every few days to stay healthy. Azzible breathed happily as the warmed water swelled his roots. Kizier whispered his thanks, then questioned Glyssa in Low Tathian.
"If I may ask, I am curious about the old man you met outside and then welcomed into your house. I sensed power in him."
"Yes." Glyssa placed the kettle back on the fire. "He is a wise one. He sensed danger in the witch's things. That is why we held a meeting."
"Ah. I observed your formal discussion. I wished I knew your language so I could have understood what you were saying."
Staring dully at the fire, Glyssa shook her head. "Nothing came of it. We decided to sail on to Fleevanport as planned."
"That is regrettable," Kizier sighed.
Glyssa lifted a shoulder and let it drop.
"You are a curious people," Kizier remarked, "if I may say so without impertinence. Among Tathians and Larthangans, you are known as bloodthirsty savages, with no trace of gentleness or mercy ..."
Glyssa smiled wanly. "Such a reputation is useful for pirates."
"So," Kizier said. "But you are also said to be untutored primitives, barely touched by civilization. Yet I've not found you so. I've been greatly surprised at how well you speak Low Tathian, for instance. This would not only permit you to communicate with many people of the Three Nations, but it gives you a grasp of civilized modes of thought."
"My mates and I speak it better than some," Glyssa said. "When we trade at Fleevanport or one of the other Tathian colonies, we stay as long as our money holds out. We drink the mead, listen to the minstrel songs and the discourses of wandering scholars. We admire the Tathians and seek to learn their ways. Many young Iruks do likewise, but not all."
Glyssa had risen and was pouring more oil into the fireplace. "Of our klarn, only Karrol has a strong distrust of the Tathians. And even she has a taste for their mead."
Kizier stared thoughtfully into the brightening fire. "The traditional ways of your people are almost unknown in the Three Nations. This group you call the klarn , for instance. It seems to be more than just the crew of your boat. You share the same house as well?"
Glyssa sat down again, hugging her knees. "Yes, a klarn shares all things in common. This lodge house came from my mother's family. It was built by my uncle and his kinsmen. The boat came from Lonn and Draven's family."
"They are brothers?"
" Cousins , I think the Tathians would say. They share the same grandmother."
"Ah. So the klarn becomes a sort of second family?"
"Oh, it is much more than that. The klarn has its own spirit, which we all contribute to, and draw from. Iruks believe that all creatures have something to protect them and make them strong. Yulugg have their size, volrooms their tusks, fire turtles their shells and flame, lamnoccs their great herds. The Skeddans and other folk of these parts have animal totems. We Iruks have the klarn."
"Remarkable. And is the number always six—three women and three men?"
Glyssa poured water from the kettle into her tea cup. "Sometime five, sometimes as many as eight. Even more, if there are fledgling hunters in the group."
"And the fact that women and men sail together…How can I ask this delicately? Do you…What are your customs for mating?"
Glyssa frowned at the bostull a moment, then laughed. "Oh, no. There is no…coupling when a hunt is on. That is forbidden. All of that energy is given to the klarn, do you see? But once a hunt is over and the klarn is put to rest, then we are free to choose lovers, within or outside of the group."
"I see. And what happens if a woman comes to be with child?"
"That seldom happens to hunters. But when it does, the woman must lay down her spear, until the child is born and weaned. After that, she may choose to raise the child, or leave it with the village women and take up her spear again."
"The village women?"
"Yes. Some women do not become hunters. They live in the village with the old ones and children. They