Banjhan watched the construction of the great hut suspiciously. The wooden foundation, supported by tree-trunk girders and not touching the ground, was already finished and the first walls had been woven. He had at least been able to talk his Jatal out of a stone building, but even this new temple, built to honor Haruk’Zil, was an eyesore in the village for the tribe’s high priest and follower of Meneka.
In the last few days, after the herb witch had returned to the village, she had certainly acquired a dozen new servants and twice as many believers who had recognized Haruk’Zil as their primary Tiki.
“The village is truly flourishing, isn’t it?” said a reserved, cheeky voice from the side.
Banjhan looked to his left and saw the herbalist. “We won the trials,” he replied calmly, not giving the female a chance to see his displeasure. “Of course the tiki bless us richly for it.”
“Yes, praise be to Haruk’Zil,” Zu’ji smiled contentedly. She knew that the old high priest couldn’t do anything against her at the moment. ”It’s hard to imagine what would have happened without his intervention.”
“Khojun would have been punished,” Banjhan said curtly. Actually, there had been good news for him recently, but his focus was on the slow rise of the all-seeing serpent. ”And Meneka, in her infinite wisdom, would surely have recognized that the mistake of one troll would not have been the mistake of the whole tribe.”
“Maybe. Fortunately, we’ll never know. Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Nothing is ever completely certain,” Banjhan countered calmly. He was no fool and had always been aware of the herbalist’s ambitions. On the other hand, he had seen many ambitious trolls come and go, and the high priest was still there. It made him very self-confident. “Like the blessing and goodwill of a tiki. Haruk’Zil may have honored us with a deed, but if he realizes that Meneka has a firm place in the hearts of our tribe, his favor could fade as quickly as it appeared.”
“That’s true,” Zu’ji replied with a slightly raised corner of his mouth. ”A favor can quickly fade, but a wise priest like you knows that tiki can also have a lot of patience and they watch how everything grows and thrives, bit by bit ... in their own way.”
Banjhan looked from the female to the unfinished wooden hut dedicated to the all-seeing snake. “Some of the tiki are patient indeed,” he replied dryly. “But just as some tiki can be extremely capricious and what they have in mind can change as quickly as the wind changes direction. And those moods can also unleash as thunder if you act against their will.”
“Only an unworthy blasphemer would go against his tiki,” Zu’ji said with ominous calm as she sought the male’s gaze. ”But devoted trolls like us would never do that. Isn’t that right?”
“Never... our tribe will praise and serve Meneka - forever and ever.”
Zu’ji could hardly say anything against that. “As the tribe wills, so shall we do,” she smiled falsely. “But now excuse me. I must observe the progress of the construction.”
“Of course, and give Zanu my best wishes for a speedy recovery,” Banjhan said in farewell. It hadn’t been a secret in the village that the herbalist had lost a few of her loyal followers. “Where the rest seemed to have been denied the favor of Haruk’Zil, he should be all the more grateful.”
“Indeed, thank you for your words,” Zu’ji replied curtly, since this failure was a thorn in her side and she didn’t want to hear any more from the high priest.
After she had inspected the construction work with satisfaction, Zu'ji went to her hut. It was located in the half of the village where the Riverfangs had left a few clusters of trees standing. There were usually five or six trees, with tree houses built in some of their crowns. Zu’ji’s hut was also not far from one of these groups of trees, but before there had only been a few huts there. Since the fight, however, several trolls had asked her to let them settle there and the herb witch had allowed them to. So there were a few simple huts under construction there at the moment, surrounding Zu’ji’s hut and together forming an open semicircle. In the center was a large campfire, with many tree trunks as benches around it. On these benches, a few females were sitting, while some others were grilling meat and various puppies were playing all over the place.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
In front of Zu’ji’s hut stood the two trolls she had already taken to the Deep Temple. Without even giving them a nod, she strode past them and into her home. It was quite dark in here and, as one would expect of a herbalist, the interior was a smorgasbord of the art of healing and brewing. The tendrils of hanging plant boxes dangled from the ceiling and a constantly changing scent filled the air.
“My mistress,” greeted Majanie with a bowed head. ’Welcome home.”
“My dear Majanie,’ Zu’ji nodded curtly. Since she had returned to the village a few days ago, this was her first encounter with her student. ”You are definitely a welcome change for my ears and eyes.” The herbalist sighed a bit theatrically before she went to her food supply. She opened a jug filled with treetop. This was a trollish variant of vodka, distilled from the roots of an actually foul-smelling tree. Zu’ji smacked his lips with relish after taking a sip. “That’s good.”
“Some are talking trash, just so you know,” Majanie mentioned directly. She watched as the herbalist took another sip. ’They wonder where some of your followers have gone.”
“Into the arms of Yani, as Zanu anxiously reported to me,’ Zu’ji said with disappointment. Yes, her loyal warrior had told her a wild story, but it played into her conviction of what a gift the ancestor had been. “Unfortunately, we have lost sight of the ancestor. He supposedly fought a king alligator with his bare hands and was able to hold it at bay with brute strength alone.”
“Few trolls can kill a king alligator on their own,” Majanie shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. ”And that’s only with a lot of preparation and traps, or so I’ve heard, and the ancestor fought one of those gigantic beasts with his bare hands and survived? Unbelievable!”
“Whether he’s alive, I don’t know... Zanu ran away. He was wounded and full of fear. I asked Haruk’Zil for a sign, but so far I have received nothing. The all-seeing serpent is certainly very angry that we have lost the ancestor.”
“That may well be,” Majanie agreed thoughtfully, but her mood was not dampened by this, because she had much better news. ”Or maybe not.”
Zu’ji put down the jug of treetop, all ears. “What do you mean?”
Majanie went to the entrance of the hut to make sure that no one was standing too close or walking towards it. “I secretly overheard a little gossip between Ine’kata and Suara earlier,” the student said quietly and deviously. ”Suara is pregnant.”
Hearing that news drew more than just a satisfied grin on Zu’ji’s lips. “So the all-seeing serpent is still favoring us after all,” she murmured in relief. She went to her servant and gave her a grateful kiss on the forehead. “That is indeed a most welcome message. You did very well.”
“Thank you,” Majanie replied almost shyly and with darkened cheeks. ”One could say that we still have an ancestor with Suara, even if the whelp is far from seeing this world soon.”
“Your way of thinking is so delightful and worthy of my teachings,” Zu’ji praised emphatically, before she walked through the hut, lost in thought. ”And maybe Blood Tusk isn’t lost forever. With the help of Suara and his blood in her womb, I might be able to track him down again.”
“Do we have to?” Majanie asked uncertainly. She was a believer and devoted servant of Haruk’Zil, but here she had a different opinion. ”Could it be that the ancestor was never really meant for us and we only needed his seed?”
“His seed may be more valuable than all the gold in the jungle, but all of that for Haruk’Zil, just to make Blood Tusk disappear again?” Zu’ji doubted, raising an eyebrow. Even if it was so, she still had plans with the gladiator and they were too important to her and, in her view, equally important for the rise of the all-seeing serpent in her village. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, I need Bluood Tusk at least to either get rid of Khojun or to draw him to my side. When I hold the tribe’s champion in my hands, whether new or old, together with the high priest’s female, the rest is only a matter of time.”
“And how exactly does Khojun fit into all this?” Majanie asked with interest. ”He is interested in nothing else anymore except revenge for his brother. He is looking for traces of the ancestor and has sent a few of his closest associates to find traces of the caravan. It has long been an open secret that the pucks were attacked by someone.”
“Exactly, and what if we knew where the ancestor was?” Zu’ji asked with a false smile. ”Either he kills him or he is killed. Either the champion of the village is grateful to us or we can bring a new, loyal champion to the top.”
“I actually think a new champion would be even better,” Majanie interjected. Admittedly, this was also a bit personal for her, as the champion had taken Majanie’s older sister against her will a few years ago. When her father wanted to avenge this, Khojun killed him. ”If everything is supposed to start anew, with the all-seeing serpent and the things you have in mind, then really everything.”
“Not an unreasonable thought, my dear. We’ll see,” Zu’ji agreed, but now, tangible things had priority. ”The only question is whether Suara will come to me or needs a little push.”
