The shaman had led them to a tent set a far distance from the main camp, far enough that the brothers still couldn’t make out the details of the camp. The tent was large, made from some sort of speckled leather, and the shaman brought Howard, Clark, and both horses inside.

“First we talk more. Want trust, want sure. Camp safe.” The shaman said as he sat cross legged on the floor.

The brothers joined him slowly, hobbling the horses so they wouldn’t wander around inside the tent. “We already swore we wouldn’ harm your people. We don’ take those kinda oaths lightly.”

“No. Different from oath. Need know you.” The shaman pointed one thin finger at Clark before moving it toward Howard. “Who is, what is, where from?”

“What about you?” The words slipped from Clark before he could really think about them. “Who and what are you?”

The shaman nodded his head, setting his staff down next to him at last, seeming to relax after the small challenge. “Good. Good. No weak. Is good.” He gestured to the tent that surrounded them. “Here safe place. No fight, no hate. No blood spill, yes? Is so.”

“Law.” Howard clarified. “This is a place of peace, we understand. Are there other laws?”

“In peace house? No. Peace house for peacemaking talks. You, me. We make peace. Make Laws now. Yes?”

“So we’re here to make the rules and laws that will govern us while we’re with your people?”

“Is so. You dangermaking, but not have to be danger for farspeakers.”

“Dangermaking?” Clark mused. “We don’t want to be.”

“No, but you is. Silencebringing dangermakers.”

Howard frowned. “Tweren’t what we ever wanted to be. Justice, law, peace. That’s what we wanted.”

“Men of war no find peace easy. Is so.”

“We never fought war for wars sake. We fought for peace, for freedom, for God and country.” Clark said.

“No such thing as war for peace. War is.” The shaman waved one long fingered hand as though shooing the entire train of the conversation out of his way. “You is men of war, claim justice, law, peace. What is you?”

“What are you?” Clark asked again.

“I? I shaman. I watcher of farspeakers. I warder of farspeakers. I healer, teacher, parent. I Zaitrn. I eldest farspeaker left this side of life. Now, you?”

Clark cleared his throat. “I’m Clark, brother, uncle, soldier, farmer.”

“I’m Howard, brother, uncle, soldier, farmer.”

“Same?” The shaman looked from one brother to the other. “More different. Don’t know selves, is so?” He hummed in the back of his throat. “Interesting.” He was silent for a moment, still thinking, before he finally said, “Now laws, rules. We feed you, keep you safe. What you offer?”

“We’re good hunters, the both of us. We can work too, hard labor don’ bother neither of us.”

“Good. Hunt, work. Good. For hunt, work, we keep safe and fed. We teach for more. What you offer?”

“Well, what are you fixin’ to teach us, sir?” Clark asked.

The shaman studied them in silence for a long moment. “Not magic. No weave in you. Maybe yet, maybe never. We teach survive. What plants safe, what not. What animal good to hunt, what hunt you. We give you time until silencebringing wears off. What you offer?”

“Without knowing what you know, it’s hard to offer anything.” Clark mused. “But we can teach you rope tricks maybe, riding maybe, reading maybe? Reckon we could find something useful what we know and you don’.”

“Know more than think know. Yes. You teach, we teach. Like for like. Is so. Good. Next you puremaking, is so?”

“Puremaking?” Howard’s tone was incredulous.

“Yes yes, smoke make pure, take away bad and leave room for good.” The shaman waved the thought away as he began drawing something on the floor with one long, thin finger. When he finished drawing a small fire sprung to life on the dirt floor. The fire may have been tiny, but the smoke that billowed from it was anything but. It quickly filled the room.

“Breathe deep.” The shaman said, demonstrating. “Let smoke clean inside too. Let bad go, breathe out.” The smoke boiled from his nostrils as he followed his own advice.

They sat in near silence for a long time, just breathing. Only the creaking of leather on the horses’ tack filled the speckled tent. It felt like an eternity before the shaman nodded his green-striped head and stood. “Good. Now, come to tribe.” He offered a hand to each of the brothers in turn, his slender body possessed an unnatural strength as he heaved each to their feet. Howard and Clark collected their horses and followed the shaman out of the smoking tent, the tiny fire winked out as soon as the shaman left.

“Amien spoke first. She keep you, less you choose other.” The shaman explained as he walked toward the somewhat distant camp. As they closed the distance, the camp became more clear to the Franklin brothers and they were able to make out the herd of animals.

The revelation slowed their steps. The farspeakers were strange. They were tall, seemingly primitive, but they still seemed human, or mostly so. The animals bore very little resemblance to anything the Franklins had seen before. Their fur was long and shaggy, a mix of a deep burgundy-brown with stripes of harvest gold. The animals were bulkier on the front, with thick forelegs that ended in massive, cloven hooves. Broad shoulders with a shaggier mane of fur around them that also framed a broad somewhat bovine face. Large copper-colored eyes were on the sides of the animal’s head, each moving independent of the other and offering a wide field of vision. Massive ears stuck straight out from the sides and waved back and forth in the heat of the morning. Instead of a muzzle like a cow, the animals had almost a beak, though made of flesh and not entirely bird-like. The backend was much lighter with thinner legs and a leonine tail. The fur there was less shaggy and shorter, but still striped with harvest gold and burgundy-brown.

“What is that?” Clark asked as he stopped to stare.

“Rhashtow.” The shaman answered, the word sounded like it was a different language. “We guard them, they keep us. Is so.”

He barely paused as he answered their question, instead moving on without waiting for them to catch up.

Clark looked to Howard, both caught still for a moment. They had realized that they weren’t in Iowa anymore almost immediately. It only took the sudden change from daylight to darkness. They had reached for the unflappable calm that they had wrapped around themselves for every strange situation in the past. Suddenly, looking at the rashtow, they could hold on no longer to the calm. Howard emitted a low whistle.

“What are we going to do Howard?” Clark asked, staring at the beast, neither brother following the shaman.

“Best we can, I reckon.” Howard answered as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his rough trousers. “God willing, we’re where we’re supposed to be. We trust in him, maybe we see our way outta this.”

“God willing.” Clark echoed. A shiver ran up his spine and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling for a moment. “God willing.” He repeated again, drawing his strength from that as he made himself keep following the shaman.

“Yep.” Howard answered, hands still in his pockets as he fell into step next to his brother. God willing, he thought, and with you at my side, we’ll come through this.