by Джеффри Лорд
By the time they made camp that night, Blade and the others lightly wounded found their fevers were passing off. The more seriously wounded were slower to recover. They tossed and turned and moaned all night, and a second man went into convulsions. Swebon and the priests let Meera take charge of him.
«The Forest Spirit has blessed her greatly,» said Swebon. «Young as she is, she knows as much of caring of the wounded as any of our priests or women. She also seems not to care whether the man before her is Yal or Fak’si. That gift is even more rare than the skills of healing.»
Swebon shook his head. «I no longer can doubt it. That both you and Meera have come to the Fak’si at this time-it is a sign. I think it is a sign of some great change coming to the Fak’si. I only hope it is a good change.»
Blade nodded. «I do not know much of signs and omens. But I know I have found a home among the Fak’si, a friend in you, and a strong woman in Meera. This says to me that things will change for the better.»
Blade was quite sincere in hoping that all the changes coming to the Fak’si and the Forest People would be for the good. They had enough problems already. He was also glad to see Swebon in a mood to look for omens and expect changes. That should make him more open-minded about any new ideas Blade might offer. Those ideas were now beginning to take a definite shape in Blade’s mind.
Thanks largely to Meera’s nursing, the convulsing man didn’t die. His fever broke just before dawn, and so did all the other fevers, both high and low. The seriously wounded were sleeping like exhausted children when the able-bodied and the lightly wounded loaded them into the canoes for the day’s journey. They slept most of the day, and only awoke when they were being carried out of the canoes into the night’s camp.
When they did wake up, they were clear-headed, but weak as kittens and ravenously hungry. The hunters and fishermen were kept busy catching dinner, and the cooks kept even busier preparing it. Blade found that his own appetite was returning. He also found that the Shield of Life over his shoulder was beginning to prickle and itch. The wound itself no longer hurt at all, but the itching rapidly became uncomfortable, then positively maddening. From the strained expressions of the other wounded, Blade guessed they were all having the same trouble. He decided to leave the Shield alone. He still had his doubts about Fak’si medicine, but interfering with a wound that seemed to be healing fairly well was never a good idea, no matter how weird the treatment you’d received for it.
Because of the wounded and the prisoners, the raiders returned home by a different route than they’d used coming out. This one was considerably longer, but didn’t involve any overland portage. It did involve passing along a stretch of river swarming with Horned Ones, but Blade was able to help out there. He showed how to make and use the jawbracers. By the time they reached the dangerous stretch, there were half a dozen carefully-made jawbracers in each canoe. Blade’s status among the Fak’si went up another notch.
Meanwhile all the wounds were healing with amazing speed and practically without complications. Within five days Blade’s Shield of Life turned from gray to brown and started cracking and peeling around the edges. One of the priests examined it and decided the time had come to remove it.
With a knife he picked away most of the dried Shield, then washed away the rest.
The wound underneath was going to leave a scar, but that didn’t worry Blade. He already had more than his fair share of scars, picked up in one Dimension or another. What impressed him was that the wound was almost completely healed, with no sign of infection.
This wasn’t an isolated miracle, either. One by one over the next few days the Shields of Life came off the wounds, and one by one all the wounds appeared as clean and well-healed as Blade’s. By the time the raiders returned home, eleven days after the raid, only three men were still wearing their Shields.
Blade still found it hard to believe, but after a while he thought he understood what happened with the Shield of Life. The combination of kohkol sap and uglyfish gland made a powerful compound with several different effects on the human body. First, it acted as an anaesthetic, numbing damaged nerve tissues. Second, it acted as a purely natural disinfectant by stimulating the body’s own defense mechanisms-specifically, stimulating the production of white blood cells. That accounted for the absence of infections, at the inevitable price of the fever as the white blood cells multiplied and fought their battle. Finally, the Shield of Life seemed to stimulate cell growth in general, and therefore the regeneration of damaged tissue. That explained the rapid healing of all the wounds, with a minimum of scar tissue.
In short, the Shield of Life was nearly the ultimate treatment for any sort of wound. No wonder the Forest People had been able to indulge in their tribal wars for so long with so little damage! Not only did they keep the bloodshed down, they had a reliable method of dealing with many of the wounds that did happen.
When Blade realized what the Shield of Life really was, he would have made any sort of bargain at all to be sure of getting a large sample back to Home Dimension. With a gourdful to analyze, the biochemists there should be able to synthesize it. After that many things could happen, most of them good.
He was also going to be able to pay the Forest People for their gift of the Shield of Life. There’d been some sleepless nights in the riverside camps, and during those nights he’d finally realized what the Forest People needed to fight the Sons of Hapanu and the Treemen. He’d also figured out how to make the weapons, although he’d need to make some private experiments before he could be absolutely sure. He’d have to start by talking to Swebon, who should be in a mood to listen. Then he’d go to work-and see what happened.
Chapter 11
Blade was so busy working out his ideas that he didn’t join in the celebration of the raiders’ victory. He wandered about, mostly watching the carpenters and bowmakers at work. He not only ignored Meera, he ignored all the village women who wanted one of the great heroes of the raid against the Yal to take them to his sleeping mat. Lokhra put the doubts he was arousing into words.
«If the Yal woman had you in her grip, we would understand. She is very beautiful, wise, and strong. She is a good woman for you. But you do not take her either. She serves you only as a little girl or an old woman might do. Yet you still look at no other woman. Did you take a wound to your manhood, Blade?» The question might have been insulting, except for Lokhra’s tone of voice. She seemed really worried about Blade’s strange new habit of ignoring women.
Blade decided he was going to have to come up with some sort of explanation. «You do not need to praise Meera to me,» he said. «I know the kind of woman she is. But that does not matter. I have had a vision.» Visions and dreams played a large part in the religion of the Forest People, so this would seem a plausible explanation.
Lokhra’s eyes opened wide and she made a gesture to turn away bad luck. «May you say what kind of vision it was?»
«I can say what I have seen so far. It was very clear. I saw that a great change might soon come to the Fak’si, perhaps to all the Forest People. I saw also that if the change came it would come through me.»
Lokhra’s eyes opened even wider. «What kind of change?»
«This I did not see. I saw clearly that I would have to wait for a second vision to know. I also saw even more clearly that I should not lie with a woman or drink beer until the second vision came.»
Lokhra moaned faintly in awe and pressed her forehead against Blade’s feet, then against the floor. When she rose, she asked, «May I speak of this to others?»
Blade laughed. «Yes. It is no secret. Be particularly sure to tell the women. I would like them to know that my manhood is still with me. In time I will prove it.»
Lokhra must have told half the village that same day. By the next morning Blade found himself being looked at with awe as well as admiration. All the women wanted to press their foreheads against his feet, and all the men wanted to pull his hair. Such crowds gathered every time h
e went out for a walk that he finally had to stop going out during the day. He stayed aboard his houseboat and let Meera bring him food and water, as wall as the charcoal and pieces of bark he needed for making drawings. No one seemed to think there was anything suspicious about Blade’s vision.
At least none of the ordinary people seemed to think so. Blade now realized he should probably have mentioned his vision to the priests first. Home Dimension bureaucracies weren’t the only place where it was a good idea to «go through channels.» It was also a good idea among primitive peoples with possibly jealous priesthoods.
However, any damage was already done. He would just have to go ahead and hope the priests wouldn’t mind this strange Englishman stealing all their thunder! Blade didn’t know whether to be optimistic or not. The priests should have the interests of their people at heart-but it was quite possible they’d think their own power more important.
In any case, Swebon was certainly the best starting place.
It was a week after the raid before Blade asked Swebon to meet him in a place where they wouldn’t be overheard. Early the next morning they climbed into a small canoe and paddled out into the middle of the river. Swebon threw the anchor stone overboard, and they sat while the sun rose and Blade explained his plans for helping the Forest People defeat their enemies.
«What you need more than anything else is a strong weapon,» he said. «Strong enough to slay the Treemen and the Sons of Hapanu.»
«We have known this for a long time,» said Swebon wearily. «But our wisest men have found nothing. Perhaps the Forest will give us nothing, and the Forest Spirit is turning away from us.»
Blade shook his head. «No, Swebon. That was not my vision. The Forest Spirit has already given you all you need to win these battles. It merely asks you to see them in new ways.» Blade wanted to make this point very clear from the start. It would answer the objections of those people who were simply afraid of anything new. Swebon wasn’t one of them, but not all the Fak’si would be that intelligent.
«And-your vision has shown you these new ways?» asked Swebon. He didn’t sound completely convinced, but he did sound ready to listen.
«Yes. The second vision that I was promised has come.»
Blade started explaining. The best weapon the Forest People had against their two great enemies was the bow. It could strike from a distance, and it could strike with enough power to kill. Or at least it could if it was changed.
The bows the Forest People had now were weak. They could not shoot an arrow far enough or hard enough. They could not reach a vital organ of a Treemen or penetrate the armor of a Son of Hapanu.
«A stronger bow is all you need,» said Blade. «I have looked at your arrows. They are as good as you need. I have also seen your archers shoot, and know they can shoot well.
«I know there is no one wood in the Forest that can make such a strong bow. But I saw that if a man used several different woods, he might make such a bow.»
With the help of his sketches, Blade continued his explanation. He was proposing a laminated bow, built up by gluing together layers of different kinds of wood, and perhaps bone and sinew as well. The present bow of the Forest People was like the English longbow, carved out of a single piece of wood. Unfortunately the Forest had no tough but flexible woods like ash, elm, or yew, so the single-piece bows were weak. Blade was proposing something more like the Turkish or Mongol horsebows, which could penetrate mail at two hundred yards.
Making a laminated bow required choosing materials carefully, and then gluing them together so that they stayed together under stress. The only way to pick the right woods was by experimenting, but Blade already knew what glue he was going to use.
«Kohkol sap should do very well,» he said. «It must be boiled longer, so that it will be stronger than it is now. But that should not be hard to do.»
The laminated bow was Blade’s most important idea, but not his only one. «It will be some time before all the Forest People can have strong bows,» he said. «Also, even the most powerful bow will not kill a Treeman if it does not hit him in a vital spot. I know how to make any arrow you may shoot hurt a Treeman, no matter where it hits him.» Blade hesitated. «I now speak of matters which perhaps belong only to the chiefs and priests,» he went on. «If I speak wrongly, will it remain between us?»
Swebon nodded. «I swear not to be angry at anything you say. I also swear that no priest who would be angry shall hear any of this from me.»
«Good.» Blade explained. If the Shield of Life could act as an anaesthetic, it might also act as a tranquilizer. Made much stronger and smeared on the point of an arrow, the Shield of Life could numb the muscles and slow the movements of a Treeman. Then the Forest People could close in and kill him.
Blade was rather surprised that the Forest People hadn’t long since developed poisoned arrows and darts on their own. The natives of the Amazon basin used such weapons freely. On the other hand, the Forest People had plenty of metal for weapons and their bows were powerful enough for hunting birds and small game. They hadn’t needed a really deadly weapon until recently.
Swebon’s frown deepened as Blade explained this new use for the Shield of Life. When Blade was finished, the chief lay back in the bottom of the canoe and stared up at the sky. He was silent for so long that Blade thought he’d gone to sleep. At last he sat up.
«It is not our custom to let a man who is neither chief nor priest work with the Shield of Life. The priests will not like this change.» He held up a hand as Blade was about to speak. «I do not like it myself. But-the Forest changes. Perhaps the ways of the Forest People must change also.»
«I think so,» said Blade. «I would not ask this if I did not think so.»
«I know you would not,» said Swebon. «Therefore I say-go and do what you will with the Shield of Life. But go into the Forest and do your work where no one can see you. Then no priest can say a word against you until your work is done. If you do what you promised, so many will speak for you that no priest will be brave enough to speak against you.»
Blade wasn’t surprised to find that Swebon’s common sense and shrewdness extended to politics, but he was glad.
One point remained to be settled, though. Blade knew it was the most important point of all. He also knew it was the one where he and Swebon would be most likely to quarrel.
«Do you wish me to go entirely alone into the Forest?» Blade asked.
«No. You will need other hands to help you, and other eyes to watch your back. I would go with you myself, if I could leave the village for so long. But I do not think that would be wise. My brother-he still looks at your Meera with desire….»
«I understand. But he will not be able to do anything against her. I am taking her into the Forest with me, to be my other hands and eyes.»
Swebon started so violently he set the canoe rocking. By the time it steadied, he was staring at Blade as if the Englishman had suddenly grown a second head. Finally he sighed. «Blade, I do not understand this. You have not lain with the woman since you made her your captive. Yet you will take her with you into the Forest, to learn your secrets. Then perhaps she will stick a knife into your back and run away to her people with all she has learned.» Swebon’s voice was rising almost to a shout. «Blade, I must ask it-are you mad?»
«Not mad. I only follow my vision. It has told me-«
«Curse your visions!» growled Swebon. Then he sighed. «Go on. What tricks have they told you to play on the Fak’si now?»
«No tricks,» said Blade quietly. «My second vision only told me that I should not worry if other tribes learn my secrets. In fact, the vision told me to give the secrets to them. So it does not matter what Meera learns or where she goes. I hope-«He broke off, because Swebon’s face was twisting violently in both rage and surprise. For a long moment Blade wasn’t sure the chief wasn’t going to attack him.
Then Swebon took a deep breath. «Why, Blade? I ask only that. Why? The Fak’si have taken you in, been your
friends-«
«I do not hate the Fak’si, Swebon. Do not think that. But I cannot hate the other tribes of the Forest People either. I cannot give the Fak’si the strong bow and the strong Shield of Life to help them fight the other Forest People. I must give these things to all the Forest People, so that they can all fight the Treemen and the Sons of Hapanu. Otherwise the wars among the Forest People will destroy them even faster than the Treemen or the Sons of Hapanu. What will happen if every raid like ours kills fifty people instead of a dozen? Do you want to see that come, Swebon?»
The chief seemed not to be listening. He sat with his head in his hands and his heavy shoulders sagging. Then at last he raised his head and looked at Blade. To Blade’s great relief Swebon was smiling.
«Blade, I had a vision of my own, one that gave me much pleasure. I had a vision of the Fak’si coming to rule the Forest People, and myself coming to rule the Fak’si.» He shrugged. «But it seems that I cannot bring my vision to be without killing you. I will not do that.
«Also, you could be right. Certainly our raid against the Yal shed more blood than we often did in the past. In the future, with the new bows-who can say how much blood might be shed? And who would gain from it, except the Sons of Hapanu?
«Perhaps the time is here for the Forest People to become one tribe instead of four. Certainly that would be a better fate than the Sons of Hapanu and the Treemen killing all our men and making slaves of all our women. If we must be one tribe to live, then I will work beside you for this.»
They shook hands and patted hair to seal that promise, then paddled back to the village.
Blade had to let Swebon gather the equipment for the trip into the Forest and the experiments there. The chief could go anywhere and pick up anything without arousing the suspicions of the priests or Guno, or drawing questions from anyone else. Blade trusted him to work fast and keep his mouth shut.
