'I should think so. Can you fill this with water for me?' Kheda indicated the shallow trough.
As Naldeth nodded and steam gathered in the hollow of the wood to condense into shining droplets, the considerable crowd now gathered around them murmured, openly inquisitive. The wild men and women watched intently as Kheda laid the leather strip in the water to darken.
Patience. More haste makes for less speed.
As soon as he judged the leather was wet enough, he took it out and stretched it as best he could. Laying it down, he carefully arranged a dense layer of long, dry grass in the centre and put the bow stave precisely in the middle. Kneeling, he threaded a length of leather thong through the eye of the bone needle and bent over the bow stave to begin sewing the leather tightly around the wood and grass. 'It should dry fast enough
in this heat,' he commented, 'so the leather will shrink still tighter.'
'It'll dry still faster and tighter if you let me do it with my magic,' Naldeth pointed out, somewhat exasperated.
'That's true enough.' Kheda looked up apologetically from his awkward task. 'Risala, do you think you can persuade these folk to find me some thin, straight sticks?'
'I can try.' She tossed him the coil of stout string that one of the women had just given her. She smiled briefly at Kheda and he felt memory of the night's passion twist deep in his stomach. He would have held her gaze longer but she turned away to her new task.
A few children followed at a respectful distance as Risala began searching the closest length of the thorn barrier for suitable twigs. The rest of the men and women continued to watch Kheda as he laboriously completed the finger-cramping task of sewing the leather tightly around the curved wood, compressing the grass inside. From time to time he tried to look around the enclosure but there were too many people moving about for him to get a clear sight of Velindre.
Kheda handed the stave in its case of damp leather to Naldeth. 'Very well then, Master Mage, dry that out for me.' He addressed himself to measuring a length of cord for a bowstring and tying tight loops in each end.
Naldeth took the bow stave, which immediately began steaming gently. Soon the darkness was fading fast from the leather. The savages murmured among themselves again and most took a pace or two back.
'Will these do?' Risala returned with a handful of long, whippy sticks.
Kheda nodded as he took the bow stave back from the young mage. 'Naldeth, help her, if you please. Strip off the bark and make me some arrows, about this long.' He indicated the standard shaft length reaching from his
fingertips to his breastbone. 'Put a point on one end and a notch in the other.'
'I know I said I'm no hunter,' Naldeth complained mildly, 'but I have seen an arrow before.'
'How are you planning on fletching and barbing them?' Risala asked.
'Let's see what our new allies can offer us.' Kheda watched the wild spearmen edge closer to see more clearly as Naldeth took up one of the sticks. Some were intent on the dagger itself, others on the blade's action on the wood. As soon as the young mage set the first peeled wand down, one of the older hunters, bolder than the rest, immediately picked it up. He was short and stooped with some old, ill-healed injury twisting his back, his face wizened and his hair a thin grey fuzz on his fleshless skull. After studying it, he shrugged at his companions; their puzzlement was equally plain.
The whole circle of watchers took a pace backwards as Kheda stood up. He settled one loop of the string into the notch he had cut in one end of the improvised bow stave, tugging at it till the cord bit deep into the leather. Flipping the wood over, he braced the lower end against his foot and slowly leaned on the top, gradually bending it sufficiently to accept the second loop of the bowstring. His shoulder muscles protesting, he gently released the pressure until the string alone held the leather-encased wood in a new smooth curve.
So far, so good. It hasn't snapped at the first test. Risala can call that an omen if she wants to.
Kheda gave the string a tentative pull. The bow was stiff and the leather creaked but he couldn't feel any hint of the wood within cracking. 'Naldeth, some arrows please.'
The wizard complied. 'They're not very good, I'm afraid.'
'As long as they're good enough to show these people
what we're doing.' Kheda moved to get a clear view across the upper end of the enclosure. There was plenty of space past the dead mage's hut where the skins of the lizards that had been slain the day before yesterday were drying stretched on stoutly lashed frameworks of wood. Drawing the crude bow in one fluid action, Kheda loosed the blunt, featherless shaft. It shot across the emptiness and vanished over one of the skins to be lost in the thorn barricade.
A murmur of surprise ran around the gathering. Before it ran its course, Kheda loosed a second rough shaft and this time he hit the lizard skin almost dead centre, the arrow bouncing off. Unmistakable interest lit the hunters' faces.
Naldeth rolled the next arrow between his fingers and the sappy point darkened and hardened. 'Why do you suppose none of them have ever contrived a bow?'
Kheda shot again and this time the arrow pierced the lizard hide to hang there quivering. 'I don't imagine their life offers much leisure for sitting and thinking.' He had to speak up to be heard over the hum of excitement all around.
Risala was still stripping bark from the thin sticks. 'And I don't see many elders around to turn their experiences into new ideas.'
'Do you imagine those wild mages let anyone showing more than usual intelligence live for long?' Kheda picked up another arrow. 'Tyrants like Ulla Safar soon cut down anyone with the wit to be a threat.'
'They certainly seem to like this idea—' Naldeth broke off as the stooping spearman who'd been the first to pick up a rough arrow tugged at his arm. 'What does he want?'
The wild man pointed over towards the ash-filled hearth and then tapped Naldeth's empty hand. He repeated the gesture a second time and then a third, looking a little frustrated at the mage's slowness.
'He wants you to light the fire.' Kheda's spirits rose.
If they can make themselves understood, surely so can we.
He shot again and missed the lizard skin, the arrow gouging a shallow groove in the dust. The crowd didn't care, their voices growing louder, edged with excitement. More savages came to see what was afoot.
'Be careful,' Risala said sharply as the mage held his hand up and a scarlet flame danced on his upturned palm. 'We don't want to draw any dragons.'
'A spark like this is lost in the confluence of elements around here, believe me.' Naldeth dropped the flame onto the ground and bent to pile the detritus from the bow-making on it. The red magelight shivered and turned to the comforting yellow of natural fire.
The stooped hunter glanced over his shoulder, wrinkled face expressive. Several of those behind him made encouraging sounds. The stooped hunter drew a deep breath and crouched down on his heels to hold the peeled stick out over the little fire. His hand was shaking so much that the wood wavered wildly in and out of the flickering flames. Grinning, Naldeth hunkered down and steadied the other end with his free hand. The hunter licked his lips nervously as he watched the wood intently. As the moisture that had lurked underneath the bark was drawn out of the wood, he snatched it back and deftly ran it through his leathery fingers. His hands steadier, he returned it to the flame. After a few such passes he was satisfied and, smiling shyly, he handed the arrow to Kheda.
'They know enough to understand that a straight shaft flies faster and truer.' Kheda rolled the blunt arrow between his fingers and looked down its length.
'It'll fly better still for some fletching—' Risala caught her breath on a recollection. 'And I know where to find some feathers.'