Read Wolves and War Page 20

CHAPTER 5 (Northern Continent)

  The children had been at the domta for a moon. It had been waxing when they arrived, now it was waxing again. At the instigation of Kath they had ‘improved’ their pairs’ dagas and now slept snug, warm and, more importantly, dry. They did such a good job that they were much in demand by Lind families who did not have the good fortune to have a member paired with a human. The twelve were therefore kept more than a little busy after language class was over for the day weaving twig and branch into holes in walls and ceilings. It was widely considered by the Lind that human forepaws were very useful and the children a welcome asset to their community.

  The children settled into the life of the domta. There were daily language lessons for both species. As predicted by Kath, Tara became their star pupil in Lindish and Kolyei was making quite incredible strides in learning Standard. As the days passed, the lessons were expanded to include other, non vadeln-paired Lind. The bond between the pairs increased. The children learned how to control the ‘sendings’ of emotions and then pictures to their Lind partners. From there they began to share mental conversations (they learned each other’s language much faster this way), although it took a great deal of effort. It did however, become marginally easier with practice.

  One Lind who found the tightening of these bondings hard to cope with was Matvei’s mate Rozya. She had been mated with Matvei for over eleven seasons and began to resent the bond he had with the young human. She was not exactly jealous; their lovemaking was as good as ever it was when they did manage to be alone together. When one had a boisterous family like they had one could and did find time alone to be at a premium. It was just the fact that Kath was there so much of the time. Rozya began to long for a bit of privacy, even if it were merely to converse with her mate.

  One day after Matvei had gone hunting she spoke to Kath who was sitting contentedly combing one of Rozya and Matvei’s ltsctas. The Lind loved to be combed, finding it pleasantly soothing as well as getting rid of the nasty burrs in their coats that were otherwise difficult to eradicate. It also helped deter the black bloodsuckers that attached themselves and itched unbearably.

  “You have a mate?” Rozya asked Kath.

  “No one has asked me,” replied Kath, continuing with her self-appointed combing duties.

  “The male ask this of the female?” said the Lind in incredulous tones. “That is most strange. Here female ask. That is very better way.”

  Kath laughed.

  “Well, there is someone,” she admitted. “His name is James but he is at the settlement. He’s probably forgotten me by now.”

  She moved one ltscta over so that she could sit the next one to be combed in the vacated space.

  “Rozya,” she said as she settled the young one, “do you mind me being here?”

  “No,” she replied, “but if I wish to be alone with Matvei, you tend ltsctas?”

  Kath agreed with a smile. “Of course I will. You only have to ask. Babysitting is my speciality.”

  “Babysitting?”

  “Wrong word,” admitted Kath, “ltscta-sitting sounds rather peculiar, that’s all. When you and Matvei want some time to yourselves, just ask.”

  Rozya felt a lot better.

  Each evening the children usually congregated round their campfire. They all felt the need to be together at this time, especially Peter, whose homesickness hit him in waves at periodic intervals.

  It was Kath who thought of something to keep his mind occupied with a game she and her fellow crewmembers of the Argyll had played during the long watches on the ship.

  One dull evening when the twelve were sitting silently, most simply gazing into the flickering flames and Peter’s face looked sad as to breaking, she suggested it.

  “I know,” she said in a bright voice, “let’s play Quickrhyme.”

  “Quickrhyme?” Peter asked, “What’s that? Is it fun?”

  “It’s easy,” promised Kath, “and it can be funny too. When it’s your turn someone gives you a word and a subject and you have to make up a poem, on the spot mind you, on the subject and using the rhyming word.”

  “It’s a baby game,” protested Bill.

  “Nonsense,” replied a bracing Kath, “and you don’t have to join in if you don’t want to. Peter will, and Tara. Anyone else want to beg out?”

  “We’ll play,” said the more tolerant Geoff, “there’s nothing better to do. Who’s going to start it off?”

  “I will. You give me the subject and word.”

  “Okay then,” Geoff thought for a moment, grinned and said, “the rhyming word is ‘smell’ and the subject is ‘noise’.”

  Kath gave him a withering look as she protested. “That’s virtually impossible and you know it.”

  “The game was your idea,” he said with a laugh.

  “All right, I’ll give it a go.” She thought for a moment then began.

  “The smell,

  from the dell

  was well.

  The sounding bell,

  Fell,

  I will tell- …”

  Her voice petered out and she shrugged off her inability to go on any further with a laugh, “I can’t think of any more.”

  “That was rubbish,” declared Geoff, “but you’ve scored six, and you only get one bonus point because you only kept to the subject once. Now it’s your turn to nominate and give out the words.”

  Kath looked at the others. “You see how it is played?”

  The children nodded. This sounded as if it might be rather good fun.

  “I choose Moira, the word is ‘reap’ and the topic is ‘fire’,” said Kath.

  Moira giggled. She also thought of the game as rather on the babyish side but was prepared to give it a go.

  “The farmers reap.

  The children weep.

  The mothers keep.

  The spacers leap.

  I don’t come cheap.

  Do you want a peep?”

  “Watch it,” warned Bill, “there are children present. You get six points but no bonus points because you didn’t mention Kath’s topic once. Now it’s Tara’s turn. What word? I know, ‘mine’. That should be pretty easy.”

  “The topic, the topic?” chanted Peter. He had forgotten all about feeling homesick.

  “The Lind,” replied Bill in a bland voice, with a teasing glance at Tara who looked horror-struck at this. She thought for a moment, grinned benignly at them all then stood up.

  “You are mine,

  And I am thine,

  Our thoughts entwine,

  You are mine.

  You are mine,

  Your coat does shine,

  From paw to spine,

  You are mine.”

  “Hold on,” protested Yvonne. “You used ‘mine’ more than once. Points taken off.”

  “Nobody said I couldn’t.”

  “Oh, carry on Tara,” interjected Kath, “at least you’re on the subject.”

  Tara continued as if the interruption hadn’t happened.

  “It’s a fine line,

  The air’s like wine,

  So do not whine,

  We’re about to dine.

  From the grapes of the vine,

  It’s a grand design,

  Would you rather I drank wine,

  Shame, you swine.”

  “Get back on to the subject,” ordered Moira, and Tara nodded.

  “Our lives combine,

  We’re doing just fine,

  More than ten times nine.

  Tied together with more than just twine.

  To thee my Kolyei I do my life assign,

  A partnership from which I will never resign,

  You are mine,

  And I am thine.”

  “I can’t think of any more,” said Tara with a grin and sat down.

  Everybody laughed and clapped with appreciation, all but one of the listeners.

  “Too many repeats,” said Yvonne.

  “Don’t tease,” or
dered Kath, “it’s really good for someone not yet thirteen.”

  “A mix of Lindish and Standard though,” said Yvonne.

  “It sounded okay to me,” Bill disagreed, “and I think Tara is most definitely in the lead. Think you could do better?”

  Kath was thinking hard. They all knew that Tara was a good storyteller; it now looked as if she had leanings towards the poetical as well. She wondered what the future would bring for Tara.

  They played the game for a little while longer then started talking again..

  To the humans’ chagrin the Lind had been much faster at learning Standard than they were at learning Lindish.

  “It’s all these consonants all jumbled together,” complained Thomas who was vadeln-paired with a young female Lind called Stasya. “I just can’t do it.”

  “I know what you mean,” agreed Tara. “It’s also hard to get the pitch right. Yesterday I said the word vuz, meaning that small red and white striped animal that they were hunting by the river the other day and Kolyei shook his head and growled as if I was insulting him!”

  “And were you?” teased Kath.

  “Zowie! Of course I wasn’t! What I didn’t know at the time was that vuz spoken softly means the animal but when spoken growlingly hard it means idiot. You know how the vuz are not very clever. Kolyei thought I was calling him an idiot.”

  They all laughed. Mispronunciations like that were ten a penny here at the domta. No one had escaped Lind teases about misspoken words.

  “Does anybody know what is going to happen now?” asked the girl sitting beside Tara. “We can all understand each other, more or less.”

  “I don’t know, Emily. The Eldas have been teaching their adults and young. Even the pups can hold quite a sensible conversation with us now,” answered Kath. Then she added judiciously, “at least sensible conversations for their age group, that is.”

  They all laughed again. Lind young were very similar to their human counterparts in this respect.

  “Seriously though, I get the impression that we are waiting for something, but what it is I haven’t a clue.”

  They left it at that.

  * * * * *