Arn was surprised when his siblings persuaded their mother to still invite him to their cook fire at the big gathering midway through the month. Home-maker Urtha sat with folded legs on a leaf-stuffed blanket, with Arn’s oldest brother at her right. Joroth was more than ten years older than Arn, and was the village’s Builder Chief, like Torr was the Hunter Chief. Next sat all of Arn’s aunts and uncles, and then Keeya and Raal, his other two older siblings. Now that Bela had perished, the only one sitting on the far ring of the fire, with Arn, was the youngest daughter and his only remaining younger sibling, Ratha, whom Raal and he had called Little Rat for most of her life.
“Arn, give me some of that nectar,” Keeya demanded, and leaned over to take the small clay pot from him. She brushed some of the clear, sweet, substance on her tough bread, a dry loaf made from mathhar root.
Little Rat had been talking to Arn about her work with the fishers, and how disgusting it was to gut the bigger fish. He noticed she didn’t eat any fish at the meal, while everyone else did—if he hadn’t known for certain that Ratha had a weak will, he might have worried that she planned them harm in the form of poisoned fish, but the thought barely occurred to him as he listened to her prattle on. Rather abruptly, she changed her tune and asked, “Is Kaleb still out there?”
“What?” Arn asked, and looked at her. Urtha’s husband and Arn’s father, Naygar, had died a decade ago in a duel. Three years ago, his only brother, Kaleb, had told the tribe he was going to scout Scoa Isle, and had taken a raft out from Razaad to never return. Arn looked at his sister with a frown. “He’s dead. You should know that by now. No one survives on their own for three years, especially not on Scoa.”
“I suppose,” Little Rat muttered, and tossed three dark purple berries into her mouth.
Out of one of the nearby caves strode Logern, the chief fisher, with his second hand at his side and a spear in his hand. Another man followed, spear in hand, someone Arn didn’t know. There were many more people living on Razaad than Arn could remember names, and he spent his time remembering those of importance.
“I’ll make you take it back, Taran, or I’ll skewer you and use you for bait,” Logern called over his shoulder. Once they reached the middle of the village center, he turned and readied himself for a fight.
“What I said is true,” the man named Taran replied, warily awaiting Logern’s first move. “Your father was more eel than man and you’re no more a man than he.”
Logern cried out and charged at Taran, clashing staffs together once, twice, and a third time as they spun to and from. A crowd gathered quickly, including Stone Spear. Thalla found Arn’s side, in the commotion, to watch the fight with him, while Ratha looked on in earnest concern for Logern was her chief. They didn’t work side-by-side; she was a lowly carver, preparing the things his band and he caught, but his wellbeing still influenced her own.
It quickly became evident that Taran was a skilled fighter. Logern didn’t score a single hit on the man of low status, neither with spear tip or butt. At one point, Taran smashed the bottom of his spear onto Logern’s foot and then like a falling tree, slammed the top half of the staff forward. The angular point of the spear slashed Logern’s shoulder, splattered a few drops of blood down his arm. Things didn’t go well from there—Logern’s furious reply to the injury was met with a quick spin that sent him tumbling off balance. Followed by a few bruises with the blunt end of Taran’s spear, the toppling of Logern ended up being his downfall. Taran at last spun his spear around and showed the chief fisher the sharp end, before saying, “Mud eel,” and walking away.
Logern stayed down a moment more, drowning in shame. “I’ll be leading the fishing band now,” said his second-in-command and Logern said nothing to retort it. Not while he lay bruised and bleeding in the mud. Bravar, his second hand, still helped Logern to his feet, though the two had reversed roles.
Arn went back to his meal and offered Thalla a bite, while Ratha sat down with a sigh and ate nothing.