{"id":10144,"date":"2021-08-19T17:00:32","date_gmt":"2021-08-19T21:00:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/?p=10144"},"modified":"2021-08-19T17:00:40","modified_gmt":"2021-08-19T21:00:40","slug":"salt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/2021\/salt","title":{"rendered":"Salt"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The Gulabadam sat crosslegged on a rug in the shade. His thick tail, freshly brushed, rested demurely in the expanse of his lap and tinkling laughter rode on the sound of lapping oasis water in the air. Over his horns hung a large dyed and embroidered abaya, silver bells hanging from it like glittering berries. With the aid of two tent poles, it hung into a lush lean-to against the open side of the grand, opulent tent before him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

Therein, wirework braziers tinted the air with an incense that smelled of leather and flowers, the thin smoke drifting over the heads of Chief Chumesh and her council. To her left sat slight Galil, her hair freshly cleaned in the waters of the oasis, fresh kohl applied to her eyes and pomegranate to her lips. They all sat upon thin cushions and sumptuous woven rugs that delineated the space of the tent into which the Gulabadam\u2019s prodigious bulk would not have fit. In the center of the tent, a goat was roasting over a spit, tended by a youth of Chumesh\u2019s tribe. The rude scent of its fat mingled with the incense, adding to the scents rosemary and a earthen-smelling spice the Gulabadam did not know.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He did not enjoy the eating of animals, and had only tried it once. But the flatbreads \u2014 perfect discs of dough, rubbed with oil and sprinkled with salt, then thrown dextrously onto the side of hot rocks encircling the fire \u2014 most interested him, as did the tanned donkey\u2019s skin at his feet filled with salted, herbed camel yogurt. Politely, he waited to drink until the chief bade them. By himself, he could have consumed more than all the company gathered here combined, but the tribe knew his famed appetite. Their willingness to fulfill it spoke to both the wealth of Chumesh\u2019s salt-trading Desertmen, and to the reputation of the Gulabadam and Galil among them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside the shelter, four youths kneaded and flung balls of dough sizzling onto the rocks in preparation for the meal. The peak of the tent, where smoke waited patiently to exit the smoke hole, barely exceeded the height of the horns of the Gulabadam. Galil\u2019s thin frame leaned toward the chief conspiratorially. Like their hosts, she sat cross-legged on a thin cushion, her one flesh calf folded over the other, an empty bronze greave, famed armor of the fallen hero Kesheb. In her one hand, she held a small cup that was never long empty, refilled by a young servant each time she sipped its floral nectar. Folded neatly behind Galil was her abaya, its indigo pattern lost long ago to wear. Close by her hand was the wooden box that contained her writing implements. Her face, freshly washed in the oasis a few hours ago, shone in a way the Gulabadam had never seen before. Her flesh was plump with water, the tattoos showing clearly against skin that so often was covered with the dust of the road or strained with the sweat and tears of strife. A dot of red turned her lower lip into a gem and the fresh kohl around her eyes made them flash like the moon on the sea, as they had seen together a year ago. Her hair, clean and oiled, bounced its tight curls when she turned her head. Her bronze leg glittered in the light that trickled in the seams of the tent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the youths passed a flatbread, heaped with glistening, steaming goat meat, to the chief, Chumesh. In turn, she passed it to Galil. \u201cWelcome, to wise Galil and to the courageous Gulabadam, to my tent,\u201d she said for all assembled to hear, \u201cI thank the winds of Mother Shama that she has carried you again to meet us, here at the Oasis Elilish underneath the palms.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The youth passed Galil another laden flatbread then passed the Gulabadam a dozen flatbreads, then distributed goat and flatbreads to the other councilors, slapping more dough on the rocks as each was peeled away. The chief took a bite, then all assembled chewed into their meal, the formality melting away, conversations arising as though picking up where they had left off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Gulabadam ate the breads as though they were each a grape, one after another, grinding them with his crushing teeth and cow\u2019s tongue. The camel yogurt was no less salty than the bread, but it had been chilling in the cold water of the oasis, and it refreshed him. His tongue sang a song of salt, but he couldn\u2019t tell how happy the song was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At his elbow, he sensed a presence. He looked down. A youth held out to him another skin. \u201cTea,\u201d she said, her voice unsteady.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs it salted?\u201d He asked, hope in his voice of distant thunder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked confused. \u201cNo,\u201d she answered tentatively, as though it were a trick question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Gulabadam breathed a sigh of relief that fluttered the girl\u2019s hair. \u201cThen, please!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The girl smiled, handing him the skin with both hands. He took it in one, then squeezed it into his mouth, the fresh aroma of mint washing the salt away and bringing him another, new kind of refreshment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At his elbow, the girl remained, looking in awe. Not knowing what else to say, he said to her, \u201cI am called Gulabadam.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, I know,\u201d she said, flustered again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A moment of silence passed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre \u2026 you\u2026\u201d he wasn\u2019t sure how, or what, to ask. Of the faces he had known this close, few other than Galil \u2014 dedicated like a mother \u2014 had meant him other than harm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She started, \u201cOh, I\u2019m,\u201d then suddenly shy, as though speaking out of turn, said quietly, \u201cI\u2019m Bashri. Sir.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No one who had meant him other than ill had ever called him \u201cSir,\u201d either. \u201cI am not \u2018sir\u2019,\u201d he said, uncertainty wavering in the distant thunder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh,\u201d Bashri stammered, \u201cOur Guest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease call me Gula,\u201d he said after a moment. \u201cIt is what Galil calls me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bashri smiled with pride. Her teeth sparkled like her dark eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Gulabadam struggled to find something to say. \u201cAre you Chumesh\u2019s kin?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d said Bashri, visibly relieved to know what to talk about, \u201cI am her brother-daughter. That is why I have the honor of serving you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Gulabadam was afraid to find that he didn\u2019t know what to say next. His mind flowed back where it always did: \u201cHave you eaten?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe will eat after the guests are satisfied,\u201d said Bashri, gesturing at her peers around the tent, youths all, preparing food and drink, serving the chief, her council, Galil, and himself. Except for Bashri, they bustled about their tasks, never making eye contact with the partiers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally, he looked back down at Bashri. \u201cWill you eat with me?\u201d he asked, surprised at himself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her eyebrows leapt. She glanced at one of the council \u2014 a man, his beard speckled with grey \u2014 as if hoping for permission, but the councillor was absorbed in conversation. \u201cI will bring more bread,\u201d she said with a smile, then returned a moment later with another pile of flatbreads, cheese, and dried fruits.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The two ate together, passing few words from time to time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Galil\u2019s mouth was afire with the spiced goat and sweat beaded her brow. It felt wonderful, relief soaking into her bones as she sat with Chumesh to catch up after the many years since last they saw each other\u2019s faces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh, her hair in twists emerging from her thick, woven headband of scarlet threads, was leaning toward Galil, telling her, \u201cSince we last met, the council has put me in the position to worry more about about our food and water and routes to trade salt, and\u201d she spoke in a smirking, conspiratorial tone, \u201cto settle their bickering,\u201d and she continued, \u201c\u2026than when they sent me to handle the Lion Twins with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil\u2019s mouth twitched into a smile at the memory, giving Chumesh a moment\u2019s glimpse of pride and regret alike. \u201cI am often asked to tell your story,\u201d she said, \u201cthe tricks you played to separate them to reveal their jealousies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh waved away the compliment. \u201cThe strategy was yours, Galil. I was victorious because of your cunning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil laughed. \u201cAh, but that\u2019s not how the story goes. I must tell you, it is the story that put my name in the ear of Father-King Abzur.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh leaned forward again, her embroidered linen robes rustling. \u201cWhen I heard that a Namedealer had locked the king\u2019s eyes and heart into the drawing of a catacomb before taking flight from his palace, I knew it was you. I was certain I\u2019d next hear of your execution,\u201d beamed Chumesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, in all truth, It may yet be. He pursues us and has many allies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh\u2019s smile broadened. \u201cYou have fine taste in enemies,\u201d she said, raising her cup toward Galil, who raised her cup in return with a mischievous grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil\u2019s smile relaxed sardonically. She said, \u201cThe price of the sworn vengeance seems like nothing next to the family I have gained.\u201d She gestured to the Gulabadam with her cup, but he was absorbed, speaking to the girl who offered him a steaming basket of breads. She paused for a moment to watch the two converse. Never had Galil seen The Gulabadam speak with a peer. Indeed, he had vanishingly few. But by her count, his four years of growth \u2014 from tiny boy-calf to the mass of young man-bull who could raise the gates of a city with his shoulders alone; who fought and defeated Adanu Nagog, the Fire Onager whose stone-hard jaw now topped his staff \u2014 was now a young man, as a calf would be now a bull.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But so few had ever offered him companionship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh followed Galil\u2019s eyes and hid her smile behind her cup as she drank. \u201cMy friend Galil, I have a favor to ask of you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil\u2019s eyes returned to those of her old friend, and when they met, Chumesh saw a momentary waver, perhaps suspicion that this moment was not the spontaneous joinder of two old friends, but an elaborate proposition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh continued as though she had not seen it, \u201cNebek Nuul, the Golden Sunrise King, makes demands of us when we visit her city of Hatash, our ancient caravansarai. We travel her land to trade our salt as we have for all time, for her city is between the Sunrise Sea and the Great Road. But she demands that we pay her homage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cShe takes your salt?\u201d Galil\u2019s voice betrayed her skepticism that Chumesh needed her assistance to settle terms of trade.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said, an ominous tone in her voice. \u201cShe demands my niece.\u201d Her eyes moved to the continuing conversation between The Gulabadam and Bashri. \u201cAnd each year, when we pass her city, she will again demand our most beautiful whenever we go there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil\u2019s mouth opened and closed, first disbelief and then horror twisting her face. Then, \u201cAnd you intend to trade with her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chumesh\u2019s face was deadly serious now. \u201cIf we cannot pass that way, our tribe will starve. Only the routes to the north, where the Bone Tree is worshipped, would take us there, and more deaths would follow from the people who there guard that pass.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see. You would that I make an ally of the Bone Tree.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Chumesh continued, \u201cThe Golden Sunrise King looks at the People of the Bone Tree with covetous eyes. Soon, they will be no different.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen\u2026\u201d Galil composed her thoughts. \u201cWhat do you desire that I do for you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo route is less perilous than through the city of Hatash. So that is where I would like you to deliver her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil\u2019s eyes twitched as though weighing grains of sand on a balance. Then, she said, \u201cI will deliver her for you, and your tribe will forever welcome us and come to our aid when we ask.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAn easy agreement, my friend!\u201d gushed Chumesh, her tattooed hands spread wide. \u201cAnd if, for some reason, Bashri does not remain with Nebek Nuul, her safe return will further indebt us to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A voice arose from the hollow space in Galil\u2019s greave, ringing in the hollow bronze of the wrought metal of her left calf. It came came on a cold breeze that touched Galil\u2019s ear, but did not refresh. In the ringing and the unnatural breeze came the sounds of the Language of Names, shivering with cold wetness, the cold breath of the dead in her ear \u201cYou must raise the head of Nebek Nuul above her own gates. You must claim it as my triumph, lifting my banner high.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy plan was rather more quiet, Great Kesheb\u201d she responded to the last remains of the hero whose armor she wore as her left leg. Chumesh was turned away, asking a server for sweets. Conversations continued around her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTriumph in my name will call my enemies. And then you will take my head from them, and you will again bind it to my spine. And then I will be able to rest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery well,\u201d agreed Galil, \u201call will know that it is your followers who destroyed her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The breeze vanished back into the bronze calf. Chumesh turned back to Galil, who held out to her a white ball the size of an olive. \u201cA sweet, from the west, whose people\u2019s dates drip honey, whose cows give milk as rich as a mother\u2019s, and whose salt emboldens the palette.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Galil took the sweet and their agreement was bound with shared floral, fatty sweetness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Modular systems are a function of industrial society. But do people of The Fifth World still know how to agree to standards? With their acute interest in efficiency, I think they might have carried that lesson forward!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Gulabadam sat crosslegged on a rug in the shade. His thick tail, freshly brushed, rested demurely in the expanse of his lap and tinkling laughter rode on the sound of lapping oasis water in the air. Over his horns hung a large dyed and embroidered abaya, silver bells hanging from it like glittering berries. … Continue reading “Salt”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":35,"featured_media":10146,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[183,184,161],"class_list":["post-10144","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-set-of-all-sets-that-do-not-include-themselves","tag-galil","tag-gulabadam","tag-world-of-names"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10144","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/35"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10144"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10144\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10149,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10144\/revisions\/10149"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/10146"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10144"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10144"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glyphpress.com\/talk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10144"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}