by Джеффри Лорд
What Blade had muttered under his breath was, «There must be something in the water of this Dimension!» First Cheeky, now Eye of Crystal, playing at blackmail. «I do not wish him to know this, indeed. Do you wish to tell him?»
«That depends.»
«On what?»
«On whether or not you take me with you when you go against the Rutari. «
«Into the war? You little-«He counted to ten, then said, «You are not a warrior. You would need much protection. Also, either River Over Stones or-«
Eye of Crystal spat and nearly hit Blade. She giggled at the expression on his face. «I am sorry, Blade. But that is what I think of River Over Stones. He will not lift a finger, let alone a spear, to take me one step outside the village. And Winter Owl-he will have too much else to do, leading the warriors.»
«But-what makes you think I will not have just as much to do?»
«When Winter Owl speaks for all warriors to learn the new weapons-magic, you will teach them. When the warriors march, your work will be done. I will not take one moment of the days while you teach. The nights, perhaps, but not the days.
«When we march, though, you will be as one warrior among many. It will not be hard for you to let me see the battle. Not as hard as it will be to have Winter Owl speak for your new weapon, if I talk to him now.»
Blade gritted his teeth. How to convince this girl that she was putting her people in danger, just because she wanted to see a battle? If she told Winter Owl about his «weapons-magic» maybe Winter Owl would see reason, but he was even more likely to see Blade's superior knowledge of warfare as a flat-out challenge to his authority. That authority was something he valued; he'd won it by years of fighting and hunting and the pain of a dozen wounds. He would not take lightly any challenge to it by an English wizard-warrior.
Eye of Crystal sat down on top of the boulder, cross-legged, with her hands in her lap. She wore only her loinguard and in that position looked stark naked. There was a fine sheen of perspiration on the upper slopes of her breasts ….
Blade tore his eyes away from her and shrugged. «I will not defy your father, mother, or mother's brother if they do not allow me to take you into the battle. If I did that, I would probably die. Is that not so?» She nodded reluctantly. «Then I would not be able to protect you. Otherwise, I swear to do my best to see that you march with me against the Rutari. Is that enough?» He did not add the thought, It had bloody well better be!
«Oh, yes,» said Crystal. «I know you are only a man, as good a one as you are. I will not ask for more than a man can give.»
«At least you haven't since the night before last,» said Blade with a grin.
«Have you missed it?» she said with a laugh. Then before he could answer she leaped down from the top of the boulder, as lightly as a gazelle. In landing she managed to fall against him and throw her arms around him, while nuzzling his throat with her lips and pressing her breasts against his chest.
He lifted her and carried her off in search of soft ground. They didn't go fast, because he was kissing her breasts, and she had her hand under Blade's loinguard as they moved. By the time they got to a grassy stretch of the bank of the stream it didn't really matter whether they were in telepathic contact or not. They were both so eager that they pulled each other down and were locked together in moments, laughing and giggling, then sighing, groaning, and finally crying out in release. Crystal's happy scream was so loud that birds flew up in panic from around the bend of the stream.
They lay with Crystal draped across Blade's chest like a warm blanket. He ran a finger down her spine and played with her buttocks and the crease between them. «So tell me, Woman Who Asks More Than A Man Can Give, what news from the village? I've spent all my waking time either practicing archery or nor.»
«There is a hiba-gan coming, or so we hear from the north.» Something in Crystal's voice made Blade leave off caressing her.
«A what?»
«More likely a who. A hiba-gan, a Holy Wanderer. It does not come often. It is to be hoped it will pass through our village. Yet it is unlawful to send to it and ask.»
«That doesn't tell me much,» said Blade cautiously.
«There is not much to tell about this hiba-gan or any other,» said Crystal. «They go where they will, sometimes bringing messages, sometimes only watching in silence. It is said that the message of the gods, which sends them wandering, changes their faces and skins, so they must cloak themselves from human eyes.»
«They go about in disguise?»
«Oh yes. One cannot tell whether they are man or woman, or even human or beast, although they walk upright like men.» She sat up. «Blade, are you thinking of uncloaking a Holy Wanderer?»
«I was not. I was thinking that this is perhaps not a good time for someone we are not sure about to learn the secrets of the Uchendi. Such as this.» He slapped the bow.
«Hiba-gans do not heed matters of war,» said Crystal. «And it is almost as unlawful to lie to one as it is to uncloak it. You would be cast out from the Uchendi if you did either, and your archery would be declared forbidden-«
Blade held up a hand. «Wait, wait, Crystal. I am not going to lie to the hiba-gan, nor uncloak it. Have I shown so little respect for the laws of the Uchendi or been so stupid that you would think that?» Seeing her shake her head slowly, he went on. «Nor do I ask anyone else to do these unlawful things. I merely ask that you not mention my archery to the hiba-gan, any more than you would to Winter Owl.»
«And if the Holy Wanderer asks-then perhaps the hiba-gan is not what it seems, is perhaps trying to learn our secrets… «
Very sharp, thought Blade. Good thing she's on my side. «Yes. Who knows? The hiba-gans might really be Idol Makers in disguise, come back to watch how the tribes are living. We do not know what the Idol Makers would think of me or my archery. «
Crystal looked unsure if she should laugh or not. Finally she compromised with a thin smile. «That could be so,» she said.
Blade gave up hope of the Uchendi being more willing than the Rutari to talk about the Idol, and decided he really shouldn't be surprised. It was probably a touchy subject for them.
Also, for all he knew, the Idol Makers might have been just a band of explorers passing through, with a technology that was advanced enough to look like magic to these tribesmen.
But I bloody well am going to find out for sure, before I leave this Dimension!
Chapter 18
The first of three periods of the Great Game of nor between the White Trees and the Black Rocks was nearly over. The score was five to three in favor of the White Trees, which meant Winter Owl was losing.
Blade scored three of his team's five goals. He'd scored two by simply hitting the hole from a distance so much greater than usual that none of the Black Rocks were watching him. They only realized he'd scored when the ball sailed into the hole, and all the people with bets on the White Trees cheered.
The people with bets on the Black Rocks groaned, and some of them shook their fists at Blade. Winter Owl himself didn't make a sound or a gesture-he would be the stoic Uchendi warrior to the end, even if an enemy was cutting him open with a dull knife. Sometimes, though, Blade saw him grimace when he didn't think anyone was looking at him.
Friend of Lions had predicted correctly; the Guardian had forbidden the nor players to use their sticks on each other. He hadn't forbidden punches, kicks, or trying to ride the other side down. The two masses of riders repeatedly crashed together, turning the game into something like a barroom brawl.
The White Trees advanced down the field again, with Friend of Lions shrieking war cries as if he were attacking a deadly enemy. He waved his stick like a cavalry sword, then lowered it as the two masses of riders pounded toward each other. Blade stayed out of this scrimmage. He was riding a large, strong ezinti, but it still had a job carrying him fast enough to keep him in the game at all. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Black Rocks to lose this game. He was damned sure he didn't want them to lo
se it through anything they could blame on him. That would give him a whole team of enemies, not to mention all the people who'd lose their bets.
The period came to an end before the teams got untangled. Blade could have easily scored another goal-the Black Rocks seemed to have forgotten completely that they had a hole to defend. However, he'd been in reach of the ball only a couple of times. It wouldn't be hard to convince his teammates he hadn't even seen it.
As he rode back to the White Trees end of the field, Blade scanned the crowd for the hiba-gan. There he-she-it was, right where it had been when the game started. It was still swathed in a rawhide cloak and hood that covered it from head to foot. When it did move, it moved slowly but steadily; there was nothing in its movements to prove it wasn't human. For now Blade was inclined to give the Holy Wanderer the benefit of the doubt in this matter.
River Over Stones was also stationed in the same place he'd been when the game started-ten feet to the right of the hiba-gan. His hands were crossed reverently on his stomach, and his eyes never left the shrouded figure. Since the hiba-gan came to the village two days ago, River had appointed himself its escort and protector. Since yesterday, it seemed that the hiba-gan had accepted this.
Being such an escort to a Holy Wanderer was a great honor and a sacred task. Many said that it was a sign the Spirits had forgiven River Over Stones for his opposition to Blade. So far no one was saying that it proved he might have been right about Blade after all.
On the other hand, no one said River Over Stones might be forcing himself on the hiba-gan to try and win back some of the honor he'd lost through opposing Blade. Hiba-gans were too much revered, and it was said their Voices were so powerful that deception was impossible. As for anyone even hinting that the hiba-gan might not be what it seemed, and that River Over Stones might be plotting with it-well, Blade didn't expect anyone to want to be burned at the stake for heresy. He didn't much care for the idea himself.
One thing about the hiba-gan had changed since the beginning of the game. It had put down the large leather sack it carried on a strap across its back. The sack now lay beside it on the gravel. Blade wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, or if the sack really did bulge oddly, as if there were something strangely shaped inside it.
Blade took several deep breaths and made his mind as blank as he could. He didn't use all his mental control; that would surely be detected by someone in the crowd and word sent to the Guardian. Blade wasn't sure what he was allowed to do by way of using the Voice, and he certainly didn't want to attract attention now.
With a blank mind he looked quickly back at the sack. No doubt about it. The bulge was in a different part of the sackas if what was inside the bag had moved.
The sun was hot, but for a moment Blade felt cold. His mental control very nearly deserted him. Whatever was in the sack was alive. He'd never heard of a hiba-gan carrying a live animal in a sack with it. Why was the hiba-gan doing something unknown on its visit to the Uchendi, just after Blade came to them and right before the war with the Rutari…?
It didn't add up. Or rather, it added up to something that had to be investigated. Openly if possible, secretly if not. Openly would be safer for Blade. That meant getting Winter Owl on his side. Doing anything against the hiba-gan would mean bending the law. If Winter Owl opposed that, nothing could be done-at least not to the hiba-gan.
Winning over Winter Owl meant one thing: The White Trees were going to have to lose this game of nor.
The two teams rode back onto the field for the second period. Blade stayed back toward the White Trees' rear, as if his ezinti were tiring. If he was careful, that would be the truth before anyone could get suspicious. Once the scrimmage began, most riders were too busy looking for the ball and for opposing players to worry about Blade.
Winter Owl must have given the Black Rocks a pep talk. They charged down on their opponents so hard that a few riders pulled up to save their mounts. This gave Winter Owl a clear shot at the White Trees' goal. He took it. The ball whipped past Blade like a bullet and plunked into the hole.
One of the White Trees rode up to Blade, grumbling, «You were the closest, Blade. Couldn't you have stopped that one?»
«Nonsense,» said Friend of Lions. «The ball was in the hole before Blade could have been in its path.»
«Yes,» said Blade. «If I had arms fifteen feet long I might have stopped it.» He shrugged. «Nobody ever said the Black Rocks were going to be easy. Or at least I never did. «
They rode back into the scrimmage. This time the two teams were evenly matched, until suddenly the tangle spewed out a Black Rock with the ball in his cup. Blade recognized him. He was one of the younger players and so far hadn't done a thing to make himself look dangerous.
Now, though, he had a clear path to the goal. Blade dug his heels into his ezinti. He was the best-placed White Tree to stop the young ballcarrier. If he didn't move, someone might become suspicious.
Luck was with Blade. His ezinti now really was tiring under his weight. He didn't have to rein it in more than twice. He was still a good ten feet behind the young rider when the other man flipped the ball toward the White Trees' hole. At that distance a drunken one-eyed man could have made the goal.
Blade rode back, listening to the cheers of the Black Rocks' supporters and the groans of the people with money on the White Trees. He didn't hear anyone mention his name. After all, he'd been the only one of the White Trees who even tried to stop the goal. The fact that his ezinti wasn't fast enough was hardly his fault.
Fault or no fault, however, the game was now tied at five to five. Winter Owl was no longer being the stoic warrior. He was grinning so widely that Blade began thinking maybe he had a chance of getting him on his side.
Now it was the White Trees' turn to get a brief pep talk from their captain. Friend of Lions made such a rousing speech that it had everyone cheering, including Blade. He wasn't entirely faking, either. Damn it, these people deserved to win! They'd put blood, sweat, and tears into both training and playing.
And if he was wrong about the hiba-gan… Blade was pretty sure he wasn't, though. And if he was right about the Holy Wanderer being up to tricks-well, there were more important things at stake for the Uchendi than who won today's game. Blade was gritting his teeth as he rode back into the game.
The pep talk worked so well that the White Trees promptly scored a goal without Blade's getting within twenty feet of the ball. Then Friend of Lions scored a second, and the Black Rocks came back and scored one of their own, both teams crippling several ezintis, which left them short-handed…
That made the score seven to six in favor of the White Trees. The crowd was silent now. Half were too hoarse and breathless to cheer, the other half too excited, too aware they were seeing an extraordinary game.
Blade would have been happier if they'd gone on cheering. In this silence, there could be a thousand eyes ready to fix themselves on the man who had the ball, watching for something to praise or criticize. Throwing the game under these conditions was going to be trickier than he'd expected.
The scrimmage that left both teams short-handed also made them cautious for the rest of the second period. There were no more goals or casualties on either side. Although he never had the ball, Blade rode around vigorously, to make sure his ezinti stayed tired.
The last period of the game was only minutes old when Blade suddenly found himself with the ball in the cup of his stick. Some weird twist of fate or puff of wind had landed it there. Blade couldn't just dump it out, so he got rid of it the only way he could-with a shot at the goal. It was a long shot even for Blade, and it would have been simply foolish for anyone else to try.
So nobody was surprised when the ball bounced off the base of the cone and rolled back onto the field. One of the Black Rocks picked it up and pounded down the field behind his teammates as if the Devil was at the heels of his mount.
Blade had to stay in the scrimmage. If he pulled out and the man scored with the
ball he himself had virtually given to the other team, he was going to be noticed. So Blade stayed in close and even used knees and elbows against some of the Black Rocks. He'd worked out how to use unarmed-combat techniques from horseback, although not how to pull his punches. At least none of the Uchendi would recognize Home Dimension martial arts!
Blade dismounted one man and disabled another's mount. Then the Black Rock rider took his shot at the goal and missed. Blade joined the cheering, then saw the Guardian signaling from the sidelines. A break was called, while Blade rode over and submitted to a tongue-lashing from the shaman.
«Have you less honor or sense of shame than I thought, Blade?» the older man growled. «Are you so eager to win that you will risk killing a warrior of the Uchendi?»
And much more in the same vein. Blade thought afterward that one of the hardest things he did that day was listen to the Guardian with a completely straight face. It was also one of the most important. The Guardian could read faces as well as minds to learn what other men were thinking.
Finally the Guardian ran out of things to say, dismissed Blade, and turned back to Kyarta and Eye of Crystal. As Blade urged his mount back on to the field, Crystal winked at him. That made him feel better.
Friend of Lions greeted him as he rejoined the team. «That was bad luck, your long shot missing,» he said. He sounded more disappointed than angry.
Blade shrugged. «It was. But at least they did us no great harm with it. A long arm and a clear opening do not make me Superman, after all.»
«Who is Superman?»
«A legendary hero of the English. He has the strength of many men, he flies, and can see through walls.»
Friend of Lions seemed impressed. «I wonder-could he have been one of the Idol Makers?»
«We have no legends of visitors by that name,» said Blade cautiously. «More than that I could not say.»
«More than that it might not be wise to say,» said Friend. «Here on the nor field the Spirits are always listening. If they wish to avenge an insult they do not find it hard. «
