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Everyone was stirring; Rudi took down a canvas water bottle from a peg and obeyed part of the herald's injunction. The more he looked around, the more he was impressed with the neat economy of space; their weapons, armor and other gear were all stowed overhead on racks that folded down from the ceiling, for example, and the middle of the tent had a ceramic plate inset to mount a stove in cold weather, with a space for a flue ru
"Rise and shine, men!" he called, as he rolled up his bedding and lashed it to the wall with the thongs provided.
Groans and grunts answered him; like his mother he was always cheerful in the morning, and it had always mystified him why some people resented it.
Why waste the day? There's things to be doing! But sure, you can't convince the sleepyheads.
He slipped on his kilt instead and picked up his shaving kit; Ingolf joined him, and they ducked out of the door-thoughtfully leaving it open to the bright early-morning sunlight and cool air. A pillow thrown by Odard, who was not cheerful in the mornings, bounced off their backs.
"Whatever's cooking smells very good indeed," Rudi said; it involved frying and, he thought, onions. "Odard will crawl out when it penetrates."
Men in breechclouts were walking past; the two travelers jumped down from the wagon platform and joined them at their friendly invitation.
Seen by daylight the hocoka was a great horseshoe of the tents-on-wheels, with an opening to the east and the tent doors facing inward; their white exteriors were painted in colorful geometric patterns, or stylized birds and beasts, or what looked like murals. Some of the larger ones had words inset in the decorations: at a glance he saw LIBRARY and CLINIC. Rudi estimated at least a hundred and fifty of the dwellings in all, not counting two huge conical tipis flanking the entrance and another, even larger and colored red, in the center of the open space. Smoke drifted from cookfires, mostly under sheet-metal tubs on legs or Dutch ovens, and the intoxicating smell of brewing chicory was strong.
And I'm even begi
The interior of the great encampment had been trodden to bare dust, but grass was soft beneath the soles of his feet when the crowd left it. Around was a view of mile upon mile of rolling green splashed with drifts of the delicate white-pink prairie rose, taller purple coneflower, scarlet western lily and yellow wild sunflower. The ground dropped off to a fair-sized river southward, and the Black Hills showed clear to the north, but most of the horizon was like a bowl dropped over a world of infinite spaces.
A roped-off enclosure not far away held the ready-use horses, and herds of horses, red-coated cattle and off-white sheep dotted the landscape. Outside the circle of living-tents was a vehicle park, wagons of every size and shape and description, from ones that wouldn't have looked out of place on the Oregon Trail to cut-down pickup trucks and converted mobile homes.
Red Leaf waved, then came over as they walked down to the water. "Men bathe here," he said. "Women over there, and stock water below that."
Rudi nodded; Mackenzies didn't have much of a nudity taboo in their communal bathhouses, but other folk were more prudish, he knew. There were a good three or four hundred in the crowd who dove into the water and splashed around with much horseplay, from boys just a little too old to join the women down to the few elders; his mind automatically noted that well over half were fit to bear arms, and looked as if they could, too. A lot of them had brought their weapons to the riverbank, within easy grabbing range, even though it was obvious nobody expected real trouble.
He swam in the cold water, scrubbed with soap and sand, cautiously around the sore spots, shaved with his straight razor, and headed back for the tent.
Should I try growing a beard again? No, still too patchy.
The warm dry air had the last of the water off his skin by the time he'd gotten back…
And I'm a little reluctant to put the old clothes back on. Well, we'll have time to wash them There was the first surprise; their clothes had been taken away to be cleaned and repaired, and new outfits set out for all of them-his consisted of buckskin trousers with buffalo-hair fringes down the seams flanked by colorful quillwork, and a linsey-woolsey tunic bleached creamy white with bands of beads in geometric patterns along the sleeves and in a triangle at the neck.
Mathilda and his sisters and Virginia Kane came back from the women's section of the river; they'd been decked out in dresses that had capelike upper sections, with rows of shells across the yokes, flowers and birds along the hems, belts with hammered silver conchos, and moccasins done with a buffalo-hoof design; some of Red Leaf's female relatives sat with them, dressing their hair in local style. Others headed for Rudi and the others with combs in their hands and determination in their eyes; Odard's bowl crop, Father Ignatius' neat tonsure and Fred Thurston's short cap of wiry fuzz defeated them, but Rudi and Ingolf and Edain soon had twin braids fur-wrapped, albeit rather shorter than the local fashion.
Rudi's had two long raven feathers tucked in. "Sure, and the Raven is the bird of my sept," he said.
The girl doing his hair nodded. "And she's the bird of the battle-fields. These are for the two coups you counted yesterday. And this"-she added an eagle feather-"is for saving my brother's life."
He stood to buckle his sword belt, and the girl-she was about fourteen-glanced up at him with an unconscious sigh, clasping her hands together. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Mathilda looking at him with a pawky raised eyebrow. She mouthed peacock at him, and he replied with a silent you're another!
"My, my, don't you all look fine," Red Leaf said, when the work was done.
He poked a finger at Rudi: "You know, you're a dead ringer for a guy on the cover of one of those Sweet Savage Romance books I saw before the Change. There was this Swedish… woman… who used to haunt the powwows, she read 'em by the cartload; thought she was the reincarnation of an Indian Princess. We called her Princess Yumping Yimminy-"
Rick Three Bears grunted; probably because the massive bruise along his flank and the left side of his face made talking painful. He rolled his eyes and made the effort anyway:
"Dad, nobody's interested in what happened before the Change-at least, not right before. Let's go eat. Mom got up before dawn to start breakfast and she'll have a cow if anything spoils."
The visitors kept their faces polite, as was fitting for guests; Rudi suspected it was with a bit of effort.
Because each of us has thought exactly the same thing about our own oldsters, haven't we now?
From the wry smile, Red Leaf knew what they were thinking; he led the way to his own extended family's quarters, located in the place of honor near the hocoka 's entrance. His household had a set of five of the round platform-tents, with the sides rolled up to the roofline for better ventilation on the fine early-summer morning. The itancan introduced his wife, Sungila Win-a matronly lady a little younger than he, presumably named Fox Woman for her hair, with pleasant green eyes-and their four children, from one barely walking, stumping around in a moss-stuffed hide diaper, to Rick Three Bears' early twenties; his wife, his two children, his widowed sister and her three children and their spouses and infants, four young cousins and a brace of servant girls (who ate with the rest), and a couple of guests.
Evidently an itancan -chief was expected to keep open house.