Opening Acts

by SFnovelists

  *** ***

  A brook crossed the road a quarter mile farther on. Smoke came first to the ford. He waited until the woman drew near, then he stepped out from the mottled shadows to meet her. "Tell me your name."

  A little screech of terror escaped her. She skidded to such a swift stop that she fell back on her rear. But she was up again in a moment. "How can you be here ahead of me? Are there two of you? Who are you?"

  "I am one and I am alone, though I would have you alongside me. Please tell me your name."

  "It is Ketty! My name is Ketty, and I cannot be your wife because I am already betrothed."

  Smoke nodded. "I know. You don't care for him. He's near your father's age and has already used up two wives-so you ran away."

  Ketty's lips parted in a round "O" of astonishment. "How do you know that?"

  "Haven't you told me?"

  "I've never seen you before! I only ever said such things when I spoke my prayers to the Dread Hammer."

  "Just so. I heard your prayer. It's why I'm here." Smoke lifted his gaze to look past her. "He's coming along with your father, you know. They're riding horses and they're very near. You can't outrun them." He looked at her again. "But I'll kill them for you."

  To his surprise, she greeted this proposal with horror. "No! My brothers and sisters will starve if my father is not there to care for them."

  "Ah, I hadn't considered that." Smoke frowned, thinking hard. "I'll spare your father then, if I can, but I'll slay your betrothed."

  "No," Ketty insisted, even more firmly. "I do not care for him, but he has small children too and no wife-" The sound of hoof beats interrupted her. They came with a cantering rhythm, faint at first but swiftly growing louder. Ketty made a frightened moan as she spun around to look.

  "There's not much time," Smoke pointed out. "So what do you want me to-?"

  Ketty gave him no answer, but instead turned and fled, east into the trees. She went with no grace at all, crashing through the ferns and sliding in the moss, leaving a trail a child could follow. Smoke looked after her in exasperation. Why did she have to make this so difficult? It would be a simple thing to cut open their throats . . . though of course she was right, there were children to consider.

  So with a great sigh he set his soul to glide along the threads that lay beneath the world. In doing so his worldly reflection-that part of him that Ketty saw as a man-was dissolved by the speed of his passage. If Ketty had been watching she would have sworn he transformed into a long plume of scentless gray smoke that streamed away between the trees though there was no wind to carry it.