ahead and to our flanks, usually many leagues distant from the main body.”
“I don’t understand, Gudon,” Lynan said, his expression still showing his surprise. “I thought the Chetts lived in groups of a hundred or so. You told me so yourself on the journey to the Algonka Pass.”
“We lived like that for centuries until the Slaver War. Korigan’s father realized we had to unite to fight the incursions of raiders like Rendle and Prado. But before he could unite the clans, each clan itself had to unite. There were as many squabbles and rivalries between each clan’s families as there were between the clans themselves. Now each clan moves and fights as a unit. It means they have to move a lot more, else the combined herd would destroy all the pasture, but it is worth it for the increased safety.”
Ager was carefully observing the clan below. “It seems random at first, the way the clan moves,” he said. “But I can see now how the outriders don’t keep to the same station. They are always moving, but always to another station.” He looked over to Gudon. “This is very impressive. I don’t think anyone in Grenda Lear realizes how organized the Chetts have become.”
“They think us simple herders,” Gudon agreed. “We prefer it that way.”
“They’re stopping,” Lynan said.
The Chett outriders had closed in on the herd and slowly, like honey on a knife, it oozed to a halt. The carts carrying the tents then formed a corral enclosing all but a dozen of the largest beasts that were led away and pegged nearby.
“The bulls,” Gudon explained.
“Why so many?”
“Trade. Our herd is a large and healthy one. Other clans will give a great deal to have one of our bulls, thinking they are the secret of our clan’s success.”
“And what is the secret of your clan’s success?” Ager asked.
“Our queen,” Gudon said simply.
“Look, there’s Kumul,” Jenrosa said. She had spotted him halfway down the slope. Like the rest, he was transfixed by the sight of the clan and its herd. None of the easterners had expected to see anything of this scale on the Oceans of Grass.
“And here is Korigan,” Gudon said, pointing to a single rider coming their way. Tall and lithe, so confident on a horse, she was easy to pick out. When she reached them, she stopped in front of Lynan.
“Welcome to the heart of the White Wolf clan, your Majesty.” Her beautiful golden face beamed with pride. “You will always be welcome among us.”
Lynan nodded, still in awe. “Thank you, Korigan. I am honored.”
“My people are waiting to meet you all,” she said to everyone, and led the way down the slope to the corral, Kumul joining them as they passed.
As they drew nearer, small children jumped out of the tents and gathered around them. Like most Chetts, they were dressed in simple breeches and shirt, made from either linen or hide, with a cloth poncho over their shoulders. Their hair was cut short, again like most of the adults. Gudon had once told Lynan that among his people hair was a precious resources, used for binding and stitching.
Most of the children’s attention was given to Kumul and Ager, the first so huge he must have seemed like a mountain on legs to them, the second so bent over they were surprised he could ride at all. At first they ignored Lynan; in his poncho and wide-brimmed hat, he could almost have been one of them.
The children were soon joined by a few of the outriders, and the procession finally wound its way to the biggest tent, sitting astride the largest wagon Lynan and his companions had ever seen. The tent was made from several panels of boiled leather, stitched together with thick strands of twined sinew. Each panel was painted a different color, the one above the door also carrying a pictogram of a white wolf.
Before the riders halted there was the sound of a fast-approaching horse. They looked behind them and saw an outrider, his hat hanging from his neck by its cord, his
“I don’t understand, Gudon,” Lynan said, his expression still showing his surprise. “I thought the Chetts lived in groups of a hundred or so. You told me so yourself on the journey to the Algonka Pass.”
“We lived like that for centuries until the Slaver War. Korigan’s father realized we had to unite to fight the incursions of raiders like Rendle and Prado. But before he could unite the clans, each clan itself had to unite. There were as many squabbles and rivalries between each clan’s families as there were between the clans themselves. Now each clan moves and fights as a unit. It means they have to move a lot more, else the combined herd would destroy all the pasture, but it is worth it for the increased safety.”
Ager was carefully observing the clan below. “It seems random at first, the way the clan moves,” he said. “But I can see now how the outriders don’t keep to the same station. They are always moving, but always to another station.” He looked over to Gudon. “This is very impressive. I don’t think anyone in Grenda Lear realizes how organized the Chetts have become.”
“They think us simple herders,” Gudon agreed. “We prefer it that way.”
“They’re stopping,” Lynan said.
The Chett outriders had closed in on the herd and slowly, like honey on a knife, it oozed to a halt. The carts carrying the tents then formed a corral enclosing all but a dozen of the largest beasts that were led away and pegged nearby.
“The bulls,” Gudon explained.
“Why so many?”
“Trade. Our herd is a large and healthy one. Other clans will give a great deal to have one of our bulls, thinking they are the secret of our clan’s success.”
“And what is the secret of your clan’s success?” Ager asked.
“Our queen,” Gudon said simply.
“Look, there’s Kumul,” Jenrosa said. She had spotted him halfway down the slope. Like the rest, he was transfixed by the sight of the clan and its herd. None of the easterners had expected to see anything of this scale on the Oceans of Grass.
“And here is Korigan,” Gudon said, pointing to a single rider coming their way. Tall and lithe, so confident on a horse, she was easy to pick out. When she reached them, she stopped in front of Lynan.
“Welcome to the heart of the White Wolf clan, your Majesty.” Her beautiful golden face beamed with pride. “You will always be welcome among us.”
Lynan nodded, still in awe. “Thank you, Korigan. I am honored.”
“My people are waiting to meet you all,” she said to everyone, and led the way down the slope to the corral, Kumul joining them as they passed.
As they drew nearer, small children jumped out of the tents and gathered around them. Like most Chetts, they were dressed in simple breeches and shirt, made from either linen or hide, with a cloth poncho over their shoulders. Their hair was cut short, again like most of the adults. Gudon had once told Lynan that among his people hair was a precious resources, used for binding and stitching.
Most of the children’s attention was given to Kumul and Ager, the first so huge he must have seemed like a mountain on legs to them, the second so bent over they were surprised he could ride at all. At first they ignored Lynan; in his poncho and wide-brimmed hat, he could almost have been one of them.
The children were soon joined by a few of the outriders, and the procession finally wound its way to the biggest tent, sitting astride the largest wagon Lynan and his companions had ever seen. The tent was made from several panels of boiled leather, stitched together with thick strands of twined sinew. Each panel was painted a different color, the one above the door also carrying a pictogram of a white wolf.
Before the riders halted there was the sound of a fast-approaching horse. They looked behind them and saw an outrider, his hat hanging from his neck by its cord, his
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