The barb struck home. No one could make Indrani do anything she didn’t want. They’d have to kill her.
Stopmouth dropped his head as Wallbreaker continued. ‘So many women in the Tribe need husbands now, Stopmouth. They’ll admire you when they see the tattoos I’ll give you. And what of the widows who need protectors to avoid volunteering? Why, at your age you could have two wives if you wanted!’
Stopmouth stumbled away without answering. What he wanted right then was to die.
Over the next few days, humans began to pick up the pieces of their lives. Most families had been required to provide volunteers during the fighting and others had disappeared entirely. So there were many weddings and a great deal of building to enforce the new perimeter that Wallbreaker had established. Hunters spent their time competing with Clawfolk for the corpses of Hoppers and Armourbacks that kept turning up, dreading the day when this easy flesh ran out. There were so many orphans around now that the chief had ordered older hunters to hold classes in Centre Square in place of missing fathers.
Stopmouth hardly noticed the changes. He ate little and walked lots while his imagination invented heart-wrenching conversations with Indrani: ‘Why did you choose him? How could you choose him? You wanted me!’ Although Indrani had never actually said so herself. He needed answers to these questions. He wanted her to see him again, to remind her of what she’d rejected. Perhaps then she wouldn’t be able to speak the words that would surely kill him. Oh, he knew many who’d lost far more than he had, and from time to time he sent prayers to the ancestors to watch over Rockface and other mourners. But he couldn’t prevent his thoughts from returning to Indrani.
In his mind’s eye he saw the way Wallbreaker had always watched her with such hunger. It hurt, and he couldn’t stop feeding the hurt until it filled every waking moment.
By day he walked through Centre Square as often as possible. He took to burning Armourback shell into spearheads at a place where he had an unrestricted view of the door to the chief’s house. After several tens he realized that Indrani never went outside, not even onto the roof. A person couldn’t live like that. It wasn’t natural.
She was probably inside now, he thought, giving Wallbreaker answers to all the questions he’d ever posed, laughing in between; coy, kissing. The thought burned and came back again and again to burn him further.
One day he followed Mossheart as she set out from the house alone. Her child wouldn’t be long in coming now, he thought. She waddled in the direction of her older sister’s home. He caught up with her before she reached it at a place where the Hairbeast refugees had painted some of their strange blood designs on the gable end of a house.
‘C-c-can we sssspeak?’
She grimaced when she saw who it was, no echo of friendship left in her eyes.
‘The chief has told you to stay away, Stopmouth. So stay away. Find a woman before people begin to talk about you. Some of them already do.’ She began to move off again.
‘W-w-why won’t she l-l-leave the house?’
‘She obeys her husband,’ said Mossheart bitterly. ‘As I do. Neither of us has any choice.’ When she walked off, he called after her, but she didn’t stop.
Of course Indrani had had a choice! She’d been a strange but powerful fighter who could kick the height of a man’s head. Lots of men had been afraid of her, and even Wallbreaker couldn’t stand over her ten tenths of the day.
Once again he wondered if she were dead, or horribly injured and next on the list of volunteers. He wondered too why Wallbreaker never permitted anyone into the chief’s house any more. Surely, if he’d won Indrani’s loyalty for himself, the smart way to quell all those earlier rumours would have been to show her off as she prepared his food.
Stopmouth realized there was only one thing to do: he’d have to go and see for himself.
When night fell, he moved into the streets behind Centre Square. Here the back of the chief’s house faced onto a laneway with a ground-floor window for the ventilation of smoke.
Stopmouth lifted himself onto the sill. The embers of a dung fire inside gave just enough light for him to see that the room was empty. He sighed with relief. This part at least would be easy.
He was about to crawl forward when he noticed something: an old spear-shaft had been left on the inner part of the windowsill–right where he would have had to put his hands as he climbed inside. He reached to push it out of his way, but the fire burst into life again and frightened him into stillness. In that moment he saw that the piece of wood under his hand was no ordinary old spear-shaft. One end of it connected to a hide rope, hidden until now by a rim that framed the window and disappeared into the shadows of the ceiling.
A trap! Wallbreaker’s speciality. Perhaps it was just a leftover from the battle; many houses had been protected in this way, although it was surely strange that something so dangerous should still be here when the threat had passed.
Stopmouth climbed carefully into the room without disturbing the spear-shaft. He saw nothing more suspicious amongst the shadows than racks of smoked flesh and a few tree branches ready for cutting into tools.
In the next room at the back of the house, Mossheart slept, breathing noisily. A few flames danced in a fire pit, throwing light onto the delicate curve of one cheek. She looked as beautiful as on her wedding night. An arm stretched out from under the hides, resting on what might, in her dreams, have been a shoulder. His heart melted and for a moment he was once more the boy who had loved her in desperation. He shook his head, ready to move on. But then he saw the first signs of Indrani’s presence. In the corner, something black and shiny rested against the wall. He stepped over to it carefully and picked it up. A smile came to his face. It was part of the strange costume Indrani had arrived in. It must be. A bent container, just the right size for one of her feet. He had just turned it over to examine the sole when he heard a movement and froze. Mossheart had stirred in her sleep. His mouth turned dry and his heart thudded bang, bang, bang in his chest. But she seemed to settle again at once. He put down the foot-covering and moved on.
The next door brought him to what had been the meeting room before Wallbreaker had stopped inviting guests into his home. No fire here, no sounds of breathing. Nothing.
One last place to check, he thought. It lay in front of him, hidden by a hide drape across the entrance. He steeled himself for what he might find now: his brother and his love entwined on the floor. He’d leave as soon as he saw it, but he didn’t want to add to his humiliation in Indrani’s eyes by being caught. No matter what was in that room, he vowed, he’d keep silent. He could cry all he wanted when he got home.
Careful, he thought. Careful…
Remembering the spear-shaft on the windowsill, Stopmouth checked for traps again, and amazingly found a piece of ligament twine tied at ankle height across the doorway. Nothing fatal. But in your own house! Another piece of ligament stretched across at neck height and Stopmouth had to duck between the two as he pushed the curtain aside.
He heard more breathing in here, one person only. It was a hoarse rattle, a constant struggle. With no fire to guide him and the window blocked up, he had to get down on his knees and crawl towards the sound. His hand found the damp palm of another person in the dark. The fingers didn’t move under his.
‘Indrani?’ he whispered. ‘Indrani?’ The person didn’t wake up when he shook her by the shoulders. Her skin burned under his touch and every few seconds a twitch passed from her body into his hand. It reminded him of something. But what? Then it came to him. In his mind’s eye he saw the rooftop where he and Rockface had recovered the Talker. He saw the dying Flyers with their staring eyes and trembling wings.
This then was how Wallbreaker kept her at home. Stopmouth wanted to cry out, to scrape at the walls until his palms ran bloody. It’s a mistake, he thought. Wallbreaker didn’t do this. Nobody could do this. Indrani was always so ignorant of even the most basic things, like a child. And like a child she might have f
orgotten to brush mossbeasts off her food if any had crawled onto it.
And yet a person would need to eat whole handfuls of them for this to happen.
He lifted the woman onto his shoulders with far too much ease. Perhaps this wasn’t Indrani after all. Indrani had muscle on her frame. He moved to the doorway and tore the curtain out of his way. He nearly dropped his burden right there. Mossheart stood in the hallway looking straight at him. Shadows covered most of her face, giving her the look of a skull.
‘Good, Stopmouth,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d never come! And on a night when Wallbreaker is off working on plans for an alliance with the Clawfolk. Good!’
She pointed a shaking hand at the body on Stopmouth’s shoulders. ‘She is destroying my husband.’ Her voice was almost a screech; tears tracked down her face. ‘He was never so frightened before she came to this house.’ Stopmouth didn’t try to correct her. He edged past her towards the main entrance.
Mossheart’s skull turned to follow him. ‘I almost don’t recognize you any more, Stopmouth. You’re filling out, more of a man than a boy.’ She shrugged, as if to say, The past is no more. ‘Once Wallbreaker finds out she’s bewitched you, he’ll have to volunteer you both.’ Was she smiling? ‘I think after that…he’ll be able to sleep again.’
Stopmouth left through the main entrance, not caring if anybody were awake to see him. He was sure Indrani was dying, so it seemed less important to him in that moment that he too was as good as dead; little more than walking meat to be traded to the Clawfolk.
11.
THE LONGTONGUE
In Centre Square the smoke fires had burned down to the embers. He removed Indrani from his back to get a good look at her. She blinked slowly through drooping lids and didn’t respond to her name when he softly called her. White flecks of foam speckled her chin and glittered in the low light of the ancestral fires in the Roof.
He didn’t know what to do. He’d only gone to Wallbreaker’s house to see her, to talk to her and suffer her scorn. Looking at her now, he realized that if she wasn’t already dying, his stupid rescue had surely condemned her. And himself too.
Unless…He couldn’t believe the idea that settled in his mind just then. As if the ancestor of an enemy had wormed its way into his head and whispered: Sneak back into the house. Murder Mossheart. Murder Wallbreaker on his return. He shook off the alien thought, knowing no human was capable of such a thing. No, he’d find another way. He wasn’t as clever as Wallbreaker, but he’d think of something.
He took Indrani into his house and built a fire. He found a cloth to wipe her face, then ruined his good work spooning broth into her mouth. For a while he just watched over her, expecting Wallbreaker at any minute. But her rasping breath drew first his pity and then his eyes. He found he couldn’t look away. Sometimes when she spoke, full of excitement, she clenched her teeth behind open lips, fiercely, but fierce in the way a child is fierce; all innocence and enthusiasm. That look never failed to make him smile. She wore it now in her illness and he imagined her standing proud before the enemy ancestors that assailed her, wishing he could be with her.
He touched a hand to her damp forehead. Without meaning to, his palm slipped down to cup her face and passed from there to play idly with her perfectly black hair.
‘Indrani. P-poor Indrani…’
He wondered again how long it would take for Wallbreaker to come back. The first place he was likely to search would be here.
When the broth was gone, Stopmouth packed up his weapons and two empty water skins. He wouldn’t be able to carry much more if he had to take Indrani as well. He hefted her onto his shoulders and went out into the night-time streets. His shuffling steps echoed off the walls as he stumbled towards an empty building near the new perimeter. The windows here had been blocked, of course, but one particular barrier had been made weaker than the others so that it could be easily removed from the inside.
He heaved Indrani up onto the windowsill, climbed past her and pulled her down after him. He made no effort to close off the barrier again: he doubted whether it was even possible. Besides, he wanted any pursuers to think he’d gone towards the now empty streets of the Hairbeasts.
Half the night had passed and Indrani got heavier with every step he took. Her breathing rasped in his ear and her drool soaked into his shoulder. He still had a long way to go before he could rest. He circled the old perimeter until he came to a house that had been prepared for himself and Rockface on the Flim side. If the Armourbacks and their allies had chosen to attack from newly conquered Flim-Ways instead of Hairbeast-Ways, the two men would have hidden here rather than the place they’d used for stealing the Talker.
He stepped round the traps on the stairs, which hadn’t been disturbed, and found with relief that no one had touched the food caches either. There was so much flesh from the great battle that nobody had yet needed to come for it.
He laid Indrani down on the old skins that had been left here. Then he curled up in a corner and was asleep in an instant.
Stopmouth woke with a knife against his throat. The glare from the Roof was so strong that for a moment he couldn’t see who held it.
‘He promises he’ll give an extra wife to whoever brings Indrani back,’ said Rockface. ‘What do you think of that? And me a widower, hey?’
Rockface gave off a foul odour–his teeth were going bad, and for the first time Stopmouth realized that the bigger man might soon lose his great strength. Nor did he look like a person used to a good night’s sleep: his eyes were bloodshot and baggy. Soup caked the sides of his mouth.
‘I was s-s-sorry about W-W-Watersip and Q-Quicksmile,’ said Stopmouth. ‘They s-still had a th-thousand days left in them.’
‘Yes,’ said Rockface sadly. ‘Yes, they had.’ He put away the knife. ‘The men are already checking in our old hide, the one we used for stealing the Talker. It was sneaky of you to leave by the Hairbeast route, but they’ll come here next. This is not a good place for you.’ He studied Indrani, his bloodshot eyes blinking slowly. ‘You should move to another building, hey? I’ll help you carry her, although she looks ready to volunteer no matter what you do for her now.’
They took Indrani and the blankets to another house nearby. Then they carried over the food and Stopmouth’s few weapons. As they left, Stopmouth triggered a trap on the stairs by lobbing a rock onto the appropriate step. Half the roof collapsed. He didn’t want any of his old friends setting it off by mistake. Besides, they’d use up more time wriggling through the rubble to get to the rooftop.
‘Stopmouth?’ said Rockface. The younger man nodded and waited. Rockface was always so easy to read. Right now his face had screwed up as if he’d found a particularly tough knot of gristle in his broth. ‘Wallbreaker thinks you and I are in league. He tried to have me followed this morning. And…and there’s something else…Wallbreaker said…Well, it’s a message, I suppose. He said that if you come back to the Ways without her…If it’s just you by yourself, he’ll forgive you. He’ll deny the rumours that you took her and say she ran off alone. He even told the others they were only looking for her. He’s letting on she’s feverish and doesn’t want to volunteer.’
The two men turned to look at Indrani. She’d gone way beyond feverish. She burned under the attack of an army of enemy ancestors. And yet Stopmouth remembered how well she’d taken care of him when people had wanted him volunteered. He could do no less in return.
For some reason this thought cheered Rockface. Maybe he needed the distraction. ‘Oh, you’re always getting me in trouble, Stopmouth! But it’s the type of trouble that’s good for a man, hey?’
Rockface didn’t leave immediately. ‘I almost forgot! They found Crunchfist.’
‘The b-b-body?’
‘No! That’s the amazing thing. He’s alive. All his pack were killed by Armourbacks in Flim-Ways and they damaged his leg so he couldn’t run. But he managed to hole up there, and even with all his wounds, he caught a few to keep him company w
hile he healed.’
‘W-W-Wallbreaker?’
‘Oh, he locked him up in the old wedding tower. He’s within his rights, hey? Crunchfist is a failed candidate. But people aren’t happy about it and Wallbreaker won’t be able to trade him until food gets really short.’
Or maybe, thought Stopmouth, Crunchfist would eat a few mossbeasts. The unloved chief couldn’t afford to keep a living hero around for long. Especially one as dangerous as Crunchfist.
Rockface clapped the younger hunter on the back and left the way he’d come.
Afterwards, loneliness swept over Stopmouth. He grew angry at his brother and then cried because he’d lost him.
He spent the rest of the day building a shelter on the roof. Sometimes he saw hunters pass by, human or Clawfolk. Once he even saw a pack of Bloodskins. He wanted to shout the alarm, but couldn’t. Nor did he dare light a fire to warm Indrani when they ran out of soup.
He looked up to where a pair of Globes floated almost directly above him. It was strange how there always seemed to be at least one of them near Indrani. The Roof darkened, its panels turning from searing blue to grey and then black, the grid of tracklights slowly brightening. The Globes never moved the whole time. Finally he turned away to examine the supplies.
They had eight strips of dried flesh between them. Each strip could sustain a hunter for a day. He tore off a chunk of it and chewed and chewed until his aching jaws had turned it to pulp. He mixed this with water in the base of a Flyer skull and poured it into Indrani’s mouth.
‘We’re done for,’ he said as he massaged her throat. ‘We can’t go back, and yet where else can we go?’
Then again, if Wallbreaker were to die somehow…
That horrific thought again. How could a human kill another when everyone needed everybody else? When the Tribe had been so far reduced as to hang on the verge of extinction? Humans didn’t kill their own kind unless to put them out of their misery. From time to time the chief could simply order a hunter to volunteer for the good of the Tribe. In this way even adulterers and other criminals contributed to everyone’s survival.
The Inferior Page 13