Chapter 2

The two silk tents weighed practically nothing, and folded up very small. Both were the same size, one a rose pink, Wong's former tent, the other a dark wine color. They were short enough that one could not stand inside, but could sit comfortably even on a cushion. Taking cushions on an adventure, John thought with a wry grimace. However, it beat sitting on the hard ground. At least the things being carried by the extra horses were light, rugs and blankets and bedding, and not taxing.

John winced as he used his throwing axe to chop wood, but what are you going to do, anyway. Needs does, as needs must, after all. At least he wasn't using his sword. John was actually pretty peeved about the whole Tuk appropriating his sword, but it wasn't worth kvetching about, and he had to admit, the young man was very nearly as good as John was. It was the reflexes, he had quicker reflexes, and while he wasn't quite as deft, with that sword, it hardly mattered.

Zithrusa started their supper as John built the fire, and Tuk set up the tents on a clean level spot of ground, too close to each other for John's liking. Not worth fussing about. John missed the smooth meshing of chores that had occurred when Wong was their sidekick, Wong was often noticeable only by his absence. You only noticed when he was not around, being helpful and smoothing the way. Also, John was used to being the top dog, the center around which the world revolved, John's world. Now, John was the sidekick, and it was Tuk's adventure, and he had even taken John's sword!

John hadn't had a boss for a few years, not in this world. Being the Headman's son hadn't seemed like working for someone else, the jobs had been self-directed, he had been allowed a lot of freedom herding the sheep or goats or horses. Hunting for the Caravan master had also been self-directed, he could bring in whatever kind of game he wanted, and could harvest furs for his own enrichment as well. Also, he would use his evenings to carve or make things. That is what he needed, he needed to make things, things for his own comfort and use. John started thinking about what was needed right now by Zithrusa and himself.

Tuk efficiently got the tents erected, and the gear off of the horses and put away. He took the horses out to a patch to graze upon, and hobbled the animals. Tuk sensed that John was irritated, and he didn't know what he had done to bother him, but he knew he had done something. He came back to the fire, and by then Zithrusa had the simple meal ready. She dished Tuk up first, then John, then herself. This was significant, but neither John nor Tuk understood the meaning. The children were fed first in the family, then the men, then the women and elders. Zithrusa held Tuk in the category of dependent, and had mild mothering instincts towards him. He was taking the place of her one and a half year old little boy, to some slight subliminal degree.

After dinner, John bowed out of a story, he was very tired of telling stories by now. He suggested that since they were on an adventure, they didn't need adventure stories. He suggested that Zithrusa play her erghil for them, instead. They sat around the dying fire, the stars getting brighter as the night deepened, and listened to the haunting, melodic vibrations of the shivering strings.

Zithrusa's music had been more melancholy than usual this night, she missed her little Butalos, but had ambitions for him that were stronger than mothering. She had always been all about the status, and having her son as potential Emperor was worth a little heartache. Besides, it would destroy her to lose her John. She was from enduring nomadic stock, and mothers had sent their children (admittedly not under two years old) off to tend the herds for centuries. A nomadic woman could expect to lose up to two or three of every ten children born to her in the first two years due to disease or hardship. The tough survived, and four year old children walked most of the migration routes, wearing their lovingly crafted boots.

It hardly seemed very adventurous yet, traveling through well-cultivated lands, with towns to pass by every few hours. John had a placard, signed by The Emperor himself, authorizing free unhindered travel anywhere within the Empire, in case they were stopped and questioned by the Imperial Guards. This would prevent the fiasco of having 'Tuk' command that they bow before their Emperor, and the inevitable chaos which would ensue. Much safer just to show their pass, and pass on by. They didn't even need it, anyway. Tuk insisted they 'camp out' in the tents, which suited John and Zithrusa quite well. They were glad to get out on the road again, having felt the velvet trap of luxury slowly closing in upon them during their respite in the palace. John's spirits slowly rose, as he shook off his malaise and got into the spirit of the adventure.

Tuk took to telling stories of an evening, relating some curious fact, mystery, or strange beast collected by his widely seeking spies. His spies were well trained, and didn't report mere hysteria or rumor, but researched and interviewed, and collated the facts. He told about a dog who waited at the garden gate daily at the time of his master's return, for ten years after the master had gone to work and been killed in an accident. People should tell animals these things, tell them when they intend to move home to a new house, so the animals don't trek back across the whole country to their old home. How often does that happen, probably a lot more than the few cases we know about.