by Джеффри Лорд
Three days before the raid was set to depart, Blade learned from Teindo that he would not be allowed to fight. To do him justice, the Blue Hunter seemed ashamed both of the messages and of having agreed to bring it to Blade. This didn't make him any the less firm in laying down the law to Blade, including promising him a harsh fate for disobedience.
«Being cleansed before the Great Hunters as Awgal was is the least you can expect if you disobey,» Teindo said soberly. «There are other fates that might be yours, which I shall not describe. They are too ugly. Also, none of them have been used for so many years that I do not know all about them.»
«Thank you for your kindness,» said Blade.
Teindo ignored the sarcasm. «This is not my wish or that of either the Blue or Red Hunters. It is the wish of-those who think you have more to teach the Rutari than things about war.»
«So-the Wise One says I'm too valuable to be exposed to Uchendi spears?»
«She has not said it exactly that way, but that is a good way of saying it-yes.»
«Well, if the Wise One will punish any warrior who calls me coward, no harm will be done. If she does not do this there will be no peace between us. No one can ask me to hold my honor as a warrior lightly, no matter what they want to learn from me. This I swore before I left my own land, long before I ever heard of the Rutari or they of me!»
Teindo looked uneasily around as Blade raised his voice. But he seemed to be sincere when he replied, «I will bear your message to the place from which I brought mine. Indeed, I do not think they are so foolish as to ask otherwise.»
«It is best that it be so,» said Blade, and turned away to walk off briskly. His anger wasn't entirely an act. Was he a guest of the Rutari or a guinea pig for the Wise One?
Well, so much for his chances of learning about the Uchendi and their telepathy first-hand, unless he wanted to risk offending the Wise One. And he still didn't know much about telepathy among the Rutari!
The kerush would improve whatever telepathic powers you had, but how much it would improve was rather unpredictable. It would make almost anyone capable of receiving telepathic messages, in a muddled sort of way. He'd been to one orgy with everyone on kerush and knew just how muddled the messages could be. He and Cheeky communicated more clearly the first time they ever had a telepathic conversation! A fair number of Rutari could get up to the normal telepathic level of the Wise One and Ellspa with the help of massive doses of kerush. But the two women seemed to be the only really powerful telepaths in the whole tribe.
Blade might not have been so frustrated if he'd been able to talk freely with Cheeky. Unfortunately, Cheeky seemed to be spending all his time making love to Moyla and gorging himself on fruits and nuts the Wise One fed him. He was living a life of ease, and if he ever gave Blade or the Project a thought, Blade certainly didn't know it. He did know that Moyla didn't like him-she'd told Blade to «Get lost!» more often than he cared to remember.
Cheeky, Blade realized, was in the position of a boy in love for the first time with a beautiful, willing, but rather dumb girlfriend. All his brains had flowed down into his sex organs, and were going to stay there for a while.
Cheeky sat on top of the hut of Moyla's mistress and watched the human fighters ride out of the village. Moyla was beside him and a bowl of nuts between them. They were his favorite kind of nuts, so Moyla got them from her mistress whenever she could. She did this sort of thing often, which proved to Cheeky that she liked him. It was almost the first time a female like him had felt that way.
The Master Blade did not like Moyla, Cheeky knew. He also knew that Moyla did not like the Master Blade. She thought he meant harm to her mistress, or perhaps would take Cheeky from her if he went away from the village.
Cheeky saw Blade standing in the shadow of a hut, watching the fighters ride past. Blade's face showed that he was not happy. Cheeky wished he could enter the Master's mind and find out more about his unhappiness. However, Moyla did not like spirit speech between Cheeky and Blade. When he tried to talk to the Master, she would be angry for days at a time.
If he could only learn how to reach his master to find out what he was thinking without either his Master or Moyla knowing! But he did not think he could do that without his Master's help in the first place. This was not good. Also, if his Master was angry with him about Moyla, would the Blade help him at all? The Master did not think like a female, but he seemed to think that he and Cheeky were as littermates to one another.
Perhaps if Cheeky brought to the Master some of what he wanted to know, he would forgive? Perhaps. What did the Master want most to learn?
Of course! The thing the Mistress Wise One called «the Idol.» What was it? The Wise One herself had gone to it, taking Moyla with her. So Moyla should certainly know.
(«I tell you about where I go, Moyla. Always I tell you. Now you tell me about when you went with the Mistress to the Idol.»)
Moyla said and thought nothing. Instead she stroked Cheeky's crest in a way that always made him feel good and said she felt good, too. Then she cracked a nut and popped the meat into his mouth. He gave her paw an affectionate nip.
(«The truth, Moyla. You say I do what you do not want me to do. I say, you do the same. I want to talk. Where did you go?»)
(«You do not like me if you ask that sort of question. If you do not like me, I do not like you.»)
Cheeky glared at Moyla. She looked really angry, and all he could read in her mind was the anger. But there was something else there. She wasn't angry just because she thought he didn't like her as much as before. She was angry because she'd been told not to answer this question. If she'd been told this, then she must know the answer.
Again, Cheeky wished he could talk with the Blade about this. The Master was much wiser about asking questions, for it was his whole life. But the Master might not talk to Cheeky until Cheeky found the answer himself!
Cheeky was so angry he wanted to pull the feathers out of his head. He did not, because that would tell Moyla that he was angry, without her even reading his thoughts. Then she would tell the Mistress Wise One, and Cheeky knew the Wise One could spirit-speak to him whenever she wanted to even if he did not want to hear her.
That might be bad for the Master Blade.
So Cheeky decided he would do as well as he could with what Moyla told him without knowing she was telling him. That might be quite a lot, since most of the time she trusted him. Then, when he had learned everything he was going to learn, he would go to the Master Blade. The Master Blade was kind; he would understand why Cheeky had made his mistake and forgive him for it.
Then they would talk again as they had before. They might even talk about what had come into Cheeky's mind, so that his thoughts seemed clearer and faster. There were old tales that at one time all the Feather People had been the way Cheeky was now. But the tales were so old that no one had ever met anyone who knew one of these Feather People with strong thoughts. Cheeky himself had never believed the tales, until suddenly his thoughts were also strong.
Surely the Master Blade would know more about this. If he did not, some other one of the Master People might know. The Master People always thought strong thoughts. They also lived much longer than the Feather People. Blade might have been alive in the time when the Feather People's thoughts were strong!
Cheeky stopped himself before he got so excited that Moyla would hear and then tell the Mistress Wise One about Cheeky's strong thoughts. That would be bad for him and for the Master Blade.
Chapter 10
Blade awoke with a swelling uproar from outside the hut in his ears, his head comfortably pillowed between a young woman's breasts, and one arm thrown around an older woman's shoulders.
He sat up and listened. He heard the trumpeting calls of the lizard-horses, the roaring and howling of the Great Hunters, war cries, cheers, and harsh laughter. He also heard an ugly undertone of screams of fear and pain. Once he heard a dreadful sobbing wail. There was despair in that wail-more
despair than Blade thought any human being should ever have to feel.
«I think we have a victory,» said the older woman.
«Victory?» said Blade. He wasn't entirely awake and alert yet. It had been a long but entirely pleasant night.
«Over the Uchendi. The warriors have returned with those to be cleansed,» said the younger woman. «They are rejoicing. Let us do the same.» She ran her hand down Blade's chest to his groin.
Gently he plucked her hand away. The noise outside was arousing his curiosity more than anything else. After a moment the young woman sighed. «Well, as long as the Wise One keeps you among us, it is not so bad. We will have other times together.»
Blade grinned. «I thank you. But in time the Uchendi must have their share of my attention, or I am no warrior. Now let me get out and see those I shall fight.»
Blade stepped out of the hut into a chilly gray morning and an uproar that was still getting louder. He headed for the nearest screams, rounded the corner of a hut, and saw his first Uchendi.
She was a girl who couldn't have been more than twelve, and she was being gang-raped on the stony ground by eight or ten Rutari men. Blood was running down her thighs, and one eye was already swollen shut. Somehow-she still had the strength to scream.
Blade backed away hastily, before someone saw him and invited him to join in. He kept retreating until he was out of sight. He couldn't get away from hearing the girl's screams, until they died away to feeble moans and then into silence. Blade hoped this meant the girl was dead.
Two of the warriors tramped past, spears over their shoulders and satisfied grins on their faces. One of them saw Blade. «You too late for the little one? We would not have left you out.»
Blade shook his head. He wanted to shake the warrior like a terrier shaking a rat. «A girl that age-for my people she is not lawful.»
«Don't your people fight wars?» said the other warrior. «If you do, how can you make the victory complete if you spare women and children?»
«We have few women,» said Blade, thinking fast. «If we slew the women of other tribes, the first time we lost a war would be the end of us. The enemy would take all of our women and the tribe would die away. Haven't the Rutari ever lost a battle to the Uchendi?»
The warriors seemed to find the idea funny. They were still laughing as they went off-no doubt in search of an eight-year old boy to bugger, Blade thought sourly.
He didn't see any eight-year-old boys among the Uchendi prisoners, but he did see a girl about six being thrown to the Great Hunters. Fortunately she was dead. With wounds like hers, she had to be dead.
He also saw a good many Uchendi of all ages and both sexes being treated as their captors pleased. Most of what pleased their captors ran in directions that Blade suspected would have made the Marquis de Sade himself run screaming into the streets. The twelve year old girl was far from the worst. By the time he'd seen enough, Blade was very glad he hadn't eaten any breakfast.
The only Uchendi prisoners spared horrible deaths were six warriors who'd been captured more or less unwounded. They were being saved for a formal cleansing by the Great Hunters, and were under the Wise One's protection. That didn't keep them from being forced to watch their fellow tribesmen die horribly.
One of the warriors went berserk when he saw a Great Hunter devouring his son. He broke away from his guards, killing one and disarming another. With a stolen spear he plunged into the pit and attacked the Great Hunter. Catching it by surprise, he was able to run the spear into its chest before its claws disemboweled him. He made no sound as he flew through the air like a doll and crashed down on the lip of the pit. Blade was close enough to see that the dead face was set in a triumphant smile. He himself felt like cheering.
It was small consolation to Blade to learn that the Rutari had taken many more prisoners than usual on this raid. They'd overrun a whole farming village before the alarm could be given, then defeated a party of warriors coming to the villagers rescue. After that, the Rutari retreated without having to fight again, so they'd won their victory very cheaply. They were feeling good, and the Uchendi were paying a horrible price.
Questions now plagued Blade. Should he stay with the Rutari and help the Wise One improve the tribe's telepathy? After seeing the brutality of the Rutari, he had no particular desire to help the Wise One give her people a decisive advantage in this feud. Then should he move on, maybe to the Uchendi or maybe clear out of reach of both warring tribes in this land of Latan?
Blade was in a quandary, but at the moment he had to worry more about the possibility of being called on at last to join the warriors in raiding the Uchendi and torturing the prisoners to death. If he didn't do both it would look suspicious, and he'd have to watch his back any time a warrior was within spear throwing distance. There were easier ways to spend a trip to Dimension X.
The Wise One might also pick some piece of military knowledge out of his mind as he was fighting. She herself was no warrior, but suppose she got an image of a bow and arrow, then described it to Teindo? He would know that it was a weapon that might give the Rutari a decisive advantage.
At the worst, Blade might wind up seeing the Uchendi exterminated, all because his knowledge of weapons had been communicated telepathically. At best, he'd wind up a closely guarded prisoner, certain to be killed if he made a single move to leave the village.
No matter how Blade looked at the situation, one bleak fact looked back at him. If he stayed with the Rutari, a lot of innocent people were going to die-horribly. So it was very simple; Blade would not stay.
Unfortunately there was a fly in the ointment. Or, more accurately, a flying feather-monkey. Cheeky didn't want to leave his new love, Moyla.
(«Not good for her, I go,» he said over and over again.)
(«Not good for you, you stay behind-«)
(«Behind?»)
Blade reshaped his thoughts to reflect Cheeky's limited vocabulary. It was growing rapidly, though, now reminding Blade of a bright seven-year-olds.
(«You stay here without me. Then Moyla not like you anymore. Bad for you.»)
(«Moyla always like me. You think that cannot be. I think it can be.»)
(«You would.») Blade saw no point in arguing with Cheeky on the basis of his own experience with love. He was inclined to doubt declarations of undying passion, and also Cheeky's judgment.
(«You not trust me?») Cheeky asked, having heard what Blade was thinking.
The devil take telepathy-far far away, and bury it! If Cheeky was really getting intelligent, perhaps it would be possible to teach him some manners about listening in on Blade's thoughts. But he wouldn't be teaching Cheeky anything if he had to leave him among the Rutari.
(«You not trust me, Master?»)
(«No. You not think-strong thoughts, not any kind of thoughts. I trust you like-like a Great Hunter. It thinks only of food, you think only of Moyla. «)
(«If you not trust me, why I stay with you?») Cheeky sounded both angry and unhappy. Blade felt the same way, but had to recognize that the feather-monkey had some logic on his side. If Blade didn't trust him anymore, what could Cheeky hope to gain from the relationship?
(«You no stay with me, if you think that way. Stay with Rutari, Mistress Wise One, Moyla. Be happy, if you can.»)
(«You, too.») Cheeky hopped down from Blade's shoulder and began collecting his gear. It didn't take him long-there was only his knife, plastic harness, and sweater. Cheeky pulled on both, and without a backward glance at Blade scurried out the door of the hut. Blade stood in the doorway until Cheeky was out of sight, and for a moment longer. Then he went back inside. There was nothing for him to do there, but he didn't want to stand where everyone could see him.
He hadn't felt so disgusted with the world since the day Zoe Cornwall, his Home Dimension girlfriend, had said goodbye because he couldn't tell her about Dimension X. Of course, Zoe had meant a lot more to him than Cheeky-but Cheeky didn't have as good an excuse for leaving. It was unde
rstandable that Zoe would want a man who didn't disappear for months at a time without any explanation. All Cheeky had for an excuse was a bad case of the hots for Moyla.
Anger, grief, and disgust boiled over. Blade kicked a stool clear across the hut, so that it shattered against the far wall. Then he slammed his fist hard against the stone wall. Pain shot up his arm, and he saw that his knuckles were bleeding. He sighed, now disgusted with himself as well as with the world. After a bit, his mind started working again.
His best chance for leaving the Rutari was coming up within a few days, during the Hunters' Long Race. Fifty men competed in a sort of marathon, which took two days from start to finish. What could be simpler than to discreetly slip away during the race? With luck he could be so long gone that his trail would be too cold for even a Great Hunter to find before he was missed.
Then he would be free to head south to the Uchendi, without any suspicion falling on Cheeky. Angry as he was, Blade really didn't care for the idea of Cheeky's being thrown to the Great Hunters or cut up alive by the Wise One. Wiser beings than Cheeky had made fools of themselves and done more harm over love. Cheeky deserved the best chance Blade could give him to make a new life for himself here among the Rutari with Moyla.
But damn it, he was going to miss the little fellow! Cheeky had become a powerful barrier against the loneliness of Blade's life. He'd been that even before the kerush-magor. Now, just as Cheeky was becoming more intelligent, everything was ending.
No doubt Leighton would mostly mourn the loss of Cheeky's help in learning more about telepathy. Blade wouldn't quarrel with that. But he would regret much more the loss of Cheeky's friendship, both what had been already and what might have been in the future.
