Every Man's Fantasy Ch. 16

With her language of signs and grunts, Wildchild gave tasks to the girls, who charged up the laser pen-knives and fetched more clay.

They set up a production-line for the molds so, by dinner time, when Wildchild heated the cooking stones for the potatoes and fish, they added twenty clay molds to bake them hard. Each mold would produce two of whatever Wildchild was making.

Dinner was ready when Ezra and Thalassa came back, holding hands. They quietly took their places by the campfire. Soon, those of Wildchild's molds that hadn't cracked in the baking were ready for the glass to be poured in. Neglecting her dinner and, with the last of her laser-pen's charge, Wildchild melted heaps of sand on her granite rock and poured yellow liquid glass into the molds, placing them in dips on the ground to cool down.

Satisfied for the moment, Wildchild relaxed and took her dinner-plate from Tamar. She'd worked naked ever since her dip in the sea. Ezra draped a blanket over her shoulders. Surprised, she looked up to thank him with a smile and saw admiration in his eyes. It pleased her. She smiled again and got on with her dinner.

Before the rain came, Wildchild showed everyone what she'd made in the clay molds. She broke one open to reveal two beautifully-sharp glass arrow-heads with a holes at their bases to fit it in the shaft and tie it off. She broke open the other molds. Some of the arrow-points had cracks or bubbles of air in them; but she had about two-dozen good ones from the batch.

She couldn't wait to test them and went to sleep that night dreaming of the pigeon-hunt.

2

Late in the morning next day, the third day after Yumi revived, the Herders arrived from the Cloner Fair.

Solange, Ash and Glynn rode into the salvage party camp with three pack-horses dragging sleds. Introduced to Yumi, Solange kindly welcomed her to Samothea. Then the women sat down to catch up with the gossip from the Cloner Fair. It was a noisy assembly.

The most important news concerned the legal hearing for Belena, who accused Calliope of mutiny and usurpation. The Mariner women were cheered to learn that the Lawspeaker dismissed Belena's arguments and confirmed Calliope as acting-Chief of the Mariner Tribe (pending a future election).

Gloria offered to mediate between the two women in the hope that Belena could return to her tribe, but the ex-chief proudly refused. She would rather live with the Farmers than admit she was wrong. Gerta, her daughter, loyally accompanied her mother.

It was the result the Mariners expected (some were unkind enough to hope for it) and it was a relief.

Now it was time to load the baskets of salvage goods into the sleds, one for each tribe. The baskets were filled with bedclothes, pillows, tools, a computer pad which didn't work and any bric-a-brac that could be a shiny treat for the children.

A peculiar addition to one of the Herders' baskets was a pack of yellow stuff, firm but squishy, and some thin copper cylinders with short wires and a row of small buttons.

"What's this?" Solange asked, picking up one of the yellow packs to sniff it, squishing it in her hand.

"Plastic explosive," Ezra said.

She looked quizzically at him but, typical of her, didn't put the explosive down.

"Do you remember you showed me a mountain that, if we could just remove its top, we could make a road to the southern plain for the cattle?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, you're holding enough explosive to flatten the whole mountain."

She put it down carefully.

"It can't go off, not without a detonator," he explained, "which is one of the copper cylinders. The problem is, they're electronic and I don't think they'll work. I salvaged them anyway and now Yumi's here, she might be able to fix them."

Yumi was listening and picked up a detonator as he spoke. She pressed some of its buttons and shook her head.

"Maybe I can make something else that will work," she said, "though it's not my field."

Solange moved onto something else, a collection of tools and men's clothes.

"I guess this is yours," she said to him.

The shoulder basket included his small tool-box, his geology testing kit with its acids and reagents, a small hammer and trowel; plus his underwear, the whisky bottle and two drinking glasses. Ezra had planned to give away his clothes but, in fact, Samothea was well supplied with men's clothes and the women here didn't wear underwear, except for a soft leather thong during their periods.

"Yes, will you take it with you, please?"

"I thought you'd send it to the Forest Camp," Solange replied.

"I originally intended to but I've had a change of plan and I will need the geology kit. Which of the Herders knows the Southern Mountains best?"

"Why?"

"Because the mountains are volcanic, like the White Mountains. Next month, when I'm living among the Herders, I can search there for the minerals that the Cloner Kits need. That is, if it suits you."

"Sure. I had no other plan for you except sex. Any of the shepherds, especially Lorna and Vera, can guide you in the Mountains. Galatea would be best, if I could spare her. It would be a good time for you to get to know her," she added musingly. Solange had kept Ezra and Wildchild's mother apart during his previous visit to the Herder tribe but things were different now.

After loading up the sleds, they sat down for lunch and more gossip. Solange ate quickly. She had something to say to Wildchild. She got up and invited the girl for a private talk. Wildchild agreed reluctantly. She followed Solange away from the camp.

It was natural for the horsewomen to walk to the watering hole and the ponies.

"I've got something for you from your mother," Solange said.

Wildchild shook her head. She knew what it was and didn't want it.

"Samothea!" Solange protested.

Wildchild gave her an angry look.

"All right - Wildchild," Solange said softly. "You're eighteen. You're a woman in your own right. You're free of your mother's control; but freedom should be generous. If you can't be friends with your mother, you should at least admit the honesty of her motives and take what is rightfully yours."

She held out a silver necklace with a beautiful pendant: a silver S in a swirling pattern amid blue and red stones. The tips of the S were graced with two small perfect pearls.

"It's not a gift, Wildchild. It belongs to your family. Your mother got it when she was eighteen and, now that you're eighteen, it's yours - until you have an eighteen-year-old daughter yourself."

Still Wildchild shook her head.

"Why don't you want it?"

Wildchild was silent.

"You're going to have to speak some time, you know."

"I know why you don't talk," Solange continued: "I'm sorry for how Daina treated you; but she was chief at the time and I wasn't even her deputy. At first, I thought she and your mother were right. It was only when you left that I reconsidered. So I have that to apologise for ..."

Wildchild looked at her with new respect in her lucent green eyes.

"... but nothing else."

Wildchild smiled. She was satisfied with half an apology. The truth was that she didn't blame Solange and was close to forgiving her mother. But she needed a good reason to break the rule she made many years ago, after a particularly harsh punishment, that she would never speak to a Herder again.

She waited patiently for Solange to speak. Her face was blank, offering nothing, but she didn't run away, as she might well have done.

"I'm sorry your mother took your discipline too far," Solange said, "but you were a damned nuisance and out of control much of the time. You were wilful and destructive. You fought with everyone and caused mayhem ..."

She smiled at Wildchild's defiant posture and spoke more softly.

"... but I also know you were punished for being good, for protecting Yael, fighting against the tribe for what was right."

There was a lot of bullying among the Herders under the previous chief, Daina, who had snatched Tamar and scared the gentle Woodlanders into refusing to trade with them. Daina kept the tribe wound up and aggressive, including Wildchild, who had done more than her fair share of fighting, though she always defended Tamar and never allowed her to be bullied.

"You have to understand what motivated Daina and your mother," Solange explained.

"Do you know what we do when a baby first takes an interest in solid food? ... We give her solid food to try. - Do you know what we do when a child first takes an interest in horses? ... We put her on the back of a pony and let her try riding."

"So when we see a child take responsibility, we give her more responsibility. In your case, we saw how you protected Yael and thought you were a potential leader; so your mother began to prepare you for ruling with extra tasks and extra discipline. ... I'm sorry it didn't work out as hoped but that was the reason."

Wildchild made a gesture that meant "sex".

"You're right, of course. We don't encourage girls to have sex as soon as they show an interest in it. In fact, we forbid it until they're eighteen. That's because sex is a powerful drive. If you're like me, then it's more powerful than all the other drives. We think an eighteen-year-old is more likely to control herself than a younger girl. I'm not sure why. Or maybe it's to protect younger girls from older women."

"In your case, anyway, your mother wanted to train you to be chief."

Wildchild pointed at Solange.

"Yes, I also want you to be chief; but more than that, I want you to fulfil your potential. ... You were always strong, clever and aggressive. But you're a woman now. Playtime is over."

"It's time to channel your aggression. On Earth (so Ezra says), there are many outlets for aggression, such as sport, business, art, science, sex and politics. Here we have only sex and politics. Well, you're only eighteen. Teenage years should be for fun, not babies. But if you're going to rule the planet, it's time to start training yourself."

Wildchild protested again.

"I know you don't want to rule but you should. It's a difficult job and doing something hard is more fulfilling than doing something easy. You know that."

"Even with training, you won't be ready for another four or five years; but I know you will want to govern. Your ambition will tug at you. You'll see the errors other people make and want to correct them. ... Not everyone who takes up the burden of leadership is suited to it. Some people are only ambitious, or envious, or greedy. You have the makings of a better kind of leader. ... In their own way, Daina and your mother knew that."

"At least they could see your brains and your pride. You'll develop the temperament. I've seen it happen in others with much less potential than you."

Wildchild's gesture meant "I'm not a Herder."

"Yes, yes. You live among the Wood-elves and hunt pigeons. But you've got a Herder's soul: you grab life by the tits."

Wildchild's smile was not a contented one.

"I don't care what tribe you rule!" Solange exclaimed, a little testily. "I care that you do something worthwhile with your life, that you do the best work you can!"

Solange continued with passion.

"You're an adult and responsible for yourself now. That means you have to control yourself - because no one else can."

"So no more wild antics. No more destructiveness. No more tantrums. You've had your fun but it's time to take up the burden of responsibility. The burden of power."

"You've been Wildchild long enough," she finished. "It's time to be Samothea."

There was silence as Wildchild stood deep in thought. What Solange said contained some profound truths. She did feel differently now. She regretted about half the fights she'd been in and more than half the damage she'd done. She might never really love her mother again, but she would be content to be reconciled to her. Most of all, she respected Solange, who seemed to care for her without apparently caring for anyone other than her bedmate, Ash.

Thinking like this, it was not long before Wildchild came to a decision. Solange was a Herder with whom she could talk. She knew it was time to discard the childish rule about not speaking.

"How would you train me to be a chief?" she asked.

Solange smiled. It was the first time she'd properly gotten through to Wildchild and the first time in many years that she'd heard her speak. She replied with one of her trademark changes of direction.

"I have a message for you from Gloria, chief of the Cloners."

Wildchild was stumped. There was no reason the Cloner Chief should know who she was.

"Gloria sends her greetings and, now you're eighteen, offers you a place among the Juniors."

Caught between astonishment and contempt, Wildchild settled on contempt. She knew from Megan exactly what the Juniors were like. She indicated her clothes; her men's jeans, severed at the knee, oversized lumberjack shirt with its sleeves rolled up, its tails tied high up around her waist for extra breeze on the hot plain.

"Yes, I know you don't dress - or act - like a Junior," Solange admitted. "But that's why it will do you good. The Juniors are servants to the Councillors. They wash and dress them, wait on their table and obey their orders."

Wildchild nodded, a little impatiently. She knew this.

"I know you despise them, these girl-women who enjoy dressing up, putting on make-up and having pillow-fights."

Wildchild looked guiltily blank.

"But they are meek, obedient and cheerful. They respond to slights and bossiness with kindness and patience. You're the opposite of a Junior. You're strong, wilful and aggressive and you don't accept insults. Well, you could learn lots by seeing how the Juniors resolve conflict without anger. It would do you good to understand some of the women you might be ruling one day."

Wildchild's look was priceless.

"They're worth understanding if you want their votes, Wildchild, even if you don't learn to enjoy dressing up."

"How come Gloria thinks I'd make a good Junior?"

"Because I told her. I asked her to send you the invitation."

"This is part of my training?"

"A large part."

"And there's no ulterior motive?"

"Like what?"

"Are you planning a raid on the Cloner City and need an inside man?"

Solange laughed.

"Do you want to know a secret? ... I have no plan to attack their city but when things became tense between the tribes a year or so ago, I was ready to break the Cloners economically. Then Gloria was elected chief and things changed at last. ... Gloria's a wise owl. She bends like a reed so she won't snap like a twig. Under her leadership, the Cloners are friendly and willing to compromise. They can even be generous and self-effacing."

"For example, there was talk at the Cloner Fair of bringing back the position of Prefect of Samothea. You understand what that means?"

"Yes," Wildchild answered. "It means the Cloners would be subordinate to someone who might come from any of the tribes."

"Exactly! In four years or so, when Gloria stands for re-election, there might be an even higher position available, perhaps for someone young and ambitious."

Wildchild thought on that statement for a minute, then she said:

"I haven't decided anything but can I have the necklace?"

"Let me put it on you. ... Your great-grandmother wore it. As you know, she was the first Prefect of Samothea."

Wildchild turned her back and Solange put the necklace around her neck, clipping it together.

"You have beautiful hair, Wildchild. Why do you cut it short? When you're a Junior, you should let it grow."

Wildchild hid the necklace under her shirt, not wanting anyone to see her wear jewellery; but she had something for Solange. She undid the holster on her thigh and handed over the hunting knife.

"For Mum," she said.

"Keep it," Solange replied. "I dare say she'd have given it to you, if you'd only asked."

Wildchild gave her a sheepish grin. Solange returned a big smile.

"Off you go," she said, "but don't take too long to decide."

Wildchild released her horse from the hobble and jumped on its back. She galloped onto the plain and was gone an hour. By the time she trotted back, she'd decided to become a Junior.

The first person she told was Tamar. Everyone heard the peal of laughter. Then Carlin joined them and there was more giggling as she caught up with the news.

Ezra was talking to Solange when they heard the merriment.

"I see that Wildchild has decided," she said.

"Decided what?"

"She's going to the Cloner City to learn how to be a girl," Solange explained with a wry smile.

"That's absurd," Ezra laughed. "Except for Tamar, whom she loves, and Carlin, who first taught her how to use a bow and arrow, Wildchild doesn't even like girls."

"Well she'll have to learn how because she'll be spending a year with the girliest young women on the planet."

"You arranged this: you persuaded her? Is there anything you can't do?"

"I'll let you know when I find it."

Ezra laughed again, though he wasn't entirely sure that Solange was joking.

When Wildchild told Ezra about her decision, she added:

"I still want a child, but not yet."

"Very wise," he said. "Teenage years are for having fun. Wait until you're twenty."

"I'm not waiting that long," she said. "I'll be back in a year."

He kissed her forehead, just as she liked, and she smiled up at him.

Wildchild gave Solange a sheepish smile. She didn't explain her decision but Solange didn't ask for a reason. She simply said:

"It's a good decision, and your first task will be your hardest."

"What is it?"

"You have to tell Mirselene that you're leaving the Woodlanders for a year. I wish you good luck."

******

Now the raft was loaded up it was time to leave the salvage campsite. With a strong heave, the Herders helped launch the raft into the ocean and waved goodbye to the Mariners (who included Yumi, Dagma and Ezra). They paddled hard to begin their journey home. It was expected to take two days, assisted by the northward current of the long-shore drift.

The riders set off. Tamar and Wildchild shared their horse; Megan gave Carlin a lift. After a few miles riding on the grassy plain under a hot sun, they said goodbye to Glynn, who was hugging the coast, taking her packhorse to the Mariner Settlement. Solange, Ash and the others turned inland, heading for the Herder's Northern Camp.

As they trotted, Solange had something more to say to Wildchild.

"Do you like your pony?" she asked.

She was a feisty, angry mare, slightly insane but very strong and quick.

"I love her," Wildchild said.

"I'll let you keep her, on one condition."

"What condition?" Wildchild was suspicious.

"I bet you can't go a year without getting into a fight."

Wildchild didn't think it would be that difficult. She hadn't fought with any of the Woodlanders, though she'd lived among them for a year.

"Not just no fights," Solange elaborated: "no retaliating if someone attacks you. No swearing or shouting at anyone; no sullen disobedience or dumb insolence; no running away because you're having a strop. In fact, no strops at all! I bet you can't keep your temper for a whole year."

"And if I do, I can keep her forever?"

"You can - but I'll take her back the first bad report I get of you."

"I can do it, easily."

"Good. ... A horse isn't much use in the forest, so leave her in the Northern Camp for now, until you're ready to go to the Cloner City."

"Thank you," Wildchild said, quietly.

"Don't thank me," Solange said, riding away. "You haven't won the bet yet."

3

The riders reached the Northern Camp that evening and stayed over-night. Next day, Wildchild said a temporary goodbye to her horse and joined Carlin and Tamar on the long trek to the Woodlanders' Forest Camp.