"It solves nothing," he said, "but you have been helpful. And Klep may yet be helpful, who knows? Thank you. Eagle Woman sends her thanks to you, Polly. Cub will need you again when he dresses her shoulder. Anaral"--he smiled gently at the girl--"is a nourisher, but she cannot take the sight of blood."
"It is true," Anaral agreed. "When I cut my finger, I screamed. Poor Bishop. But I will be glad to help Klep eat."
"We are glad you are here, Polly," Karralys said. "And we wish you could return to your own time. You must wish that, too."
Polly shook her head. "Not until we find Zachary. And not until there is rain."
The attack came during the night. Og woke Polly, barking loudly. Anaral was up in a flash, spear in hand. Polly followed her. Torches cast a bloody glow over the fighting people, and at first Polly could not tell which were the People of the Wind and which were the raiders. Then she saw Og rushing to Karralys's aid, jumping on a raider who had a spear at Karralys's ribs. Og clamped the man's wrist in his jaws, and the spear fell.
Then Polly felt something dark flung over her, and she was picked up like a sack of potatoes. Her screaming mingled with the general shouting. She tried to kick, to wriggle free, but her captor held her tight as he ran with her. She could not tell in which direction they were going. She heard the snapping of twigs underfoot. Felt branches brushing by. Then at last she was put down and the covering removed from her head. They were on the beach, out of sight of the village. Trees reached almost to the lake's edge. The moon was high, and she gasped as she saw Zachary standing by a shallow canoe.
"Zach!"
"You brought her," Zachary said to her captor. "Good."
"Get in the canoe," Zachary said. His face was white and pinched in the moonlight, but his voice was sharp.
"What is this?" Polly demanded.
"It's all right, sweet Pol, really it is," Zachary reassured her. "I need you."
She drew back. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her captor's hands were around her elbows and she was propelled toward the canoe. He was not Brown Earth, the raider who had had the concussion, but an older man, muscled, heavy.
"He won't hurt you, as long as you don't make a fuss. I promise," Zachary said. "Please, Polly." He was cajoling. "Just come with me."
"Where?"
"Across the lake."
"To the people who are trying to take our land?" Her voice rose with incredulity.
"Our land?" Zachary asked. "What do you care about it? It's three thousand years ago. You don't know anything about the People Across the Lake. They aren't enemies."
"They attacked us."
He overrode her, speaking eagerly. "They have a healer, Polly, an old man, wise, and full of experience. Brown Earth saw Cub."
"Cub will help you."
Zachary shook his head. "He's too young. He doesn't know enough. The healer across the lake has power. He can make me better."
"Fine," Polly said. "Go to him. But leave me out of it."
"I can't, Polly love. I would if I could. But they want to see you."
"Me? Why?"
"Because you called the snake and it came. They think you're some kind of goddess."
"That's nonsense. Anyhow, how can you understand what they're saying?"
"If I can get them to speak slowly enough, I get the gist of things. I'm not good at Ogam like you, but I get enough. And sign language can be very effective," Zachary said. "How else do you think Brown Earth got me to go with him? Please, Polly, please. I don't want him to have to hurt you."
"You'd let him? I thought you cared about not hurting--ouch!" Her captor's hands tightened about her arms like a vise.
"Please, Polly, just come, and everything will be all right."
"Take your hands off me," Polly snapped. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but her captor silenced her with a rough hand. From the village she could hear sounds of shouting, so probably her cry would not be heard. Her captor shoved her toward the canoe. He was taller than she was, and full of brawn. To try to fight him was folly. At the moment it seemed the simplest thing to get into the canoe, to go with Zachary and the raider, to see what all this was about.
The raider pushed the bark off the narrow beach, grating it over the pebbles, then leapt in lightly, barely causing it to sway.
Zachary reached out to touch Polly's knee. "I'm sorry, Polly. You know I don't want to hurt you. You know that." His face was drawn and anxious. "They sent this goon with me because they were afraid I mightn't bring you. I'm the one they don't trust, not you. You'll be treated well, I promise you, just like a goddess. And that's what you are to me, even if I think of you as a goddess differently from the way they do."
She sighed gustily. "Zachary, when the fighting's over and I'm missing, they'll be frantic."
"Who will?"
"Karralys, andAnaral. The bishop, Tav. Cub. Everybody."
Her captor made two guttural sounds, which Polly interpreted as "Let's go." He pointed, and they could see several longer canoes moving swiftly across the lake.
The battle, then, was over, though Polly had no idea who had won, who had been hurt, or even killed. Swiftly she leapt into the water and sloshed toward shore, but her captor was after her and grabbed her before she could reach land.
"You have no right to take me against my will," she struggled to say.
He did not reply. He picked her up and carried her back to the canoe.
"Polly! Don't do that again!" Zachary sounded frantic.
Polly struggled to catch her breath, which had been nearly squeezed out of her by the strong arms of the raider.
"Polly, don't deny me my chance. Please. I know their healer can help me."
"But there's a price on it?"
"They just want me to bring you to them because they think you're a goddess."
Polly shook her head. "I'm no goddess. I didn't call Louise. She just happened to come. I don't have any magic powers." She held on to the side of the canoe as the raider paddled swiftly. "Does he have a name?"
Zachary laughed. "It sounds something like Onion, I think, but their language isn't pure Ogam. Lots of grunts and noises and arm waving. Polly, I'm sorry I had to get you this way, truly I am, but I didn't know how else. I need you. If you come with me, then their old healer will fix my heart."
--Fix it, she thought wearily.--He's used to having money fix everything. And not everything can be fixed.
Suddenly they were surrounded by other canoes, and paddles were held aloft triumphantly, and those without paddles raised their hands above their heads, clapping.
"See?" Zachary gave her his most charming smile. "See how happy they are to see you?"
Once ashore, she was greeted by an old man with a face full of fine wrinkles, like the lines of an etching. He held out his hands to Polly and helped her out of the canoe. "Poll-ee."
She nodded.
"Tynak," he said. "Tynak greets Poll-ee." He led her across the narrow beach and then over grass that crunched dryly under her feet. He took her to a lean-to, where there was a couch of ferns, similar to Anaral's fern beds. Tynak indicated that Polly was to sit, and he himself squatted back on his heels.
Speaking with Tynak, who had an authority that declared him to be the leader of the People Across the Lake, was not easy, but Polly managed to learn that the battle had been no more than a cover-up for her abduction. No one had been seriously wounded, no prisoners taken, other than Polly.
Zachary stood just outside the lean-to, and the old man summoned him in with a smile so faint that there was no joy in it, but rather a sense of solemnity.
"See, I've brought her, Tynak," Zachary said. "Now will the healer fix my heart?" He put his hand to his chest and looked eagerly at the chief.
Tynak embarked on a long, vehement speech which Polly could not follow. His language was mostly short, sharp syllables, and he was speaking quickly. She understood only isolated words: goddess, rain, anger. But nothing coherent fitted together.
&nbs
p; She looked out at a land far drier and browner than that of the People of the Wind. What grass there was between beach and lean-to was brittle. The leaves of the trees drooped dryly, drifting listlessly to the ground. Over the lake the sky had a mustardy-yellow tinge at the horizon, staining the night. The air was so humid that the farther shore was not even visible. Only the mountains rose out of the murk. They were higher, looked at from this side of the lake, and their peaks held more snow. The melting of the additional snow might be what would help keep the land of the People of the Wind fertile and green. The moon shone hazily through drifting clouds.
Tynak rose and turned to Polly, indicating that she was to follow him. He was much shorter than she had realized when he met the canoe. His legs were short sticks under a skin tunic. But he moved with authority and dignity. She followed him across a compound of tents, many more than on her side of the lake. There were people moving about. Tynak spoke and what she understood was that in the daytime the sun was no longer gentle, but was hot and burning. He took her toward what should have been a cornfield of stalks that had been harvested and cut down but which, in the moonlight, were dark midgets, barely tasseled. Tynak spoke again, more slowly, and she thought he was telling her that his people were kind to the land, treated it with respect, but it had turned on them. He looked at her with small, very dark eyes, and told her that without rain they would starve.
He led her back to the lean-to and showed her a rolled-up fur covering in the corner. Then he bowed to her and left, signaling to Zachary to come with him.
A few minutes later one of the young women of the tribe brought Polly a bowl of some kind of stew, put it down by her, then looked at her shyly.
Polly thanked her, adding, "I am Polly. You are--"
The girl smiled. "Doe." Then she hurried away.
Polly saw that the tribe was gathered around a fire, sharing a meal together from which she was excluded. Why? The raiders had been included in the feast of the People of the Wind. But Klep had said that the People Across the Lake treated their prisoners differently from the way the People of the Wind did.
She ate the stew, which was passable, because she knew she needed to keep up her strength. Probably the meat from which the stew was made came from one of the beasts stolen from the People of the Wind. Then she sat, knees drawn up to her chin, thinking. She realized that the People Across the Lake might have had no feast, no meal, without what they had taken during the raids made on the more fortunate people whose land was still fruitful. She had seen poor or primitive people before, but never those who were starving.
She lay down, knowing that she needed to rest, but every muscle was tense, and the singing and shouting of the tribe kept her awake. It was not the happy singing of the People of the Wind; rather, it was a plaintive chant. Were they worried about Klep, who had been taken prisoner--Klep, who was to be their next leader?
She lay with her eyes closed, trying to rest so that she would be ready for whatever was in store, feeling within herself a desperate quietness. It was inconceivable that she should be trapped three thousand years in the past, that she might never get home. And yet here she was, a prisoner.
Because of Zachary.
But Zachary had not closed the time gate.
No, but he had brought her here, across the lake. Zachary was too terrified of dying to think of anything or anybody else. In his case, what would she have done? She did not know. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a state between waking and sleeping. In her half dream she felt a strange security, that she was surrounded by love that came to her from across the lake, from the People of the Wind, from the bishop and Anaral, Karralys, Tav, even from Klep, who knew where she was and who she was with far better than the others. She turned on her side, relaxing into the protection of their love.
In her half sleep she saw Tav, and looked into his silver eyes, saw his fair, thick lashes, his mop of pale hair. He was questioning her, affirming that she was a goddess to the People Across the Lake, and wanting to know how they captured her. Longing for the reality of his presence, she slid more deeply into sleep.
"Zachary and one of the men kidnapped me."
She saw Tav's outraged scowl. "Why would anyone, even that Zak, do such a thing?"
Polly murmured, "Klep was right when he said that maybe Brown Earth promised something to Zachary."
"Promised what?" Tav demanded.
"Zachary was promised that their healer would fix his heart if he brought me to them."
"But Zachary should never have done that!" Now it was Anaral who was angry.
"I guess if you think you're going to die, and you're told someone can keep you alive, that becomes the only thing you can think of. Anyhow, I'm sure he doesn't believe that there's any kind of threat to me. I mean, they wouldn't hurt someone they think is a goddess, would they?"
"They will not do anything until the moon is full," Tav said. "And oh, Poll-ee, we will not let them do anything to you. Klep is grateful to you for having helped set his leg, for having held his hands against the pain."
"He is nice," Anaral said softly. "He is good."
"He says that his honor is bound to you, to help you, and to help us free you." Polly shifted position, holding on to the dream, not wanting to wake up. In the dream Tav leaned toward her and placed his fingers gently over her ears. Then he touched her eyes, her mouth. "We give you the gift of hearing," he said. "Klep sends you the hearing of the trees."
"We give you the gift of hearing," Anaral said softly. "I give you the gift of hearing the lake, for I know that you have much love of water."
"And I"--Tav's voice was soft--"I give you the gift of understanding the voice of the wind, for we are the People of the Wind, and the Wind is the voice of the goddess. Listen, and do not be afraid."
"Do not be afraid," Anaral repeated.
"Do not be afraid." Their words echoed in her ears as she turned again on the hard earth and slid out of the dream into wakefulness. She tried holding on to Tav's promise that nothing would happen to her, but despite her own affirmation that the People Across the Lake would not do anything to harm someone they thought to be a goddess, an inner voice told her that to these people, whose land was devastated by drought, the sacrifice of a goddess would be a sacrifice of great power.
She lay on the fern pallet, pulling the fur rug over her. She wanted to recover the comfort of the dream but she could not. Her mind began searching for ways of escape. She was a strong swimmer. She had swum all her life, and her stamina and endurance were far greater than ordinary. There had even been a suggestion that she try for the Olympics, a realistic suggestion, considering her capabilities, but she agreed with her parents that it was a competitiveness she did not want. She thought about the lake and realized that the distance was too great, especially in cold water. Her grandparents' pool was heated and was barely seventy-two or-three degrees. The lake would be much colder. Unless it was her last hope, she would not attempt the lake.
Where was Zachary while she was isolated in this small lean-to? The sound of people singing and shouting was fainter. She knelt on the rug and could see several groups leaving the fires and going to their tents. The feast, if, indeed, it had been a feast--for what? the coming of the goddess?--was over.
The darkness was tangible. She felt it as a heavy pressure on her chest.--But this is fear, she thought.--If I can only stop being afraid.
She shuddered. How were sacrificial victims killed? With a knife? That would be the quickest, the kindest way...
She breathed slowly, deliberately. There was no sound from any of the tents. The water of the lake lapped gently against the shore. She listened. Tried to remember the gifts Tav and Anaral had given her in her dream. There was the gift of listening to the water. Hush, the water said. Hush. Hush. Peace. Sleep.
The wind lifted, stirred in the trees, rattling dry leaves. The lean-to was attached at the back to the trunk of a great oak. The branches overarched the skin roof, adding their protection. In
the summer when the tree was fully leafed, the lean-to would be protected from the sun. Klep had sent her the gift of hearing the trees. She listened, with a certainty that indeed gifts had been sent to her, blowing in the wind across the dark waters of the lake. She heard a steady throb, like a great heart beating. The rhythm never faltered. It was an affirmation of steadfastness. The oak was older than any trees in her own time. Hundreds of years old. It was, and its being was a strange comfort.
Last she turned to Tav's gift, cherishing it, the gift of hearing the voice of the wind, and she listened as the wind stirred gently among the dry leaves above her. Touched the waters of the lake, ruffling its surface. Reached into the lean-to and brushed against her cheeks. She heard no words, but she felt a deepening of comfort and assurance.
She slept.
When she opened her eyes, it was daylight. Tynak was squatting by her, looking at her. Behind him, the dawn light was rosy on the water. The sun was rising behind the snow-capped mountains that shielded the People of the Wind. But now, as Polly looked at the mountains from the far side of the lake, they seemed wild and menacing. Around the compound, people were stirring, and she could smell smoke from the cook fires.
Long rays of light reached into the lean-to, touched Polly. Tynak held up one hand, pointing. At first she had no idea what he was indicating with his ancient finger. Then she realized that it was her hair. Tynak had never seen red hair before. At night it would not have shone as it did in the long rays of sunlight. She did not know how to explain that red hair was not particularly unusual in her time, so she smiled politely. "Good morning."
"Klep--" There was urgency in Tynak's voice.
She spoke slowly. "Klep has a broken leg. Our healer is taking care of it. He will be all right."
"He will return?"
"I don't know about that. I don't know what happens with prisoners."
"He must return! You are goddess, we need help."
"I'm not a goddess. I'm an ordinary human being."
"You called snake. It came."
"I'm sorry. It didn't have anything to do with me. I don't have that kind of power. I don't know why she came. It was just coincidence." She hoped he could understand enough of her faltering Ogam to get the gist of what she was saying.
An Acceptable Time Page 18
