The Lexal Affair
Copyright© 2026 by D M Arnold
Chapter 10: Kyto
Kyto regarded the three of them. “The white one must be cold.” He removed his cloak, revealing a hide shirt underneath, and handed it to Andra.
“Denke,” she said.
The old man smiled and gestured toward the forest. He parted the waist- high scrub with his stick as they trudged, the brush becoming more dense as they approached the woods.
“Fire plant, very poisonous,” Kyto said and pointed to a shrub with long thorns and leaves tinged with red.
“Poisonous?” Nyk asked.
“Deadly poison,” the old man replied.
“Then, it’s a good thing we didn’t collect any of it for our fire.”
Kyto looked sideways at Nyk. “Yes, a very good thing.” He noticed a vine, stooped to strip it of leaves and stuffed them into a hide pouch. Then he motioned them onward with his staff.
By mid-afternoon Kyto had arrived at the edge of the woods. As they progressed the going became easier -- deep shade from the dense canopy kept undergrowth to a minimum, except for the odd clearing where vines and shrubs could flourish. Then, Nyk began to hear sounds of human life ahead -- talking and children laughing. They stepped into a clearing and followed a trail through thick, low growth and what might have been cultivated plots.
Kyto pointed with his staff at a stockade of poles about three metres high. Nyk followed the old man around the structure to an open gate. Inside was a village comprising clusters of huts made of woven sticks, and organized in concentric rings around a large, central fire. A lodge, also of woven sticks, sat adjacent to the fire pit.
A group of women sat around the fire, nursing infants. Small children ran and played. Some older women chatted as they dressed a carcass and men worked at crafts on benches outside the huts. All were clothed in hide tunics and leggings, and wore feather-pelt ponchos or cloaks. A woman approached with an infant bundled into a sling she wore across her shoulders. She spotted them and diverted her path.
Kyto motioned to a hut near the lodge. “Please, wait in there.”
Nyk gestured to Nayva and Andra and they all stepped into the hut. Nyk regarded its interior -- a single, square room with twig walls, a floor of lashed poles and a roof thatched with the long, blade-like leaves of the forest trees. Against the far wall was a stack of earthenware crocks. “This looks like a storeroom,” he observed.
A villager entered, dropped three feather-pelts onto the floor and left without speaking or making eye contact. “I guess this will be our abode until they determine how to dispose of us,” Andra remarked.
“We’ll be sleeping on a hard floor,” Nyk replied. “At least we’ll have a roof over our heads.”
“I for one,” Nayva added, “will be thankful for that stockade.”
Nyk glanced through the doorway and saw Kyto engaging in a lively conversation with another, middle-aged man. “That must be the chieftain,” he said. “No doubt, they’re discussing our fate.”
“What do you think they’ll do with us?” Nayva asked.
“I don’t think these are dangerous people. I don’t see any weapons -- no spears, bows and arrows.” He looked at the faces on the women and children. “Interesting physical characteristics. They look Asian, but with blond hair, blue eyes and light skin.”
“How many accompanied Midoro?” Andra asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t read the entire story on the wall of that cave.”
“For some reason, this settlement never hit critical mass like the Floran colony”, Andra observed. “They look to be in decline.”
“Perhaps there are more villages,” Nyk replied. “I wonder how they were overlooked during the scouting missions. Life-form scanning should’ve picked them up.”
“These people appear not to have any advanced technology,” Nayva said. “Perhaps the assumption was they were native animals. This planet has a well- evolved fauna.”
“As we’ve tasted,” Andra added.
Kyto entered the hut. He motioned to Nyk to follow him. Andra and Nayva stood, but Kyto gestured with his staff.
“You’d better wait here.” Nyk followed the old man into the lodge. Lying on a feather fur on a slab was a boy. He was naked and appeared to be in discomfort. Kyto and the chief continued their heated discussion. Their speech was rapid and laced with unfamiliar words.
The chief made a gesture, turned and left the lodge. Kyto bowed, walked to Nyk and gestured him outside the lodge.
Nyk returned to the hut. “Kyto is their medicine-man. Inside the lodge is a very sick boy, in my estimate about fifteen Floran years old. From what I gather he’s the son of the chief. Kyto believes the boy has appendicitis, and he’d like to remove his appendix.”
“He can do that?” Nayva asked.
“He could, assuming he had a sharp knife. Unfortunately, his knife broke. The village smith will fabricate a new one, but he must gather raw materials -- a two day trek into the hills. Kyto has told the chief his son’s prognosis is poor, but he went up the hill to gather some herbs to make medicine that might help him.”
“When you gave him our knife...” Nayva said.
“He viewed it as a gift from Destiny. The chief is not so happy to see outsiders in his village, though. Kyto has convinced the chief to permit him to operate. If the boy recovers, it’s a sign from Destiny. If not -- well, that’s another sign. The chief wants me there during the procedure -- to remind Kyto of the stakes.”
“What about us?” Andra asked.
“This is a patriarchal society,” Nyk replied. “I’m afraid females are not welcome for the procedure.”
“When does he begin?” Nayva asked.
“As soon as he gathers the requisite materials.”
A village woman entered the hut carrying three bark trays filled with a stew of meat cutlets, white and purple chunks and some stringy, dark-green vegetables. “Kyto felt you may be hungry,” she said. “Leftovers from the mid-day meal.” Nyk accepted the trays and passed them to Nayva and Andra.
Nayva looked at her tray. “Go ahead,” Andra said. “Eat up.”
Nyk scooped some of the stew with a wooden spoon. “It is very good ... very tasty.”
“Yes, it is,” Andra added.
“I suppose I’m hungry enough after that hike to eat anything,” Nayva replied.
The village woman returned carrying a large, long-necked gourd. “Water,” she said in Esperanto.
“Thank you,” Nyk replied. “This ... food ... is delicious. I recognize inkroot...”
“Ink ... root?” He scooped some with his spoon. “That we call zang’rafan.
“Blood-radish,” he mused “It’s called inkroot on the northern continent.” He scooped a cutlet. “What meat is this?”
“Dravithata”, the village woman replied.
“Dravithata you call it? It is very good. Is it fresh from the hunt?”
“No,” she replied. “Dravithata must hang for eight days for the flavor to cure.” She collected the empty trays and left the hut.
“Are you becoming comfortable with the language?” Andra asked.
“Yes. There is some specialized vocabulary ... like dravithata -- but I’m managing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s the name of the creature we had for lunch. I’m going to take a look outside.”
Nyk stepped into the daylight and watched the villagers. Andra approached his side, then grasped his arm. “Look!” she gasped and pointed toward the open gateway.
One of the villagers trudged into the stockade. Over his shoulder was slung a man-sized creature. It had a scaly, reptilian head with a long snout and jaws lined with rows of black, shark-teeth. Two pairs of barbels grew from under its nostrils and thick, purple fluid oozed from a gash above its lidless, orange eye. The scales on its thick neck gave way to an oily coat. The animal had three pairs of legs -- the front ones were equipped with long claws and the others adapted as flippers. The man was dragging it by a long, naked, rat-like tail.
“What is THAT?” Nyk asked as the villager trudged past.
Dravithata, he replied.
Kyto appeared in the doorway to the lodge. He caught Nyk’s eye and motioned for him to follow. “I had better see what he wants.”
“I’ll wait in the hut,” Andra replied.
Nyk stepped inside the lodge and saw a number of other men sitting on benches near the boy. “Sit there,” Kyto said and gestured toward the corner. The chief sat near him, holding a metre-long staff in his lap.
The old man approached a fire burning in an earthenware brazier and placed a stick into it. The splint ignited. He carried it to the boy, blew out the flame and pressed the glowing end against his bicep. The boy winced and a blister raised on his arm. Kyto repeated the procedure twice.
Kyto withdrew a small earthen jug. The men on the bench averted their eyes. He took the folding knife, snapped it open and punctured the three blisters. Then, the old man reached into the jug with a swab and daubed a thick liquid onto the three wounds. He replaced the jug and motioned to the men on the bench. They approached the boy, rolled him onto his side and held his head.
The boy began panting. Kyto approached him with a basin hewn from a piece of log. He stroked the boy’s hair and spoke to him softly. The boy began vomiting. He gasped once and was limp. The men rolled him onto his back and stood at his feet.
Kyto used the knife to make an incision in the boy’s abdomen. He motioned to one of the men, who slipped his fingers into the wound. The medicine man cut through layers of muscle to expose the viscera. Another man lent his fingers to keep the tissues retracted.
Nyk craned his neck to see past Kyto. He saw the old man drop something onto a bark tray, and take what appeared to be a bone needle and some filament from a kit.
Another man placed a dressing of fiber wool onto the incision, covered it with a piece of hide and held it in place. Kyto packed his implements, approached Nyk and smiled. The chief stood and went to the boy. Nyk could see his deep, regular breathing.
Nyk returned to the hut. “It was remarkable,” he said and described the surgery. “Kyto has excellent knowledge of human physiology and anatomy. His tools may be primitive, but he’s a very wise man.”
“Will the boy survive?”
“Assuming he recovers from the anesthesia, I think he will.”
Nyk lay beside Andra and Nayva under one of the feather-pelts, staring in the dim light at the thatched ceiling of the hut. Earlier he had watched some village men close the double gate in the stockade and bar it with heavy timbers dropped into brackets.
The three had stacked two of the pelts in an attempt to form a cushion to soften the hard and uneven hut floor, and they were sleeping together for warmth. He listened to the noises of the forest. Some of its nocturnal denizens were making calls to each other and he could hear sounds of large animals prowling outside the stockade. Overhead a heavy overcast had formed and the night-time clouds glowed a dull orange from the Lexalese half-moon. Some of this light seeped into the hut through the woven walls.
Outside, a few paces away, he could hear the fire-tenders talking ... talking about the three strangers sleeping in the storage hut. They had let the fire die down to an ember for overnight. The hut was becoming cold. Nyk inched closer to Andra, closed his eyes and attempted to sleep.
Dawn awoke Nyk and he slipped from under the feather-pelt blanket. He picked up the survival kit, stepped from the hut and headed for the lodge. Some villagers were piling sticks onto the fire. They were beginning to catch, and sickeningly sweet smoke wafted his way. He stepped into the lodge. Kyto was conferring with the boy, who was propped up on the slab. The old man headed toward the rear of the lodge.
Nyk followed the medicine-man into a workroom. An earthenware cauldron sat on a fire pit. A young woman stood at a rough-hewn bench sorting stems of herbs and tying them into bundles. She looked up at Kyto. He gestured with his staff and she hustled from the workroom.
“How is the boy?” Nyk asked in Esperanto.
Kyto looked Nyk over. “You are outsiders. Where are you from?”
“From the colony on the other continent,” Nyk replied. “Are you aware you share this world with others?”
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