Azaria (47 page)

"It cannot be helped, Meltek," Takur responded coolly. "If no one will take her, it must be done. If Azerban believes following her to exile will improve her chances... again, I won't stand in his way."

"But that won't matter," Meltek called out again. "Two cannot survive alone. Especially if he chooses to take his young son with him."

Tears had filled Azerban's eyes as he helplessly listened to the discussion unfold. All hope had abandoned him. And he wasn't completely sure anymore that Takur wasn't correct. Perhaps Azaria did pose a threat - not her, but the evil spirits that possessed her, that had already taken Zephia from him.

Private discussions broke out, as individual Ta'araki argued with one another. One from Falcon Camp finally asked, "Didn't you say there was a third option, Ta'araki?"

The individual discussions ceased, as the attendees remembered they'd been promised another solution. "Yes, there is one other option,” Takur answered. “We could give her to the Ta'ar, as a gift - an exchange for Their aid in beating back the Kebar."

The response to this third option could not have been more varied. Some howled in offense, while a few seemed to be nodding in acknowledgement of a clever idea. Most looked stunned or were too occupied thinking the proposal over to respond.

"I thought we just agreed there would be no more executions, Ta'araki?" Siryah demanded. "Do you forget your promises so easily?"

"This would not be an execution, but a sacrifice, Siryah. We agreed no other Kebar would be executed without deliberation. I hold to that pact."

"But, that is impossible, Ta'araki," said the lead man from Leopard Camp. "How could we ask this of the girl, or Azerban for that matter?"

"Rudon is right, we cannot ask this of them," Siryah agreed. "It is too much. Even exile is preferable. At least they would have a small chance."

Many heads were nodding in agreement. Takur realized this was an argument he wouldn't win.
Banishment then,
he conceded. It was not what he wanted, but he'd done his best. If the Ta'ar wanted her, They would have to find a way on Their own. “If most agree with Siryah, and no one will take her, I’m afraid I’ll be forced to banish her then,” he finally said. “I’m sorry, Azerban.”

Azerban knew he’d lost the battle. Azaria would be exiled. He’d have to go with her. But he couldn’t take Quzo with him. The evil spirits could infect him too. And there were too many other dangers. “I am prepared to accompany my daughter, at least until she has recovered,” he said.

“Who will look after your boy, Azerban?” Umar asked.

Azerban glared at him, detecting an almost mocking tone. “I’ll leave him with his aunt. He’ll be well cared for.”

“Are you sure Tobit will risk his family?” Takur asked. “He came to me a while back expressing concern with the infliction affecting your hearth. I’d not be so sure you can rely on Shaledar.”

Azerban’s heart fell. What Takur said was true. He too had noticed Tobit’s anxious demeanor with Azaria. If Shaledar could not take Quzo, would anyone? In desperation he spoke, “Would anyone look after my son? He’s a strong boy. He’ll become a worthy hunter. I’d offer all I have in recompense.”

As he looked out several heads raised, but Meltek spoke first. “Gladly, Azerban. I’ll take him. I’ll also safekeep that which you leave behind, but only temporarily – until you both safely return.”

Azerban nodded, “Thank you, Meltek. You’re a good friend.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Meltek?” Umar asked. “The boy has not been separated from his sister. The spirits may already dwell in him too. Azaria did not show signs until her mother had already passed.”

“Hold your tongue, wretch!” Azerban roared, taking a step toward him. “My son has not been touched. He’s as healthy as ever.”

“How can you be so confident?” Umar countered, finding courage with so many around. “This is your fault, Azerban. Fahim tried to warn us of this threat. But you were deaf to her words, too arrogant to listen. And how has Boar Camp been rewarded? Fahim is dead. Zephia is dead. Jesenia is dead. Azaria will be next. And you and your son will follow.”

“How dare you?” Azerban roared again, charging toward him as Umar backed up. “I’ll send you to the Ta’ar myself!”

A great commotion followed, with Umar retreating and several of the more robust Ta’araki stepping between them.

Azerban knew then he could not reach Umar and ceased his pursuit. He backed off and after a moment calmed. Finally, as the tumult waned he stepped forward, all other voices silencing as he spoke. Even the late winter birds and wind seemed to mute themselves to hear his words. He was left with an impossible choice. If none would take Quzo, he faced an impossible decision. He could either face banishment with both his children or give Azaria up. Tears flowed down his face, his voice breaking continuously with his sobs. "Will you take him, Meltek?"

When he met Meltek's eyes, they held his. The man seemed ready to take his chances. However, his First turned to him, whispering in his ear. After a long bout of hushed deliberation, Meltek looked back to him and shook his head no, letting his gaze drop.

All other eyes had fallen to the Temple floor also. None spoke. Azerban knew he was out of options. There was really only one choice. Quzo must be saved. He swallowed a sob and slowly continued, his head hanging, "Then I will permit the sacrifice ritual as proposed. At least this way she can do some good for her people. It is true the Ta'ar love her, They have given her many gifts. Perhaps this gift to Them will bring Their favor. And my son will be safe."

"No, Azerban," someone yelled out. "It isn't necessary. Take your chances in the wild."

"Yes," Meltek agreed. "If the Ta'ar love her, perhaps They will watch over her. It is best we give Them the choice. How do we know They really want us to follow this course?"

Azerban heard more dissents called out, before raising his hands to hush them. With his other hand he wiped away the wetness from his eyes, but couldn't staunch the flow. "No one can survive in the wild alone. Especially with a young child. You all know this. It would be a hopeless struggle, ending in a torturous death for my children. Ta'araki's proposal is the more compassionate one."

With his last words, the rest of the dissents died. Everyone knew he was speaking the truth. But Meltek spoke again, “Azerban, I cannot risk Lion Camp by taking your son, but I can offer something else. If you will reconsider, I’m prepared to accompany you. Maybe one cannot survive with his children, but perhaps two can.”

Azerban could not staunch the flow of tears from his eyes, no matter how heavily he wiped his hands across them. “Meltek, what have I done to deserve such kindness?” he sobbed. “Your courage humbles me.”

Meltek stood proudly while the rest of the Ta’araki looked on, some filled with awe and others cynically. After a moment to recover, Azerban continued, “But I cannot allow it, Meltek. You are too good a man to risk. And despite your courage, two will also wither. Azaria will be given. I ask one thing, however. That I be allowed to perform the ritual."

---

In the early morning before the Spring Equinox, before the sun had risen, Azaria woke to find her brother sitting on her father's furs playing with a battered gazelle skin. She was feeling much better, her throat hoarse, but her stomach growling. At first she thought nothing of the skin, but then saw it held a charcoal sketch. "Quzo, what is that?"

"Nothin'" he answered.

"Give it here, I want to see it?" Azaria said.

"It's nothing!" he said. "I found it!"

"It's okay, Quzo. I won't tell. I just want to see it."

Knowing his sister always kept her word, Quzo sat down beside her and handed it over. "What's this picture, 'Zaria?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, staring down at it. The drawing was bizarre, resembling nothing she'd ever seen. It was similar to the paintings on the walls of Winter Cave and it seemed to hold some important meaning. Why else would someone have bothered to put it on the skin? Even after a while of studying it, she couldn't figure out why the vulture would be flying off with the man's head. If it was a depiction of an excarnation, as she guessed, it was all wrong. The head was the part that was saved. The vultures got everything else. She did notice however, that what appeared to be the clothing on the headless man was similar to that of the men she'd faced during the Kebar attack. "This man must be Kebar," she said, thinking out loud. "See the style of his bottoms? That isn't a Natu style. It's more Kebar..."

"Oh," Quzo replied. "But why do these birds have his head?" He snorted, suddenly seeing humor in the drawing.

"I don't know. But we'd better put it back where you found it. Father will be very sore if he knows we looked at it."

"Okay," Quzo agreed, getting up and stuffing the skin clumsily back into the bag he'd found it in.

"Promise me you won't take it out again, Quzo."

Just then, two hunters entered their shelter, without bothering to announce their presence. Azaria was startled, but recognized them as the men who'd left with her father on their trek to the Great Temple. She ignored their rudeness, concerned something was wrong, or at least that they bore important tidings.

"Get up, Azaria," one of the men gently commanded.

"What's wrong?" Azaria asked, standing up slowly.

He walked behind her and she turned her head to follow, wondering where he was going. Without warning, he wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms to her side and held a scrap of soft leather to her face, covering her mouth and nose.

"Hey! What are you doing to my sister?" Quzo yelled.

The other man picked him up and covered his tiny mouth with his much bigger hand. Azaria screamed silently, flailing helplessly as she watched the other man struggle to control Quzo. She desperately tried to break the intruders grip, but turned light-headed as she flailed.

The space around her faded away.

As Azaria fell limp in the first attacker's arms, the other one whispered to Quzo, "We're taking your sister to see your father, Quzo. Don't worry, this is all a game. You'll see your father when he comes back, okay? And he'll explain everything to you. Okay? Nod if you understand and I'll let you down."

Quzo nodded and as promised, the giant man released him. "Why's she sleeping?" he asked.

"Your father told us to put her to sleep before we brought her to him. You know she's ill, Quzo. Your father wanted her to rest so she's strong when she arrives. But this will be our little secret, okay? I'm sure your father will be very proud of you when he gets back, if you can keep this to yourself for a couple suns."

"Okay," Quzo nodded, smiling meekly.

The men wrapped her in furs and carried his sister away. As they reached the outskirts of Boar Camp, one of the men asked the other, "Do you think the boy will tell anyone?"

"Who cares?" the other replied. "We'll be long gone by then, even if someone listens to him. Let the Ta'araki deal with it."

Azerban sat on his furs inside his makeshift tent, staring down forlornly at the bag lying on the dirt floor in front of him, its contents disposed. He swayed as he sat, his body's reaction to the poison having long overtaken him. He only wanted to dull the pain, to forget his agony. He knew he otherwise wouldn’t get through the night, waiting for the dawn of the Equinox to come.

He stood suddenly, almost toppling over before steadying himself against the effects of the brew. With his mind made up, he stumbled out of his tent, almost knocking it over as he plunged out into the cool air. Despite his intoxication, he knew exactly where he was headed and when he arrived he slapped roughly on the entrance flaps, before pushing his way through. He found Beltan, the Mammoth Camp Ta'araki sitting on the Red Camp Ta'araki's furs cross-legged, with her sitting inside them, her legs wrapped around his back.

"Azerban!" Manumen said in astonishment. Upon other circumstances, she would’ve been delighted to see him, would have invited him to join them. At the Summer Gatherings, when they were younger, she'd been very persuasive in luring him to her furs, but he'd always had eyes for his eventual mate. Even now she wondered if a night together with her and Beltan might ease his mind, but she cast the thought out, knowing it inappropriate. "Can I do something for you?" she asked instead.

"I need to sleep, Manumen. And I don't want to wake until the dawn. Do you have something you can give me?"

"Of course, Azerban. Wait just a moment." She rose unsteadily, the substances they'd been experimenting with having an effect on her also. Then she knelt down carefully to some pouches sitting near her hearth and after a few moments placed a small bowl in his hand. She instructed him gently, with compassion, "Drink this as a tea. Sleep will come swiftly. But be wary. You’ll be drowsy when you wake." She put another bone bowl in his hand, this one filled with stems and bark. "Chew this before the ritual. It will numb your nerves and help with... the emotions. Just be careful with it also. I normally wouldn’t give out so much," she said, eyeing him up and down, "but you’re a big man."

Azerban nodded and grunted his gratitude before stumbling back outside. Back in his own tent he heated water, letting it come to a boil and poured the steaming liquid into his cup. He then dumped into it the contents of the first bowl Manumen had given him. As he sipped on the concoction, waiting for its effects to kick in, he cursed her. The ingredient she'd given him wasn't working nearly as quickly as he desired. He stared at the contents of the second bowl and - his judgment well past impairment - decided he didn't care. He placed a few of the unfamiliar stems and most of the bark into his mouth and chewed hard.