Chương 181: 5. Your Village Appears to Be Missing

After days of sailing through miserable weather, fighting against rapid river currents, and nearly getting stuck in swampy shallows, Captain Jira finally declares our arrival.

"This is it!" she cheers happily, throwing one arm around my shoulders and making a sweeping gesture with the other.

"Welcome home, Little Baddie!" Before us is a huge lake with steep rocky mountains looming in the distance. Beneath us, a "river" that would undoubtedly be much too shallow for our ship if not for the flooding caused by days of constant rain. In every other direction, as far as the eye can see, are flooded swamps and marshes, broken up by huge thick trees that look like someone tried to crossbreed mangroves and redwoods and ended up getting more than they bargained for.

Notably missing from this lovely vista is any sign of Fa'aun life.

"Captain, I don't mean to be rude," I hedge carefully.

"But your village appears to be missing its... uh, village."

"Tsk, come now, Allie," she chides me.

"I keep telling you—our tribe has no villages. They are a little late, but that's always the way when it needs to get moving after a long period of rest." Before I can reply, one of the sailors calls out a signal and it finally sinks in as I catch sight of the first ships peeking through the trees in the distance. Most of the vessels are wide, flat-bottomed barges, upon which rest entire houses and other structures.

Others have the more familiar profile I associate with sailing ships, like the one we're on, lifted by pontoons to carry them over the shallow marshes and flanked by rafts crewed by Fa'aun with long poles to keep the ships from capsizing. As Jira has insisted from the beginning, the Degala tribe has no villages. That's not just her quibbling about terminology. The old Fa'aun tribes are nomads, and among them the Degala are seafaring explorers who once lived and died on the open ocean.

The decree forcing them to claim and occupy a designated tribal land within the Stebaa Empire hasn't changed that nature. Or at least, not entirely. I don't miss the fact that some of the house-barges are trailing vines and have distinctly brighter patches where freshly replaced planks have only served to highlight the half-rotted wood covered in moss and lichen around them.

"They can move," Vi muses quietly.

"But they don't do it often." It's a mixed blessing, I suppose, this place. It's a stark contrast to Stebaari, where the air was hot and dry even right against the river. It's almost aggressively wet and humid, and though it's teeming with life, not all of it is pleasant. There are bugs everywhere, and a pervasive bog-stank that's been clinging to us since the moment we made landfall. Fertile, but not all that cultivable.

Maybe with proper damming and irrigation they could turn this land into rice fields, or grow—I don't know, lotuses? Cranberries maybe. There are plenty of wetland crops where we come from, so I can only imagine that there are some here too. But that's not what Degala is about, is it? Already I can see it in how they prioritize their maintenance. Where the houses are occasionally touched by vines and mold, the ships— the taller ones meant for deep rivers and seas—are spotless.

No rot or growth is tolerated, and while the barges are crewed by a small handful of Fa'aun to guide the floating houses through the trees, each ship is tended to by no fewer than two rafts and the on-board crew. Degala's pride lies out at sea, and even settled as they now are, they remain ready to return to it at a moment's notice.

"Impressive, eh?" Jira boasts.

"The Empress wouldn't let us claim Stebaasa, damn her, but this is the next best thing." I nod slowly, recognizing her meaning. This is a terrible place to settle, but not hopeless. Yet it's not in spite of the constant flooding that Degala survives here—it's because of it.

"We have houseboats in my world," I note absently.

"And no matter how much you value the ability to relocate, you really should build some levees." Jira laughs, loud and boisterous as always.

"You sound just like my granddaughter!"

"I look forward to meeting her, then."

"You won't have to wait long." As they approach, most of the barges come to a halt before reaching the deeper river waters where Jira's ship is anchored. I watch as divers swim beneath the heavy vessels before coming up and calling for adjustments to the anchors.

"Clearing the ground beneath," Jira explains.

"When the floods recede, they'll settle onto the ground. The swimmers make sure there's nothing in the way down there." A loud splash draws my attention, followed by shouts of alarm as the Fa'aun in the water quickly scramble back onto the nearest ships, or in some cases trees.

"Like that," Jira chuckles. The thing that emerges from the water is rather intimidating. Like a hippo, if it was the size of an elephant, had scales like a crocodile, and a huge mouth full of razor sharp tusks.

"A river maw," Violet provides.

"Draga told me about them. They're bigger than I thought, from the tracks." The river maw roars and thrashes, making waves big enough to rock even the house-barges and snapping its jaws at anything nearby. I could almost believe from looking at it that it would be able to take a chunk out of one of the barges, and I don't blame the Fa'aun for scattering.

"Should we help?" I ask. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"No need," Jira assures me.

"River maws are vicious bastards, but they're solitary and not territorial. It won't come back if they chase it off." The Degala tribe keeps their distance from the angry giant, throwing harpoons that barely pierce its hide when they don't outright bounce off. It doesn't do more than annoy the thing, but that seems to be the point.

With careful maneuvering, they slowly herd the river maw towards the lake until it finally gives up and dives under the water with another great splash, its huge shadow still visible as it swims away at a terrifying speed for something so big.

"Just as well it wasn't a mating pair," Fargo comments, trotting up to the helm to join us.

"We'd have to move the whole fleet out for that."

"Bah," Jira scoffs, waving him off.

"We know the signs, and it's the wrong season for it anyway." Through that entire scuffle, one of the leading ships—the ones on pontoons—advanced unperturbed and now arrives alongside our own.

"Hail, captain!" a woman calls from the other ship.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted, captain!" Jira calls back. What follows is a slightly awkward dance as the two ships maneuver themselves to be anchored next to each other in relatively stable positions against the river's current. Then a set of thick wooden braces are used to further stabilize the connection between the two ships, and only then is a sturdy plank laid to bridge the gap. The other captain is the first to cross, and I immediately notice how much she resembles Jira.

She's short, for a Fa'aun, with wide shoulders and a stocky frame. Her fur is a similar russet brown to Jira's, but a bit brighter, and her horns are thick at the base, with a short curve that matches the shape of her skull. It's not just a family resemblance, though I'm all but certain this is the granddaughter Jira's been talking about. I've noticed that Fa'aun have a lot more variation than humans do when it comes to body types.

I first spotted it with the svelte and fleet-footed types that look impossibly skinny and resemble deer more than goats—aside from the horns—but Jira and the other captain are almost the opposite. Short and stocky, with wider hooves and a lower heel. I get the impression that the Degala tribe are much steadier on their feet and better swimmers than other Fa'aun, by default.

The overwhelming majority of Fa'aun I've met have been Talla's kind—a sort of middle ground between the other two body types that is usually tall and lean. We meet her with a party of Jira, Talla, Fargo, Msshi, and myself, letting the captain take the lead. The other captain meets Jira with a salute.

"Chieftain Jira Faa Degala," the woman acknowledges formally.

"The tribe welcomes you home."

"Remi, my girl!" Jira replies far less formally, spreading her arms and approaching.

"Come give grandma a hug! Did you miss me?" Remi Faa Degala steps into her grandmother's embrace, then catches us all off guard by headbutting her in the jaw."'Grandma' my ass, you vicious old hag!" she sneers.

"Do you have any idea how much of a mess you've made for us? Goddess' tits, half the mainland wants your fucking head on a spike, and I've half a mind to give it to them!" Well then. Not quite the touching reunion I expected. That Jira is actually the chieftain of her tribe is... not really a surprise. I figured from her age, fame, and confidence that she was at least an elder of some influence.

"Remi, there were extenuating circumstances," Fargo interjects.

"You should hear her out before admonishments." She turns to him, crossing her arms and pursing her lips." You?! I should have known your hand would be in this, you filthy vagrant. I don't want to talk to you!" There's a particular sort of venom in her voice as she addresses him, and it's matched by the pained wince on Fargo's face—an apologetic grimace that speaks of regret, guilt, and just a hint of affection. I'm getting better at reading Fa'aun tone and body language, but this is almost painfully blatant.

Seriously, Fargo? How many hearts have you broken?

Evidently his parting with Remi wasn't quite as amicable as it was with Rara. Remi's gaze sweeps across us, eyebrows rising at the sight of Talla and Msshi before finally settling on me.

"Very well, Captain, you may introduce your guests and explain yourself to me," she declares imperiously. Jira clears her throat awkwardly.

"Remi, now that I'm back— ow!" She's interrupted by her granddaughter kicking her in the shins.

"You can resume your role as chieftain as soon as you shoulder the same responsibilities, Captain. Until then, explain!" I've never seen Jira so cowed, but she sighs and scratches the base of her horns sheepishly before gesturing to Talla.

"Lady Talla Goa Baanu, of the Stebaari Order of Rangers," she introduces. Talla replies with the Fa'aun equivalent of a bow—a sort of ducking nod that I do not have enough neck to perform.

"I am here purely in my capacity as a ranger. At your service, Chieftain." Remi and Jira both share a distressed expression at the title.

"Senior Elder," Remi insists.

"I am only the acting chieftain while my grandmother is unable to perform the same duties. You'd be the mage that sent the fancy message, then?" Talla nods, and Remi replies with a grunt.

"Your mother just sends me letters like a normal person," Remi sighs.

"Seems like a lot of effort to end up as a less effective pigeon."

"Thaumaturgy's strength lies in flexibility," Talla replies smoothly with a wry smile.

"I can also be a lantern."

"Or a fucking laser beam," Maggie adds silently.

"What's with the disrespect?"

"The old tribes have never held the nobility in high regard," Evie answers.

"Insulting her magic in this case is the means, rather than the end."

"Oh, that's fine then," Mags says. While that exchange happens, Remi moves on, trying to decide whether to focus on me or Msshi next, but as expected her curiosity wins out.

"Dare I even ask what that thing is?" she asks, gesturing at me.

"From the pale skin, lack of fur, and spear, I'd almost think it was a troglodyte. But it has too many eyes and isn't stabbing anybody, so that can't be right." You know, I was sort of assuming people were just using that word as an insult, but it's looking a lot more like 'troglodytes' are an actual people that nobody likes. And it sounds like the feeling may be mutual.

"I am currently Maev Allison," I introduce myself.

"But you can call me Maev or Allie." Remi blinks.

"'Currently'?"

"She's got a skill," Jira explains.

"There's four or five of her all within the same body."

"I didn't ask you!" Remi chides her. I incline my head in acknowledgement.

"That's true, and you'll meet the others in due course. But first, I think I owe you an apology." She raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to elaborate.

"We're uh, probably to blame for most of the trouble you're in," I explain.

"Captain Jira saved us in a moment of dire need, and we'll do whatever we can to repay that." Remi scowls at her grandmother for a moment, but then softens her expression with a weary sigh.

"She does make a habit of that, doesn't she? Allow me to apologize on behalf of my meddlesome kin, Miss Allie. The Degala tribe welcomes you and yours as honored guests."