by Payne, Lee
"Impressive," exclaimed the Commodore. "It would almost be worth living out here on the backside of nowhere just to have this view of the galaxy at play." He was sitting on a log, his back against a tree trunk. He absently stirred the fire before him. Ohan and Leahn were seated off to one side. The horses had been staked and tied directly in front of them but further down the beach, a twin on either side. It seemed an unusual arrangement to Ohan until he realized that they were, again, prepared for visitors.
"It reminds me," the Commodore continued, "of people who like to live up in the hills above a great city. They sit behind their picture-windows and watch the weather cross the sky, the sunsets, the lights go on. They're spectators, children. That's what you are if you live here. It's pretty to watch for a while but I'd get bored. The action, the excitement, the push and shove of living beings—that's all downtown."
He waved his arm toward the swirling stars. "It fills your soul with its beauty but if I were marooned here, if I could only sit and watch—knowing I couldn't get in there where the romping and stomping was going on—then all that silent beauty would break my heart."
He turned to them. "It's a little like being around a beautiful woman, day after day. You see her changes and her moods. I've seen some that can make your heart ache just by walking across a room. But you can't watch forever. It's bad for your complexion. You have to either move in or move on. Isn't that so, lad?"
It took a second before Ohan realized he was being asked to respond. He struggled to collect his thoughts.
"You're comparing a galaxy to an individual?" Leahn asked.
"Not an individual, my dear. A woman. And mysterious beings they are. Even some of the warm-blooded ones are as distant and cold as those stars."
"I must confess," Leahn said, "the mystery of women is difficult for me to discern. Perhaps it comes from staying with your friend up on the hilltop, too far away, viewing them through a self-generated haze of romanticism. If you get close you might see them as individuals. If one is cold and distant, dump her and find a friendlier one."
"Are you writing this down, lad? Whatever happened to your notebook? You just got some good advice. Consider the ground birds for example. There's the poor male so befuddled by the female, he's growing special feathers just to attract her. Is it possible for him to see her objectively as an individual? You and I see her as a couple of drumsticks. If he saw her objectively, there wouldn't be so many little ground birds around. Do you see my point?"
"No," Ohan and Leahn replied firmly.
"Ah. Well, you have to ask yourself who had the most fun, you or the male ground bird."
"A meal or a mate? Is that what you're saying?" Leahn asked incredulously.
"Is that how it came out? You see, lad. If you'd been taking notes, we could go back and see where this conversation went astray."
He leaned back and stared at the slowly turning galaxy. "I believe I was merely trying to explain that the only reason we're all here is because it once seemed easier to get from one end of that galaxy to the other by first coming out here than it did to try to go directly through all that intervening matter."
Ohan blinked.
"Interesting as that may be," Leahn said coolly, "it has absolutely nothing to do with whatever it was we were talking about. You mean the people who came here, my people, came from that galaxy?"
"Could be. A lot of out-of-the-way places got settled during the era when a jump out and another jump back seemed faster than trying to thread your way through the middle."
"You're the fat man who came flying into my room."
Ohan, startled, looked up to see where the unfamiliar voice had come from. The speaker was a tiny girl, not more than eight years old, who had somehow seated herself on the log next to the Commodore.
"I am indeed, my dear. I apologize for the intrusion. I had no idea anyone lived in those old buildings."
"We live where we please. Some of the boys like to live in the trees but I find that too drafty."
"I'm surprised that you were able to see me."
"It wasn't easy. You were all shifty and smoky."
"Perhaps you'll show me how you did that. It looks like great fun to be able to fly."
"Perhaps I will. But right now, your friends should be careful about sneaking up on my friends. Mine are quick and dangerous."
"You have good eyesight. It is ritual combat. Nightbird warriors do not fight to the death without an introduction."
"You should always make sure your opponent is playing by the same rules you are." The Commodore raised his voice to the twins further down the slope by the horses. "This is to be ritual, not blood, gentlemen."
Ohan heard a brief scuffle and some nervous movement from the horses. He strained to see but caught only a glimpse of a dark shadow against the starlit sea. Then the twins emerged into the firelight, one carrying two bodies, the other with one.
There was a hint of surprise in the little girl's voice. "You were right, fat man. Your warriors are quick but we claim two of your horses."
The Commodore looked questioningly at the twins. Erol responded. "There were five of them. Two stood briefly on the backs of our horses and then escaped. They are all very swift."
"May we exchange three of your nightbird warriors for your claim on two of our horses?" the Commodore asked.
"Two for two is the fair trade," the girl replied. "We will owe you a favor for the third."
The Commodore nodded to the twins who set their attackers down. They were children who gazed quickly around the fire, then disappeared in the darkness.
"And do call me Commodore, my dear. All my friends do and I much prefer it to 'fat man'."
"The exchanging of names is for another day," the child said gravely.
"Then perhaps you and your friends would like to discharge your debt by sharing your breakfast with us tomorrow. We did not have a large supper."
"Perhaps." She eyed him coolly. "Though it wouldn't hurt some people to skip a meal once in a while." She stood, stepped into the shadows and was gone.
"Some of us have large bones," he shouted after her. "Lovely child," he muttered. "Odin preserve us, we shall probably see her again in the morning."
***
Ohan woke to the smell of fried bread and found two children seated nearby regarding him with interest. The Commodore emerged from his bedroll resplendent in his red silk pajamas with the green dragons around the middle. Ohan hadn't seen them since he woke in camp that first morning long ago. This, he thought, must be a special occasion. He could see that it was having an effect on his audience. They had lost interest in him and were staring in awe at the Commodore.
The big man stretched and sniffed the air. "Is that breakfast I smell? Ah, and here's our charming hostess."
Ohan turned from the children frying bread in last night's campfire and followed the Commodore's gaze down the slope toward the horses. There sat the little girl next to a long mat spread with a variety of unfamiliar fruits plus eggs, roots, nuts, some little fish and bread.
The Commodore led the way down to the mat and sat himself opposite the child. "We didn't know what you liked best to eat," she said, "so we brought several things. We've never had guests before so you must excuse any breaches in etiquette. We know we must eat first to show that nothing is poisoned." She cut open a melon with a stone knife and offered half to the Commodore.
"It all looks delicious, my dear. My uh, warriors don't eat eggs and I defer to their sensibilities but aside from that, everything seems quite agreeable. I was never one to stand on etiquette except, of course, that part about poison. You . . . uh, don't do much of that—poison I mean—do you?"
"We have several recipes but we've never tried to mix any up. It's not the warrior's way."
Ohan put down the egg he had started to peel and took some bread instead.
`"Now that we see your warriors up close and in the daylight," the child continued, "we find they are not at all what we expected."
"And you have a white warrior and a forest person with you. Are they not still enemies?"
"Ah. Not as much now as in the past. You, on the other hand, seem to be a bit of both."
"The old men tried to explain how the two peoples were beginning to blend together but they always got embarrassed when we asked exactly how it was done. So we aren't sure about the mechanics of it. Our grandmother said it wasn't a subject for children. Feathered Shield told me some unusual stories but I'm not sure I believe him."
"You haven't traveled much, I take it?"
"We have always lived by the sea. Our father was a fisherman but our mother died and he went away. We came to live with our grandmother who was taking care of the two old men who lived here. If you had come a few seasons earlier, you could have met them but they are all dead now. You were speaking last night of visiting the stars. They would have been interested in that. You must explain it to us."
"For not having traveled widely, you seem to have a remarkable grasp of history. Few others remember that white warriors and forest people were once enemies."
"That's our job. That's what the two old men did. They taught us and now that they are dead, we continue their work. We are keepers."
"Keepers?"
"We keep the stories of the past, of the forest empire and of the colonists from the stars."
The Commodore looked around him. "Just the six of you?"
"Yes. We each specialize in a different area."
"And you are the leader?"
"Feathered Shield will not speak to anyone else."
"He won't?"
"And as leaders," the child said brightly, "you and I must meet in ritual combat."
"We must?" The Commodore was biting the head off a small fish, swallowed it wrong and began to cough. "Says who?" he gasped.
"Feathered Shield. He says it's a good system. His grandfather developed it. He was good at ritual combat so it helped him gain stature. Then when he became emperor, everybody let him beat them. Feathered Shield says it keeps bureaucrats from gaining command over warriors and the men don't have to go to war over the arguments of their leaders. He says the men enjoy watching their leaders fight, even if it isn't to the death."
"They do, eh?"
"Some of us men have never seen our leader fight," Leahn said casually, "though we've heard a lot of talk about what an expert he is."
The Commodore cleared his throat menacingly and glared at her. "I hardly think my fighting a child will . . . "
"Oh, I'm pretty good at it," the girl said. "We've studied all the books and we practice a lot."
"Books?"
"Of course since you outweigh her a little," Leahn continued, "it would be fairer if you took on three or four of them . . . or five or . . . "
"Do you mind? I have no intention of . . . you did say books?"
"The winner gets a token from the loser," the child said. "I would ask for your horse. I've always wanted one." She hesitated. "I don't know what you could ask for. We haven't much. Perhaps the boys could catch a lot of fish for you to eat."
The Commodore seemed to have changed his mind. "My choice, of course, would be up to me and I would have to look around to see what there was that I might want."
"If you win," the child replied calmly.
"Ah yes. If I win."
"What form would this contest take?" Elor asked.
"We would each have a ribbon tied into our hair." She looked thoughtfully at the Commodore. "Or into your beard if you care to. The tighter you tie it in, the more serious the fight and the harder it is for your opponent to cut it out."
"Cut? With what?"
"Knives, of course. Though you may throw yours down at the beginning of the contest."
"I do not pull knives on ladies, not on small ones anyway. And I do not allow ladies with knives anywhere near my beard. I'm afraid the whole idea is . . . "
"That's all right. Just tie the ribbon loosely so it doesn't hurt when I pull it out."
"If you pull it out."
"I'll send one of my brothers for the ribbons. They're not very good ones. We aren't able to make cloth as well as our grandmother did."
"I've got some ribbons right here in my pack." Leahn volunteered cheerfully. "Neali gave them to me."
"You are certainly being helpful in all this, my dear," the Commodore muttered. "Remind me to . . ."
"None of our ceremonial belts will fit you," the girl said. "But they often fought naked."
"No," the Commodore said quickly. "Thank you, no. My family has a long tradition of appearing in public with our trousers on."
"Trousers are fine," the child replied.
The Commodore glared at his companions. "I also make it a practice never to engage in ritual combat until after I've had my morning bath." He turned and stalked off down the beach, silk embroidered dragons flapping in the breeze.
Chapter 11
The rules were simple. Each combatant had one of Leahn's ribbons tied loosely into his hair. The child pulled her long dark hair forward on both sides and tied the ribbon into it at both ends so it lay across her chest. The Commodore braided his into his beard so that it too, lay on his chest.
"Before we begin," the Commodore said, "may I know the name of my opponent?"
"Oh yes. I almost forgot. Introductions are very important. I am Malie, she who speaks to the dead."
"And I am Commodore Ardcasl, he who performs dark deeds in the name of science."
At first glance the contest appeared wildly uneven. The Commodore outweighed Malie by at least two hundred pounds. She circled him warily and when he made a clumsy lunge, she darted in behind him and gave a kick to the back of his knee that collapsed him sideways into the sand. Before he had a chance to recover, she danced lightly up his back to his shoulders, then stood for an instant, arms outstretched like a tiny ballerina poised atop his head.
Her brothers and sister broke into applause. As she danced away, the Commodore struggled to his feet only to be sent sprawling by a well-placed kick to his posterior. He lay there, silently contemplating his opponent who deliberately turned her back and walked away. This brought shouts of approval from her siblings.
The contest still appeared unequal but the role of underdog had changed. The Commodore heaved himself slowly to his feet, sweating, and brushed the sand from his big belly. He faced Malie in a crouch as she sauntered back to the conflict. She circled, feinted and lunged, sometimes darting in to land halfway up his side. As he began a ponderous grab for her, she would push off and be gone, leaving him to clutch at empty air. Against this tiny antagonist, he seemed exceedingly dull and slow. Even Leahn found herself rooting hopelessly for him.
Now Malie began to go for the ribbon. She worried him from one side and then the other, darting, snatching for the prize as he tried to block her with arms and elbows. A kick to the back of his legs brought him crashing to his knees. She placed a foot deep in his stomach, made a grab for his ribbon and leaped away, the prize firmly in her hand only to find its other end held tightly by the Commodore who reeled her in like a surprised fish on a line.
She quickly dropped her end but it was too late. He had her scooped in and tucked firmly under his arm in a single swift movement. She tried to kick but he seemed not to notice. He rose to his feet with her still under his arm and carefully disentangled the ribbon from her hair.
"Interesting custom," he puffed as he set the child before him. She was making a great effort not to cry.
"I haven't lost for a long time," she said accusingly.
"I'm sure you haven't. But you've been fighting against children. Adults are much trickier."
A single tear rolled down her cheek but she did not cry. "It's not fair," she said.
"Of course it's not. Didn't your mentor, Feathered Shield, mention that? Life is never fair." He held up her ribbon and turned to the assembled spectators. "It is, however, the privile
ge of the victor to be magnanimous to the vanquished. While I retain title to my horse, you may take him for a ride." He turned and strode down the hill. "Come, children. Everyone may go."
"We all know the story of how the colonists grew the horses from seeds they brought with them," Malie said breathlessly as she sat astride the creature's broad back. "But I never dreamed they were so big. Does he have a name?"
"This, my dear, is Rudyard Kipling."
"Really? I think I'll call him Ruddy." She gave the beast a kick and they were off down the beach.
"Ruddy!" The Commodore looked incredulous. "Ah well," he sighed to the twins as they watched the rest of the children gallop away, "the affinity of young female hominids for large, swift, quadruped herbivores seems close to universal."
He began to walk stiffly back up the hill. "I have had a strenuous morning and I am going to take a nap. The rest of you," he glared at Leahn and Ohan, "are on your own. If you get into serious life-threatening difficulty, do not wake me. If one of the children falls beneath the hoofs and is trampled, take care of it. I am not to be disturbed. I am beginning to seize up already."
***
He woke from his nap to find Malie beside him. He sat up carefully. "Well, my dear, did you have a nice ride?"
"Very nice, thank you," she said gravely. "It was kind of you to let us use your horses but I've been talking to Feathered Shield. He's very annoyed and won't allow us to share any of our things with you."
"Not even supper?"
"Oh, supper is all right. The boys are out gathering sand walkers now. But then he says you must leave."
"Does he? Well, that's all right. We shall be calling in our aircar and leaving tomorrow anyway, right after we slaughter the horses. But first let's eat. Ritual combat has given me an appetite."
