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    Ayesha and the Teaching Woman
    Ayesha and the Teaching Woman
    Ayesha and the Teaching Woman
    Ebook540 pages9 hours

    Ayesha and the Teaching Woman

    By Ann Stratton

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    About this ebook

    How do you create a civilization? How can ragged, desperate refugees work together to put the world back together again, after the old one has been destroyed? Will some of them rise to the occasion and build that new promised world? Will they destroy everything around them, punishing the world for their own pain?

    The Teaching Woman is not about to let civilization go without a fight, no matter what she has to do. This is not the paradise she hoped for, but it could be home, if everyone would just work with each other. To that end, the refugees need a leader. She's not the leader they need, but Ayesha might be, if she would only accept her role in the rebuilding and the rival bosses understood she is their best hope.

    A story about worlds lost and found, and the people who make them that way.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAnn Stratton
    Release dateSep 21, 2019
    ISBN9781393845218
    Ayesha and the Teaching Woman
    Author

    Ann Stratton

    Ann Stratton started writing at age thirteen with the usual results. After a long stint in fan fiction, honing her skills, she hopes she has gotten better since then. She lives in Southeastern Arizona, trying to juggle all her varied interests. 

    Read more from Ann Stratton

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      Ayesha and the Teaching Woman - Ann Stratton

      Ayesha and the Teaching Woman

      Ann Stratton

      A Blind Woman Production publication

      Copyright © 2019 Ann Stratton

      Disclaimer

      This is a work of fiction, a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance or similarity to any actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      * * *

      Credits

      Cover illustration courtesy of Meyer Stratton

      Editing, formatting, and cover design by Ann Stratton

      * * *

      Teacher Teacher Teacher! Ultith tripped over a rock in the common area and nearly fell in Teacher’s lap. His collection bag swept across her grindstone, knocking off all the grain she had been laboriously turning into flour.

      Teacher sat him back up again, not looking at her spoiled flour. Ultith continued babbling in his own language, waving his arms until Teacher put her hands on his arms. Ultith. Breathe. I can’t understand you when you talk like this.

      Ultith got hold of himself with a great gasp of hot dry air. Teacher Teacher Teacher! New people! Far Pass!

      Alarm bloomed in her guts and she looked Ultith over carefully, looking for any injuries. What were you doing in Evern’s territory, so far from camp?

      Ultith gasped again for another lungful of air. Teacher! Two female persons! One male person! Male persons of Toom find them! Soon now!

      Teacher gasped herself. Alarm went to fear. Toom tended to collect the dregs of the other three camps, and Teacher did not trust them in the least to guide the new people to safety.

      She got up from her grindstone, to Brenda’s exclamation of dismay, tied her sash a little more firmly around her drape, grabbed her knife, a canteen and a pouch of travel rations from her brush hut, and set out for Toom’s spring. She hoped she would get there before the new people died, from either their long journey or Toom’s attention. Loth looked up from his place in the shade, put the knife he was working on back into its sheath across his chest, and followed her. Teacher was glad of his presence. Toom and his men terrified her with their violence, but she was not about to let strangers suffer from it, either.

      It seemed Ultith was a little too tardy with his warning. When she reached Toom’s Spring, Toom’s men had already arrived and were arguing over the disposition of the new people. A couple of Evern’s men lounging around looked up as Teacher passed and added her to their calculations. There were even a couple of Clarn’s men in the audience, eying the new people with possessive speculation.

      The new people huddled in the common area of Toom’s camp, head down and cringing, naked and sunburned, covered in cuts and bruises. The man and one of the women were sunburned scarlet, having the pale coloration of city people, and Teacher wondered what they were doing here. City people rarely left their enclosed cities and less often found refuge so far away from any city or dependent tribe. The dark woman appeared to be a member of one of the western tribes, with thick, shaggy black hair and ruddy dark skin. All three were very thin and marked by their journey, almost more than the damage Toom’s men had inflicted on them.

      Distracted by Teacher’s arrival, the dark woman raised her head and looked right at Teacher with an expression of dread and hope. Good cheekbones and a firm jaw outlined a square, sturdy face, but what struck Teacher were her eyes. Wolf hazel, amber, honey colored, distinct, direct, and not a trait one usually saw among the western tribes. She must have had a city ancestor to give her those eyes, and Teacher knew. This was the woman she had been searching for since she had gotten here as a refugee herself.

      Toom himself stood to one side, discussing something with Owen, one of Clarn’s men, that involved much arm waving and emphatic declarations. Teacher didn’t even look at him, just walked right up to the new people, cut the ropes that bound their hands, and offered her canteen to them. Gratefully, they drank, sharing the bottle between them so that they all could have at least some. Teacher might have gone to the spring to refill her canteen, but didn’t dare leave their side. Several of the men watching commented crudely about her and would probably have acted upon their impulses if Loth didn’t stand beside her like a lethal shadow.

      Get away from them! Toom finally realized she was there. He strode toward her, waving his hand to dismiss her. Teacher refused to be moved.

      I am giving these people water. She held out the empty canteen to him. It’s empty. It needs to be refilled.

      Toom slapped it out of her hand. Not your place, bitch. These are our slaves. They get what we give them.

      Then, give them water. Teacher didn’t pick up the canteen. She looked Toom in the eye without flinching. They are not slaves, Toom. They are refugees, like the rest of us, and they need food and water, just as we all did when we arrived.

      Toom shook his head. No. My men found them in my territory. That makes them my slaves. They intruded on my territory and they have to pay.

      What resources did they use, that your men will go hungry and thirsty for their lack? How will they repay the resources, when they have nothing?

      They pay with their bodies. I decide what to do with them. Not you. I’ll give you reason to be here, and Haclan’s word means nothing to me. He might have raised his hand to her, but Loth shifted ever so slightly in his direction, just enough to catch his eye, and he rethought his action. He glowered at Loth. I’ve received a better bid, anyway. You don’t have any say in this.

      They are free people, Toom. The only say you have in what they need or do is to ask how you can help. By the customs of hospitality, you have a responsibility to provide them with the resources they need and a place of safety. I don’t see either of these things in this camp. You are a poor host.

      He might just punch her in the face, but Loth standing at her back made him think twice. He curled his lip instead and turned away, dismissing her. Owen! He’s yours! Take him away!

      Owen smirked and moved forward, pulling a length of rope from his belt. He grabbed the city man and jerked him away from the two women, who screamed and tried to keep him. He struggled to get away from Owen, but Owen had obviously done this before. He punched the city man in the gut and rammed his fist between his shoulder blades. While the city man curled up on the ground choking for breath, Owen kicked the dark woman away and bound the city man’s hands behind his back. He shoved the pale woman into the dirt, tied the city man’s ankles together and looped another rope around his neck.

      Toom bellowed and two of his men grabbed the women and held them down while Owen dragged the city man away. The city man could barely walk, with his ankles shackled and his feet bloody and raw, but Owen jerked him along anyway, and soon disappeared from sight.

      The women screamed and struggled, but their long journey through the desert had sapped their strength. Grigan clamped his hands around the pale woman’s breast and crotch, slobbering on her neck and ear, and she tried to pull away from him, gagging and sobbing. Zhurveth had a similar grip on the dark woman and he ground his crotch on her buttocks, laughing at her attempts to get away from him.

      Toom settled his fists on his hips and cocked his hips forward, ill-fitting pants barely covering his erection. Well, now that’s all settled, now to find out what those two are worth. He leered at Teacher. I don’t mind three, if you’re so determined to join them.

      They are free women, Toom. Let them go. And you had no right to sell that man, either. She was going to have to watch those two women raped right in front of her and she might just be the third one in line, Loth or no Loth.

      Toom made a rude noise. Pfft! You have no say in the matters of men. The next time you open your mouth, I’ll shove my dick in it, shut you up for good.

      You have no honor, Toom. You’ve just proved that to everyone here. Cold sweat rolled down Teacher’s ribs. Somehow, she kept her back straight and her gaze steady. How can any man follow you, knowing you would sell him out in an instant for nothing?

      Toom snorted. "They know who’s in charge here and they know what’s good for them. You don’t. Get out of here before I give you what you deserve and send his hide back to Haclan."

      Teacher’s heart thundered and it was all she could do to keep still. Let them go, Toom.

      Not happening. He raised his fist to her. Get in line, whore, or get out of here.

      She was going to have to leave the two women in Toom’s clutches to save her own life. The very thought made her already knotted stomach retch up bile. She couldn’t leave them, but she couldn’t take them with her either. How was she going to solve this? Could she convince Haclan to mount a rescue for two women he’d never met and had no use for? Would Toom let her go?

      Evern himself resolved that problem, striding through the crowd, unmistakable for the layers of mismatched clothing that covered his entire body, head, hands, and feet. He only paused long enough to take in the situation and orient on the prisoners. He struck Grigan’s deformed head with his fist, making Grigan yelp and drop the city woman. She tried to get away, but Evern grabbed her hair and jerked her back. Taking a firm grip on her throat, he dragged her away, his men following him, one by one.

      Teacher took advantage of the distraction to grab the new woman’s hand and pull her from Zhurveth’s hold. He yelled and tried to grab her back, but Teacher kicked him in the knee and kept on going. She kept a firm grip on the new woman’s hand, not caring what was behind her, just focused on getting out of there. She had no idea where Loth was, but she didn’t worry too much about Loth. There wasn’t another fighter in the entire river basin who could best him.

      Teacher hoped the new woman had enough strength to run. Fear lent her strength and her feet and legs wings. A body loomed in front of her and she ducked the hands reaching for her, swerved, and kept going. Somebody else made another grab, a metal knife flashed and something wet sprayed across her face. Teacher blinked hard to get it out of her eyes.

      Loth? she gasped.

      Yes. Go, he ordered, voice low and harsh. Get her to Haclan’s camp.

      Teacher closed her mouth and ran faster, her heart thundering in her chest, her breath a stitch in her side. She hadn’t realized how far apart Toom and Haclan’s camps were. She stumbled in the rocks when she crossed the dry riverbed, grabbed for balance and kept going. At any moment, she expected an arrow in the back and rough hands grabbing her body.

      Again, she stumbled, and breathless and strengthless, she fell headlong, losing her grip on the new woman’s hand. Gasping, Teacher staggered to her knees, ready to sell her life dearly, the woman she’d rescued sprawled on her face just behind her. Apparently she’d made it to Haclan’s border at least, because Miden looked down at her, his head cocked to the side in half question, his sparse eyebrows raised high.

      Miden! Teacher gasped. Toom! His men, they’re behind, me!

      Miden put his eyebrows back over his eyes where they belonged, straightened up, and stuck his fingers in his mouth. He blasted his alarm whistle, adding the extra notes for intruders. He took the bow off his shoulder and put an arrow in it.

      The new woman coughed, pulling her elbows under her so she could raise her head out of the dirt. Teacher helped her to her feet and half carried her to the common area. She put the other woman down on a sitting rock, and brought her water. Around the common area people stirred, drawn by the commotion and Miden’s summons.

      What they did was not Teacher’s concern. The new woman drank the water Teacher had given her and promptly threw it all back up again. Of course. Her shrunken stomach rebelled against the fresh cold water and overheated by exertion, rejected it. Teacher got some more water and a wet cloth.

      Half expecting to get bitten, she cleaned her rescuee’s face gently, wiping away bile and sweat and blood. Underneath, the woman’s mouth was such a cut up mess Teacher hesitated to offer her anything rougher than water. Slowly, she ordered, holding out the gourd cup. Sip it and let your stomach settle before taking another drink.

      The honey-eyed woman did as she was told, making Teacher wonder how much she understood of what was told to her. There were so many different tribes and languages here at the Four Springs, with just as much familiarity with the common trade tongue they all used to communicate with each other, it was hard to tell who could speak to whom. This woman had obviously had some exposure to the common language, at least enough to understand when someone spoke to her.

      While she drank the water, Teacher went and got a bowl of porridge from Brenda. She offered it to the new woman, who took it cautiously, obviously expecting someone to take it away from her.

      Slowly, Teacher warned her, and she dipped up a finger full and placed it in her mouth. Wonder and gratitude bloomed on her face and Teacher smiled at her in return. It’s good, isn’t it? Eat it slow. When she was sure her orders were being followed, she went back to her hut and found the extra loincloth she’d made and the bathing supplies. Back in the common area, her foundling had finished the porridge and water and huddled up on the rock, feet drawn up and arms around her knees. She watched the goings on around her with the wary alertness of a trapped wild animal, making sure she knew where everyone was. She looked up when Teacher approached her.

      Teacher showed her the clothing and soaproots. I’m sure you’d like to clean up. Come with me down to the tub rock and I’ll help you. The new woman looked at what Teacher held, considering her words, then nodded and got up. She walked slowly and lightly, as if her feet hurt, a few paces behind Teacher. Teacher led the way to the tub rock, a water gouged slab of rock downstream from the main spring that everyone used for washing, noticing the natural basin was nicely full of water warmed by the sun. She set her burdens down by the side and set to grinding soaproot into a useful lather. At her direction, the new woman dipped water up out of the basin and poured it over herself. She scooped up coarse sand and started scrubbing herself, hissing in pain when she ground over some injury.

      Here, Teacher said, holding out a handful of ground soaproot. This cleans better and hurts less. It will help with infection too. Would you like me to wash your hair?

      The new woman hesitated, then shook her head. She took the soaproot, added a little water, and rubbed it into her hair, growling in frustration at the tangled mess. Getting it washed took up most of the soaproot and washtub water, but finally it was clean. The rest of her body took less time, though she scoured herself raw, trying to scrub her skin off. She snarled at Teacher when she tried to intervene, and scrubbed until there was no more soaproot left and every one of her open cuts bled, leaving red trails down her body.

      You’re going to hurt yourself, doing that, Teacher protested. Let’s get you rinsed off and dried and you’ll feel much better, I promise. I’ll help you brush your hair and I brought you a loincloth. It’s not much but it’s better than going naked.

      The new woman gasped a single sob, and put her head down on her knees, her shoulders shaking. Teacher touched her shoulder lightly and she flinched, drawing herself together even tighter. The hitched breaths turned into real sobs as the new woman began to cry at last, too exhausted to be brave any more.

      Teacher let her alone for a little while, picking up her bathing supplies and tidying up the tub area. The sun descended to the horizon, outlining the mountains there in gold and scarlet. Some of the other inhabitants came down to the tub for their own evening washing up, but thankfully only looked at Teacher and her rescue.

      Come on, Teacher dared to touch the new woman’s shoulder again. Let’s get you rinsed off and dressed. Haclan will want to know about you, and I have to explain why I walked off into Toom’s camp without permission.

      The new woman sniffled hard, scooped up some more water and rinsed her face. She allowed Teacher to pour more water over her, rinsing away the remaining soap lather and blood. She wrung out her hair, knotting it up on top of her head to get it out of the way, and accepted the loincloth Teacher offered.

      Tamely, she followed Teacher back to the common area. Teacher collected her share of stew and flatbreads plus a small cup for the new woman, and led the way to the shade ramada where they could sit and eat. Taking Teacher’s advice, the new woman ate and drank slowly, chewing each bite thoroughly before swallowing. Her mouth was obviously very sore by the way she moved the food around in it.

      I know you understand me, Teacher said when she had cleaned her bowl. May I ask what your name is? The new woman hesitated, suspicion on her face. Teacher put her hand on her chest to indicate herself. I am the Teaching Woman. Everyone calls me Teacher, for short. What may I call you?

      The new woman ducked her head, not looking at Teacher. Obviously, she wasn’t ready to talk about herself yet. Well, all right: Teacher pointed out the people in the common area, telling her what their names were and what they did here in the camp. The new woman studied each person in turn, obviously committing him or her to memory. She focused especially on anyone who carried their weapons with them at all times.

      Who fights? she said at last, her voice rough and low, interrupting Teacher in mid description of Chibben.

      What? Teacher asked, not sure what she heard. You mean, who’s the fighters here, in Haclan’s camp? The new woman nodded once. Well, most of the men can hold a club or a knife in self defense and some of the women, like me. But if you mean people who are actually trained as fighters, then I’d say Loth is the only one.

      He is that one? The new woman indicated Loth with a tilt of her head. He is with you always? She had a double beat accent, one that Teacher hadn’t heard before and she had to focus to understand it.

      We’re not married, if that’s what you’re asking. He thinks of himself as my protector, that’s all.

      The new woman thought about that, her honey colored eyes thoughtful. Haclan, Ezera and N’ne walked into the firelight with rabbits and quail, which they turned over to Brenda in the kitchen. They accepted water and stew in return, finding their own places to sit.

      Haclan is that one? the new woman asked in Teacher’s ear, her eyes on the man himself. He is the leader here?

      Yes, Teacher said and took a deep breath. I’m going to have to explain to him who you are and where I found you and why you’re here. I’m not looking forward to that.

      He will rape you to show you you are wrong?

      Teacher looked at the new woman in startlement. No, he’s an honorable man. His people are matriarchalists. He doesn’t think that way.

      The new woman snorted. All men are that way.

      Teacher might have replied to that, but Haclan noticed the stranger in his camp. Be you telling me, Teacher, who is this? Is this the woman that Ultith is so excited about?

      Teacher straightened up. Time to earn her name. Yes, Haclan. Toom found her and her two companions in the far pass and brought them to his camp. He sold the man to Owen and was going to rape the two women when Evern took the city woman and I grabbed this one and brought her here.

      Haclan studied the new woman. She might have met his gaze except for the fit of fear that made her lower her head and huddle into herself. Be you telling me how you came to be in Toom’s camp?

      Ultith told me about the new people. I know how Toom is and thought I’d better get there before he killed the new people or worse.

      Haclan looked at her some more. Without turning his head, he addressed to Loth. How many did you kill?

      One, Loth said, completely unconcerned.

      How many maimed?

      Three.

      Any of them Toom?

      No.

      Haclan turned his head and looked at Loth directly. Loth sat on his empty saddle, hands resting comfortably on his knees, dark and unmoving in the firelight as a tree stump. He met Haclan’s gaze without flinching or looking away. His expression remained unchanged. Haclan raised an eyebrow and faced around front.

      Teacher, how will I repay this debt to him? he asked, exasperated. You intruded on his camp for no reason, Loth killed one of his men and injured three more, and you took this woman from him, whom he considers his. He will be here on my doorstep, demanding recompense! Be telling me how to pay this debt.

      Teacher raised her head and looked him in the eye. There is no debt. If there is any debt to be paid here, then it is Toom’s debt to the three new people he kidnapped and enslaved. He violated every custom of hospitality I know of, by his actions. Toom is in the wrong here. I only tried to redress it, by taking this woman away.

      Be you knowing his tribe and their customs? I am meeting many tribes and all their customs toward strangers are different.

      Do you know his tribe, then? I don’t, but I am not going to let an innocent woman be punished for his lack of manners!

      It is not your place to teach him manners. Haclan’s tone was final and angry. Be meeting him when he comes to collect. Be explaining to him his lack of manners. I am not affording this debt, not to him, not from you. Be you understanding me?

      Yes, Haclan. Teacher bowed her head. May we go now?

      Be going. He waved her away impatiently, turning to deal with the next issue. Teacher got up, tugged on the new woman’s arm, and led her away.

      Climbing the cliff trail in the dark was a dangerous thing, but the full moon had just risen and cast its bright light over the narrow rocky trail. Teacher felt her way more through familiarity than actual observance, the new woman following in her footsteps directly. Teacher walked along the cliff to the observation point, also a dangerous thing considering how close to the edge it was, and found her favorite rock to sit on. It was still warm from the sun and a welcome comfort against the cool breeze flowing up the rock face. Teacher pulled off the finger woven lily fiber headband she used to keep her hair out of her face. She ran her hands through the sweaty close curls on her head, combing through the tangles. It needed cutting again. Short hair was so much easier to take care of, here in the desert.

      She looked down at the bright point of light that marked the camp’s central fire. If she squinted her eyes, she could just make out the people sitting around it. The breeze brought snatches of indecipherable voices, talking or laughing, and a great weight descended on her shoulders.

      Tell me, she said to the woman who sat beside her, what do you see?

      She felt, more than saw or heard, the woman lean over to look at the faraway camp. The fire, the people.

      Look out over the river, that way. What do you see there?

      More fires. The other camps.

      And over there? Teacher waved toward the upstream canyon. The new woman moved her head to look.

      Another fire. Another camp.

      You have good eyesight. Look higher, toward the mountains, and turn around to look behind you. All the way around. The woman did as she was told. Tell me again, what do you see?

      The moon lights the hills. I see the hills, how they lay.

      Do you see anything out there besides the hills?

      Trees, brush, rocks, mountains far away. I see nothing but moon light on hills.

      Teacher nodded. She folded her hands in her lap, her arms dark bars across her moonlit drape. Those four sparks you see down in the river canyon, these are the only permanent settlements in this land. It’s not an easy life here, living off the land, and the humans that live here make it even worse.

      The new woman nodded her head. I saw that.

      Teacher took a deep breath. It was one thing to know what to do, and another to tell it to someone, especially the very woman she knew could solve all this. Teacher scrubbed her hands through her hair again, searching for the words. It doesn’t have to be this way. It is a hard land to live in, but we don’t have to kill each other for it. The wild tribes don’t, they share everything so everyone can live, but we won’t. We came into this land and took, and we took it from them, and we take it from each other and it doesn’t have to be this way. It can’t be this way. We could learn to live here, make an entire new way of living, but we’d rather drag our old lives in with us. We’d rather kill each other than learn to live. Teacher stopped herself with an effort. It was an old and well worn complaint and she was tired of it. This young woman beside her was the answer, the solution, she just had to be. Teacher’s daughter and husband should not have died in vain. Their deaths should have meaning. This young woman had to be the redemption they died for.

      The young woman shifted on her rock, yawning. The small noise and movement brought Teacher’s attention back to her. Of course. The poor girl had to be exhausted. The long journey through the desert, and capture and abuse by Toom’s men would try anyone’s strength.

      I’m sorry, she said, getting off her rock. She held out her hands to help the other woman up, but she refused, sliding down to set her tender feet on the ground. Teacher heard her hiss in pain. She leaned against her rock again and pulled her sandals off. Here, put these on. I should have realized—I’m so sorry!

      The new woman’s feet were larger than Teacher’s feet were, and despite the moon’s light, the sandals were a little hard to figure out in the dark. She got them on and followed Teacher along the cliff and down the trail back to camp, moving a little more easily and confidently. They stopped off at the latrine, paused at the spring to take one last drink of water, nodded at Loth still sitting on his saddle beside Teacher’s hut, and crawled in.

      Teacher unrolled her extra woven reed bed pad and unfolded her twined and woven rabbit skin blanket. You can sleep here. It’s not that cold, but I think you need this more than I do, and my drape is blanket enough. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to make your own.

      The young woman held the blanket close, staring at Teacher. Her breath caught on a sob and she hid her face in the blanket. Teacher reached over and put her hand on her shoulder. The young woman flinched and pulled away, raising her head into the thin strands of moonlight falling through the brush roof. Her eyes were huge and frightened and she looked to be on the edge of hysteria.

      Oh, no. Flinching or not, Teacher put her arms around the young woman. Don’t be afraid. You are safe now. No one will attack or hurt you here. You are safe. The young woman burst into tears and folded up in Teacher’s arms. She pulled the other woman around to where she could rest her head on Teacher’s chest.

      The young woman clutched her around the waist, sobbing like a lost child, gasping brokenly in her own language. Heart wrenched by her pain, Teacher held her close and let her cry. Tears filled her own eyes, reminded of her own devastating pain and loss she had felt, driven from her original home by the rising ocean, forced to abandon all she knew, her life’s work. Her little girl had died on that flight, an angel with eyes of light and a smile purer than the sun. A gang had killed her husband for his clothes not long after their arrival in the camps.

      Reminded, all the wounds in her heart that she had thought scabbed over tore open and added their pain to her grief. Her throat knotted and she bent her head to rest it on the young woman’s, her tears soaking the younger woman’s hair.

      Teacher thought she saw Loth, looking mightily distressed, but he disappeared from her awareness and the grief closed over her again, conscious only of the sobbing woman in her arms.

      Then there was someone else there, murmuring soothing words while stroking her head and arms. Be at peace, Morra said softly, be at peace.

      Morra, Teacher gasped. With this distraction, she could process the grief and push it away into the recesses of her mind. Slowly she regained control over herself, focusing instead on Morra who watched with concerned eyes. Despite the darkness in the hut, she could see Loth, hovering at the door with that distressed look still on his face.

      Morra felt her relax and loosened her grip, drawing back so she could look at Teacher. Ashamed, Teacher lowered her head so she didn’t have to meet Morra’s judging eyes. Morra put her hand under Teacher’s chin and raised it up so Teacher had to look at her anyway.

      No shame to fear, she said softly, no shame to grieve. The only shame is giving in to the fear and grief. Let it pass over you, leaving only the memory and let the memory recede into the past where it will not harm you.

      Teacher breathed deeply, burying the fear, handful by handful. At last she could think clearly again.

      Better? Morra asked kindly.

      Yes, thank you, Morra. Teacher sat up, using the corner of her drape to wipe her nose and eyes, composing herself. The new woman had no such option and had to wipe her nose on her arm.

      Morra sat back, folding her hands in her lap. So, then, in whose presence are we gathered?

      I rescued this young woman from Toom. He captured her and her two companions in the far pass. He sold the man to Owen and Evern took the other woman, but I saved her.

      There will be repercussions. Toom does not like his authority questioned. Dark hut or not, Morra’s eyes missed nothing, taking in the new woman’s exhausted and disheveled state. She glanced at Teacher, who nodded slowly. Let her rest while we talk.

      The new woman gathered up the blanket, clutching the soft thickness to her bare breasts, hugging it against the loneliness. She lay down, pulling the blanket around herself, facing the door. Teacher bit her lip and followed Morra out. Loth sat outside the hut in his customary place, a dark lump in the overall gloom.

      Thank you, Loth. We owe you our lives, Teacher said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

      The Teaching Woman honors the Powers with her bravery and kindness, Loth replied, disapproving. But her foolhardiness dishonors these gifts.

      I shouldn’t have gone to Toom’s camp, but I couldn’t just leave her there. You were there to save us and I thank you. You honor your Powers with your devotion. That pleased and embarrassed him. She could tell by the small movement of his shoulder under her hand. I am going to talk with Morra. Will you stay here in case the new woman needs you?

      I will. His tone was still disapproving.

      Thank you, Loth. All was in hand and in order. Teacher made her way to the common area next to the camp’s spring, where Morra often sat and meditated in the presence of the life giving water. Morra beckoned to her from the ramada on the spring bank and Teacher took a drink of water and sat down beside her. They listened to the water in silence for a little while. Somewhere far away, a song dog called his pack to attention.

      This one is who you’ve been seeking? Morra asked at last, voice low so as not to disturb the peace.

      Yes. Morra, I’m sure of it. I knew it the moment I saw her. She is the one. Teacher knew it with every fiber of her being. This new woman would unify the disparate camps and forge a new world here, in the far desert.

      Bring us together to fight, maybe. Morra rested her elbows on her drawn up knees and pulled off her head cloth to run her hands through her hair. She sounded tired and disappointed.

      No birth is without pain. You know that.

      I know that, but what are we giving birth to here? I have not yet seen anything new. The same old evils that beset the worlds we left? Are we creating something new here or just building on the same old crumbling foundations?

      Teacher put her hand on Morra’s shoulder and Morra leaned into it. We hang on to what we know, no matter how good or bad it was. But we can’t ever go back. None of us can, no matter how hard we hang onto the old. Even if we survived the journey back to our old worlds, there’s nothing to go back to. My tribe’s lands are gone, destroyed by the rising tides and those of us who survived the flood dispersed beyond all recall. We’ll never see each other again. I’m all there is left of us and I will not give up, Morra. She brings me hope again. I don’t have a tribe any more, but here, with her, we can make a new one, made up of all these lost souls.

      Morra put her head down on her arms. And we are lost. I am lost. My people were arrogant and saw the world as a trifling nothing. We did not regard the world as deserving of respect and so acted without respect. That respect was returned many times over. I am here, hoping to regain the respect my people threw away. She turned her head to look at Teacher, features barely distinct in the starlight. Will this woman bring us respect again?

      You will, Morra. You will teach us the respect we need to live the way we should. You will teach us and she will lead us there.

      And you? And Shiarreyah?

      Shiarreyah will show us what we can do with respect for this world. I am only a teacher.

      Morra snorted. She bumped Teacher’s shoulder. Only a teacher, she said. Only a teacher.

      Only a teacher, Teacher agreed and bumped her back. You’re welcome to stay in my hut. I made a number of mats when I was learning to make them and more than one blanket. Loth will sleep with his saddle and we’ll be comfortable enough.

      I think not. Morra got up and helped Teacher up. The stars wait for me.

      Be safe then.

      Teacher was helping Brenda grind yesterday’s seed collection into flour for the day’s meal when Shiarreyah strode into the common area where they worked, her short wild white hair in more disarray than usual. She carried her heavy digging stick in one hand like a weapon, waist tie of her loincloth in the other, her tough bare feet slapping the ground as if daring it to slap back. She marched right up to Teacher and Brenda’s workstation, threw her digging stick down and forcibly retied her loincloth.

      There’ll be no seeds today, she declared.

      Teacher jumped up, grinding stones forgotten. Shiarreyah, what happened? Are you all right?

      Someone raided my field. The very one I was camped next to all night. When I slept, they dug up the entire field and threw the crop against my door. They destroyed everything. Shiarreyah picked up her digging stick again and clenched it in both hands, ready to use it on whoever offended her. It was not an animal. I know the difference.

      Are you hurt? She didn’t seem to be, but not all injuries are immediately obvious.

      I am not, but I know who will be.

      What do you mean?

      I mean I will see to it he does not destroy my fields again. He will reap what he has sown, and gain no advantage from it.

      Shiarreyah was headed for Clarn’s camp, Teacher noticed with a flicker of unease. Clarn was not a bad man, but he was a proud one who did not like interference and possessive of what he considered his. He would not take kindly to Shiarreyah’s accusations. Maybe Teacher could mediate between them and find some resolution, heading off any violence.

      Teacher? someone asked and Teacher looked back to see the new woman, hair messy and eyes sunken with distress and exhaustion. Teacher had let her rest when she got up to start the day’s chores. She’d only just gotten up, then. Where are you going?

      Akosi raided Shiarreyah’s field again. She’s going to Clarn about it.

      The new woman hurried to catch up. Don’t leave me alone here. I don’t know anyone.

      You can stay with Brenda. She can use your help.

      The new woman shook her head quickly and hard. No. Give me a weapon. I will go with you.

      Providing Shiarreyah with back up sounded like a good idea. Teacher diverted to her hut and pulled out her spear and her club, handing the club to the new woman. She swung it a couple of times to gauge the heft of it and nodded with satisfaction.

      The two of them were falling behind. Fortunately they could easily track Shiarreyah’s white head through the brush and the main trail to Clarn’s spring was well defined. Teacher hastened her pace and the new woman followed.

      Shiarreyah did not even pause for the sentry who stepped out in front of her, just swept his feet out from under him with her digging stick and kept on going. Teacher stopped and helped him sit up, clutching his shins and swearing.

      Are you all right, Jask? she asked. He got back on his feet, muttering something definitely uncomplimentary under his breath in his native language. Teacher patted him on the shoulder. Really, Jask, you know better than to get in her way. Akosi raided her field last night and she’s very angry.

      Jask growled something even less complimentary, invoking Akosi’s name, looked down his nose at her, and waved her on. Break him, he suggested.

      I hope it won’t come to that, Teacher replied and hurried on.

      Shiarreyah’s raised voice calling for Akosi to show himself and the two men clutching shins and guts told Teacher where she was, in the common area in front of the hut Clarn claimed for himself, built of brush and roofed with much patched tent fabric. Clarn stepped out just as Teacher arrived, resplendent in poorly fitting shirt and trousers, too tight across the chest and shoulders and short in the arms and legs. He tossed back his long flowing black hair, crossed his arms and looked fiercely at the invaders of his domain. What do you want?

      Beside Teacher, the new woman gasped in disbelief. He’s wearing my clothes!

      Teacher glanced at her in surprise, then looked more closely at Clarn. He looked ridiculous, now that she knew where the clothes had come from, but he remained determinedly focused on Shiarreyah.

      What do you want? he asked again.

      Akosi, Shiarreyah said, her voice loud enough to be heard all over camp. Heads and bodies were popping out of shelters everywhere. He destroyed my field for no reason.

      How do you know it was Akosi and not some animal?

      Shiarreyah looked at him as if he were an idiot. It’s not the first time he’s done this and you know it. An animal would eat the crop, not tear it up and throw the plants at my door. Get him out here.

      Why should I believe you? My son has been here all night.

      Teacher stepped forward to place her hand on Shiarreyah’s shoulder before she could reply. Clarn, Akosi has done this before and you know it. He has ruined the crop that would have fed many people. Everyone will suffer for his actions, not just Shiarreyah. His actions reflect on you, not just as his parent, but also as his leader. How will other people think of you, if your own son destroys their food?

      That got his attention. Clarn turned back toward the hut and bellowed Akosi! Get out here!

      After a moment, which involved a disturbance inside the hut, Akosi appeared, a well fleshed young man who wore his black hair long and struggled to gain some fullness in his beard. Someone shoved him from behind and he stumbled out into the morning. What?

      Shiarreyah stepped forward, tapping her palm with her digging stick. Akosi flinched, but got himself together and stood tall, facing her down with a smirk. What are you going to do about it, you old bitch?

      Teacher put her hand on Shiarreyah’s shoulder, stopping her. Akosi, she said, taking the tone and attitude she would if talking to a small child, if you wanted something to eat, you could have asked her. Shiarreyah shares her knowledge freely with anyone who asks and will also share her crop.

      Akosi sneered, all bravado. There’s no food out there, just a bunch of weeds. She’s just trying to cover up the treasure she’s got buried there.

      Shiarreyah shrugged Teacher’s hand off her shoulder, venting her anger in a deep growl. I’ll show you treasure! She jabbed him in his ample belly and he folded up, choking. There’s your treasure, right there, stolen from your own people!

      Clarn stepped forward, fist raised. You don’t treat my son like that! He didn’t do anything! Get away from him!

      Shiarreyah batted his fist aside and jabbed him too before Teacher could get her hands on Shiarreyah’s stick. Belated, Clarn’s men shoved forward to defend their leader and his son. Stop! Teacher put herself between the men and Shiarreyah, the stick raised for self defense. The new woman moved up to stand beside Shiarreyah. Clarn! Stop this now! Akosi’s act of vandalism has endangered all of us because that crop would have fed not just Shiarreyah, but your family too. What about your mother, Akosi? Does she deserve to go hungry? What about your father? Your friends? Do they know you’ve destroyed the food they depend on?

      Akosi almost looked guilty. Around him, Clarn’s followers shifted, obviously thinking about what Teacher had said, and their anger was starting to turn toward him. Teacher kept her attention on him. How do you answer that, Akosi?

      Akosi gathered up his courage and sneered at her. I don’t have to answer anything. I didn’t do anything. Fuck off, bitch.

      Wait, the new woman said, breaking the tension. Akosi, you said Shiarreyah is hiding treasure out there, in her field. What do you mean by that? What kind of treasure is she hiding from you?

      Akosi looked her up and down, a deliberately rude stare, contemptuous of her disheveled hair and borrowed loincloth. I don’t have to talk to you. Who are you? Another slave? You let Haclan and everybody else fuck you up the ass too?

      The new woman studied Akosi with narrowed eyes. What do you mean by that, Akosi? Who else do you have in this camp?

      I don’t have to talk to you, bitch, Akosi said, turned around and stepped back into the brush hut he had come out of.

      Well, you’ll be getting nothing from me, Shiarreyah said, straightening

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