The Tattooed Tribes (26 page)

“
Stop it!” Vlic hissed. “Leave her
alone.”

Lucien,
completely ashamed of himself, shrugged compliance and turned away
to hide the colour staining his face.

As a result,
he missed the first sight of Jon as he walked out of the woods no
more than five hundred yards from where they were hidden.

He strode out
in full view of all those around the fire, called out a single word
and raised his arm in salute.

There was a
moment of stunned silence as the diners stared at him in
astonishment; then there were exclamations of alarm and a rush for
weapons. A babble of orders and counter orders rang out, only to be
ignored by all in their haste to defend themselves.

Lucien, Stacey
and Vlic were as surprised as the tribesmen and nearly betrayed
themselves by doing the same things, but with effort they managed
to keep their heads.

Even so, Vlic
thought it wise to keep a firm hand on Lucien’s arm. He could feel
the tension in his friend’s body.

“
Greetings,” Jon said, crossing his arms
over his chest, the backs of his hands turned outwards to show his
status and confirm he was not holding a weapon. “I am Harabin, a
Master Traveller of The Tribal Liaison Guild.”

The tribesmen
came forward cautiously and every one of them had some sort of
weapon to hand, mainly the knives they had been using to eat, but
there was an axe or two, and a war club was being smacked gently in
the palm of one man’s hand as he approached.

They began to
form a circle around Jon and as they did so, Lucien swung his rifle
from his back and slowly pushed a bullet from the magazine into the
chamber.

He began to
bring the weapon to his shoulder, but the pressure of Vlic’s hand
increased and he reluctantly lowered the barrel.

One of the men
stepped out from the circle and at a gesture from him, the others
stopped their advance. He studied Jon in silence for a second or
two, his pale grey eyes unmoving and devoid of emotion.

Lucien stopped
breathing.

There was
another slow hand gesture and reluctantly the other tribesmen began
to relax their belligerent stance and drift back towards the fire.
After one last long look at Jon, he jerked his head in
invitation.

Jon followed
him back to the fire, sinking down on his haunches as the men had.
They may have been squatting, but none of them were relaxed; one
glared at Jon before spitting copiously into the fire.

“
As I said, I am Harabin
dheillwer
,” Jon
began, ignoring the insult and addressing the man who seemed to be
in charge.

“
And I am Eldrien of no tribe,” the man
replied. “What do you want here,
dheillwer
?”

Vlic had given
a gasp at this and Lucien pulled him down deeper into cover.

“
What’s the matter?” he asked in a ghost of
a voice.

“
Niifliinling
,” Vlic hissed. “He’s a man without tribe.
Expelled for crimes against custom.” He rose up to peer again at
the group around the fire. “All of them, I think.”

Lucien had
been scared for Jon before, but now his stomach clenched and he
thought for a second he was going to be sick. None of those around
the fire had crossed their arms in greeting. Never in his time
amongst the tribes had any man greeted him without showing his
hands.

“
This isn’t right,” he said. “I wish your
dad was here.”

“
So do I,” Vlic admitted.

They turned
back to the scene before them.

“
I wish to have speech,” Jon was saying,
calmly and reasonably. “To pass the stick and hear your thoughts,
Eldrien. And the thoughts of these others.”

There was a
rumble of dissent from the group.

“
We no longer follow the customs of those
who bred us!” Eldrien replied.

“
Really?” Jon said and pulled a pure white
stick out from inside his jacket.

It was
completely plain, but it was without a flaw, beautifully smoothed
and the ends rounded. Finding it and carving it must have been one
of the reasons Jon had taken so long to get there.

There was a
stirring amongst the men and their body language changed. Some of
the aggression eased and they looked expectantly at Eldrien. Old
customs die hard, even amongst those alienated from their kind.

Eldrien
considered them and then Jon. He was tense and seemed to be having
some sort of inner debate, but finally he scratched at a biting
thing in his arm pit and relaxed.

“
I will hear Harabin
dheillwer’s
thoughts.”

Jon held the
improvised talking stick out before him.

“
Eldrien
liedwer
, I think much has been done against custom and tradition
in the recent past. Things not usual amongst The
People.”

This was
greeted with total silence, but the body language of his listeners
had changed again; they were wary, not yet aggressive, but hands
were fiddling with blades.

If Jon saw, he
chose to ignore it.

“
It is my thought that the taking of
a
breid
from a
hand fasting is without tradition, custom or honour,” he continued.
“What is your thought?”

He handed the
talking stick to Eldrien, who took it and gazed at it for a time,
rubbing his thumb against the smooth wood.

“
Mine is to wonder what concern it might be
of yours, Harabin
dheillwer.
”

He took out a
knife and whittled a little of the white wood away, before
returning the stick to Jon.

“
All matters against custom are the concern
of The Guild,” Jon replied. “It is through custom and honour that
peace is maintained.”

The stick went
back to Eldrien, who again applied his knife, this time beginning
to bore a hole in the wood.

“
Peace does not concern me,” he said. “Nor
does custom. Without tribe there is no custom. With no custom,
there is no tradition. Without both, there is no
honour.”

The hole
having progressed to his satisfaction, he returned the stick to
Jon.

“
To be without tribe is to be without
custom,” Jon agreed. “But does a man require them to have
honour?”

“
What is honour?” Eldrien asked with the
air of one prepared to be amused.

“
Perhaps,” Jon said, “it is nothing more
than avoiding dishonour.”

Eldrien chuckled. “And what is dishonour,
Harabin
dheillwer?”

Jon smiled at this. “Would not the taking
of a
breid
be
dishonourable? And the killing of her parents?”

Eldrien held
out his hand for the stick. “Was I still bound by custom,” he said
as he shaved a curl of wood, “such an act would be a matter of
dishonour.”

“
In our hearts we are all bound by custom,”
Jon replied.

Eldrien shot
him a look of cold calculation. “Perhaps a new tribe without custom
is a better place.”

“
Perhaps,” John replied. “Not all customs
are good and sometimes new ones are needed, but …”

“
What
is going on here?”

All those
seated around the fire had been so absorbed in philosophy and the
passing of the stick; they had not noticed the cabin door open.
Congressman Eric Wainwright and his woman companion came hurrying
over to the men gathered around the fire.

In the bushes
Stacey groaned.

“
No, you old fool,” she muttered. “Don’t do
this.”

Jon rose to
his feet at their approach, but Eldrien spat in the flames and
continued to shave curl after white curl from the talking
stick.

“
Who is this man, Eldrien?” Wainwright
demanded. “And what is he doing here?”

“
I’m surprised you don’t recognise me,
sir,” Jon said stepping forward. “I recognise you. My name is Jon
Harabin. I am a Master Traveller of The Tribal Liaison
Guild.”

Wainwright
went very pale for a moment; then the colour rushed back to his
face, a high red hue.

“
Anyone could claim to be a Guildsman,” he
blustered. “I demand to see proof, if prove it you can.”

Jon silently
produced his badge and held it up for inspection. “Do you wish to
see my written authorisation?”

“
No, no. That won’t be necessary,”
Wainwright spluttered. “I’m sure everything is in order, but I must
ask you to leave here immediately.”

“
Why?”

This seemed to
throw the Congressman. “Why?” he repeated.

“
Yes, sir. Why must I leave? I’m here to
investigate a matter of some importance.”

“
Nonsense!” the woman snapped.

“
And you are?” Jon asked.

“
I am Dr Evandne Riddett,” she replied. “I
very much doubt if someone like you has heard of me, but
…”

Away in the
undergrowth Stacey gave a hiss of distaste. “I might have known,”
she said. “Stupid bitch.”

“
Who is she?” Lucien asked.

“
She’s a child psychologist,” Stacey
whispered back. “She’s spent years trying to prove tribal custom is
child abuse. She has a lot of pull and there are a lot of people
who listen to her.”

Lucien was
puzzled. “But why would she …”

“
If she could prove her theory, it would be
just the excuse needed to put an end to the tribes and their
‘depraved’ habits’,” Stacey replied.

In the
meantime, Jon had put a reputation to the name and his lips curved
into a cynical smile.

“
On the contrary, ma’am,” he interrupted.
“I have most
certainly
heard
of you.”

She seemed a
little put out by this; an obviously well-rehearsed and frequently
delivered speech had been hovering on her lips.

“
Then you know about my work.”

“
I do.”

“
Well?” she said, after a pause.

“
What would you like me to say?” he
asked.

“
What you know about my work?”

“
I know you’ve done little or no field work
amongst The People,” Jon replied. “And you’ve picked up some odd
notions about their beliefs and practises.”

“
Some rather disgusting and degrading
practises,” she responded. “Not their fault, of course, but
ignorance and savagery can’t be allowed to continue.”

Jon shook his
head in disbelief. “Setting aside the inaccuracy of what you are
saying … can I ask by what authority you’re this far above The
First Cataract?”

“
That would be by my authority, Master
Harabin,” Eric Wainwright said. “I am fully authorised to enter the
tribal lands when and where I choose. I asked Dr Riddett to
accompany me this time on a fact finding expedition.”

“
Fact finding?”

Involuntarily
Wainwright glanced towards the lean-to.

“
We needed proof of something,” he
said.

“
Proof of what?”

“
Never mind,” Wainwright retorted. “It’s
none of your concern.”

“
Oh, I think you’ll find it’s very much my
concern, Congressman,” Jon replied. “I think you have a little girl
locked up in that shed and I want to know why.”

“
As I said ...” Wainwright began, but Dr
Riddett interrupted him.

“
We’re not obliged to explain anything to
him, Eric,” she said. “We have a witness in protective custody,
nothing more. Someone who will make it possible for the authorities
to put an end to the barbarism here and allow the light of
education to come to these unfortunate people.”

Away in the
bushes Vlic turned to Lucien and asked, “What people?”

“
I think she means you,” Lucien replied,
and watched the indignation race across his friend’s
face.

“
And what exactly is she supposed to have
witnessed?” Jon was asking.

“
You know as well as I do.” Dr Riddett
exclaimed. “Child abuse. The selling of children for sex. Even
babies handed over in exchange for a handful of beads. And your
precious Guild condones it!”

Jon sighed.
“This has been explained to you again and again. These marriages
have nothing to do with sex. They are entirely an exchange of
wealth and status. A means of oiling the wheels of society.”

She sneered at
him and turned to the Congressman. “I know for a fact he’s indulged
in this vile exploitation,” she said. “How old was your youngest
‘wife’, Harabin?”

The men around
the fire had been following this conversation with varying degrees
of interest. Eldrien had continued to shave layer after layer from
the talking stick; he seemed to be paying little or no
attention.

“
Just out of curiosity,” Jon said. “Where
exactly do you get your so-called facts?”

She flushed
slightly. “I’ve spoken to a large number of people in direct
contact with The Tribes and I’ve questioned a number of natives as
well. Eldrien and his men have been most helpful.”

“
So you’ve never spoken to a woman of The
People and asked her?”

She gave him a
triumphant smile. “I’ve been denied access until now, but this
child will provide me with all the evidence I need once she knows
she can trust me with the truth.”