“You don’t have the right to stop us!” Hoom shouted again, and this time Aven answered his son.
“I heard what you people were saying separation whether we voted for it or not. ‘We own the boats,’ you say! Well, you and your damned Stipock made us start changing the laws by majority vote. And so you damn well better be ready to abide by majority vote! And we’re going to see to it you do, whether you like it or not!”
And Dilna couldn’t see the flames anymore, for the tears running down her cheeks. I’m pregnant, she told herself. That’s why things like this could make me cry. But she knew that it wasn’t pregnancy. It was grief and fear. Grief for what was happening to people; fear of what would happen next.
What could the people from Stipock’s Bay do, anyway? They had all comethere was no one left on the other side to bring a boat and take them across in the night. No one could swim the riverthe current was too swift, and it was three kilometers wide at the narrowest point. They had none of their carpentry tools, and the older people were brandishing their axes and torches as if they’d gladly break a head or two, if one were offered.
She left the fire and walked slowly to where Hoom and Wix were still arguing furiously with Aven and Noyock.
“We don’t want any trouble,” said Noyock, “but I won’t let you break up the City!”
“Break it up!” You call this holding it together?” Hoom shouted back.
Behind each group of leaders was a gathering crowd of supporters. Both crowds looked equally angry; but the crucial difference was the sharp tools the older men held in their hands. Dilna walked into the space between the two groups.
She said nothing, and after a few moments they realized that she wasn’t joining into the argument on either side. “What is it?” Noyock asked.
“All this talk,” Dilna said, “won’t build the ships for us. And all the shouting doesn’t find us a place to stay warm tonight. I want my husband to build me a shelter. We’ll need tools to do it.”
And Dilna turned around to find herself looking directly into Wix’s eyes. She averted her gaze, found Hoom’s concerned face. Behind her, she could hear Aven saying, “We can’t give them toolsthey’d build boats in a week. Not to mention busting our heads in.”
Dilna whirled on him. “You should have thought of that before you stole our homes from us. I’m pregnant, Aven. Do you want me to spend the night in the open air?”
Noyock turned to Aven and said, mildly, “They’re right. Maybe a few toolsenough to rig some kind of shelter before nightfall.”
“Why?” Aven asked. “Not one of them but has. parents that’d be only too glad to invite ‘em back into their homes.”
Wix’s father, the usually gentle Ross, raised his hand and said, “That’s right, there’s no hard feelings. We’d be glad to give them food and shelter!”
Wix’s face was twisted with fury. “Give us food and shelter! There’s not one of us but has plenty of food and shelter across the river! You stole it from us! You don’t give us one damn thing! It’s ours by right!”
“Rights, rights!” shouted Aven. “You little lying bastards don’t have any rights!”
Dilna turned back to Wix and Hoom. “Enough, enough,” she said quietly. “In a brawl we’d lose. Whatever we do, we can’t do it here.”
“She’s right,” Hoom said. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” Wix asked.
Hoom looked up the hill toward Noyock’s Town. “The forest just north of the Pasture. We can take fence rails and rig a shelter.”
Dilna turned back to Noyock. “Do you hear that,
Noyock? We’re going to take fence rails from you and build shelter. That way we won’t have to touch your tools.”
Noyock, eager to end the quarrel without violence, agreed, and Hoom, Wix, and the rest of the crowd straggled away from the beach, heading back up the hill. It was already afternoon, and there was much to do before night.
Noyock caught Dilna’s arm before she could leave the beach. “Dilnaplease listen. I want you to know, this wasn’t my idea. When I got here, the boats were already burning.”
“There’s a law,” Dilna said, “about destroying another man’s property. You’re the man who loves the lawimprison these men until Jason comes.”
“I can’t,” Noyock said miserably. “There are too many of them.”
“There are more than a few of us, too,” Dilna retorted. “This is Linkeree and the ax all over again. Only you’re not Kapock.”
As she walked away, Noyock called after her: “It wasn’t me that worked so bloody hard to strip all the power away from the Warden, it was you! If I still had that power, I could protect you!” But she didn’t turn to answer. When she got to the brow of the hill, she stopped and looked back at the beach. Noyock was still there alone, watching the last flames die. On impulse she ran back down the hill, all the way to where he stood. “Warden,” she said, “we’ll need a fire tonight. Will Jason approve, do you think, of our taking some of the wood from our ships to start it?”
He set his face like stone and turned away. She picked up a piece of wood that was still burning on one end, and whose other end had been in the water until then. And once again she climbed the hill.
The people of Stipock’s Bay were gathered in a small clearing in the forest, trying to turn fence rails, branches, and dead leaves into lean-tos for the night. Few of them looked sturdy, and Dilna looked at the sky, grateful that the clouds had gone, and the sky was clear. When Wix saw the torch, he smiled. “Wise woman,” he said, and called to several men to rig a fire. Again, they had to use fence rails, so the fire was built in a large square, hollow in the middle. “I only wish we could burn down the whole damn fence,” Wix said, as he lit the fire.
“Burning’s a good idea,” said a voice from the edge of the clearing. Many of the people working turned to see who it was. Billin.
“Ah, Billin,” said Wix. “I thought you were still down in Firstfield, giving a speech.”
“The time for speeches is over.”
“How clever,” Wix said. “Now he realizes that.”
“I just saw the ashes of our boats,” said Billin, raising his voice to be heard by all. “I just saw the ruins of our last hope for peace! And I say to you”
What he was going to say to them no one knew, because at that moment Wix strode forward and struck him so hard in the stomach that Billin’s feet left the ground, and he collapsed, gasping, in the dirt.
“The ruins of our last hope for peace aren’t on the beach, Billin!” Wix shouted. “The ruins are back in Firstfield, when you and the pebblebrained oxen who followed you wrecked the only compromise we could have had! It was you that caused the burning of our boats, Billin! So you can shut up for a few days, or I’ll put you deep enough in the river that you’ll be singing to the fishes for eternity!”
The silence rang out after Wix finished his impassioned speech. Then Billin groaned, and slowly dragged himself to his feet. Everyone got back to work. But when conversations resumed, they were more bitter than ever before.
When night fell, they gathered around the fire, staring at the flames. Some women from Noyock’s Town and Linkeree’s Bay brought food before dark. It wasn’t enough, but it was something, and they swallowed their pride and ate it. Now they sat and watched the fence rails shrink in the fire.
“I’ve been thinking all day about what Billin said,” Hoom said in one of the dismal lulls in the conversation. “And I think he’s right. Burning’s a good idea.”
“And what do we burn, the whole city?” asked Wix, scornfully.
“No, no,” Hoom said. “But the old people, they’ve hated the boats from the beginning, the boats have meant our freedom from them. They burned them.” Hoom stood up and walked around the fire. He was no orator, but the very quietness of his speech made them listen all the more. “Well, there’s a few things they’ve been using as weapons against us. The Warden, for instance.” Someone laughed and said, �
��Does that mean we burn Noyock?”
Hoom smiled and shook his head. “Noyock’s done us no harm. Just his office. There’s something else, though. The History.”
Several people snorted. The History, constantly held over their heads as “proof” that things must be done the old way.
“They burned our boats,” Hoom said. “So let’s burn their History. It’s far less harm than they’ve done to us. You know what our fields will be like if we let them sit for a month, unharvested. My fruit trees will be bare, with the fruit rotting on the ground. They’ve destroyed our homes and our livelihoodsnobody could say we’ve been excessive if we destroy their stupid History.”
A few chuckled, and the idea began to look more appealing.
Wix spoke up. “Easily said. But they’re armed against us, and they’ll fight to protect it. It’sit’s a God-thing to them, they keep it for Jason. They’ll fight.”
“So,” Hoom said, “we won’t announce what we’re after. Not a large number of us, either. We’ll just wait until everybody’s asleep at Noyock’s house, and we’ll break in, rush up the stairs, and burn the damn thing before they even know what we’re about.”
“Break in? Is it that easy?”
“It will be for me. I can get in,” Hoom said. And so the plan was made. The crescent moon was high in the sky as they emerged from the forest, far to the west of their camp. Only one of them held a torch; the rest carried unlit torches and kindling wood. They walked in silence, and approached the tall house from the west, where it was less likely that anyone would be watching.
There were no lights in the house, and so they, set immediately to work. Wix pointed to a spot beside the house, and the kindling was laid down: Then Hoom, who carried the lit torch, ignited the kindling. As it flamed, they all put their torches in. After a few minutes, they were all ablaze. Then Hoom raised his torch, and they all followed him to the kitchen door.
Hoom knocked on the door, and they waited, all of them standing close to the wall, so that someone glancing out a window wouldn’t see them so readily. But the household wasn’t expecting danger that nighta soft voice asked, “Who is it?”
“Grandmother?” Hoom asked.
“Hoom,” said the voice behind the door, in relief and delight. “You’ve come home,” she said as she opened the door. But the door was barely ajar when Wix and Billin muscled through, forcing their way past Riavain. It only took her a moment to see what was happening and she cried out, “Fire! Help, fire! Quickly! They’ve come!”
No one stopped to silence her. Instead, Hoom led the way up the stairs to the second floor. As they reached it, several of his uncles and cousins emerged from their rooms, looking worried. “Where’s the fire?” one of them asked, and Hoom said, “Downstairs, in the kitchen.” For a moment the obvious ruse seemed to be workingthe men headed for the stairs even as the torchbearers charged upward toward the third floor. But then they realized who was carrying torches, and ran back up the stairs, trying to overtake them.
On the third floor, no one was fooled. Aven and Noyock stood in front of the door of the library. “You’re not coming in here,” Noyock said. “This won’t help you a bit.”
“But burning boats will?” Hoom snarled, and Wix shouted, “Get out of the way.” Dilna realized, though, that at this moment their attack would either succeed or failthe men from the downstairs were right behind them, waiting, it seemed, for them to surrender. And talking would never get the door open.
“Talk is nothing!” Dilna shouted, and she swung her torch at the man behind her on the stairs. He recoiled instinctivelyif he hadn’t, the torch would have hit him in the head. But in recoiling, he lost his balance, and fell backward into the men behind him. Billin seized the opportunity, and while Dilna and a few others used their torches to keep the men on the stairs at bay, Billin rushed forward, swinging his torch at Aven and Noyock.
But they held their ground, and Billin faltered in his advance. This time it was Wix who recovered the momentum. “You’ve had fair warning,” he snarled, and shoved his torch into Noyock’s belly.
The pain of the blow drove the breath out of Noyockand when Wix pulled the torch away, Noyock’s shirt was on fire. He tried vainly to brush it off, but it spread quickly, and he screamed and fell to the floor, trying to smother the fire. Aven still blocked the door, and he was using his feet to try to keep Billin and Wix at bay.
“An ax!” someone shouted, and sure enough one of the uncles was brandishing a bronzeheaded ax. He was swinging it in a circle over his head, causing as much danger for his own side as for Dilna and the others defending the stair, and Dilna ducked under the blade and jammed the tip of her torch upward against the man’s chin. He dropped the axit clattered on the floor next to Hoom. Hoom picked it up and swung it savagely at the door, right at Aven’s head.
This time Aven ducked, just in time, and the axhead was buried in the door, splintering it. Aven tried to strike at Hoom while he pulled it free, but Billin was too quick, forcing him back.
With a roar the men on the stairs tried to rush past, just as the door gave way on the ax’s second blow. Dilna and the others couldn’t stop them but the work was nearly done. Wix and Billin threw their torches into the roomWix’s sputtered on the floor, but Billin’s landed on a shelf, instantly igniting the papers there. Then the stair landing was a melee, as Wix, Billin, and Hoom struggled to keep the older men from entering the room and putting out the fire.
Aven bellowed and charged his son, throwing him aside as he entered the smoky library. As he passed, Hoom brought down the axhandle on his father’s head, sending him sprawling. At that moment, Wix shouted, “Let’s get the hell out of here!” and began slugging his way to the stair.
The others tried to follow. One of them was unconscious on the floor. Dilna, who had been swept to a far corner by the rush on the stairs, tried to rouse him, but he didn’t budge, and she got up to run for the stairs. As she did, the library erupted in a sudden roar, and for a horrible moment flames lashed out the door and threatened to start the whole landing on fire. Then they subsided a little, but flames danced now on the banisters, and as Dilna forced her way toward the stairs, she saw an inert body in the library, covered with flames, the feet already charring. She screamed, caught hold of Hoom, who was fighting his way down the stairs, and shouted in his ear, “Your father! Your father!”
The look on her face told him the story, and he, too, screamed, rushing back up the stairs. “Father!” he shouted, a throat-ripping cry. “Father!” But the flames forced him back. Several of the men on the stairs saw what was happeningthere were three men unconscious on the landing. They struggled back up against the heat, pulled them out and down the stairs. But Hoom still stood there, tears streaming down his face, seemingly oblivious to the heat, screaming, “Father! Father!” When they finally dragged him down his face was black with smoke, and the front of his clothing was charred. Dilna, who was being held at the bottom of the stairs, saw his smoking clothing and blackened face, and fainted.
They gathered in Firstfield on Jason’s Day, but this time there was no chatter or pleased expectation. Those who had borne torches that night were each surrounded by men, and their hands were bound, except Hoom, who was still so badly injured that a makeshift bed was provided for him. The other refugees from Stipock’s Bay kept to themselves. They were unguarded, but they had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Jason was coming; and suddenly even those who had scoffed at him were afraid of his coming.
The sun was hidden from them by the shaft of the starship, the space opened in the side and the line descended. Dilna remembered four years ago, when she was only barely thirteen, coming with her mother to see Jason come. He had brought the hundred eleventh Ice Person with him. Stipock. And bitterly Dilna wished he had never come.
Jason’s feet touched the ground, and he stood and walked to Noyock, who waited for him. Jason held out his arms to embrace the Warden, but Noyock only covered his face wit
h his hands and wept.
Jason stopped directly in front of Noyock, his blue eyes staring at him. They stood like that, it seemed, for hours, though when Jason broke the pose and enfolded Noyock in his arms, the sun was still not out from behind the tower. The people watched, and the realization spread as a murmur among them. “Jason is crying too,” they whispered.
“He knows,” came the answer, “he already knows, without even a word spoken.”
Jason whispered something in Noyock’s ear, and then stepped away. Noyock turned to look after him, no longer sobbing, though his cheeks were smeared with tears. Jason strode toward the waiting crowd. “Where is Aven?” he called out.
There was no answer, only a rustle of whispers in the crowd.
“Who has hidden Aven from me!”
And then some answers came. “Hoom killed him!” someone said. “He died in a fire,” said another. But the answer that caught on, that many called out, was the one that fixed the blame on Hoom.
Jason walked to where Hoom lay, swathed in bandages on the makeshift bed.
“Did you kill Aven, Hoom?” Jason asked, loudly.
Hoom closed his eyes and answered, clearly. “Yes.”
Jason knelt beside him, and many, unable to see, stood or crowded toward the front, to see what Jason would do. But Jason only touched the bandages on Hoom’s forehead, and looked deeply into him, as if he could see into his mind. Dilna got up from her guards, and came to Jason. “It isn’t true,” she said. “Hoom didn’t mean to kill his father. He was only trying to burn the History.”
Jason stood, and looked around at the crowd. “Burn the History. And why did Hoom want to burn the History?”
Again silence. But now Wix leaped to his feet, and cried out in fury, “They burned our ships, that’s why! They’re all quick enough to tell you Hoom killed his father, but they’re not so fast to tell you they burned our boats! Kept us from our City on the other side of the river! All our fields are rotten, our harvest is wasted, all because they burned our boats!”
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