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.Tsata found himself smiling.At the base of the trees, traditional three-sided yurts called repka had been built.They were communal places for living and sleeping, with splayed, tunnel-like arms around a large hub construction with a chimney-hole through which curls of smoke rose.Other fires had been made outside: the hunters had already caught some of the local wildlife, and Tsata had been busy indicating foods that were safe to eat.He was recognised as the authority on Saramyr within the pash, having been here before and having studied its language and its customs long before that.It was the way among the Tkiurathi that they were all teachers, each one sharing what unique knowledge or abilities they had.It had been one such man who had taught Tsata Saramyrrhic, a man who had travelled and lived here for decades before returning to his homeland.Tsata had a particular gift for languages – he had already learned a good deal of Quraal, which was the lingua franca of the trading settlements dotted around the Okhamban coast – and he had been bewildered and fascinated by stories of Saramyr.He applied himself to learning Saramyrrhic with a singularity of purpose that impressed his teacher, and within a few years he was as skilled at it as any foreigner could be.The months he had spent here had improved his command of the language vastly, but even now he was not entirely fluent in the overwhelming multitude of modes and inflections, the tiny subtleties of High Saramyrrhic that only those born to it could hope to master.When he looked away from the settlement and back to the trail, Kaiku was there.She was regarding him impishly, a wry expression on her face.‘Are you coming down here, or shall I come up there?’ she called.He laughed; he knew her well enough to tell that she was not bluffing.With monkey-like grace, he slipped off the branch and swung from it to the ground ten feet below.There was a moment of awkward hesitation as they met, as each tried to determine whether to greet the other in their native fashion or that of the foreigner; then Kaiku stood on tiptoes, kissed him on the forehead and embraced him.Tsata was warmly surprised: it was an unusual gesture of extraordinary intimacy for a Saramyr to bestow.‘Welcome back,’ she said.‘It is good to be here,’ he said.‘I wish all welcomes had been as pleasant.’‘The feya-kori,’ Kaiku murmured, nodding slightly.‘I fear you could have timed your arrival a little better.’‘Perhaps we have arrived at just the right moment,’ he countered.‘From what I have learned, there have been no darker days than these.And there is no further need to convince my people of the threat to us; the men who return to Okhamba will spread the word.Seventy-five of us lost their lives the day we landed, but the remainder will fight harder for their sacrifice.’ His face cleared suddenly.‘But we can talk of such things later.Let me show you our new home.And you must tell me what has occurred in my absence.’It was as if they had never been apart.They fell easily into the rhythms of conversation that they had established during their long period of isolation, when they had lived and hunted together in the shattered wilderness of the Xarana Fault.He talked of the many obstacles he had faced in his mission to alert his people to the danger of the Weavers.Kaiku spoke of her induction into the Red Order and her training.She told him also of Lucia and Mishani; he had met them briefly before his departure from the Fold, but he knew them primarily through Kaiku’s stories.And she spoke of her fears for Lucia, and about the Weave-whales, and the plight of the beleaguered forces of the Empire.They wandered the village as they talked.Kaiku had chosen travel clothes over the attire of the Order for her visit to the Tkiurathi village, for she did not wish to appear intimidating.Now she was glad that she had.Amid the informality of the Tkiurathi, she would have felt self-conscious in her make-up.The people were muscled and lean, their skin tough and their hands seamed through the rigours of their lifestyle
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