The Compendium of Ancient Tales and Ballads which for me sums up the idea.’ He closed his eyes, then recited slowly and with passion:
‘ From face to foot he was a thing of blood whose every move was timed with dying cries! ’
I saw the image of the warrior in my mind’s eye. It was terrible yet powerful.
‘Those lines were written centuries ago by some unknown scribe. We have forgotten so much. The history of humans is in fragments; but the words are still inspirational. That is what we Genthai must become in orderto defeat our powerful enemies.’ With a sigh, Konnit dismissed me from his presence.
So it was that I endured ten more nights of slaughter.
The only compensation was that now I seemed to have been partially accepted by the tribe. Nobody engaged me in conversation, but at least they no longer kept their distance. Children came close and stared at myface, and some women even smiled at me as I passed. The men too nodded in greeting, and Garrett stopped swearing at me.
At the end of that period of bloody combat, only four more human warriors had been victorious. Each one of us was offered an honour which we were free to accept or reject.
It was to receive the Genthai facial tattoo.
From Mokson, the man who was to carry out this work, I learned what the tattoos represented and why not all Genthai warriors displayed them.
‘We have many brave warriors, but displays of courage are not enough to earn facial tattoos,’ he explained as I knelt cross-legged on the floor of his hut. He was old and wizened, but he circled me with slow, delicatesteps, like a bird preparing to peck at a worm. The weather had turned cold again and the door was wide open. Our breath steamed.
‘Only a warrior who slays a werewight and saves a child may receive that honour,’ he continued.
It explained a lot. That was why Konnit had the tattoos but not Garrett.
‘The tattoo I will create on your face is called a moko,’ he told me. ‘The process will take many weeks because time must be allowed for healing. But we have a problem. Your ancestry will be inscribed upon yourface. The left side will show the ancestry of your father, whose true Genthai name was Lasar. The right side should represent your mother’s lineage. But you had no mother . . .’
I felt myself flush with anger as I remembered my mother and the terrible way she had died at the hands of Hob. I remembered seeing her body lying in the grass, drained of blood.
Mokson patted me on the shoulder. ‘I mean no disrespect. I merely mean that you had no Genthai mother. The woman who gave birth to you had no Genthai lineage, so I must leave the right side of your face blank.’
I felt bitter. How could this be an honour? My status would be clear for all to see. I would only be half a Genthai warrior. But then I took a deep breath and allowed that feeling to pass. Why should I deny what wasclearly true? I was