Path of the Wind

11
Sariandra looks around her with satisfaction. She is amongst her people. All have gathered in the open air for the coroze, the meeting of decision. She seats herself between Tihikia and the tall kinde with little Miro in her arms. She looks at the stranger and wonders again at his alien familiarity. Decides again that it must be his hair for the colour reminds of the grass at high summer. Her thought turn to why the Mentyhe had invited him to this gathering of the people. Around them people are seating themselves, talking softly. It quiets down as the council arranges themselves in front of the gathering, it is time. The meeting starts with a welcome to those newly arrived and then it is on with business. Everybody is told of Pakrash movement, a tally of weapons and food stores is given and massages from other settlements recounted. Then old Jamenty Marahandra moves forward. “It is a time of bad omens. We all know that we have to do something but the path is shrouded. Before we decide I think that we should ask for the wind’s guidance.” The gathered people call their consent. The old Mentyhe gathers hair from the council members as representatives of the people.

Gerdon watches as the whole process repeats itself. He’s too far away to see much detail, but he thinks that there are some different objects present at this reading. This time he is not surprised by the gust of wind that blows from behind, in spite of the fact that the wind has been coming across his left cheek since he sat down. He turns his attention to the people around him as the old woman begins her reading. Most of them seem calm, just waiting for whatever was to come. Some, especially the younger Kuriken seem excited by the prospect of a fight. The mothers are the ones who carry on their faces the look of fear. He turns his attention back to the front of the gathering as Jamenty starts to speak.

“The plains are covered in soot for the Pakrash are coming in full force. The fighting will spill over the eastern mountains plunging the kinde in darkness. It is time for the clans to come together and there are two paths before us, west to the dream caves and north to the ice falls. Cry woe and arm yourselves for the time of war is upon us. Hold high your heads for we are the Gerenti and we will stand against the darkness, for it will pass as does the night.”

The Gerenti mutter and stir at this announcement. They quiet down as the leader of the Dontenko stand in front of them. “I call for suggestions.” He calls on some of the leaders and people to voice their opinions, everybody listens attentively. “I call the question.” Sariandra motions the kinde to bow his head and whispers to him, “You have been invited therefore you have a vote, When they call the option you agree with rise to your feet and keeping your eyes on the ground count to five then sit down again.” Gerdon listens in amazement as the vote is cast. Never has he heard of such a thing, all the people deciding what is to be done. “We go west.” He hears movement but follow the order to look at the ground. “We go north.” Again there is some movement. “We split up. One group goes north the other west. The Marahandra, Kuriken and Tihina spit in half, the rest of the families choose their destination, as long as the numbers remain almost equal.” Carefully he rises to his feet feeling the young woman next to him also move. He counts the slow five then seats himself again. “We spit into several small groups, each making its own way north or west.”

“The count is closed.” He hears a soft sound as all the heads come up together. “It is decided. We will divide into two groups and leave at first light. Ready your homes and decide on your destinations. The group to the north will gather at the head of the path, while the group heading to the west will meet in the square. Any problems with group size will be sorted out then. The majority has decided and we will serve for the survival of the tribe.” Immediately the people start to move off. Gerdon is still contemplating this unconventional method of decision making. Finally he turns to the young woman next to him. “Can I ask you some questions?”
“Off course, just as long you keep on moving.”
“Why does everybody get a say, surely not every person can be trusted to make a sound decision? Do you not trust your appointed leaders to make the right decision for all of you?”
She laughs. “We chose this council for their ability to organise a settlement. Nearly a quarter of the people here tonight have served as leaders for goya’s at one time or another. Besides, each person knows what he or she thinks is best for the people, they would be insulted if ignored and that could lead to conflict. This is how all the decisions affecting the tribe are made; we all serve only for the survival of the tribe. Now we know that yes, I got to say what I think is right, but if this is what the tribe wants I will do what ever I can to make sure that the tribe is provided for. Why, how do your people make such decisions?”
“Leaders are appointed by the ruling council and they make decisions that the rest of the population follows.”
“And everybody is happy with those decisions?”
“No. And often the decisions are made to benefit the rulers, not the people. I can see how your way is much better, but there are just too many people back east for it to work. In Terestuin alone there are more people than there are Gerenti, it would be chaos to get every person’s opinion.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence. After a while Gerdon picks up the tired little Miro who mumbles in his ear then falls asleep. Again he feels an inexplicable peace settle over him as he holds her close. Back at the inn he and Sariandra help Tihikia to pack away everything that won’t be needed on the journey. Behind the house is a hidden trap door that leads to an underground storeroom. They put most of the things in there, bringing food and camping equipment back into the inn. Tihikia’s young son is almost beside himself with excitement as he carefully arranges his own pack for the trip.
“Tihikia will there be enough water on the western way for my horse?”
“I think so, Sariandra?”
“Probably, it is still early in the season and we won’t be moving to fast due to the weight. But it would be an insult if you rode him on the plains, why not let him go?”
“I know, but I thought with all the extra weight, if we rigged a travois he could carry some of the supplies.”
“It is a thought, Waro, run to Jamenty and ask her if that would be acceptable. Also ask if she needs any help because we are nearly finished here.” The little boy runs of, chest puffed up at this important task. The adults continue with their chores as they wait for him to return.

A while later they are starting dinner when the boy returns, out of breath. “She...she says…it would be fine. And…thank you…but she…has already taken care of her things.” They wake little Miro and enjoy their simple meal in quiet. Afterwards, Tihikia questions her guests about their plans. “Gerdon kinde, you will go west?”
“Yes, it is apparently where my guiding star is leading.” He smiles again at this simple play of words. “And you mahiya, what are your plans?”
“We will go north, my brother is with the Gampo and he should know our sister’s fate. And you Sariandra?”
“I will go west for I still worry about the other half of our goya, my serxo is with them. We should meet them along the way.”

After dinner Sariandra helps Gerdon to make the travois. It is not an unknown devise, many of her people will be pulling one on the journey, but this is the first time she has seen one that will be pulled by an animal. They work companionably, finding themselves at ease in each others company. When they finish she watches Gerdon as he tend to his horse finding the large animal intriguing. She knows hunting dogs but she has never been this close to such a large, living animal. Gerdon shows her how to brush the horse and then checks its shoes. Luckily they are in good shape, who knows when he will see a blacksmith again. They return to the inn and their beds followed by a faint feeling of excitement. Tomorrow they leave.