Sparks occasionally spiraled into the air, coiled over the cookfire by the cone-roof of the Cani hut. The hole in the roof was darker than the wooden boards, which caught the glow and resembled the sizzling slabs of meat over the open flames. Neeko liked the warmth, especially on his stiff muscles and joints. So far, that was the only side effect he had noticed to his new diet of kibroot.
To’cani sprinkled a little zest onto the meat, causing a potent smoke to rise where spices missed the blackened wood grill. She smiled and said, “For the ajunij.”
“Flavour,” said Pais’ca, looking at Neeko. The two sat with To’cani and two other village women, keeping them company as the tribe’s dinner was prepared.
Neeko nodded and enjoyed the pungency in the air. The head aches had faded a day or two after he had first tried kibroot, and now it was only the stiffness. He gently removed the knife from his belt and, pressing it to his thumb, sliced a section of kibroot from the plant. This was a separate piece than the root he had taken for study, so he looked at Pais again and smiled. “You sure you don’t want a piece?”
“Not yet,” she said, and shook her head, annoyed. She gently touched the amber circle, riddled with healing tissue, on her forearm. The tattoo was healing still, but was safe enough to touch. Pais grimaced and removed her hand.
To’cani looked at Neeko’s assistant and bobbed her head. Her thin neck looked like it might snap from such a motion, but her expression was one of mirth. “Have you felt more thokori yet?” she asked.
With a few syllables in the local tongue, Pais told the wise woman that she was not yet, but she had woken each day in good health. When she quieted down, she caught Neeko gazing at her inquisitively. “Strength,” she explained. “No, it’s more like might.”
“That’s what the tattoo means?” Neeko asked.
Pais nodded. “I just like the look of it.” That brought a bolder smile from the tribe’s leader, and Pais bowed her head.
Neeko thought that there would have to be some potent herbs in such an ink base and some serious blood contamination for a tattoo to grant someone any real strength. He couldn’t think of anything that would do that trick, not even the bastion leaves discovered by the researchers on the Torn Shore. But, he had done a lot of work to earn his respected and respectful place with the Cani, so he said nothing.
“Almost done,” To’cani said. A few minutes later, she tilted the steaming meat onto a clay slab. The servants rose; Neeko and Pais rose with them, allowing To’cani to lead a small procession out into the hilltop village. There were just over a hundred tribespeople here, with other groups on other hills scattered around a few dozen miles.
The seven slices of meat would be sufficient for the hundred, and one whole slice went to Pais’ca, who had not eaten any kibroot. Neeko knew she was cautious, but it was mildly appalling to see her chewing away so much food while Neeko was filled by two strips of spicy sinew and a few sips of a sweet berry juice. Unfortunately, kibroot did nothing to help thirst.
As the tribe told stories of hunts from bygone days, Neeko sat down close to Pais and looked into the bright bonfire that the tribe surrounded. It was lit only once a week and extinguished with a huge moss blanket the tribe had sewn together, the significance of which, Neeko had not yet learned.
Pais was looking up at the stars, visible in little patches through the smoky ring of forest canopy overhead, when Neeko said what was on his mind. “I think it’s time to leave,” he told her. “Tomorrow or the next day. I’ll tell To’cani and Esh later this evening.”
“I imagined that might be the case,” she replied. “Now that you have studied their secret and eaten it too.”
“We’ll be going inland further,” he told her.
Pais turned her shoulders so her face could focus on his incredulously. “We’ve been out here for five moons and we’re still not going back to civilization?”
Neeko was still looking at the fire. He saw the leaning logs as the steeple roofs of the academies in Noress-That-Was or in Maykren on Trader’s Bay. It seemed fitting he would see them burning in a fire, not because he hated them, but because they were useless. They didn’t have what Neeko sought. His eyes started to water, from the intense heat and light, and he looked down at the roughly-trodden dirt under his leather boots. “We’re going to find the Field Roamers.”
“To’cani said the Cani have fought that tribe as often as they have traded with them,” Pais warned. Neeko could see her urging expression in his peripherals as he watched a tiny spider lifting its translucent legs over a tiny rock. His guide sighed. “Neeko, I don’t know their language.”
“You’ll learn it,” said Neeko, and met her eyes with a smile. The Cani had told them of another tribe, located many miles north-east, on the edge of a savanna. Neeko grew older by the day—he could feel it in his eyelids and his back and his spirit, if there were such a thing. The Cani could keep starvation at bay with their secret kibroot. Would the knowledge of the Field Roamers be closer to Neeko’s objective?
Pais looked down, scowling, and noticed the venturing spider, which had passed over Neeko’s foot toward her. When it neared her boot, she squished it.