Brothers of Earth

by C. J. Cherryh

  "I thought you had drawn your conclusion."

  "I am asking. What are you trying to do?"

  "To save your life. And mine."

  "What use is that to either of us under these terms?"

  Kurt twisted toward him. "What use is it to give in to them? Is it sense to let them kill you and do nothing to help yourself?"

  "Stop protecting me. I am better dead."

  "Like they died? Like that?"

  "Show me," said Kta, his voice shaking, "show me what you can do against these creatures. Put a weapon in my hands or even get my hands free and I will die well enough. But what dignity is there in living like this? Give me a reason. Tell me something I could have told the men they killed, why I have to live, when I should have died before them."

  "Kta, tell me, is there any possible chance of reaching Tavi?"

  "The coast is leagues away. They would overtake us. This ship of yours... is it true what you said, that you could burn them out?"

  "Everyone would die, you too, Kta."

  "You know how much that means to me. Light of heaven, what manner of world is yours? Why did you have to interfere?"

  "I did the best I knew to do."

  "You were wrong," said Kta. '

  Kurt turned away and let the nemet alone, as he so evidently wanted to be. Kta had reason enough to hate humanity. Almost all he had ever loved was dead at the hands of humans, his home lost, his hearth dead, now even the few friends he had left slaughtered before his eyes. His parents, Hef, Mim, himself. Elas was dying. To this had human friendship brought the lord of Elas, and most of it was his own friend's doing.

  In time, Kta seemed to sleep, his head sunk on his breast, his breathing heavy.

  A shadow crept across the slatting outside, a ripple of darkness that bent at the door, crept inside the shelter. Kurt woke, moved, began a cry of warning. The shadow plummeted, holding him, clamping a rough, calloused hand over his mouth.

  The movement wakened Kta, who jerked, and a knife flashed in the dim light as the intruder drove for Kta's throat.

  Kurt twisted, kicked furiously and threw the would-be assassin tumbling. He righted himself, and a feral human face stared at both of them, panting, the knife still clenched for use.

  The human advanced the knife, demonstrating it to them, ready. "Quiet," he hissed. "Stay quiet."

  Kurt shivered, reaction to the near-slaughter of Kta. The nemet was unharmed, breathing hard, his eyes also fixed on the wild-haired human.

  "What do you want?" Kurt whispered.

  The human crept close to him, tested the cords on his wrists. "I'm Garet," said the man. "Listen. I will help you."

  "Help me?" Kurt echoed, still shuddering, for he thought the man might be mad. The leaf-smell was about him. Feverish hands sought his shoulders. The man leaned close to whisper yet more softly.

  "You can't trust Renols, he hates the thought of the Ship. He'll find a way to kill you. He isn't sure yet, but he'll find a way. I could get you into your ship tonight. I could do that."

  "Cut me free," Kurt replied, snatching at any chance.

  "I could do that.'

  "What do you want, then?"

  "You'll have the weapons in the little ship. You can kill Renols then. I will help you. I will be second and I will go on helping you."

  "You want to be captain?"

  "You can make me that, if I help you."

  "It's a deal," said Kurt, and held his breath while the man made a final consideration. He dared not ask Kta's freedom too. He dared not turn on Garet and take the knife. The slim chance there, was in the situation kept him from risking it In silence, once inside the ship, he could handle Garet and stand off Renols.

  The knife haggled at the cords, parting the tough fiber and sending the blood excruciatingly back to his hands. He rose up carefully, for Garet held the knife ready against him if he moved suddenly.

  Then Caret's eyes swept toward Kta. He bent toward him, blade extended.

  Kurt caught his arm, fronted instantly by Caret's bewildered suspicion, and for a moment fear robbed Kurt of any sense to explain.

  "He is mine," Kurt said.

  "We can catch a lot of nemet," said Garet. "What's this one

  to you?"

  "I know him," said Kurt. "And I can get cooperation out of him. He's not about to cry out, because he knows he'd die; he knows I'm his only chance of staying alive, so eventually he'll tell me all I ask of him."

  Kta looked up at both of them, well able to understand. Whether it was consummate acting or fear of Garet or fear of human treachery, he looked frightened- He was among aliens. Perhaps it even occurred to him that he could have been long deceived.

  Garet glowered, but he thrust the knife into his belt and led the way out into the tangle of huts outside.

  "Sentries?" Kurt breathed into his ear.

  Garet shook his head, drew him further through the village, up to the landing struts, the extended ladder. A sentry did stand there. Garet poised to throw, knife balanced between his fingertips. He drew back-

  And the hiss and chunk! of an arrow toppled him, clawing at the ground. The sentry crouched and whirled, and men poured out of the dark. Kurt went down under a triple assault, struggling and kicking as they hauled him where they would take him, up to the ladder.

  Renols was there, ax in hand. He prodded Kurt in the belly with it. His ugly face contorted further in a snarl of anger.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "He came," said Kurt, "threatened to kill me if I didn't come at once. Then he told me you were planning to kill me. I didn't know what to believe. But this one had a knife^ so I kept quiet."

  "Sentries are dead," another man reported. "Six men are dead, throats cut. One of our scouts hasn't come back either."

  "Caret's brothers," Renols said, and looked at the men who surrounded him. "His folk's doing. Find his women and his brats. Give them to the dead men's families, whatever they like."

  "Captain," said that man, biting his lip nervously. "Captain, the Carets are a big family. Their kin is in the Red band too. If they get to them with some story-"

  "Get them," said Renols. "Now."

  The men separated. Those who held Kurt remained. Renols looked up at the entry to the ship, thought silently, then nodded to his men, who brought Kurt away as they walked through the camp. They were quiet. Not a sound came from the encampment. Kurt walked obediently enough, although the men made it harder for him out of spite.

  They came to the hut from which he had escaped. Renols stooped and looked inside, where Kta was still tied.

  He straightened again. "The nemet is still alive," he said. Then he looked at Kurt from under one brow. "Why didn't Garet kill him?"

  Kurt shrugged. "Garet hit him. I guess he was in a hurry."

  Renols' scowl deepened. "That isn't like Garet."

  "How should I know? Maybe Garet thought he might fail tonight and didn't want a dead nemet for proof of his visit."

  Renols thought that over. "So. How did he know you wouldn't raise an alarm?"

  "He didn't. But it makes sense I'd keep quiet. How am I to know whose story to believe?"

  Renols snorted. "Put him inside. We'll catch one of the Carets alive and then we'll see about it."

  The human left. Kurt tested the strength of the new cords, which were unnecessarily tight and rapidly numbed his hands -a petty measure of their irritation with him. He sighed and leaned his head back against the post, ignoring Kta's staring at him.

  There was no chance to discuss matters. Kta seemed to sense it, for he said nothing. Someone stood not far from the hut, visible through the matting.

  Quite probably, Kurt thought, the nemet had added things up for himself. Whether he had then reached the right conclusion was another matter.

  Eventually first light began to bring a little detail to the hut. Kta finally slept. Kurt did not.

  Then a stir was made in the camp, men running in the direction of Renols' hut. Distant voices were discussing
something urgently. The commotion spread, until people were stirring about in some alarm.

  And Renols' lieutenants came to fetch them both, handling them both harshly as they hurried them toward Renols' shelter.

  "We found Caret's brothers," Renols said, confronting Kurt.

  Kurt stared at him, neither comforted nor alarmed by that news. "Caret's brothers are nothing to me."

  "We found them dead. All of them. Throats cut. There were tracks of nemet-sandal-wearing."

  Kurt glanced at Kta, not needing to feign shock.

  "Two of our searchers haven't come back," said Renols. "You say this one is a chief among the nemet. A lord. Probably they're his. Ask him."

  "You understood," Kurt said in Nechai. "Say something."

  Kta set his jaw. "If you think to buy time by giving them anything from me, you are mistaken."

  "He has nothing to say," said Kurt to Renols.

  Renols did not look surprised. "He will find something to say," he promised. "Astin, get a guard doubled out there. No women to go out of camp today. Raf, bring the nemet to the main circle."

  It would be possible, Kurt realized with a cold sickness at the heart, it would be possible to play out the game to the end. Kta would not betray him any more than he would betray the men of Tavi. To let Kta die might buy him the hour or so needed to hope for rescue. Possibly Kta would not even blame him. It was always hard to know what Kta would consider a reasonable action.

  He followed along after those who took Kta-Kta with his spine stiff and every line of him braced to resist, but making not a sound. Kurt himself went docilely, his eyes scanning the hostile crowd that gathered in ominous silence. •

  He let it continue to the very circle, where the sand was still dark-spotted with the blood of the night before. He feared he would not have the courage to commit so senseless an act, giving up both their lives. But when they tried to put Kta to the ground, he scarcely thought. He tore loose, hit one man, stooped, jerked the ax from his startled hand and swung it toward those who held Kta.

  The nemet reacted with amazing agility, swung one man into the path of the ax, kneed another, snatched a dagger and applied it with the blinding speed he could use with the ypan. The men clutched spurting wounds and went down howling and writhing.

  "Archers!" Renols bellowed. There was a great clear space about the area. Kurt and Kta stood back to back, men crowding each other to get out of the way. Renols was closest.

  Kurt charged him, ax swinging. Renols went down with his side open, rolling in the dust. Other men scrambled out of the way as he kept swinging. Kta stayed with him. Their area changed. People fled from them screaming.

  "Shoot them!" someone else shrieked.

  Then all chaos broke loose, a hoarse cry from the rear of the crowd. Some of the Tamurlin turned screaming in panic, their cries swiftly drowned in the sounds of battle in the center of the crowd.

  Kta jerked at Kurt's arm and pointed, both of them for the moment stunned by the appearance of nemet among the Tamurlin, the flash of bright-edged swords in the sunlight. No Tamurlin offered them fight any more-the humans were trying more to escape than to fight-and soon there were only nemet around them. The humans had vanished into the brush.

  Now with Kurt behind him, Kta stood in the clear, with dagger in hand and the dead at his feet, and the nemet band raised a cheer.

  "Lord Kta!" they cried over and over. "Lord Kta!" And they came to him, bloody swords in hand, and knelt down in the dust before their almost-naked and much-battered lord. Kta held out his hand to them, dropping the blade, and turned palm upward to heaven, to the cleansing light of the sun.

  "Ei, my friends," he said, "my friends, well done." Val t'Ran, the officer next in command after Bel t'Osanef, rose from his knees and looked as if he would gladly have embraced Kta, if such impulses belonged to nemet. Tears shone in his eyes. "I thank heaven we were in time, Kta-ifhan, and I would have reckoned we could not be."

  "It was you who killed the humans outside the camp, was it not?"

  "Aye, my lord, and we feared they had spoiled our ambush. We thought we might have been discovered by that. We were very careful stalking the camp, after that."

  "It was well done," said Kta again, with great feeling, and held out his hand to the boy Pan, who had come with the rescuers. "Pan, it was you who brought them?"

  "Yes, sir," said the youth. "I had to run, sir, I had to. I hated to leave you. Tas and I-we thought we could do more by getting to the ship-but he died of his wound on the way."

  Kta swallowed heavily. "I am sorry, Pan. May the Guardians of your house receive him kindly. Let us go. Let us be out of this foul place."

  Kurt saw them prepare to move out, looked down at what weight was clenched in his numb hand, saw the ax and his arm bloodstained to the shoulder. He let it fall, suddenly shaking in every limb. He stumbled aside from all of them, bent over in the lee of a hut and was sick for some few minutes until everything had emptied out of his belly, drugs, Tamurlin food. But the sights that stayed in his mind were something over which he had no such power. He took dust and rubbed at the blood until his skin stung with the sandy dirt and the spots were gone. In a deserted hut he found a gourd of water and drank and washed his face. The place stank of leaf. He stumbled out again into the sunlight.

  "Lord Kurt," said one of the seamen, astonished to find him. "Kta-ifhan is frantic. Come. Hurry. Come, please."

  The nemet looked strange to him, alien, the language jarring on his ears. Human dead lay around. The nemet were leaving. He felt no urge to go among them.

  "Sir."

  Fire roared near him; a wave of heat brought him to alertness. They were setting fire to the village. He stared about him like a man waking from a dream.

  He had pulled a trigger, pressed a button and killed, remotely, instantly. He had helped to fire a world, though his post was noncombat. They had been minute, statistical targets.

  Renols' astonished look hung before him. It had been Mini's.

  He lay in the dust, with its taste in his mouth and his lips cut and his cheek bruised. He did not remember falling. Gentle alien hands lifted him, turned him, smoothed his face.

  "He is fevered," Pan's clear voice said out of the blaze of the sun. "The burns, sir, the sun, the long walk-"

  "Help him," said Kta's voice. "Carry him if you must. We must get clear of this place. There are other tribes."

  The journey was a haze of brown and green, of sometime drafts of skin-stale water. At times he walked, hardly knowing anything but to follow the man in front of him. Toward the last, as their way began to descend to the sea and the day cooled, he began to take note of his surroundings again. Losing the contents of his stomach a second time, beside the trail, made him weak, but he was free of the nausea and his head was clearer afterward. He drank telise, the kindly seaman who offered it bidding him keep the flask; it only occurred to him later that using something a sick human had used would be repugnant to the man. It did not matter; he was touched that the man had given it up for his sake.

  He shook off their offered help thereafter. He had his legs again, though they shook under him, and he was self-possessed enough to remember his ship and the equipment they had abandoned. He had been too dazed and the nemet, the nemet with their distrust of machines, had abandoned everything.

  "We have to go back," he told Kta, trying to reason with him.

  "No," said the nemet. "No. No more lives of my men. We are already racing the chance that other tribes may be alerted by now."

  It was the end of the matter.

  And toward evening, with the coast before them and Tavi lying offshore, most welcome of sights, there came a seaman racing up across the sand, stumbling and hard-breathing.

  He saw Kta and his eyes widened, and he sketched a staggering bow before his lord and gasped out his message.

  "Methi's ship," he said, "upcoast. Lookout saw them from the point there. They are searching every inlet on this shore -almost-almost we would have ha
d to pull away, but without enough rowers. Thank heaven you made it, sir."

  "Let us hurry," said Kta, and they began to plunge down the sandy slope to the beach itself.

  "My lord," hissed the seaman. "I think the ship is Edrif. The sail is green."

  "Edrif." Kta gazed toward the point with fury in every line of him. "Yeknis take them! Kurt, Tefur's Edrif, do you hear?" "I hear," Kurt echoed. The longing for revenge churned inside him, when a few moments before he would never have looked to fight again. He shivered in the cold sea wind, wrapped his borrowed dan about him and followed Kta downslope as fast as his trembling legs would take him.