by Larry Niven
“Come on, Sandry, it has to happen—a kinless girl gets pregnant by a Lord. What happens to her? And to the child?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know.”
“I must avoid knowing. You hear stories, rapid weddings between a groom and a household girl, and then there’s an early baby. But I wouldn’t really want to know, and neither would the father.”
“So you’d let your son be property?”
“Kinless aren’t property. At least not in Lordshills they aren’t, except in theory or when we’re talking to the Lordkin. And I never heard of a Lordshills girl being sent into Tep’s Town to have a baby. Never. Why are you asking all this?”
“Well, we have to do something about Bane, or Firegift, whatever his name is.”
“No, we don’t! Everything is all right there,” Sandry said. “He’s satisfied.”
“But if—if he’s really my brother, we have to do something, because Feathersnake always makes things right,” she said. “We have to. It’s the way I was brought up.”
“Tower, you can’t know! His own mother said she didn’t recognize Whandall. And that boy looks nothing like Whandall Feathersnake. Not the same features at all.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, and you know it. All the Lordkin look alike at least a little, and once you look at him that way, you can sure tell he’s Lordkin even if he’s not as big as most of them. I have to find out. Maybe Squirrel can find out.”
“You’re going to make trouble,” Sandry warned.
“So you’re telling me not to try?”
Sandry laughed. “I know better than that. But think: you sure don’t want to get the Lordkin interested in this. They might not see him as any kind of Lordkin at all, just a kinless with weapons, and that really would burn the stew!”
“What would they do?”
“How would I know? I know Lordkin better than most of my relatives do, but that’s not saying much. Maybe they’d challenge him. Then Fullerman and the other Lordsmen would stand up for their comrade, and they’d ask me to take sides too. Or Trebaty might go to Chief Wanshig, and Zoosh only knows what he’d do.”
“But Wanshig’s Whandall’s brother!”
“And Bane’s uncle, if he wants to be. Or an aggrieved Lordkin band chief, if he wants to be that,” Sandry said. “All I know is that I sure don’t want to be part of stirring up a mess between Lords and Lordkin over a half kinless who says he’s satisfied with his life!”
“Oh. Well, I guess you’re right.”
“So you’ll forget all this?”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully.
Sure you will, Sandry thought. Sure.
Secklers and Trebaty returned about two hours before sunset. “Nothing up in those hills at all, nothing we could see,” Secklers said. “Except coyotes. Lots of those.”
“At the pace you’re making,” Trebaty said, “you’ll get to the top with just a little daylight left. There’s a place to camp up there. No water, not much growth. Some dead wagons you can use for firewood.”
“Dead wagons. How long dead?”
Trebaty shrugged. “Weeks. Weathered pretty bad, bones but nothing stinks. Weeks.”
“Any sign of what did them in?”
“Sure—them birds did it. Big teeth marks on some of the wagon boards, and some of the bison bones are cracked wide open, bit clean through,” Secklers said.
“And then something human come through,” Trebaty said, “’cause there’s nothing worth gathering up there. But first they was done in by the birds. Then someone gathered what was left.”
“But it’s a good place to camp,” Secklers said. “If you keep a good watch.”
“We’ll certainly do that,” Sandry said. “Thanks.”
Chapter Fourteen
The Hilltop
The place smelled dead. Most of the bodies were mere bones, and those scattered. You wouldn’t have expected them to smell. There must have been pockets of still-rotting flesh wedged in among the rocks, in places inaccessible to the sarcophagus beetles and other scavengers of small dead things. The smell wasn’t everywhere, and it wasn’t so strong that Burning Tower couldn’t get used to it, but it was an unpleasant reminder of their danger.
The trouble was, there was no other place to make camp for the night. The hilltop was reached by a road far too narrow for camping, and far too vulnerable to rocks rolled down from above. Beyond the hilltop, the road wound steeply down into another valley they had not scouted. It would be dark before they got down there.
Sandry and Green Stone conferred. “I don’t like it,” Sandry said.
“And you suggest…?”
Sandry shook his head. “I don’t see any other choice.”
“That’s probably what they thought too,” Green Stone said. He waved expressively at the wreckage surrounding them. The boy Spotted Lizard was moving about, examining the wreckage with a look of dread. Nothing Was Seen followed him silently.
“Which way were they going?” Sandry asked.
Green Stone shook his head. “Can’t tell. There’s dung on the road in both directions. None fresher than this, though.”
“So there’s been no traffic along this road since this happened?” Sandry asked.
Burning Tower noted his frown. Sandry was worried.
Green Stone nodded. “I think they were the last to come here. Whichever way they were going, I’d guess they circled the wagons, but even that isn’t certain, the way things have been thrown about.” He stared for a while and shook his head again. “I’d guess they were hit by birds, a lot of them. Then a bandit gang; birds wouldn’t care about cargo. After that, the coyotes and crows got their chances.”
“Maybe Squirrel can tell what happened,” Burning Tower said.
Sandry shrugged.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Burning Tower said. Sandry had to believe in magic—he’d seen enough of it—but he never thought of using it. Burning Tower beckoned to Clever Squirrel. “Can you tell which way the wagon train was going?” she asked. “Before it was attacked.”
Squirrel said, “Coyote would know, but I can’t seem to find Coyote. This place is pretty dead—I mean magically.”
Sandry said, “So we’re on our own.”
Green Stone frowned. “At least there’s plenty of firewood.”
“Fires will blind your slingers,” Sandry said.
“Sure, but what can we do?”
“Build fires outside the ring as well as inside. As you say, there’s plenty of wood. For one night, anyway. I sure wouldn’t want to stay here two.”
Green Stone nodded agreement again. He caught Spotted Lizard’s attention and beckoned him to come. “Was this your wagon train?” he asked gruffly.
“No, sir. That is, I don’t know. It might have been. I don’t see anything I recognize, but there’s nothing to see!” The boy’s voice rose there at the end.
“All right. Do you remember this place? Did you camp here before?”
“Yes, sir. There used to be a little spring just over there—not enough to water the stock after that long climb up, but enough for people and some stew. And there was, well, not a village, but a couple of hogans and two or three families—maybe ten people, mostly men—who lived up here in summer. They earned a living hauling water up from the stream down in the valley ahead.”
“Hogans?” Sandry asked.
Burning Tower stifled a smile. There was a lot Sandry didn’t know.
Spotted Lizard corrected him: “Hogans,” using the male suffix. “Made of logs standing on end. Over by the spring, but that’s all gone now. Don’t know where the logs are. Burned, I guess. Who’d carry them off?”
“I don’t know what a hogan is,” Sandry said stiffly.
“A house,” Green Stone said. “I’ve never seen one, and what Lizard described isn’t what I was told about. But it’s what the people east of here call a house. They say they’re alive.”
Spotted Lizard said, “A
hogan talks to you.”
Burning Tower could read nothing on Clever Squirrel’s face. I wonder if she already knew that. “Do they leave ghosts?” Tower asked.
Spotted Lizard looked startled, almost offended. “No! You don’t leave a hogan alive. You tear a wall open, let out the spirit. Hogans too,” he added, using the female suffix. “There isn’t much left of the two that were here.”
“Show me,” Green Stone said.
They followed the boy across the hilltop to a corner sheltered by boulders. “The spring came out between those rocks,” he said. “The hogans were about here.”
“No ghosts,” Squirrel said. “I don’t feel a thing. There is some running water down below here somewhere. You might get some if you dig in that sand pit there.”
“Looks like a lot of work,” Green Stone said.
Sandry climbed to the top of the boulders and looked over to the other side. “Safe enough here,” he said. “Long climb up these rocks; nobody could do that without some noise. Probably why they put their houses here. Just in case, we’ll put one team on watch here.” He waved to Chalker.
“Sir.”
“Ask Junior Warman Gundrin to join me here, please.”
“Sir. Yes, sir.”
Sandry grinned. Ever since they left Condigeo, Chalker had been trying to outdo the marines in military manners. So had Peacevoice Fullerman.
Junior Warman Gundrin was about twenty, the son of a Condigeo captain, a member of the Captains’ Council. Clearly he was a Younglord under a different title, even if the captains didn’t inherit their positions. More than a chief, not quite an officer. Sandry hadn’t seen much of him on the journey. Gundrin stayed with the Younglords most of the time.
“Gundrin, we’ll want guards in teams of four. Two of yours, two of mine. Two stay awake, two can rest, but I want two of them alert. If they have to stand watch with a spearpoint under their chins, I want two awake.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One team here,” Sandry said. “With a fire, and two fresh torches ready to light. I don’t think anyone can climb up those rocks without us hearing them, but you never know until it happens. This post is a reserve. If anything happens anywhere else, they’re to light a torch and throw it over the boulder here, then look down the other side. If there’s nobody coming and nothing down there, they can join the fight on the other side.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And keep that fire shielded. In this pit will do. Now let’s go see where we’ll put the other guards,” Sandry said. “Green Stone will see to setting up the wagons and cook fires. When he’s got the fireplaces laid, I want to set up some fire sites outside the perimeter. Let’s go see where.” He strode off, still barking instructions, as Gundrin scrambled to keep up with him.
Burning Tower sat up, startled by a dream that faded before she could remember it. Coyotes howled in the distance. There was a dull glow from one corner of the camp, but that was all. Sandry had insisted that fires be laid ready to light, but then all fires were put out.
She got up silently and stood to stretch. They hadn’t built a proper travel nest. Instead the nesting boxes were used to fill in gaps between wagons and boulder. Sideboards had been lashed to the wagon wheels to fill in the gaps under the wagons. All the animals were in a rope corral inside the circle, which was more like a rectangle because of the boulders and cliff side that formed one base of the camp. They hadn’t put up any roofing, so Tower’s nest (such as it was) was open to the night sky. The stars were bright, and the River was a gleaming silver stream across the sky. The Hunter blazed in his glory.
Was that the Hunter? She could never be sure which star patterns were which. If you stared at any of them long enough, you could see any picture you wanted to. Stories about heroes and gods in the starry sky were just stories. She went to the nest entrance. That faced inward, of course. She went around the corner toward the outside wall.
“Is all well, My Lady?”
A Lordsman in full kit, sword at his belt and two spears and a shield grounded next to him, was standing at the corner of her nest. There was an opening no more than two fingers wide to the outside, and after turning toward her for a second, he went back to looking out. She thought she recognized the voice and its accent. “Bane?”
“Yes, My Lady. I’m not spying. This is where the Peacevoice stationed me tonight. I’m on watch for another hour.”
She giggled. “I’m not a lady,” she said. “Or at least I’m not ‘My Lady’!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bane said stiffly.
“And don’t get huffy with me. Are you really my big brother?”
She couldn’t see his face in the starlight, and he was turned away from her anyway. There was no expression in his voice as he said, “I might be. I hope not.”
“Why? Would I be so bad as a sister?”
“Ma’am, if you marry Lord Sandry, you will be. What do I do then? What would my wife do? We’ll have to leave Tep’s Town, go somewhere else. So, no, My Lady, you’re not my sister, and you never will be. And I’m on watch.”
“Marry Lord Sandry,” she said. “You think I will?”
“Ma’am, every one of us thinks so!”
She smiled to herself. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Not outside, you’re not!” Bane said.
“No, of course not. I’ll stay inside.”
“Yes, ma’am, but you be careful. Some of the troopers are pretty nervous; one of them might brain you before he figured out who you were. And I can’t come with you. The Peacevoice would have my hide for leaving my post. Ma’am, I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d sure be grateful if you’d go back in your nest and stay there.”
She sighed and went back into her nest. There was a small opening in the wall that faced outside the wagon circle. She removed the cover and stared out. There was nothing to see, just stars and a few clouds scudding across the sky. She stared out for a long time, then lay down again.
“Fear and foes! Alarm!”
Bane, she thought. She looked out but couldn’t see anything.
“Alarm at Post Four!”
The camp was stirring. She heard scuffling on the roof of her wagon. Bandits? But Mouse Warrior slept up there; it had to be him. Didn’t it?
She briskly combed her fingers through her hair; she reached for moccasins—
“Hey, Harpy!”
That would be Green Stone alerting his wagoneers. She had slept in her leggings and jerkin in case of alarm, so she was dressed as soon as she put on her moccasins. Outside her nest was a confusion of activity, but everyone seemed to know what to do. Green Stone’s slingers were climbing atop the wagons. Peacevoice Fullerman and his men were in full armor, already forming up near her nest entrance.
“Lordsman Bane! Report!” Fullerman was shouting.
“Sighted four men outside the perimeter, sir!”
“Mouse Warrior, what do you see?” Fullerman shouted.
“Maybe something was out there,” Mouse Warrior said.
So. That was him on top of her wagon.
Sandry ran up, Chalker just behind him. “Fullerman?”
“Intruders sighted outside the perimeter,” Fullerman said. “No other information, sir.”
“Right. Mouse Warrior, do you see anything?”
“No.”
“Shaman? Anything?” One of the Condigeo marines.
“No gods, no magic,” Clever Squirrel replied from behind her.
Secklers and Trebaty came up yawning. Secklers was carrying a bright torch. Sandry winced, but didn’t say anything. “We’ll have a look,” Secklers said.
Sandry doesn’t like that, Burning Tower thought. But he can’t tell them what to do.
“Open a passage for them,” Sandry said. “Fullerman, four men with spears at that gate before it opens. Secklers, don’t go far. This could be an ambush; it could be a way to get us to open a gate so they can rush us.”
“And it could be a bad dream,” Secklers sai
d. “Anybody seen anything?”
“I did. Four men,” Bane said.
“I mean other than you,” Secklers said.
“You men, back to your posts!” Fullerman was shouting. “Don’t all come look over here! Warman Gundrin, I’d be obliged if you’d check that hogan area for us.”
“Right.” Gundrin ran across the compound to the far wall, where there was a glow from the fire. A moment later he was on top of the boulder wall with a torch, which he threw over.
“Clear below,” he shouted.
“All right,” Sandry said. “Secklers, you want to have a look outside?”
“Yes, Lord. Treb?”
“Yep. Let’s do it.”
They carried their torches to the gate, waited until four Lordsmen faced the entrance with shields and spears, then stamped impatiently until the wagoneers opened a gap. It was dark inside the perimeter without their torches.
“Praster, go relieve Bane,” Fullerman said. “Bane, tell us again what you saw.”
“Four men, Peacevoice. Sneaking. Some kind of headdress, feathers anyway, on two of them. I just saw them for a second—it’s dark out there—but they were on the skyline with the Star River behind them. I could see their outlines.”
“Weapons?”
“Couldn’t say, Peacevoice.”
“Hello inside!”
“Secklers!” Sandry shouted.
“We found something. Nobody out here now, but there was somebody here, all right.”
“What?”
“Bringing it in now. It’s a funny thing, glows—”
“Glows?” Clever Squirrel shouted. “Leave it alone! Stand away from it. How big is it?”
“About the size of a crow,” Secklers shouted.
“Stay away from it! Sandry, if can you bring some men? Lurk, you too, come with me. Tower, get the cook pot.”
“Cook pot?”
“The small iron one. Bring it along. And everyone, keep a good watch. This isn’t over.”
Tower ran over to the kitchen area. The big stewpot was filled with leftovers of last night’s stew. The smaller one was empty, still dirty because there wasn’t enough water to clean it properly. She emptied it onto the ground and ran to join the others.