Chapter Four:

“Navihm?” Professor Ward called from further down the hallway. It was almost four weeks since he had received Professor Ward’s letter. It had been, in fact, an invitation to meet with him. The Professor had questioned Navihm quite thoroughly about his home country. Since then, Navihm and Eamonn had become close friends and his fluency in Ianterran had greatly improved, thanks to Eamonn’s attentions.

Navihm turned and waited for his teacher to catch up. He was on his way to Professor Ward’s ‘Culture and Traditions’ class anyway.

“Hello, Professor.”

“Navihm, my dear boy,” said his teacher, slightly out of breath. “I was hoping to catch up with you before class. I wanted to ask a small favour.”

“Of course Professor.” They started walking towards the auditorium where they had their lesson. “What can I do for you?”

“As you’re probably aware, Genti tradition is a part of the course structure for this quarter. I’ve not had much hands-on experience with the Northern Tribes but as a Genti national, I suppose that would make you the expert.”

“I suppose.”

“What I’m getting at, my boy is that I want you to give a talk on your traditions to the class. I think they will respond well to someone their own age who has personal knowledge on the subject.”

“You want me to teach the class, Sir?” Navihm asked a bit apprehensively.

“Exactly, my boy.” The professor grinned encouragingly. They had arrived at the classroom and stopped at the door.

“Well, I suppose-”

“That’s fantastic! Now, why don’t you place your things at my desk and take your place at the front of the room.” Professor Ward breezed past him and into the room, grinning widely.

“Sir I-” Navihm cut his sentence short. Professor Ward had already walked away.

Navihm was standing next to his professor at the front of the room, hands clasped behind his back. The other students were filing into the auditorium in twos and threes, talking quietly to each other. Much of their conversation appeared to revolve around the spectacle occurring at the front of the room.

“Class is going to be a little different today,” said the Professor. “We are going to be learning about Genti customs and traditions so I brought in an expert. You all know Navihm, most of you would recognise him as a Genti national by his braids. If you have not realised this, you are probably failing this class and should consider keeping up with the assigned readings.” The Professor retreated to his desk and gestured towards Navihm.

“For the duration of this class you will treat Navihm with the respect you afford me, for all intents and purposes, he is your teacher for this lesson.” This comment sent a ripple through the assembled students, whispered conversations broke out.

Navihm cleared his throat. “I’m afraid this lesson was thrust upon me quite suddenly, I haven’t had the chance to prepare anything. In that light, perhaps it would be best to start with some questions. Would anyone like to begin?”

There was silence for a few seconds, the students were looking around to see who would be the first to speak up.

“Perhaps you could start with an explanation of your braids,” the professor chimed in. “Am I correct in saying that they hold great significance for your people?’

“Yes, of course, Sir. All people of the tribes wear three braids from the age of 14,” Navihm began. “It is considered as an ascent into adulthood and we wear them to honour our people. Each person's braiding is unique and reveals a part of their history. You can tell where someone is from and who their family is by the coloured ribbons in the braids.” He turned his head to reveal the gold and blue ribbons in his hair. Pointing to the braid closest to his ear he continued.

“This is my Gen braid; the braid of my tribe. The gold signifies that I am of the First.”

A cautious hand rose at the back of the room. “What does ‘of the First’ mean?” asked the small girl.

“It refers to my tribe. The Genti are made up of eleven different tribes spread across Genticus. Mine was the first which then split making another tribe called the Second who then split and so on. Each tribe has a colour associated with it and one wears the colour of their tribe entwined in their braids. It’s the same with various families. Each has a colour. We wear the colour of the family of our birth on our Kin braid.” Navihm gestured to his second braid which was wrapped with a blue ribbon.

“And the third braid?” the same girl asked.

“That is the Ib braid. It bears the colours of the family one gains when they are married.” Navihm’s braid bore a gold ribbon.

“You’re married?” exclaimed a boy in the front row. He was only slightly younger than Navihm and looked slightly sick at the idea of being married already.

“No, but I am, how do you say? Promised? Bound?”

“Engaged,” the Professor supplied.

“Yes, engaged. In my language I am amarra, that is, ‘bound’. When I return from my studies I will be heartbound; Ib’amarra. My soul shall be linked forever to another.”

“That’s beautiful,” sighed one of the girls.

“If I were heartbound,” Navihm continued, “the ribbon of my Ib braid would be wrapped around my braid, rather than entwined as it is now.”

“Why is your Kin braid wrapped?” the Professor prompted.

“That is because I am the head of my family, I am the oldest male. My mother, as the oldest female, has her kin braid wrapped as well. The Gen braid is also wrapped when one is the head of a tribe.”

“I suppose the beads mean something as well.” This comment was more than a little sarcastic and originated from Karl, sitting in the back corner. “Let me guess, they can tell me what season you were born in and what you had for breakfast.” The beads Karl was referring to hung at the end of each of Navihm’s braids.

“Thank you for bringing that up, Karl.” Navihm smiled cordially. “You are correct in saying that they are significant. They are my Bo Accion. A virtuous action is required to earn a bead.”

He picked up his Gen braid. “This must be an act of loyalty. To truly be a part of one’s tribe, you must be loyal to its people.”

Picking up the bead hanging on the end of the kin braid and rolling it between his fingers, Navihm said thoughtfully, “Family requires much selflessness, and so a great act of sacrifice earns this bead.

“Finally, the Ib bead is gained by bravery. For what greater act of courage is there than dedicating your life to another? A leader must have all three beads before they are able to rule.” Navihm continued to roll his beads between his fingers, lost in thought.

“It is the focus of all young people of the Tribes to gain their Bo Accion, a focus that often sends us travelling all over the country in search of adventure and people in need. Once all three are earned, one is given the title Enfeitar. Which translates literally to ‘adorned’. It is much like being a decorated soldier in the Lowlands.”

Navihm let his braids fall back over his shoulder, all three beads clicked together softly. The cautious hand in the back rose again, this time even less confidently.

“How did you get your beads?”

Navihm smiled gently.

“I don’t think we really need to discuss this,” Navihm hedged. He’d never really felt worthy of his beads. Others had journeyed the whole country or dedicated years of their lives trying to earn them. Navihm had mostly gotten them by luck or simply reacting to the circumstances.

“Come on, please tell us.” This sentiment was echoed by students all around the room. Navihm was not swayed.

“It is not necessary for your studies and it is considered rude to brag about one’s Bo Accion.”

“You would not be bragging,” said the Professor gently. “You would be answering the questions of a curious student and enlightening them about your people.” His phrasing somehow suggested that by telling the students of his exploits, he would be honoring his people. Navihm recognised the gentle prodding and conceded to his teacher’s harmless manipulation.

“Very well. My loyalty was tested when I was fourteen. I had just received my braids and was considered a man. Looking back now, I was anything but. I’d had a falling out with my mother and decided to go up river to a close by tribe.” The falling out had been over his father. They’d gotten word that he had resurfaced up river at the Tenth. Navihm wanted him found and punished for his crimes against his mother and he'd wanted to do it himself. Years of abandonment and resentment and conditioned Navihm towards hatred of his father.

His mother wanted no such thing. She had long ago let go of her anger and she wanted Navihm to have nothing to with him, especially with his punishment. She knew that Navihm, in his anger, would be after revenge, rather than justice. Navihm hadn't listened and went to find his father anyway.

“I stowed away on a ship which turned out to be owned by pirates,” Navihm continued. At the time, piracy had been a plague for traders travelling the North Sea. It was unusual to see them inland though so Navihm had thought himself safe. So too had the Genti merchants the pirates encountered.

“I heard the captain and his first mate discuss their plans for robbing a Genti ship and killing all witnesses and decided to take action. I cut every rope I could get close to, totally shredding most of the rigging. I ended up collapsing the boom and tearing through the sail. In any case, the ship was too incapacitated to attack. I was captured and held for several days before I was able to escape.”

The pirates had taken their ire out on the boy, beating him often for almost a week before Navihm was able to take advantage of a sleeping guard and escape back home.

He hadn't disobeyed his mother since.

“To earn my second bead,” Navihm continued, “I carried a message to the Ninth warning them that they would be overridden by invading Nomads. The Ninth is situated on the coast, far away from my home but without this warning, foreseen by our prophet, every man, woman and child would have been slaughtered that night. It was foreseen that if I made the journey, lives would be saved but it was unclear if I would survive it. I journeyed for two weeks to deliver the message and then helped with the evacuation.”

“And to earn the bead for bravery?”

“He probably rescued a cat from a tree!” Karl blustered. Navihm didn’t react other than to clench his teeth and remain staring pointedly ahead, hands clasped behind him.

“Something like that,” Navihm said easily.

“Well?” inquired another student tentatively. Navihm reluctantly relented.

“When I was a child,” he began softly, staring past everyone, “two of the younger children were attacked in the woods. I had been sent to get them and take them back to the village and as the oldest, I was responsible for them. On my way to retrieve them I heard them screaming. The younger girl had run into the woods but when I got to where they were playing, Kaia was in a tree and there was an Aelurus trying to get to her. Aeluri are large cats that are native to the mountains and prey on other predators and large animals. They rarely migrate to the foothills where I am from but when they do the men of the village usually go out in large groups to hunt it. There wasn't any time to get a group of men together, the cat was trying to climb the tree and would have killed Kaia.”

The entire class was silent as Navihm told his story, each one of them riveted on the tale. The only sound was the occasional scoff originating from Karl. When Navihm hesitated to continue, a boy in the front row piped up.

“So did she get eaten?” he asked tactfully.

The professor cleared his throat. “Keep in mind that this isn't just a story. Navihm knew this child, he probably grew up with her.”

Navihm nodded.

“She was my best friend, her parents helped raise me and they had been the ones to ask me to retrieve her. She was my responsibility and she was about to die.” He closed his eyes briefly. “She was only eight summers. I couldn’t let her die.

So I got the attention of the beast. It left Kaia in her tree and attacked me.” He moved the shoulder of his shirt to reveal an ugly, twisted scar covering his shoulder and parts of his upper arm and chest. “I killed it.”

The room was quiet.

Karl broke the silence with his usual derision.

“If you ask me this whole thing is stupid. There aren’t enough orphans in the path of stampeding horses or bear attacks or invading Nomads for everyone in the country to earn their beads.”

“You are quite right, Karl,” said Navihm to the surprise of the class. “Not everyone is honored with the title Enfeitar, most only earn one or two beads in their lifetime.”

“Then how does every ruler get all three? There is no way every prince or princess earns them honestly. They probably just get given them for tieing their shoes or sharing their toys with the other children. Every child next in line to the throne would have their three beads handed to them by the time they are sixteen.”

“Actually, a ruler is not primarily decided by lineage in my country. It is actually quite rare that the son or daughter of a ruler inherits the throne. If there is no relative to a ruler with all three beads, the people vote amongst those who have earned their Bo Accion. These have even been chosen from other tribes in the past, though that has only happened once or twice.

“It is unlikely that will occur in the First. We anticipate the leader of our tribe to rule for many more seasons and our princess has already earned two of her beads. We are quite proud of her. If she earns her Bo Accion, it will be the first time in seven centuries that the same family will rule over three generations.”

“It is quite impressive that you have earned your Bo Accion, Navihm,” said the professor. “I did not know that is was quite so difficult, or so rare. Tell me, how many others in the first are titled Enfeitar?”

All eyes were on Navihm and it made him slightly uncomfortable so he turned to face the older man who was still lounging at his desk. “Of the seven hundred people in my tribe, there are four women and eleven men including me.”

“And how old are they?”

“The youngest is twenty nine, but most are older.”

“And how old were you when you achieved your Bo Accion?”

“I was fourteen.”

There was silence in the room as every student watched the byplay between student and teacher.

“Do you know who is the youngest Enfeitar in your history?”

“I do.” Navihm did not offer any other information.

“How old were they?” Navihm took a long breath.

“Fourteen.”

Student and teacher locked eyes for a moment longer, the Professor nodding his head once in approval, then, breaking the moment he addressed the rest of the class.

“That is all for today, we shall continue this topic tomorrow.” The students all rose at once to file out of the room quickly, their excited chatter following them down the hall.

Navihm went to exit but stopped at the door.

“With all due respect, Sir, I do not wish to continue teaching the class,” he said without turning around. “My services are open to you if you wish to discuss or clarify anything to do with this topic but I think it would be best if you taught my fellow students.”

“Of course.”