North of the Great Cut and the Dirudah was the Kudah, and the tribe of the Kuvedah was ruled by the twins, Hesheh and Vintah. Their rule extended north to the cold waters where the ice and darkness met. And there the Kuvedah fished and hunted for game.
Tocchah ruled the Irrvedah and the Irrvedah ruled from the heights of the Akkujah Mountains and the depths of the Great Cut and all in between, south to the Yellow Sea. The Irrvedah ate little flesh, save that of the swimming creatures from the waters of the Great Cut. At the bottom of the Cut, and in the mountains, the Irrvedah made plants to grow at will, for it was these plants that fed the Irrvedah.
All of the tribes of the Sindie lived according to the sacred tabus spoken generations before by the Doubter Daultha.
For the Irrvedah, the flesh of creatures that stalked the dry land was tabu. For any tribe to cross the Great Cut or the mountains of Akkujah was tabu. For the Irrvedah to leave the cut or the mountains and enter either the Madah, Kudah, or Dirudah was tabu. For any tribe to place an obligation on another tribe either of service, sacrifice, or obligation was tabu.
Because the lands of the flesh hunters were divided by the land of the plant growers, the land creatures flourished there and there was no cause for mistrust or jealousy.
There was peace and plenty among the four great tribes.
All praised the wisdom of Aakva’s servants.
The year of the black rains came and left the Madah barren. Those lands west of the Akkujah saw no water, and the ground cracked and turned to fine powder. The noon sky burned with a blinding blue, while the morning and evening skies were the reds and yellows of cooling iron. The lakes and rivers became mud and dust, and the creatures that swam within them died. The Ocean of Ice became a black sea of putrid oil. The wild creatures of the land fled from the Madah to the mountains, and from there to the lands of the Diruvedah and the Kuvedah.
The proud hunters of the Mavedah could not blood their spears, and so they watched their children cry and grow thin. Soon the Mavedah became as barren as their land. There was an end to love and conception. The hunters clawed at the land, gathering roots, insects, and the skins of the few trees that still lived. But in time even these were gone. The hunters watched their children scream and stare.
The hunters clawed at the bottoms of streams and wellbeds, chasing the precious water as it left the ground below. But the water ran more swiftly than the hunters could dig. The hunters watched their children die.
The low, slow beat of the death drums started and their rumble filled the Madah both day and night.
The constant prayer wails of the Mavedah were sent upward to the God of the Day Light, but the only answer was the oven-breath of the windstorm. The trees and grasses of the Madah withered and burned. Even the wingmite refused to cross the sky.
And the lips and tongues of the Mavedah became too dry to wail.
The Mavedah became too tired to pray.
The beating of the death drums fed upon itself. Instead of burning the dead, the Mavedah closed its eyes and ate the dead.
It was Bantumeh, the ruler of the masters of the Mavedah, who sent forth the call. The masters of the other clans of the Mavedah trudged to Bantumeh’s fire to discuss plans. But after they ate again of the dead, the masters had not the voice to discuss plans.
Near another fire was a lower servant of Aakva named Uhe. It was not very tall, nor handsome, nor strong. In its eyes, though, could be found the water the wells had lost, for the lowly servant cried. That night Uhe sat and watched its child Leuno die of starvation. The child knew its parent to the end. The dull eyes saw little, but the cracked lips set in that drawn face whispered Uhe’s name before Leuno died. Uhe released its child’s hand and watched as the food preparers carried Leuno’s small body toward the masters' fire.
Uhe looked into the depths of its own fire and whispered to the God of the Day Light, "This, then, is your promise of plenty for keeping your Law of Peace, Aakva? Is this the mercy and bounty of the Parent of All?"
There was, for an answer, only silence. There was a cry and Uhe lifted its gaze until it saw a child gnawing upon a piece of cured tent skin, while the child’s parent, a once-proud warrior, watched with envy in its eyes. Near one of the hunters' fires, eight sat waiting for a child to make its last breath. When that breath ended, the pitifully wasted corpse would be apportioned among the hunters. Uhe studied the faces of the hunters and saw that one of them was mouthing the curse of quick death. The curse was for the child. The one who gave the curse was the child’s parent. In the parent’s eyes was only hunger.
There was fear in Uhe’s heart, but its rage chased its fear into the shadows,
It was before that first night’s fire, the sand cold from the night, that Uhe stood before the tribal masters.
Uhe said:
"Bantumeh, great and honored ruler of the masters of the Mavedah, this night you have tasted the flesh of my child, Leuno."
Bantumeh, once tall, powerful and strong, covered its face with its hands. "Your shame is our shame, poor Uhe."
When its hands pulled away, they uncovered a face wrinkled with age, pain, and the scars of many challenges to the rulership of the Mavedah. "Uhe," said Bantumeh. "We have all tasted either child, sibling, parent, or friend this year. There is no choice. To put our minds aside as we eat to keep the Mavedah alive is our sole hope. Your grief is understood; your reminder is out of place."
At the rebuke Uhe did not retire from the ring of masters, but instead pointed east toward the Akkujah Mountains. "There, Bantumeh, is food for the Mavedah."
Bantumeh stood, its face crossed with anger. "You would have the Mavedah violate the tabus? Aakva’s own law? Could we do such a thing, do you not think that I would already have done so?"
A master named Iyjiia, who was the chief of Aakva’s servants, leaped to its feet. "Uhe, this is a beast standing before the masters, not a servant of Aakva!" Iyjiia faced the other masters and filled its image with voice, for Iyjiia was thin and small in stature.
"The law is clear. The Mavedah is forbidden to enter the domain of the Irrvedah, just as the Irrvedah is forbidden to enter the Madah. It is tabu even for us to ask the Irrvedah for food."
Iyjiia faced Uhe and pointed. "Even to wish this is tabu!"
Most of the masters nodded and muttered their agreement. It was a painful law to obey, but its wisdom was understood by all. To violate that law would again bring the wars to Sindie. This was the promise of Aakva, and the wars were too horrible to contemplate.
Uhe held out its arms and faced the night sky. "But I, Uhe, invoke a new vision from Aakva." The masters, and those at the other fires, muttered in astonishment and doubt at Uhe’s words. "Its old law," continued the servant, "was for a time and a place. Aakva speaks to me that the time is changed. Aakva speaks to us all that the place is changed. It is time for a new law."
Iyjiia stood silent, for there was danger in disputing a claim to a vision. If the claim of the young Uhe were false, Uhe would suffer for it. But Iyjiia would pay the same price if it disputed a vision that turned out to be true law. Iyjiia also saw that many members of the tribe had gathered around the ring of masters. Whether the law be true or not, if it promised food it might find support among that gathering crowd of armed hunters.
Iyjiia returned to its place in the ring of masters and said to Uhe, "Tell us your vision."
As was the custom, Uhe unfastened its covering of skins, let them fall from its frame, and stood naked before them all to show the truth of its words.