3. Songs of Fire

Kesho hadn’t asked Jambir to give a tour of the camp, but he received one anyway. His frustration grew when he noticed he didn’t actually hate the Jagu Tribe. First he wanted to attack or flee, then he discussed potential plans with Jambir to attack the jaguars, and now he mostly complained about how … weird they were.

The Asha Tribe had a collection of different species. The Jagu Tribe only had jaguars, using Gosti as their servants.

The Asha Tribe roamed and searched places where food was available. They barely had possessions and rarely built structures. The Jagu Tribe, however, had been in this exact place for a long time now. They’d built structures everywhere and clogged the Indus river with fishing nets.

The other members of the Asha Tribe slowly arrived. It became increasingly clear that they had no choice. The Jagu Tribe had conquered so much territory, and then walled it off with fences, that they could not go around them.

They had arrived through the northern border. The western border stopped at the wide river, while the southern border had the highest fences of all. His father was now searching for a way through the thick forest near the eastern border, but really gave it no chance: it was too far away from fresh water.

Each Asha member eyed the jaguars with distrust upon entry. They looked back with equal distrust, no matter how much effort Jagu put into welcoming everybody with a smile and kind words.

Another oddity: they had a king. It took an entire day before Jagu understood that the Asha did not have a leader and hence Farshar wasn’t it. Even then, he found it confusing and kept calling Farshar “king of Asha”.

Many Asha members still wore loose animal skin as clothing, despite the end of the ice age. Additionally, all members carried a selection of feathers and animal teeth which they wore as necklaces, bracelets or headdresses. His tribe was a colorful appearance in which all looked unique and diverse—which contrasted in the ugliest of ways with the Jagu Tribe which had none of that.

The only “culture” he could discover was that the jaguars were chewing on something all day. As if they’d die if their jaws ever stopped moving.

When night fell, Jambir still wasn’t done with his tour and led him to the food storages.

“So this is where we store everything. The other fifteen are all filled to the brim, but this one …” Food was currently hauled into the opened store hut, which allowed Kesho to see how much it contained.

“That’s … that’s enough food for an entire lifetime!”

“Multiple lifetimes.”

“An entire tribe.”

Jambir nodded. “The only positive about this tribe. If I do my job, I’ll always have food, that much is certain.”

Kesho salivated again. No more hunting or collecting? No long winters with barely an edible scrap? He studied his missing arm and frail body again. If the Asha Tribe could store this much food, it wouldn’t matter how strong you were, or how big, or if you had the right number of limbs.

There was no reason to fight: if an animal wanted food, you just gave it.

Jambir pulled him away from the storages. “If you secretly eat any of it,” he whispered, “you’ll be their next dinner. Don’t even think about it!”

“But why doesn’t it spoil? We must eat meat immediately, otherwise it’s worthless.”

“Some magic or other. A gift from the gods, the jaguars keep saying.”

A gift from the gods. Just like Eeris had helped them the previous few winters? Kesho wanted to stay longer, but panicked screams from the camp drew his attention. Something was on fire, roughly at the center, and Gosti ran back and forth from the river trying to carry water in a leaking basket. A hopeless task, no matter how much the jaguars screamed at them to do it.

“A punishment from the gods!” Jambir exclaimed, stepping away from Kesho.

“No this is a gift. We think.”

“You think?”

“We pray to Ardex the Firegod each night. And usually, a fire starts burning not long after.”

Jambir needed time to process this. Kesho realized this was another difference: the Asha Tribe had the unique skill of summoning fire, known to nobody else.

Farshar ran around to clear up the confusion. It didn’t improve the relationship with the jaguars. The weaker Asha members, such as deer and ibex, stayed close to Farshar and the campfires.

No, the Asha only won unanimous trust when king Jagu smelled the delicious scent of roasted meat.

They raced to the fires to claim their part of dinner. They thanked the Asha tribe and asked how to do this themselves. Farshar’s explanation of their prayers and nightly ritual fell on deaf ears.

Jambir and Kesho had crept closer, attracted by the familiar warmth and joyful atmosphere. Just before reaching the light, Jambir froze.

“I must catch twenty more fish today,” he mumbled.

The prince overheard and addressed the entire tribe. “No! Nonsense! It was a joke! Come here, Jambir, most esteemed member of our tribe, yes. Like all members of our tribe are valued.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” king Jagu spoke with his mouth full.

Kesho had never seen such a fat animal, but now that he saw the king’s diet—and lack of exercise—the riddle had solved itself. That couldn’t be useful, right? All that extra weight to drag with you while hunting? Father probably held a strong opinion about it which he wisely didn’t share.

Oh, right, silly him. Jagu obviously never hunted himself. It wasn’t necessary when you had huts filled with perch meat that never spoiled.

“I think our cooperation has been most successful,” the prince said, licking his lips. He gurgled while eating, for his dented nose made it hard to breathe at the same time.

“So do we, dear jaguars,” Murfa said, another father from the Asha Tribe. He originally belonged to another tribe, but had fallen in love with Kesho’s aunt. After lingering around for a year, she bore his child and he had officially joined their ranks.

“So,” Murfa continued, “we ask your help with traveling further. Would you temporarily remove part of your fences to let us through?”

The smile fell from Jagu’s face. “We shall … consider.”

“If not, we see no other option than to return from whence we came. And those lands bear no food anymore, partly due to your—”

“Due to our what?”

“Due to your very efficient fishing methods”, Misha added hastily. “We hope to learn from it and then walk onward to better places.”

“Better places? Farshar, words please!”

Farshar and Jagu walked away from the fire, whispering. Jambir still wasn’t sure if it was indeed a joke that he still had to catch twenty fish before full moon. Him and Kesho still hadn’t joined the fires and could overhear the conversation.

“I must say,” Jagu said through gritted teeth, “that you do not control your tribe in the slightest! They are rude! And ungrateful! And so … different. Unpredictable!”

“Let me repeat: they are not my tribe,” Farshar said. “We’re all equal. My children may say whatever they want, speak whenever they want, as long as they do their part in supporting the tribe.”

Jagu turned around to study Farshar’s eyes. “You never considered it? Seizing power? You could stop hunting and still have enough food. No danger, only profit!”

“Why would I want that?”

This truly mystified Jagu. “Why … why not? Think of the freedom. Think of the free time you’ll have.”

Farshar smiled. He turned around and pointed at the fires.

The Asha Tribe had started singing, softly at first. The voices melted together into a heavenly choir that made the starry sky shine just a little brighter. Several members grabbed their necklaces made of feathers and teeth. By shaking and scratching it, they could create melodies and rhythms, used for dancing.

Misha had found several wooden blocks and perfectly aligned with the rhythm. Children who were too young to sing tried to help, creating unpredictable beats.

In one corner, where moonlight fell most graciously, a group of elderly members sat with stones in their laps. Using their own feather, they drew something in the stone, sometimes retracing a line twenty times before it was deep enough.

“We have nothing but free time,” Farshar said. “We are glad whenever we can alternate between this and hunting! And so, if you don’t mind, I have an entire evening to spend with my wife …”

He carried his wife away from the fire, into a dark corner where they did who knows what.

Jagu could not move from the shock. His eyes noticed Jambir.

“Back to work, lazy idiot,” he hissed. “Fifty fish! Punishment for laziness!”

Kesho felt guilty, but did not stand up to the large king.

Jambir waited until they were alone. Then he smiled. “Oh well, it’s fine. I’ll survive. I’ll manage—they feed me well. As long as we eventually destroy the jaguars. Will, erm, will your sister help?”

“Perhaps. I’m searching for a way to bring it up.”

Jambir sauntered away, unable to hide his disappointment.

Kesho stepped towards the fires, joining his family members, and also joining the songs. While the Gosti around him had secretly been put back to work, he experienced a relaxed evening with his tribe.

His tribe wasn’t so bad. Nor was the Jagu Tribe, who let them enter and stay here.

But singing does not feed the hungry, dear reader. In normal circumstances, they’d continue walking tomorrow, searching a new area for new meat. The Asha had no storage. Now that they remained in the same place, all their food was gone by night’s end. And Jambir could tell you what happened once you depended on somebody else for your food …