Barbarian's Bride (Ice Planet Barbarians)

I sigh. "This is what she tells me, too, but sometimes I feel as though…I do not know." I drum my fingers on my arm in frustration. "It is like there is some component of our mating that I have missed out on. And I do not know what it is."

She regards me closely. "Like…a marriage ceremony?" Her eyes widen and she gasps. "Oh, Nora's Jewish! Maybe she wanted a Jewish wedding?"

"Yoo-eesh?" I echo. "What is this?"

"Oof, that's a hard one to explain without getting into the nitty gritty of religion." Stay-see chews on a fingernail, thinking. "It means that Nora comes from a people—a tribe—that has very specific ideas of how your life should be lived. What kinds of foods are proper for you to eat, how you worship, and how you live your life. They have beliefs of what happens to you after you die, and these concepts drive how they live their lives, if that makes sense."

My eyes widen. "No-rah and her people know what happens after you die?"

Stay-see winces. "I mean, they think they do? I think? I’m not an expert. But other groups think they have a different answer, and I'm not going to get into a theology debate today." She studies us for a moment and then sighs. "Okay, let's try it this way." She grabs her mate by the arms and pulls him over to her side. "Let's say Pashov lives in another cave with a different tribe. Let's call them the Blue Stud Tribe." She takes me by the arms and shuffles me in the opposite direction. "You, Dagesh, live in the Spurs Aplenty Tribe."

From afar, I hear Kemli laughing quietly to herself.

Stay-see clasps her hands together. "Now these two tribes are all people, yes? But because Blue Stud lives over here, and Spurs Aplenty lives over here, you grow up with different ideas. Maybe Spurs Aplenty likes to make sure that everyone uses red roots instead of white roots when they make stew. And Blue Stud Tribe likes to thank an animal that they kill for its meat, because they believe that this is how you respect nature. Do you follow me?"

I shrug. I do not see what this has to do with my mate, but I try to follow along.

She gestures at me. "Now let's say that Spurs Aplenty Tribe has kits, and their kits have kits, and those kits have kits. And later on, those people believe that not only do you use red roots instead of white roots, but that you absolutely must use red roots. That it is insulting to consider anything else. And then you meet up with a kit from Blue Stud and he's insulted that you don't thank your kills before you eat them. What do you think of that?"

Pashov scratches his ear. "I am still wondering why white roots are bad…"

His mate thwacks him in the gut. "I'm asking Dagesh."

I spread my hands, because I do not know. "Does it matter? If he wishes to thank his meat, why should I care?"

"An excellent question." Stay-see pats her mate on the arm. "Now what if a kit from one tribe marries into the other? Whose customs are right?"

It is as if the suns have come out from behind the clouds. "My mate has customs of her people and she is sad that we did not follow them." Of course. It makes so much sense. Has not No-rah told me many times that it is a problem, but not one I can help her with? It is because she believes different than sa-khui people and she is…hurt? Or she wants to thank her meat?

I am getting a little confused. But I grasp Pashov's mate and squeeze her in a thankful hug. "This must be it. You have my thanks for helping me understand."

"I hope I helped?" Stay-see chuckles. "I'm not sure if that was the best explanation for a really complicated topic, and I'm completely glossing over how shitty one culture can be to another and how Jewish people have had the brunt of that sort of thing for a really, really long time…" She shrugs. "But maybe it can get the ball rolling."

"Wait, which tribe had the ball?" Pashov asks.

Stay-see just groans.

11

NORA

Most days there's a hot meal simmering over the main tribal fire, along with herbal tea. The tea today is a strong one, so I decide to make my own over the small fire we keep going inside our cave. I'm still not as skilled as my mate with keeping house, even in a cave. Sometimes the fire dies and there's nothing I can do to possibly get it going again. I've cried over fire more than once since getting here, but today, tea is my particular enemy.

I frown at the pouch and tripod we keep in the back of our cave and pull out when we want to cook or make tea. Dagesh put it away yesterday, and I figured how hard could it be to set up a tripod, right? I study the tall lengths of bone, trying to figure out which end is up. Each of the three legs is about four feet long, so that when the pouch hangs over the center of the fire, it's not so low that it drags in the coals, but it's low enough that it gets warmed by the heat. The leather pouch is shiny and soft with repeated use, and I tug it off before trying to prop up the bone tripod. The legs of the damn thing won't stand, though, and no matter what I do, I can't get the tripod to work. Each time I try, the bones collapse and start to fall into the fire, and I have to hastily rescue them.