She had taken a few days to assimilate, sort and assign a place in her memory for the events that had happened within the past couple of hands. No matter many times she told herself that people were going to disappoint you and hurt you, she just never could really get it imbedded in her thought processes.
The return of the salt hunter and the bead maker had been confusing enough. As injured as he was, perhaps he had not been exactly in the right frame of mind to give any details or to answer any questions. That was understandable, considering his condition, but what happened later, she absolutely could not understand, or work it into a concept that made any kind of sense.
She had been able to speak to Sakmeta, and she has finally came to realize that perhaps the information she had received from her had been either lies, or veiled half-truths. Did she return with him of her own volition, as she claimed, or had he drug her back. Was she free, or was she a slave. Historically, Sakmeta always had been one to try and shade things in her own favor, when sometimes a simple truth would have served her better. Always one to try and go against everything that held them together as a people. There is a flash through her brain of something Fonce had said once of the girl, and she now understands it. Sad.
But, it was Polunu that truly brought this ache to her heart. She had always liked him, found him strong, funny and honorable. She considered him a friend, and that made what happened so much more painful and disappointing to her. They had given him time to heal, no one had roused him from a fevered state to question him. It was he that had stepped from the wagon, and into the fray, so to speak. Perhaps he was still feverish, not in his right mind. She tells herself this, because his actions that night are still just beyond her reckoning.
Did he lie, when he said that Sakmeta was his slave? If she was his slave, why did she not wear a collar, even a temporary one? And, if she was a slave, what would another few days of her being chained to the wheel of the wagon, to await the return of the Ubar, have mattered? She was a slave. It was just like he started to over react to things, and once he started, it was like an unguided wagon rolling down a hill.
He fought against everything that he should have known not to do. He went against the Ubar's orders, even to the point of deriding his word. He was disrespectful to not only the absent Ubar, he said derogatory and disrespectful things to Kamchak, who was basically second in command to the Ubar. To Kamchak, who had always showed a fondness to him. To Kamchak, who tried to calm him, but to no avail.
Did he just not understand that what he had done went against everything Tuchuk? Where along the trail, had he forgotten, Tribe above all. Tribe above your own personal wants or wishes. Without the laws and rules of the Tribe, there would be chaos and anarchy, did he think he was exempt from the rules that everyone else had to follow?
She could remember back to a time when Bo had literally stripped the hide off of Saresh's back with a whip, as punishment for deserting his men and running off to Ar to find Eva. She could remember the dead, emotionless look in Fonce's eyes when he declared that if Tanner returned to their lands, he was to be captured, chained and tried for treason.
What was it that the Salt Hunter think he had, that would put him beyond the punishments deemed appropriate for others? This is one of the things that ate at her.
But the think that truly killed her soul, was the disrespect that he showed to people that cared for him. Was he so besotted over the bead maker that he lied about her submitting to him, to try and get her off that wheel? Or, was he just so arrogant, that he thought himself above them all together?
For whatever his reasons were, it saddened and sickened her to see them both die in such a manner. But law is law, and when you go against the Ubar and the law, you must pay the consequences, how ever dire they are.
Part of it reminded her of a story that her father used to tell her brothers.
Once, back many seasons of snow ago, there was a little wild giani that had taken up with the caravan as it moved. He was an arrogant, curious little thing, and that ended up being his downfall.
One day he got too close to a wagon, and the front wheels ran over the tip of his tail, cutting it off. Being the curious creature that he was, he turned to investigate the severed bit of tail, and when he did,the back wheels ran over his neck, severing his head.
The moral? Do not lose your head, over a piece of tail.
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