The others were watching him. They were trying to hide it, but he could see the fear behind their eyes.
"Okay," he said. "I'll ask Gogg."
He looked for a chance during their daily hike, but the time never seemed right. The same was true during brawling: they were all too close together, Faddak would see him conspiring. Their tiny dinner just left everyone cranky, so that was out of the question too.
Just as he was concluding that he'd try to catch Gogg early next morning, his eye caught on Tull. The boy had finished eating as quickly as any of them, but he was still seated on the bench, staring into his empty bowl. The look on his face was an exact match for the slaves in Ankin Drog: the impatient resignation of a man who knows he's going to die, and is tired of waiting.
Gogg had already left the mess hall, walking through the rain toward the bunkhouse. Heart hammering, Joti caught up to him.
"Hey Gogg," Joti said. "How's it going?"
Gogg didn't break stride. "Why does everyone ask how it goes?"
"To find out?"
"Life isn't just right now. It goes for years and years. What does it matter how it goes now when it is different tomorrow and then more different the tomorrow after that?"
"I don't know," Joti said, entirely truthfully. "Okay then, how's the morning harvest been treating you?"
"Sometimes good. Sometimes not so good."
"Do you think you could be doing better?"
The larger boy turned to examine him, eyes glinting with amusement. "You want me to join you? Then ask me to join you."
"Really? You'll help us?"
"Ha ha! No."
"But you just said—"
"I said you should ask," Gogg said. "And I tell you no. Look how much time we save."
Joti gawked. Everything was moving too fast, threatening to sweep him away and toss him down the falls. "Well, why not?"
"Let the rams knock heads until they're both senseless. I do fine alone."
"You won't have that choice for much longer. By the end of the week, there will only be two tribes: Faddak's, and the rest of us. You should choose now. Before you're forced to."
"Hmm," Gogg rumbled. "If you ask me for help, this means you are weak. So why shouldn't I join strong Faddak?"
"With your help, we will be strong. Who would you rather be family with? Those who can provide for themselves? Or those who depend on taking it from others?"
Gogg scratched the back of his broad neck. "I help you. But no losing, okay?"
Joti snorted. "I'll do my best."
He awoke before sunrise, too hungry to sleep. He was starting to think about eating the bugs they found on Nod's hikes. There weren't many, though, and she'd warned them not to—not because they were poisonous, but because it would be considered cheating. If one of Faddak's friends saw Joti chowing down on beetles, they'd turn him in for sure.
Morning broke. They gathered under the eggfruit trees. Gogg stood to one side of the platform, scratching his ribs. Joti raised his eyebrows at him, but the other boy only shrugged.
"Five minutes!" Almak bellowed. "Get to it!"
Joti's team flung themselves up the tallest tree in the grove, a beast whose upper branches had been untouched, and could feed them all. As Faddak's people gathered, casting glances at the tree, Gogg grinned and leaned against its trunk. He folded his arms, watching Faddak. Rain sifted through the leaves. Faddak's people had a quick discussion, then scampered up into the other trees to try to find a few fruit before time ran out.
Gogg rang with laughter, hands on his hips. "Fast to punch someone smaller, but even faster to run when you can be punched back. Do I scare you that bad, Faddak?"
Up in the branches, Joti laughed, dropping one of his eggfruit. Almak called out the one-minute warning. Joti and his fellow catchers descended to the ground. They divided up their share. For the first time, they had so many fruit that the smaller kids couldn't eat all of them. Gogg was happy to eat their leftovers.
Joti moved next to him, belching contentedly. "Think you made the right decision?"
"Most days are just days," Gogg said. "But this day is good."
Their team's spirits stayed high throughout their hike with Nod and their scrapping lessons with Borz. That evening, Joti was hungry, but not so famished that he was compelled to bolt his small dinner. It was like he was tasting the fish and mushrooms for the first time.
After waking in the morning, he practically ran to the eggfruit platform. They gathered under the same tree as before, waiting for Almak to let them loose.
Across the platform, seven of the eighteen recruits now stood with Faddak.
"You know the drill," Almak said. "Get to it!"
The climbers started up the trunk. Gogg leaned against it. Faddak's people advanced on him in an inverted chevron.
"They're not gonna climb any trees," Kata said. "They're just gonna bash him!"
Joti yelled to the others. "Form up! Protect our brother!"
The climbers dropped to the platform, dashing to join Gogg. Faddak spurred his people into a run. The two sides met with a roar.
It was all-out war. They punched and kicked and bit. Blood stained the rain puddles. Almak didn't step in until they were exhausted. Only then did he pull them apart, planting them on opposite sides of the platform.
"Got it out of your system, have you?" He gave them a look of contempt. "Go wash off the blood. And don't be late for Nod."
Nobody had come away with a single fruit. While neither side had obviously won, Joti ached from head to toe. Mart was limping. Everyone had come away with cuts and bruises. On their hike, Nod criticized them repeatedly for their sluggishness, but they were too hungry and hurting to be ashamed of themselves.
After an extremely torpid practice with Borz, Joti found the instructor alone. "Marshal, when both people are unarmed, how can a smaller warrior beat a bigger one?"
Borz gave him a funny smile. "No matter how big the foe, you can win if you can strike the parts of him that are weak. The eyes. The nose. The knees. But you know what's better than this?"
"The balls?"
"If they've got 'em. Do you know what's best of all?"
"There's something better than balls?" Joti flushed. "I mean, to hit them in?"
"If you want to beat a bigger enemy, one trick always works: make sure that he doesn't have a weapon—and that you do."
When dawn came, Joti found himself as sore as when he'd been pushing blocks at the monument in the hot, dusty city. Beneath the eggfruit trees, he tried to walk off the stiffness, reaching up and testing the strength of the lower branches.
The morning sun glowed dimly, lost behind the banks of clouds. An inconstant rain ebbed like surf. The two sides assembled on the platform, facing each other with black eyes and split lips.
"Don't know why I bother." Almak pointed up into the canopy. "But in case you all forgot, your breakfast is up there."
Joti leaned forward, keeping his muscles loose. "Don't fight them. Fight for each other. Do that, and today's the day that we win."
Sounding more annoyed than usual, Almak gave his starting holler. As the others yelled their battle cries, slamming into each other, Joti jumped up, grabbed the branch over his head, and pulled loose the broken-off tree limb he'd laid on top of it. The limb was five feet long and almost completely straight.
He charged at Faddak.
Faddak was fending off Kata, who was attacking him like something rabid despite being practically half his size. Faddak was so distracted he didn't see the staff arcing toward his head until it was too late.
The staff struck home, shivering in Joti's hands. Faddak reeled back. Joti jabbed him in the breastbone, unbalancing him, then drove another jab into Faddak's gut. The older boy stumbled further, fighting for his breath and balance. Stepping backward, his right foot extended over the edge of the platform and found nothing but empty air. Faddak vanished into the cold gray river.
Kata and Gogg hurried to Joti's side, fighting off a
pair of attackers along the way. Faddak came up for air, gasping, hair smeared across his forehead. As he swam toward the leg of the platform, Joti wound up and cracked him over the top of the head.
"Joti!" Almak thundered toward him across the boards. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Joti confirmed that Faddak was knocked out cold, then turned to Almak. "Protecting my brothers and sisters."
"And killing that one!" Almak grabbed a rope from a supply shed, looped one end around a post at the platform's edge, and dived into the river.
Faddak was bobbing toward the falls. Joti watched in dismay as Almak caught up to him, grabbed the boy around the waist, and pulled them hand over hand back along the rope. He reached the platform, swearing continuously as he heaved the still-unconscious Faddak up onto the planks.
Almak bellowed for servants. They appeared, bearing Faddak away to the Peak's chirurgeon. With cold anger, Almak marched Joti to the little shack he'd stayed in when he'd first arrived at the Peak of Tears. Almak left without a word.
Joti sat on the floor next to the musty cot. Rain beat against the leaves. Would his father be proud of him? He doubted it. But he knew his mother would.
Hours later, footsteps whispered on the boards outside. Far too quiet to be Almak. Joti stood and opened the door, surprising a short, wiry man with large round eyes and burn scars running from his left cheek down to his collarbone.
"Excuse me!" The man bent his knee, extending a tray of small bowls of fish, mushrooms, and strips of red meat—venison. "Brakk didn't mean to interrupt the young master. He hopes the meal will spare him a beating!"
Joti took the plate from him. The man remained kneeling, face pointed downward, smiling broadly.
"Thank you," Joti said. "You can go."
Brakk swiveled his eyes for a look at Joti, then smiled and backed out the door. Joti hadn't tasted red meat in weeks. He tried not to wolf it down, but before he knew it, all he had left in his mouth was a memory of the flavor.
Almak didn't come by that night. In the morning, Brakk returned to inform Joti he was to report to the eggfruit trees. The other boys and girls were already there—minus Faddak.
Tull edged up beside him. "Faddak's still at the surgeon's. They say they've been bringing ice down from the top of the mountain to cool his brain so it won't explode."
Kata made a choking noise. "Brains don't explode, you dunce. Not unless you blast one with a firestick."
"Oh yeah? Then why does your face get all leaky when you get hot with a fever?"
Erst and a few others from Faddak's tribe were glaring at Joti, but most of them avoided his eyes. After a minute of this, a girl named Tay swore loudly and walked up to him. Yesterday, she'd fought side by side with Faddak.
"Faddak told us you were nothing but a runt. That your idea was good, but you were too weak to protect it." Her eyes sparked. "Then you dumped him in the river. You almost killed him."
From his peripheral vision, Joti watched her fists and midsection for movement, waiting for an attack. "I know. I was there."
"I thought he'd stomp you. I was wrong. Me and the others, we want to know: can we be your tribe? Or do you want to stomp us, too?"
His eyebrows lifted. His instinct was to glance at Kata, to ask those who'd fought next to him what they wanted, but the knowledge that emerged from inside him was as fully formed as when Rakag the Great Golden Dragon had been born from the corpse of Ovesh the Mountain.
It didn't matter what the others wanted. Beating Faddak hadn't been the victory in itself—it had only put Joti in position to win. The last battle was unfolding right now.
"Who got the strength?" Joti said. "It isn't any one of us. It's the tribe we build together. As long as you help feed the family, you're one of us."
That day, three of Faddak's people came over to the other side. At fifteen strong, they strung themselves out along the trees, collecting more than enough fruit for each of them. The three Faddak loyalists didn't make them any trouble.
The day after that, everyone but Erst defected to Joti's tribe. Erst stayed stubbornly alone. For the others, the task of finding food, so long a struggle, had become a trivial task. Bellies full, on Nod's sojourns from the Peak, they asked question after question of the master scout. During Borz' training, they threw themselves into techniques and sparring.
Faddak returned to the platform four days after Joti had knocked him into the water. He didn't speak, except to Erst. When Almak sent them into the trees, Faddak and Erst scraped together just enough fruit to stop themselves from starving, but their hunger was etched in the hollows of their cheeks and the wells of their eyes.
One week went by, then a second. One night during dinner, Almak strode into the longhouse and stood over Joti. "You. Let's talk."
Joti bolted down his fish and followed Almak outside, still chewing. Almak walked to the end of the platform and faced the river. "You pleased with yourself? Chief of your own little tribe. I lost money on that bet."
"You bet on us? Is that all Who Got the Strength is? A game for your entertainment?"
"Sure, it's a game. And it's deadly real, too. Live to manhood, and you might learn that all struggles for power are simple games where people die along the way." Almak snapped his fingers. "But maybe I haven't lost yet, huh? You ain't got everyone carrying your flag for you. Morose as they may be, Faddak and Erst are still out on their own. Why not make them bow down to the big boss?"
"If Faddak bowed to me, the gesture would be fake. Sooner or later, he'd try to take the tribe for himself—and if he couldn't do that, he'd destroy it."
"How d'you know a thing like that?"
Joti shook his head. "Why don't you?"
Almak frowned down at Joti as if he'd just woken up and gone to the latrine only to find a snake in the entrance when it was much too early to be facing such troubles. Joti waited for Almak to say more. After a minute, he walked away.
When dawn came, Joti gathered his tribe to him, as had been his habit for the last two weeks, then led the way to the eggfruit trees. A fire winked on the platform. As they neared it, the scent of wozzit bacon mingled with the smell of clouds and river.
Almak stood on the platform delivering gruff orders to a gaggle of servants. A long table had been brought out, set with plates of bacon, baskets of steaming bread, platters of blackened trout, and skillets of spiced mushrooms. Joti drifted to a stop, salivating like a dog made to wait for its marrow.
"Is this a trap?" Tull said. "We're going to have to watch the Marshals eat it, won't we? Or make us punch each other until our faces are more knuckle than face?"
Joti took a step forward, eyeing the feast. "What's this? Is today a holiday?"
Almak chuckled. "For you it is. Yesterday was your last day of Who Got the Strength. You see, Who Got the Strength is for recruits. As of now, you ain't recruits—you're the newest soldiers of the Peak of Tears."
16
Three more days of uneventful travel got them to Reading. The mine was a little ways further down the road from the small town. The town was dominated by a large, imposing fort. They arrived near mid-day; Wa'llach continued on to the mine, while Wit took their horses and bags to the inn. Wit walked into the inn's tavern, and sent a servant to deal with the horses. A troop of human soldiers occupied a large table at the back of the tavern. The soldiers were led by a tall young woman about Wit's age, with close-cropped gold hair, a cheerful face of pleasant angles, and a thin-lipped mouth that seemed to be on the verge of a mischievous laugh. She beckoned Wit to a seat at their table.
"Are you really a wizard? Or did you steal the staff from someone?"
"Wizard, at least the last time I checked."
"You're the youngest one I've ever seen."
"I haven't been at it for very long yet."
She nodded. "Crouch, get the wizard a beer."
Crouch, a heavy man in his thirties with a scarred but smiling face, got up. "Aye, Lady Elayne. Anything else?"
She shook her head
.
"You're sort of young to be a captain," Wit pointed out, nodding at the insignia she wore, as Crouch handed him a mug.
She smiled. "I'm exceptionally brave, strong and intelligent. Nothing at all to do with being a princess."
The servant returned. Wit got up and talked with him for a moment, and the servant pointed him to the stairs to his room. The lady Elayne had positioned herself at the foot of the staircase.
"It's big enough…" she said, looking at his staff, "but I wonder if you know how to use it?"
Wit smiled. "I know a few things. But you can always use practice," he finished, feeling clever.
"Well, if you want to keep in shape, there's a field a little ways behind the fort. I could meet you there in an hour."
Wit nodded. "I'll see you then," and had to make a conscious effort not to skip up the stairs.
In his room he washed up as well as he could, combed his hair, and put on the last of his clean clothes. When he came down, the soldiers and their captain had already left the inn. Wit went outside and headed towards the fort.
At the fort, he found a small dirt path and followed it for a distance up a slight incline to a field.
Something struck him in the leg and he fell forcefully forward, landing on his face. It occurred to him that he had only been out of the capital for a matter of weeks and already could think of far too many people—Lord Lexus, a friend of the bandit's, a friend of Wa'llach's one-armed dwarf—that might want him dead; and it also occurred to him that he did not care much who it actually was, as long as they got it over quickly. He was almost disappointed to hear girlish laughter.
He turned over, spitting out dirt, to see Lady Elayne standing behind him, twirling a quarterstaff in her hands. "The first lesson is to always, always pay attention. You were right: you do need practice."
Wit got up slowly and picked up his staff. She stood facing him, lightly tossing her quarterstaff from one hand to the other. Wit watched the staff carefully.
The next thing that he was aware of he was lying on his back on the ground. He had not seen her hit him, but apparently it had been in the stomach and arm because they hurt. He got up painfully.
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