The Legend of Broken

Keera’s lips tremble, much as the old man’s did, only an instant earlier; and in her desperation to maintain her dignity, she lets the fact that Caliphestros seems to already know of the plague in Okot pass. “He — he was taken, just a few days ago. The pestilence has come to several parts of the town we call Okot. Two of my children are also—” Keera fights back the tide of weeping that is rising in her breast and throat; but a lone tear finally escapes, to fall heavily upon her cheek, and drift down it.

The panther sets her pointed, tufted ears sharply forward, and picks her proud head up. But her green eyes fix, not on the forest about the camp, but on what seems to be Keera’s face. Or is it her throat? Veloc and Heldo-Bah ask each other with quick, worried glances. Then, leaving Caliphestros perched on a limb, in one almost impossibly agile movement, the panther almost pours herself from the elm to the ground, upon which she begins to walk softly toward the Bane female.

As Heldo-Bah covers his face in panic and horror, Veloc quickly lifts his short bow over his shoulder and nocks an arrow, all his pompous, foolish posturing vanishing as he executes the expert motion. He then draws the bow, aiming at the panther’s chest.

“Keera!” he cries. “Move aside — run, I have no shot!”

“Lower your bow, historian!” Caliphestros orders, raising an arm and outstretching a hand in seeming threat. “Such foolhardy aggression can only anger, not harm, both my companion and myself!”

Keera, who has been staring into the eyes of the beast, only nods and holds five splayed fingers out behind her. “It’s all right, Veloc. Put the bow away …”

{ii:}

“I will not put it away,” Veloc says, raising his outstretched bow arm to now take aim at Caliphestros. “If I cannot hit the animal, old man, then you will suffer for it, unless you truly have charms that can stop an arrow!”

Caliphestros sighs once. “I should hardly be much of a ‘sorcerer,’ if I did not, historian.” The old man seems no longer concerned, now that Veloc’s arms have moved, despite the arrow’s threatening his own life. Seeing this, Veloc’s draw on his bow begins to relax. “You have some little bit of your sister’s wisdom, then,” the old man goes on. “Good. For you have nothing to fear, in this …” He keeps the same hand held out, but turns the palm upward as he indicates Keera and the panther.

As he allows the draw on his powerful bow to ease further, Veloc stares in bewilderment at the masterful huntress who is approaching Keera: remarkably, there is no malice or hunger in the animal’s expression, and her body betrays no hint that she is stalking. Although confused and a little uneasy, Keera stands her ground well; and when her face is level with the panther’s, there being but a few feet between them, she can see that the cat means her no harm.

“You have a way with creatures, I see, Keera — and they with you,” Caliphestros says quietly. “Yes … a great gift. I know only one other like you …” But the old man can speak no more of the matter, apparently; and his jaw sets, trembling just enough to indicate a battle raging inside him.

The panther’s nose, deep red and looking as tough as hide, nonetheless is delicacy itself when it moves to a spot just a few inches from Keera’s face — close enough for the Bane tracker to hear the surprisingly gentle sniffing and whistling sounds, as well as the short, ever so short breaths of air, that escape from it.

Having found the precise spot on Keera’s face where the single tear fell, the white panther sniffs ever more delicately at the small trace of salt and moisture that remain; and then she reveals her rough, pink tongue. Even as her breath speaks of the kills she has made only recently, the barest tip of that long organ licks the tear and its track gently away from Keera’s face …

Keera trembles throughout her body; but the quivering calms as trust grows along with it, and the beginning of a bond is formed. When the tracker begins to lift a hand, she glances up at Caliphestros, as if to ask his leave to touch the creature.

“I think you will be safe, now,” the old man answers, reassured by Stasi’s actions that he has been right to trust these three Bane, and especially this young Bane woman.

Keera, meanwhile, runs one small hand along the panther’s arching, solidly muscular neck, and then her fingers move up to scratch behind the animal’s ear. At that, the panther begins to purr once more, and to lick Keera’s face with less delicacy, yet more delight.

“It would seem,” Caliphestros says, “that Stasi has understood you precisely, Keera.”

“‘Stasi,’” the Bane woman murmurs, smiling in friendship and still caressing and scratching the panther’s head and neck. “What does it mean?”

“It means that she is a creature of rebirth,” Caliphestros replies. “Of resurrection — as you will soon discover …” He laughs affectionately when he sees the panther put one paw to Keera’s left shoulder and the other on her right, keeping most of her weight on her hind legs, and still delicately cleaning the Bane woman’s face, and then her neck and hair: precisely as she would if Keera were a cub of her own. In the midst of this seemingly impossible moment, only Veloc continues to look momentarily alarmed, but Caliphestros dismisses the Bane’s brotherly concern with a wave of his hand. “You need not fear, Veloc,” he calls. “She is only making a new friend — and a new friend who doubtless offers far more amusement than the sole companion she has had these ten years.”

“Ten years?” Heldo-Bah echoes. “You have been in that cave with this beast for ten years? Scant wonder you’re mad, old man.”

“Heldo-Bah!” Veloc scolds.

“Oh, calm yourself, Veloc,” Heldo-Bah replies. “If he could have transformed us into toads, he would have done so when you threatened to kill him.”

“You suppose yourself as cunning as you are repulsive, eh, forager?” Caliphestros calls to Heldo-Bah. “Well, I warn you — put aside any belief that, simply because I am not all the things that fearful, ignorant men say, I am therefore wholly without—arts …” Heldo-Bah’s expression changes with its characteristic speed, back to youthfully apprehensive; but Caliphestros’s next words are calculated to put him, as well as the other two Bane, more at their ease: “Although there is no reason that those who shall now become our common enemies in Broken need ever learn anything I have told or will tell you about either my ‘arts’ or their limits.”

Keera glances up at the old man. “You speak of our undertaking a ‘common’ endeavor against Broken, my lord. If you have been listening to our argument for any length of time, you know that we have come to ask for your help against the Tall, who, it seems, have at last determined to destroy our tribe, through methods as horrible as they are cowardly. Do your words mean that you intend to give us such assistance?”

“Give?” Caliphestros puzzles with the word for a moment. “Certainly, we shall make common cause, Keera. But please — let us undertake further discussion in the home I share with Stasi, or rather, the home which she has kindly shared with me these many years.” Making a few clicking, whistling noises, Caliphestros attempts to summon the panther, who by now is on her back upon the forest floor, allowing Keera to softly caress her belly. “Come, Stasi!” the old man calls out. “We have much to do, and you must first get me out of this tree …”

Gathering up his various crutches, which have been hidden among the branches of the elm, Caliphestros waits until the panther bounds back to the tree and up into its branches. She positions herself so that the old man can easily regain his customary position astride her back, just behind her enormously powerful shoulders, and then she carefully bears him back down to the ground.

“My compliments, Lord Caliphestros,” Veloc says. “You have trained the animal well.”

“And you,” the old man answers, settling more comfortably onto Stasi’s back, now that the astounding pair are on the ground, “are an ignorant ass, Veloc, if you believe that so proud and strong-willed a being as a Davon panther — and most especially this Davon panther — can be ‘trained’ by such feeble creatures as men. Every step, every decision she takes, she determines for herself. There are no masters or servants, here, Veloc — remember that, if you want to survive the great undertaking upon which we now embark.”

Heldo-Bah releases a scoffing grunt in the direction of his friend. “You bootlicking fool …” He then lifts his chin toward Caliphestros’ crutches. “What are those mechanisms you have, old man?” he asks, even a little haughtily, now. “They don’t bespeak any great wizardry.”