Calamity's Child by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Page B

were rescued.
    And, surely, he thought, flipping his
braid behind a shoulder and leaning toward the board, if he were
Chosen, his underfed and nutrient-lacking seed would quicken no
child among the Sanilithe.
    If he were, against
dwindling odds,
rescued
, and left thereby the
tent of his wife, she would not suffer. Her sisters would care for
her, and share with her the profits of their tents, until all
converged upon the wintering Dark Camp again, and she might Chose
another hunter to serve her.
    And if he were Chosen and remained
unrescued -- well.
    The day's trail did not always yield
good things.
    He touched a key.
    The screen blanked, then swam back
into being, displaying the last entry he had made in the log, on
the night before the Sanilithe broke apart into its several Light
Season bands and roamed far, gathering what foodstuffs could be
wrested from the sullen land.
    Carefully, he placed his fingers on
the pad and began, slow and hesitant over his letters, to type,
giving as the date Dark Camp, Third.
    Last night, the final
purification was done by the eldest and most holy of the
grandmothers. Tomorrow night, I am to stand around the fire as a
candidate husband, for the choice of any woman with need. If this
chance comes to me, I shall seize it, in order to remain in
proximity to the ship and to the beacon.
    If I am not chosen, I
will be forced away from this kin-group. Should that transpire, I
will shelter in the ship for the remainder of the Dark Season.
Then, if rescue has not found me, I will attempt to reach the sea.
If I make that attempt, I will record my plan here.
    I have this evening
withdrawn the last of the nutrient drops and antibiotics from the
emergency locker.
    He hesitated, his right hand rising to
finger the length of metal in his right ear, which named him a son
of Gineah's tent, just as the heavy braid of hair identified him as
unmarried. Married hunters, such as Verad, had their hair cut
short, and wore the earring of their wife's tent with pride in
their left earlobe. Slade sighed, thinking that one might wish for
a mating, if only to be rid of the braid.
    He put his fingers back on the keys.
When he had begun this log, he had filled it with observations of
custom and language. There had been less of that, as odd custom
became that code by which he lived, and the curiously nuanced
language the tongue in which he dreamed. Likewise, he had
previously recorded the weakness which came to him when he denied
himself the supplements and ate only local food. There was no need
to repeat that information for those who ...might... read what he
had been writing.
    He moved his fingers on the keypad,
laboriously spelling out his name:
    Tol Ven yo'Endoth Clan
Aziel
    Scout survey
pilot
    Then, as an afterthought -- though
he'd done the transliteration earlier in the report -- he added one
more typed line:
    Slade, second named
son of Gineah's tent.
    *
    Slade stood, Arb on his right hand,
Panilet on his left, before them the man-high blaze of the Choosing
Fire. It was difficult to concentrate in the flame-swept darkness,
for which he blamed the various brews he had been compelled to
swallow during the purifications, as well as the chants and songs
of those of the tribe gathered to witness the Choosings.
    Briefly, he closed his eyes, seeing
the flames still, dancing on the inside of his eyelids. The day had
begun at sunrise, with Verad rousing him from Gineah's tent and
hustling him, with neither meat nor berries to break his fast, to
the far side of the encampment, where the hunters of the Sanilithe
gathered, each bachelor under the patronage of a married man. Verad
stood as Slade's sponsor, for which he was grateful.
    There were prayers to recite, smokes
to inhale, and strange beverages to drink. There was no water, nor
tea, nor aught to eat. Still, he was not hungry and as the day with
its duties progressed he found himself remarkably calm, if slightly
lightheaded.
    At last the waning sun disappeared
behind