Rthan
Of all the things Rthan thought would be hard in Yellow Bear, boredom was not one of them. But now, boredom was his worst enemy.
He could not hunt. He could not fish. He could not fight. He could not leave the compound. Brena was busy with the Initiate Tavaedies or mixing her medicines and helping the sick.
He kept his body strong with pull-ups, push-ups, and stretches, but that only filled part of the day.
He asked Brena if he could use a blade to carve things. She said yes. But he did not want to make arrow shafts for the enemy. He was not good enough to carve the front of a boat.
So, he chose to carve bone into fishhooks.
Word spread. Soon Yellow Bear men came to trade beer or honey or nuts for a few fishhooks.
At first, Rthan felt strange trading with the enemy. But the Yellow Bear men were just men. Some liked to talk. Some were quiet. Some bragged about how many fish they had caught. Others asked him to teach them better ways to fish.
A few laughed at him for being a slave. A few were kind.
They were not all bad. Not all good either. Just men, like any group of men he had known.
That bothered him.
Before now, he thought of Yellow Bear people like a school of fish—just a big group, all the same. They were evil, and revenge meant killing as many as he could.
But now, when a Yellow Bear man came to trade corn for a fishhook, Rthan looked at his face.
Was this the man who killed his family?
What would revenge mean if he had to find the one who threw the spear?
Were they all guilty? Or only one?
Brena did not kill his wife.
But maybe she helped. Maybe she cooked for the man who did. Maybe it was her father, her brother, or her husband who threw the spear. Maybe she danced magic to make that spear sharper.
Maybe none of them were innocent. He needed to remember that.
And yet, here he sat, one moon into his time as a slave. He sat on a log stool in Brena's house, carving a bone, thinking about what he could trade it for—and how to surprise Brena with it.
Over the last moon, Rthan had learned something about Brena.
She was a quiet woman. But her shyness often looked like boldness. She attacked her chores—and sometimes foolish men—with such force, people forgot she was shy at all.
Today, she rushed in and out of the room, cleaning and moving things that were already clean. That was a sign. She wanted to talk about something awkward.
"What did you think of Zavaedi Kavio?" she asked at last.
"As a war leader?" Rthan shrugged. Too damned good. "Why ask me? I'm just a slave."
"Fa!" She pushed the broom into his hands. "Fine. You sweep."
"Sweep what? If you sweep this floor any more, there won't be any floor left."
She grabbed the broom back. But instead of sweeping, she held it like a spear.
"So you won't help my tribe at all. Not in anything."
"Why are you mad now?" he asked, angry too. "I told you from the start how I felt."
"It doesn't matter." She hit the floor hard with the broom. "I knew I couldn't count on you."
"Brena."
He stepped between her and the broom. His movement was smooth as he put one hand around her waist.
Though he often joked with her, he almost never touched her. The sudden closeness made her freeze.
"Tell me what's really wrong."
"The other Zavaedies asked me not to teach next moon," she said.
"Why? You love teaching. The Initiates respect you."
"In summer, we teach the Fertility Dances."
He still looked confused.
She blushed red like berries.
"The fertility dances," she said. "I can't do them without—"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
He understood.
He also realized his hand was still on her waist. He let go quickly.
"I don't know your tama," he said. "Our dances are all about the sea. The Pregnant Salmon. The Pearl Comb. The Breasts of the Blue Lady—"
"I could teach you, the same way I teach the Initiates. But I don't want to partner with some boy my daughter's age…"
Rthan opened his mouth to answer. But something else caught his attention.
From the corner of the hut came a soft cry. A blue light glowed and formed the shape of a girl.
Meira.
Brena acted like she did not see or hear anything. She kept working. She moved jars of herbs. She carried the eating mat outside. She swept the floor with a horsetail brush.
The Blue Lady—his dead daughter—spoke in a low, steady voice.
"These are the people who killed me," she said. "How can you rest with them? How can you forget the deathdebt you owe me? Did you ever love me at all, if you forget me so easily?"
"Have you heard a word I've said?" Brena asked.
"You've forgotten me," Meira said.
"No," Rthan whispered.
"Forget I asked," Brena said. Her voice was sharp with pain she tried to hide.
"You didn't ask," Rthan said. He walked to the other side of the room so he didn't have to look at either of them. "I'll partner with you. But it changes nothing."
"It might not matter anyway." Brena brought the mat back in. She hit it clean with a stick and placed it by the fire. She used another stick to stir the coals to flame.
Her voice sounded strange. Too fast. Too tight.
"Kavio asked to borrow you," she said.
"Borrow me?"
"His words. Hertio gave you as a slave to Kavio. If Kavio wants you again, I can't stop him."
"These are the people who murdered me," Meira whispered. "You think you can trust them?"
Rthan stood. He was tall over Brena, and she stepped back.
"It makes no difference to me," he said.