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“The Water Breakers Tribe”, an amber cube about the Water Breakers's tribe, given by Senator Abycus Zekops to the akenak Na-Tara in 2545..
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− “Work on that skin, lil' chap, it's not clean enough for my taste!” said the master tanner, spitting in the river with an ungraceful gesture.
− “And hurry up, lil' dude, we don't have all day, damn hairless kami! Would miss more than one of these good-for-nothing Tryker thugs to come and kick your rear end by stealing your dappers...” he mumbled as he walked away from the water hole.
It was a beautiful day that had begun. The cool morning foreshadowed a blazing afternoon under the oppressive heat of the desert, which made my work as an apprentice tanner of the Water Breakers tribe easier. But heat meant thirst, and the herbivores would soon arrive in droves at the water point. And herbivores mean predators... But for the time being, it was enough not to think about it. I had been working for more than two hours on the same varinx skin by rubbing it with tama wood chips. At the end of these two hours, the skin was not "perfect" as the master tanner wanted it, my shavings stock for the day was almost exhausted, not to mention the splinters that I collected in the palm of my hand. As for the water in the oasis, it was getting seriously dirty and therefore unusable. The call for a break rang out and I had a moment of panic. After the break, the tanner would come back to see me again and as my work hadn't progressed a bit, he would take unhealthy pleasure in making me catch hell.
It had been two weeks since we had received the order from the imperial palace to refurbish little Dexton's room. Bedspread in varinx skin. But not the standard model, nor the basic model, of course. And when it wasn't orders for highly luxurious products such as those we were in charge to produce, the Empire would order heavy armours from us. But at that time, many sighs escaped me as I looked at the state of the unsuitable skin that had fallen on me. I couldn't get anywhere with these varinx skins, not to mention the grease stains on the coat. And all this for a mission that had to be achieved quickly. The whole tribe had been busy for a fortnight. Drapes, clothes, various carpets... Everything had to be done for a being who one day would be the Emperor of the Fyros people, our Emperor. And every day, the water was a little more vitiated, brownish. The air was a little less breathable and the wind didn't help. Some people said that the storm was about to break out. I am still waiting for it.
The afternoon, as expected, was hot and scorching. But nothing could have prevented me from finishing my painful task after the violent punishment graciously offered between two snags by the tannery master. Generous he was. I finally managed to clean the skin properly, as I should have done, and, proud of my work, raised my head to watch the herds of herbivores drinking at the water's edge. But nothing there. Nothing of nothing. Not the shade of a herbivore. Yet the star of the day was high in the sky and the cattle should have been there. Yes, but no. Later, I will be surprised that I didn't see any predators either. Strange...
− “Hey Xerc'!” said my two-Jena-year-younger matis friend, my youngest, “didn't you notice? Three days that we haven't seen a single grazer or a bodoc eater! I bet the Ma-Duk, well, he’s going to fall down on us all of a sudden!”
As a young, enamored fool that I was, I stupidly smiled at the little homine with a face burnt by the desert sun while eating my filthy broth. “No time”, said the master tanner, we had to make do with inedible quasi-military rations to finish the imperial order on time. And the absence of herbivores did not make things any easier. I sighed again, without paying attention to the whispers that were spreading through the tribe's camp. After a while the whispers fell silent and, intrigued, I took my head out of the vile dish that we were forced to swallow and barely managed to choke me with a vile mouthful of broth.
− “Is good your job, tanner, but not Nature respectful. Necessary is to stop polluting activity yours, 'cause animals more want to drink in Oasis of Oflovak and dying desiccated in desert are. Kamis saddened are by deaths these by hundreds! You understand? Should you! ”
Deux sentinelles se dressaient majestueusement devant le maître tanneur de la tribu des Dresseurs d'Eau très pâle et peu fier. Les yeux mauves reflétant une immensité insondable fixaient l’homin avec une froideur peu engageante.
− “Mais, … Nous avons des délais très courts imposés par le Palais de Pyr, et …”
− “Silence fais tu, homin, n’est l’eau pas bonne pour vie. Pas de vie, pas vous de sur Atys. Vous arrêter votre travail devez jusqu’à ce que l’eau bonne soit et buvable aussi. Sinon Ma-Duk punir vous pourra décider. ”
Le pauvre maître tanneur perdait consistance comme neige de forêt au soleil du désert. J’en eus presque de la peine pour lui, mais comprenais que s’il décidait d’arrêter la production, nous risquions de perdre le marché, notre renommée et beaucoup de choses encore. Peu de temps après, les kamis partirent, non sans un rappel de nos devoirs d’homins envers eux.
La journée passa au ralenti, chacun errant d’un plan de travail à un autre. La présence des kamis ne présageait rien de bon et des aveux à mi-voix parcouraient le campement, comme s’ils étaient dans l’attente d’un jugement divin. Au soir, le maître tanneur rassembla la tribu à la lueur d’un feu de camps et annonça sa décision : ils n’arrêteraient pas ce qui touchait au travail de rivière, que les eaux se purifieront d’elles-même et que les herbivores finiront bien par revenir, stupides bestioles qu’elles étaient. Certains jurèrent, prièrent, pleurèrent, mais le maître était le maître.
Je fus parmi les cinq membres de la Tribu des Dresseurs d'Eau à me dresser contre le maître tanneur. Tous réclamaient le droit de se battre contre lui afin de savoir s’il était toujours digne de diriger les opérations. Si l’un d’entre nous gagnait, nous pouvions faire ce que nous voulions, et le maître tanneur se ferait bannir de la tribu. L’inverse marchait aussi. Les quatre autres avaient tous échoué et reposaient leurs espoirs sur moi. Si je gagnais, ils resteraient. Si je perdais… Nous serions bannis. Toute la tribu assistait à la lutte. Elle ne dura pas longtemps. Je glissais sur une sorte de peau tannée à terre et entraînais mon adversaire déjà fortement fatigué dans ma chute avec moi, et Ma-Duk sait comment, je me retrouvais au-dessus de lui. Au-dessus de tous les membres de la Tribu. Humilié, le maître tanneur s’enfuit et ma première décision fut d’arrêter tout travail de rivière. Tant pis si nous prenions du retard, les Kamis n’ont pas à être mécontents.
Finalement, la commande fut honorée avec seulement quelques semaines de retard et ma tribu fut largement récompensée. Nous entretenons depuis d’excellents rapports avec le Palais Impérial dans tout ce qui touche au cuir. J’espère que mon fils Boeseus sera mon digne successeur.in “Memoirs of Fyre”, by Xercus Xalon, of the Water Breakers tribe.
