by Don McQuinn
“What do you want?”
“Direct. Businesslike. Oh, I appreciate that.” After assuring himself that Karda was remaining next to Conway, Bilsten dismounted to sit on a convenient rock. He leaned back, hands clasped on a kneecap. “That packhorse of yours. Sound animal. You grain her. Quality. I’d settle for her. If you want to throw in the load.”
“What?” Conway’s outrage was a croak. “For a piece of information?” Suddenly cunning, Conway said, “You told me they’re close. South. I’ll find them myself.”
Bilsten let go of his knee, jerked upright. “That’s hard. Oh, that’s very hard. Man tries to be neighborly, just us two, out here all alone. Makes a little conversation, gets taken advantage of. Hard.”
Conway smiled. “Your own fault. You got greedy. Anyhow, if my friends are with Nalatan’s people, there’s no hurry to get there.”
“Maybe. Hope so.” Slowly, dejected, Bilsten moved to his horse.
There was a jarring note in his voice. Conway said, “What do you mean, you hope so? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Me?” Bilsten was astonished. “Told you all I know. Except about Starwatch people. No point. Like you say, Nalatan’s tribe. Except the legender—that’s the man who keeps the tribe history, don’t you know—people say he’s not sure if he should back the Flower or the Harvester. Touchy situation. I wouldn’t worry, though.”
Conway ground his teeth. “Where are these Starwatch people? How do I get there?”
Bilsten mounted. “I don’t think we can do business. I don’t think I want to talk to you any more. You just seem to squeeze things out of me. No telling what this last conversation cost me. I had that packhorse in hand, till my mouth and your quick ear got the best of me.”
“You greedy clown. My friends could be in danger. All right. The horse. Forget the load. I’ve got pots, clothes, extra rigging. I’m not letting that go.”
Sadly, Bilsten spurred his horse forward a few paces. “Couldn’t do that, Matt Conway. Be taking advantage of you. I take that packhorse, you got no way to carry all those things. Not and be light enough to run, if something goes wrong. But I’m a softhearted fool. I’ll help you anyhow. South. East. Not too much, mind. You’ll find somebody. Starwatch, probably. Or maybe Windband. If you see helmets, that’s good. A clear sign. Run for your life; that’ll be Kossiars. Good-bye, then. And good luck. You’re a fine bargainer. Been good to know you.”
“Wait.” Conway shook his head. “I ought to blow you off that horse. Unpopular? You give the word new depth. Take the horse. Take the load. How do I find my friends?”
“Can I come for the horse? Will the dogs bite me?”
“Not you, you weasel. Not if you were fried in butter.” Conway stepped back, jerked the lead line free of its brush tie-down, held it out.
The dun horse limped up the hillside. Bilsten accepted the line with smiles and nods. Backdown on the level, he said, “Down to the end of this canyon. Big valley there. Mountains ahead, no pass there, so head west. Ride steady; today, tomorrow. About sunset, you’ll come to a steep drop, looking out over another small valley running across your front.” He wheeled the dun horse, started north. “Best camp near there that night. Not a good place for fires. In fact, might be well to come onto Starwatch as careful as you can. Know exactly what’s going on. They expect a Kossiar raid, you see, so they’re a bit frisky, don’t you know.”
Bilsten was leaving rather quickly. “How far is the village from the steep drop place?” Conway shouted at him.
Bilsten rode a bit farther. He turned to shout back. “I can show you.” He fumbled at his side, straightened with a bow. A moment later he released an arrow. It arced down the canyon past Conway. Bilsten was moving north when it landed. His voice echoed. “About four times that far.”
Unbelieving, Conway stared from the impact to the disappearing Peddler. He screamed. “That’s all? A day and a half ride and then only four bowshots? I’d have found it myself. You cheat! You thief! My packhorse. My gear. You… You…”
The echo mocked him. Worse, the Peddler was laughing. Happily. For a moment—a spark of a thought—Conway was sure he’d heard that laugh before. Somewhere. A place of fear. Death.
He shook his head. There were too many of those places. Anyhow, what could an old man, a solitary Peddler, know of Church, of friendship?
Conway was fuming when he heeled Stormracer into a jarring trot past the white arrow stuck in the sandy gravel of the Dry. Snowy feathers vibrated in a searing hot breeze. Again, something picked at Conway’s memory, tried to distract him from the important thing, the danger facing his companions.
Conway glared over his shoulder after Bilsten. In the distance, the little dun horse was stepping out quite smartly, limping not at all.
Chapter 22
Dodoy dodged behind the tent. Most of the rocks flew past harmlessly. The rest boomed off the taut hide, bringing Tate and Lanta outside on the run. Hearing the women scolding, Dodoy essayed a cautious peek. The children who’d chased him scampered off, laughing and whooping. Lanta hands on hips, hurried them along with a poisonous glare. Tate saw Dodoy and ran to him.
He didn’t resist her embrace, nor did he respond. She said, “They don’t understand, Dodoy. The tribe’s mad at Nalatan and me because they think we shamed Canis Minor. They should be glad he’s alive.”
Dodoy listened. There was little else he could do, all wrapped up the way he was.
He’d thought it all through, though.
If she’d let him go with the Harvester, like Jessak, he’d be happy, sitting in the cool mountains at Church Home, with lots of things to do, instead of hiding in a tent all the time, afraid to sneak out even to go to the latrine.
Tate said, “I know it’s hard for you. It won’t last much longer, poor baby. We’re going to go look for the Door again. Then they won’t pick on you.”
At least he didn’t have to look at her when he was squeezed up against her. Look for the Door, he thought. Just what the Kossiars want. Starwatch would send them straight to a trap.
Whatever happened to Tate or any of them, they deserved it.
They made him come along. Maybe he wanted to, at first, to get away from Ola and to find a place to live. Church Home could have been the place, Even Kos, if they’d been smart enough to be nice to the Chair. Always making trouble, all of them. Spoiling things.
His thoughts went back to the Starwatch children. Oddly, his hatred was gone. He envied them. They had homes. If they wanted to throw rocks at outsiders, they knew who an outsider was. People like Tate were outsiders. A person had to have the strength of a group to be someone. It startled him to realize how simple it all was.
He gradually disengaged from Tate’s smothering affection. Soon she was busy around the tent. For a while, he pretended to help.
In order to ventilate the tent, its skirt was raised to the height of his knees. By lying on the ground at its center, Dodoy looked out into the bright sunlight while remaining practically invisible to anyone looking in. Only a knot of smaller children remained. Dodoy slipped away on the side opposite.
No one he hurried past afforded him any attention. A few paces from his goal, however, a hard hand caught his shoulder from behind. Startled, hurt, Dodoy yelled, trying to twist away. The grip tightened, became intensely painful. Dodoy buckled at the knees, squirmed to see who held him.
Canis Minor’s mouth bent in a malevolent smile. “Lost, small rat? Did they send you to beg for extra time? Water? The answer is no.”
Dodoy struggled as much from fury as pain. It was demeaning to be interfered with by a disgraced man. He shouted. “I have information for Orion. Let me go. You’re in enough trouble already.”
Factually, the statement was true. Tactically, it was a disaster. Canis Minor paled. He drew back a fist Dodoy screamed.
Grunting, Canis Minor reeled off balance as strong hands clasped his arm, preventing the blow. He whirled to confront whoever restrained him.
Orion said, “The boy speaks rightly. Look around you.”
Dodoy partially stifled a satisfied smirk as Canis Minor discovered several people watching the scene with undisguised disapproval. The cocked arm wilted the balled fist opened. Releasing Dodoy, released by Orion, the man seemed about to stumble away. Instead, he stiffened. Hoarsely, head thrust forward at the watchers, he said, “I’ll make no apology. My mind isn’t right. Defeat is hard to live with. Soon you’ll all see my vindication and my vengeance.”
Without exception, the women in the crowd were frightened. Most men nodded, looking stern. Many smiled. Dodoy recognized the latter expression. People who enjoyed inflicting pain smiled like that.
Orion interrupted his wondering. “What are you doing here, boy?”
Glancing around assuring that the curious were out of earshot, Dodoy answered. “There are things you should know. I’m sorry about the way the people I’m with treated Canis Minor.”
The speech ended in a piping squeal as Canis Minor’s hand closed on Dodoy’s throat. The man said, “You crawly little insect.”
Orion pulled Canis Minor away, ripping at the younger man. “Control yourself. Please, Canis Minor, we need information.” He shoved the pair ahead of him into his tent, where he sat down to listen.
Dodoy said, “I hid outside Sylah’s door once when she talked to the Chair.” Canis Minor muttered something about a spy. Dodoy pretended not to hear, kept his gaze fastened on the important audience. Orion nodded for him to continue. “Sylah told the Chair that when she finds the Door she’ll send a Messenger to the Chair. He’ll send warmen. Sylah and him will rule everyone.” Dodoy was sure he saw a flicker of interest. He gambled. “Sylah mentioned Starwatch.”
Orion inclined forward to fire questions. “What did she say about us? About other tribes? Are the brotherhoods with her or against her? What did she say about the Harvester? Are the ones with you part of the plan?”
“I couldn’t hear everything. I think the word she used about Starwatch was ‘eliminate.’ Something like that. She used the same word about the Harvester, anyhow. Sylah and the others planned it all way back in Ola.”
Canis Minor squatted so he could look directly into Orion’s face. “Gan Moondark. We should have known. He sees himself as a conqueror. Imagine the ambition of that Dog.”
Orion stood. Like an owl hearing a mouse, he hovered softly over Dodoy. “So the Harvester’s Kossiar escort are intended to cut her down as soon as Sylah has the secret of the Door in hand. What obscene treachery. Then it’ll be Starwatch’s turn, and any brotherhood monks who don’t cooperate. I thought the Harvester had no match for ruthlessness, but Sylah’s worse. ‘The Flower.’ Pah! It makes me sick. My instincts warned me she was just another greedy female. You knew immediately, Canis Minor. I should have listened. All right, Dodoy, tell me: Why did the White Thunder one go to Windband?”
It was something Dodoy never thought about. Unexpected. He’d forgotten Conway. Dirty, stupid Conway. Cold rushed outward from Dodoy’s stomach, clutched his lungs so he couldn’t breathe. He stared at Orion, caught, too terrified to move.
The man’s hand flew at the boy, seized his blouse, twisted it, pulled him to his feet. “That’s their plan, isn’t it? Tell me. You’ve gone too far to hold back now. The White Thunder and Moonpriest were sent to Windband to entice them into attacking Church Home, weren’t they? Gan, the Dog People, Sylah and her unholy schemers—they want Kos and Windband to crush the small tribes like Starwatch, then fall on each other, like wolves fighting over a kill. Then King Gan thinks he can destroy the winner and install Sylah as undisputed Sister Mother of his Church. Isn’t that his plan? Isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Dodoy whispered the word. His thought were dust in the wind; everywhere, nowhere. If he agreed with Orion, maybe they wouldn’t kill him. Maybe he’d be allowed to go back to Tate. She’d hold him close. Protect him.
Tears welled, blurred his vision. He said, “Please, don’t kill me.”
Orion released him. Dodoy sprawled facedown. Hands lifted him from behind. Canis Minor. Dodoy howled, flailed wildly.
Canis Minor stroked his head. Dodoy howled louder. He knew Canis Minor was feeling for the place to club him. His throat closed, pinched off his voice. All he could do was sob. His heart slammed against his ribs.
Orion said, “You did the right thing. Coming to us was very brave, very honest. This is a more important moment than one such as you can imagine.” To Canis Minor, Orion said, “Get the boy calmed, send him back. We have to plan.”
Later, Dodoy, face washed and clothes dusted off, returned to his tent from one direction just as the chief, the elders, Orion, and a huge crowd approached from the opposite end of the village. Catching sight of Dodoy, Tate rushed to sweep him up to her.
The chief wore impressive finery, bright blue vest with clamshell buttons, trousers of green and yellow stripes. Rows of tiny brass bells on wide leather knee bands jingled at his every step. He carried a heavy staff a full head taller than himself. It was surmounted by a golden-rayed sun.
Planting the butt of the staff, he said, “Rose Priestess Sylah. Violet Priestess Lanta. Donnacee Tate. Starwatch has graciously granted your request to leave us tomorrow morning. We fed you. Sheltered you. Saved your lives. You repaid us by seducing and shaming one of our finest, a future legender. Many here hate you. Hate births fear. You must leave us in the dark of morning. From this time, remain in your tent until escorted away. You are denied light and fire. Meals will be provided, so you can never say we mistreated you.”
Orion gestured, and a woman hurried forward, bent under the weight of a large, steaming pot. She put it in the tent and rushed back to the safety of the crowd.
Tate said, “You have no reason to do this to my friends. They didn’t reject your failed rapist. I did.”
Orion’s cheeks and forehead flamed. The beard bristled. “There are those who would harm you. Don’t incite them.” Proving his point, a rock hummed out of the crowd, thumped on the tent hide. After an initial surprised flinch, there three women drew closer in unspoken accord to stand proud and unintimidated.
When Orion turned back to them, after shouting down the incipient attack, he frowned at their solidarity. As he left with the other leaders, Sylah called after them. “Water. We’ll need water.”
The chief looked to Orion, who said, “You have soup. Among us, water is for friends. Take what you wish from the river in the morning darkness, before Starwatch can see you.” With that, they were gone. In the space of a few heartbeats, the silence around the tent was that of the Dry, massive with the sense of waiting menace.
Tate remarked that the soup was, at least, delicious. Sylah and Lanta agreed. Even Tanno approved, wolfing down her share and looking up hopefully from her feeding dish for more.
Dodoy pleaded a nervous stomach. Tate insisted he take a nap. Smiling appreciation, he allowed her to fuss over him. Instead of going to sleep right away, however, he lay on his side, watching the women and the dog with bright curious eyes.
Chapter 23
Soft wraps of sleep pinioned Sylah in the aftermath of a dream she still felt, but could no longer remember.
A lifetime of training invariably lifted her from bed; waking and movement were synonymous in her experience. Now, however, she was seized by a confused lethargy.
Deep in her mind, far outside logic and reason, something stirred. Tiny, venomous creatures. Not scorpions like the one Tate still muttered about in her sleep.
Sylah heard herself make involuntary pleading sounds.
She feared them. Ironically, the creatures feared everything. “Sleep on,” the things said, “forever, if need be.” Harmonious. Seductive. They couldn’t fool her. She saw their jagged claws, their pointed teeth.
The voices grew shrill. “If you won’t be intelligent and just sleep, then flee. Rise up running for your life. Scream for Clas. For mercy.”
Sylah’s eyes jerked open. An unuttered cry grated to a sil
ent halt in her thirst-closed throat. Fiery sunlight poured into her eyes.
The panic-things ranted exultation, surged forward to claim her.
Sylah twisted to avoid the direct sun rays. Clearing vision revealed leather straps binding her hands. A connecting strap ran up her chest, circled her neck. A second strap ran to her ankles, which were bound in such a manner that she could walk, if she ever got to her feet.
A surge of horror broke against a lassitude that questioned the need to ever move again.
Struggling against that enervating impulse, wriggling against her bonds, she sat up, saw it was past midday. Her head threatened to crack into halves. Her stomach pitched and tossed.
Lanta stretched out on her left. Tate was to her right. Beyond Tate, the only one facedown, lay Nalatan. The back of his head was crusted with dried blood. Shallow breathing ruffled stubby blades of grass at his mouth.
Orion came from somewhere behind her, circling around Lanta. Sylah’s first attempt to speak failed. She tried to swallow, choked. Orion looked at her with a controlled expression that failed to hide a stain of shame. Persisting, Sylah managed, “My friends. You said we could go. Drugged us. Lied.”
A muscle twitched at Orion’s right eye. “It’s not immoral to lie to a deceiver. You tried to trick us. We tricked you, instead.”
“We? How?” Her voice was returning.
“The uncorrupted boy. He overheard you scheming with your ally, the Chair.”
Anger melted with resignation to create a sort of defeated amusement in Sylah’s struggling consciousness. “Dodoy. Uncorrupted. The two words don’t belong in the same day, you poor fool. Would I steal my ally’s firstborn? Why were Kossiar warmen trying to kill us when you found us? Did the uncorrupted Dodoy suggest what I might gain from this nonexistent alliance?”
