Owlknight

Keisha expected that before long even the blank walls of the houses might start to sport their stylized artworks. No one had anticipated that, and a few traders had been eying the carvings and pieced-work with interest, wondering if there was any profit to be made from Northern art.

The houses were arranged in circles around a central building that was not the Chief’s house, but rather was the storehouse for the entire tribe. As such, it was decorated only with Ghost Cat, repeated over and over, in an endless variety of poses. Each family had a cubicle within for the storage of raw materials of their own, and the center was reserved for common storage.

“So-ho, you come in a good time to see how we deal with the pilgrims come for healing, Valdemar-Herald,” Chief Vordon was saying as they neared the central storehouse. “We have just sent on a family that came with riches, so you will see what we have had of them.”

While Keisha had been admiring the newest carvings, the Chief had explained to Anda that Ghost Cat, in return for feeding and sheltering the pilgrims during their initial week of quarantine and continuing to shelter and feed those who were not injured or ill, received a toll of whatever the pilgrims brought with them. Being that some pilgrims came with little but desperation and hope, this was a very flexible toll. From the poorest, Ghost Cat often took nothing but a little labor - mat weaving, wood cutting, help in building, or carving if there were skilled artists among them. But there were plenty of pilgrims who had come laden with goods, and those made up for the ones that arrived with empty hands.

“See here - this was a tribe I do not know, but vouched for by those I do - and they are wealthy in fur and amber.” The Chief gestured to the piles of goods laid out in front of the storehouse, and indeed, there was enough heaped there to make even Anda’s eyes widen. “They have only lately been touched by the Summer Fever and Wasting Sickness, and are eager to pay for a cure that they do not lose any of their children.” The Chief pointed to the piles of glossy furs. “There is bear, there beaver - there fox - that white is snow-fox - the small furs are what we call gosfoon, very soft and good, you have no name for it.”

Indeed, even though Keisha knew the Ghost Cat language and got a mental image of the gosfoon (which was obviously in the weasel family), it was with the disorienting sensation that told her she had never seen one of these creatures with her own eyes.

Imagine what the senior Herald must be feeling! He has a skill I never thought of before - this Herald has the ability to act completely undisturbed by whatever he encounters even though it is so alien to him. He must have thousands of new concepts and images in his mind, from tunnel-spar designs of the hertasi to thirty names for how a leaf tastes from the dyheli to - who knows! And yet he still manages to travel and carry on a conversation without letting it overwhelm him. Incredible.

“And here is amber, both the amber-of-the-sun and the amber-of-scent; these are Seashan tribe - ” (another new word, and this one without any kind of mental picture of the live animal, but only the to-temic rendering; so Ghost Cat knew the name and the carving that represented it) “ - and they live upon the bitter-water where these things are found along the shore.”

The amber-of-the-sun was the yellow, golden-brown, and red rough amber that Keisha knew was used in jewelry; these pieces ranged from the size of the end of the little finger to the size of a fist. But this amber-of-scent was an odd, gray-white substance with a faintly greasy look to it. There wasn’t much of it, but from the way Vordon regarded the stuff, it was even more valuable than “real” amber. He held up a little piece and indicated that they should sniff it; Keisha did so, and was delighted with the fragrance, very sweet, heavy, and musky.

“A bit of this used in perfume, no bigger than a seed, and the scent will last for years,” Vordon said with satisfaction. “Your traders will give us much gold for this, for there are those among the k’Leshya who know the use of it.”

“I can see how you are raising the wealth of your tribe,” Anda said with admiration.

“Not just of Ghost Cat, but of k’Valdemar and the Sanctuary as well. The dyheli of k’Valdemar have a share of this for their part, as does the Sanctuary.” Vordon canted his head over, looking at them shrewdly. “We trade with the village for grain for the dyheli and the goods going to the Sanctuary are taken there with each new lot of pilgrims. It is good trade, all around, and trade is how we of Ghost Cat have always prospered.”

“As opposed to war?” Shandi asked, and Vordon nodded.

“That is why, if we did not wish someone to see us, then like the Cat, we would not be seen.”

He led them away from the piles of furs; Keisha cast a wistful glance back, and decided that she would try to bargain for some of those goshon furs, so glossy and soft, and a wonderful dark brown. They would be a joy against the face, and so warm lining the hood of her winter cloak. . . .

“And here is the camp of the tribe,” Vordon was saying. “We hold them here until the Healers send the holy dyheli with the last group, making room for the new pilgrims. Those who are not ill remain while the rest go to the Sanctuary.”

Here was an encampment very like the one that Ghost Cat had first made when they arrived at this place - the difference being that the people here looked healthy and hopeful, perfectly at their ease. There was a distinct difference in their artwork, which was displayed on their clothing and carved on their wagons. This was, so far as Keisha could tell, some sort of fish, with a large top fin. She wondered what on earth the real creature looked like.