The First Tribe Read Free Page A

birth, and there had been discussions on pulling their canines. The Fisba was certain that this would be the price she would pay for maiming the Kirabi’s shaft.
    Dasheen gripped the hulking creature’s pelt even more tightly. The Fisba’s… like all of the captured tribes… were also large. They were pathetically weak minded and easily manipulated into subservience. No Kirabi considered members of captured tribes as people. The Fisba, with hunched backs that enabled large packs of supplies to be strapped securely onto them for traveling, were the most adept for sexual service. Even so, they were quite hideous to watch.
    Kirabi women had continued to evolve into domineering sadists. They enjoyed their role of training slaves for tribal chores, and only condescended to sex with the beast riders for breeding. Marriage or monogamous arrangements had ceased before Dasheen’s great grandfather’s time. It simply was not worth putting up with a muscled shrew who fought for control.
    Dasheen considered the Vastara, again. If he could capture one of their sirens, he could keep her bound in his tent always at the ready to pleasure him… and without the inconvenience of fangs and claws. Dasheen sighed, and he fixed his eyes on the distant cliffs, willing the blinking sign of a fire to convince him the Vastara still existed.
    A thoughtful scheme began to form in his mind. Dasheen knew that enough of his friends shared his desire, and he was certain they would back his plan at a tribunal before the Kirabi leaders. Dasheen shot a heavy load into the Fista’s convulsing throat as he imagined a net swiping across the meadow, and capturing his Vastara slave.
    * * * * *

    Sabra’s small hand reached out to fist another cluster of veran, and she sliced the thin stalks an inch above the rich soil with her curved harvesting blade. She had been walking through the grass for several hours, filling her sack with vegetables and herbs that required the bright sunlight to grow. Even though this was only the second year she joined the gatherers of her tribe, after many years of cleaning and cooking the vegetation she knew at a glance which plants were of use.
    Across the meadow behind her, close to the tree line, the gatherers trained by the tansa medicine women were cloistered together in a group and stuffing their small dyed pouches with the special herbs the healers required. These few harvesters would eventually be taught the art of the tansa and become a new generation of the revered.
    The young women destined for the greatness of the tansa were the first born of identical female twins. Such births were a rare occurrence among the Vastara. Their scrolls of the ancient ritualistic teachings held the tribal belief that the first twin absorbed unusual perception and intelligence from dual nourishment in the womb. This was never questioned, nor was the unfortunate role of the second twin who was considered feebleminded and lacking after generously providing for her sister. Even so, the tribe catered to the unfortunate utansas. They were not permitted to marry or reproduce, but were left to frolic and play. They were forever treated as children, no matter their age or true abilities.
    Sabra was merely a cira, a commoner among her people. Her role to provide for her future husband and take care of his aging parents had been decided at her birth. Sabra cut another cluster of veran, and she moved to where Chabil had discovered a patch of temur. The rooted vegetables grew shallow, so their purple heads were visible in the grass. The root, when cooked, had a delicious sweet taste, but gathering the raw plants would leave Sabra’s hands with a pungent smell. It will probably mix with the veran and ruin it. She changed course towards the flowers of the mild lipsa.
    This was her third day in the field. The major sun had not risen to noon position and she would harvest until sunset. Sabra was already bored, and she felt the strain in her back from her