Ninil's Tale

Acknowledgements

This novel is set in the world of Kisar, one of the worlds I have created for my tabletop roleplaying. Many thanks to Bob Matic and Paul Siljac for the part they had to play in the formation of this world. Without their input into our regular gaming sessions this world would not have the same level of life and depth.

Special thanks to Ryllandra Rose, my editor and very dear friend. Without her patience and support it is unlikely this book would ever have made it to publication.

Time Shared

Wind whips through the saffron coloured grass causing it to undulate and hiss like a sea of angry snakes. Sunset heralds a cold clear night, another night shivering. I pull my long coat tighter around me. If I don't find shelter soon my state of fatigue might lead to illness, and I can't afford that. Travel through the mountains has left me beaten and bruised by countless stumbles and small scrapes, causing me to lean heavily on my thick walking staff.

I can smell smoke, a certain sign of humanity. Smoke means water, food and trade, but it also means potential danger. Out on the plains it would most likely be one of the tribes of Janos. Hospitable people for the most part, but each tribe has their own personality. Peering across the plain in the fading light I struggled to see where they might be. The village must be near, but it could be hidden among any one of the many copses of spiny bushes that dot the plain.

Swinging one of my leather rolls from my shoulder I unfurl it, searching through the many little pockets sewn onto the inside of the hide. I find what I need, a simple blue flower, carefully dried and pressed. I roll up my herbs with care and shoulder the roll as I stand.

Invoking a prayer to Namhe, I touch the tiny blue flower to each closed eyelid before putting the flower on my tongue and swallowing. As I open my eyes, the dimming light of the sunset is as bright as full noon, every detail of the plain now in perfect clarity. I can see a herd of some sort of deer in the far distance, creating a swathe of cleared land as they ate their way across the plains. More importantly, I can make out small upright figures moving around one of the larger clumps of bushes. I can now make out where many of the thorny bushes have been pleached together to create fences to ward off animals, as well as obscure their camp.

I hurry towards the settlement, making it to within a distant spear throw of the edge just as night falls completely. There I sit ... and wait. My herbal magic has already worn off, leaving me fairly blind, but I can smell the smoke clearly. The smoke is not pure wood smoke, this smoke is tinged with something different. If I were to guess I would say manure of some kind is being used. The Sons of Janos have keen eyes, and likely saw me before I saw them. However, you never try to walk directly into a Janosian camp, you're far too likely to end up on the end of a spear point before they ask any questions.

Each tribe of Janos follows a totem, and that totem strongly suggests the general demeanour of the tribe. I try to steer clear of tribes that follow hunting style totems as they can be prone to violence, especially against my people. It's been nearly a century now, but the Sons of Janos and the Daughters of the Serpent still remember a time when my people kept them as slaves. I remember that time as well, not through handed down stories as they do, but because I lived it.

Normally I would observe a tribe for a day or so, waiting to learn their disposition and if possible, let them contact me first. But I am exhausted, and if I follow the correct protocols, most Janosian tribes are hospitable enough for at least one night. So I wait, and sure enough I am soon approached by four of the tribal protectors.

My first goal is to read their armour and general dispositions. Janosian people are not prone to subterfuge so tribal protectors usually display trophies from their totem, which also marks them as competent warriors. Some reward for their services as tribal defenders I suppose. These warriors are clad in the thick leather armour their people are renowned for. A strip of leather woven with split bone hangs down their chest to protect the vital organs. The armour of the Protectors is known as some of the best in the world, far inferior to the magnificent armour of my people's time, but effective none the less. In addition to the standard armour, these warriors have some sort of long grey horns sweeping up each shoulder, the points of the horns framing the faces of the warriors and guarding their necks from lateral attacks. It doesn't look like the horns from any hunting animal I know.

I stay seated as they approach, trying to look as harmless as possible, however I do have my staff laying on the ground before me, ready to grab if needed. My people are, on average, half again the height of most other peoples of the land, and I am no exception. I find that not towering over people as we talk tends to help them feel safer in my presence.

It is a woman who steps forward. Tall and lean, but with powerful wiry muscles and the long sculpted legs that are typical of her race. Her dark skin makes detail difficult to determine under the star light, but I can see that her long hair is braided tightly back from her face into a mane that runs from the top of her skull and back to somewhere below her shoulders. She takes a stance before me, tall elliptical shield made from thick hide and wood held along the length of her body for protection, while the short spear is planted butt to the ground at her side. Good, the spear held at ease meant they were willing to talk.

In the clicking staccato language of her people she asks, Do you speak the language of my tribe Anukin?

Politeness, this was good. Recognising my race, that might be good or bad, but at least she didn't use one of many racial slurs. Yes, I say. I speak it reasonably. I am Ninil, I have no tribe.

She takes a moment to size me up, evaluating what measure of threat I might be to her tribe. I am Adanna of the Shadow Deer. What brings you to my lands?

The tribal names of the Sons of Janos tell you immediately what their totem is. The second part tells you the totem, while the first part tells you what aspect of the totem this particular tribe favours. My mind races as I try to think of all the aspects represented by Deer. They would probably be flighty and nervous, though I didn't see any measure of nervousness in this woman or her scowling companions. They would probably also fight well if cornered. It was hard to tell, some totems can be very deceptive. The 'Shadow' element of the name is a mystery to me.

I only seek shelter, and perhaps some trade. I bring herbs from far shieldward of here. Rare roots from the shadow of a great mountain, and nettles from the shores of a lake that stretches as vast as your plains. I'm not sure I had either left, but the goal is simply to sound impressive. It seems to work.

At this time we have little to offer thieves and beggars, but trade is another matter. You may share our fire this night. If you need any longer you will have to ask the Elders.

I didn't realise how tense the encounter was making me until I hear her words and start to relax. When dealing with the people of Janos, if you can get past the first contact you are safe. I stand but grow wary again as the warrior woman stays still, watching and evaluating me as if I were a wild animal.

Seeing my uncertainty she relaxes and smiles. Sorry, she says, it's just that I have never seen a woman of your people before. Come, our fire is burning low and meals are already being shared.

She turns and begins to lead the way to her camp. I follow, noting the other warriors with her fall in around me, though at a respectful distance. I do not read any malice or even caution in their manner towards me, they are actually taking care to protect me. As a guest, I am now a ward of the tribe until I leave, so their eyes are scanning outwards, wary of any danger which might have followed me.

As we move towards the camp at a gentle lope I ask, Adanna, you said you have nothing for beggars at this time. Is the hunting scarce this time of year?

Unlike mine, her breath is even as she replies. Hunting is excellent, but we have had little time to hunt yet. We follow the herd of longhorn deer and have only today set camp. We have some fresh meat to share, but little else.

I marvel at the carefully woven walls of thorns, they look like the labour of generations. In fact, as I draw nearer, I can see many twists of old wood that has grown thick among the pleaching. I remark on such to my host.

She gives a short laugh, almost a girlish giggle before replying, These are our lands which we share with the deer. This is one of many camps we move to as we follow the herd. Yes, it is the work of generations, we add a little to it each time we make camp here. Also, our Seekers have an agreement with the Spirits of these trees, who tend the place in our absence.

Seekers, or Spirit Seekers, are the Janos equivalent of shaman. As I understand it, it is their role to commune with the spirits of the land, acting as negotiator for the tribe. It's all silly superstition really, they are spell weavers plain and simple, no matter how they choose to interpret it.

We pass through a tall tunnel framed by two old gnarled and twisted trees and enter the camp proper. Within is a hive of activity and the state of unreadiness is clearly obvious. Many domed huts are already in place, a member or two of the family still checking the hide covering to be sure there are no leaks. In other places groups have banded together to help smaller families finish their own huts. I can see a man, tall for his people, reaching up to pull down the centre of a sapling dome so others can tie the ends together and complete the frame. The design of the huts is simple, yet also ingenious in its own way. Each hut begins with a circle. Green wood is cut and planted into the ground around the circle. In some sites I've seen they have clay or mud footings for the huts. The wood is lashed in an ever diminishing circle until at the top, all the saplings are brought together. The entire structure is then covered in animal hides, the one resource the Janosians have in abundance. They leave a hole in the top for smoke and air movement, though they have a flap they can close in inclement weather. The final result is a hide covered dome which is surprisingly stable even in some of the brutal storms of the wet season.

I am lead to the communal fire, the heart of any Janos tribe. Here both men and women are working together to prepare meals. Seeing me they take charge of their children, cautioning them to stay clear of me. I might be welcomed into the camp but no animal would be so incautious as to let their cub wander near a potentially wild and unknown beast. Especially not one that would weigh as much as four of their largest warriors.

Adanna finds me a place by the fire and sits with me, placing her shield to the side but her spear across her lap. Gone is the taciturn warrior, now she is all smiles and it makes her drawn sun weathered face look younger, revealing an image of the girl she once was. Her bright and welcoming acceptance of me is a regular act. As she has given me permission to enter the camp, I am now her responsibility to babysit. Her positive demeanour is a simple way to try to keep me in a good mood. If I show any indication I would hurt any member of her tribe she would strike with all the ferocity and dispassion of a lightning bolt.

Adanna doesn't have to give any directions, a man places a leather bowl with water in my hands within moments of me sitting. I know food will be offered as soon as it is prepared, it is simply their way. The man who gave me the water places a hand on Adanna's shoulder. She smiles up at him and pats his hand reassuringly before he moves on.

Your mate looks strong and healthy, I say to Adanna.

Her smile doesn't have the warmth it had when she looked at the man but it still seems genuine. Yes, Keeba is a good man. He made me this spear. She lifts the spear from her lap and holds it straight and horizontal before my eyes yet still held tightly in both hands.

I know better than to reach for the spear, she is showing me, she is not offering it as a gift. I look up and down the length of the spear as I say, Good straight shaft, thick too. Excellent binding near the point. It is fine workmanship, but it is still a primitive stick, split on one end to insert a knapped stone point then bound with animal sinew.

Adanna seems satisfied with my evaluation and returns the spear to her lap. We will make many strong children soon, she says.

You have not been together long then?

Her eyes grow a little harder. Many seasons.

Her voice has an obsidian edge to it. For them to have been together for many seasons yet have no child indicates there must be a fertility issue. The shame of it would be a burden for her.

I do not press the issue but in the short silence she says, We had a child. He was a good boy, healthy and strong like his father. He was taken by a Longfang last season.

Longfang is the Janosian term for the large cats which are the apex predators of grass expanses like this. The name comes from the two incisors, each as long as her forearm. I know better than to offer any form of condolences, such empty words are unwelcome among the pragmatic people of Janos.

What of you, she asks without malice, returning to her bright and helpful persona. Do you have children?

I shake my head. No, I have never had a child.

She seems genuinely confused. You look healthy, have you not found any mate worthy?

I smile this time, though I am sure there is a twist to my lips. No. I have found no mate. My people are scattered like tufts of dandelion. I have met men, but I have found none pleasing enough. It is a half-truth, and I wonder if Adanna knows that as she tilts her head to the side and studies my face with a serious intensity. Then, just like that, her smile is back.

As we chat, the tribe begins to settle around the fire and I am kept busy with offers of food and drink. I take a little of everything, not wishing to offend anyone. Janosians will eat anything. While they prefer fresh cooked meat like deer and auroch, they will eat anything from lizards and field mice all the way down to worms and spiders. They supplement their diet with whatever plants they can gather in their travels but there is little of that here. As far as I know, they do not plant crops, however I do know that they won't strip a plant to the point it dies if they can help it.

I watch others and eat what they eat, tossing what they toss into the fire. They all share what food they have among the various families, ensuring a diversity in their diet. While they move around a lot, each family seems to have its place by the fire. I always find these experiences sort of surreal. These people were once thought of as animals by my people. Many still view them as animals. To be a guest among them, to see them laugh and share affections makes me ashamed of what my people did to them over a century ago. It is times like this I think the Flame was right in destroying us.

As we eat, bathed in the orange glow of the large coal pit that serves as the communal fire, the tribe begins the nightly bonding ritual; a sharing ceremony of telling stories and singing communal songs. It is a practice I have always admired. Not only does it allow the tribe to share the events of the day, it also serves as a way to pass down oral history, and to educate the young through parables and educational songs. Children are also welcomed to share their own talents, taking their first plunge into being an active part of the community.

The tribe is in high spirits after one of the hunters tells an amusing anecdote about being treed by a boar. A little old man stands and the crowd falls silent in respect. The man would stand no taller than my hip, less than shoulder height to most of the men of the tribe, yet I can tell he is highly regarded by everyone present. He takes a moment to steady himself using a short staff before he speaks.

His voice is still clear and strong as he says, We have a guest among us. One of the Anukin, a traveller without tribe or home. She has travelled far and seen much. Would you please stand and introduce yourself to the tribe.

I have done these introductions many times, yet they still make my legs tremble and my breath short. I stand, clear my throat and take a deep breath before speaking. I am Ninil, I have no tribe. I come with herbs from distant lands which I will happily trade for food and supplies. I seek nothing more than shelter this night and perhaps some time in the morning to offer my herbs for trade.

The old man says, You are weary from your travel. I ask of the other Elders; should we allow Ninil to spend another day and a night as our guest so she may trade her herbs and share her wisdom with us? I see many older men and women nodding their agreement.

I know I feel worn out but I didn't realise it was so obvious to others. I bow then realise the motion isn't understood by the culture. I say, Thank you Elders, thank you to all of Shadow Deer for welcoming me by your fire. I promise to be honest and generous in my trading. I chide myself as I remember that promising to be honest will only remind a Janosian that there was the potential of being dishonest, but I meant my words.

The Elder still standing says, I am Warra, I know many stories. As guest here, I invite you to ask me for a story of your choosing Ninil. What story would you like me to tell?

I am not that familiar with Janosian tales that I could name many. Nor do I wish to invoke any tale that might touch on the sordid history between the sons of Janos and the Anukin. However, there is one tale I know every tribe likes to tell. Addressing Warra I say, Thank you Warra for your offer, I would be most honoured to hear about Janos, and the founding of the many tribes.

Warra nods and settles his feet, leaning on his staff for support. The tribe is perfectly silent with the exception of a squealing baby and its mother as she shushes it. When he speaks, his voice is sombre yet strong. He speaks with reverence and a heartfelt certainty that speaks of the tale being an absolute truth, at least to him.

Warra's tale – The Wisdom of Janos

In the beginning we were a scattered people. We travelled alone, or in small groups. We sought refuge with the animals of the land and tried to learn their ways. From the animals of the land we learnt ways for survival, we learnt to be kin to wolf and deer and all the animals of the land. But we did not learn to be kin with each other. Then came Obai, who learnt the ways of many animals, and from those animals he learnt the value of a tribe.

Obai sought out our scattered peoples and welcomed the wisdom each animal taught. He created the first tribe, and that tribe would grow. Over generations, the tribe of Obai searched for many peoples of the land; weaving them together to create a great tribe that numbered so many it would take a day to travel from one side of the camp to the other. The tribe was so strong no beast would challenge it and so it grew larger with the birthing of each new child.

Yet all was not well. The tribe had grown so large it had to constantly move in order to find food and water enough to survive. Where the tribe passed, all other life was devoured. Great herds would be killed in order to feed us. Rivers would be drained to slake our thirst. The Spirits of the land grew angry and in desperation struck back. People grew sick and died as the Spirits began to claim back some of what we were taking.

Obai was long dead, but the elders by now knew wisdom of their own. They talked, sharing their fears that the tribe would soon anger the spirits so much all would die. Or worse still, that the Spirits might have grown so weak the land would die first, leaving nothing. Something had to be done, the tribe must learn how to work with the Spirits of the land. A great gathering was made just outside the bounds of the camp and word was spread, asking people to share the wisdom they had gathered so a solution could be found.

Days passed and a great many people spoke to the Elders about their ideas. It was suggested the tribe be culled, or that the Spirits be left to decide our fate, but no solution was favoured by the Elders. Then came the warrior Janos. He was a man known for his skill in leading the hunt, yet he fell into shame when it was discovered that he would let certain healthy animals escape. He had once tried to tell the tribe why