Back to The Waterworks: Feast

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 1 PM -- Holymolders]

> “I promised to help, and I will. We’ll talk later,” Tramma assured him
> just as quietly. “But first..” Her voice trailed off, and she shared a
> significant glance toward the two wizards and all the waiting
> tribesmen, then leaned away and raised her voice to comment brightly,
> “that will work just fine. Our hosts will completely understand if you
> tell them you are honoring that sort of promise. It worked on ME,
> after all. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Tramma nodded towards the twin lines of patiently waiting Holymolders
and the pair of acolytes contentedly watching their pal Tramma’s
discussion with their guests. With Sir Erik at the lead as the most
respected member of the visitor delegation, the visitors allowed
themselves to be escorted into the village interior.

The distinction between the abodes favoured by the Forest People and
their Kirith River Plains neighbours were quite distinct. Here among the
Forest People, the sturdy wigwams were the preferred structures, having
only the most superficial of similarities to the fabric and wood tipis
favoured by the Plainsfolk. Perhaps the most apparent difference between
the Holymolders and other Forest People tribal groups known to Sir Erik
was the locals’ firm connection to the nearby river. Fishnets were
suspended all about the place, many being painstakingly repaired by
their owners. Also prevalent were various canoes up on wooden blocks,
stored upended to keep them from being filled with rain, or upright
undergoing various stages of construction or repair. The Great River
Kirith was clearly an important factor among the lives of the
Holymolders, an element missing from many other Forest People tribes.

It was not by any sort of coincidence that the designated “telepad”
carefully studied by the various teleport capable mages was no real
distance from the village center. Far enough away for it not to be
awkward to keep the region clear, but close enough to be convenient for
any visiting Witch Doctors powerful enough to cast such potent magics…
and welcome enough to have been invited to have studied the designated
landing spot.

So it was only a matter of minutes before the visitors found themselves
at the village center. As with most tribal groups, a key focus of the
center of the assembled wigwams was an area cleared for the Leaders’
Council, a cleared spot around a firepit. There, sitting back against a
wicker backing with some cushions, a wise old lady sat smiling at her
approaching guests. Those “in the know” could recognize her beadwork
marking her as a very senior member of the Medicine Lodge. And of
course, those who had been here before knew that they were now face to
face with Great Medicine Woman Rayga, better known among the locals as
“Grandma Rayga”.

Tramma glanced significantly toward the Norse knight. For far from the
first time that day, Erik used his keen intuition into human
interactions to perceive that as the most senior member of the visiting
delegation, it was up to him to make the first greeting.

Fortunately, manners and courtesy were as natural to a holy knight as
breathing, and with the proper amount of formality, Sir Erik politely
bowed and graciously introduced himself. All to the amusement of the old
Medicine Woman sitting by the fire. However, Erik’s keen senses for
people suggested that the woman known as Grandma Rayga was not laughing
*at* him. Since the knight was not himself laughing, she could hardly be
laughing *with* him, but rather, she was laughing at the situation into
which both knight and Medicine Woman found themselves called to play
their respective parts.

“Let us not let formality get in the way of what’s REALLY important,
sonny,” Grandma Rayga chuckled. “Namely, this fine dinner my people have
ready and waiting. Please let these lads show you where you may tend to
your magnificent horse, and come back when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Miracle replied, dipping into an equine bow to the
Medicine Woman. “But if your lads show me the way, my Rider can remain
here to let you begin this fine meal all the sooner.”

Grandma Rayga clapped her hands in delight. “You are MUCH better than
that shambling excuse for a carpet Medicine Man Kenobi used. Thank you,
good steed; I’ll see that your Rider is well taken care of.”

Miracle gave a gracious nod, and allowed himself to be escorted away
towards a nearby paddock. The braves attending to him were clearly
abandoning any notions they might have had about hobbles or enclosures.
The white Spirit Horse would be free to come and go as he pleased.

After a quick wash that was more for ceremony than for any actual need,
Erik was seated at a place of honour next to the Great Medicine Woman,
with Tramma nearby. Not *too* far away were Finfin and Mithi, but
following local tradition, somewhat apart in the “witch doctor” corner
of the Circle.

As the ranking guest who was clearly close to The Spirits, Erik was
invited to say grace over the fine meal. Somewhat apologetically, Erik
explained that his Norse traditions were not strong on pre-meal
ceremonies, but he’d be quite happy to improvise. Sensing that this was
more a moment for brevity rather than ostentation, the knight intoned,
“Guðirnir eru miklir; við skulum borða núna.”

Once again, Grandma Rayga clapped in delight. “Excellent!” she
exclaimed. “Direct, and to the point!” She then chanted a few blessings
of her own, and a feeling of peace and contentment, supplemented by the
delicious scent of warm cornbread, wafted over the entire collection of
diners.

“*Now* let’s eat!” she encouraged, nodding for her guests to begin
first. And the meal truly was excellent, combining both fresh fish
caught that very day from the river, along with grains and vegetables
cultivated locally. Once everyone had a full trencher of food, the Great
Medicine Woman got down to business.

“I hope you’ll excuse me for skipping right to the point, young man,”
she explained. “When you are my age, you learn not to waste time.”
Gently, she shushed her two acolytes before they could protest. “Now,
hush, you two. I’ve had a fine life, and Nature’s Way is that all things
must end in their time. And as much as I enjoy everyone’s company, I am
ready whenever I am Called.”

To Erik, she asked pointedly, “So, young man, why are you here?”

“Ma’am,” Erik began. “I am here to learn more about the plight of the
Flying Tigers, and how I might be able to help.”

“Are you, now?” Grandma Rayga asked, clearly intrigued. “Has Kenobi
filled you in with everything he’d learned on HIS last visit here?”

“Perhaps not *everything*,” Erik replied diplomatically. “He and I have
been operating on opposite sides of the Forest for the past month.”

“Very fairly said,” the Medicine Woman answered approvingly. “Well,
sonny boy, I’ll give you the rundown.” And with that, Grandma Rayga
spelled out for Erik the details of how the Flying Tigers served the
Forest People as a whole, while surrendering considerable amounts of
their freedom while doing so.

“Now,” Grandma Rayga continued, “what I may not have made as clear as I
perhaps ought to have to Kenobi is that I personally do NOT hold with
the notion that the Forest People are being mindless oppressors of the
Flying Tigers. Not with the constant reminder of our Bruin Confederation
neighbours to the north.”

Helpfully, Tramma amplified the old woman’s theme. “A different tribal
federation with lycanthrope protectors and champions. In their case,
werebears.”

Grandma Rayga nodded grimly. “And while they’re not bad as individuals,
taken together Duh Bears aren’t shy about telling everyone how to live.
For the greater good, of course, but even with the best of reasons, that
high handed – or pawed – management style wouldn’t sit well with a lot
of the folks around here. Myself included. So the Forest People have
every reason to be very wary of their guardians one day becoming their
rulers.”

“So you’re *happy* with the current setup between the Flying Tigers and
the Forest People leadership?” Tramma asked, not entirely able to hide
the hint of disappointment in her voice.

Far from being offended, the old Medicine Woman chuckled. “To hear you
fuss, child. I never said *that*. I think there is *certainly* room for
improvement. Now mind you, I have no problems with the Flying Tigers
being answerable to the will of the Grand Council, and not the other way
around. They hold extraordinary power, different in kind but not always
in degree to the power that a skilled warrior might hold over his or her
more peaceable brethren.”

“So just as the braves are answerable to their Chiefs who in turn heed
the Grand Council, the Flying Tigers have a similar chain of command,”
Rayga explained. “To let those with power run unchecked to do as they
will to those with less power is simple warlordism.” She sat in thought
a long moment, staring intently at Erik and the others, then nodded
slowly to herself, before waving Sabia and Morden out of hearing as she
leaned toward the others.

“There are things I must tell you in confidence later,” Rayga explained
intently. “Some of what you ask has long been held a matter only for the
Elders of the Councils. You are recognized as a Great Chief by those
Councils, which makes explaining those secrets a Medicine Lodge duty.
Have patience; even a revered Elder renowned for both wisdom and doing
things her way must be wise enough to not always act as her heart has
long desired.”

“Ma’am?” Tramma asked. “What, then, do you want?”

“Why, child, THAT is no Council secret, much to the dismay of many of my
peers. I have long advocated for the Flying Tigers to have a *voice* in
the Grand Council,” the old Medicine Woman explained patiently. “Just
now, they have NO representation at all, and that strikes me as
*entirely* unfair. Especially since often they are the ones with the
best understanding of many situations we debate. I would see them have a
representative to express their own desires and wishes. With only a
single voice, they would not be able to overrule the rest of the
Council, but at least they would have a SAY. The situation as it stands
now with NO representation strikes me as too close to slavery.”

“Which I’ll bet is not a popular viewpoint with many of the other
leaders,” Tramma speculated, looking sadly at her hostess.

“Oh, now don’t YOU begin to fuss,” Grandma Rayga replied fondly. “I
stopped caring what others have thought of me years ago, and I’m hardly
going to start NOW. Would this cure *every* ill that the Flying Tigers
face in our society? Of course not. But it would be an important step in
the right direction, a step that later generations could use to build
upon when events prove that the world does NOT come to an end simply by
letting our protectors have a voice.”

“To my mind at least, they long ago EARNED the voice they have been
denied,” Rayga insisted forcefully. “They have paid in their own honor,
blood, and tears. The Flying Tigers have stood steadfast against every
threat we have faced, even against…” her voice trailed off and she
brooded a moment in silence before continuing. “Best I explain that
later. For now, I will say only that my own belief is the very least we
should do in thanks is let them have a say in our Councils, though I
think I can help you see why the rest of the Forest People have refused
for so long.”

The old Medicine Woman’s expression suddenly lightened and she chuckled
as she added, “And yet, even though this is something that will take
generations, some call *me* a radical who wants to tear up everything,
just for the sake of change. No, young man,” she concluded, looking
intently at Erik, “I am very glad our new allies see the injustice - but
we must tread VERY carefully in correcting this problem. This is a LONG
standing problem whose solution may well lie beyond the lifespan of
everyone present.”

She gave a wry smile towards the witch doctor corner of the Circle and
added, “Well, beyond *most* of us, perhaps.”