Chapter Text
12th January 2150. In the Rule of Heda Lexa Yr 11. 1st Moon Waxing Gibbous. Polis
(4 moons since the fall of the Maunde)
On this cold winter’s night, the centre of Polis is quiet, because anyone who can justify it is indoors sitting by a warm fire. Those who must be outside walk the streets in heavy coats, fur boots and woollen gloves. Their eyes scrunched against the cold wind and fat flakes of snow that descend in swirling white curtains. Atop Heda’s Tower the Great Flame leaps and spits, a beacon to all making their way to or through the city.
South of the Tower, safely within its’ shadow, are Polis’ next-best preserved buildings. Structures that survived Priamfaya to two or even three stories. The Hospital, Barracks, Stables and School are here, in patched and re-roofed brick buildings that before the destruction wrought by the bombs must have stood three or four stories higher. Clarke’s made a home for her people in the basement of what was once an office block, the remains of which stand just a few cubits beyond the southernmost corner of the Hospital. She shares it with her mother and a floating population of young delinquents and adults. On a normal day a dozen or so people are in residence at the ‘Office’ but some nights up to thirty are asleep in the big common room. That’s likely to be the case tonight and not just because it’s freezing outside.
As seken to Tokai kom Trikru Finn’s been making wooden furniture. Some of his early attempts, the ones Tokai wanted to put straight on the fire, have made their way to Clarke’s place. They may be a little wonky and Finn will never want to claim them with a maker’s mark but covered in the thick furs provided by Harper and Colin (sekens to a hunter) the settles and benches are comfortable enough if you steady them with a couple of wooden wedges. Tonight, they’re all in use, pulled away from the walls to form a circle around the big metal box that stands on sturdy legs in the middle of the room and pumps out welcome heat. Clarke’s impressed by the stove; she gestures at it. “What did you do to get it to generate more heat for less fuel Rae?”
The mechanic’s happy to explain her genius. “I talked with the blacksmiths about managing air flow through the firebox, then I designed a throat-plate and some ventilation controls and Barb had them make it to my specs. That plus dry wood and having a decent chimney is the secret.”
“Could I use it as an example of what we can do?”
“Sure, Barb and the Commander are aware of my input.”
Clarke looks around the room at faces that are familiar, though the ground has made them leaner and even in winter tanned by exposure to weather. Her people now have well-nourished bodies, newly muscled from hard physical work or training in combat and their eyes are bright and keen. She’s proud of them and as the recently elected leader of her small group, thirty-nine youngsters and twelve adults, she is fiercely protective of their interests. Tonight, she’s called as many of them as can make it to this meeting so they can help her put together a formal request to Heda Lexa and her Kongeda for her people to be recognised as an independent kru (clan), their chosen name is Konopkru (Young clan) and join the Kongeda (Coalition). The fallback position is to ask Indra to accept them as Trikru.
Clarke claps her hands. “Everyone, listen up! We’ve got a few days to put together this bid to become a clan. Wells, Rae and I will do the presentation but I wanted to give as many people as possible the chance to have input. Let’s start with why we are different from the Arkers and Sydney’s people. We need to explain that not everyone who fell from the sky is the same.” Silence. “Come on, someone start the ball rolling.”
Harper stretches her hands towards the heat. “Starting with the obvious; we were here to help defeat the Maunon before the Arkers arrived and although Sydney and her people were on the ground they were hundreds of miles away in Yujleda and did nothing to help.”
“We cured twenty-five Ripas.” That’s from Octavia. “Lincoln says that without our help the fisas wouldn’t have been able to cure more than a couple.”
Callie chimes in with. “The first radios were repaired and used by Monty and Raven and the mast at the top of the Tower was put there by us.”
There’s the slamming of a distant door, hurried footsteps and Charlotte tumbles in, her hair and coat are dusted white with snow and her boots drop clods of ice on the mat. “Abby’s still at the docks helping with an accident on the quay, she’ll be along when she can. Did I miss anything?”
“Not much. I’m putting together a list of how we differ from the Arkers and Sydney’s bunch.”
Charlotte changes her boots for felt slippers and hangs the heavy coat on an empty peg where it starts to steam. “We’re the only ones who’ve surrendered our guns. We don’t know Sydney’s stance on guns, but Kane’s refused to hand theirs over.”
Finn snorts. “We only ever had one gun, Bellamy’s pistol, and then a couple we stole from the Mountain Men!” Charlotte mutters something that sounds like ‘it’s the principle that matters’ and Clarke gives him a mild glare.
Callie shuffles along a bench to make room for Charlotte. “We don’t know much about Sydney’s people full stop. Yujleda aren’t saying anything and if they’re in radio, or any kind of contact with the Arkers Kane’s not admitting it.”
Murphy moves forward to stir the contents of one of the pots on top of the stove and Wells uses a long pair of tongs to turn each of the potatoes that are baking in the ashes, he gives one a firm squeeze. “Not long now Murph, you can put the cabbage on.” Murphy drops chopped greenery into a pot of boiling water.
Wells squats back onto his heels. “Medical skills generally are another obvious plus and Abby’s refused point blank to return to the Ark or should I call it Arkadia now?” He looks across to Clarke. “I think she’s happy here in Polis, don’t you think?”
That question makes Clarke pause. Is her mom happy? Without her dad? “Um. Yeah, she’s super busy but likes working with Nyko and she loves teaching, really loves it. Doesn’t she Charlie?”
The younger blonde nods enthusiastically and adds. “But most of all she likes learning new stuff from Nyko and Luna. When she’s making notes about the properties of some herb that they’ve just explained to her, she hums a little tune.” Clarke smiles, remembering when she was little, how her mom used to hum or sing when she was happy and Jake would join in even though he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
“Yeah, she likes it here and won’t go to live in Arkadia. She doesn’t trust Kane, thinks the whole ‘Chancellor as elected dictator’ system stinks, and hates the new Commander of the Guard one Edward Gru and anyway she doesn’t think it’s right that the only people he’s invited to Arkadia are Raven, her (I’m her not as welcome dependant) and those of the 100 who have parents living in Arkadia. I agree with her, his selective approach sucks and I hate Gru, he murdered my dad.”
“He’s a nasty fucker is Gru.” Raven’s going to add her two pennies worth. “Kane’s stuck in the past; he always wanted to be Chancellor and now has his dream job with an ‘Emergency Powers’ boost. He doesn’t want interference from people with political ideas like Callie, or political families like Wells and there’s no way Gru wants you in Arkadia Grace. You’d make things awkward for him with the Guard.” The tall ex-guard can only agree and like Callie try not to show that it hurts not to be wanted by your own people.
She chips in on the conversation but turns it. “Don’t forget Maya and the Resistance Clarke. The Commander made them your responsibility.”
“Yeah, she did.” Clarke looks at the young couple sitting to her left. Jasper and Maya have been officially dating for a few months now and she’s never seen anyone look as happy or should that be sappy? She wonders for a moment if she looks quite so stunned when she’s sitting next to Lexa. Not that she gets that much chance to, not in public anyway, her relationship with Heda is acknowledged by those few who are close to Lexa, but no-one else is supposed to know about them.
Octavia frowns “I don’t think Indra would want Maunon to become Trikru.”
That uncomfortable thought silences them for a while. The seven survivors of Mt Weather’s Resistance Group are slowly adapting to the outside world and its’ culture. Maya’s skills as a nurse and apprentice fisa are regularly praised by Abby and Nyko; while her father Vincent, together with the other surviving adults, Karen, Millais and Franz, are all working. Karen and Franz’s children go to Polis school.
Dax stretches his long legs towards the stove. “Harrumph. We don’t know about Sydney in Yujleda but Arkadia is still dependant on the Commander’s generosity for its’ survival this Winter and probably through into the Spring, maybe even longer. I’m not dissing them for that, they only arrived early November, so had no chance to plant crops that would ripen in time and negotiations about territory and hunting took a while. But look at us. Sure, we received some kit and help as a reward for helping with the Mountain but we’re self-supporting, working in technology or using grounder skills. You’ve got the list Clarke.”
“That’s another good point, thanks Dax.” Clarke flicks through the pile of papers; people start to chat as she searches through the bundle. “Here it is! We’ve now got thirty-three sekens. Twenty in Polis, thirteen in Ton DC. Five of us are working in Polis Hospital (me, my mom, Maya, Charlie and Myles), two in Polis’ school (Karen and Bellamy), five are working with technology for the Commander (Raven, Monty, Wells, Jasper and Pascal) and seven are in transport using horses or the trucks taken from the Mountain Men (Grace, Franz, Monroe, Dax, Mbege, Vincent and Callie).” Clarke hums as she turns a page and starts to scribble. “I can say that we’re all active in Polis’ and Ton DC’s communities’, are self-sufficient and contribute to the Kongeda.” She looks up as Murphy and Wells start serving the food. The earthenware bowls they hand out vary in the proficiency of their execution, this time it’s Bree and Tim’s first few attempts as sekens to a potter that have stocked Clarke’s cupboards with wonky crockery. While they eat the venison stew, cabbage and potatoes, their talk about who is doing what continues and Clarke makes more notes.
14th January 2150. In the Rule of Heda Lexa Yr 11. 1st Moon Waxing Gibbous. Polis Tower. The Red Room.
Lexa turns away from the window as Strik Selene taps on the door with her metal hand and announces the arrival of Heda’s closest collaborators; Wochas (Chiefs) Leto kom Podakru, Luna kom Floukru, Windsong kom Ingranronakru, and Indra kom Trikru. The advisors follow them; Barb kom Trikru, Captain Ontari kom Azgeda, Fisa Nyko kom Trikru, Fleimkepa Titus kom Trikru and Eva kom Trikru. Missing are Gustus and Anya who are in Ton DC and Knox respectively.
At Lexa’s gesture of welcome, they greet her with deep bows before almost as one they move towards the big sideboard where Skaikrasha has set out refreshments, including a samovar of tea, plates of nuts, fruits and her delicious oat and honey biscuits. “Heda, can I pass you something?” It’s Indra’s question. The Trikru Chief still finds the informality that Lexa has gradually introduced into these meetings difficult and it is her fixed view that Heda should always be served first.
“Mochof (Thank-you) Indra, I will have a biscuit.”
This meeting has been called to discuss the future of the people who fell from the skai and Lexa invites Indra to speak first, as most are living in her territory and it is her kru that has most contact with them.
“Heda I will give a short summary of Trikru’s relations with the Skaikru. The first to arrive were the goufas (children) who landed on the Maunde (Mt Weather), after a few days they were followed to the ground by four planas (women) in a smaller ship. Some moons later nearly two thousand more arrived from the skai, these new people we called Arkru. Trikru have had no contact with the Skaikru who landed in Yujleda.” Indra unfurls a map and points. “Arkru have stayed within the territory gifted them. This brown line is the boundary and they occupy the lake, dam and valley beside the Maunde. No Trikru wanted that land, it’s too close to the Maunde and in the treaty we agreed with Kane there is provision for our people to visit the site of the funeral pyres sacred to that great battle. There is a further promise that if Arkru gets the dam and its’ tek to work the elektricity will be shared equally between them and Trikru.”
Indra pauses and Windsong, with a nod of permission from Heda, asks a question. “I was told that Arkru did not want all the goufas and planas to join them. That they considered some of them to be criminals and natronas (traitors). Is that true?”
“Sha. When, with the assistance of Heda, I negotiated their landholding Chancellor Kane gave me a list of names. These people he said had committed serious crimes against Arkru when still in the skai and must be surrendered to him to face their justice.”
Lexa intervenes. “Kane had many demands at the start of those negotiations, that neither Indra nor I was prepared to concede. Eventually it was settled that he could ask any of those who fell from the skai to join his people, but he had no right to demand that we surrender them to him. For example, he invited Monty, Clarke, Raven and Abby to join Arkru and he wanted the boy Bellamy to face trial for attempted murder. None of them chose to go to Arkadia. Many of the goufas accepted his invitation to rejoin their parents and now live in Arkadia.”
“Did Kane demand that those who landed in Yujleda be handed over to him too?”
“Yes, he had another even longer list of names that he presented to me.” Lexa walks over to the sideboard pours herself a beaker of tea and picks up another biscuit. “If he wants them, he can ask Albion kom Yujleda to release or surrender them, I cannot interfere with how Albion treats these people whilst they are on his land.”
Next Leto asks to speak. “I can see that the status of these skai people must be decided and soon. Arkru have negotiated an agreement with Trikru but are not part of the Kongeda. Without membership of the Kongeda they cannot trade freely and if they are attacked the Kongeda will not defend them. Those not in Arkru have even less status. If they live in Trikru territory they are at your mercy Indra and those in Yujleda are at Albion’s.” The Trikru chief bristles slightly and Leto is quick to placate. “I am not saying that you would treat them badly Indra, especially as some were instrumental in bringing down the Maunon but I wouldn’t trust Albion kom Yujleda.”
20th January 2150. In the Rule of Heda Lexa Yr 11. 1st Moon Full Moon. Polis Tower. The Throne Room.
Years of training to mask her feelings allows Lexa to watch seemingly unconcerned, as Clarke takes the brand for Konopkru, when her heart responds to the smell of her lover’s flesh burning by almost leaping from her chest. But Clarke is yuj (strong) and makes no sound as the hot metal scars the soft skin of her forearm. Nyko binds the wound quickly and Callie, bandrona (Ambassador) for Konopkru, stands behind her wocha as Clarke sinks gracefully into the thirteenth kru’s chair, a striking construction designed by Finn and Raven made from delicately scented cedarwood that is set within a sturdy frame of silvery aluminium alloy that was salvaged from the dropship. Lexa’s speech welcoming the new kru is short and the ceremony concludes with all present drinking toasts to the Kongeda, Heda and Konopkru. Formalities over, the politicking starts and Lexa starts to ‘work the room’, engaging with each of the bandronas, and wochas, who attended the ceremony. Some drinks later she finds herself face to face with Sloop the bandrona for Yujleda. As usual Sloop is dressed in a voluminous gown, this one is her Winter ‘best’ and is of a heavy yellow linen decorated with appliques depicting scenes from the farming year, ploughing, sowing, hoeing, reaping etc.
“Heda these youngons and their tek have proved useful, but such a small kru will surely struggle to meet their obligations to provide gonas and tax revenue to the Kongeda?”
Lexa fences carefully back, conversations are never straightforward with Sloop, suggesting that Floukru is of similar size.
During the discussions between all twelve bandronas, led by Heda, about bringing this new kru into the Kongeda, Yujleda had not openly opposed the move. What Sloop had raised, supported by Balder, the bandrona kom Trishanakru, was the issue of such a small kru having equal weight within the Kongeda as the larger krus, such as Ingranronakru, Trishanakru, Trikru, Yujleda and Azgeda. “These bigas (great) krus have so much more to offer the Kongeda by way of trade, gonas and territory.”
That ‘issue’ had been ‘parked’ and Konopkru’s induction had gone ahead, but Lexa’s suspicion is that the great disparity between krus in terms of territory, numbers and wealth is not something that Albion kom Yujleda and the volatile Fenrir kom Trishanakru, wochas of their respective krus, are going to drop. Talks about a voting system that is weighted to favour the larger krus is something she can see in her future. She doesn’t quite groan at the idea, which has some merit, but can foresee long, wordy and tiring negotiations with far too much time taken up listening to Sloop. Ugh. Lexa turns the talk to Yujleda’s own skaikru. “Are those skaikru who landed in the territory of Yujleda planning to form a kru of their own, join those in Arkadia or become part of Yujleda?” True to form Sloop doesn’t want to talk of those who ‘fell from the skai’ into Yujleda. Her lips close as her head and shoulders tilt coquettishly to the side, she giggles. Lexa feels mildly nauseated by the spectacle but as at that moment Fenrir kom Trishanakru slides into the space the simpering Sloop has obligingly provided she doesn’t get the chance to push the Yujledan bandrona to answer. Jok (fuck)!
13th February 2150. In the Rule of Heda Lexa Yr 12. 2nd Moon First Quarter. Polis.
Raven’s one of the busiest and most energetic people Clarke’s ever known. The mechanic is never still, ideas and fabrications spill from her fertile brain and agile hands almost constantly and she loves her work. Eats, sleeps and lives her work. When Raven didn’t return home to the Office for a couple of nights, Clarke wasn’t worried. Staying late to work and spending the night at Anya’s place is Raven’s normal. But it’s been seven days and nights in a row without a sign of her friend. The Office seems much too quiet without those loud conversations with Murphy about the need for chilli as a key ingredient in every dish, including desserts. “The ancient Mayans loved chilli with chocolate you idiot why won’t you try it in apple pie?” The daily threats to make Wells, Finn or even Grace “go boom!” It isn’t natural for things to be so calm and sedate. Seven days …. Should she be worried?
Clarke looks at her watch and dashes down the last notes on her young patients. She thinks the tiny babies, each wearing a different coloured knitted cap, must set some kind of standard for the world’s cutest creatures. She adores every one of them and would love to specialise in their care. She finishes up and goes to look for Abby who has regular meetups with her pod-pals (Raven made that name up), Raven, Grace and Callie.
“Mom, have you seen Raven recently?”
“No honey. We’ve not had a girls night out or needed to ask her to repair any of the equipment for some time now.” Abby crosses her fingers. “It’s all worked fine with Maya and Raven’s grounder apprentice Emori at the controls.” Abby walks along the ward, smiles at Elba (one of ten sekens working in the hospital), who stokes the big stove. Abby picks up the chart belonging to a large Boudalan miner. “Hei Sandi how are you feeling today? Any phantom pains?”
Clarke smiles watching the interaction. Sandi is one of Abby’s many admirers. Clarke wouldn’t be surprised to discover that somewhere in Polis there’s a Fisa Abby Fan Club, probably run by the Handmaid Strik Selene (Strik). Regularly gifts of food or clothing are delivered to the Hospital ‘for Fisa Abby’, often anonymously. Abby donates nearly all of it to the hospital, though she did keep a wonderful pair of fur-lined boots Strik gifted her last moon.
The challenges brought by the greater number and variety of injuries and illness has energised Abby, that and the fact that she has a willing team to help her buoys her spirits. The skilled grounder fisas Nyko and Luna, plus Clarke, the sekens (including Charlotte, Elba and Maya), the top-spec technical equipment salvaged from Mt Weather and Raven to keep everything working. It’s a dream come true – almost, if only Jake was here. Clarke knows Abby misses him, sometimes she catches her mom touching the wedding ring she wears on a chain around her neck, or she stares at Clarke’s watch and occasionally she just looks down and somehow Clarke knows. Will she ever find another man to share her life? The thought of her mom always being alone is a sad one but who would be good enough, kind enough, even tempered enough - to cope with the work obsessed perfectionist, who is her mother?
Thinking about work obsessed perfectionists brings Clarke’s thoughts back to Raven. Time to go to the Tower and look for the mechanic in her ‘den’. She hustles through Polis’ icy streets; the market is open despite the weather. A dozen or so braziers attract loiterers tempted to linger by the warmth and cajoling street food vendors selling roasted chestnuts, skewers of meat, savoury pasties and baked potatoes. The smell of woodsmoke, crisp fat and toasting bread makes her mouth water. The Tower looms ahead.
“Hei Arte!” Clarke greets the Guard standing by the elevator. “Have you seen Raven today?”
“Sha Clarke, she went out first thing for bacon sandwiches. They smelt so good when she brought them back!” If Raven hasn’t sneaked one of those sandwiches to the long-suffering Guard Clarke would be surprised. If anyone appreciates the bonding ability of food, it’s Raven.
The elevator rises smoothly. Wells hasn’t got it powered by electricity yet but he’s replaced worn cables, greased all the gears and jury-rigged an emergency braking system. It slides to a stop on the forty-fifth floor. Lexa had asked Raven and Wells whether fifteen floors between them and the throne room was enough to keep her people safe. She’s not entirely sure their vigorous nods amount to a guarantee of her and her bandronas' safety.
Arte opens the elevator door and Clarke steps into a corridor that’s lit with electric tubes of various colours. Her shout of. “Hey Rae!” has a head popping briefly out of a doorway.
“Clarke, give me a minute I’m soldering.” The voice is Raven’s usual raucous holler and the ponytailed brunette darts back into the workshop to complete whatever she’s doing. A few seconds later standing in the doorway Clarke takes in Raven’s workspace. Suspended from the ceiling on colourful cables are electric lights that burn bright and white, illuminating an immense island style workbench, its’ surface of close-grained wood is already marked with burns and pits and at intervals are insets of metal. Pushed to the wall is a seat on wheels, bumping up against a small cot. The cot’s new, if Raven stays late at the Tower she stays in Anya’s rooms.
The mechanic’s hand is steady as a tiny drop of silver liquid falls onto the circuit board; she parks the soldering iron in its’ metal holder and counts to ten; then places the board carefully on her bench and turns to Clarke. “Hey Clarke. Does Abby need the big scanner repaired again?”
“No, no. Emori and Maya have it working like a dream. I’ve not seen you for ages, thought I’d drop by. I hear the bacon sarnies are good.”
They chat, casual stuff about Wells and Monty’s pitiful antics to try and impress grounder girls, Jasper’s successful attempt at making bleach and the new copper core Monty’s made from old water pipes for the Tower’s radio antenna. “You’ve got your own bed here now. Looks like you’re taking this whole work-life imbalance to a new level.”
“Hmm. Yeah. Life is work, work is life or something.” Raven’s eyes snap back to the circuit board. She starts to roll up the coil of solder.
“Anya not putting up a fight? I thought she got moody if you stayed out of her bed.”
“Not her business what I do or where I sleep. I scarcely see her these days.”
Clarke thinks back to the past couple of moons, she’s not really thought about anything other than getting Konopkru recognised and into the Kongeda; that and a couple of tiny newborns, blue babies who struggled to survive despite blood transfusions. Now she feels bad not to have realised Raven and Anya were fighting. Were they fighting? Or just parting? She can’t remember when she last saw Anya, a memory surfaces of Lexa saying that her ‘fos’ is in the south.
“You guys broke up?”
“We never had anything to break.” That, Clarke knows is bullshit. Raven had fallen hard and eventually it seemed Anya had too. But Anya, when had Clarke last seen Anya? The Mid-Winter Festival party nearly two moons ago? Everyone was drunk. Clarke was drunk at the very private ‘after all the public ceremonies are over’ party that Lexa had hosted in the red meeting room. Turns out that Clarke’s a sloppy, wrap yourself around your smiling but sober girlfriend, kind of drunk. Anya had been there, also drunk but somehow majestic and Raven was drunk too. A very loud drunk cajoling the partygoers into silly competitions like; arm-wrestling, firewada pong, limbo dancing (who knew Callie Cartwigg was that flexible?!) and a disastrous game of charades.
“Where’s Anya now? Lexa said she was in the south a while back.”
“Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Rae?” But for once the mechanic gives nothing away. Clarke can’t get another word out of her about the beautiful wormana (general).
In the Rule of Heda Lexa Yr 11. 3rd Moon New. Spring Equinox. Louwoda Kilron (Shallow Valley). Dawn.
The wagons are old and heavily laden, each expels creaks and groans as they roll out of the village of Bilt and onto the stone lined track that heads west into Ouskejon (Blue Cliff) and the wagon train’s ultimate destination the village of Knox.
From a vantage point on the hillside nearly a league away Cyrus and his partners watch the covered carts tip precariously as they heave up and onto the road; he snaps out orders and lieutenants scurry to obey. The burly Yujledan bandit looks thoughtful as he scans the slow-moving group. As expected, this train is larger and better protected than those that travelled this road before his campaign started. Success has brought consequences. He shrugs; Heda Lexa would be foolish not to protect the trade routes into Ouskejon. The credibility of her Kongeda as a safe and peaceful trading bloc is at stake; after all, Ouskejon was one of the krus most resistant to joining. Only Yujleda remained independent of the meddling Heda for longer. He shifts in his saddle and stifles a yawn, his horse Wheatear nickers and stamps, Cyrus stills the beast and raises an eyeglass to further assess his prey. He points out to his companions the valuable oxen, four draw each wagon, the great beasts alone will be worthy prizes, but the whale oil, rope, fuses, nuts and dried jerky are the primary target. Without these supplies the mines of Ouskejon will stop producing the pretty metals; copper, silver, tin and lead, that are valued so highly by the krus of the north. A sharp pull on the reins and Wheatear backs into the woods; a kick to his sides and the stallion trots, then gallops away through the undergrowth. Those with him are less experienced riders and they take a few moments to turn and follow.
Far below Isla kom Louwoda Kilron sits on her wagon’s box guiding the oxen with steady tugs on the reins and the occasional flick of her whip. This is not a comfortable experience, the wagon jolts and lurches constantly and a sharp wind from the north, whipping across sky the colour of pewter, has her shrugging deeper into the heavy cloak that her nomon (mother) gifted her years ago. It’s a good cloak, rewaxed many times to keep it waterproof and its’ colours, rich blues and browns, remind her of home. Home; visiting Bilt is always a painful pleasure. The joys felt as she; hugs her nomon, exclaims at how tall her elder sis’ goufas (sister’s children) have grown and slapping her bro on the back, are balanced by; her family’s continuing bewilderment that she and Blair remain in Polis, their well-meaning questions about how in Polis will she find a good weaver to bond with and when will her children join theirs in the weaving sheds. It all feels so one sided, she understands their love for; family, craft and the fabrics for which their kru is famed, but they cannot see the merit in her and Blair gaining honour as gonas. She sighs and folds the lower part of her cloak into a thicker pad that will give her butt some protection from the hard wood.
A few marks later Cyrus watches his gonas swarm over the road and through the scrubby woodland that borders it, searching for enemy gonas. He’s chosen this place carefully. The metal bridge, a survivor of Priamfaya, crosses the ravine in a single curving span that rests on tall piers of stone built into the cliff sides. The original decking, rusted and precarious, was replaced with good Trikru cedar three summers ago, a gift from Heda to Ouskejonkru when they joined the Kongeda. It’s a good bridge but it can only carry one cart at a time. In a few marks the whole wagon train will stop to allow each cart to cross. This was the site of Cyrus’ first successful ambush, but he’s avoided it since; he doesn’t want to be predictable and the road from Bilt to Knox winds through woods, gorges and over streams. With so many opportunities for his gonas to attack Cyrus has been able to keep surprising his victims and each successful ambush has brought him wealth and his Chief’s favour for few losses.
His lieutenant Ashtar rides up, his horse lathered. “Captain one of the wagons broke its’ front axle about five leagues back. The train has stopped, it looks like they will make camp.”
“Jok.” But Cyrus and his gonas are flexible, able to adapt to changes with swift efficiency. He raps out his new instructions, they’ll take advantage of the wagon train’s misfortune.