Davion returned to camp late in the night. He suffered with another headache induced by the star folk cramming knowledge into his mind.
He sat on the log and put his head in his hands. Physically, he felt great — better than he had in years — from the healthful food of the forest and the rough exercise of walking up and down steep hills. It was his mind that felt exhausted and overwhelmed.
After a few minutes, he raised his head and noticed, for the first time, the hulking man sitting across from him. He jumped a bit, then said, "Elu, right?"
Elu nodded slowly, staring into the fire with a grim visage.
"Uh," said Davion, "Are you alright?"
Elu didn’t look up. "The elders don’t want to see me right now."
"Oh," said Davion. He paused for a moment before asking, "Why?"
"I led bold youths to raid the soldiers' fort. People died."
"Oh," said Davion. "I’m sorry to hear that."
"Yan was like a little brother to me," said Elu. "He was also the best archer in the tribe. Eyes like an eagle. I got him killed. Others, too."
Elu shook his head and poked at the fire’s coals. "Zeb was right. I should have had patience."
Davion hesitated. Dealing with strong emotions had never been his strength. He finally spoke up: "Won’t your people forgive you? You were doing it to defend the tribe, right?"
"I did," said Elu, "but my people have little tolerance for those who break our rules."
Davion furrowed his brow. "Your people have rules?"
Elu finally looked at him, in confusion. "Of course," he said. "How can you have a tribe without rules?"
"I don’t know," said Davion. "It’s just that you all seem highly individualistic. You don’t seem constrained by the kind of rules of etiquette and decorum that exist where I’m from."
Elu looked back into the fire with a wan smile. "True," he said, "We don’t have hundreds of rules like you do. Just the basics: don’t lie, steal, start fights, abuse women and children, or otherwise trespass against your people. We have few rules, but we enforce them."
"Enforce how?"
"For minor things, we shame the guilty. For unforgivable things, we execute them."
"Wow," said Davion, his eyes wide. "Is there any space between shame and death?"
Elu looked mirthful. "There is a kind of person," he said, "who tries to walk the line between good and evil. They do all the things we hate, but are clever at getting away with it. They flatter others to support them not being shamed or killed."
"What do you do with such people?" asked Davion.
"When no one is looking," said Elu, "someone pushes them off a cliff. No one in the tribe ever asks what happened to them. Everyone knows. Even their own mother or woman won’t ask."
Davion raised his eyebrows and stoked the fire. "Harsh."
"What do your people do with them?"
"If we can prove their guilt," said Davion, "it depends on the crime. We might make a thief pay pack ten times what he stole, or else be put into bondage. For more serious crimes, we might put the criminal in a forced labor camp — or, if they are too dangerous, lock them up in a cage."
"That sounds worse," said Elu. "You don’t execute anyone?"
"The kingdom only executes for high crimes like mayhem and murder. Vigilantes have been known to execute rapists, on occasion. We don’t execute for things like theft or brawling."
"We have no chains or prisons," said Elu. "If we try to exile someone, and they refuse to leave, or sneak around stealing from us, what else can we do?"
Davion took a deep breath and stoked the fire some more. "Good question."