soon some of the women joined the men, and they danced around the circle with great joy. They clapped and sang with mirth and vigor. Rutherford had been dragged to the circle by a rather large but attractive Iranahar woman. He danced with glee, even though his technique was awful. Traci found herself laughing and clapping as well.

As the festivities wound down, Traci loaded up a plate of food and took it to Kendahl, who was still sulking in his prison tent. She sat cross-legged across from him and hummed as the rich bass tones made their way into the tent.

She started to feel some sympathy for Kendahl when she saw that he had been gnawing on his leather chain. But the rawhide was tough and unyielding. She suspected that even his dagger would have had trouble cutting through it.

“Thanks for the food,” Kendahl said around a mouthful. A few days’ stubble made him look quite roguish, in contrast to his dandy norm. “Have you been working on an escape plan?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, I believe so,” Traci said, caught up in the trance of the sweet music. “Tomorrow, I will be escorted to the temple by warriors from both tribes, where there will be some kind of bell ringing ceremony. You’ll be coming with us.” Traci smiled at him. “They want to make sure you come along, where they can keep an eye on you.”

“That’s not much of a plan.”

“Once we go through the ceremony, I’ll be expected to go up to the temple; I’m told there are no doors, so I suppose I’m to say a few symbolic phrases and get my healing.”

“Hmff,” Kendahl grunted as he reached for a cup of tea. “You sound like you don’t expect the gods to answer.”