Chapter Four
Herders’ Horns
Trinka landed flat on her face and slid down the hill, sending clouds of dirt up her nose that made her cough uncontrollably. Her eyes stung as she struggled to her feet, entangled in the strands of goat hair she was supposed to be spinning into yarn. All the other girls ambled easily down the hill, wooden spindles whirling in their hands. The piles of black, gray, brown, and off-white hair coming from the colorful bags slung over their shoulders spiraled seamlessly around their spindles, forming long, smooth strings. The spinners chattered happily and busily, shooing the Caprines—dainty, miniature goats—effortlessly before them.
“It takes practice,” Tarian smiled as she reached down to help Trinka.
Perfect practice, Trinka scowled inwardly.
She looked for her spindle, and finally found the long stick underneath her, snapped in two.
“I’m sorry,” Trinka felt tears starting in her eyes, and not just from the dirt this time.
“It’s okay, I’ll help you make a new one sometime,” Tarian soothed.
Trinka’s voice broke.
“Maybe you added me to your family line too soon,” she whispered.
For the first time, Trinka saw a flare of what looked like anger briefly cross her sister-in-law’s kind face.
“Being a family doesn’t depend on anything you do—or don’t do—Trinka. It’s part of who you are, who we are.”
Before Trinka could respond she heard deep, rolling laughter behind her. Kolinkar brushed the dirt from her shoulders and slapped her on the back.
“Hey, you look like me after a week of rounding up wild goats and you’ve only been here half a day!”
“Kar…” Tarian began.
“Oh come on, she doesn’t want to spin yarn and herd babies with the girls anyway, right? She can spend the day with me, doing real herding.”
“All right,” Tarian consented with a sigh. “I’ll be helping move tents.”
Trinka watched Tarian retreat back up the hill, and to her astonishment, saw that families all around were untying cords from the support rocks, pulling down fabric, and rolling up walls and rugs. Some slung the rolls over their shoulders, while others loaded them onto the backs of broad, powerful-looking goats. Women, some with babies slung over their backs, talked, laughed, and called to each other as they worked, making the hills hum with voices. Small children ran back and forth, sometimes helping, sometimes hindering, but always adding to the crescendo of activity everywhere.
“You’re moving the whole city?”
Her brother laughed. “Well, we don’t call it a city, but yes we move it all the time. Got to get the brush goats to better feed. Come on!”
Trinka followed her brother until a herd of furry gray, black, and brown animals dotted the hill all around them. Unlike the Caprines the girls had been herding, the brush goats were nearly as tall as Trinka’s shoulder—and had horns two, maybe three times as long that curved over the backs of their heads. One sauntered toward her, and she cautiously reached out to touch it. Its fur felt just like the skirt and jacket Wynn had given her—soft, yet scratchy. Then without warning, the goat pulled back its head and butted full force into her hand. Trinka staggered backward, and her legs gave way beneath her, still unused to balancing on the rough terrain.
Kolinkar laughed as he grabbed an arm and hauled her to her feet.
“That’s just their way of playing,” he explained. “They’re a load of trouble.”
Trinka brushed bits of stone from her skirt. “Then why do you keep them?”
“That’s where we get everything we need―our clothes, our tents, our food. You liked the roasted goat at Habba’s, didn’t you?”
Trinka’s stomach turned over within her. Suddenly, the life-sustaining mist of Ellipsis didn’t seem so bad in comparison. Trinka wished she could talk to her brother, not a quick conversation, but a real, deep talk about all that had been going on with school, with Annelise, with their family. But Kolinkar, ever a man of action, was already wading eagerly into the sea of activity ahead of them.
“So, Kolinkar, I see you’ve got a new helper,” one of their neighbors greeted them.
“Yep,” her brother answered proudly. “Yuoli, this is my sister Trinka.”
“Kolinkar’s the toughest goat herder around here,” Yuoli boasted. “I hope you’re just like him, even if you are small. We can use another strong hand.”
Trinka swallowed hard. She was used to being compared to Annelise, but she had never expected, or wanted, to be compared to her brother too.
“Here. You can use this herder’s horn.” Yuoli thrust a hollow, curved object—almost like half a crescent—into her hands. The pointed end had a small hole and a loop of stiff string, while the large end bore a dark band of carvings around its opening.
“Let’s go!” Kolinkar shouted, and about half the herders put horns to their lips and blew.
A long, low moaning noise emanated from the horns, and a second, higher noise answered as another group blew, then the two sounded together and stopped. Then many individual horns sounded, some higher, some lower, some in unison and some sounding alone. The noise was beautiful, and a chorus of bleating echoed over the hills as the goats began following the herders’ song.
Trinka tried blowing through her horn, but all she got was a strangled squeak. She attempted to follow her brother, but before she could take her first step, a goat butted her from behind and threw her forward, tumbling her head over heels over some rocks until she landed with a sickening crack. She lay there a moment, her chest heaving, afraid that despite her robes she had just broken every bone in her body. But the only pain she felt was from the sharp grass that poked up all around her. She heard a crunching sound then felt something pulling the top of her head.
“Ouch!”
The goat sampling the grass had caught her hair in his mouth along with it. The more he munched, the more her hair pulled. By the time she had worked herself free of its teeth, the goat had entangled itself in the loops of lumpy yarn and the cloth bag that still wrapped around her chest and shoulders. Try as she might, she couldn’t untangle herself, and Kolinkar and the others were already getting farther and farther away.
“Grble,” she whispered urgently as she drew out the ornament. “Grble, please! I need help!”
The talisman quivered for a moment before Grble burst into shape.
Before Trinka could explain, the goat emitted a startled cry and bolted up the hill, dragging Trinka along with him. The hillside flew by so fast Trinka could hardly breathe. Patches of stiff grass and loose rocks appeared and disappeared beneath her, as her legs moved faster than she had ever imagined they could run. At last, the toe of her boot hit an outcrop in the rock, sending her sprawling onto her stomach. The goat dragged her for a few paces, until Grble used his long, strong fingers to pry her free. As she lay on the rock, gasping for breath, she heard the clamor of hooves behind her. She tried to roll out of the way but couldn’t avoid being pummeled by dozens of shark kicks as the stampede of furry bodies passed over her. Grble attempted to shield her with his small body, then disappeared as Yuoli stumbled up the hill and hauled her to her feet. Moisture dotted his red face as he surveyed the scene, eyes wild, chest heaving.
“What in the hills happened?” he gasped.
Trinka couldn’t answer for lack of breath, but her hand closed on Grble’s talisman on the ground beside her. She picked it up and slipped it into her skirt pocket as she lay on the ground panting and staring up at the cloudless blue sky.
All was peaceful when Kolinkar came up the hill, herding some stray goats that hadn’t come with the rest of the panic.
“Wow, I’ve never seen the goats move that fast. What spooked them?”
“I don’t know,” Yuoli shook his head. “Something strange appeared―like a plant, or an animal. It was right next to her…” he pointed accusingly at Trinka, “and then it was gone. Never seen anything like it.”
r /> “Well, at least the goats found good feed,” Kolinkar shrugged. “See! You’re a born goat herder!” he yelled toward Trinka, who could only cower in embarrassment. The other herders shook their heads and muttered as her brother helped bring in the rest of the goats, then dropped to the ground beside her.
“Here, you look like you could use this about now.”
Kolinkar placed a lumpy glob of brownish-gray rock in her hand.
“A rock?”
“Well, it’s a special rock.”
Trinka examined the bits of smooth, flat stones in pale yellows and greens dotted the lump’s surface, as if someone with very strong hands had taken a bunch of dirt and a handful of small stones and squeezed them all together.
“What’s so special about this?”
“It’s an aquarock. All you have to do is talk to it, and water will pour out of it.”
Trinka was sure that her brother must be teasing her.
“Go on! Say mayim unda hudor.”
“Mayim unda hudor,” Trinka repeated, and a small stream of water poured from the rock and trickled down her hands. Arabis eagerly lapped up the puddle that began forming on the ground.
“Batsa ur vesi,” Kolinkar said, and immediately the water ceased flowing. “It’ll never get used up, but be careful not to let it run all over the place. No one likes the smell of wet goats,” he joked.
“Mayim unda hudor,” she whispered again, and a small stream of water poured into her hands. The cool fluid felt good on her hot, sticky skin, as it flowed over her hands onto the rock below. Yuoli dipped his hands in gratefully, and the goats begun butting each other to get to the stream of water forming on the ground.
Kolinkar cupped his hands beneath the rock, let them fill, and then drank from them. He then held the rock so Trinka could do the same.
Nothing, not even Tarian’s tea, had ever tasted so good as that clear, fresh liquid rolling down her throat.
“Batsa ur vesi,” she murmured gratefully. She shoved the aquarock into her skirt pocket, and felt a twinge of guilt as her fingers brushed Grble’s talisman. She had already messed everything up on her very first day here—again. Kolinkar and Tarian were so kind, but would they really want her as their family no matter what?
“Well, since the herd’s settled in, guess we may as well eat too.” Kolinkar slapped his legs and began rummaging through his deep pockets.
Trinka started. “You eat more than once a day?”
Kolinkar and all their neighbors within earshot laughed.
“We eat three times every day, usually,” Yuoli answered. “Though normally we eat the midday meal as we herd,” he added darkly.
Kolinkar handed her a few thin, rough brown strips, and began chewing several others himself.
“What is it?” Trinka ventured.
“Pemmican. Dried goat meat. It’s great for traveling,” Kolinkar enthused.
Trinka longed to refuse it, but her empty stomach was already rumbling in protest, despite the food she had already had at Tarian’s and Habba’s that morning.
She took a bite and chewed and chewed until she felt like the goats in front of her, whose teeth never stopped moving.
A few of the goats began to wander off and Yuoli called after them with his herder’s horn, then got up to send a few boys after the strays. The energetic youths raced eagerly around the perimeter, circling the goats and keeping them together. Teams of brothers and sisters and cousins laughed alongside each other as they worked—some blowing herders’ horns, some spinning goat hair into yarn, while others used sharp instruments to shape pieces of what her brother called “soapstone” into dishes and jars. Everyone’s hands and voices were busy being useful, busy being a part of something…
“Here, try some dried lavosh.”
Trinka accepted a pale brown rectangle that looked like a very thin, flat cake. It didn’t taste like much of anything (which was an improvement in some sense), but splintered into tiny sharp pieces in her mouth.
“Dried cheese curds?” her brother offered, but Trinka only managed to shake her head as she coughed.
She had to use the aquarock again to wash away all the jagged edges in her throat. Breathing a sigh of relief, she kept the aquarock flowing a little longer, letting the smooth water rush over her scratched hands.
Yuoli cupped his hands in the water again and shook his head wearily as he sank down beside them again. “I’ve never had such a day. And I hope I never have one like it again.”
As she washed the dirt from her many scrapes and bruises, Trinka couldn’t help but agree.
When Tarian came with the rest of the village and set up their tent, Trinka dropped, exhausted, onto the rugs. She ached all over, as if her entire body had been beaten. She had probably moved more in one day of living in Bedrosian than she had in her entire life on Ellipsis, Trinka reflected. She had spent the whole day watching her brother work happily, unable to talk to him or even Grble, since he had to stay hidden in her pocket.
“I don’t belong here,” she told herself. “Wherever ’home’ is, it’s not here.” She opened her hand to see the truthstone inside. It glowed a bright, clear red. “I’ll go see my father,” she whispered. “I’ll use the vial Annelise gave me. I’ll leave tonight.” The truthstone’s red faded to a gloomy, brownish pink, as swirls of uncertainty swept through it.
“What’s eating you, kid?”
Trinka slipped the stone into her pocket as Kolinkar stooped beside her.
“Nothing,” Trinka mumbled quickly, then bit her lip. How was she going to tell her brother and Tarian she wanted to leave without hurting their feelings? They had made her feel more welcome than everyone in Ellipsis put together had.
Tarian handed them each a bowl full of steaming goat guts.
“You don’t like it here, do you?” she asked pleasantly.
Trinka looked up, startled at the abruptness of her question.
“What? How can you not like it here?” Kolinkar protested, as he shoveled stew into his mouth.
“I hope you’ll at least stay with us until tomorrow,” Tarian added. She took a small bite of stew and chewed thoughtfully. “We’re leaving for Parthalan in the morning.”
“What’s Parthalan?” Trinka asked, grateful for an excuse not to start eating.
“The civilized side of Ampersand,” Kolinkar mimicked primly.
Tarian pushed him playfully, but it was enough to topple him off balance, spilling him and his stew to the ground. Arabis sprang forward and gulped it down, alternating licks between the soiled floor and his fallen master. His tail wagged furiously with resounding thumps, rocking the tent along with Kolinkar’s laughter.
Tarian could no longer contain her giggles. She tried to move away from the melee, but Kolinkar caught her behind the ankles, and she came crashing down on top of him with another burst of laughter. As Trinka stood watching them try to get back on their feet (with Arabis seemingly doing all he could to hinder them), she couldn’t help put her rough day behind her and crack a smile.
When the dishes were scrubbed, the tent rugs cleaned, and Arabis sound asleep after his unexpected extra meal, Kolinkar began turning over the light stones, until only one of them gave off a soft glow.
The rock beneath their feet seemed to rumble lightly as a deep moaning noise rolled through the hills. Harmonies of low groaning and higher wailing rose and fell through the darkness, as if the rock itself were breathing.
“What’s that sound?”
“It’s Arabis snoring.”
The rockhound’s sides were heaving mightily with long, rattling breaths that seemed to shake the tent floor. A tiny whimpering noise escaped him every now and then, and his feet twitched as if he were bounding up the steep rocks in his sleep.
Oh, Trinka thought. But then the low, moaning noises started again. Surely that wasn’t Arabis?
“They’re longhorns,” Tarian’s voice answered. “The night watchmen use them.”
Trinka peeked out
through the tent flap. It was strange to see so many other small tents scattered across the ground, their broad tops silhouetted in the deepening dark, instead of the tall, graceful white buildings she had always looked out on before. Just a few of the tents showed a faint glow of light from inside. Trinka pulled the flap shut and noticed Tarian settling down into the thick, coat-like blankets she had placed on the ground.
“You sleep on the floor?” Trinka couldn’t conceal her surprise.
Kolinkar grinned. “You’ll get used to it, princess.”
Tarian leaned on her elbows, her bright brown eyes sparkling in the darkness.
“How do you sleep on Ellipsis?”
Trinka tried to think of how to explain the floating chrysalises that carried them to their dreams.
“Suspended from the ceiling.”
Tarian laughed, but when Kolinkar didn’t, she saw that Trinka had answered seriously. “How come you never talk about Ellipsis, Kar?”
Kolinkar wrestled off his boots and dropped down beside her. “Why would I talk about the past when I’m enjoying the present?” He leaned close to her and kissed her.
Trinka felt a sudden flush of discomfort that, she felt fairly sure, wasn’t from her itchy new bedding. As Kolinkar turned the last light stone over, sending the tent into blackness, Trinka finally remembered to ask.
“So what is Parthalan?”
She waited for the answer, but Kolinkar and Tarian were already dozing shoulder to shoulder. Trinka listened to Arabis’ snores wheezing above the low thrum of the long herders’ horns, then put her head back down and sighed. She would have to wait until morning to find out. As her mind began drifting off into sleep, Trinka thought for the first time not about what she might dream that night, but about what the new day might bring.