Legends of Belariath
Saline Kyle
The Lost Clan of the Tribe Part 2
A soft moan brought mage's eyes from his laboratory desk to look to where the Tribe's child was held. Sighing at what would be a very difficult adjustment for the girl, Meltorn stood at her side, reinforcing the magical restraints he’d placed on her for her own good …and his.
”Kay'Satara. Come, child,” he said, gently stroking her now white cheek. “Its' time to awaken.” Slowly, her eyes fluttered open to look up at a man she didn't recognize at first. Shouting rapidly in Tribal tongue, the terrified young warrior began fighting her bonds.
”Easy, Kay'Satara,” the man said. “You're safe, child. Remember your uncle. You're at my school for training. Come, child, open your eyes and think.” He said these things over and over praying she'd listen to reason. It took several minutes but as he repeated himself Kay'Satara began to slow down. Her struggles subsided to rapid breathing and trimmers over her body.
”Why can't I move?” she managed in breathless Trade language.
”I'm using my magic to hold you to the table,” he explained. “I thought it’d be best this way.” Her now bright blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.
”Why?” she demanded in great fear of what the mage had already said he planned to do to her.
”I'll show you,” Meltorn said, “but you must try to control yourself. The spell worked just as I planned. You'll have to accept your new form, and I thought it safer for you to be restrained then risk you hurting yourself or others… me. Prepare yourself.” Her mind raced with different thoughts. She tried to decide if she actually felt any change in her body. Closing her eyes, Kay'Satara took a mental inventory of her body. A pressure surrounded her head like needing to pop her ears when she climbed to the top of Mt. Shakir as a test of her ability to overcome her fears of height. Now that feeling surrounded her entire body.
”Open your eyes, child,” the Outlander man ordered. Very slowly and with more then a little fear, Kay'Satara let her eyes open to see a reflection of a young woman she couldn't even begin to equate to being herself. The Outlander girl staring back at her had eyes of a bright sky blue. Blonde hair showered around white shoulders. As the young warrior looked at these strange changes, Kay'Satara saw creamy white skin completely without blemish or mark. Without mark!
”My tattoos!” she screamed, “Where are my tattoos?!? What have you done to me?!?” The loss of her tattoos meant the erasing of her life. Even covering the Marks of the Tribe was considered sacrilege to any warrior. Gone. The tale of her family and life had disappeared.
”Kay'Satara, listen to me,” the mage said, “Nothing is gone. Your tattoos are still there I've just covered them for awhile...”
”No!” the teen screamed, “I want to see them! You've taken my life!”
”Damn it, Kay'Satara!” Meltorn snapped. “Enough of this cowardice! Act like a warrior and not a baby needing a mother’s teat!” That slowed the thrashing on the stone table as the severe insult cut through her panic and fear to bring her back to herself.
”Me? A coward?” she hissed, glaring up at the mage. “Never.”
”Then you must accept this is how you'll look for the time being,” he said. “The harder you work at learning, the faster you can return to your clan and your natural state.” She thought over his words and had to agree with the Outlander mage as much as it sickened her.
”I can't live without seeing the marks of my clan,” she said in a soft, controlled voice. The mage considered the problem very carefully weighing the possibility of someone seeing her in her natural form before making his decision.
”I'll make it within your quarters you resume your natural form,” he said, stroking his beard of white. “I can ward your room that no one but you and I will be able to enter the chambers. Will that help you at all?” Maybe this Outlander mage did understand her pain, if only a little.
”It will,” she said, solemnly. “You may release me, elder. I've regained my self-control.” Meltorn took the invisible chains away letting her rise up slowly.
”My head feels strange,” the young woman complained mildly shaking her head a little.
”That’s the force of my power around your body,” he explained, “It won't cause you harm but it’ll be uncomfortable. Can you handle the nuisance?” Her blue eyes sparkled with contempt at the question.
”I'm a warrior,” she growled. “I can handle this as nothing.”
”I'm pleased to hear you say that, Kay'Satara,” the mage said, handing her a robe to cover herself though she didn't seem to mind her nakedness. “There’s one more thing we must talk about. While you're a student at my school you'll be known as Tara.” The girl flinched then took a deep breath to steel her nerves.
”I understand, elder,” she said with the lightest of growls.
”Come with me, Tara,” he said, waving the door open. “I'll take you to your rooms so you can dress, then I'll show you around the school. You'll start classes first thing in the morning.” Reluctantly, Kay'Satara followed him up the stone staircase.
The young woman stood before a full length staring at the strangest sight she never thought to see. Her beautiful braids were loosed to let her hair flow about her shoulders, and in her face.
”How could any warrior go into battle like this?” Kay'Satara hissed, as her hands tried to brush the silky nuisances from her eyes. Gentle laughter brought her angry eyes to the mage. He sat at the foot of a beautiful brass canopy bed decorated with flowers made of silver. A canopy of the finest rich pink cloth rose above a bed of wool blankets and satin sheets. Most young ladies would be thrilled to sleep in such a luxurious bed. Meltorn looked to where a plain pallet was set in such a way as to keep the door and windows in plain sight. Kay'Satara chose to sleep in the way of her raising. A thin pad of leather, treated to resist water, made up the bed with the furry hide of a black bear to serve as cover.
”Young ladies from Crishdon aren't prone to go into battle, Tara,” he said, standing. “You should hurry into this robe so we can have breakfast before I introduce you to your classmates.” Kay'Satara turned to look at the puny man and snorted in irritation.
”I'm dressed, elder,” she stated. “This is what you laid out for me.” Meltorn rolled his eyes to the ceiling seeking guidance from the gods.
”Those are undergarments, Tara,” he sighed, then gestured to something of blue and white cloth laying on the foot of the bed. “This is the robe you'll be wearing. It goes over the garments you have on.” She looked down to the tight cloth shirt that covered her breasts. A baggy thing covered her waist and sex. This was the most the young woman had ever put over her body except in the cold months.
”Undergarments?” she questioned looking back at the mirror. “What are ‘undergarments’?”
”This is what a young woman wears under her clothing, Tara,” Meltorn said trying to explain. She went over to stand in front of the embarrassed man putting her hands on her shapely hips.
”That doesn't explain why, elder,” Kay'Satara snorted.
”It’s-it’s just-,” the mage stammered trying to find a way to help his charge understand a custom not of her people and failing completely. “Tara, it’s just the way it is. You must wear a student's robes over those garments. Let me help you.” He picked up the robe, and showed her where to put her arms through to the sleeves. It was designed to wrap around the wearer once and tied under the left arm and down the left side. After he had finished getting her into the thing, the young warrior went back to the mirror to look at what she now had on. Her legs would be hampered to the point of making running nearly impossible. The flowing sleeves of the arms slowed her arms. In all it was the most ungainly use of clothe she could ever have imagined anyone in the right mind making.
”And you went into battle like this?” the Tribe child asked raising one eyebrow. “That you survived had to be the protection my uncle gave you.”
”The robes a wizard wears in battle are quite different, Tara,” he said. “Most mages choose to wear a more casual tunic, and pants under a shorter, tighter robe. I assure you I held my own in combat quite well. Don't forget your slippers.” Kay'Satara went over to where the footwear lay, then looked back at the Outlander.
”I'd rather go without it, elder,” she said, “They’re tight and made of a material that doesn't breath. Couldn't I just wear my low boots?”
”Now, Tara, I'm dressing you as one would except from a young woman from any kingdom,” Meltorn said, “Even your low boots would be out of place.” With yet another snort of irritation, she forced her feet into the stiff and confining footgear.
”I'm sure to get sores on my feet,” Kay'Satara muttered in disgust following the man from her chambers. As she passed through the door, the spell of change once more wrapped itself around her body. One more annoyance to keep the teen on edge.
Breakfast turned out to be as strange as the clothes she was forced to wear. At home, Kay'Satara could expect to eat venison with thick cheese, and stone baked bread. A large glass of goat's milk and fresh wild berries to top it. What lay before her looked like nothing she had ever seen.
”What is this again, elder?” she asked pushing some soft yellow fluff around on her equally strange glass plate. Looking up, Meltorn smiled at the look of dismay on her face.
”That’s scrambled eggs, Tara” he said, then pointed to the fried meat, “That’s sausage, those are pancakes, and syrup which covers it. In your glass, you'll find fresh cow's milk.” Her nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar smell of the white liquid.
”Cow's milk?” Her eyes looked up to where he sat at the other end of the table. They were having their meal in his private dining hall.
”You know, your uncle had the exact same reaction,” he said, smiling at the memory. “I think if you give it a try, Tara, you might find you like eggs and sausage. Cow's milk is a little milder then the goat's milk you're used to. Still it has a pleasant taste I think. Please try.” After a few more moments of thought, Kay’Satara took up a bit of the eggs and gently stuck it onto her mouth. It felt as strange as it tasted to the young warrior. Still, she took another bite a bit larger then the first. Deciding the eggs were good, the young woman went to the pancakes. These flat cakes were soft as well. The sweetness of the syrup made Satara’s eyes water as her tongue was unused to such a shocking taste. Across the table, Meltorn smiled as memories of a younger day flashed through his mind. He was called back when the young Tribeswoman spit milk across the table. Her face wrinkled into a look of pure disgust.
“This is cold,” she gasped. “It tastes like beetle’s piss… I can’t drink this.” Looking at the mess on his table, the mage could only shake his head and smile.
“I suppose I can have goat’s milk brought in,” he said, “I’ve got a few other students who don’t like cow’s milk. Tara, you’re supposed to keep the milk chilled so it won’t go bad.”
“The Tribe doesn’t ‘chill’ goat’s milk,” she said, with a wrinkled nose. “That sounds stupid.”
“I’m sure it does, but that’s just the way they keep milk fresh around here,” Meltorn said with a shrug. “You’d better hurry up. We don’t want to be late for your first day of class.” Sighing, Kay’Satara finished her unusual meal with a frown of concern.