Snare

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Snare Page 62

by Katharine Kerr


  To a large extent, Ammadin realized, Water Woman had been telling the truth. Herbgather Woman had indeed taken hostages because she wished to trade them for the location of Sibyl’s cave. While they both referred to other Chiri Michi scattered throughout Chof territory, apparently Herbgather Woman and Water Woman were the only serious contenders for the role of next great mother. When she remembered to speak Vranz, Herbgather Woman sounded aggrieved, harping on the way she and her people had been excluded from Sibyl’s bounty. She clearly saw herself as a victim of unfair tactics and tried to paint Water Woman as a miser and hoarder, words that made Water Woman stretch her neck to the sky and rumble like a winter storm.

  ‘I be miser?’ Water Woman snarled. ‘You be the one who get trade goods and share-never. You keep your people in poverty.’

  At this point the Great Mother spoke in their own language, but Ammadin could tell from the tone of voice, and the way that both complainants flinched, that she had said something sharp. Through the long arguments, the Great Mother barely moved. At times she seemed to be some natural object, a great outcropping of veined blue rock, rather than a sapient being, until some statement would make her swing her massive head around to look at one or another of the speakers. Each Chiri Michi had a long list of grievances to air, some dating from twenty years back. Finally, however, the Great Mother had heard enough complaining.

  ‘Stop!’ she said in Vranz. ‘I want-now short answers. Herbgather Woman, what want-now you from Sibyl?’

  ‘Guns, Great Mother, magic guns to kill kri altri and save our children.’

  ‘We need-not guns for this. Spears frighten the kri altri.’

  Water Woman could not contain herself. She stepped forward with a swing of her head. ‘She want to kill all the kri altri, Great Mother. She and her people, they smash the eggs when they find them.’

  ‘I kill-only for our children, our lost children,’ Herbgather Woman said, then lapsed back into her own language.

  The debate continued on, breaking now and then into Vranz or Hirl-Onglay with no particular reason or stimulus. Ammadin eventually pieced together that the presence of Jezro Khan deep in Chof lands alarmed the Great Mother.

  ‘You think to save us, Lastunnabrilchiri,’ the Great Mother said, ‘but you put-then us in worse danger when you steal-then this man on the road. He know-now too much about the Chof.’

  ‘Then we kill-must him,’ Herbgather Woman said, ‘and all the H’mai who see-now us here.’

  ‘Kill-never!’ Water Woman turned on her rival and thrummed. ‘I give-them my word, they be safe here. You try kill-now them, my spear servants have power to stop you.’

  ‘You give-then your word. I give-never mine.’

  Water Woman raised her head high and boomed so loudly that Ammadin’s ears overloaded with sound and crackled. Beside her Loy clapped her hands over her own ears.

  ‘Stop!’ the Great Mother said. ‘Stop-now!’

  The Great Mother hissed long and hard first at Water Woman, then at Herbgather Woman. She spread her pseudo-arms, then lurched to her feet. Water Woman backed away fast, and Herbgather Woman lowered her head. For some minutes the Great Mother spoke; Ammadin could hear most of her words, though she could decipher none of them. Herbgather Woman lowered her head and whined an answer – a high-pitched wavering sort of sound, at any rate, that to Ammadin sounded like miserable pleading. The Great Mother grunted a few words, and Herbgather Woman knelt to lay her head directly onto the ground cloth. When the Great Mother placed one huge foot on Herbgather Woman’s neck, the younger Chiri’s whines grew louder still, and she slapped her pseudo-hands onto the cloth. With a grunt the Great Mother removed her foot.

  ‘This looks promising,’ Loy whispered.

  Ammadin nodded her agreement. With a toss of her magnificent head, the Great Mother stepped back, and as she did so, her bib pulled free of her skirt and slipped to one side. Ammadin’s first thought was that the Chiri Michi was carrying something under her body; then she realized that the something was flesh and blood, a tubular protrusion, bright blue, as long as a H’mai man’s arm, that hung parallel to her stomach in a sling of dark blue skin. The servants rushed forward and tucked the errant bib back into the skirt as the Great Mother haunched.

  ‘Ovipositor,’ Loy whispered. ‘And now we know why my dear ancestors thought Chursavva was male.’

  Herbgather Woman stayed kneeling where the Great Mother had left her. Water Woman took the opportunity to step forward again, though she lowered her own head to show respect. For some minutes they talked back and forth in such level voices that Ammadin had no idea of the emotional tone of the conversation. At last, however, Water Woman turned and pointed at the H’mai.

  ‘Ammadin Witchwoman,’ Water Woman said. ‘You come-now and tell-next what you know about Jezro Khan.’

  ‘Very well,’ Ammadin said. ‘I’ll be honoured to speak in front of the Great Mother.’

  Ammadin adjusted her saurskin cloak to ensure it hung smoothly from her shoulders, then walked forward. At the edge of the green cloth she stopped and bowed, swinging her head low, then straightened up to stand in front of the enormous Chof. The Great Mother inclined her own head a few bare inches to acknowledge her presence.

  ‘Ammadin Witchwoman!’ She seemed to be pitching her voice as high as she could, but still it rumbled like thunder. ‘I ask-now you to tell us always the truth. I want-not to hear lies in my justice court.’

  ‘Great Mother.’ Ammadin bowed again. ‘I promise you that I will never lie to you. I’ll tell you the truth as I know it.’

  ‘Very good, and I thank you. Now. Water Woman say Jezro be a very important man among the Karshaks. This be true or not true?’

  ‘True, very true. He’s a khan, which means he’s one of the sons of the Kazraks’ last supreme ruler, their king, the Great Khan. His brother is Great Khan now, but he is a terrible ruler. He is cruel, and he steals from his people, then kills them if they object. You can see why they want Jezro to come home and replace him.’

  ‘Yes. I see-indeed why they want to be rid of this brother,’ the Great Mother said. ‘So, then, if Jezro die-next, these Karshaks gather an army and march-soon here?’

  ‘They might. I can’t lie and say that I know they will. But here’s something to think about. If Jezro Khan returns home, he’ll lead a rebellion against his brother. I’ve been told that he has a large army waiting for him. This means the Kazraks will be killing each other. If the war goes on for a long time, then they won’t have the men or the will to cross the plains and come bothering you.’

  Herbgather Woman lurched to her feet. ‘We know-not if you lie not lie, Witchwoman.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Ammadin turned to face her. ‘It’s too bad you didn’t bring Jezro with you. He could tell you himself.’

  Herbgather Woman inflated her throat sac and spoke one burst of words, but the Great Mother boomed and stopped her.

  ‘Speak now so Ammadin Witchwoman has the power to understand you,’ the Great Mother said.

  ‘I obey,’ Herbgather Woman said. ‘I want-not bring Jezro here. Water Woman have-now many spear Chur with her. What if they start-next a fight and take my hostages away? I have-now only a few of my Chur with me.’

  ‘Where be the rest?’ the Great Mother said.

  Herbgather Woman stared at the ground between them.

  ‘They guard not guard your hostages?’ the Great Mother went on. ‘In or not in your village?’

  Herbgather Woman lowered her head almost to the ground. ‘They guard in the village.’

  ‘So I think-then,’ the Great Mother said.

  Herbgather Woman haunched and stared at the ground. The Great Mother boomed out something in their own language that made Herbgather Woman bend her forelegs and kneel as well.

  ‘I want-next to speak with Jezro Khan,’ the Great Mother said. ‘Lastunnabrilchiri, I come-next-soon to your village. You keep me out or let me in?’

  Herbgather Woman lowered her head to the
dirt and whined an answer so miserable that it was easy to understand without knowing a word of her language. No, Ammadin thought, you wouldn’t dare keep her out, and you know it, don’t you? When she glanced at Water Woman, she noticed that the Chiri Michi’s front legs were quivering – she was evidently restraining herself from stamping her feet in joy.

  ‘We all go-next-soon to Lastunnabrilchiri’s village,’ the Great Mother said. ‘First we rest the night, each in her own camp. Dawn come, we all meet-next-again by this lake. We all go-soon to meet Jezro Khan. I hear-next-soon his answers; I decide-after what to do.’

  During the long deliberations in front of the Great Mother, Zayn had stayed back among the Chur. Stronghunter Man had used gestures to indicate that Zayn should stand next to him, at the head of the contingent. Zayn didn’t need to be told that this positioning meant he’d been given the status of a Chur Vocho. Stronghunter Man planted his spear, obsidian edge up, in front of him and kept his pseudo-hands wrapped around the haft. The other spear Chur followed his example. Zayn drew his long knife and held it one-handed, point down but ready. On the far side of the Great Mother’s cloth, the spear Chur belonging to Herbgather Woman planted their spears as well.

  While he watched, Zayn was storing every action, every gesture, every word of the scene in his memory. He was shocked at how little he’d understood the enemy he had fought on the border, how easy it had been to dismiss them as animals and little more – not that he felt any deep sympathy for them now or any guilt about the skirmishes he’d fought and the kills he’d made. He did, however, see a certain hope for negotiations, for discussions about territory taken or relinquished, that might replace the endless bloody game of raid and counter-raid.

  Stronghunter Man watched without moving, braced on his spear, during all the long discussions, though occasionally he would shift his weight from back legs to front. Zayn began to envy him for having four legs. With just two he had to readjust his balance and take a step now and then, but the feel of possible danger was so strong that he never once considered sitting down. Sure enough, the moment came when he realized why they stood on guard.

  ‘Then we kill-must him,’ Herbgather Woman said, ‘and all the H’mai who see-now us here.’

  ‘Kill-never!’ Water Woman turned on her rival and boomed.

  At that Stronghunter Man swelled his throat sac and thrummed, a sound that Zayn felt rather than heard, a tremor like that of an earthquake. The Chur Vocho raised his spear and took one step forward. His men, Zayn among them, did the same. On the other side of the meeting Herbgather Woman’s spear Chur thrummed and raised their spears, but they never moved. Zayn assumed that they could tally up five of them to the twenty on his side.

  Before violence became more than a possibility, the Great Mother took charge, hissing the two rival Chiri Michi into silence. Stronghunter Man lowered his spear and took a step back; so did his men. Zayn realized that he was seeing in the Great Mother a person, a sapient, who understood how to rule. He had never thought it possible, never even thought that the ChaMeech, his hated ChaMeech, would have rulers and chains of command. He understood something else, as well, that his realizations, all this new information and insight, had made his long journey here, even the flogging back in Blosk, worthwhile.

  At the end of the proceedings, Herbgather Woman rushed off as fast as she could gallop, and her spear Chur and servants fell into line behind her. At a more leisurely pace Water Woman gathered up her retinue and, with one last lowering of her head to the Great Mother, led them away. Zayn retrieved the three horses from the Chur servant who’d been guarding them and brought them over to Ammadin and Loy.

  ‘Goddamn!’ Loy said. ‘This has been wonderful! I can’t wait to get back to camp and my notebooks. I hope I don’t forget anything.’

  ‘Ask Zayn for help if you think you have,’ Ammadin said.

  ‘Oh, why not?’ Zayn said. ‘I might as well do what I was bred for, I guess.’

  ‘They bother you, your talents?’ Loy said. ‘I mean, I know about the way you were treated when you were a child, and that would bother anyone. But the talents themselves –’

  ‘Are something I never asked for and never had a chance to turn down. I don’t like thinking I’m just some kind of gadget.’

  ‘That’s too bad. I’d give my left arm to have your memory.’

  That someone might envy his talents shocked Zayn into silence.

  As soon as they returned to their camp, Ammadin and Loy hurried away from the general confusion in order to scan. Zayn tended the horses, then joined them. They were sitting cross-legged on the ground near the twisted trees, each frowning into crystals, or passing them back and forth while they talked in low whispers. Finally Ammadin looked up and saw him.

  ‘We’ve found Soutan, all right,’ she said. ‘He’s on the eastern side of the traps.’

  ‘And he’s turned north,’ Loy said. ‘Just like he knows where he’s going.’

  Zayn braced himself for the logical next question: I wonder why he’s out here? Fortunately for him, the two women returned to their crystals without voicing it. You’ve got to tell Ammi, he reminded himself. And yet a traitor thought sounded in his mind: why? Maybe she’ll never have to know.

  ‘How long have we been here?’ Jezro said. ‘Is it really only four days?’

  ‘Yes,’ Warkannan said. ‘Feels like a lot longer.’

  ‘Feels is the right word.’ Jezro paused to scratch the back of his neck. ‘As scabby as a shit-stained beggar, that’s me. There’s got to be some kind of parasite living in this dirt.’

  ‘More than one kind, I’d say.’

  Jezro groaned and slumped back against the rough woven wall of their prison. Through the window slits the afternoon sunlight streamed in, thick with dust, and fell upon their gear, thick with dirt. They’d been given enough water to drink but little more, and what extra they had went to keeping Jezro’s handkerchiefs clean enough to use. The soft dirt floor kicked up whenever they walked upon it. Dirt crusted their blankets whenever they sat on them. In the summer’s heat they’d been sweating, as well, and the food they’d been given was universally greasy. Their attempt to play chess had ended when the rushi pieces became too filthy to read. Warkannan had refused to touch his copy of the Mirror.

  ‘Last night I dreamt about the bath houses in Haz Kazrak,’ Warkannan said. ‘The ones on the palace hill, but I’d settle for a swim in the harbour if I could get it.’

  ‘What really gripes me is that canal out back. I can look out at the water, I can smell it, and a fat lot of good it does us.’

  ‘What I wonder is how they get running water up here. The canal must carry run-off from the rains, but by now it should be dry.’

  ‘I’ll bet you vrans to breadmoss that the Settlers dug it, and there’s a pump somewhere underground.’

  ‘That makes sense, yes.’

  The khan went back to scratching under his filthy collar. Warkannan walked over to the window slits near the door. He’d found that by grasping the rough sill and finding toe-holds in the wall, he could climb up a few feet and steady himself for some minutes of watching the village beyond.

  At this time of day, when the sun was just moving past zenith, the ChaMeech were normally out and about, going into each other’s huts, meeting out in the middle of the village, or fetching water in big, round jars, covered with scarlet saurskin, from the canal. Today more ChaMeech than usual had come out for what appeared to be some kind of meeting. The females stood out in the open space and waved their pseudo-arms. Their throat sacs inflated and deflated, and now and then Warkannan could hear some particularly high-voiced speaker, probably the little lavender female who had brought them here. The males, spears in hand, stood at the outside of the group and merely listened.

  ‘Something’s going on,’ Warkannan said. ‘We have quite a gathering.’

  ‘Yes?’ Jezro walked over to join him. ‘Maybe they’re having a banquet, and we’re on the menu.’

 
Warkannan said nothing. He was getting sick of Jezro’s culinary jokes.

  ‘I thought H’mai noses were supposed to stop noticing constant stinks after a while,’ Jezro went on. ‘Mine hasn’t.’

  ‘Well, it’s worse here near the door.’ Warkannan shifted his weight and inched up a little higher. ‘Huh. Now they’re all walking away, out of the village, I mean, and towards the road down from the tunnel.’

  As they walked, the ChaMeech sorted themselves out: the largest females at the head, the largest males at the rear, but they all used their pseudo-hands to straighten their yellow kilts and skirts. Two males came hurrying around from behind their prison and broke into a trot to catch up.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Warkannan said. ‘Some of our guards are joining the pack.’

  ‘Think they’ll keep away long enough for us to get out of here?’ Jezro said.

  ‘No, unfortunately. The two out front are staying at their posts. The whole damn village has settled down by the road. It looks to me like they’re waiting for something. Or somebody. I can see ChaMeech moving down the hill road.’

  ‘The guests of honour, no doubt. I wonder if they’ll stuff us with herbs first or just roast us whole?’

  ‘Will you shut up?’ Warkannan snarled. ‘Sir.’

  Jezro laughed at much too high a pitch.

  About a hundred yards away from the village, the ChaMeech formed two rough lines. At his distance it was hard to be certain, but Warkannan thought he could hear, and feel more than hear, the deep notes of ChaMeech shouting some sort of welcome. Dust clouds drifted down the road, kicked up by a lot of feet.

  ‘Someone’s coming, all right,’ Warkannan said. ‘Shaitan, she’s huge!’

 

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